My Spring Break in ATL...

More to come...

Unorganized Babbling.

• I honestly don't know why I don't do this more. Almost every blog that I've visited since I've start blogging has at least one post completely dedicated to disorganization and randomoscity. I'm a little embarrassed that I haven't done it before. At least not like this. I have no idea what's going to come out. I expect some disclosure. So if I end up going off on a tangent about Reese's and Little Brother's Final Album, don't judge me.

• For the past few weeks, I've been in a really weird place, on quite a few fronts. I work for my campus' multicultural office (Center for Multicultural Enrichment), and I was recently given a hefty bit of responsibility, more than I had been used to. I've only been working there since October, so I figured that I needed more stripes before heading off an event that I basically fathered. The general consensus is that it was a great success, but man.oh.man. It was stress galore. 
 

Tiffany Y (who performed "At Last" by Etta James)

Me (I hosted the event, tryna get fresh)

My sister, who helped me handle some technicalities and such...

  

Me, getting my tie straightened by m'lady - she also performed at night, reading an excerpt from Zora Neale Hurston's "Their Eyes Were Watching God".

 

My main man, Chris B. who came down for the weekend from NJ. Dude's been my friend since kneehighs...check him over at ArtStar.

 

Us, once again. Lookin' fly, like Jedi do.

 

Center for Multicultural Enrichment Staff, Spring 2010 - Not everyone could make it, and they were mad that they weren't in this pic. Sorry kids.

All photos were taken by my man, Reggie L., the smoove cat in the middle with the suspenders. Check more of his stuff at his Flickr page.

 

The Book of Love has opened up yet another chapter for me, once again challenging everything I thought I knew or understood. A part of me doesn't even want to talk about it, because I know that something will come up to prove me wrong (or right, in the case of pessimism). Another part of me loves it, revels in it, and desires to dwell it. For example:

• How can a man speak with love, yet act without it?
• Is love simply romantic sacrifice?
• Is love worth any and every kind of sacrifice?
  
  
  

I am learning more and more how much of a complex creature I am. I boast simplicity and desires for such, but my efforts for these desires end up being so much more convoluted and complicated. When if comes to love, I realize that I know so little...and that lack of knowledge often makes me uncomfortable and react out of said discomfort.

Amid my efforts, I am truly turning into my dad, in more ways than one. I may not be as stocky as him, or as resourceful, but there are definitely some signs that are popping up.

I've started say things that only he says. Stuff like, "Let me tell you something...", followed by some really insightful perspective.

I'm starting to get comfortable in my thinking that everything takes place AFTER family. Emotion enough to wage war.

I know what I'M doing. If you don't get it, get with it. (This is of particular distress, because my personally will typically bend over backwards to change my plan and level of comfort for you.)

Practical jokes are specifically in my dialect. If you don't like to laugh as foolishness, get from 'round me.

I will own up to any wrong I've done. I've done my share of stupid stuff, but I've grown to adhere to this statement: "You make your bed, you sleep in it."

A little over a year ago, I heard of a group called Little Brother. Since I heard them, I've dutifully went and bought/downloaded everything they had to offer, from their debut "The Listening" to their "...and Justus for All" mixtape. However, the end is nigh. Their final album, entitled "LeftBack" is dropping on April 20th, and it is truly a bittersweet affair. Their single, "Curtain Call" has dropped and to hear 'Tay and Pooh spit about wrapping it up and really sad. I've never anticipated an album's release like this before. Especially a hip-hop album. Consider it copped.(Link to Listen/Download)

I must be getting old. Because I really want to sleep right now. My more base human instincts (anger, joy, lust, etc.) seem to be peaking, because while sleep is at the tippy, I find myself wanting to cover all of them. At the same time.

Ya'll pray for me.

A [Biased] Open Letter to the Genders

To the fellas,

So...to the majority?

I'm not here to judge, by no means at all. I don't know your personal struggles, your history, nor the weight you take each day. I believe that while we may have different definitions of hurt, pain is pain, whether a pin prick or a stab wound. And while I may not know all of you personally, I write this with a heavy heart:

Be men to your women.

And off the top, I know at least 5 dudes that would respond and say something like, "I don't know whatchu talkin' 'bout, I'mma man wit' mines, bruh."

All the same. Be men to your women.

Whatever the process may be, however hard it may seem, I strongly urge you to please. Be men to your women.

Because they need us. We exist in a world where women are rising to the occasion, a struggle that has been being fought for decades, almost centuries. There is still heavy, but silent debate on exactly what a woman can or can't do. But all the same, (it is my firm belief) that God has placed a responsibility on us males to handle more than "bringing home the bacon". Instead, we must first make sure our home is in order.

I'm not going to propose a ten-step program on "How to Be a Better Man in 2010". But we know what the deal is. We can laugh with our boys, we can bump dozens of hip-hop songs about "getting mine" and "everyday I'm hustlin'", but the era of single/teenage mothers and rising abortion rates, it past due time to be men to our women.

Love them. Honor them. Respect them. Because at this rate, we truly don't deserve them.

Disclaimer: (Let me first state that I am speaking to the majority. I know many fellas who are the exception, rather than the rule. Life tosses many variables, so to assume that 100% of the men of planet Earth fall into this category would be foolhardy. To you brothers, kudos, and keep on keeping on.)

To the ladies,

I don't know anything about being a woman. I would often joke about how I don't want to know anything about being a women, but I readily admit that it was spoken in pure ignorance. Just being stupid. All the same, I feel the urge to reach out to you. Call it young, call it dumb, call it softer than Charmin's, my heart aches at the things I've been witness to.

This is a freewrite, so I haven't even thought this part out. I think I just want to commend all the single mothers, teenage mothers out there. On the behalf of all the willing men, I am sorry for our failures and misfortunes as men. We have done wrong, and gotten beyond distracted. We have fallen in lust with so much more than that which deserves our attention. From Kardashian to quesos, we allow ourselves to take the easy way out instead of the honorable thing  of treating you like the gifts you are.

I'm not an anti-male, feminist or anything.

But I do know wrong when I see it. And we have been wrong to you.

Disclaimer: (Once again, this is written to the majority. I know that just like the fellas, there are a number of ladies who aren't on their "act right". While I may not know all the circumstances involved in that, I will say that I urge you - just as strongly as the fellas - to realize how important a community is and why we really need to do what is necessary to pull it together. Just like there are some beautiful females, there are some outstanding men. Be willing. Be patient.)

The Love Experience [Part 2]: Guess Who Loves You More?

I remember that I used to think that no one loved me.

At that point in my life, however, my definition of love was somewhat skewered. I had a weird "Disney-fied" view on love and its associates. The streetrat will always woo the heart of the princess, all the dalmatians will find their way home, and the beauty will always see the golden heart of the beast. And all of these things were hopes and dreams; I wouldn't say that I saw anything that aggressively encouraged these thoughts. I just think that I was what they call a hopeless romantic. Always waiting for that mystical ending. Or beginning.

There were a number of girls that I was interested in. And there were always some circumstances that prevented me from really being able to love someone, always something that I didn't have. A few times, I was told that I was "too good" for their graces. (I still have no idea what that crap means.) While I've grown past those days, I feel that those experiences still haunt me in various ways in my current life.

So, once again, at that stage, with constant rejection, I was more or less left to ponder on things in my own head. I looked around and tried to assess why no one seemed to like me, or why I wasn't an option for these girls. I began to draw comparisons.

Me

• Shorter than your average
• Visually impaired
• No apparent physical ability
• A strange interest in comics and action figures (not dolls)
• Invariably reading books or writing random nothings or doodling

Them

• Tall as, or taller than your average
• 20/20  vision
• Physical dominance in every facet that mattered
• Able to recall each player in the Chicago Bulls' 1996-97 roster
• Somehow able to pass classes without once cracking a textbook

 With that evidence and the lowered self-esteem that usually comes with grade/high school bullying, I had accepted the fact that I would never really be loved as long as these prepubescent deities roamed the playground.

Until I met Ibn. I don't know what an "Ibn" is, but this lil' boy owned his name like a crown. He had captured the wily little heart of one of my many objects of affection, whom we shall call Dee. She was one of the main people who didn't take my affection towards her seriously. I'm assuming that Ibn was more of her type. He was the Alpha Male wherever he was from, and he looked to stake his claim in my world as well.

And it bewildered me that any one would want to stay by his side for any other reason than to beat some sense into him. This kid reminded me of Tupac's character in Juice, hellbent on aggression and dominance. I assume that Dee's 13 year-old loins were tempted by his 'hood demeanor, but the boy could barely form a sentence without some expletives thrown in for good measure. You know, to get his point across, 'knamean?

One event sticks out in my mind. It was at a social gathering of sorts, a few folks from the church got together to celebrate something and everyone brought their kids along. Somehow Ibn ended up in attendance. The grown folks all grouped together while the kids ran around outside, riding on bikes and playing at the nearby park. Dee and Ibn were officially, but unofficially "going with" each other. I, the eternal social nomad, was still the distant friend. Far enough to deny association, but close enough if you needed to borrow a quarter.

I began to notice something in Ibn's behavior, something that seemed to be a continuing trend that only intensified the older I got. Ibn, while young and still very dumb was for all intents and purpose was a verifiable jerk.

He seemed to care nothing for Dee. The main emotion there was a lack of emotion. The way they interacted was more like Ike and Tina. She was scared of him. And I know they were young, with no good sense in their nappy little heads. But I've seen the same sentiment as I've gotten older. Men who, while attached to their women, showed them no respect. They belittled them, disrespected them, displayed utter disregard to their feelings or their womanhood. I've seen men drain the life force from the women they've been blessed to spend time with. Push them to make decisions that only harm them. Encourage them in directions that help no one but themselves. There's no warmth there. There's no care there. There's no love there.

And I've seen women run to them, with arms and hearts wide open. Willing to give just a little bit more of their being. Compromise just a little bit more of their souls. Denying their God-given instinct and trusting a fallen, broken man. Women are incredibly strong creatures, but much of strength, I feel, has been borne from a sense of battle-weariness.

And I've said to myself, what can I do? This is more targeted to the women with whom I have no connection with. These women, I do not know, and they do not know me. That being said, my efforts are more likely to be met with skepticism and caution.

But to the women I do know, and have known? I've had one constant question on my mind. This question initially points at me, but at this current point in my life, I've come to understand what the True Answer is.

"...Guess Who Loves You More?"

January: Wants/Needs

Wants

• John Mayer Concert
• Jerry Seinfeld Stand-Up
• All A's in Grades
• Abs like Spla-Dow!
• Pecs like BAM!
• to clean my car, inside and out
• to get my dad to read my blog/like my writing
  
• an actual mattress
• a new iPod Touch 32gb
• to get out of my contract with AT&T

Needs

• To eat healthier
• All A's in Grades
• a secure job for the summertime in NJ
• more discipline

The Love Experience [Part 1]

To my family...

• This is where I'm from. I honestly know nothing else, and I am growing to see that I don't want to be any other way. This is where the man I will be started his journey. This is where I got all those butt-whoopings. This is where I learned to play the keyboard. These people have taught me so much about my faith and myself. I can't imagine being any different. I remember the amount of things that we have been through, individually and collectively, and it drives me to do what I can to bring us closer together, because this is no ordinary love. We need each other in ways that we're almost resistant to, but...it's all love.
  

To my first real love...

• All that I know, all that I feel about love started with you. From the first moment you walked into church all those years ago, my heart almost literally bled for you. I've woken up from a summernight's sleep with your name on my lips, and I mean that in the most literal way possible. And yet...while it went nowhere, and while you could never understand in a thousand lifetimes how much I loved you, and while we are at two different places in our lives, and while I've finally moved on to greener pastures, I thank you. You've encouraged me. You've taught me. You've challenged me. What's funny is, you don't even know it. But I thank you. All in the name of love.
  

To "Destiny"...

• My senior year in high school would not have been the same without you. Another lesson in love could not have been had without you. The purpose of friendship was made real with you, because at a point in my life where I needed affirmation, you proved to be elemental. At your own admission, there was a facade, and scars were formed, figuratively and literally. You left me. You went somewhere, and yet...I thank you. Of course, I went through a period of hating the oxygen that allowed you to breathe. But...I thank you. Fortunately, we were able to meet resolution, but I wouldn't have known how to rationalize my emotions without you. I remember all of it, all of us, all of you.
  

To my missed love...

• While I wish that we had our own niche in time to exist independently, you are beyond important. Simply stating that you are a great friend is an understatement, because of where our relationship is. I've done things and made decisions that could have dissolved our friendship, compromised it and turned it into mere repeat of failed relationships of our pasts. But you decided to stay with me and be just that...my friend. What's funny is that prior to our meeting, I had given up hope on love, but you gave me something. You allowed me an arena to be, simply. Maybe God has something different in the cards for you and I, but I am glad that we are where we are.

To my current love...

• Never have I known a love so intense, so complex. And we may have identical interests and passions, but one cannot deny God's penmanship throughout our relationship. I mean it when I say that I can't imagine not having you in my life; 'tis a blessing that we are this close. Once again, me and my foolish tendencies have threatened our relationship, pushing it to unnecessary limits...but here we are. And I meant what I said that one decisive night, oh so long ago: I love you, because outside of myself, beyond myself, I want nothing but your happiness and success - even to the point for you to save yourself from me if you had to. You have taught me how love is to be applicable and intentional, if it is to grow. And I want to continue to grow with you.
  

To my friends...

• I don't need to go back in time and bring up stories of how I was the outcast growing up. I don't need to paint more pictures of woes and complaints about a part of my life that is no longer here. But I will take this chance to re-iterate, or even state for the first time for some of you who may not know - I've come from a very dark place. Yet you all call yourselves my friends. Not the "Chandler-and-Monica" friends, but friends to call me out on my stupidity...with love. Friends who reciprocate the warmth that I try to show to them. Homies, roll dawgs, potnas, peeps, ya'll provide me with a community that makes me feel safe.You challenge my faith and my walk with Christ. You allow me to make mistakes and learn from them. You allow me to stick my foot in my mouth, and then help me to take it out. Simply put, you show me a very basic, but often overlooked form of love. This is the kind of love that I think God meant when he spoke of fellowship, because I am learning that this life was not meant to be lived alone.

"...At least I can say that I have experienced love..."