Monday, June 27, 2011

Stuck in the Eighties

Being born in the early portion of the eighties, I was conscious enough by the end of the eighties to remember the eighties first hand. Going back to the mid part of the eighties when things were extremely exciting, I remember the clamoring voices, the television gathering and the aftermath of some of the biggest events in the eighties.
Back then, it didn't matter to me when things came to widespread approval or appeal. I just wanted what was good. Back then, I just wanted to be a part of something. I know, a lil advanced for a lil dude. I wanted some kind of love. Though, it seems a bit imbalanced to say that I understood or had actual longing for love because I did not urge to love; I simply wanted it.
Perhaps, it was the depth of natural affinities co-mingling in my brain soup of thoughts inspired by what I saw on the tv screen and what people talked about all the time in real life. Love was huge in the eighties. My mother has always played tons of love songs end on end. Had me writing love poems by the age of 4 and maybe 5. I am not joking. Only, back then, I thought all poems started off "Roses are red, violets are blue...". Cute huh?

I am completely amorous. I love everything. I've always been a lover and not a fighter. But the eighties also had enough violence to fill the air with a bloody mist, at least in my personal life. Which made me very police officer like in my response which was typically to nullify the threat and talk it out rather than to properly engage the threat in hand to hand combat which in my opinion is easier.

Either way, I am a person that loves as much as possible but cannot deny the existence for the need of self defense. This fact alone leads me to my appreciation for everything Bruce Lee and the Black community.

Blacks seemingly love everything Asian. This coming from a Black guy sounds weird to me. Kung-fu to Karate, from weird cuisine to customary dress and etiquette, I have seen few Blacks balk at conforming to Asian sensibilities. It is awe-inspiring. I myself did so at a very young age and by that I mean the very moment I yearned to be a ninja, my fate was sealed. And things only got worse.

I saw this movie called "The Last Dragon". It is a motown production so the sound track is groove heavy and catchy. The characters are very easily some of the most likable you will ever catch in a movie. They are sincere and well intention-ed and honest people. They make you believe in a better World. Yes, MAKE. As far as the protagonist go that is. The antagonist is such an ego-laden douche that you the viewer are inspired to jump through the screen to exact a vengeful come-up-pence on his tail. Luckily, nobody needs our help in truly exemplifying the paths and resistance necessary to deal with the likes of him. And I modeled my ninja behavior behind what I saw in this movie. For so many reasons.

The character growth allowed me to remain naive and honest. I can be sincere without feeling like I lost out of some portion of my pride. I don't need to win it all in order to feel like any of it mattered. And I could be humbled by love without wanting to make up for what I loss in hanging my head. This movie has been a very silent motivating factor for me and I haven't lost my way from what it taught me. And I take care of whatever I can in this fashion; especially now that I am able to fully explain what has been an under current in my motivations to walk away from silly aggressive encounters. When nobody is endangered, then I am complacent. When others are in danger, I activate a very sharp "bark". When I'm in danger, I just watch everything that moves, quietly. Because I can run when I'm the only one...there is no need to engage. When it is others, I cannot run and I must protect them from unnecessary violence. I become much more deadly. All this because I want nothing but to love and experience life through that lens and I do everything to return the life I experience to that lens.

With that, I realize that I am not only stuck in the eighties but in the movie The Last Dragon. I am working hard to maintain the dignity and characterized sacrifice that I once viewed and have always adored and aspired to become. It is no wonder then, that one of my nick-names growing up was in fact, Bruce Leroy. Surely, I wasn't the only one to notice my mentality because I definitely never kicked or jumped kicked anyone.
I guess we are quietly smarter than we allow ourselves to be loudly.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Need of Approval

I won't have much to say here.

This entire life cycle that we are processed through is centered around approval. From our ability to grasp language and become attractive, we are constantly judged on our worth based on societal approvals.

Some of you may outright disagree. You may stop reading now and leave. I don't have time to deal with dissenting voices on the basis of some fundamental difference in view of language comprehension. Right or wrong, I know what I see.

First its about fulfilling our parents wishes. Of course this depends on our parents. Some of our parents have very reasonable and low set goals. Some are not so reasonable(here is a shout out to all the tiger mom's in the building). Then when we are maybe 40 years old and going through a mid-life crisis, we finally realize just how much we weren't living for ourselves. We do crazy things like create bucket list and jump out of airplanes and bungy jump all in the name to find a cheap yet exhilarating thrill. To confirm we are alive and have control of our own lives.

Why does it take so long just to have that thought of autonomy and independence? Oh, I have tons of answers but this isn't about the answers, this is about why we don't ask them. We are too busy re-calculating our social GPS's and trying to figure out where we stand. Some of us develop healthier strategies to obscure and distract ourselves from this unpleasant process. Others of us simply grunt under the weight of all the judgments placed 'pon they weary souls. All these self help books do a good job at echoing the successful man's mantra or expressing the senses of sacrifice necessary to move forward in the stream of life. Yes, Life stream. Some even go as far as to explain this need for approval and sharing the approval of others. We still talk around it.

Enough of my blathering, let me make it personal. I do not know whether I am smart or not so smart. I do not know whether I am attractive or if there is something on my face that women keep trying to lick off. I do not know why people are so convinced they know other people based on mere speculation and hear-say, but I do know that no matter what constraints you put it in, 1+1=2. The addition sign is not some running metaphor for limitless extrapolations of contradictions to deny the rule. Verify the simplicity of yourself. You are one individual and like whole numbers you can be broken down into parts. So follow this one moment where I shut up this notion of 1+1 can =3. You take 1 adult and add in another adult and you get two adults. You may develop a child of that situation but a child is not equal to an adult. Qualified. But I still need approval to feel validated with what I'm saying. You know what I'm saying?

Why do you think that racism is still alive and kicking? Because it has been codified as something that is natural. It has been approved of as something that rest within all of us. But cars aren't natural and neither is a brick house or gas heating or electric shavers. We just pick and choose which contradictions we excuse and choose to hold protective custody over the ones that allow us to remain immature in as many ways as possible.

This is why we cannot have anything nice. Too busy applying the lowest one of our desires over each other...no, not sex but close, emotional gratification. We feel some kind of way and grant the impulse action thereby verifying whatever ill that was born of our poor and misled perception of the way the World was as we saw it at that moment.
This is why I think all white women are the same. This is why people claim Black men are afraid and insecure. This is why white men are given such an atrocious image. Because we allow ourselves to be pulled into malarkey simply because it doesn't directly attack us.
Before all of the biases and negative experiences, in our innocence, we were better and capable of honesty. Now, honesty has been removed from us and we are stuck to scour the World as we know it for the approval that we need. (I think scour is the perfect word to create irony in this situation).

Fare thee well.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Post to End All Post

This is a mentality I adopted that mirrors a song that is currently out "Like its my Last" and an ideology "Live each day like its your last" that the song borrowed much of its worth from.

Also, I try and love every woman that gets close to my heart like she is the last that I will ever love. This keeps my losses painful and bitter. This keeps me always willing to work. This keeps me naive to the truth of incompatibility.
If you are reading this, then you know me well enough to know that I'm not just a person who sees myself as different but that many other people see me as different too. Often, this different is a bad thing. People love the things that are most like themselves. I speak purely from the perspective of corporate speak and the job world in general. The amount of insecurity and ridiculousness that occurs frequently is insurmountable not because it is impossible but because it is the individuals involved that are unwilling to create a better version of themselves. Instead, these people attempt to create a "truer" version of self, sometimes unaware of the constraints and disability involved in that character. Point is, this influences work life & home life. Point is being told I'm different yet being expected to fall within the same tracks for progress is not only an idiot expectation but an unreasonable one as well. And this takes me back to why I brought it up in the first place, despite my infinite love and truth behind that, loving like its my last love has been the most destructive thing in my life. And so I write and I write like its my last.
This however is the purpose of this entire post...I'm going to stop living like its my last; I'm going to stop loving like its my last; I'm going to stop being so well intending. Why? because I see a greater and far more poetic beauty in preparation coupled with reckless abandon.

I'm writing a will explaining everything I know, have hidden or loss/miss. I will define my truest words and etch them in stone. Then I will live like life doesn't matter and only what I want is significant.

I was a person who wouldn't sacrifice the tears of a friend for personal gain. Now I'd sell anybody I could convince to buy themselves off to slavery too themselves.

Not anyone can love me back to life. I lost all my hopes and I only have dreams but in my dreams, I'm not the man that you might see being helpful and loving. I'm that shadow that chases you around your thoughts awaiting a moment of carelessness with which to implement my version of doom. I am love. I am passion.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Qualms with Sensationalism

Ever heard the term "trendy"? I would bet my financial security that you have. The thing about that term is that the general consensus of comprehension of that word, is nearly esoteric. It is in one of the most conflicted relationships that I have ever witnessed personally. Why? Because most people separate trends from what they like and appreciate and place that particular title on lesser more disdained "things".

Instead of measuring sheer potency or functionality, a trendy crowd will focus on some superfluous and almost always analogous aspect of their current trend of choice. This includes the true artist and purist of the World. When minutiae are the focus or the reasoning behind an extreme heightening of adoration then you have a clear sign of the beginnings of a trend.

Some of you may ask why I care or what got me focused on this topic. As I sit here and think, it was the preference that was expounded passionately by my most recent love interest. She could barely appreciate, anything out of her field of taste, in earnest. Basically, Beyonce. Though, I'm not a huge fan of her myself, I totally appreciate what she contributes to society. She ain't perfect...far from it but why do I even need to say that? Because my opinion matters to me and I want it to matter to you. I don't want to be dismissed as some fanboy who swoons over Beyonce because that isn't who I am. I'm just a guy who knows what I like to hear & see. Mrs. Carter fits that profile nicely. The thing is, I'm calling it like I see it and maybe I'm blind. I also don't stalk about the web looking for news or rumors on celebrities.

Anyways, as I thought about this disregard of whatever talents Beyonce has, I was listening to "Dangerously in Love 2" which is easily my favorite song from her. I thought, "It is true that this is a trend of disrespect coming to denounce all that this woman is." And as I noticed that society jumps on and off of bandwagons trying to delicately balance itself between those who should win and those who should perish. We are all involved in a tug-of-war in one way or another. This battlefield was never intended to be evacuated. I defer.

I denounce my opinion here & now. This is how I retreat from this field of endless battle. I know far too well that I will be chased. I know far too well that escape will be short-lived and I can only hope for brief moments of life without trouble. Be it thus. I desire to avoid trends and trending arguments. Lupe Fiasco. I just want to do what is the most right. Forget how I feel about it. And getting a job and working my life away isn't living well or doing the right thing. That is more akin to doing the acceptable thing than the right thing. I want to do the right thing; I want to contribute my passion to the overall worth of mankind no matter how little or great that contribution is. May these be the truest words I ever wrote.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Quiet Until Inhibitions Effect Thought

I have a few words to say about this last week of my life: cute; absurd; WHY?

Where to begin? Of course, the beginning seems like the best part chronologically, unless there is something that retroactively needs some explainin'.

At the beginning of the week, I felt low and insignificant. I felt like the sum total of all the knowledge that I've scrounged the Earth for was less than meaningless and that my purpose was even less meaningful.
I'm not the type of person to draw a line in the sand and swear that my personal life is only able to be comprehended by myself, though it saves and limits the drama in relationships, that view is childish. I am the type to be as honest about the interactions as I can express through word. I desire to become a greater person day by day and I refuse to acquiesce to difficulty or some deformed sense of normality. I want to genuinely be a better person. I will use every tool that is available to me as a means of cultivation for growth. Do you follow?
I'm not truly concerned with how other people judge me since I know that they are in fact no better and no less deviant. More to the point, if they feel the need to judge me, it merely highlights their lack of awareness of self AND a lack of true maturity. Additionaly this illustrates the presence of a facade employed merely to keep others at a distance because individual fear is ruling them. This may sound a bit convoluted or even sycophantic-ally contrived but the roots of the tree with this branch of thought is no different than the roots of science in any form. It can be reproduced and it is reproduced on a grand scale. (More on that in a future post.)
Anyways, this grand tangent is only here for the purpose of saying, I don't shy from any truth and I work hard to improve my grasps on the truths of this World we breathe. Even while dealing with the most intimate and emotionally guarded parts of my life.

Back to the regularly scheduled blog post: I'm somewhat of a gym rat. I'm on a mission to put on the size and weight that I've so long wanted and worked for. This particular Thursday night(thats right, I said crazy week and started with Thursday...you know its gonna be some mess.) I'm walking through my normal routine in the gym, wearing a shirt that I hadn't seen in a while but remembered why I liked it so much, it was a comfortable skin tight muscle shirt. I notice this red skinned white guy eyeing me something unreasonable. I immediately feel discomfort and question his motives for staring at me with such a prolonged glance. I simply move to another station as to avoid further contact...but...he moved too. I hurry through my set and move again...but...he moved too. This process would have continued if I hadn't had enough of that and mixed up my work out to a completely different area of emphasis. Unfortunately, I picked my most challenging exercise and needed a water break. Apparently, that was all he needed to find me and attempt a conversation. He kept talking about his junk, subtly sliding it into the conversation. I'm heavily annoyed at the idea that this guy thinks I actually want this kind of attention. I'm not very keen on the idea of friendship with white men(despite two of my closest friends being white men). Anyways, at this point, I decide not to push my luck and have him continue to puppy dog me around the gym. I go to leave but so does he. I'm attempting to avoid embarrassing him, I'm just not so ruthless in my direct refusal to be complicit in gay mess. I was raised to be considerate regardless of what other people were doing. I find some beautiful women I previously met and strike up a conversation to increase the time gap between the time he leaves and the time I leave. I'd rather not have to show my gangster on such a poor & misguided soul. It works and cautiously I scan the parking lot before I head for the car...I'm not the type to get snuck while minding my business. I'm determined to see you who want to harm me coming. Crisis averted, the night continues on.
I head to my previously mentioned white friends' house(they live together) and with one of them we head out to my favorite spot in this town of which I currently reside. No problems, not a single one. Of course until I decide to head home. Then some random cop, that I had been watching, pulls me over, claims I was not only swerving but drunk and initiates the dui testing on me. Mind you, I hadn't but one drink two hours before and wasn't even slightly buzzed at any point. I might as well had imbibed Kool-Aid. Anyways, ten minutes later I'm heading home, annoyed and disgruntled the from the retardation that was that day.
I wish this week stopped there.
I get a lot of phone calls this next 24hrs, from people I would love to hear from more often, from people I cannot stand, from people that just want to know I am doing well. I feel blessed, I feel loved and I appreciated all of that attention. I also had a conversation with an ol' college acquaintance that just so happens to be on the fence between liking sexual encounters with the same and sexual encounters with the different. And there is just too much honesty being shared towards me. I can appreciate what the ability to share must have felt like for that individual, it just didn't brighten my day any. Quite a few awkward questions. Grrr. But I care so I just encouraged that person's individuality and support for them from my perspective as well. Though I don't believe in what they are doing, I understand the science behind it and I agree that they should have the choice. Keeping the Government out my bedroom starts with keeping them out of yours, whoever you are.
Yowling cats, barking dogs, crying babies, cut off lights, over due payments, creditors and bill collectors all spill into the normal rigmarole of life. I go out to a favorite spot again Friday night. I'm sitting next to two white girls who are being hit on by all variety of weird white guys. The white girls do not appreciate the attention and they appear very uncomfortable. I save them with questions and conversation and jokes. They appreciate it. They wanted to leave but the amount of cops waiting outside the place was absurd. Perhaps there were a few fights but that isn't my crowd and I wouldn't know. Anyhow, another random white guy comes up, attempting to talk to them and there would be no problem but he interrupts me while I'm speaking. I step away and let him try his hand. They shoot him down. They ask me to return. As I do, I'm there another ten minutes and here comes this same random white guy with the same craptacular approach. Interruptions are not cute and the girls didn't appreciate that, they beg me back again. Suddenly, I hear this guy threaten my life behind my back. I look at him, taking note of his posture and energy...he is not a threat to me. When people wear their emotions on their sleeves, they showcase their ability. He could not best me in any way. I continue shielding these random white girls from pure idiocracy while enjoying the simple conversation we had about our rival schools. The bar closes I walk them out to their cars which is ironically two cars away from mine and we part ways. I travel home without interruption. Phew. Or so I thought. Saturday, I awake to the sound of phone calls and the information that my niece(who recently graduated) was having a party in a park. On my way there, I was pulled over by a cop who wanted to let me know that my brake light was out despite the mid-day lighting. This was of course after bitterly following me for three miles. The picnic was fine but while I was there apparently my grasp on science offended an elderly gent who put religion on a higher pedestal and that alone wouldn't be a problem except he argued against science like it mattered while encouraging people to study science via education like it was different than the science he argued against. An old fool if you will. When you devise answers of your consciousness and determine that they are worth more than the flame is worth to the moth, you have lost your bead on reality. Let me explain. He viewed science as a degradation of mankind's thoughts. Science = flame. Student of science = moth. Now we all know that a moth will fly into the flame without regard for self yet he is arguing against a nonsensical addiction while using his addiction as a rule. Which in and of itself is interesting but in the depravity of self-import, he becomes a false prophet. This kind of prophet does not lead sheep for any other reason than the glory of the name, than the acclaim and the fame. Pyramids...smh.
After touching bases with my mother, a friend(the other white guy of the previously mentioned two) invites me out for drinks and to catch-up and I intend to oblige. En route, a car decides that it will make an impromtu left turn while I have the right-of-way and if it were not for my ability to navigate the most effective way to avoid collision, we both surely would have been injured. It was an epic dodge to say the least. I'm glad the car I was in had no ABS and I could make it skid because I need the car to break traction in order to avoid the imminence of convergence. I perpetuated the buffer and continued towards my destiny. Upon arrival the World was no longer in a state of upheaval and all was settling back into normalcy. My friend and I visited J-n-B and while pulling up to the voice box we could faintly discern a somehow eerily sang "Yummy yummy yummy, what food would you like for your tummy?" Somehow, I see this as a fitting end to the ridiculously and emotionally challenging situations of "Superbad" level awkwardness. Which, only increased my feeling of positivity about self. There was much more that happened but I realize that some things do need a more involved and personal audience because it does not reflect bad on me, as much as it does the other people involved. Of course, I didn't think about that until after I typed everything except the last two sentences. Oh well.
Let there be Light.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Faking Happy Faces

Ain't really feeling like I'm beyond any scope of intellectual lengths. Matter of fact, right now (at this very moment) I feel like what I know and see, believe and perceive, I feel like that couldn't be any further from reality. That somehow my fairy tales have overcome my every sense. I feel lost to my devices. The fortunate thing about that is that I was always lost to my devices...so no big change aside the now apparent harsh feeling of not gliding about the cushion of cloud 9 that was previously beneath each stride. This emptiness hurts more than any pain. It is very weird. I smile but the happiness is like putting a square peg into a round hole and the feeling is not fulfilling.

I want to take you back in time to my child hood when I began to develop my understanding of the World around. Fortunately, I have a very limited recollection of the significant factors. Also, I don't quite have the urge to dig so passionately into who or what I am because of where I'm from.

Right now, every action feels hollow. My ego is on the creep. My machismo is minimal. My courage is shallow as a low-tide on a beach. My energy feels like it got ginzu'd then pureed then digested and passed through. I feel like less of a man...less of a human being and less of an entity.

Sex would be good but it wouldn't help me feel better. I hate sticking it to random chicks. I like to move with lust or love or whatever we think it makes a difference to call an attraction that is deeper than the moment and stronger than bone.
Success would be awesome but for some reason, every success is hollowed when I peer to my side and realize that I am alone. All the gold and accomplishments in the World don't mean a thing to me. I guess, right now, I'm reniggering on my position of self-sacrifice without complaint. Oh well. I've always been a mouth piece.
Stability and being inundated on a full scale would change my short term coping mechanisms but it would not change the overall fact that nothing is more disappointing than the place I am now: an area full of shades of gray.
Until I find the rays of the Sun. Until I realize what I have and what I'm missing by sulking behind the facade of happy faces, I'm just going to continue with the faux flip-flopped frowns to keep the real life version of me to myself. Online I can go 1000% in and nobody cares or could care less. Not to mention ain't crap they could do even if they did care.

I just wonder how much of the rest of you all are faking happy faces. I wonder who is actually really happy in this craptacular world where the people who should suffer don't really seem to suffer. I want to know that bad people suffer and good people are rewarded. I want to know that the Wallstreet bankers that arrogantly threw caution to the wind and pissed away so many countless futures and securities recklessly will be punished...here, on Earth.
I know that isn't how it works, I just wish it was. Even if I were a bad person, I would want the same thing. My thoughts on love aren't demented by what I think is acceptable but what I think about the way things should be. If I am corrupted attempting to adapt then so be it and punish me all the same. But only God can judge me.