I was on my way home for lunch today and I popped in an old Kanye West cd to entertain me all of the 3 minutes it takes me to get home from work. As I listened to Kanye and his hip-hop-styled bravado, I couldn't help but think when he would be next. For some odd reason, America loves a rising star just as much as she loves a falling one and it will only be a matter of time before Mr. West is no longer on the giving end of the media's attention and is transferred to the receiving end. Practically every media darling, at some point, ends up a media disaster. Poor Britney Spears, if she sneezes more than twice it makes the news.
Black celebrities have been on the receiving end a lot lately. From Michael Vick to T.I.;Michael Jackson to Oprah Winfrey, the attacks seem endless. My hope is, all of these artist and celebrities have built up a war chest to help them through tough times. There's a line in one of Kanye's old songs where he talks about going to Jacob the Jeweler as soon as he got his first advance because he wanted to shine. I can understand wanting to spoil yourself when you get a little money-hell, even I like to reward myself when I get paid, but my hope is that the allure of the fancy cars, houses, and jewelry does not trump the need to protect yourself when the invaders hit your beach front. And make no mistake, they're coming. The object of the game should not be just to get rich but to remain rich. And to do so, one must have a war chest-funds socked away to get you through a full frontal assault, regardless of where it comes from. And I have to reiterate, it will come. Dionne Warwick, Wesley Snipes, Mike Tyson, Sean Combs, all have had their turn in the hot seat. All of them have racked up attorney fees that dwarf what most of us earn in a lifetime.
This country loves a good scandal-because secretly I think most of its citizens are envious of the success of others. It's the crab in the bucket mentality. We love to hear the worst there is to know about the private lives of celebrities. The raunchier, the better. There's no question that some of these idiots deserve the negative attention, but most are just caught up in tabloid journalism that could not exist if Britney Spears wasn't improperly raised as a child-or if Mike Tyson would take his medication regularly. These rags are like a monster with an insatiable appetite who won't leave Tokyo alone. And our need to see someone tumble from an imaginary pedestal fuels the fire.
Suffice it to say that the only solution is that consumers stem their desire for such nonsense, but they don't call them consumers for nothing. They aren't thinkers, they aren't producers or doers, they're consumers-mindless gluttons who will devour anything placed before them-and we've all been there at one point in time (most of us are still there). But this post was not supposed to be an indictment on the media, it was supposed to be about the necessity to protect yourself when you are on the receiving end of a negative media campaign that may surround a law suit or criminal charges. Anyone around a celebrity who is worth anything would strongly advise that individual of the need to build a handsome war chest so that when the animals attack, like the spinning records of a top-shelf DJ, you life doesn't skip a beat.
TPOKW?
Monday, October 29, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
The Man I Am
Probably one of the most elusive definitions known in modern times is the definition of man. Sure, we can define him anatomically, but what is the true essence of today's modern man? That question might be a difficult one to answer in a broad sense-and even if someone were able to successfully answer it, I'm not all together sure they would be able to describe me to my satisfaction so I will attempt to describe man as he pertains to me. Afterwards, if anyone would like to add or subtract to my definition as it pertains to them, this is an open forum-feel free to do so.
As a man, I believe and subscribe to the mantra first do no harm. I believe the definition lies within the statement, but I'll elaborate for the purpose of clarity. I believe that I have no right to harm those who have not tried to harm me. I have no right to disturb, alter, or negatively influence in anyway, the innocent. That includes members of the human family and animals. It encompasses organizations and entities that I am a member of, or affiliated with, in any way shape or fashion. Churches (which I wouldn't be caught dead in-wait, I might want to rethink that), places of employment, political institutions, all fall into this category. However, if at any time in the span of history, you've attempted to harm me in anyway, I reserve the right to destroy you, your associates, or any one linked to you. That is not to say that I will exercise that right, but once you've harmed or attempted to harm me, you've opened a door that you cannot close. My demise will not close that door-my offspring will carry my sentiment to their graves.
As a man, I believe that love is the ultimate in civility and humanity. The love that I have for my child is no different than the love I have for my mate. The boundaries of our interactions may differ, but the love is the same. It is the same love that I have for all of humanity and I choose to express it freely. Universal love is what we all should strive to achieve. But love also has a dark side. I love humanity so much that I would take the life of my own child should that child be a threat to humanity. I have no right to bring forth a seed and sacrifice all of humanity to spare one spoiled seed. It's is my duty to the world to protect it from threats-no matter where they emanate from. Harsh? Perhaps. Necessary? Above all things, yes.
The greatest joy I as a man can ever know is the joy of knowing I've pleased my woman. And if that pleasure is reciprocal, a cycle begins that only death can put an end to. As a man, the love of a good woman is above all things. Her protection and safety I take serious and will never abandon my responsibility-even if it costs me my life.
As a man, I am the protector of my family and my community, for they support me and comfort me in ways no other can. Drugs, alcohol, lust, nor avarice can separate me from that which has the ability to fulfill me completely.
Of course there is plenty more, and I won't attempt to bore you with the details. Sadly, we live in a world where the values I've mentioned have been completely lost amongst the masses. But imagine what a beautiful world this would be if only we could find our way back to these beliefs.
TPOKW
As a man, I believe and subscribe to the mantra first do no harm. I believe the definition lies within the statement, but I'll elaborate for the purpose of clarity. I believe that I have no right to harm those who have not tried to harm me. I have no right to disturb, alter, or negatively influence in anyway, the innocent. That includes members of the human family and animals. It encompasses organizations and entities that I am a member of, or affiliated with, in any way shape or fashion. Churches (which I wouldn't be caught dead in-wait, I might want to rethink that), places of employment, political institutions, all fall into this category. However, if at any time in the span of history, you've attempted to harm me in anyway, I reserve the right to destroy you, your associates, or any one linked to you. That is not to say that I will exercise that right, but once you've harmed or attempted to harm me, you've opened a door that you cannot close. My demise will not close that door-my offspring will carry my sentiment to their graves.
As a man, I believe that love is the ultimate in civility and humanity. The love that I have for my child is no different than the love I have for my mate. The boundaries of our interactions may differ, but the love is the same. It is the same love that I have for all of humanity and I choose to express it freely. Universal love is what we all should strive to achieve. But love also has a dark side. I love humanity so much that I would take the life of my own child should that child be a threat to humanity. I have no right to bring forth a seed and sacrifice all of humanity to spare one spoiled seed. It's is my duty to the world to protect it from threats-no matter where they emanate from. Harsh? Perhaps. Necessary? Above all things, yes.
The greatest joy I as a man can ever know is the joy of knowing I've pleased my woman. And if that pleasure is reciprocal, a cycle begins that only death can put an end to. As a man, the love of a good woman is above all things. Her protection and safety I take serious and will never abandon my responsibility-even if it costs me my life.
As a man, I am the protector of my family and my community, for they support me and comfort me in ways no other can. Drugs, alcohol, lust, nor avarice can separate me from that which has the ability to fulfill me completely.
Of course there is plenty more, and I won't attempt to bore you with the details. Sadly, we live in a world where the values I've mentioned have been completely lost amongst the masses. But imagine what a beautiful world this would be if only we could find our way back to these beliefs.
TPOKW
Friday, October 26, 2007
Alone
My middle daughter, who is now at the beautiful age of 16, has always shown concern for my pension for ending up alone. As far back as I can remember, whenever I announced that I was no longer with one of my temporary mates, she expressed fear because I would be alone. I would always smile to myself, not fully understanding what there was to be afraid of. Well, once again, I find myself alone. Alone is a lonely word, and it conjures up images in our mind of despair and sadness, but I find being alone a solemn undertaking. How else can one be completely alone with your inner-most thoughts? I don't fear being alone. I can't say that I like it much, but being alone makes you appreciate people and I think that we could all benefit from the rediscovery of the beauty of one another.
I remember when I first moved into this apartment-I found myself quite lonely. I was used to the sounds of children playing; a television or radio blaring loudly off in the distance; a casual telephone conversation that didn't involve me, but became the part of an auditory fabric that I'd normalized and grown accustomed to. But here, there was only silence. No television, (I found the sound annoying in this vacuum), no children playing, no other voice but my own, and I was so afraid to hear what I might say to myself-so there was only silence. Sometimes silence can be deafening and your desire to silence the silence becomes great. But we all know that the mere notion of silencing silence borders on insanity, so we remain quiet and find ways to cope. I found ways. They weren't always the same-they varied. Sometimes I would just sit in a chair, staring out the window, and allow the silence to consume me. I struggled against my urge to make it go away. I wanted to become acquainted with it in a friendly manner. But silence is neutral and it does not care whether you appreciate it or not-silence just is. In fact, silence wouldn't know how to interpret your appreciation or your disdain-it simply does not know to care. So what does my opinion matter? It doesn't. The only thing one can do is become one with silence-a synergy that strips you of your desire to break it's hold on all things audible. You simply surrender and then it becomes the auditory fabric that you become accustomed to.
What I miss most being alone, is the warmth and comfort of the human touch. It's not that I couldn't force myself into physical contact with others, it's just that I want to it to emanate from a natural place and not from a place of desperation. I want to be at one with my environmental silence and not fight it by forming unnatural alliances with those whom I might detest, but fear being away from. The paralysis of my analytical mind has always afflicted me.
Still, I sometimes long for my bed not to be empty; for that casual touch at those most unpredictable moments in the middle of night that reassures me that I am alive, and loved, and capable of loving. The absence of human touch can sometimes be torture and the longing for relief constant. Still, I somehow manage to find comfort in it all. Or perhaps that is what I tell myself so that the bleakness of my situation isn't so daunting. Who knows. We do whatever it takes to survive.One thing that I know for certain is I've developed a special appreciation for the human connection. Being alone heightens my senses and makes the slightest connection feel so alive and real. Holding someones hand sets off waves of emotions that remind me of my teenage years. I've become so hypersensitive to the human connection that the mere thought of sexual contact becomes completely overwhelming, and the journey back to that level of connection becomes a slow and methodical process. Why hurry? The journey alone is so exhilarating. There's truly something to be said about depriving one's self from the complete and utter satiation of your every desire. Spending too much time in that realm can quickly become mundane and the only true remedy is deprivation. But so many of us believe the answer lies within satiating ones appetite even more, which explains why so many of us suffer from obesity or die from overdosing on drugs.
I must admit I have a profound fear of being controlled by those desires and the need to satiate them continually. I fear losing myself in the midst of addiction never being able to find my way back to the person I once was. It's not so much a fear of change, but a fear of what I may change in to. I think that was why, for many year, I could not smoke marijuana. The idea of wanting to be in an altered state of consciousness all the time was frightening. Once I convinced myself that infrequent trips to that altered place wasn't so bad, indulging from time to time became an accepted practice for me. Although I don't do it often as I once did, I allow myself the freedom to do so.
Alone and lonely seem like such close companions, but I believe I've found a way to be one and not be totally consumed by the other. Alone describes my physical state-lonely would describe my emotional. Could one exist without the other? Quite possibly. There are those, like myself, who can be alone and not experience loneliness just as there are those who can be amongst a crowd of people and be lonely. In fact, I've found it quite easy to be amongst a crowd or group of people and feel lonelier than I've ever felt in my life.
I know that human contact is necessary and that I thrive in every way imagineable when I know that the comfort of another is there for me. But I also know the feeling of powerlessness that consumes you when you crave that comfort and are denied it. Sometimes that's worse than having never experienced it at all. I don't worry so much that I'll never feel or experience it again. I think I worry that one day it won't matter to me whether it's there or not, and I will find comfort only in my isolation. That, to me, would be a fate far worse than the dismal feelings of loneliness that keeps me company from time to time, letting me know that, although temporary, the slightest touch from a comforting hand can erase months of loneliness in the blink of an eye. I guess hope springs eternal.
TPOKW
Monday, October 15, 2007
So I was talking to a friend...
The other night I went out with a friend whom I have a special interest in. We were at a bar having drinks and during the conversation she made a statement that harkened me back to an old relationship that I had that was not a pleasant one. During our conversation, my friend said, "A guy is a guy is a guy" and to this moment I am still seething over that statement. A while ago I dated a woman who used to like to hit me...hard, in what she claimed was a playful manner. Whenever I commented on the inflicted pain, she would say, That didn't hurt, guys don't hurt like women." Needless to say, that mode of thinking transcended the physical. She thought that being unfaithful wouldn't hurt either.
I guess I have a problem with people who assume that you aren't as human as they are. And when this mentality emanates from someone I'm interested in, it gives me great pause. It's as if she was saying to me, You see, women are diverse, with character and depth, and men are just dolphins minus the dorsal fin." Sometimes you get a glimpse into someones mind without them actually knowing that they are so exposed and one should take heed. The statement was made so emphatically, and then dismissed so casually, I have to catalogue it in the same genre as racist statements. In fact it was quite sexist of her to say such a thing.
Perhaps I'm being sensitive....so fucking what. As well I should be-the people that adhere to early warning systems are never the ones being rescued during floods, tornadoes, or hurricanes. And this, my friends, was an early warning. I can only imagine what may come next. It's as though guys are meant to be toyed with. I have to admit that I am extremely angry over the statement. And when I brought it up again, she said, "Oh, that was so yesterday." Where do these fucking humans come from? You all know that I've had an axe to grind with black women in the past, but I don't think I've ever dealt with one and didn't take into consideration her individuality. In fact, after having so many problems with women, I still gave every one I met thereafter the benefit of the doubt. I didn't lump them into this category whereby they all were lying, deceitful, ingrates-I reserved those titles for those who truly earned them.
I think I was wrong about this person. In the past I might have just dismissed the statement and said, "Oh, that's just her opinion." And how foolish I would have been. Who elses opinion will she consider when she decides that I'm not as human as she, therefore I am open to all sorts of violations and abuse? Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, I'm merely attempting to protect myself. I never thought my own wife would steal $5400 from me either. But somewhere in the recesses of her mind she gave herself permission to do that to me. Was it because I was male and less than human? Was it because I'm black and she wasn't? Or was it because only a fool would trust another person with access to their funds-wife or not? I have no idea what the reason was, but one thing I do know is I'm out of $5400.
Do I sound like a crying little girl? I hope so because I want you to consider the alternative-your ass in a fucking burkha. Either men complain about it, and some women (guilty parties only) see the error of their ways and decide that they have been insensitive to the needs of men, and have relegated them to a less than human status-or we agree to resolve our difference with tests of strength and see what the outcome will be. Make no mistake-I was born an alpha-male and will die one. Make no mistake-I understand where my strength lies and have no problem exercising it. It always reminds me of a statement someone I once loved dearly made to me. We were arguing over her transgressions in our failed relationship and after I made point after point where she'd failed us miserably, she summed it all up by saying, "Well if you knew I was going to do all of that, why did you let me." I beg you all, please, reread that last sentence, like about 10 times. Really! What I got out of the statement, immediately and without hesitation was, I'll give myself permission to do what ever I choose, but I will not take responsibility for my actions-that's the man's job. Why did you let me? Did she just ask me to put her ass in a burkha?
I don't know if I'll ever let that a guy is a guy is a guy statement die-it will forever be etched in my frontal lobe. And I think that I'll never be able to look at this person without knowing that she sees me as a cardboard cutout. What's so sad about it all is that the average male on the face of the earth will risk life and limb to protect his woman and his family. In fact, whenever we are with women, we are at risk of losing our lives. If ever a burglar breaks into our home, we are expected by all parties involved to face that danger in order to protect our loved ones. Let a man be the only survivor in an in-home invasion and watch how not only society vilifies him, but how he will probably torment himself to the point of suicide. Failure means the acceptance of death-and most real men know this and will readily face that danger, without hesitation.
What's left when the ones we desire to honor, serve, and protect, turn their backs on us? The decline of civilization.
TPOKW?
I guess I have a problem with people who assume that you aren't as human as they are. And when this mentality emanates from someone I'm interested in, it gives me great pause. It's as if she was saying to me, You see, women are diverse, with character and depth, and men are just dolphins minus the dorsal fin." Sometimes you get a glimpse into someones mind without them actually knowing that they are so exposed and one should take heed. The statement was made so emphatically, and then dismissed so casually, I have to catalogue it in the same genre as racist statements. In fact it was quite sexist of her to say such a thing.
Perhaps I'm being sensitive....so fucking what. As well I should be-the people that adhere to early warning systems are never the ones being rescued during floods, tornadoes, or hurricanes. And this, my friends, was an early warning. I can only imagine what may come next. It's as though guys are meant to be toyed with. I have to admit that I am extremely angry over the statement. And when I brought it up again, she said, "Oh, that was so yesterday." Where do these fucking humans come from? You all know that I've had an axe to grind with black women in the past, but I don't think I've ever dealt with one and didn't take into consideration her individuality. In fact, after having so many problems with women, I still gave every one I met thereafter the benefit of the doubt. I didn't lump them into this category whereby they all were lying, deceitful, ingrates-I reserved those titles for those who truly earned them.
I think I was wrong about this person. In the past I might have just dismissed the statement and said, "Oh, that's just her opinion." And how foolish I would have been. Who elses opinion will she consider when she decides that I'm not as human as she, therefore I am open to all sorts of violations and abuse? Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, I'm merely attempting to protect myself. I never thought my own wife would steal $5400 from me either. But somewhere in the recesses of her mind she gave herself permission to do that to me. Was it because I was male and less than human? Was it because I'm black and she wasn't? Or was it because only a fool would trust another person with access to their funds-wife or not? I have no idea what the reason was, but one thing I do know is I'm out of $5400.
Do I sound like a crying little girl? I hope so because I want you to consider the alternative-your ass in a fucking burkha. Either men complain about it, and some women (guilty parties only) see the error of their ways and decide that they have been insensitive to the needs of men, and have relegated them to a less than human status-or we agree to resolve our difference with tests of strength and see what the outcome will be. Make no mistake-I was born an alpha-male and will die one. Make no mistake-I understand where my strength lies and have no problem exercising it. It always reminds me of a statement someone I once loved dearly made to me. We were arguing over her transgressions in our failed relationship and after I made point after point where she'd failed us miserably, she summed it all up by saying, "Well if you knew I was going to do all of that, why did you let me." I beg you all, please, reread that last sentence, like about 10 times. Really! What I got out of the statement, immediately and without hesitation was, I'll give myself permission to do what ever I choose, but I will not take responsibility for my actions-that's the man's job. Why did you let me? Did she just ask me to put her ass in a burkha?
I don't know if I'll ever let that a guy is a guy is a guy statement die-it will forever be etched in my frontal lobe. And I think that I'll never be able to look at this person without knowing that she sees me as a cardboard cutout. What's so sad about it all is that the average male on the face of the earth will risk life and limb to protect his woman and his family. In fact, whenever we are with women, we are at risk of losing our lives. If ever a burglar breaks into our home, we are expected by all parties involved to face that danger in order to protect our loved ones. Let a man be the only survivor in an in-home invasion and watch how not only society vilifies him, but how he will probably torment himself to the point of suicide. Failure means the acceptance of death-and most real men know this and will readily face that danger, without hesitation.
What's left when the ones we desire to honor, serve, and protect, turn their backs on us? The decline of civilization.
TPOKW?
Sunday, October 14, 2007
The Prince is Depressed
Every now and then I go through bouts of depression. Nothing serious, just enough to make me close the blinds and not want to go outside. I'm not sure what triggers it, but perhaps this time it's because my lap top crashed AGAIN! This is the 4th time in like a year and 3 months. I've replaced 4 hard drives and it is beginning to really annoy me. Fortunately they are under warranty, but I hate opening that lap top case, all the parts are so delicate and there's a level of stress that accompanies the activity that I don't particularly care for.
Anyway, I didn't go outside all day today. I closed the blinds and just relaxed the best I could. I wish it rained today, believe it or not it helps me when I get depressed. Don't get me wrong, I'm usually at my center 95% of the time. But I was on a natural high yesterday and I usually crash pretty hard when I allow myself to experience that level of joy. That's one of the reasons I like to remain centered.
The last time I had a serious bout of depression was in 1995. It lasted about 2 weeks and I couldn't figure out what the hell was wrong with me. I would be at work and all of a sudden I would have to rush to the restroom so no one would see me crying like a baby. It ranked amongst the worse 2 weeks of my life. It was weird, I would cry all the way to work and all the way home. And just like a man, I REFUSED to seek help. Eventually it passed. This time isn't nearly that serious. I just think the lap top situation brought me down.
I wrote a new song, but I don't feel like it's any good. I was really amped about it at first, but now I'm not really feeling it. I laid the vocal track today and when I started doing the backing vocals I lost all interest. I couldn't find the harmonies and the depression thing made me give up and go lay down and take a nap. I didn't sleep too well but at least I felt rested when I awoke.
My focus lately has been to improve my guitar skills and I'm beginning to break new ground. It's always nice when the time invested yields positive results. I'm probably a little down because I haven't exercised in weeks. I haven't ran in about a week-just been to damned busy. I think I need a break. I turned my phone off today. I needed complete isolation until I can get my head back to where it needs to be. I didn't want anyone affecting my mood. I know that I'm carrying way too much on my shoulders right now but it's nice when I complete all task effectively. I really enjoy the rest afterwards.
I've decided to join 24 hour fitness again. There's one right up the street from me and I can run to it, exercise, and then finish my run on my way home. I used to do that when I lived in my old place. I know I need to invest more time in my exercise regiment. And as soon as December arrives, I'm clearing my schedule completely. I don't want to have any new projects following me into the New Year. I want a clean slate.
I really want to move outside of the U.S. for a while. I don't know where, but I need a break from this place. I need to go back to Spain or somewhere no one knows me. When I was there (a long time ago), I could go out and be amongst the people and still feel that much needed isolation. It was as though I wasn't even there. People would greet me, but I could lose myself in public. Something I have a difficult time doing here in the good ole' US of A. Being black, you stick out like a sore thumb here and you're always aware of the fact that you're black. In Spain those pressures just didn't exist. I'm not saying there wasn't racism, but there was more hatred for Caucasian Americans in Spain than there was for black ones. In fact, I was accepted amongst the Spaniards I chose to deal with because I knew enough of the language to communicate. I loved the vibe. I hated the 4 distinct seasons-they have real winters there. And when I arrived with my California gear in November, I was in for a shocker. I froze my ass off until I was able to transition my wardrobe to something more appropriate for the climate.
As you can probably tell, I'm just rambling about because I don't have much I want to put into my blog. I have plenty to talk about, but Lulu's get's the dirt now so I don't have to put it on my blog-thanks Lulu, bill my insurance for the psychiatric sessions. I can't say that they are working but it does feel good to get it off my chest. It's always nice to get the opinion of an objective female from the other side of the globe. She tells it like it is!
It's weird, all of a sudden I've gotten really private as of late. I don't know what it is. One minute I'm writing about EVERYTHING, the next I don't want to write anything about my personal life. I think it's because my emotions are being pulled apart since I met a new female. I don't want to talk about it. I've said too much already. I know that I'm still dealing the residual nonsense from my marriage and I haven't quite faced it all head on. I think I've been avoiding dealing with it. I'm hoping that it will take care of itself, but I know better than that. I don't even think often about my soon-to-be ex wife. And I know that I'm trying to bury the whole thing without dealing with it. You don't live with someone 6 years and then have no emotional anything for that person once their gone. I don't know where and I don't know when, but eventually I'm going to come face to face with it all. I'm too emotionally aware for this not to have affected me in some way or the other. I'm just skillfully suppressing it now. Or, maybe it's just that the marriage had been over for a minimum of 3 years before we actually separated and maybe I have dealt with it in my own way. I don't know, I'm just living day to day and not really focusing on it. I have too many other things I need to deal with.
She called the other night to tell me that she was in school. I was really happy to hear that. I wish her the best. I have absolutely no ill feelings toward her-in fact I still have love for her. Not the type of love that could sustain another waking moment with her, but the type that you'd have for someone you were once really close to but have moved on. I simply can't hold anything against her, no matter how much I would like to try. My mother on the other hand, can and does hold something against her. Harming someone's child has that affect on people. There are girls that my son dated that I'd like to see burned at the stake, but I know that he's forgiven them. Once you harm someone's children, you're permanently cast in the shadow of negativity.
Well I think I will try to get some sleep. Hopefully I'll feel better in the morning. It might be all of this sunshine that's depressing me. I need it to rain. I love the rain, it depresses me so beautifully. It puts me in that melancholy mood that makes the slightest positive thought seem so beautiful. Rain reminds me of being purified. It grants me permission to release all negativity. I can sit back and watch it pass as I just let it all go. I also like the way the earth smells after a good rain. It feels like it's morning all day long (morning dew also gives the earth that smell as well-even though it isn't as strong). I guess that's why I like the morning.
The Prince is officially of the air.
TPOKW?
Anyway, I didn't go outside all day today. I closed the blinds and just relaxed the best I could. I wish it rained today, believe it or not it helps me when I get depressed. Don't get me wrong, I'm usually at my center 95% of the time. But I was on a natural high yesterday and I usually crash pretty hard when I allow myself to experience that level of joy. That's one of the reasons I like to remain centered.
The last time I had a serious bout of depression was in 1995. It lasted about 2 weeks and I couldn't figure out what the hell was wrong with me. I would be at work and all of a sudden I would have to rush to the restroom so no one would see me crying like a baby. It ranked amongst the worse 2 weeks of my life. It was weird, I would cry all the way to work and all the way home. And just like a man, I REFUSED to seek help. Eventually it passed. This time isn't nearly that serious. I just think the lap top situation brought me down.
I wrote a new song, but I don't feel like it's any good. I was really amped about it at first, but now I'm not really feeling it. I laid the vocal track today and when I started doing the backing vocals I lost all interest. I couldn't find the harmonies and the depression thing made me give up and go lay down and take a nap. I didn't sleep too well but at least I felt rested when I awoke.
My focus lately has been to improve my guitar skills and I'm beginning to break new ground. It's always nice when the time invested yields positive results. I'm probably a little down because I haven't exercised in weeks. I haven't ran in about a week-just been to damned busy. I think I need a break. I turned my phone off today. I needed complete isolation until I can get my head back to where it needs to be. I didn't want anyone affecting my mood. I know that I'm carrying way too much on my shoulders right now but it's nice when I complete all task effectively. I really enjoy the rest afterwards.
I've decided to join 24 hour fitness again. There's one right up the street from me and I can run to it, exercise, and then finish my run on my way home. I used to do that when I lived in my old place. I know I need to invest more time in my exercise regiment. And as soon as December arrives, I'm clearing my schedule completely. I don't want to have any new projects following me into the New Year. I want a clean slate.
I really want to move outside of the U.S. for a while. I don't know where, but I need a break from this place. I need to go back to Spain or somewhere no one knows me. When I was there (a long time ago), I could go out and be amongst the people and still feel that much needed isolation. It was as though I wasn't even there. People would greet me, but I could lose myself in public. Something I have a difficult time doing here in the good ole' US of A. Being black, you stick out like a sore thumb here and you're always aware of the fact that you're black. In Spain those pressures just didn't exist. I'm not saying there wasn't racism, but there was more hatred for Caucasian Americans in Spain than there was for black ones. In fact, I was accepted amongst the Spaniards I chose to deal with because I knew enough of the language to communicate. I loved the vibe. I hated the 4 distinct seasons-they have real winters there. And when I arrived with my California gear in November, I was in for a shocker. I froze my ass off until I was able to transition my wardrobe to something more appropriate for the climate.
As you can probably tell, I'm just rambling about because I don't have much I want to put into my blog. I have plenty to talk about, but Lulu's get's the dirt now so I don't have to put it on my blog-thanks Lulu, bill my insurance for the psychiatric sessions. I can't say that they are working but it does feel good to get it off my chest. It's always nice to get the opinion of an objective female from the other side of the globe. She tells it like it is!
It's weird, all of a sudden I've gotten really private as of late. I don't know what it is. One minute I'm writing about EVERYTHING, the next I don't want to write anything about my personal life. I think it's because my emotions are being pulled apart since I met a new female. I don't want to talk about it. I've said too much already. I know that I'm still dealing the residual nonsense from my marriage and I haven't quite faced it all head on. I think I've been avoiding dealing with it. I'm hoping that it will take care of itself, but I know better than that. I don't even think often about my soon-to-be ex wife. And I know that I'm trying to bury the whole thing without dealing with it. You don't live with someone 6 years and then have no emotional anything for that person once their gone. I don't know where and I don't know when, but eventually I'm going to come face to face with it all. I'm too emotionally aware for this not to have affected me in some way or the other. I'm just skillfully suppressing it now. Or, maybe it's just that the marriage had been over for a minimum of 3 years before we actually separated and maybe I have dealt with it in my own way. I don't know, I'm just living day to day and not really focusing on it. I have too many other things I need to deal with.
She called the other night to tell me that she was in school. I was really happy to hear that. I wish her the best. I have absolutely no ill feelings toward her-in fact I still have love for her. Not the type of love that could sustain another waking moment with her, but the type that you'd have for someone you were once really close to but have moved on. I simply can't hold anything against her, no matter how much I would like to try. My mother on the other hand, can and does hold something against her. Harming someone's child has that affect on people. There are girls that my son dated that I'd like to see burned at the stake, but I know that he's forgiven them. Once you harm someone's children, you're permanently cast in the shadow of negativity.
Well I think I will try to get some sleep. Hopefully I'll feel better in the morning. It might be all of this sunshine that's depressing me. I need it to rain. I love the rain, it depresses me so beautifully. It puts me in that melancholy mood that makes the slightest positive thought seem so beautiful. Rain reminds me of being purified. It grants me permission to release all negativity. I can sit back and watch it pass as I just let it all go. I also like the way the earth smells after a good rain. It feels like it's morning all day long (morning dew also gives the earth that smell as well-even though it isn't as strong). I guess that's why I like the morning.
The Prince is officially of the air.
TPOKW?
Friday, October 05, 2007
She Love Me
I believe an indicator of growth can be seen when someone can admit they made a mistake-and boy did I make one with my last post. But before I go into detail, I need to make an assertion here:
I will never again speak ill of black women.
I learned something last night about both myself and most black women in this country. First of all, I have some prejudices that I need to deal with. Not to mention the fact that a lot of black women have dealt with men whose point of view and intentions differ from mine. Therefore how can expect them to see me differently when they interface with me? I was wrong about Cat-oh so wrong. I'm not saying that she loves me-no more than I meant in the last blog entry that she hated me. What I'm saying is that the negative facade that I met the other day had nothing to do with me and had everything to do with her state of mind at the time.
We were all exhausted after last weekend and a lot of that affected both my opinion of her message to me and her mood in general. Even I blew up at my drummer on the way back from Vegas and everyone agrees it has a lot to do with the sheer exhaustion we were all experiencing. So why didn't I factor that into Cat and my conversation? Why did I just fall back on my predetermined judgments about black women? Perhaps it's because I'm human, I don't know. But what I do know is I owe both Cat and black women an apology. I've neglected to factor in their experience in America-it's completely different than a black male's. Yes we all experience racism. But every black woman who gets involved with a black man in this country has to face the fear that he may be taken away from her. Yes other women may experience this fear as well, but black men or more inclined to die earlier than all other men. We have a higher incarceration rate and when a black woman gets involved with one of us, the fear that we'll be murdered, or incarcerated, or just simply abandon them looms large in their brains-I'm certain. I think the attitude might be fear of getting too close.
Cat and I talked extensively last night (well into the early morning hours) and I learned a great deal about her personal experiences, black women's experiences in general, and my own bull-headed self. She just talked and I listened-and I saw errors in my judgment. I can't for the life of me figure out why I expected perfection. I'm not saying Cat and I made a love connection-I'm saying that it was a learning experience for me and certainly an opportunity for growth on my part.
I have to honestly say that I have been wrapped up too much in my own experiences. I also have to take into consideration that I haven't completely dealt with the demise of my marriage. I am extremely sensitive now to all changes in my personal environment-and I'm gun shy. I know the pain involved in break-ups and I don't want to start a casual relationship, have it morp into something more meaningful, and then have it dissipate. My life has been filled with these relationships and I'm exhausted of them. I've certainly had my fun, but what has it cost me? Plenty, I believe.
I just hope that the black women who I've spoken so ill of will find it within their hearts to forgive my ignorance. There are root explanations for all irrational behavior. We afford mental patients latitude because of their past experiences, why couldn't I see that the black woman's experience in America has been one that could push one to the brink of madness. Along with black men, they are the most vilified in this society. So much so, Don Imus thought nothing to refer to some of the most promising of our people as nappy-headed ho's. As black men and protectors of our women, we should have found a way to make it where Don Imus never spoke publicly again. Al Sharpton shouldn't have been the only black male public figure to speak out. We should have heard it from Bill Cosby, Eddie Murphy, Barak Obama, and whomever else has a public voice. Hell, even I refrained from commenting in my blog. Why didn't we come to the defense of our women en masse? I am certain black women around the nation would have had a great deal more respect for us had we done so.
Suffice it to say that everyday is a day to learn something new, and I've learned that, although black women may act irrational at times, there is definitely a reasoning behind it. Because there is a reason doesn't make it right, but instead of watching someone in a glass cage go nuts and complaining about their behavior, one should take into consideration the condition an individual is made to live in before judging or prejudging them. It is so easy to say Pull yourself up by your bootstraps when you've been privileged with the boots, the straps, and the knowledge necessary to pull yourself up. Many black women, in spite of the odds, have done quite well for themselves-my mother and sisters being amongst them. But those are the exceptions to the rule. It's quite difficult to do what seems so simple when you've been hamstrung much earlier than one could conceive that they were being hamstrung. It always amazes me when pundits, aware of the deleterious effects of negative classic conditioning, make these caustic and careless statements; as though reversing the negative damages society and community can have on an individual is as simple as snapping your fingers-this thing is much deeper than that. I too have been guilty of such nonsense, but I vow to exhibit better judgment in the future.
Stay strong and hang in there my black women, we'll put this thing back together, I promise!
TPOKW
I will never again speak ill of black women.
I learned something last night about both myself and most black women in this country. First of all, I have some prejudices that I need to deal with. Not to mention the fact that a lot of black women have dealt with men whose point of view and intentions differ from mine. Therefore how can expect them to see me differently when they interface with me? I was wrong about Cat-oh so wrong. I'm not saying that she loves me-no more than I meant in the last blog entry that she hated me. What I'm saying is that the negative facade that I met the other day had nothing to do with me and had everything to do with her state of mind at the time.
We were all exhausted after last weekend and a lot of that affected both my opinion of her message to me and her mood in general. Even I blew up at my drummer on the way back from Vegas and everyone agrees it has a lot to do with the sheer exhaustion we were all experiencing. So why didn't I factor that into Cat and my conversation? Why did I just fall back on my predetermined judgments about black women? Perhaps it's because I'm human, I don't know. But what I do know is I owe both Cat and black women an apology. I've neglected to factor in their experience in America-it's completely different than a black male's. Yes we all experience racism. But every black woman who gets involved with a black man in this country has to face the fear that he may be taken away from her. Yes other women may experience this fear as well, but black men or more inclined to die earlier than all other men. We have a higher incarceration rate and when a black woman gets involved with one of us, the fear that we'll be murdered, or incarcerated, or just simply abandon them looms large in their brains-I'm certain. I think the attitude might be fear of getting too close.
Cat and I talked extensively last night (well into the early morning hours) and I learned a great deal about her personal experiences, black women's experiences in general, and my own bull-headed self. She just talked and I listened-and I saw errors in my judgment. I can't for the life of me figure out why I expected perfection. I'm not saying Cat and I made a love connection-I'm saying that it was a learning experience for me and certainly an opportunity for growth on my part.
I have to honestly say that I have been wrapped up too much in my own experiences. I also have to take into consideration that I haven't completely dealt with the demise of my marriage. I am extremely sensitive now to all changes in my personal environment-and I'm gun shy. I know the pain involved in break-ups and I don't want to start a casual relationship, have it morp into something more meaningful, and then have it dissipate. My life has been filled with these relationships and I'm exhausted of them. I've certainly had my fun, but what has it cost me? Plenty, I believe.
I just hope that the black women who I've spoken so ill of will find it within their hearts to forgive my ignorance. There are root explanations for all irrational behavior. We afford mental patients latitude because of their past experiences, why couldn't I see that the black woman's experience in America has been one that could push one to the brink of madness. Along with black men, they are the most vilified in this society. So much so, Don Imus thought nothing to refer to some of the most promising of our people as nappy-headed ho's. As black men and protectors of our women, we should have found a way to make it where Don Imus never spoke publicly again. Al Sharpton shouldn't have been the only black male public figure to speak out. We should have heard it from Bill Cosby, Eddie Murphy, Barak Obama, and whomever else has a public voice. Hell, even I refrained from commenting in my blog. Why didn't we come to the defense of our women en masse? I am certain black women around the nation would have had a great deal more respect for us had we done so.
Suffice it to say that everyday is a day to learn something new, and I've learned that, although black women may act irrational at times, there is definitely a reasoning behind it. Because there is a reason doesn't make it right, but instead of watching someone in a glass cage go nuts and complaining about their behavior, one should take into consideration the condition an individual is made to live in before judging or prejudging them. It is so easy to say Pull yourself up by your bootstraps when you've been privileged with the boots, the straps, and the knowledge necessary to pull yourself up. Many black women, in spite of the odds, have done quite well for themselves-my mother and sisters being amongst them. But those are the exceptions to the rule. It's quite difficult to do what seems so simple when you've been hamstrung much earlier than one could conceive that they were being hamstrung. It always amazes me when pundits, aware of the deleterious effects of negative classic conditioning, make these caustic and careless statements; as though reversing the negative damages society and community can have on an individual is as simple as snapping your fingers-this thing is much deeper than that. I too have been guilty of such nonsense, but I vow to exhibit better judgment in the future.
Stay strong and hang in there my black women, we'll put this thing back together, I promise!
TPOKW
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
She Hate Me
This past weekend the band rented a couple of vans and headed out for a gig in Las Vegas Nevada. Steve, the bass player, and I had only a few hours of sleep between the two of us, but the excitement of the gig was enough to sustain us. We were hired to back an artist who goes by the name LaFelle. Andre' Lafelle Roberson is an extremely talented young man who arrived at his very first rehearsal with us with two beautiful black women-his back-up dancers. But I'll get to them in a minute. The gig, as I mentioned, was in Las Vegas at a mega mansion in the new development of Red Rock. The three-story house, situated in a gated community within a gated community, was equipped with a beautiful infinity pool that appeared to trail off into the desert and a home theater that rivaled anything I've seen.
The band arrived at the venue and we all marveled at the beauty of this place. We were further taken aback by the stage. It was situated in the center of the infinity pool.
When we arrived, the models were rehearsing and we knew right away that it would be an evening to remember.
Back to the back up dancers. The night of the first rehearsal, I took it upon myself to flirt with one of them. She was the darker complected of the two and very attractive to me. My flirtations seemed to be working so I figured I would further pursue the matter in Vegas. I greeted the two dancers at the 2nd rehearsal, and even got some close-up time with the young lady I was attracted to (let's call her Cat (no, it's not her real name-but close)). I grabbed Cat's hand and pulled her close to me and she sat on my lap as we discussed various topics with the rest of the band. In my book, I would consider this progress. Eventually she dismissed herself and we all went back to chatting and waiting for the models to finish their endless rehearsal.
Later on in the day I went to speak with Cat, but she, all of sudden, developed an attitude. I had no idea where it came from. I decided that putting distance between the two of us wouldn't be the worst of ideas-so I avoided her for the rest of the day.
After we got the opportunity to set up, warm up, and rehearse, we all packed into the mini-van and headed back to the spot where we had holed up for the day to change and get back for the performance. When we arrived, it was like a scene out of Hollywood. There were bright lights-the searchlight type that let people know from miles around that an event is taking place. There was a red carpet, complete with all the models of the fashion show waiting to greet all who arrived. This felt star-studded. Lafelle would be the opening act, the fashion show would follow, and then Grammy Award winning artist John B would take the stage and close out the night.
I was nervous earlier because we had only rehearsed with Lafelle once-and all of his music was original. I was extremely concerned. But once we were able to warm-up, it became obvious to me that Wisdom Soul was truly a professional band that could meet and exceed the expectations of any artist or audience. We took the stage and Lafelle did his thing. The dancers were beautiful and the crowd really enjoyed the show.
Afterwards, I felt relieved that the show went off as well as it did. But I was a little exhausted-I needed a stiff drink. I ordered a scotch straight-up, relaxed and took in the scene. The rest of the band was on cloud-9! They were really enjoying themselves, and I enjoyed watching them. As usual, I find it difficult to really let myself go when I know that there is work to be done. I surveyed my surroundings trying to hone in on another angle to make this kind of money. I've made money in my day, but certainly not anything close to the type of money that puts you in the company of the people I was in that evening. My mind searched desperately for answers, angles, solutions, but I think I was too exhausted to be effective. My mind wandered back and forth from solutions to Cat. I saw her and the other dancer sitting together at a table but chose not to approach-I was still a little bitter from earlier that day.
We gathered together, took photos, discussed different ideas and just enjoyed the evening. After my second drink, the bitterness I felt toward Cat began to wane and I made my way over to her as she talked with our drummer. I sat behind her as she continued her conversation. I began rubbing her leg to get her attention, and then focused on giving her a back rub. Slowly she began to respond. Here is where things began to get hazy. Cat and I went out to dance as Jon B performed. The next thing I remember is leading her down to the home theater in the basement. I don't remember much after that. At some point she gave me her phone number, that much I remember. After 2 scotches straight and only 3 hours of sleep in the past 48 hours, I think I'd pushed myself beyond my limit. I remember sitting in their limo talking to her, but don't remember what I said-this has been happening a lot to me lately when I drink and I can't explain why I'm losing my memory when I drink-perhaps alcohol-induced alzheimers.
Anyway, to make an otherwise long story short, the next day I sent Cat a text telling her how much enjoyed spending time with her the previous evening. Her response wasn't exactly what I expected. She was a bit cold. After further investigation, apparently I said something that she didn't agree with that evening. I have no idea what it was that I said-I do know I have a tendency to talk sh*t when I drink, but never to women. It's usually testosterone-ladened banter reserved for my guy friends.
Eventually there was brief conversation between Cat and I-extremely brief. It went like this:
Me- So refresh my memory. What exactly did I say?
Cat- No see, I believe that if it was important enough for you to say, it would be important enough for you to remember, therefore I don't believe I should refreshen (sic) your memory at all. I'm not going to do that.
Me- You believe-
Cat- Hold on, who's this walking up to my house. Can you hold?
Me -Sure.
(Play complete Jeopardy theme music here.....three times. Finally:
Cat- Can I call you right back?
Me- Sure.
And that was the last I heard from her-it's been well over 12 hours. During that 12 hours, I've done some thinking. I don't really know Cat, and she really doesn't know me. So why did she treat me as though she did? The whole "I don't believe" nonsense doesn't sound like someone who's a team player. It seems like she has an idea of who the f*ck I am before knowing who the f*ck I am. As I said before, I don't know her, therefore I'm not going to approach her as though I do. Her approach to me was as though someone had done something to her in her past, and I'm about to pay for it-no, not this week! Now this will be the same woman, 10 years from now talking about how their are no good men out there and that black men don't talk to her-they just like white women. You could probably fill a stadium with the black women I've personally dealt with that, for one reason or another, discounted me. Am I a good man? You betcha! (I like that corny phrase. You can't get more Howdy Doody than that).
Before you all go off on a tangent about my recent arrest and my pension for the occasional violent scuffle, let me detail to you my manly accomplishments:
*I've been gainfully employed since the age of 12.
*All of my children know me intimately and we keep in contact with one another. I've been supportive financially and otherwise.
*All of the children of the women I've dated have been treated as though they were my own children.
*I've always taken care of home first-regardless of who my female counter-part is.
*I'm respectful and believe in teamwork and hardwork as well as hard play.
*I'm an attentive lover, mate and friend.
*I'm sensitive to the needs of those around me and often put them before my own.
*My happiness is derived from seeing members of my clan happy.
*My woman's needs come first. My theory is if she's happy, so am I.
*My goal is to leave not only a positive legacy for my offspring, but also head start financing to give them a head start in life.
Keeping all that in mind, there are things a woman should know about me:
*Although I have a sense of humor, I'm an extremely serious person and will take corrective action if need be (interpret that however you choose).
*I believe in self-discipline. Not only for myself but for my partner and the offspring we have been charged with caring for.
*I believe in work before play. Take care of business so that the business can take care of you.
*I believe that the male is the head of household and responsible for the success and failure of the home. I believe that there should be only one captain of the ship. If the pilot of a plane is flying at 30,000 feet, how many passengers does he need interfering with what he's doing? My answer would be zero. Just sit down, shut up, and ride. Anything other than that would be a distraction. Furthermore, if someone can relinquish control of their life to a complete stranger who takes them up to 30,000 feet at speeds exceeding 200 miles an hour, surely they should be able to trust me to manage our family. Think about it. We know absolutely nothing about the pilot, nor what he has done in the past 24-48 hours. He could have just left a mad Rave where he indulged in excessive drinking and popped ecstacy all night. How do we know? Yet we buy our tickets and sit our butts down and allow this person to put us in one of the most dangerous and precarious situations we can find ourselves in. Most of us don't even see the pilot. There could be a donkey in the cockpit for all we know. If you can place your life in the hands of a complete stranger, at least you should be able to trust me to make decisions about the financial status of our household.
I've posted here before about black women and I have absolutely nothing against them-I love them dearly. But granting yourself permission to be venemous in your speech to me doesn't set well with me. Especially if you don't know me. I don't want to go through a lifetime of circus tricks to get you to see that I'm a decent human who only wants a family, a peaceful domicile, (not with Cat-just in general) and some pure and unadulterated sex from time to time. The last experience with Cat just turns my stomach. Sharazad Ali, author of A Blackman's Guide to Understanding a Blackwoman said that every now and again she might need a pop in the mouth to get her straight. I don't advocate violence against anyone-man, woman, or child. But what is the answer here? How is that we are going to get black women to understand that we aren't their enemy?
Fortunately wisdom has prevailed and I have absolutely nothing for this Cat person. Was it a missed opportunity for her? I don't think so. With her attitude she would have lasted no longer than that brief conversation I detailed earlier. But as a black man, I'm crying out to you black woman-SEEK HELP!!! You can't continue to vilify us and still expect us to want to build lives with you. Cat started off telling me what she wasn't going to do. Now I have to admit, I might have said something foul in my stupor, but I doubt it. I usually become extremely philosophical with women when I've been drinking. It's the men that have to watch out for my verbose banter. I do recall her telling me, "Don't fall in love." To which I distinctely remember responding, "That may be a warning you want to adhere to yourself." I found it odd that she would say such a thing to me after seeing her only once before in my entire life. She obviously thinks more of herself than I do. I also recall her telling me that she was working on her master's. Sadly, she could become the Master of the Universe and she still wouldn't be in a position to lead me. I am an alpa-male and a natural born leader. And unless she's well versed in the arts, philosphy, and martial law (not to be confused with marital law), I don't think her master status will put her in a position to lead me. She can assist me with leadership, but never lead-not when she's so susceptible to her own whims and emotions.
Some women are just too easily led by the media today for me to follow one. Now if there is a woman out there, and I know that they exist, who is a realist like me, she won't have to wrestle with me for power, I'll cede it without a fight because I know that she sees the world in a similar way that I do. She knows that television isn't real, but utilized primarily to get you to buy shit. And when you see people on The O.C. living large, someone paid a dear price in order to live so lavishly. It won't fall from the sky. It's not going to be given to you-you'll have to earn it. And if you're not ready to roll up your sleeves and get to work, you'll scurry along the baseboards of life forever.
I know this seems like a long rant about nothing, but I just get so frustrated when I try to interface with a black woman and she comes with this you a nigga mentality. It's like I should be happy to be in her presence. Let me say this, getting a woman has never been a problem for me and I don't mind going off the reservation. I'd prefer not to, but no one wants to do battle with their life partner. I have too many other obstacles that I have to tackle. Why should I voluntarily invite another one in the very place they can do the most damage-in my home where I am most vulnerable?
Don't think that I'm basing my opinions on one incident with one black woman. This is a prevailing attitude that I've dealt with practically all life and it's so tired and old. Who's going to be the one to stand up and tell them to cut that shit out?
I don't know what to say anymore. I don't know how to deal with the attitude any longer. I am at my wits end. What do you make of a man who desires something so much but knows deep within that it is unattainable?
The Prince of Know Where? is vexed.
The band arrived at the venue and we all marveled at the beauty of this place. We were further taken aback by the stage. It was situated in the center of the infinity pool.
When we arrived, the models were rehearsing and we knew right away that it would be an evening to remember.Back to the back up dancers. The night of the first rehearsal, I took it upon myself to flirt with one of them. She was the darker complected of the two and very attractive to me. My flirtations seemed to be working so I figured I would further pursue the matter in Vegas. I greeted the two dancers at the 2nd rehearsal, and even got some close-up time with the young lady I was attracted to (let's call her Cat (no, it's not her real name-but close)). I grabbed Cat's hand and pulled her close to me and she sat on my lap as we discussed various topics with the rest of the band. In my book, I would consider this progress. Eventually she dismissed herself and we all went back to chatting and waiting for the models to finish their endless rehearsal.
Later on in the day I went to speak with Cat, but she, all of sudden, developed an attitude. I had no idea where it came from. I decided that putting distance between the two of us wouldn't be the worst of ideas-so I avoided her for the rest of the day.
After we got the opportunity to set up, warm up, and rehearse, we all packed into the mini-van and headed back to the spot where we had holed up for the day to change and get back for the performance. When we arrived, it was like a scene out of Hollywood. There were bright lights-the searchlight type that let people know from miles around that an event is taking place. There was a red carpet, complete with all the models of the fashion show waiting to greet all who arrived. This felt star-studded. Lafelle would be the opening act, the fashion show would follow, and then Grammy Award winning artist John B would take the stage and close out the night.
I was nervous earlier because we had only rehearsed with Lafelle once-and all of his music was original. I was extremely concerned. But once we were able to warm-up, it became obvious to me that Wisdom Soul was truly a professional band that could meet and exceed the expectations of any artist or audience. We took the stage and Lafelle did his thing. The dancers were beautiful and the crowd really enjoyed the show.
Afterwards, I felt relieved that the show went off as well as it did. But I was a little exhausted-I needed a stiff drink. I ordered a scotch straight-up, relaxed and took in the scene. The rest of the band was on cloud-9! They were really enjoying themselves, and I enjoyed watching them. As usual, I find it difficult to really let myself go when I know that there is work to be done. I surveyed my surroundings trying to hone in on another angle to make this kind of money. I've made money in my day, but certainly not anything close to the type of money that puts you in the company of the people I was in that evening. My mind searched desperately for answers, angles, solutions, but I think I was too exhausted to be effective. My mind wandered back and forth from solutions to Cat. I saw her and the other dancer sitting together at a table but chose not to approach-I was still a little bitter from earlier that day.
We gathered together, took photos, discussed different ideas and just enjoyed the evening. After my second drink, the bitterness I felt toward Cat began to wane and I made my way over to her as she talked with our drummer. I sat behind her as she continued her conversation. I began rubbing her leg to get her attention, and then focused on giving her a back rub. Slowly she began to respond. Here is where things began to get hazy. Cat and I went out to dance as Jon B performed. The next thing I remember is leading her down to the home theater in the basement. I don't remember much after that. At some point she gave me her phone number, that much I remember. After 2 scotches straight and only 3 hours of sleep in the past 48 hours, I think I'd pushed myself beyond my limit. I remember sitting in their limo talking to her, but don't remember what I said-this has been happening a lot to me lately when I drink and I can't explain why I'm losing my memory when I drink-perhaps alcohol-induced alzheimers.
Anyway, to make an otherwise long story short, the next day I sent Cat a text telling her how much enjoyed spending time with her the previous evening. Her response wasn't exactly what I expected. She was a bit cold. After further investigation, apparently I said something that she didn't agree with that evening. I have no idea what it was that I said-I do know I have a tendency to talk sh*t when I drink, but never to women. It's usually testosterone-ladened banter reserved for my guy friends.
Eventually there was brief conversation between Cat and I-extremely brief. It went like this:
Me- So refresh my memory. What exactly did I say?
Cat- No see, I believe that if it was important enough for you to say, it would be important enough for you to remember, therefore I don't believe I should refreshen (sic) your memory at all. I'm not going to do that.
Me- You believe-
Cat- Hold on, who's this walking up to my house. Can you hold?
Me -Sure.
(Play complete Jeopardy theme music here.....three times. Finally:
Cat- Can I call you right back?
Me- Sure.
And that was the last I heard from her-it's been well over 12 hours. During that 12 hours, I've done some thinking. I don't really know Cat, and she really doesn't know me. So why did she treat me as though she did? The whole "I don't believe" nonsense doesn't sound like someone who's a team player. It seems like she has an idea of who the f*ck I am before knowing who the f*ck I am. As I said before, I don't know her, therefore I'm not going to approach her as though I do. Her approach to me was as though someone had done something to her in her past, and I'm about to pay for it-no, not this week! Now this will be the same woman, 10 years from now talking about how their are no good men out there and that black men don't talk to her-they just like white women. You could probably fill a stadium with the black women I've personally dealt with that, for one reason or another, discounted me. Am I a good man? You betcha! (I like that corny phrase. You can't get more Howdy Doody than that).
Before you all go off on a tangent about my recent arrest and my pension for the occasional violent scuffle, let me detail to you my manly accomplishments:
*I've been gainfully employed since the age of 12.
*All of my children know me intimately and we keep in contact with one another. I've been supportive financially and otherwise.
*All of the children of the women I've dated have been treated as though they were my own children.
*I've always taken care of home first-regardless of who my female counter-part is.
*I'm respectful and believe in teamwork and hardwork as well as hard play.
*I'm an attentive lover, mate and friend.
*I'm sensitive to the needs of those around me and often put them before my own.
*My happiness is derived from seeing members of my clan happy.
*My woman's needs come first. My theory is if she's happy, so am I.
*My goal is to leave not only a positive legacy for my offspring, but also head start financing to give them a head start in life.
Keeping all that in mind, there are things a woman should know about me:
*Although I have a sense of humor, I'm an extremely serious person and will take corrective action if need be (interpret that however you choose).
*I believe in self-discipline. Not only for myself but for my partner and the offspring we have been charged with caring for.
*I believe in work before play. Take care of business so that the business can take care of you.
*I believe that the male is the head of household and responsible for the success and failure of the home. I believe that there should be only one captain of the ship. If the pilot of a plane is flying at 30,000 feet, how many passengers does he need interfering with what he's doing? My answer would be zero. Just sit down, shut up, and ride. Anything other than that would be a distraction. Furthermore, if someone can relinquish control of their life to a complete stranger who takes them up to 30,000 feet at speeds exceeding 200 miles an hour, surely they should be able to trust me to manage our family. Think about it. We know absolutely nothing about the pilot, nor what he has done in the past 24-48 hours. He could have just left a mad Rave where he indulged in excessive drinking and popped ecstacy all night. How do we know? Yet we buy our tickets and sit our butts down and allow this person to put us in one of the most dangerous and precarious situations we can find ourselves in. Most of us don't even see the pilot. There could be a donkey in the cockpit for all we know. If you can place your life in the hands of a complete stranger, at least you should be able to trust me to make decisions about the financial status of our household.
I've posted here before about black women and I have absolutely nothing against them-I love them dearly. But granting yourself permission to be venemous in your speech to me doesn't set well with me. Especially if you don't know me. I don't want to go through a lifetime of circus tricks to get you to see that I'm a decent human who only wants a family, a peaceful domicile, (not with Cat-just in general) and some pure and unadulterated sex from time to time. The last experience with Cat just turns my stomach. Sharazad Ali, author of A Blackman's Guide to Understanding a Blackwoman said that every now and again she might need a pop in the mouth to get her straight. I don't advocate violence against anyone-man, woman, or child. But what is the answer here? How is that we are going to get black women to understand that we aren't their enemy?
Fortunately wisdom has prevailed and I have absolutely nothing for this Cat person. Was it a missed opportunity for her? I don't think so. With her attitude she would have lasted no longer than that brief conversation I detailed earlier. But as a black man, I'm crying out to you black woman-SEEK HELP!!! You can't continue to vilify us and still expect us to want to build lives with you. Cat started off telling me what she wasn't going to do. Now I have to admit, I might have said something foul in my stupor, but I doubt it. I usually become extremely philosophical with women when I've been drinking. It's the men that have to watch out for my verbose banter. I do recall her telling me, "Don't fall in love." To which I distinctely remember responding, "That may be a warning you want to adhere to yourself." I found it odd that she would say such a thing to me after seeing her only once before in my entire life. She obviously thinks more of herself than I do. I also recall her telling me that she was working on her master's. Sadly, she could become the Master of the Universe and she still wouldn't be in a position to lead me. I am an alpa-male and a natural born leader. And unless she's well versed in the arts, philosphy, and martial law (not to be confused with marital law), I don't think her master status will put her in a position to lead me. She can assist me with leadership, but never lead-not when she's so susceptible to her own whims and emotions.
Some women are just too easily led by the media today for me to follow one. Now if there is a woman out there, and I know that they exist, who is a realist like me, she won't have to wrestle with me for power, I'll cede it without a fight because I know that she sees the world in a similar way that I do. She knows that television isn't real, but utilized primarily to get you to buy shit. And when you see people on The O.C. living large, someone paid a dear price in order to live so lavishly. It won't fall from the sky. It's not going to be given to you-you'll have to earn it. And if you're not ready to roll up your sleeves and get to work, you'll scurry along the baseboards of life forever.
I know this seems like a long rant about nothing, but I just get so frustrated when I try to interface with a black woman and she comes with this you a nigga mentality. It's like I should be happy to be in her presence. Let me say this, getting a woman has never been a problem for me and I don't mind going off the reservation. I'd prefer not to, but no one wants to do battle with their life partner. I have too many other obstacles that I have to tackle. Why should I voluntarily invite another one in the very place they can do the most damage-in my home where I am most vulnerable?
Don't think that I'm basing my opinions on one incident with one black woman. This is a prevailing attitude that I've dealt with practically all life and it's so tired and old. Who's going to be the one to stand up and tell them to cut that shit out?
I don't know what to say anymore. I don't know how to deal with the attitude any longer. I am at my wits end. What do you make of a man who desires something so much but knows deep within that it is unattainable?
The Prince of Know Where? is vexed.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Rape or F**ker's Remorse
From time to time I think about Kobe Bryant and Mike Tyson's rape accusation and conviction and wonder how many people truly believe the two women were actually raped. I know that's like taboo to say but both men and women know that the possibility exist that a woman who accuses someone of rape wasn't actually raped. I never believed Kobe nor M.T. raped anyone. When a woman voluntarily sneaks up to a man's hotel room using all her knowledge of stealthy maneuvering, does the do, text messages someone to tell them about it-and then shows up at the hospital after the report of rape with 3 different men's semen in her undies (none of which belonged to Mr. Bryant), I'd say she was experiencing Fucker's Remorse. Fucker's Remorse is a little like buyers remorse whereby someone purchases a product, takes it home but begins to feel guilty, and returns the item. No harm, no foul when it comes to retail. But when it comes to sex, you better make damn sure the person ordering from the menu really is interested in the item they are ordering.
I know people think Mike Tyson raped that woman, but there were a comedy of errors in that trial. First of all, Mike was represented by Don King's tax attorney. A FUCKING TAX ATTORNEY!! This man had never tried a court case in his life, much less a criminal case. Who allowed this young man to be railroaded like this and why? I believe I have the answer-Mike Tyson was no longer a marketable commodity in the U.S. In fact, when he was defeated on February 11th, 1990 by James Buster Douglas, he was supposed to embark on a world tour-Japan was the first, and ultimately the last, leg of the tour. The plan was to have Mike defeat a series of tomato cans in a city near you-but Buster Douglas had something else in mind. After the historical upset, Tyson had lost all marketability. So what do you do with a commodity that is no longer marketable? You park it somewhere it can't do damage to itself and reintroduce it 3 years later. In my most humble opinion, I believe this is what Mike's handlers did to him. After 3 years in prison, the entire world was waiting with baited breath for Mike to return to his previous days of glory and continue destroying all who stepped in his path.
What am I saying? I'm saying that Mike, like any other commodity, was used to enrich the coffers of his owners. The rape was a setup. The woman came to his room, excused herself and went into the restroom, removed both her panties and her feminine hygiene product, (I'm not sure whether it was a sanitary napkin or a tampon-and yes I'm a man that knows the difference), had sex with the ex-heavyweight champion, and 3 days later accused him of rape. Kept from testimony was the fact that Ms. Desiree Washington had leveled the exact same accusation at a former boyfriend who kept her out past her curfew. The boyfriend volunteered to testify on behalf of the defense but the tax attorney couldn't figure out a way to get the testimony admitted. Mike was on the Pacific railroad with a one-way ticket to prison. If you don't believe that greed will drive a person to manipulate the machinations of the law in order to achieve great finanancial gain, lean closer to the screen so that I may feel your forehead-you just might have a fever.
In the aforementioned cases, I don't think it was rape at all. In fact, I don't think it was even Fucker's Remorse. I believe someone saw dollar signs oozing from the same place Mike and Kobe entered the dragon. Why is it so hard to believe a woman will use her womb as a cash cow? No one questions it when a woman becomes a surrogate mother for pay. It's pretty much the same thing-renting out your womb for financial gain. So how is it such a stretch that a woman would fuck a celebrity for the same reason. There's no reason Mike should have spent one day in jail for what he was accused and convicted of. Now that isn't to say that Mike wasn't a savage beast about things because he was completely out of control. And I firmly believe had he not been convicted of this charge, there would have been another that would have stuck. That still gives no one the right to manipulate a situation to the degree that someone loses their freedom.
In Kobe's case, I think most of us thinking folk know that it was simply a case of exploitation. That woman wanted money-and the idea of crying rape was probably suggested to her by the person she text messaged after Kobe consummated their meeting. Yet most white people who respond to articles on the Internet about Kobe continue to call him a rapist. When Dr. Jerry Buss, owner of the Los Angeles Lakers, was arrested and convicted for DUI, the responses to the article were more about Kobe, who was not convicted of anything, than of Dr. Buss' DUI conviction.
It always fascinates me how people choose to ignore certain vital criteria when evaluating situations. The fact that Kobe Bryant and Mike Tyson were celebrities whose multi-million dollar incomes were publicly known seem not to matter to people evaluating the accusations. Honestly, because Desiree Washington was black, I was baffled that the courts would even care. This in and of itself leads me to believe that the rape conviction of Mike Tyson was the result of someones nefarious monetary motivations. When a white woman in this country is missing for 15 minutes, her picture is broadcast on networks nationwide. A black man or woman could be missing for a decade and police will more than likely take a report, but no one's going to look for either of them.
Rape is a serious crime, make no mistake about it. It is just a serious today as it was some 150 years ago when slave masters forced themselves upon powerless and helpless slaves. In fact it was worse then-especially for slaves because there was no protection under the law. You were the property of the master and he could do with you what he wanted. Notice I didn't specify the gender of the raped slave. It's my belief that slave masters not only raped the females, but they raped the males as well. Were it not for the mulatto children with facial features similar to the slave masters running around the plantation, they would have denied they raped the women. In fact, Harriet Washington, author of the novel Medical Apartheid, states that the white aristocracy during the era of slavery, vehemently denied sexual relations between slaves and their masters took place. They claimed that the mulatto children were a result of civilizing the slaves and that this process was causing them to lose their uncivilized negroid features. Yes people, this idiocy came from people whose descendants are running the country today! It's funny what you can convince yourself of in a vacuum.
This entry started out sort of as simple light banter and their was supposed to be a comedic slant to it, but obviously it has taken on a life of it's own. Either way, I hope that it was informative and inspired readers to think. So many of us just take what we hear from a 10 second sound byte and swear we know the facts, but such is not always the case. Furthermore, we find it difficult to overcome our prejudices. 25 years ago if you told me that a woman would sleep with you and then accuse you of a rape that didn't take place, I wouldn't have believed it and that is a perfect example of my prejudices working against me. I wasn't raised around women that behaved that way and I made the mistake of judging the world based upon my sheltered upbringing. HUGE MISTAKE! But I'm enlightened now. And the next time I decide to have sex with a stranger, I will do everything in my power to ensure that the night doesn't end up with her having Fucker's Remorse.
I know people think Mike Tyson raped that woman, but there were a comedy of errors in that trial. First of all, Mike was represented by Don King's tax attorney. A FUCKING TAX ATTORNEY!! This man had never tried a court case in his life, much less a criminal case. Who allowed this young man to be railroaded like this and why? I believe I have the answer-Mike Tyson was no longer a marketable commodity in the U.S. In fact, when he was defeated on February 11th, 1990 by James Buster Douglas, he was supposed to embark on a world tour-Japan was the first, and ultimately the last, leg of the tour. The plan was to have Mike defeat a series of tomato cans in a city near you-but Buster Douglas had something else in mind. After the historical upset, Tyson had lost all marketability. So what do you do with a commodity that is no longer marketable? You park it somewhere it can't do damage to itself and reintroduce it 3 years later. In my most humble opinion, I believe this is what Mike's handlers did to him. After 3 years in prison, the entire world was waiting with baited breath for Mike to return to his previous days of glory and continue destroying all who stepped in his path.
What am I saying? I'm saying that Mike, like any other commodity, was used to enrich the coffers of his owners. The rape was a setup. The woman came to his room, excused herself and went into the restroom, removed both her panties and her feminine hygiene product, (I'm not sure whether it was a sanitary napkin or a tampon-and yes I'm a man that knows the difference), had sex with the ex-heavyweight champion, and 3 days later accused him of rape. Kept from testimony was the fact that Ms. Desiree Washington had leveled the exact same accusation at a former boyfriend who kept her out past her curfew. The boyfriend volunteered to testify on behalf of the defense but the tax attorney couldn't figure out a way to get the testimony admitted. Mike was on the Pacific railroad with a one-way ticket to prison. If you don't believe that greed will drive a person to manipulate the machinations of the law in order to achieve great finanancial gain, lean closer to the screen so that I may feel your forehead-you just might have a fever.
In the aforementioned cases, I don't think it was rape at all. In fact, I don't think it was even Fucker's Remorse. I believe someone saw dollar signs oozing from the same place Mike and Kobe entered the dragon. Why is it so hard to believe a woman will use her womb as a cash cow? No one questions it when a woman becomes a surrogate mother for pay. It's pretty much the same thing-renting out your womb for financial gain. So how is it such a stretch that a woman would fuck a celebrity for the same reason. There's no reason Mike should have spent one day in jail for what he was accused and convicted of. Now that isn't to say that Mike wasn't a savage beast about things because he was completely out of control. And I firmly believe had he not been convicted of this charge, there would have been another that would have stuck. That still gives no one the right to manipulate a situation to the degree that someone loses their freedom.
In Kobe's case, I think most of us thinking folk know that it was simply a case of exploitation. That woman wanted money-and the idea of crying rape was probably suggested to her by the person she text messaged after Kobe consummated their meeting. Yet most white people who respond to articles on the Internet about Kobe continue to call him a rapist. When Dr. Jerry Buss, owner of the Los Angeles Lakers, was arrested and convicted for DUI, the responses to the article were more about Kobe, who was not convicted of anything, than of Dr. Buss' DUI conviction.
It always fascinates me how people choose to ignore certain vital criteria when evaluating situations. The fact that Kobe Bryant and Mike Tyson were celebrities whose multi-million dollar incomes were publicly known seem not to matter to people evaluating the accusations. Honestly, because Desiree Washington was black, I was baffled that the courts would even care. This in and of itself leads me to believe that the rape conviction of Mike Tyson was the result of someones nefarious monetary motivations. When a white woman in this country is missing for 15 minutes, her picture is broadcast on networks nationwide. A black man or woman could be missing for a decade and police will more than likely take a report, but no one's going to look for either of them.
Rape is a serious crime, make no mistake about it. It is just a serious today as it was some 150 years ago when slave masters forced themselves upon powerless and helpless slaves. In fact it was worse then-especially for slaves because there was no protection under the law. You were the property of the master and he could do with you what he wanted. Notice I didn't specify the gender of the raped slave. It's my belief that slave masters not only raped the females, but they raped the males as well. Were it not for the mulatto children with facial features similar to the slave masters running around the plantation, they would have denied they raped the women. In fact, Harriet Washington, author of the novel Medical Apartheid, states that the white aristocracy during the era of slavery, vehemently denied sexual relations between slaves and their masters took place. They claimed that the mulatto children were a result of civilizing the slaves and that this process was causing them to lose their uncivilized negroid features. Yes people, this idiocy came from people whose descendants are running the country today! It's funny what you can convince yourself of in a vacuum.
This entry started out sort of as simple light banter and their was supposed to be a comedic slant to it, but obviously it has taken on a life of it's own. Either way, I hope that it was informative and inspired readers to think. So many of us just take what we hear from a 10 second sound byte and swear we know the facts, but such is not always the case. Furthermore, we find it difficult to overcome our prejudices. 25 years ago if you told me that a woman would sleep with you and then accuse you of a rape that didn't take place, I wouldn't have believed it and that is a perfect example of my prejudices working against me. I wasn't raised around women that behaved that way and I made the mistake of judging the world based upon my sheltered upbringing. HUGE MISTAKE! But I'm enlightened now. And the next time I decide to have sex with a stranger, I will do everything in my power to ensure that the night doesn't end up with her having Fucker's Remorse.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
I just realized the other day that I might be suffering from PTSD. I've been conducting a mental review of past relationships and the damage I suffered during, and I've come to the conclusion that I've developed a fear of intimacy. The only real place that I can express my emotions is here in my blog. That doesn't bode well for future relationships. I can't tell a potential partner to go check my blog if she wants to know how I feel about a certain situation. Even though I know that written communication is far more effective than spoken, it's just not the way we do things here.
Towards the end of my relationship with my wife, I would tell myself that I was afraid to know the depths at which my marriage had changed me. I'm beginning to realize that I have lost my ability to trust. But I don't necessarily see it as a bad thing-it was trusting people that caused me so much trouble in relationships. Here are a few traumatic experiences that I have had that I know are root causes of my inability to trust:
1985-Mother of my son takes him and disappears for 4.5 years. I had no idea where they were. I spent the first year completely drunk. It felt as though someone had carved my heart from my chest and was stabbing it repeatedly. This feeling lasted, with this intensity, for at least 3 years. The next time I saw him, he was 7 years old and he didn't know who I was.
1992-Mother of my two daughters, who knew that the mother of my son snatched him to hurt me, does the same thing by literally kidnapping my daughters from my mom's house and disappearing. I searched for her, weapon in hand, but was eventually glad I didn't find her. An ex girlfriend talked me out of harming her. Inevitably, my daughters were returned, but the damage had been done. I could no longer allow myself to be close to them as I was before, fearing that they could be taken away and emotionally I could be wrecked. I closed a major portion of my heart down for protection.
2001-My girlfriend, after a 8 year relationship and my countless reminders that I want no more children, decides that I need a 4th. When I explain to her that in 3 years we both will have children in college and another child will make it financially difficult to support them, she files a restraining order against me insisting that I'm harassing her. I beat the fabricated charge in court, but I no longer trust her.
2004-Another girlfriend senses that our relationship might be ending so she tells me that she's pregnant. I call her bluff by threatening to have someone I know employed at Kaiser look through her medical records-she confesses it's a lie. I tell her I'll deal with her when I get back into town. She continues to call me-I don't take the calls. She leaves a voice mail informing me that all of my belongings at her house will be on the lawn when I return home. I then received a voice mail message stating that someone had broken into her house and stole $20,000 worth of my video editing equipment.
2007-I decide I can no longer financially support my wife, her two kids, and help my oldest daughter with living expenses while she's in college, so I inform my wife that we're separating-unless she can financially pull her own weight. She decides that she cannot-so I rent an apartment and await my move-in date. My wife and I get into an argument 3 days before I'm to move out. She throws a saucer at me, it hits me at the base of my spine, shatters and slices a 1-inch gash in my back. An altercation ensues, I'm arrested and my bail is $50,000. I borrow the 10% to post the bail from my mother, knowing that I have a $5400 tax refund check to repay her with. Not so fast. While I'm in jail, my wife takes the check to some shady character, they cash the check and she runs off with ALL of the money.
It took me almost 27 years, but I've finally arrived at the conclusion that I cannot trust women. Isn't that the very first lesson taught in the bible? For those of you who are sitting out there saying it's my fault-you're absolutely correct, it is. Had I treated these women like hostile citizens in my midst and not loving partners, I never would have exposed myself in ways I could be taken advantage of. So now I know-and I thank you all for such valuable lessons. And unfortunately any woman I decide to get involved with now will have to climb Everest to prove that they are worthy of even knowing where I live. I have too much to offer and even more to lose.
Here's the rub: women know that women are like this. They know women that fall into every catagory I've detailed above. They know that women behave like this. It's the main reason why women:
1. Don't like being pulled over by female cops
2. Prefer not to have a female boss
3. Don't trust one another around each other's mates
4. Always suspect the motivation of another woman
They know the treachery that exists amongst one another. Case and point. A close friend of mine was accused of fathering a child. When his girlfriend found out about the child, the first thing she did was order he get a paternity test. The child was 4 years old, and my friend never questioned paternity. But when his girlfriend found out, her first response, (and probably a natural one), was suspicion. Why? Because women know women. They hear their girlfriends talk about their own treachery. The test proved my friend was not the father of the child.
I'm not saying women are inherently evil-I'm saying they are prone to do some underhanded shit. So are men, but I don't date men so any treachery a man is capable of doesn't interest me in the least bit. I know I play the game as straight up as I know how-so whatever treachery another male has done to you has nothing to do with me. I bet you one's never told you you were the parent of a child that wasn't yours.
So now I am attempting to deal with my PTSD sans professional counseling. Why? Because it would be difficult sitting in front of a complete stranger telling him/her how dumb I was to think I could trust a woman. How could I be so stupid? Why would anyone think that you can trust them? That's the most ridiculous concept ever invented-trusting a life partner. I'm embarrassed to say that I'm probably the last person on earth to finally get it through my thick skull that you can't trust a woman. Women don't trust women-what's wrong with me? I trust my friends, and you all know who you are-without question. But most of my friends I've known for well over 20 years.
The spirit of a man in trouble can only rest when the trouble he faces vanishes. The spirit of a troubled man never rests.
R. Pugh
I am that troubled man.
TPOKW?
Towards the end of my relationship with my wife, I would tell myself that I was afraid to know the depths at which my marriage had changed me. I'm beginning to realize that I have lost my ability to trust. But I don't necessarily see it as a bad thing-it was trusting people that caused me so much trouble in relationships. Here are a few traumatic experiences that I have had that I know are root causes of my inability to trust:
1985-Mother of my son takes him and disappears for 4.5 years. I had no idea where they were. I spent the first year completely drunk. It felt as though someone had carved my heart from my chest and was stabbing it repeatedly. This feeling lasted, with this intensity, for at least 3 years. The next time I saw him, he was 7 years old and he didn't know who I was.
1992-Mother of my two daughters, who knew that the mother of my son snatched him to hurt me, does the same thing by literally kidnapping my daughters from my mom's house and disappearing. I searched for her, weapon in hand, but was eventually glad I didn't find her. An ex girlfriend talked me out of harming her. Inevitably, my daughters were returned, but the damage had been done. I could no longer allow myself to be close to them as I was before, fearing that they could be taken away and emotionally I could be wrecked. I closed a major portion of my heart down for protection.
2001-My girlfriend, after a 8 year relationship and my countless reminders that I want no more children, decides that I need a 4th. When I explain to her that in 3 years we both will have children in college and another child will make it financially difficult to support them, she files a restraining order against me insisting that I'm harassing her. I beat the fabricated charge in court, but I no longer trust her.
2004-Another girlfriend senses that our relationship might be ending so she tells me that she's pregnant. I call her bluff by threatening to have someone I know employed at Kaiser look through her medical records-she confesses it's a lie. I tell her I'll deal with her when I get back into town. She continues to call me-I don't take the calls. She leaves a voice mail informing me that all of my belongings at her house will be on the lawn when I return home. I then received a voice mail message stating that someone had broken into her house and stole $20,000 worth of my video editing equipment.
2007-I decide I can no longer financially support my wife, her two kids, and help my oldest daughter with living expenses while she's in college, so I inform my wife that we're separating-unless she can financially pull her own weight. She decides that she cannot-so I rent an apartment and await my move-in date. My wife and I get into an argument 3 days before I'm to move out. She throws a saucer at me, it hits me at the base of my spine, shatters and slices a 1-inch gash in my back. An altercation ensues, I'm arrested and my bail is $50,000. I borrow the 10% to post the bail from my mother, knowing that I have a $5400 tax refund check to repay her with. Not so fast. While I'm in jail, my wife takes the check to some shady character, they cash the check and she runs off with ALL of the money.
It took me almost 27 years, but I've finally arrived at the conclusion that I cannot trust women. Isn't that the very first lesson taught in the bible? For those of you who are sitting out there saying it's my fault-you're absolutely correct, it is. Had I treated these women like hostile citizens in my midst and not loving partners, I never would have exposed myself in ways I could be taken advantage of. So now I know-and I thank you all for such valuable lessons. And unfortunately any woman I decide to get involved with now will have to climb Everest to prove that they are worthy of even knowing where I live. I have too much to offer and even more to lose.
Here's the rub: women know that women are like this. They know women that fall into every catagory I've detailed above. They know that women behave like this. It's the main reason why women:
1. Don't like being pulled over by female cops
2. Prefer not to have a female boss
3. Don't trust one another around each other's mates
4. Always suspect the motivation of another woman
They know the treachery that exists amongst one another. Case and point. A close friend of mine was accused of fathering a child. When his girlfriend found out about the child, the first thing she did was order he get a paternity test. The child was 4 years old, and my friend never questioned paternity. But when his girlfriend found out, her first response, (and probably a natural one), was suspicion. Why? Because women know women. They hear their girlfriends talk about their own treachery. The test proved my friend was not the father of the child.
I'm not saying women are inherently evil-I'm saying they are prone to do some underhanded shit. So are men, but I don't date men so any treachery a man is capable of doesn't interest me in the least bit. I know I play the game as straight up as I know how-so whatever treachery another male has done to you has nothing to do with me. I bet you one's never told you you were the parent of a child that wasn't yours.
So now I am attempting to deal with my PTSD sans professional counseling. Why? Because it would be difficult sitting in front of a complete stranger telling him/her how dumb I was to think I could trust a woman. How could I be so stupid? Why would anyone think that you can trust them? That's the most ridiculous concept ever invented-trusting a life partner. I'm embarrassed to say that I'm probably the last person on earth to finally get it through my thick skull that you can't trust a woman. Women don't trust women-what's wrong with me? I trust my friends, and you all know who you are-without question. But most of my friends I've known for well over 20 years.
The spirit of a man in trouble can only rest when the trouble he faces vanishes. The spirit of a troubled man never rests.
R. Pugh
I am that troubled man.
TPOKW?
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
'O' Blackwater
I don't know how many of you who are familiar with the private security force Blackwater-it's a privately-owned, well-equipped, technologically advanced army....right in your backyard. Blackwater security, owned by mega-millionaire Erik Prince, has mercenaries in both the combat theaters of Iraq and Afghanistan and also were first responders for the Katrina disaster two years ago. The mercenaries do not answer to any governing body of the U.S.-they are a privatized armed force on U.S. soil.
There are several problems with this scenario that most Americans probably don't realize. Mercenaries aren't new. Throughout history they've played a vital role in the conquests of many nations. That in and of itself is a problem. These forces act at the behest of private investors and can even be used to overthrow a nation-even one as powerful as the United States. We already seem to have adopted the position that government is no good and that private industry take over most functions of government. I vehemently disagree. Private industry is motivated only by profit, and many a corporation has sacrificed public safety and the health and welfare of the public in order to serve that motivation. Enron was just the tip of the iceberg. Throughout history we've had the Exxon Valdez calamity, and the Union Carbide tragedy in Bhophal killing well over 20,000 when a gas leak at the plant poisoned citizens of the city. In both instances safety precautions seemed to be ignored and thousands lost their lives. It is difficult for me to accept that private industry can and will serve the interest of the greater population of the nation.
Having a fully-armed and equipped standing army solely at the behest of private industry is frightening. Not to mention the fact that any publicly traded company can be purchased, meaning any foreign entity could purchase Blackwater and immediately have a highly-trained, fully-armed, standing army right within our borders. For the first time in U.S. history, the acquisition of a publicly traded private entity could put a foreign troops on our soil. Some of you may believe this to be a highly unlikely scenario, but America is not without her enemies and with Wall Street's influence on K Street, at the right price, the sale of Blackwater Security to the highest bidder is not impossible. If the parties involved stand to make a sizeable amount of money, it's not beyond the realm of possibilities. I am certain that the sale of such a company would not take place without the scrutiny of the CIA or the FBI, but stranger things have happened.
There just isn't a need for a privately owned security force to exist here in the United States. The government was created to protect the rights and interests of every citizen of this nation. Private entities do not share the same interest, nor do they exist for the purposes of the general population. But they've so intertwined themselves inside the machinations of Washington, D.C., there has been a disconnect between the people and their government. Now the only people the government serves are those who sit on high in mahogany-trimmed board rooms, and draw salaries that can equal up to more than half the entire workforces' salary combined. Such absolute power, both financially and indirectly politically, doesn't bode well for the general population. These elitist feel completely separated from the rest of Americans. They consider themselves the uber Americans-those who, if they aren't above the law, they're certainly parallel to it. In their eyes, the laws do not apply to them. All the while American citizens sit idle while Rome burns down around them.
TPOKW?
There are several problems with this scenario that most Americans probably don't realize. Mercenaries aren't new. Throughout history they've played a vital role in the conquests of many nations. That in and of itself is a problem. These forces act at the behest of private investors and can even be used to overthrow a nation-even one as powerful as the United States. We already seem to have adopted the position that government is no good and that private industry take over most functions of government. I vehemently disagree. Private industry is motivated only by profit, and many a corporation has sacrificed public safety and the health and welfare of the public in order to serve that motivation. Enron was just the tip of the iceberg. Throughout history we've had the Exxon Valdez calamity, and the Union Carbide tragedy in Bhophal killing well over 20,000 when a gas leak at the plant poisoned citizens of the city. In both instances safety precautions seemed to be ignored and thousands lost their lives. It is difficult for me to accept that private industry can and will serve the interest of the greater population of the nation.
Having a fully-armed and equipped standing army solely at the behest of private industry is frightening. Not to mention the fact that any publicly traded company can be purchased, meaning any foreign entity could purchase Blackwater and immediately have a highly-trained, fully-armed, standing army right within our borders. For the first time in U.S. history, the acquisition of a publicly traded private entity could put a foreign troops on our soil. Some of you may believe this to be a highly unlikely scenario, but America is not without her enemies and with Wall Street's influence on K Street, at the right price, the sale of Blackwater Security to the highest bidder is not impossible. If the parties involved stand to make a sizeable amount of money, it's not beyond the realm of possibilities. I am certain that the sale of such a company would not take place without the scrutiny of the CIA or the FBI, but stranger things have happened.
There just isn't a need for a privately owned security force to exist here in the United States. The government was created to protect the rights and interests of every citizen of this nation. Private entities do not share the same interest, nor do they exist for the purposes of the general population. But they've so intertwined themselves inside the machinations of Washington, D.C., there has been a disconnect between the people and their government. Now the only people the government serves are those who sit on high in mahogany-trimmed board rooms, and draw salaries that can equal up to more than half the entire workforces' salary combined. Such absolute power, both financially and indirectly politically, doesn't bode well for the general population. These elitist feel completely separated from the rest of Americans. They consider themselves the uber Americans-those who, if they aren't above the law, they're certainly parallel to it. In their eyes, the laws do not apply to them. All the while American citizens sit idle while Rome burns down around them.
TPOKW?
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Entertainers vs. Politicians
I was showering this morning and thinking about a line in a song that I wrote, Supa' Star. The line goes, ..Life is good with the crib in Hollywood. At the Clipper game sittin' next to Meagan Good,. Of course I don't have a house in Hollywood, and I've never met Meagan Good (although one day I would like to make the little hottie's acquaintance). In the world of Hip-Hop I would be considered someone who's frontin'. As most of you know, you have to be shot 19 times, and survive of course, so that you have street cred' and then you can rap or sing about it. I suspect that is what's meant when hip-hop heads (HHH's) say keep it real. My concern is, why is hip-hop the only art form that is required to keep it real? The movie industry thrives on keepin' it unreal. So does the television industry. I am sure all of George Strait's Ex's didn't live in Texas. Even country music allows itself the artistic freedom to embellish-why do HHH's insist on it being real?
The flip side of that is the behavior of our politicians. If you ask a HHH about something a politician said, you'll probably get a response similiar to this: "Man you know all of those politicians lie." So let me get this straight, your Entertainers, you know the people that you party to and use to distract you, have to be honest but you're political representatives can be afforded the latitude of lying? Hold up, I'm confused. The scenarios on 50 Cent's latest CD have to be accurate, but your congressman can fudge the truth? WOW...can anyone say bassackwards? I don't care how many women Jay-Z got head from backstage, or whether it's a fabrication of the truth, I'm more concerned about someone taking my hard-earned taxpayer's dollars and pocketing them for their own nefariousness. We hold our entertainers to a higher standard than we hold our lawmakers and representatives. Seriously! You just ask someone about a political scandal and listen to their response-"Man, you can't trust a politician." It's a foregone conclusion and we've accepted this as status quo. This is sheer lunacy. They haven't pulled the wool over our eyes, they've literally blinded us with the entire flock of sheep!
But I have to admit, my concerns are selfish. Yes, I am disturbed by U.S. Senators who solicit sex in public bathroom stalls-but wait a minute, before I make my point, I just gotta say: THAT'S JUST NASTY! I don't care what your sexual preference is, how the hell do you get naked and carnal in a public restroom? That is singularly one of the nastiest places on earth. Disneyland purports to be the happiest-I'm declaring the public restroom one of the nastiest! And the public restrooms at Disneyland the happiest, nastiest places on earth! Back to my point. My concerns are selfish. Should my song Supa' Star become a #1 hit, I don't want anyone coming up to me saying, Yo' man, you ain't got no house up in Hollywood. I bet you never even seen Meagan Good in person! And they'd be absolutely correct. BUT DUMB ASS, IT'S ENTERTAINMENT. Not real life. Ok, here it is...I said it because the shit rhymed! Hollywood, Meagan Good. I thought it was genius. Now I have to face the boo birds because I'm witty with words but can't afford a house in Hollywood and Meagan won't return my phone calls?
Listen, as an artist and an entertainer, I want the same latitude that lying, thieving, public-bathroom-stall-sex-having, gay-playing-straight, head-in-the-oval-office-having, politicians get! (Sorry Clinton, I know everyone thinks you were the first black president but Lincoln actually holds that distinction. Why else would he allow himself to be credited with freeing the slaves? You know white folks love cheap labor). We all lie, damnit! I have friends that damn near have two separate families that don't know about one another-that's not a bigger lie than me trying to rhyme Hollywood and Meagan Good?" Jesu Cristo! Give me a damn break. From now on, I give rappers, hip-hop artists, grafiti artist, and b-boys PERMISSION TO LIE, JUST LIKE THE REST OF THE DAMNED COUNTRY. So now, 50 and The Game can play fight. And those of you who are foolish enough to choose sides and battle with one another in the streets, you can play fight too. Oh yes, all of you now have my permission to carry fake weapons as well. In fact, I know a guy who can get you a blank gun that looks authentic and we can have all of you equipped with the squibs that explode fake blood and you can even shoot each other up...and live to tell about it. No more of that 9 shots and 18 weeks in intensive care recovering from the real thing. You now have permission to do it up Schwarzeneggar-style (who incidentally is an entertainer and a politician).
As you know, this is all just tongue-in-cheek, but does anyone else see the irony in this? People who are supposed to pretend to be someone else are held closer to the truth than those who are supposed to really keep it real. I mean, come on, I really wish I could Unbreak Toni Braxton's heart, but It's just a damn song. Incidentally, Toni, if by some remote chance you're reading this, given the opportunity you wouldn't have to worry about anyone having to unbreak your heart if you were with me doll. Unless you're as nutty as Halle Berry, we'd get along just fine. But I digress.
So now here I am, a striving artist, afraid to release a song and have it go #1 because someone might color me a fraud because I wrote a witty line. All the while Larry Craig, the U.S. Senator from Idaho, who finds sex in a men's room with another man acceptable behavior, refuses to step down. What's this world coming to? I'll tell you what it's coming to: but not right now, I gotta go find a word that rhymes with Braxton.
TPOKW?
The flip side of that is the behavior of our politicians. If you ask a HHH about something a politician said, you'll probably get a response similiar to this: "Man you know all of those politicians lie." So let me get this straight, your Entertainers, you know the people that you party to and use to distract you, have to be honest but you're political representatives can be afforded the latitude of lying? Hold up, I'm confused. The scenarios on 50 Cent's latest CD have to be accurate, but your congressman can fudge the truth? WOW...can anyone say bassackwards? I don't care how many women Jay-Z got head from backstage, or whether it's a fabrication of the truth, I'm more concerned about someone taking my hard-earned taxpayer's dollars and pocketing them for their own nefariousness. We hold our entertainers to a higher standard than we hold our lawmakers and representatives. Seriously! You just ask someone about a political scandal and listen to their response-"Man, you can't trust a politician." It's a foregone conclusion and we've accepted this as status quo. This is sheer lunacy. They haven't pulled the wool over our eyes, they've literally blinded us with the entire flock of sheep!
But I have to admit, my concerns are selfish. Yes, I am disturbed by U.S. Senators who solicit sex in public bathroom stalls-but wait a minute, before I make my point, I just gotta say: THAT'S JUST NASTY! I don't care what your sexual preference is, how the hell do you get naked and carnal in a public restroom? That is singularly one of the nastiest places on earth. Disneyland purports to be the happiest-I'm declaring the public restroom one of the nastiest! And the public restrooms at Disneyland the happiest, nastiest places on earth! Back to my point. My concerns are selfish. Should my song Supa' Star become a #1 hit, I don't want anyone coming up to me saying, Yo' man, you ain't got no house up in Hollywood. I bet you never even seen Meagan Good in person! And they'd be absolutely correct. BUT DUMB ASS, IT'S ENTERTAINMENT. Not real life. Ok, here it is...I said it because the shit rhymed! Hollywood, Meagan Good. I thought it was genius. Now I have to face the boo birds because I'm witty with words but can't afford a house in Hollywood and Meagan won't return my phone calls?
Listen, as an artist and an entertainer, I want the same latitude that lying, thieving, public-bathroom-stall-sex-having, gay-playing-straight, head-in-the-oval-office-having, politicians get! (Sorry Clinton, I know everyone thinks you were the first black president but Lincoln actually holds that distinction. Why else would he allow himself to be credited with freeing the slaves? You know white folks love cheap labor). We all lie, damnit! I have friends that damn near have two separate families that don't know about one another-that's not a bigger lie than me trying to rhyme Hollywood and Meagan Good?" Jesu Cristo! Give me a damn break. From now on, I give rappers, hip-hop artists, grafiti artist, and b-boys PERMISSION TO LIE, JUST LIKE THE REST OF THE DAMNED COUNTRY. So now, 50 and The Game can play fight. And those of you who are foolish enough to choose sides and battle with one another in the streets, you can play fight too. Oh yes, all of you now have my permission to carry fake weapons as well. In fact, I know a guy who can get you a blank gun that looks authentic and we can have all of you equipped with the squibs that explode fake blood and you can even shoot each other up...and live to tell about it. No more of that 9 shots and 18 weeks in intensive care recovering from the real thing. You now have permission to do it up Schwarzeneggar-style (who incidentally is an entertainer and a politician).
As you know, this is all just tongue-in-cheek, but does anyone else see the irony in this? People who are supposed to pretend to be someone else are held closer to the truth than those who are supposed to really keep it real. I mean, come on, I really wish I could Unbreak Toni Braxton's heart, but It's just a damn song. Incidentally, Toni, if by some remote chance you're reading this, given the opportunity you wouldn't have to worry about anyone having to unbreak your heart if you were with me doll. Unless you're as nutty as Halle Berry, we'd get along just fine. But I digress.
So now here I am, a striving artist, afraid to release a song and have it go #1 because someone might color me a fraud because I wrote a witty line. All the while Larry Craig, the U.S. Senator from Idaho, who finds sex in a men's room with another man acceptable behavior, refuses to step down. What's this world coming to? I'll tell you what it's coming to: but not right now, I gotta go find a word that rhymes with Braxton.
TPOKW?
Monday, September 10, 2007
Are You Really a Prince?
People ask me this all the time.
"Prince," they say, "Are you really a Prince?"
"Of course I am." I respond. "I'm the Prince of Know Where?"
"Where the hell is that?" they ask.
"I am asking you. Know Where?"
"Well if you're a Prince, how come you don't know where?"
"Who said I didn't?" I retort.
"You did. You asked me if I knew where."
"If I ask you if you know where my house is, does that mean I don't know where it is?"
"That's different."
"How so?"
"Well everyone knows where their house is."
"How about an alzheimer's patient?" I ask.
"That's different." they say.
"How come everything's different? Is there anything the same in your book?"
"Yup."
"Like what?" I ask.
"I don't know. What does this have to do with my initial question?"
"Which was?" I ask.
"Are you really a Prince?"
"Of course I am, silly. I'm the Prince of Know where."
"And where the hell is that?"
"You tell me." I say.
"So you don't know, do you?"
"No, you don't know, otherwise you would have said so."
"This is going no where."
"Of which I am the Prince. See you do know."
"Don't talk to me."
TPOKW?
"Prince," they say, "Are you really a Prince?"
"Of course I am." I respond. "I'm the Prince of Know Where?"
"Where the hell is that?" they ask.
"I am asking you. Know Where?"
"Well if you're a Prince, how come you don't know where?"
"Who said I didn't?" I retort.
"You did. You asked me if I knew where."
"If I ask you if you know where my house is, does that mean I don't know where it is?"
"That's different."
"How so?"
"Well everyone knows where their house is."
"How about an alzheimer's patient?" I ask.
"That's different." they say.
"How come everything's different? Is there anything the same in your book?"
"Yup."
"Like what?" I ask.
"I don't know. What does this have to do with my initial question?"
"Which was?" I ask.
"Are you really a Prince?"
"Of course I am, silly. I'm the Prince of Know where."
"And where the hell is that?"
"You tell me." I say.
"So you don't know, do you?"
"No, you don't know, otherwise you would have said so."
"This is going no where."
"Of which I am the Prince. See you do know."
"Don't talk to me."
TPOKW?
Mr. Softie
I had a conversation with a close friend of mine about my recent posts and apparently I've been accused of becoming soft. Under normal circumstances, I would respond guilty as charged but it's not so much that I'm becoming soft, I've always been in touch with my emotions. I wouldn't be able to write love songs and sing them to a girl as I sit naked in the center of a bed of rose petals, covered only by the body of my guitar if I wasn't soft. I wouldn't be able to hold my 5 year old daughter so lovingly and tenderly and enjoy the caress of her soft hand on my face it I wasn't soft. I wouldn't be able to appreciate the love of my mother if I wasn't soft. I wouldn't be able to bask in the beauty that nature provides us daily in her sunrises, sunsets, and cloudy days (which I love so much because they depress me so beautifully) if I wasn't soft. And finally, I wouldn't be able to hear the voices of my ancestors speaking to me from beyond if I wasn't sensitive or soft.
With that said, those of you who know me well, know that I am no stranger to the bare-knuckle brawl. I earned a reputation in the street as a kid growing up. Although I wasn't feared, I was respected because it was known that I had no intentions of backing down, regardless of your size or your reputation. I was small growing up, but earned a rep as a giant killer. Most of my opponents were bigger, but hand-picked by me, (I picked the opponent I knew I'd have the greatest chance of defeating), and most had lost long before a blow was ever thrown. I would allow my opponent to 'pick at me' just long enough for them to think that I wouldn't retaliate. Once they were comfortable with what they perceived was my acquiescence, I would wait for the next bullying session and unleash a ferocious and unyielding attack. Most of these battles were easily won because my opponent would be caught completely off guard. Once word circulated that I had defeated someone I had no business defeating, the message was clear-I would fight, and I could win. Potential bullies were often discouraged, and I would normally be left alone.
Once there was a teen who had been harassing my younger sister at lunch and she brought it to my attention. I asked that she show me the boy one day and immediately I knew that a battle with him would be one I probably couldn't win. The boy was twice my size. This was a new school and I didn't have the benefit of my reputation. I devised a plan that would guarantee me victory without delivering one blow. This new school was in Orange County, CA and had very few African-American students. All told, there were about 30-50 black males out of a relatively large student body of about 2000. I gathered up 10 of the black students that I associated with daily and detailed my plan.
"There's a kid named Richard who has been harassing my little sister and I need all of you to follow my directions. I guarantee you there won't be any violence."
The 10 of them all agreed to participate. My sister and I then walked over to the bully.
"Are you Richard?" I asked the boy.
"Yeah who are you?" he answered standing up and approaching me.
"I'm her brother and I understand she's been having some problems with you." By now he was standing approximately 2 feet in front of me and he was prepared to do battle. But I then noticed him glance over my right shoulder.
"What are you going to do about it?" he asked but he seemed a bit distracted. I continued to stare directly at him.
"If she has a problem, then I have a problem and I don't particularly care to have problems. One way or another, I find ways to solve them." Richard seemed not to be paying attention to me anymore. His attention seemed to be diverted by what was taking place behind me.
"Excuse me, I'm talking to you." I said.
"Huh?" he responded.
"As I was saying, If I have a problem, I find ways to solve them. Now do we have a problem? I asked him.
"Uh..no. She's cool. I'm not messing with her. I was just joking, right Marian?" His demeanor seemed to change and he became extremely apologetic.
"So am I to understand I won't be hearing anything from her about you anymore?" I asked.
"No. You don't have to worry, Marian and I joke a lot. Right Marian?" Marian remained silent.
"That goes for her friends as well. Do you understand?" I said.
"Hey man, we're cool. No problem." he managed to say.
"Remember, Richard, if she has a problem, we have a problem." I said nodding my head in the direction to my rear, but never taking my eyes off of him.
"Hey, it's cool. I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it." He said offering his hand. Marian and I turned and walked away.
Behind me stood my 6' 1" friend Geoff, and strategically placed behind us stood the remaining nine students. They never spoke or approached, they just stood there-a silent show of force. As Marian and I walked away they filed behind us in an orderly manner and we returned to our lunch area.
"You won't be having any more problems from him, I guarantee you." I told her.
What I had told the other students was to stagger their approach. My sister and I was to approach the boy at first, and then one student would stand several yards back and off to my right. The others were instructed to give 5-10 second counts and to stand exactly where I asked them to behind me. As I finished my conversation with Richard, Geoff, the largest of us all, was to stand directly behind me-a true display of might. We were able to solve my sister's dilemma with only a perceived threat of violence. Had Richard not fallen for my bluff, I would have had a serious brawl on my hands because none of the other students had ever been in a fight before-they would have offered little help.
With those days behind me, I believe I should be afforded the opportunity to be soft in my waning years....wouldn't you agree?
TPOKW?
With that said, those of you who know me well, know that I am no stranger to the bare-knuckle brawl. I earned a reputation in the street as a kid growing up. Although I wasn't feared, I was respected because it was known that I had no intentions of backing down, regardless of your size or your reputation. I was small growing up, but earned a rep as a giant killer. Most of my opponents were bigger, but hand-picked by me, (I picked the opponent I knew I'd have the greatest chance of defeating), and most had lost long before a blow was ever thrown. I would allow my opponent to 'pick at me' just long enough for them to think that I wouldn't retaliate. Once they were comfortable with what they perceived was my acquiescence, I would wait for the next bullying session and unleash a ferocious and unyielding attack. Most of these battles were easily won because my opponent would be caught completely off guard. Once word circulated that I had defeated someone I had no business defeating, the message was clear-I would fight, and I could win. Potential bullies were often discouraged, and I would normally be left alone.
Once there was a teen who had been harassing my younger sister at lunch and she brought it to my attention. I asked that she show me the boy one day and immediately I knew that a battle with him would be one I probably couldn't win. The boy was twice my size. This was a new school and I didn't have the benefit of my reputation. I devised a plan that would guarantee me victory without delivering one blow. This new school was in Orange County, CA and had very few African-American students. All told, there were about 30-50 black males out of a relatively large student body of about 2000. I gathered up 10 of the black students that I associated with daily and detailed my plan.
"There's a kid named Richard who has been harassing my little sister and I need all of you to follow my directions. I guarantee you there won't be any violence."
The 10 of them all agreed to participate. My sister and I then walked over to the bully.
"Are you Richard?" I asked the boy.
"Yeah who are you?" he answered standing up and approaching me.
"I'm her brother and I understand she's been having some problems with you." By now he was standing approximately 2 feet in front of me and he was prepared to do battle. But I then noticed him glance over my right shoulder.
"What are you going to do about it?" he asked but he seemed a bit distracted. I continued to stare directly at him.
"If she has a problem, then I have a problem and I don't particularly care to have problems. One way or another, I find ways to solve them." Richard seemed not to be paying attention to me anymore. His attention seemed to be diverted by what was taking place behind me.
"Excuse me, I'm talking to you." I said.
"Huh?" he responded.
"As I was saying, If I have a problem, I find ways to solve them. Now do we have a problem? I asked him.
"Uh..no. She's cool. I'm not messing with her. I was just joking, right Marian?" His demeanor seemed to change and he became extremely apologetic.
"So am I to understand I won't be hearing anything from her about you anymore?" I asked.
"No. You don't have to worry, Marian and I joke a lot. Right Marian?" Marian remained silent.
"That goes for her friends as well. Do you understand?" I said.
"Hey man, we're cool. No problem." he managed to say.
"Remember, Richard, if she has a problem, we have a problem." I said nodding my head in the direction to my rear, but never taking my eyes off of him.
"Hey, it's cool. I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it." He said offering his hand. Marian and I turned and walked away.
Behind me stood my 6' 1" friend Geoff, and strategically placed behind us stood the remaining nine students. They never spoke or approached, they just stood there-a silent show of force. As Marian and I walked away they filed behind us in an orderly manner and we returned to our lunch area.
"You won't be having any more problems from him, I guarantee you." I told her.
What I had told the other students was to stagger their approach. My sister and I was to approach the boy at first, and then one student would stand several yards back and off to my right. The others were instructed to give 5-10 second counts and to stand exactly where I asked them to behind me. As I finished my conversation with Richard, Geoff, the largest of us all, was to stand directly behind me-a true display of might. We were able to solve my sister's dilemma with only a perceived threat of violence. Had Richard not fallen for my bluff, I would have had a serious brawl on my hands because none of the other students had ever been in a fight before-they would have offered little help.
With those days behind me, I believe I should be afforded the opportunity to be soft in my waning years....wouldn't you agree?
TPOKW?
Thursday, September 06, 2007
My Friend Richard
I have a friend named Richard whom I met some years back when I worked for a major communications company. He's a peculiar individual in the sense that he knows everything. Not like a know-it-all, he literally knows everything. I remember one day I was driving and was lost. I called him and gave him my destination and a few surrounding landmarks and he guided me to my end point without missing a beat. The conversation went something like this:
"Travel east for about 2 blocks and you should see a large white building to your right. Incidentally, that building used to be the old Lincoln dealership. For years they did business in that location and was family owned. After the corporatization of auto dealerships, they went out of business in '93...where are you now?"
Not only does he give directions, but he gives historical data on the surrounding location!
I was once having a conversation with him about a girl I was dating. He asked me what high school she attended and I told him. YEARS later, he remembered and brought it up in a conversation. I asked him how he knew and he reminded me of that old conversation we had. I learned at that very moment, with Richard, every question is a fact-finding mission.
But more than just being a walking Thomas Guide (which was one of his request for Christmas when he was a child), and an archival system of information, Richard is the most down to earth person you could ever know. He's deeply religious, but he never judges anyone based upon his belief. I, for one, am known for being adventurous in many ways, characteristics that religions frown upon. Rich has never judged me-even though he knows just about everything there is to know about me. Over the years, he's always been my good friend.
We have annual event(s) that we like to attend and no matter how long it has been since we've seen one another, we always try to get together for those events. One such event is the Los Angeles Auto Show. Richard, his cousin Alfred, and I have been attending this event off and on for quite some time now. Afterwards, we head over to Marina Del Rey and have a late meal at Jerry's Deli, one of Richard's favorite dining establishments.
This year we flew up to San Francisco for the Mac World conference and I'm hoping we can make this an annual event as well. Richard is the world's best tour guide. He provides factual data about every venue, building, street, bus, train, or bart route, business data, data on celebrities, politicians, ex coworkers and even member of your family (ok that was an exaggeration). During the entire one day trip, he entertained me with information.
I've never seen him angry, never heard him swear, never seen him drink-which makes us the most unlikely of friends because I'm a repeat offender of all the aforementioned. Of all my ex coworkers from that communications company, Richard is the only one that I keep in contact with, and who keeps in contact with me.
We used to work with a young lady whom I shall refer to as Madam "M". From time to time Richard will arrange what has affectionately been referred to as Lunch with 2 Dicks (because we're both named Richard). Don't read anything sexual into it-it's just 3 old friends getting together for lunch. This too we try to make an annual event.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that friends are extremely valuable to our existence and Richard has been a great friend to me. Periodically, I will feature great friends in my blog and I hope you readers enjoy meeting them as much as I've enjoyed having them as my friends over the years.
Rich, I love you like a brother and I am most fortunate to have you as a friend!
TPOKW?
"Travel east for about 2 blocks and you should see a large white building to your right. Incidentally, that building used to be the old Lincoln dealership. For years they did business in that location and was family owned. After the corporatization of auto dealerships, they went out of business in '93...where are you now?"
Not only does he give directions, but he gives historical data on the surrounding location!
I was once having a conversation with him about a girl I was dating. He asked me what high school she attended and I told him. YEARS later, he remembered and brought it up in a conversation. I asked him how he knew and he reminded me of that old conversation we had. I learned at that very moment, with Richard, every question is a fact-finding mission.
But more than just being a walking Thomas Guide (which was one of his request for Christmas when he was a child), and an archival system of information, Richard is the most down to earth person you could ever know. He's deeply religious, but he never judges anyone based upon his belief. I, for one, am known for being adventurous in many ways, characteristics that religions frown upon. Rich has never judged me-even though he knows just about everything there is to know about me. Over the years, he's always been my good friend.
We have annual event(s) that we like to attend and no matter how long it has been since we've seen one another, we always try to get together for those events. One such event is the Los Angeles Auto Show. Richard, his cousin Alfred, and I have been attending this event off and on for quite some time now. Afterwards, we head over to Marina Del Rey and have a late meal at Jerry's Deli, one of Richard's favorite dining establishments.
This year we flew up to San Francisco for the Mac World conference and I'm hoping we can make this an annual event as well. Richard is the world's best tour guide. He provides factual data about every venue, building, street, bus, train, or bart route, business data, data on celebrities, politicians, ex coworkers and even member of your family (ok that was an exaggeration). During the entire one day trip, he entertained me with information.
I've never seen him angry, never heard him swear, never seen him drink-which makes us the most unlikely of friends because I'm a repeat offender of all the aforementioned. Of all my ex coworkers from that communications company, Richard is the only one that I keep in contact with, and who keeps in contact with me.
We used to work with a young lady whom I shall refer to as Madam "M". From time to time Richard will arrange what has affectionately been referred to as Lunch with 2 Dicks (because we're both named Richard). Don't read anything sexual into it-it's just 3 old friends getting together for lunch. This too we try to make an annual event.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that friends are extremely valuable to our existence and Richard has been a great friend to me. Periodically, I will feature great friends in my blog and I hope you readers enjoy meeting them as much as I've enjoyed having them as my friends over the years.
Rich, I love you like a brother and I am most fortunate to have you as a friend!
TPOKW?
Darkness
Never let anyone convince you that the darkness of your skin is a curse. You are dark because of the light. We are God's people-we are people of the sun.
TPOKW?
TPOKW?
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
August, and Everything After (The Love Seasons)
It's something about the summer months that I enjoy and I miss August already. Even if I don't go to the beach or hang out like I used to, it's something about summer that says 'fun'. People seem more open and joyful during the summer; almost like during Christmas. Even though I know it's pretty much an act, I like it when the season changes the spirit of people. For a brief moment in time, it gives me hope.
So now it's September and I have to find something to do with these months. A while ago I had a fall romance that changed my entire impression of the cooling climate. She was 10 years my senior. Not too attractive but sexy in ways I wasn't used to. Plus she was cultured and very confident in herself. She took me to see the Phantom of the Opera and afterwards, we made love in the back of a limousine. We had dinner at fancy Italian restaurant and when I was leaving, the Maitre D' asked if I would like him to summons my driver. I felt very important. We would meet one day during the week at a hotel and then on the weekends. It only lasted 4 months, but it was the best fall I'd ever had. A few months ago I caught up with her and we had lunch. She was always abrasive for the first few hours and things hadn't changed. I remember sitting up and thinking to myself, "Why am I going through this?" We were supposed to go see a play, but I didn't feel the need to go through torture. I always felt like I was being punished for something someone else did. But the one thing I can never take away from her is the good feeling she gave me about fall-I always associate this time a year with romance-warm coats, walks at night holding hands in some fancy outdoor gathering spot. Thanks W.
When I was a kid, summer was always the time that I met new girls who were on vacation at a relative's house. When I was 11 I met Robin from Pasadena. Robin, who had an older brother named Miles, was so cute. She had befriended my sisters initially. When they all met, I was in Louisiana living with an aunt. When I returned to California and met Robin, I was immediately taken by her. She was mean, but somehow I was able to get beyond it. I remember our first kiss-it was at dusk and as the sun set and darkness became our ally, I pulled Robin close to me and stole a kiss...and then another, and then another. Later on that night, I could think of nothing else. I remembered everything about that moment. The way her breath came in short pants, the way she subtly moaned as our lips slightly parted and our tongues met. The way she held me tightly as though she stood at the edge of a precipice. Perhaps we both stood on that edge-it was heaven. I didn't get to kiss Robin ever again after that night. She went back to her regular old mean self-I think she pinched me once afterwards. That's as 'bout as close as I was ever to get to her again. There's an old photograph of my 11th birthday party, and in the shadows, if you look really hard, you can see the faint image of Robin. For many years afterwards I would stare at that photo and relive that memorable kiss.
One summer, the gods sent me Toni. Toni was the daughter of a friend of the family. She had two brothers, one older and one younger, and we'd all practically grew up together. Toni was a quiet, shy girl who I was always attracted to, but she was my friend's younger sister so basically she was off limits. When I was 13 there was an annual summer event that took place at Toni's parents place and lasted all weekend. Motorcylce groups as far away as Arizona and Texas would travel and attend this event in a rural part of California. Back then, black people would get together and enjoy one another without the shooting and killing that we see so much of today. It was an exciting time for a kid my age. We would always steal beer from the many tubs around the property and get tipsy. Saturday night, the brothers and I pitched a tent and camped out with the rest of the riders. Toni stayed in the tent with us for a few minutes and it was then we had our first kiss. Her brothers were there but paid us no attention. It was electric. I think she always had a crush on me, but this was the first time I acted on it. Eventually, her mother called her in for bed. But I wasn't done. I knew that her parents would be at work Monday so I told her we would continue then. On Monday I returned and lost my virginity with Toni. The funny thing is, I didn't see it as a big deal. I had always experimented sexually with girls, but had never really gone all the way. What we did was so innocent. I know that most people wouldn't look at it that way, but the adoration we had for one another was so natural and pure. It was beautiful to me at the time, and I still feel that way today.
The summer also brought me K and P. They were both girls who went to my church. We all sang in the choir together and they use to flirt with me at the same time. It was as though they both wanted me...at the same time. But that's far too much for a 15 year old to wrap his head around. K and I had our chance one night when my mother went out of town and my two sisters and I stayed the night at her house. We met in the living room after everyone had fallen asleep and engaged in extreme heavy petting. We didn't have intercourse, but it was definitely an erotic experience.
Not long after, our church boarded our bus and took a trip to Los Angeles to fellowship with a sister church. On the trip back, P and I sat next to one another. I was no stranger to touching her, we'd done so so many times before. On this particular occasion, I slipped my hand underneath her dress and played with her all the way home. We both were so horny. The irony of the situation was that my mother was sitting two seats in front of us. When we arrived back at our church, I told her that I wanted to see her again and she told me to come to the one of the parishioner's house the next day-she would be babysitting. I rose early the next morning, finished painting the trim on our house, showered and headed over. P and I talked for a while and then went into a bedroom. We too engaged in heavy petting but when she asked if I had a condom and I said I didn't, things came to an abrupt halt. Unlike with Toni, we were both aware of the dangers of pregnancy. We knew people at our school who had become pregnant and neither of us wanted that.
A year prior, I had an awful experience with a young lady. I was 14, she was 15 and her name was Gwen. This was during the Christmas break. Gwen was the granddaughter of a close friend of my mother. She and her twin brother were visiting from Arizona and the adults thought it a good idea that we all get together. For some reason that fact that we were teens going through puberty escaped them because nature was about to have an affect on Gwen, and she was about to have an affect on me. We all met at the shopping area in our little hometown. We did some post Christmas shopping and then took the bus back to my house. Little did I know, Gwen had expressed interest in me to my sisters. At the time, I had no interest in her. I already had an on again-off again girlfriend and Gwen just wasn't that attractive to me-but that was about to change.
When I was 14, I never cut my hair. It was long and bushy and never looked right. Gwen offered to braid it for me and I accepted her offer. This was the first time the two of us were alone together. It had been raining all Christmas break, and this night was no exception. You could hear the tap, tap, tap, of the rain on the rooftop as the Bee Gees song How Deep is Your Love played on the radio. I remember Gwen singing the lyrics in my ear as I sat between her legs, eyes closed, and she french braided my hair. Little did I know, I was subtly being seduced and it was working. All of a sudden she leaned down close to my ear and whispered "Very deep. At that moment my indifference to her changed-I was in love (or so I thought). Afterwards, Gwen and I were inseparable. We convinced our guardians to allow she and her brother to stay over and Gwen and I tried to be alone as much as possible. We kissed and cuddled but were always separated by my older sister Jenn. Jenn was very protective of me but I didn't see it like that at the time. I just felt she was meddling.
They had been at our place for at least three days and my mother decided that we all needed to get out of the house for a change. The 5 of us (Gwen, her brother, my two sisters and I) were dropped off at the theatre and for the life of me, I still cannot recall what movie we saw. After the show was over, we all exited the theatre-Gwen and I were holding hands. I saw my mother parked outside the theatre and we immediately let go of each other's hand, but not soon enough, my mother saw us. The ride home was brutal. There was this deafening silence in the car, and I knew that trouble was brewing. When we arrived at home, my mother immediately called Jenn into her bedroom and the door was closed behind them. I knew Jenn was spilling the beans. Next Gwen was summonsed into the room. I sat in the living room devising my defense. I was 14 and I felt entitled. Furthermore, Gwen and I were in love-she had told me so many, many times over the past few days. I decided I would stand up to my mother.
Not long after Gwen was dismissed, I was called into my mother's room. My mother sat on one side of her bed, Jenn the other and the questioning began.
"What did you and Gwen do?" my mother asked.
"Nothing." I replied sheepishly.
"Don't lie to me boy, tell me what happened."
That boy really stung-I was feeling like a man. My anger began to slowly build.
"I told you, nothing." I said, this time a little firmer. My mother's anger began to build as well, progressing much faster than mine.
"I'm not going to ask you but one more time so don't play with me. What happened." I knew that she meant business and I'd better tell her something and fast. I wasn't afraid of her, but I'd never been in this position before with my mother and I didn't really know what to expect.
"We just kissed and stuff." I said.
"IN MY HOUSE. HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT ME AND MY HOUSE IN SUCH A WAY!!" she yelled. "NONE OF MY OTHER CHILDREN HAVE EVER DONE SO!" I knew this not to be true. My older brother had once kissed a girl in the house, (prior to his defecting to the pink team), but somehow I didn't see how saying so would help my cause.
"YOU WANT TO KISS A GIRL, GET YOUR OWN DAMN HOUSE!"
Now here's where things all went south. It was bad enough I had disappointed my mother, but I was about to disappoint her and embarass myself even further.
"MOM!" I exclaimed, "WE'RE IN LOVE!!"
With that said, my mom rose slowly up from her seated position as though her backside was on a cushion of air. She seemed to float as she yelled,
"NIGGA! YOU DON'T KNOW NOTHING ABOUT LOVE!! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!!"
My mother had never used that word towards me before and at the time I was too confused to understand, but later I learned why my mother reacted so negatively. She knew that I was too vulnerable to the cunning ways of women like Gwen and it disappointed her. I grew up with this idea that women were sugar and spice and everything nice. My mother, in some ways, was partly to blame. She raised me to be gentleman toward women. Always open the door; be polite and assist them when they were in need; never hit a lady. Where she failed was teaching me the difference between a female and a lady, and not to waste my chivalry on females.
I was hurt, shocked, and ashamed all at once. I took one look at my sister and, without speaking, told her that she was no longer related to me; she had just been disowned. The very next day, Gwen and her brother were taken back to their grandmother's house and I was heartbroken. I cried. We didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. School was about to begin and I had no interest in returning. My heart was crushed. But along with that pain was a hatred for Jenn. I felt she had sold me out. Afterwards, when she came into a room, I would leave. I wouldn't speak to her if she talked to me-to me, she didn't exist. This went on for about a week until one day I was standing outside and I heard foot steps approach, it was Jenn.
"Lil' brother, I know you're mad at me and don't want to speak to me, but there's something I need to tell you. When mom called Gwen into the room and asked her what happened, she said that you forced yourself on her. She said that she repeatedly told you no but you wouldn't stop harassing her."
I immediately spun around on my heels and broke my vow of silence.
"THAT BITCH SAID WHAT??!!!" I yelled.
"She said you tried to force yourself on her. But I told mom the truth. It was she that was chasing you and you didn't want to have anything to do with her at first." I thanked Jenn and apologized. I asked her why she didn't tell me before and she said that she knew I was mad at her and didn't want to talk to her. I've always loved my sister, but at that very moment, to know that she had defended me, I loved her more than anyone could ever love someone and that bond has not been broken to this day. She was my big sister again and Gwen, just like that, became my sworn enemy.
The most tragic part of that story is how naiive and vulnerable I was to the manipulations of a woman. That vulnerability was to rear its ugly head many more times throughout my years. But with each successive incident, I became more aware of my vulnerablities and sought to strengthen my weaknesses. I was a boy who lead himself to believe he was a man during a period in life where your hormones are doing wildly unimaginable things to you. Emotionally I was already a wreck. I had always felt alone and lonely, and someone had come along and made me feel loved and good about myself. It wasn't as though my mother made me feel bad about myself, it was just that I was a boy being raised in a house full of women and they had no idea how difficult this time was for me. I was coming into manhood and I had no one to discuss my mental and physical changes with. I often isolated myself in my room trying to find answers to what I was going through. Gwen came along at a vulnerable time in my life and took major advantage of me.
As the years went by, I had many more of these encounters with women. Some of them pleasant, others tragic. All in all, I can honestly say that I've had a love for all seasons and be them good or bad, I wouldn't trade them for the world-well, ok maybe some of them I would.
TPOKW?
So now it's September and I have to find something to do with these months. A while ago I had a fall romance that changed my entire impression of the cooling climate. She was 10 years my senior. Not too attractive but sexy in ways I wasn't used to. Plus she was cultured and very confident in herself. She took me to see the Phantom of the Opera and afterwards, we made love in the back of a limousine. We had dinner at fancy Italian restaurant and when I was leaving, the Maitre D' asked if I would like him to summons my driver. I felt very important. We would meet one day during the week at a hotel and then on the weekends. It only lasted 4 months, but it was the best fall I'd ever had. A few months ago I caught up with her and we had lunch. She was always abrasive for the first few hours and things hadn't changed. I remember sitting up and thinking to myself, "Why am I going through this?" We were supposed to go see a play, but I didn't feel the need to go through torture. I always felt like I was being punished for something someone else did. But the one thing I can never take away from her is the good feeling she gave me about fall-I always associate this time a year with romance-warm coats, walks at night holding hands in some fancy outdoor gathering spot. Thanks W.
When I was a kid, summer was always the time that I met new girls who were on vacation at a relative's house. When I was 11 I met Robin from Pasadena. Robin, who had an older brother named Miles, was so cute. She had befriended my sisters initially. When they all met, I was in Louisiana living with an aunt. When I returned to California and met Robin, I was immediately taken by her. She was mean, but somehow I was able to get beyond it. I remember our first kiss-it was at dusk and as the sun set and darkness became our ally, I pulled Robin close to me and stole a kiss...and then another, and then another. Later on that night, I could think of nothing else. I remembered everything about that moment. The way her breath came in short pants, the way she subtly moaned as our lips slightly parted and our tongues met. The way she held me tightly as though she stood at the edge of a precipice. Perhaps we both stood on that edge-it was heaven. I didn't get to kiss Robin ever again after that night. She went back to her regular old mean self-I think she pinched me once afterwards. That's as 'bout as close as I was ever to get to her again. There's an old photograph of my 11th birthday party, and in the shadows, if you look really hard, you can see the faint image of Robin. For many years afterwards I would stare at that photo and relive that memorable kiss.
One summer, the gods sent me Toni. Toni was the daughter of a friend of the family. She had two brothers, one older and one younger, and we'd all practically grew up together. Toni was a quiet, shy girl who I was always attracted to, but she was my friend's younger sister so basically she was off limits. When I was 13 there was an annual summer event that took place at Toni's parents place and lasted all weekend. Motorcylce groups as far away as Arizona and Texas would travel and attend this event in a rural part of California. Back then, black people would get together and enjoy one another without the shooting and killing that we see so much of today. It was an exciting time for a kid my age. We would always steal beer from the many tubs around the property and get tipsy. Saturday night, the brothers and I pitched a tent and camped out with the rest of the riders. Toni stayed in the tent with us for a few minutes and it was then we had our first kiss. Her brothers were there but paid us no attention. It was electric. I think she always had a crush on me, but this was the first time I acted on it. Eventually, her mother called her in for bed. But I wasn't done. I knew that her parents would be at work Monday so I told her we would continue then. On Monday I returned and lost my virginity with Toni. The funny thing is, I didn't see it as a big deal. I had always experimented sexually with girls, but had never really gone all the way. What we did was so innocent. I know that most people wouldn't look at it that way, but the adoration we had for one another was so natural and pure. It was beautiful to me at the time, and I still feel that way today.
The summer also brought me K and P. They were both girls who went to my church. We all sang in the choir together and they use to flirt with me at the same time. It was as though they both wanted me...at the same time. But that's far too much for a 15 year old to wrap his head around. K and I had our chance one night when my mother went out of town and my two sisters and I stayed the night at her house. We met in the living room after everyone had fallen asleep and engaged in extreme heavy petting. We didn't have intercourse, but it was definitely an erotic experience.
Not long after, our church boarded our bus and took a trip to Los Angeles to fellowship with a sister church. On the trip back, P and I sat next to one another. I was no stranger to touching her, we'd done so so many times before. On this particular occasion, I slipped my hand underneath her dress and played with her all the way home. We both were so horny. The irony of the situation was that my mother was sitting two seats in front of us. When we arrived back at our church, I told her that I wanted to see her again and she told me to come to the one of the parishioner's house the next day-she would be babysitting. I rose early the next morning, finished painting the trim on our house, showered and headed over. P and I talked for a while and then went into a bedroom. We too engaged in heavy petting but when she asked if I had a condom and I said I didn't, things came to an abrupt halt. Unlike with Toni, we were both aware of the dangers of pregnancy. We knew people at our school who had become pregnant and neither of us wanted that.
A year prior, I had an awful experience with a young lady. I was 14, she was 15 and her name was Gwen. This was during the Christmas break. Gwen was the granddaughter of a close friend of my mother. She and her twin brother were visiting from Arizona and the adults thought it a good idea that we all get together. For some reason that fact that we were teens going through puberty escaped them because nature was about to have an affect on Gwen, and she was about to have an affect on me. We all met at the shopping area in our little hometown. We did some post Christmas shopping and then took the bus back to my house. Little did I know, Gwen had expressed interest in me to my sisters. At the time, I had no interest in her. I already had an on again-off again girlfriend and Gwen just wasn't that attractive to me-but that was about to change.
When I was 14, I never cut my hair. It was long and bushy and never looked right. Gwen offered to braid it for me and I accepted her offer. This was the first time the two of us were alone together. It had been raining all Christmas break, and this night was no exception. You could hear the tap, tap, tap, of the rain on the rooftop as the Bee Gees song How Deep is Your Love played on the radio. I remember Gwen singing the lyrics in my ear as I sat between her legs, eyes closed, and she french braided my hair. Little did I know, I was subtly being seduced and it was working. All of a sudden she leaned down close to my ear and whispered "Very deep. At that moment my indifference to her changed-I was in love (or so I thought). Afterwards, Gwen and I were inseparable. We convinced our guardians to allow she and her brother to stay over and Gwen and I tried to be alone as much as possible. We kissed and cuddled but were always separated by my older sister Jenn. Jenn was very protective of me but I didn't see it like that at the time. I just felt she was meddling.
They had been at our place for at least three days and my mother decided that we all needed to get out of the house for a change. The 5 of us (Gwen, her brother, my two sisters and I) were dropped off at the theatre and for the life of me, I still cannot recall what movie we saw. After the show was over, we all exited the theatre-Gwen and I were holding hands. I saw my mother parked outside the theatre and we immediately let go of each other's hand, but not soon enough, my mother saw us. The ride home was brutal. There was this deafening silence in the car, and I knew that trouble was brewing. When we arrived at home, my mother immediately called Jenn into her bedroom and the door was closed behind them. I knew Jenn was spilling the beans. Next Gwen was summonsed into the room. I sat in the living room devising my defense. I was 14 and I felt entitled. Furthermore, Gwen and I were in love-she had told me so many, many times over the past few days. I decided I would stand up to my mother.
Not long after Gwen was dismissed, I was called into my mother's room. My mother sat on one side of her bed, Jenn the other and the questioning began.
"What did you and Gwen do?" my mother asked.
"Nothing." I replied sheepishly.
"Don't lie to me boy, tell me what happened."
That boy really stung-I was feeling like a man. My anger began to slowly build.
"I told you, nothing." I said, this time a little firmer. My mother's anger began to build as well, progressing much faster than mine.
"I'm not going to ask you but one more time so don't play with me. What happened." I knew that she meant business and I'd better tell her something and fast. I wasn't afraid of her, but I'd never been in this position before with my mother and I didn't really know what to expect.
"We just kissed and stuff." I said.
"IN MY HOUSE. HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT ME AND MY HOUSE IN SUCH A WAY!!" she yelled. "NONE OF MY OTHER CHILDREN HAVE EVER DONE SO!" I knew this not to be true. My older brother had once kissed a girl in the house, (prior to his defecting to the pink team), but somehow I didn't see how saying so would help my cause.
"YOU WANT TO KISS A GIRL, GET YOUR OWN DAMN HOUSE!"
Now here's where things all went south. It was bad enough I had disappointed my mother, but I was about to disappoint her and embarass myself even further.
"MOM!" I exclaimed, "WE'RE IN LOVE!!"
With that said, my mom rose slowly up from her seated position as though her backside was on a cushion of air. She seemed to float as she yelled,
"NIGGA! YOU DON'T KNOW NOTHING ABOUT LOVE!! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!!"
My mother had never used that word towards me before and at the time I was too confused to understand, but later I learned why my mother reacted so negatively. She knew that I was too vulnerable to the cunning ways of women like Gwen and it disappointed her. I grew up with this idea that women were sugar and spice and everything nice. My mother, in some ways, was partly to blame. She raised me to be gentleman toward women. Always open the door; be polite and assist them when they were in need; never hit a lady. Where she failed was teaching me the difference between a female and a lady, and not to waste my chivalry on females.
I was hurt, shocked, and ashamed all at once. I took one look at my sister and, without speaking, told her that she was no longer related to me; she had just been disowned. The very next day, Gwen and her brother were taken back to their grandmother's house and I was heartbroken. I cried. We didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. School was about to begin and I had no interest in returning. My heart was crushed. But along with that pain was a hatred for Jenn. I felt she had sold me out. Afterwards, when she came into a room, I would leave. I wouldn't speak to her if she talked to me-to me, she didn't exist. This went on for about a week until one day I was standing outside and I heard foot steps approach, it was Jenn.
"Lil' brother, I know you're mad at me and don't want to speak to me, but there's something I need to tell you. When mom called Gwen into the room and asked her what happened, she said that you forced yourself on her. She said that she repeatedly told you no but you wouldn't stop harassing her."
I immediately spun around on my heels and broke my vow of silence.
"THAT BITCH SAID WHAT??!!!" I yelled.
"She said you tried to force yourself on her. But I told mom the truth. It was she that was chasing you and you didn't want to have anything to do with her at first." I thanked Jenn and apologized. I asked her why she didn't tell me before and she said that she knew I was mad at her and didn't want to talk to her. I've always loved my sister, but at that very moment, to know that she had defended me, I loved her more than anyone could ever love someone and that bond has not been broken to this day. She was my big sister again and Gwen, just like that, became my sworn enemy.
The most tragic part of that story is how naiive and vulnerable I was to the manipulations of a woman. That vulnerability was to rear its ugly head many more times throughout my years. But with each successive incident, I became more aware of my vulnerablities and sought to strengthen my weaknesses. I was a boy who lead himself to believe he was a man during a period in life where your hormones are doing wildly unimaginable things to you. Emotionally I was already a wreck. I had always felt alone and lonely, and someone had come along and made me feel loved and good about myself. It wasn't as though my mother made me feel bad about myself, it was just that I was a boy being raised in a house full of women and they had no idea how difficult this time was for me. I was coming into manhood and I had no one to discuss my mental and physical changes with. I often isolated myself in my room trying to find answers to what I was going through. Gwen came along at a vulnerable time in my life and took major advantage of me.
As the years went by, I had many more of these encounters with women. Some of them pleasant, others tragic. All in all, I can honestly say that I've had a love for all seasons and be them good or bad, I wouldn't trade them for the world-well, ok maybe some of them I would.
TPOKW?
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