a bone to pick

um, damnit?

so you mean to tell me, i can not post a word or a thought in 6 months, and no one cares?

i HAVE to tell you, i find this terribly disconcerting. but roy said i should start up again. so here i am. i'm currently in mississippi, an island unto myself, and there's so much going on (and NOT going on) right now, that i don't have the 5 hours of patience it will take to properly vent all that is pissing me off right now.

not that you care, because... need i remind you... nobody seems to have noticed. apparently the answer is "no, i am NOT listening." so i'll probably either change the name of this blog to something else soon or just start a fresh one that makes no reference of whether or not it's being received.

sincerely,
a frustratedlonelyisolated black man in mississippi.

MISSISSIPPI!

cylinder misfire

I'm not mad at anyone in particular. It's like if someone gets trampled to death in a crowd stampede. Which pair of feet gets charged with murder? I don't know. My guess is it would be ruled an accident. such can be said of my belated weekend birthday soiree. A friend offered to coordinate it for me, so I gave him a list of people to invite. I didn't want him to have to make too many calls, so i capped the list at 50, trying to eliminate those most likely not to show up.

As it were, I opted to let him handle everything and resisted the desire to intervene and control things. Something went wrong though. Some cylinder misfired, because no one on that list except for my friend who coordinated, his wife, and another couple they brought showed up. I don't necessarily consider it a failure because I had a raucously good time, laughing it up over pizza and cheesecake until well after midnight.

Still I had to reconcile what went wrong. In trying to understand what went down, I polled some people and apparently, there were plenty factors. They hadn't received the e-mail invitations. A few people received calls. Those who got the invitations had previous engagements, obligation to work, or otherwise couldn't make it. I'm notorious for never allowing enough time to plan a party, and always delegating that task to someone else because I'm just not good at it. My friend had a master plan to have the party function as a live version of The Amazing Race. He was pretty disappointed that he didn't get to implement his brilliant idea. I for one was interested in it. Seeing as I've never watched the television show, I thought it'd be fun to be introduced to the premise in real life first.

A little exception to the rule. There were a few people who said they would be there, and just straight up flaked. If I was gonna pin the murder wrap on anyone, it would be them. No-shows who didn't know are excused. No-shows who knew and couldn't make it but notified are excused. All others are to be fined, jailed, and will not be permitted to pass "Go" or collect $200.

That's the inner child in me with his bottom lip poked out demanding vengeance. I don't actually plan to hold any ill towards anyone for failing to re-arrange their schedules around a poorly planned event. But this is a good reminder that friends are made of people, and people is a notoriously unreliable material to build anything on.

My bad. The charges are dropped. All detainees may go free.

women & trust

Lys gave a lengthy digital discourse on her blog about how in men, she prizes total honesty above all, she posed the question "what is the most important quality in a woman to you?"

Good question. I had to think about it for a minute, because honesty is really important. But I know scores of honest, virtuous, beautiful females (just acquaintances, people, I am neither a player, nor do I "crush a lot"). Honesty, virtue, and beauty notwithstanding... I'm not chasing after them.

My answer was TRUST.

Trust allows a man to be vulnerable when necessary. Vulnerability requires that, for all intents and purposes, guards not just be let down a bit, but abandoned and replaced with a confidence that the woman you're with has your best interests at heart, shares your values (read: "the two of us agree on what things are important to us"), and is, as my friend Kenny says, "committed to your committments".

This is important to me because I know I'm a very emotional guy. And "emotional guy" is not an oxymoron. It's just not always prevalent, and it does require some adjustments to the rules.

Previously I've allowed myself to lose all control and go flying in the wind with the first girl who turned my head and took to leading me around by the nostrils. I found that the ride itself wasn't all that much fun, and she dropped me off in the middle of nowhere, with no ride home. Not cool. So after I healed up real good, I put my guard up and it stayed that way. I stopped trusting because I didn't ever want to make any more such painful mistakes again.

Having that Y chromosome often demands that you keep on the offensive to forge ahead all the time. If you're by yourself, you also have to keep on the defensive as well. When your goal is to vini, vidi, and vici, you don't have time to risk losing it all by being vulnerable.

Trust helps you to be strong knowing that your woman will support you and back you up whenever there is trouble. There arises a problem when you can't be sure that the woman you're involved with or considering getting involved with is motivated primarily by greed, lust, or just a need for affirmation from an object of their affection.

I believe men are supposed to give to women. Still, just like agriculture, if you plant a certain crop that saps a particular nutrient from the ground without replenishing it, the ground is no longer a source of life. It's no more good to anyone else. You'll need to leave it fallow and unplanted for a long period of time before it renews itself.

Trust is intimate... you can't just do it with anybody and everybody. That's actually quite dangerous. And if you would easily give your trust to anyone, it wouldn't be worth much. For me, trust is only for a woman who would put God first above all... a woman who would be strong enough to leave me if I didn't do the same.

As for me? I'm single, but I don't have to be. I'm in California. Beautiful women are everywhere. Praise God almighty, it's a great place to be. But if all you needed was "beautiful", then you could move to California and "trust" every lovely flower you see. I suppose, since there is so much "beautiful" to see... now it's the norm to me. More is required to be exceptional.

I'll always be electrified by a beautiful face and soft curves, but I will never be taken over by that alone. Why not? There is obvious pleasure to be had by lowering your standard just a little in specific areas. But there's a lot that I want. And because I can personally attest to instances like this where it works just the way God said it could, I won't be happy and at peace if I don't set myself up to get that life.

I've seen examples of how good the symbiosis can be when men and women get together. It's like a dance. You may not be on the same rhythm with every other couple, but as long as you both keep in step with each other, it's beautiful.

"swift as a windsong
you sang the music of an honest bird
i waited for some contradiction
but truth was ringing in your every word
and every moment since then
the one thing i can tell
is that i belong with you and no one else

lay down those heavy burdens
on the banks of this riverdeep
know that every piece of your past
is always someplace safe with me
and there's no room for judgment
i want you as yourself
'cause i belong with you and no one else

we have both been broken
bent into painful shapes
we almost let those old fears
carry over and get in our way
every struggle just makes our love
get stronger than it was yesterday

so here we are now
ain't it lucky we survived at all
searching for self in separate rivers
and end up in the same waterfall
and when we're gray and wiser
the story i will tell
is that i belong with you and no one else
i belong with you and no one else
i belong with you

and no one else."
- amel larrieux, "no one else"

and then if you can remember

I was talking to my aunt this week. I need to call her more often. She reminds me that I wasn't born into the wrong family. She often tells me stories of the childhood she and my mom shared growing up with parents that loved them, but knew neglected them. She remembers these stories and after their effects have started to erode away, she can laugh at a lot of them. Between all the seemingly endless instances of trauma and tragedy, she remembers a lot of good times.

So I was on the phone furrowing my brows at this... “I know I had good times with my mom and her side of the family... but I can't really remember them.” I remember ridicule from older cousins. I remember my grandmother's house being overrun with scores of glowering relatives I didn't know who would get offended and harangue me if I took too long acknowledging them once I entered. I don't remember many good things!

It reminds me of when I broke up with my first serious girlfriend. I was mad as hell and didn't want to hear her voice, see her face, or have anyone mention her name around me. I couldn't remember anything good about the times we spent together. Then months later after the heat of my anger began to dissipate, it's almost as if those most pleasant memories started popping up again like wildflowers springing up from the seemingly lifeless carpet of soot after a forest fire. Not long prior, I might have sworn up and down that said moments never happened.

I'm listening to Anita Baker's Rapture album right now. I love Anita Baker. But oddly enough, I've been completely disenchanted with listening to her for years now. I'm almost certain that it's because I associate her music with my mother. When I was a child, I can remember my mother playing and playing and playing her 45rpm "Angel". And then a few years later when Rapture was released in 1986, it was a permanent fixture in the house.

My hope is that now that the smoke and ashes, the clouds and fog is clearing in my head, that maybe I'll remember something positive from then. True, I did spend much more time with my grandparents than with my mother. But she wasn't an absentee. I just need to remember some more things that made me smile.

Ooh! I got it! Here's one. My mom used to take us (and whatever cousins lived with us at the time) to the drive thru theatre to see movies. I remember back in 1990, she took us to see Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and during the credits while Bryan Adams' "Everything I Do (I Do It For You)" was playing, she told me how my father always treated her so well and told her he would die for her. I remember feeling really happy then.

Now, I'm quite certain my mother feels plenty different about her childhood than my aunt does. Though similarly traumatized, my mother seemed to have compartmentalized it away more. She seems to react with mild disdain whenever I begin to talk about the past. I'm sure it's unsettling for her. But I hope she can begin to inch past it. After the house burning down and confronting old hurts and what not, I feel so much more free. I hope she can do the same and follow suit. I think I'm going somewhere with this. I think.

twenty-seven

i'm a bit late acknowledging it, but i just turned 27 on monday. i think i was probably born around 9pm at night, so on the exact moment i was in the company of 5 of my closest friends laughing it up at p.f. chang's chinese bistro. i was pretty worried for a minute that no one would show up. and then i was a little concerned that only 5 people showed up. but then i realized that these 5 people were the main ones i wanted to see! (there are others who i wished could have been there, but they obtained permission to be absent in advance. lol)

well, i don't feel much different. i don't think i look different. but that's because i see myself every day and don't notice the gradual change.

but i do notice some kinda change.

like the fact that i've been more interested in things that regard parenting and fatherhood than before, and reading books on homeownership and money management... and actually implementing the tactics. i'm thinking about career and future and blah blah blah. this is all devolving into a blurred SecureHorizons Life Insurance commercial.

did i mention that i can't stop listening to artists like take 6 and bobby mcferrin?

there was a time when i rejected that as grown folks music. now, i'm growner, and i'm lovin' it like whoa... where have you been all my life.

nonetheless, there's always been a part of me that likes to jump up and down and cheer when he gets excited, that gets disappointed when someone breaks there word, and that always wants to believe the best even when its looking like things are not hot. that's my inner child, i suppose.

i know other people who are "growner" and still have their inner child. :)

i think i'd want to date and marry someone like that where we can go to each other when we don't really want to be adults that day. the little girl in her can walk over next door and ask the little boy in me if i can come out and play. and i'll always say yes.

at least i hope i can always say yes. 27 and counting.

after we have left our homes

“when can we start over?”

those are the full lyrics to mute math's "after we have left our homes" interlude. of course, their wait-weary lament has hurricane katrina as its context. thanks be to God, i can't claim such a disaster as the reason for my own lamenting. if you recall me blogging recently that the house where i grew up... the house my grandfather built... the only house that has ever been home to me... burned down. it's gone now. it's so gone.

i went to bakersfield this weekend to celebrate both my and my sister's birthdays. of course, while i was there, i had to see what happened to my home. it wasn't pretty. very little of what i knew remained. the house's warm yellow has been replaced with a cold mint color. the awnings have been taken off of the front. the flower beds bulldozed away. the grass unkempt and wild. the front is about all that's intact. the inside was all burned away. the fire must have destroyed a lot. i haven't seen the house or even been down the street in nearly two years.

it's been through a lot. even before the fire, the character had been slowly stripped away from the house. one family member's dispute with a neighbor resulted in property lines being reevaluated and an ugly fence driven through the center of what used to be a second driveway under a carport. it's not the same. it itself is so far from home now, that i can hardly hurt for its demise.

“there's nothin' else to know
just let it go
yeah, we'll do without it somehow
the world's gone
don't think about it
'cause life is short
we'll do without it
oh we can move on forward, don't worry
the best we've known is yet to come
we can move on forward, don't worry
the worst won't get the best of us.”
- mute math, “without it”

i can also not blame myself for it. factors far outside my own control led to this. some things disappeared from the house as soon as my grandfather passed away. someone's drug rampage resulted in most of the furniture in the house being sold away. someone else's tragic lack of money management put the house in debt. someone else's financial pressures led to it being sold outside the family. from there, i don't know if it received much tender loving care.

“i see our fate
i see our past
and all the things
that could not last
it's heavy on these eyes
frozen as i hold this photograph
it's all we're left that's of any worth
and it's so much more than a thousand words
now in this frame is our only way we can endure

i pictured
you and me
always
and in this photograph
we're safe

all i have
in my head
and all the words
i wish i'd said
sentimental thoughts
are overwhelming me again
as i stare through a lens of tears
a thought remains of those fallen years
now in the frame, memories i held to persevere

i pictured
you and me
always
and in this photograph
we're safe

coping
with this loss has broken me
and i'm just hoping
things are all as they should be”
- mute math, “picture”

really, for all intents and purposes, this is a death in the family, but i'm not sad. a lot like when my grandfather passed away, i was glad that the suffering was over. in this case, it's my suffering. now that it's over, it doesn't depress me when i'm in the city and i drive too close to my old neighborhood.

for several hours this weekend, i just drove up and down the streets remembering what i can remember. like i've never really stopped thinking of my grandfather. probably never will. but lately, instead of grieving me, the memories only make me smile.

“a place in time
still belongs to us
stays preserved
in my mind
in the memories
there is solace

never too far away
i won't let time erase
one bit of yesterday
'cause i have learned that
nobody can take your place
though we could never be
i'll keep you close to me
always remember
love.”
- mariah carey, “never too far”

i climbed through an open window in the front and looked inside. the house has been completely gutted. there were no walls, but they had already started to rebuild. only wooden framework was in place. the roof was new. i walked through and tried to remember where everything was. where everything would go if it wasn't just a shell. little clues triggered things here and there, but little of anything was as it used to be.

still.

when i closed my eyes that night. i could remember everything. the cut of the carpet, flower shaped waste baskets, the sign that hung over the office, the smell of fresh soil in the morning when my grandparents tended to the garden, fights we had, games we played, things we built, pictures we kept. a whole life.

as i walked through the hallways as empty as anything, i called out to God. and i made a request that i know he will answer. since i know it's far too late to get back what i used to have. but i asked him to give me a home that no one can take away from me. some place i can call home. someplace i will protect. someplace that's mine.

in the meantime, i remember so much.
of everything.

at least those are mine.

and no one can take those away from me.

don't make me come back there

the last couple days have been productive, but not without their frustration. i'll say and say again that i love what i do. i love being able to help people, and i love being able to make a living.

as of the last couple days though, it's seemed as if every project i'm involved in got simultaneously unsettled and every hour my phone was ringing off the hook. ringing early in the morning, and ringing late into the night. every e-mail a new problem, every text message a new question, every phone call a new complaint. it's getting so whenever i hear the phone i just want to yell at it and say "what the [your choice] do you want now? i'm empty!"

it's starting to blend together and sound like the gaggled murmurings of a backseat full of little fidgeting children. meanwhile, i'm the aggravated parent in the front seat clinging to the steering wheel with that one famous forehead vein throbbing as i threaten, "all of you better shut up right now or i will turn this car around and go home! don't make me come back there!"

of course whenever i have to complain about my business, i think of what kipper jones once told me (really nice guy i got to talk to once who co-wrote a lot of the hits on brandy's first album). he said "i know how it feels when your phone is ringing off the hook, and i know what it feels when that phone stops ringing."

it's a stark contrast. i mean, right now, i'd like to duct tape everybody's mouth shut 'cause there's just more going on right now than i've been able to comfortably float through. and yet, if there wasn't so much going on, i'd have to spend more hours working my $8/hr fallback job and i'd be making less money even when it's at its best.

the upshot is, i could barely get to sleep last night entertaining myself with logo ideas for my dream website called SockYouInYoFace.com. and in this dream, whenever somebody pissed you off? you wouldn't have to argue with them or listen to reason or hear out their side of the story. no, you could just go report them to SockYouInYoFace.com, pay a nominal fee of course, and someone would promptly show up to the person's house within 1-2 business days and sock them in they face.

i happen to think it's an ingenious idea. don't you?