Walk With Me feat. Jarrod Halsey

I should write about it, I want to write about it, everyone else is writing about it…

But I just won’t.

Over the past couple of weeks, a bunch of the blogs that I read have been writing about the rift between black men and black women that inevitable leads to increased interracial dating. I’ve heard the black dudes complain that black chicks aren’t looking their way. I’ve heard the black chicks complain about the lack of datable black dudes. I’ve heard the white chicks complain about black chicks giving them ish about dating black dudes. I’ve heard the black chicks complain as if they haven’t contributed to the “problem.”

Quite frankly, I’m sick of everybody.

The problem isn’t black and white, the problem is leagues. All you ufkers complaining that you can’t find anyone are ALL trying to date out of your league.

ALL of you.

Mad because you have an education, financial stability and career goals and no mate? Fellas. Its NOT because black chicks think you are lame. Ladies. Its not because you are a strong, intimidating black woman. Its because you’re just not that cool. You’re not as funny as you think you are. You’re not as smart as you think you are. And you’re DEFINITELY not as good looking as you think you are. Being attractive on paper DOESN’T automatically make you attractive in real life.

Start changing your standards.

Why am I meeting more and more women who aren’t looking for a relationship? Not to say that I am, but I find it funny that when I’m finally open to idea, SO many chicks just are not.

Whatever.

Zune Pass is AWESOME. I’m currently downloading over a thousand songs LEGALLY. This is possibly the best $14.95 I’ve ever spent. EVER.

I know I’ve talked so much ish about New England. Boston specifically. Their fans and their sports teams. But last weekend, I had such a great time in Boston and in Providence that I’m going back to New England for the Fourth of July. I hope I make it out alive.

George Bush. You. Suck. More money that the country doesn’t have on a war we can’t win. Am I taking crazy pills?

Alpha Dog isn’t nearly as cheesy as I thought it would be. Yes, tons of white trash kids who think they are hard get in WAY over their heads. Yes, sexy young girls were giving it away quick fast in the midst of drugs, alcohol and hip-hop. And yes, JT is my idol. But, it was very realistic in the sense that small time drug dealing can quickly escalate to kidnap and murder. I mean hell, we see it on the news atleast twice a month.

But did every woman in the movie have to get called a b*tch?

Is it just me, or is everyone else having a hard time recovering from a night of drinking? And not even a night of heavy drinking. Just getting a little tipsy one night, and waking up the next morning feeling like you were ripping shots every hour on the hour all day. I guess age is just setting in quickly.

Or maybe I’m just a big p*ssy.

Kurt Vonnegut. If you don’t know, then you better make like Clinton Sparks and GET FAMILIAR!

OH! And speaking of Sparks, Shane Sparks of America’s Best Dance Crew might be my new idol. I don’t really watch a ton of reality entertainment competitions in general. But this dude is the ONLY judge that I’ve seen that gives real criticisms. If your crew was tight, he tells you why it was tight, how it was tight and how you can be even tighter next time. And if you’re wack, you’re just WACK. You’ve been dancing long enough to know if you didn’t bring it hard enough. And he doesn’t waste a ton of time grandstanding/showing up the competitors but giving a laundry list of their faults.

But WTF is Lil’ Mama doing there?

Mr. Sunday Night

13-15-33-40

If Eminem isn’t in your top ten, you’re just a hater.

It’s true. People bring up his huge pop success, the silly *ish he rhymes about and some of the outright dumb @ss songs he’s made as excuses for leaving him off the list. But when you look at the way this man puts together words on a track and the way he surgically dismantles MCs in a battle, there is no denying that there are only a handful of other rappers in the history of the game who have held it down lyrically to the extent which Mr. Marshall Mathers has.

Sorry, just had to throw that in there.

So I’m listening to Encore the other day, intently focusing on the words to “Puke” and “Crazy in Love.” Unlike his earlier songs about his on-again, off-again girlfriend Kim, these songs were exploring the feelings that these two have for each other and the type of dynamic they share. Instead of wrapping her up in a trash bag, throwing her in the trunk, driving down to the river and throwing her in, in these songs Em talks about specific events and behaviors that went on in the relationship. On top of that (Crazy in Love specifically) he FINALLY admits that even though he realizes that it may never work out, she is one of the people in his life that keeps him alive.

This, obviously, made me think of similar women in my life. The ones that I loved dearly, but the relationship didn’t work out anyway. The ones who understand me better than some of my family members do. The ones that brought out the absolute worst in me, and I the same to them. The ones that, despite the failed romantic relationship, will be in my life forever. These are lifelong friendships that probably wouldn’t have been forged otherwise.

I can think of two, maybe three. How about you?

Mr. Sunday Night

13-15-33-40

I tried, honest I did. As much as Kobe deserves to be hated on, I tried to not hate. I’ve often given him his props as the best player on the planet. And I know I’ve gotten amped PLENTY of times when he’s crossed a cat over and leaped over BOTH help-side defenders. And because of this, I decided that I would stop hating on Kobe once and for all.

That lasted about two months.

The fact of the matter is this, if you are the best player on the planet in a championship game in ANY team sport, there’s nothing wrong with losing to a better team. There’s even nothing wrong with getting blown out by a better team. But thirty-eight points? That’s just giving up. Especially following last year’s Western Conference Semi-Final where he took only TWO shots in a close-out loss, it has become clear that Kobe quits when he knows he’s been beaten. Mike NEVER knew he lost until that final buzzer went off. THIS is Kobe’s legacy. Not the rings, not the All-Star games and definitely NOT the MVP. Kobe’s career will always be summed up in seven words: “But he’s not as good as Mike.”

OK, maybe thirteen words: “And stay out of Eagle, Colorado!”

And Shaq, did you REALLY have to go at Pat? We all know that you don’t really think you’re better than Kareem, but why go at a dude that you averaged like thirty against? I think I just answered my own question.

What ever happened to phone courting? Most of my life, I hadn’t been a big fan of the phone. Aside from the fact that I was a horrible phone conversationalist in my really early years, phone conversations require WAY to much attention to just have some bullsh*t discourse. But now I feel like just that voice-to-voice interaction is WAY more personal than texts, e-mails and IM conversations. Talking on the phone is a much more relaxed, informal way to get to know a person. The exact OPPOSITE feel a date gives. And besides, it works as a barometer for whether or not you’d actually want to go on a date with this person.

I KNOW chicks aren’t trying to say that a dude can’t even get a conversation without leaving the house…

I’m just saying…

Since the kiddies are out of school, I like to size up groups of teenagers and try to figure out how many of them I could drop before the other dudes jumped me. I average about two, but once (just once!) I saw as many as four.

And ladies! If you don’t work out, I just CAN’T ufk with you. Sorry! I’m not the healthiest eater in the world, but I make sure that I don’t live a sedentary lifestyle. We ALL have twenty minutes in the day when we can do some pushups, situps and run up and down the stairs a few times.

If anyone wants to donate a Blackberry to my cause, I’d be more than thankful. This flip phone just ain’t getting it anymore.

Funniest line I heard this week: “I’m attracted to this girl that’s kinda shaped like a dude. Does that make me gay?” Awesome.

Lastly, I just heard this Ne-Yo rhyme (yes I said it, a RHYME) that is just ILL. Once I get my ish together, I’ll bless ya’ll with it.

Mr. Sunday Night
13-15-33-40

“a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.”*

I am a thinking man’s thinker. An over-analyzer in every sense of the term. My mind races so fast all of the time that my mouth nor my fingers can catch up to it. Not thinking is so hard that the only way I can truly do it is by sleeping. And even then I have crazy dreams. I approach just about everything in my life in a pragmatic, cerebral and systematic fashion.

Well just about everything.

Emotionally, I sway as easily as the wind changes direction. Sure, I think long and hard before I decided to immerse myself into a situation. But once I’ve engrossed myself into something, I stop thinking. I just feel. And I feel hard. Deeply and wholeheartedly. This conviction to my feelings is what allows me to shake off disappointment so fast.

When I’m disappointed, and I mean greatly disappointed, I acknowledge it. I recognize it and I deal with it. But it hits me hard. Much harder than it hits most. My negative emotions often physically manifest themselves in decreased energy and appetite, abdominal pains, lethargy/lack of focus and long periods of unnecessary sleeping. And although I “self-therapise” by writing and working out more, I don’t try to make myself feel better. I know it is a futile exercise. I know that I will not feel better until that moment comes…

*Flip.*

As hackneyed an analogy it is, there’s nothing more fitting than the light switch. To go from complete darkness to illumination with the catalyst being something as small a flick of the finger is the perfect way to describe an epiphany. With many people (I’d like to even argue most) emotions are a process. Seeing the big picture; being able to take the good out of a horrible situation takes a lot of time, self-reflection/analyzation, soul searching, talking to friends, family and even a therapist before they can even begin to healthily accept the pain, let alone get over it. Because, let’s be real. Many people’s (I’d like to even argue most) natural reaction to pain is to run away from it. To pretend that something doesn’t hurt them for fear that they will not be able to get through the pain.

But then there are the rest of us.

Those of us who take the pain head on. Those of us who look at pain as more than just negative. Yes, it hurts. Alot. It makes every minute feel longer. It takes the joy out of usually enjoyable things. It makes you want to stay in bed. It makes you want to hole yourself into a corner and hide yourself from the entire world for as long as humanly possible.

BUT

We also know that when we’re that much pain, we are ALIVE. To feel that greatly, despite the fact that it is negative emotion, is the reminder that we sometimes need that we are living beings. And it is because of this heightened recognition of life that we don’t stay in the house. We know that going to work despite literally feeling like hell is the definition of resilience. We know that fighting through a debilitating feeling IS life. And succumbing to it would be emotional death.

THIS is why we can get over things faster than most people.

*Poof*

Mr. Sunday Night
13-15-33-40

*dictionary.com

“Corrective actions refers to the warning system. Depending on the
severity of the offense, some situations will require more severe
corrective action.

1st offence = verbal warning
2nd = actual warning
3rd = another warning with suspension for 3 days
4th = another warning with suspension for a week and moderator
approved posts for 14 days (probation)
5th = another warning with suspension for a month (moderators may or
may not choose to put member on probation)
6th = banned…

… Note, a member can only recieve 5(five) warnings passed a verbal in
total before being banned.“

- Guidelines, InterracialFusion.net

There will be no rant, just the basic facts:

1) I was made aware by a Moderator/Administrator that two other accounts from my (unsecure) IP address had been made at that message board. I live in an apartment in NYC. There’s no telling how many people are on my connection.

2) My whole drama with shorty faking her death was posted on the message board. Ridiculous? Yes. Melodramatic? Definitely. Outright simp-ish? Absolutely. But are any of those reasons breaking the rules of the board?

I’ll let you be the judge.

3) Someone, in a post, suggested that I be banned. Ironically, it was a friend of a friend who I practically hosted while he visited NYC. Clearly he didn’t know that it was me, but its just kinda funny how people act towards you after you’ve been genuinely nice to them. Whatever. That notion was seconded publicly. No telling what kind of ish was going on behind the scenes.

4) To my knowledge, I did not violate any of the rules. But for the sake of argument, let’s assume that I did. If there is such a democratic system in place to check behavior on a public board, why was I not even subject to ONE level of “corrective action” before being banned?

*Ahem*

To the Moderators/Administrators who executed/allowed it and to the members that suggested my banning.

F*ck you.

If people had that much of a problem with me, someone could have said something DIRECTLY. I probably would have even cancelled my account without you asking.

Mr. Sunday Night

13-15-33-40

*I’d like to thank everyone for their kinds words and thought throughout my…er…ordeal. I know it seems fast, but I truly am over it. And really, it won’t change my thoughts on trusting people, opening up to them or even meeting people on-line. It is a shame that this all happened, but the biggest shame is that it wasn’t even a learning experience. I hope the next time karma comes around, she at least dumps me to my face.*

“The way the Lakers have defended tonight, if they signed Hancock, I’d STILL take the Celtics.”

-Mark Jackson.

That’s all that needs to be said about that series.

Mr. Sunday Night

13-15-33-40

I don’t really feel like getting into any details being that I’ve already done so on my Facebook, MySpace and the message board where I met her. But the whole Sweet Pea thing was a hoax. Some chick out there stole someone’s pics, developed a persona, made me fall for her and then disappointed me in the end. To be honest, I’m not even mad or upsest. I’ve generated a lot bad karma over the years, so this is my pay back.

Mr. Sunday Night

13-15-33-40

It was about noon on Monday and I stared at my phone. “Weird,” I thought. “She usually texts me when she gets up.” I was happy for the three hour time difference. It gave me something to look forward to at about ten every morning. I thought that maybe she took the day off to stay in with her visiting cousin. But I knew one simple text would clear my confusion:

Me: If a chick with no t*tties can work at Hooters, can a chick with one leg work at Ihop?

No response.

“Damn,” I thought. “I know that joke is old, but its still funny. No need to ignore it.” I went the next few hours without a response. Very uncharacteristic of my Sweet Pea. By 4 o’clock in the day, we’d usually passed 30 or 40 texts to one another. I went home and instantly logged into our 3 favorite on-line communities. No recent activity in either. I started to worry. But then I stopped myself. I’m a known overanalyzer. And many times, that overanalysis combined with my active imagination usually leads to my creation of ridiculously unlikely situations that make me worry needlessly.

So I was rational.

Maybe she was mad at me. Maybe she was testing me. I really didn’t know. All I did know was that I’d promised myself to exhibit extreme patience. I shouldn’t get mad until I had at least heard an explanation. I called her phone, left a message and waited. Tuesday comes along. Still no morning text. Still no response to my text. Now my imagination is running wild. Maybe she broke her phone. Maybe she lost it. Maybe she took her cousin out on an impromptu Vegas trip and she intentionally left her phone at home.

Or maybe, something was wrong. I texted her:

Me: Baby, I haven’t heard from you in a while and I’m worried sick about you. Please let me know that you’re ok.

Nothing. At all. My heart and my mind raced. Something is definitely wrong. No person would intentionally ignore a text like that. And especially not my Sweet Pea. I closed my eyes and just tried to feel her. I felt like I was a character on Bleach, sensing the Reiatsu* of a comrade. I centered myself. Breathed steadily. Searched for the place in the universe where my inner flame intertwined with hers.

I felt nothing.

I took this as a sign. She clearly doesn’t want to be in contact with me. And she has loss whatever feelings she said she had for me. No matter what her reasons, and despite the fact that I’m disgusted with the way she chose to go about it, I have to respect her decision. I decided not to call or text on Wednesday. I had made it all the way until about 11:30 at night and then I cracked. Something told me that I had to atleast check her page.

Then I saw the bulletin:

“
With deep regret, I must inform you that our dear friend Sweet Pea has passed away. On Sunday evening around 11pm, her heart stopped. She has had an uncurable heart defect since she was a child. She choose to keep this fact from most people in order to live her life to the fullest without any restrictions. At her often request and in accordance with her Will, there will not be a funeral. She often stated that funerals were too sad and she would never want one.

We would like to turn her page into a memorial page for our beautiful angel. If you have anything to add, please sent a message and we will post it.”

I was confused. “What kind of mean joke is this?” I became angry. “I understand that you are a free spirit and all. Maybe you needed to leave the country or something, but pretending to die is just NOT funny.” The first phase of grieving: denial. I just stared at the screen. I knew this was no joke. I knew from the moment I looked at my phone that Monday afternoon something was terribly wrong. Ironic, any other time I would revel in the accuracy of my foresight.

I cried myself to sleep.

Today was tough. I dunno how I got through work. I dunno how I’m going to get through these next few days. Weeks. Months. Years. I said, not even a week ago, that I didn’t believe in regrets. But now I regret that I never told her I loved her. She knew it, no doubt. But there’s nothing like being able to tell your loved ones exactly how you feel about them.

So I’ll just say it now. Sweet Pea I love you. With my mind, with my heart, with my reiatsu. Deeply and eternally. I am hurt that you are gone. I am angry that you deserted me. I feel violated, like something took away my future just before it was right in my grasp. I am happy for  you. You were too pure for earth. You deserved better than what this world gave to you. You are getting just what you deserve, to be with your parents again. I envy you. You will never feel pain again. You will never be unhappy or lonely for all eternity.

I LIVE for you. You are now my angel. You and your parents. I feel you looking over me everywhere I go. I see your influence in every little enjoyment I get out of life. I work for you. I will get my pushups in every night because that’s what you would do. I will work my @ss off in my master’s program and when I eventually make it to my doctorate’s because you would be disappointed with anything less. I will immortalize you. You had my heart. You have it now. And you will have it until the end of time.

I love you.

*Reiatsu is a power aligned with the spiritual sensitivity and willpower of the user. (Wikipedia)

Mr. Sunday Night

13-15-33-40

Why is the word “perfectionist” seen as a positive trait? In reality, a perfectionist is usually an anal-retentive, obsessive-compulsive and controlling person who lives there life in perpetual anxiety. They are not perfectionists because they take pride in doing everything right. They are perfectionist because they are TERRIFIED of doing ANYTHING wrong. On top of that, they use their fear of being wrong to belittle people who live their lives without this fear. Because heaven forbid you ever have to correct a mistake or use trial-and-error as a learning style…

 Mr. Sunday Night

13-15-33-40

Mia: Don’t you hate that?
Vincent: What?
Mia: Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it’s necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?
Vincent: I don’t know. That’s a good question.
Mia: That’s when you know you’ve found somebody special. When you can just shut the ufk up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.

-Pulp Fiction

Geez, this movie is on point about everything. I may start a a category of posts just commenting on Pulp Fiction quotes. Maybe I’m an @sshole, I dunno. But nothing annoys me more than people who feel the need to babble incessantly about nothing. I mean, a little small talk is necessary. But at some point you need to talk about something interesting or just shut the hell up!

Most importantly, I just can’t STAND it when people waste words. Words are gifts that we were blessed with. Some people’s words are more valuable than others because they don’t flood the market with them, leaving each word to have less value than the less because the supply FAR outweighs the demand. I’m definitely not one of these people. Many people take my untalkativeness as unfriendlyness. Which is not at all true. Admittedly, I was a very shy child and that will always be a part of me. But in addition to that, I feel that silences say a whole lot more than many words do.

For realzies.

Think about it. All the people that you know and love dearly. Do you have to talk and talk and talk ALL the time? No. And you know why? Well besides the fact that you already know a bunch of stuff about each other, there’s something about your auras that are in tune with one another. You don’t have to talk about it because you feel it. You just know it. So when you do talk, it is a means of expanding upon what you already know. Not shooting the ish on random, uniteresting topics. Personally, there’s no better time spent with someone, anyone, than sitting quietly for hours watching a movie, reading, writing, or doing anything else where talking isn’t necessary.

Mr. Sunday Night

13-15-33-40