Requiem For A Pic

Mira was the first to notice. A few months ago amidst one of the regular lulls in our conversation, she began to poke at my grey patch. She thought my hair was thinning; I assumed she was just trying to provoke me.

But after my next haircut, I started to see it. Fully subscribing to denial, I shelved that knowledge away. That is until about a wek ago. As one of my boys was deciding to be a disruption, he took the time to pause from his climb up a door to notice my situation. "You're going bald you know?" Perfectly stated as he was perched on the handle of the door with a pretty good view of the affected area. In the moment, I even made fun of it, just trying to get the kid off the door.

That night was a whole other story. I patted the front part of my head trying to gauge density and lushness. I'd go back and forth telling myself it was all my imagination or my follicles were completely doomed. With a broad range of inensity, the practice has repeated ever since. Every image of male hair that I have come across has been scrutinized, especially the different patterns that my head might be adapting.And then I thought of all my male cousins on my mom's side and I realized they all had various grades of baldness. And my mom's dad has a bit of the loss too.

Now I have accepted it. My soft curls will disappear eventually. Soon my haircuts will be exclusively low. Eventually I won;t need them at all. When I think of it, its not the worst thing in the world. But damn my vanity still screams "This sucks!" Just as I found a barber that felt like my own and a shop where I felt comfrotable, I also finally decided upon a style I like. Now my trips to the shop will be shorter and less and less frequent.

I will miss it though. We've had good times. There were the mishaps like shsaves too low and hairlines too far bacl. But we had fun too. Dreadlocks were a joyride, initially reckless when the first set didn't take. I will also really miss my grey spot whchhonestly seems like one of the first battlegrounds I'll lose.

I wish it wasn't happening so early. I would have liked to have had at least a more stable career and developing a nice middle age paunch before my hair decided to recede. It also would have been nice to be in a committed relationship with a woman who remembered me with a nice flowing mane and could playfully chide me on its disappearance.Now I consider all the options my appearance might take since I still need to attract that lady, who may chide me on the way to that long lasting relationship.

Such is life. I plan on enjoying my lustrous days for however long they last. hopefully it is long enough for someone to fall in love with me, on the inside.

Update - 12/20/07 09:56: Okay so I just got a haircut and I guess the reports of retreat might have ben grossly exaggerated. it is leaving though. Just not as quick as I first thought

Cot Damn

Normally I am not awake this early but a couple of minutes ago, I was alert enough to hear my cell phone receive a fresh new text. I checked it out, assuming an errant network or an individual with little cognizance for time was to blame. But it was actually a text from Mocha reminding me about our rent. Then I remembered that he was up shopping just like he said it would.

I left my bed completely when I realized I would have to relieve myself if I had any chance of going to bed again. When I left my room, I saw that the hallway light was on. I thought someone just left it on last night and I was about to turn it off when it clicked that Banana's door was wide open. For a quick moment, I thought all those fundamentalist Christians were right and the rapture had taken place. Then I got upset trying to figure out how my roommates were more holy than me. Then it hit me that the only rapture that took them was Black Friday shopping. 

I grew up largely shielded from this amazing frenzy. New York City has only recently begun to be inhabited by the big box stores where these sales are the most prevalent. Sure, the department stores had similar blow outs, but we focused more on the fact that there would be a sale all day. We were sensible about our bargaining. No need in waking up extra early on a day off. But the clamor for half price laptops and cheap toasters hammers out all that logic.

I do admire the dedication of these people. Thinking about it, their single collective expenditure could boost the dollar. But the phenomenon still escapes me. Rushing about pre-dawn to buy stuff at any price just doesn't seem worth it. Especially nowadays when the websites for these companies happen to have some of the same deals online from midnight. I won't knock it though. It is nice to see that there is still something that gets everyone motivated on a large scale. Sadly it's only disaster or consumption that gets us moving.

I also must amend my earlier assertion that Halloween is the new American holiday. It is clear that Thanksgiving is nationally recognized. For one, the routine has remain unchanged: Day off, family relations, big meal, football related activities, rest, black friday. And commercialism couldn't corrupt it like Christmas or Halloween. The main elements of Thanksgiving are untouchable by corporations. The only thing you have to buy is food and transportation to see your family. No presents or costumes. And everybody loves the day off, the exorbitant meal, and the possibly awkward hug from that weird uncle and the too long kiss from grandma.

Anyway, I'm going back to bed. That's my holiday tradition.

AT & T

I work in Massachusetts but I also have family in New York. I also suffer from a nagging Peter Pan complex so I spend substantial time in Neverland. And the prospects of our yet to be determined presidential election are so harrowing, I might run away to Anywhere but America. So I need a phone that works in all those places. A place I call NEWNEVERMASSYWHERE

Where's The Director & The Call From The Guild

I often have the tendency to frame the events of my life into stereotypical frameworks found in common plotlines in television and film. Part of my issues come from the fact that I am waiting for some grand moment to occur so I recognize the cue to move on with life. Sooner or later, I expected the sun to shine in one specific spot or to hear angels sing for my one eureka moment. Thank God I realized I just need to make things happen for myself and that my life is not some foundation for a Sundance film entry.

Just as I am discarding that dangerous outlook, life keeps trying to convince me that my original way of thinking wasn't that far off. My father's outburst of emotion was just the beginning of the latest installment. I finally got to see my sister after a couple of months in absentia only to learn that just that afternoon good ol' dad had sent her an e-mail about her being "ambivalent". Why the hell should she be taking the impetus upon herself to talk with the man who abandoned her for most of her formative years? And wants us all to have dinner together? What?!?!?!?!? If the writers decide to strike the rumors state, maybe I can offer some per diem work to one or two and they can write me something more manageable.

If that wasn't surreal enough, my sister's mom called while I was there and asked to speak to me. I've been in this woman's company no more than a dozen times and I can't remember any of them except for one time in her house in Florida. This is the woman who asked my father to break up his marriage. And after 26 years she wants to talk to me. And of course, with the script, she made the most sense. It was a surreal conversation, but somehow cathartic for both of us. I shared the perspectives on Dad that I don't think my Mom could handle or is even aware of since my sister has given me privileged information. And she gave me a mandate to help my sister and dad to reconcile to some happy medium. In all the momentum of craziness, I totally took it on.

These are the times I wish I had more drama in my life as I was growing up then it wouldn't seem so weird. Some people just seem to roll with the punches but they all had some abnormal part of my life. I had the archetypal good upbringing. Both parents, regular church attendance. Except for some financial issues and one or two health scares, nothing really monumental really rocked me growing up. Now all this stuff is happening. I know it's not all deep. I'm lucky I lived life and know some skills to try to guide me through the situation. It still doesn't mean I can't be stunned about the whole ordeal.

I just wish this drama was catered sometimes

Bottled Up

After an absentee week that lead to a drop in productivity, I finally picked my arse up and went to New York. I figured Massachusetts had caught me in a spell so I forced myself to wake up early. I really almost didn't go again, but I did not want to break a promise to my mother. And my vanity pushed me further since it was my last time to get a haircut before my new job.

So today has been building steam. I did get that haircut and shave (before and after for your consideration), did a bit of shopping, and watched the decent American Gangster. And I made plans to drop in and hang with my sister, so I'm rather cheery even though the gray followed me to the city.

So I stop home to drop off stuff and run errands before seeing my sister, and I say hi to my dad who is doing chores in the house before Sabbath. Then I hear him call me and when I go, he opens his arms for a hug. We embrace, and he begins to cry. I couldn't believe it. Totally unprovoked. But it was only the beginning of a minor explosion of emotions. Fears of my prospects, hurt over my secrecy in my relations with my sister, jealousy over my relationship with my mom, just everything came tumbling out. I'm really glad I am having a good day.

Instead of railing into him, I kind of went into a therapeutic mode I normally only occupy at work. And I spoke of my grad school plans, explained my discretion, promised improved father-son relations and let him know everything was alright. But if I was in doubt before, it is crystal clear that the man is broken.

In the introduction to my initial blog, I mentioned that my objectie in life was not to be my father, hoping to avoid confusion and tunnel vision. I still have the same desire not to share his destiny, but now it is just because he is so utterly unhappy. I never want to be that sad. It is absolutely poisonous. For the last four years, I've watched it accelerate his death. I just can't go out like that.

Fall Back

Thank you Daylight Savings Time. With the extra hour of sleep you afforded me, combined with my previous 72 hours of prevalent idleness, I had the required energy to have an amazing day. I haven't written one of my Sunday appreciations in a while, because, well, I hadn't been appreciating them. Starting in the early summer, I began to get sent to different houses to either pass meds, supervise shifts, or both. For the past couple of weeks, I've been in the program that houses the oldest boys.

An assignment I initially dreaded has become mildly enjoyable. If this was my last week there, I ended on a high note. There were only three boys in the house, and two technically don't have to be eyes-on monitored in the house. Throughout the day, the three staff were high energy and the kids were too. It was a ball all day.

While Wolf Fighter, who was running shift, took one boy bowling, another staff and I took a couple kids to a Magic game tournament. On the way in I got to arouse my inner nerd and had discussions on computers, history, and religion. The tournament was held in a comic book store, which also had old vinyls. I found soundtracks to classic movies I owned but abstained from spending my meager funds on them right then. I figure the geeks that patronize the shop are not concerned with the soundtrack to "Anatomy of a Murder." Then we had lunch at an awesome place down the block and I didn't have to pay for it.

The Patriots also won in convincing fashion, this time from being down. All of the staff were engrossed in it. The other staff tackled my leg while I was on the phone with the nurse, informing him about our diabetic client's high blood sugar. This is how loose we got. Not to mention the jovial connection with the kids.

Plus, I didn't have to do what Mocha had to. That was back at my home program and the smell was atrocious.

Best part of the day: absolutely no issues. Nothing. If it wasn't for the meds, I would have thought it was a normal day at a boarding school.

The Disc Is Skipping

One of the benefits of having a friend like Nitro is the mental stimulation that she offers. Our friends are commonly seen as people we turn to when we want to relax and indulge ourselves. But its nice to have thhoughtful conversationalist amongst your fold somewhere, even if it isn't a friend. Luckily Nitro is mine and she is a friend.

She sent me this article earlier this week, but I really only got a chance to properly read it today (Thanks to New York Times abolishing the archive fee, you can read it any day too). For those who don't want to do the legwork and click-through, a brief synopsis: the author draws comparisons to the post French Revolution Jacobins to today's conservative politicians. After the Revolution, the Jacobins decided that you were either for liberty or against it. And a militant branch arose that decided to ironically destroy anyone who opposed liberty. When the pro-war faction wanted to war against other European powers, it was a fledgling United States that refused to aid and abet the French.

And more than two centuries later, another well orchestrated group has decided that liberty is in danger and the despots and tyrants who threaten it are vile threats that should be readicated. This time it is the French who don't want to assist. Oh how times have changed. Or rather, they really haven't. One of the French brave enough in the 18th century to speak against the Jacobins referred to the idea as being "armed missionaries." How effective can your message be if it is being taught with weapons?

Where's Napolean when you need him?

The New American Holiday

Last night, as I shepherded my boys around for trick or treating, it occurred to me that Halloween might be the new national holiday. Earlier in the shift, one of our struggling boys wailed that we couldn't take away Halloween. This was after I told him that since he refused group therapy, he couldn't participate. He ended up going cause he turned it around so quickly, but I think a prime factor in determining his approval was the reverence he held for the holiday. He was emphatic about its importance.

And even though the local houses seemed a bit more subdued than recent years, the disparity in families and ages of those involved contributed to my thoughts. Families traveled in packs, including even infants and toddlers. The seniors took part too with intricately packaged treats.

Then Posh texted a lewd message that was inspired by some of the costumes she viewed on her way home from class. Even my age group gets into it. Co-workers dressed up and my peers seemed to lament the odd Wednesday placement of the holiday. It inhibited their partying. It is the one day of the year where it seems socially acceptable for woman to be as close to naked as possible, as long as they are wearing a sexy facsimile of an everyday outfit. For a couple of crazy nights, an indulgence of nurses, French maids, and schoolgirls survey the nightlife, and its all perfectly fine. People lament over their costume choices the way they once did over their Christmas gift choices.

And what of Christmas? This was the dominant holiday in my formative years. Each year, everyone watched the Grinch and participated in Secret Santa office pools. But commercialization has overtaken Christmas. Now "Merry Christmas" has been absorbed by "Happy Holidays" and it seems its never too early to get your Christmas shopping out of the way.

Posh says that Thanksgiving is still the dominant holiday. I can see her point. But that seems like the most agreed upon four day weekend. A time to see family, have awkward relations, then heal wounds by battling bargain hunters in the wee hours of the morning. I feel like Halloween still motivates people to go more out of there way. Thanksgiving involves some extra food. Halloween seems to actually encourage activity.

Either way, its still interesting to see how into it people get. I'm glad for the candy.

Results

This morning I awoke with a dilemma. I have done somewhat haphazard preparation for the LSAT, a test I deemed necessary to heighten my chances of favorable grad school matriculation. But there were logical reasons not to take it. I had just taken it last year, and that score was respectable. It was lower than my original, and even the original seemed like a valid test score in my preliminary research. But I am stubborn. I just knew if I just did the studying, I could test amazingly high. But what if I just had an off day and blew it? Then what?

It seemed the signs were telling me no. My advisor had advised against it in her first response. And just as I initially prayed for clarity, Posh let me know she felt the same way. I had just taken it. And she said her score was valid, and I had taken my original around the same time. Finally I decided on a sign to not take the test: if I had to initiate a restraint that required pink paperwork, I could not take the test. Our largest client (300 pounds) had an issue. He beat and kicked me to the point where I believe my shins are truuly shedding tears. But he was on the floor, and legally I could not put him in that special type of restraint. But then he did get in a position, and I would have been foolish to be that stubborn and hurt us both. I did the hold.

I channeled my stubbornness by testing my faith. One more sign to confirm the first one, like a modern day Gideon. If I get a text message by 8:00 p.m., then You want me to take the test. My inbox was free at 8:11 p.m. I am so not taking that test.

I might be cited as silly and superstitious. But I'm just a believer. I need to read more and truly get a true grasp of what I believe. But I believe in Him. And I love Him.

The Wonderful World of Work

Yesterday, me and Mocha were bamboozled into believing my temporary assignment at the older boys' program was through. Sadly about 45 minutes in, we learned the sad truth that it was not. Once I found out that news, I figured I probably would be headed there today.

But before all that, I had to go to a training in place of one that had been cancelled on Thursday. So 10 hours in the midst of the organization. And it is Monday.

But it wasn't too bad. Training was quick and their were bagels and Sunny D. I even had good conversation with one of my superiors, who I thought hated me. But it also bothered me that we don't get along better cause it seems we like a lot of the same things. And this isn't a crush thing cause I know she's a lesbian. Maybe I just want everyone to like me.

Anyway after a brief stop at the supermarket, I made the call to my program director to figure out why wee were bamboozled. He wasn't there but I was proud of the message I left. I didn't back down. And he called right back and confirmed my departure. And confirmed next week as well, but then it should be over. We'll see.

But I realize that I cannot change these things so I shouldn't really too aggravated about it. I had my chances to make moves more quickly and not be in this position. I still could quit and find another gig in New York or even be brave and move away to DC or something. But I accept my position. I actually kind of like it. Interacting with different sets of kids can be energizing. I learned about Dungeons & Dragons and played a silly barely instructional game of basketball. I even got the chance to say goodbye to one of my favorites since they may have bumped his date of departure up a little more.

All in all, not such a bad day. I still need to make sure I get the hell out of there though. I'm needing more distractions to keep myself energized and motivated. That's a bit troubling. And Mocha informed me that tomorrow might be a maelstrom since one very aggressive boy is finding out some very disappointing news. And who usually draws him as an assignment? Yours truly.

I think I will sleep now and hope by the time I wake up, I won't be dreadful.

Where Amazing Happens

There was a time where I followed professional basketball like it was my religion. High holy days included Draft Day in June, which I actually watched in entirety, laughing as I saw the newly rich in awkward technicolor suits. Raised on CBS, my formative years with NBC, every SUnday from about January to June was filled with basketball. When I was older, I watched the cable broadcasts during the weeks, even enduring local Knicks broadcasts when the competition was up to it. All Star weekend was my holiday. The only time my attention eaned was to follow college basketball. But that only reinforced the love cause I was even more familiar with the players.

But things change. There has been a lull in the entertainment value lately. After Jordan left, the only brief blip of excitement has been the Shaq Kobe mini dynasty The poor NBA was hoping hat Lebron could deliver them, but his team failed him and even that failed to jump off. In its descent, football has asserted itself as king of the landscape. Even baseball has weathered scandal to be America's past time again. But basketball has seen poor gameplay and poor off court decisions bring it to the border of irrelevance. It is still number 3 but not because it has earned it. It just fell back there. NASCAR seems to generate more excitement, if not the money. But soon they'll exploit that. Whites and Southerners love it. It will make money soon.

But tonight I was captivated by two preseason games. In one, the Celtics showed off their off season acquistions and it was beautiful to watch again. Kevin Garnett distributed the ball to an active Paul Pierce and the sweet shooting Ray Allen. Even Rajon Rondo, with his lanky body and quick step, was a pleasure to watch. It was all so fluid and reminded me of the basketball I watched when I was younger.

So I decided to rededicate myself to all things basketball. Though I have been baptized into football, even college, I have a sports lull in the middle of the week and basketball could be the perfect fix. I still know the level of play could be upped but these young guys give me hope. It should be a fun season.

Titans of Industry

Undeniable is currently finishing up her time at boot camp to become a corrections officer in the prison system. God bless her and the 150 other recruits doing the same thing. But as she was alternating between scary stories of prisoners and disheartening tales of some of her dullard classmates, she informed me that the prisoners were responsible for manufacturing the furniture in college dorms and residential facilities like the one that employs me.

In another lockdown facility, they even have an eye lab that makes glasses that some of my kids where. I used to just ignore the rhymes about the prison industry complex that populate the more conscious of my rap choices. But Undeniable's experience shows just how prevalent it is.

Then I thought about how lucrative it is. In exchange for giving criminals some alternative to a completely banal experience, the state gets cheap labor to make goods that they profit from. Now I understand why there are so many conspiracies as to why the American prison population is so large, and why minorities are overrepresented on the inside.

But really I'm just a little bothered. Actually more than a little. Isn't it wrong for the state to profit from its failures, especially when they are human and cannot speak for themselves?

Just What The Doctor Ordered

Even after my excursion with Nitro and a fun morning jaunt through my neighborhood that resulted in a free picture frame and poster, the Sabbath day was mostly a malaise for me. I woke up with the intentions of going to church, although it was begrudgingly. But then I recalled we are advanced technologically and watched the whole service on the internet. I was distracted and the message didn't really get to me. I sat through a mostly pleasant meal with my parents, though I saw anger in my dad's voice at the slightest provocation. That man is not happy. And I even got my tickets to the Patriots-Giants game I coveted for my birthday. Still no joy.

Even my concert didn't seem so important. I chose to eschew the door opening time and took my time. I figured even if they stuck with the schedule, I wouldn't be missing much. At this point seeing Little Brother was enough. The bonus venues that were part of the city wide CMJ Music Marathon weren't that important.

But something happened when I stepped outside my house. My iPod delivered a banger and I had to move. I got to the train station just in time to catch mine. The great shuffle continued and I walked into the venue pretty charged.

$7 beer in hand, I found myself more assertive than usual. Usually I move as close as I can and then stop. But this time I saw my holes and pushed forward. By the end of the night I was only about 5 people between me and the stage. The opening acts rocked it. Evidence was energetic. Brother Ali converted me to fanhood. And even the interludes by the DJs were great, and better they were short. Right after the last interlude, Little Brother came on stage and killed it. And my positioning was crucial since I jumped up and caught the jacket Phonte threw off stage.

And then I timed it perfectly to have Tiombe Lockhart shake her ass on me when I booked it to one of those other venues.

What a beautiful night.

God moves in mysterious ways.

Carnegie '16

In my single digit years, probably around 8 or 9, I remember an instance after a church service where I told some adult that I wanted to be the first black president of the United States. I'm not sure what type of prescience I had at that point to predict that the spot would still be open by the time I was of age, but so far so good. And as much as I love Senator Obama, I doubt it will happen this time around. But Socrates somehow has always seemed to hold my potential in higher esteem than I have. He regularly refers to me as underachieving. This week he even alluded that I could have had a path similar to that of Mr. Obama.

It got me to thinking what happened to all those dreams. In New Haven, they must have got washed away with all my disillusionment cause that's the last distinct time I really felt like making a plan and definitively sticking with it. But Posh inspired me this week by sharing her her three different 5-year plans for life. Now I'm thinking I should have a 9-year plan to put me in position to make a run for the presidency. The greater goal is just self-actualization because sadly I am not a mason so my chances for the presidency must be nil.

In 9 years, this is what I would like:
- Financial solvency. The debt is there and I will incur more with grad school. But there's no reason it can't be managed. And there's also no reason that I can't be responsible for setting up my future.
- Ownership of property. Condo, house, something. With more in the future.
- Professional satisfaction. It seems established that I will be in some sort of profession that lets me exercise my altruistic spirit. I might stray for a bit. Cash is cash. But ultimately I want to make a lasting positive impact on this world.
- A family. I want a wife. I want kids. I want a dog. Simple.
- Amazing health. There is no reason I should be out of shape

So how do I go about this? For one, these applications need to be done by early December at the latest. And by mid-December, I need to have a license. I need to surround myself with the knowledge to accomplish this. I got a Suze Orman book for the financial part. And next year I need to be in grad school. I've started to actually follow a bit of an exercise plan.

But all this really needs is discipline, something that's been mostly absent in my tenure here on earth. I'm getting better at it though.

My advisor shared this with me when I finally got off my patoot and e-mailed her: "Remember movement only takes one step at a time."

One step, one step.

It Looks Like A Beautiful Morning

I woke up with the idea of going to church, but I wasn't exactly feeling the pull. I still was planning on going, but then I remembered that we are one of those technology forward churches and our service is online. Free of guilt and totally comfortable.

That revelation surely helped my disposition. With that knowledge, I ventured on a jaunt through my neighborhood. In the house, I was faithful and kept it with the gospel I am slowly rediscovering. On the walk, I fell to temptation and listened to my song of the week. And joy springs eternal.

Everyone seemed in a chipper mood. After such a messy day yesterday, the most appealing characteristics of autumn became evident. Young couples ferried around their children in bliss. Fathers actually spent time with their kids and lovingly interacted. At one point I expected one of those birds from Cinderella to sit upon my shoulder and start humming the hypnotic hook I had on repeat.

And I picked up a free poster and photo frame from the framing place that decided to be nice to its neighbors today. Plus I got an awesome card for my mom's upcoming birthday. There's no point to all this, but I figure after such a maudlin day yesterday, I should document my happiness.

Nitro Returns

The day had been a continuous state of malaise. What better way to break it up than a visit with Nitro. It had been close to a year since our last get together. That had to be a new record since we started doing these meet ups. But life got in the way and I stopped using AOL Instant Messenger, which was our primary communication.

Tonight we met up to see "3:10 to Yuma", which was unexpectedly crowded. And after it was all done, guru and disciple were back in concert again. I've realized that we must be a really peculiar sight even on the streets of New York. Tall African-American speaking intently with a sub 5 foot South Asian American. I chuckle now when I see the stares of African-American women assuming that this is a date and mentally downgrading their options once again. If only they were privy to the conversations.

After the movie, we ambled around the Village looking for a suitable establishment to sit and converse, but the Village is fullof hot spots and not exactly conversation points. Worse off, since it was Friday, they were all packed and loud. Somehow me and Nitro just have that ond. As we walked, the conversation was just as loose and comfortable as ever. We caught up on her new position. I got to sound engaging as I shared funny anecdotes that were the source of my new confidence. And of course as usual we had awesome food while slipping in funny observations of our fellow patrons.

(The date to our side was kind of disastrous. He constantly fiddled with his phone when devoid of conversation. And when he did offer conversation, it was so obscure and childish. You had to feel for the guy)

Nitro's reappearance helped me remember how nice it is to have adult conversation that is not work or relationship related. It's so easy to get caught in the minutiae of every day life. The afflicted of the quarterlife crisis must also contend with worrying about every aspect of their future. And though we touched on those topics tonight, it didn't seem half as serious as it sounds after hours of resounding off the sound chamber that is my brain. I need to do it more often.

Plus dessert was delicious.

Happily Depressed

I woke up today without any sort of impetus to do the things I had planned. For one, I planned to go running in the morning, but I did everything but throw my alarm against the wall and stayed in bed. Then I was even tempted to skip the mandatory pre-licensing course I had finally decided to take. But what else was I going to do today? So I actually did that by calling on my new playing hurt philosophy.


And the course is done and I had a somewhat entertaining teacher to guide me through the tedium. But then I went for my usual jaunt through the city and the pavement did not exactly provide the lift that it usually does. I ambled in and out of stores at SoHo barely impressed and hardly looking. I wasn't even interested in people watching like usual.


I could easily blame the ugliness that the rain brought, but I think the discontent has been brewing for a while. I'm actually starting to tire of my job. I don't like where I am in life period. But I'm also starting to realize that I am just different. My fascination with sociology and the trends and categories slowly bled into my thinking. For some reason, I keep trying to find the archetype to which I fit and each time I come up empty, I get discouraged.

Forget all that though. I'm just me. I have to start operating like that. I have Ivy-league educated peers doing things with their life. Fine. Others are perpetually in school and accumulating wealth. Fine. That's just not me. I am closing in on 26 and have no idea who I am though. And it's time I finally started to define that. It's time to honestly acknowledge my strengths and deficiencies. It's time I figure out what it is I want. The nonchalance that has been my trademark needs to disappear. I want to be fiery. I want to be passionate.

It's time to act on all that bloody potential I have been too scared to mine.

I'm going running.

Old School

Today, I dragged myself out of bed and walked the three blocks to the driving school that has always been there. I had finally decided to get tthe 5 hour course that all of us New Yorkers have to take out the way so I could take the road test and drive out of Neverland. For some reason I still wasn't all that motivated to go. Dreary day. Five hours listening to mostly common sense stuff.

It was made bearable by the instructor. A silver haired man who spouted New Yorker as soon as he opened his mouth. Almost immediately, he revealed that he had grown up in the Bronx. Just the rhythm and cadence of his speech, and even the content, had me convinced that we had an old school cat on our hands. The way he dressed conFrom the nehru blazer to the sensible shoes, I wondered how New York stopped producing this specimen. In his time, it was obvious that people placed a premium on being informed. I find that people with the most basic of educations from that time have a thirst for knowledge that surpasses those who get graduate degrees today. Throughout his lessons and admonitions against drunk driving, he pepered in tales of his own excursions.

I must say at times I was a little spelbound by his presentation. Though he worked with one of the most mundane subjects, he was active and colorful. A diverse group of license offenders and bright eyed kids, he had us all tuned in when the recipe said we should have tuned out. But people from that time all seem to possess a at least a modicum of that charm. Honestly, things seemed simpler then. The attitude seemed simpler. Just the approach to life was simpler.

I am displaced.

Good Grief

For the past three days, Mira has been texting me pretty consistently about work matters. I think its her own way of dealing with grief. On Sunday, she learned her father passed away. I am a sensitive boy. Church made funerals seem very important. Even when people passed away that I was totally unconscious of, I always held a special reverence for their lives.

Of course, I naturally want to comfort, but it is very apparent that Mira does not want to delve into a touchy feely conversation. And that's how she deals with it. I realize I am privileged to even receive text messages, since her best friend informed me that Mira was only communicating to her. And in her own way she deals with it.

On the other end, the matriarch of our family friends passed away last week. Her granddaughter had repeated breakdowns over the weekend and found sleep at aberrant hours. At the burial site, she broke down to the point she was on the floor asking to be buried with her grandmother.

Two different types of responses to stressful times, both appropriate in their own way. I wonder how I'll react when it happens to me.

Playing Hurt

Last week, my right cheek doubled in size due to an unexpected left hook. I almost mangled my face trying to bring a 170 pound bruiser to the floor. In that hold, I definitely did something to my right knee. But I was out playing Ultimate frisbee the next day, where I am sure I aggravated a heel spur that was disippating. And to drown the sorrows of week, I went out and danced heavily, making my Jamaican ancenstry proud by gettting as low as possible.

By Sunday, my body completely reacted. But instead of taking advantage of a lazy Sunday at work, I ended up playing football with the adolescents. The next day was an hour of full court basketball. The following day, the same bruiser challenged me to stop him during kick returns. And the next morning, I punished myself by resuming my dormant running regimen. Yesterday, I did the same thing, though I had much smaller goals.

So now my body aches. At one point, it was painful to sit since my butt was as sore as any other point on my body. Reaching to stop the alarm on my phone was an exercise in pain management. But even though I had reason to relax all this week, I still went at it. Somehow I need to translate that lesson to the rest of my life.

Mira made the comment that I had met her during the most stressful period of her life. I'm not sure I'm at my most stressed, but it is definitely the most important. I have committed to taking three graduate level exams in the next two months. I have finally decided on an educational path I want to take. But all that past baggage is kind of slowing me down. I played hurt at work though. I need to play hurt at life.

A couple months ago, a preacher did a sermon based on Paul's escape from prison. The angel said "Arise quickly" and as soon as he did it, his chains fell off. I'm very tempted to be stagnant right now. I'm not sure if it is because New England is in full cold, rainy, autumn mode or maybe that I am just too comfortable in the routine I have cultivated these last couple of months.

These chains gotta move though

Highs & Lows of Black Culture

After my spiritually depressing week, tonight was finally the Common concert. The trip down to DC wasn't too problematic. Actually it was almost what the doctor ordered. Solitude and space. And Posh made it even better by actually showing up on time. Go Posh.

Since I usually pay for the tickets, Posh usually takes me out. This time we headed to an event called First Fridays, which unbeknownst to me is a well orchestrated social networking event for Black professionals that has chapters in a multitude of cities. They change locations every month and this time around it was at a spot called UltraBar. It was a cool place and the DJ was playing songs that I thought I only listened to. Plus the libations were flowing, so the cares were melting away just as I'd hoped.

Of course I was in observant mode for the initial part of the night. Of course there were more women than men since we are talking about black professionals. But I found it funny that the patronage was exclusively black, but all the bartenders were white. I wished Malcolm was around to view it. I know some of us were on our ways to getting totally trashed and maybe ending up in beds we would regret later, but Plymouth Rock was lifted for those couple of hours. So loads and loads of well dressed and affluent black professionals dancing and drinking and being all responsible, making connections and shit. Man I loved it.


Then we went to the Common concert. Absolute opposite. It was held at a club called Love, which is questionable in and of itself. Posh has always abstained from taking me to this minor DC nightcub landmark, and after visitation I understand why. Its four levels of fun, or so its advertised. All I saw was a meat market of chickenheads and the sorry brothers who are jocking to take them home. Even though our tickets said doors open at 6, we arrived at 9:45 and the floor for Common wasn't even open yet. By the time it was, we learned that only VIP's would be close to the stage. Luckily we were already drunk enough so we headed up to another floor to dance. We had a good time, but so were all the hos around us. I started to think that booty shorts and stilettos were a uniform. And when the concert finally began, you had the whole mess of people who didn't buy tickets try to get on the floor. Plus it seemed like there were packs of questionable hoodlums who held up the wall and did nothing and looked like trouble brewing.

Oh my people my people, what can you do? Just love 'em I guess.

Aaaaah

It was a lovely autumn day today. The sun was out enough and the air was refreshingly crisp, even when it was a bit too cold. The house at full capacity was actually more manageable and enjoyable than yesterday. I had a playful conversation with a boy who'd had a hangover over the weekend and the boys actually responded to directions without temper tantrums. By 8:30 p.m., it was quiet. And though I got a bit of good natured ribbing about the state of my face the swelling has subsided a bit. The Patriots performed a clinic and so all of New England is happy. And my prescription of my grandfather's elixir (read: cognac) to nurse the tender pains in my jaw and elbow is only helping to accentuate my content mood. Plus I get to go back to my boys tomorrow. Life's not that bad.

(The Mets issued an apology note to all their fans which brought me a bit of comfort and hopefully closure. It's still bittersweet though which is why I didn't include it with the rest of the positive posting. I really don't feel like watching any baseball unless the Red Sox make the Series.)

This Sucks

The title encapsulates it all.

I arrived at the older boys' program only to have it confirmed that I was just a regular staff and really wasn't doing anything too special. Then I found out that the meeting I was set to have with their program director wouldn't happen cause he called out for tomorrow.

For most of the day that was fine though, since we only had three boys. I figured I could save my dread for the next day, when I would return, but only with a full house and more chances for firecrackers. I got to watch football uninterrupted and read New York Times articles I printed. There was a point I was in the house alone just watching football.

Lo and behold, at dinner time, I actually start to do my job. And a mild mannered Muslim, who happens to be Caucasian and loves Magic cards and collecting currency, started flipping out cause he couldn't get an extra piece of chicken. He actually called me "boy" and then as he flipped out more, clubbed me in the right cheek. Then when I tried to hold him, he grabbed my shirt and told he wasn't letting go cause I was touching him and yelling. Of course I had stopped speaking and had my hands up which should be indicative of this kid's mental illness. He finally let go and I closed the door on him in the solution room. Of course he wished for my death and threatened to press charges, over what, I don't know. Luckily he was a blubbering mess when he came out.

But my face still stung. And my elbow was even worse since I banged it on a wall in the ensuing struggle. And I can't even type this now without grimacing. To add salt to my wounds, the Mets completed one of the worst chokes in all of sports history today by not even making the playoffs after leading their division since May. They blew a 7 game lead in little over two weeks.

And I have to go back to those guys tomorrow. And I'm not going to a Mets playoff game this week. Common better have the sickest show this Friday and please believe there will be a plethora of libations imbibed.

Update - Monday, October 1st, 2007, 11:26 a.m.

The mirror told me my right cheek was swollen. I hate the mirror.

Better Work

Today I did some more training for my new part time gig. And I felt good. A large part was my state of appearance.

Something about looking good adds a bit of a boost to one's self esteem. As I walked the streets, even a shoe shine artisan noted, "Perfectly fine." I was wearing new shoes as well.

And all that boosting made me feel totally confident in that training, even though I had nothing to really do. I just felt like I belonged. I even think one of the agency attorneys might have been feeling me. I hate to sound cheesy, but its pretty cool hanging with the big boys and girls. I think I've been ready for it, but just didn't want to do it. Now I'm itching.

A Burberry tie proves to be the spur to depart Neverland.

Ego Stroked But Now There's Chafing

Today, I was very prepared at work. I knew the therapy group I was headed to and even made sure I checked in with the group leaders about the transition plan. Of course I took my one boy to the scheduled room and no one informed me they changed it. So when I brought him in about 20 minutes late, I thought when my program director wanted to check in with me, I might have been in some slight trouble.

Lo and behold, he was actually telling me about how the program with the oldest boys is a mess. Wolf Fighter, who was given the supervisor spot over there, had allegedly been in their program director's office in tears and feeling overwhelmed. And in the ensuing tete-a-tete between these program directors, they decided to ship me out to that program for a month.

Of course, I could hardly contain the smile in my heart. He basically told me that I was well regarded enough to go quell some fire on the opposite side of campus. Little old me was going into the trenches to reset the order.

But then wait. If I'm going back to my original set of boys, won't a month of absence damage my authority with them? How many routines and incidents could occur that I wouldn't be aware of? How would I get my requisite play time since the older boys love Magic, video games, and computers? And if they're shipping me around like some mercenary to help brring about piece, will I have some authority to actually change things instead of just being an actual strong staff?

It started to bug me as I thought about it. It's like I'm a piece of meat. And Mira, fresh from her reshuffling, commisserated with me as well. But an e-mail will go out to those same program directors tomorrow and hopefully clarity will reign again.

It still sucks though

Update - Thursday, September 27, 2007, 2:26 p.m.

So I sent my well crafted e-mail this morning. First I thanked them for thinking of me, then I went into the original problems I had viewed in my earlier visits to the program when they had no one to do their meds, and then I asked for clarity. I got a reply from their program director to call him. Now I'm thinking that maybe I was too big for my britches and came off as arrogant.

It doesn't help that the guy speaks in a monotone and that upset sounds just like excited. As soon as we get past the pleasantries, he's saying he was "out of his chair." In anger? In joy? Luckily it was the latter. So now I'm feeling joyful again cause he promised to meet with me on Monday after he boosted me up by bigging up my character. "It's like you read my notebook"

I still don't like it, but I'm somewhat excited about the opportunity.

Update - Friday, September 28, 2007, 8:58 p.m.

Yeah so my program director, who also received the e-mail, replied to it today. He also gave me compliments on character, but he also said I would split my week between my program and theirs. So now I'm thinking I'm just a staff. No authority. I am not a happy camper. He squashed whatever optimism I have. I now go plan to eat a lovely meal and forget that this is happening.

Chalupa

Today, after an extended battle between two aging bureaucracies, which are both responding hastily and often illogically to outside prescriptions, we lost Chalupa. Chalupa is a seven year old cognitively limited boy we had on our campus for two years. During his time there, he gained campus wide recognition. The kid was cute. The face was totally innocent. Whatever horrendous or disturbing behaviors he exhibited, you could never hold it against him. None of it was his fault.

When he originally came, they didn't know if he spoke Spanish or English. His mom was homeless and voluntarily gave he and his sister up to Social Services. She never reclaimed them. We have no idea where the sister might be. But I hope she didn't suffer the same plight as Chalupa. It's obvious he was sexually and physically abused in addition to the obvious neglect. He seems the size of 5 year olds and acts even younger than that. Accidents are the norm and at least one chase through the house a day. He could get into your nerves at time.

But he had a consistency of joy that could always win you over. It never really dissipated. Even after he was crying for a while, within seconds he was smiling. Even time he swore it broke your heart. Each action against you made your blood boil not because of how sad the behavior was, but just the mere fact that this small child was the perpetrator.

Now he's gone/ He had actually been making some serious strides i the recent months. More individualized attention lead to better verbal expression. He actually participated in activities for longer than 15 minute clips. He had stopped being the shift nuisance that was his biggest negative. But DSS is tired of our school, at least one office. They've moved most of the kids that we had in the past couple of months. And Chalupa is one of them. So he won't be going anywhere particularly better suited for him, like consistent individualized attention that we could never provide. It's basically the same deal. Just not us. That's a very sad thing. We started to be the only family he had. He actually started to make connections and build relationships. They all get stripped away because two agencies can't get along.

It's tragic. It's the system. But what's done is done. When Banana said her goodbyes on Monday, he came and hugged her and said "I'll miss you." He knew her yellow car and remembered the sign language she taught him. But no more constant requests for gum or silly dives into bed. The dancing to Gnarls Barkley "Crazy" never again to be viewed. Other boys' behaviors kept me away from him for most of the day, but I remembered to say my goodbyes just as he was about to fall asleep. I was about to leave when he asked me to tuck him in. And I wrapped him up like I used to.


I'm glad I'll remember him happy. I hope he stays that way.

Found A Spot

Romanticizing the barbershop is something I'm quite fond of. In my childhood, I think I made it the place where I interacted with "real" people. I think I was just jealous of all the ghetto latchkey children who came and went as they pleased. And I kind of admired all the teens and older kids in flashy fake gold with elaborate handshakes to match their precisely cut Gumbys and fades.

But I always felt like an outsider. In adulthood, I still have searched for that mix of camaraderie, familiarity, and just straight comfort. The closest I got was when I had dreads. I saw the same stylist for the duration of their existence, and we developed quite the rapport. Even followed him to his new digs and paid for a $25 cut and shave just cause of the familiarity factor. But I realized it wasn't smart to keep paying and my sojourns have taken me back to those places where I enjoyed it, but still an outsider.

I think the search is over though. I went to this place a couple months ago because my usual spot had a longer line than I would have liked. But the barbers there are mostly West Indian and hearing their patois, sometimes decipherable, makes me feel quite comfortable. And today when I walked in after someone, my usual barber actually said I was next. They're comfortable enough to watch "Ellen" and British comedy on the flatscreen as well. Most importantly, the cuts are precise and he doesn't ask if I want a razor for my shaves. He just does it. The fact that I can laugh along with their conversation, even as they diss potential customers under the disguise of their funny foriegn colloquialisms just adds to the allure.

It's nice to have a home.

The Morning After

The first jolt I got was when I reached for my cell phone so that I could shut off the alarm. There was soreness in my hand. Then I felt it in my tricep. I really couldn't fathom why I was in pain. There was a point where the shower water worked doubly. As it scalded, it also soothed pains I was yet to have. It slowly came back to me that yesterday I had a mini-sumo match with one of my clients and he landed a slight jab to my left cheek. He's also 270 lbs. Doodlebug tells me thats 140 kilos or something.

Yes. Wow indeed.

After these stressful incidents, which included spitting on me and trying to emasculate me through kicking, my brain just put them away, which is pretty typical of people in my field. If these incidents don't get filed away appropriately, it's bad for everyone. Yeah I was pissed off. Maybe a bit embarrassed. But the kid is mentally ill. And there is still paperwork to be done and garbage to dispose of. And in one hour you will be home in your bed. Just move on.

But then mornings after like these, you wonder why you do it. Why this type of beating? Why not hit books, sell out, and cash in? Get that prestige that Dad craves so much? As I put the lotion on my hands just minutes ago, the exercise was just a syllabus in learning exactly where things hurt the most. And what hurts now will only be exacerbated and added on to if my scheduled date with ultimate frisbee comes to fruition.

There's some grander purpose to this I think. I can honestly say that I am a bit lazy but I enjoy what I do. I am getting tired of it. Sometimes I find myself not giving it my total devotion and that disappoints me. But still the pros drastically outweigh the cons. And I do love to play.

It's Actually 10 Months

About 20 minutes ago, my post Sports Center siesta was broken up by my cell phone ring. Seeing that it was my good friend Testimony and knowing I wasn't that unconscious, I actually answered the call eschewing my recent no-morning phone call rule. We had talked extensively at work yesterday as I updated her on the changes to the whole organization. I thought maybe she had a follow up question of some sort.

Instead, she greeted me as Uncle Adam and proceeded to tell me that she is expecting. Already she is eight or nine weeks. Which is exactly around the time of her wedding, that I happened to pseudo-coordinate. In the midst of the success of "Knocked Up", has my generation taken the message to heart? Or am I just freaking out because I am getting to the age where people actually settle down and start having babies?

It seemed an anomaly to me when my former college roommate got married and had a child two years ago. When Principessa Bella had her son this year, almost a year to date from her marriage vows, it seemed like everyone in my age group was having babies. On my two trips to my aunt's church, I've been greeted with the sights of college friends who followed through with their sweethearts and have happy mini families or at least expecting them. And seeing my godsister's three babes was incredible when seven years ago, her wedding was the first time I felt like a grown-up.

Now Banana is becoming more open about her own pregnancy now that she is visibly showing. In October, she actually learns what sex the child will be. It just seems crazy to me that my peer circle is having children. These aren't family friends or random older children of church folk. People I had class with, sang in choir with, went to bars with, are reproducing! Have I really been denying that life has been going on around me this badly? Am I really this old? Should I be sad that I am in no position to have one now?

In a way I am sad. Or maybe disappointed. It would be nice to be settled and know that I was that secure in a relationship to actually bring life in this world. But lately I've come to realize that I am not that secure in myself so it is all for the best. Eventually I hope to ohave my own, but for now I'll practice honing my eye for baby clothes.
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Now playing: Black Star - Astronomy (8th Light)

Encore

After a two hour conversation with Mira that largely revolved around work matters, I'm inspired to share more examples of goodness my boys exhibited today.

- The seven year old I mentioned before wanted to play Sorry! again with imaginative dice. He actually found me to play it. And earlier when he ran in to our meeting, he immediately stopped, looked around at all the adults with serious expressions and said "Smells like a meeting in here." He then proceeded to run to his room and dive on the bed. He also advised a client to go sleep in their room so he wouldn't be disrupting. That's our 7 year old mentally retarded resident.

- I did play an intense game of Ultimate Frisbee. It was probably the best organized sport activity during my tenure. It helps that it was four overgrown male staff getting ultra competitive and luckily the kids bought into it enough to avoid most issues. Mocha was showing off his grass stains as badges of honor.

And now I get to sleep till whenever and recover from such a festive week.

Lazy Morning

Mira made the comment about how great the potential was for the laziness of this morning, so I decided to act upon it. After I wrote an e-mail to a clinician about one of my boys, I sorted my laundry and then put in a load. After that burst of productivity, it was sheer slothyness (term borrowed from Friends of Mira. All Rights Reserved) from then on.

When I threw on the TV, I was disappointed to see that my usual dose of Sports Center was delayed for live action from the Women's World Cup. Now I can say that I love sports, even women's soccer, not exactly a popular choice amongst the heterosexual male. But I wanted football highlights and baseball. Women's World Cup can wait till the round of 16. Or at least if the Americans were on. Instead the matchups were Japan : England and Nigeria : Sweden. Yeah. But I got over myself and actually the soccer was pretty exciting at points. That British girl Katie Smith is a beast. I'd like to say it was th e training she got at the American university that is the cause.

My patience was rewarded with a 90-minute Sports Center featuring two of the network's more dry, random humorists. Is it wrong that I not only watch the show for the sports highlights but actually for the entertainment in it? Those guys are funny sometimes. Actually most of the time. And yeah I do have favorites. But it was just what the doctor ordered.

And now the music finally joins the proceedings and I immediately think of a new blog for my media site, because Ma$e was a star that burned out too quick. He was a much better version of Fabolous, before Fabolous. And I like Fabolous.
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Now playing: Ma$e - Lookin' At Me (feat. Puff Daddy)
via FoxyTunes

The Child Whisperer

Today there were three interactions with my boys that are indicative of why I go to work.

The first was as I picked up one boy from our version of after school detention. He was in a chipper mood because he had done his consequence without an issue and was leaving on time. When I came he was trying to meditate with his fingers crossed. As we were walking back, I took a look at his homework and commented on how well his penmanship has progressed. He graciously said thank you and he also just commented on how bad it used to be but that he kept working on it. And then to add the cherry on top, he complimented one of his peers on how good his handwriting had become. Seeing humanity in a child is sometimes the only thing that saves humanity.

That same peer he commented is the subject of my second interaction. This boy is 7 going on 8, but really he is more like 3 or 4 tops. He was having a very erratic day and eventually I had to take him away from everyone just so he could truly settle. When he came out of it, we didn't immediately rejoin the community but we played the game of Sorry he pulled out. Of course there were no dice and all the pieces were not there, but he still went about the task of setting up the board and telling me what colors I was assigned. We played for 30 minutes with imaginative dice. We cupped our hands, shook them, and let them roll out on the board, calling out the number that only we saw in our heads. And that lasted for 30 minutes. Amazing.

The final interaction is the most moving one for me. One of our boys is 14 and smart. He is close to leaving but he keeps making silly little decisions that set him back. This night, he had a blowout because we wouldn't print a specific picture of Jessica Alba for him to sketch. This is the same one who I bought artwork from. After he almost got his friend in trouble and we almost escalated into a jawing match, we had a talk. I knew the window hitting wasn't about that silly picture. It was about the boy who keeps getting in his grill at school. The girlfriend he feels betrayed him. The home life that is not only below his expectations, but now is uncertain. Sometimes dysfunction is valuable just because of the perverse stability it can offer. But now that divorce seems imminent, the uncertainty makes him even more crazy. And there was school and other things, but just see the flood come out. Just to hear the worries. It felt good to hear him just admit it to himself. I was probably extra sentimental cause I had recently had the same venting experience with my mom around the same time last week. It was nice to know that he felt comfortable enough to have the rare explosion of emotion with me. And it just speaks to why I do what I do. It's really all about those kids. I live to see that progression in all its forms.

I Think I Like Chelsea

That would be the neighborhood in New York City, not some girl I magically came up with. Yesterday, it was where I was playing golf and found those shops that piqued my interest. Today, after I checked the test print of my grandfather's photo, I happened to meander the 20 blocks away and found myself there again. Its filled with the young, eccentric, and sometimes affluent that I would like to think are the closest kindred spirits I have.

And there is where television personalities feel comfortable enough to be normal people. In July, I found myself in line behind Mo Rocca, former Daily Show correspondent and now pop culture guy. Today in Starbucks I was lucky enough to give a compliment to Kelly Coffield, whose primary claim to fame was the lone white woman on In Living Color during the hey day of Jim Carrey and Damon Wayans.

The streets are relatively clean. There's a nice mix of mainstream and eccentric shopping. The people range from early 20s to middle age, but the common thread is that they all seem to be fresh, young and current, no matter the age. It seems like the closest one can get to an environmental fountain of youth. Now the trick is getting to the place where I can afford $2,000 in rent for a tiny 1 bedroom. Such is life

Inertia

From the physcis course I took, I believe the idea of inertia is that pretty much everything is going to stay in the state its in unless an outside force does something to it. If you're moving one way, you'll keep going that way until something stops you or alters your course. And if you're not moving then you'll be as immobile as a rock, unless something pushes you along.

Today for some reason, I woke up at 9, even though I had gone to sleep at 4. I thought waking up at 10 was a stretch, but that's what I had set my alarm to since I had things I wanted to accomplish today. But I woke up and had boundless energy. I transcribed the RLS blog which I had written long hand while I stayed in the hotel and was without internet. I then bounced around and showered, continued to sing and dance as I completed my grooming rituals, and even had enough time to be vain in the mirror for a second.

As I soaked up my usual fix from my chemical dependency on the pavement, I felt a charge I haven't felt in a while. I felt good. I felt confident. And confidence is a drug that liberates oneself from inhibition. I was less subversive about my enjoyment of music and visibly mouthed words and bobbed my head. When I was walking, the observant would have seen that I was really dancing as much as possible. All this while I dropped off a photo of my grandfather to be reproduced and stopped off at four stores to shop. I was charming to the attendant in the department store. You could not stop me.

But then I went to drive golf balls because I finally felt inspired enough. And the confidence was still there. I asked for the clubs I wanted without hesitation and found my way to a slot. But then the confidence drained out of me. First my ball machine wasn't working. The nice elderly lady next to me helped me out and actually gave me her slot with free balls since she was a member. But then I just sucked. Its been a while since I picked up clubs. And I got all cerebral and upset at myself. Furthermore, I was starting to get tired as I walked to the golf club and I forgot to eat in my mania.

I left sad. I even discovered a bunch of shops I probably would love after i passed by the meat market, but I couldn't even get excited. My music didn't even bring me joy. And there is inertia. You couldn't stop me before in terms of confidence. But my disappointing play combined with my sleepiness changed all that. Confidence gone.

It got to the point where I was figuring out how I could afford private lessons so I could dominate the sport, which I've always thought was perfect for me. It's solitary and useful in climbing the social ladder. You get to spend loads of cash on equipment and everybody is always striving for perfection.

And it all quickly came back when I got on the train and a girl gave me the look over as we passed and actually turned her head to check me out as she walked away. Smirk returned. Head bobbing, though the sleepiness still kept me somewhat sedate.

How Do You Solve A Problem Like Restless Legs?

Due to my recent spike in television consumption, combined with my digestion and acute attention to advertisements, I've learned that I may suffer from Restless Legs Syndrome. According to the commercials, people that suffer from the affliction have symptoms like weird fidgeting in their legs and the incessant urge to move around. Thank God I saw these messages cause I was actually considering cutting back on the SoBe Energy Coolattas from Dunkin Donuts.

Now though, since I have identified the real problem, how exactly do I combat this RLS (as the cool kids refer to is)? Well I never would have known about it, if not for an ad for Mirapex, a medication aimed at calming the symptoms of the syndrome. But the lovely people at Boehringer Ingelheim, which make it, were nice enough to tell me that I might feel the urge to fall asleep during normal everyday activities like driving. And after I did more research, I found that it might initiate hallucinations and compulsive gambling. This all makes me somewhat wary. I just want to calm down my legs. Though the increased sex drive may be a bonus.

Just when I thought I was at my wit's end, I saw another commercial for Requip, aimed at trying to quell the same problem. Not only did this give me hope but it also offered comfort since if there were two medications for this diagnosis, it must mean there are enough people suffering just like me to motivate the pharmaceutical companies to make a profit. Sometimes you have to thank God for those lovely executives diligently working to help me live my best life possible. Like any other drug, Requip has side effects, but they only reported drowsiness, nausea, and vomiting. That is much better than spontaneous narcolepsy. Imagine if my kids took advantage of my sporadic comas. Plus the increasing reports of organ thieves frightens me and I do love to take the subway.

Now my plan was to go to Costco and get bulk supplies of toothpaste and mints so I could hide the possible effects from my future prescription. Sadly, after I did more research, I found that Requip had the same problems that Mirapex has. Compulsive gambling, dizziness when I stand up, hallucinations. It was all there. Now how can I terminate the constant motivation to actually do things and move around.

Maybe I'll just walk it off.

Sunshine Chronicles #7

To begin our last day in Orlando, I was awake rather early. Like 4:30 a.m. Why was I so restless? Who knows, but I couldn't simmer down. I browsed the internet. I ate fruit. I read bits of religious text. I took pictures of myself.



I finally got to bed, but I rose rather early and went running in my aunt's cul de sac wearing exactly the outfit from the picture. For some reason it slipped my mind I was in Florida in summer. Even though I was running before the sun was its most deadly, I was a drenched by the time I returned. I actually fetched ice chips and made myself a bootleg ice bath.


Once that was done, I sat for a mini breakfast with my aunt, uncle and mom. Soon we were talking of family and I naturally had questions about relations and lineage. Soon I had a pencil and paper and was sketching things out. Next thing you know I'm volunteered to compile all the neat information I gathered into a neat little printout for the whole family. Thanks Mom. I don't mind though.


I know most my age think of a true vacation as one that has some bits of debauchery as hallmarks of the break, but I enjoy this family time just as much. Our family is small and for some reason I really don't want lose any part of it. Whatever I can learn of its past is good, even if it is incomplete.

Sunshine Chronicles #6

Before I even stepped on a plane, the plan for today was to be a housewarming for Driven (the name I have chosen for my godbrother). But when I touched down on the soil, I learned that the plans were cancelled due to his leech, I mean, girlfriend's parents unexpectedly staying an extra week in the house. But when I learned that they were leaving Sunday morning, I petitioned to Driven about the event and he invited the family anyway.

To start with, it was nice to walk in the house and not need to be on guard with the parents around. Each time you interacted with them, there was the threat of being drawn into inane conversation for who knows whatever reason. I've spoke on it before but the need to speak all the time is grossly overrated. Anyway, the little minx wasn't too bad in the morning cause she did cook breakfast. But within the hour she was gone, and then the house was completely chill. It was like a huge bachelor pad

I'm sad that I lost touch with Driven over time though cause he is a kindred spirit. As we argued over Meet The Press, I realized he is one of the few who can understand a lot of the things I go through just because we were raised very similarly. Then we watched Sports Center, Idlewild, and golf. We chatted. We were peace. It was vacation. Even Driven seemed to lighten up immensely when she was gone.

Finally the whole party arrived, and the tour was on. Out of nowhere the little minx just reappeared and the balloon just deflated. Luckily the excitement of the house initially masked the discontent, but eventually it reared its ugly head. When she went along with Driven and his boy for more supplies at the Home Depot, I debriefed Meters (my godsister's chosen name) and her mom on my conversation with him. The basic points are that they're just not right for each other. In biblical terms, this would be called "unequally yoked." And for them, it's on a myriad of levels. Culture, interests, intelligence, you name it. They're just not on the same page. About the only thing I see they have in common is having melanin, shared melanin, and a possible belief that some degree of misery might be a natural part of life.

Anyway, then me and Meters ran out to get the Ruby Tuesday order we had placed and then we all ate. The minx was there and honestly you felt a temperature change with each room she progressed too. I was tired of her presence because over the weekend it was so much easier to see how different Driven was with her and then without her. We even tried to convince him to return to Orlando with us that night, but we know the only reason he didn't come was because he was scared of the fall out from her. They're not even technically dating. And it's his life!!!! Oh let me stop before I get more passionate.

I packed up my stuff and headed back with Meters and my godparents, where I updated my godfather on what I had told Meters and her mom earlier in the day. Sadly I learned more information that made me like the minx less. But me and Meters had fun with it along the way.

And now I type from my aunt's mini office on an iMac that is ancient. But I am surrounded by portraits of my family and it is enough to almost move one to tears. In the message he delivered yesterday, the president of the university alluded to recognizing the people and experiences that made us who we are. Most of the events this weekend have helped me realize how often I draw on the experiences related to my family in my modus operandi even now. During the ride with Meters, we also touched on my cousins, one of which she had some sort of attempt at an intimate relationship. And it was funny to see how they diverged from the path we seemed to be raised in. The selflessness and consideration i'd like to think of as some of my most central traits were nurtured by my family. I wouldn't be who I am if it wasn't for the excursions to Maryland or the Sabbath dinners at my aunt's house. My mother is who I derive the most influence from and she was raised in the same way. How can I not credit them for who I am? If anything, right now I am more remiss that I let myself forget and that I have somehow come short on what I should have delivered back to them. But it's better late than never.

I'm sleepy though. Good night.

Fertilizer

Warning: The following post may be a little too candid. If you continue and are eventually perturbed by the information you garnered, I apologize. You might also want to relax too.


Last week, as my boys were packing at work to move to their new house, I was sitting listening to beats one of the them was making on his PS2. Another boy, who is quickly becoming my favorite, came out of the bathroom. He seemed kind of dazed for a second like he didn't know where he was. Just as I was about to ask him if he was okay, he piped up in a chipper voice, "I just took two poopies in there." He then turned on his heels and returned to his activity. I just started to chuckly and I finally asked if he did feel okay and he responded that he felt great. He even was walking noticeably lighter on his toes.

Its funny that some of our boys actually have laxatives as part of their medication plan. Partially it is because some of the meds they are on do clog up the system as a side effect. But for some it actually is a conributor to the mood stabilization. That clogged up system can bog us down as a whole. I wonder how often a kid has had an issue partially because their mood was affected by their inability to defecate. I can understand why. Posh loves her sit down tete-a-tetes with the Porcelain Goddess. And I too relish the good morning cleansings.

Maybe the world needs to take more dumps

What The Hell Am I Doing?

When I am bold enough, I will write the blog I really want to all about how this summer has been kind of like a poor man's version of the Zach Braff coming of age movie. Part of that whole kick is actually trying to determine some sort of direction in my life. Of course, as I always have, I turn to tests to help me solve the issue. And the wonderful people at Similar Minds gave me this.

Career Inventory Test Results Extroversion 46% Emotional Stability 83% Orderliness 53% Altruism 90% Inquisitiveness 70% You are a Guide, possible professions include - career counselor, psychologist, educational consultant, special education teacher, librarian, artist, playwright, novelist/poet, editor/art director, information-graphics, designer, HRM manager, merchandise planner, environmental lawyer, marketer, job analyst, mental health counselor, dietitian/nutritionist, research, educational consultant, architects, interpreter/translator.

The scary part is that I kind of knew this already but confirmation from some arbitrary distant test that knows nothing about me is somehow comforting. Did I mention I am on vacation in Florida and this is how I chose to spend my time? So the title of the blog has added meaning? I've been avoiding true introspection for so long I might as well embrace any sort of motivated action I might take. Now what do I do with this information. I think I'll sign up for the GRE and flesh out some creative ideas like a TV pilot about a quirky coffeehouse and the novel Socrates has said I should write for some time.

By the way, I am also splitting time obsessing over the anonymous comment someone left on my smoking blog. It's just mean that someone would leave a possibly flirtatious signature (Come on: Eve for Adam) and not even leave a hint as to the identity. Oh its torture. The suppressed narcissist in me wants to explode at the frustration. An ego stroke that doesn't really exist.

Sunshine Chronicles #5

Some quick shots:

• I'm halfway decent at this psych thing. My godbrother asked me what I thought of his relationship after about 24 hours of viewing the whole thing and I told him to cut the girl loose. And with each one of my reasons, like the fact that he secretly might never want to get married and the fact that she's not on his level, he nodded his head in agreement. Furthermore, his boy who was with us concurred with my assessment.
• I love Home Depot. As I was in the store, it continued the growing urge to do something. I was discussing with Mira later how cool it would be to like gut a house or rebuild it. Though I've never worked heavy duty with tools, I think it would be another extension of creativity. And another way to reclaim some sort of spirit of masculinity. I think I've been reading too much GQ
• My godbrother suggested going to the Super Bowl but after research we realized that was stupid. But 2009 is in Tampa and since he lives there, that sounds more realisitic. But I did find out there is a Giants/Patriots game in New Jersey on my birthday and Stevie Wonder is going to be in Boston on a non-work day. Intriguing.

Sunshine Chronicles #4

At 7:45 this morning, I turned off the alarm and got myself some apple juice. I had a really engaging conversation with my Mira (formerly Secret Stripper) last night, but it began right when I would have tried to go to sleep. Instead it lasted an hour and kept me up till 1 something or other. So the early morning call, especially since yesterday I had also had limited sleep was potentially painful. It didn't help that we were headed back to Orlando and my godbrother (he needs a nickname but we can let that marinate) is 90 minutes away. Plus, it was us, his girlfriend, and his parents about to pile into a Kia for the hike.

I somehow was ready in 20 minutes but I kind of foresaw the issue ahead of time and had everything already prepared. The drive was initially grating due to the inane conversation about flood lines and lawn mowers. But when we started to talk about urban infrastructure and the two sidedness of the Adventist organization, I found my groove and seemed to salvage any poor impression I might have left on the parents.


The big reason we were there was that it was Northern Caribbean University day. Its the Adventist institution in Jamaica and the alumni chapters organize days at their local churches and everything is centered around the institution. In New York, it used to be more of a big deal, but has dwindled over time. but this time, we're in Central Florida, where its still pretty big. And I had more motivation to make the best of it cause I had promised Mira I would shoot some videos to explain my very peculiar religion. The more and more I try to explain it, the more and more I realize that it is a culture even more peculiar than I originally realized.

Another added bonus about the event was the fact that my goal in life is to maintain the cool of being an old West Indian man and they were there in spades. Now to clarify, I think that the British influence in Jamaica is something that I love a lot. I like the style. I like the football. Now when that is coupled with our African descent, I think they epitomize ease and cool. There is still a drive in them and a sense of what should be right in the world, but also an appreciation of the simple things in life. Its why someone shouted out during the service that hopefully dominoes would be part of the post-sunset activities. The actual president of the university was the perfect example. He deliveered a message that began with the most articulate greetings but slowly became more and more colloquial and passionate as time wore on. He wove humor throughout, spoke tangentially, and honestly was never completely cohesive. But you still got the point of what he was saying, mainly how important the school was to so many people's lives and just how the opportunities we are afforded are so valuable. Man I want to be an old West Indian dude so bad.

Anyway, feeding the masses was next up on the agenda and I volunteered to help set it up. It was frantic but it was fun. And after it was all done, I sat down for an articulate discussion with my mom and godsisters about my godbrother's contentious relationship. Between Mira and Doodlebug, even a late night conversation with Hixican Jew last night, it has been so nice to have articulate conversation. I didn't realize I was devoid for so long.

Then the girlfriend began itching to leave so me left 90 minutes before we had originally agreed to. And we made an unexpected stop at one of their friends' houses where I got to play soccer with their 4 year old. He had boundless energy and by the end I was sweating too. The kid is a natural athlete though. His sliding tackle was immaculate. And he had the perfect pose for the camera after it was all done.

I dodged the inane conversation on the long ride home by taking a nap. And when we closed the Sabbath, I actually prayed a sincere, considerate prayer. I was surprised since I haven't really been in practice.

Anyway off to Home Depot and maybe some food.


Prayed a decent prayer

Sunshine Chronicles #3

My godbrother, who served as my childhood best friend and who I rediscovered today is still an excellent friend, picked me up at my aunt's house around noon. After I sent off the rent check I forgot to leave in my haste, we ambled around the city car shopping and intermittently discussing relationships, sports, politics, and all the other randomness that men our age do.



First he stopped at a spot he likes to frequent. There the love affair that was budding with a sexy black Dodge Viper was prematurely terminated by a slightly racist owner who wouldn't let him take it for a test drive, though he's bought from the dealership before. Tempered by that we skipped over the BMW dealership as well. Two young black men rolling up in a rented Kia doesn't exactly garner enthusiasm amongst the sales staff. But we did go to his definite intended destination which was the Infiniti dealership.



As torrential rains began to pour we luckily ran into a salesman who originally hailed from Long Island so we were immediately put at ease. The car he wanted to see was out in the rain so we headed into the last year's model which was in the showroom. And just like the car shows we used to frequent as children, we ooohed and aaahed at the sleek lines and incredible craftmanship of the machine. Then the Mother Nature decided to pull back the rains just enough for the salesman to grab the keys to the coveted car in the rain and put it back in its covered arena so we could sample it for real and give our imaginations a break.



One day, I will tell my children that this was the car that actually made me get serious about getting over my New Yorker/Peter Pan complex and get a damn license. I might get a fish and name it Infiniti G37 just to say I have one. The sleek lines and amazing attention to the design aspect of it drew me in. The performance specs, both on paper and what I felt in a test drive of last year's model, made me melt. But the clincher was how when I plugged in my iPod, the Infiniti symbol came up on my iPod's screen and we could control it through the dash and the steering wheel. And there it was. Cars are toys. I love to play. I want to play. And go fast at the same time. I'm sure my dad won't get it, but he'll just be glad I've got the license eventually.


We came back to his new mini McMansion which he's lived in less than a month. And when I saw the space, I immediately wanted to own a home. Before it has been a passing fancy. I was always ambivalent about it growing up in the city. Every once in a while there is a passing fancy whenever I see Banana and her sister making improvements on the Milk Street Mansion but I never really had to own. Seeing the space and the huge television and just the autonomy of it all. Making a space completely mine is very intriguing. I was motivated again. So it's a good thing I want to find some direction because these desires will require capital I do not have.

Sunshine Chronicles #2

The world keeps turning and change is inevitable, but the few bits of stability we have are often taken for granted. Last night when I was looking for more ibuprofen for my troubling sinus aches, it was easy to find cause I knew exactly where to look. Why was that? Because my aunt is a Harriott woman and so was my grandmother. Along with my other aunt, they passed along the certain traits of organization to their children, including my mother. So in no time I had found the meds along with the bowl of fresh fruit that you can find in each of their houses. And this was the first time I had ever stepped into her house.

This morning I knew that there would be cereal somewhere and knew that there would be tpast and margarine to accompany them. Of course some special treat was somewhere around the corner, and my mother delivered it in the form of ackee, a Jamaican specialty. And though I have been away from these treasures for so long, and don't really even crave them as much as I once did, it is so nice to know that I can still count on them.

Sunshine Chronicles #1

Today I embarked on the longest journey I've undertaken in a while and I eventually ended up in Florida. Mom had purchased the ticket in the myriad of all this other activity and I had kind of lost track that it was going to happen until this week. But here I am. Heaven must have smiled on me cause all the travel today has been pretty comfortable. The ride from Mass was free of annoyances and claustrophobia. The train came as soon as I hit the platform. The shuffle on iPod was great. I even got a bagel and lox, repacked my stuff, and made it to the airport on time. And even though I was in a row with an ebullient toddler and his young Chardonnay drinking mom, Jet Blue has DirecTV which delivered me Snorks and Sports Center in between my naps. My bag was even first off the plane.

My godsister (who will get a nickname since she is that cool) picked me up from the airport and even the conversation was amazingly enlightening. In my recent state of self-awareness, she shared some of the same sentiments, so randomly too, that made me feel that maybe I wasn't so abnormal, even though I was starting to accept it. And of course the main point of this trip is to reconnect with the many family and friends that have grown distant over time. Along with seeing my mom's aunt and uncle for the first time in forever, I also got to meet the children of my other godsister. They helped me continue with my playful mood, but its easy when the oldest is only 4 and the twin girls will only be 3 a day before I get more entrenched in an age demographic I am starting to like (25 - 34). But they ran around and made up games on the fly and were darlings. When your biggest concern is avoiding spicy tomatoes and convincing at least one of your little sisters not to watch the Mickey Mouse DVD on the ride home, you are living the life.

On the way home, I was kind of ornery cause some sinus pain aggravated by the flight became a true nuisance. I actually pleaded for pain medication when I usually shy away from it. But now that I have re-upped on it I am restless with energy. I keep wanting to write about all the little revelations I've been having that are adding up into something that might be a direction in my life. Well it's not exactly a direction, but it is the search for one, and that is a huge step for me. I want more time to really give it its due. In this manic state, I'll leave things out.

I'm actually going to be proactive and iron most of my clothes and repack my bag since I initially was so haphazard with it all. Yeah it is boring but for some reason right now it's making me very content.

Puppy Dog Tails

Today I had to give the direction to my boys to only throw water on each other. That was the direction. They had to throw water on each other.

At dinner, after I told one client about another's $600 spending spree, the 12 year old MR client that spent the money screamed "I'm rich," and proceeded to laugh till I gave hime the expectation to take some deep breaths.

Just now one of my 10 year old boys, a closet charmer, said that a girl kissed him once. When I asked him what he said, he smiled and said "Nothing."

This is my life. And my boy Mocha just playfully yelled at me for blogging from work. He's right. But I would have forgotten later.

Heat

This picture was taken in Monterey, California in January 2006. It was the weekend of my friend's wedding, an event that finally told me that I needed to be an adult soon. It wasn't just the wedding itself. I had gone to weddings before without a familial tie. The sheer independence of the trip itself might have been what made it so real. Here I was all the way in California for one of my real friends' marriages. A former suitemate had gotten married and that was more of a novelty to me. But Principessa Bella had a relationship that paralleled my own with Drizzle. Hers went the distance and they even have a eight-month old son.

Subject to entertain myself with my own devices, I have loads of pictures of myself since I had just received the digital camera. Being completely alone gave me license to be just as silly and vain as I wanted. I played with effects. I tried different poses. And then I had the idea to capture myself smoking.

Smoking was always a peculiar thing for me. I came upon it in an unconventional manner. As a matter of fact, I had engaged in the greenery long before I ever touched a cigarette. And I actually didn't initiate my nicotine indulgence with a conventional cigarette but rather a Black & Mild like the one I'm holding above. I coughed and sputtered but within a week or so, I had finished the pack of five. From then I would take breaks and then go through a pack. Initially it was closer to a month, then the breaks were just two weeks. I think I was nightly about a year after I had taken the first drag. But I loved it.

I might have been in love with the rebellious nature of it all. I really could put it away and not ever think about doing it. Whenever I went home, I never dared do it in front of my parents, so I lasted days without even the thought. Or maybe it was just so routine. And I knew the danger of it all. Sometimes I had the thought that people actually get treated for smoke inhalation and I was the kook who was doing it willfully. That buzz is the draw though, the physical and more so the mental.

To be honest, it just was sexy as all hell. With each spark of the cancer stick, a tiny bit of euphoria dispersed throughout my body. This is not the best picture but I definitely can guess what I was feeling at that moment. Secure as all hell, and able to control everything I put my mind to. I think I finally am learning how to transpose that feeling to my actual life.
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Now playing: Common - Ghetto Heaven (TSOI Remix)