I Know This Much Is True

Remember the time

Thu, 25 Jun 2009 22:13:00 GMT

"Do you remember
When we fell in love?
We were young
And innocent then.
Do you remember
How it all began?
It just seemed like heaven...
So why did it end?"

Words cannot express the sinking feeling I have as I watch all the footage on various media outlets concerning the loss of arguably the greatest entertainer that ever lived, Michael Joseph Jackson. I also am deeply saddened by Farrah Fawcett's lost battle with cancer, and am a little dismayed that her death is eclipsed by that of Michael's.

But admittedly, I was a fan of Michael's longer than that of Farrah's, and Michael's body of work totally obliterates that of any other artist of his generation. His attention to detail was inspiring, his energy tireless, and his work ethic worthy of note. The fact that he is the first of his family to fade away is perhaps an off-putting irony, but fitting in a peculiar way.

Fitting? Why do I say that?

I often wished that I could have been a friend of Michael's. He was a person that I think needed good friends, like the ones I have. He was close to several people, but the man was obviously and painfully alone. In his darkest moments, I so many times wanted to just give that guy a hug, drink a beer with him, or a glass of wine, and just let him know that it was all gonna be good. I realize that he may have heard that alot, but it never sunk in.

Most of us have heard the stories of folks that have befriended him, only to use him and his star for the purposes of their own gain and his defamation. Most notably was Martin Bashir, who interviewed him over a span of eight months and twisted the star's words and thoughts into something dubious and sensational. But Michael's life was littered with Martin Bashirs and others who, in my opinion, took advantage of his kindness, his generosity, his innocent spirit and his light.

I said fitting earlier because if you follow the timeline of Michael's life, you can't escape the thought that the man was tired. All he did was give, and all he got was dogged. Death can only be viewed as a release for this incredible man, and he is probably better off where he is.

As for Farrah...her battle was fought long and hard. She was a bright light that not only illuminated every teenaged boy's dreams, but also gave young girls that spark that said, a decade after Helen Reddy, they were strong and invincible. And all these decades later, she was still giving women strength.

I'll admit, my blog is lopsided today, and Farrah had the misfortune of dying the same day as The King of Pop. But they both will be remembered by me for their goodness and their greatness.

The world was no doubt a better place because of their existence.

Peace.
Michael Jackson

Pleasure principle

Fri, 15 May 2009 00:32:00 GMT

"I'm not here to feed your insecurities;
I wanted you to love me."

So much has happened since I last spoke to you guys...the most important of which is, I've found my soulmate.

Stella has brought a light to my life that I had stopped searching for. It was a pretty rocky start for the both of us I suppose. We both had baggage, misgivings, and insecurities that we struggled to work through. But the basis of our relationship, we both agreed, was to always be honest with each other.

Easier said than done, right?

That may be true, but we've decided not to let fear of the unknown to stop us from being upfront with each other. It has prevented us from falling into major arguments. That honest approach seems to really be buoying us along waters that would soak and drown other less stable pairings. Granted, we've only been close since January, but it's clear, at least to me, that nothing short of a seriously dishonest act is going to be able to come between us.

Fast forward to a conversation we had in the car on our way to work today. She said something to me that immediately bristled me. My reaction to her words ended with me saying, "That's insulting. I can't believe you think of me that way." What she said hurt me. If it were not for the fact we had already arrived in the parking lot at work, we would have no doubt ridden the rest of the way in silence.

As it was, we exited the car. She said, "Paul? I'm sorry."

I offered a feeble, "It's okay."

We walked to our respective work stations, and soon, work had me forgetting what had transpired.

Not more than an hour later, I received an email from Stella. It was so much more than an apology. In it, she mentioned how the tone of my voice and the look on my face told her how much she hurt me. She explained her thinking and what drove her to say what she said, and assured me how much she loved me. But the line from her email that struck the loveliest chord was easily this:

"Please believe that I do love you very much and respect you deeply."

Her email touched me, and I told her so. Later at lunch, I made sure that she knew how much I appreciated her sharing her opinion. I reminded her that at the very beginning of our relationship, one of my ground rules, yes, that's the exact phrasing I used at the time, was that we always be honest with each other. Today, I qualified that rule by saying it includes even honesty that might hurt. I told her that although I didn't agree with her assessment of me, that didn't mean that she wasn't right. I told her that what she said was special, because it wasn't vicious, and it wasn't meant to tear me down. It was offered in a spirit of love, and I'm sure it was meant for my edification.

She told me that in her last relationship, she pretty much cowered when it came to sharing opinions that she knew would be met with resistance. She avoided confrontation at all costs. I hope I helped her understand that despite my earlier reaction, she should always be comfortable sharing how she feels with me, her soulmate.

Fearing to share with your lover how you feel is born from insecurity, pure and simple. There's no room for it in a healthy relationship. I promised Stella that each time we have a disagreement, it would always end in a calm discussion, and a kiss. That's not to say we will always end up seeing eye to eye. That is to say, however, we won't feed each other's insecurities by sulking and retreating to our respective corners in a spirit of bitterness and divisiveness.

Peace.
Janet Jackson

Refugee

Wed, 07 Jan 2009 12:32:00 GMT

”Somewhere, somehow, somebody must have
Kicked you around some.
Tell me why you wanna lay there,
Revel in your abandon?

Honey, it don't make no difference to me;
Baby, everybody's had to fight to be free.
See, you don't have to live like a refugee.
(Don't have to live like a refugee)
No baby, you don't have to live like a refugee...”

When I get depressed, I really get depressed. I've been known to just shut myself up in my room, turn off my phone and ignore the world. That's how I started out 2009. Actually I had to work that whole weekend; Friday, Saturday and Sunday, but Monday, I didn’t want to see anybody, or talk to anybody. I didn’t want to answer any texts but I did out of sheer politeness. I went downstairs a couple of times for sustenance, but I was hating myself that day. And like Janet said, “When you hate you, you hate everyone that day.”

I won’t go into details here, but let’s just say I had a reason to be pissed off at myself. So like I said, I stayed in my room, didn’t shower, didn’t get dressed, and stayed covered up. I would’ve stayed there til the next morning were it not for my persistent friend coming home from work and demanding that I come downstairs for our weekly meeting. I was still pretty much depressed and didn’t say much although everyone tried to cheer me up. It worked a little bit, but all my friends who were there just kind of reminded me why I was upset in the first place. So I was pretty much still in my little funk.

So after everyone left, I went back upstairs, feeling worse than before. And to top it off, I was sick too. So I had a miserable night, and a miserable workday the next day, which was yesterday.

But this morning, I woke up and remembered something from a book I read. This author wrote about his own experiences with depression. He said, “While I might sit for hours or even days trying to think of what my next move will be; while I may even cry when I have to confront uncomfortable situations, I don’t let them consume me to the point of no return. I don’t let ‘things’ take over….So I crawl out of the hole, wounded perhaps, yet resolute.”

Resolute. A fitting descriptor for this time of year. I’ve figured out that resolutions come from the inside, and they’re really not that difficult to keep, if they are realistic. People who resolve to change themselves, whether those changes are physical or psychological, can make those changes in a day. If you decide to make a physical change in yourself, you can do it as early as breakfast. Mental changes can be made at the very idea of the change.

So I’ve decided that I want to “make that change,” as that other Jackson sibling proposes. I’ve gotten into the habit of being disrespectful to my friends and family, even the closest ones, all in the spirit of fun; or so I thought. I’ve realized that this is not me, that I only do it to fit in. I can be funny without being disrespectful, especially to women. So that’s my psychological change for 2009.

My physical change is a biggie. I’m 44 years old, so I resolve to stop drinking alcohol. I’ve convinced myself that drinking is necessary in social situations, when nothing can be further from the truth. Overindulgence to me is weakness, and I’ve been weak for far too many years. My friends may greet this resolution of mine with a snarky “yeah, right,” but I hope they’ll be supportive and respectful of my choice. I also hope they won’t come down on me too hard if my resolve is stronger than my will; which I doubt is the case.

It’s very important to me that my friends don’t act any differently around me just because I’ve decided to act more like the man I think I’m supposed to be. My resolve is my personal project, and I don’t think anyone has the right to make me feel like I’m bringing them down just because I’m not the same Paul that I was in 2008.
I plan to remain the social butterfly that I’ve always been, and I refuse to live like a refugee in those social settings.

So let’s all raise a glass and resolve to have fun and be successful in 2009 and beyond!

Peace.
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Black or White

Sun, 12 Oct 2008 16:12:00 GMT

"Don't tell me you agree with me,
When I saw you kickin' dirt in my eye!"

In 1982, Tom Bradley, the Black Democratic candidate for Governor of California, ran against the White Republican candidate George Deukmejian. Polls up to the day before the election showed Bradley with a comfortable lead. Some early editions of various papers even had Bradley as the projected winner; but lo and behold, to the surprise of most Deukmejian staffers and the chagrin of all Bradley supporters, the Republican narrowly edged out the Democrat and won the Governor's seat.

From that situation was coined the phrase "Bradley effect," which is the phenomenon of White voters expressing support for a Black candidate to pollsters to try to hide any evidence of racism, but when in the booth, voting with their heart for the White candidate.

That phrase is now being floated around with regard to the current race for President of the United States of America. Most polls show Barack Obama with a lead over John McCain, but experts warn that the polls are totally misleading because of the Bradley effect.

Michelle Obama tried to dispel the notion of this so-called Bradley effect, intimating to Larry King that if it really existed, then her husband would not have been named the Democratic nominee.

She could not be more naïve, that is, if she really believed that. But I know she's being politically correct. She cannot avow that she and Barack are worried about this phenomenon, because White privilege does not allow her to express such concern without appearing bigoted.

The Bradley effect is a real concern, because there doesn't seem to be any ill intent attached to it. Some psychologists have suggested that we're all wired to some extent to exhibit varying forms of racism. So that's why the Obama campaign is so focused on getting as many folks registered to vote as possible, because both candidates need adherents who will vote with their hearts.

I suspect that there are some White voters pulling for Obama that don't even know they're going to vote for McCain. I can't claim to know what it feels like to be a White person in the voting booth, but if there is some unseen force that causes a White person to go against what he knows is right to side instead with the dictates of his race...then that is a real problem.

Now, it should be noted that there has got to be the exact phenomenon that happens among Black people. If you're Black, and you really feel that McCain is right for the country because of his experience in the Senate, his war record, his politics or his sensibilities; but you're voting for Obama because he's Black, then you have to reconcile your inner struggle as well. Especially if you're expressing your support outwardly for Obama, but internally you're like, 'I don't trust his limited experience.' Jeremiah 17:9 says, "The heart is more treacherous than anything else and is desperate. Who can know it?" So this voting with your heart is a treacherous and desperate move.

When we go to vote, if we're going to vote, that is, we must make sure that our heart is playing no part in the process. We have to make sure that we've examined the issues that are important to us, and that we choose the person who we think (an activity that is a primary function of the brain, not the heart) will exact real change, and would most effectively deal with those issues.

The question was posed to a Black man, "Are you voting for Obama because he's Black?" The Black man replied with the legitimate question, "Are you not voting for Obama because he's Black?" Race should never have been allowed to be a factor in this election, but that's like saying, ice cream should never be allowed to be a part of summer. It's there, always there, crouching at the entrance. It's too bad that it's got to be this way in this country, supposedly one of the most progressive countries in the world, but since race is a factor, we must deal with it. And by dealing with it, I mean fighting our own demons to make sure we're thinking and acting in our own and our families' best interests. And hopefully our thoughts and actions are correct.

We can't tell each other to squash our racist tendencies when each of us are laughing at the racist jokes our friends tell, or when each of us feels uncomfortable within a group opposite of our own race. We are each one of us an individual project, and we have to fix ourselves before we can hope to foster those fixes on the people we're closest to.

So when you're in that voting booth on November 4th, vote with your brain. I guess that's all I'm trying to say.

Peace.
Michael Jackson

Friends

Sat, 20 Sep 2008 16:14:00 GMT

"Friends;
How many of us have them?
Friends;
Ones we can depend on.
Friends;
How many of us have them?
Friends;
Before we go any further, let's be
Friends...

Is a word we use everyday.
Most the time we use it in the wrong way.
Now you can look the word up, again and again.
But the dictionary doesn't know the meaning of friends."

The following is an except from my book, Brotha2Brotha: Da View From a 'Brotha's' Perspective. Recent events made me think of this topic.

"...Love, Peace and Soul!"

I’ve never found it difficult to make new friends, although sometimes the work involved in maintaining those friendships can be daunting to say the least.

And therein, we find a truism: the best friendships require little to no effort to maintain.

My two best friends, the guys I talk to virtually every day, are two people who constantly stay on my mind. I think about what they’re doing at the moment, and I call them just to hear their voices. I see a Chevelle with brand new rims and I’m on the phone with one of them right away to laugh about it. I miss them when they leave, and my enthusiasm when I see them would make the casual observer think it’s been years since we’ve been together. And, most importantly, all the feelings and actions I’ve described are mutual. There’s no mistaking that.

However, I have an extended set of friends who I love to be around, yet I’m cautious of what I say and do around them. Why? Because there’s been blow-ups over small things that turned into big things and I don’t want to revisit those times. To call my friendships tenuous would be unfair, because they are all significant to me. But calling them fragile would not be such a stretch.

So, can someone around whom you’re walking on eggshells really be considered a friend? I suppose that depends on your definition of a friend.

I went to the dictionary to look up the word friend. I perused the definitions, but what really stuck with me was the history of the very word:

Word History: A friend is a lover, literally. The relationship between Latin amîcus “friend” and amô “I love” is clear, as is the relationship between Greek philos “friend” and phileô “I love.” In English, though, we have to go back a millennium before we see the verb related to friend. At that time, frēond, the Old English word for “friend,” was simply the present participle of the verb frēon, “to love.” The Germanic root behind this verb is *frî-, which meant “to like, love, be friendly to.” Closely linked to these concepts is that of “peace,” and in fact Germanic made a noun from this root, *frithu-, meaning exactly that. Ultimately descended from this noun are the personal names Frederick, “peaceful ruler,” and Siegfried, “victory peace.” The root also shows up in the name of the Germanic deity Frigg, the goddess of love, who lives on today in the word Friday, “day of Frigg,” from an ancient translation of Latin Veneris diēs, “day of Venus.”

Two concepts stand out for me as I look at the history of the word “friend,” and those are love and peace. It seems that those two ideas are intertwined in the realm of friendship. Now it would be unrealistic to think a true friendship would be devoid of disagreements; but it is expected that true friends resolve conflicts in a spirit of peace and love. I have that with two, possibly three people. I do not have that with the rest of my friends.

So, are the friends with whom I constantly bump heads my true friends? I think so. But those friendships are clearly not as strong as the ones I described in the beginning. The fragile friendships are the ones that need my attention to get to the same place as my more enduring friendships. The strong friendships I do have were born out of boyhood memories. They were born from a time when we had only a thin concept of what it meant to be a friend, and apparently that was all we needed.

The other friendships were born from adulthood, and had the unfair disadvantage of being subject to comparison of what I already had. It’s like the inevitable comparisons that a second marriage mate, or a step-parent would be subject to.

My more fragile friendships can get to the point of my stronger ones, I know. They just need the love and care that I’ve given to my more enduring friendships which seem to come so effortlessly.

In any event, I’m blessed to have all my friends, and I deem them all worth keeping.

Peace.
Whodini

Can you feel it?

Sat, 06 Sep 2008 04:00:00 GMT

“All the colors of the world should be
Lovin’ each other wholeheartedly.
Yes, it’s all right!
Take my message to your brother
And tell him twice.
Spread the word and try to teach the man
Who’s hating his brother,
When hate won’t do.
‘Cause we’re all the same;
Yes the blood inside of me is inside of you.”

You guys know how I like to take a song lyric and apply it to my posts here. There is no better lyric than the one above to capture what my cousin and I have accomplished.

Wait for it…

Wait…

Ready?

WE ARE PUBLISHED AUTHORS!

Brotha2Brotha: Da View From a ‘Brotha’s’ Perspective, by Miguel A. Bryant and Paul B. Bellamy is available for purchase right here!

We are so excited for what this means. We don’t really expect this book to be the next Chicken Soup or Men/Mars Women/Venus. But what we do know is this book will survive us. This thing that we’ve written is our eternally lasting testament. Long after the two of us are gone, what we’ve created will be here. One hundred years from now, in 2108, someone will be able to pick up this book and know what we were thinking way back in 2007. And that someone will most likely be our own progeny! That thought to me is both thrilling and humbling.

There are so many people to thank regarding this endeavor. I’m sure Miguel would join me in thanking the men and women at PublishAmerica. They were so supportive, easy to work with and generous in praising what they called our “unique voice.” Personally, I have a few people I’d like to thank. Phons., Dodi (Dorianrae), Nikki and Kathy were a few of our staunchest supporters. Everyone who offered kind words and criticisms are equally appreciated. It is the feedback we received that enabled us to understand what an incredible impact our words…the words of two ordinary guys…had on folks from all different backgrounds.

God, it sounds like I’m bragging. I am. There are very few events in my life that rival the euphoric high I’m feeling right now. The birth of my son remains in the top spot. These two events to me seem to be things worth bragging about.

We look forward to what you guys have to say about our book. There’s some stuff in there that will make you pump your fist and go woo hoo! And there’s some stuff in there that will make you hang your head and groan. There’s things that’ll make you laugh, and most certainly make you think. You’ll go “way to go!” and “WTF?” You might thank us, and you might curse us.

But mostly, what we want you to do, is look for your own voice. Miguel and I decided with this project to stop standing on the sidelines and put ourselves out there. We decided not to be fearful of stating our OPINIONS, however radical, or however benign. Young and old alike, be brave, be loud, be heard, but be gracious. Be community leaders and organizers, no matter how much disdain Sarah Palin may heap upon your efforts.

See, right there. I ain’t scared, and this book proves it.

Thanks a lot for your support. And thanks for your love.

Yes, I can feel it.

Brotha2Brotha: Da View From a ‘Brotha’s’ Perspective

Peace.
The Jacksons

If your heart isn't in it

Sat, 12 Jul 2008 08:40:00 GMT

"It’s a fragile situation.
It could fall apart at any time,
And none would be the wiser
‘Cept you and I.

It seems that we stopped talking,
Like we’re afraid to disagree.
And after all we've been through,
Can we still be that naive?

If your heart isn’t in it,
Why cant you tell me so?
If my heart wasn’t in it,
I’d have gone long ago.
If your heart isn’t in it,
Why keep me hanging on?
Just tell me and I’ll be gone
From your life."

It was a moment as intensely prickling as any thought up by a Hollywood thriller screenwriter. It was shocking, disturbing, and left me speechless for several hours. The very last thread of admiration I had left for the man who has been an object of speculation and ridicule, as well as a lightning rod of political pundits and the very definition of racial divisiveness, was inexplicably popped in one 10 or 15 second sound bite.

Jesse Jackson (it seems wrong to put "The Reverend" in front of his name since he seems the polar opposite of one deserving reverence) was caught in flagrante delicto of making hugely disparaging, patently violent remarks concerning Senator Barack Obama. He said he wanted to "cut his nuts off" for "talking down to Black people." He has since apologized and Obama has accepted his apology. But anyone with brains can surely see that the only reason an apology was offered was because he got caught.

I don't know if the man was drunk or is really just that stupid. There are other ways he could've expressed his disdain, even into a mic he didn't know was hot. "I wanna slap Obama upside his head." "If I could have one minute with the Senator I'd tell him off." "Where does he get off talking down to us like that?" No, instead, he offers a wish that evokes images of the cruel and unusual punishment of slavery and post-slavery times. He might as well have said "I wanna lynch that nigger."

His words are disturbing to me in more than their content. His words negate every positive thing he has said regarding the stellar rise of the African American who has the greatest chance of becoming President in history. His words show that his heart is not in the struggle, and more than likely has not been for quite a long time. His words are more than just the words of a bitter old man who thinks he should've been in the limelight that the Senator is enjoying now. Yes, his words are green with the slime of dripping jealousy, but they are also tinged with the nauseating aftertaste of his own guilt.

Jesse Jackson no longer deserves the adoration of the millions of folks who've given him a pass for his mounting misdeeds. No, none of us are perfect, but there comes a time when we have to stop looking in the wrong direction for leadership. Maybe being in the struggle itself lo, for these many decades have produced this palpable bitterness. Maybe it's age itself that makes him think he can say any damn thing he wants and get away with it. But if he would truly, this morning, take a look at the man in the mirror, he would realize that he can no longer be a credible advocate for justice, or for God, and he will just quietly slip into the background. Who's ever going to take seriously the words of a man who just might want to cut all of our nuts off because we're rightly critical of disturbing trends in the Black community?

God has forgiven him, I'm sure. So has Barack Obama. And soon, so shall I. But although his apologies have been offered and accepted doesn't change the fact that he said what he said. Those words came from his bitter heart. I wouldn't wish those words on a violent child molester, much less on a man poised to be the Leader of the Free World.

Jesse Jackson needs some time for himself. He needs to reflect, and for God's sake, he needs to stop spinning. He needs to turn down those offers to appear on news shows just so he can try to convince us that the wrong words were chosen but it was a sound bite from a much bigger concern in a private conversation in a mic he didn't know was hot. Like that changes or waters down what he was caught saying.

Sit down somewhere Jesse. Search your heart. Seek the forgiveness of your family. Take some time for yourself. Skip the Democratic National Convention and come back later. I'm not gonna miss you until I can tell that you've truly looked inside yourself and are as passionately aware of the struggle as you were back on April 4th, 1968 on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel.

Thanks so very much for the strides you have made to date, but please take my advice and make strides for your own soul.

Peace.
Atlantic Starr

He ain't heavy...he's my brother

Wed, 18 Jun 2008 12:17:00 GMT

"The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where.
Who knows where?
But I'm strong...
Strong enough to carry him.
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.

So on we go....

His welfare is of my concern.
No burden is he to bear.
We'll get there."

Actually, we're carrying each other.

My brother...or should I say my 'Brotha' and I are on the brink of something great. I don't even know if he would approve of me revealing the news in this forum, however I think I'm finally past the point where I feel disclosure would damn the sheer inevitability of what we've got coming. Honestly, I'm so behind on all of my blog reading that I may have missed it if he's already mentioned it.

Over a year and a half ago my Brotha Miguel had an idea that evolved into a book we call Brotha2Brotha: Da View From a 'Brotha's' Perspective. I'm happy to announce our book has been accepted for publication!

We've spent the last couple of months working with the publisher editing our masterpiece, drunk with the intoxicating nectar of excitement; tempered with the massive preponderance of responsibility. You see, this is not just any book. We've bared our souls with this project, in much the same way as we've both done in this arena. Maybe I'm being presumptuous, but I think when the world sees what we've written, we'll both be inviting the same sort of criticism and biting rhetoric normally reserved for dictatorial heads of state and celebrity murder suspects. We'll be lightning rods for the scathing punditry of liberals, conservatives and pre-post moderates positively frothing to package us and label us; banging their heads in frustration because we don't fit snugly into anyone's box.

But I suspect there'll also be a measure of praise and even admiration for what the two of us have created. We share our opinions on everything from guns to gays, from music to movies, from abortion to Obama. We never claim to be experts on whatever subject we're expounding on. But we are experts in matters of our own opinions, sometimes rigidly held, sometimes as flexible as an Olympic gymnast. Some folks will be drawn to the sheer fearlessness of those opinions. Some folks, those who know us and those who become newly aware of our bond, will be surprised at how often divergent our opinions are from each other.

I speak of our bond. Those who read our respective journals have some idea at how close the two of us are. Since this country's bicentennial year we have been virtually inseperable. And through each of those years, especially if I was someone on the outside looking in to our relationship, it would be hard to imagine the events that have happened in our lives were not truly cosmic. The both of us, along with our mutual best friend, were all born in the month of December. Miguel's daughter was born on September 6, 1991; five years to the day after he appeared beside me as my best man. And my only child was born on September 6, 1992. And we both just lost our mothers, sisters themselves, in a span of less than six months. And then, there's this book's incredible link with history. It was on April 4th, 2008 that we found out the book we co-wrote was accepted for publication; 40 years to the day of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s assassination.

Our bond is the most attractive thing about our book. It jumps out at the reader, and, that being the case, will probably serve to soften our severe stance on several subjects (I swear I didn't mean to alliterate.) And once Brotha2Brotha hits the bookshelves, it'll simply be one more tangible representation of our intangble bond.

We're very proud of our baby, penning this sweeping testament through the duration of one of the most difficult years of our respective lives, admittedy to a lesser degree for me than him. I was unemployed throughout most of the year, and dealing with the various illnesses of my mother. He on the other hand watched the startling physical decline of his mother, culminating in her death near the end of the year. Through it all neither of us faltered one inch from the self-imposed deadlines set as far as our project was concerned. Not one inch. We grew closer in 2007 than in any preceeding year.

So here's to the future, and here's to hoping that you enjoy reading Brotha2Brotha: Da View From a 'Brotha's' Perspective as much as we enjoyed writing it. We'll let you know the street date as soon as we know it.

Peace.
The Hollies

The star-spangled banner

Mon, 16 Jun 2008 14:36:00 GMT

"Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?"

Do you remember back in the day when this song would be broadcast as your local TV or radio station was signing off? What happened to that? Oh, I know there are very few stations that sign off anymore, but I've gotta tell you my concern over the loss of that particular piece of history.

First of all, let me say that the song and what it represents is troubling to me. I view the flag, American or otherwise, as an idol that is virtually worshipped by throngs of people. It is held in such esteem as to be too high in my opinion. I understand what the flag, particularly the American flag stands for. I am proud to be an American, and I do respect the sacrifices made by millions of men and women who have worked and even died to protect my freedoms in the past and in the present. I do not agree with the lengths that some have gone through to protect the interests of this country, but if I get into that, I'll stray far away from my topic.

When The Star-Spangled Banner or America, the Beautiful played at the end of the night, if you were a child or a teenager like me, the rest of the night was quiet. The TV was turned off, and you went to bed. In my case, the radio, although the local deejay had already signed off, stayed on. The slow, steady static and the occasional stray signal from far away was soothing to me. But overall, quietude was the rule of the night.

But even before bedtime, the hour or the half hour before The Star-Spangled Banner was about to play, if you happened to still be up, you were winding down. You were preparing yourself mentally for a full eight hour rest period before your next day would start. There was a certain solace to the night, and if you were lucky enough to be in a family that was free from major drama, then you were set. You fell asleep to your thoughts, not to the glare and blare of a 24-hour news channel, or family members milling about at three in the morning.

When we woke up, "at the twilight's last gleamimg," we were refreshed. Our cares of the previous day were dissolved with the montage of Americana images that accompanied the bugler on the soundtrack the night before. Not that the previous day's cares were no longer concerns, but we were more able to deal with those cares, because we were relaxed.

The Star-Spangled Banner closing out the night was a melodious signal for our minds to shut off, to unplug. Whether or not I agreed with the sentiment of the song was unimportant. It was still relaxing. I must confess I listened to it more times than I simply turned it off. There was something about the simple finality of the song, and the silence after it, that held me in a comfortable place.

I guess what I really miss is the quietness of night. It probably has nothing to do with the signing off of a broadcast or an ode to an idolatrous image. It probably has everything to do with a bygone era where things were simpler and easier...even sleeping and dreaming.

Peace.
Francis Scott Key

Easy (like Sunday morning)

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 17:38:00 GMT

"Why in the world would anybody put chains on me?
I've paid my dues to make it.
Everybody wants me to be what they want me to be...
I'm not happy when I try to fake it. No...

Ooh, that's why I'm easy;
I'm easy like Sunday morning.
That's why I'm easy;
I'm easy like Sunday morning..."

Sunday, May 25th started out as any ordinary Sunday. I had to be to work at 11 AM. Anybody who knows my routine knows that I like to be in an hour early, but this day I dragged, and didn't get to work until around 10:45. I already resent having to work on Sundays. I've told several of my friends that I'll work Friday nights, Saturday nights, I don't care. But Sunday has always been my favorite day of the week. There's nothing like curling up with the Sunday paper scattered all around me, drinking coffee and listening to some Sade, Anita Baker, or some smooth jazz. But I haven't had a Sunday like that since I got this new job in January.

Anyway, last Sunday, as soon as I got in the door of my job, I wanted to go home. I felt like I needed to go home. I went to my desk and studied the pictures I have hung up in my cubicle. There's my son Bryon, my favorite cousin's kids, my nephew's devastatingly cute four year old, a picture of a group of former co-workers at an employee appreciation dinner, and a gang of friends and me posing for a photo at Six Flags.

Then there's my two favorite pictures ever, in matching 5X7 frames, the subjects looking directly at me. In one, my dad sits several decades ago on a wooden plank in Air Force fatigues, staring through shades trying, successfully I might add, to look as cool as can be. His smile seems to say to the intended recipient, "Girl, when I get home..." In the other, to the left of the first one I described, is my Mom, 19 years old, in what she once told me was a yellow dress, standing against a painted backdrop of a pond with trees in the distance. The pond reflects the storm clouds that are rolling ominously overhead and tall grass juts up directly behind her. She is fetching, with a piercing stare and a smile that mirrors that of my father.

Before I knew it, I was so lost in thought that I had only three more minutes to clock in. I thought about calling my mom, but one, there was no more time, and two, I had just talked to her the day before. I decided I would call her on my break at 1:30, because Saturday she had told me that the medicine she was taking was playing tricks on her mind, causing her to hallucinate. That worried me. I was going to tell her to make sure she reported that to her doctor.

There were not that many calls in cue that day. It was the day before Memorial Day, and I guess folks just didn't feel like arguing about their bills with the cable company. We all had 10 or 15 minutes between customers. I told the young lady in the next cube, Aundrea, that I didn't feel like I was supposed to be there. "I'm going home," I told her, half jokingly, but feeling like, I really want to go home.

"Suck it up!" she said, "This is easy money. Nobody's calling in. You better stay."

Thirty minutes or so passed, and I remarked to Aundrea, "I really feel like I'm not supposed to be here today." Then I started complaining about management denying my request for Tuesday the 27th off. "If they would've given me that day off, I'd be off Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday." My family and I wanted to take that time to discuss my mom's long term care. She was virtually bedridden, and being shuttled off to the hospital about once a week. I had been denied that day three times already. "What difference would it make if I was off?"

Before Aundrea could respond, the irritating tone that signals a customer on the line sounded in my ear. The customer was upset because several techs had visited her home saying that they fixed the problem with pixilating and sound distortion on her screen, but here she was experiencing the same problem. My cell phone which was on he table vibrated. I glanced and saw it was my nephew Dee'on. I continued trying to calm down my customer, but she didn't want to hear anything I was saying for the simple fact that she had heard it all before.

My phone vibrated again. Dee'on again. I knew at this point something was wrong with my mom. Dee'on usually calls once, then waits for me to call him if I don't pick up.

I finally got my customer calmed down by promising to send a Lead Tech in three business days to get to the root cause of her issue. "I have to schedule him three business days in advance ma'am. Today is Sunday, and tomorrow is Memorial Day, so I can't have my Lead Tech there until Thursday. And for your inconvenience, I'll pay for your cable services this month." The customer was pleased with my service and agreed. While I was setting up the service call, my cell phone vibrated again. This time it was Dee'on's fiancee Barbara. I was terrified, but still couldn't answer my phone.

As I hung up with my customer, my phone vibrated again. This time it was my sister LoRetta. I picked up. "What's wrong?"

"Mom died about 30 minutes ago."

Silence. Dead silence as everything around me disappeared. There was no calendar on my wall, no co-workers...there was no air circulating...no heartbeat, no computer, no pictures.

"Paul, are you there? Are you okay?"

"Retta I'll call you back."

I sent an IM to the supervisor on duty to let her know what happened. I was composing an email to my direct supervisor who wasn't there when the supervisor on duty ran up to me and asked why was I still sitting there.

"I'm letting Michael know what happened."

"I'll take care of all of that. You get out of here. Can you call anyone to come get you?"

"I'll be alright."

I got up and whispered in Aundrea's ear, "I know why I wasn't supposed to be here. My mom just died about 30 minutes ago."

Aundrea put her customer on hold, stood up, and gave me a warm embrace that released a flood of tears that would not let up. That was only the first of dozens of crying spells I endured last week.

My mom was an exceptional woman. I've had trouble coming up with the words to convey how exceptional she was, but my cousin Miguel did an excellent job of expressing in words what I couldn't seem to put to paper. You can find his words here in my Mom's Obituary.

I've had an overwhelming amount of support this past week, that has continued even up until now. My family and I appreciate all the well wishes, the cards, the food, the material support and all the prayers that have gone up for my mom, Naomi Loretta Windley Bellamy. It is so easy to be selfish, and to wonder why bad things happen to good people...but I thank everyone for reminding my family that the best thing that has come out of this is the fact that my mom is no longer tired, no longer struggling with every breath, no longer in pain and no longer a slave to this cruel system of things. She enjoyed telling people about her firm hope for the future.

It's my firm hope that her hope becomes a reality soon...as in the twinkling of an eye.

Rest in Peace and in God's Memory, Mom.

Peace.
The Commodores

Sun, 06 Apr 2008 01:05:00 GMT

Nice work if you can get it

Thu, 03 Jan 2008 23:26:00 GMT

"The man who only lives for making money
Lives a life that isn't necessarily sunny.
Likewise the man who works for fame;
Theres no guarantee that time won't erase his name.
The fact is, the only work that really brings enjoyment
Is the kind that is for girl and boy meant.
Fall in love and you wont regret it.
That's the best work of all, if you can get it.

Holding hands at midnight
'Neath a starry sky...
Nice work if you can get it;
And you can get it if you try."

Happy New Year!

I apologize for not writing in so long. There's several reasons for that...but none of those reasons are worth boring you with. 2007 was really a good year for me...but I missed some key opportunities. As you might remember, I didn't have to work, but when late November rolled around, stuff came crashing down. My severance pay had already run out, and my unemployment was running down. I had been looking for a satisfactory job the whole time, but it became a critical issue in November. I have often been heard saying, while I was working, this: "If you live in Charlotte, and you're not working, it's because you're physically unable, or you don't want to." Turns out, I was dead wrong for ever having uttered those words.

I applied at some major companies in and around Charlotte, as well as some little places. AT&T, Microsoft, TIAA Cref, UPS, MetLife, Sprint (I know, right?), as well as Rite Aid, Food Lion, McDonald's (!), Starbucks. Man, I've got so many résumés online it would make your head swim! I had interviews at AT&T and Starbucks. AT&T sent me a rejection letter after my interview. Starbucks didn't bother contacting me again. Nor did any of the other companies I mentioned. They all suck. Except Starbucks. They don't know what they're passing up on.

But I applied at Time Warner, and that looks very promising. I did a drug test yesterday. How many of you can pee on command? I can't. I told the nurse, while I was waiting for the urge to hit, that usually all it takes for me is to arrive at a destination for the piss to start screaming to come out, but since peeing was the prime reason I was at the clinic, it just didn't want to cooperate. Just to let you guys know, trying to be funny does nothing for your bladder. If anything, it embarasses the pee from coming.

But if the drug test and background check yield satisfactory results, I start training January 14th. I'm worried how this job might affect my school schedule though. Call centers are notorious for giving a rat's ass about your personal life. But at this point...getting ends is priority over getting educated. It would be terrible if I have to put off school though since I'm scheduled to graduate this coming June. But I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Yeah, I hope this job works out because I'm in bad financial shape! I ain't got no money! But I'm not worried. I'm sure things will be looking up soon.

Speaking of things looking up, I was asked if I had any New Year's resolutions this year. I usually don't think about resolutions, but this year, I've decided that I will get published. I'm absolutely positive that will happen in 2008, unless I get hit by a bus or something. And even then, a plan has been set into motion where I'll be published anyway! It's inevitable. I'm looking forward to this year as being one of my most memorable.

Hey guys, I never stopped loving you. Thanks for stopping by my journal anyway even though you were like, shit, is he dead? He hasn't written nothin'!!! Well, I'm back...and I'll be able to concentrate better on journaling.

Peace.
Ella Fitzgerald

Rumours

Tue, 11 Dec 2007 03:01:00 GMT

"Look at all these rumours surroundin’ me every day.
I just need some time, some time to get away from...
From all these rumours, I can’t take it no more.
My best friend said there’s one out now about me and the [guy] next door! "

I'm pissed off. Seriously. Somebody just gave me a heads up that there is a rumor going around in my town that I'm gay. Apparently there's this guy, the husband of one of my cousins, who knows a guy who says I've come to town on several occasions to have sex with him!

HELL NO!

I think some of the people who have heard or who are distributing this rumor read "I Know This Much is True," and most of them are my family members. I'd like to say a few things to them.

Our aunt died this past Wednesday, who is the mom of a couple of my cousins who heard this rumor. But instead of remembering some of the good times we shared with my aunt, some of my family are apparently more interested in listening to and talking about me and my alleged sex life. That's so incredibly small to me, and borders on unforgiveable. But it's not completely unforgiveable because they are, after all, my family.

I understand the appeal of a scandal in your family. I guess to keep their minds off the tragedy we just suffered you might want to talk about anything other than that. But what I don't understand is my family members' willingness to hurt me without any regard to how this rumor might affect my immediate family, especially my mom.

Well I lied. I think I can figure it out why I would be talked about like that. I've gone into detail about this fact before, so I won't delve into it too deeply tonight. But for reasons that are very apparent to my family members who are reading this right now, I'm pretty much ostracized from the family. It's not because of any willingness on their part that I'm marked as an outsider, but it's because of a choice that I made. It is to the point that many in my family are not allowed to talk to me. I'm not a criminal or anything like that. But I think the fact that I am estranged from them makes it easier for them to justify assigning this unfounded gossip to me, and it is definitely making it easier for them to believe it. One thing is for sure: if I had the same positive habits that I had ten years ago, those same cousins who are berating me now would not think twice about shooting down such a rumor about me if they heard it.

I'll say this once. What's being said about me is a lie. And I cannot imagine who the FUCK would be saying that about me. I told you I was pissed off.

When the information about the rumor was presented to me tonight, I was hurt. I wasn't surprised though, because my mother told my sister last year that she had heard I was living an alternative lifestyle. I lashed out at my mom on that occasion because I was so upset that she would mention something like that to my sister and God only knows who else without mentioning it to me first. Fortunately, just like my sister did last year, tonight, another one of my family members who cares for me very, very deeply decided to let me know what was being said about me, and I told him how much I appreciated it.

The more I think about this situation, the more angry I'm becoming. I'm not going to tolerate something that damaging to float around town unchecked. And since I'm not a politician, mudslinging is allowed. So here goes.

How much stock are you willing to put into the words of a career alcoholic and his associate, perhaps a drunk and a skid row resident as well, who are willing to dispense innuendo propelled by hundred proof halitosis between chugs of stolen Boone's Farm and tenuous moments of fleeting lucidity?

God, that last sentence did sound gay, didn't it? Clever? Yes, but freakin' gay! Lol!

Peace...rest in it Mary Louvenia "Sistah" Windley Bryant. Be comforted in the fact that you're not here to listen to or be an object of degrading talk. I love you!
Timex Social Club

This is why I'm hot!

Thu, 22 Nov 2007 17:49:00 GMT

Had to share this! Godspeed to the troops...here's to their safe return!

Crave Online: Funny Videos, Sexy Videos, Music Videos, Movie Trailers, and More!

Brighter discontent

Sat, 17 Nov 2007 15:31:00 GMT

"Got myself a bottle of red wine.
Got a night of nothing else to do.
I think I might know what I really want;
But is a brighter discontent the best that I could hope to find?

Got a big black television set.
Now I can watch just what I want.
But I'm here staring up at pictures on the wall.
Where are you? You're still stuck inside them all."

I had a talk with a good friend today. He asked me concerning my marriage and impending divorce, what am I waiting for? I can never answer that question adequately. The inquisitor invariably opines, you must still love her or have deep feelings for her. Or they might ask, are you staying married because of your child?

My stock answer is, we just haven't got around to it.

I told that to my friend today. He was like, bullshit. You still love her. I was like, not like that. You know, we're still good friends, but it's like, I guess, neither of us has anything going on, or nothing on the horizon, so we're not feeling any rush, or not attaching too much importance on the act of getting divorced.

He said that still doesn't explain why the two of you don't wanna move on with your lives.

This guy I was talking to is notoriously quiet. But when he does open his mouth, it's for a reason, and usually significant. My answers to him were honest, but his retort was basically, those are good reasons, but not good enough to justify remaining stagnant, or being in this limbo.

So I went home and turned on the TV. I heard the song above. His words, and these lyrics, are a real revelation to me. It's sort of like, I'm unable to move on. Not that I don't want to, or that I refuse to, or that I'm harboring some lingering feelings...I really am unable to move. Because what's on the other side of the divorce, I fear, is an enhanced discontent, more powerful than the discontent I'm feeling now.

But that's gotta be inaccurate right? So why is it that when I contemplate the idea of divorce, the thought goes scampering to some far flung corner in my brain like a fearful, retreating puppy? And then I don't think of it again until someone else brings it up.

It's almost like I wish she was requesting the divorce. I wish she had a man, and if I don't hurry up and draw up the papers, I'm holding them back. There's no push for it. I need someone to push for it.

But I'm the one that brought up the idea. I was the first one who said the word. May 28th, 2003. That's the first time I wrote about the notion in this journal. That's basically how long I've seriously considered divorce. Sometime after that, we agreed together that divorce would be the way to go. But here we are, still married, but living separately for almost four years.

So I'm the guy that needs to be pushing. I've got to break us free, and face my "brighter discontent" like a grown ass man.

Peace.
The Submarines

Beverly Hills

Tue, 09 Oct 2007 16:47:00 GMT

"The truth is, I don't stand a chance.
It's something that you're born into,
And I just don't belong.

No I don't;
I'm just a no-class, beat down fool.
And I will always be that way.
I might as well enjoy my life
And watch the stars play.

Beverly Hills;
That's where I want to be.
Livin' in Beverly Hills.
Beverly Hills;
Rolling like a celebrity!
Livin' in Beverly Hills."

A friend of mine told me the other day that he thinks he has some kind of purpose. 'Duh,' I thought to myself. 'We all do.' But as he continued speaking, I knew he was talking about something deeper than the obvious, although he did not get specific. I felt like, and I could be wrong on this, that he was being a bit cautious as to this higher calling he was attempting to sift through. Either he was being cautious, or he had not completely worked out what his mysterious métier is to be.

The one solid thing he advised me of is that this might involve moving to California.

That's something that I've always, always wanted to do. That's the one place I can envision myself visiting and not coming back. A few years ago I had planned to drive cross-country by myself there. I had the hotel worked out, the Hummer on hold at the rental place, the route MapQuested, but when the time came close, the money wasn't quite right.

I love to write, as most of you know. Then again you might not know it judging from my anemic entries in this very arena. But I've always had the thought, and perhaps it is just an illusion, that the best way to break into the business of writing is to make the move out west. The opportunities there are greater while at the same time the competition is perhaps daunting; crushing, even. But the world is much smaller thanks to this newfangled Internet, so maybe I wouldn't have to make such a drastic move. But like my friend, I can see myself there.

I don't see myself making such a move while my mom is still alive though. That's way too far in my opinion to be away from an ailing relative. And then there's my son to think of. I would love to take him with me, but his mom would not have it. It's not even a subject worth breaching. I spent a little time in Texas, and my heart ached everyday because I couldn't see Bryon. How could I go to California and hope to do any better with that situation?

But suppose a move like that could indeed help me to better support him. What if moving there could help me better finance his future?

But what if I failed? What if I'm indeed "a no-class beat down fool" who's destined to fall on his face in the Golden State?

There's maybe two things that would swing the pendulum westward for me. One) if my friend did indeed move there, then I might be persuaded to go with him. Two) if I had a measure of writing success where I am now and my reputation could proceed me there.

I was never a huge risk taker, but that doesn't mean that that quality is not perhaps dormant in me, waiting for a chance to infect me and the rest of the world with my own purpose, my own drive. It's an intriguing notion, one that's worth considering.

I've been working on one of my projects today, and felt infused with dozens of scenarios, ideas and possibilities. So who knows where I'll end up? Who knows where I can take myself? I feel I've got a leg up because I believe in people working out their own destinies. You'll only go as far as you allow yourself to go. Another part of that song goes thusly:

"I wanna live a life like that.
I wanna be just like a king.
Take my picture by the pool,
'Cause I'm the next big thing."

Keep your eyes on me.

Peace.
Weezer

Reunited

Fri, 05 Oct 2007 16:04:00 GMT

"Reunited, and it feels so good.
Reunited, 'cause we understood
There's one perfect fit,
And, sugar, this one is it.
We both are so excited
'Cause we're reunited;
Hey, hey."

Oh, no...didn't mean to get anyone's hopes up about Irma and me. No, actually I was reflecting on a phone call I had with my niece yesterday. After all the stuff she and her husband have been through (including a divorce and a remarriage), it seems she's finally found peace in cohabitating with him.

She said several times she was happy, but I couldn't really hear it in her voice. To me, she sounded laid back, maybe a little too much so. She was like, deadpan, "Paul, this is me happy." LOL. She's a character.

But their story is certainly worthy of an Oscar-winning screenplay when I think about it. He's older and pretty much stuck in his ways with a fierce competitive streak by all accounts. She's more of a free spirit, an explorer, a lover. They've clashed on every subject and situation imaginable, but it seems they can't shake each other, and neither wants to apparently. They're destined to love hard and without apology, but I think they're in it for the long haul.

A story like that is very capable of inspiring hope for couples that are struggling. But in order to benefit from that sprinkling of hope, a person would have to be willing to change and take real action as far as his relationship is concerned. On that note, I'm apparently not as strong as my niece. I just don't want to try again. I don't want to try. I don't want to get back together with my wife.

As harsh as that sounds, I'm just beinig honest with myself. But that's how I feel today, and will most likely be how I'll feel tomorrow, but who the hell knows how I'll feel next week or later in life? But today, if I moved back in, the only love in that house would be that flowing from her and me to our son.

Irma and I respect each other, and we'll always be there for each other, but the love we had, if we ever had it, is gone.

That reminds me of something that Meagle wrote recently, and that I've been trying to explain to him and my other friends for some time now. He asked the question in so many words, can you really lose what you never had? He was talking about love. I've told him that even though I thought I was in love back in the day, as I reflect back, I begin to think that I wasn't. At the time I brought that thought up to him, he disagreed, basically because he remembers what he saw. He remembers how we interacted with each other. He remembers how I talked about her.

But now I think he gets what I was saying.

But funny, now I sort of disagree with the whole idea of love lost never being there in the first place. Sometimes, a defining event will cause the love to just disappear. The husband that catches his wife with another man for instance. I think love can indeed be lost, even without a defining event. It just wasn't true in my case I don't think. I think I tried to make myself love her and it just never fully materialized.

But all in all, love is a big fat anomaly. I think the only real examples of love we can point to is the love Jesus Christ and Jehovah God display on a daily basis. I think when we as humans try to show love, we just eff it up. Like those soldiers who love their country and their families so much that they go overseas and kill innocent women and children. Being that we're not perfect, how in the world can we ever display the perfect idea of love, an emotion so demanding and sweeping that its very definition alludes us as we try to put it into words?

I forgot...what did I come here to write?

Peace.
Peaches & Herb

What's love got to do with it?

Mon, 10 Sep 2007 08:42:00 GMT

"You must understand though the touch of your hand
Makes my pulse react,
That it's only the thrill of boy meeting girl;
Opposites attract.
It's physical,
Only logical.
You must try to ignore that it means more than that.
Oh,
What's love got to do, got to do with it?
What's love but a second hand emotion?
What's love got to do, got to do with it?
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken?"

Dearly beloved,

We are gathered here today to get through this thing called life...but it's really difficult when you constantly let your heart become vulnerable. Sensitive souls used to fare well in poetry and politics...but those days are gone.

I'm still kicking it with the young lady I've been telling you guys about, but she's made it clear that she only wants to have fun now. She's not looking for a relationship. I told her that was fine...knowing I was lying to her and myself.

I recently went through a whole day without hearing from her, and it was weird. All kinds of things started going through my head as to the reasons she wasn't returning my calls. Was she ok? Was she mad at me? Was it something I said?? Then I'm like...oh God...I'm that guy. Stalker guy. Next day it was all copasetic, but I had to take a step back and look at myself.

It doesn't make too much sense in this day and age to let your heart get wrapped up in any venture, especially when life itself and particularly relationships are so transient. It's a fatalistic view, but it is the truth. Why open yourself up to expectations that you know are not there? I'm a lightning rod it appears for that type of scenario. I'm thinking at least three separate times that's happened to me.

My problem is that I'm a lover. The root of that description is not hard to spot. Love emanates from my being like a mushroom cloud. The people I'm close too feel it when they're around me. But in affairs of the heart, this is a dangerous thing. It's hard talking to my special friend on the phone and suppressing the urge to say "I love you," replacing it with the innocuous "I miss you," or some similar sentiment.

Everyone wants to protect their own heart from hurt, no matter how treacherous that heart may be; and at the expense of appearing insular and cold themselves. But that stance is indeed understandable, especially with those who have been burned in the past, or are experiencing difficulties presently. I know I've been hurt...but it only makes me crave something different than what I've had. So I wrap myself in the comforting blanket of hope: Hoping she'll come around, hoping she'll see the light, hoping we'll be happy ever after; and not being satisfied with the happy medium that's before us right now.

I'm having fun, but life is certainly not a day at the beach. So I guess what I'm really trying to figure out is where is this going? And is it even worth it?

Peace.
Tina Turner

Hangin' on a string (Contemplating)

Thu, 06 Sep 2007 23:47:00 GMT

"You;
You've got me hangin' on a string now.
I'm not your plaything.
You;
You've got me hangin' on a string now.
Am I your plaything?
You never told me you were waiting;
Contemplating."

Today is Irma's and my 21st anniversary. For those of you who don't read this journal regularly, we've been separated for three and a half years.

We spoke to each other this morning and decided we would meet somewhere for breakfast. Nothing fancy. I guess we both wanted the other to know that we were indeed thinking of each other. She was working and wasn't supposed to take a break yet but since she rides around alone in a truck all day she can pretty much take a break when she wants to as long as she stays caught up; so she decided on a quick trip to Mickey D's.

We got our food, took it to the table then she excused herself. She was gone for what must've been 10 minutes...I finished my steak egg cheese bagel before she got back. When she came back to the table, it looked as if she'd been crying. I could be wrong on that...but I've known her a long time, and I can pretty much tell. I asked her if she was alright. She said yes, and thanked me for inviting her to breakfast. She ate her hotcakes, I drank my coffee, and we just talked. Caught up on family, talked about Bryon, and the new apartment she's moving into this weekend.

I told a schoolmate about the incident and she said, she probably was crying because she's in limbo. She said I might be giving her some hope that things will go back the way they were since it's been so long without any real direction on where this marriage is going. We're stalled and it seems that I'm the one who's steering, my friend said. I said, we've talked about divorce, decided that's what we're going to do, but haven't started paperwork or anything like that.

My friend asked if that's what I really want to do. I said yes, of course.

"Then what the hell are you waiting for? To a casual observer, it looks like you're stringing her along."

I never meant it to be like that...but perception is reality, as they say. So hopefully before this month is over, I will have started what we've both said we're gonna do.

I keep saying that shit...

Peace.
Loose Ends

When I think of you

Thu, 30 Aug 2007 16:19:00 GMT

"I just get
More attached to you when
You hold me in your arms, and squeeze me;
And you leave me making me blue..."

Man...I was waiting for the chance to use mushy lyrics like this in my journal. Lol.

Something strange is happening to me. Phons. asked me last night, "Do you think you're in love?"

I said, "No, I don't think so, not yet."

"You don't think so? You don't sound too sure."

"I wouldn't call what I'm feeling love. It's just, like, a thankfulness that I'm on someone else's mind when they get up in the morning and when they go to bed at night."

"Sounds like love to me," she said, smiling.

I just shrugged.

"Tell me something," she continued. "How do you know you're not in love? You said you thought you were in love with your wife but it turned out you weren't. So technically, if you've never been in love, you might not know just what it is you're feeling."

I had to think on that for a moment. But no, I'm not in love. It is pure bliss talking to this friend I've found, and our conversations are on a level that I haven't had the pleasure of experiencing since high school. But again, right or wrong, I just don't think I can grant myself permission to fall in love just yet. She's in the middle of a divorce, and I haven't started proceedings yet. So falling in love still seems off limits to me. However, I've always heard it said that you can't help who you fall in love with...so who knows what the immediate or distant future holds?

"What if she said 'I love you' to you," Phons. continued. "How would you respond?"

I honestly don't remember how I responded to Phons., but hopefully it was somewhere along the lines of, "That makes me feel special. Hopefully when I get all these distractions out of my life, I can catch up with you."

On second thought, that response is lame. Maybe just sticking to, "You don't know how good that makes me feel" will be a better response. But I don't think I have to worry too much about her saying that yet. We're both having a lot of fun getting to know each other, and we're building a pretty nice foundation. We like each other alot and we are so in tune to each other. We're in similar situations and we've both been through the fire. We both think we deserve better than we've had and we care about what the other is thinking.

And we both enjoy making the other feel special.

That's what's been missing for so long, and that's all I need for right now.

As for love, that's a bridge I am willing to cross when I get to it.

Peace.
Janet Jackson

Saturday love

Tue, 28 Aug 2007 01:29:00 GMT

"Special feelings, special times. (Always so special.)
I was yours and you were mine. (Made for each other.)
All the good I won’t forget. (You will stay on my mind.)
Saturday, the day we met."

Hi guys. I've missed you.

I've been really happy these past couple of weeks, but this past Saturday...the mercury in my happiness thermometer shot through the...you get the picture. Cheesy, I know.

Can't get too specific, but I met someone very special this Saturday. I felt more comfortable with this person than I've felt with anyone in a long time. It's clear to me that some decisions need to be made quickly so my life and the life of my wife can go on. Okay...that's way too general, even for me.

We said we were getting a divorce, so we need to start the ball rolling.

September 6th is right around the corner, and that date will mark our 21st year of marriage. We've been separated geographically for three and a half years, and emotionally for more than I can remember. Despite that, I've become comfortable with the situation. That is a horrible place to be. It's not fair to my son, my wife or myself. We're all in limbo...in some state of suspended animation, putrefying and decaying in the numbing heat of complacency.

During our separation, I've had the irritating feeling of a shackled sort of freedom; as if I had wings on my back, and a mile long chain fastened to my ankles. I was guarded in affairs of the heart, never allowing any woman to reach me too deeply, because I was married. But truth be told, I haven't been married for more than fifteen years. I did allow myself the freedom to choose my friends, which ultimately caused my marriage to fail. But I've always maintained that was a sacrifice I was willing to make because I didn't feel loved. I did, and do, however, feel loved by my friends.

And now, there's a new wrinkle...albeit in a luxuriously soft satin sheet. Someone wants to love me it seems. And it's a chance I wanna take. Yes, it's a premature supposition...but I can't really explore the possibilty shackled. In fact, my heart and my brain tell me it's wrong to consider the possibility while I still belong to another.

Putting my thoughts here for the world to see? It's my choice. I'm not ashamed of the fact that someone cares so deeply about me that I'm one of the first things they think about in the morning. It's exhilarating really. It's something I hope will last. It's something I hope to develop. And if it's not with this person, then with someone.

But one thing's for sure. This person has been indelibly etched in my brain from Sunday morning on.

Peace.
Cherelle and Alexander O'Neal

Just a friend

Fri, 20 Jul 2007 22:39:00 GMT

"Oh baby,
You, you got what I need...
But you say he's just a friend;
But you say he's just a friend."

Yeah she is just a friend, but I've never met anyone cooler than my newest friend Toya. If she wasn't gay, we'd be lovers I swear to God! We've been hangin' out, watchin' movies and shit for the past few weeks. She is real. She is my girl.

I guess that's all for now. I know it's been a month of Sundays, literally, since I've written...but tomorrow...I got some literature for ya ass.

Peace.
Biz Markie

You haven't done nothing

Sun, 24 Jun 2007 10:11:00 GMT

"We are amazed but not amused
By all the things you say that you'll do.
Though much concerned but not involved
With decisions that are made by you.

But we are sick and tired of hearing your song,
Telling how you are gonna change right from wrong.
'Cause if you really want to hear our views:
'You haven't done nothing!'"

DATELINE: Virginia Beach, VA

I'm currently on a vacation from my vacation, if I may paraphrase a good friend of mine. Not that I haven't had a lot of time to think about my life during these last few months, but this vacation has given me more time to think. I've done nothing significant with this extra time that I've been blessed with. I am on the fringes of drafting a business plan for a venture that Galen, Phons., Kisha, Toya and I plan to pursue. I've been spending a lot of time with that, but not on the personal quest that I said I would. I will say, however, that I have been thinking really hard whether I should go with a different story for my novel than the main one that's on my mind. But as far as putting pen to paper, I haven't done that.

Most of the past few months have been spent going to school part time, which will soon change to full time (in September.) And also, like I said, researching our business. I've got some definite ideas where we should search for funding, but Galen has different ideas. Where ever the seed money comes from, though, we still have to have a solid business plan; and that task has fallen upon me. They seem to think I have a way with words, so they want me to do it. But a business plan has to be more than engaging. It has to be fact-based with a heavy tilt towards numbers, both present and projected. So the rest of my free time I guess will deal with that.

I've also joined a gym! Chan bet me that if I can lose weight in three months, she will 'show me her feminine side.' I have no idea what that means, but it's intriguing enough to help me with my personal health goals. Yesterday and the day before, my arms were so sore from exercising that I couldn't lift them. The morning I left for Virginia Beach, I couldn't move. I had to soak in a hot bath to get right. But I plan to be at the gym everyday...gotta get to work on my abs before I get to Jamaica. Oh yeah; my family has booked its reunion there for November, '08. More importantly, if I rejoin the workforce in the next few months, it would be nice to have my body right since divorce is imminent.

We're returning home today. But first we're gonna stop in Norfolk to see a battleship or something. That's cool I guess. I'm sure I'll be impressed. Doesn't take much. But the minute I get home, I'm going to the gym, then I'm going online to fast track this business. I'm not ready to tell you the business. It's unique enough that you might wanna steal my stuff. So we'll wait just a minute to see how things pan out before I spill the beans.

But the main thing I want to do is begin seriously writing a book. I want to do a fiction thing before I do my main thing with Yaguine and Fode. That's gonna take research and travel, and I'm not prepared to do that yet. I need to get the show on the road with that.

If I can make serious headway with those three things in these next couple of months - my book, the business, and my body - then I will feel I've been really productive with this free time I've been blessed with.

I'll keep you updated.

Peace.
Stevie Wonder

Cat's in the cradle

Thu, 07 Jun 2007 17:06:00 GMT

"My child arrived just the other day.
He came to the world in the usual way.
But there were planes to catch and bills to pay.
He learned to walk while I was away.
And he was talkin' 'fore I knew it, and as he grew,
He'd say, 'I'm gonna be like you, Dad.
You know I'm gonna be like you.'

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon;
Little boy blue and the man on the moon.
'When you comin' home Dad?'
'I don't know when, but we'll get together then, Son.
You know we'll have a good time then.'

My son turned ten just the other day.
He said, 'Thanks for the ball, Dad, come on let's play
Can you teach me to throw?' I said 'Not today,
I got a lot to do.' He said, 'That's ok!'
And he walked away but his smile never dimmed,
And said, 'I'm gonna be like him, yeah.
You know I'm gonna be like him.'

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon;
Little boy blue and the man on the moon.
'When you comin' home, Dad?'
'I don't know when, but we'll get together then, Son.
You know we'll have a good time then.'

Well, he came home from college just the other day.
So much like a man I just had to say,
'Son, I'm proud of you, can you sit for a while?'
He shook his head and said with a smile,
'What I'd really like, Dad, is to borrow the car keys.
See you later, can I have them please?'

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon;
Little boy blue and the man on the moon.
'When you comin' home, Son?'
'I don't know when, but we'll get together then, Dad.
You know we'll have a good time then.'

I've long since retired, my son's moved away.
I called him up just the other day.
I said, 'I'd like to see you if you don't mind.'
He said, 'I'd love to, Dad, if I can find the time.
You see my new job's a hassle and kids have the flu.
But it's sure nice talking to you, Dad.
It's been sure nice talking to you.'

And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me,
He'd grown up just like me.
My boy was just like me.

And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon;
Little boy blue and the man on the moon.
'When you comin' home Son?
I don't know when, but we'll get together then, Dad.
You know we'll have a good time then.'"

My son sent me a text last night asking me to be at his eighth grade awards ceremony. Today is the next to the last day of school for him. He told me the ceremony was at 1:45. His mom called me this morning at around ten after eight to advise me the ceremony was at nine. In the morning. She said she couldn't be there because she had an interview with Fed Ex.

So I ran out of the house, my ass-stinkocity following closely behind; pardon the pun, and made it to his school just as they were passing out the first award. And my son was walking up to receive it. My wife was in the audience as well. She made it out of her interview in time.

By the time the ceremony was over, he had four medals, and a brand new computer for getting the highest score on the end of grade tests! We were both so proud.

But something bothered me amidst all the jubilation. He wasn't jubilant; and this although he has been feening for a new computer for as long as he's been in middle school. The kids were running up and congratulating him as if he was a rap star who just won a Grammy, and he was his usual non-committal self. Very subdued.

I wondered to myself did I have anything to do with his quietude. There's been a lot of discord in his family the whole time he's been attending middle school. How much of that is contributing to this unsettling preoccupation that stirs around him like the fog in that movie--what was it called?--oh yeah, The Fog.

When he's happy, it doesn't seemed forced. But everytime I'm with him, it does seem like he has to get to know me all over again before he's comfortable enough to laugh or even, God forbid, talk a little.

I do worry about him. But I guess the only way to fix it is to be around him all the time. He's got to know that I'm available. In high school, his shyness will come off as aloofness; and it may very well lead to him not enjoying school as much as he does now...or worse, resenting his fellow students, his instructors, and his parents.

So I make the commitment now to be there for him. It's indeed a miracle that he made it through middle school with his skin on. But the bruises on his brain...will they fester later on?

Peace.
Harry Chapin

If you love me

Fri, 25 May 2007 09:59:00 GMT

"If you love me, say it.
If you trust me, do it.
If you want me, show it.
If you need me, prove it."

I spoke to Irma over the telephone last night and I heard words from her that I haven't heard in recent memory. "I love you." More specifically, "I know you don't think I love you and I could have shown it better, but I do. I do love you. I think about being with you everyday."

I don't know how to even process that information.

Upon hearing those words, my heart became skeptical. I wondered where those words were coming from. Were they coming from a place of loneliness, or of longing? Were they coming from her lips, or her heart? I listened mostly, because I felt that was the time to hear and not speak. But my mind was speaking. It was saying, This can't be.

But as she continued speaking, my mind and heart became quieter. Irma's words were filled with all the pathos of Euripedes or Sophocles. She said she didn't want a divorce. She said she never wanted that. She said she felt time away from each other would give us time to rethink our lives, and think of ways that we could be better to each other.

I asked pointedly, "What about the last two years that we did live together? We were in separate beds, we didn't come together intimately once."

Honestly, I can't remember her response to that, which means it wasn't memorable. Not to say that her response wasn't important. I guess I was just reeling from all the aforementioned information.

I said to her, "I thought a divorce is what we agreed on."

She said, "No, we kind of left everything vague, up in the air."

She's halfway right about that. We both mentioned the "d" word, but as most of you know, we've been separated three years with no clear cut plan of serving papers. We were just coasting.

The problem with her revelation of last night is that it's just not reciprocal. Not at this time. I'm not in love with her. I spent so many years saying it, and trying to show it and not getting it back that it evaporated. I've said before that I didn't want to try to make my marriage work anymore.

But today I think of why it was I was dragging my feet to the lawyer's office. Was it because on some deep, subconscious level I was hoping for the sort of revelation she gave last night?

To say I was taken aback by her words last night does not accurately describe my reaction. Remember when Neo got shot in the hallway in The Matrix, but then was awakened by Trinity? He got up, stopped the bullets, then Agent Smith ran at him trying to fight him. That mindless, out of body concentration Neo displayed while defending himself against Smith's attack...that was me listening to Irma. Remember what Morpheus said watching this?

"He's starting to believe."

Am I?

Peace.
Brownstone

Sittin' up in my room

Mon, 14 May 2007 11:53:00 GMT

"Pray that you'll invest
In my happiness.
All it takes is just one simple call from you.
Turn my heart around.
If I'm making ground,
Pretty baby please tell me if I'm getting through.
Tell me what is up.
You see I need to know.
Tell if I'm far or if I'm getting close.
I have but one concern;
That one concern is you.
Till I'm with you, here's what I'm gonna do.

Be sittin' up in my room,
Back here thinkin' 'bout you.
I must confess I'm a mess for you..."

It's always sage advice to not get your hopes up over potential excitement or news that is expected but has not yet happened...but that advice always escapes me. I think I'm falling for this girl, a colleague, sight unseen. All I have are pictures of her and her steady, confident voice. She reached out for a friend, found one in me, and now both our conversations have been veering toward...toward...Gaga-land?

Well, it's a bit deeper than that. From almost the beginning, she's trusted me with secrets and concerns that she's shared with precious few others. I get that alot. My favorite line from any movie, the line that I probably identify with most, comes from Star Trek Insurrection when Anij says, "I wonder if you're aware of the trust you engender, Jean-Luc Picard." I don't know that actress' name, but she should have won an Oscar for that role. There was so much soul behind her eyes when she says that line. I bring that movie up because that's what people say to me. I've got a trusting face, a trusting voice. And now it seems that trust I engender is developing into something with this woman that I'm cautiously excited to contemplate.

I don't want to put her on blast, so I won't tell you how we met. This journal is read by a lot of folks. But I believe the time will come when the two of us agree that we should take a chance on each other.

My words may sound like I'm moving too fast, like I'm jumping the gun; but my words are just my thoughts. My actions will be considerably slower paced. I definitely want to meet her in person very soon. And even if the only thing that develops is another friendship, I'll be okay with that.

Who am I kidding? The last thing I need is another female friend.

I surprised her with flowers at work last week. Eighteen multi-colored roses. She was so surprised and appreciative. I got a text message from her the other night that said, "You are such a charming man. I wish we lived in the same state....You are all good and will make some woman happy in Charlotte." My heart sank, until her next message which read, "Or [insert the name of her town here]!"

But outside of all of this and perhaps connected to all of this, I have to tie up a few loose ends in my life. Well actually there's just one big loose end that I need to tie up. It's time for me to look into getting a divorce. I've been separated for three years and we've only briefly discussed that eventuality. I'm afraid that Irma and I are getting comfortable with the separation as is. But keeping it like that is fair to neither her or me. It's sort of hard to move on, as they say, with stuff just lingering in the air like this. I'm gonna get that started this week after I talk to my wife.

You guys know how important it is for me to find the love of my life. Who knows if this is it? But to me it's worth a shot.

Peace.
Brandy

We are family

Tue, 08 May 2007 02:14:00 GMT

"All of the people around us they say
'Can they be that close?'
Just let me state for the record,
We're giving love in a family dose."

Growing up, I felt that my family wasn't a family at all. My father was gone, my brother could not speak, my sister was a bitch and my mom was crazy. I felt no commonality with these people whose last name I shared. I loved them I suppose, but there was a disconnect there because of the total dysfunction of the entire unit. What a difference a "day" makes.

When I go to visit them now, I feel that's where I belong. My mom and my sister seem to love me unconditionally, as I do them. My brother of course can not speak, but I can still see his eyes light up when I step in the room. My dad is still gone, but when I visit him or call him, we pick up exactly where we left off.

I went to visit my family yesterday. We are not the perfect family by any stretch. But we care about each other. We shared stories from our past. We stood in the yard and laughed heartily as memories spilled over like a shaken keg. We spoke seriously now and again. We kissed and embraced when it was time to go.

I regret my past. I should have shown my family everyday how much I cared for them. But I couldn't back then because I guess I was still learning how to care for them. I was still learning what love meant when it came to them. I was a sensitive person; still am, but my sensitivity was sorely limited in the case of my family.

I always say that when a stranger steps on your foot and is apologetic, we are so quick to accept their remorse as genuine. "Don't worry about it," we'll invariably say. But when a family member steps on our foot, we blast them. "What's wrong with you? That's my damn foot!" Why is that? Why can't we give our family members the same respect we'd give a stranger on the street?

I've figured out the answer. One of those personas is fake. There's only one real personage...either the sweet guy on the street, or the sour guy in the home. Don't fool yourself into believing that these are simply two aspects of your personality. They are in reality two personalities. And if you can't control those two personalities, you're a sick person. You're bipolar. Identical stimuli intoduced to the same host should produce identical results.

There is nothing in this world that is more important than family. I wish I would have realized that before I reached my forties. But I realize it now...and it's not too late. It's only too late when you're covered in dirt.

I love my family dearly. Are there things I'd change about them and me if I had the power? You're damn skippy. But you can't choose your family. You're stuck with the one you've got. So all you can do is make sure you're doing your part to be peaceable. You've got to make sure that they know you love them, and that you care. That's becoming more apparent to me as I get ever closer to the end of my life.

Fortunately, I've made it to my 43rd year of life without losing a member of my immediate family. There are brothers and sisters that were lost before my oldest sister was born, and I did lose a half brother. But the members of the main unit are still breathing. I'm still working on personal issues with my father, and I think he knows I love him; but I can say with complete confidence that I KNOW my sister and mother know that I love them dearly. I think my brother catches that vibe as well.

I don't want to lose any of them. They are my heart and soul. They know my history. They have insight that I do not have. They are all older than me. They are all special to me. I would not trade them for anything.

They are my family.

Peace.
Sister Sledge

Torture

Sat, 28 Apr 2007 23:17:00 GMT

"She was up a stair to nowhere.
A room forever I'll remember.
She said as though I should have known her,
'Tell me, what's your pain or pleasure?
Every little thing you find here
Is simply for the thrill you're after.
Loneliness or hearts on fire;
I am here to serve all masters.'

She said, 'Reality is a knife
When there's no love in your life.
Unmerciful is the night
When you just can't stop this feelin'.'
It's torture, it's torture, it's torture..."

The loneliness is becoming a bit unbearable for me. Don't worry, I'm nowhere near acting out on some sort of psychotic episode. But I am damn near crying. In fact, I've been there and back.

I don't think people were meant to be without a partner that they can love and act on dreams with. It feels a bit unnatural. God noticed it in the Garden of Eden. The Bible says at Genesis 2:18, "And Jehovah God went on to say: “It is not good for the man to continue by himself. I am going to make a helper for him, as a complement of him.”" God didn't say, "It doesn't seem right for the man to continue by himself." He said, "It is not good." When God says something is not good, we can take it to mean it's disastrous. Just like when He pronounces something "good," we can take it to mean perfect. Some would make the argument that bringing the woman to the man in the garden is the one act that started all the troubles in the world. To that I would say, are you completely nuts? Could Adam not have sinned on his own? Are you saying that God made a mistake when He made the woman?

I know nobody's saying that.

But getting back to topic, being a person without a lover sucks hard. And what's probably worse than being a person without a lover is being a man without a lover with ten women as friends who adore the hell out of me.

That line that Tom Cruise says in Jerry Maguire to his girl, "You complete me," that was God's point. The woman was to be a "complement" of the man. A complement is "something that completes or makes perfect." So I don't care who says what, but you're not fully whole if you don't have that kind of love in your life. You could argue that point with me up, down and sideways, but one fact we'd have to agree on. If you don't have a man or a woman in your life that is your "soul mate", yet your life is going great; it is indeed complete. But your life would in fact be more complete if that extra portion was added.

Well, I guess I should say, that's what it is for me. And I think about it even more now as the days go by without me having to go to an office and work for a paycheck. I've got more time to dwell on my life, and it becomes painfully apparent during those quiet times that something is missing. And if I am indeed actively looking, I still haven't found what I'm looking for. That's another title for another day.

But what I'm not going to do is lament relentlessly and hopelessly on my situation. I should dive into some charity work, so maybe I'll feel a sense of purpose. And as I've mentioned before, my personal goals need to be sharpened, and work is long overdue on those. Because those things, just like a good woman, are complements of me as well. Goals enhanced by love are just as meaningful and important as love supported by goals. They go hand in hand...and neither is more important than the other. And they both need to be infused with purpose.

I need to take advantage of this time that God has graced me with. I am indeed blessed. And though I don't know exactly where love is going to come from, I do know it's coming. The anticipation (another great title!) is not frustrating at all...but instead kind of exciting. It's only torture in those moments when I let the gravity of it press down on me...but look! I know how to get up from under it and let it teach me.

God is good, y'all.

Peace.
Jacksons

Too much time on my hands

Tue, 03 Apr 2007 01:34:00 GMT

"Is it any wonder I'm not crazy?
Is it any wonder I'm sane at all?
Well I'm so tired of losing
I got nothing to do and all day to do it.
I go out cruisin' but I've no place to go
And all night to get there.
Is it any wonder I'm not a criminal?
Is it any wonder I'm not in jail?
Is it any wonder I've got

Too much time on my hands?
It's ticking away with my sanity;
I've got too much time on my hands.
It's hard to believe, such a calamity;
I've got too much time on my hands
And it's ticking away, ticking away from me!
Too much time on my hands, too much time on my hands..."

Friday was my last day at Sprint.

I decided to take the package that they offered me. That means I'm getting the paycheck I normally get plus $1000 extra for doing diddly. I'm sitting at home, doing nothing. I don't have to go to the office, yet I get paid through August 31st of this year.

So I figure I'll lay low for a month, then I'll get a part- or full-time job in my field of study. Two paychecks sounds nice. Or I'll just concentrate on writing something. I wonder if a month is enough time to write something really bitchin', you know? Can I use this free time like I said in an earlier entry to write something really kick-ass that'll give my literary career a jump-start?

I never, ever had an opportunity like this, and likely never will again. All I know is I need to do something memorable with this time. And something practical. Let's see how this month goes...I'll think of something extraordinary, and I'll work on it as if it were my full-time job. I've got it in me...I know I can do it. And at the end of 30 days, depending on where I am with my personal project, I'll go out and look for something that'll make me some extra money to supplement my severance.

And maybe I can fit Jamaica in between now and August 30th, who knows?

With all this extra time, you know I'll keep you guys updated.

I gotta say though...Monday's a wash. I just watched eighteen episodes of Friends. I had no idea Phoebe had triplets.

Okay, let's get Tuesday started.

Peace.
STYX

Girlfriend

Thu, 22 Mar 2007 16:10:00 GMT

"Girl, you must resist.
Don't let him squirm his way into your heart.
No, girl, I must insist
You've got to stop the fool before he starts.
Just remember how he was so untrue
With all the tacky things he did to you.
No need to signify,
'Cause he's not worth your time.
You need to find someone that's true to you.

Girlfriend,
How could you let him treat you so bad?
Oh, Girlfriend,
You know you were the best he ever had."

I'm convinced that I am cursed to spend the rest of my earthly life and perhaps any potential afterlife as the Guyfriend. You know that dude. The one that the other guys look at as so lucky getting all those hugs, smiles and all that play from the females...only to find that not one of those girls is his steady. Not one of those girls is interested in him like that. The girls all say, oh, he is just so sweet! He would be the perfect boyfriend. I love him.

Yeah, that's me.

You've got my ear, girlfriend. You can lean on me. I will not only listen, but dispense the advice that is timely and most likely on point. You'll listen, but nine times out of ten you'll have difficulty applying the advice. But that's not the point of this post today. It's not about you. It's about me.

I love the role. Just as you love the attention I give, you know, me hanging onto every word you say on the phone, or looking directly into your eyes as we're speaking face to face...I love the attention as well. I love the confidence you place in me. I love touching your arm or your shoulder, or lightly caressing the small of your back as we're walking and talking. I stop everything when you call or text, and I try to answer as soon as possible because what you have to say or ask is important to me.

I don't always get the same from you...but that's okay. It's not about me. It's about you.

It's nice to feel needed. The hugs are great. You laugh at my jokes...none of my guy friends do that. Well, I'll take that back. My two best male friends are extremely affectionate and humorous. But for the most part, male friends for me are rare.

It's so funny. I just got a text from one of my close female friends that asked, "This is probably none of my business but are u interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with any of the women u are just friends with?"

I got that text as I was composing this post. How on time is that?

The answer to that question is yes.

I've wondered what a romantic relationship would be like with just about all of my female friends except for the married ones. I've told two of them that I wanted to pursue a relationship, and one of those two I actually told that I loved her. That of course did not go over well, but we are still extremely close. The intense feelings I had for her do not exist anymore, but our friendship not only survived but flourished.

It was with that friend that I exchanged the following series of text messages today.

Her: Please print 4 copies of [blah blah blah.]

Me: Okay. So tired. Talked to [a certain lady] til 2, almost 3 hours! She told me so much about herself, but at the same time told me she still loves her husband that cheated on her at least 4 times. They've been separated 2 years but she's gotten with him a couple times and regretted it afterward. She's not interested in another relationship right now bcz her heart is with her husband. I've got so many girlfriends that have my heart but won't give me theirs. I don't think I can stand another one. [Of course the preceeding took several messages to complete.]

Her: She has your heart??

Me: You spend enough time talking to somebody about affairs of the heart and its easy, for me at least, to wish you could make them happy. But no she doesn't have my heart. Yet.

Her: Please have it stapled too....Please don't forget. Don't give up on love. It's out there. Get that divorce, 1st step.

Me: It's not out there. Not in this country like you always say. I told [a certain lady] what u and others say about I'm 2 nice and how women like a thug. She agreed. U.S. women... *shakin head* [A different lady] from class said her on again off again thing is enough for her. He's got thug mentality. I can't change into that. That's not me.

Her: I didn't say women like a thug. It's just that you allow and pretty much do what women ask. You are too, too nice. Don't take that like you have to be a jerk.

Me: But look at the women that are close to me. Even [a close friend]. Look at the type of men they love. [Her husband] is very cool. But not to his wife.

Her: I couldn't be with someone like [her husband]. He's too much. In between [her husband] and you would be great.

Me: I'll never understand that. When did too nice become undesirable?

Her: I don't know what else to say.

And she's not the only one who has told me that. Does that really mean I need to roughen my edges a bit? I'm not a doormat like she would have you believe. I'm just a nice, unselfish guy, with a lot of love to give, that knows how and is willing to make the next woman who has the good sense to fall in love with me an extremely happy person. I didn't do so well the first time around simply because we were not in love.

Oh, I'm not saying life with me would be stress free and you would have everything your heart desires. I'm simply saying you won't be mistreated.

So in addition to being my friend, girl; would you be my girlfriend?

Peace.
Pebbles