7soul redux

Au Revoir...

2010-07-05T14:51:00.000-07:00

Me and everything around me, is unstable like Chernobyl
Ready to go at any moment, jumpin like a pogo stick
I never lived up to my expectations, so I accept the patience
Expect the worse but now I'm pacin
Back and forth, inside, I'm melting like water on wicked bitches
A monster truck done came and ran over my picket fences
I had the best of life in my clinches but monkey wrenches was thrown
Like chairs kings sit on, my prayers seem to long
I fall asleep before the endin, don't even get to say Amen
I hope He understand I be on bended knees
At times, I think I'm crazy, so I say forget it
Or maybe it's the devil infiltrating and like Riddick...Bowe
I've been fighting this since them fetus days
I count from one to twenty, when I'm through, repeat the phrase
It's just a phase, it's gon all pass, but that gets old too
I'm weakening like a deacon doin dirt
What am I supposed to do?

-Andre 3000 on "Millenium" from the ATLiens album

This will be my last post as 7Soul...

Most of the people I know probably won't care...

Those that do...will more than likely let me know.

It's been about 5 months since I last posted, not because I haven't written. Not because I've been lazy even. It's because wasn't me...I wasn't the same inspired, transparent, and slightly eccentric writer that I have been...and for those that really wanted to read my work, I apologize.

Life is funny, you know...whenever I've gotten out of balance, life's pulled me back. I thank the Most High for that...I do.

In the past few weeks I've learned alot...about myself, about the people I surrounded myself with, about the people that surrounded me (Yes, there's a difference), and about my life in general...my dreams...my future...and the gifts that the Most High has given me.

So, essentially...I'm purging again. No, not like in the anorexic sense...but rather in the emotional and relational sense. Some relationships must be released...some emotions must be let go of...

The last time I did that was when I cut my dreads off. So, consider this another rebirth for me. Am I changing as a person? Nope... Am I letting some people go? Yes. No hard feelings.

I still haven't answered my own question of "why" though...

Simply put...I'm no longer able to continue to be the open person that I am. I can no longer focus on the happiness of those who don't really care about me. I can no longer allow hypocrisy to be near me in any form. I can no longer be in one-sided friendships. One of two things had to happen...I either had to assimilate and become, for lack of a non cliche term, "fake" like some of the people that chose to be around me or, I could embrace the freedom that the Most High offered me a long time ago through the gifts that He gave me. I neglected that freedom. I allowed others to disrespect that freedom which, essentially, caused me to disrespect it. So, like India.Arie said, I'm coming back to the middle.

Don't worry...I'll write again, on a different blog...with a different penname. Those who know me, will know the address...those who don't...I bid you adieu.

God is Love...

Chad "7Soul" Hullett

Drive On...(For my TKN brethren...)

2010-02-21T18:16:00.000-08:00

"I think a hero is an ordinary individual who finds strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles."

-Christopher Reeve

"Victory belongs to the most persevering..."

-Napoleon Bonaparte

I know, I know...Its been 7 months or so since I last blogged...please forgive me...I'll try to do better, but I'll discuss why its taken me so long later.

I had a friend in grad school tell me some very disturbing stuff...

She's the only black person in her program and she's been called a monkey, colored, and a negro. So much for living in a post racial America...

Well, I've had more than my fair share of experiences similar to this. Some have infuriated me, others have served no other purpose than to make me amused at the ignorance of some... I'm writing this to explain the struggles of being a token in a "post-racial" America.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

To sit in a classroom and have other people automatically see you as inferior, a charity case, a quota kid...is daunting and frustrating. Especially when you've busted your ass, made the grades, and gotten the test scores that put you in the same academic/intellectual bracket as they are. You are a soldier without a country. Fighting for a cause yet unseen, standing for a people who will be ignored simply because of their intellectual and (by proxy) future socio economic status...

We came from a variety of backgrounds. More often than not...a privileged one. Then there are those of us who had to make it there based not on the privilege that was purchased by our parents...but by the sweat of our brow, the power of our brain, and the relentlessness of our spirits. We are the talented tenth of the talented tenth. Those who have had to fight to be seen as equal in two worlds...that of our privileged counterparts and our intellectual colleagues. But I digress...

We suffer from a more burdensome pressure than many others like us. Yes, like you our skin is our sin...but we are even more scrutinized. We are often the spokespersons for Black America. In the instance that a topic with racial undertones comes up in our halls of academia or in the office, we are often looked to as the authority. With questions like, "Well, Alisha, how do black people feel about this?" We are subjected to the ministrations of the overzealous liberal and the unrelenting conservative. We crumble from time to time under the politics of both our respective institutions administrations and our fellow students' attitudes.

In short, we wear the mask...

WE wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!

-Paul Laurence Dunbar

How appropriate...

We wear a mask of stoic studiousness, constant professionalism, reserved contentment...We are not allowed to "be ourselves" because "ourselves" according to "them" often don't belong here...

Whether it be in the classroom or the boardroom...being a "token" is an arduous task...one that many shy away from.

However the "token" is an integral part of our society and, if statistics are any proof, a vital part of our continued progress towards solidarity as a country. Those of "us" who are allowed into the ivory towers of academia, corporate america, and whatever institution that allows our continued underrepresentation...have a duty, a calling even, to continue to excel and exceed the expectations placed upon us by those that see us a "quota filler" or a charity case. If not for us, for those whose shoulders we stand on....

Wear the mask...smile behind it...

I Put On For My City...Youtube Style...

2009-08-03T12:54:00.001-07:00

A Few Birmingham Classics...

Red Light District - I Know

Red Light District - Dream Team

R.O.A. - Giggidybang

GQ - Facez

MY BROTHER!!!! and Nadia Tellis!

Letter to My Firstborn...

2009-08-03T06:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Child,

I pray you never grow up to be like me. I mean...I want you to have all of my good qualities like...My love for words...my desire to be better...my willingness to learn and...my desire to bring people together. I want you to have all of those things. I want you to be a dreamer, a fighter, a lover, a revolutionary. I want you to pick up the pieces of my broken dreams and glue them together with your very existence. Take my hope and heal the wounds that life has inflicted upon me...and your mother...

Conceived in a constant state of quixotic carefree living...Birthed in a world of fear....Raised in a Universe of Love...

You have my eyes...the first time I saw you, is the first time I'd ever felt purpose in my life. Your smile gives me hope...for me...because Lord knows I'd given up. I became filled again...The coffin I called a body became a garden. Love was planted with the expectation that a future would grow...

I pray that you don't get my arms...too short to wrap around others to comfort them...I pray that you do get my shoulders though, broad enough to carry the weight of the world. We are Atlas. We do not shrug. We lift...burdens...pains...hopelessness...from others. Give them to us. Our love will conquer them all.

New Program

2009-08-02T10:26:00.001-07:00

So I got this new program for my G1 called AndroBlogger. I'm gonna start blogging from it. if for no other reason than my life has been utterly lacking in inspiration. I heard a poet say once that they write even when they don't feel like it because its the only way they can get better. Well, I want to be the best I can be and I feel like I can still get better. So, whether it be a burst of lyricism or a page of prose...I'm gonna be punching this keypad. Ya dig?

See Words...(A Poem for Inspiring a Twin...)

2009-08-01T19:43:00.000-07:00

So, lately...I've been feeling a lot less "inspired" to write...I guess being a soldier will do that to you. Sadly enough I haven't even gotten to the "REAL' Army yet. *smirk* So...whenever I hear a poetic word...A rhyme I like, or have a thought provoking convo (which are few and far between these days...) I have to write SOMETHING so that I don't completely lose that which God gave me to make me human...

She asked me, "Have you ever in your life lost your love for writing?"
Ignoring the irony of the fact that the query was sent in a text, I began to examine my own past for evidence of cursing a heaven sent release...

I realized that without writing the rage of the beast within would have destroyed me, God may have begun to ignore me, and all those who love...would much rather deplore me. I ignored the...long explanation and chose to instead give a simple interpretation. I explained that I'd lost inspiration, but never the love. Hoping for more words to be sent from above to one day sustain me...claim me...as opposed to the words I had already used so constantly to maim me...label me...disable me...fables that I thought only HE could see, and still I tried to hide them. Wondering how I could have ignored the pen for so long and ignored the lines that confined my words to give me freedom.

Her gift was telling stories through images. Mine was to give images through stories. Kindred gifts. Separate ways. We parted so simply. Only to reside on the same page...

Untitled

2009-08-01T19:17:00.001-07:00

Untitled

2009-08-01T19:17:00.000-07:00

I stand here...fully clothed and naked at the same time/ looking into your eyes and seeing past lives or maybe lovers past and wondering where I fit in? How did I end...up...here? Thinkingcontemplatingdebating. Wanting to be no other place in life. Ignoring all of the warning signs because this...simply feels right. Resigning myself to fate that I can no longer control. Heart busting out of a concrete mold...and softening. Trying to take off my anger and allow my emotions to go wandering. Dreaming of a day where my thoughts can simply roam free. Instead, I may let my arrogance get the best of me. My unwillingness to be a victim become the death of me. Painting pictures with words on a canvas of the mind that appears to be so callous, but its a falsity. I no longer know what I'm doing...I've allowed the most high to control my mind and I'm purging people one at a time because I'm unusually afraid of losing...you. You who makes me feel like the greatest thing in life and the smallest thing in the world. You who makes me contemplate life and not just another relationship with a girl. You who keeps me in check and checks on me from time to time. And you who don't understand the way that I've already decided to wrap myself up in you mind and make you mine. I...roam...freely. Through states of emotionality. Seeking the next battle that may finally make me a victor. Hoping that my life is not doomed to some sort of meaningless heartless disaster.

She told me she'd been hurt before...and I listened. I glanced behind her pupils and saw pain. I promised not to be the source of anymore...as long as she didn't accept my advances in vain.

-SE7EN

July 4th... (A double post day...) PART DEUX

2009-07-04T14:52:00.000-07:00

Part deux....

Michael Jackson is dead. I'm saddened...but I'm not suprised. I was one of the few people that saw Michael as a tortured soul who would eventually self destruct. It sounds callous to the sensitive, but the truth of the matter is Michael Jackson' life was more painful and pressure-filled than any of ours may ever be. I knew Michael would eventually succumb to it.

Branded as a child molester, a self hating psycho, and the weirdest black man alive, Michael Jackson suffered the slings and arrows of Black America's oppression. The type of self-destructing attitude that gives us the "crabs in a barrel" mentality more than we'd like to admit 90% of the time. Phonte from Little Brother said it best on his Myspace blog (http://2dopeboyz.okayplayer.com/2009/06/30/phonte-my-hero-aint-molest-them-bitch-ass-kids-blog/) however, I still feel the need to speak on it...

Michael Jackson was the James Brown of our generation. For every hit that James Brown had that made us proud to be black, Michael Jackson has one. (Occasionally with an avant-garde look.) The dance moves, the extravagant clothes and shows, the crossover success. Michael Jackson built upon the legacy of James Brown, Jackie Wilson, Frankie Lymon, and Sam Cooke and took our natural gifts worldwide prompting both admiration from the likes of Usher and emulation from Justin Timberlake and Robin Thicke.

The world mourns this black man. Yes, this black man. Stricken with vitiligo and forced to live a life under a microscope of speculation from detractors both black and white that would claim that he hated his skin color and chose to bleach himself. Those that questioned his Super Bowl performance...asking questions like, "Why didn't he pick up a black baby?"

Michael Jackson bore the weight of his own talent and our unrelenting, unrealistic, and at times ludicrous expectations from our black leaders, figureheads, entertainers, and ICONS. This ICON lived a life of immense talent and constant ridicule from his own people.

While I participated in the traditional Michael Jackson jokes along with many others, I never truly gave credence to the allegations lobbied against him...I'm sure many will say that's easy to say after the fact, but I don't care. I have the records (not CDs) to prove my fanhood. LOL!

I still remember laying in bed as a child listening to the song Ben over and over after one of my childhood friends passed away. No tears came, because I probably didn't fully understand death...as I don't really understand it today at 25...however, I knew that Ben had to be an expression of friendship in the musical form. I remember my parents getting me out of bed for one of their ghetto get-togethers and having me imitate Michael Jackson for company. Michael Jackson gave me my love of dancing, human body mechanics, and emotional music. For that I will be eternally grateful.

R.I.P. Michael Jackson...you will be forever known as The King of Pop

July 4th... (A double post day...)

2009-07-04T14:31:00.000-07:00

POST 1: STEVE MCNAIR

At approximately 4:32 p.m. ET today...I found out Steve McNair had been killed. A tightness in my chest exists that is somewhat unfamiliar in terms of sadness. The reason it is unfamiliar is because I did not know the man. I never shared a laugh with him, never had a conversation with him, and never shook his hand. Honestly, I had not ever been in the same vicinity as Steve "Air" McNair. Believe it or not though, Steve McNair had a little bit of an impact on my development as a young black male...

The year was 1994, and I was a young little league quarterback with dreams of playing college football. Steve McNair was in his senior season at Alcorn State. Week in and week out, I found myself with my hands under the center, reading the defense, pretending to be Steve McNair on every single play. I did not look up to the professional quarterbacks of the day. I was completely enamored by the athletic play and sheer ability of this black man 10 years my senior.

On my teams bye week, my parents took me to see Miles College football games. My parents being alumnae of Miles, I naturally was predisposed to have an affinity for the school. Visions of wearing a purple jersey with a gold helmet as a 20 year old danced in my head. I dreamed of taking Miles College to a notoriety unheard of by the alumni or the student body. Dreams, although ultimately deferred for a number of reasons, were sparked by one man. Steve "Air" McNair.

Steve McNair stood on the shoulders of giants...Doug Williams from Grambling and Warren Moon. He was a black man unhampered by the norms of professional footballs traditional offensive schemes and quarterback archetypes. He was the link from Randall Cunningham to (*sigh*) Michael Vick. A quarterback that could run AND throw, one who relished contact, and could read/pick apart a defense as good as any quarterback to touch a football...

While knee injuries and size disparities kept me from fulfilling my dream of playing football, the knee problems more than anything, I still maintained an affinity for Steve McNair and tentativley followed his career. I pray that his legacy, toughness, ability, and determination to be a strong black quarterback is passed on to some 10 or 11 year old boy with a pair shoulder pads and cleats...that straps up his chinstrap every day of the football and dreams of taking Grambling, Howard, Tennessee State, Morehouse, Clark-Atlanta, Tuskegee, Miles, Albany State, or any other HBCU to a place of national athletic recognition. More importantly...I pray that that same child...dares to dream...

God Bless The McNair Family

I'm BAAAAAACK...as an American Soldier.

2009-06-11T11:40:00.000-07:00

The best soldiers are not warlike...

-Chinese Proverb

On May 22nd I became an American Soldier. I graduated from Basic Combat Training at Fort Jackson, SC from the 3rd Battalion, 34th Infantry Regiment, Foxtrot Company, 3rd Platoon. (I had to throw all that in so you'd know EXACTLY where I was. LOL!)

I'm currently at Fort Meade Maryland in the US Army Signal School Detachment. I'm attending Defense Information School, also known as DINFOS.

I've been asked repeatedly how I feel about my decision to volunteer for the Army...

Truthfully, I'm still not sure. For the time being I absolutely love it. Then again, I haven't been through the things that millions of soldiers before me have experienced. Yes, I graduated basic training. Yes, I'm currently in AIT and enjoying being a journalist again. Is this this real Army, so to speak? Certainly not.

After leaving hear, hopefully I'll go to Airborne school...yes, black people do jump out of airplanes and land safely.

After that, I have no idea where I'll be.

I've also been asked if I'm afraid of going to Iraq or Afghanistan.

No. I'm not...

It's not because I'm super bad-ass. Because I'm not. It's not because I'm institutionalized and been trained to say that...I'm the FARTHEST thing from that. I just really understand the magnitude of the position I volunteered for. I volunteered to be a soldier. An active duty soldier in the United States Army in a time of war...TWO wars...and what looks like an impending third one.

Does that make me crazy....well, probably.

Am I afraid though...no.

Why? Because I'm sure the God I pray to EVERY SINGLE DAY will protect me. That's not some sort of All-American statement. That's my honest to goodness real-life answer. No joke.

Would it suck to go over there for 12-15 months? YES! I'm sure it would. No one...unless they're diehard infantry or a Marine just says, "YES! YES! SEND ME TO THE FREAKIN' SANDBOX FOR A YEAR!"

The fact of the matter is though, eventually I'll probably end up over there...and there would be nothing I could do or say to change that. Then again, why ould I want to? Like I said, I'm not claiming to be the toughest guy on the block...because I've proven time and again that I'm probably NOT that guy that chews nails and spits out bullets. One thing that I could never be mistaken for though is a coward. Shirking away from duty is an act of cowardice on a number of levels....

Last question I'll answer that I get repeatedly...

Has the military changed me?

Well...truthfully...yes and no.

Yes, the military has me waking up at 4:00 a.m. running a couple of miles, doing pushups, situps, flutter kicks, and got knows what kind of exercises Sgt. Bray comes up with. Yes, I've gotten a little accustomed to a certain level of discipline and order in my life. (Something that has actually been beneficial...believe it or not.) I've also picked up a stronger sense of a few values that I always understood and possessed but, truthfully, never really sought to actively practice them every second of the day.

How has it not changed me?

I'm still liberal. I still hold my same opinions on war, economics, abortion, and politics. I'm still a poet. I still love true hip-hop. I still love...LOVE. I'm still the same fun-loving, caring, quasi-emotional guy that I was before I left. I just wear a uniform now and am alot more relaxed and confident. I no longer worry incessantly about things I can't change.

So...expect the same. Pray for better. I know I will be...

-SE7EN

So, I'm leaving...

2009-02-05T19:19:00.000-08:00

March 2nd...I'm gone. Period. I can't stop the process, I refuse to turn around. Even if I could stop the process...I wouldn't. I understand more and more each day why I absolutely HAVE to leave...

While the bumps and blows of life, initially brought me to this point. The fact of the matter is...my personal convictions and dreams have made me okay with it. I can't continue to languish in mediocrity or settle in a city that revels in it. Yeah, I could stay...continue doing my thing and try to help make the city better one person at a time, but I've realized that more often than not productions and performances get you more results than hard work. I'm not that kind of person.

The only productions and performances I do are poetry...and that's actually a selfish act more often than not. Yes, I pray someone gets something from my work and takes something away from a performance (On the rare occassions that I actually prepare and do them as opposed to being put on the spot....). However, more often than not...poetry serves as a therapeutic release for me. It's not a vainglorious action in any way...

Sure, I could give you names, places, dates, activities, receipts, and all sorts of other things that I have done trying to make this city better one child at a time...but why should that matter? Why should I exploit my work, my personal sacrifice, my love, for some personal/political gain? That's nothing more than self aggrandizement at the expense of someone else...in my particular case, a child.

A great friend and beautiful soul once said to me, "Everyone is looking for a come up....sometimes you just may be it...."

Well, Margaret...I understand now. I have been a few people's come up. I have been stepped on more than once to make sure someone else could see farther, reach higher, and be taller. At one point I reveled in the role of being a person who could help make things happen for other people. If I could help you get somewhere, no matter how near or far it was...I would do it.

What happens to me in the mean time? My dad once told me, "When you run out of favors...you run out of friends." Well, I got a few friends. (Literally, a few) Those people aren't going anywhere. I love them...they love me. They'll be here forever.

Well, I've run out of favors. I've run out of time. I've run out of patience. So, with all that being said...I'm no longer of service to anyone but myself and my close circle. I still got love for other people. I still care about people in general...but after March 2nd...I'm gone. Will I write if I care? SURE. When I come back, will I visit? You darn right! Will I come back for good? Hopefully...No.

I started off a poem I wrote in my notebook earlier with, "Don't tell me you'll hold me down...I might believe you." Well, I've allowed too many people to "be there", "Help me", and essentially "Hold me Down"

For lack of a better ending I'll say, "Put on your big girl draws everybody! The cargo is about to be jettisoned!"

Dear B'ham....(Inspired by Jay-Z's Dear Summer)

2009-02-05T18:55:00.000-08:00

"For Jesus himself testified, that a prophet hath no honour in his own country."

John 4:44 (NIV)

Don't tell me that you'll hold me down...
I may actually believe you...

Dear B'ham/I know you gon' miss me at the crib
Because we go back like baby spit and bibs
Air forces and polo horses/A city where young niggas turn lighters to torches
I may come back one day/But I'm thinking it may be best to stay away
Because you never gave me a chance/Now you see me packing my bags like "aww damn"
Why you can't stay the city needs your voice?/But honestly the city/it left me without a choice
Can't chase my dream/City wouldn't give me a chance/I held you down for some years and couldn't get a helping hand
It's ok though/I understand disappointment so far/Became intimate with it while I was living in my car
But I refuse to fail/Won't let you break me/I'm smarter than most of ya'll/Harder this will make me/
You gonna miss me one day I suspect/I promise the day leave won't be one of regret/
Crabs in a barrell/I got tired of staring down/I guess you could call me a king crab because I'm escaping now/
By my own terms/ not the means I thought/Still the battle I'll fight now are better than the battles I lost...

So if you look for me Magic City one of these days/Wait 10 years and check the New York Times...front page...

Goodbye...

Home Is Where The Hatred Is...

2009-01-25T22:40:00.000-08:00

A junkie walking through the twilight
I'm on my way home
I left three days ago, but noone seems to know i'm gone
Home is where the hatred is
Home is filled with pain and it,
might not be such a bad idea if i never, never went home again

stand as far away from me as you can and ask me why
hang on to your rosary beads
close your eyes to watch me die
you keep saying, kick it, quit it, kick it, quit it
God, but did you ever try
to turn your sick soul inside out
so that the world, so that the world
can watch you die

home is where i live inside my white powder dreams
home was once an empty vacuum that's filled now with my silent screams
home is where the needle marks
try to heal my broken heart
and it might not be such a bad idea if i never, if i never went home again
home again
home again
home again
kick it, quit it
kick it, quit it
kick it, quit it
kick it, can't go home again

--Gil Scot Herron from "Home Is Where The Hatred Is"

They say home is where hate is
But Where does love lie?
Because looking in your eyes all I saw was love cry
Listening to your voice I only heard love lie
So now I wonder was this home full of love or a feeble try?
Love was supposed to give me wings so that I may fly...
Instead, wings of wax melted as I tried to kiss the sky...
Deceit became a way for me to make it through the day...
And when it gave way to pain, it nearly drove me insane...
Nights marked with nothing more than dreams of unseen measurements...
Vainglorious thinking that my circumstances were heaven sent...
Until I realized I was slow dancing with the devil and...
Destiny was nothing more than my own sense of settlement...
Tell me when this gets too familiar...
So I'm looking in the mirror...
Wondering if another day will show me something clearer...
I listen to "Daykeeper" and think of someone to love me...
Keep my days from being filled with pain and bring beauty to nights so ugly...
Trying to make myself T-R-U-S-T He...
That gave me life...
Yet I blamed him for nothing more than my strife...
Leaving all else I had to fate...
Now I work twice as hard simply to save face...
A forgotten son of chance...
A student of lost opportunity...
I've been bludgeoned by all that these streets have to offer...
So tell me, what else can you do to me?
I'm packing my bags now...
One foot out the door...
My mind far away...
My soul longs to break free...
Yet my heart begs me to stay...
Home...
Is a fond memory of someone else's personal advancement...
An associates big break...
And a friend to be pitied for missed chances...
To realize a potential so great that was stifled by those who claim that love lives here...
So as a testament to a forgotten childhood, an adolescence full of stress, and a manchild in the midst of convalescence...
I refuse to shed a tear...
This is the beginning...
Maybe home is an ending...
Maybe the few beams of hope that I had were bending...around me...
Maybe the few droplets of passion that soothed my soul...now drown me...

So tell me...
If home was all you had...
And it rejected you...
Would you be there...
Or allow it to be the dried up dream deferred...
Blowing away in the winds of a life ultimately deterred...

Purposefull

2008-12-13T08:43:00.000-08:00

Seeing yourself through the eyes of God is difficult
So more often than not we choose to busy ourselves with matters miniscule
In the hopd that somehow they will make us matter as an individual
Hoping for something that will make life feel a little more full

Material aims and personal gains have our prayers locked in chains
Sinking in the sea of vain repetition and ill advised requests for his healing rain
Our brains fathom only that which is tangible at times
So we ignore what He wants for us simply because its not right before our eyes.

If we see as He sees then our needs will He meet so we can cease to repeat the cycle of self-defeat
That we've chosen to trap ourselves in

If our palms press together for more than just handshakes and friction
Then maybe we can learn to listen
Understand our mission
And begin walking according to the scriptures spoken in His perfect diction
We can begin living in facts
As opposed to chasing fiction

Your purpose is more than a paycheck, a Rolex, or a Bentley
It's the divine right and gift that God gave you to live life and have it more abundantly
So while your actions and deeds have purpose and we should do them with fervor and energy
While you're working for a certain purpose, ask yourself are you existing and just desiring to be? Or are you standing on God's promises, and seekingdoingfighting to living life purposefully?

Brunch...and The Night Before...

2008-12-07T21:22:00.000-08:00

"I started on your poem last night...but I fell asleep with a pen in my hand"
She smiled
I did so reciprocally...
Wondering could she...
Possibly see how I really felt about her...

At 2 a.m. I told her that I thought she was simply wonderful
I pray the she will one day understand why I say such things, but my eyes see differently than hers...
My mind's a little different from hers
So hopefully poetry speaks louder than words...

She sees we in the same vein of struggle against life's circumstances...
Our knees press to carpet simultaneously praying for second chances...
Now we sit here in this urban semi-chic restaurant away from our friend's curious glances...
Talking about dreams deferred and how she once dreamed of performing dances...for the entire world to see...

Sitting in the back of an Explorer with the company of John Legend and the stars we spoke of frustration...
Dreams becoming obsolete like Atari 2600's and Playstations we tried to find joy in our 80's baby experiences to be related...
As she slipped into the comfortable crook of my outstretched arm to tell me goodbye I wondered why she had been dealt a hand so similar to mine...
I know that mine is a punishment...hers a learning experience...mine a consequence...hers an exercise in perseverance...

I see...a future mother, wife, and friend for a wonderful man. A picture of success. The true example of health.

At brunch I looked through the panes of her soul to see the pain in her heart as she spoke of getting out of her small country town...

Her gaze intensifies when she speaks of the blows of life that have bruised her mind...

I see peace when she speaks of the future...

Take care of your dreams...they have become your passion...follow them and they will sustain you...

Post Thanksgiving Thoughts from SE7EN...

2008-11-23T12:12:00.000-08:00

The world I know
Is a world much too slow
(If you) Don't move fast enough...keep your head low

-Esthero on the song "Country Livin'"

First of All...I love that song.

Secondly, this is going to be a little different from some of my previous posts of prose...this one is me getting back to the original roots of this blog. That is, my candid thoughts and transparency...in terms of what I think, and essentially, how I think.

Now...On to the blogging...

________________________________________________________________________________________________

I'm thankful for the God Given gift of true friendship. It occasionally takes the world to crumble around you to see who is exactly down for you and who is there when it's convenient. What I've realized is that I'm truly loved by a few people in this world. I thank God for their love, their kind words, their understanding, their companionship, the smiles they bring to my face and the joy they bring to my life. Dealing with some of the things that I've had to handle over the past 2 or 3 years...I honestly should, and could have been many times, completely and utterly destitute and probably insane.

Sometimes...I, like many people, go through things in my life that tend to require a lot of thought and introspection. Occasionally, as has been the case for the past couple of months...even years for some things, these matters require a VAST amount of time and thought. In these times...I tend to become very introverted and anti-social. You may see me...but I don't make phone calls, I may not return text messages, and I'm not as connected as I would normally be. Many people understand that...those are my true friends. Those who choose to simply...brush me aside...just don't understand me. That's not a bad thing...I'm failry complicated and hard to understand at times...My introspection and closed disposition does not mean that I don't care about you or love you. It's just how I deal with things. All I ask for is time and understanding...not a pound of flesh or an expectation of empathy. Some of the things I've been through you can't empathize with...you've never been there.

The loss of people close to me. The violence that surrounded me at one point. The anger I've harbored. The destructive tendencies I embraced as a result. The lies. The deceit. The setbacks. The trials. The tribulations. All have served to make me a stronger man...

I found that God had a few guardian angels watching out for me from time to time. Their prayers lifted me to his hands when I was too broken, hurt, and (more often than not) ashamed to pray for myself.

It's funny that throughout it all...the same people who I knew were down for me from day one STAYED DOWN for me...some people...just disappeared...

The test of true friendship is not measured in laughs, smiles, and enjoyment in times of jubilation, but rather in times of tribulation. Can you find yourself next to me as I'm falling...smiling and trying to make me do such...or would you rather watch me fall?

Some people enjoy watching train wrecks in slow motion...others...try to save the train by helping it switch tracks....thank God for great passengers who wake the conductor up when he falls asleep at the wheel.

So, for those that have helped me....I thank you...whether it was a kind text message, a good laugh, a listening ear, a shoulder to lean on...I truly am thankful.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah yey
Why, why, why, why, why, why, why
Why, Why, heh
They've got so much things to say right now
They've got so much things to say
They've got so much things to say right now
They've got so much things to say
I'll never forget no way, how they crucified Jesus Christ
I'll never forget no way, how they sold Marcus Garvey for rice
I'll never forget no way, how they turned their back on Paul Bogle
So don't you forget no way...
Who you are, and where you stand in the struggle
They've got so much things to say right now
They've got so much things to say
They've got so very many things, to say right now
They've got so much things to say
I'n'I nah come to fight flesh and blood
But spiritual wickedness in high and low places
And though you fight me down
I'll stand firm, and give Jah all the thanks and praises
I don't expect to be justified, by these laws of men
Though the we can find me guilty, Jah will proove my innocency
'cause when the rain falls, it don't, fall on one man's house top
Remember that
See when this rain falls, it don't, fall on one man's house top
They've got so much things to say right now
They've got so much, so much things to say
They've got, heh, so much things to say right now
They've got so, so much things to say
But let them keep talking, oh let them keep talking
'cause non of them walking, oh non of them walking, no
And while they still talking, see I'ma be walking
I'ma be walking, so let them keep talking
Said I never forget no way, how they crucified Jesus Christ
And I, I'll never forget, how they sold Marcus Garvey for rice
Said I, never forget, how they turned their backs on Paul Bogle
So non of you, non of you forget...
Who you are, and where you stand in the struggle
'cause when this rain, 'cause when this rain, rain, rain, rain, rain falls
It don't fall on one man's house, I'm telling you the rain...
I'm telling you the rain, rain, rain, rain, rain don't fall
It don't fall... they...
They've got, they've got, so many very things to say about me
I'm telling you: lie
They, and they, and they will have so many things
They'll have so many things to say about you... to say about you
'cause they don't know me, know me
They don't know me, oh they don't know me, oh they don't know me
Oh they don't know me well
They, they, they, they, they, they, they don't know my Father
'cause if they did, if they did... hey ey... theeey... heh..

-Lauryn Hill's "They've Got So Much Things to Say"

Lauryn said it better than I ever could.

I'm learning to win...I'm learning each rung of the ladder of success so that I may pull others with me...to quote Jay-Z, "If you can't respect that, your whole perspective is wack/Maybe you'll love me when I fade to black..."

That's exactly what I'm doing to some people. I can no longer afford ANY negativity in my life. The Bible often speaks of being pruned...well...I'm being chastened and pruned at the same time....Now THAT'S an experience for ya! I'll be sure to keep you posted on how that goes.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

"I'm just a soul
Who's intentions are good
Oh Lord, Please don't let me be misunderstood...

-Nina Simone's "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood"

Ok...Long, before Kanye sampled this for Common and (someone insert producer name here) sampled it for Wayne's diatribe about the American Gov't, Sex Offenders, and Al Sharpton (of all people...)

This was one of my favorite songs...

I pray that I'm not misunderstood in my actions by some close to me. I know I've hurt some people, and for that I deeply apologize. Anyone that knows me, knows that I'm always well intentioned when it comes to my actions and decision making. Sometimes, things don't work out that way and between my...weirdness, complicated way of viewing life, and the random everyday stuff that happens to me, I can get sidetracked and shift priorities...

So, for any of the people that I care about that I've hurt....I'm truly sorry and will try my HARDEST to atone for my actions.

If you have to ask yourself whether I care about you....well....you may wanna just ask me...mmmkay?

Don't speculate before you informate....yeah, like Weezy F. Baby said. BTW, is "informate" a word? I should've "spec'd" before I checked? OR is it the other way around...Ok...yeah.

Feel free to comment. I'm sure some of you have VERY interesting things to say right now....

BTW, Go pick up Foreign Exchange's "Leave it All Behind" That's some DAMN GOOD MUSIC!

Untitled...

2008-11-21T20:56:00.000-08:00

"Night Blows, Stoves don't work, Hoes at work
A warrior, so I wear M.O. on my shirt
Wishin I was free as Che was,I spend a day buzzed
Trippin on heights, wishin for Nikes in different flavors
The age of Kane and Big Daddy,short body caddies
Uncles named Larry, that never really grabbed me
My mother gave birth but she really never had me
Left to the hood to play daddy
Raised by niggaz named Butch, Poo, and Bebe
With weight so they weigh they/status on the streets
License plates that say they, motto/This is Chicago in the hey day
Similiar to Good Times, I guess that I was Jay Jay
A skinny nigga, young girls with penny figures
So many niggaz, stacked upon each other
It's the black upon each other that we love so much
Wonder how many of us, is drugs gonna touch
Used to gangbang, ain't really thug that much
Rather have some thick broads and a dutch to clutch
Went to school in Baton Rouge for a couple of years
My college career got down with a couple of peers
Came back home, now I gotta pay back loans
Same nigga, same block, same shit they own
Only thing different, quicker, they click that chrome
In my defense, yo I had to hit that zone
Man to man, I'm good workin with my hands
My generation never understood workin for the man
And, of bein broke I ain't a fan
Now I stand in the same spot, as my old man
My life I planned not to be on this corner
I still wanna see California
But this is my world"

-Common on "It's Your World" from the Be Album

I find myself understanding the stances of those who came before me now...
Praying that their words will push me forward now...
I'm realizing that I'm writing my life away for the purpose of fighting another day and saving maybe just one person anyway...
See, my pages are rigid and I have to bend metaphors back over them sometimes just to get my thoughts out...
My pen is similar to a water spout because it never stops flowing...even when you silence me
The powers that be have tried and it honestly/Only made me fight more vehemently/Seeking a title that I will probably never see...
Call me the greatest/similar to Jack Dempsey
Scratch That/Jack Johnson/
A man who couldn't stand to be released of his own vices/
Falling victim to the wiles of women and taxes like Mike Tyson/
I am the Champ/If we're going by that standard/
Already been branded a miscreant/
Reveling in being a pariah/Enjoying too much being a misfit/
This shit/ain't no coincidence...
If you think I'm spitting this/for my own benefit/
You may be missing the point of it/I know a few of you cats feel like this/
Verbalism is heaven sent/Drive to thrive/Relentless/But opportunities/are slim and thinning
So I write/because it's all I can do to get me through the days of peacelessness/
A future filled with uneasiness/
A life filled with stomachs and pockets plagued by emptiness/
These are the wages of the ambitious/
Seeking truth and finding life to be vicious/
So continue to tell me how hard life is...
I'll tell you how real the struggle is...
How many of my niggas is hustling...
How 9 out of 10 of my ex students only see rappin/basketball/or thuggin'
As a way out of it/

Tell me that It's My World...
I'll tell you I believe it...
Because I'm trying my hardest
EVERY DAMN DAY to make sure these children are achieving...
Their dreams...
The hell with mine...
I live for them...

At home bored?

2008-11-09T21:23:00.000-08:00

Post random stuff to your blog from Youtube!!!!

Goodie Mob feat. Esthero - Country Livin' (The World I Know)

I heard Esthero's solo version first....then I found this....Beautiful imagery....

Classic...

Goodie Mob...Soul Food...

Man....I'm SO GLAD I was born in the South...despite the B.S. and Racism...

Outkast and Cee-Lo...In Due Time...My theme Song...

One of the Greatest Posse Tracks of ALL TIME!

Not a video...but the song speaks for itself...

The Heirs to Outkast's and Goodie Mob's Throne...Little Brother...

One more from LB...one of my favortie tracks of all time....

These Words...

2008-11-06T18:10:00.000-08:00

MY words are my sanity/
See/Some rappers spit for vanity/
I spit only for clarity/Occasionally for the family/
Trying to find common ground in a land not meant for me/
The microphone is like a metronome/
My pen...a simple passion...
My Notebook is my therapist/
I'm praying that it keeps hearing this/
Because the fact of the matter is/
My way of living is reckless/
Borderline negligent/
But I guarantee you that my words are heaven sent/
'Cause I swear to you I couldn't write this...

I tend to write on my knees/
Because this is my communion/
With words/HE's blessed me/
He has KEPT me/
Through hard times and tibulation/
Yet and still I do things to constantly violate HIM/

These words kept me from suicide/
At times helped me to survive/
Gave me a new mind/
Showed me a new grind/
My ability to express myself lyrically/
Tends to humble me/
In a word filled with sin and greed/
It keeps me steady focusing/
On my task at hand/
Hoping to reach just one man or/
Wo-man and show them I understand/

Though it's a cliche/
Pain is only temporary/
Pride is forever/
So I use these words to keep my life together/
To keep me going forever/
Immortality through literary presence/
Divine Inspiration is the prerequisite/

To Be Continued...

Maybe I'll Be Back One Day...

2008-11-02T18:55:00.000-08:00

I put my faith on ice because I didn’t have any dangling from my wrist or hanging from my neck/

The chains I savored were holding me back as my materialism slowly creeped into the recesses of my psyche in an attempt to lock me into a cycle of pain, poverty, and pleasure driven past times…like hustling

A hard day’s work is noble, but a hard day hustling gets you over/Keeps you floating/makes you vulnerable...

To the traps of life and black manhood/Police/Prison/and the pain of finding yourself in a situation you never wanted to be in or believe in...so you spend thousands of hours reminiscing on days gone by and innocence lost...grieving....

This is the path I've chosen/It seems as though even though I hold a college degree/D'Evils of my peer pressure influenced past consume me...forgive the reference to Jay-Z/I'm just dealing with a lot of Reasonable Doubt right now/I'm doubting my reasons for believing and my chances of achieving the the dreams that seemed so guaranteed when I was a young boy/Now I'm a grown man whose dreams and path of unsteady unrighteousness have made him paranoid...

All I really want to do is breathe...

Live a little bit...

Grasp that little bit of life...and love...because the pursuit of happiness is simply superficial when the only power you can relate to is that gained from behind a pistol...the only love you seem to see is that overt outpouring of emotion at a funeral...or the harsh realization that only the triviality of life seems to be undisputable...

Nowadays I tend to pray on the highway because i makes me feel like my life is actually going somewhere...I talk to God conversationally because it makes me feel like I'm taking a closer walk with thee...Yet when my feet hit the ground...so does my faith...it gets replaced with a demeanor described only as callous...an expression of contempt and malice for all things that do not benefit me...a selfishness that stretches my psyche...and a lust for confrontation that could only threatens to destroy me...God help me...

I realized that running from my past would only serve to make me weaker...so I dived headfirst in it only to realize that I was not confronting it...it was confronting me...drawing me back into the man that I had fought so hard not to be...Now...I fear I know nothing but him...

Sorry Mama...your little boy is gone forever...the man you knew is too...

I'm still existing...but the fire that was once in my eyes has gone from almost white with voracity to a mind numbing green of bitter blasphemy...

Maybe I'll be back one day...

Untitled...

2008-10-05T20:18:00.000-07:00

I remember tying to atone for the things in my past by trying to be a better human being/

Now I'm seeing the fruits of my labor are nothing more than covering up the carnal cravings I savor with flavors of the bland kind/

Steadily tiptoeing through life like my future is filled with landmines/

Wondering where I'm...going/

My past cant be changed/

My future can be rearranged and my present is nothing more than the fleeting feeling of chains/

Being broken that is...

Rather than hoping with fear/

I'm living with fire/

Because I'm trying keep going forward, love life, and inspire/

A whole new generatioN NIGGAS like me...

YES, I said "NIGGAS" like me...

Never Ignorant, Getting Goals Accomplished Steadily, like Tupac said...

Maybe you should look a little higher if the last line went over your head.

I once drowned myself in the sorrows of what I once wanted to be my forever/

Now I bend paperclips back over my dreams to keep my life together/

In my notebook/

I dog-ear these pages in an attempt to remember my innocence/

So that my life can stop being a reconciliation of intelligence and ignorance/

That's generally called cognitive dissonance...

I used to fight for freedom and now that I have it/

I'm helping others grab it/

There's nothing like seeing yourself for the first time/

Through your own eyes/

Then you realize that these cats who tried to give you real lies/

In an attempt to make you realize their/

Disconnected reality/

Was just another part of the devil's plan to trap you in this thing that they call "Insanity"/

While the whole time God just wanted you to ask that he/

Take...the burden...off....your shoulders...

Others' expectations are not your own/

So when you feel alone/

Unable to move on/

Or just damn through with the world...

Remember...that God...is love.

24 Hours to Live....

2008-09-14T17:46:00.000-07:00

"I want you/ 'cause you make my heart skip the beat that I drum to/
I want to be the one you run to/when pain confronts you
You're everything/sometimes I get nervous when I'm in front of you
You can hear it in my voice when I ask you if you comfortable/
Look how love do/I'd practice the Art of War for you like Sun Tzu
Come through and arouse you every morning like the sun do
If you blackout and collapse I want to help you to come to
Notice I haven't yet got into what I want from you
I want you to come too when I come through and make you shine like the sun do
I want you to be the valley for my river to run through
Your everything/send your soul through your lips to my heart
Sweet music will start/I want you to be the muse of my art
When people try to rip us apart/we got to work to stay together
Go through the seasons of love and never change with the weather
This is my wish list/what I want/not what I need/there's a difference
These days I'm learning that words got power so I'ma be specific..."

Talib Kweli on "Talk To You" from the Quality LP

If I had 24 hours to live...I would give up my eternity to spend it with you...
Every breath I take that day would be witnessed and shared with you...
You...

The muse I refuse to stop writing about...

The love I refuse to stop crying about...

Tears of joy...makee trails down my heart...

Cleansing it of all impurities/Proving...that you're all I'll ever need...
The peace of God resides with me presently...
Whenever you're in my presence...I feel joy will be here for me eternally...

But I only have 24 hours to live...

And I want to spend every 1,440 minutes in your arms...
Every 86,400 seconds should be filled with your touch...
Every blinkinhalationexhalationthought wrapped up in you...

My dying words...would be unheard...
But my smile...would be worth a million words...

23 hours and 59 minutes pass...and all I've known is love...

Now...since God has chosen to grant me one more day...

Can we share it?

Forever...

Forgetting my place...

2008-09-13T08:32:00.000-07:00

Y'all niggas deal with emotions like b*tches
What's sad is I love you 'cause you're my brother
You traded your soul for riches
My child, I've watched you grow up to be famous
And now I smile like a proud dad, watching his only son that made it

-Nas from "Ether" off his Stillmatic LP

I gave you a place to rest your head...
Fed you when you were hungry...
Comfort when you were broken...
Peace when you were dying inside...

Now all I hear from you is lies and inconsistencies
These unfortunate portions of your soul that chose to bare themselves to me...
On the eve of my breakthrough...
I take it you...
Are feeling yourself...

Worse than death, betrayal is hell...
A heart too big to dwell inside this fleshly shell and fragile frame
I gave you love, identity, and a new name...
I christened you "the one who would be first"
I lifted you when even family would rather see you in dirt...
I selflessly gave you footing...
Now I helplessly stand here weeping...on the inside

My tears dried in my heart and left the residue of a friendship...
Scratch that...
A Kinship...
A bond that knew no boundaries...or so I thought...
Now I want to take back all of the travailing truths that I bought...

For us...

Standing in the gap for you made me stronger....

DAMN...

I wish strength didn't hurt so much...

A Letter to The One I Was Choosing...

2008-09-01T19:31:00.001-07:00

Dear (Name Deleted),

I know you have issues. I do too. I know you aren't trying to "jump" into a relationship. I'm not either. I know you want to "take it slow." I do too.

Don't take my kindness and understanding for a form of weakness though. That's a fatal mistake...

Correction: That WAS your fatal mistake...

I'm done with this...

Period...

No more calling me at 2 a.m. with eyes full of tears and fear enveloping your heart. No more drinks. No more meals. No more random texts during the day just to let you know that I'm thinking about you and respect you.

I'm done...

You have disrespected me and tried me for the last time...

So when you wake up and realize that I'm a GOOD guy...it'll probably be too late.

I'm moving on...

No more putting others on hold simply because I'm trying to direct our ship onto a positive course. You OFFICIALLY have taken the wind out of my sails.

I don't mind being your friend...

I think you're talented, intelligent, and VERY attractive...

Can't trust every pretty smile though...

I'll be glad to talk to you...between 9 and 5 Monday through Friday and 10-4 on Saturday.

I won't be inviting you to church anymore...

That is all.

Sincerely,
SE7EN...

10 Years Removed...

2008-08-25T16:34:00.000-07:00

Now Suzy Skrew had a partna named Sasha (Sasha), Thumper (Thumper)
I remember her number like the summer
when her and Suzy yeah they threw a slumber - - party
but you can not call it that cause it was slummer
Well it was more like spend the night
Three in the morning yawnin dancin under street lights
We chillin like a villain and a nigga feelin right
in the middle of the ghetto on the curb, but in spite
all of the bullshit we on our back starin at the stars above
(aww man) Talkin bout what we gonna be when we grow up
I said what you wanna be, she said, "Alive" (hmm)
It made me think for a minute, then looked in her eyes
I coulda died, time went on, I got grown
Rhyme got strong, mind got blown, I came back home
to find lil Sasha was gone
Her mamma said she with a nigga that be treatin her wrong
I kept on singin my song and hopin at a show
that I would one day see her standin in the front row
But two weeks later she got found in the back of a school
With a needle in her arm, baby two months due, Sasha Thumper

-Andre 3000 from Outkast on the song "Da Art of Storytellin (Part 1)" from the Aquemini album

At the age of 15 I was living in a dream state
Life hadn't yet simply shaken me awake
i thought we would last until....forever ended
Bended backwards over thoughts of upright notions
Hoping that these emotions wouldn't leave me broken
But you left me...
For those who weren't like me...
Spitefully held on to the animosity...
Brought on by the absence of my best friend...

Unparalleled you were
Not I woman I've met since had beauty compared to hers
i saw you as a deity...
far be it from me to put many on a pedestal
i only wanted you to see you like i saw you...

i remember the first time i saw you...
live enough to rock penny loafers and an updo
coworker turned friend
transformed/youbecamea GODsend
created to show me how to be a real man...

i remember our first conversation...
your admission of self esteem issues shocked me...
i had the same problem too...
you...unlike me...were absolutely physically beautiful...
i was only "cute", "attractive", or another one of those names you call someone "un-ugly"
you were...an angel...

i remember our conversations on the future...
you wanted to go to UA...
i wanted to go to Morehouse...
i ended up at UA...
partially praying that you had chosen the same path...
although at that point we hadn't spoken in years...

my anger has subsided...
my heart is still crying...
i never understood why you threw me away...
we're two different people now...
and i'm a 25 year old man still insanely seeking closure...
in a lot of my past...

sometimes you never let go of the first person to understand you...

the last time we saw one another...
i was ecstatic...
you were working on my campus...
i was hurting on my campus...
you healed a small part of me...
yet there's still a small part of me...
that's leaving the light on for you...

i saw pictures of you recently...
and prayed...
fervently...
that wherever you were...
you were happier...
than i proclaim to be...

10 years later....

is it wrong for me to still love you...

i don't think so....

Black Girl Lost Redux...

2008-08-01T15:24:00.000-07:00

Diamonds all shinin'/Lookin all fly
Pretty lil' face/she get a lil' high
Young girl strugglin'/tryin' to survive
Mother of The Earth/she made you and I
Just tired of playin' the same ol' games
Messin' with my mind/emotional pain
And there goes a black girl lost...

The first time i saw behind her eyes i saw
generational lies
that had been told to her
A part of me simply wanted to mold her
Open these arms and hold her
Because the world had been so cold to her

Behind the equatorial lines on her forehead
was a dreamer
And since my mind's eye has been blessed
with sight a little keener
i knew what those dreams were

She wanted to be directed by HIM
Unaffected by them
And to no longer the object of misdirected affection
of any man that would refer to her as "slim", "shawty", or "redbone
Because for so long she had been trapped inside these ephemisms and pet names
that the process of self degradation and defacement had reached a cataclysmic point inside her brain...
Then we got the nerve to ask, "What's in a name?"

How about an identity...

I listen to her tell me about being raped at age 12
A home life resembling hell and how her image of a fair God fell
My chest swells as tears well up in my eyes
And I think about the lies society gave to her
Trivialized her cries so much that she only sees breasts and thighs when she looks in the mirror
I fear her...

condition is irreversible...

She sees me as big brother/lover/friend/and surrogate father
trying to teach and mold her because her biological didn't bother
showing her that manhood is more than making babies, lusting for a merceedes and chasing women from her adolescent friends to much older ladies...

Because that's all she ever saw her father do...
So now she equates manhood to irresponsibility and lost family
Christmases
because instead of Toys 'R' US and KB...
Jack Daniels got all the money he blew...

The first time I tell her that I lover her...she cries...
Tears of joy and confusion fall from both eyes as she asks me why
i tell her, "The Most High gave me the divine right and duty to love you, show you...the right way. To hold you in my heart and love as if each day...was my last. i love you enough to help you grow into the future and forget your past. So if i'm ever not around and life beats you down and you forget sometimes that you're a queen deserving of the crown, I want you to understand that there's a man out there somewhere...who loves you..."

Diamonds all shinin'/Lookin all fly
Pretty lil' face/she get a lil' high
Young girl strugglin'/tryin' to survive
Mother of The Earth/she made you and I
Just tired of playin' the same ol' games
Messin' with my mind/emotional pain
And there goes a black girl lost...

How I Feel About A Couple of Things...

2008-07-23T07:34:00.001-07:00

It's been a while since I've posted. Mainly because I'm a workaholic. 60+ hours a week on average. (I got a shoe and Polo habit that needs to be fed...)

So...the following topics that I'll be discussing are simply a few lighthearted statements on a few issues that I intended to make serious posts about...read much of the following with cynicism and healthy doses of sarcasm.

Michelle Obama and Alpha Kappa Alpha

First of all, I would like to congratulate the ladies of Alpha Kappa Alpha on 100 years of sisterhood.

Second of all, I would say that making the announcement that Michelle Obama has accepted an invitation of honorary membership was bad timing.

While running a campaign for the highest office in the land and the position as the most powerful political figure in the world, one must be careful to not be too polarizing and not give their opponent any fodder that would lend credence to their claims. The move by Mrs. Obama is both polarizing and potentially damaging in the world of Faux News and Soundbyte Politics.

Joining any organization with a social element at times creates feelings of animosty from both competitors and outsiders. Those who are competitors in this situation will be primarily unfazed. (In other words, black greeks will not jump on the "Straight Talk Express" just because Obama chose to be a K' instead of a "Red", ya dig?) However there are many, who are Obama supporters, that may be a bit turned off by Mrs. Obama choosing to join a traditionally black sorority due to an amazing lack of knowledge by others (read: white people and many non-interested black people) about black greek life. The effect of this will be minimal...possibly even a non-issue.

The problem therein lies with the propensity for such a decision by Mrs. Obama to be a victim of the Faux News/Soundbyte politricks machine. For the past few months, Right wingnuts have been trying their hardest to paint Senator Obama and his wife as terrorists and elitist. Even using a simple gesture of commonality, often referred to by us as a "pound" or "dap", as some sort of weird terrorist fist bump. How long will it be before Mrs. Obama's pinky is considered a jihadist signal? Soon a simple "Skee-Wee" will become an Al-Qaeda mating call for those sleeper cells hiding in America. None the less, it opens her up.

The biggest issue though is the aforementioned part about Faux News and Rushannity Coulter painting her and Senator Obama as elitist. Let's admit it...being a member of a black greek letter organization has long been associated with elitism and bourgeois culture. Elitist and bourgeois are not characteristics that could be considered desirable in the leader of the free world. Especially not in a candidate that could be considered a champion of the poor since he was an Ivy League Law Student.

(Et Al: I don't really care about how hard it is to become an honorary AKA...nor do I think Michelle OBama is an elitist. I just want her to think about the perception that it may cause and the unnecessary damage control that may have to be done post-initiation.)

Larry Langford

WTF....I mean seriously, WTF....

The Olympics in 2020? Negro Please....

Let's aim for something a little more doable like The BET Coonery Awards or the NAACP "Buried Word" Awards...

How about we aim for a murderless weekend first?

I mean seriously, I think the guy's energy and enthusiasm are great. I like many of his ideas. But when Mike Creel comes out and says, "We WILL get the Olympics in 2020" I have to question Mayor Langford's judgment...

We already know he can't balance a checkbook...

He testified to the SEC that his credit is in the toilet from buying suits and shoes from Gus Mayer...

3 Flags Over Bessemer...umm...I mean Visionland....wait, no....Alabama Adventure.....

'Nuff Said...

(BREAKING NEWS! Larry Langford has a Top Secret plan called the "Birmingham Survival Kit" that he's passing out to city business leaders in....a drawstring mini backpack? Of the Nike like variety?)

Gas Prices

Are Freakin' Ridiculous!!!!!

Drill ANWR! Drill Offshore! And still we have to wait 30 years for the effects....

Can somebody just start passing out gas cards instead of stimulus checks? I'm so sincere right now...

Dating....again....

You know what? I'm convinced that Birmingham is the place where single people come to get bitter. Seriously....

While women are busy blaming men, men are busy blaming women...somebody could be holding a conversation and getting to know one another...sans all the pretentiousness...

The Club Scene

Speaking of pretentiousness...I'm sick of the Birmingham club scene...You see the SAME people at EVERY function...buying drinks they probably can't afford to impress people they don't like in places that have worn thin on ambience and novelty...

Steel is the new Amani Raha.

Martini's is the new Platinum (Prior to $20 Cover "All You Can Fight" Night)

Elevation is the new Platinum....with better security (Post $20 Cover "All You Can Fight" Night)

Banana Joes was the new Smitty City/Birmingham Live

Don't get me wrong. I L-O-V-E Steel. (Shout out to Kobe) However, I tend to keep my visits short, sweet, and to the point. "Lemme get a Blue Moon. No Orange....no, don't start me a tab...I won't be here past 7:30"

Sprint...

F' em....

If I drop ONE MORE damn call while I'm trying to get to the money....I'm gonna shoot somebody.

Fin..

For Now...

Re:Will Racism Ever End?

2008-06-16T12:48:00.000-07:00

This is in response to a note by Mr. Parker...

First of all, Mr. Parker, I'd like to say that I appreciate the thought and insight that clearly goes into your notes. They are thought provoking and interesting.

In response to the question posed by your note, "Will Racism Ever End," I would have to say that my knee-jerk reaction is "No." At least not in our lifetime...maybe in the lifetime of our offspring. Let me tell you why...

Racism often stems from two things, ignorance and a sense of victimization (which is undoubtedly coupled with a sense of entitlement. )

Ignorance comes into play more often than we tend to acknowledge...

When white people crack the offensive jokes about our hair, features, African American Vernacular English, and other things it stems from ignorance. Since, more often than not, they haven't experienced black culture, nor do they know more than their few token black friends they (just like all of us) tend to refer back to stereotypes and pop-culture imagery to help them form their opinion. This "ignorance fueled" racism, I tend to see as racism of the "low brow" variety...

Grandfather clauses, Good Ol' Boy networks, Ivory Towers, Glass Ceilings, and the logically flawed arguments against minority equality programs are a combination of the two reasons for racism.

They are ignorant because they assume that blackness exists in a vacuum. It is as if the, as Condoleeza Rice said, "birth defect" of having skin blessed with melanin makes us incompetent and incapable in their eyes. They believe that we are all the same....except for those that are a "credit to our race"....you can't believe how many times I've been called "one of the good ones"....

It also points directly to a sense of entitlement because HISTORICALLY the only demographic that has ever mattered in America has been the white male landowner...

The sense of victimization comes into play because they feel as though minority quotas and equality programs are taking positions, jobs, and whatever else from qualified white males....let's not go there right now.

The sense of victimization basis for racism is often seen in middle class to lower class individuals who feel as though they have been pushed away from their birthright of success and a slice of the American pie by all these "G*ddamn foreigners," "F*ckin Mexicans," and "Stupid Ni&&ers!" (Taken from an actual quote I heard once...)

They are the ones who are easily mislead by various forms of propaganda and are most likely to revert back to stereotypes to explain their frustration with people of a different hue...

The man who displayed his ignorance with you, Mr. Parker, felt victimized...because you had invaded what he felt as though was his "personal" place...his Birmingham version of "Cheers"...(which had no black people that I can remember)

I think we are FINALLY on the road to healing...rather than the appeasement that has been going on for the past 40+ years. Senator Obama has a lot to do with that...

Racist attitudes on BOTH sides are coming out more and more....Only by honest examination can we eradicate the plagues that have stricken this country known as racism and prejudice...

I'm done...

Racism in America....

2008-06-06T10:04:00.000-07:00

Check out the url below AFTER you read the post...

http://sandrarose.com/2008/06/05/the-assassination-of-barack-obama-freedom-of-expression-or-racism/#more-1362

In America we have this wonderful thing called the 1st Amendment...

As a blogger, journalist and poet by calling, and "jerk-in-residence" at an institution of higher learning right now, I use the right to freedom of speech guaranteed by that amendment to the fullest...

Through freedom of speech we are guaranteed the right to freely express ourselves regardless of the medium...

However, there are certain fundamental things that you must understand about freedom of speech....

There are three types of speech that are not protected...

One is slander/libel...

The other is Hate Speech/"Fighting Words"...

I fully understand that the use of such speech would possibly get me arrested, reprimanded, and I could very well become the defendant in a lawsuit...

With that being said, I'm going to need people to understand that the use of NOOSES directed at a black person (Whether they are Joe Schmoe on the street or, like in this case, Senator Barack Obama) it is HATE SPEECH and should have no expectations of protection.

Calling Senator Obama's daughters "Nappy Headed Hoes" is not unprotected...but it is most definitely outside the boundaries of good taste...

Why does it seem that the racial division of this country is a festering sore...rather than a healing wound?

I don't really understand right now...

My Take on the Obama Nomination...

2008-06-05T10:16:00.000-07:00

I woke up Wednesday morning proud...

I was proud that the man I had believed in from day one had become the first black Presidential nominee from a major party in American history...

I was proud that the politics of fear, straw man arguments, and misdirection failed...

I was proud that all the battles I had with Republicans, Conservatives, and Clinton supporters had been ultimately justified...

I was proud that Senator Obama was resilient enough to stand strong and never lose focus of what was truly important....offering a change from the typical "pay for play" politics that have plagued this country for decades...

I was proud of Hilary...for standing strong and fighting...

I was proud that I lived in an America where the majority of citizens no longer saw white flesh and a "Y Chromosome" as a prerequisite for leadership...

In his speech on Tuesday night, Senator Obama said:
" There are those who say that this primary has somehow left us weaker and more divided. Well I say that because of this primary, there are millions of Americans who have cast their ballot for the very first time. There are independents and Republicans who understand that this election isn't just about the party in charge of Washington, it's about the need to change Washington. There are young people, and African Americans, and Latinos, and women of all ages who have voted in numbers that have broken records and inspired a nation.

All of you chose to support a candidate you believe in deeply. But at the end of the day, we aren't the reason you came out and waited in lines that stretched block after block to make your voice heard. You didn't do that because of me or Senator Clinton or anyone else. You did it because you know in your hearts that at this moment—a moment that will define a generation—we cannot afford to keep doing what we've been doing. We owe our children a better future. We owe our country a better future. And for all those who dream of that future tonight, I say—let us begin the work together. Let us unite in common effort to chart a new course for America..."

My generation has been and will be defined by the leadership of a man that could have very well been one of our parents, Senator Barack Obama...

I have shouted for years...well, at least since I had the mind to actually pick up a book on politics, that America has needed new blood at the helm. Someone untainted by the moral rigor mortis that has been typical of our leadership for the past few decades, someone who does not seeing politics as a cushy job but rather a calling, a leader who cares for the people who give him power rather than the corporations who usurp that power daily...

Truth be told...I just wanted someone to look up to.

Is it too much to ask to turn on the TV and see someone who I can honestly say that I would like to be like? That understands me, my struggle, and the intellectual burden that lays heavy on me (and has crushed many of my peers) as a member of Dubois' Talented Tenth...

I would be less than an intelligent man if I didn't say that before I became an Obama supporter...I researched his platforms, focuses, and ideas. I looked at them objecively and found that my views matched up with his. I read his book, read his speeches, and listened to his platforms....and found myself working to get out the vote for Senator Obama.

Amusingly enough, for my support...I have received a lot of flack from my fellow Alabamians...

I've been called EVERYTHING under the sun...

While they play what I like to call the "Politics of the Soundbite"

This election reminds me of a Langston Hughes poem that I fell in love with as a child..."I, Too, Sing America"

"I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America..."

Young America....we are now at the table....and I am proud....

For the first time in my adult life....I can say I'm proud to be an American....

And I DON'T take it back...

What is Friendship?

2008-05-17T17:07:00.000-07:00

I
I'd like to ask a question...

I swear it will only take a second...

What is Friendship?

I often wonder what constitutes a true friendship?

Is it the stripes of suffering that two people bare together?

Or is it a fleeting journey that people determine their level of dedication to based on the weather?

Seriously, I've got to know...

I bought a ticket for some sort of support, but now I'd like to get off the boat...

This friend ship seems to be destined to go the way of the Titanic...

Sinking quickly after outlandish assertions/

my conversion from a true believer/to a discerner of deceivers happened somewhere along the beginning of this ride

Two souls kept afloat on a friendship floating over a sea of lies...

II
Maybe people just change...

Maybe the fact that I haven't is a sign of immaturity...

Maybe the fact that I refuse is a sign of loyalty...

What's maturity in a friendship anyway?

I just want somebody to laugh with/study universal math with...

Start up a business and possibly split the cash with?

Is that too much to ask in...

This preapocalypticneosoulheartlessmindless world?

I guess so...

Can I get a refund for my ride on the "friend ship"?

I damn sure need one...

III

I've always been told that you can't pick your family...

Yes you can...

I swear to it...

I stand by it...

I believe it...

I've seen it...

I've got a few brothers and sisters...

A boat load of cousins...

An ex-girlfriend or two...

A lost love running around...

And a heart capable of holding them all...

Should I free them from the obligations of this journey?

Probably...

Many jumped off themselves...

Wo/Man overboard...

No shouting...

No rescue effort...

No life preserver...

Just man...

And Nature...

The Tragedy That is the Sean Bell Saga...

2008-04-30T11:41:00.000-07:00

1 black male dead...
2 daughters without a father...
3 police officers accquited...
4 grandparents mourn...

1 judge...
2 fellow victims...
3 sides to the story...
4 weeks of testimony (28 days)...

It still doesn't add up to me...

Detective Marc Oliver fires 31 shots into an occupied vehicle and walks away a free man...

There was no weapon found in Sean Bell's car or in any of the other victims possession...

The officers did not identify themselves as police officers...

50 shots....

Can you blame me for being angry right now? I'm a black male. A 24 year old black male. A 24 year old black male who, by the sheer grace and mercy of God, has no felony convictions. A 24 year old black male who has no children. A 24 year old black male who has a college education and is pursuing a terminal degree. A 24 year old black male business owner. A 24 year old black male...who still is seen as a "nigger".

I'm pissed and rightfully so. While Sean Bell and his friends may have had felony charges, when does being an ex-convict not guarantee one justice? Why do we lie to ourselves about being a fair and just society?

I know I'm rambling right now but I'm a tad bit emotional so bare with me...

There is a full frontal assault on black males going on right now in America and it's been going on for almost 2 decades...don't believe me?

Here's a list of men who were killed or brutalized by the police...

Deonte Rawlins, Amadou Diallo, Anthony Baez, Deunta Terrell Farrow, Aaron Harrison, Nathaniel Jones, Ibrahim Muhammad, Lorenzo Matthews, Nigel Smith, Lorenzo Collins, Michael Carpenter, Courtney Mathis, Roger Owensby Junior, Timothy Thomas, Jonny Gammage, Abner Louima, Ousmane Zongo, and Patrick Dorismond

Who mourns for them? Their parents...their children...their families...

My question is, "When did WE stop caring enough to fight for us?" Why have we relegated ourselves to a certain stature, place, or level of comfortability en masse?

I guess some of us have gotten so comfortable in our six figure homes and luxury cars that we've forgotten that blacks in America are intricately intertwined in a tapestry of both pride and pain...

That "nigga" that you turn your nose up with his sagging pants is you....

That bourgie sista that you can't stand...is you...

Look at it like this...Blacks have been freed from slavery for a little over 145 years. We've only been afforded the same federally protected rights as everyone else for about 40. America is 232 years old...

Essentially, we are 1.5 generations from Jim Crow Segregation and about 3 from slavery. My Grandmother's Grandmother was a slave...so was it really that long ago when I have colleagues that can say their grandfather's grandfather was a wealthy landowner?

It takes 3 generations to build wealth. We're 1.5 out of segregation. Then we have had to compete with the destruction of the black nuclear family, media fueled subconscious self-hatred practiced by a few, "Crabs in a Barrell" syndrome, Grandfather Clauses, Ivory Towers, Glass Ceilings, Crack, Cointelpro, the Tuskegee Experiment, Hurricane Katrina, and now the armed assault by the "powers that be" on young black males...

Marvin Gaye was dead on when he wrote "Makes Me Wanna Holla..."

Black America has some issues that MUST be ironed out...

It MUST start with addressing the issues of our youth being railroaded...

I had SO MUCH HOPE when I saw the buzz and excitement about the Jena 6 and the call, by many, for EQUAL JUSTICE...

3 weeks later we were back to the same old stuff...

Why are we so short-sighted and fickle as a community...

What will the new "cause of the month" be in May?

I pray that Sean Bell's story is not forgotten and that we come together and try to fix the injustices that have taken place in this country for generations now.

Many are behind Barack Obama because he advocates Hope and Change...

Hope, is in the eyes of our youth...

Change begins with us...

(BTW, I'm a tad bit unmoved by Obama's response to the Bell Verdict....maybe that's just me though...)

Reverend Jeremiah Wright....my take on the whole thing....

2008-04-30T08:24:00.000-07:00

Reverend Jeremiah Wright has caused almost immeasurable damage to Barack Obama's campaign.
So much damage, that the Jr. Senator from Illinois has gone so far as to completely separate himself from Jeremiah Wright the pastor, the man, the media spectacle. My question is, how did it get this far? How did a 30-second sound bite of Rev. Jeremiah Wright saying, "God, Damn America" go so far as to taint the image of one of the most charismatic, capable, and trustworthy politicians in American history?

Well, this is the logic...at least as far as I can see it.

Barack Obama was not raised in America for part of his life + Barack Obama does not wear his flag pin + Barack Obama's middle name is "Hussein" + Barack Obama didn't support the war on terror + Barack Obama's pastor said "Goddamn America" (Although that's NOT what he really said) = Barack Obama MUST hate America!

Wait...2 months ago wasn't Barack Obama a Muslim according to many people?

Ok, now I'm confused. Barack Obama, the Muslim who doesn't wear a flag pin, goes to Trinity United Church of Christ and becomes a member under a pastor who says "God, Damn America," because he hates us for freedom so he runs for President.

That makes a buttload of sense doesn't it? Well...doesn't it?

No. It doesn't. At all...

The attempt of the mainstream "Right Wing" media (God, damn labels...please?) to taint Barack Obama's darling image by connecting him to a 30 second sound bite of his pastor saying a phrase taken completely out of context is completely and totally WRONG. This STRAW MAN tactic is heinous at best and deplorable at worst and has forced the Obama camp to completely sidetrack itself to deal with what should honestly be a "non-issue".

Let's examine Jeremiah Wright for a second.

According to some people he hates America...ok, lets take that argument on.

Reverend Jeremiah Wright spent 6 years in the military. 2 in the Marines and 4 in the Navy.
He was a cardiopulmonary Technician during his tenure and was charged, along with others, with the care of then President, Lyndon B. Johnson. As a result he rceived three letters of commendation from the White House...

Yeah...real unpatriotic.

Reverend Jeremiah Wright is an intelligent man, I mean the guy speaks five languages...

I can honestly say that there is only one viewpoint of his that I disagree with. That is his view on AIDS.

I can honestly say that the only actions of his that I disagree with would be his, as my Uncle Bill said, wrapping "himself in the mantle of 'the black church' as if he represents all black churches." That is a job more suitable for T.D. Jakes or Bishop Noel Jones.

The problem therein lies with A) the media and B) the voters.

The media has IRRESPONSIBLY cast a dark shadow on Rev. Wright in an attempt to slight Barack Obama. We've been relegated to thinking that the two are inextricably related because the media told us they were. (Much like they did with Don Imus and Hip-Hop...)

The voters' problems are two fold. On the one hand you have ardent Barack Obama Supporters who wish Jeremiah Wright would shut up and stop hurting the campaign as if he's some sort of unofficial spokesperson. On the other hand you have Obama detractors who are either sympathetic to Obama or having a field day.

As Public Enemy said, "Don't Believe the Hype"

STOP Allowing soundbites to determine your belief in someone or something. There is an unprecedented idea of unification and change in Barack Obama's message and the tactics of those who it would benefit to keep things as they are should not drown that idea out!

(WARNING: RACE CARD TO BE PLAYED!)

On a message board that I'm on a poster typed something that resonated deeply within me. It made me think of this in racial terms as well.

It made me look at the entire thing from a racial perspective...the only people in arms about Rev. Wrights ALLEGED anti-American, quasi racist comments are the same people who have not cared about the plight of Black Americans in general in this country anyway...I'll delve deeper into that in my Sean Bell post...

BTW, to the people that have glorified the fact that Obama has distanced himself from Rev. Wright...read the full text of the sermon in the link below, TITLE INCLUDED, and tell me exactly how much you think he's separated himself in ideology and actuality...

http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/2008/03/for-the-record.html

Peace.

Understanding Black Patriotism....

2008-04-29T07:13:00.000-07:00

Taken from http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1734809,00.html

By Michael Eric Dyson

Mainstream America has shown little understanding lately of the patriotism that a lot of black people practice. Black love of country is often far more robust and complicated than the lapel-pin nationalism some citizens swear by. Barack Obama hinted at this when he declared in Montana a few weeks ago, "I love this country not because it's perfect but because we've always been able to move it closer to perfection. Because through revolution and slavery ... generations of Americans have shown their love of country by struggling and sacrificing and risking their lives to bring us that much closer to our founding promise."

That's a far cry from the "My country, right or wrong" credo, which confuses blind boosterism with a more authentic, if sometimes questioning, loyalty. At their best, black folk offer critical patriotism, an exacting devotion that carries on a lover's quarrel with America while they shed blood in its defense.

It is easy to see why the words of black critics and leaders, taken out of context, can be read as cynical renunciations of country. Abolitionist and runaway slave Frederick Douglass gave a famous oration on the meaning of Independence Day, asking "What, to the American slave, is your Fourth of July? I answer, a day that reveals to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim." But instead of joining the chorus of black voices swelling with nostalgia to return to their African roots, Douglass stayed put. Poet Langston Hughes grieved in verse that "(America never was America to me) ... (There's never been equality for me,/ Nor freedom in this 'homeland of the free')." But his lament is couched in a poem whose title, like its author, yearns for acceptance: Let America Be America Again.

Even Martin Luther King Jr. was branded a traitor to his country because he opposed the war in Vietnam. When King announced his opposition in 1967, journalist Kenneth Crawford attacked him for his "demagoguery," while black writer Carl Rowan bitterly concluded that King's speech had created "the impression that the Negro is disloyal." Black dissent over war has historically brought charges of disloyalty despite the eagerness among blacks to defend on foreign soil a democracy they couldn't enjoy back home. Since the time of slavery, blacks have actively defended the U.S. in every war it has waged, from the Civil War down to the war on terrorism, a loyalty to the Federal Government conceived by black leaders as a critical force in gaining freedom. W.E.B. DuBois argued in World War I that blacks should "forget our special grievances and close our ranks ... with our white fellow citizens." Some 380,000 soldiers answered the call even as they failed to reap the benefits of their sacrifice when they came home.

Even the angry comments of Jeremiah Wright have to be read as the bitter complaint of a spurned lover. Like millions of other blacks, Wright was willing to serve the country while suffering rejection. He surrendered his student deferment in 1961, voluntarily joined the Marines and, after a two-year stint, volunteered to become a Navy corpsman. He excelled and became valedictorian, later a cardiopulmonary technician and eventually a member of the President's medical team. Wright cared for Lyndon B. Johnson after his 1966 surgery, earning three White House letters of commendation.

Dick Cheney, born in the same year as Wright, received five deferments--four while an undergraduate or graduate student and one as a prospective father. Both Bill Clinton and George W. Bush used their student deferments to remain in college until 1968. Clinton did not serve, and Bush was on active duty in the National Guard for two years. If time in uniform is any measure, Wright, much more than Cheney, Clinton or Bush, embodies Obama's ideal of "Americans [who] have shown their love of country by struggling and sacrificing and risking their lives to bring us that much closer to our founding promise."

Wright's critics have confused nationalism with patriotism. Nationalism is the uncritical support of one's country regardless of its moral or political bearing. Patriotism is the affirmation of one's country in light of its best values, including the attempt to correct it when it's in error. Wright's words are the tough love of a war-tested patriot speaking his mind--one of the great virtues of our democracy. The most patriotic thing his nation can do now is extend to him the same right for which he was willing to die.

Dyson is a sociology professor at Georgetown University and author of April 4, 1968: Martin Luther King Jr.'s Death and How It Changed America

My Alphaversary...

2008-04-20T16:13:00.000-07:00

1097 days, 17 hours and 16 minutes ago I became a member of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity Inc., THE Kappa Alpha Chapter...

As I'm writing this I'm reflecting over the past 3 years and how my life has drastically changed. I've seen my highest highs and lowest lows over the past 3 years and I thank God that I'm here to talk about it...

First, lets talk about me and Alpha...I am NOT what many of my brothers would call a "Good Alpha". Seriously, I'm not. I'm being perfectly honest about that. One of the main qualities of an "Alpha Man" as described by the fraternity is that he pays his fraternity financial dues in a prompt manner. Well, other than my initiation fee, I haven't paid any financial dues. I never had the money.

In college I had rent, a car note, utilities, and I had to send money home. I simply didn't have the extra money to pay dues with.

Now that I've graduated I have a few more bills. Luxuries are few. One of those luxuries would more than likely be membership in a graduate chapter. With my priorities being listed the way they are, honestly, graduate chapter membership is not high on that list. I have my car note, student loans, various bills, startup costs for my business, and school to worry about. Grad chapter membership has to come second...maybe even third if I get a mortgage soon. (Praying on that...)

None the less, I still could have been a good "Alpha Man" by attending chapter meetings, participating in service projects, and doing various other things. Well, once again I'm gonna lay it all on the table. Chapter meetings were on Sunday in undergrad. When I wasn't at my pops' church I could have come...instead I chose not to. I chose to be with my girlfriend at the time. I was attempting to build a future, but instead ended up getting my heartbroken....but I digress. I chose to not be with my brothers. That was a decision I MADE. Was it right? Probably not. I could have seen her later and spent some time with them. Do I have to live with it? I sure do.

Right now I seem like a pretty poor excuse for an Alpha...I'll admit that. I do. None the less, I'm a pretty darn good MAN outside of that. (Not me being conceited or cocky about it, I'm just putting it in perspective.) I've done a bunch of community service, I have a big heart, I'm honest, I've always tried to help those around me, and I REFUSE to give up on myself or anyone around me that I care about.

In the past 3 years that I've been an Alpha I've made some friends that I'll probably have for the rest of my life. I can honestly say that I've had a chance to fellowship with some of the most intelligent brothers that this world has ever seen and I thank GOD ALMIGHTY for that opportunity. I've created a bond with a group of gentlemen that has been forged in blood, tested by fire, and still stands unbroken. I appreciate that kind of love. That's amazing to me.

I've also been talked about and probably made a few enemies...some I know about....some I don't know about. That's ok too. It doesn't bother me. I know that as long as I'm living some people will not like me and possibly tell lies about me. I've been through that a thousand times and don't expect it to stop any time soon. Hey, worse things could happen. I pray for my enemies (those I know and those I don't know) and keep it moving. I refuse to allow another man's opinion of me define my progress, personality, and future.

Also, becoming an Alpha caused me to lose a few friends....God Bless them too....I still love them....

At this point some readers are probably asking, "Well...why did you even become an Alpha?" That's a fairly easy question to answer. My uncle pledged Alpha back in the 60's. My entire life I've looked up to him. He is my role model and an all around great guy. I aspired to be an Alpha as a means to emulate him.

One of my best friends in this world is Lindsey McAdory. In the Fall of 2003, Lindsey became a member of Alpha Phi Alpha. Ever since we were younger, I've always held Lindsey in high esteem and I still do. I aspired to be an Alpha because of the friendship that Lindsey has shown me and the fond way in which he spoke of his brethren before I became an Alpha.

Lastly, I aspired to become a member of Alpha Phi Alpha because of the leadership traits and sociopolitical views held by certain members that I saw. From high school to college, various Alphas popped in my life at pivotal moments to grant me a blessing here and there in terms of knowledge and friendship.

Alpha Phi Alpha, in my humble opinion, is one of the greatest collections of black men on this planet. I think that Alpha has the potential to change the world if properly exercised as a vehicle of change. Has Alpha changed my life for the better in 3 years? In some ways, I can unequivocally say an emphatic, "yes." Has it defined me as a man? I can just as emphatically say, "No." I like that about myself...I love the fact that regardless what I may do, become or go through I can still wake up in the mirror and say, "I'm the same person today as I was yesterday. I'm a little bit wiser, a little bit stronger, and a whole lot better....but I'm the same person."

Happy Alphaversary H.Y.P.O.T.H.E.R.M.I.A.

From your Ace...

Last Man Standing...(Inspired by Lyfe's song "Cry")

2008-04-13T17:45:00.001-07:00

I done had money
I done been broke
I done been talked about something awful
Done been lied on by so many folks
I done even been depressed at times
and didn't wanna cry cause my pride was too strong
But over the years I thought it over
And after struggling for so long and still holding on
I figured, can't be nothing all that wrong with crying
If anybody says that they're that strong they're lying

I'm taking off my pride for a second to let you see the convalescence of a man who's been broken hearted...

Downtrodden...

Abused...

Forgotten...

Misused...

My rotten disposition is a direct result of the feminine manner in which so many males tend to keep up idle banter, chatter or whatever you want to call it...I think Puffy/P.Diddy/Sean John called it "bitchassness"

I know this isn't a typical poem but don't think because I use a few pop culture references that the regular level of mentality or creativity isn't flowing...you know how hard it is to rhyme something with "bitchassness?"

But I digress...

This stress can only be described as prodigious and my ignorance hasn't diminished one bit, the gift of education was heaven sent and I thank God every day for him making me a wordsmith but the negligence with which some of you cats speak so reckless is nothing more than evidence and a testament to your own personal..."bitchassness..."

In other words...say it to my face...or shut up...

I've heard it said that sticks and stone can break my bones, but words can never hurt me...that's true. They hurt you!

Now that I've pulled the daggers out of my back, I'm healed and I got my swagger back

Sometimes friends stay closer than enemies, now that I know that/I keep my real friends close and we stay back to back...pain will never creep up on me again...

See I done been a player
I done been played
I done went for some of the oldest tricks
from some of the coldest chicks God done ever made

I was in love once...maybe twice...either way I'm not there now...I'd be less than a man if I said that it didn't hurt now...I spent years doing all that I could just be where I am now...so how is it that I can be this honest with myself...how can I stand as a man after suffering the pain of a thousand deaths...scratch that...

To be brokenhearted is worse than death...

To be on the verge of spending eternity with another to spending the down payment on a ring on drinks for you and your brother is a long way to fall...I'd be lying if I said that I didn't miss you then but now you've moved on and I'm asking myself how/in the world did I screw this wonderful thing up completely...

So, I could stand in the mirror and tell myself lies but when you're brokenhearted all you have left is your pride so you have to find the you that lives in the recesses of your mind and rewind time to the place that you knew so well before...or fast forward to the point where your prayers reach higher than the floor and seek something a little stronger than your will...

It wasn't me that forced me to get over you...it was God and the fact that I chose NOT to stand as a man but kneel...

Talkin' bout wo wo wo yea yea yea
They say a man ain't supposed to cry
but I know, know, know
fasho' sho', sho'
that even men go through problems somtime
cry

Gone in 60 Seconds...

2008-04-13T17:04:00.001-07:00

I've Got/60 Seconds to prove to you that I've got something worth saying
Since I'm already losing some of you I've got about 57 seconds left and I'm gonna start praying
That the brainstorms that come like torrential rainstorms destroy your preconceived notions of a brother like me spittin/hopin'/wonderin' if these wordforms reach the recesses of your mind...

Damn...48 seconds to get my point across

If I write down all of the profound thoughts that crossed my mind and balled them up to put 'em in a rhyme I'd probably run out of time so I'll leave you with a few more lines so that you don't have to decipher the sublime messages that metaphors and similes tend to convey best and give you the raw facts

Just like that I've given you my thesis in a manner that bespeaks a man who believes in...
GOD/Love/Family/The Black Woman/The Black Man/and Hip-Hop and I won't stop spittin' these passionate verses of prose until my lungs collapse and blood starts comin' out my nose

30 more to go and I'm only halfway there...

At this point I hope that just one of my phrases make you read the chapters in between the pages of my tattered and torn moleskin notebook with the sole purpose of making you look at the poets that grace this stage as non-profit teachers praying for another page at the resurrection/hoping to capture the beauty therein while asking for repentance of a life full of sin/got 20 left...

The blood that flows in my veins and maintains the lyrical umbilical to the past is that of a million poets that tread in shoes with tattered lasts

I am the descendant of Sinke, remember...the guy from Amistad? "Give us us free?" The only difference is that I'm still stuck in the slave ship of materialistic mentality, voracious vanity and I'm wondering how can it be that I'm one of the few trying to escape...

So with ten seconds left I'm asking you to fight to the death and sing redemption songs until you run out of breath...

5 seconds to go and my knees hit flo' taking two seconds so that you know....God is Love....

45 Years...

2008-04-06T12:49:00.000-07:00

This week we celebrated the 40th anniversary of the murder of Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Jr. Many of these celebrations invoked Rev. Dr. King's famous "I Have A Dream" Speech. While many of us know the constant refrain of "I Have A Dream," I would much rather focus on the portions of the speech that are not easily recalled from the suppressed psyche of the media and so many scholars of color...

"We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual.
And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force."

45 years later...would Dr. King be proud?

No...he wouldn't.

There is an inherent distrust of all minorities of white people. Many Hispanics are under the impression that most whites (and I use that term sparingly) see them as a nuisance. An immigration problem to be dealt with only under the harshest terms that the law will allow. Ignoring the fact that many of them are hardworking, patriotic, and *gasp* LEGAL.

Our Arabic brothers and sisters are under the strain of being viewed as terrorists. They are in constant fear of being victimized under the banner of patriotism. They are called "raghead", "sand nigger", and "terrorist" as though these monikers describe them in a universal sense.

Black people...well, we have an entire struggle that continues. This does not diminish the stature of other minorities' fight for civil rights and equal treatment, because we are undoubtedly in lockstep. However, we seem to be a target of preference. (Keep in mind, this is coming from a slightly biased perspective) Our youth are under attack in the form of Shaquanda Cotton, Marcus Dixon, Genarlow Wilson, and the Jena 6. We are constantly the victims of police brutality with cases such as Sean Bell and Amadou Diallo. We are used as minstrels in various forms of society through artforms of our own creation. Lastly, we kill ourselves in unprecedented numbers as society deems those in our lower social stratas incorrigible and worthy of ridicule. (See the AL.com "Hardball Politics" forum for more on that...)

It is tragic...

In 2008 is is truly tragic that there is so much racial discord in America...

I am not naive enough to think that our racial problems would disappear overnight with the signings of the Voting Rights Act or the Civil Rights Act. I'm also the first to admit that we've made MUCH progress over the past few decades. However, the past few years have brought deep seated feelings of racial hatred to the forefront and a spotlight has been shone on it as a result of this year's presidential race...but this is not a post about Barack Obama so I'll leave it at that.

Another thing that we typically ignore around this time and MLK Day is Rev. King's opposition to the war in Vietnam. Of this war, he said:

""Let me say finally that I oppose the war in Vietnam because I love America. I speak out against this war, not in anger, but with anxiety and sorrow in my heart, and, above all, with a passionate desire to see our beloved country stand as the moral example of the world. I speak out against this war because I am disappointed with America. And there can be no great disappointment where there is not great love. I am disappointed with our failure to deal positively and forthrightly with the triple evils of racism, economic exploitation, and militarism. We are presently moving down a dead-end road that can lead to national disaster. America has strayed to the far country of racism and militarism. The home that all too many Americans left was solidly structured idealistically; its pillars were solidly grounded in the insights of our Judeo-Christian heritage. All men are made in the image of God. All men are brothers. All men are created equal. Every man is an heir to a legacy of dignity and worth. Every man has rights that are neither conferred by, nor derived from the State--they are God-given. Out of one blood, God made all men to dwell upon the face of the earth. What a marvelous foundation for any home! What a glorious and healthy place to inhabit. But America's strayed away, and this unnatural excursion has brought only confusion and bewilderment. It has left hearts aching with guilt and minds distorted with irrationality.

It is time for all people of conscience to call upon America to come back home. Come home, America..."

I concur...

His words echo into this millennium as we are in the midst of a STILL unjustified war in Iraq...

While I will not tarnish MLK's post with my feelings on this war, I will say that I believe that he would be firmly opposed to such a military action...

I pray that one day our children will be able to grow and learn in a world that does not have racism, reverse racism, or even "unracism" as I like to coin certain actions.

I only pray...or dream...that my children will learn from MY mistakes...their grandparents mistakes...their great grandparents mistakes and live as a generation without bias or hate...

Because at 24...I've already lost that hope for MY generation...

All The Lonely People....

2008-02-11T06:36:00.000-08:00

"...Blank stares like nobody care
In a room so exclusive nobody there
But really, truth is that nobody there
Cuz it's feelings inside that nobody share
I want God to smile on me
But see, fame is a drug and you wild on E
Celebrities decorated like Christmas trees
God complex like they want a Christmas Eve
Sing a song to yourself and you stand alone
Get nominated for a gold gramophone...

All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?
I look at all the lonely people (I look at all the
lonely people)
I look at all the lonely people (yeah)

-Talib Kweli and Michelle Williams "Lonely People" (They used a HELLUVA Beatles sample for this.)

____________________________________________________

So, last night I went out for the first time in a long time. All the "beautiful people" were out and about rubbing elbows, shaking hands, and pretending to enjoy each others company. (I say pretending because you could see that certain people were uncomfortable with their "sometime friend" standing next to them.)

I knew the event would be something of such a nature though. It's always like that when you're around the "beautiful people". Me...I don't fashion myself one of the "beautiful people." I don't really have the time, patience, wardrobe, or desire to be. Yeah I take care of myself but being one of the "beautiful people" is a full-time job.

You have to make sure you are seen at the "right" places. You have to wear the "right" clothes. You have to have the "right" amount of individuality with those clothes. You have to make sure that the latest trend in BananaRepublicGapAmericanEagleAbercrombie&FitchExpress(for men AND women)EddieBauerLuckyBebe[Insert clothing label here] is in your closet. You can't have an off-day. You have to be sure and look down your nose at those who are inferior. You have to be disrespectful of certain people that you don't get along with for one reason or another. You have to stand around and look sophisticated while having a conversation that ranks at about a 7th grade level. You have to be greek sometimes. [Not just greek, but SOOPER greek] Occasionally you will be called upon to have a complete thought, expressed in a complete sentence; but you must REFUSE to expound upon anything because people will stop listening. You must enjoy the sound bite. You must listen to music that you honestly don't like because it's what all the "Grown and Sexy" people are listening to even though you have something ultimately musically inferior in your CD Pla...oops, I mean iPod.

Yeah, being one of the "beautiful people" is a TOUGH job.

I've always had a problem reconciling my materialism with my intellectualism. I like to dress fly. I like to have my own style and embrace the VERY OCCASIONAL trend. (That whole sexually androgenous metrosexual thing wasn't my style...) It's like, I wanna be fly and well dressed and all that, but I want to be conscious, a revolutionary, and an unpretentious intellectual. They are, at times, diametrically opposed.

So, how am I supposed to be both? How can I reconcile myself to a certain level of bourgeois thought while being ADAMANTLY anti-bourgeois. Hmmm....I guess I'll find out one way or another. One of my biggest fears about my intellectual growth and development is that I'll wake up one day and be EVERYTHING I hate...I will have given up my beliefs and slowly allowed certain things to become kosher in the name of success and/or friendship....

Sucks...I know.

In Between The Chapters...

2008-02-08T15:44:00.000-08:00

I've realized that there are certain essentials in my life that I am missing...

No longer have I neglected my relationship with God. Though I am best described as the prodigal son, I know now that I am warm and welcome in his arms. As a good father does, he chastizes me from time to time...

As a writer though. I am missing a few things...

One of them is a muse...

I've often stated, "I don't like to write love poems," or, "Love poems don't pay the bills." That's still true. I don't like to write them unless ultimately and divinely inspired. I have actually avoided writing about my love life in my book...I'm not talking about that kind of muse though...

I've realized that an artists work is often determined by his/her surroundings and that a muse may simply be whatever MOVES them...

I want to write about more than my experiences as a teacher. I want to write about more than being a pariah. I want to write about more than just pain, pride, and prejudice. (No cliches intended) I want to simply...write...

All I can do is write...

Writing is my ultimate survival skill...

I have FINALLY realized that a writers TRUE sanity lies IN BETWEEN the chapters as opposed to that which the entire text is drawn from...

Where do you go when you have nowhere to be? (The essential, internal, intellectual question of ALL writers...from Hemingway to *ugh* Zane)

This One's for My Teachers...

2007-11-20T15:17:00.000-08:00

Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat.

We, the unwilling,led by the unknowing,are doing the impossible for the ungrateful. We have done so much,for so long,with so little,we are now qualified to do anything with nothing.

-Mother Teresa

Have you ever watched a child learn?
No, seriously have you ever watched a child's eyes glow with the excitement of understanding or
seen them work harder and begin demanding
more from themselves than
you would EVER burden them with?
Have you ever seen the fire ignite in the heart of one who is JUST learning to read
one who finally sees that
words are more than something to be looked at with contempt but
rather passages that separate human beings from savages...

Have you ever stopped to question the anger behind the swagger?
Have you ever stood so close to someone who can smell fear and lies and
tried to dodge the daggers in their eyes when you tell them...
"Yes, you can be more than this..."
"No, this isn't the end for you..."
"You ARE better than these bastards would have you believe..."

Have you ever watched a 16 year old girl conceive self-esteem?
Have you ever watched a 17 year old boy give birth to a dream?
Have you seen the smile in the lines of the wrinkled foreheads of
children who have never before had the luxury forming an opinion...
They've always been told they're like assholes...
Been treated like prisoners because
classrooms have become cells for miseducated juvenile holding
BETMTVCLEARCHANNELRADIOONECOX molding
Labeled as "criminal" or "potential felon" just for wearing baggy clothing
Their counterculture showing NO SIGNS of folding
they simply want their crowns back...
Though it lies heavy...
Their necks are strong enough from minds being filled with lies...heavy...

I see them...walking...
Slumped over from carrying their own caskets...
They are my own personal Queequeg's...
Funny...because I am Ishmael...
We're not following Ahab...
Or chasing a white whale...
(Although success could be that elusive for them)
We're chasing a dream
together...

It's 3:41 a.m. (a.k.a.-Consciously Unconscious)

2007-11-04T01:42:00.000-07:00

Spring forward...fall back...possibly flat on your hind parts...have you ever known failure to be anything more than the direct result of an overzealous moment of forward movement...i know failure intimately...falling deeper into a consciousness that never quite manifested itself during a period of alertness...falling deeper in love with...momentum...I breathe freely...I move...swiftly...I think...constantly...I progress...rarely...on the scale of preconceived life notions...

i have thought twice about trying to live my life fearlessly...fear sets boundaries...boundaries create comfort...have you ever worn too little shoes?
have your shoes ever been too big?
then you know what i am talking about...

i remember my first real kiss...i was twelve (?)...she was younger...it was passionate...real...unadulterated...purity...first taste of bliss...she's an adult now...i am jadedcynicalpessimistic...she's just as beautiful today as she was over a decade ago...i am much different now...can i go back?

night...club...what the hell did we join...to become a member...of this club...is it like amway...i want to get out...is there away i can denounce my member...ship...in the night...club...i need a t-shirt...at least...for selling myself...to buy in...to...this...night...club...

sleep is...the cousin of death...says Nas...death...is...the child of...letting go...the cousin too...exhaustion...the brother of...lethargy...will you be my friend...friends don't hurt each other...friends...protect...each other...right?

she called me somebody else's name...i did not even get mad...anger is a sign of insecurity...insecurity is a by...product...of self hatred...self hatred...comes from ignorance...ignorance comes from...refusal...refusal comes from...within...what do you refuse...

i had an evil thought...my con...science...told me i...shouldn't...think that...i think...my con...science...should...leave me alone...

Lie Me To Rest...

2007-11-01T15:10:00.000-07:00

This piece was inspired by Gil Scott Heron's song "Home Is Where The Hatred Is" Here are the lyrics:

"I'm on my way home

I left three days ago, but noone seems to know i'm gone

Home is where the hatred is

Home is filled with pain and it,

might not be such a bad idea if i never,

never went home again

stand as far away from me as you can

and ask me why

hang on to your rosary beads

close your eyes to watch me die

you keep saying, kick it, quit it, kick it, quit it

God, but did you ever try

to turn your sick soul inside out

so that the world, so that the world can watch you die

home is where i live inside my white powder dreams

home was once an empty vacuum

that's filled now with my silent screams

home is where the needle marks

try to heal my broken heart

and it might not be such a bad idea if i never,

if i never went home again"

17 years old and thrust into a lion's den...no prayers offered to save me...no faith at the time to protect me...no God (or so I thought) to bless me...he wasn't really listening to my prayers...or was he?...prayers sounding like voice mail messages...Hey God...it's me...you know?...SE7EN?...Well, I was just wondering...umm...could you...help me pay these bills?...I mean its cool if you don't want to...I'm just saying...Hit me back when you get a chance...Peace...

something I never had until later...3 years of finding myself had me regressing...9 months of indecision had me stressing...5 and a half years turned to 6 and I'm asking where's the blessings?...that everybody else is getting...Instead I'm having my back pushed against the wall...in a delusional centrifuge...where real is recognized...but it makes enemies of fools...

i've stared deep into the eyes of lies...dying to be real again...dying to be better...but the weight keeps crushing him...let it go...bring it back...together...we'll make you the truth...if you want to realeyes what i see then its up to you...

oppressed...depressed...suppressed...hated...debated...excommunicated...left for dead...now i rise from the ashes...so just call me lazarus...though I could be a phoenix instead...i don't fly...much rather stay grounded...on my own two feet...plus I never got burned...too much like hell...I lived there anyway...

in a city known for a proud warrior chief...i had my heart destroyed...my integrity attacked...and my money shot down the toilet...friends became enemies...some say the chief left this city with a vanguard of men and riches from the spaniards...i left with a strong will...a new lease on life...and my self-respect taken back from niggers...(with the -er)

if the love of money is the root of all evil...does that make the love of self it's cousin...does that make the hatred of another it's brother...i'm just wondering...because i hate niggers that beat on their woman...i hate to see niggers that fight over nothing...i wonder how long it can last...hatred...disdain...dislike...whatever...it doesn't matter...i'll wait...

my last trip out of crimson city...i left bloodied and bruised...the red on the jerseys of the football team reminded my of rivers of blood running through the cotton fields of alabama...mississippi...arkansas...from then to now...niggers doing the work...white man reaping the profits...run...nigger...run...roll tide...

i wanted to be loved...i love to be wanted...to be cast away...brokenhearted...was never my intention...thank you...for making me...stronger...if i died now...i wouldn't change anything...bye queen...bye my friends...buy my university...here i die...as they lay me to rest...i'm sure they...will lie me to death...au revoir...

The Taste of Peanut Butter...

2007-11-01T15:03:00.000-07:00

My newest poem...not a spoken word piece...

"Nothing quite takes the taste out of peanut butter like unrequited love"-Charles Schulz

Nothing but more is all I ask of you...Some say more is less...Yet I expect nothing but the best things from you...Knowing more than words and voices sing to you...I cling to you...In the hopes that maybe arms would reach out to catch me...

Reality slipping into comfortability...A life worth living...filled with years of fighting in futility...Maybe I don't even understand me...enough to fathom the concept of we...love begins with the greek word fraternate...in my limited understanding of things...

My Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches don't taste the same...lord knows I love them...Been eating them since I was a babe...Maybe its because you and peanut butter share the same skin tone and....thinking about you this way feels so wrong...yet I can't help but think I'm right...sometimes light has to peek out from behind a smile to let you know exactly how dark you've become...

I found myself in the "Lost" box in a country town with a University in it...I found my flaws in a city with a big football stadium...I found love in a forgotten apartment complex in a hidden city...I found you...somewhere in between it all...It's funny how I lost my mind and my heart in the same week because of two different women...One I know...One...I...want to...

I find myself waking up in the middle of the night...yearning to drive down the backroads and eat at EVERY restaurant in the middle of nowhere...let's not go there...the many laughs we shared...all but killed me once upon a time...mainly because I was already emotionally suicidal...and seeing you just made me want to...feel...for the first time...again...

My tastebuds have resumed their normal duties...my nostrils have shrunken back to their regular size...my heart has healed...my mind has changed...my legs are stronger...my arms are wider...my pride is intact...yet my soul is still in traction...

Nurse?I need a peanut butter sandwich...to take my pain away...

Today...I almost gave up.

2007-10-22T09:51:00.000-07:00

"The reason that we have consistently had underperformance among our children is because too many of us think it is acceptable for them not to achieve. And we have to have a mindset where we say to ourselves, every single child can learn if they're given the resources and the opportunities. And right now that's not happening."

-Barack Obama at the 2007 Democratic Primary Debate at Howard University

"I'm going to insist that we've got decent funding, enough teachers, and computers in the classroom, but unless you turn off the television set and get over a certain anti-intellectualism that I think pervades some low-income communities, our children are not going to achieve. "

-Barack Obama on NBC's Meet The Press July 25, 2004

"“If you are planning for a year, plant rice; if you are planning for a decade, plant trees; if you are planning for a lifetime, educate people.”

-Chinese Proverb
________________________________________________________________

I'm sitting behind a desk in a classroom full of high school seniors. I am praying that they make it beyond their chosen stations in life. I say chosen because they are obviously brighter than their conversations indicate. Rims, shoes, and any rapper with "lil" in his name pervade their conversations. I hear talks of babydaddies, bad mommas, and mments of conscious indiscretion. Profanity flows from their lips like rivers of bile.

This is our future...

The children here are undisciplined and it's not their fault, to a point. At this school, tardies are unheard of. The bell rings and there are 1,000+ students still wandering the hallways as though they have nowhere to be, nowhere to go.

Class is merely a place to socialize. The club being more important than Calculus. The new Jordans are more important than George Washington.

Fights get discussed more than football games. Consequences are few. Crackdowns aren't forthcoming. It just doesn't "look good," they say, to have a bunch of write-ups coming out of your school.

These kids are being miseducated at a political cost. The principal is fighting and so many others are apathetic, or ignorant, towards the problems. Kids cannot learn if they are living the "Freakonomics" of failure.

At this school 60% of the children read AT or BELOW a 5th grade level.

Over HALF of the school is on free or reduced lunch.

AND they have all but given up hope...

They have relegated themselves to being illiterate, impoverished, and for the most part uneducated.

They don't want to learn, they just want to live.

The only problem is, we're not giving them a chance for survival.

Without some of the fundamental skills that are imparted upon students during their formative high school years.

I truly do NOT understand how some teachers do it....fight for these students with little to no support.

It's honestly on the verge of breaking me.

How could we have possibly screwed up so bad that the concept of en loco parentis no longer applies in the schools.

Maybe it's too many teachers only around because they get summers off...

Maybe it's too many administrators without clear educational aspirations for the pupils...

Maybe it's administrators refusing to discipline in favor of friendship...

Maybe it's just me...

Beneath Poverty: The Underbelly of Birmingham...

2007-09-06T20:53:00.001-07:00

This is another article that some of my close friends have read. I felt like this is another one that needed to be shared. I wrote this one about 6 months ago. Far too often we ignore the blessings we have in favor of the desires we want...if you're in SOME FORM of shelter, have a LITTTLE bit of food in your stomach, and even a small bit of change in your pocket. BE THANKFUL. Tell me what you think.....

______________________________________________________________
“Hell, I been out here so long sometimes it don’t even seem like I lived nowhere else…”

Behind a building filled with luxury lofts, around the corner from the Alabama Theater, across the street from a nondescript building that holds a credit union and some accountant offices is a pile of rags. Nestled up against the cold concrete of a retail store turned prime apartment real estate and the cobblestone of an alley only frequented by stray cats and high end automobiles looking to enter their hidden parking garage is a dingy, dirty, pile of must rags and sheets.
Cuts and tears in the piss yellow sheets resemble those made in a Halloween costume of days gone by. A sheet fit for a forgotten, thrown away ghost. Willie Foster could very well be considered all three. Forgotten. Thrown Away. A ghost.

“I sleep with my face pushed right up into that corna’ right there. It keep the wind off my face,” says the pile of rags. Tucked away in a cobblestone alley is the ghost of a man forgotten by society. He lives at the mercy of others excess, a half eaten sandwich here and a thrown away flat coke there. A street professional, this ghost has lived on the streets of Birmingham and various other cities for more than 15 years.

“Shiiit man, I just want the same thangs that err’body else want. A roof, some clothes, and maybe a little something warm on me every once in a while.”

Clarence “Bud” Flowers lives in the shadows of skyscrapers. On cold nights, he walks constantly. He searches for a steam grate to warm his body with and a corner to curl up into. Only when the cold is unbearable does he attempt to find a shelter. Occasionally he gets a warm spot near a generator or a place with a little bit of covering to take some of the bite off the cold.

“Hell I used to have a family and everythang man! But shit sometime you know that thang don’t work out like you wan’ it to,” he says. Bud still carries memories of his family that he rambles unintelligibly about sometimes. “That gotdamn Shirley was the best damn woman…got a lil’ lovin way about her,” he says. His dark brown eyes gaze off into the distance as he waxes nostalgic about yesteryear. Days when work was normal. Nights when love was his shelter. “Ain’t like that no mo’. Hell, I’ll be good to get a few dollars from a few of dese young peoples out here.”

“Man, don’t let that shit get at you. I’m tryin’ to tell you it ain’t nothin’ to play wit’.”

The smell of cheap wine covers Bud like New England Fog. Burn marks both old and fresh sit menacingly on his fingers, glaring at passersby from behind his clenched fists. “I ended up out here ‘cause I let that that shit get in my arm and shit. Now I can’t get rid of it,” he said. Bud is an addict. Crack, Heroin, and Cheap Wine, pick your poison. Death is his own personal vulture, hovering unseen to all those that ignore him. Sickness follows him, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Bud lost his family to his addictions, lost his job to his passions, and his mind to the streets. He is a shell of a man searching for sustenance in back alleys and vitality in corners full of degradation and vice.

The wind nips at Bud’s neck and he instinctively pulls the sides of his jacket tighter around his sunken chest. Ashy bruised knuckles with thin, gangly fingers grip his only protection from the elements in an attempt to keep him warm. Bud eases back onto his heels and leans into a wall as he continues talking about his life on the street.

“Shit, I been stabbed, beat up and hit wit’ stuff. All kind of stuff happen to ya’ out here man. Hell, an ol’ nigga like me won’t be here too much longer.”

The small knick on the right side of Bud’s face contrasts with his skin color like an Oreo floating in milk, it almost gives him childish charm that is unseen unless studied carefully. His eyes are wide and dark. They dart back and forth alluding to either constant awareness or the throes of a prolonged high. “Hell, you got ta’ watch your back out here. You got crooked police and these lil’ young niggas tryin’ to take shit from ya’.” Street life is killing Bud and he knows it.

“Hell, I’m ready to go. Least I won’t have to worry no more…hell, may be the best thang anyway.”

Bud knows how his story ends. He’s seen it before. He knows street folks that have died from the cold, an overdose, a beating. He doesn’t expect to be the old homeless man that a family takes in and treats like grandpa. He doesn’t want to be the man cared for by some University as its charity case. “I ain’t goin’ to no damn school man. I’m too old for that shit,” he says. Bud lives at the edge of existence. Death stares at him from the abyss below beckoning him to jump into it’s frigid embrace.

“Shiiiit, I know I ain’t gonna be here too long. Hopefully the good Lord will welcome me in,” he says. Thrusting himself away from the wall, Bud waves his hand up in a gesture of finality. Obviously exasperated with talking about himself, he wobbles toward the dark alley and away from the glare of streetlights and passing headlamps.

Bud ambles lazily back into an envelope of darkness in a forgotten pocket of big city life and traffic possibly to never see the light of day again.

Adventures in Substitute Teaching...

2007-08-30T13:40:00.000-07:00

Many of my closest friends have read this article I wrote probably around 6 months ago about some of my experiences as a substitute teacher. . .

Today, I've decided to share it with the world.

This blog post is dedicated to the Students at Shades Valley/JCIB who have made my experiences in teaching wonderfully enlightening and enjoyable. You all have helped me to find my passion.
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Adventures in Substituting…Diary of an Endangered Species

I am a substitute teacher that takes his job too seriously. I am the one man crusade getting paid fifty bucks a day to baby-sit the children of Jefferson County parents while their real teacher is out sick, on vacation, or just plain fed up. The only problem is, I want them to actually learn something.

Walking into the front doors of any high school, after having received both a diploma and a degree, proved to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in life. My stomach was in knots as I moseyed down the fluorescent hallways to my assigned classroom. Today was my initiation into the world of education. I was to become a member of a fraternity of individuals who not only act as teachers, but disciplinarians, and at times surrogate parents

I sat idly behind the teacher’s cluttered desk waiting on the bell to ring and usher in a pack of trendy hipsters with no other purpose in life than to make mine, the new sub, a living hell. As the students amble in one by one, eyes heavy from their early morning bus rides and late night phone conversations about absolutely nothing, I am overwhelmed with a sense of queasiness that twisted my stomach into a Jacob’s Ladder.

“Hey, we have a guy substitute! Oh my God, and he’s black,” yells the 5’9” track star with the flowing ebony locks of hair, “I have got to take a picture!” I chuckle just a little bit and proceed to ask them to take their seats.

Being a substitute has made me highly aware of two facts. I am Black. I am Male. While these were always very obvious to me, I had no idea how obvious they were to those around me. Being such has made me a benefit to some and an oddity to others.

On the one hand I provide a friendly face and an articulate voice to an entire group of children that are “hard to handle” in the predominately white Jefferson County School System. I look like them, I speak their language, I can relate to them. Only six years (and 30 pounds) ago, I was in their shoes.

On the other hand, a male teacher is hard to swallow for some. A black male teacher that isn’t teaching athletics is even harder to grasp. I never was good at basketball, I’m too short. I couldn’t play football, I’m too small. I preferred Chess, poetry, and females to locker rooms and jock straps. I preferred Sum 41 to 50 Cent. I was simply different.

Patrick Carrington is an anomaly such as myself. The 11th grader prefers to wear button-down dress shirts instead of the long nightgownish tees that his friends swim through the halls in everyday. His square toed oxfords are immaculately polished and provide a sharp contrast to the $200 Jordans and Nike Air Force One’s that his peers wear.

Patrick often walks a lonely road in the land of promise and pain that is high school. He stares straight ahead when swiftly making his way through the crush of students that clutter the hallway between classes. He is a young man determined.
I was Patrick’s substitute for a vocational technology class, and was mildly inspired when the young man with the neck tie in a Windsor knot asked me about college, “Is college really that hard, Mr. Hullett?”

“Well, for me it was. But that was only because my focus was wrong in the beginning. I honestly went to college because there were prettier women there,” I reply with a smile. Amused at my response and shocked at my candor, Patrick laughs nervously and fidgets in his chair. He then sits in amazement as I detail the finer points of success in college. I go through the typical clichés and offer him unconventional wisdom.

“Make sure you study enough to get good grades, but don’t forget to have fun,” I tell him. He smiles and says, “Yeah man, I know I’m gonna party when I get to school.” I smile and urge him to focus more on the books than the babes and beer.

Glancing at the clock, I realized I have talked to Patrick for more than an hour. The bell rings and Patrick gathers his items. He says, “Thanks Mr. Hullett, you’re a really good role model. I hope you come back.” I smile and promise to hurry back soon.

“Why do we have to take math? I am never gonna use this stuff again in my life! This is so stupid,” shouts Rusty in the middle of his Calculus class, his pale face flushed and his mop of red hair tousled all over the place. The rest of the students freeze and look like sheep that have wandered into a wolf’s lair. One half of the class is expecting me to explode and write him up like so many substitutes that they have had over the years. The other half of the class is expecting me to nod and smile and pretend that I didn’t hear any of Rusty’s outburst of exasperation.

What they fail to realize is that I’m not the 68 year old retired blue hair who is subbing to keep herself feeling useful, or the 43 year old retired banker who is subbing just for something to do. No, I am the 23 year old naïve optimist, hell bent on making sure they charge bravely into the future.

“Do you really think that you’re learning calculus to teach you how to count,” I ask Rusty? “You’re not learning how to count Rusty, you’re learning how to think. Counting was achieved and mastered in third grade. Everything after that is teaching you problem solving, critical thinking, and logical reasoning skills.”

“I still want to know when in my life that I’m gonna use calculus! This is not what I need to be a police officer,” he bellows, his response a little less intensely delivered than his initial outburst.

“Rusty, when have you ever seen an unknown number? When have you ever had to find the square root of something outside of school? How did those things challenge you though? How many times have you had to work through some problem in your life without having all of the information? How many times have you had to reason your way through something, or break down a concept for your own understanding,” I ask?

Although the questions come rapid fire and in structured succession, Rusty doesn’t seem to feel challenged, his anger is slowly subsiding as the redness slips away from his face. He eases back in his seat and gives me a puzzled look.

“If you’ve ever figured something out on your own, you can thank math for that,” I said. It appears to be the death blow to his argument. With all the fight taken out of him, Rusty eases back in his chair and continues to do work diligently in his Calculus workbook.
The other students exchange glances and breathe the comfortable breaths of newfound knowledge. Calculus no longer seems as scary to them as it once was. A student whispers, “Damn, Mr. Hullett don’t play that huh?”

Later that day, I am recounting the story to the School Secretary, Ruth Waldrep, and she says, “Wow, you mean you actually got them to understand why they do math without raising your voice? You’re a good one.”

I simply reply, “I used to be them…”

Teaching has not all been triumph. As with anything in life, there is both feast and famine. The times of feast make us smile and remind us of the beauty and wonder that childhood and adolescence contains.

The famine though, is often heart wrenching and emotional. We are reminded of our teenage angst, our frustrations and the gripping fear of adult hood that held us captive as children.
You begin to care so much that your life takes on new purpose. Their triumphs become your joy, and their failures hurt you worse than it hurts them at times.

Standing in front of a tenth grade English class is a daunting enough task, it becomes even tougher at 1:30 on a warm Friday afternoon. To add on to my anxiety, I’ve been given instructions to administer their tests, a 23 question quiz on Perfect Progressive tense.
The first two periods of the day finished the quiz in well under their 30 minute time period. This last class, as I expected, would be no different. Except for one student.

Marquez is having a rough time. With two minutes left for the test, his paper is blank, his brow is furrowed and his palms are sweaty. I stare at him in a futile attempt to gauge what he is thinking. Suddenly, he picks up his pen and begins to write frantically. Scribbling answers all the way down the page in just enough time to beat the clock. He slithers out of his sit and propels his body to an upright position. He ambles up to my desk and nonchalantly lets his paper flutter to the pile. Wondering how the dreaming child with the sad eyes and unkempt hair in the first row is doing, I look at his paper. Each answer is the exact same, “I don’t no.”

I shake my head in disbelief and look up to see Marquez staring back at me. I wave my hand, beckoning him to come here. “You think she’ll understand, since I wasn’t here these last two days,” he asks?

I tell him that I don’t know and began to study his face, looking for some sort of dishonesty or an “I don’t care” attitude. I come back from my cerebral fishing expedition with nothing. Behind the baggy jeans, expensive shoes, and oversized basketball jersey is a young man who needs help, but it seems though his appearance, his vernacular, and customs are holding him back. He looks like a thug to some, talks like a rapper to most, and fights his peers as though his last breath depended on it. On the inside though, Marquez is simply scared.

I later hear him exclaim to a group of friends, “Ain’t no nigga gon’ catch me slippin’ in my cutlass cuz. On everything I love I’ll put two in a nigga.” His fellow students nod approvingly, with beaming smiles. I tell them to quiet down and get back to work.

Five minutes later a young lady who recently transferred from another school system (she had been expelled for fighting) creeps up behind Marquez as though they are children playing Cowboys and Indians. She makes a gun with her fingers and gently presses them to his temple in an almost inappropriate manner and says, “Bang nigga. You dead. Anybody can get got.”

I tell her to move away from Marquez and bring her seat closer to mine in an attempt to gain command of her rowdy group. The tactic restores order but the mentality still disturbs me. I can’t help but see a possibility of foreshadowing in the young lady’s actions and in Marquez’s cold and undisturbed response. While I’d like to chalk it up as youthful horseplay, the scene replaying itself in my head is simply chilling.

The concept of Social Learning Theory teaches us that children often form attitudes and beliefs based essentially on imitating their parents and authority figures. While many of these ideas are formulated during a child’s formative toddler years, one cannot ignore the adolescent stage and children’s impressionable nature in this period as one of intellectual development.

Substitute teaching a middle school class is probably one of the most tiring things anyone can do. Between the overactive bladders, hyperactivity, and general inquisitive nature of 11, 12, and 13 year olds, middle school teachers could most likely be seen as the Marines of the educational field. It is definitely intense.

I volunteered myself to sub for an 8th grade class at a suburban, predominately white middle school that had received a boom in the influx of black students over the past couple of years. While this shouldn’t be cause for alarm, at the end of my day subbing there I couldn’t help but think that there were certain elements fearful of this new wave of students.

“One in four of you will be victims of violence at some point in your life,” said the school counselor. She had taken over my class in a coffee driven, blonde haired, pancake makeup whirlwind. She was supposed to be giving them the lecture that she had given the other 7th grade classes.

She looked out over the bright faces of the class and asked, “Does anyone know what violence is?”

“Rape!”
“Homicide!”
“Fighting!”
“Domestic Violence!”

The MTV generation provided example after example flawlessly, which could be expected seeing as how they watch violence every day on their televisions and play violent characters on their XBOX 360’s and Playstations. “Violence is any kind of harmful physical contact that you don’t invite. This is why football isn’t violent,” says the counselor.

Her asinine statements make me smile. “Football’s not violent because you have a reasonable expectation to get hit,” I ask myself as she goes into the finer points of teaching the students the politics of victimization? I listen to the lecture and watch the kids drift off to the dull monotony of her voice like so many reruns of Ferris Bueller. Something she said snapped me out of my trance though.

“There are some people who are in the school, many are new transfers who tend to solve their problems with violence. You don’t want to be like those people,” said the counselor.

Those people? I can’t help but imagine that she was talking about the scores of black faces that I saw in the hallway that were new residents of the area. They stuck out like sore thumbs with their Rocawear t-shirts and baggy Girbaud jeans against a backdrop of Ralph Lauren, Abercrombie & Fitch, and Clarks wallabee shoes.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as she began to give the children a crash course in how to successfully perform gentrification. She drew a makeshift house on the board. “Let’s say this is a house in Clay-Chalkville, and it’s on the market for $150,000,” said the counselor. The children “ooh” and “ahh” in wonder because at twelve, $150,000 could possibly be all the money in the world.

“Every time you get in a fight and every time one of these people does something bad, it damages our neighborhood reputation and it drops our property values. After a while people won’t want their kids to come to Clay-Chalkville Middle School and this $150,000 will only be able to sell for about $80,000 because some people come to your school and don’t know how to act,” lectured the counselor.

I could feel the muscles in my face flex and tighten as I tried my hardest to maintain an air of professionalism in the face of such blatant disdain for people like me, people who came from the places I once played, people who moved to this side of town for a chance at a better life.
I stood up with all of the determination I could muster at this point. My eyes were narrowed into two menacing slits; my nostrils flared like a bull ready to charge and gore the taunting matador. An entire rant was formulating in my head about racism, gentrification, gerrymandering, the 60’s, Jim Crow, and the fact that black history month was coming soon. I was ready. I was a warrior. The spirit of Huey P. Newton possessed me and made old Negro spirituals run through my veins. I opened my mouth wide.

And said nothing…

If I had never been aware of the fact that I was a black man before, I most certainly was now. If I was never made aware of my place on the educational totem pole before, I most definitely knew my place now. At the bottom.

I am a substitute teacher. I am black. I am male. I am a rarity. Some may think I take my job too seriously, I say maybe they don’t take my job as serious as they should.

--Chad A. Hullett

Link to the podcast!

2007-08-20T07:06:00.000-07:00

Here's a link to the Podcast!

http://www.mediafire.com/?dny0m5n1xyt

The topic of this one is the dreaded "N-Word"

Seriously, what is the purpose of burying it or banning it if EVERYTHING else in Black America is falling apart?

I'll try to have the one on Dogfighting and Michael Vick up later....Any suggestions for future topics?

What Type of Seed Will You Be? (My Testimony...)

2007-08-08T12:15:00.000-07:00

I've been M.I.A. for quite a while...I know it's bothered some people. Some it has caused concern. If I worried you, I apologize. However, know that God has been moving in my life in an awesome way and I would like to share it with as many people as I possibly can...

On Friday, May 26th my oldest Brother Cedric passed away...needless to say, it was very unsettling to me. His funeral was Saturday, June 2nd. At the request of a very close friend of mine, I went to church that next day. I had not been to church voluntarily in over a year. In the midst of my pain, anger, and frustration I agreed.

On Sunday, June 3rd, 2007 I turned my life over to Christ. I got saved. I knelt on my knees and fell on my face and asked God to take over my life, order my steps, and remove all the pain, frustration, anger, disappointment, reluctance, and unfaithfulness that had taken over my mind and soul. I prayed that He would make me a vessel through which others could see His glory and power. Ever since that day....He has been faithful. I have been....trying really hard. (LOL!)

This is probably strange and foreign to some of you reading this. You're used to me writing about Black Nationalism, activism, poetry, or some other random thing on my mind. Well, this is no different. I'm writing about my passions. My passion (not to sound cliche') has become Christ.

It's funny though, I never thought I could be saved and be "cool" so to speak. True enough, dedicating your life to walking the "straight and narrow" is no easy task. It is the HARDEST thing I will ever do and have begun to do. However, it is comforting to know that I can still be the same crazy, joking fun loving person I have always been and still be dedicated to Him and His word.

Well, recently God revealed something to me and I had to share it with the world...hence, it being posted on the World Wide Web.

While reading the book of Mark, I came across the Parable of The Sower. A Story I had read many times before, I just had not truly looked into it. Well, God gave me a certain revelation about myself in relation to it and I'm sure there are others who can relate as well.

Mark 4:1-9 (KJV)

1 Again Jesus began to teach by the lake. The crowd that gathered around him was so large that he got into a boat and sat in it out on the lake, while all the people were along the shore at the water's edge.
2 He taught them many things by parables, and in his teaching said:
3 "Listen! A farmer went out to sow his seed.
4 As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up.
5 Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow.
6 But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root.
7 Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants, so that they did not bear grain.
8 Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up, grew and produced a crop, multiplying thirty, sixty, or even a hundred times."
9 Then Jesus said, "He who has ears to hear, let him hear."

Further on in the 4th chapter of Mark up to Verse 20, Jesus tells His disciples that this parable is about how the Gospel will be accepted among man. However, for those struggling in their faith or those lost in their faith it may serve as a point of reference to their own lives. It may say to them, "God knows what I'm going through." So I ask you today to make a decision. What type of seed will you be?

Jesus spoke of 4 types of seeds....and I have been the first 3. I am determined and prayerful to not regress in my walk with Him back to one of those types...

Seed Type 1:
This type of seed is described in verse 4, "some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up." This type of person is one who lives life as if there is no God. You may know God is there, yet you do not acknowledge Him. He is but a mere afterthought or a passing fancy. Some would even go so far as to say He does not exist.
Now, I never went to the point of saying he doesn't exist, but I have led a life without God. When you live a life without Him, you are completely at the mercy of the World. You have no direction and your life is merely yours. That being said, if you think you can make it without Him, I'm living proof that you can't.
During my period of God-less living, I had more trials and tribulations than I care to remember. I had death, sickness, financial troubles, and pain all around me. I always said to myself, "It's just tough times, everybody goes through them. I can make it out. " I did...sometimes. Other times, I didn't. When I did make it out, I can't say that I made it out unscathed. Many people who know me, met me during this time. Yeah, I'm a preacher's kid in every sense of the stereotype. (I won't say "the phrase" in this instance) I must admit that while I thought my problems were typical and my life was fine without God, in my spiritual growth I'm realizing that my problems were often caused because I was seeking something (acceptance, pleasure, approval, etc.) and I did them in worldly and often FOOLISH ways because I did not know God. I am grateful that I know Him now, but I wish so badly I would have known Him then. I would have been saved quite a bit of trouble and pain.

Seed Type 2:
Seed Type 2 is talked about in verses 5 and 6. It states, "Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow. But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root." This is essentially what we commonly call, "the backslider." Yup, I've been that too.
Have you ever been desiring to know God and you didn't feel like you were worthy? Have you ever been to church or heard the Word of God or maybe just felt the words of a song that made you want to have a personal relationship with Him? I'm sure you have. So you went to church right? You confessed your sins, sang the hymns, paid a few tithes and/or offerings and then went outside and listened to your Kirk Franklin cd until you got home. The next few days, weeks, or months (in some cases like mine, hours) you were ON FIRE for Jesus. You sang "Send Down the Rain " in the shower. You were jogging and singing "Order My Steps." You saw a beautiful woman (or man for the ladies) in something flattering to their figure and you said out loud, "Satan, get thee behind me!" Then you got home and saw a bill marked "Past Due", then a bill collector called about your student loans, then your boys or your homegirl calls and asks you to get drunk/high/a combination of the two, you immediately forget all about your "On Fire" for Jesus mindframe and began to live a worldly life again, because you subconsciously believe prayer and faithfulness has failed you.
I've been there. God never said that following Him was easy. It is , however, easy to follow the world. We all know it's easier to be a sheep than a shepherd. You don't have to worry about anything in action or thought as a sheep because the shepherd often thinks for you and tells you what to think. That's how it is in the earthly sense. In God's sense, we are a part of His flock and He wants you to bring those problems to him. He doesn't want you to go back to the worldly ways that you let go off for that period of time as a release or an escape from problems. For all intents and purposes, JESUS should be that release. He is our own personal "beast of burden" so to speak. Just a bull or oxen is tied to a yoke and carries the plow, Jesus wants to be yoked to us and help us plow through the field of trials and tribulations that may make their way into our life. We cannot allow ourselves to get discouraged in tough times. In all actuality, the trying times are there to strengthen our faith, not to destroy it.

Seed Type 3:
Seed 3 is probably the most prevalent seed. Verse 7 says, "Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants, so that they did not bear grain. " This is especially close to my heart, because I've had to deal with it.
When you have acquired new found faith and you are truly 100% sold to the concept of serving God, living your life for Him, and basking in the glory and forgiveness that He has provided through his son Jesus there are things that come against you. You will begin to notice some of the things within yourself that are a hindrance to you in your growth in Christ Jesus. These hindrances, or thorns, manifest themselves in a few different ways...the ones I have had to deal with are people, vices, and spirits. Keep in mind, this is what I have had to pray about. We must each pray that the Lord delivers us from WHATEVER has hindered us or will hinder us in our relationship with Him.
In people form, I have had to deal with my own struggles. I had negative/toxic people in my life that I've had to let go and pray for. I've had people that I disliked for some reason or another be a hindrance to me. (Sidenote: The word says that you MUST forgive others of their sins if you are to receive forgiveness for your own.) I've had people who just don't understand Jesus or live a God-less life try to be a bad influence. While we are to definitely love our neighbors as we love ourselves, for that is the greatest commandment of all, we cannot allow ourselves to go to hell because of them. Giving your life to Christ is like a marriage. You must CHOOSE to be with Him. He'll get your attention, but He is a gentleman...He will not force you. Often times we hear in weddings, "What GOD has brought together, let no MAN put asunder." Well, if a MAN or woMAN is keeping you from a relationship with God....you MUST let it go.
We all have vices. Vices are things of the flesh or of the world that we enjoy that are not pleasing to God. We've got to let those go too. I know my vices. I'm not gonna spell them out for ya, but know that I have them and they are not easy things to let go. When you give up the world to follow Jesus, you are essentially becoming His disciple. His disciples gave up all of their worldly possessions to follow Him. They gave up jobs, family, and lifestyles to be a servant of the Most High. When Jesus called Levi, better known as Matthew, he was a tax collector. Which, at that time was a VERY lucrative position. Now, if Peter, Andrew, James, and John can walk away from their positions as fishermen to become "Fishers of Men" who are we to allow something detrimental to us stand in our way. Why should we let lust, alcoholism, smoking, anger, pride, hatred, or anything else stand in our path? If we truly want to know God, we must pray that he removes these detrimental activities, spirits, and feelings from our lives. I know he's delivered me from some...
Last, but definitely not least, are spirits. Spirits scare people. They conjure up images of ghosts, goblins, and movies about the "undead." Spirits are real. If we believe in God, if we believe in Jesus, then we must also believe in the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is our counselor and comforter. In convicts us when we are wrong and also blesses our spirit when we are right. Now, if we believe in the Trinity, we must also believe in negative spirits. Why? Because they exist according to the life of Jesus. In Matthew 8:16, we are told the story of demons casting a number of demons into a herd of pigs. These demons/spirits had possessed a man and made him do many things that a sane person wouldn't do. Sometimes we are affected by different spirits and don't even know it. Spirits can cause us to have vices. The reason I have separated them is because we often think of vices as tangible things we do and spirits as things we do not see and often don't think about. They exist and we must pray for God to deliver us from any spirit that is not of Him or for the benefit of His Kingdom.

Seed Type 4:
"Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up, grew and produced a crop, multiplying thirty, sixty, or even a hundred times."

This is the seed that we should strive to be. This is the seed I am trying to be. I often ran from the possibility of giving my life over to God because I thought I wasn't worthy, or I thought he didn't care, or I was afraid of any sort of responsibility he may place on me. I couldn't have been further from the truth.
God KNEW I wasn't worthy, He just wanted me to admit it and admit that I need His help to make it . He wanted me to kneel down and confess my sins and ask for forgiveness. I then prayed for His Son Jesus to come into my heart and make me whole again so that I may be a better man and a servant of Him. I wanted to live my life (that he gave me) according to His Will. Ever since then, I have been a better man and a better Christian.
God Cares even when we're too blind or stupid to know it. We often ask God, "Why Me?" when bad things happen to us. Sometimes we don't see how WE caused those bad things and are trying to blame God for it. We don't acknowledge all that God has shielded us from in our own unbelief or disobedience. We often ignore the blessings that God has given us to focus on the bad things that we have brought on ourselves or the devil has brought in our lives. We must be faithful and diligent to, as Cee-Lo put is, humbly hear God when He's speaking. He cares about YOU more than YOU could ever imagine. He's protected and provided for YOU when you didn't deserve it. It hurts Him when YOU sin. He sent HIS ONLY SON to die for YOUR sins. If that's not love....I don't know what is.
I admit....I'm still afraid of what I will do if he shoulders me with any sort of responsibility, but I'm praying about it. It's not a reason to not seek His face is what I had to realize. I learned that He doesn't do things on accident. He does everything in good and perfect order and you won't be given anything or blessed with anything not one millisecond before HE is ready for you to have it.

What much of this boils down to is faith...

God knows that new converts or rededicated Christians are still growing in their faith. He shows us this through a statement Jesus made. Matthew 17:20 says, "And Jesus said unto them, Because of your unbelief: for verily I say unto you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you."

Unbelief in Greek means, "little faith." Jesus scolded the disciples for having faith smaller than a mustard seed. A mustard seed is but a little bit larger than the period on the computer screen you're reading this from, but it grows into one of the largest plants in a field.

Think about it, if the disciples were with Jesus EVERY DAY, and they didn't believe (at least fully until after the resurrection) we aren't expected to have this mass outpouring of faith overnight. Our faith must be planted by asking Jesus to come into our hearts, nurtured by studying the word, watered by shepherds sent by Him, and it will grow according to our faithfulness and acknowledgment of Him in our lives.

In a little over two months mine has grown EXPONENTIALLY. It's almost scary....LOL!

So, I want to ask you again. What kind of seed will you be?

Pray for me and my Strength in The Lord. God Bless.

The Black Male Psyche Riddled With Self-Hatred (Part 2)

2007-05-30T13:50:00.000-07:00

The Black Male in America has been labeled...branded...marked.

Adjectives such as "Endangered Species", "Undereducated", "Unemployable", "Ignorant", and "Unambitious" are lobbed at men who look like me every day from the halls of academia, to the bright lights of Hollywood, to the simple "man on the street"....

I often ask why are we labeled as such until I think about the various self-destructive that we do within our own community. We have been trained to hate ourselves and as a result others are allowed to degrade and disrespect us.

In recent weeks and months, Hip-Hop has come under fire as the main source of this self-hatred. While I agree that hip-hop plays a role, I refuse to ignore other factors within this (not to sound like a conspiracy theorist) "grand scheme" of self-hatred. There are other factors in play here. I'll address Hip-Hop but I'll also address poverty, education, the media, societal attitudes, and the justice system.

I'll start with Hip-Hop because it's the easiest to address.

Hip-Hop

"These are more than words/This is more than rap/This is the Streets/and I am the trap..."
-Young Jeezy

I will bet a million dollars (that I don't have) that Jeezy didn't know exactly how true his statement was. Jeezy is a part of the canon of rappers that have enjoyed critical acclaim, wealth, and unimaginable success by telling their street tales in poetic form for audiences of millions. In the same vein as Etheridge Knight, Jeezy paints pictures of the late nights/early mornings that street hustlers see on a daily basis. Violence, Poverty, and Fast Money are his subjects. His Canvas is the street. His fans are afficianado's of this art.

Jeezy is, however, part of the problem. For all of his heartfelt tales, vivid imagery, and the simple beauty with which he tells his life story, Jeezy does not balance his tales of sex, money, and drugs with positive images. He's not the only one.

I don't get mad about it because it's his prerogative as an artist and entrepreneur to put out his body of work as he sees fit. I will defend his right to make his music without censorship.

I said all of that to make this point. Jeezy is not the problem with the black male mind. The problem, in effect, are the "gatekeepers" of hip-hop. MTV and BET (both owned by Viacom) are responsible for Hip-Hop being beamed into millions of homes everyday. Clear Channel, RadioOne, and Cox Communications shoot hip-hop right to the cars and ears of millions listeners every day at various times of day. I think it is an amazing thing. What disgusts me is the prevalence of only one side of hip-hop.

Tatiana Richards told me a quote that she heard someone say. "There are 35 Million different black people. That means there are 35 Million different ways to be black." Hip-Hop is JUST AS DIVERSE. You would never know it though. Hip-Hop is a culture. Rap is her music. Whenever you turn on the radio, all you hear is one type of rap music. You hear poignant street tales, guns busting, blunt blazing, crackhead serving, chickenhead chasing, booty shaking music. Very rarely do we hear "Conscious Hip-Hop" or "Trip-Hop" or "Skate Rap" or even "Rock Rap". We are force fed catchy tunes that do not feed the mind.

I am a firm believer that hip-hop was born out of the poverty of black and latino youth in New York in the late 70's. They rapped about their everyday lives. They rapped, danced, drew graffitti, scratched records, dressed, and lived for the rebellion against society that hip-hop was born from. Hip-Hop was the child of revolution. We are listening to hip-hop's fourth generation of rappers. What all the generation of rappers had in common was that they rapped about their experiences. Incarcerated Rapper Shyne once spit, "They Don't Do It Cause I Rap About It/I RAP ABOUT IT CAUSE THEY DO IT..." It is simply art imitating life.

As Hip-Hop grew up (Most recently turning 30) she became BIG business. She was taken over and distributed by the larger companies in the music making business. Now, if Hip-Hop was created by impoverished black and Latin youth and grew to be taken over by big business, who do you think is REALLY pulling the strings. Rich old men, often white, who package the most taboo and salacious elements of hip-hop culture and peddle it back to us as authentic. It's become so deeply ingrained into the mainstream of our society that you aren't "keeping it real" unless you are talking about serve the soft white or a few bricks of that tan. (Slang for certain types of drugs)

While the poverty, violence, and drug use have always been a large part of hip-hop tales, throughout history they were always told as simply stories. Now they are glorified. I'm not even calling for it to stop. I'm simply calling for a balance in the art. Period.

Hip-Hop is more than words. It's a reflection of impoverished society and many different aspects of black life.

Hip-Hop is more than rap, it's a culture. Essentially it began as a movement.

This is the streets. Hip-Hop came from the Streets. So did the blues, jazz, rock and roll, Etheridge Knight, Amiri Baraka, Ralph Ellison's Creativity, and Romare Bearden's eye for art.

I am the trap. No you're not Jeezy, not intentionally anyway.

Poverty (Specifically geared towards the large number of blacks living in poverty)

Blacks and Hispanics live in poverty in greater percentages than any other ethnic group in the country.

It has been proven that poverty breeds crime. Thus, more black males are expected to either commit or witness crimes in their living in poverty.

Also, since it's been proven that poverty is often cyclical and our living conditions determine our future and mindset often times, I'm naturally inclined to believe that the sins of the father are truly visited upon the son in these impoverished areas where crime becomes a somewhat accepted part of our existence. The more you witness or commit a crime, you less outraged you are by it. This desensitization more often leads otherwise intelligent, good black men who could get out of their situations to take chances within the illegal sector of American life. This coupled with various other factors more often than not becomes a recipe for disaster.

Education

In 2003, the average education level for black males was said to be 10th grade level. That's not even a high school diploma. Without a high school diploma it is almost impossible to get a job above minimum wage. Minimum wage is too low to feed a family or pay the living expenses for one human being. Thus, many black males turn towards crime. So, why are black males undereducated? For a number of reasons.

Black males tend to lose interest in education around 4th grade according to Jawanza Kunjufu's book Countering the Conspiracy to Destroy Black Boys (which I read for the first time actually around 7th grade). Kunjufu cites many different reasons for this breakdown. I'll try to go through it as simply as possible.

If they are impoverished, they have more to worry about than conjugating verbs, long division, and the Civil War. It's tough to concentrate on Social Studies when you don't know if you're going to eat that night.

Often times the student feels as though the subject matter doesn't relate to him. The figures in history don't look like him. The things that happen seem so far away. The math seems pointless and uninteresting. English is so very different from the AAVE he speaks at home. (African American Vernacular English) After all of that he is tested to DEATH. Standardized tests hear, Academic competency test there. Eventually he sees no point in trying. Lack of adequate attention to his problems and reconciliation with the world around him forces him to act out.

After he acts out he gets labeled. Learning Disabled. Attention Deficit Disorder. Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Dyslexic. Problem Child. Just Plain Dumb. Believe it or not, students at a very young age are highly aware of adult's perception of them. They are very aware of their surroundings as well. They know why they have to go to the special class even though they don't feel anything is wrong with them. They know that the medicine that they are forced to take makes them jittery and jumpy and feel bad and they know that nothing is wrong with their mind. They know when adults think they are hopeless. They know when adults think they are stupid. At some point they give up caring. Special Education is used too broadly by lazy teacher, systems, and administrators to focus on problems that are not educational or mental. That's another soapbox thought.

I would continue but my brain drew a blank on Education just now....

I'll continue with this one as well as The Media, Societal Attitudes, and The Justice System in the next blog post.

The Black Male Psyche Riddled with Self-Hatred...(Part 1)

2007-05-15T11:44:00.000-07:00

Being a Black Man is tough. Anyone with an ounce of knowledge, understanding, and insight knows that or can see that. We are beat down en masse by society, sytematic segregation, laws slanted toward us, and various other factors that make living with a Y-Chromosome and Darkened Skin akin to fighting a war every day.

One thing that has kept the Black Man sane has been the black woman. She has been both mother and father when the black male was unable to take his role. She has raised numerous black males. She has been the backbone of the family in trying times. She's "stood in the gap" and prayed for the favor of almighty in hours of need. She has been a comforting shoulder to cry on, albeit in the dark. She has been that slap in the face when brothers needed a reality check. She is motivator. She is Wife. She is Helpmate. She is Financial Planner. She is Mother. She is Bold. She is Strong. She is Queen of Civilization...

From the Project Dwelling Single Mother to the Penthouse Residing Yuppie, The Black Woman is as versatile as they come.

With the black woman being so much of what all men want and even more of what all men need, why then do many of us as black men choose to degrade them and hate them?

I write that last sentence as both a hypocrite and a man conscious of what I love about black women. I have referred to women as "bitch" before...I have done some less than noble things to my sisters over the years. However, I have apologized and atoned for them. I am not talking about the guy who has a rough past (or present) and sometimes has a bad dealing or two with our sisters. I wanna focus on a specific genre of brothers. The educated, upwardly mobile, seemingly intelligent brother who has a good job, an advanced degree, and is as financially stable as he can be at that point in life.

Believe it or not, many of these brothers have a sort of disdain for sisters that could be viewed as a hatred. They ignore black women. They degrade them. They decry them as ghetto, combative, unrelenting, unaffectionate, unsubmissive, uneducated, and unattractive. Forgetting all the while that they were brought into this world by a ghetto, combative, unrelenting, unaffectionate, unsubmissive, uneducated, and unattractive BLACK WOMAN. That their grandmother was a BLACK WOMAN. It's ultimately a form of self hatred.

In Psychology there is a concept called "projection." This ultimately means that you project your insecurities and perceived shortcomings on those closest to you or the object of your unattainable desire in some cases. Who is closer to you as a Black Man than the woman who brought you into this world? Also, for a successful man, rejection is the ultimate blow to the ego. Who better to hate than those who may have rejected you in life?

Also, another root of this sort of hatred of black women by both fairly and immensely successful Black Men is their constant need to prove themselves. They want to make the statement, "Hey, I'm just like you guy. I am NOT one of those white t-shirt wearing, Jean sagging affirmative action cases. I got here on my own merits and by my own intelligence and their ain't NOTHING different about me." For all intensive purposes, this may be completely and utterly TRUE to the fullest extent. (Minus all of the self-hatred and jargon) As a result, these black men do certain assmilationist things to go to the extreme of proving that they are not like those "black guys." They wear certain clothes, join certain fraternities (*sigh*) , talk a certain way, act a certain way, and do certain customs associated with "Eurocentric culture." (Point, there is a difference from Eurocentric Culture and Professionalism. Don't get it twisted.) They go so far as to see black women as only objects of sexual prowess and only good for the occasional tryst than wife, mother, confidant, and companion.

Is there any hope for this brother? Probably not. Let's see how he feels in 20 years though when the current crop of sisters in upwardly mobile positions start to take over the country. These sisters often outnumber brothers 3 to 1 and are typically more motivated and driven to succeed. Then I guess I'll be writing another one of these on the sisters huh? I've already seen some out there that fit the mold....in fact I'm looking at one right now.

Ok, Here comes my hypocrisy....

2007-05-11T11:03:00.000-07:00

I am a blogger....

This means I am vain enough to think that other people actually benefit from and enjoy reading my thoughts.

The only thing is, I try my damndest to actually make sense and articulate my points thoroughly enough for whoever is crazy, interested, or drunk enough to read my ramblings to actually follow my logic.

I am a journalist...

This means that I am trained in the art of disseminating information for mass consumption. I have been taught to take the most complicated concepts and break them down to an eigth grade reading level. I have to be intelligent enough to be able to grasp a number of concepts with varying degrees of complexity.

So naturally it frustrates me when people attempt to expound upon B.S. or articulate undefendable points. It really pisses me off when people get verbal diarrhea and try to put all of the big words they know in a few sentences coupled with asinine ideas and try to pass it off as profound, groundbreaking, or "deep."

I have a suggestion for all aspiring to be a part of the black intelligentsia and the scores of Ph.D.'s and scholars in Black America. Before you decide to write something...whether it be a few thoughts, a complex theory of yours, a concept, a political viewpoint, a thesis, or whatever do us all a favor. Actually think about it...

I am one of those people who can sit down and type in a stream of consciousness. Everyone is not able to do that. I'm not saying I'm the Rakim of the blog world, I'm just saying that it's something I do. When I get ready to rap, I sound better if I write it down first. T.I. and Jay-Z are better at freestyling their rhymes in the booth. See where I'm going with this?

I often read blogs and facebook notes and all sorts of other stuff mainly because I'm a nerd, but more so because I like to keep abreast of what my fellow black 20-somethings are thinking about. Sometimes it's Hip-Hop (Fuck Oprah!), sometimes it's Politics (Obama in '08!), sometimes it's utter drivel (my lipgloss be poppin? WTF?!?!?!), and yet and still there are those who enjoy waxing poetic about a laundry list of things much like myself. My biggest problems comes with those whom, I would like to think, are like me. Conscious balls of never ending thought. (Did I just say "Conscious Balls?" I gotta name my next album that.)

Fellow rambling bloggers. PLEASE at least try and make sense if you're going to blog and save the rest of us a brain cramp trying to decipher the dumb stuff that you put on the internet. Thank You and God Bless.

Musings of a Frustrated Substitute

2007-03-09T09:59:00.000-08:00

Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.

-James Baldwin

I've often wondered exactly what determines a man's age. Is it the actual physical years that his heart has beaten? Is it dictated by life's experiences? Can age possibly be determined by the moments in which he feels a widening sense of disconnection from youth? The answer to all three appears to be a resounding yes.

I'm writing this from a high school classroom full of students of various ages, socioeconomic backgrounds, and temperaments. Their ramblings, musings, and childish activities all run together into an caucophony of absolutely useless drivel. It forces the question, "What is really wrong with our children?"

There is an obvious difference between the zeal and exuberance of the young and the pointless activities that our youth use to occupy their time. I have often blamed the media, society, and our educational system for failing our children on numerous occasions. While these institutions cannot be rendered blameless, I am finding more and more that our children don't want to do better. They have no desire to make any more of themselves than what their minimal effort and God's good graces will get them.

I know at 13, 14, 15, and 16, much of your life is wrapped up in self-image , fashion, and finding an identity. Much of this identity is shaped by the peer group that you find yourself within. What can one do though when that identity has proven to ultimately be destructive to not only themselves, but those around them? The answer, more often than not, is strict discipline. Detention, Suspensions, and (in some places) Corporal Punishment are handed out liberally as a "one size fits all" solution to even the simplest of behavioral problems. The only problem is that one cannot be disciplined within a school when they aren't disciplined properly at home and haven't been raised in a home where discipline is the norm. Therefore the school acting under the guise of en loco parentis attempt to properly handle a variety of children within certain parameters of not only good educational practice but also an even-handed, universal fairness so that all are treated equally.

Our children are failing in school and society as a result...

Partially of their own volition...

Partially due to a plethora of outside factors...

Is there a solution, or have we gotten too deep into this quagmire?

The optimist in me wants to say, "Hell yeah there's a solution!"

The realist in me recognizes that it would take two acts of God, an act of the United Nations, a conversion of George Bush to Hinduism, and the resurrection of Nipsey Russell to make the solution actually come to pass.

It would take a renewed interest in parenting, a COMPLETE overhaul of the entire U.S. Department of Education, we'd have to scrap No Child Left Behind, B.E.T. would have to be shut down, Hip-Hop would have to undergo a MAJOR transformation, the Dope Game would have to lose its luster, instutional racism would have to completely disappear, community involvement would have to become a priority for blacks, the black nuclear family would have to magestically reappear in the realm of American society, and last but not least our children would have to begin to give a damn...

Think its possible?

Ramblings in Frustration

2007-01-18T13:00:00.000-08:00

"Butterflies begin from having been another
As a child is born from being in a mother's womb
But how many times have you wished you were some other
someone than who you are
Yet who's to say if all were uncovered
You will like what you see
You can only be you
As I can only be me

Flowers cannot bloom until it is their season
As we would not be here unless it was our destiny
But how many times have you wished to be in spaces
Time places than what you were
Yet who's to say with unfamiliar faces You could anymore be
Loving you that you see
You can only be you
As I can only be
Me

I can only be me"

--Stevie Wonder

I've always loved that song.

Saturday night after an "interesting" dinner and standing outside for a while trying to put a bag over my freshly broken window...that's a story for another time. I sat at this new lounge in Birmingham called "Steel" and contemplated the drastic 180 my life has taken over the past month and a half or so.

I'm not gonna sit here and spout off a list of problems here, that's not the point. I just wanted to get a few things off my chest.

Closing My Circle

I'm finding my circle of interaction closing rapidly. As I've been going through my trying times, I've reached out to certain people only to be sent to voicemail and treated as a veritable leper. I understand that people have things that they go through. True enough. However, more often than not I don't want to call and talk about that. I may mention how frustrating it is to find a job right now, but I really want to talk about music and poetry. If you're busy, I understand. I think I at least deserve the decency of a call back after a few hours, even the next day. Really. Sometimes I just want to talk and laugh to take my mind off the situation.

There are people in my life who make me smile. I hope I do the same for them from time to time. That's why I reach out to them, because in our trying times we can make each other laugh through the frowns and smile through the tears.

I've also been closing my circle for another reason. I'm finding out about entirely too many people who are supposed to be "holding me down" actually bringing me down. I got stories for days and proof for weeks....

Prayer...

I haven't prayed in a very long time. I've often felt ashamed to kneel before Him. Not because I'm embarrassed to pray in front of others or ashamed to be a Christian. I'm more ashamed of myself than anything. I don't feel worthy to stand in His presence and ask for forgiveness. I am embarrassed because I know better than my actions would lead Him to believe. I am ashamed of some of the things I do, say, and think.

I hear all the time, "Well, that's the beauty of God's forgiveness. He knows that you are imperfect and He wants you to lean on Him." That doesn't help my shame. I have the biggest trouble forgiving myself. It's kind of like that line from Nina Simone's song, "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood"

"Sometimes I find myself alone regretting, some little foolish thing, some simple thing that I have done..."

I love that song too...In fact, I feel as though it's my theme song (Check out the John Legend version)

Anyway, I'm afraid of God's reproach...although I'm probably experiencing it now. My definition of "God Fearing" is probably different from 90% of the Christian population's, I fear God in the same way that Adam and Eve feared Him when they first came to the realization that they were naked...

That's the only way I can describe it.

My Love Life...

I give up on this love thing. I've been chewed up and spit out and ground into the dust...

Love sucks...I'm running from it.

Peace ya'll

SE7EN

Sometimes You Just Gotta Walk Away...

2006-12-27T15:01:00.000-08:00

"Part of being a winner is knowing when enough is enough. Sometimes you have to give up the fight and walk away, and move on to something that's more productive."

--Donald Trump

"Sometimes...when you hold out for everything, you walk away with nothing"

--Ally McBeal

"I got this Icebox where my heart used to be..."

--Omarion

I've finally made it to my breaking point...

I've never quit anything that I started. I really haven't, it's not in my nature to quit. I've often marveled at my own level of willful perseverance. I get knocked down, beat up, and kicked, yet somehow I keep getting up asking for more.

This quality is most evident in my personal relationships and educational career. While I'm no where near giving up on my education, my personal relationships are definitely in turmoil.

2006 has probably been the most trying year for myself, my REAL friends, and my personal relationships. I am beginning to lose my ability to find the value in other people who I am not already acquainted with. Why? I feel the need to defend myself. Defend myself from what? From the pain that goes along with having a big heart. I have been truly heartbroken by certain people that I held near to me this year.

My outlook is atypical of what's to be expected. Many would be frustrated and see it as just another casualty of life. I think it's only a matter of people eliminating themselves. God is pruning me. Shedding dead weight from my circle. While it may be somewhat frustrating and painful on my end, I know it's for the better.

To all those that I've loved and lost, thank you for teaching me a valuable lesson in my life. Some things we just can't change...peace out. Enjoy your life, stay blessed.

Hip-Hop Is Dead?

2006-12-09T21:16:00.000-08:00

Young Jeezy vs. Monie Luv

Ok, I am sick of people telling me "Hip-Hop Is Dead" and "The South Killed Hip-Hop." That is the most baseless, asinine, elitist claim I have ever heard in my life. In the interview above, Hip-Hop veteran (I refuse to call her a legend after this interview) Monie Luv ATTACKS Young Jeezy verbally. They discuss Lil' Wayne's most recent comments about Jay-Z (Which is an entirely new blog) and then she baits him into a conversation about whether or not hip-hop is truly dead.

While I don't necessarily like the way Jeezy handled it, I respect him for holding it down as a Southern Artist and a Man.

ATTENTION:Hip-Hop is NOT Dead!

The South is NOT responsible for any sort of negative shift in Hip-Hop and I'm tired of Northern Hip-Hop heads claiming that we are. As an artist I feel personally slighted. I don't have a record deal, I'm not making millions. I spit for the love. I MC. I am a rapper. When you say Southern rappers suck, by association I am lumped in.

I am a hip-hop purist. I long for the days of Doug E. Fresh, Grandmaster Flash, Schooly D, a young LL Cool J, and Run DMC.

I am also a Southern Hip-Hop Purist. Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik is STILL in my heavy rotation. I still listen to Comin' Out Hard and get that tingly feeling in my spine. UGK is still my favorite Texas group!

Do I like everything that comes out of FYE with a "Hip-Hop" label on it? Hell No! I don't really care for snap music, trap music is very cliche', and crunk is on the verge of crap at times. Think about it though, those are three very distinct genres simply within southern hip-hop though! Rapper Big Pooh from Little Brother said it better than most. He said that the rappers from the south are the most versatile artists because we grew up listening to everything.

We have some of the BEST and BRIGHTEST in the game. Seriously. I know now why a lot of West Coast cats still don't really fool with Northern Hip Hop. When the West Coast began to reign in the 90's, a war sparked off! Mainly because a few cats from the North and some of the "Hip Hop Purists" didn't like the direction. I think it's ridiculous.

I find it amazing that the main critics of southern hip-hop are people who have never paid attention to it. It's SUPER hypocritical. They hate our snap dances, our "Walk It Out", and our "Poole Palace". We embraced their "Harlem Shake" and "Chicken Noodle Soup." They have Wu-Tang. We have the Dungeon Family. The South has ALWAYS been underrated in terms of lyricism and skill because of the Northern bias of the hip-hop media. We know New York is the birthplace, but damn can we shine too?!?!?!?!

Cee-Lo, Andre 3000, Big Boi, T.I., Lil' Wayne (after he stops feeling himself so much), Young Buck, Ludacris, Bun-B, Little Brother, Killa Mike.

All Southern Artists. All could hold their own in a cypher with anyone, anywhere. Jeezy was right about one thing he said in his interview. It's a new day, a new movement.

Take some cues from Fat Joe and show some love.

Give me your top 5 Southern Hip Hop Albums:
1. Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik
2. Comin' Out Hard
3. Soul Food
4. 400 Degreez
5. Da' Pimp and Da Gangsta

Play at Your Own Risk...

2006-12-08T15:02:00.000-08:00

Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.
--Charlie Brown (Charles M. Schultz from hit Comic Strip "Peanuts")

Some prices are just too high, no matter how much you may want the prize. The one thing you can't trade for your heart's desire is your heart.
___________________________________________________________________

I'm accustomed to not getting what I want. I'm definitely not worried about things that I know I can't have...materially. However, I just like any man, am always somewhat curious about what makes members of the opposite sex tick. This is not a "woman bashing" note by any means, it is simply an observation of the inconsistencies we tend to overlook when it comes to them.

I will never understand the logic behind women's choices in dating. 9 times out of 10, when I look at my boys, I can see why they would date the people they would. I can see how they can be attracted to them. My female associates, not so much. I'm often confused about what motivates women who always tout the virtues of intelligence, ambition, and stability to date people who are inferior to them in each category.

I have listened to women dog men without ceasing. I have listened to them bitterly make statements about how, "there are no good men left" or "a good man is hard to find" or (my personal favorite) "all the black men are either dead, in jail, or gay." I find these statements to be utterly false and also very aggravating as a good black man. I can rattle off 10 right now. The problem is no that we aren't out there the problem is that you either a) don't want to be with us, b) are with us and treat us like crap, or c) are too hung up on being with someone you know doesn't want to be with you. Honestly, like Katt Williams said, if you are over the age of 21 and you are still talking about how all men are dogs, you need to grow up and start saying all the dudes YOU choose to mess with are dogs.

Fellas, at some point and time in your life you will realize that you are in somebody's life for their convenience only. The relationship is NOT reciprocal. Unrequited love sucks, and we all know it. There has been at least ONE female in every guy's life that he has loved to DEATH. He would have tried to fight the fleshly incarnation of pain itself for her honor and protection. He treated her like a queen and all he got in return was the Red Badge of "Friendship". Ladies, when you do that, you're essentially spitting in the guy's face and telling him, "You're not good enough for me." Then 2 days later you'll call him at 2 a.m. for comforting while a man that doesn't even COMPARE to him is doing you wrong. I have been in this situation. I used to find it annoying, now I find it amusing...

Some people may be wondering about my motivation behind this. Well, let me give it to you. I'm getting tired of black women who are upwardly mobile, intelligent, stable, focused, highly active, and independent completely disrespecting black men. It's old, it's trifling, and it's probably the reason you're single. I simply cannot understand why some women who are building a career and making themselves economically viable cannot deal with a man who is doing the same. Simple cowardice seems to be the answer, you've dealt with men who have had nothing comparable in terms of intellect and drive, yet when you find a good man such as myself, or one of the people I associate, with you run. No one wants to buy a problem. No one wants to commit to frustration. If we can grow up and treat you with respect, admiration, and love, can you return the favor with some understanding at the very least?

Lost and Found....

2006-11-13T11:39:00.000-08:00

So, the past couple of weeks have definitely been a learning experience....ups and downs. Mostly ups, but a few downs. What would life be without them though?

I'm gonna focus on the past few days though because it makes more sense to.

This weekend was both Tuskegee and Alabama State's homecomings. However, in retrospect, I realized that I did a LOT of thinking....despite the "hazy" condition I was in for the most part. I learned a few things.

I learned that life is too short to take for granted...

In the past couple of days, a few ICONS have died. Ed Bradley, Gerald Levert, and Brandy Nicole Murphy. Some of us know Ed Bradley, as the intelligent Black journalist on 60 minutes. Many of us know Gerald Levert as the soulful big man with a wonderously rich voice. However, many of us did not know "Nikki"...and that's a shame.

Nikki passed away this weekend as the result of a car accident in the Atlanta area on I-20. The other person in the car, UA basketball player Jermareo Davidson, was seriously injured. While I don't know Jermareo well, I pray for his speedy recovery.

Nikki was one of the most beautiful people that I had ever met. Not only did she have a beautiful smile, but she had a way of making you feel like all was right in the world. Every time I saw Nikki, whatever was on my mind at the time disappeared. She would hug you so tight and talk to you until your problems disappeared into thin air. She was a beautiful soul and she will be missed greatly.
My heart goes out to her family and her sisters in Delta Xi Phi. They were a big family filled with love. My prayers, as I'm sure many others are as well, are with you.
____________________________________________________________________________________
Some people are just not gonna like you....even if you don't know why

Not too much to say other than that....Some people are just childish like that.

____________________________________________________________________________________
Sometimes you can worry yourself right out of a blessing....

As long as you are trying to do things in your own way and manner, God is not being glorified through your work. I am guilty. I've had a SUPERMAN complex for years in matters of political and social importance. (At least what I considered important. Now though, I just want to let go and let God. I've retired from "The Revolution" in favor of going where God wants me to go. This must be how the Israelites felt.
I feel as though I'm walking through life, now humbly seeking to hear God's voice in the midst of all the shouting. I know that I DEFINITELY have a good way to go, but I'm sure I'll get there if it's HIS will.
In the fussing, fighting, rigamarole, and strain of everyday life, I forgot about HIS plan because I was too busy making my own. That was my worst mistake. Fighting my own battles instead of letting Him fight for me was another one.

Times are a'changing friends....
_____________________________________________________________________________________

Life's too short my friends.....too short.

Meosha, you're on deck! LOL!

To Be Self Righteous....

2006-11-01T10:19:00.000-08:00

self-right·eous (slfrchs)
adj.

1. Piously sure of one's own righteousness; moralistic.
2. Exhibiting pious self-assurance: self-righteous remarks.

self-righteous·ly adv.
self-righteous·ness n.

I am ashamed of a few things right now. Bare with me as I go through this...

I am ashamed of The University of Alabama. I hang my head at the very thought of the imperialist attitudes displayed as a result of the Homecoming festivites of years gone by. The black community at UA has often felt that the University of Alabama Administration had no commitment to making us feel welcome in a bastion of white privilege. We now see how true that is.

I am not a race baiter. I am not one to simply throw out the race card in the interest of gaining attention or embarrassing others into action. However, the racist undertones of the ENTIRE homecoming celebration are too hard to ignore. Moving the Ying-Yang Twins to a completely different venue for the homecoming concert while citing "logistics issues" as the reason is utterly ludicrous. A has been country singer and a rap group with more crossover appeal than the "thug rappers" that everyone decries them as, would not draw any more of a crowd than Lynrd Skynrd did 5 years ago. In fact, they would be LESS appealing.

The conclusion MUST be made that, the presence of an act that wasn't a part of mainstream, southern, traditionally white music scared the university into forcing a move of the concert.

I am embarrassed by many of the students at my alma mater. I am embarrassed that in all their self-righteousness they cannot see some of the more blatant attempts to railroad black students on their own campus. They accuse us of self-segregation. This goes deeper than all the black kids sitting together in the lunchroom or all the black organizations keeping to themselves. This is deeply seated in the 40-plus years that black students were not allowed to participate equally in the homecoming festivities at The University of Alabama. 3 years ago, I personally sat down with other students and Dr. Witt and told him to his face, "There are two separate homecomings at this university. A black homecoming and a white homecoming." 3 years ago, I saw this happening. 3 years before, someone else saw the same. 30 years ago, is probably when it began.

So, in their self-righteousness the students and administrators who felt that the move was the proper thing to do make it a point to turn the tables and call the traditional homecoming stepshow, "self-segregation", suggesting that the NPHC change the date and/or time of the stepshow to accomodate the homecoming concert. Well, one thing about that is that the 9 traditionally black fraternities and sororities that make up the NPHC have a long tradition of stepping which dates back to our roots in Africa. The NPHC at The University of Alabama has a long-standing tradition of hosting this stepshow as a way for black students, who were segregated from the rest of the campus community, to celebrate homecoming. Now that the University is "pandering" to the black community (often on subpar levels)we are supposed to throw away our traditions?

I'm ashamed of some of the students at my alma mater for another reason. To justify this racist action of the administration, they point to the senseless killing of a bright university student and veteran of George W. Bush's War on AmerIraq. To blame this murder that occured two and a half hours after the concert and miles away from the concert is simply a logical fallacy. These are the same people that make racist jokes about the concert, call us separationists and self-segregators. Their ignorance makes them laughable....and dangerous. I am ashamed of them for disrespecting the memory of this young scholar and patriot who was so full of promise by using his death to further their own racist ideology. I am ashamed that they are allowed to be self-righteous comfortably because no one will call them the cowards they truly are....mostly because they hide behind computer screens, titles, badges, and hoods.

I'm ashamed of myself. For not rearranging my schedule to go support Tiffany Minnifield in the protest she organized. I'm ashamed of myself for not speaking out on this sooner. I'm ashamed of myself for allowing this sort of underlying racism to fester under my watch. I'm ashamed of myself for being emotional about the progress of Americans on the racial front. I'm ashamed of the crimson blood that pumps through my veins right now as I sit on the enemies campus, a tide of tears being held back only by the anger I feel by reading the Crimson White. The articles. The comments.

I'm ashamed to say Roll Tide....
I'm ashamed because obviously....The University of Alabama is ashamed of me.

--SE7EN

What I'm Sick Of....

2006-10-11T11:42:00.000-07:00

So I'm on my soapbox again....
This is gonna be kinda funny, kinda serious, kinda half hearted....
I just need to get some things off my chest.

I am sick of Facebook....
I am sick of Everyone having so much access to my personal info at one time
I am sick of Everyone else's personal info bein so available to me
I don't really care if you joined a group....
I could care even less if you removed information from your profile....
I don't give a damn about your status being "So-And-So is Sleeping/in class/at a party."
I don't care!!!!!
I'm sure no one else does either.....
I don't care about you going from "it's complicated" to "in a relationship"
Real talk.

And another thing about facebook....
I am sick of EVERYONE who is in love telling the entire world how in love they are....
I am sick of EVERY tenderhearted female in the world co-signing that crap...
STOP IT! You people disgust me!
Relationships are between two people, not two people and the entire e-world!
Stop it!
The one thing I love to see is when people go from "in a relationship/married" to "single"....
Call me mean, but that crap is hilarious! I have laughed for days at a time when certain people break up. I'm not gonna lie.
If your profile's "About Me" section goes from: "I have found my one and only. They are my moon, stars, and sun. I want to love them forever...." THEN CHANGES TO: "Love sucks. Everyone in love sucks. I love not being in love. Dishonest people suck. I hate you. I want to die...." UNDERSTAND THAT I WILL LAUGH AT YOU!!! LOUDLY!!! IN PUBLIC!!!
In fact, I'm doing it now. HAHAHAHAHA!
Keep your business off facebook.

I'm sick of women with boyfriends/significant others...
I don't know why, I just am...
Am I bitter?
Probably...

I'm sick of BET...
I am sick of beating the "dead horse" that is the B.E.T. Sucks campaign....
I am sick of RAP
I am sick of "Chain Hang Low", "Chicken Noodle Soup", and any other song that sets black people back 1,000 years...
I am sick of Minstrelsy...

I am sick of women who are trying too hard to be cute...
Ladies, everyday is not your own personal fashion show...
I understand you have high sel-esteem.
I understand that you look fabulous.
I understand that you have a great sense of fashion.

What I DON'T understand is how you can set foot out of the house EVERY-DAMN-DAY with a straight face with some of the stuff ya'll have on.

Real Talk. Auburn has some of the most beautiful women I've seen in the state. Hands down. But, if I can look at you and think that you're attention starved....do you really think I'm gonna wanna talk to you? Period? Am I gonna take you seriously?

I am sick of women who confuse sexiness with exploiting themselves
If you have on a skirt that could double as a Kleenex, don't get mad when a dude grabs your butt....
I'm not gonna do it, I'm just sayin'...

I am sick of "talking heads"...
Why don't you ever have anything to say, yet you're always talking?
Shut up sometimes!
I've known some of you for YEARS and have never learned anything from you, but you're always talking!

Speaking of talking....
Why is it when two people kinda like each other, they call it "talking"?
That's so ambiguous...
There's got to be a better term for it...
From now on talking shall be known as "Getting to Know Each Other."
That sounds better....GENIUSES!

I am sick of "greek people"....
There's a difference between a person in a GLO and "greek people"....
Get over yourself, I SWEAR it's SO not that deep...

Venom...

2006-10-03T19:49:00.000-07:00

***NOTE: For those of you who really know me, you know that this is completely out of character for me to write in such a manner. As usual, I start off all of my blogs with a verse or two , usually of a hip-hop song. This one is no different. ***

Yeah, usually I don't get into all this battle rap sh** and all that
Sh**'s stupid
But I'm gonna address it
And after I get it off my chest may God bless it
I will invest four minutes exactly for everyone who had the audacity to attack me

I kept quiet but perhaps I should have pushed this fire quicker/Cause to just sit with this shit I've only gotten sicker/
Yet I react without even a crack in my composure/But the only way he knows to bring this shit to a closure/
I'm worthy, and my associates and I named the South Dirty/And I'm even for sale in Braille, the deaf, dumb and blind have heard me/
But I ain't even breathin until I get an even 30/I could casually clap up the front of somebody's throwback jersey/
You makin' me hafta talk this way, aintcha?/You makin' me hafta talk this way/
You forcin me to walk this way/Maybe my album will get bought this way/

Niggaz slow down around me, I make em superstitious/And one of my vices used to be wanting to look visually vicious/
But instead I use my head and I fed niggaz something nutritious/But you will appreiciate what a sacrifice this is/
And I know you ambitious young men, you have my best wishes/Have a piece of this pain on a platter, it's one of my best dishes/
When you assassinate my character, not one remark misses/So it's gone get funky when I'm fryin these little fishes/
Fuck fakin, there has been some offense taken/But this itty bitty beef is, beneath me, like bacon/
But hear me when when I say, I ain't gone hate you halfway/You know me, somebody will surely owe me/
When it comes to respect, I only put my family before me/And the beat ridin, oh so slowly, but surely/
And you in danger, and I'll be strict about straight erry one of you niggaz like strangers/I'll put bullet holes in anything that oppose/
Through car doors and clothes, amateurs and pros/Hardhead niggaz and hoes, also friends and foes/
Let it be known that you'll lose your life fucking around with Lo/This is my Glockapella/
And I'll be wearing diamonds forever like I'm signed to Rocafella/And I'ma bust two times in the sky/
Cause ain't nobody around here ready to die/But if there's more that you want, can't but one side win/
And I'm damn sure ready to try mutha fucker, yeah

Lo crazy, Lo a'hurt somebody bad/Lo crazy, Lo a'hurt somebody dad/
Decide to ride down your street and just hurt somebody bad/You know, as in house, hurt somebody's child or somebody's spouse/
You see what I'm saying, and you know I can be what I'm sayin/And I got the most to lose, but you steppin on my shoes, nigga/
You become a target, and will remain a target until you are hit/You gone fuck around and found out that's Lo still down for it/
I ain't scared of ya, never been scared of ya/If anyhing I'm scared for ya because I'm so ahead of ya/
Take that to the head brother, before I walk up on your bed brother/And paint you bloody red brother
You heard what I said brother?

--Cee-Lo on the song "Glockapella" from his album Cee-Lo Green is The Soul Machine

I am a man
As a man, I understand that while peace is desirable War is sometimes necessary.
So from this day forth I am declaring war.
To all who would reach for a grip of affirmation with one hand and stab me in the back with the other, it's war.
To all those who are petty and trifling enough to dislike me for no discernible reason and speak ill of me, it's war.
To all who have nothing better to do than talk about me behind my back, while not saying anything to my face, it's war.

I am tired of being peaceful.
Peace has gotten me frustrated thus far.
I have even reached out to make amends with those who have slandered my name.
I have taken the blows of disrespect with my head held high,gaze fixed on peace.
No more.

I am the type of person who will tell you to your face anything that I would EVER say behind your back.
Apparently everyone wasn't raised in the same manner.

I was raised to believe that, as a man, I have no reason to degrade another, dislike another, or slander another man unless given a reason to.
I was raised to deal with any issue that you may have with another person, with that person...not talk to others about them.
I was raised to believe that a man has no reason to lie on another man.
I was raised to believe that a man has no reason to "hate on" another man.

Some of you so-called men out there have done all of these. What makes it even worse is that I know who you are.
You have shaken my hand in public.
You have smiled with me.
Some of you have chilled with me.
Some of you have asked for my help.
Some of you have even "gripped me up."

I have let you slide for this long.
If you are real about yours, tell me you don't like me.
Don't smile in my face and tear me down behind my back.
In the words of T.I. "If you got it on your chest, then shawty say it to my face."
If you can't do that, check your manhood cuz.

So, the next time I see a couple of you cats I'm gonna start pulling your skirts up.
Man up.

Be A Man...

Loving myself

2006-09-20T22:33:00.000-07:00

"There is no remedy for love, but to love more."
-Henry David Thoreau

I'm a passionate guy. That's one of my better traits. It's one of the things that I love about myself and that tends to draw people to me. The fact that I have so much love to give and passion for people is a trait that is not widely held or acknowledged.

Since the recent demise of a few relationships between me and people that I love, I've focused all of that love, that I freely gave to others, inward. I am loving myself more than ever before. Things that I was once insecure about have become my saving graces in many situations. God is truly showing me favor on all fronts...in spite of my actions.

One thing that I've found to be true is that through loving myself I am finding myself able to love those around me more intensely and wholly. It's amazing when you cultivate your friendships and relationships with your loved ones and it manifests itself greatly in your life. I am finding the true intention of God's purpose for love.

Love was not created as a selfish emotion for man to grant as he sees fit. Love was created for God to show us exactly how much he cares for us. To give a just a small fraction of how he feels about us. Think about it, loving oneself is almost too easy. We do that through our own natural vanity everyday. Yet, to love another person as much as we love ourselves or even moreso is a beautiful thing. However, that goes both ways. Love is meant to be reciprocal in the relationships we maintain everyday for a healthy existence. When it is one-sided it becomes dangerous.

We glorify God through loving Him and loving our fellow man. God's face is manifested everyday in our friendships. The Apostle Paul himself said, "Oh how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity." To function as one entity, two souls moving forward in lockstep is wonderful. This is not a romantic thing either, it extends itself to friends of the same step. It is not a sexual thing, more so an emotional thing or a spiritual thing. Forgive me for not being able to more eloquently interpret such a feeling but I am still learning.

Oh lord, my strength, my redeemer.
Please forgive me as a walk daily and continue to bless me with the gift of LOVE, so that I may love more deeply and be a tool of blessing for you as you have blessed me.
In the name of your son Jesus I pray,
Amen.

AMEN

Putting my business out there....ALL OF IT

2006-09-11T09:27:00.000-07:00

"There are people I know who won't hurt me, I call them corpses"
Randy K. Milholland, comedian

"When you really trust someone, you have to be okay with not understanding some things."
Real Live Preacher, from a ministerial website

"This be the realest _ _ _ _ I ever wrote"
Tupac Shakur
___________________________________________________________________

I'm about to put it all out there. I maintain two blogs and write poetry because putting my feelings down makes me feel better about my own inconsistencies, logical fallacies, shortcomings, and any other way that you can say the word "flaws" in the english language. However, writing also gives me a reference point to see where I've grown from and where I'm headed.

I'm at the point of no return in my growth, which simply means I've gone past the halfway point to completion and it would be farther to head back to the beginning than it would be for me to finish growin into the person He wants me to become. So, in my grwoth, this writing thing helps me to continue my journey. So, I'm about to lay some things out for my benefit. Please, travel with me.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I have serious issues with abandonment and friendship. Well, over the past couple of months, those issues have been tested to their full limit. Now, I'm not one of those people who go around blaming their reluctance to love people on "trust issues". Let's get one thing clear, if you're over the age of 13 and you've dated ANYONE, you have trust issues. Just get over yourself. Stop using the phrase "trust issues" as a cover-up for your own inability and unwillingness to commit to someone. That's childish and it's not facing the true problem. But I digress, this post is about the tests that I've been facing.

I have a serious problem with giving people too much of myself. I'v cut back since I left Bama because if everyone has a part of you, no one ever knows the Whole you. I was tired of being pieces of a person for everyone. However, those that know the "whole me", so to speak, are often my trusted, time-tested, battle-worn confidants who I know, or at least thought I knew, would ride or die for me to the end.

Now, I've always trusted people to be themselves. Selfish. (Survival is the first law of humanity, so preservation of self is not necessarily a bad thing.) I don't mind that at all. However, when your survival (or comfort) causes you to risk tried and true friendships, then WE have a problem.

I recently had a "true friend" insult me to an infinite degree, thus ending what I thought was a great friendship. I was accused of trying something with this friend's girlfriend. Then, after telling my side of the story, this friend concluded that either me or the girlfrien was lying....

I know some of you are saying, that's understandable, right? Not in this situation. Would you believe the friend who's listened to you at 2 a.m. crying about your relationship? The friend who always offers you the honest truth? The one who holds you down in the presence of folks talking about you behind your back? The one who comes whenever you need them and offers you anything they have? Or would you rather believe the girlfriend who YOU SAY has always been selfish? The one who has lied to you before...repeatedly!?!?!?!? The one who has been a source of so much frustration and strife that you've made yourself sick over it? Think about it for a second.

Now think about how that real friend feels. Utterly insulted, degraded, and worthless. If the scale of friendship tilts in the favor of those who have no idea what true friendship is, then I good sir want no parts of this thing called friendship.

All in all, until this "girlfriend" is out of the picture we can't be friends. Because it's obvious that you hold her in much higher regard than those who truly respect and care about your well-being. So don't worry little homie. I'll be fine....I have friends who respect my honesty as much as you love hers.

This weekend....

2006-08-27T22:29:00.000-07:00

So, this weekend I returned to Tuscaloosa for a short period of time. It
made me remember vividly why I hated being there to begin with.

That's not to say that Auburn is much better, because the same things I
hated about my time in Tuscaloosa are ever present here as well.

I made it to Tuscaloosa on Friday night, I stopped by the House of Alpha
and then made a cameo at the Delta's pajama party next door. I love DST,
I swear I do. (That's not to say that my feelings about BGLO's are any
different, I just find myself respecting the history, legacy, and
certain members of the org.) The problem is that, even though I got to
see my 2nd best female friend (Margaret), my favorite forensicator
(Ebony), my favorite TKN member, and my favorite Delta from Stillman, I
could only think of how unhappy I was.

I don't know if I thought things may have made a complete 180 since I
left, or I was hoping that maybe my frustration as it pertains to UA had
subsided with my recent location change, none the less I had slipped
back into the uncomfortable shoes of yesterday.

My senses were heightened. For some reason, I saw every funny look, I
felt every set of disdainful eyes, sensed the fakeness in every empty
handshake, found the disgust in every "courtesy" salutation, and the
hate in so many hugs. Why do I continue to love those who would rather
see me broken? Why do I continue to be friendly toward those who only
hold contempt for me in their hardened hearts? I do it because if I
didn't, I'd be the ultimate hypocrite. Most of all, I do it because I
used to be them.

I was once the person who disliked some because of my perception of them
as opposed to the truth. I've forgiven those who held/hold grudges
against me and refuse to hold one against them. While turnabout is fair
play, I live by a different set of rules. I live my life by a certain
set of principles that weren't always in place here. Many of my
principles are illustrated by various quotes. This particular principle
that I speak of comes from a quote by Booker T. Washington that states,
"I will permit no man to narrow and degrade my soul by making me hate
him." Simply stated, no matter what happens, how I'm treated, or who's
wrath I may incur along the way, I refuse to hate the other party. Both
the God and the Good in me (which are essentially and unequivocally one
in the same) refuse to let me hate or even dislike anothe human being.
It actually pains me to be the object of such hatred as well.

I don't just hate UA for that reason though. I hate UA for a plethora of
reasons, I'll list them in more detail later. That's if I have enough
room. Right now we're still focused on the fakeness.

I find myself being more and more detached from people as a result of my
years at UA. I am a nice guy with a BIG heart. That combination doesn't
pay. After so many years of being taken advantage of and/or victimized,
both personally by individuals and en masse by the university itself and
the black community at times, I find myself becoming more selfish in my
personal and professional life. I am finding myself less willing to
speak on the betterment of the black community in public, I am less
willing to do favors for others sole benefit, and I am also less willing
to assume leadership roles in minority based communities. While I am
still the revolutionary minded rebel buffalo soldier, I find it hard to
function with a hole in my heart.

I once freestyled "my heart is my greatest tool/so the treasure is
vested." I'm finding the need to protect my heart more and more without
regard to anything. I am moving farther away from the guy who gives his
heart freely, and closer to the reserved/mildly bitter/angry black man
that I'm falling back into.

I don't really want to be that guy. I like the loving SE7EN, but I'm
finding him hard to hold onto.

I write
I spit
I learn
I teach
I fight
I struggle
I strive
I hope
I pray
I wish
I dream
But, above all this....
Like Erykah says....

Honey, I love.....
--SE7EN (sent from my sidekick)

New Stuff

2006-08-27T21:27:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I broke down and bought a Sidekick. On the one hand it put a
rather sizeable dent in my pocket, but on the other hand I can now post
random thoughts and ideas to my blog at will. Don't you just love
technology?

I'll be updating in a minute...I gotta tell you about my weekend.
--mightymouse1906

Not so sure....

2006-08-23T13:27:00.000-07:00

They say "Dude think he righteous"
I write just to free minds, from Stoney to Rikers
Amongst the lifeless, in a world crazy as Mike is
On my paper, whether its weed or Isis
They say "life is a game," so I play hard
Writin for my life cause I'm scared of a day job
They say "Sef kept the hood together"
I tell the young, "We can't play the hood forever"
Play my cards right, they say I went too left
They showed me strange love, like I was Mr. F
Played chess in this game of, pawns and knights
Now I claim "King" like Don, or Frank White
They say my life is comparable to Christ's
The way I sacrificed, and resurrected, twice
They say "The crochet pants and the sweater was wack"
Seen "The Corner", now they say "That nigga's back," uh...

--Common on "They Say" from his LP Be

They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result. Well, I may qualify for a room in Bellevue. I find myself expecting people to do better when I really shouldn't . If I was a more rational man, I'd probably take people's past into account. But, I'm not necessarily a rational man. I'm a man that lives and brethes by emotions. Love is what wakes me up in the morning and makes me sleep at night. Love for self. Love for others. Not in the eros sense, but love in the more cerebral sense of the word.

I know I'm rambling but I have to. It's kinda of a way for me to release frustration. Stream of consciousness is the most pure stream there is. No backyard creek or sparkling spring can compare with the purity of a stream of consciousness. Hold on, I got a couple of questions for ya'll.

Why do poets hate on each other?
Why do we feel the need to put each other into categories?
Why do college aged, somewhat educated women feel the need to show their asses?
Why do grown ass, college aged men, who are somewhat educated as well feel the need to dress like kids?
Why is it when you tell somebody you can rap, some random nigga (yes I said nigga) comes around trying to battle?
Why is it when you begin to lyrically devour his ass, he wants to get all physical?
Why are all of the REAL women found buried deep in a flock of fake ones?
Why are all of the REAL fellas hiding their realness?
Why has "keep it real" become so commercial?
Why do so many naturally pessimistic people use "keeping it real" logic to spread their pessimism?
Why are there more brothers in jail than in college?
Why aren't we MOVING to do anything about it?
Why NEW ORLEANS!?!?!?!?!?
Why do rappers insist on making songs about nothing?
Why do major labels and distributors continue giving money to simple ass rappers?
Why do we buy the crap?
Why I KNOW YOU SEE IT?
Why does love hurt?
Why does love scorn?
Why 80's rock?
Why (really though) does everyone have a different definition of love?
Why does hip-hop have to be so boring right now?
Why am I lost?
Why don't I want to be in Auburn anymore?
Why do I want to go to law school DESPERATELY?
Why do I need to be challenged?
Why do I feel like Birmingham is SO where I need to be?
Why do.....I love? So Much?

Kick, Push, and Coast.....ramblings.....

2006-08-14T10:06:00.000-07:00

My man got a lil older became a better roller (yea)
No helmet, hellbent on killin' himself,
was what his momma said
But he was feelin' himself
Got a lil more swagger in his style
Met his girlfriend, she was clappin' in the crowd
Love is what was happening to him now, uh
He said I would marry you but I'm engaged to these aerials and varials
And I don't think this board is strong enough to carry 2
She said !bow! I weigh 122 pounds, now
Lemme make one thing clear
I don't need to ride yours I got mine right here
So she took him to a spot
He didn't know about
Somewhere in the apartment parking lot, she saidI don't normally take dates in here
Security came and said "I'm sorry there's no skating here"

--Lupe Fiasco on "Kick Push" the first single from his upcoming LP Food and Liquor

I'm giving up on the female species. Don't get me wrong I still love women, but I really won't be just too interested in the whole "playing hard to get", chase and capture, dating game rigamarole. I've pretty much gotten the final word on my "relationship situation" so it's fairly safe to say that I'm drained....as hell.

I began to wonder last night whether or not I'd ever get marrried. Maybe because I'm my own worst critic, plus I like to bare the brunt of EVERYTHING when it comes to my personal life. So, as a result I find myself completely unforgiving of...well...myself. I don't necessarily know how to reconcile the fact that I'm human with the fact that I have certain standards that are considered EXTREMELY HIGH by some people. It's weird. It's part of the complex makeup of all things SE7EN. Let me explain this particular part.

I am a very perceptive person. I can probably tell you more about yourself after a 10 minute conversation than some of the friends you've had for years. I'm also hyperempathetic. I tend to take others pains, hurts, doubts, and fears and make them my own. It's very weird. I have a big heart. I'm a good person. I'll give you my last if I have it.

Everything that I just said about myself takes somewhat of a conscious effort on my part. All of these traits are natural parts of me that I work on a daily to cultivate, because if I don't I'll fall into the angry, arrogant, jerk of an intellectual smartass that I naturally am. I don't really like that guy. He wasn't very good for my image or my soul.

It's a SERIOUS internal battle. One that we all face, however soem are just less pronounced than others. Even still, some just choose to allow their personalities to be dictated by tohers, and as a result they don't have to worry about it. Whenever I do slip up and go back to the old SE7EN I tend not to forgive myself. That's with anything. I will punish myself for anything FOREVER. I can't help it. It's crazy. I'm still punishing myself for things I did five years ago...hell 10 in some cases. I don't really know how to forgive myself. It's weird that I wake up every morning and pray for forgiveness and I can't forgive myself.

Love....wow. I gotta kick, push, and coast away from it....probably forever.

Do NOT Question God...Just Believe

2006-08-10T11:11:00.000-07:00

In the part of this universe that we know there is great injustice, and often the good suffer, and often the wicked prosper, and one hardly knows which of those is the more annoying.

--Bertrand Russell

1 year ago around this time I was in the same situation. I was homeless, working, having car trouble, and woman trouble all at the same time. Finding yourself back in a situation that you thought was completely behind you is almost life-altering. It's is definitely growth restricting. However, this time it has been compounded by something vile and utterly unsettling.

Someone whom I love dearly has been hurt...

I have a HUMONGOUS heart, and when someone I love is hurt, it disables/cripples/destroys me. I'm finding myself sitting at this screen unable to focus. I want to make it right. I want somehow to make my friend get up out of that hospital bed and rewind time. Rewind time back to before everything happened to her and make it right again.

I'm pissed though. I'm pissed because the only person that could have hurt her in such a manner is probably sitting next to her right now. He's sweating, jittery. Looking for someone to shift te blame to. Looking for someone to pin this thing on. Pointing fingers, smiling nervously in a feeble attempt to be strong. In the face of jail time and ridicule, he's looking for a sacrificial lamb.

He called me. Asking me questions like he is an authority figure. Giving simple answers, even simpler smart comments. I'm pissed. He kinda tried me. Don't want to let my roots come out. Don't want to let my Ensley show. I left that shit behind....

Questions coming rapidly
"What you wanna do baby brother?"
"I don't wanna do nothing man, I just want to make sure she's ok."
"You know where that nigga at?"
"Yeah"
"Let's find him then."
"For what man? He ain't really got gully with me or anything. You know?"
"I just wanna see what that nigga knows. That's my girl too ya know?"
"Yeah, I dig. I'll be in Tuscaloosa in the morning."
"Aight....Peace Chad."
"Peace."

Breathing in ragged, heavy breaths. Walking with slow heavy steps. Violence flashes through my mind. Ideas of just swinging against whatever this demon is that has enslaved her for the moment. "Bring back my friend you bastard! Let her go!" I want to fight for her. I want the recesses of her mind to help her fight. I want her to be ok. Tears flow freely now. Why can't I cry? I can't believe this. Things like this shouldn't happen to people like that. Sometimes Life sucks. Other times...it's a dream. This is a nightmare. A burden none should have to bare sits on the back of one who's heart is big enough to care. I don't understand. My understanding is limited.

God please forgive us for our sins. Those committed knowingly and unknowingly. God, protect and keep my friend in her hour of need. Please God let your grace and mercy rain down on her right now and protect her. Bless her soul, heart and mind Father. Allow her to come through this unscathed Lord. Only you have the power to truly fix this. Man is limited in his technology and medicines. Only you can heal the broken mind and soul of my friend Lord. Save her. Make her whole again. Bring back that smile, that intelligence, that warmth that only you could have given her Lord. Bless her Father. Bless her sister right now. Father, give her sister the strength to make it through this God. She needs you now more than ever Father. Only you can fix this Lord. We come to you humbly Father. Prone. Face down asking that you bless her and bestow the fullest power of your grace and mercy upon her Lord. Please Lord. Please, just make her right again. Make her whole again. In JESUS name we pray. AMEN

Hip-Hop Revival

2006-08-08T11:16:00.000-07:00

You ever noticed how music can completely change your mood? Change the way you talk, think, breathe, walk? I have.

I remember when I first fell in love with this lifestyle called hip-hop. It was a beautiful thing. I was about 12 years old. I borrowed a tape from one of the girls at my middle school. I rushed home and popped in my cassete player with the big ass headphones and sat on my bed. The cool southern drawl that oozed from the tiny speakers and into my psyche was life changing, mind numbing, and addictive all at the same time. The horns blared through the sides of my face and made my eyes glow. The voices of two of the coolest men on the planet, in my eyes, ran roughshod through the streets of my adolescent, troubled brain. I KNEW at that very moment, hip-hop was in my soul.

That first experience listening to Outkast's "Player's Ball" solidified what I already knew. There was a world outside of my two parent, turbulent household in a middle-class hood. I knew in my home, the rhetoric of the "Ghetto CNN" wouldn't be welcome. My parents didn't want me hearing about glocks, rocks, and hoes. Even though one glance out of my window would have shown me all of that. Bloods here, dope boys there, and a crackhead living across the street. I walked to the bus stop over needles, broken liquor bottles and used condoms thrown out of windows. Hip-Hop was my escape, my dream, my salvation.

I keep hearing a lot of chatter about hip-hop dying and it pains me...

The argument is that southern rap has oversimplified hip-hop to the point that it's nothing but dumb songs and "snap music". I don't believe that. Hip-hop has always had simplicity and complexity. It's always had songs about stupid stuff. (Come on guys, "Gin and Juice" is NOT a complex ass concept...I dare you to say it's not a classic) Hip-hop is universal. It's just as broad as the range of colors that tint the skin of the diaspora.

Hip-hop is not some king sitting on a throne dictating orders to people. Hip-hop is not some overly pretentious, bourgeois negro sneering down its nose at the impoverished. Hip-hop is the suburbs and the slums. It's just as much snap music as it is "The Purple Tape". It's beautiful in so many ways.

Hip-Hop is not dead...it's just sleep right now...
Rest brother....rest

Redux?

2006-08-07T10:57:00.000-07:00

So, if you're reading this I probably directed you to it. This is going to be the entension of my blog for now for a couple of reasons.

1. I don't have a wireless connection at my job.
2. The files for my website aren't on my work computer.
3. I get bored at work and need to write.
4. Because I felt like it...

So, this is where the tracks from the wheels turning in my head will be presented while I'm at work.

Gimme a minute. I'll make you a believer.