My five (Part 1)

For the end of the year, I'mma reflect on some of the lessons I've learned in '08.

People always wanna talk about going home, or not being able to go home. What's wrong with letting home come to you?

I found out at the end of this year that home can always come to you. It's not as simple as I make it sound...

My best friend came to visit for a week.

My best friend, Danielle, has intimidated me in many ways over the years. She, unlike me, never knew exactly what she wanted after college, but ended up doubling (and, at times, tripling) what I was bring home working my lifelong dream. She has had the flashy cars, the townhouse in the 'burbs, the money to spare.

But when it all came down to it, she was vulnerable -- just like me.

We had a conversation while she was here that made me realize we weren't drifting apart like I'd suspected. It was just that her problems and my problems were on different plateaus. I was worried about how I could afford a new SUV. She was worried how she'd be able to afford the new cost of her adjustable-rate mortgage.

She wasn't some brand new chick that spent money til there wasn't any more. She was just Danielle trying to survive a different hustle at the same time as me.

It took us a week to figure out that the differences we'd seen over the years still showed the same people we were when we became best friends more than a decade ago.

She called me Monday when I was coming home from work and we talked about the puppies and how terrible they were. It's the story of our lives these days.

"I'm kinda sad you're not coming home, boo," she said. I didn't expect it, but I knew where it was coming from. In a week's time, we learned all over again what made us who we were and why we bonded all those years ago.

And for that, I'll always be grateful.


Next: To play the game, or to just be yourself...
Then: Keeping in touch is good to do...
Plus: Why love won't count me out...
And: When all else fails...

Music to my ears

These flaws I've got
They're apart of who I am
Take me or not
But I finally understand
And I'm so done trying to be everything you want
I had to stop
'Cuz baby you ain't worth it
If I've got to camouflage

--Camouflage by Brandy

Yeah, I'm on a music kick.

I've been waiting more than two months for Brandy's album to drop. Something about the leaked song "First and Love" that stuck with me. It spoke to what I was feeling at the time.

It was, as KLC once said, "like she was hiding in my closet" for the last few months.

The CD, serious words wrapped around beats that sometimes don't match the message, was a welcome surprise when I first cracked it open Tuesday during my lunch break.

I fell. I fell hard.

I fell for the words, not just the beats.

I'm a beat guy, and all my friends will attest to that when they speak of my strange variation of tastes. Brandy's always been about that. She's not one to alienate audiences by giving them a hard beat with emotionless words. Even the club banger 'What About Us," talked of a relationship that'd run its course.

I feel a rant coming on in 5...4...3...2.........

Oh where, oh where, has the talent gone?

I went through the list of Grammy nominees and realized that music in 2008 was surely dead. Why does BeYAWNsay have a Grammy nod for a performance of "Me, Myself and I?" I mean, it was hot when she did the song in 2003!

I don't understand how "Year of the Gentleman" by Ne-Yo has been nominated for Album of the Year. There are people (Mary J., Lil' Wayne immediately come to mind) who have produced far greater quality and haven't made noise in that list.

I had a conversation with my boy Kyle recently where we were discussing why I don't listen to certain artists. I can't stand artists who make me feel like their experiences are beneath where I am in life. If all you have to talk about is money, cars, clothes and hoes, you gotta go. My CD player ain't the place for you.

I can't wait for the new Brandy to hit stores next week. I need quality in my life. Especially after a season where Johnnie Legendary put out some fast paced crap. And M.I.A.'s "Paper Planes" didn't even mention paper planes. Let's not even talk about that last Usher album.

Am I alone? Probably not, since record sales are still off by a longshot from where they were three years ago.

What say you? What's missing from music? I mean, I've been able to get my run on with hot beats, but none of this stuff has been sustaining...

What is there to be thankful for? (An open letter)

I should've been spending my first Thanksgiving with you.

Ok, you wouldn't have been here, but we should've been together. I would've called you to check in after all the food had been eaten, joke about how much you ate, then tell you how much I couldn't wait to see you when you returned from visiting the fam.

Instead, I'm spending it a single man. Bitter about the situation, but glad you finally let me go.

Or, rather, I let go of you.

In hindsight, I am thankful for you. I'm thankful for the hell you put me through. I'm thankful that I reached my limit with you. So that means next time, when I see the signs, I'll know what's ahead. I'll know what do to.

I'll know to be through.

I'm thankful for the many deep conversations I had with my mother about you. I'm glad we finally came to a new place in our being that I'm able to give myself back to her. For years I felt something was missing from our relationship. But that's no longer true.

And I owe it all to you.

I'm thankful to have loved you. Because for a long time, I wondered if I'd be able to love anyone the way I loved her. She had me out there looking at rings and things. But she ended it all, leaving me blue.

Then I met you.

I'm thankful I'm not you. You said you missed me when we last spoke, when you really missed the attention I gave. And the pipe I laid. And the way I played Captain Save a Hoe for you. He's not paying enough attention to you. He's not having sex with you. He said you're unstable, and when I heard that, I should've trusted it, too.

Never wanna be miserable like you.

Being a parent is hard

I woke up to find Charlie, yelping from the side of her new kennel. On the other side, she'd thrown up.

It was all my fault. I was a bad parent.

I'd put her kennel upright so she'd have less space to move -- less space than she's had the previous three days -- and not make any mistakes overnight. I guess the new situation was too much for her to handle.

I ran around to grab something to get Charlie out of the kennel, then went to open it. I got a whiff of some funky throw-up.

Upon further examination, I realized she'd simply shitted all over the place.

Maybe it's still my fault? Maybe I should've left her to her own devices in the laundry room?

Or, perhaps she should've pooped when I took her ass out at 10:15 to get everything out before bed. Maybe then I wouldn't have been scrubbing a kennel at 7:05 a.m.

Looking back, it wasn't my fault at all.

Introducing: Charlie

When I think things are going too well, I add something to the mix to challenge myself. When I think I'm headed toward the path of destruction, I change courses.

All that to say I bought a puppy.

She's about 9 weeks old, mixed with a Collie and something else that made her freakin adorable and about as nosy as her daddy :-)

I took my boy Earnest (who's had a dog before) with me to pick her up. I knew I'd have to make a pitstop at the local pet store on the way home. He'd be able to get me through there without choking on the price of puppy accessories.

The puppy lady rushed the dog into my arms, hugged her one last time and made me promise to update her on the pup's situation. If I wanted to give her back, she'd meet me halfway for a pass-off. Everything was going great.

Which means something was bound to happen.

On the ride home, Earnest noticed something on her head. Turns out she had fleas.

I purchased dog food with which she hadn't been accustom. Diarrhea much?

After a trip outside to the bathroom, she wanted to climb into bed with me and snuggle up for the long night. Would've been great, had it not been for those damn fleas.

She spent her night with her pallet set up on the floor in the laundry room, after first being fitted in the bathroom, then the linen closet.


What? I dunno how dogs roll!

But I'll be finding out. This weekend is daddy-daughter bonding. Hopefully, I can get her used to hearing her name, then learning how to not piss on my carpet. Did I forget to mention that?

I didn't make my goal...

I got comfortable with my weight because people would always say "you're tall, so you wear it well."

Tell that to my aches that came from toting around nearly 400 pounds for more than two years. Depression was the reason it was able to creep so high. My goal was to keep myself happy and get it off.

I'm still proud of the progress. Right now, I weigh less than I did at the beginning of 2006.

By the beginning of 2009, I plan on weighing less than that.

My goal of 100 pounds is still in sight, but i think I like the slow and easy process more. I'm beginning to see more definition since I began using weights. My problem area -- my stomach -- is still a mess, but it's a more manageable one than before.

In December, I plan to do more preparing for the year to come.

Then, I'll set small goals to reach during 2009.

By the summer, I plan on being on someone's beach doing my thing. And without the comforts of a wife beater or that arm we all hold around our waists, acting like it hides all the imperfections.

Thanks, folks, for the encouragement. It's a big part of why I was able to get through this.

Manic Monday

I seriously feel like slapping somebody!

There's nothing in particular wrong, because I've had a very good two days, but I'm concerned with the way people are treating others.

I've been rolling on a cloud, but it seems everybody around is going through it with a spouse/lover/significant other/whatever you call it. My boy called me up, saying his ex was rubbing folks in his face. Another called to say the guy she was talking to was disregarding her.

I had a guy tell me this weekend he was thinking about cheating on his girl because she told him he wasn't that attractive... and MEANT it.

What's keeping you there?

Why do we hold fast to what's hurting us?

Oh, and you need to read this: Duck of all Trades takes on Obama

Election 2008: Bittersweet, through my grandmother's eyes

I listened to the jubilation in my grandmother's voice to get the fuller meaning of what a black president means.

She recalled when blacks weren't allowed the privilege of voting. She remembered people being spat on and beaten to achieve that goal. She, a spry but waning citizen of our country, never thought this would happen in her lifetime.

But it did.

"What'd that song say?" she told me an hour after casting her vote. "Something about dancing in the streets. If Obama wins, I'm gonna be out there, in front of the house, dancing in the streets."

Still conservative, even in victory.

This was a long time coming for her. She'd long given up on the pipe dream pushed by parents everywhere that their baby could be the first black president. Just wasn't gonna happen, she would say. "But it would be nice," she'd quickly retort.

My grandmother is a realist. She believes in the right person being chosen for the job every time. She believes in karma when the right person doesn't do the job they were thought able. She also believed a black president would come -- when we were right ready for it.

Guess that time came last night.

Last night, I celebrated. Not because Obama had been elected was I celebrating. I was doing it because the election of a lifetime -- one in which I was glued to the coverage, but began to tire of lately -- was finally over. It's time to get back to the lecture at hand.


So I jumped in the bed, curled up in a ball and got my grandma back on the line. She said nothing about the fact that it was a black president. She spoke of the issues on Obama's agenda she wanted to see accomplished, "should I live to see it."

Of course you will, I reassured her. But the day meant more to her than any other in recent history.

I voted nearly two weeks ago, my state generously offering early voting to the masses. She waited to vote on Nov. 4. Not only to make sure her vote counted, but to do it on a day that was special for a number of reasons.

One, she was voting for something she never thought possible in her lifetime. And it was happening on her 81st birthday.

Horton hears a WTF?

Sometimes, I feel like personal cell phones should not be allowed at work.

Case in point:

"Hell, I keep forgetting to run by the pharmacy to get that ointment to clear this shyt up."

Or this:

"They want to put what in your where? I mean, the most I've ever had was two fingers, and that was too much."

Maybe it's just where I work. I remember one time listening to this guy curse his wife out because she forgot to pay the cable bill. She was a stay-at-home mom.

Sometimes, you feel like a nut...

She sat on the other side of the couch, pondering the words she would speak. The silence was awkward.

I tried my best to just watch tv.

"So November 17th? I can't even think about getting none til November freakin 17th?"

This is going to be a theme in my life, I see.

I feel like Luther Vandross, the women throwing panties at me while I'm on stage. Unlike Luffa, I'd normally respond.

This time, sadly, I cannot.

I've taken to running more, since I have to vent my frustrations somehow. Did I mention my tennis partner deserted me, too? In a way, it was mutual, but I miss those carefree calorie-burning events. Besides, he was an 'effin liar. More on that later.

Why is it that when you want to stay away from something, it's put in front of you more often? I was dating earlier this year when I started the whole weight-loss thing. I remember showing her a text exchange between me and my boy Kyle. He said he wanted an ENTIRE pizza. All I wanted at the time was a peanut butter cup.

Why'd a pack of Reese's show up in my fridge that night? Shenanigans!

Wednesday Randomness... Vol. 4

I want a relationship that actually feels like a relationship.

I get hit up all the time by people who claim they can add everything to my life that I'm missing. had a girl tell me last month that she could be the freak she knew I needed. I laughed. Hard.

But while I dated someone the last six or so months, I always felt like something was missing.

It was. Me.

I'd spent so much time making sure things were going well that I never stopped to ask myself what I wanted. I think the fact that I'd been led to believe there was a future for us was enough for me.

No longer. I ended it last week.

I've got a good paying job, an apartment I'm content with until the house comes along and an SUV that, thanks to the Gas Gods, isn't putting me into debt. But I still feel like that one thing continues to elude me.

What say you? When the lights go down and it's just you in the house, what do you yearn for?

Have you never...?

I was afraid I wouldn't make it through yesterday. It was almost like I was avoiding... him... like the plague. In the shower, I always take time on my... parts... to make sure they get the attention they need.

But yesterday, I felt like it was going to lead to more.

It's weird, but in all I say and do to change my body, I like the way I look. Yep, I think I'm sexy. There's something about me that sometimes I can't get enough of.

So resisting the urge is a helluva challenge.

The purpose of what I'm doing is to raise awareness (to myself) to the fact that, yes, there can be too much of a good thing.

My thing just happens to be self-pleasurevation...

The sacrifice to beat all sacrifices...

I'm giving up all forms of sex until Nov. 17.

There, I said it.

Every so often, I do something to challenge myself. Usually, it's something I've become dependent upon that I need to lay off. Last year, it was chocolate.

This is going to be the hardest thing I think I've done in the last year. Why is it so hard for me to even contemplate this? You know how they do on Biggest Loser where they give you all your favorites before the weight loss begins?

I'm having a party tonight!

What say you? Could you do it? Have you done it? On purpose? Am I fooling myself? Is this all TMI?

They cost me $5...

And I don't wanna throw them away.

I mean, they were navy, pin-striped and the size I wanted to be in by the end of 2006.

I never got there.

So imagine my surprise when I saw them folded up in the bottom of a bin after I moved two weeks ago. I pulled them out, and they fit.

And they fit well.

But, alas, I'm "match" challenged. There's no girlfriend -- or even gay friend -- to help me with these things. They all usually look at me like "you did well enough, so you don't need help."

Lord only knows why people trust me so.

So I'm figuring I'd ask the people who help me the most -- yeah, that's you... lol

What do you do with pin-striped pants? I mean, I went online, but the only pics I saw were of women and some guy who was wearing a t-shirt.

Neither style would fit me.

It's funny, the things I've found myself wearing as I let this weight drop off. I doubt I'd have ever put these pants on when I was at the height of my weight. Next, I'll probably try a pink shirt.

Or maybe not.

Plight of the black man...

I threw out my trimmers when I was packing for the move. I told my barber I'd bust my ass to get there once a week - haircut, then line-up and shave, every other week.

He said fine.

This week's been torture for me. It's like if I haven't worked late, I've been busy with other things after work. With that in mind, I took it to the shop this morning.

At 7 a.m.

I was to be the first one into work, so I wanted to get trimmed up, head in and get the day started for our office. When I pulled up to the shop, I saw a familiar occurrence: The sign said open at 6, but nobody was there.

I may take a trip to Wal-Mart tonight and buy a new set of trimmers.

The waiting game...

OK, so if I wore only the clothes that fit me, I'd be looking like Carlton Banks all the live long day. I went into the bathroom at work to put on my belt (yeah, I ran a little late today), and noticed that my jeans looked like one of those Dexatrim commercials.

I stood in front of the mirror, grabbed the front (near the button) using my thumb, and continued to pull. It's not too drastic, but I could easily fit random things in there.

Now I sound like a shoplifter... lol

The issue is this: I'm not done losing all the weight I want to, but the clothes are telling me it's time to move on. But we all know a new wardrobe is not cheap.

What say you? Should I wait til I'm happy with my size, or should I drop it like it's hot on the credit card?

Making it work...

So with all the moving and spending money, I've been a little "creative" how I've been using my money.

It took me right back to those struggling college student days where several of us used to go in on food together, knowing it would last longer that way. I remember riding by four fast food restaurants on the way home one time just to get ketchup packets. Let's not even talk about all the food I "borrowed" from Arby's... lol

My favorite is the Wal-Mart check scam.

Tomorrow, I'll do my grocery shopping, but I'll pay in check. That way, when my direct deposit lands on Friday, the check will land, too..

What say you: What do you do to cut corners when necessary for survival? I know there's some good ones out there!

Manic Monday

I'm mad my body still hurts from Saturday's moving extravaganza.

But the new place is starting to look like home. I bought furniture, upgraded the pots and pans, got a flat panel television -- and they all look good to me!

What is it about new stuff that makes you more anal than before? I mean, I had folks rolling through who wanted to walk on the carpet in their shoes, throw their coats on my couch, tell me how to cook my food (which everyone agreed was hot like fire!), etc.

That said, I have my typical Monday night date of (possibly) tennis and Heroes, then I'm back to getting my life out of boxes.

Wanna help?

I'll post pictures when I'm done.

HATEred

I went to my booth carrying a tray with the two plates I'd piled with food, the empty cup I'd soon fill with sweet tea and my wallet and cell phones.

I sat facing the window, nibbling slowly at the pizza, eating the caesar salad, watching my phone ring... and ring... and ring.

The people just stared.

The girl's cheerleading squad that filed in after practice came dressed in sweats, spandex and boy shorts in colors that spread across the rainbow. Some silently made their plates, while others cackled as they found a place to sit.

The four guys -- dressed in sleeveless blue-jean shirts and knee-length shorts, one with a mullet -- stared at the girls. The guys were beyond their high school years, but stared longingly at the teens as the girls flittered around the restaurant.

None of it mattered to me. I was still trying to figure out why one of the four guys called me a nigger.

Foolishness

I logged into the messenger system when I got back from Greensboro. Janet's concert had been canceled, the ensuing evening was uneventful, and I really missed my bed. If someone hit me up, I'd probably not be there.

Then, I hear the BUZZ! sound coming from the Yahoo application. I barely go on there, but something made me log in.

"So I know you heard."

I first learned Jeremy was dating both men and women during a game of Truth or Dare. His "best friend" decided it wasn't that big a deal, and J needed to let the rest of us know.

We're still friends. He visited me just after I got to Raleigh in '06. He hit on me, and we stayed friends after I rejected him.

Then, he started dating Sara.

I've known Sara for as long as I can remember. She was in my hanging group in college. I mentored her on the student newspaper. We had one of those "friends forever" chats when she graduated. Of course liquor was involved, and we poured our hearts out to each other.

She's one of my favorite people. Though we only talk about once a week, I still consider her a good friend.

"Yeah, Tim told me," I said back. Seems Jeremy had taken a liking to my boy, Tim in the last few months. Their first time was two weeks ago. Tim called me because he was excited about a new interest. When he told me it was someone we both knew, I wasn't too happy.

Tim doesn't mind being the mistress in the situation. Jeremy's going with the flow of things on both ends. Sara's oblivious to it all, and has started buying wedding magazines for tips.

She's looking at summer 2010.

---

It's not my business to get in the middle of their situation. I can only tell Jeremy what I think of things, then keep it moving. Before I said anything, he snapped.

"You gon do some nigga shit and tell?"

I hadn't even thought about it. It's your life, not mine. With him being so defensive and accusatory, I took a second to think about what would happen if I told.

Should I even think about it?

Is it best to inject yourself into situations when you know it's for the greater good of a friend?

Wednesday Randomness... Vol. 4

Atlanta, Georgier -- OK, so I've been in this really great training experience for the past two days, but I wanted to get something up before I fell out in my drunken stupor... lol. So today, we talked about feeling emotions in your writing and how it brings someone even farther into the story that you would have anticipated.

I think I do that here. I think all the blogs that I read with some frequency do that.

You all know that I write for a living, and that I must be doing it well. But what I write here, I'm seeing, is seen by the same people who would hardly pick up a newspaper, where I write to pay bills (and feed my own excitement).

Why is that? I guess this is my hood poll to determine what's wrong with what I do that I'm not reaching the people I want to reach. I write stories that I want people to see. And I try to write them in a way that they will be easy to understand and follow.

What makes you seek out your information on a blog/Web site rather than getting it from one of the most trusted sources in the world?

The second coming

OK, so I've fallen off a little when it comes to the whole weight-loss thing. I mean, it's great to look at all the clothes I can't fit anymore. It's great to be able to go to the gym and not work as hard as I once did.

It's great to look at the new body and...

That's where the list abruptly ends.

My relationship with the gym needs new motivation. I've been going to the gym since January with a desire for an ultimate goal. Somewhere along the line, that goal was forgotten.

I've dwelled on the pounds I've already lost.

I started playing tennis in an unpredictable pattern.

I dipped out on the personal trainer when the money looked like it wasn't going to be there (damn unexpected bills).

So, this month, I'm rededicating myself to the gym. But it's going to be hard. I've gotten used to maintaining the weight I've been around for two months, and it's been cool. If I need to drop 3-5 pounds right quick, I shrug it off and churn through a good week. That whole "I wanna lose 15 pounds this month" thing has left my body.

But I gotta get it back.

Maybe like I did on the other blog. Maybe saying here that I'll lose 15 pounds this month or take a pic in just boxers will motivate me to not humiliate myself. I hope so. Yall still don't wanna see this... lol

How do you motivate yourself to do something that's no longer atop your priority list?

daddy issues...

I dropped Luis at the airport so he could make his flight to Detroit. He had planned three days of nonstop fun with his best friend, who is actually from my hometown.

None of that mattered to Diego.



The pup, a Pekinese, whined and moaned like an infant longing for the familiar touch of the one person who showered them with the most love and affection. For three days, though, that would have to be me.

He threw up on the way home from the airport.

He didn't eat a single bite of food -- which I left available for him all day.

He didn't touch his water.

The treat he got for going to the bathroom outside sat in the corner.

He moped like he'd lost part of himself.

I knew where he was coming from.

---

I felt honored when Luis asked me to look after Diego. To me, he was trusting me with his most valuable possession. It is also a good way for me to determine if I can handle this whole dog-owning thing on my own.

I spent the next day cleaning up my house in preparation for my guest.

He would sleep in the window, since that's what worked best for him the last time he stayed over. He would also get to run around a bit after using the bathroom. That way, I told myself, he would have already gone outside, and would have no reason to go on my floor.

This dog thing would be a piece of cake, I told myself. If I could watch Diego for three days, I could do anything.

Boy, was I wrong.

---

This morning, Diego was staring blankly out the window. It was raining, and he watched as a tree limb swayed back and forth in the wind.

I'd gotten up a little earlier to give him some attention. I grabbed him up and we went on a little stroll. He was excited to be outside with me.

We ran. He did his business. We ran some more.

When we got back in, he actually ate food and drank water. His treat, which sat for hours last night without so much as a second thought, was gone.

Maybe this dog thing could work out after all.

Still, it's clear he misses Luis. I sort of do, too. There are things about a dog I don't know. I don't know how to handle him acting unusually. Maybe there's a secret used to get him to come around.

Until the phone rings, I guess I'll never know.

Wednesday Randomness... Vol. 3

I'm wondering: Can you enter a relationship with someone when you still have feelings for someone else?

I ask this because it's come up three times over the last week.

I say yes. If you say to yourself that you want to be with someone, NOTHING should hold you back from that. It's just like everything else you want in life. You make a choice, and you stick by it.

Unless you really don't want it.

Am I the only one addicted to blogs lately? There seems to be new life in some of these. I mean, I check out Fuzzy, Cocoa Rican and LadyNay often, but I've been reading like 20 blogs a day this week.

Have yall seen my homie's blog? She's been ... enjoying ... herself out in Cali. She's shy, so go get at her page. Show her some love.

Am I the only one loving the new season of HEROES? Obviously so, since the show had a record low number of viewers. And it was hot as hell! I can't wait for next week.

Clay Aiken's gay. No way! Stevie Wonder saw that coming.

Five things about Mary J. Blige's concert...

5. Mr. Seaver's son: I laughed when I noticed his shirt was made of rubber. I laughed when he started raising the roof. I laughed when he tried to dance.

But I was partying in the aisle when he did "Wanna Love You Girl." I was still there for "Cocaine."

He may be stiff, but those songs are on point. And he's got hella swagger to pull it all off, bad dancing and all!








4. Tick-ets! Get ya tick-ets: I sold my ticket to the concert at the last minute to make sure my friend, Rashad, and I could get seats near each other. He had decided at the last minute that going to the concert was something he wanted to do.

On the way to the ticket counter, a man motioned me to his car. I felt like a hooker.

"Hey man, I got good seats for 50 bucks each," said the man, slumped in the front seat of a sedan, looking like a black Jabba the Hutt.

The tickets looked legit enough, so we went for it. Hell, the cheapest seats were 70, and he was giving us $115 seats for the low low.

We were nervous til the scanner beeped to confirm we were clear to go.

3. Movin' on up: My boy Rashad and I sat in our seats, excited that we were six rows from the front. But Rashad wasn't satisfied yet. After the first artist, we ended up rolling to the fourth row in the middle. I kid you not that I could've reached out and smacked Robin Thicke.

But, slowly, the once empty row began to fill.

Two ladies walked up on us in the middle of Thicke's set, telling us we were in their seats. I was ready to retreat to my "still good" seats on the other side. Rashad just moved over. During "Lost Without You," we lost our second set of stolen seats.






2. Kendu, Kendu, Kendu: We spotted Kendu strolling the grounds before the show began.

Red polo. Jeans. Matted mini fro.

Seconds after I noticed him, he was stopped by security.

Apparently, they had no idea who the hell he was.

I have a problem with you not wearing your "I'm with her" shirt at your wife's concert.







1. I love it when she cries: You can't say that stuff is fake! She belted out several songs, but a praiseworthy rendition of "Take Me As I Am" brought tears to Mary's eyes. That's what singing is all about to me: Knowing your stuff, and feeling what you say.

How much more convincing could you be?

Ranting and raving...

I just want it to be ooooooooooo-veeeerrrrrrrrr (the election, that is).

Why is it that there's always a song to help you through a break-up, but when you need to pack a bag, you're on your own?

Maybe I should write one and send it to Lil' Jon.

I'd be geeked as hell to hear him do it ("Put the toothbrush in the tote bag, WHAAAAT?!")

When you don't make a goal, why is it so hard to see the success amid the overall failure?

(Guys) -- Have you ever been freaked out by your (piece) hitting the water in the bowl?

Does it quietly make you feel proud that the whole occurrence was able to happen?

Maybe it's just me... lol

How long does it take to adjust to a new schedule?

Yes, there's something wrong with sex on the first date if you want a relationship.

Especially when the sex was planned.

Am I the only one who freaks when a parent talks about your sex life?

Does it even matter when it's not your parent?

When do you say die?

The last two weeks have been mentally frustrating for me.

I've been involved with someone who still has feelings for an ex. The ex is just that, but it sounds like he's working his way back into the fold. It puts me on the losing end of the battle, as we all know history always wins out.

I've gone back and forth about what I should be doing. Should I stick it out until there's some resolve? Or should I gracefully bow out, as I know there's someone out there who would put me first, as I would for them.

I thought I was close to a decision, but then Cocoa Rican hit a nerve:

On Blast
Is it more important to you to win at all costs or to lose sometimes, while maintaining your dignity?

I've never been a "give up" type of person, but the situation I'm in gives me pause because sometimes I feel like I'm the only one making sacrifices. I know I'm not in the toughest situation in the triangle, which has been my reason for not ending it earlier. I'm the new guy, I keep telling myself, and you've fallen for me. But is that enough for sustainment?

Then I think about leaving it all alone.

Sure, sometimes we must lose in order to gain ground in the long run, but this time doesn't feel like one of those times. At least from the words I hear.

Right now, I'm at a place where if I don't look back, I'll always wonder about what could've been. But if I stick around, I would continue to feed on the idea of an "us," which might never come.

What's a guy to do?

It's Monday

And after a long weekend working on union stuff, I don't really feel like writing. But I asked a friend for advice this weekend, and he said something that should've been obvious, but made a lot of sense.

You want what you can't have more than what you can get.

Why?

Then and now...

"This morning I realized that we’ve never spent daddy’s birthday with him."

That was the welcome in my inbox this morning from Mike. And he was right.

Pity we can't do anything about it.

I remember September 12, 1991. Mike and I were at home, and my mom reminded us that we needed to call daddy. Wish him a happy birthday, she said. Mike would make the call. They talked a little afterward about school and whatever else, then he handed the phone to me.

I was almost hesitant.

My father and I didn't have a good relationship, to say the least. I still have pains in my right ear from a beating I took about 20 years ago at his hands. But three years back then was a long time, and I'd my feelings had changed from hate to resentment, so I was able to get through a 5-minute phone call.

I wished him a happy birthday, and he asked me about classes. He knew the gifted and talented school was doing a number on me, and I was struggling to maintain a 3.5 (at Bates Academy, that was a G+ average... lol) in my classes. Then he told me that he wanted us to hang with him sometime in the future. He and the misses were getting a house, and he wanted us to like it, too.

When the time came for that trip, Mike went alone. The residuals from our previous encounters still nagged at me.

Now, he's been gone almost 17 years, and all I have are what-ifs.

If he were still here, I believe the man I've become would've been enough for he and I to get past the issues. I'd probably have sent him something in the mail, given him a call to make sure he got it, and got off the phone. Were he here, I wouldn't have needed to catch up. He would be an active participant in my life.

And he'd be proud of the man my brother's become.

My father told me once that he was so hard on me because he knew that which I was capable. He had plans for me, and, while I doubt I've done it the way he expected, I think he'd be proud.

Happy 64th, daddy. May you have many more.

It's only appropriate (My Sept. 11 post)

I remember sitting in class thinking what my eyes were seeing just wasn't possible.

People on the Today show were talking about seeing a plane crash into one of the World Trade Center's Twin Towers. Dr. Workman continued with her lesson plan.

I faked a bathroom trip to head to the newspaper office, so the scene could play out with sound. I arrived in the room at 8:41.

"There was just... Oh my God, that plane looks like it's headed right for the. OH MY GOD! That plane just hit the second tower."

It's probably not verbatim, all these years later, but that's how I remember the woman on the phone talking.

I was the editor of my college paper. Surely we would be involved in covering this catastrophic event. I skipped the rest of my classes and called my staff together. It was the first time The Famuan published three days in one week.

Looking back on it, I needed that paper to save my sanity.

Wednesday Randomness... Vol. 2

This morning, I found myself trying to relate myself to a friend of mine who's in a place I remember all to well. With good friends as young as 22 and 23, I find often that I've been where they are, and I try to let on that the good will come soon enough.

A friend of mine is 22, doesn't have a car and works enough to get by. He's also in college working on two degrees. Robbing Peter to pay Paul has become too common.

Another friend, 23, sees shrinking checks and opportunities. Had things stayed the way they were 6 months ago, he figures, everything would be alright.

I see 21-24 as the post-adolescent version of puberty. You'll hit a few bumps in the road during that time in your life, but things will turn out fine in the end.

But when will the end come?

That's not for you to decide.

By the time you get to 24, things will be looking up. Hell, they're still on the come up for me at 27. It's a gradual process, this life thing.

Maybe they didn't come for advice. Maybe they just needed a sounding board. I'm just the type of guy who always wants to help (without coming out of his own pocket, of course). What do you tell a friend who sounds down on their luck about something they have little or no control over?

"I DEE-SIDE-DED," an open letter to LiL B

Solange,

I waited these last few months for your album to drop because I loved everything I'd been hearing from you.

Then, you kicked off your promotional tour.

I'll be keeping my $9.99 stored on my credit card now.

I love the fact that you decided to try something a little different this time around. The sound is something that might need to make it to the mainstream. A blend of the old '60s sound and the spirit of the words coming together to incite... SOMETHING... from the apathetic. I was so excited.

You made it known you weren't trying to be the next Beyonce. You grew up with her, so it could've been easy for you to channel that one. But you were doing something else. Something new. It was classy, cool, spirited.

Then you screwed up.

Yeah, there may have been some things you didn't like about what was going on during your press junket, but man! Handle it after the cameras stop rolling. No one's gonna think of you as some punk for not handling it on air. Trust me.

Because of you, all your hard work to give the world a new sound will come up short. People were raving about the CD before it got to the shelves. You had a chance to get out there, show us some of that bubbly Knowles personality and get some dollars.

But your CD didn't even crack the top 10, and it's steady decline is imminent.

Now, B's gonna still have to give you an allowance.

Sucks to be you.

Sincerely,
A concerned fan.

You don't know what you've got til it's...

The liveliness of my old newsroom is the thing I miss the most. Can't really say I miss the job. The one I have now is everything I've yearned for these last few years. The freedom to do whatever I want – AND get paid? No-brainer there.

But it seems everybody I know who has gone through a job change recently isn't liking the new situation. One friend of mine said the $20K salary adjustment wasn't even enough to keep him going.

He started this morning at his old gig. For EXACTLY what he was making when he left. I hope that works for him.

I think it's just taking me time to adjust to my new situation. I mean, it took me four months to adjust to the other one. I've only been here two.

What I like:

The lady I sit across from.
My editor's eagerness for the stories I pitch
The ability to have everything at my fingertips

What (else) I miss:

The editors I sat across from
The daily gratification (which had been drying up anyway, given newshole issues)

Overall, I'm glad with the choice I made, and I wouldn't change it for anything. What lengths have you gone before to make a new situation work? Would you go back to your previous employer, with the promises for only what you had when you left, instead of sticking it out?

Waiting My Turn

What if I was on the Dow Jones
MAW flashing across the ticker
Would I be worthy of your portfolio
Or is that penny stock more up your clicker

What if I were that doggie in the window
Surely I deserve to be bought
But when the newness rubs off
Would I still be a priority in your thoughts

Don't let my "good guy" deceive
My bad guy still has his moments
I'm not the type to always please
But still capable of having some sense

Lonely sometimes feels just right
But often the bed gets so cold
That a second party is a welcome act
And that spooning session feels like gold

Maybe I'm not ready
Maybe it's not my time
Maybe the right one for me
Hasn't found their place in line

Not like I'm asking for much
Only appreciation and fun times
Doesn't even have to be a dime
Just someone worth me spending my time

Case of the Ex: Vol 1

I try to maintain some sort of friendship with everyone I've dated, but lately, they've all been falling by the wayside. Maybe I'm doing something wrong? Maybe I'm just tired of how much they changed?

Maybe I finally took off the Shallow Hal glasses to see what they were really about?

Case no. 1:

We were friends nearly 10 years, and decided to try the whole dating thing in 2006. She broke up with me on New Year's Day 2007. We didn't speak for eight months. The last year was a bit topsy-turvy.

She called me up one day and the conversation was a bit disturbing: "I just feel like you put yourself in the middle of something that had nothing to do with you. That's why I'm mad."

What?

I noticed a difference of opinion between her and another of our friends, and I was doing my job as a friend to point it out. Neither was able to detect that the other wasn't on the same page. Needless to say, I soon pulled back from the situation when I saw no resolution would be found.

She felt I'd crossed the line. And wanted an apology.

Why?

"If someone came to me and said I'd hurt them, I'd swallow my pride and apologize, even if I felt I had done nothing wrong."

I'm glad you would. But that's not me.

We haven't talked in a few weeks. And I'm honestly not sad about it. Sure, she's been a great friend to me, but sometimes I feel like if I'm not on board with her logic, obviously there's something wrong with me.

And there's not.

Wednesday Randomness... Vol. 1

Am I a bad black, or a bad American, for not watching Obama's speech?

Why don't I even care? (I'll get to it when I watch both conventions this weekend on DVR -- after the hurricane passes, of course)

Why do I care more that Brian's trying to singlehandedly disband DAY26 than I do about Palin's pregnant daughter.

BTW, can somebody tell Diddy he's no longer relevant?

Why are my people (journalists) consistently showing their biases lately?

Why is there a tropical storm to be named Karina? Really?

Why am I 27 and homesick? I've been gone for 9 years.

Who decided that telling someone how you feel was now passe'?

Why are Venus and Serena playing each other tonight?

Why is Serena gonna be pissed again when she loses?

Who's not proud that I've blogged THREE days straight?

Who doesn't think it's gonna last?

I can't feel my legs...

My thighs are painful to the touch. When I bend, I feel like I'm 75.

Guess I'm more out of shape that I figured.

I'm still trying to figure out why the trainer tried to kill me.

Tonight, I plan on hitting the wall for a little one-on-one tennis action. Maybe my little homie will be up to going with me. We'll see.

I told myself I was going to lose 10 pounds last month.

I lost nine.

This month, I'm going to follow a strict regimen and attempt -- gasp -- 15.

I say that like I've not lost that much in any of the months I've been on the whole weight loss kick. I did it in January, February and (almost) in May. But with Ribfest just 10 weeks away, I've got to step my game up.

(Side note: Who really plans weight loss around a rib festival?)

Hurt again

By the time it ended, I never wanted to see his face again.

All the pushing, prodding, extending and sweating was too much for a first encounter. I still see him: staring down at me, slightly laughing as I made my way through it.

I felt like a failure.

I figured I was doing a good thing by getting up early -- and on a holiday, no less -- to meet my potential trainer for our first session. We'll call him Adebisi, since that's who he looked like.

Adebisi was about 5-foot-8 with dark skin, a bald head and bugged out eyes. The shirt he had on stretched across muscles some people will never see. It was a change from the trainer I had in Florida, who gained nearly two dozen pounds as he was putting me through several weeks of rigorous hour long sessions. We exchanged pleasantries, then got down to work.

I need to eat more.

I know four times a day isn't enough, but it's sometimes all I have space to squeeze in. This week, I'll work on adding some fruit between meals or something to make sure I'm stuffing my face about five times.

I have good lower body strength.

That's what he thinks. The only reason it looked like that was because everything he said do, I did. I hate coming off like an underachiever. The fact that I'm not little like most of my friends makes me strain under pressure to make sure I'm not the one calling "Uncle" first. Maybe I really do. I mean, I play tennis and run regularly. I'll take that.

I need a real gym buddy. And FAST!

OK, so none of my friends locally are into the whole working out thing like I've been this year, so consistency has been a deterrent. And while I'd rather be there with someone I know, I'd rather be there with someone who will motivate me. Adebisi would have to. Problem is, he wants $1,400 to do it.

I told him to let me mull it over. I walked tall from the gym as I headed to the car. When I got out at home, my legs weren't working. I'd gotten home on adrenaline. I felt new hurts from the practice session (he told me the actual workouts were more than that), and I'm excited about the prospects of working with Adebisi to make it work. I'll just have to be able to walk, upright, into the gym.

"It's the most wonderful time..."

I'm blogging on break from an assignment that was supposed to be over a looooooooong time ago.

But I'm blogging in clothes I bought in 2006. Yeah, it could sound like I'm some cheap bastard. But I'm not.

In 2006, I'd sort of kept off the weight I lost my last year in college from walking everywhere (didn't buy a car for a reason) and bought a crapload of clothes.

A year later, none of them fit.

Then in January, my boy Kyle and I (along with a few other stragglers) took to getting our bodies right for the new year. Kyle looks like a string bean with a big head. Robbyn, my homie and also Kyle's woman, is trying to bring sexy back with flowing dresses and other clothing that fits to form.

Me? It's been a little more rough. I was told early on to concentrate on cardio so that I could lose more weight early on. "It'll make it easier to gain stamina for the long fight you're in," I was told.

I'm down nearly 80 pounds since Jan. 1. It worked right? Right?

It did, but my body is still out of wack. That's why I've hired a trainer for the sculpting. I mean, I may still look odd to myself, but it won't be the same way to others.

And, eventually, I'll be throwing away the clothes I've kept in the back of the closet since 2006. Cuz a shopping trip will be in order.

Deadline's approaching

With RibFest about 10 weeks away, and me stalling on the weight loss, I've decided to get a trainer.

Again.

This time, it won't be someone out to jump start my process, or someone trying to break into the personal training realm.

Taylor, the manager at my gym, has a girlfriend who does personal training. I dunno if Nancy's gonna work for me tho. I tried meeting with her co-worker (the guy), to see what he was about. He tried to call me a week later setting up some appointment. Procrastination is a pet peeve of mine. Especially when I'm about to pay you $50 a session.

Needless to say Roger never got a return call.

So I was passing by the desk on Friday, chatting with the attendant as usual, when she mentioned there was a new guy training with the gym. Seems they had gotten rid of one of their trainers and this guy was able to step up.

I was glad for the new blood.

And it was ironic that Roger's cards were no longer on display.

We'll see how this works.

Almost, but not quite

I still remember this whole quarter-life crisis e-mail that was being sent around to all my friends when I turned 25. It was given to me by my good friend Tamara. She told me to stop fretting and that things were going well.

It's been two years, and I still don't think so.

It's not that I'm a pessimist or anything, but I have this feeling I should've been somewhere else by 27.

Sure, I have a great job, a great group (READ: Dysfunctional) of friends and some of the best (again, dysfunctional) family members in the world.

But 10 years ago, this isn't what I had mapped out.

In 1997, I wrote somewhere that I wanted to be married with child No. 2 on the way. I wanted to live in a house with my wife where we both took care of home with our perspective jobs. I wanted to be in the best shape of my life because that's what tennis was going to bring me.

I'm making more than I thought I would be by now. The house is deferred til next year because of credit rebuilding. That wife and kids thing hasn't happened. And I'm in the best shape of... the last three years.

There's some good and some bad, but it's not how I'd mapped it out.

My question is this: Why do we strive for what we want instead of what makes us happy?

I'm leaving behind what we had... yesterday...

Something told me to just space myself, then restart my old blog.

I couldn't do it. You know me.

There was some energy in that old system that refused to let go. Let's see: There was the time my mom was offended, a very good friend of mine and I parted ways, blog wars began between four people, and someone got arrested over something I wrote.

OK, that last part didn't happen.

But I've been really busy with my new job and trying to jump start a relationship, so I figured the people whose phone calls go unreturned can be filled in here.

Welcome. This is my new sanctuary. I'm about to lay back, turn on some Full Force (or Shai, depending on the mood), and let it take me where it wants.

I'm still losing weight. I'm about 20 pounds off where I wanted to be at this point, but I'm still down a whole lot since the year started. YAY ME!

I'm still struggling with self-esteem issues. Just because I sound cocky doesn't mean I am (unless it's about some journalism stuff... lol). I need to know where things stand. I mean, who doesn't mind hearing that they're cute every once in a while (from the right people)?

I'm still struggling for balance in this crazy industry I love so much. Hence the job change. The jury's still out, by the way.

Welcome back. And as Queen Latifah said in Taxi, "Buckle up, muthaf.....!"