BHM

Recent comments from Stacey Dash and an old Morgan Freeman interview condemning the idea of black history month have been all I see on social media this morning and it has me thinking, why is the fight against black history month? Why is a month that celebrates the great achievements and contributions to society by people of color being seen as useless and even inappropriate? It seems as if the argument made against black history month starts with the idea that black history is American history. Now as someone who took 12 years of history in public schools I may have not gotten that memo. It seems as if I was only taught about Maya Angelou and the Harlem Renaissance in February and the Martin Luther King posters always seemed to come down on March 1st.

Maybe if I learned about Kingdoms like the Axum Empire that existed shortly after the Roman one when the “world” fell into a time we were taught to call The Dark Ages because of the cultural and economic deterioration that went on in Europe. In Africa, times were not so dark and empires such as the Axum flourished. But you would never know that. The school system doesn’t care about that.

But people still ask why is there a black history month?

Why is there a black history month? Because without it you wouldn’t know there was this much black history and there is even more than we celebrate during this month. Think to yourself. Where/When did you learn about the black history (excluding slavery) that you do know? I imagine if it was in school, then it was in the month of February. If it was not in school during this month, then you probably learned it elsewhere.

America is seen as this great melting pot where people from civilizations all over the world come together and bring the best of what we have to make this great society. It seems as if this melting pot, speaking from the perspective of the school system, does not have its fair share of ingredients from all members. Next time someone tells you that black history is American history, tell him or her that that is indeed true. But what we were taught in school is European history and then American history from a European perspective.

If we did not have a month to highlight the greatness of the black contribution to culture, then the fear is it would be erased and/or forgotten just as culture/names/religion were stripped during slavery. To think that today, without black history month, that the black contribution to culture would be appreciated, as it should is a very naïve mindset to have.

The fight and the comments condemning the idea of black history month should instead be redirected and aimed at the school system that made black history month necessary. I believe whole-heatedly that black history is American history. However, the way it is taught to us must change before we decide the month is no longer necessary.

The Lunchroom

Do you remember the lunchroom? Where you had the division of all different cliques (the cool kids in one area, the nerds, the athletes, the kids who weren’t athletes but talked about sports as if they were, the artistic kids ect.) each sitting in their own area. You remember that feeling of going through a school day in your freshest outfit and you couldn’t wait until lunch where it seems like EVERYBODY saw how fresh you were? You needed their validation to know your outfit was indeed fresh and if it wasn't their lack of approval made you think you would NEVER wear that outfit again. You remember seeing arguments/fights go down in the cafeteria and everybody getting up to watch what was going on even though it was none of their business? Or better yet, the argument/fight could have been handled out of the view of the entire school and probably be resolved much faster that way? At lunch you couldn’t wait to talk to everybody about what was going on in life and even after a cool vacation you went on, you would get to that first lunch period on that Monday and tell anybody who would listen about how dope your vacation was? (usually the reality of the trip wasn’t nearly as dope as the story but that didn’t matter). You remember not seeing your crush sit with the person you thought was their significant other (Nothing was really significant about High School relationships In my opinion but what would I know I didn’t have one) and thinking “Damn I thought so and so was with so and so. Guess not.” And began to plot how this crush, in time could become something more?

Well it seems like today we as adults (and I can only imagine the kids), bring all that energy we brought to the lunchroom to social media. But with our newfound freedoms and money everything is done 10x greater. The stunting, the fronts, the “arguments”, its all done on social media just as it was done in the cafeteria way back in high school. Now, there’s a good side and bad to this. The good being that we all miss those simple feelings we took for granted back in high school. We deep down enjoy eyes being on us especially when we feel we are in the right or at our freshest. The downside here is that perhaps we’re a bit too old for this and maybe those moments of immaturity should have remained in the cafe.

The Day My Son Dies

The day my son dies will be the day I reach the lowest pit of despair known to human kind

The day my son dies, I will surely cry a thousand tears

The day my son dies, I will begin to think of all he could’ve been and what he may have brought to this world.

The day my son dies, I will begin to hear and see “Black Lives Matter” everywhere, even though it didn’t seem to matter much on this day

The day my son dies I will regret not telling him that the skin tone he was born with should not be a curse, damning him to unwarranted fear from others

The day my son dies I will console his mother as I feel that I have failed both him and her

The day my son dies I will think back to the day I told him that what’s cool does not matter, only what is right

The day my son dies I will be ignoring calls from my loved ones telling me that “God has a plan” and “Everything happens for a reason”

The day my son dies I will be filled with rage that I cannot express, in fear of sharing the same fate as my lost child

The day my son dies I will regret not telling him about how his ancestors were kings and queens, not the target practice of each other and those sworn to protect them

The day my son dies I will surely be on the news telling the people of my city to calm down and not riot, if they even chose to do so

The day my son dies I will be able to relate to the pain of Michael Brown Sr. and Tracy Martin

The day my son dies, I will be ashamed of myself, as his father was more about talk than about action

By that time I will be a shell of my former self, a man no longer willing to fight against an unjust system

I will hate myself because I was too caught up in “life” to do anything about the senseless killings of black youth

Nothing will matter when my son dies, just the fact that that which I love most in this world, is no longer apart of it

But why should I wait for this fate to meet my unborn son

Why not take action now, while his father is young

The Journey

I had a conversation with my older brother Eddie the other day. It was a fairly long conversation that lasted about a couple hours. The gist of the conversation was him telling me I need to appreciate the journey and not obsess over getting what I want to get done, done in the manner I had planned. He was telling me that the journey is actually better than the moment you achieve “success”.

The journey isn’t as enjoyable when you're going through it.

 I was thinking to myself, while hearing him say that, and you hear a lot of older people, whether they are “successful” or not, say things like “appreciate the journey”. I’ve heard that line a million times in my life. People telling me to appreciate the bad moments and the struggle because they really make you who you are. I get where that comes from because of course the bad times are more defining than the good. But at the time, you feel a way like “no fuck the bad times, I want the end goal here. I want the finish line, fuck this race”. And at times things are just too much where it’s to the point you think that no good can come from this situation. You start to think this is all just bullshit.

I don’t know I guess the story here is nowhere near finished so I don’t know how clear my perspective on my bad times is. As of late, I was going through a period where it just seemed all bad. It was once I got back from Europe and lasted up until pretty recently. I hated everyday waking up realizing I’m in the same place as last year and it was killing me. I don’t know if anyone fully understands how much I hated it. I have so many things I want to do in different fields. I’m not one of those people that subscribe to the train of thought that you must have only one dream. I have so many things I want to do in different fields. I have so many things to accomplish and I need those things accomplished to feel satisfied with my life.

The journey is supposed to be appreciated. But notice most of the people that say that already won. And yes, when I win I’m sure I’ll have a lot of insightful things to say to people coming up whether they’re going to succeed in what they want to do or fail. I’m sure I’ll have advice somewhat similar to what my brother said to me. I feel as if going through it the feeling is just “No fuck that, this is terrible.” Bad days are REALLY bad when you’re not satisfied with what you’re doing in life. And a lot of people will point out that you control what you do in life but I believe that there are significant parts of the journey (especially early on) where you have little control and can only do so much. For someone like me, with an obsessive personality, this is frustrating. I believe you can reach a point where you love what you’re doing everyday. But getting to that point takes a lot of work.

The journey continues. Hopefully I get enough from it to make my contribution to the world something special.

Just Don't Embarrass Yourself

We all have those certain things we’re just naturally good at. Whether it be speaking or playing a sport, we all have situations in which we are at our most comfortable and we feel like we have everything under control. Nothing can go wrong. Funny thing is, it is in these situations where everything does seem to go wrong. The worst-case scenario happens, and there we are, sitting there looking stupid, embarrassed.

Nobody enjoys being embarrassed and in the moment everything’s moving so fast as we try to figure out a way out of the feeling. Embarrassment is such a powerful feeling that we actually feel it on behalf of someone else when they’re in a compromising situation. It’s also a funny emotion because embarrassment evokes a light-hearted response from someone close to you but is perceived as a threat when the person is not so close.

That version of you that you fall into when you’re embarrassed is your most vulnerable state. You feel like the wall has been knocked down. And most people are very particular on who they allow embarrass them with no repercussion. When you’re “talking” to somebody (I hate wording it that way), it’s almost a game of chicken on who can avoid being the first to embarrass themselves. What’s interesting is, when that first person does embarrass themselves, both walls come down and everything is fine. The relationship can actually grow at an accelerated rate from there.

The greatest artists are constantly embarrassing themselves, or putting themselves in what would be embarrassing situations. It’s in the moment where you put yourself out there to potentially be embarrassed that you learn the most about yourself and others. No, I am not just talking about comfort zones. I’m saying there is good in even the downside to being embarrassed. The idea that it happens to everyone. From Michael Jordan to Beyonce, to your best friend and even the person you dislike the most. We all share the ability to feel this small (fingers pinched) at any given moment. Embarrassment is the moment we’re all brought back down to earth. 

10-10-15

"If you understand your nature, then you will understand the limitless possibilities of a human being"

-Louis Farrakhan

I'll try to keep this short.

It felt good good to finally be apart of something. A moment. Not a "like for respect" or "retweet to spread the word" (as effective as the latter could be) but a real moment. Millions of people, with the vast majority being black, came together for one thing, justice. 

There was a point I felt I was giving up hope in our generation. I was starting to think we were just social media activists that would never rise when called upon. 10-10-15 changed that. I was one of over a million that converged on Washington and demanded that our voice be heard. Over a million people that are tired of hearing of another life that was unjustly taken just to become a trendy hashtag. Black people from all walks of life came together and decided that we will no longer sit back and allow our brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters' lives be disrespected by the system, and government that rule us.  

Benjamin Franklin said "Justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are.". On 10-10-15 millions of the affected came together to make their voices heard and show the unnaffected how real of a problem this actually is. We came together to show politicians that these votes, and billions of dollars will no longer be given to those who will not listen. A female speaker (I apologize for not remembering her name) early on in the rally said "People, when they see '#JusticeOrElse', first ask, 'What is the or else part?'. The truth is if justice was served, you wouldn't feel the need to ask what is 'Or Else'. 

The media, if they decide to cover this at all, will probably do so in a negative light. That's fine. But they must remember, it was ignoring the problem that got us here in the first place.

During his speech, Minister Farrakhan asked those of us who were closer to the front to turn around and behold how many people were behind us. Below is my picture.

 

Write.

Let me start off with a quick story:

I recently looked back on some old writing I did in class a couple years ago. I wrote about how things were going bad with _____, how I had no idea how I was going to make the rent for the apartment I was living in, how I was doing terribly at readjusting to going back to classes after taking the previous semester off, and how I was going to somehow turn my grade around in the class I was currently in and at the time failing with about a month and a half left in the semester. At the time, I felt like I had a million problems and couldn't really figure out a way to solve any of them, never mind all of them.

Then sooner or later me and _____ were over each other, I was making rent pretty easily thanks to this job I got in the library, and I did pretty decent with my grades. The point is, it all figured itself out. I'm realizing this now because I was able to look back on that time through the writings.

End of story

We all find ourselves in these moments where we are doing too much and overthinking the problems we are having in life. You feel as if you're in way over your head. It is in these moments that I look back at the writings and realize that the issue at hand more than likely doesn't really matter as much as I think it does. The problems were only temporary and being able to look back on that makes me realize that the current problems are as well. The current problems will come and go just as the problems I wrote about previously did. 

When you’re “going through something” or feel like you're at an important part of your life stop and write it down. Write down the complete issue with all background information while being 100% honest. Write it as if you know nobody else will ever read it. After you’re done, put what you wrote somewhere hidden (in a random folder on your computer or in a notebook or something) and soon you will probably forget about its existence. When you stumble across that writing months or even years later you will realize how small those problems really were because by now, all of that is either gone or has figured itself out.

This method helps me realize everything is just temporary. Both the good and the bad. We let such little things get in the way of what’s important to us everyday and it takes thinking from a place of clarity to be able to tell what matters and what doesn't. 

Writing helps me in a lot of ways but as a stress reliever of sorts is a way I think it can help everybody. That is the reason I encourage everyone to write. By getting your thoughts and troubles down on paper and allowing yourself to look back on them, you'll realize that everything is temporary or just a small party of the much larger story.

The Story

Somewhere in the world the person you are going to marry/be with or whatever is writing their story. By that I mean the story you will one day know all about. But for now, you two are on opposite sides of the world (figuratively or even literally) completely unaware of each others existence. The only thing you two are worried about is continuing to write this story that even you yourselves don't fully understand. Despite having an idea of how you want this story to go, you have little control on how things turn out.

But if you do know/are with the person you are going to be with, then from this point on that story is co-written by the both of you. You will wonder and ask about the story from before the point of which you became apart of it because of a subconscious fear we all have in the unknown, but you should only care about the story that has still yet to be written.

Here's Some Poetry IV: Men

Below is the poem "Men" by Dr. Maya Angelou.

When I was young, I used to
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them. Men are always
Going somewhere.
They knew I was there. Fifteen
Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pauses,
Their shoulders high like the
Breasts of a young girl,
Jacket tails slapping over
Those behinds,
Men.

One day they hold you in the
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They tighten up. Just a little. The
First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.

Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, I will simply
Stand and watch.

Maybe. 

A man today is different than any time before. We are expected to be as masculine and have that same bravado as generations past but with compassion and understanding that none before have displayed. We must be as accomplished, if not more, than our predecessors while being much fairer in terms of how we do things.

That boisterous energy we had so much of as little boys must be scaled down and sharpened to be used in certain situations. The rest of the time we must have our emotions in check and appear calm, and confident, even when that is not the case. There are times where we feel we are looked at to know what exactly should be done and how and we do not have the faintest clue.

In this time where we all judge each other through filters, whether it be those of Instagram or those of the mind, a man must live up to the expectations of a woman who is scrolling through a timeline and compare us to men that use social media as a highlight reel of their own achievement whether it all be lies or true indeed. Even knowing this, you should feel no pity for us in this case as we make the mistake of comparing our counterparts to exaggerated examples of what society has told us a beautiful woman should look like. Truth be told, we scrutinize women too much, and praise them too little. We let our egos and insecurities get in the way too often and pay the price for it countless times throughout our lives.

Truth be told, we make too many mistakes. So many that in the end we long for just one of our more benevolent, and forgiving counterparts to accept us for who we are. But, when we have an idea of who this person may be, we need an entire game plan on how on we are going to go about courting her. The entire time, the goal being that we will be someone she can brag about amongst her fellow women.

These shoulders at times feel like they carry the weight of the world. A cold world, where the sweatshirt is barely ours. There are times where even we ourselves want to get away from all of this and take the armor off.

Then the woman who has been watching comes along and offers her help. Then suddenly, the pressure is lifted and everything becomes so much easier.

R.I.P to the Late Great Dr. Maya Angelou.

The Club

I don’t see why we go to the club.

It’s not fun.

You know it isn’t.

It’s a bunch of people who decided this is where we are going to pretend to have a good time.

If there is fun to be had in the club, it’s because of the people you came there with. Your friends.

Rarely will you meet someone new in there. Not only because everyone is huddled into the groups they came with but you really can’t hear shit anyone says anyway.

So how are we supposed to meet each other?

85% of us have our phones out and care more about what’s on that screen than we do about the stranger trying to get our attention by hovering around us.

No indictment on our love for our phones though, it has just become a part of our everyday life. To be mad at the phone would be the same as being mad at cars (both are just technological advances that have helped humanity in its quest to get as much done with as little effort as possible).

My problem with the club is that, in reality, it’s a place none of us want to be. You ask someone why they go to the club and their response is one of the following:

1.     Be around new people: RARELY will you leave a club knowing someone you didn’t know when you walked in

2.     Get Drunk, listen to music: This can be done in several other cheaper, and less sweaty places

3.     To Dance: It’s time our generation admits we can’t dance. We’ve been grinding since the 10th grade and at 22; I can say it’s gotten pretty old.

4.     Bored: You’re just being lazy. Wouldn’t take much thought to think of something cooler, and more memorable than the club.

The way I like to explain to my friends is, I am not a “club guy” because I can think of a million places I’d rather be with my friends and I have conversations with women there while thinking 1 of two things:

1.     Why are we here?: She is like-minded thus leaving me wondering why we both made the terrible decision to come here and meet under these circumstances. or

2.     Why am I here?: She is far from like-minded and I am positive she has fully convinced herself that this is a fun place and there is nowhere else she would rather be. This interaction rarely lasts more than 1 dance and the conversation usually ends when the girl can’t even come remotely close to pronouncing Bo-duh-lare.

Funny thing is, most of my invitations to go to the club come from my female friends. Which is crazy because it makes me think, “Wait why do y’all even pretend to enjoy going there?” I’ve seen the reaction to them receiving the arm/hip grab and rarely if ever ends well and as someone who was on the other end of that exchange, I would prefer not have to do that to get a woman’s attention. Call me old fashioned, but I enjoy conversation (even that which is had on the via phones. In 2015 you can’t be picky) no matter who its with, and conversations, unfortunately, cannot be had in the club.

My disdain for the club could come from my current status as washed. For those that don’t know, washed is the term our generations gives to those who don’t mind staying in and look back fondly on our younger, more reckless days with no intention of repeating or trying to recreate them.

The point here is, we all hate the club; I’m just the only one admitting it. 

The Writer III

So I write a post the other day, “The Writer II”, and I get the usual reaction I get when I post something. A few retweets, a few favorites, maybe a text or two telling me how good it is and I see the views pile up. There’s a weird feeling that comes with posting a blog post and the best way I can describe it is uncertainty. All of this comes directly from me so its like I never know how far off or on point I am until someone reaches out and confirms for me that I’m not crazy (or that I am).

Back to the post. So I put it up and then go to the gym, avoiding all feedback on the post until my workout is over (this has become one of my favorite things to do when I write something). See, I knew “The Writer II” was nowhere near my best work but I thought it was at least good enough to post. I get back from my workout to a few positive reactions to the post and I really appreciated them. Just as I start up my car I get a twitter mention from my best friend, Renato. Now, Renato, like me is a writer and because of this, and him being my best friend, his opinion is pretty valuable to me. He pretty much tells me that the post was trash. Doesn’t really bother me much because I knew it wasn’t my best work but it did make me read the post back and think “Damn, is this really that bad?”

The very next day Renato sends me a post he had just finished working on. And that shit was fucking incredible. Just one day removed from telling me my latest shit was trash, this guy has the gaul to send me this fire and fuck my whole shit up. It felt like we were playing a friendly game of one on one and then he hit me with a crossover, stepped back, and drained a shot. I was livid.

Quick Story

I used to go on cool dates with this girl Jenna, who is probably, now, the second best writer I know. I used to write my earlier blogs and think to myself at the end of writing one “Is this to the level of something she could write?” or “What would she think of this?” I want my posts to be as clear as possible and at the end of writing I think to how one of the great writers I know would feel about it. This one just happened to be the girl I was going on dates with at the time. Now I never actually went and asked her because we soon stopped talking and even though I still thought those things, pride wouldn’t let me actually ask her what she thought. I convinced myself I didn’t care and soon after, I didn’t care much.

End of Story

Now I tell that story to then relate it to now where I am writing so much (about nine posts and a special project on my flash drive that I check in and out of writing whenever I feel like it) and I write something and now that I know Renato is actually the best writer I know (no disrespect to Jenna. She’s still doing her thing), I think “Man, is this on a Renato level?” Now just so we don’t get this twisted, I always knew Renato was a good writer, even better than me, but I recently realized its not as close as I thought.

I spoke before of that feeling I get when I read something so good, a part of me wishes I thought of it first. It happens all the time. Not in a malicious way, but out admiration for what I read. I don’t even get that feeling reading Renato’s stuff. This guy, in my opinion at least, is on another planet.

Here’s the post I was referring to:

 http://ilelefant.tumblr.com/post/126560298217/to-no-one-in-particular

The Writer II

"Writing, at its best, is a lonely life. Organizations for writers palliate the writer's loneliness but I doubt if they improve his writing. He grows in public stature as he sheds his loneliness and often his work deteriorates. For he does his work alone and if he is a good enough writer he must face eternity, or the lack of it, each day."

-Ernest Hemingway's Nobel Prize Speech

A part of me thinks sometimes that this blog is enjoyed by as many people as it is, because I'm single. It is for that reason that I can write the way I do. I try to write so that someone who feels they have nothing in common with me, can relate on some level. I feel that will change if and when I'm in a relationship because at that point my focus is moreso on this one woman and making her happy. 

I don't really like writing about any one person but eventually I probably will, and will do so a lot. And if its good I will probably start to really enjoy it, especially if my significant other does too. At that point I feel like people will think "Alright man damn we get it. You love her. Shit. Lets move on to something else." 

Theres a different style a writer writes with when trying to please just one person than if they were trying to please a large audience. Maybe that new style won't work as well for me as this one does. Then again maybe at that point I won't really care. I don't know.

Although, I spoke of inspiration in the first version, I still don't whats to come from that inspiration. Women inspire the best art but, it's usually the longing for a woman that brings out the best in a writer. Having "the girl", from what I've seen, can go either way. Either really good work that everybody loves, especially the girl. Or terrible work that everyone hates, EXCEPT for the girl. 

But maybe at that point that's all that matters? 

Cleary, I'm still confused about this whole thing.

Truth or Truth

You know what’s funny about when you share things in a blog? People come to you and say things like "Damn yo why'd you say that in there?" I then reply "Well its not really that serious, happens to everybody. No big deal really. Just being completely honest.” Then whoever says "Yeah but I wouldn't really share it for everybody to read. Crazy that you did that."

That’s kind of the point of me being honest in my blog. Seems like everybody got caught up in being too cool and putting up fronts. So much so that the response to complete honesty is either disbelief because you’re used to lies or "Yeah, he's buggin for being that honest." In a situation where you yourself would lie or be too cool, you can’t wrap your mind around the concept that someone is saying exactly what he or she thinks.

Am I the only one that sees the problem here?

We put ourselves and each other through so much bullshit with lies and fronts, no matter how big or small. It's actually easier to be completely honest and say exactly what's on your mind. Isn’t that what we love about our icons? Kanye? 2Pac? Y'all know they aren’t the only ones allowed to be honest right? It’s the idea that they would speak their mind without caring at all how we feel about what they’re going to say that makes us listen. You don't really need the validation of others if you're being completely honest with yourself. I think that’s where the misconception of "brutal honesty" comes from. You're being completely honest because that’s all that matters to you.

Nowadays a lot of things are here today and gone tomorrow. That's because lies and fronts have to constantly change. Stories that don’t last forever are usually based on something that isn’t real. We all can relate in some way to stories of struggle, love, family, and fear. It’s no secret why timeless songs, book, and movies usually involve all, if not most of those things. The truth is a definite thing. No ifs ands or buts. If you're being honest then people from all walks of life can relate on some level.

I feel no apprehension about writing anything in here anymore. After Sister and Fear, I feel as if I can say whatever I want now. This is a bad example but the best I can think of right now. It’s like the Eminem in the last battle in the movie 8 Mile. If I share all that could get to me first, then I have nothing else to fear. I can go on speaking freely without the fear of consequence because the worst has already been put out there. I’ve already been vulnerable in sharing that information so at this point I really don’t feel any need to restrict myself and what I say in any way.

That is all.

P.S

Lately a lot of people been letting me know what they think of my posts after they read them and I really do appreciate that!

Oh and congratulations to my big brother on his engagement! I love you man!

Lost in Nostalgia

I'm mad this title sounds like a wack The Weeknd song. I'm writing this by hand first in a notebook that I have to write down the thoughts that are too stupid to bother y'all with. I haven't posted something from this since Lost in Seville. So yeah, that explains the trash name.

Now to the actual post,

"How far away are you from that guy now? Can you lock in to that? Can you find him within yourself?"

The above quote is from an interview President Obama did where the reporter asks him how in touch he is with his 20-something year old self. To this the President replies that he kept a journal from the age of 20 to 27. He said that it helped him realize that he is that same guy and still, for the most part has the same morals and ideals. Its for that reason that encourage everyone to write thoughts in ideas down somewhere. To be seen later in life.

But thats not entirely focused on the point I was trying to make with this post. 

Continue on,

Nostalgia might be one of the most dangerous aspects of the human mind. We get lost in moments that we lived and and become so impressed with ourselves that we almost begin to treat those memories as if they happened to someone else. This is even more so the case when creating something. We almost start to think we were better in that moment than we are now. Which couldn't be further from the truth. We are just as great as we were then, if not greater. We fall so in love with the moment that we begin to lose sight of the fact that it was ourselves in those moments. We are that same person we reminisce about but with more life experiences and still capable of all the same things. Maybe its due to an association with the weather but summers are in some cases the time period people reminisce about most.

Let me try making this clearer with an example. For awhile, fairly recently, I hated writing. I hated it because I would look back at that period of my life where I felt I had more time to write and thus wrote better posts. I would read old posts as if someone else wrote them because I felt I just couldn't write like that anymore. When people would compliment me on an old post I would accept it almost as if it belonged to someone else. I think recently I've come to realize I am that same person and writer, just with more life experience.

We over glamorize periods of our lives or the products of them so much that we fail to realize that this very moment could be as great if not greater. Life is like a bunch of moving pieces to a picture. Nostalgia allows us to freeze a moment in time and see the beautiful picture that it was. All while making us fail to realize the beauty in the moment that we are in now.

I hope that made sense. If it doesnt, that explains why it belongs in this notebook anyway.

P.S 

While were on the topic of moving pieces, things fell through with the girl mentioned at the end of the last post. Literally the one from 24 hours ago.

Well ain't that some shit?

Still a writer though.

[crowd laughs]

 

The Writer

I haven't been writing in this thing much. I've been writing as much as ever but its all either in my notebook or on my flash drive and will probably never be shared.

"Writing is such a profoundly personal thing. But you also want people to read your words. It's strange."

I dont really know why I haven't been writing in this. Might be lack of inspiration, a lot going on in life, I don't know. I still meditate daily so ideas come to mind all the time but for some reason I just never felt like sharing them. I lost that push (for lack of a better term) to share what I wrote/think. I read some of these posts I have in the stash and just think "Ehhh nope thats not it". It's like writers block in a way, but the words make it to the paper. I just don't think any of it is good enough.

But I met this girl recently and now I have that feeling again. I get how artists can be so inspired by women, especially good women. The gears really start going again and you get this "fuck it" feeling. I have literally the best friends and somehow have gotten her attention so I must be doing something right.

Dope people make you just want to keep doing dope shit. 

This isn't a blog post like my others. There is no point to get across here. Instead, what I'm saying is I'm excited to start sharing my thoughts again. I feel like a writer again.

Welcome to Graduation

There's this feeling I'm supposed to have now that I'm about to walk across the stage. I've finally received a college degree. I'm supposed to be proud of this huge accomplishment that "few people" accomplish (in reality a college degree has lost that value due to the vast amount of people in my generation that went and got one). And better yet I should be honored to receive one from the school I've attended all this years. 

I don't really feel any of that. But, don't get me wrong, I am happy that it's over. But it's just that. I'm happy that it's over.

I've made my way through the end of this maze the education system put me in just to, at the end, receive the piece of paper that the school system has been trying to convince me I need my entire life. 

Now I'm not against a college education but I am against what it has become. A system where you're told you need the "new" and more expensive version of a book every year yet ironically the people in last years class can accurately sum up the class in about a half hour. A system where the tuition, and chancellors' salary seem to go up slightly every single year but the campus is for the most part the exact same. A system that has made the financial aid office a place where the students go in hopes of being able to get a little bit more aid money so they or their parents don't have to work as hard to pay the school bill and the lady at the front desk tells you the school doesn't have any funds available.

Now as someone who is about to graduate in a few hours I cant help but look back on the experience feeling like I just got robbed. Now I know people will say things like "its what you make of it" and trust me, I made the most of it. But as a member of the first generation that is likely to die while STILL paying their student loan debt, I feel that it still wasn't worth it.

I always knew what I wanted to do after college. That makes me one of the lucky ones. I went through college and got an internship every summer in that field. Now when people ask me what I learned in my 4 years in college, most of what I tell them will derive from those 4 internships, not from the classroom. Now if theres anything I appreciate, it's that I knew what it is I wanted to do and how I want to do it. Most graduates are not as lucky. Had I not known what I wanted to do and had an idea on how to get there, I would be lost right now. 

The two things everybody leaves college with is experiences and debt. Lets look at debt first. Just the simple fact that some people stick to a major because they cant afford to switch majors and be in school for much longer proves that school is far too expensive. Now that person has a degree they don't really want just to get a job they don't really want and pay off a huge debt they shouldn't have. My favorite argument against everything I'm saying, that usually comes from students, is that the experiences made it all worth it and made this moment what it is. But here's the thing. If ANYBODY does ANYTHING for 4 consecutive years with the same people around you, chances are you will learn SOMETHING. That something could be about yourself, the people around you, or maybe even both. Whether or not what you learn is worth a debt of around $30,000 (the average student loan debt) is completely up to the person. In this case, with a system that doesn't teach to be able to apply but instead to pass the following exam, I don't think it is.

This part of the journey is over, at least for me, and like I said before, I'm happy it is. This degree was just something I had to get in order to open up the doors to the places I need to go. However, at least speaking for myself, college did not give me what I needed to succeed at the other side of those doors. I learned all that on my own. I took those internships. UMass didn't give them to me. The only thing UMass gave me was a bill. A bill that was too damn high.

Now a response to this could be "it wasn't about the money. Stop and think about how much you paid and whether it was worth it. Now think about what the price will be when your children reach this point, and how much a college education will cost. Now when you realize the government made $41.3 billion dollars in student loan profit in 2013 (that's not far from what Apple made that year with $41.7) think about if that is the way the education of the this countries future should be.

Time for me to walk across that stage.

 

 

The Riot

There are 2 types of people that oppose these riots. The first type are the older generation that seems to forget that they were once told by their parents to not march with people like Dr.King or attend the speeches of Malcolm X because it would ruin the status quo. That generation seems to forget that their parents didn't understand the magnitude of the issue at hand and now they are doing the same. Read this. 

"A recent article published by The Guardian illustrates just how true this reality is, revealing that historians estimate that during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, two to three black people were lynched every week in the American South.  When this is compared with the incomplete data compiled by the FBI that shows that a black person is killed by a white police officer more than twice a week and studies that reveal that an unarmed black person his killed every 28 hours by police, the stark and gut wrenching reality of the nightmare Americans have never awaken from comes into focus."

What we are experiencing now is the genocide of American people. These young African American men have no more reason to be laying dead in the middle of the street than their ancestors did hanging from a tree. The issue today has only been revealed because these "lynchings" can be caught on tape thanks to technology. 

The other people opposing the riots are the members of my generation calling for peace and not realizing whats going on around them. Until one of those men being killed by police are of your community or even worse, your family, you cant truly understand the frustration of the man that burned down a CVS or stands at the end of the street yelling fuck you to a line of cops. That young man isn't saying fuck you to the police he's saying fuck you to the system that has imprisoned more of his people than any other. Blacks alone make up 39% of the country's prison population but only 13% of the total population. That frustration makes him feel like whats the worst thing the system could do? Kill him? Put him in jail? Both of those things could be wrongfully done to him anyway.

The problem at hand is the system. Riots have led to moments in history such as the storming of the Bastille (French Revolution), the falling of the Berlin Wall, and shit, even the Boston Tea Party. People may have died but the riots weren't against the people, they were against the system. When you blame these people for rioting why not first look at the root of the issue?

Society has become like a class with each ethnic group making up one student. Every class the teacher (the system) keeps picking on the smallest student. Every single class this one kid gets handed the hardest exams, pays tougher penalties for tardiness, and his questions don't get answered when his hand is raised. The kid shares his struggle with the other kids and they just brush him off. Then one day the kid comes to class and says fuck you not only to the teacher but to all the other students that stood around and did nothing. Now all the kids are thinking "Whats up with this kid?". Thats essentially what's going on now. The kid has finally decided he's had enough and is acting out. 

Dr.King said the riot is the language of the unheard. Now the people he was speaking to have forgotten and the generation meant to realize his dream have not heeded his words.

Peace may not be the answer. Change is.

FLWL III

I haven't posted a blog in a couple weeks because my laptop charger broke and I hate posting blogs on my phone. But now I'm bored in the London Airport, and I feel like posting so here I am writing and posting a blog post entirely on my phone (forgive any grammatical errors).

I'm not really sweating leaving Europe. Not because I didn't like it or anything because I loved everything about it but because I know I'll be back. For some reason a lot of people have this mentality where a place like Europe is on another planet or something. I used to think like that but this experience changed that. These memories and experiences that I've had are unique to this specific time in Europe and I do feel like I'll think about them often but I wont long to have these times back because I have so much I'm looking forward to doing in the future.

When I get home I have work to do. One of my best friends, Will McNamara, got this incredible opportunity in Denver and I'm more proud of him then he'll ever know but more than anything I'm inspired. I have ideas that need to be implemented and places I need to be. ASAP.

 One of my biggest issues with myself is that I sometimes feel like I haven't done enough. It's a curse I swear. Its the downside to being "ambitious" (I put that in quotes because social media has made me hate the term).

Anyway, London is/was incredible. It has become one of the many cities I'll be able to call home. I met some really cool people and experienced things I never thought I would. Even better, two of my brothers got to come and experience it with me (that was by far the best part of the whole trip). 

Right now, I just want to be home. I know I'm going to see a lot of people I missed over the next week and I'm really excited for that. 

I'm going to go print my boarding pass. I'll be home soon.

Peace & Love,

Baudelaire

The Legend of Beezy Tsunami

First off, if you haven’t seen the Disney Channel Original Movie Johnny Tsunami then the story ends here. You’re done reading my blog. You can go on about your day.

For those of you who have seen the movie, let me continue.

So I won a half off trip from my program to go visit Wales (West of London) and be a part of this adventure program where they take you kayaking, hiking, and coasteering (I didn’t know what coasteering was either but it sounded like something I can say I did and my white friends haven’t so I signed up for it). When I was agreeing to go on the trip I had second thoughts because of the water activities but then I thought this would be a dope time for me to get real outdoorsy ya know, be able to be one with nature and all that. Anyway, I sign up for the trip and went this past weekend. Let me tell you all about it.

Now I’m the only black person on this trip, and since I’m all for not perpetuating stereotypes, when they asked me if I can swim, I said of course. Mind you, I learned how to swim in 2012 and by “learned how to swim” I mean I learned how to not die. I still don’t really fuck with water like that. Even my showers are fairly short. Anyway, they decide kayaking is the first activity. I’m cool with that since were not actually in the water so I figure I’ll be ok. They get us into these wetsuits and give us life jackets just in case shit gets real. Now I don’t know how well you know me but in situations like this I get very over-confident and almost Muhammed Ali-like. I start doing the shit-talking and all that and it gets really funny for everyone. Little does everyone know, in that water I foresee nothing but my impending doom and struggle.

We get in the kayaks and start moving. Well everybody else was moving I was just waving the paddle trying to move in any direction so I can make it look like it was all on purpose. I end up going nowhere fast. The struggle was so real, that the instructor came over and hitched his kayak to mine and just rowed to where we were supposed to be. I was humiliated. Just picture it, me, the greatest kayaker of all time, being dragged along the ocean by some instructor. Pretty quickly, we end up in water too deep for me to stand in but I think I’m all good because I have Aquaman here holding me down. After we get to the spot the instructor tells me he’s letting me go free and gives me a 10 second crash course on how to row by myself. Now I’m mad at him because why in the hell would he try and teach me now that we’re in water too deep for me to stand in??? Anyway I sort of get the hang of it but I’m still the worst kayaker by a long shot.

After this game everyone was playing with some ball the instructor was throwing around the water, he decided to let us all know we could be tipped over at any moment by KILLER WHALES. Now, I’ve lived my whole life on land specifically to avoid animals with names like that. I’m here wondering why that wasn’t in the program description while the instructor is telling us killer whales are actually harmless. I was willing to debate that seeing as the word “KILLER” was in there name but nope, the instructor went on talking about how “cute” they were. I wasn’t trying to hear it and once he told us we could go back to shore I kayaked the FUCK out of that water. I might’ve been the second person to get to shore.

Next that day was the hiking. Now seeing as I just dominated the water, and Aquaman over here couldn’t help me with shit on land I decided to go ahead of the group and went along the path myself and did just fine. No trouble. I even took pictures.

We go back to the lodge after hiking and get dinner then sleep. Next up was coasteering in the morning and I’d seen the videos and I’m not gonna lie, I was scared as shit, but I wasn’t about to let everyone else know that. Shit, they didn’t even know about my swimming struggles, they just thought I was a pretty bad kayaker.

When we all woke up in the morning I felt like I was getting dressed for war. I put the wetsuit on like it was the last thing I’d ever wear. In a few hours I’d be swimming (somehow), climbing rocks, and jumping off cliffs. The way I saw it, I’d be dead before the cliffs so I wasn’t really sweating the idea of jumping.

We get to the area where I’d be dying any minute and all these people over here making jokes. We’re walking along the beach, about to get in the water and these people are actually excited. I’m over here trying to remember the last time I told my nieces I loved them and these people are talking about who can jump off the highest cliff.

We walk into the water and instantly I can hear my own church bells off in the distance. I’m really about to die on Easter Sunday ain’t that some shit. We eventually get to the point where swimming is a must and everybody starts swimming. What did I do you ask? I attempted the doggie paddle first. Once that failed I tried to imitate their breast stroke. When what failed I went and tried to swim backwards. I don’t even know what that shit was called but it worked best so that’s what I went with. I somehow by the grace of the sweet lord above made it to this damn cave I needed to walk through. I didn’t even let the fact I was walking through a fucking cave sink in because I knew at the other end of this cave was a cliff that these motherfuckers expected me to jump off of.

We get to the cliff and I walked to the edge looked down and out loud said “fuck that”. No way was I jumping off this thing. It was way too damn high. The water could be bottomless for all I know. I could end up in that deep dark part of the ocean Nemo’s dad ended up in. Nope no way. Every one of these psychopathic people I came here with line up one by one to jump to their deaths. One by one, they survive but that doesn’t make me doubt my chances of survival any less.

After everyone had already jumped Aquaman looked at me and told me I was the last one so pretty much I’m next. He and I have a quick discussion on why this is a terrible idea and I tell this apparent half man half fish that human beings have no business jumping off cliffs. He tells me I’ll be alright blah blah blah you’ll live blah blah blah and look everybody else was fine. Just as he said this, the girls on the trip start chanting to me from the ocean telling me I’ll be alright and all that and immediately I realize I’ve reached rock bottom. I was the kid that everyone had to chant on. Man I’ve never felt so corny. I look down at the ocean one more time, say a quick prayer (I’m not religious), hope my mother knows I love her and hope every girl that didn’t text me back regrets it once they see my RIP posts take over the IG timeline (I’m petty). Then I took a deep breath and jumped.

And I survived.

And it was actually pretty fun in a fuck no will I ever do that shit again kind of way.

I didn’t write this with the idea that there will be a moral but if there is one I guess its one of those cliché lines about comfort zones.

Meditation II

I once wrote a blog about meditation. I posted it about 9 months ago and it was an attempt by me to explain meditation to people in a way they would understand and maybe even lead a couple people to try it themselves. At the point of writing that post I didn’t know enough about meditation to fully explain it to people, and I may still not know enough but, like Socrates said (Yea I’ma hit y’all with some Greek philosophy) “I know one thing: that I know nothing”.

As of March 7th I have been meditating for a year now, and I’ve now decided to give explaining the practice one more try. Except, this time I will use that which helped me understand the practice enough to give it a try; Russell Simmons’ interview on Power 105.1 in New York’s “The Breakfast Club”.

Meditation is more or less about calming the mind, which begins with quieting the world. Here is what Russell said when asked “How do you quiet the world?”

“You don’t quiet the world, it quiets itself. As the nervous system calms, so goes the mind. So if you sit there and repeat, I gave a mantra, a mass mantra. “rummm” If you repeat it, and focus on the vibrations. The thoughts will come and go; you’ll take inventory and watch your thoughts from a distance. Because thoughts make you sick. They make you really nervous, and uncomfortable and full of anxiety. But when you sit and those thoughts come, you can assess them differently, and make better choices. But then the mind settles beyond the thoughts.”

You can YouTube the entire interview or even go and read Russell Simmons’ guide to meditation Success Through Stillness. If either of those don't seem like your kind of thing, watch another meditator (might have made up that word), Jerry Seinfeld, speak on the practice.

At this point, I've meditated in 5 countries. No matter what happens in this life full of moving pieces, meditation has helped me stay grounded and focused. To put it simply, everyday, for 20 minutes, usually first thing in the morning, I shut everything off and sit by myself in silence for 20 minutes while repeating a mantra ("hummm" is the mantra I've stuck with). Thoughts come and go, like Russell said, but while meditating you can watch them from a distance and see whats really important.

I’m not really a religious person, and maybe meditation has filled that void in my life. I don’t have a long explanation on how you should practice meditation, instead I will offer help to anyone who “doesn't know how” to start.

I don't know if I would be where I am today without meditation, but would I do know is, without meditation, I wouldn't have this peace of mind. 

Peace & Love

                Baudelaire

P.S 

The picture was taken while I was taking a walk through London's Regents Park.