The Fine Print

You know when you’re about to sign up for something, or about to download something, and you are asked to accept the terms and conditions? You know how you accept and keep it moving without a second thought of what it was that you just agreed to? Yea? Well keep that idea in mind.

People tend to not really believe in other people. There is always this reservation like “Nah, this can’t be, you’re too good to be true” so they follow their gut and shun whoever that person was. Why you ask? It’s because that person has been burned by “The Fine Print” the fucked up tidbit among all the fancy words that make up a person.

(Yes in this analogy people are contracts).

It’s that “don’t trust anyone mentality”, you know, the mentality that has never worked for anyone ever but is still a popular thing to say? For some reason, people no longer believe that how they treat others is the main factor in how people will treat them.

Let’s take this away from people for a second.

How many times have you heard someone say “What’s the catch?” The fear that there is no way this great opportunity could be wasted on me. Something has to be wrong here. No way. There is always a fear of “The Catch” which in a way is “The Fine Print”.

The idea that we don’t deserve something or a situation, in some cases, comes from a lack of self-worth. The idea that this thing is greater than we. Or also, from the idea that the worst case scenario just makes the situation not worth it. In reality, the worst thing that can happen is you learn something.

I’m usually really good at quoting people and I’m pissed that I don’t have the exact quote or even who said it but y’all are just going to have to trust me on this one. I heard someone once say that it’s a shame that we will never see ourselves how our loved ones see us. Since I don’t know who said it I will humbly take the credit for the quote and act like I said it all along.

Am I telling you to believe everything you hear and see? No

Am I telling you to go out and sign your life away blindly? No

I’m just here saying, that occasionally, for me, and most importantly for yourself, don’t overthink things and just accept the terms and conditions life has given you and just see where it takes you.

Peace & Love,

                Baudelaire

P.S

It’s taken me to some cool places so far.

Lost in Seville

There's something to appreciate about being lost. You get to really see the nooks and crannies of a city. The shit the locals see. In every city I've been to, when I'm with fellow foreigners, they say things like "What if we get lost?". My response is usually "So?" And they look my at me like I'm crazy. Maybe I am crazy but I feel that you get to really know a city when you're lost.

With that being said I'm lost right now. In a park somewhere in the area I'm staying. I'll be able to find my way home when necessary. But for now, I'm appreciating being lost.

So I guess its pronounced Se-vee-ya not se-ville. I like this place. Of all the cities I've been to in Europe (London, Paris, Amsterdam) this one is by far the quietest. Now, its obvious why since those cities are far bugger tourist attractions but still. Seville has a sort of calmness about it that I really like. I will say though, that of all the cities I've been to, maybe in my whole life, I've noticed the most discreet racism here. You know, subtle stuff like suspicious stares, clenched handbags, shit like that. It's all good though I guess. Racism is taught from an early age and who am I to assume one is intelligent enough to un-learn something they were taught as a child. 

Anyway, Seville is a really beautiful city. Whats crazy about Europe is how many different cultures are within a 2 hour flight of each other. It's really dope. My only complaint about Seville in particular is the food. I really shouldn't say that since I've only had actual Spanish food at one place across the street from where I'm staying but I wasn't feeling the chicken so I'm turned off from all Spanish food. Plus, I got sources out here that tell me the rest of the food here isn't really up to par neither. For food I've been going to this place "Peggy Sue's Food From America. Man, that place is BOMB. I dont really know if its because I low key miss home or because that Spanish chicken was so bad. I dont know. 

Either way, I'm glad I came here. I think its good to have that complete foreigner feeling at least once in life. Even in "Peggy Sue's", nobody spoke a word of English (ironic huh?). So I've been ordering food and buying stuff by pointing and cant really read the signs too well. In London, I obviously don't have this feeling, in Amsterdam everyone spoke English, and in France, my French was good enough.

Welp, now here I am, lost. On purpose.

I'll check in with you guys later, I have to find my way home.

Motivation

I’m here writing this on a Wednesday morning. Alone in my apartment.

So here’s the thing.

I work at Def Jam and I’m going to school in London.  I’m also going to Spain this Friday and Paris next Friday, and Amsterdam the following Friday.

How I got here? I don’t know.

I’ve wanted to work at Def Jam ever since I was a kid. Now it’s my job to promote the shit I love. When people used to ask what I wanted to do after college, I used to say I didn’t know. But I did know. I just didn’t want to share it. I didn’t care for their side-eye or their lack of belief. I used to think to myself, when I was around 13 years old, that if I can work at Def Jam by the time I’m 30, and do some traveling before or during that, I’ll be satisfied.

I’ve done these things, and I’m just 22.

I have so much time ahead of me (well maybe not because technically speaking I could die tomorrow but you know what I mean).

Once I come back to the states, the real work starts. I try to not think about that too much because I like to live in the moment and appreciate it for what it is but it gets hard at times.

I have new goals.

I can’t help but think about new goals and how I can do more and do better. It’s just how my mind works. Sometimes I wish I could completely live in the present and shut off that part of my mind. Meditation helps me a lot with that but I don’t know if I ever won’t be this way.

Back to where I am.

I still don’t really know how I got here but I do know that I love everybody that has ever, in any capacity, helped me along the way. London has become another home to me and it is the place I think back to when I travel all around Europe. Like I’m really traveling all around Europe.

I’m only 22.

In high school my advisor told me UMass Amherst was a pipe dream. I accomplished that dream, left Amherst and made new goals.

Five months ago my financial aid advisor told me there is no way I’ll be able to get the money to be able to study abroad. I got the money in a couple weeks and now I’m here.

Not to say that either of those things motivated me, because they didn’t. Not at all. Hate shouldn’t motivate you. That’s stupid. Why would some wrong advisors or some old girls or some negative dudes motivate me? I notice a lot of people post motivational stuff on Instagram and twitter and hate is usually the root of the motivation. That’s wrong. Those things are more annoying and a waste of energy than anything. I don’t care for any of that.

Love should motivate. I'm motivated by the people back home that I love that are happy for me and always want to see me win.

Just think about it, hate is too common the fuel for motivation. It really isn’t healthy. It’s like cars. Cars can run on oil and gas and work fine but at the end of the day that’s not good for the world we live in. There are better and healthier alternatives. That’s how I feel about hate as motivation. I hope that made sense.

Before I go, let me say this.

I can do anything. I really feel that way. If you don't believe in me I don't need you. If you believe in or love me than I love you too and know that that love is what is on my mind more than anything.

Peace & Love

          Baudelaire

P.S

This meant to be written in a very all over the place kind of way. This is how I thought of it and I wrote it exactly how it came out in my mind. With no edits.

Thank you for reading my random thought.

It Ain't Hard To Tell

“What is it about art anyway that we give it so much importance? Artists are respected by the poor because what they do is an honest way to get out of the slum using one's sheer self as the medium. The money earned, proof, pure and simple, of the value of that individual, the artist. The picture a mother's son does in jail hangs on her wall as proof that beauty is possible even in the most wretched. And this is a much different idea than fancier notion that art is a scam and a rip-off. But you can never explain to someone who uses God's gift to enslave, that you have used God's gift to be free.”

The quote above is from the biopic of the artist, Jean-Michel Basquiat. It’s a pretty good movie but after watching it, I wanted to watch the documentary about his life “The Radiant Child” and it was much better than the biopic. The documentary uses interviews from his closest friends and even Basquiat’s own interviews to tell the story of his life. Both have their ups and downs but what they have in common is the story of one of the greatest artists to ever live.

Basquiat was a genius. A genius that’s tough to understand if you don’t understand the environment and time he was raised in. We’ve all seen old videos of New York City in the 80’s but there more to this guy. Being black in America, especially if you are raised in this culture we love called Hip-Hop, comes with a challenge. If you dream of or have aspirations of being great outside of this culture you need to be able to speak with those people. But, if you want to maintain those connections with those people within the culture, you need to maintain and speak that language as well. It’s almost like being bi-lingual. I think of the NaS & Jay-Z song “Black Republican”.

"By the way, I can exist in all worlds. I just feel like as a black man in America, we speak like 3 languages. You gotta be multilingual, at least two. Well it’s three really. This is how I talk when I'm comfortable and with my homeboys, this is how I talk when I'm at a job interview, and this is how I talk with my mom. At least for me."

-         J. Cole

If you have ever or will ever see Basquiat’s work, you might instantly see the genius in it. You are brought along for the process of him making the actual painting. Words are crossed out to add importance to them because it is the fact he seems to want to rid the painting of the word that brings our attention to the fact that it is still there. Sort of like black men in.… never mind. I’ll save that for another blog post.

It’s that Basquiat can appeal to “different types” of people that makes his art, and all art for that matter, special. There is no need for the “different languages” if you will. I was in Amsterdam & Belgium (slight stunt) this past weekend and there is a blog specifically about my experiences there that is on the way (I’m going back to Amsterdam next month with my brothers and I will finish that post then), but what I learned above all is what I’ve known all along. We as people are more alike than we are different. I didn’t just come to that realization from the people in Amsterdam, but even from my own roommates here in London. We all arrived here from a different path but those paths have more in common than we think. The roots of those similarities come from one of or both of two places. A love for some person/people somewhere and love for some form of art.

Jean Michel’s paintings, to me at least, show with the rudimentary style with which he paints everything in his paintings, the silliness in these labels and borders between groups of people.I've come to the conclusion that he is a genius. Personally, my definition of genius, at least n the realm of art, is to be simple enough for a child to understand but complex enough to keep an adult thinking.

Maybe you don’t get it. Maybe it’s not something for you to get. A few months ago I was having a conversation with my brother Renato and was telling him about that uncomfortable feeling that comes when you post something like a blog post. As a person you choose to share your real opinion with a handful of people, but when you share any form of art with people, honest art, you have this moment where you are wondering what the people who read it will think. During that conversation with Renato, he told me when you make/write something and give it to the world it belongs to the world. There is nothing you can do at that point but be proud of you for sharing it and hope people appreciate it. 

Peace & Love,

            Baudelaire

P.S

Below is an interesting excerpt from the movie.

 Interviewer: Are you a painter or black painter?

JMB: Oh, I use a lot of colors not just black.

Interviewer: What?

JMB: It’s more a creole you know? And what I mean by creole is that it’s a mix of Africa and Europe. In much the same way that an African in Haiti speaks french.

Interviewer: Isn’t your father from Haiti?

JMB: Mhm.

Valentine's

I’m in my apartment right now pouring a drink and listening to this new Drake tape/album. It’s Valentine’s Day and you know what that means; people on both sides of the fence talking about how annoying the other side is.

Me?

I’m just here pouring a drink.

Valentine’s Day is an interesting one because everybody feels a certain way about it for one reason or another. Personally, I like Valentine’s Day. It’s interesting seeing all of you run around all day championing a love you’ve had with you all along.

This isn’t one of those “everyday should be valentine’s day” posts.

Ya boy Bau (I’m trying out this third person thing) hasn’t had a valentine in many moons now. Last time I did, I did pretty good if I do say so myself although I look back and think of ways I could’ve did better but I guess since me and _____ barely made it to the end of Black History Month that year I shouldn’t give the entire thing much thought anyway.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, YALL. I agree with the idea that Valentine’s Day isn’t a real holiday and it is an idea that was driven into women’s minds that this day should be special BUT. I believe even when something is clearly driven by capitalism you will still be able to find love in there somewhere. That’s how powerful love is. The fact is, if you have a girl/someone you’re talking to she most likely cares about Valentine’s Day and would love something special. That is where it should end. The fact that someone you love, cares so much for this one day, you should brush aside you’re feelings about the day and do something special.

What makes a birthday special? Don’t tell me it’s because of the anniversary of this person’s birth. Let’s take my birthday for example. My birthday (December 20th) is special to me because my whole life it has always been MY day. Now, I love that day and expect to, and always will have a great day thus the day has become important to me. Since it is important to me it is at least semi-important to the people I love. Shit, if I, my family, and my friends can all agree we’ll just celebrate my birthday in the summer (a nicer season) I’d be completely fine with it. It’s not about the day itself; it’s actually entirely about how important the day is to the individual.

Same logic applies for Valentine’s Day. 99% women want a special day unlike any other that year. So, as someone who loves or cares about a woman, you should at care about and love this day at least almost as much as she does.

And when it comes to the broadcasting of that love, I don’t really think that’s what it’s all about but hey, to each his own. Love shouldn’t really be validated by other people’s opinions but in this world we live in, “other people’s opinions” are becoming more and more important every day.

With that said,

I hope y’all love this shit. Now, I’m going to pour another drink and see what London has to offer.

                Peace & Love

                                Baudelaire

From London with Love II

I think I’ma call all my random thought posts while I’m in London, “From London With Love”. It’ll either be like my version of the Carter series, or the Writer’s Block series (let me know if you get the Writer’s Block joke because I thought that was funny but I don’t think anybody will get it).

Moving on,

I’m writing this on a Monday night, but I don’t know when I’ll post it. I might do it as soon as I’m done or maybe after a while. I told myself I would, for every picture I post on IG or for every tweet, I’ll write a blog post with it. I guess it’s for a few reasons;

1.       To challenge myself. I write a lot but to post a blog for every picture, I’ll have to actually post these blogs that may never have seen the light of day to go along with the pictures. In some cases I’ll need to tailor the blog for the picture or the picture to the blog. Extra work but that’s a part of the challenge.

2.        It also helps me refrain from the useless IG posts that we are all guilty of.

3.       I want to add some context to these pictures I’m going to be posting from all over Europe. It'll help y'all understand where I'm coming from and y'all can live through me.

Now these pictures won’t be of the highest quality but I’ll try my best. Cut me some slack shit, I’m using a 5s over here. While we are on the topic of picture quality, after your done reading this, (fuck I look like giving up my readers) head on over to matthagertyphoto.com. I’m really proud of my brother Matt Hagerty and I been all over his site in the last few days and I really love that shit. 

As long as you’re willing to work for what you love who has the right to stop you?

I had a couple of interesting phone calls (shoutout FaceTime audio) in the past couple days.

The first being with Matt Hagerty (MattHagertPhoto.com). You better not have checked his site out yet yo. Save that shit for after this. Anyway, nothing too significant was said in our call except this one thing. I asked him how Stoughton (our hometown) was, and he said “Cmon man you know. The Sto is the same old Sto. You remember when I was away and I asked you the same thing? Yea well same answer applies.” That was the answer I wanted. The best part of a hometown is that it will always be familiar. To someone from there, it never changes, and if it does, it’s not much. It’s the one constant in a life where so much changes. Yea before I get all affectionate about Stoughton let me move on to the second call.

My mom called me 8 times yesterday. Why? To tell me that she got all the pictures I sent her and that she loved them. She told me she was proud of me for venturing beyond where she herself has gone in life, and that she loves me. She has this running joke that she has never met anyone in her life that can make as many friends, as fast as I can. She told me she loved that about me.

 There was more to the call, but what do I look like detailing my conversations with my beloved Mother with the world?

Peace & Love

                Baudelaire

P.S

Go check out my brother’s website.

Enivrez-Vous

I woke up in a French hospital.

Maybe I should give y’all the back story.

I was in Paris last weekend. And it is hands down the most beautiful city in the world. Nothing like it. I got this feeling of being at home that I only get in Stoughton, Massachusetts and New York City. Paris is a city that I must call home at one point in my life.

I was on the train, in Paris when I heard a middle aged guy next to me speaking switch from fluent French to English. Not really uncommon in Paris, as a lot more people speak English than you would think but I asked this guy where he was from. He told me he was from Canada and lives in France now with his daughter. After a conversation that lasted about four stops, he gets ready to get off the train and before he does he said to me “Make sure to have fun while you’re young”.

Quick side story.

Ever since I found out I would be taking a trip to Paris while I was in Europe, I knew I would visit the statue of Charles Baudelaire. I’ve sort of lived in this guy’s shadow at least in the eyes of my English teachers, French teachers, and Google. People that know of him usually ask me how I feel about his work, and if I am a writer as well. Until recently I wouldn’t tell people I write, and I wasn’t really a fan of this guy’s work. His work has a depressing tone to it and it was never really my style.

I’ve grown to appreciate some of his work as of late though. Especially this one piece, Get Drunk.

You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it—it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.

But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.

And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: “It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.”

Back to the regularly scheduled blog.

I took the piece literally.

It all comes full circle my second night in Paris, I was in the hotel with a bunch of other people and we were pregaming before heading out for our second and final night in Paris. After a couple bottles of rum & vodka I was feeling alright and we all decided to head out. You know, regular stuff.

Well when I got to the bar with everyone, the bouncer decided he wasn’t letting me in. Why you ask? Because I was “too drunk”. Eh I don’t know, I thought I was ok. It was the first time I’ve ever been denied anywhere so it was weird but I got over it and went into the bar across the street.

I order a drink, can’t exactly remember what it was, then order a beer. The bartender turns around to pour it and slams the beer down on the counter.

Lights Out.

Next thing I know I’m waking up in a French hospital with a cute nurse that spoke no English. Luckily my French was good enough to ask her the basic questions like what am I doing there, how I got there, and asked her if I could leave. She told me she didn’t know how exactly I got there but she said she heard someone brought me and she then told me my BAC was way too high and that I should stay at least the rest of the night (it was 5:30am when I woke up).

Fuck that

I pulled a couple cords off my body and walked up to the front desk and checked myself out. Still pretty drunk and confused I somehow got a taxi back to my hotel and went to sleep by 6:30.

I don’t think this is what Baudelaire meant in “Get Drunk” but either way, I’d say I came out on top. Very thankful I didn’t get hurt, robbed, or just lost and I still have a lot of questions for the nurse, and this mystery person that made sure I got to the hospital.

End of story (I wish I had more but oh well)

Get Drunk is about if you’re going to do something, do it all the way. Don’t half ass anything. Completely enthrall yourself within something so much so that you aren’t aware of all the bullshit around you. He of course used alcohol as the analogy here but you get the point.

 So basically, when in Paris, get too drunk and end up in the hospital.

Before ever reading that piece I approached every aspect of life in this way and sometimes the results are dangerous (I completely forced it this time) but, I appreciate the experiences. I also appreciate that my namesake approached life in the same manner I do.

Peace & Love

                Baudelaire (The 2nd?)

Sister

My dad has 5 kids; two sons and three daughters. With me being the youngest of all and the only one born and raised in the US. My dad had a falling out with my other brother, one of my sisters passed away before I was born and another recently moved to New Jersey and has limited conversation with my dad. This is about that third sister.

For as long as I can remember my dad would tell me about a sister I had that was still in Haiti. My dad always played favorites (the falling out with my brother makes sense) and would openly say me and his daughter, Jennifer, who was about a year younger than me (Yea me and my dad need to have a talk about how I have a sibling from another mother who’s so close in age with me but that’s another conversation), were his favorite children. Jennifer lived in Haiti with her mom while I lived in Massachusetts with my mom, dad, and my three brothers from my mother (Yea siblings all over the place).

For years my dad would force phone conversations between me and my sister that would for the most part just annoy me. My creole was limited and so was her English, so the conversations were pretty short and choppy. But, every time we spoke this girl would be so happy to talk to me and would say my name as many times as possible and would end the conversations with “Goodbye, I love you my brother”. I would just say ok I love you too and run off and go do ride my bike or play video games or whatever else younger Baudelaire felt like doing. The phone calls were usually every month or two and they were almost the exact same every time. I didn’t think much of them and since I had never actually met the girl on the other end of the call, I didn’t think about them too often. I could tell she loved them, and so did my dad, so I never refused to have them.

Then in the fall of 2009, the beginning of my senior year in high school, my dad told me Jennifer would be coming to live with us the following summer and would live with us from that point on. I thought it was cool and that she was coming but I was just starting what would be one of the most fun years of school of my life so I didn’t think about it much.

Soon after my birthday that year (December 20th), my dad told me he was going to Haiti. He had business to take care of and was going to help Jennifer get her papers together so she could come in the summer. I didn’t think much of it since my dad went to Haiti at least once a year so I said my goodbyes when it was time to go and knew he would be back. This time was a bit different.

My dad didn’t call me when he landed as he usually did but still, I didn’t think much of it, sometimes it was tough for my dad to get to a phone so I just went on with my life figuring he would call me when he could. A couple weeks go by and I’m still not giving it too much thought.

Then, on January 12th, the earthquake happened.

My calm about not hearing from my dad instantly turns into panic; he was all I could think about.

People would ask “I know you’re Haitian, did you have anyone affected by the earthquake?” I’d respond no. Days later I would eventually start telling people the truth.

A few days later, my mom gets a call from one of my dad’s relatives saying that he is alright but he is an emotional wreck right now. See before the earthquake my dad, who lives in the countryside, was with my sister and really wanted this certain type of food that my sister was really good at cooking. My sister told him she would make it but said she would have to go to the capital to get the proper ingredients. My dad told her it wasn’t necessary but she insisted that since her father was here, she would cook whatever it was he wanted, in celebration, if you will.

My sister then went to the capital on the day of the earthquake and passed away.

Finding out about my sister’s death was a weird pain because she was someone I never actually got the chance to meet, but I know I was supposed to. She loved me so much and I never really understood it. How can you love someone you never actually met? I completely understand that concept now.

My dad would return from Haiti months later and he would never be the same. Still the Dad I’ve loved my whole life but something since then has always been a little “off”. I guess losing your daughter can do that to a guy.

I’ve always wanted a sister, and for most of my life, I had one. At every major point in my life whether it be an internship interview or even the plane ride to London, I always felt Jennifer was with me somehow. I plan to pay tribute to her by one day naming my daughter (if I am lucky enough to have one), after her, so once again there will be a Jennifer Ceus.

Here I am in London. A place Jennifer probably only dreamed about, if that. I’m going to appreciate this opportunity for the both of us and live it to the fullest.

Now, I’m going to go rent a bike and explore London.

Peace&Love

                Baudelaire

P.S

Condolences make me really uncomfortable, I think that may be why I, until now have shared this full story with about 5 people.

From London, With Love

I don’t know how I got here. Its 11:27am (so 6:28am back home) and I’m waking up in London. On the way here I was on the plane bugging out. I felt at some point this would all be over. Like somebody would come up to me and say “Alright man the jig is up, go back to Stoughton”. That never happened. Here I am in this dope flat (that’s what they call apartments out here) in what is one of the most vibrant and fun districts in all of London.

People back home have been asking me how is London and all the basic travel questions and I usually respond with “Yea London’s dope blah blah blah” you know, the regular stuff. The truth is, I still feel like I’m dreaming. I had a conversation with my Mom before I left and she told me she wanted me to go to Europe because as a kid, in Haiti, she wouldn’t even dream of going to Europe. She wouldn’t even entertain the thought because it would just be ridiculous. Now, one generation later, here I am.

I’d say the only perceived downside, and this is an upside as well, is when thousands of miles away from the place you grew up, you realize how much you love the people back there. Every single dope thing I see, eat or whatever I think “Man, wait till I tell Eddie, Mom, Evandro, Vijay, Renato or whoever about this”. Love is the most powerful thing in the world. Far more powerful than money simply based on the fact love is universal. Love knows no language and is bound by no distance.

So, all the way from Londontown, I’m saying love to everybody back home. I’m going to hold it down out here and live every moment to the fullest. Well, at least until this dream is over and I have to wake up.

Peace&Love,

                Baudelaire

Dream

Dreams come true.

Don't ever do something because its comfortable or because you think "you might as well...".

Nah fuck that.

Go for it.

Whatever "it" is.

I just left the Def Jam offices. And by just left I mean my hands are I'm still on that emotional high of seeing a dream come true.

The dream isnt finished.

But I can feel it.

Its a beautiful feeling.

Incredible.

I used to be scared of my dreams. I used to tell people "I dont know what I want to do after I graduate. I dont know... Hopefully I find a good job".

I know exactly what I want and I knew it then too.

Fuck a good job.

Thats not what life's about. Life is about having the audacity to dream and seeing that shit come to fruition.

I have never felt better than I do right now. 

I'm on the D train heading downtown to head to the bus stop where I will be coming back to Boston. I'm coming back full of energy. I had a lot of great conversations. Conversations that I was so happy to be having I stuttered a few times and was saying a million words a minute. Something that some would be embarrassed about but that was just passion.

However, I'm nowhere near satisfied.

Thank you

There’s this quote I read somewhere that said “Would you be where you are, if you didn’t have exactly what you’ve had?”

I love that. I don’t know who said it and I wish I did so I could give the credit but whatever, moving on.

In this blog where I plan to show gratitude to those who helped me achieve great things. I don’t want this post to come off as anything but appreciative and in no way is this meant to sound like some acceptance speech, but then again, a part of me doesn’t really care how my posts come off.

I would have achieved nothing I have achieved up to this point had it not been for my best friend Evandro. Other than my family, and actually, even more than a lot of them, he has had the most impact on all my achievements because of one moment.

When I was just staring out my first internship with Sony they had me cover a Childish Gambino concert. The most important part of covering a concert is writing a recap that you eventually send back to the label. One day, I went out with a bunch of people to the beach at night. We had a pretty good time until a cop came and told us it was too late and that we, and specifically me because he caught me peeing behind a building (I was 19, give me a break) and he told us to get out of there and said if he saw us again somebody was coming back to the station with him. Whelp, long story short more cops came and we all scattered out of there. While were heading back, I realize I left my backpack that had my Childish Gambino recap in it. I start flipping out because I now think I’m going to get fired from my first internship and there’s no way I can go back there when Evandro told me he’ll go back. He went back, risked getting in more trouble and got me my bag and I turned the recap in. I tell this story because, had he not gone back to get that bag, I would not have any of the internships I’ve had because, my internship with Sony was the main topic of discussion in all the other internship interviews. And if I had gotten fired it all would’ve pretty much been a wrap right there. That is why I give Evandro the most credit of anyone besides myself on why I am where I am.

After Sony, I got a co-op with Reebok at their World Headquarters. For the most part, I’m not a nervous person but during the whole Reebok process I was a mess. I really didn’t think I had a shot. At the time, I was talking to this girl Linda who actually helped me a lot during the entire process. When you’re going for something and it means so much to you, it’s tough to express that to a lot of people without seeming scared. Truth be told, I was scared that I wouldn’t get the position and that I would feel as if I failed. Throughout the entire process up until literally, the weekend before I accepted the position, I probably talked to Linda more than anybody else and she knew how much this thing meant to me and she helped out a lot with words of encouragement and she seemed so sure I would get it that eventually I believed it myself. Now, to be honest, it’s weird writing about this because we don’t speak and there’s this unspoken thing that once you no longer deal with somebody you’re supposed to no longer appreciate what they did for you, but in this case I don’t really care.

I wouldn’t even have known about the opportunity had it not been for my best friend and roommate at the time, Matt Hagerty. We both would end up getting the positions and without him I don’t know if Reebok would have been the same. Working with your best friend can be counterproductive but we pushed each other at Reebok and I think we both brought out the best in one another.

I would then go on to work at Jam’n 94.5 the next summer and right in the middle of my time at Jam’n; I got fired from my job at chili’s (long story). It sucked because I didn’t have the money saved up to be able to take the train to Jam’n every day and get to work. When I was trying to get another job, the hours I would be at Jam’n conflicted with the hours I would be able to be at the other job and this just made everything more complicated.  Anyway, while I was paying-jobless, my best friend Vijay would let me pay for the train rides ahead of time on his credit card and let me use the tickets and let me pay him back a few weeks later when I got a new job. When he even offered that as an option I was shocked. He really helped me out right there and without him coming through for me I really had no idea how I would continue at Jam’n.

Immediately after Jam’n I found out about a rep position opening at Def Jam. Now, Def Jam is the company I have dreamed of working for ever since I was 10 and when I found out they were looking for college reps across the country, I had to jump at the opportunity. The only drawback was, Def Jam wanted the applicant to, instead of the old fashioned resume way of applying, post a 15 second video to Instagram on why you deserve such an opportunity. I had tons of reasons why I deserved the opportunity but no clue on how I would make this video. I reached out to Matt and Willy Mac since they are the two most creative dudes I know and pitched ideas to them on how I think I could make a video and if they could help. They both said yes and as we got to work on the video I began to realize that this became sort of a passion project for them. I couldn’t believe they really cared. While making the video they would say things like “Mannnn if you don’t get this I’ma be fucking heated” and they began to want this position for me almost as bad as I wanted it for myself. I also didn’t let them know that Def Jam wasn’t specially looking for a representative in the Boston market so me getting a position was sort of a long shot. At first, I thought I shouldn’t tell them so as to not let them down and feel like their talents are going to waste but after I realized this meant something to them too I had to let them know exactly what the scenario was. After I told them we all went even harder and made an amazing 15 second video to enter into the contest. I would eventually accept on of the representative positions and be that much closer to realize a childhood dream. If there’s one thing I try to be cognizant of, it’s other people’s time and how valuable it is. These guys took two nights away from whatever they wanted to do and helped me accomplish something great.

I’ve written all this to say thank you. The people left out on this mean just as much to me but in writing this I tried to be specific to those situations and time’s in my life and not write about who has helped me and how I’ve become this guy I am today. That blog post would just be too long and those people should know who they are and if not, I’d love to have those conversations. The idea for this post came to me this morning as I was walking through Central Park in the city I have grown to love and admire, New York City. I wrote this because a lot of people ask me how I’ve gotten such great positions at these great companies and I always respond with I don’t know. But honestly, I do know. It’s the people around me that help me do what I do. Without them I would not have this. Now, I won’t say I’ve just been going along for a ride because I work hard too, but it’s the knowledge that you have people that have your back that help you go harder than anyone else.

To anyone & everyone that has ever helped me, no matter in what way, I say thank you. 

The Elephant

So you’re reading this from one of two perspectives.

1. You have/have had Tinder and you’re thinking “Oh shit, he really is about to write a blog about Tinder” and are wondering what I’m about to say about it.

Or

2. You have never had Tinder and you’re thinking “What the fuck is a Tinder?” and you’re here to find out.

Well either way here it is.

To put it plainly, Tinder is the elephant in the room. It is the Fight Club of social media.

Tinder is that social media app that out of your 5 closest single friends, at least 3 have one (These numbers are factual and backed up by researchers at MIT).

Tinder, according to the people over at Tinder themselves is “the fun way to connect with new and interesting people around you. Swipe right to like or left to pass. If someone likes you back, it’s a match!”. Like the first line said, the people you meet will definitely be interesting, but they wont all be new.

I first made Tinder in early 2014 to see what all the buzz was about. I got a bunch of matches and flipped through these girl’s bios. Here is the interesting part.

• Some people are on there shamefully and are just trying to find a guy to have sex with.
• Some people are on there trying to “find someone new to talk to”. (They may secretly be in the group above but research has yet to prove this)
• Some people are on there just to see what all the hype is about and probably created a Tinder after a conversation with their fellow Tinder having friends.
• Some people are just lonely.

I won’t act like I know all the reasons why women make Tinder, but I do know a major reason why men do. Every dude I know that has admitted to having a Tinder (Tinder has become this thing you have to admit to) has all made one for the same reason “Dawg, you see how many shorties are on here?”

Now, I’m not gonna sit here and say that the allure of all these “shorties” didn’t also push me to make a Tinder because it did. But, while on Tinder I learned something very interesting about us (and by us I mean my generation).

We have this need for acceptance. Now, I know every human being wants to be accepted in some way by a person or group but, with our generation, its on a whole other level.

Back in early 2014, the girls I saw on Tinder, for the most part, didn’t surprise me much. By that I mean, I could tell these girls would have that issue with self esteem to need the swipe rights to feel they look right (Maybe it’s apart of the bigger issue of insecurity for both men and women, but I don’t feel like getting into that here). I would see girls I knew in real life and think “Yea I imagine she’s on here looking for sex”.

But all that changed.

I deleted my Tinder a few weeks after originally making one and re-made one a month ago. And now, Tinder is completely different. Now maybe it’s just because the girls that I know that I see on there, I know personally, but I think there’s been a shift on the “typical” person on Tinder. Now I feel like its an app a lot of people have, for reasons known only to them, and still used as discretely as it was when very few had it.

Don’t think this is just about the women on there, because it isn’t.

Tinder is like the underground of social media. It’s like the Fight Club of social media (I hope you get that reference). It is only to be spoken of with someone you know has one and in a discrete area.

I was having a conversation with Evandro about Tinder (He doesn’t have one so this is a very taboo thing to do). I was telling him about how many people are on Tinder and what it says to our generation that there might actually be people on here looking for affection through a free app. He had a unique perspective. He said, “You can’t really judge a person based on where you meet them, because you had to be there too to meet them”. It was a quote he stole from somewhere else but hey, he’s my best friend so I’ll just give him the credit. Either way, he was completely right.

The point of me writing this blog was to point out the elephant in the room. For some reason, people have this reluctancy to do so in this case. Me personally, I don’t really care. Chances are you have one, have had one, will have one, or your best friend has one. Deleting my Tinder gave me the idea to write this because I felt like I was throwing away my invitation to Fight Club and thought why not write about it? Discussion is always cool.

Ps.

I’ve had conversations with women on Tinder and I’m not gonna lie, for the most part, they were pretty interesting/entertaining.

(Another P.S)

I once met a girl on Tinder and jokingly, she called herself Tinderella. I thought that was hilarious and thought I would share it with y’all.

Fear

I’m going to be successful.

I’m going to be really successful.

It’s an idea I’ve come to terms with.

I know everybody has their own idea of what success is, and I don’t think I’ll ever feel satisfied with my accomplishments but I know, that at a fairly young age, I will achieve the common definition of “success”.

That is not my fear. I don’t fear the future at all. I am far too sure of myself to be scared of what I control. Maybe I’m weird in that way, since I know most people fear the future, but not me, my greatest fear comes from a different place.

You ever think of what would happen if Kim Kardashian bumped into Kanye West in the late 90’s when Kanye was a struggling artist? Or better yet, what would happen if she bumped into him in 2003, a year before his first album would come out? This isn’t about Kim & Yeezus but they are just an example of what I’m trying to say.

Success is something that changes one’s self and those around you. But what if there was someone there that was the only there for the latter part of success? How do you know that they would have been there for the beginning? There is really no way to find out unless you go back to being unsuccessful, but who wants that?

I watched a Wale interview where he admitted to not dealing with women too seriously because he was paranoid. Paranoid that the girl isn’t there for the right reasons. When told that he couldn’t go back to being the young unsuccessful version of Wale to find out Wale said “That’s the ying and yang to the riches and fame”.

There it is. That’s my biggest fear.

There is this cliché of the millionaire with the large mansion with cars and all that and this image has become a sort of weird goal for some men. I don’t really get it. That looks like a nightmare to me.

*Wait a minute*

Let me clarify that last line. I’m not saying the women, cars, or mansion is the nightmare, but the feeling that millionaire feels when there is nobody around to enjoy all of that with.

Music videos don’t last forever, and I’m sure rappers don’t want them to. The Big Pimpin video was dope, and arguably one of Jay’s greatest videos. But I’m sure he enjoyed the On the Run Tour more.

I do not fear success.

I do not fear the future.

But I do fear a future in which the girl comes long after the success.

Will she love the owner as much as she would have loved the intern?

I’ll just cross that bridge if and when I get there.

A Woman's Perspective

Clearly this post isn't actually from a woman's perspective as I am the one writing it but, this post is more meant for me to try to understand a woman's perspective. This post is more about vanity than anything.

Throughout my life Ive talked to some very beautiful girls (I wrote "pretty" there first but it looked weird so I went with beautiful, bear with me) and a common thing they all share not just with each other but with some women I am just friends with is this certain level of self consciousness. Maybe it is because in society women have a higher standard to live up to but I see no point in being self conscious as y'all can only be yourselves. It may not be as easy as it sounds, but you really cant let outside pressure effect how you think of yourself.

I've heard women that are out of this world attractive worry about small things like what to say to a dude, or how hair looks (speaking for men, Ima say we don't care about y'all hair as much as you think we do), to even something as stupid as picking an Instagram filter. Y'all don't understand how annoying it is trying to explain to a chick that her first outfit choice looked as good if not better than the 5 outfits she tried on after. As a guy we think you're going to look good in whatever you take out of the closet.  I try to get the point across that 90% of women dream of looking half as good as some of these women worrying about such petty things. Heres where perspective comes in. Its just like the chain of social classes I broke down in my first perspective post. Women always see another woman they deem more attractive and think "I wish I looked more like her" when in reality even if you looked like her, a new girl would take her place as the ideal picture of beauty.

Men have tons of insecurities too but I always felt that men take insecurity and use it outward towards other people, especially other men. Women on the other hand, take insecurity and fight themselves about it.

Before I run the risk of sounding all 2Pac "Keep Your Head Up" (great song by the way) Ill state my point. I don't want to define beautiful because my definition might not fit the next person by Ill try to make it universal. If you can find more things about yourself that you like than dislike, then chances are you are a pretty girl. So as the pretty girl you are quit the shit talking about how damn self conscious you are cause honestly, as men, we aren't tryna hear it as much as you don't want to hear the things we say just because were guys. Maybe I just don't fully understand it now and maybe down the road I will or maybe as men we just aren't meant to understand a woman's perspective. I don't really know. But as of right now, if there is one thing I do know, its that I don't understand it.

Social Issues

We live in a time where real interaction with people is being seen as more bizarre every day. Today, people don’t enjoy true interaction. Instead we prefer interacting through Instagram pictures with filters on them, tweets that may or may not be our own personal thoughts, and text messages that we can write down and over analyze before we even press send. None of this is real to me. I tweet, I post Instagram pictures, and occasionally, I text people. The difference between how I feel about all of this and the average person is I don’t value any of those as methods of actual communication. Real interaction and communication with someone else is done in person, or even on the phone. A “like” on Instagram is not the same as someone telling you that you look good that day. A retweet is not the same as someone telling you that they agree with what you’re saying. And a text, no matter what is said in the text, is not the same as someone actually saying those words to you. No matter what is being said. At some point, we decided you don’t have to actual hear what someone’s saying to really understand them.

Let’s look at Instagram for example. Let’s take a woman who gets 100 likes on all of her pictures. She can post a picture in the morning and throughout the day accumulate 105 likes mainly from people she doesnt actually know. But, throughout that day not one single person that she doesnt know or even people she does know saw her and said “Wow, you look really good” or anything of the sort. So now she ends her day with 105 likes and not a single true compliment. Which would make her day more? (If the 105 likes make your day more then there is just no hope for you). This proves the worth or lack thereof of “likes”. Let’s say she could see her 105 followers that liked the photo in person. How many of them do you think would tell her how good she looked?

The exact same logic can be applied to twitter. It is not a REAL conversation.

Now let’s look at texting. Texting is very useful as a way to make quick plans or send quick messages but as a form of actual communication for a long conversation it’s almost pointless. I think texting is seen as most valuable when you’re “talking” to someone so let’s use that as the example. At this point men and women both know that we both overthink things. If you actually want to get to know someone, texting is probably the worst way to go about it. When you send a text you probably type it, read it over, edit it a few times, then send. This isn’t actually you anymore. When you are talking to someone face to face you can’t edit what you say, you can only say it. Through texting we try to show no flaws to the other person when in reality, we all have plenty. It’s when you get to see and hear these flaws whether it be on the phone or especially in person that we can decide how much we like the person. This is why texting as a form of getting to know people is ridiculous to me. (Other than the fact it isn’t an time efficient way to talk at all).

Oh and by the way, nothing is more ridiculous than when a girl says that she “just got the sweetest text” from whomever. A text? Really? An overthought message in a blue bubble can make your day? When I send a “sweet” text to a girl and she’s impressed I immediately imagine how happy she’ll be when I do REAL things for her.

Let’s move on.

Real communication is done in person or at least on the phone. There is something about hearing the other person that makes things completely different and more real. To get most of you to read this in the first place I had to Instagram or tweet the link. Which is cool, I guess those types of communication have some use but, not as much as we all think. After reading this you’re probably going to text someone, and that’s cool too. Texting isn’t a bad form of communication, it just isn’t the best. And when we text on the same device we could have made a phone call on, that’s when it just seems ridiculous to me. I tell girls I talk to all the time that you don’t really know me until you can actually talk to me because I may be way better or even worse in your opinion (99% of the time better of course) because what you’re getting in a phone call or real life interaction is really me. And that goes for all of us.

That’s all folks.

P.S

I am a people person. A REAL people person. Not just a funny “tweeter” or someone who posts cool pictures on Instagram or even may have a funny joke here and there via text (Yes I do all of those things but that’s not the point here). I am better at holding ACTUAL conversation than I am at any of those things. Truth be told, other than the couple jokes I may tell, I am a horrible texter.

Awkward

My brother is great at small talk. He's good with getting to know someone simply from their body language and reads in between the lines when he's listening to someone talk. He makes direct eye contact the entire time too. It's almost crazy. He's even more of a people person than I am (and I'm practically Wayne Brady out here). 

He isn't good at following new social rules though. He texts consecutively too much, even when he sees you have your read receipts on. He isn't trying to be annoying, he's just finishing what he's saying. He always calls people when they text him to avoid the annoyance of texting for both sides and he would prefer to hold conversation until the next time he sees you. As a matter of fact, he can be away from his phone for hours without caring at all.

My brother was almost finished with college by the time Facebook became really popular. He made one, has posted about 10 pictures in 6 years and rarely checks it. He never made a twitter or Instagram. He isn't really into that type of stuff. He just doesn't care for it and doesn't see its purpose. You should see him talking about social media, he talks about it like its the most ridiculous thing in the world. He even feels weird about the idea of getting a shoutout on Instagram.

He doesn't see how and why these things have gotten in the way of actual interaction. 

My brother isn't socially awkward, but, one day, people like him will be considered so. Crazy huh?

Racing in The Rain

So this starts with a quick story of how I got to this book, The Art of Racing in The Rain by Garth Stein. May seem a bit shallow at first but I don’t really care. I’m just being honest (Future voice)

I meet a girl (fairly attractive) and after seeing I have one, she tells me she writes a blog. Now I’ve been told to check many blogs out before and to keep it a 100, I 90% of the time, don’t ever actually check it out. But in this case I thought man, this chick is pretty dope so if her writing is dope that would be VERY dope. Long story short, I check out the blog and her most recent post is about this book (Her pst is pretty cool and probably better than this will be, so y'all should check it out). I immediately peep that her post was very similar to my Maktub post in that she chose to write about a book that changed her way of thinking. Anyway, I read her post and like it a lot. So much so, that the next time I went to Barnes & Nobles I bought it mainly to see if she was gassing it or not.

Nope.

This book is top 5.

And after reading this book, I felt compelled to write about it in the same way I wrote about The Alchemist.

The perspective the book is written from is genius. The narrator is a dog. Which may seem weird to you at first but that’s the best part. You read the first few chapters thinking “Man, this is ridiculous”. However, the book is so well written that a million times throughout reading it you feel yourself completely seeing things from the dogs perspective and feeling for the dogs moments of helplessness, without having to necessarily read the words. Throughout the book there are moments of irony too like while eating a peanut butter cracker the narrator says “ What a shame to waste something so wonderful on a dog. Sometimes I hate what I am so much”.

The book also draws parallels to the sport of Indy Car Racing, a sport I couldn’t care less about, but throughout reading you’ll grow a slight interest while seeing the connection between life’s ups and downs and what driving a race car is like, especially in the rain.

“I know this much about racing in the rain. I know it is about balance. It is about anticipation and patience. It is about believing that you are not you; you are everything. And everything is you”.

Through the dogs eyes you can see that some things we go through in life that we make out to seem complex are actually very simple. And the things we deem simple, are actually complex. Along with The Alchemist, this is probably the best book I’ve read in years. It makes you think along the same lines as The Alchemist, but you it’s from a different perspective. It’s a book that really makes you think while you read it, while you’re away from it, and after you put it down.

“The human language, as precise as it is with its thousand words, can still be so wonderfully vague.”

Bo-Duh-Lare

My name came from a French poet named Charles Baudelaire. I wasn’t named after him necessarily; it’s just where my dad first heard the name.  When I was a kid I hated my first name and I wanted a name more “normal” like the other kids. I hated when I said my name for the first time and people never got it and then I had to keep repeating it until they either got it right or I settled for however they decided to pronounce it. Y’all have no idea how annoying that got.

Nowadays, I love my name. It suits me well. It’s different and I have grown to like that it is different. I never have the problem some of you have of hearing my name and looking back and the person was talking to someone else of the same name. Shit, maybe one day I can get to the point of greatness where I don’t need my last name and can be one of those great people with just one name that immediately brings a picture of their face to your head like Madonna or Prince. Eh, I don’t know about all that actually because I like my last name Ceus too. Yes, it’s pronounced just like Dr. Seuss and no I am not going to become a doctor so I can be Dr. Ceus. I’ve heard it before. Anyway, my name has grown with me and now I think its dope and I almost feel bad for people with generic names.

Quick Thought

I was thinking if you do anything in life strictly for the money you will get then you are no better than a hamster running on a hamster wheel. You will never be satisfied by a certain amount of money so satisfaction can only be found by doing shit you love to do.

End of the Quick Thought

Here's Some Poetry Part 3: A Man

Below is a poem written by my older brother, Joe.

"The Strength of a Man"

"The strength of a man isn't seen in the width of his shoulders, but in the width of his arms that embrace you.

The strength of a man isn't in the deep tone of his voice, but in the gentle words he whispers in your ear.

The strength of a man isn't how many friends he has, but in how good a friend he is to his kids and his lady.

The strength of a man isn't in how respected he is at work, but in how he respects others.

The strength of a man isn't in how hard he hits, but in how tender he touches.

The strength of a man isn't in the hair on his chest, but in the heart that lies underneath it."

The strength of a man isn't in how many women he’s loved, but in how true he can be to one woman

The strength of a man isn't in the weight he can lift, but in the burdens he can carry

My brother wrote that poem along with a bunch of other ones in a poetry book he wrote years ago titled "Gift of a Child".

What I take from that poem is that my brother challenges all of the things we typically measure a man by and instead replace them with what we should measure any person by. I think we as men have this thing where we don't look at the big picture. We look at how people view us from their perspective rather than take a look at ourselves. That is where you get guys lying about girls they been with and guys that love to fight for little to no reason. Both scenarios are just a guy trying to overcompensate for some insecurity he himself has rather than just address the problems.

Anyway, when I was younger, when my brother first wrote that poem I wasn't too big a fan of it. But the older I get, the more I like it. There are a couple lines I never really understood, but my brother has been through a lot more than me and maybe I’ll understand with time. Or maybe I’ll never understand. I don’t know.

The Drake Album

Man, shit is very very real now.

Current temperatures are in the low 30’s and I am still bae-less.

In September I wrote two blog posts about this new Drake album “Nothing Was The Same” (both of which should be read to truly understand this one). In both posts I thoroughly explained the struggle a single individual would experience once this Drake album came through Dre Beats all across the nation. I explained in detail the depths of despair that a young man like myself would go through being single during this, a cuffing season like only one before, began. The previous of course being when Take Care came through and ruined every man’s chances of getting with a girl that was still in the least bit of communications with her ex. Anyway, I let you motherfuckas know how crazy shit would get and guess what? I was right.

I saw the first snowflake fall from my apartment window last month as I raised the heat by 15 degrees to make up for the body heat a lovely young lady would provide. Girls I had talked to in the past were already all over Instagram frolicking with their new men that were all around my height and these motherfuckers even one-upped me by having full and defined chin straps (a clear sign of disrespect). AND THEN, these chicks, knowing damn well I spend a decent amount of time scrolling this damn timeline, wanna go and post NWTS lyrics as the captions. You have got to be kidding me.

Man, I was in the club the other week and I was disgusted at what I saw. A whole bunch of people pretending they would rather be single as if it isn't 30-fucking-degrees outside. Being single is only cool in above 60 degree weather. And to make shit very much worse, you got Drake out here deciding to drop 4 more songs before New Year’s when I have a heat bill to pay. Shit gets very cold in this 4 bedroom people, believe me. I went to the supermarket the other day to buy shit for my apartment (milk and cereal because I cant cook) and mannn that trip was lonely as FUCK.

So now that those songs on NWTS like “Started” and “Pound Cake” got old to me, I’m stuck listening to the cuffing season anthems like From Time while cuffing this Bacardi. And as if being single couldn’t get any wacker, Beyoncé & Hov wanna drop 2 songs together this year. Best believe that “Drunk in Love” track ain't coming nowhere near my Dre Beats.

P.S

I’m still waiting on my pretty woman with a cracked iPhone screen that likes Starbucks to come through and save the day because damnit I'm almost done denying the fact that "From Time" is a great fuckin song. I need company on these trips to the supermarket or else I ain't going no more. She needs to think I’m the funniest man of all time too because all the good jokes she gon hear for the foreseeable future will come from my mouth. (My girl ain’t chilling with nobody funnier than me. Fuck that).