Just Some Thoughts…

"While we are encompassed by a world of problems, it is our responsibility to decide how we react." -thepositivendeavour

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The hell’s a lame?

February 12, 2013 — 6 Comments

Disclaimer: No one is obligated to read this entry. Therefore I will not hesitate to use personal experiences to illustrate points I am trying to make.

For the majority of my life, I have tried to dodge that label. I would play it safe so I wouldn’t get raped by their words of hate…hatred towards me of course. I was pretty skilled at it too. You see, as long as I would stay in line and repress any “bright ideas” of mine I was fine. “Don’t worry about upholding the integrity of being true to yourself. Just try to blend in so you can be like the rest of them.” I tried to make myself believe that anyway. The hell’s a lame though? I guess since I have experienced such abuse I can give you an example.

…it must have been the fall semester of 2011, and I was constantly forgetting that I needed to stay clear of the young ladies. I always found some way to convince myself that simply talking to a girl was alright. So I did exactly that. I started talking to this PYT (pretty young thang) that I had no intention of getting into anything serious with. Everything was going smoothly, and my feelings for this girl eventually began to accumulate. Surprise. We were hanging out one day and decided to take a picture together. I can’t remember if we were seriously talking at this point, but all I know is that, that picture soon became her profile picture on Facebook. I was chilling thinking that everyone would be happy for us, but this was not the case. At the time I was unaware, but one of her boys became kinda hostile towards the new profile pic. No worries though; in reality he was/is a soft-spoken young lad, but behind close doors he wanted to slander me. All of a sudden comments like “Who the hell is this lame ass nigga your taking lovie dovie pictures with” were being made. Ironically, I had never even met this dude, so I began to become suspicious about why he used those words to depict me. Further investigation led me to believe that there may have been potential feelings between him and the girl I was talking to…before I came through and started talking to her.

I take it he may have been a little envious, but was there really a need to call me lame? What does this word that is often thrown around actually mean? In this situation, I assume he didn’t conjure up the word lame based on my ability to successfully talk to a female. So what was the context? I often hear many self-proclaimed “cool people” call others that they feel are lower than them lame. I never did understand why people who were supposedly so confident in themselves go the distance to put others down. Obviously not all people do this, but I have seen it happen enough for it to draw my attention.

From the brief time that I have been in college, I have observed that the people who others consider “cool” are usually just at the fore front of what everyone else is doing. So while many dudes are having sex with multiple girls, “that guy” is not only having sex with multiple girls but is also smashing the cute/seemingly innocent one’s as well. Or while everyone is fashionable in their own way, “that person” tries to take fashion to the next level by putting cuffs in his/her slim fit pants to show off the colorful patterned socks they’re wearing or by having the heaviest rotation of Jay’s. Their excess of girls or shoes is what separates them from everyone else. Now they have the authority put others down because they are cool.

Some of the people I silently admire the most are the people who are the truest to themselves. I can think of one guy who worked at the front desk of the dorm I was staying in last semester. This dude was no where near the coolest guy on campus. In fact, I witnessed instances in which people made inside jokes about him right in front of his face. He was not equipped with the latest fashion. His somewhat awkward walk was not complimented by his tall stance. The pitch of his voice didn’t help him either; however, I feel like he was/is one of the coolest people on campus. And if I mentioned his name I am sure everyone who attends the university I attended would recognize it.

If being lame means being true to yourself although others may find it unacceptably different, then I guess I’m on a mission to get there…

Primer

February 10, 2013

Disclaimer: Meditate on this concept, and don’t be afraid to giggle. That includes those of you with hardened hearts.

“In order to succeed, your desire for success should be greater than your fear of failure.” -Bill Cosby

Yes, I am your primer. I mean seriously, what is wrong with you guys? Why has your life become a schedule? Why are you falling into the cycle? Just think about it for a moment. You wake up every morning and hopefully brush your teeth. Swell. Then if you are in a relationship or talking to someone you probably rush to your phone to see if your significant other has sent you a good morning text. That’s cool. And for those of you who are single, there are always the potential Instagram and Facebook notifications. It’s okay; we’re in this together. After your finished with all that, you may have your devotions. I would love to assume it came before you checked the text messages or notifications, but I’m going to take a guess and say it doesn’t. Don’t stone me if I’m wrong. You proceed to do whatever other morning rituals you have, and then you go to class or work. The lecture goes well, and you probably pat yourself on the back for taking good notes. After all, your progressing in life right? Your going to class, to make the grades, to get the degree, to get the job. There’s nothing wrong with any of this, and it would be nonsense if I told you that you were wasting your time….

I was on Facebook a couple weeks back, and I ran across a post one of my FB friends wrote. It basically said, “I don’t like school. I am just here to get a degree so can get a job to support my family.” Although that is not necessarily my attitude towards school, I totally respected what this person was saying. It was better than dropping out and deciding to pursue a rapping career. I have nothing against that either. In fact, I commend those people who are ambitious enough to do that. What if people pursued their personal goals while continuing their education however? As a Biology major, I fully understand how it feels to be consumed by your major. I also understand that “you will never find time for anything. If you want time, you must make it.”-Charles Buxton This becomes even more of a reality the older a person gets. Free time begins to dwindle, responsibilities begin to accumulate, tax jokes will soon be made, physical strength and energy usually lessen, creativity weakens, etc. Yea, the odds are pretty much against you. So why not start now?

There was a time I became so consumed by my major and other responsibilities that I began to neglect my personal goals. I wouldn’t touch my guitar for weeks at a time. I didn’t write any songs or anything at that besides in my journal or in my notes in class. I threw my fitness goals out of the window saying, “I don’t really have time to exercise.” My dream of potentially starting a blog was put to rest. The thought of going abroad to learn Spanish was forgotten. I basically had no innovation. I thought that if I got into medical school and eventually became I physician I would be thoroughly content. I would be able to support my family. I would be able to cater to people’s physical needs. I would be respected in my community. I would essentially be accomplished…or so I thought.

In the past couple of months, I have been forced to reconsider the meaning and purpose of my life. I probably shouldn’t be here today, but thank God I am. I had limited the meaning of life in my mind, so when particular things happened I felt as if my world was coming to a close. I soon began to realize that this was not true. I started to realize that I had gifts that needed to be cultivated in order for me to reach others. I would never be able to cultivate any of these gifts in the classroom either. So I began to blog and force myself to play my guitar more via video posts I made on Facebook. It was amazing to start hearing people tell me that my words were able to help them. I was humbled. I am humbled. If I neglected to start, however, this would never have happened. My peers that were encouraged by my blog would have never heard from me.

My dad and I were conversing this morning and he said something to me that still resonates in my head. We were having a conversation about some school work that needed to be done and he said, “Sometimes the hardest thing to do in life is to start.” The truth of his statement struck me, and I was compelled to write this entry for you. So now that you have been primed…

Please start…

Masochist

February 5, 2013

This girl learned to love pain. She was no sadist, but she did learn to embrace pain. After all, she had been conditioned to be that way. She wasn’t the strongest kid growing up, although she had a big heart. She wasn’t the smartest kid in the class, although she had a fierce determination. For most of her childhood and adolescent life she lived by a simple theory. “Be kind. Keep quiet.” It was those two principles that keep her self-esteem from being lowered even more by her peers. If she was quiet enough, she wouldn’t draw extra attention to herself. If she was nice enough, she could dodge a couple of jokes. This worked for the most part. She was never required to face herself, so she became complacent with having the dirt as her neighbors and friends. Her parents did not challenge the misbelief’s she had about herself. In fact, some of the harmless jokes they made about her contributed to the accumulation of some of her insecurities. Life for her was no harder than life for any other kids her age. There were no traumatic experiences to be discussed nor cried over.

Middle school…

The insecurities that flourished for the majority of her life were finally challenged. She could no longer hold onto the insecurity of having wickedly crooked teeth. Her braces fixed that. She was no longer handicapped, unable to sprint more than a few feet before passing out. Her persistence and determination in her exercise regimen had strengthened her lungs. She could for miles at a time now. Facial scares that were acquired during her childhood began to fade away due to years of proper treatment. She began to dress well, and she steadily began to become somewhat fashionable. Physically, she transforming into a very pretty girl. Mentally, nothing changed.

High school…

More guys started to notice her. Her figure began to accentuate, and her face cleared from puberty. She looked like a totally different person, and guys were not hesitant to tell her how attractive she was. Then she got a boyfriend…and got hurt. Then another boyfriend…and returned that hurt. Then one more boyfriend…and got scarred. This was nothing new to her however. She got to the point where she was used to feeling low. She would pray for things to get better, but deep down inside she seemed to contradict her prayers. Although she said she wanted to get better, she was so accustomed to feeling down. She was almost content with inhabiting ground. She was the dirt those above her treaded upon. She was the mud that those living in the clouds rained on. If there ever was a time she was happy, she would anticipate the pain of sorrow because had grown to love it. A true masochist.

We may stay afloat in our sorrows or swim in our victories. -thepositivendeavour

Yes, I’m A Cheater

January 18, 2013

Disclaimer: Please don’t go report this post to my mom before reading it.

Good. Now that I have your attention I will steal the floor for a few moments. In reality, I have never cheated on any girl I’ve been in a relationship with. Feel free to ask any of them. I think I was generally a pretty decent boyfriend. None of us are perfect, yet I strived for perfection in my relationships. Yea, that caused problems. After all, you’ve seen my quote right. “Yes we’re human, but if we strive for perfection at least we can count on achieving excellence.” Who wouldn’t settle for excellence?

I’m sure you have noticed, but I like using my experiences to prove the points I am trying to make. So here we go. I often hear girls ask the question, “Why do guys cheat so much?” , or something to that extent. Last week I was on YouTube, and I happened to run across an interview that “Power 105 1’s The Breakfast Club” did with the rapper Trina. You can check it out, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVhWZEMHHZQ. Besides all the vulgar comments that were exchanged, something Trina said in the interview stuck out to me. One of the interviewers began to ask her about her past relationships and what she liked in a man. They dialogued a bit then got on the subject of cheating. She then asked that particular interviewer if he had a girlfriend. To her surprise, he had a girlfriend of thirteen years and a 3-year-old daughter. She was curious to know if he had ever cheated on this girl. After a few jokes, he admitted that he did. The female interviewer then asked Trina, “Do you believe a man can be in a committed relationship and not cheat?” Her exact response was, “I believe a man can be in a committed relationship but they’re definitely going to slide out and do some other little stuff. It’s just natural.”

When I heard her response the smirk I had on my face the entire interview immediately went away. I was thinking, “I know a lot of guys cheat, but do women really believe it’s inevitable? Granted, Trina is a rap artist who probably grew up seeing this bias about men played out. But still.

So why do so many guys have a problem with cheating? I wish I could reveal to you a truth so indubitable that it would leave no room for you to second guess me; however, I’m afraid this will not be the case. I will offer a couple of suggestions though. First, the more girls a guy messes with (particularly cute ones), the cooler he is. Yes, yes we can sit here and discuss the double standard, but why flog the dead horse? One day, while I was walking through a building on my campus named Blake Center, I overheard a couple guys talking about getting head, brain, dome, oral sex, or w/e you call it. This one dude with dreads was sitting on top of the ATM machine while his disciples listened closely to him talk about getting oral sex from this one girl at a party. He went on to tell a couple more stories after that. Something that girls often don’t understand is that looks are not a determining factor when it comes to cheating. You can look as good as you want, but that won’t stop a guy from cheating on you. I’ve seen guys with beautiful girlfriends go mess with an average/below average chick.

Second, it generally takes more for a guy to become emotionally attached to a girl than a girl to a guy. Of course there are exceptions, but that is usually the case. I wish I could tell you some of the things my guy friends have done to the girls they were talking to, but that probably wouldn’t be a smart move on my part. Especially since some of my blog posts have already been scrutinized by my mom ha ha. When you match a girl who is putting all her emotions all into a relationship with a guy who is silently nonchalant about the emotional side of a relationship there may be some cheating. At least until both of them are on the same emotional level.

Finally, I think it’s safe to say that men are pretty visual. It’s not hard to catch a guy staring at a girl’s butt or eyeing a chick as she walks by. It happens all the time. So when girls dress in an immodest way, it is just any incentive for a guy to approach her…even if he has a girlfriend. Much elaboration can be done on this point, but I would just recommend you to read my entry entitled “Your Painted Black Thighs” to get a guys perspective on the revealing clothing many women wear today.

So there you are ladies and gents. This post wraps up what I like to call the 6 Day Fury. Starting this past Sunday, I consecutively made a post each day. Feel free read the other five, “I Have A Funeral To Attend”, “Wreaking Havoc”, “The Greater Scheme”, “I Need You”, and “Please Don’t Shoot Me Down” if you haven’t already.

Thanks guys!

Please Don’t Shoot Me Down…

January 17, 2013

Disclaimer: Thank you.

6 a.m in the morning: “Good-mor-ning!” “Ghono, where are you?” *Finds sister, squeezes her cheeks* “La ta ta tumm. La tee tee tee.” “Mom I think I heard a mouse when I was home yesterday. In fact, I may be delusional, but I think he even stopped and said whats up to me while scurrying across the kitchen floor.” *Blows on mothers arm in order to make farting noise* “De-mahdd, De-mahdddd, De-mahahahahadddd!” *Proceeds to squeeze little brothers head*

This is how my typical morning starts. As a kid, I never really understood why people cherished sleep so much. I mean off all the mischief a lil rascal could be doing your telling me he should go to sleep? Psssh, no way. I don’t think getting older changed this philosophy much. Well, besides the mischief part *senile croak*. Nonetheless, a couple mornings ago I woke up very hyper and excited. Yes, maybe I needed to be “dumbed down” a little, but it was not anything my family wasn’t used to seeing. I went downstairs to the kitchen and immediately began to see who I could rush with all my energy. Target acquired. Ready. Steady. Attack.

I was immediately rebutted with a “stank attitude” from the sibling I attacked (not saying which one). I must admit that I was a bit surprised. A bunch of thoughts started running through my head. “First of all, it’s not like I’m doing something foreign.” “Second of all, it’s me! At the most, you usually just brush me off.” “Third of all…you just can’t do that to me! I know I’m annoying you, but either let me get to you or just go with the flow of things.” I was confused. I didn’t know what to do. When I entered the kitchen I was on cloud 9, and now I was like on cloud 8 an a half. Maybe even 8. I was determined to stay lively; however, so I switched my method from trying to bother this particular sibling to trying to cheer them up. After a couple failed jokes and attempts to tickle them, I started to realize that I was falling from a great height. By the time this sibling was ready to go to school, I was mellowed out. And it didn’t help that I was the only “morning person” in my family either. I found it kinda funny that the people I woke up to that morning had such an impact on my mood. I went from being straight giddy to chill. I can imagine how I would have felt if I had already been relaxed that morning, then was confronted with the dull spirit of my family. Probably pretty sad.

I found that this scenario had a striking connection to the people I surrounded myself with. I’m sure everyone has known a person that is such a joy to be around. I’m sure some know the opposite of this as well. Recently, I decided that if I couldn’t lift anyone up because and of all the complaints I had, then I didn’t need to be around anyone at all. I could mourn, carry on, and complain to myself. I didn’t need anyone’s help with that. So I went ghost. People would come up to me and say, “Bakari, I haven’t seen you in a while” or “Dude where have you been!?” I would then reply, “Ahhh, well you know….”

Then I decided to reappear and start this blog. I didn’t know exactly what I would be blogging about, but I knew I wanted to accomplish three things. Provide people with content that could make them laugh/smile. Provide people with content that was thought-provoking/relevant while interesting. Provide people with some form of encouragement. So if your reading this entry I would just like to say thank you for your support. I hope some of my words or videos have caused you to think, smile, or be encouraged in some way.

Thank you. Be blessed.

I Need You

January 16, 2013

Disclaimer: This entry was not written to point the finger at anyone. We are all in the struggle together.

Society has conditioned us to become dependent on things. I can’t express to you the frustration I feel when I go out and realize I left my phone at home or when there is a problem with the wi-fi in my house and I cannot access the Internet. I remember in April of 2011 when a tornado struck parts of my state causing the power to go out in the area I lived in. When the tornado struck I can remember asking some of my friends what they planned to do since the power was going to be out for a couple days. Most of them simply replied, “leave.” A few of them went to Tennessee, and I think one of them even went to Disney World. There was no way they were going to stay in an area where they could not cook, wash, or be stimulated by electronics for a few days. I figured it would be impossible for me to do any of this as well, so I asked my mom if we could go somewhere until the power was restored. I’m not sure if it was because I was so desperate to leave, but I was shocked to hear her say no.

For the next few days, we lived like cavemen. We lit a fire to warm up our food and used flashlights to take showers at night. I would have to sneak in my mom’s car to charge my phone. Since the alarm systems were down, and there was no light at nights, our district had curfew of 9 o’ clock. For the duration of those few days, it felt as if the world was coming to an end. I felt like knights on horses with lances would eventually come running through my neighborhood. It then struck me how dependent I had become modern conveniences. I also found this to be true for my relationships.

I was introduced to my first relationship in high school. I never did obtain the disposition to be a player, and I really enjoyed the consistency and convenience a relationship offered. So I would often times find myself becoming dependent on the person I talked to. If I was having a rough morning I would try to get to school a couple minutes early so she could “cheer me up”. Or if I was bored Saturday night she was “always” available to hang out. The more I fed into these kinds of thought patterns, the more dependent I became on her and she on me. We needed each other. To solidify the security we got from each other, we would spit empty promises back and forth saying, ” I would never do anything to hurt you” or “I will never leave you”. Being imperfect beings, however, one of us would happen to break our promise. Then we would be left broken and with the misbelief that “I need you.”

If you thought I was going on to say, “this is not true however” you’re wrong. Although this repeated fallacy is not true, sometimes it takes more just telling yourself that. Lately, I have been doing a lot of reading a lot on how negatively the misbeliefs we have adopted all our lives can affect us. The book I was reading describes the triad cycle of misbeliefs. First we devalue our self: “Even when I give it my all, I’m always a failure when it comes to relationships.” Then we devalue the situation: “I think this is it. Now I’m really messed up.” Then we devalue prospects for the future: “Yea, I’ll probably be single for a very long time.” Through this negative self-talk, we being to ensteel these misbeliefs, and soon enough they become realities. It’s hard to feed our minds positive yet real thoughts when we have been severely hurt. The object is not to ignore the situation and pretend as if everything is okay. It is to be honest about our emotions while being real about the situation. “Although this experience feels quite depressing at times, I will not die from the emotional pain. Time will soften even the strongest emotions.”

Examine the misbeliefs your have held all you life. Be careful about repeating them to yourself because in time your words may become a reality…

The Greater Scheme

January 15, 2013 — 4 Comments

Disclaimer: Open your mind.

I have been told before that I think too much. This may be true. Most people would consider over thinking a bad thing. I have always seen it as something to look down upon, but lately I have begun to reconsider. Why? Because I kinda get a high off the introspection of myself and my life. Why? Ohh well because I feel somewhat optimistic about my future. Why? Gosh, because I think I am finally realizing that God has purposed for me to do something special in this life just as He has every other human being on this earth. Cliché?

Think about it. When was the last time you sat down and looked at yourself in the mirror then looked outside and asked yourself the question, “How many of me are there?” If you really have to contemplate this question that is a good thing. However, if you are honest with yourself and can name a plethora of others just like you, then maybe you should consider how true you are being to yourself. I’m not saying that everyone was put on this earth to be a unique individual, but there is something unique about every human being. Find it, and expose it.

When I’m alone, and even sometimes when I am around people, I have a tendency to fall into deep thought. I have become pretty good at making my “trances” unnoticeable, but best believe that something is always going on inside my head. I was ironing and washing last night, and I began to become fatigued because it was so late. I wanted to just stop, jump in my bed, and finish what I was doing in the morning. Then I started to think about “the greater scheme” of things. I was ironing because I wanted to be prepared for an interview I had the next day. I wanted to do this the night before the interview because I didn’t want to risk not being prepared for the interview. I couldn’t risk not being prepared because I needed the job. I needed the job because I need money. I need money because I need equipment. I need equipment for some of the personal projects I am working on. Once I begin to consecutively complete theses projects I will be on my way to achieving some of my life goals. If I achieve what it is I feel I was placed on this earth to do, then in my latter years of life I will not have to say “I wish I did…”

Do you see the thought that can come from just ironing and washing a couple of clothes for an interview? I know this may seem like a bit much for the average thinker, but I feel that is how we have to treat life sometimes. The little things we do now will lead up to the greater scheme of life. No one just hits an age in which everything just comes together for them. It starts now. The next time you are tempted to half-step a seemingly frivolous task just remember you are working towards your future with the little tasks you are completing now.

Blessings.

Wreaking Havoc

January 14, 2013

Disclaimer: I do not intend to push my religion or beliefs on anyone who reads the entry. There may be lighthearted moments in this entry and exaggerations may be used, but I truly believe this is a pressing matter.

I have the privilege of having a job, and I am grateful for that. Along with having this job, I benefit because I do a lot of shopping at store I work at. I generally enjoy the work I do, but like any job there are a few things that get to me. I came into to work one day feeling very jolly. I would like to think that I am a cheerful person for the most part, but this was just a really good day. I only had to work a four hour shift that day, and two of my favorite managers to work with were scheduled on my shift. I clocked in, then proceeded to empty my bladder before making my way onto the sales floor. The feeling I got while leaving the bathroom was amazing. My steps felt so light as if I were walking on cotton balls. Well maybe that’s a bit much, but I did do my Johnny Depp walk right up to the cash wrap (I would be glad to demonstrate it if ya ask me) and immediately started working on go-backs. I was surprised to see the condition the store was in because usually by the afternoon it was wayyy below “brand standards” aka an utter mess.

After I finished with the go-backs, I began making my way around the store, perfect-folding any disturbed clothing back to brand standard. I felt good knowing that I was nearly finished making one of the women’s sale tables nice and “pertty” as my general manager would say. Any sales associate knows that it is rare for a store to need little recovery after a long day of sales. However, if this happened to be the case, then work would be fairly easy that day. The only thing the sales associate would really need to worry about was good costumer service, and that was no problem for me because I was THE MAN when it came to costumer service. At least I thought I was.

You see, while I was doing my thing I spotted this one lady coming into the store on her cellphone. I didn’t really bother to tell her about our promotions that day due to my prior experiences with trying to talk to ladies while they were in the middle of a captivating phone conversation. So I just glanced at her hoping to make eye contact so I could at least acknowledge her. I probably wasn’t as interesting as the conversation she was holding because she never looked at me. She just made her way into the store, and what she began to do next nearly brought tears to my eyes. In a matter of seconds, she began to tear apart all the hours of recovery me and my fellow sales associates had put into perfect-folding all the clothing. The worst part of it all was that I was the only sales associate on the floor at the time, so I would be responsible for the recovery that needed to be done after this lady left the store. Tears began to roll down my face as I saw multiple perfectly-folded jeans and shirts fly across the store.

In the midst of my distress, however, a thought popped into my head. I constantly did the exact same thing this lady was guilty of. I mean I’m sure I have done this in plenty of other stores, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Just as this lady was destroying what I had patiently worked on, I often go about destroying all the work and effort my Creator has put into me. Whether it is through a bad habit or various other sinful indulgences, I am guilty of destroying much of the work my Creator has done on me. Nonetheless, unlike the sales associates who is reluctant to fix the damage that has been done, God is patiently waiting to take me back and fix me up.

What am I waiting for? What are you waiting for?

I Have A Funeral To Attend…

January 13, 2013

Disclaimer: These are my thoughts and opinions. Figurative language is used.

Most people have experienced the sting of death to some extent. It have may ranged from the death of a well known church member to the death of a parent/guardian. In both cases, however, the deceased person is no longer living. Their influence on the world and others no longer exists. Their words cease to exist, and people can only hold onto what they once said. Their presence is no longer felt by others, and they are no longer seen.

So I have a funeral to attend…

A couple years ago, one of my immediate family members passed away. This was the only “death” of a person close to my heart that I had experienced at the time. I was unsure how to handle death. I didn’t know how to treat it. The sting of death constantly visited me in the months that followed, yet as time passed, something was revealed to me. Death was painful because it permanently robbed the senses of the family and friends closest to that person. When someone died they couldn’t be seen, touched, smelled, tasted, or heard without the use of an artificial medium. With modern technology, a person can look at pictures of the deceased or even hear and see them via recorded video footage. However, nothing is better than having the ability to experience that loved one in real life.

Please wear all black clothing.

I have learned there is something potentially worst than death. After a while, the absence of a loved one will inevitably have a numbing effect on one’s emotions. The inability to experience that person will soon soften the sting death has caused. Tears of sorrow will eventually be harder to come by due to the lack of reality the dead has to offer. They offer none because they are dead. What if that person were dead but still alive however? How is this possible?

Imagine coming home from school one day, and the mother that loved and cared for you for thirteen years of your life completely stopped having interest in you. Like a switch turned off in her head and all the emotions and concern she once had for you completely vanished. She maintained the same body, but she was a totally different person. Although she could speak to you and you could tell her your name, her love for you was nonexistent. You being to cry and weep because you miss your mom. She stares at you with a blank expression because all this is foreign to her. You beg for her to stop playing, hoping that she will break out in laughter and say, “I’m just joking!” That never happens. Each day you wake up and are visually reminded of your mother. She sounds and smells exactly the same as your mother. Her warm embrace feels how your mother’s would feel, yet you are again reminded that she is not your mother. She will never be. You will never be able to speak to your mother again as long as you live although you see her everyday. For the rest of your life, her figure will taunt you. But you know it’s not her…and you will just have to try to figure out some way to live in peace knowing that. I’d rather hold onto the memories my mother left with me before she entered the grave.

Excuse me though. I have arrived at the funeral, and your prayers will gladly be accepted.

Your Painted Black Thighs…

January 4, 2013 — 2 Comments

Disclaimer: Racial slurs are used.

Good job ladies I must say. Bravo. I have been moved to speak on the behalf of myself and all the other guys out there who are enjoying the sights you share with us. Honestly, we are truly grateful. I mean seriously. We no longer have to creep around our dorms trying to find something to stimulate our eyes. That will make any man self-conscious. In fact, you simulate our eyes and you stimulate our “prize” possession. Yea that was a confession. I am content with my size. I will be proper enough, however, to say thank you because I consider myself a gentleman.

It’s your painted black thighs that barely shield your black skin. No offense, but I’m not directing this to Caucasian women. I attend an HBCU. Forget the skinny jeans ladies! You see, we are different from our preceding generation. Our minds are a tad more twisted. Well actually a lot more twisted. Some where along the line the paradigm was shifted. We didn’t need to stumble across our father’s “secret stash” to pick up the addiction. All we needed was the Internet. If you think about it, it eliminated a lot of the hassle too. Obscene imagery was at our finger tips. Click. And that’s about it. Our lives were changed forever. I say all for the worst, and none for the better. But it’s whatever. At least it helped us get through puberty. My gosh we were so horny!

Please excuse me for drifting off topic. I was just trying to justify my…well our lustful eyes. It’s just your painted black thighs. They’re so amazing. I…well we can see basically everything. Huh? Umm…yea like we see all your goods moving. Ohhh. I have always taken pride in my integrity of mind, so can you please stop? And you may say, “Okay dude, it’s just fashion, now shut the hell up it’s not even that serious.” Fair enough, so would it be a problem for you to stop wearing it? “Why of course not, but I don’t see why that’s necessary.” Welll let’s just say because your tempting me. Your not concerned, however. You modest women. Your sooo classy. Side note: but some of you refer to your female friends as bitches. I’m just saying. Hold on. What did I just say? Modesty!? Psshhh, forget modest. I want all these niggas on me! Well that’s what your outfit said anyway. You just like to tease us and lead us into your trap. Then ZAP! “Girrllll that nigga wack!” That’s what you said after you lured him in and played hisss…yea. “Come on ladies, come on. Lets gather around and talk about who and who is thirsty.” Random chick: Humm…”Works for me!”

And it was all fun and games until you were approached by Him. Then you ended up getting played because of all the other visual simulations. He tells you, “I just wanted to enjoy God’s beautiful creation. Girl I’m only in college!” <;– I guess he didn't realize that when he asked you out. Gotcha. Now the tables are turned, and your left hurt and confused not knowing what to do. Girl get a clue. Keep doing what you've always done. Go entice some guy with your revealing clothing. My gosh, I was just joking! Now your on Instagram posting half-naked pictures of yourself?

I do apologize for the confession. It's just your painted black thighs look amazing…