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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Cradled
February 23, 2015
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There is no need to be judgmental. And although her influence is instrumental, we all have sins of our own. She just sings hers a little louder. We’re just seeking someone to look up to. And she was looking to be influenced so one day she could be influential. But I’ve learned we should be careful of our desire to admire people who we think we’d like to be. I don’t know you yet, but if you run across this here are my words of admonition. Set up some kind of moral basis for yourself. Don’t get too disheartened if you stray from the standard you set up in your youth and innocence. It happens to the best of us. Stay nostalgic however. Always yearn to return to the standard you once set for yourself. Understand that time changes things. Time ages things. Time may taint your innocence, and you may become two-faced with your sins. Some days rationality and morality will discern your reason; other days you may be emotionally reasoned. You’ll feel like a hypocrite, and you will get tired of it all. However, you will just have to learn from your mistakes. People will always judge you, and you will always have preconceptions of people. Never act as one who is infallible. Never try to convince people of your character, but rather let your actions paint a caricature of you. Again, be careful who you choose to look up to. If you’re not about what many guys will come at you for, then be careful around females who are. For he neglected bowflex and chose to exercise his index between her legs. She allowed it. Then the index became a little denser. Now she’s an addict. My mother always told me that her mother always told her , “Show me your friends, and I’ll show you who you are.” So show me someone striving for perfection only in utter hopes of achieving some kind of excellence. I hope I told you and showed you I love you, so when another man tells you this it won’t temporarily fill a void in your heart. And “Unto third and fourth generation” of me may cause you and your seed to do somethings that will make God displeased. So please forgive me. I’m just writing to you from future aspirations of me…your father to be. And I would like to say again that I love you. I’ll start practicing from now because pain has caused me to use this phrase lightly. And “Mama/Daddy I love you. My blog speaks for me, but hope I made you proud.” I hope she makes you proud. For if I reap what I have sowed life will owe me a basket of woes. Therefore, I want you know that I love you in the way I treat all the other daughters around me…. So say a prayer for me. Please. The devil will soon be coming for me. I think I have relayed to you what I needed to. I understand my voice grows faint with my age, but my words still carry relevance. I hope God allows me to recieve you from my Womb to Be. Until then, stay safe while I strive to show my love for you. So please forgive me Keke, Corey, Ms. Rose, Ms. Peña, Kay, and young Des. Thanks.
To my precious little lady,
Your Father
Stoned
January 22, 2015
I feel like I’m 21 and divorced; God I need some. I’m feeling loyal to a girl that I haven’t won. And ultimately my faith lies in You or in this world, but either way I don’t foresee “fun”. I can sing, “It Is Well” then burn in hell screaming, “Why am I the one You have forsaken?” Or since they call me Munk, become monk, and restrain my cum until the day I’m done. Damn. At least I’ll see the ones who’ve gone on before me, but as of late I’ve just been feeling so earthly. It’s fear that’s been instilled in me. I fear God so much sometimes I forget that He’s supposed to love me. Freshman year I was condemned to hell because of my jewelry, yet she didn’t even take the time to hear my story. Flipped the script and traded in slit wrists for a pierced lip. Pain for pain. Traded in hospital bed grips for a tatted chin. Win for win. Sometimes the pain that hides within might seep out on your skin. Dang.
However, I won’t justify anything. But little brother and little sister are out here with their javelins. I speak my thoughts, and they’re ready to throw it at my sins. And I used to be the same way with my older brother until I fell in my pit. I may not drink, smoke, or party, but I’m still struggling. Doing things that my younger self would never do. Thinking thoughts my baby mind couldn’t construe. And lately deaths been in the waters; it’s been stirring up the seas. It’s messing with my ship; it’s trying to drown me. I don’t want another shift in the dynamics of my family. She’s been sick for soo long, but I’m just thinking of me. I won’t front and act as if I ever really knew her, so please save the condolences because my cold shoulders’ becoming frost bitten and it’s only turning bluer. And I know my right to pursue happiness, but life never opted to be kind to the pursuer.
Yesterday, I traded in some sick shit for some righteousness. Instead of taking a weekend trip for a quick fix I’ll be “working” on my sins. So does that make me pious?! Nah. And gramps is choosing death over the suffering. Damn. Their matrimonies’ been a couple decades in the making. Man…
Extremist or Extremely Passionate?
February 24, 2013
My life, like many of yours, is composed of many intricacies unknown to others. I have been told that since I was born I’ve had to fight for life. I won’t reproduce to you a cliché story about my near death experience upon exiting the womb, but I will say that my impaired birth did lead me to have mild complications throughout my childhood. These complications would later cause me to sketch a skewed image of myself.
I was the fastest kid in my class for the majority of my elementary career. When I was in third grade, I was chosen to race against two of the other fastest kids in my elementary school. They were both older than me, so I was pretty nervous to race against them. The day finally came for us to race, and I placed last as I expected. I lost the race from close behind however. This probably would have been a great opportunity for me to feed my emaciated ego…if my classmates had not witnessed the raced. After seeing me run that day, my classmates would soon coerce me to play a game called cops and robbers in P.E class. It was simply tag with an embellished title. They were the cops. I was the robber.
“1. 2. 3. GO!” I began to sprint. Those with the duty of enforcing the law upon me were left in the dust. That only lasted for a couple of seconds however. I should have known better, but I wasn’t going to seem weak.”You are under arrest!” In a moment, I was being man handled by the majority of the girls and guys in my class. “Put your hands behind your back!” Crap. They got me. Silence. “Don’t try anything funny.” Almost there. Almost there. A couple minutes had passed, and they were getting too comfortable having me as their prisoner…. “He’s getting away!” I was gone, and they were anger. They would soon be pacified as they saw my sprint become a light jog then a feeble walk. “Don’t worry about it. We got him!” They handled me with even more force than before. Or maybe it was just the feeling of my body going into a sharp decline. “I bet you won’t try to run again!” Their grip on me was much tighter than first time, and I knew they wanted me to fuel the little adrenaline rushes I was giving them. “Don’t try anything stupid!” I silently gasp for air. “Haha, you won’t escape this time!” The wheezing became heavy. My symptoms were drowned out by their taunting. Enough. “N…N..Nooo. No your…your not going anywhere. S…STOP HIM!” My self-esteem would not be lowered as they surrounded me and instigated me to break free. The air I tried to breathe then stopped registering to my lungs. “Gotcha! I bet you won’t…are…ummm are you okay Bakari?’ Blackness. Stars. Pockets empty. No inhaler. “Give him space! Bakari! Bakari, breathe in and out into this paper bag. Your mother is coming with your inhaler. ” My first attack. They stood in awe. I felt weak. Never again.
8th grade…“Okay, so your choices are Gatlinburg (Tennessee), Disney World, or St. Louis.” Bloody class trip. I knew swimming would be involved. I had formed a fancy for delicacies such as bread with humus or chips and salsa. They could no longer say I would blow away in the wind if a storm passed through. In fact, they said the opposite. “Wow, boy your putting on a little weight there.” “You used to be so skinny! What happened?” A nice little dynamite for my ego. There was not much to demolish though. I was only about fifteen pounds overweight, but in my head I became obese. I was already self-conscious, but now I had become a faithful slave to their opinion. “Don’t think about the burn, think about what you’re going to earn. Come on, push yourself!” My chest remained tight. My lungs continued to burn. I kept exercising.
Days…weeks…months…A quarter mile became a half a mile. A half a mile became a mile. A mile became two miles. The scale began to register lower numbers. The comments began to lessen. I worked hard. I worked really hard. A daily two mile run became part of my religion. I ran for the relative that commented on my weight gain. I ran for the older cousin who was shocked to see me chubby after not seeing me for a few years. I ran for my haggard ego in hopes to feed it with the weight I lost.
Class trip was approaching…School. Homework. Treadmill. School. Homework. Treadmill. School. Homework. Treadmill. Dang. You weren’t supposed to eat after six. Okay, run an extra two miles. School. Homework. Treadmill. School. Homework. Treadmill. School. Homework. Treadmill. Oh shoot. You really pigged out tonight. But it’s Friday night. You know your mom won’t let you exercise. Proceed to the guest bathroom in the basement. Open the toilet lid. Fingers ready? Okay, stick em’ in and shove em’ down. Gag reflex. Try again. Chokes. Try harder. That’s good, but you know you really messed up tonight. You need to bring up some more. Just stick them down fast. Don’t think about it. AWYKXGTHKR!!! Okay cool. Now clean up this mess before your mom sees this. A few days pass. I messed up again. Repeat.
I cherish these memories, and I have recently made some more. These days, however, the question just rings in my head, “Extremist or extremely passionate? Extremist or extremely passionate?”
A time comes when one must free himself from the views and opinions of others in order to live. Act accordingly.
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. -thepositivendeavourI 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…
“Forgiveness is the attitude you have towards a person and life after you have been hurt.” -thepositivendeavour
Just Some Thoughts... 