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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Addie Free Bakari
I could have perused dentistry, but I perused PT. Leave that for Chanice. “Myself” is trying to convince “me” that’s still to much focus for me. Dissonanced being. Capped mentally. She. Was. Mean…but I won’t return that energy. I have to retire my mom before 60….not before pre-retirement at 63. Mind stop playing me. My. Heart. Is. Too. Sweet. I struggle not to let you penetrate the exoskeleton and get to the mushy gushy. You can’t have emotionality and physicality on me, so I choose celibacy. I wish I could credit it to my morality. Read. Read. I’m going to figure out this being. God save me. God raise me. I get ridiculed for transparency cause I share these blogs on FB feed. Then the masses can judge me, and I’m embarrassed but, “I cannot delete.” Then I take down because of family. Deconstructed socially. No addition to popularity. I volunteered this information to help somebody…somebody who is feeling the same as me…someone who is set up perfectly but is still battling with their mentally. I’m struggling to connect with those around me…and the ones I do connect with I make sure I keep them at good distance…about arms length away from me. CSPT. I just don’t trust they can feel as deeply. Rationality please fall on me. I cry at the thought of loosing mommy because mommy has always shown a genuine care for me. Now I’m isolated. It’s tough embracing the thoughts of a fragmented being.
Bakari! Bakari! You’re name means promising, so please fulfill what you have promised me. How did Julian die though? Was it from an accident? Was it in his sleep? “God please don’t tell me it was because of his mentally! You know that could have should have been me!” We only spoke a couple times, but from his gaze I knew we shared similar mentality. I saw them say R.I.P Tamar, but moments later the world seemed to be back up on its feet…operating flawlessly. Then I told myself if I die I want them to praise me. It’d give my haggard ego relief. Drum major instinct. Am I still here because I been favored genetically? Not perfect but having had the privilege of being approached because of beauty. What if I never had that opportunity? What if my family wasn’t so respected in the community? What if it was me instead of him who was exposed to herpes? What if I didn’t have religion to instill the fear in me? Would I still be? Questions. Questions. Those are some real questions for me….
Keep pushing Bakari…
A Martyr
January 28, 2016
I will probably be a martyr. Then I ask God for forgiveness for offending His sons and daughters. I’ll also ask Him, “Why do I have to be a martyr.” Then I stare down at my skin and notice it’s a bit darker and realize that’s a problem. They will probably try to tear me down because I am an imperfect being. They’ll probably turn 1 speeding ticket into something imposturous so they can formally push their lawsuits. Once my character is in question they’ll let propaganda do what it has to. I know this to be true because I have already attacked by my own people. Fortunately, that anonymous girl didn’t convince her that I would control her diet. People have been trying to sabotage me. Unfortunately, there were probably some of you that did believe. I thought I was low-key because you’ve never seen me blow trees, and before college started I was retired from college parties. But she will always have something to say about me. However, I am no anomaly. Just take a look at Bill Cosby. What happened to the phrase “innocent until proven guilty”? I know a feminist from my HBCU that protests against him publicly. Lord please don’t let a black man slaughter me. I know we have a fighters mindset, but please calm all self-hostility. I used to think this was an existential crisis, but this is reality. Thankfully I can reveal myself to you before you reveal myself to me. Say what you may, but I will let my blog speak for me. Sometimes my impatience is hard to control when it’s mixed with my intensity. Sometimes my virginity is hard to maintain when she keeps messaging, and at times my resort for pain has left scars on my body that made people question me. But if God is for me who can be against me…. It even says my enemies will be at peace with me. Now I’ll close my eyes because that’s the peace I need. This man has got it and really gives it? I promise I’m just speaking my life into reality.
Consequently,
Your Founder/Chief Executive Officer
Heaven bound
May 27, 2014
Lately I’ve been thinking that I’m good, cause my palms always been closed to the drugs. I look around and figure that I’m straight; two decades passed still haven’t opted to smash. I’ll be flying out the state to my birthplace, with my family thinking I’m about my work. Public image probably looking kinda sharp, as long as they don’t catch me in my room. They say the world is coming to an end, so I’m eclectic in my ways to pass the time. I use religion as a comfort for my mind, because I’d die before getting jail raped for my soul. But then the Bible told me turn the other cheek, but how when there’s so much pride to hold. Nah nah, as long as it’s something I can control, I’d like it for my ass to remain closed.
Heaven bound but I barely even pray. And when I pray I’m probably about to eat.
Heaven bound but I barely even sleep. I guess I’m waiting for the Lord to judge my soul.
This is the confessions of a child, who never really cared about the wealth. Instead he prayed to talk to all these girls, probably thinking it would help his mental health. And his mama always confiscating phones, cause it’s 6 am and he’s still on the phone. Then she asks him why he’s gotta be extreme, then doctor doctor says he’s messing up his health. He was looking for the truth inside a lie, from the misconceptions he created about himself. Then heartbreak came and hit him with the truth. No one can replace the love you have for you.
Heaven bound and I’m trying to see the light. I’m trying to separate my feelings from the truth.
Heaven bound and I’m trekking through this life. I’m trying to find the love I once had for You.
Like A Star
March 6, 2013
Disclaimer: Take a deep breathe. Open your mind. Begin to imagine.
Hey. Hi there. Hello. Umm I’m sorry…I just get kind of nervous at the thought of you. Please excuse me. I just need to run to the bathroom to dry my hands real quick. Okay, there we go. My name is Bakari. What’s yours? Ohh that’s a pretty cool name. Are you American? Cool! I was born in the states, but I rep Guyana all day every day. So you must know about that cook up rice and cook curry! Ha ha, that’s too cool. We may have to throw down in the kitchen sometime! So tell me more about yourself. What are some of your aspirations in life? Personal goals? Wow, I was kinda expecting a glittery cliché to-do list. Well either that or a stuttered answer based on your lack of thought about it prior to this conversation. It’s rare to talk to a girl who has solid goals that span beyond the realm of modern academia. What steps are you presently making toward those goals? That’s awesome dude! I can definitely relate to what you’re saying, but I just try to remember that time becomes more and more scarce from here. I definitely agree with what you’re saying though.
I like your style by the way. You seem pretty comfortable in your own skin. Are you anything else besides goal-oriented and academically driven? Ha ha, oh my! I mean I’m just kind of shocked that you care about your health. I know that everyone has some degree of concern for their health, but most people our age reckon their youth makes them invincible. I visit the nursing home far to often to neglect the importance of adopting a healthy lifestyle. Are you interested in community service or things of that nature by any chance? Awesome! Maybe I could introduce you to some of my people at the nursing home one day. This is kinda random, but do you ever party? Seriously? I was just curious. It’s just most of the girls that I’m attracted to or that are attractive in general seem to be into it. I guess that’s a large portion of college girls anyway. A lot of my high school friends are into it, but I guess it wouldn’t seem that weird if I told you I’ve never been to a college party. But yea I agree. And like you said, it is a pretty good outlet for girls who want to let loose sometimes without being called a slut or a hoe.
Ha ha, how do you posses all these great qualities and manage to stay single? You Miss Independent or something? *Stands up to put on a demonstration* Okay, okay enough ha ha. I’ll sit down now. Most of my friends admit they can only manage small doses of me. Ba ha ha ha! You seem to have a unique humor yourself! Too funny! No no no. Let’s not talk about me. We are learning about you today. Okay, okay. Relax. Truth is I am a man of integrity. If I were to acquire a girlfriend that would leave thousands of other women envious. A wickedly sinful practice you know. My conscience would not allow me to take part in such self-absorbed behavior! I am single for the sake of her. And her. And for her with my Instagram picture as her screen saver. Quite frankly I don’t even know the chick. Alright, alright. No more jokes for the moment. To be honest, I am emotionally drained. I would eventually love to have someone to love, but I guess I’m just scared she won’t meet the standard established by the lady before her. I’m not trying to experience any more emotional trauma from discovering things that were triggered by misunderstood motives. I am no longe….
5:00am: Bo lu calazooom! Bo lu calazooom!
40,000 lux of blue light blasts in my face. It’s a part of my therapy. I have my devotion. I’m still confused. “She was too vivid. I couldn’t have been dreaming. I just couldn’t have.” I hop into the shower and begin my hydrotherapy. Scorching hot. Freezing cold. “Aghhh! Burrr!” Repeat. I hop out of the shower and proceed into my bedroom. It’s still dark outside. “So quite and peaceful.”
Buzzz. Text message from….
The Batcave
March 2, 2013
If I can inspire, would that fulfill my heart’s desire? As I’m sitting on my throne accepting melodies from the lyre, I’m much higher. “What?” I’m higher than I have ever been since I’ve stopped meddling with that sin. “Ohh. Okay, carry on.” Once it started to bloom, I was consumed. And I spent thousands of hours planted in the my room. I couldn’t move, but I just blamed it on the lady with the broom. She was on some shrooms, got a little confused, and then came through and cast a spell on a dude! “Wow. Man quit playing! That’s insane! So when’s the next time you trying to get some brain though?” Stop. Please don’t try and tempt me. You know if I go back down that road you know I will be left broken and feeling empty. And don’t resent me for side stepping your offer…my enemy. Just leave me be and let me continue my story of how this sinful indulgence almost destroyed me. “Okay. But always remember that you can look although you may not touch. God has already declared your victory, so there’s no rush.”
My hands and my eyes were in conjunction. I was in so deep I was unable to function. I couldn’t go to luncheon without thinking who and who was eyeing me. But nah I think I’ll just blame that on my social anxiety. And hell yea that’s propriety cause I can’t have all that guilt piled up inside me. Plus I could be free. I could be free from all the stresses of trying to pursue that girl in who’s face I’d probably hurl after she denied me. But at least I tried b. I could always run to The Batcave to hide me as I blindly searched for something to remind me of the sexual ventures I had with her. Or her. Or maybe her because her breasts were a bit larger, and she’d probably go a bit farther. “Yes! Yes! You’ve done your three months time, so you’re more than fine! Plus, what’s a college guy without a chick on his side?” Nah, I think I’ll be alright for the moment seeing that, that shouldn’t be an essential component of my coolness.
My mind was deprive of real life. My perception was surreal in fact. I looked down her back and thought those implants was her real ahh…yea. “Don’t doubt what I have shown you. For the last six years I have owned you and grown you into the lustful man you are today…well the one you were three months ago anyway. Don’t turn your back on me now!” I will not take a bow nor allow my defenses to be let down. I won’t stand here proud and act as if all my battles have been won. I’m just grateful for how far I’ve…well for how far we’ve come.
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.
Down Girl! Down!
February 18, 2013
Disclaimer: Viewers discretion advised. Read at will.
A lot of energy has been expended. So now we put our guards up because we must conserve everything that is left of us. Not much. We have become pain stakened. “Lonely or alone?”, those are two totally different statements. Just be patient. It’s just something about this present congregation aka my generation. I’m just saying. In accordance with Adam and Eve, my generation conceived the notion that “we were meant to be”…together. The junction of him and her would last forever. This kind of commitment would need love however. What is love though? Can we despise ourselves yet love another? Can we chastise our being yet love the others? He was broken, but his arms were left wide open to receive her…and she was a dreamer. She dreamed that he would be different from the other guys. And although he let go of his other ties with women, he was still slipping. Cause he was still gripping, another girls behind in his mind, but it’s fine. She was a dime! Then his conscience would bite him, and he would give in and tell his girl that he was mentally sinning. She would respond, “You can cheat on me, but just don’t leave me. You know I’d do anything to appease thee!” He’d say, “Oh for real? Cool, get down on your knees b.” It was tragic, how her moral code just disappeared like magic. The next thing you know he was an addict, and he spent the rest of the relationship trying to cut the habit. He swung at immorality like he was at Lambrick! Stop the madness! He knew there would be no exchange after he got some brain, so why complain? Well, because she told him it was okay. Girl what are you saying? “I can’t risk the loss. Too much energy has been expended.” Oh, so we should go on pretending we’re going to work this out? “What’s the problem dear? Every time it happens now…I get aroused!” Please close your mouth. I’m trying to leave you with something to hold onto. “It’s too late for that. I belong to you.”
Sooner than later the rationale came through, and he sat there thinking what the hell to do. She was unmoved as he presented his case. In a moment, all the good things he had done for her would suddenly be erased from her memory. She silently repeated to herself, “You can cheat on me, but just don’t leave me. You know I’d do anything to appease thee!” He’d have flashbacks of the times he’d say, “Babe pretty please, drop down to your knees. Could you do it just for me?” This conversation was not going on in real life however. She just stood listening to him state his claims. They all registered as excuses, and all she could think was, “How could he do this?” But they came to a consensus. They agreed to part ways for the summer and pray to Allah for the answers and just hope that he would answer. He got back to them. They had no future in store…. A lot of energy had been expended. Now they have their guards up in order to conserve everything that is left of them.
Be careful…cause it’s not much…
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
Just Some Thoughts... 