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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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.

Let em’ sin…

March 14, 2013 — 8 Comments

Disclaimer: This entry was written for myself. This entry was written for you.

I have seen it go something like this: Party, church, altar call. Or like this: Fornication, church, altar call. Or this: Drinking/smoking, church, altar call. Or even this: Cheating, church, altar call. These are some of the paradoxes that are much too familiar to myself and my Christian peers. A week ago I got to visit one of my older siblings that went away for college. He had managed to escape from having a roommate this semester, so every time I go visit him I am comfortably housed. Although I went on the weekend his school was going on spring break, I was still able to enjoy my stay and keep myself pretty occupied for the duration of the time I was there. On Friday night, my brother causally asked me if I wanted to go with him and his friends to Zaxby’s. I opted to go with him for the ride, but I told him that I’d prefer not to buy anything on the Sabbath. He said okay. On Saturday morning, I woke up early to go to Sabbath school, but my brother cautioned me that no one was going to be there that early. I proceeded to go anyway, and although his statement was a bit exaggerated, it was somewhat true. Later on that evening I was doing an entry for my blog and noticed that the sun was setting. I made a comment about it and suggested to him and his friend that we close the Sabbath. I was totally ignored.

At this point I was thinking, “Do you still practice your religion?” I soon was reminded that I had no authority to judge my brothers actions, and a question came to my mind. If I was under such scrutiny would my peers or someone who is not of my faith consider me to be a Christian? The rest of the weekend I just observed and joined in on different conversations when I could. The prevailing topic of the weekend was getting everything in order for a trip to PCB (Panama City Beach) my brother and a couple of his friends were taking for spring break. Part of me wanted to tag along on the trip, but I knew I wouldn’t be involved in most of the activities that went on. Plus I had school work that still needed to be done. I was still intrigued as my brother and his friend frantically tried to tie up the loose ends of the trip on Sunday night…. They planned to leave Monday morning. Nevertheless they made it and enjoyed themselves.

He brought back footage of some of the parties they went to and even told stories about some of the crazy stuff that happened while they were there. I thought it was pretty ironic that he happened to run across so many of the students at the university I attended at the parties he went to. I pretty much knew or had seen most of the people he mentioned. I had seen some in passing while I walked the campus or at AY…singing songs of praise on the podium.

For years, I seriously thought that preachers would slightly exaggerate when they talked about students going to AY on Friday nights and then being at the parties the other nights of the week. I was oblivious because of my absence at these functions; however, this entry spans beyond the attendance of my peers these clubs or house parties. Sin is sin although we like to categorize it. How can we hear some of the most refined preachers in the Seventh-day Adventist community and not be phased by their message even if it speaks directly to us? How can we carry out some of the paradoxes listed above and not experience any transforming power in our lives? These are the kinds of questions I would ask myself when I was struggling with an addiction that took 6 years of my life to overcome.

I have friends who have had unprotected sex, almost slipped up on several occasions, but still continue to have sex. I once knew a person who contracted mononucleosis (mono) at a party from drinking off of a friend. This individual then gave the viral infection to their mother, yet a sometime later they resumed their drinking habit. I also knew a guy who literally began to see his mind and thoughts deteriorate from his heavy use of porn and masturbation, but he still continued to indulge in it for years. After all of this, why wouldn’t any of these people just stop the sin he or she was committing? Over the past year, I have seen why it is not this simple. After years and years of practicing a religion, there is a good chance a person will become numb to the teachings they have learned from their childhood. This can be observed in the fire and zeal a new believer has compared to the complacency a person that is a 3rd generation believer of the faith has. I believe that all of the resources an individual has may in fact handicap that person, giving them the “blessings and convictions” they need one day only to have them performing an all out sprint to their sins the next day.

Sometimes a person has to have an experience which leaves them so repulsed with and helpless to their sin that they are willing to place every effort of themselves into God’s hands to help them overcome it. But until them…let em’ sin.

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.

Just take it…

February 27, 2013 — 7 Comments

“God has declared your healing even before you were yet healed. He has already declared you victory over every habitual sin even before you experienced the victory.” –Earlene Dotson

When I read this passage I had two immediate emotional responses. At first, I was elated because I have recently experienced victory over an addiction I have been struggling with for years. I was unsure how I was ever going to get over this addiction, and I just figured that my victory would come in my latter years of life when my compulsions eventually faded or when I got married. My second emotional response to this passage was skepticism. It sounded good at first because I recently had an experience in which this passage was proven to be true; however, I couldn’t help but think about all of the other people who were still struggling with an addiction or those individuals who have died from their addiction. Did God neglect or forget to provide victory for these people?

I believe He has done neither of the two, but that’s easy for me to say seeing that I have recently experienced the victory enunciated in the passage above. So where is the help for those drowning in their addiction? Where is their saving grace? What about those who have already died due to an over-indulgence in their addiction? Why didn’t God stretch out His helping hand to them?

I am not God, but I can use what God has done for me as proof that he provides a way out. I had struggled with this addiction for years, and I did not see how I was going to get over it while I was still youthful. I would pray and pray for God to aid me in overcoming my addiction, but it just seemed as if He had turned His ear against me. So I stopped praying. Nothing changed. Finally, over this past summer and last semester I was faced with the most emotional and physical pain I have probably ever had to endure. While I was being tortured by these two forms of pain, I did not see why I was presented with this trial I had no control over. Like most people, I imagined God would reach down and gently take away my desire to continue indulging in this sin I had struggled with for so many years. After all I was/am His child, so He was obligated to be delicate with me. Right? As Christians, we are many times shown the loving and merciful side of God. We are conditioned to believe that all of the mediums God’s uses to save us will be pleasant to our bodies and our souls. When we are faced with a situation that literally shakes the foundations of life that we presently stand on we fold. A lot of the times we crumble under the pressure. Through cognitive distortions such as emotional reasoning, we run to harmful outlets seeking comfort and relief from our problems. We refuse to attribute any process that will seriously challenge us physically, mentally, or emotionally to God. We have become soft and fluffy, expecting our belief in God to disqualify us from pain.

I have found that pain can refine a person however. Pain is what instigated me to form rituals for my days prior to my victory: Wake up. Proceed to my car. Cry for an hour. Put my clothes on and pick out the facade I was going to wear for the day. Go to class. Come home and then cry for about another two to three hours. Attempt to study. Go to bed. Repeat. Pain is what coerced me to take part in harmful outlets in order to gain peace of mind. Pain has left it’s permanent signature all over my body. Pain has taken me to some of the most undesirable places. Pain almost caused me to stop…. This pain has also lead to receive victory over a sin that I have lost thousands of hours of my life to. This pain has set me free from the slavery of striving to satisfy other’s views and opinions of me. This pain has prodded me to share my experience with you, hoping that some of the words I say will potentially have an impact on your life. This pain has helped me to finally find something that I have been searching for my entire life…myself.

God used a very painful experience to set me free. Learn to embrace the trails you are faced with. They could be the tool God is using to refine you into the person you were always meant to be.

Blessings.

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.

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…

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!

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…

A Charlie Brown Christmas

December 24, 2012 — 2 Comments

Disclaimer: This is my personal experience of Christmas when I was growing up. I love to help people, and I would consider myself a pretty generous person. Exaggerations may be used.

Christmas. Ohh Christmas. It’s the sweetest time of year. Carols are sung everywhere, and sweet baby Jesus often appears. Everyone wants to share. Happiness fills the air, and snow flakes are everywhere. T’was the spirit of Christmas….

Wellll…I can’t say it was exactly like this for me growing up. First off, this was a very stressful season for me. I am not sure about anyone else, but I had very high expectations for the Christmas season. When I was younger, I did not have a steady flow of income like some of my peers did. I don’t necessarily mean a job either. I am talking about this thing Americans call an allowance. Yeaaa…I’m Guyanese. Some of my peers splurged money throughout the year because they had all this allowance money to spend. I mean these kids were straight ballers. So when Christmas came around I was definitely not thinking about giving. In fact, if my parents would have made me give on Christmas I probably would have cried…actually wept. That’s real.

Anyway, this was a stressful season for me because I knew that, besides my birthday, this would be the only time I would really receive gifts. Therefore, my mission for the weeks preceding Christmas was to compile a detailed list of the things I needed to have on that day. I can recall one Christmas a couple of years back when I informed my parents of exactly what I wanted. I did not have enough faith in them to believe they would get me what I asked for, so I took it upon myself make sure that they did. I would give them frequent reminders of my “requirements” for Christmas day. It must have been about 2 days before this particular Christmas one year, and I was anxious. Mind you, this was dangerous for a kid like me because I already had a hyper/anxious disposition. That day I turned the whole house upside down trying to find where my parents stashed my presents. I eventually found most of them in shower in my basement.

Honestly, I kinda spoiled my Christmas that year because as soon as I saw what I got I wanted more. As the years went by, this did not get any better. My Christmas’ were still stressful, but that all changed this year. You see, for the first Christmas in my life I have a job. Yeaa it sucked knowing I would be expected to “give” people gifts this year! I went out this morning feeling depressed about having to spend money on others, but when I bought the first gift I…I actually felt all warm and fuzzy inside. It felt so good. Next thing you know I was cashin out, but it was not for myself this time. I was cashin out for others. I finally understood what it felt like to be in the true spirit of Christmas.

Although you may be compelled to get then give, it’s sometimes better to just give. If you get something in return just count it as a blessing.

Merry Christmas my friends.