Here's the second song I've ever written. I penned it between last night and today, and it's obvious what it's about. If you didn't catch the lyrics to the first, click here.
Love My High
Written by DAMON SMITH
When I’m inhaling you,
It’s a sensation like none other
A scent I dare not rid myself of
Yearning to keep it in my covers,
Along with you
Just a little while longer
Take me higher than the last time
I feel you getting stronger
There is no reason, nor rhyme
Honestly, the way you take it,
Should probably be criminal
And the messages you’re sending me,
They’re certainly not subliminal.
No, it’s not a blaze
But I have been gone for days
Set adrift on the thought of you
I can’t wait to get back
And find the essence of you intact
Same as the day I first sought you
I love my high
Even when I try
To come down, it’s not feasible
I love my high
No reason to lie
The way I feel with you is unbelievable
It’s currently not ablaze
But I have been gone for days
Set adrift on this same thought
I can’t wait to see you
Maybe we’ll try something new
Be certain my notion isn’t for naught
How you put it down,
Remember the other day,
You requited my request
Even after you said you couldn’t stay
I’ve lived off that memory
For the last 36 hours
I’m trying holding back,
But I don’t think I have the power
I can’t wait any longer
Now, I’m paging you 69-911.
This high needs to be stronger,
And you hold the solution.
No, I’m not on blaze
But I have been gone for days
Set adrift on the thought of you
I can’t wait to get back
And find the essence of you intact
Same as the day I first sought you
I love my high
Even when I try
To come down, it’s not feasible
I love my high
No reason to lie
The way I feel with you is unbelievable
It’s currently not ablaze
But I have been gone for days
Set adrift on this same thought
I can’t wait to see you
Maybe we’ll try something new
Be certain my notion isn’t for naught
Sunday, April 30, 2006
My Second Song ...
Julissa: "Still Sit Down"
I think I need to clarify something. I did a better job of explaining the Julissa situation to Ms. Huxtable last night.
I do dislike her, but I believe there's more disdain because of who she and Tigga replaced. Free embodied hip hop. A.J. was a gerp, but he brought a little bit of a suave, intellectual sense to the show.
It's like trying to replace Bill Cosby with Richard Pryor on the The Cosby Show after a four-year stint as America's favorite television father.
Now, you have Tigga, who is just a hood emcee who honestly looks like an idiot hosting any show (106 or BET Style), and Julissa, who seems like she came straight off of a video (hoe) shoot. (I guess this would be like trying to replace Phylicia Rashad with say Tyra Banks as America's most astute mom, it doesn't work.)
To me, these two have no depth. They're just "fa sho" pieces who don't have much more to offer. Make sense? Aight, I'm out. I've got work to do, but I'll be back later. ... No clue as to what I'll write.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Julissa: "Hoe Sit Down!"
This is maybe the one time you will feel my hood side on this blog, but I must tell you:
"Hoe, sit down!" ... "Sit down, hoe!" ... "Hoe, sit down!" ... and SHUT UP.
I had to get that off of my chest. Julissa has been irking me since the day she showed up on the set of 106 & Park. It's not that I watch it that often, but I'll flip it on every now and again just to see what video is playing.
Every time, though, Julissa is making some assinine comment about something. I don't care for Tigga either, but Julissa needs to stick to runway modeling or something where she doesn't have to open her mouth.
It's not that she isn't cute, though she weighs like two pounds. Julissa just gives off that annoying vibe that irks me to no end. I loathe her voice. I hate her choice or verbiage, and I wish BET would have made a better decision. She sounds like she needs to be on TRL listening to Maroon 5 and Jessica and Ashley Simpson.
I'm sorry if you like her, and I'm upsetting you. But I think about 96.2 percent of the black population, a guesstimation, agrees with me.
So Julissa, do us all a favor. No I don't know you well enough to call you a hoe, and I'm sorry I did, but just sit down and shut up. Thanks, sweetie.
I'm glad I got this off of my chest, again.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Capital Punishment ...
D-squared decided to come along for this morning's pick up basketball game, and we rode in his Camaro. He a few things in the seat, and a belt on the floor. I picked it up to put it in the back seat.
He told me he couldn't wear it anymore, and that immediately made me think about forgetting my belt at home one ominous morning before a day of middle school.
I don't know if my father's hands were weary from work that day, because he didn't decide to whoop me unmercifully when he got home. He used a tactic I call capital punishment.
"I want you to sit here, and write 'I will not forget my belt for school' 500 times," he'd say.
I'd look at him like he were crazy. He'd raise his hand to pimp/back slap me, and I'd grab the pen and start writing.
1. I will not forget my belt for school.
2. I will not forget my belt for school.
3. I will not forget my belt for school.
4. I will not forget my belt for school.
5. I will not forget my belt for school.
6. I will not forget my belt for school.
7. I will not forget my belt for school.
8. I will not forget my belt for school.
That just gave me chills typing it eight times (I'm lying, I copy/pasted). But you get my point. That was worse than any 'tough love' I ever received from my mother, stepmother or father. Do you know how monotonous writing that 500 times can get?
Honestly, I'd rather have the whoopin, every day of the week. Tactics like this give ample reasoning as to why I don't need to lay hands on my children if I have any. You can take away toys, television, video games. You can make kids stand in the corner for an hour. There's so much more than the two minutes of 'tough love.'
But I'll tell you this much, I don't think I've ever misspelled ( I don't really get how people misspell the aforementioned word, misspell) any of those words since, and it's certainly a rare occurrence for me to forget my belt.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Remembering the Good Times ...
Wisdom gives strength to the wise man more than ten rulers that are in a city. Proverbs 7:19
During this health kick that I've recently got myself on, I've been trump tight on my water game. Sixty-four ounces, maybe more, down the drain a day.
I remember the first person to tell me about the "eight glass of water a day" rule, my grandmother, Ola Mae. She never found herself short on words. Never.
I started thinking about her today because of a recent conversation I had with JLBD (John Lennon's Black Daughter) concerning her grandfather passing (you know you're in my prayers) and the talk I had with Claff Huxtable last night about relationship examples from parents.
It got me to thinking, I know I had four great, grandparents. I never really knew their flaws all that much (although I learned later in life that Ola Mae had a propensity to lock her keys in her car). I just knew them for their words, deeds and truths - things that stick to me to this day like the water rule.
I remember Ola Mae's talk about kissing girls after I had my first kiss.
"Kissing is a close to fucking as farting is to shitting," she would say.
Or her rule about salting up food.
"If you want to die next week, put some more salt on it."
Needless to say, I've always been careful about where I put my lips, and I never put extra salt on anything (it actually disgust me). These are the words I remember most, will carry with me throughout my life and share with my children and grandchildren if I'm so blessed.
My mother's mom, Darlene (she prefered for just to use her first name because she was never that old, so she thought), bestowed many words of the wise on me before she passed.
My most fond memory came while I went through a trial I no longer remember.
She simply said to me, "Don't worry. Pray."
I remember the conversation we had just days before she passed in 2003 about how I had an opportunity to go to New York for an internship after I graduated, but how I was going to take a job at the local newspaper writing sports for security. She gave me her memory of New York, and rationalized why it wasn't a big deal that I wasn't going.
"You know, I went to New York in the 1930s before the World Trade Center was built. That's the last time I was there so I never saw it. If you go, you won't see it either, so we'll be in the same boat. You might as well stay here."
It didn't make much sense, but she was trying to have a little fun with a serious situation.
Man, memories I cherish, and I'm glad that I had the chance to know them, and they loved me dearly. I can't tell you how much I learned from these two, and my grandfathers about life and about what love really is.
I implore you, if you have grandparents still living, spend as much time with them as you can. Soak up every word they let loose from their lips. You'll be thankful that you did. Trust me.
Oh yeah, I'm currently at 214, that's down 23 since March 15. We're moving and losing.
Calling the Huxtable Residence
I called Claff Huxtable, a cominbation of Cliff and Claire Huxtable because this specific young lady is going to medical school once she finishes law school, for the first time last night.
Sick of typing/talking on AIM, I wanted to use my voice, so I picked up the phone.
I'll admit calling someone - friendship or more - for the first time, even if you've known the person slightly for the last five or six years, is not always easy. You never know what to expect.
You don't know what someone's voice sounds like or how you'll vibe off of it or if it will annoy you. So the thought of calling scared me a little. But I guess, I drove out the fear, picked up the phone and waited patiently for an answer.
She did.
And to my surprise, things flowed smoothly, like almost to easily. It felt like we had been talking for the last four months everyday without pause. Though we have conversed on AIM and we've kicked it randomly a few times, the phone is a different story. It usually takes time to get used to the way someone talks.
But we were defintely on the phone for over two hours, the only interuption was my janky phone dying without warning, straight - talking about relationships, relationships relating to what we perceived from our parents and siblings growing up, God, working within oneself, the real meaning of Love, etc.
You really don't expect things to flow like they did, and you don't expect to thumb through Bible verses with someone the first time you talk with them. But that's what happened, and I needed that on so many levels.
I made the conscious decision to cut a few people off, two that I talk to most frequently, within the last several days. So I wasn't having the best evening, already because I made one of the conscious decision yesterday.
I needed someone to talk to lift my spirits.
So to chat with someone who met me on numerous levels, and the convo flowed between laughter, seriousness, thought-provoking, spiritual, playful banter ... I know it made a difference in my night and how I feel today. It made me realize that all of those qualities just described are feasible in new people.
So thanks Ms. Huxtable, if you read this ... it meant a lot.
It made me realize that I need some serious me, soul searching and finding, time from this whole idea of trying to be with someone. I've got things for myself that I just have to pull together before anybody seriously enters the picture, and I'm going to take the time that I need before I do anything else.
So no, it won't be a 30-minute televised revolution like the The Cosby Show. It's a saga that's going to turn into an uplifting mini-series soon enough.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
From Risse ...
So this comes from my friend Risse's blog. I thought it was an interesting take on men and why women choose who they choose. ....
The other day I was having drinks with a friend and he questioned why women "settle" when it comes to guys. It made me think about T.D. Jakes message of the 80 percent man/woman. It's like we all look for our mate to be 100 percent what we want, but is that really REALITY??? No...of course not. We all have flaws right? I mean lets reflect:
You can have the:
"I'm there" Man - the man that loves everything about you, will do everything for you, but is crazy as hell!!!!
or
"Yes" Man - whatever you say is right, I agree, whatever you want I will provide. What's the challenge in that...I don't need a servant, I need a MAN!
or
"Mr. Nonchalant" - no extra effort, too relaxed about the things you do, little communication. Basically he won't last because you will either get bored or frustrated with him.
or
"Me" - that's right, the guy that treats you just like you have treated guys in the past...who wants to date themselves...not me!
I'm sure that we all can come up with many more characteristics of the men we have dated. The point is NONE OF THEM (just as we aren't) will be perfect. We have to decide what we can do without. Doing without is not settling...it's realizing that you can only grow together if you are not 100part. Guess it's time I figure out what I can do without...lol.
Okay, this is vickdamone, again.
I agree with this philosphy. You can't expect to find 100 percent of what you're looking for in a person. I think there needs to be certain key characteristics that you desire in a mate that someone clicks on most all levels with you.
I think with everyone you date, you will see plenty of faults, often more than enough to steer you away. But if you see the things that alllow for you adore that, or any, person, you shouldn't shun them away because of their minor faults.
I hate to admit this, but when I'm "in love" (i hate that phrase) I'm a mixture of the first two male scenarios, minus the "crazy as hell." Though at one point, I can say I did some crazy (childish) stuff. I think more so now it's an "asshole" rather than crazy when crossed.
I guess my only question is: Are these the only categories possible for us? I guess I'd like to believe that if I had the right person, there would be a different kind of category. But maybe not ...
Women Speak The Truth ... Well, Sometimes ...
Today turned out to be replace lost driver's license day for me. I went to the Bureau, and waited in line like every other person for a good 30 minutes. Ugh.
I guess it turned out to be a positive thing that I brought YRUN2DP?: The i-Pod with me. It made the time in line pass swiftly.
When I finally got to the front of the line, and then to the screener person (I don't know what they're really called), he told me that it was either cash or check, no charge. I was dumbfounded
Literally.
"You don't take Visa?" I asked. He shook his head no.
I thought to myself, "What kind of state is this? Oh, that's right, I still live in Kansas technically."
"Sir you can go over to the Hy-Vee parking lot and get cash from the ATM, and I'll hold your place when you get back," he said.
What a nice man. So I scurried over to the ATM, rushed back and got in line to take a new photo, though I really didn't want one.
As I waited, the perky young lady, extremely perky for 8 a.m., at the photo desk charmed a middle-aged white lady about her beautiful blue eyes - and that they were.
Now it was my turn. She, a fairly attractive young black lady, looked over my specifications, height, weight and age, and said "You do not look that old, I didn't expect that."
In my mind, I said "YES!" but in a milder tone I said to her "You know that's a good thing right because when I get older, I'll still look young."
The older white lady reached over and said, "That is the truth, and you've got the right attitude."
Score one for vickdamone. YES! ...
Monday, April 24, 2006
A Fond Memory from My Past
There I was, brush in hand, not a soul around me or so I thought.
The brush serving as my mic, standing in the mirror in my briefs with no shame, I - the age 13 innocent version of vickdamone, the one who had vocal abilities - whaled to the sounds of Shai's "If I Ever Fall In Love Again."
... But to my satisfaction, baby you were more than just a friend,
And if I ever fall, in love, again, I will be sure that the lady is a friend ...
And if I ever fall, in love, so true, I will be sure that the lady just like you ...
Yeah, baby, yeah .... my, my, my, my, my, my
I swear the next time she'll be my friend ....
(I do my best spin move, but get stuck when I see my father, who had come home early from work, smiling and looking at me with belt in tow, not on waist)
I think to myself, "Oh shit, this is embarassing, but why does he have that belt in his hand?"
He says with a smirk: "You're singing is nice, and so is the dance, but you didn't fall in love with those dishes like you were supposed to, so this belt is about to love your ass."
Whack, upside my ass.
"When ..."
Whack.
"I"
Whack.
"finish"
Whack.
"whoopin"
Whack.
"your"
Whack.
"ass ... you're gonna wash those damn dishes, boy."
Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack. ...
"Yes, sir," I replied while sniffling pretty hard.
Shit. Damn. Motherfucka (I had to complete the D'Angelo trilogy, good thing no guns or handcuffs were involved).
Tattered and bruised, I was certainly confused about what to do. How could I wash the dishes with that much pain in my buttocks? I couldn't walk ...
I certainly didn't want to sing about falling in love anymore.
Does anybody else remember incidents like these? This was actually my second to last whooping. The last one is a storyt that will probably go to my grave. Maybe some day I'll tell y'all about my worst whooping.
All this to say, I don't think I'm gonna whoop my kids. I just think that I won't say anything until they're asleep, and then force them to wash the dishes, dust, vacuum, sweep and mop at like 2 a.m. That should do the trick. I just don't like violence.
But for now I'm out.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
A Struggle From Within ...
Before you read this one. Just know that it is solely about me, and my walk ... enjoy ...
Updated - 11:47 PM, Sunday ...
Since not to many people want to believe this is about solely me, I'll drop the verse, 1 Corinthians, Chapter 13, Verses 12 and 13: For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood. 13 So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
The words that follow are about finding myself in a reflection of my own that is crystal clear.
A Struggle From Within
by DAMON SMITH
Lost within the maze that is my heart, I have no sense of direction.
My eyes wander for light, but their search isn’t quenched.
My hands yearn for your touch, but your security is nowhere to be sniffed out.
You made me who I am, but without you I know not what I’ve become.
Where did you go?
Just minutes ago, you consumed my every fiber
My insatiable desire seemingly you satiated
When I couldn’t breathe, you re-oxygenated my legs
When I couldn’t feel, you softened my hardened heart.
You taught me how to cherish without having to lay hands or words
You set the example, told me I'd find myself in my own reflection, the day I decided to be a man.
There you are …
Your joy fills my being the way His cup overflowed.
The abundance of my soul speaks through your eyes, and whittles out those who have no purpose in our light.
The darkness dissipates, and the kaleidoscope becomes less perplexing
We’ve cast the overcast out of the forecast, per our decision
The indecisive, contrite, weltering mass of confusion is no more
I taste my faults and hear my mistakes knowing a part of me they are
But who I am, they cannot besiege nor precede what I will become.
Where did you go?
I woke this morning, and to my dismay you weren’t there like you used to be
I solemnly fought the battle before the man you used to see.
Trying to fulfill the destiny we laid out.
But the best plan was again forsaken for an internal yearning for something less
I thought I had given my best
But I was again lost within my own forest,
Still, you maintained to be my Sequoia.
Rooted in a mustard seed that proves time and again to be more,
I know that when all is right, I’ll be back with you, at my longing's core
There you are ...
Painted with more elegance than Da Vinci could have imagined
Your face so sure, your words so pure
your touch couldn't possibly be mistaken
How did I ever find the strength, I mean weakness to walk away from what you allowed me to encompass?
Really, only a fool could understand how I ever lost you.
But somehow I did, so I guess the fool was I.
I believe, for your sake and mine,
I'll give my all, and try my best not to lose sight of myself again.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Words From a Friend ...
There not mine, but they're powerful. Thanks, SmileyFace ...
Surrounded by these four walls I feel caved in but crave the comfort of my space.
My writing flows with thoughts that my pen cannot keep up with.
My mind constantly fills itself with thoughts of you and thoughts of me, then STOPS with thoughts of we.
For the longest I have wanted to sleep with you, but not that sleep that automatically comes to mind…but that sleep where my dreams creep into your mind and we have day dreams at the same time almost mathematically…
Don’t ask me why I love you… is it wrong to say I love you just because,
B?…cuz to ask… is to say I love you under conditions and it is un-conditionally that I love you.
How does this love affect me…
So much so that I write thinking that this outlet will help ME but all along hoping that I can let-out what’s inside--- that YOU will internalize it.
I’m so gone that when I think of Us not being an Us, I wonder who will be a wE with yoU.
I find my self wiping my eyes for no reason or maybe the reason is because I have no one to wipe them for me.
I just want you to take a chance on me… and maybe that’s what has me in this funk…
I’m a good catch that never gets caught.
I wonder why you let me get away, then realize that you were never chasing me in the first place.
I wonder why those who seem, in my mind, undeserving of love have it the most. It seems to fall in to their lap…with no work…with no chasing…with no wanting…and who are they serving…
And here I am trying to live MY life--- the way GOD intended and wondering if this is the way HE wanted me to end-it.
I constantly try to plan a-head and soon find out that HE is THE Head and down to HIM I must position myself as low as I can go in order to be as high as HE needs me to be.
All I ask is for deliverance from this pain…and I promise I will never put my self in this situation again… and that’s what I constantly tell HIM..but he knows MY heart and knew from the beginning the mistakes I would make.
So do I apologize if this was what I was supposed to mis and not take…
We all make mistakes…while sometimes the mistakes make us into who we are, and I guess I am the result of all that I have done wrong.
I was asked by a man if all I needed was a man, by the man who was that man…he who is constantly the beginning of my amen.
Did HE lead me to HIM and if HE did then did I veer off the path… with a fork in the road I went down the middle.
He says that 1+1+1=1… so what are WE missing to make three. Confusing I know …just a taste of what my mind seems to constantly-fuse upon ME…
But real quick, let me just say that I’m like this b/c u made me this way…
and if in the end it all comes down to love, then why do you not love me for loving G3D…
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Auto theft suspect: Age 8, under 4 feet
Easily the best story thus far this year. ... an 8-year-old third grader stole his teacher's car. I can't say much else. Just click here, and read about the newest member of the "Gone in 60 Seconds" crew.
Also, try to figure out this riddle ...
I turn polar bears white
and I will make you cry.
I make guys have to pee
and girls comb their hair.
I make celebrities look stupid
and normal people look like celebrities.
I turn pancakes brown
and make your champane bubble.
If you sqeeze me, I'll pop.
If you look at me, you'll pop.
Can you guess the riddle?
Leave your answer in the comments section. I'll be back later with something else.
Peace,
D. Scott
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Thinking, Knowing, Believing ...
I think a lot, know little and believe less.
Anyone who gets a chance to know me, knows that I'm an introspective person who overanalyzes everything. I wonder why people cheat. I wonder if a color-blind equality has a chance in hell of existing (but in hell, won't ever thing be ashes, or colorless, because it's hot as, well, hell?).
See, there it is. Inside of this post, I've already broken down something within that second graph. I love breaking down words and phrases, what they mean and what their intended purpose is.
Like CP time. Every black person known to man knows that CP time stands for "colored people" time. I don't believe that to be truth. I believe it comes from the term "cotton picking time," from the North American slavery era. Think about it.
Still, I digress to the thought at hand. I've been contemplating which of these three words (not I love you or any other Stevie Wonder song for the matter) - thinking, knowing or believing - is most important.
Recall a situation where you heard some one say, "Oh, I think so" or "I know that for a fact" or "I believe that's the truth" or finally "I think, no, I know." Which one hold the most validity and weight?
Thinking is already out of the window because it's indecisive, and no one likes indecision. But it's knowing and believing that cause the quandry within inside of me. I hope I don't lose you, but I'm going to explain this:
Knowing
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
If God Is Love ...
"so i ask you...
if God is love...
then why is my God not good enough for her?"
Shihan, In Response
I heard Shihan say these words in person last Thursday, and felt him. Then I saw it on a facebook profile of a friend's and asked her, we'll call her SmileyFace, if it came from a conversation we had recently because of topic we were discussing, inter-faith relationships.
I chilled and talked with SmileyFace about her relationship situation, things abound concerning myself and why what had happened went down.
I could understand why things wouldn't work in her situation considering the difference in fundemental beliefs. But the words above hearken you to wonder if love is what really matters in the end - and the beginning for that matter - why do people trip off of small and medium-sized things and miss the bigger picture?
Don't get me wrong, religion is a major thing. But different denominations within a specific religion, say Chrisitianity, causing a relationship to go haywire seems like it could be trivial. If you believe that there is one God, and he is love; if you believe there was a Son who died for your sins, then what's big difference?
So, you go to confession, and he takes communion on the first Sunday. So, you want to be baptized, and she doesn't want to be symbolically submerged in the holy water. Does that stop you from loving someone for who they are?
I understand the desire to be with someone who believes what you believe because it makes things easier. I understand that there are potential problems with what the kids would do, if you had any. Just a thought, but considering that most kids mimmick their parents political and relgious beliefs, would it be a bad idea for them to be able to make up there own minds seriously?
Really, this is a confusing, complex situation because I know that I want to be with someone who believes what I believe because that makes life easier.
When I was presented with the situation from SmileyFace, I just wondered if I'd be able to handle that situation myself.
I consider myself a person who is accepting and embracing of differences and faults. And I think I would be okay being in an inter-denominational relationship. I think it would be a little too odd to be with someone outside of Christianity. But I think that the thought of understanding that "God is Love" allows for me to embrace someone who believes that foremost for who they are.
Honestly, i don't know. I'm just thinking aloud (or not really aloud, but I hope that you can still hear me). I just think that when you love someone for who they are, none of this stuff really matters - not small annoying things, not denomination, not race, not creed.
Love makes you lose your shape, as Shihan says, and allows for you to embrace your love's good and bad, positives and negatives, faults and differences because you love that person as though God loves you ...
"see in the beginning there was the word
and the word was with God
and the word was HER
and God took one of her ribs to create me now her one rib less was left with a shape
and i left shapeless
now 1 + 1 = 1
our union created a bond that could not be broken we consummated our commitment to each other and created our first child
now 1 + 1 = 3
and i know the math sounds strange
and sometimes i find myself struggling with divinity
but why try
Mother...Father...Child is the Holy Trinity"
Shihan, In Response
Monday, April 17, 2006
Resounding Words ...
"Saying you won't be with someone because of annoying small things someone does is petty. When you love someone for who they are, minute annoyances fall by the wayside, and true love is the only thing that stands tall. But I guess small people let small things hamper what the kaleidoscope would have them to see." ~ vickdamone
Click Here to Read More..Sunday, April 16, 2006
Never Again ...
That's what most people say when they have that infamous night of boozing that leaves one without any self account for what really happened.
I had that night last night/this morning, and thankfully I didn't wake up hung over or anything like that. But the stories told to me about my festive attitude toward life last night truly meant that I should have been hung over.
I think I said something ignorant to every person I knew last night, andhad no recollection of it.
To soulmistress, I continually said "so you think you're funny?" and for what reason I didn't know why. It didn't make much sense.
(I know I didn't have the Never Again syndrome because I had half a bottle of wine tonight with dinner.)
But everyone I talked to today had a story, which got me thinking ...
Wouldn't this make a good movie: a story of the stories told the day after a major college party or young professional outing. There are so many good stories that come out of a good party or outing. All the who was feeling who. Who left with who. How much you had to drink. How ignorant the DJ was. ... so much material.
I think I'd call it "The Mourning After."
Anyway, it's late. I'm sleepy, and I've still got a two-hour drive ahead of me. I'll holler at you when I'm back in Kansas, Toto. Until then, don't get swept away by any tornadoes or anything.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Okay, so it's been two days ...
... and I feel weird because I haven't written anything. I decided to take a quick break and jot a few words down for you from this relaxing and memorable trip.
Point 1: I met the blogger who has been making pull my hair out for like six months to figure out who she is. I went to a poetry set on Thursday when I got here, and Shihan, a DefPoet, performed. He kept it live and real.
Afterward I went out to dinner with about six people including Shihan at this establishment called Addison's, one of the finest eateries in CoMoLand.
But on the way there, one of the girls told me that she read my blog and knew who I was. It was Liza Valentino, look at the names in the right hand column (it's a pseudonym). I stumbled across her blog like six months ago or so, and realized that she was a student at Mizzou, but I couldn't figure out who it was.
I tried everything from sticking her favorite artists into profile searches on Facebook, and her real name popped up, but I couldn't be too sure. But she told me who she was, and I about had a kiniption.
It was like I had met a six-month old penpal for the first time. Her humor and wit actually mirrored her blogging personality, and she was just cool...
Point 2: The bruhs came out in full force. I mean there wear about 30 fraternity brothers in CoMo that joined ZA before I did, and then seemingly everybody from the line before mine and after were there. In one word, Surreal.
Progressive black men of the different breeds coming together for a common cause. Last night was fun because it was pageant, and just time for the bruhs to kick back.
tonight? there will be ample ignorance on the go around. ... Anyway, it's been real, and I'll get back at you later ...
D. Scott ...
Thursday, April 13, 2006
It's Been A Long Time ...
I shouldn't have left you ... without dope blog read.
No it really hasn't. But this is the one phrase I hate about blogs. There are so many people I know who just disappear from the blogging game for too long for no good reason. Dude, when you're thinking, you need to write that ish (I'm slowing my cursing game down 10 notches) out.
I'll be out of town for a few days for the Zeta Alpha Chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity's 40th Anniversary celebration. That's just what it will be. But I promise you, I won't leave you without stories.
When I have a few moments to write, I will piece something together. I vow that to you.
Until then, which will be later tonight, keep your soul. Oh yeah, Happy Birthday Shanny.
5683,
Vick
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Three's Too Much Company
"I always have contended, somewhat jokingly, that there should be rules outlawing men from gathering in groups of three or more without a woman as chaperone or serious surveillance equipment. Whitlock's law: A man's intelligence, maturity and decision-making skills decrease as the number of men within earshot of his voice increases." ~ Jason Whitlock, Sports Columnist, The Kansas City Star
J-Dub penned these words in reference to the Duke Lacrosse scandal, and I guess that a survellance video would have been nice considering the DNA isn't coming through.
But this quote kind of got me thinking ... The same rule should apply to women as well.
Don't crucify me just yet. Just consider it. Sure, there's plenty of ignorance that can go down when you put three or more men in a room. But three or more women? That's an automatic feminism awareness rally where men bashing is at its best.
If there's at least one man, maybe two, in the room with them, there is a chance that the women might leave with positives vibes about men, what we think and why we act the way we do sometimes. Think of William Dent, the mainstain male in Girlfriends.
He often stops the four of the women from doing some crazy stuff, that's all I'm saying.
No, women probably don't need video cameras or anything like that. They're not going to sexually assault a stripper (and honestly, I would hope the stripper/s could fend for himself). But they will get fairly unruly.
-------
on that whole Duke Scandal, I'm a little confused. I don't really know what to think because you've got a stripper, a woman who takes her clothes off for a living, claiming to be sexually assaulted by some Lacrosse players, and now there's no DNA.
Not saying I don't stand behind a person who says they were assaulted, and feel for her/him. I just don't know if this is going to go anywhere unless a Lacrosse player speaks up or they slip up through wire taps or something.
I do know this, none of those guys favorite song right now is "I'm in Luv Wit A Stripper."
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
A Thing That Will Make You Go "Hmmm?" Part Duex
Since I started this whole eating "healthy and all that other ish" kick a little over a month ago, I've only had one real slip up, though I'm not sure you can call it that really.
I ate a cheeseburger from Burger King with the belizeanchica and co. about two weeks ago. I didn't really want it, I just went along for the ride, and when we got there, I didn't want to feel stupid or make her or "co." feel like they were being pigs. So I got a cheeseburger. No big deal.
After we ordered our food I stayed at the counter while belzeanchica and "co." did other things, i.e. wash hands, stare at dumb kids having a birthday party at Burger King (Who does that?) and what not.
I happened to overhear a lady putting in her order.
"I'd like two Double Whoppers with cheese and ... a side salad, and ... a large Dr. Pepper," the lady said.
It didn't hit me until a few minutes later. But then I thought to myself, and I didn't say it aloud.
Who orders two Double Whoppers and a side salad from a fast food restuarant? At that point, are the fries really going to kill you?
Then I thought a little bit more. Why would anybody in there right mind go into McDonald's, Burger King, Wendy's or any other fast food joint and order a side salad or some fruit? Don't you go there with pigging out in mind? Don't you want the grease? Aside from the huge lawsuit that came down on them, I'm befuddled as to why these chains have "healthy" items on there menu.
If you want a good salad, go to Panera. You don't go to Burger King and order a double whopper with cheese and your salad. You're really defeating the purpose.
Now, about six months ago, I probably couldn't say much to it considering that's what my diet partially consisted of, junk food. But now - even without seeing Super Size Me - I think I'm disgusted by almost all fast food aside from Wendy's.
I seriously think that there is something in the food that you taste when you're three for the first time that makes you keep coming back. I remember passing a McDonald's with my two nieces, 3 and 1 at the time, and all they kept saying was "finch fies! finch fies! We want finch fies Uncle Damo!"
I know it caught me while I was in middle school and toward the end of high school.
Honestly, I know my slip-up will come soon. I heart Wendy's, and Wendy's chicken nuggets heart me back. But whenever that moment happens, I'll guarantee you that I will not purchase a rinky-dink side salad or tastless fruit to go with them.
By the way, I'm at my current goal of slightly under 220, which is good. I want to be at 210 by the end of April. I'll keep you posted. ...
----
I don't know if there are more things that will make you go "Hmmm?" if you think of any let me know.
Monday, April 10, 2006
A Thing That Will Make You Go "Hmmm?"
Why do people in television shows stop by their friends houses without warning when, in reality, this never happens?
I've been pondering this thought for a while, and it has finally come to fully rest at the peak of my left frontal lobe.
There used to be a time when stopping by without warning could be accepted as a norm. You'd go to the mall, and you'd have a friend who live a minute away, while you had a 15-minute drive home. You'd pay a surprise visit, and see how they were, and it would be all good.
This happened on the Cosby Show (Kenny, Peter or Justine), Full House (Kimmy Gibbler), Living Single (Maxine Shaw, Overton or Kyle), Beverly Hills 90210 (Dillon, while Brenda was sleeping with some other dude - just a joke, but it seemed like a potentially good plot).
But it was understandble. Then we didn't have the techonology we do now - the cell phone, the two-way pager, e-mail, instant messaging, GPS tracking systems and what not. I mean, if you need to get a hold of someone before you stop by there house, and you can't get them, that pretty much means they don't want to be bothered with you.
Now, knocking on somebody's door unannounced is akin to a man trying to undress a woman who is uninterested - it's something you just don't do.
If you're a reddot, thanks Malaika, with nothing but the trenchcoat and your birthday suit, and you ring my doorbell, I won't have one problem - less I be in a relationship, then I might have to make a decision. But if you're a nodot - i just made it up - I'd look at you like you're crazy for about 2.4 seconds before I say "do you want to call me and let me know you're on your way after I close this door in your face?"
No, I'm not really that harsh, but you will get the "What the fuck were you thinking?" look - you know, the glare Nina gave Darius in Love Jones when he showed up at her door unannounced and she hadn't even given up the digits, let alone the address - and then I'll act like stuff is cool.
So, in the mold of making a sitcom plausible, and not just for the jokes, why haven't script writers followed suit? Have some tact, pick up the phone before you come through with all of your baggage and issues and unload them on me.
I'm talking about Seinfeld and Girlfriends, and several others (It probably happens in Desperate Housewives, but I refuse to watch it). It happned in The 40-Year-Old (Vagina) - read two posts below if you don't get this. Sure, on Girlfriends, Joan's girls have keys to her place, and it seems like they all have lived there at some point. But when you don't live there, wouldn't it be appropriate to call first instead of just barging in like its your house?
What she decides that she wants to "rub her a lil booty?"
There's only one person I just dropped in on without a phone call, wildcat-squared. In college, If I wanted to see her, I'd call before I was on my way. She may not answer, and I might drop by anyway because I knew if i wanted to see my friend, who kept a book in her face and is about to be mad paid, that's what I had to do.
But that proved to be a special circumstance. I would never do that to anyone else for fear I might catch them at a bad time, i.e. in the middle of some tryst. Not even my girl. I mean, could you imagine me walking in on my woman with another man?
I would smoothly start singing and acting out the lyrics to "Shit. Damn. Motherfucker." by D'Angelo.
Think about it. Things would have turned out a whole lot better in Unfaithful had ole girl's husband called before he went over to the house where the man she had an affair with lived. Dude would have lived had he called first, that's all I'm saying.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Hints of No Tact ...
I covered a swim meet on Saturday, which means I spent the better part of the day listening to music in the hospitality room.
They had Chipotle, a weakness of mine and most any other person who has spent any time on Ninth Street near the Mizzou campus from 2002 to now. It actually repulses me to a degree now because I had too much of it at one point. I haven't had it since a February Mizzou trip.
But I told myself I'd eat whatever they had because I didn't want to cook on Saturday, and didn't want to spend any dinero either. So half of a chicken burrito and some chips and salsa it was.
So there I sat, listening to some good music with my big head phones on my head looking like the 'Big Poppa' kid in Hardball. I refuse to wear earbuds. They're supposed to screw your hearing up in a major way.
But I sat with food in mouth enjoying myself when a white coach from a suburban high school asked me an ignorant question.
"So are you putting together a rap album for us to listen to out by the pool," he said, assuming I was taking in the sounds of Young Jeezy or T.I.?
I gave him the blank "are you fucking serious" look, and politely told him no. If I could have had my way in the moment, I would have snapped at his ass and asked him something just as ignorant.
But I kept my cool, and just said "no" as he walked by. Eventually I went back into the Natatorium, and realized I may have been one of four black people in the room. Troubling.
The irony of the situation - Luther proved to be my song of choice for the time, not any "rap (black)" music.
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Speaking of Luther, there aren't many people on this Earth who could have a seven-minute song that didn't say a word until the 1:30 mark, and you'd listen to the entire thing, start to finish. Luther was the truth.
----------
Riddle me this (the matching game):
*12 years for stealing $200 ( a man with priors).
*Life with the eligibility of parole after 12 years for kicking & killing a baby who didn't crawl up the stairs fast enough. (no priors)
Who is the black man? Who is the white one?
Read the stories, and you'll see just how ignorant we as a people, black and white, would be to think racial relations have improved.
Vagina Monologues
Okay y'all.... I've been entirely too serious lately. It's time to loosen up. I saw this somewhere, and thought it could provide a good laugh. If you can think of any more movies, please add them to the list by leaving a comment. Don't list something on this list.
The name of the game says it all.... Take the name of a movie and replace one of the words with VAGINA. You'll enjoy ...
My two favorites that I came up with:
Why Do Fools Fall In Vagina.
I'm Gonna Get You, Vagina!
A few more as of 10:01 p.m.
Million Dollar Vagina
In Good Vagina
Jamie Foxx: I Think I Might Need Vagina
Head of Vagina
You've Got Vagina
When Harry Met Vagina
Vagina's Gotta Give
Intolerable Vagina
Black Vagina Down
Deep Vagina
LAUREN- I know what you did last vagina
ShElLeY - vagina crashers
bRiTtAnY-walk the vagina
Stormy- How to lose a vagina in 10 days
Ashley- The Last of the Vagina's
Jennifer- the longest Vagina
MEGAN- The fourty year old vagina
CHASE- march of the vagina
Keaton-The Texas Vagina Massacre
Sally-10 things I hate about vagina
Janna-Vagina Friends
Clay - Coyote Vagina
Ryan - Fried Green Vaginas
Frank- V for Vagina
Jessica- Steel Vaginas
Jasmin- Vagina Dynamite
Jon-Crouching Tiger Hidden Vagina
Karmen- Meet the Vagina
Case - Vaginas of the Carribean
Beau- Lord of the Vaginas
Sacha- Jurassic Vagina
Gaspare- The Vagina Strikes Back
Mariella~ Save the Last Vagina
Dominica~ Dirty Vagina
Jr-Freddie got Vagina
Kelly-Pretty Vagina
Bob-Pirates of the Vagina
Dorothy-The Chronicles of Vagina
Tara~ Vagina on a Hot Tin Roof
Matt~ Dude Wheres My Vagina?
scott-Vagina wide shut
Nick - Forrest Vagina
Jen W. - Vagina Wars - Revenge of the Vagina
Patrick - Dude Where's my Vagina?
Amanda - Vagina Got Fingered (HaHa--by far the best!!)
Wade- Indiana Jones and the temple of Vagina
Erin~~The Big Vagina
Paul - Boyz n the Vagina
el Rose ~ Dead Vaginas Society
Shadow ~ Vagina Space
thehorizonisafterus ~ The Way of the Vagina
scott ~ Two Days in the Vagina
jason ~ Vaginas of Fire
Joe ~ War of tha Vaginas
D~ BIG MOMMA'S VAGINA
Biggz- Woman, Vagina Art Loosed (LoL! Thats Funny!)
Mal ~ Gone With the Vagina
I think I'm going to add:
The Vagina: Reloaded.
The Vagina: Revolutions.
The VAGINAhead.
Brokeback Vagina.
Vagina Ball.
Mo' Betta Vagina.
The Perfect Vagina.
The Best Vagina.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
An Interesting Day ...
(Ed's Note: the pics to the left represent the different looks I had for the day. Wedding. B-Day Party. Funeral.)
So if you read the last post, you know my day began with a funeral.
But it really started a few days back when Olathe North football coach Dave Bassore was killed (link to the story).
I already had a wedding of a co-worker scheduled, and a birthday outing for HN to attend after that.
The funeral almost completed the circle of life. All I needed to do was witness the birth of a child, which I won't be doing until I have one. Well, I can't leave out divorce.
The funeral was one of the best services I've ever attended. Funerals where no one expected the person to pass, i.e. they didn't die after age 70 in the hospital, tend to be the hardest. That wasn't the case with this one. Friends told great stories about Bassore like how he still got his haircut in Warrensburg, Mo., nearly an hour, 30 minutes away from KC, even after he left his coaching job at Central Missouri State. He thought only one person could clip his ends properly.
Ironically, enough. The guy was HN and AZ273's high school coach, so they were both there as well along with half of the football coaching community.
-----
Midday
A little work. Tell JLBD off for a second (read below). Run a mile. Figure out what to wear to this wedding because the grey suit, black dress shirt combo isn't going to work for the day's next event.
----- 
Mr. and Ms. Sam Melly tied the knot at Club 1000. I know what you're thinking.
"What kind of self-respecting woman gets married in a club?"
We were all wondering the same thing. Thing is, this place actually was palacial and white as the freshly fallen snow in December. It was held in downtown Kansas City on the sixth floor of Club 1000 in the white room, which had an amazing view of the city skyline.
More importantly, though, you could tell Melly and Ms. Melly (formerly known as Ms. Jess) were ready for this plunge. Melly's been to enough wedding's in the last three years that he should be able to start his own wedding planner business. He was due. He's a quite, but observant dude. She's a rambunctious feisty woman. They compliment each other.
And they compliment there family and friends with an open bar. Yes, I was feeling it (the alcohol) by about 9p.m.
-------
Driving through mid-town Kansas City, you can actually realize how beautiful the city actually is. I love home. I realized this while driving to HN's for the night's final soiree.
-------
I get to HN's door, and see Lem and Courtney (damn, she looked good), two people I hadn't seen in forever. I gave Courtney two hugs (actually she insisted on the second one), and then HN, the birthday boy, came stumbling out the front door.
"My ass," he squirmed.
That only meant one thing. Them cats were trading, and no I'm not talking about baseball cards. Anyway, we left like two minutes later and headed to First Friday's. Kiyama Tisa was in 6/8ths effect. AZ273, Nocturnal Ice, Cold Flow, Avalanche, Mr. Freeze and Cool Breeze were all in the spot, and I must say it felt good to be around my boys.
First Fridays was cool. Same people you see pretty much every month, or any where you go. But it was nice to get out and be with my guys. There was only one thing that got to me a little.
When we first got there, we all seemed to migrate to the bathroom, alcohol does that to you. I came out and recognized that my Uncle Dale, one of my dad's best friend since he was like five) was taking "ghetto" party pictures, a side hustle of his.
I went and spoke. No biggie, right? Wrong.
"You know your dad is in here right," he said?
There was a brief silence as we both start looking for him.
"For real, I'll have to find him," I replied with a lump in my throat. It didn't take me long to find him, and walk in the other direction from that (insert your choice of names for a bad father/husband/person, I'm gonna be nice for a change).
But later in the evening, after a few more drinks to try to calm my nerves, we made eye contact, and he walked right up to me, since he was accidentally walking toward me, and spoke.
I asked him how he was. He said good, and that was about it. He walked away, and continued on with his life. No harm, no foul.
Then I had a messed up thought.
I wish this man were in that casket this morning instead of Bassore, who was a good father, friend and man.
Then I took it back.
------
Q-Boogie called at about 2:30 AM, wanting to read a poem she wrote for some dude she met a few weeks back. I told her she was always writing some poem about some dude she was immediately infatuated with. We talked about all that's written above. I sobered up, and went to sleep.
My circle of life was complete, at least for one day.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Nina Simone Said It Best ...
"Oh, Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood."
I don't love anybody for their damn looks. The following conversation is not what you want to come home from a funeral to have, but I guess I need to clarify the point above.
JLBD (10:13:51 AM): how do you define beauty?
JLBD (10:14:27 AM): phyical beauty that is?
JLBD (10:18:19 AM): the reason why i ask is because i think your blog is contradictory
JLBD (10:18:58 AM): you are trying to make the point that people should love a person for their inner being, however, without even realizing it i think you are loving (Double B) for her physical attributes
JLBD (10:19:15 AM): you have made countless statements about how she is the finest girl you've ever seen
JLBD (10:19:18 AM): and
JLBD (10:19:40 AM): you seem to make it a point that people should love for the inner person, but her inner person ain't fine
JLBD (10:19:44 AM): and you still love her
JLBD (10:19:49 AM): so do you love ugly inner beings?
JLBD (10:19:52 AM): just food for thought
JLBD is idle at 12:34:44 PM.
JLBD is no longer idle at 12:38:22 PM.
vickdamone (12:41:28 PM): (jlbd) ... stop thinking negative about the situation. I don't love that girl for what she looks like. That's not how I love people at all. If that was the case, there would be a slew of girls that I was in love with through high school and college. I honestly think you should know me, and my definition of love, a bit better than that at this point. I love the girl for who she is, no matter how ugly her insides are or how beautiful she is on the outside because she's been a significant part of my life for four years, positive and negative.
JLBD (12:42:07 PM): you know what, i'm done making comments about this
JLBD (12:42:30 PM): i will not allow another person or your senselessness for that person to come between our friendship
JLBD (12:42:32 PM): case closed
vickdamone (12:42:50 PM): (jlbd), I'm just saying that you attacked my character for no reason ...
JLBD (12:42:56 PM): i did not
JLBD (12:43:02 PM): i simply was making a point
JLBD (12:43:11 PM): if you took it to heart that's not my problem
vickdamone (12:44:41 PM): and my point is, is that you don't not stop loving somebody if they screw you over. It's not like I've lost love for my father or mother through all of the hell they've put me through. It's not like Jesus lost love for the man who speared his hand to the cross. That's love, even if its from a distance ... it's not about the physicality of the situation ...
JLBD (12:45:01 PM): ok
vickdamone (12:46:59 PM): if I loved her for her physical attributes, I would have been gone a long time ago when she blew up.
JLBD (12:47:07 PM): ok
vickdamone (12:47:23 PM): i'm done ... how are you other wise?
The one word answer signifies that there is no more conversation to be had. lol.
The thing that people don't see are the good qualities that a person like (Double B) has in a situation like this. I understand that, and have no problem with it because I wouldn't see the good qualities in a person my friend had a relationship with like this either. It just pisses me off that someone who knows me so well would attack me on such a level to say that I unconcsiously have those same hollow thoughts about what love is.
The good, fun loving, spirited person that I grew to know is why I love her. The bad selfish, shallow, unrelenting and unforgiving child I see most often now is why we're apart. That doesn't make me stop loving her for who she is, it just makes me want to distance myself from her. Understood? Good.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Attraction (YRUN2 Double B, Part III)
(note: this is the final post in the "YRUN2 Double B" Three Part Series. I know it's been long, but I've cleared my head. )
Eighty percent. That's the percentage Double B gave me when I asked her how much my weight had to do with why she hasn't made serious move to make our relationship work. I've had about a month to ponder that thought.
Initially, I told her, while completely in the dumps because I realized what our real issue was, I could understand what she felt (I'll explain this). But I understood wrong. Things have changed drastically.
Think about it, 80 percent. What that really says is that 80 percent of what Double B "wants", not needs, in a man is physical. While I suppy an abudance of the other 20 percent (what the girl knows she needs), I don't meet expectations where they apparently matter most.
Eighty Percent. That is as shallow as shallow possibly could be. It makes me put this whole situation in a new perspective, realizing that I really never had much of shot no matter how stimulating the conversation and/or recreational relations are for the two of us both. To throw a true dagger in it, it's really not her, but what other people think that weighs, no pun, on that 80 percent.
---------
I laughed to play off my nerves considering the topic, and answered honestly. All physicality-encompassing, "a six." I've known my response to that question for quite some time.
"I probably shouldn't have answered that first. I should have made you tell me what you think," I threw out there after I had answered. I have a big problem with doing that - answering questions before I'm ready because I'm honest. "So what would you give me."
I was really nervous now. I hadn't asked somebody that question since high school, and I got an eight from what I considered to be the finest girl in the school, who I happened to be talking to at the time (I gave her an eight, but she was closer to a 9.8 at the time).
"A six as well, that's what I thought, too." Ms. New Booty replied. She talked about how I have decent facial features, and my hair ... well, I have a nice grade of hair, while pretty much every other male in my family is bald.
I was relieved because I thought I'd lost points for the "too much" weight thing, which it's apparent that I did. But my facial features are not a problem, and "kept hope alive" in this vain realm of life. I'm not a bad looking guy, I just have a little bit of extra weight, and I know it.
(Note: I won't ever rate somebody I'm talking to because I think that shows a lack of tact. That's the second question I won't ask because the one time I did it, I got cursed out by 9.8 bka Hot Chocolate.)
So here we are. I'm a six, give or take a few pounds, maybe I lose a point. On a good day, Double B is a nine (I don't grade that high that often). On an average day, she's an eight. Honestly, she's one of the best looking young ladies I've ever seen in my life. Men try to holler like they're at 7/Eleven.
But the truth is, who really gives a fuck about any of this? Everything I've written thus far has a flair of vanity to it that disgusts me.
Aside from Porkchop1, every girl I've dated seriously has been very physically attractive to me. But there was always a whole lot more there - from PollGurl to Jump-in-front-of-a-car gurl to Hot Chocolate Gurl to Double B (who really should be called Double D ... lol).
The thing they all had in common including Porkchop1, who when I look back I question why I was so sprung so to speak, was that I had a good conversation/vibe with each of them. Every last one. The conversations with PollGurl and Double B, I must admit, were on a different level, but they all held my interested and i was attractived to who they were, the goals and aspirations they had and most importantly how they treated me.
Not the physicality. For me, it plays about 30 percent into the equation. But it's more so about how you carry yourself. Are you a kept person or are you sloppy and sloth? Those are the things that really show when I talk to someone, and take the attractiveness up or down. Not physical appearance.
My best friend Q-Boogie, a heavier woman, could have had me on a spit if she wanted back in 98 (a story to be told another day). One of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen, her weight wouldn't play a factor at all.
So why is it such a huge deal to society and to the vain worlds of a college campus? Why can't you just fall for the person you fall for and people just accept what you have for what it is?
It's almost like an interracial relationship where one family can't stand the idea of their white daughter marrying a black man, and the daughter calls off the engagement, and loses out on a good-healthy relationship, because of her parents' ignorance and her weakness.
I loved Porkchop1 for who she was despite her flaws and shortcomings, despite what my friends would say to me constantly about dating someone as "unattractive" as her. All that mattered was that I saw a beautiful person. I didn't care what anybody else thought, and why should I have?
I guess this whole topic is one of those things you can't really delve into because everybody sees things differently. I just wish that I didn't have to play the fool, and realized that what people thought of my weight was that big of a deal in this situation with Double B.
I could have made a decision long ago and realized that I really shouldn't be with someone that weak and insecure. I mean, what if I lose the weight, things are cool for five years and then I put it back on? Will I lose out on all I put in because of something as silly as what people think of my weight at 31?
I think about how after a child or two, she could possibly balloon, and how I wouldn't have a desire to chastise or ridicule her at all, just love her all the same as the Good Book says to do.
In the end, the only thing that matters is can you talk to that person? Does your conversation flow and do you work well with each other? Can you see yourself wrinkled and gray on the porch talking about how much that tree in th front yard has grown for 20 years.
I guess some/most people just don't get it including Double B.
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I recall one of my old co-workers seeing Double B for the first time and saying brashly "Don't you think she's a little out of your league?"
Yeah, she is. I'm playing in the Majors, and unfortunately she's batting ninth for the Double AA farm club squad. I still have tremendous love for her as I'm supposed to, but it's not my loss at this point. Like I said earlier, "it's all hers," said in the Taye Diggs Best Man voice.
"Who Knows" What Is Next ... (YRUN2 Double B, Part II)
So I sent the "Unsent Note to Double B" last night after I told her happy birthday one last time, the last of Mr. Nice Guy for a while.
I couldn't help but feel a slight bit of relief and despair at the same time in sending it. We've been back and forth and back and forth seemingly every month for the last two years, but this actually feels different because I feel like I have huge grasp on what the real problem is - the fact that my weight makes other people question/joke about the idea of Double B and I. It's a problem that isn't quite mine, but hers and hers alone. Those are her insecurities, not mine.
About 30 minutes after I sent the message over facebook, she sent me a text message in response that said "thanks again 4 the gifts and bday wishes. take care love."
I didn't respond, which was unlike me. But I didn't want to be the sarcastic asshole I am in moments like these and I didn't know whether to believe her words to be sincere or what. I mean, if she was honestly sincere or appreciative, she wouldn't have done/said the things she would do/say just before her birthday in regards to me and what she thinks of me. Right?
It's funny because she recently changed my ringer on her phone to Anthony Hamiltion's "Can't Let Go."
I felt something special when I first listened to the song after she told me it was my ringer on her cell. Seemingly fitting for our relationship, for the most part, until she so much as said that she couldn't take what other people were apparently saying about us, and didn't want anyone to think she was with me, and wanted them to think she was/is single. Truly hurtful words.
This known, there is no progress or good that can come of this ordeal unless there is a sincere change of heart on her part. Thus, the note was sent.
In summation, "This shows how shallow and weak she is as a person. If you can't stand up for me when someone says something about you and I, then we just don't need to talk nor covet the ideas of being together nor married." ~ an AIM message I sent to John Lennon's Black Daughter a few minutes ago concerning the situation.
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In other news, I've reached my weight goal for the last month of 220, down about 18 lbs from the "we need to talk" text message. I realized during this time that having a sense of accomplishment concerning my personal self - watching what I eat, running a mile, etc. - gives me a great feeling about who I am inside.
I realized that the last time I was on a kick like this was from Sept. 2004 until about March 2005. I was vibrant. Enjoying life. I had goals that I wanted to accomplish. Then in one fellow swoop, things went wrong with my mother, father and Double B in a span of 36 hours, and I literally lost it.
I know all of my friends who know me, knew something was wrong even past everything that went down in April and May of 2005 inside my inner circle. It drove me into a deep depression I didn't really care to talk about with anyone. I could explain the situation with my parents and Double B, but I'd never really go into what was going on with me not even Double B, the person I rely on (and who fails me) the most. I didn't really talk to my brother, probably my real best friend when it boils down to it, much at all even because I didn't feel as though I could help him much and I felt horrible about that.
I just didn't care much about life. I'd eat anything, and do nothing to combat it. I'd eat out everyday just because it was an option. My roommate wondered if I knew where the kitchen was.
Now, though, I found it. I haven't had but one cheesburger from Burger King, thanks to Ms. New Booty and a friend of hers, in the last month. I'm running every day and broham rmattwill just got at me about playing in a men's baseball league this summer, something I would love to do. So things on that front are looking positive, and I'm feeling like I'm finally coming out of my funk for myself.
Hey, if I don't have a new job by mid-June, I guess I'll be working on the book that got derailed with my confidence/mental stability last April and May. As rmattwill would say, "who knows?" Click Here to Read More..
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Waiting to Weight Worthiness ... (YRUN2 Double B, Part I)
It’s obvious that you don’t want to acknowledge my presence or existence in your life with anyone else but me and that what other people think of our situation matters more than what you or I believe to be true. It’s apparent that my weight/appearance and the possibly that (Gaylord Fokker) may get upset by knowing what’s really going on between us keeps you from being your complete loving self with me. And it’s clear that you wish to revel in the glories of shallowness while you have chance instead basking in the rays of sincere love. I'm sorry that I haven't lived up to what standard of what's required of how other people think we look together. Therefore, I think its best that we part ways until you understand that you must love me for who you know I am, and not what people perceive me to be. I can’t continue to be hurt/bothered/heartbroken by you and your childish ways/thoughts. Inspite of your ignorance, I still love you for who you - not for what you look like - but who you are, always have, always will.
This problem came to a head in a moment most wouldn’t believe possible. For the last few months, I had been talking to a nice/well-to-do/attractive young lady, who wasn’t Double B. She too, however, resides in that hell hole known as Mizzou, a place where all things fake and superficial are what people perceive to be the light.
We’ll call her Ms. New Booty. I went to see Ms. New Booty the weekend before her birthday, and kind of help her celebrate it. When birthday’s are important to people I’m close to, I tend to flock toward and try to please them because of the year my father & stepmother chose to not say a word to me on my birthday on purpose though they walked by me 100-plus times that forgetful August 18th.
So I wanted to celebrate with Ms. New Booty, and also see if this whole talking situation might be able to spring legs. The growth was stunted, though, two days into the trip. I got the fatal text message nobody wants “we need to talk.” I wrote about it briefly a few weeks back without the detail that follows.
New Booty pretty much told me that the attractiveness that she thought was there over the phone didn’t necessarily translate into person (in better explanation, she didn’t think that talking to a person of my size - 235 pounds at that moment – would sit well with her friends and she couldn’t handle it all to well).
I’ll admit, I played it cool at first – partially because I had my own reservations/awkwardness about the weekend that I didn’t go into. Double B and my father have done far worse things to upset me in the past few years, so I didn’t blow up. I told her everything was cool and that we could still be friends. But I also realized something, and I almost immediately bolted town as I slumped into a depression.
The way New Booty treated/reacted to me in person nearly mirror the way Double B had just a month ago the last time I saw her – both were distant and cold with their physical considerations toward me to a degree. There were some moments where things were okay, and some where things were flat out awkward.
It made me think again? Could the entire reason Double B and I aren’t together – and officially been together since late 2003 aside from random weekend flings and a few week-long tryst - be because I weigh too much? I knew that’s what it was, and I immediately sulked.
By happenstance, Double B, who I really hadn't talked to in over a month at the time, picked up her cell and placed a phone call to me that night. Within the first five minutes, I politely asked what percentage my weight played into us not being together. She openly replied 80 percent. … 80 fucking percent. I was floored again. All this time (four years), my weight played that significant of a factor, and I honestly thought that this person, Double B, was loving me truly for who I was, had put behind the thought of my weight and had accepted me. I was dead wrong.
I immediately started brain-storming ways to put the excess weight off. Sure, this was motivation of some sort, but I also felt comfortable with myself to a degree because I felt like my “best friend/the person who talks about marrying me and having my kids” actually loved me for who I was now. I realized I wasn’t really happy with myself in my current state – dealing with weight, my mental place in life and overall – and that working myself into shape would do wonders for me personally because I've done it before and experienced the results. Maybe it might help my situation with Double B. Maybe it wouldn't at this point.
But then I thought a bit more. Over the last three years, the signs were few and far between. Honestly, any time we encountered each other sexually, there was no problem (7) and the majority of the few times weight ever came up, it almost immediately became a moot point because she was relieved to just say what she felt.
This and new revelations over that last few days, briefly expounded upon in the note above to Double B, have made me realize that their problem with my weight really didn’t concern what New Booty nor Double B actually thought of me. It was what other people say to them/think about my size. Both, in their own ways, have said just that in the last few weeks/days.
I’ll admit, Double B is one of the five most attractive women that I've probably seen in person in my entire life, hence the blogname Black Barbie. Everybody has their simplistic flaws, but she has few. But I can also tell you that my attraction to her is about 30 percent physical at this point. We're far past that whole "lovey, dovey" bullshit. The rest of the attraction deals with how we actually interact with each other, when she doesn’t want to act a plum fool, as explained in previous posts. It’s a sincere feeling where I believe this person could be the one I grow old with.
I’ve just been blind to the problem that she’s too superficial, shallow and worried about what people, who won’t give a shit about her once she’s done with school, think. I truly thought that she loved me for who I am, but it’s apparent that she doesn’t necessarily. It’s apparent that she values far too high the way someone looks, and not the way they make her feel and the conversation they share. Looks matter most to her or else we wouldn't have our current problems.
I know she never had to give me a chance four years ago, and I thought I was privileged to a degree to have someone that fine seem genuinely interested in me. And for her to actually giving me a chance, and for our conversation and interaction to work as well as it did? I believed the one was her, and thought the world of her for loving me for who I was despite my faults. It appeared/appears at times that she walks away with that same feeling about me. But as time has wore on, that has proven not to be the case. I can clearly see her lack of depth or what is likely still immaturity even at 22. Maybe she's just not a good person for me.
That’s just sad on many levels – because I love her despite all of her personality flaws, all the hell she’s put me through in the last four years of my life, her hammer-time toes and inability to grow the hair on her head (and everyone knows I love a girl with long hair. I even threw out the idea that she might just need to cut it shorter, and I was completely okay with that if that’s what would make her happy. I barely flinched when she put on about 30 pounds from 2004 until earlier this year.)
Thanks wildcat-squared for understanding/listening to me.
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By the way, I told Ms. New Booty that even if she felt like she made a mistake to not go back on what she said when I visited her because I hate wishy-washy people.
Monday, April 03, 2006
The Show Never Lies, But Bia Bia's Do
So, I'm a different kind of guy. I'll admit it. I love hard, and when I'm immersed in such activity, I'm drenched with the "i'm in love" look.
It's a place most guys I know won't bother to go that often. Like I said, I'm different. I'm the "nice guy," as stated in a recent post.
My affinity for such shows as Girlfriends and Sex in the City (note: I loathe the idea of Desperate Housewives) let you in on this well-documented fact. I figured a long time ago that one of the best ways into the female psyche is to have female friends, watch what they watch on television, read some of the things they read. I have learned a lot, and have been able to then converse with women on a level most guys can't/won't.
So, yes, I've read He's Just Not That Into You and some of the Zane and Dickey catalog. I thumb through female mags in Target from time to time. I purchased one copy of Cosmo, though I must admit Beyonce (I don't like her, but she is fine as hell) was on the cover and there was an insightful article about how to "never lose your orgasm again." (I tend to be a giver)
I desire to have the Sex in the City DVD collection as a gift at some point in life (hint to those close to me) and I have watched virtually every Girlfriends re-run. If I'm not working Monday nights, I'm usually plopped down in front of the tube at 8pm CST to watch Toni Childs and Co. at work.
Yes, even before watching the first half of a wack NCAA championship game, I chose Girlfriends, a show about four black LA women and one man (who wants the scoop on women like I do, but often finds himself aloof as well) who are all friends.
In this episode, a re-run I hadn't seen yet, Joan found herself in quite a pickle, and a situation of ironic proportion considering today's events in my life. She hosts an opening for her new restaurant, the J-Spot. She flirts harmlessly with a professional athlete who shows up and wants to rent the place out for a party. Not five minutes later, an editor from some restaurant magazine, played by Wayne Brady, shows up and starts his interview with her.
They talk for a few hours, and when it's time for it to end Brady's character says he "was done with the interviewing two hours ago," which meant he was trying to get the draws. Apparently, his conversation worked, he got the three-month rule yielding Joan to run the red light and right into his bed.
I don't know if it was a same-night affair, as I multitasked by doing my sit-ups and push-ups during the show.
Not long after, she questioned if he'd slept with her out of convenience because of the interview, possibly thinking it was a freebie that came along with the presskit. When Brady came in for a kiss at the photo shoot for the mag cover, she went so far as to reject him twice and ask him why he slept with her.
I was straight up surprised that Brady didn't try to choke that bitch for embarrassing him in public. (Sorry, I had to do it.)
He told her no, and then backed off the situation for a few hours. Brady's character then asked Joan the same question, if she slept with him to make sure she got the magazine cover or if she was truly sincere about her feelings about him.
He asked if she really cared what other people thought about their situation considering the previous rejection, saying that he had real feeling for her.
She retorted by saying she cared what other people thought, but that she felt like they had "connected and that i'm beginning to fall in love with you."
He seemed satisfied, but shouldn't have been. The next day, Joan actually set up a date with the athlete who came to the grand opening.
As Toni Childs would say: Joan (Bitch) Clayton. Boo on UPN, because it left the cliffhanger for next week.
But that's it. If you really care about somebody and being with that person, it shouldn't matter what other people think. You shouldn't be worried about being seen in public with that person or what other people say about your situation, and you definitely shouldn't be setting up dates with pro athletes or anyone else aside from your hair dresser or manicurist.
I've seen a few episodes ahead, and Wayne Brady is ghost like Swayze. That doesn't bode to well for Joan, and her "fall in love with you" statement. I hate when females tell this type of big-ass lie.
What I learned from this episode: 1) You can't trust everything important thing a female says to you. As Chris Rock said, we men tell small lies, but women, they lie at the most crucial moments like, "It's your baby!!!"
2) But also, if you're serious about someone at any level then you don't have a problem with making them an inclusive part of your life that others know about. That looked like it really hurt Brady's character and seemed like it would bite anyone else pretty hard, including myself.
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On another note, these new shoes actually don't look bad at all. I seriously thought only women could buy shoes for less than $20, and get away with it. I'm about to go run in them right now.
Starting Over Again ...
Remember back in the day when Starter was the brand to have? Everybody had to have a Starter jacket with their favorite team prominently displayed.
In the early to mid 90s, that was the jumpoff. It had the same meaning the leather bomber jacket had to Chris Rock in 1982 when he was in middle school. The Starter made you cool.
My squad of preference at the time was the Penn State Nittany Lions. I hated Joe Paterno, their longtime coach, with a passion because I thought he was a creepy old man who looked like he'd come straight out of a comic book.
But the Nittanly Lion, it was fresh to say the least. If I was going to rock the Starter that's the team I'd sport. I can't quite remember which year I got it, I think it was a year after they'd gone out of style (i.e. I think/know everybody stopped buying them and wearing them because they didn't want to get shot over a jacket, and yes, people were getting shot to the point you weren't allowed to wear Starter apparal into plenty of establishments in the mid-to-late 90s).
But when I did, I felt like the shit for about two hours, until I realized the trend was over, and the leather bomber was back in style.
Anyway, I made my first Starter purchase since then yesterday. I was on a short sabbatical in CoMo, and decided I wanted to visit the new Mizzou Rec Center I paid for dearly.
One problem, though. I left my tennis shoes/athletic trainers/running shoes (not gym shoes, chi-town readers) in Kansas City. I refused to drop $50 on a pair of shoes I have at home, so i spent $16.87 on a pair of Starter running shoes so I could get a mile of jogging in at the Rec.
I actually haven't bought a pair of athletic-like shoes in maybe three years. I've worn the same pair over that time period.
These, they were surprisingly comfortable except for one spot. They were light, and actually looked decent. I think I may wear then when I run from time to time. I just hope I don't get shot because of the label.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
No More Mr. Nice Guy ...
So there's this assertion that keeps popping up. Apparently I'm a nice guy, too nice. So nice, kind and caring that people around me who aren't saying anything to me are observing my mannerisms and actions, and pulling away that I'm a nice guy per conversations they're having with other friends of mine.
I found a bone/potential piee of plastic in the salmon i ordered at Macaroni Grill tonight. I was fairly polite, and asked for a manager. He got there, I told him his waitress had done a good job, but there was freaking "bone/plastic, I don't know which one it was, in my salmon," in a calm manner.
I didn't ask him to replace the meal or to take it off the check. I just figured that he would, and he did. Now, Double B, who hits 22 on Wednesday, thought that I tried a little to hard to be stern. I didn't really see it. I just wanted him to know he had to take care of the shit with out having to tell him what needed to be done.
In my book, I shouldn't have to tell you that my meal should be free. If my bill came back with the salmon on it, I would have about blew a gasket. I think saying this meal needs to be on the house is a little too much myself - again, I guess I'm a nice guy.
Now while I don't mind this, I don't necessarily like it all that much. People often mistake niceties and kindness for weakness or "bitch-made tendencies" of which, I proclaim to have few. Thus, this bothers me, and I don't quite no what to do.
I say "sir" and "ma'am" to everyone, including people who are younger than me. I never make rude statements, except for when I was drunk and asked a girl who looked liked she'd size up with Verne Troy how tall she was. That was fucked up, but I was drunk.
When sober, evil words don't come out that easily. I mean, I'll curse, but I'm not cursing, that often in front of people I don't know, aside from those times when I'm walking in the mall, telling a story with foul language and a mom and her grade schoolers trot by me.
I don't talk about people, unless what I'm saying about them is as obvious as it gets and I wouldn't have that much of a problem saying it in their face either.
I think within these explanations, I'm trying to make up for this whole extra nice thing. At heart, I'm a nice person. But I know how to/will be an asshole when tempted. Like the description says "I love with the Passion, so don't cross me."
Anybody who actually crosses me, understands well. It's like that saying, the last person you want to really upset is the nicest guy in the room because he'll lose it. That's me. The Macaroni Grill manager would have seen me get brand new had there been salmon on that check I tell you.
But on a real tip, I think I'm going to get away from the overly open and friendly person I can be. I'm going into a shell of sorts. No more fun-loving squeaky high-pitched voice. I'm going Barry White 24/7 to let these people know I mean business.
If somebody looks at me twisted, instead of politely saying hello, it's gonna be "What the fuck are you looking at?"
I'm mean mugging 24-set as well. So don't be shocked if I'm not laughs and giggles when you see around your way. The new Vick Damone is gonna be a cruel bastard (not really, I just needed to vent).
Fools Rush In, Even on Days Like This ..
But I've done my share of fooling, no, not around.
Probably the best April Fools joke I pulled came two years ago. Magsnificent and I conspired to make DC's Fiestiest, a mutual friend at the time, believe that Mags' boyfriend had found his way on one knee with a ring box in hand.
I must say, I haven't come up with a more perfect plot. We were all at work for Kit's Evil Cousin at the time, and I just called up DC's Fiestiest and told her that Mags had come into the office showing her new bling and talking about how Mighty Mike had proposed.
DC's Fiestiest bit the bait hard like a lioness after her prey, and yes, she's a leo as well. She wanted to hang the phone up on me, and say congrats to Mags as soon as possible. I told her, embellished a bit more, and then got off the phone. I waited patiently for her to explode.
She called Mags constantly. Maybe five times on her work phone, a few times on her cell. She even sent her a few e-mails.
Mags didn't answer.
We just sat there laughing our asses off because it was April Fools, and nobody should honestly be fooled/surprised by anything, aside from something that's real, on this day. But she was, even though she didn't expect to be.
"Are you serious?" she asked.
"Yeah, the rock is huge and everything. You should see it. They ate dinner on the Plaza last night and while walking around, he just got on one knee, whipped the ring out of his pocket and..."
It was like taking a toy from a toddler.
After about 30 minutes of anxiety (for her), I called her back and told her it was a joke. She about had my head, but couldn't really do anything because it was April 1.
Ingeneous.
Sorry. That's it. There's no real moral to this story. Well, Don't believe anything anybody says on April 1, and if somebody proposes to you on this day, you need to take the ring to be appraised immediately.
