Friend or Foe

“I’m not a biter, I’m a writer for myself and others…”  Jay-Z

In the blogosphere, it’s not uncommon to get an idea for a post by reading someone else’s blog. For me, when I’m experiencing writer’s block, I sometimes scroll along my blog reads in search of some inspiration to get started.

For a better part of the summer, the first lady kept a poll on her blog asking the question: Can men and women truly be platonic without attraction? The choices we, the reader, had were 1. Absolutely, 2. Hell Naw, 3. Perhaps.

The poll was open for at least 20 days and I was always curious as to how the voting was coming along. While she doesn’t have a huge following on her blog, it’s a enough to generate good traffic and ignite healthy discussion. So when the polls closed a few weeks ago, I was curious to see the results.

Hell Naw: 9 votes

Absolutely: 7 votes

Perhaps: 5 votes

Interesting.

While voting was and still is confidential, I’ll admit I voted for “Hell Naw” and am not at the least surprised by the results.

From a man’s perspective, since the beginning of time, we have been attracted to females. We like the way they look, talk, walk, smell and umm…taste.  Heterosexual men spend a lifetime chasing women, often succeeding and often embarrassing ourselves in the process. But we want what they’ve got and I’d like that think, in many cases, the feeling is mutual.

So I believe that it’s extremely difficult to maintain a platonic friendship with the opposite sex without attraction. To be clear, by “attraction” I don’t mean sexual tension or even the idea that you want to have sex with said person. I believe that attraction in this situation is the acknowledgement that you find said person interesting and good looking and, if the situation presented itself to “take your friendship to the next level;”, you wouldn’t turn it down.

I’ve discussed and debated this subject with the Moose on several occasions and she believes women are easily able to differentiate the two than men are. And I tend to agree. I believe women are able to maintain the “just friends” tag and leave it at that. Whereas us men, always ignorant, tend to think that if a woman wants to hang out with us and spend time with us, she’s “in to” us. This may totally not be the case, but that’s how a lot of us think, even if we know said female may already be in a relationship and she may be just cool with us.

So when men are skeptical about their wives/girlfriends/SOs having “serious” platonic relationship, it can often be perceived as jealous or possessive, when if fact we are just viewing the situation from a man’s point of view and are simply warning the female to be cautious and not be naive.

Because for both men and women, every smile received from the opposite sex is not given with good intentions.

Me, Myself and I

Today is Saturday. And, that means I haven’t seen or touched the Moose in six days.

I’ve talked to her, yes, but only have the image of her beautiful face in my head and the sweet scent she’s left in my place to get me through the days and nights.

She’s out of town for work for two weeks. So, until the 21st, it will just be me, myself and I.  Her schedule is such that throughout the course of the day, she’s in classes and seminars and I’m at work. So, we only get to chat here and there — mostly late at night.

This coming week, her travels take her to Charlotte, her home town. Like me, she doesn’t get to travel home that often, so I fully expect her to take advantage of her free time away from work to spend time with her family. I encourage and respect that.

The 21st is nine days away and even then, we’ll only have one day to share as I will head out of town for a week myself.

I can’t fix my fingers to type this without thinking of her, because I miss her. When you spend a large majority of your free time with someone, it’s hard when that’s taken away from you for any period of time — whether a couple of days or a couple of weeks.

But while I wish this Saturday afternoon we were together hanging out watching a movie or strolling through the mall, I truly this time we’re miles apart is a blessing in disguise.

In the midst of relationships, there are periods when things, for whatever reason, just don’t go right. In my opinion, it really has nothing to do with the lack of feelings or the love you have for the other person, it can simply be everyday life issuses, such as work, family, finances that stresses you out and in turn puts a strain on your relationship. We know this, but still try to “be there” for that person so they don’t feel slighted.

The Moose and I have gone through that. She and I work extremely hard in hopes of bettering ourselves professionally and personally. Often times, because we’re so busy outside of each other, when we’re together, we’re just plain tired and worn out and struggle to give each other what we need.

And there’s nothing wrong with that — that comes with the territory.

However when we’re putting all our time in energy in satisfying others at work and each other in the relationships, we sometimes forget about ourselves — which is not healthy for us or each other collectively.

So these few weeks, albeit a struggle, is a time I’m using to reestablish me, myself and I. I have some time to relax and relate. To have some ME time. In the midst of the silence, without her voice to keep me company, I’m getting closer to me, myself and I. Becoming more in turn in what I expect not only out of myself, but out of the relationships. To look at myself professionally and personally and make sure I’m doing what I need to do and am carrying my weight.

The time I’ve been present to have some alone time and better me, myself and I , the better man I will be we she returns.

Death’s gotta be easy, ’cause life is hard

I wasn’t one of those kids growing up who was shielded from the realities of life. My parents and family did their best to expose me to a wide array of things, both good and bad. And they didn’t shelter me so much that I wouldn’t encounter real life experiences.

Racism. Prejudice. Sickness. Death.

I’ve been to funerals. I’ve watched people, young and old, get sick, suffer and eventually die. Just this past week, a young man I knew growing up was executed by lethal injection for a murder he committed when we were in high school, some 11 years ago.

Death is inevitable. Those of us who are of the Christian faith understand that our day is coming but we believe that the casket is not our final home. We hope that if we live right, there’s room for us in heaven. At least, that’s what we say we believe.

Anyone who says they’ve never thought about death is lying. We all at one point or another have wondered about death as it relates to us. When, where, how? We’ve dreamt of our funerals. Who will show up and what will they say about us.

For me, it’s something that, even though I had some exposure to, still used to scare me. Depsite my religious and practical beliefs, what would really happen when I took my last breath. Would it be just like an unconscious state like sleep? Because after all, sleep IS the cousin of death.

To be clear, it’s not something that was constantly on my mind. But from time to time, I did think about it.

But as I got older, the realities of the real world set in and it was revealed to me that now that I’m on my own and not living off mom and dad that life is not easy. Sure we have times when things are going smooth. Finances are in good shape, we’re in sync with our significant others and we’re in good health. Life is good then. No worries. But if you’ve lived long enough you understand that those good times only last for a while.

I am a witness.

Lately, I’ve been struggling with a lot of different issues. I’ve been trying to maintain a tight budget, but continue to struggle. I’ve been doing my best to treat the SO right, yet it’s not good enough. I’ve been trying to look out for me, but yet still question things. One thing I pride myself on is the fact that I can face anything — I’ll never give up. But I’d be lying if I said to anyone that these struggles have been easy for me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t become depressed and wonder if I’d be better off dead.

Because I have.

Sometimes I feel like Biggie: “I’m sick of niggas lying, I’m sick of bitches hawkin’, matter of fact, I’m sick of talkin’

But in spite of the hardships, I have to believe things are going to get better. I love and believe in myself too much to let things bring to the lowests of lows. I’ll make it through.

And plus, I’m dying inside thinking about what my momma would think.

No more Mr. Nice Guy

[Note: I saw this on a friend's page and borrowed it because it was so profound and spoke to where I am I can definitely relate to this to a certain extent]

To every guy that regrets hurting or losing her.

To every guy who knows which girl he wants.

To every guy that’s said, “You’re beautiful.”

To every guy that was never too busy to drive across town (or across the state)( or across the country ) to see her.

To every guy that gives flowers and a card when she is sick.

To every guy who has given her flowers just because.

To every guy that said he would die for her.

To every guy that really would.

To every guy that did what she wanted to do.

To every guy that cried in front of her.

To every guy that she cried in front of.

To every guy that holds hands with her.

To every guy that kisses her with meaning.

To every guy that hugs her when she’s sad.

To every guy that hugs her for no reason at all.

To every guy who would give their jacket up for her.

To every guy that calls to make sure she got home safe.

To every guy that would sit and wait hours to see her, even if they could only spend a few minutes together.

To every guy that would give his seat up.

To every guy that just wants to cuddle.

To every guy that reassured her that she was beautiful no matter what. And honestly believed what he said.

To every guy who told his secrets to her.

To every guy that tried to show how much he cared through every word and every breath.

To every guy that thought “maybe this could be the one”.

To every guy that believed in her dreams.

To every guy that would have done anything so she could achieve them.

To every guy that never laughed at her when she told him her dreams.

To every guy that walked her to her car.

To every guy that wasn’t just trying to get laid.

To every guy that gave his heart and still has a piece missing.

To every guy who prays that she is happy even if he is not the one that makes her that way.

To every guy who doesnt care how far away she lives, and will still date her because it’s her.

To every guy who cares the most about how she feels, even when she breaks your heart.

This is one message for you…

Not many girls appreciate nice guys anymore… And because of this, there are not many left out there…

I ain’t a sucker for the nookie

I have about a 20 minute drive to and from work. In the morning, that time is used to first of all, wake up, and to get in the mindset to start my day. I spend  of that ride listening to the radio, either the Tom Joyner Morning Show, or the local station. You never know what they will be talking about from one day to another.

Thursday, the topic was sex and relationships  – a very generic discussion, but interesting nonetheless. The debate centered around how much does sex matter in relationship, or does it matter at all.

One of the morning show ladies was adamant in her opinion that before she gets ’serious’ with a man, she must have some idea of what he’s working with. To her, if she catches feelings and then, he comes up short in the bedroom, there’s a problem. She’d have a hard time (no pun intended) getting past that.  This particular day, one of the guests was a local pastor who is on the radio from time to time. He tried to get the panel to think outside of the box and understand the importance of getting to know a person and how making love spiritually and mentality can be “more appropriate alternatives”

Different strokes for different folks, I guess. Many relationships have crumbled because there was no substance, just sex. And while the satisfaction was there for oh 20-25 minutes, after that many couples have been left with a feeling of emptiness because there was nothing else to relationship.

As for me personally, I, like most guys could have sex everyday, but I don’t.  As beautiful as it is, I recognize the importance of getting to know the significant other on many different levels, not just in the bedroom. The greatest stimulation can be conversation, non verbal communication and especially non-sexual intimacy. Because you’re in tune with more than a person’s body, that enhances the sex, in my opinion. So I don’t get blinded by the nookie, you can’t get caught up.

Day26

On days when I’m bored, or really have little to nothing to do, I’ll find my high school yearbook, wipe off the dust and sift through the pages.

I’ve had this book for eight years and have basically memorized its contents from cover to cover, yet every time I look at it, it brings a smile to my face. From the “messages” written by everyone to how young we looked in the pictures, the yearbook serves as a reminder of days past and how far we’ve come in what seems like, no time at all.

I always make a point to go though the senior class portraits. Class of 2000! As I go row by row, I often wonder what each person is up to and where they are in life. I was one of the ones who left for college and didn’t look back. I didn’t keep up with many of my classmates and probably wouldn’t recognize a lot of them if I passed them on the street.

However, some of those smiling faces I see are gone now. Some have been killed over drugs, a couple have died in car accidents, others couldn’t overcome sicknesses. These smiling faces that are no longer were of people I knew a least seven years, some more. I “grew up” with them, played with them, went to class with them.

They were all my age, born in 1982.

I turned 26 today. Those friends and classmates who shared the same birthyear with me weren’t able to make it this far. Why them? Why not me?

I celebrate this birthday with thankfulness because I knew it could have been the other way, but for some reason, the man upstairs saw fit to keep me around. The 25th year allowed to experience things I never thought I would. Growth. Maturity. Struggle.

What I learn from looking through that yearbook is to not take life for granted, because one day, someone will look at a picture of my smiling face and I will no longer be here. What will they say? How will they feel. I can only hope that as I enter my 26th year, I continue to live my life in such a way that people will see something positive in me and I can be a light to someone else.

I don’t know what year 26 holds, but I ready for it and hope it’s ready for me.

Gimmie some dap!

I’m constantly amazed at how things that seem so normal and understood to one group of people can be so foreign and weird to another.

But maybe I shouldn’t be.

I grew up in an all black neighborhood, went to a high school where there were just as many, if not more, minorities than any other race in the school and I graduated from one of the most prestigious HBCUs in the country. My interaction with the lighter hue was limited to band, sports and my part-time job.

That’s how it was.  And that’s how it was for many of my friends, both black and white.

To say that we as a country have not made progress in race relations would be unfair, because we most certainly have. But there still remains a fundamental disconnect of the two cultures that I’m afraid we may never overcome. There’s a difference between acceptance of different races and having an understanding of different cultures.

The white-dominated profession I work in reveals this to me on a daily basis. My swag, style of dress and way I talk is different and at sometimes confusing to my white colleagues. On the flip side, some of the jokes, slang and everyday actions my white counterparts engage in baffles the hell out of me. Is that wrong? Absolutely not. It’s just the simple fact that different races have different cultures.

Nowhere is the cultural disconnect more evident than in the mainstream media. There are things that make the national news that just leaves me scratching my head. A perfect example occurred this past week when Sen. Barack Obama historically wrapped up the “presumptive” democratic nomination.  As Obama when up on stage to speak to the audience gathered, he and his wife Michelle greeted each other, as the always do. Only this time, as their moment of affection ended, they exchanged a fist bump. For most black folk and others familiar with the gesture, it was a touching, humanzing moment, showing that the Obama’s are not too politically correct to avoid actions that may be confusing to the mainstream eye. But never did I think it would receive the reaction it did.

Across the country, from newspapers to political talk shows, people were trying to disect and analyze the “fist bump” What does it mean? Is it a new trend? Who does it? I watched and read in amazement that this was something new to some people. To me, it was old and for the most rarely used — among my crew at least. But nonetheless, the dap, pound, bump or whatever you want to call it has been a part of the black culture for years and to see it make the mainstream news simply because a Presidential candidate does it with his wife is just plain laughable.

But I can’t blame the media totally. I can’t blame them because working in the media allows me to see the lack of diversity in newsroom and in management. As a result, there are a lack of minority voices to “explain” certain things. I know because I’ve had to speak up on several occassions to “check” some of my misinformed colleagues.

To continue to make progress, people need to be able to embrace different cultures and be willing to educate others on your traditions. It’s important not to get upset because people may not be familiar or understand something that seems to simple to you. It’s our opportunity to help each other out for the common good. So when we do this, it can help minimize the disconnect.

Just make sure you dap ‘em up afterwards.

This is a serious matter

First of all, shout out to the ladies of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc. because indeed, this is a ser-i-ous matta.

Or is it?

I’m a laid back guy. I try my hardest not to take my self, or anything I’m involved with, too serious. I try to live each day to the fullest and enjoy every moment. I’m old enough now to fully understand the saying “here today, gone tomorrow.”

For as long as I can remember, because of this mentality, I’ve been labled as nonchalant. People mistake my calmness for not caring or not being concerned. It’s something I’ve gotten used to, but still struggle with.

Make no mistake about it, I know when and where to turn up my serious meter. And when I’m engaged in conversation with someone, although I’m not outwardly showing it, I’ve very into and concerned about whatever said person is discussing with me.

The other “problem” I run into often is that I don’t worry about things I have no control over. To me, it’s not worth it. This is not to say that I don’t think ahead, because that’s not the case. Again, I’m old enough now to fully appreciate the saying “He who fails to plan, plans to fail.” Perhaps to a fault of mine, I often times implore the “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it” method of thinking. To those who don’t think like that and who don’t grasp that because I’m not worried doesn’t mean I don’t care, that can be troublesome. It can cause them to be frustrated with me and question their own logic. This is not my intent. I just don’t take things as serious as them.

I question myself long and hard about this. I wonder if I should change. Most of the time, I could care less about what people think about me. I am me, I am ok. But when you constantly hear the same thing for years and you see how it affects the ones you love, you tend to look in the mirror, which I have done. I’ve question whether my happy-go-lucky outlook is a sign of immaturity.  I wonder how I can improve without changing who I am at heart.

Perhaps I can find a happy medium. Maybe if I adjust my body language, but keep the same mentality, the perception of uninterest will go away.  Or, maybe people will understand that although it may not appear to them that I care, I can and know how to be serious.

 

This little light of mine

Sometime ago, the Moose and I were having a late breakfast at one of our favorite spots in town. Nothing out of the ordinary, just one of our usual weekend outings. As is the norm, along with our brunch came a side of deep conversation.  It is not unusual for this to happen. Because of our schedules, we rarely get to engage each other in “intense” conversation during the week. So, whenever we get a chance, we take advantage.

This particular day, the conversation centered around faith, spirituality and church. At this particular time both of us were struggling with each and were looking for support and reinforcement as we continue to improve and grow spiritually and in life. As the conversation progressed, she asked me something to the effect of why it is I am reactive versus proactive when it comes to church. Basically, she wanted to know why I always wait on her to mention church and seemingly only go when she suggests it.

Admittedly, there are times when I get like a cat in a corner and get defensive when I feel like I’m being attacked. Especially when I feel strongly about something. And while I have good intentions and only want to express my point of view, sometimes when I respond, my approach is not as appropriate as it could be.

Nonetheless, I expressed to the Moose that I did, prior to meeting her, did go to church on the regular and that she nor our relationship impacted my church going. Whether she brought in up or not, in the end, it was my decision to go or not to go. She understood.

I grew up in the church. In the words of Steve Harvey, it was church all the time. And, as a child, I had no choice. I was exposed to church and after a while, I got used to it. It wasn’t until I left home for college that it was truly up to me whether I attended or not. It wasn’t until then when I really became able to realize and decipher my opinions on church with out feeling the “pressure” of family to make it feel like I HAD to go. This is not to say that I stopped going altogether, because I tried and still do try to attend and worship on the regular.

But on this Saturday, I opened up to the Moose that where I am now, it’s just as important that I live my life in way that people I encounter on a daily basis will see something positive in me and will be impacted in a good way. To me, that’s just as important as being in church every Sunday morning. There are some in church all the time, yet I see no sign of Jesus in their daily walk. To me, that’s the challenge of my ministry. I want to be able to show through my life, that there’s something about me that some people may want to emulate to make their lives better.

If I can help someone or be a positive influence on my brother or sister, that’s spreading to gospel in my opinion. So when I laugh, joke and am being happy-go-lucky, yes I’m being myself, but also I’m hoping others will try what has worked for me. Because when I see others blessed, I want to find out their secret as well.

 

Sit yo a** down

I saw this live and after I figured out the young lady in the middle of the rucus was Gloria James, LeBron’s mom, I died laughing. And I wasn’t even going to bring this up until Jemele weighed in today.

I agree with her on this point– you should never, under any circumstances, cuss and your mom, or either parent for that matter. As upset as I’ve been at both of my parents, I can’t even fathom what would happen if I drop a cuss word on them.

But in this situation and under the circumstances, I can understand. I can also understand it if he and his mom have that kind of relationship — which some people do — where bad language is the norm. But in a crucial game four, in a must-win situation and with large men in the way, I can see how Bron Bron would be upset and let that slip. I can see it, but it doesn’t make it right. James apologized after the game and on ESPN the following day.

Jemele suggests we can’t look at LeBron the same way after this. I disagree. Anyone who’s played sports has dealt with over zealous parents and, while we may not have cussed at them, we’ve wanted to put them in their place. Many my feel as though LeBron was out of line, particularly since this was seen by millions. But, in this case I think we can give him a pass because when you’re paid millions and in the heat of battle,you have to be on your game at all times. And, if someone gets in your way they’re fair game, even if it’s your mom.

Just make sure apologize real quick.