substitute teacher.

A lot of my boys have been coming to me asking me to teach them how to tie a tie. I had to reach way back to grab the memory of how to tie a four in hand knot, which most certainly got me through high school. I remember when I learned to tie a tie, sitting in front of the mirror with my pops, fighting the temptation to look down and just

"trust what you see in the mirror. wide over the skinny, wide under the skinny..."

The same words that came out of his mouth to me came out of my mouth to them. And as proud as I was of them as they finally got the knot right, the length right above the belt line, put the dimple in the middle.

All I could think of is "this aint how this is supposed to be."

I know life isn't perfect, and I'm glad I'm here to teach them lessons such as these, but I wasn't supposed to be the teacher in this classroom.

I know I don't know god's plan. And for all your talk that everything happens for a reason, it doesn't have to happen for a good reason. And no, I don't believe that it was supposed to be this way. His father was supposed to teach him, just like mine taught me. I will step up and fill the void, because it's in my heart to do. And I will follow my heart. But to accept wrong as right will leave us left out in the cold with no heaters in sight.

Don't leave the responsibilities of your teachings to a substitute. Show up to work and step up to the chalk board.

living like the lights were off.

i remember when i was young, and the lights were off. maybe it was a power outtage, or my pops forgot to pay the bill. it was best when the whole block was dark though. we didn't have many options without electricity. no t.v., no computer, no radio, no videogames. we didn't have many options when it came to light it was my job to find the candles and flashlights. while i checked and changed the batteries, my sister lit the candles. then we would place them around the house. we couldn't open the refridgerator, because we didn't want to let the cold air out. we didn't have many options for food. we had to all walk somewhere to eat. we would come back, eat and talk. we would play games. i can't remember where we would go, or what we would talk about, or the games we played. but all i can remember is when i think of that time, i want to cry.

we didn't have many options when the lights were off. except each other.

i'm going back to that. when my options were limited, i focused on what was important. what made me happy. content. satisified. 

what made us happy, content and satisfied. 

i know it's in me to have it. i just have to do it. and i'm not writing on this until i do. writing isn't doing. i need it. i hope we all do.

project and pettiford.

(this wasn't the original post. but, well, you know...there's always a but.)

"same ol' singleton. all thought and no play."

thats some cold shit right there. shit stung like getting slapped with a handful of wasps. a friend of mine hit me with that yesterday, and no truer words have been spoken about me.

i've bluffed so fucking much in my life. living in my head. there is plenty that i do, but it's less than 1% of what i've thought about doing. and it stretches through all aspects of my life.

all the things i've walked away from because i didn't want to fail.

well let me tell you this...in the world of the shitty R's, rejection and regret are not even fighting in the same war. regret whipping out heat that will melt glass.

rejection? banging with a zip-gun.

rejection lasts for a moment. you ride regret to that that etched stone set in soil, you point guard deep underneath in forever sleep.

not me and not anymore.