some of what i have learned from watching movies.

i have this theory that i got from watching forrest gump. i admire the character forrest gump. alot. he is able to do without thinking, something that i find almost impossible to do. i know the movie is a bit kind to him, and even though i heard that it was based on a true story, i would bet money that a guy like that would end up a janitor by 25. but movies aren't really about reality, now are they. if they were, would we watch them?

back to the theory. now forrest loved bubba. and loved Lt. Dan. And really loved his momma. his love for jenny topped all of that. he knew that jenny was the woman that made him happy in his life. she made him feel alright about being forrest gump. her love is what he thought he needed, and he accepted no substitutes. i believe that is the only love a person should settle for. an unconditional love. a sacrificial love. like the love god has for us. now, i don't wish that anyone fall in love with a person that ran the streets doing smack and smutting off and catching the bug, like our friend jenny. but i do think that we owe it to ourselves to feel that way about the person we choose to spend the rest of lives with.

gattaca. my favorite movie of all time. there was a mighty big scuffle at the top of my all time favorite cinema list. carlito made a strong showing, and the saga of the family corleone has always been a consistent perfomer. i learned alot from these movies. i learned from carlito that some things just do not change in spite of you changing. that maybe you don't choose your destiny, that maybe, just maybe, it chooses you. the godfather 1 and 2 (i refuse to recognize part 3 as a film. maybe a very bad extended commercial.) showed me that who you marry potentially may be your downfall (you thought fredo pushed mike over the edge? negative. kay was his downfall), that you never go against your family, and that no man can exist as an island.
but gattaca. whew. gattaca showed me the blueprint for success. you can never save anything for the swim back. you have to approach your goals as if the the only failure is dying before you acheive them. because quitting is not a viable option. that you have to see your goals, when no one else can.its more that 110%. you put in all you have. no outs, no plan b. gotta put all your chips in play, because then my friend is the only time you win the jackpot. (rounders taught me that. the beauty of overlapping themes.)

lord of war. sleeper pick. pretty good movie. may end up teaching me the most valuable lesson of them all. your whole world can be crumbling around you. momma dead, no dough, girl got caught on camcorder with your right hand man. ouch. your life can resemble a war zone. but never, never. be at war with yourself. never comprimise yourself for any reason. 1) find out who you are. 2) find out what you want to be. 3) become what you want to be. 4) never stray from number 3. because in this big bad world, that may be the only solace you have.

makes me wanna holler. and grab the tone.

In honor my man mike "kid do-dirt" brown starting his blog, dontruinmillertime.blogspot.com, I'm going to follow his lead.
in no particular order:

Dudes who sell this dream of being tough, from the streets, hustlin' rocks, bangin' guns...and have never done any of it. They got one tough cousin that does all the dirty, they listen to a rapper, and now they are the 2006 O-Dog. Take that bullshit down the street.

To chicks who buy into their nonsense: You all are as dumb as a sack of wet hammers. And please try not to have children.

Fake ass intellectuals. Quick to talk about some shit they saw on CNN to sound intelligent, but do nothing about the things that happen around them. FEMA cut aid? Who gives a shit. Go save that little kid down the street. Donate some time to a shelter. Keep that pseudo "I care about Black people" to yourself.

People who put toilet paper on a public toilet seat, but smoke or don't wear protection when smutting off? Never heard of some dying of cancer of the ass. Or a left cheek catching AIDS.

White people with dreadlocks. Except Seth Weiner. Because he is the genuine article.

Grown people still going to the club. Grow up little buddy. You still trying to "have fun?". Make moves to have a life.

People who don't eat pork, but smoke weed and drink booze. Fake ass godbody nonsense.

Bob Marley and Che Guevarra were some cool people. Know something about them before you put on the t-shirt. Matter of fact, don't wear the t-shirt. Unoriginal lameness at its best.

Timberland in colors other than the originals. Losers wear blue timbs.

People who have a cellphone(s), and feel the need to hike up their shirts and tuck it behind the clip. The cellphone club isn't exclusive any more buddy.

Ringtones. If your over 15 and have one, your lame.

You ever heard one of those conversations when two people that kinda know each other, or haven't seen each other in a while? The things that they were thinking about doing (like going to law school, or getting into real estate), now all of a sudden are being done? It's like a race to see who can lie more. I hate that too.

You shake your ass in the club, and want to be respected as a woman. You wear a real big fitted hat and sunglasses, want to fight and act an ass, high as a kite and want to be respected as a man. I have unicorns for sale. Cheap.

People who judge those who are trying to make their own way in this world. I'm going to be my own boss. That may not be for you, but don't judge me. I'm not judging you, make 60 grand a year, working for some dude, making him rich, dying at 65 without a pot to piss in. But I do like hard workers. I need employees.

And lastly, for now, those got damn "black novels". "Talez of a hustla", "Ghetto Storiez", any book with dice, a mercedes, a nigga with his shirt off, or a chick posing with a gun on the cover. And the people who read them. Zane, if I catch your ass in the street, its curtains.
.
Thanks mike brown.

the dream merchant.

selling dreams is an artform. and I truly believe people are honing this craft by practicing on me. people sell me all types of dreams these days.

you might be wondering, "how can a person sell a dream?". well, my friend, let me explain.
dream sales normally take place between two people that are more than strangers. friends are usually the culprits, sad to say. a friend comes to you and tells you something, with passion. and not only with passion, with desire and conviction. it is more than a mere statement, it is a statement with recommendations from your favorite high school teacher. a statement with good references, and a clean background check. it has now transcended statement-hood, and metamorphsised into a dream. and you believe in this dream. not just because of the recommendations or references, but because they are your friend. you now believe it with the same passion and conviction that they possesed when they told you. you may even invest in the dream by offering them advice. heartfelt advice. and you walk away feeling pretty good. the sale of the dream has been completed.
not too malicious you may say. even uplifting. positive. heartwarming. sure. i agree. however the thing about dreams is that eventually, we like them to become reality. what did mr.hughes say about a dream deferred? nothing good. it begins with it drying up, and ends with it exploding.

you wait, and wait for your friends dream. let me take that back. you wait for you and your friends dream to come to fruition. and you wait, and it never does. your friend has completely renigned on the dream. it will never come to life, and part of you thinks that it was never meant to.

i'm your homeboy, so i'm going to keep copping. but at least boost the quality people.

Herbert Louis Singleton Jr.

I can't even begin to explain to you what kind of man Herbert L. Singleton Jr. was, or the relationship we shared. But I can try.
My father and I were closer, attached to the hip, because he would have it no other way. As I was growing up, I thought that he loved have me around him because he had a person to bomard with all of his ideas about life. And he had plenty.
The definition of opinionated and passionate, radical and revolutionary, and with all of those concepts running rampant inside of him, he had to let someone know. As a younger man, he put himself smack dab in the middle of the crisis that faced the marginalized masses that lived in this country. He spoke, sometimes yelled, fought for a change back when fighting for what was right was as nessisary as breathing. Sit-in, protests, rallies, it was rumored that when Angela Davis came to Baltimore, he hid her out. Interviews for Russian Televison stations, it was also rumored that he was a communist. Attended Morgan State, then Catholic University for law school, he had chosen his route to affect change. Worked for Legal Aid in Baltimore, as was being groomed to be its next Director, but he decided that he should move into private practice. Singleton, Robinson and Dashiell. Did alot of pro bono (free) legal work. My moms says the only thing he would turn down was his collar. An all Black law firm. How beautiful is that. And for a while it was. Eventually, it succumbed to the human condition. Which condition? All of them. Got sick for awhile, around the time I was 1 or 2. So he stayed home with me. Taught me to read through phonetics flash cards. Way before Hooked on Phonics. Taught me the states, countries, and the plight of Blacks in America. I'm 3 years old. So please people, bear with me when I go on my rants about the world. He still fought. Fought to keep cigarette and booze billboards out of my neighborhood, when surprisingly enough, he never saw them in Towson. Fought to keep my block clean. He loved McCulloh St. Fought to keep me and my friends away from the lures of the street and safe from its perils. Fought to keep my cousins love when their biological fathers weren't around. He was a fighter to say the least. He worked at Soujourner-Douglass College as a teacher and the special assistant to the President. He helped students realize the value of learning. He made sure all of the students got enough grants and scholarships to cover the cost of all aspects of their education. He taught outside of the classroom. All while being an asshole. Oh yes, my pops was an asshole. Ignorant and ornery, he said what we felt like saying when he felt like saying it. Filthy mouth. Also a sap. I mean super sappy. He cried. He cried when I left for college, when I came back, when he came to visit, when my niece was born, the first time I got drunk, when North Carolina lost, I mean, sappy. Never said he was perfect, just that he was my Father. Then he died.
That's not the whole story but enough background. This isn't a biography.
I always thought that when my father died, it would be like the movies. Somber yet inspirational music would play softly in the background, a sense of anguish would come over me, and a dream sequence would kick in. I would remember one interaction with him that would stand out above all others, remembered that he loved me, and then one tear would come out of my left eye. Nothing is ever like we see in the movies. It one of those unwritten laws of nature, like yawning is, and forever will be, contagious. No music, no dream sequence, no scene. And definately just not one tear of one eye. But one concept did rise above everything.
My father was the definiton of love for me. Unconditional love. Thats why I know what it means, because God gave him the gift, and he showed it to me. When he died, I realized that he gave it to me. He fought so hard, because he loved so hard. He told me all of his theories and ideas because he loved me. He gave his life to the world even when he didn't want to becuase he loved it so much.
He took the burdens of his family, and his people, and the people they knew, and his own and strapped in on his shoulders. My pastor at my father's funeral said that he walked around with his shoulders slouched not because he had bad posture, or that he lacked confidence, but because he carried the weight of the world with him. This is true. He sacrificed. I know what that word really means because of him. I cannot claim ignorance about anything really because before he died, he showed me the world, unplugged me from the matrix.
I miss him dearly. I wish everyone I knew got to meet him, be around him, be engulfed in his presence. But if have met me, then you have kind of met him. Because so much of him is in me. A part of me thinks that is how he planned it. That's all I have for you.

i'm happy. really, i am.

a friend of mine recently told me that my posts are depressing. well, i do not want them to have that intent. i would hope, that on some level, they are inspirational. i think alot about life, and i disscuss it as i write. it's how i feel, from the heart. the reason i bring up so many "sad" topics is that i have noticed that people have start accepting chaos as apart of life. we think this is as good as it gets. i do not believe that it is. we all deserve better, but better will not be given to us. we have to expect it demand for it, fight for it, strive after it with all of our being. things for you and me can be better. they will be better. but i think we all have to realize how bad is truly is before we can move on. we have to deal with the truth of this life and our lives, whatever that truth might be. for me, its that i can be lazy, and sometimes i love too much, but i want so much for the people i love i can't help it. my pops was a sap, and so am i. but my pops got down for his, and so will i. i like 36 mafia and project pat, even though i'm trying not to listen to it all that much anymore. under the right circumstances, i become the gangland terrorist. i love my city of baltimore, and honestly believe if you can survive here, you can survive anywhere. i miss chris weaver alot. i can be judgemental. very much so. after a particularly difficult past relationship, i am super sensitive about comprimising myself for people. i never want to feel used or underappreciated. but i will be. i love my inner circle of friends like brothers. there is nothing i won't do for them. and my cousins, well, if you know me, you know how i feel about my cousins chris and tay. i can be horrible with keeping in touch with people. i can be impatient with my sister. i'm trying to love god more than i do now. i always want to be right about something i am arguing. i don't know what god wants from my life. thats some of the truth. and i'm happy, please believe me. the truth seems ugly at times, and sometimes it is. but, the truth about our lives is that we all need to enjoy life at a different level. above the booze, weed, cigs, clubs, mtv, cars, sex, death, crime, you know what i mean. never settle for that being the life you have to live. lets make it better for us.

beautiful.

For the past couple of weeks, I have been trying to stay up on my current events. My father used to make me read all the sections of the paper before I could read the sports. It was to make sure that I was aware of the events that surround me. So I would never be caught unaware of situations that could effect me, my people, or the populace, of which I am apart. So, even with his passing, I try to keep up the practice. It was a struggle then. It is a struggle now. I read the paper, and watch the news. I go to news websites, and click on all of the hyperlinks. I listen to NPR. And everytime I take a step towards immersing myself in the knowledge of the world, something in me shudders and retreats from this information. For a while, I never knew why. Now I do. The news is ugly. And when confronted with true, unadulterated ugliness, we all have a reaction. My soul shudders.
I realize that there is no getting away from the part of life that is truly ugly. The truth is ugly is what I have always heard. The truth about this world is that it is filled with ugly people, who are in ugly situations, and who do ugly things. This has nothing to do with asthetics. And the news lets me see that. The truth is that is world is also beautiful. With beautiful people, in beautiful situations, who do beautiful things. This beauty serves to sustain us in times of bleek desperation and persistant despair. Oil to a lamp, air to a flame; the fuel necessary for a reasonably sane existance. But maybe because we are shown so much of the ugly in this world, we then seek it out. In those times where we need a recharge of beauty, we surround ouselves the opposite. We wake up and hear of someone dying. We go to work and pass by someone sleeping in the gutter. Today, I had a homeless man ring on the doorbell of my office building, wrapped in a blanket, corvered in sores, and in search of anything. He swore me up an down that he needed 10 dollars to eat, and that my 1 dollar wasn't going to help. He swore to me that he wasn't going to use the money for drugs. He proceeded across the street to cop some. A fight breaks out on the bus between a older woman and a younger one, while the latters child watches on with intent amazement. And after all of that, I go to a bar? Or maybe a club. Maybe I call up some of my friends to talk about what girl we know has the fattest ass, and who would hit. Smoke some green and travel the streets seeing what we can get into. It's like chasing crack with heroin.
I'm face to face with unavoidable shitty situations, then I voluntarily follow it up with even more?
I can't shake this concept of beauty. It seems like I forget for weeks at a time, then something reminds me. Tonight, it was The Last Samurai. "The perfect blossom is a rare thing. You could spend your life looking for one, and it would not be a wasted life."
Why don't we all spend our lives seeking out such beauty when we can? I know, I know. It's not realistic. A movie. But I know you have never tried. Maybe then, we all won't be so tired, upset, frustrated, desolate, alone, needy, abused, sad, mistreated, underappreciated. Because those are all feelings that are brought upon by being sought out, they never just appear. Let us instead just look for it, those moments of beauty. Then maybe we won't have time to notice the ugliness that surrounds us. And then, we will be in a better, happier position to transform all of the...everything.

inner city blues, revisited

When is a true remedy going to occur? Something that truly changes the plight that surrounds us, that demoralizes our men, demeans our women, and disgraces the child? When will the powers that be realize the mistakes of the past, remedy them in the present, to brighten our future? Never. The lights and the cameras are just apart of a larger plan. And what a plan it is. Things are the way that they are because this is how it was meant to be. I sound angry, I know. It's because I look for beauty in this world, and find it sullied and tarnished. And deep down, I know it doesn't have to be this way. So I refuse to settle for the scraps of success. 10% drop in crime. Not good enough. Less drug arrests. I need more. I refuse to become complacent with improvement at the margins of the problem. Because I know, like you do, that alcohol and a band-aid isn't enough for a bullet wound. Expand the job opportunities for those with felonies. Create support systems for single mothers. I need not go on. What I need to do, and what you need to do is put ourselves in a position to affect this change for ourselves, for our people, for all of those who are unable to get what they need to truly live in this society. The true change begins with our actions, not our words.
I'm off the soapbox now. Thanks for listening. I needed that.

inner city blues, part one.

I work in an area called Pigtown. Washington Village is its technical name, located in Southwest Baltimore. I grew up about 5 minutes away from this place, on McCulloh Street. Westside. Every day I come to work, I have to walk past a generator with 4 stadium style lights attached to it. A Baltimore City Police sticker emblazoned on its side. Across the street, a camera hangs from a lighpost. Above it, a blue light flickers. Similar Baltimore City Police sticker surrounds it.
Everyone has a couple different personalities that reside inside of them. I have about 6 I think, but for today's purposes, I'll only discuss 2.

One is optimistic Mike. He likes to believe in the inherent goodness in people. In the system. In white people, government and the police. That somewhere, powerful people are tirelessly working to remedy the wrongs. All of them. He knows they care, but sometimes "the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry." But the intentions are noble, and as long as the intentions are noble, the actions are bound to conicide with them.

The other is pessimistic Mike. He likes to think of himself as the penultimate realist. Not negative, just realistic. He can't believe that people are at heart decent when they do such terrible things. White people have to be evil, because they enslaved another race of people. And to add insult to injury, established a system of oppression so detrimintal and inconspicous that they could retire the whips, chains, hoses, nooses, jim crow laws, miscegnation laws and granfather clauses and elect them to the hall of fame. We (black people) willing perpetuate our own distruction. The police are pigs and the streets are the sty where they do their dirt. Judges and other members of the justice system are the farmers that keep them fed and fat, sometimes sacrificing a couple when public opinion dicates it.

Optimistic Mike reads the newspaper and cheers when he reads about advances like Drug Courts. They are in existance to funnel non-violent drug offenders away from jail and into drug treatment programs. Treating addiction as a medical problem. Score one for the good guys trying to make a difference. Re-arrest rates for those in drug court down 50%. 700 people graduated from drug court since 1995 and only 11% have been convicted of new crimes. Optimistic Mike shows off that Tiger Woods fist pump. Hop on the 8, and head to work. Blue lights dots the horizon. Stadium lights illuminate the street corners. Pessimistic Mike doesn't have to say a word. A simple head shake speaks volumes.
(I told you so) is etched in his gaze.
700 people saved by the systems since '95. Those cameras will make up for the loss. 6 months tops. 72 months wipe out 11 years of sympathetic judges and remorseful defendants. How can trust the noble intentions of the justice system and their Drug Court when they assist in the placement of 178 electric eyes all over my fair city? 178 cameras= 2 million dollar Homeland Security grant+ 2.9 million dollars in confiscated drug money+ 20 million dollar grant from the U.S. Justice Department. All that cake. And how effective could they really be?

Take a trip with me, back to your childhood. Your in your room, mind set on no good. And right before you can commit the mischevious act, moms pops in. Thwarted, for now. But her presence didn't make you want to do dirt any less. Let's say, that your momma stayed there, and didn't leave. Once you got past the initial fear that moms was now a robot, you would go somewhere else where she couldn't see you. These lights and camera do not eliminate crime, just shuffle it into different areas where big brother isn't watching. (hood feng shui) And here is the essential problem with this type of surveilance (other than invasion of privacy): it's an all-or-nothing proposition. Put them up everywhere where a crime could be committed, or save your money. Watching crime instead of changing the situation that allows it to be one of a few viable options? To be continued.

the lorax.

"And all that the Lorax left here in this mess

was a small pile of rocks with one word...

"UNLESS"

Whatever that meant well, I just couldn't guess.

That was long, long ago.

But each day since that day

I've sat here and worried

and worried away.

Through the years, while my buildings have fallen apart

I've worried about it

with all of my heart

"But now" says the Once-ler,

"Now that you're here,

the word of the Lorax seems perfectly clear.

UNLESS someone like you

cares a whole awful lot,

nothing is going to get better.

It's not."

cry.

"Cry the beloved country, for the unborn child that
is the inhertitor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him
not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too
silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too
moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to
a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too
much."

I have always heard that I was weird, and this is a claim that I no longer deny. But recently I am hearing the description weird being replaced with crazy. As in "Yo Mike, you're going crazy." or "You need to take medicine, you crazy bastard." I do not deny this claim either. So then I began to think about what is the cause of this impending insanity. I know why people think I'm going bannanas. The consensus is that I "over-think" life. I rather not go into my actions that lead people to beleive this, but if you know me, you have a pretty good idea. My peers have their ideas: my Gilman education, my father, my overall Singleton Heritage, the fact that I live in Baltimore, among others. They might be right. Last night I came up with the reason for my off-center mindset. I love too many. Too much. Too deeply.

People who have known me in recently years, or on a cursory basis may notice a bitterness, a seeming deep resentment for life in general. This is true. What has to be realized however is that love and hate go hand in hand. The capacity to hate is only achieved by those with the capacity to love. My resentment seems so strong because my love runs deeply. Gift and Curse alike. I hate this world as it stands because I love what it has the potential to be. I have heeded the warning of the above quote. I have refused to love anymore a people that seemed destined for demise. I have refused to love a land that is defiled. For I have a fear that these things will be taken away from me. A destroyed people, a barren land, a seemingly inevitable outcome. Bitterness removed the fear. I despised the world around me because that hate allowed detachment. I was no longer afraid because I now hated those things I once loved. Destroyed, defiled, debased, ruined, spoiled, it all could come to fruition, and it wouldn't matter to me. Or so I thought. The fact of the matter is that there is no way I can turn it off. I have to care for this world, because if I do not, who will? Not to look at it with resentment, but with understanding. I want to be better than I am, I want people to be better than they are, I want this world to be better than it is. I will cry out for this change. I began writing this to prove to myself, and to others that I was not insane. I do not think I was successful. Know this is my struggle, my joy and my hope, my depression and elation. But the fear is gone at least.

Your love is too thick,
Sethe.

Love is or it isn't, Paul D.
Thin love ain't no love at all.

the first step.

what makes me different from other people? nothing.

Angels with dirty faces.

I remember not to long along, someone asked me if I liked children. I responded by telling them that I indeed do like children. alot. they responded that they would never have guessed, and in fact that they do not believe me. i'm "too serious". ha. you want to know why I love those angels with dirty faces so much? it is the same reason tobacco companies love kids and why gangs think they are pretty keen as well. impressionable. "if you get them young, the possibilities are endless." got that one from "unleashed". great concept, but constantly perverted for less than noble purposes. it is the gift and the curse with children. the same concept that can allow a young child to become fluent in various foreign languages early on in their development is the same concept that can allow that same child to become as fluent in the use of various foreign firearms. helluva balance. that yin/yang thing I suppose. the minds of children are subject to the same bondage as an adults mind. hate, fear, mistrust, ignorance; the same ills that plague us adults plague children. these same ideas that hinder us from acheiving...well pretty much anything, also retard the development of a child. but the bonds are ill-fitting. imagine adult sized handcuffs slid around the wrists of a child. with some effort, they can be removed. and the child is free. those bonds, these bonds, were not meant for children. as they grow older, those cuffs are ever more difficult to remove. until eventually, they never come off. we as adults rely on finding the key to those bonds: let the children grow up in conditions that racehorses would turn their noses up to, and eventually, as adults, we will find the key, free them, stand back in revel in glory as these adults live normal and productive lives. and ride unicorns into the sunset. as the jolly green giant smiles and waves at them. did I mention the road to the sunset was paved in gold? and passes close to the city of Oz? come on people. simply fantastical to beleieve that a person 21 years of age will be so easily reformed. they are used to the bondage at this point. they will fight tooth and nail the attempted removal of the cuffs that ensare their being. so much so they many will find a new set of cuffs. stronger and shinier than the previous pair. and can you blame them? at that point the bonds are now apart of them. if you do not understand, think. how many adult do you know (including yourself) consistently engage in detrimental behavior and run behind the almight phase "I can't help it, that's just me" or my 2003-2005 favorite "I'm doing me" I used to get so pissed at those statements. but it's true. someone that was supposed to slide those chains off at age 7 did no such thing. now we have a lifelong prisoner. conditioned like the dog of pavlov. I'm not trying to remove the chance for adult redemption and rehabilitation. but realize that this world does not take to kindly for adults on the "wrong side of the tracks". not many effective solutions exist on a widespread level. it's pretty much prison from 18 on. we must act as if the chains are not removed in youth, that it is a lost cause. chalk it up to the game. maybe then we will get off our collective asses and do something to save the children from drowning in the waste of the world. I'm not asking that you pull them out. all I ask is that you give them a chance. talk to them. listen to them. expose them to things that would normally be kept from them. take your cousin to a museum. ask the single mothers in your neighborhood if you can be a big brother or sister to their child. give your time to the boys and girls club. fufill a childs wishs for the christmas season. and beyond. give them a fighting chance to grow up free.

everyone should be a bit more like dev.

I was watching Any Given Sunday, and for some reason I began to think about a friend of mine. Devin Heatley. Now, I'm not going to give much backstory. We went to Oberlin together. There is a theme in the movie of unselfishness, the key to being a successful team. When I thought of that, I thought of Dev. Not once can I remember him complaining about the things that went on in his life, and he most certainly did not let it reflect in the way he lived his life. He had to get his knee drained every week, and because of his injury, he couldn't play football, something he loved to do. Something was always wrong with his car. As with any human being, something was always wrong, things to complain about, things to act out about, be upset, angry, moody, stubborn...all of the emotions attached with the human condition. Most of the time, you would never know. He was still Dev. Willing to give you a ride anywhere his car could take you. Talking shit from "caint see at morning to caint see at night". Making "commercials" to pursue his career in advertising. Still always Dev. Ready to listen. Unselfish. I think that was the lesson he was put here to teach those people in his life. For if he let these small problems sour his mood, he would be unable to be Dev, and teach that lesson. It is a lesson that I'm still trying to learn. Being selfish is one of the most detrimental qualities to possess. It makes it hard to have meaningful, healthy relationships with people. It closes your eyes to the biggest action that brings us closer to being who we were meant to be: sacrifice. If you know Devin, look closely. And learn. If you don't, then look at me. I'm trying to follow the blueprint. If you have a Dev in your life, be appreciative for the blessing. Thank you The Dude. (if you read this dev, you can save your laughter for later...bastard)

words from malawi.

"go to the people. live with them. learn from them. love them. start with what they know. build on what they have. but, with the best leaders, when the work is done, the task accomplished, the people will say "We have done this ourselves.""- Lao Tzu

thank you Candice.

riding with michael thomas anderson.

As I ride with Michael Thomas Anderson, I think. Alot. About problems, but more importantly, the solutions. Recently, I've been thinking about black in higher education. Many people look at the number of black women and men in college and smile. We've made to the big leagues, we have access to education. Our predecessors fought for this right, sacrificed and struggled, faced indignities that we could only imagine for the simply right to be respected as a human being, and American citizen. Much love goes to the ones that came before us. As I look around however, I do not believe that this is what they had in mind. As with the characters in Requiem for a Dream, they never thought a little dope and a carefree nature could lead to a arm-stump action, jail, and a man named "Big Tim". Our ancestors could not have forseen this. I'm not talking about the degredation of our women, or the blood-lust that has manifest for the love of material goods. Not the rims, dope boys, 13 year old mommas, glorification of everything negative, the fall of the black family, dead beat daddies, 50 Cent, video-vixens( or their "Confessions"), incarceration rates, baby gangsters, STD rates, modern day minstrels, or Katrina. They knew that the struggle wasn't over for us. What I do not think they could ever fathom is that we, our generation would be unable to combat. Maybe not unable, but most certainly unwilling. Those in the best position to make drastic positive changes, those bright and shiny college student and graduates degreed-up from head to toe, black, lets not forget, seem not to care. Oh, they care enough to go to meeting, talk about the "plight of our people", write some papers, stunt for some peers to be the "intelligent" one. Might even do an intership for a non-profit. And thats where it stops. Somewhere between middle school and college graduation, that essential part of humans that allows them to see themselves as simply a part of a larger community, has been weeded out of them. Selfishness becomes the theme of the rest of their lives. Dress up to be as less threatening as possible so hopefully (please lord, I sho do need this job!) some white person won't be to scared to give them a job. Then its keep your head low, and work until you die. In between, you may raise some kids, look out for your wife or husband, and go to church. Meanwhile, dopefriends nod off on busses, little girls become little mommas, lil' Tavon gets a life bid, inner city neighborhoods die. These are our supposed saviors. I'm thinking that now all that "booklearnin'" gets in the way. There needs to be balance so the black, young and talented never forget. That one bad weekend, and one bad decision, and its you nodding off on the bus, chasing that white horse. Or thats your future daughter going to get WIC. So if you help them, in a way, your helping yourself. And more important, something bigger than yourself.

reprisal

photographs are ways to caputure beautiful moments in time. Because in this life, our focus is so much on the negativity that surrounds us, life's joyous moments often times become very fleeting in our memories. Pictures help us to take hold of those moments in life that give reason to why we live, and make them permenant fixtures in our minds and hearts. I envy dancers, and all those who are artistically inclined. One of my biggest fears is to work doing something I do not love to do for the rest of my life. I look at dancers, artists, actors, musicians with admiration. They have chosen to take a path that unless you become successful, is not rife with abundant material success. Being an artist will never be looked at with the same esteem as being a doctor, unless you become famous. They do it for the love, for the feeling that doing these things give meaning to their existance. It makes them one step closer to being the persons god meant for them to be, because they are doing what they were put here to do. A telemarketer cannot make that same claim. People often hide behind the concept of "doing what they have to do to survive". How are you then different from a hooker who makes the same claim? We all have to do things in order to reach our goals, but in that, never lose sight of the goal that will bring you happiness. On a side note, I heard a young lady ask a guy why does he bring women to his apartment to chill if he's not at the end of the night having sex with them? For this to come from a guy, ok. but a woman? Break out the confetti and the doves, this is the crowning moment of the 2k5 Woman. The hope for redemption is running out.

hey momma. i know you act a fool...

I finished the training for my volunteer coordinator position, and I have been at the actual organization, just for youth, inc. for about 2 weeks now. if you want to know what I do, just ask. as part of my job, I do direct service at local high schools in baltimore. mentoring, tutoring, the whole nine yards. this past friday I was at the ACCE academy in baltimore. a high school that if the kid graduate, they get a full ride to johns hopinks university. yup world famous jhu. you can write your ticket if you graduate and do reasonably well. so one of the girls I just started to mentoring came in the office because she was about to fight. the school has a program called the positive attitude center, which is an alternative to suspension. okay so this 14 year old girl comes in with a heavy attitude, swaying head, hands on hips. all of it. so i attempt to tell her not to fight, why not to fight, how she cannot be an entrenpenur or go to law school with a felony on your record, thats not how adults solve disputes etc. this little girl looked dead at me and said "I don't care what you say, my momma told me to get down for mine" your momma? i was in disbelief. but the principle corroborated the story. so i began to think. before, it was a safe assumption that children were being taught right from wrong at home, on how to behave as a human, and some where on the bus ride from home to school, through walking through the neiborhood, friends, music, you pick the poison, picked up deviant behavior. you could even say that they picked up some of it in the home, through indirect observation. but now, these kids are being taught, taught at home this deviant behavior. it's like "okay, this is how you go to the bathroom, make your lunch, ride on all punk ass kids in your class, and roll blunts in the bathroom. the parents are failing horribly. school, as my cousin brought to my attention, is only meant to reinforce what was learned at home. school is not meant to teach children how to behave, conflict resolution etc. but it is not happening at home anymore. momma had baby at 14, daddy's doing a bid, and BET and the devil's servant 50 cent raises baby. i know the stress bears heavy on momma, she has to work to make sure the family eats. but what does it matter if the child is on the fast track to the state pen? we have to step up, mentor, become a big brother or big sister to help lighten the load. not the children type? donate money, hand out snacks at after-school programs. we have to fill in the blanks that we assume are being filled in at home. if you need idea on how to get involved, just let me know. we can make this better. we have to.

good friends are hard to come by...

And that is why I feel so lucky. In my short lifetime I have come across some great people that have been invaluable to my progression as a person, and have allowed me to be me, no matter how weird, strange or difficult. My next couple of posts will be dedicated to my closest friends, or "the reasons why I have made it this far." In no particular order, just as the mood strikes. to my peoples, this one is for you. (I have a headache right now, so I'll do one a little later on)

sdrow. (grab a mirror)

Be happy. I complain so much about this life that often times I forget the importance of these two words. Be at peace. 3 words that are equally as important. Show love. Back to the 2 word concept. The ability to love may be the greatest gift given to us by God. Be kind. Kind has become synonomous with weak but I do not know why. Kind takes strength, courage, self-sacrifice...actions that cannot be undertaken by the weak. Sacrifice. One word. You know it when you do it because you feel different. Because you are different, something changes in a person when they sacrifice. It's because you've taken one step closer to God. Humble yourself. Humble sounds...humble. It's a very non-chalant word, impossible to say without feeling humbled. Great word. Do something. Instead of thinking about what to do, just do something. Along the way, things will start to make sense. Most importantly. Express yourself. Give to the world the gift you've been holding on to for so long. We need it.

return to innocence lost

I'm going to take a break from getting on my soapbox, making realizations about life, and just talk. I don't know who reads this, but I suppose this entry is more for me than anyone else. I've recently truly made some changes in my life. I've done this before, but I always cheated, backslid a little. So far, no backsliding. Haven't smoked a black or a newport since last thursday. No sex in 9 months. No messing around either. I refuse to partake in subpar female company, so I haven't chilled with a woman for the majority of that time. Old habits are so hard to break, you know? But, sacrifice is the new word for me. Sometimes you have to sacrifice for the sake of others. My smoking saddens my mother deeply, and to see her smile everyday I choose not to smoke makes the irritation worth it. I don't want kids, or some disgusting disease, so celibacy is its own reward. Plus, I'm tired of making God sad. He asks us not to do it, and I think I can oblige him. Let anger go too, not my homeboy anymore. He's like the anti-beautiful. Can't realize the beauty around you when your pissed off and complaining all the time. I saw a little boy walking with his littler(I know thats not a word) brother. Couldn't hear what they were talking about, but he had his arm around him smiling...good enough for me. A snapshot of common beauty. As I've grown older, I have simultaneously become more sarcastic, pessimistic, jaded, upset, worried and frustrated. It affects the way I see things. I'm going back to a simpler time if I can. Can't be innocent anymore, but I'll just look at things like I looked at that boy with his brother.