Have a fun

So yesterday (scroll down to find the post) I was looking for a barbershop here in the big city. If you remember I was a bit skeptical after an Asian woman told me the shop she worked in could cut my lamb like hair. Wanna hear how that went? Of course you do, you're bored at work you'd pretty much read anything at this point.

I get home and in my excitement practically fly out the door to get to this shop. Well that and there were fire trucks outside my apartment and a fire alarm going off, yes that may have had something to do with me "flying". Oh I can't mention the fire alarm thing without pointing out The Lady's response to possible impending flames. Me; "babe is that a fire alarm" "nah, I'm gonna take a nap" five minutes later when I come back to wake her: "babe get up there are fire trucks out front that was the fire drill" "blah do I have to go downstairs?". At the time I didn't even seem like a big deal but in hindsight let me get this straight babe. Here we are 160 feet off the ground with possible flames beneath us however that nap is that powerful that you may forgo all that. I LOVE HER, but see now I'm off course, and I'm pretty sure you have a report due soon so let's get back to this haircut adventure.

I search for the shop and have to call again for directions. Again, same Asian lady answers, and the phone is breaking up so in a sense the conversation sounded like this.

me: YES MAAM I AM LOST, WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?

her: you--turnatlight--jump up down--kill someone-ova here--alphabet soup-germany.

yeah, no idea what was happening, but eventually she got me there. I walked in pretty eager to see what random dude was gonna cut my hair. It should be noted that in the African American community, once you select a certain barber in a shop you and he are basically wed. You will go to him, he will cut your hair, end of discussion. Regardless of how skilled you may find another barber to actually be, you stick with what you have chosen, it's kind of a tough deal, and a stab in the dark. True story, my last barber shop I walked in and went to the first open chair, only to find out he was deaf and had a glass eye. I am being so so serious. While every other barber there was basically a rembrandt with the clippers, I was there with the man who NEVER had a line. I think I was his only customer, so you can understand how important this selection was.

I had decided I was going to pick the coolest looking brother, hopefully he would have some sort of plaque that said "best barber up in here". However none of the brothers had such a sign, then I realized... there were no brothers...then I realized there were no men...then I realized there were only two barbers, both women, and both Asian.

Now is a good time to fill you in that my father is a barber, so I know much about the industry and vow to at all times keep a sharp cut. However I have only had my haircut my whole life by men, more namely negro men (even in months that aren't February). So to see neither of which about to happen to my napped up head I was pretty much thinking. Great I'm gonna look like I'm wearing a crown King of the Castle up in here.

Joon was her name, and right off the top she says "okay point to the picture you want" yep , it's gonna be a crown. I pick a picture of a latino boy as he is the darkest face on the board to which she stunningly responds "okay, you want a 1 all the way around, round in the back with pointed sideburns, ok" to which I practically passed out. She then proceeded to give me a thorough haircut complete with a straight razor for my shape up. A superb goatee trim and all sorts of other nice smelling concoctions that left me delighted.

Joon and her counterpart, whom did not speak, perhaps she too is a deaf with a glass eye. Both would say the following phrase to the customers leaving "Good bye have a fun". The first time Joon said it, I was in a baffled state of "is this lady really giving me such an amazing haircut" to which I just shrugged off the possibility that she just said "have a fun". We kicked it for the rest of the cut, she told me to tell her friends, and by the end of it all, I was in love with my new barber Joon.

Joon is my girl, Joon is my barber. I am now the proud owner of of a fresh shape up and cut. If you can "own" a haircut. Yes Joon, I indeed had a fun.

I know your mother

Recently a very close friend of mine lost her husband in a motorcycle accident. She had not been married for 18 months yet, he was a military man and they are located in Hawaii away from all friends and family, and she is three months pregnant with their first child. I had the pleasure of meeting her husband one time and could not help but to think how wonderful a fit they were. He was hilarious, kind, and didn't miss a beat with our conversation for the evening. 

The last few days I have been mostly thinking of her unborn child, and to that child I say the following. Although I may have not known your father well, I do know your mother.

I know your mother, and know that thus you are in more than capable hands. I know your mother, and know that you will be raised with the utmost of respect for not only yourself but others that you come in contact with. I know your mother, and know that you will know the real world and what it will expect of you, and what to expect of it. I know your mother and know you will have respect for women, be you a boy or a girl. I know your mother, and I know you will speak your mind to all those that will listen. I know your mother and know you will be a damn good dancer. I know your mother, and know you will be cared for, respected, well mannered, even headed, daring, and well rounded. I know your mother, and know you are to be a constant reminder of the father you will never meet. However, you should never question the amount of love present from your mother, if I had to pick any of my friends, to put a child's life in the hands of, it would easily be your mother. 

So do not feel upset, or slighted by the fact that your father may not be there. Know that if he was substantial enough to win the hand of your mother, then he was a man of great valor, character and style. A man with a sense of humor, strength and respect. Know that by knowing your mother and what she will expect, and demand of you, then you too in turn will come to know your father, and the type of man he would have been. The type of man who too, was pleased to know your mother. 

I know your mother, and you will be loved, please believe, you will be loved.

Shop Talk

I NEED A HAIRCUT-

Perhaps you may not be of Negro Male descent like me, but see, our hair is like a beard, growing out of your head,  and for those of you who shave, would you dare go 2 weeks without shaving. Ladies, apply the same analogy to your legs or under arms, would you let that hair grow for 2-3 weeks without a little shave? Yeah didn't think so.

So that's where I am. Here with a wooly head, needing a cut. As a side note it should be noted, I do not know how to shave. Not cause I am lazy, but for the simple fact that I don't grow facial hair. Well I do, but it's to level at which The Lady refers to it as a "baby beard" which technically if you saw it, it's a "baby goatee". Come to think of it, if a baby actually had a beard I might pay money to see this. Then I would be PISSED that the baby had more facial hair than me, so on second thought maybe I wouldn't be so hyped up to see a baby with a beard. I already get a little salty when I see high school kids with full beards. I just want to go buy some beer and be like HA! take that I AM AN ADULT who drinks beer, and has a job... but no beard anyway, now that I've got my pressure up just thinking about it, I still need this haircut.

So here I am, googling "black barbershops" in my area. Either they're all too far, or have too shady a name like "Parole Officer Kuts" or "Knife Kut Kingz" (note the KKK subtle joke there, which is no longer subtle as I have pointed it, but whatever, I'm a little off my game since I'm all pissed about this alleged baby with a beard). I think I've found a spot near the house and just called hoping a brother or a sister might answer the phone, yes, my actual brother or sister. Anyway I call and some Korean lady answers the phone to my surprise, to which I quickly ask her " I was wondering if you all cut black people's hair" which as I said it out loud a lot worse than when I was thinking it. She said they did and with all my excitement I'll be heading there after work. 

 However, the more I think about it, why on Earth would she have said no. "Umm nah sir, we don't cut the hair of Negroes, Russians, or Left handed Irish, says so right on the door, but we do have a special on baby beard trims"

No witty Title

I was speaking with a friend earlier today and we got to talking about the DNC. Which got me to thinking, mostly about this upcoming election, I had previously vowed not to bring my political beliefs into any of my posts but upon further review that is what they call "a stupid idea".

It is often noted, that it is rude to talk about either politics or religion in mixed company. The older I get the more foolish this rule appears to me. The religion I still understand as there are a lot of loons out there who will pray to a can of spray paint if given the opportunity, and I'm not trying to convert. As for politics, how can you not. For something that so directly affects all the citizens of a given nation how is it "rude" to discuss, how is it rude to discuss how my thoughts could affect what you pay for rent, for tax, for child care, for health care, and vice versa. How is it rude to discuss how my personal thoughts or yours could so adversely affect the other one's life...and with that being said here I stand to make a few points.

I am a 25 year old male, in a long term committed relationship who will be 26 next week. The new President will take me into being 30, if re elected, right into my mid 30's. A period of life in which most Americans get married, have children, get real jobs, purchase new vehicles, purchase their first homes, collectively an age in which a generation makes the jump from young adults, to adults. Makes the jump from learning about growing up to being grown up. Which,with that being said would make this the most important election of my young adult life.

Here we stand at the precipice of one of the largest decisions to be made by our generation, and we stand here waffling. We stand here, some how, again, confused, again not quite sure, and again torn between two candidates. 

I am amazed yet again at how great a job the Republicans have done. I tip my hat to them whole heartedly and in no cynical way what so ever to state that they have again proven to be far better politicians than the opposing Democrats. I have long since held the opinion that while Democrats have better politics, it is the Republicans who have far better politicians. Remember way back in 2004 when they such a huge debate over the war, and gay marriage. Remember the hysteria over gay marriage? The better question is, how does gay marriage affect YOUR daily life, does it make your taxes higher, your kids any less intelligent, you car any less efficient? Even as I type this I am still holding back and getting away from what I really want to say as to not be rude, well sorry, consider me rude.

This is how I truly feel, and if you disagree, I respect that.

A vote for John McCain is a bad move, period. This is the same man who ran against Bush twice, and could not beat him either time, for the Republican nomination, not in 2000 or 2004. So basically, he wasn't good enough to beat Bush, but yet he his somehow now equipped to replace him? The current President has the lowest approval rating of all time, yet it was half the nation that collectively elected him on two occasions. As bad as a President he may be, he was still elected by the people, two times. No matter how "bad" a job he is doing, mind you, McCain was still viewed as a less viable option on two separate occasions than he is for the job at hand. 

We stand here, on the cusp of a technological revolution. A day in age where cell phones, text messaging, instant messaging, social networking, viral videos and a slew of ever changing technologies are about to take us into the Jetsons era. What does it then benefit us to promote a man stuck confidently with a foot in the past, where wars last forever, and we still milk the land for the Flinstone's oil. The same man who for over a decade refused to give Martin Luther King Jr his own day. That has nothing to do with race, and more with respect. The man won a Nobel Peace Prize, a little American respect is in order. 

His opponent is 25 years his junior, has children aged 7 and 10. He knows, and will know the real world in which so many of us actually live. He is more indicative of the American lifestyle, a man of mixed background from a single family home who has climbed to a place of stature and has no qualms with telling it how it is and shooting straight. 

We are not to be bettered by continuing in the same direction. We are not to progress ourselves by supporting a way that has gotten us here. We can not and will not get any further doing exactly what we have done. While so much is made about experience, I offer this. You can't understand what it is like to be a parent, till you have a kid, you can't understand what it's like to be pregnant till you are. You can't understand or comprehend a lot of American activities until you are thrown in a position to do it. John McCain has been on Capitol Hill  for 26 years, thrice vying for this coveted position, each time, his own people shot him down. 

His opponent, please if you would listen is offering us an awesome opportunity, an awesome chance to do something new, something we could hang our heads high about. If you have ever travelled out of the country then you would know that a majority of the world hates us for your bully strong arm tactics.  Please please use your brain, and don't vote McCain.

Express Lane

Here I am all proud of myself. Making a little money, getting a salary, feeling good about myself and what not. I must admit it is a good feeling to have money in the bank. For those of you not so accustomed to living a life in which you live are not accustomed to ever living from check to check, stop reading and go milk your parents for some more money. Anyway here I am all excited to be stacking loot buying lavish gifts, bathing myself in fine oils and and decorative ornaments. But alas, I should have known it was too good to be true. 

Grocery shopping my friends, is quickly setting itself up to be the death of me. Last night The Lady and I went for our third or fourth trip to the grocery store, this time the damage was a mere $175 dollars. First time we went it was in excess of $200 and there have been a few little baby excursions here and there. Nonetheless, long story shirt, I hate it. It should be noted that I have spent my whole life living as an only child bachelor, when it comes to buying groceries even when I stopped being an only child, and also even when I stopped being a bachelor. I just like to buy what I'd like to eat in about ten minutes, or whatever else is bright. Thank Jesus for my Lady.

If it weren't for her I would spend $500 dollars on beer, kettle corn, cotton candy, and pork rinds. To further appreciate that joke, you should probably know this, I hate kettle corn, cotton candy, and pork rinds. Which would leave me with only beer, again read last sentence of previous paragraph. So here we are walking the aisles with me repeatedly asking "babe can we get this ?" followed by a dismissive "no babe" it pretty much reached a point where I was only at "babe can-" before she hit me with the "no".  Personally I think she was being a little too quick to shoot down my eating dreams. I mean come on, what man my age doesn't deserve some freeze dried salami flavored waffles, or some tapicoa flavored vita water on sale 2 for $3.oo. I am a growing man damnit! Honestly that's how they get me. Anything that is more than one for a supposed "discount" price I'm gonna jump on it. "Oh look babe sure we can be cheapies and get one for $2.00 but we could just as easily get four of them for $17.00, looks pretty cut and dry to me babe" to which she will normally inform me again of the fact that we do not own a pet, and thus do not need ANY pet toys regardless the deal. I'm pretty sure I would buy some Kotex if the deal was good enough (excuse me for a second while I check the receipt to make sure that didn't happen)

So we ended up sticking to her plan, salads, tuna fish, ground beef, milk, orange juice etc, apparently these things are "staples", whatever, straight whatever. After an 1.5 hours of getting all this mess we end up at the check out counter, and in an effort to keep my good mood I wont even mention how laborious that ordeal was. Is it wrong of me to think they should just make the check out a race type set up. Even better, if it was a racially motivated race. The check out could be real simple white cashiers help white customers, blacks help blacks, hispanics help hispanics and so on and so forth. See, then the faster you go as a customer the more of a discount you get, and the quicker your cashiers are cashing you out the more points they could get towards a raise. See this way everyone wins. No, I am not some bigot, I just know that since The Lady and I bring two races to the table we could split up into two lanes, get double savings and be out twice as fast, so maybe when you put it like that, only her and I would win, not everyone. Oh well, my game my rules, wait, what was I even talking about. Who knows, I'm hungry and all I've got is kettle corn... well time for some fast food.

The More you Know

So I'm listening to this podcast that I often listen to, and today's webisode is people talking about being dumped and the pain/comedy that ensues. The lady speaking right now just said something which got me to thinking, which in turn got me to writing, which in turn is getting you to reading.

She was making a joke/point about how after she got dumped, and was heartbroken she made it a point to listen to cheesy sappy love songs. She noted that she had no idea how many love songs there were out there till everyone she seemingly went she heard every single one of them. Grocery stores, elevators, Starbucks, (insert a long list of public places that play songs here). Which, if you have ever been dumped, it's okay I wont tell, you do know exactly what she means. 

Anyway it got me to thinking how interesting and unfolding life can be like that. Is it just me or does anyone else ever notice that the more you start to learn, or experience or go through, the more you can appreciate the world around you? Take for example the young lady who had been dumped, she can now have a better appreciation for the so called cheesy nature of love songs. Yet in actuality they are not so much as cheesy as they are true, until you are the one who has been hurt. For example, personally, each time I see the FedEx logo I immediately notice the arrow in the logo (hit me up if you need me to point it out to you...its between the e and x in the white space that connects them google image it). The point is not that I shamelessly will plug FedEx and Google in my blog, but just to more or less mention how much I truly love learning new little things, and sometimes bigger things about the world we occupy. 

I'm not even sure I can properly put into words exactly what it is I am trying to say, and if it is coming across as a babblish rant, sorry. What I suppose I'm getting at is that, life is fun, I truly enjoy it, and am enamored with the prospect of learning new things, experiencing new things, both fun and sad. I take great pride in experience as it is the pushing force that essentially makes life exciting. 

I seriously could keep going but my little sister just texted me, she had her high school orientation today and just wants to know..."hey what is Homecoming? the girls giving the tour today kept talking about it"

Remember when you didn't know what homecoming was? Soon enough she will know, and soon enough she will have a crush on an older boy, soon enough she will love, and be loved, and soon enough she will have her heartbroken, and shortly there after her brother will be there to support her and point her to the nearest public place where they play cheesy sappy music. 

But for now, it's just Homecoming

Ethiopian Cab Drivers?

So yesterday I decided to get out and explore the lay of the land a little. Been in the apartment a lot and just wanted to get out and check things out. I figured I should go to the most ethnic spot I could find near by just post up and read and take in my surroundings, so off to Starbucks I went.

I guess I should point out that I never go to Starbucks and not because of some deep rooted "I hate corporate America" mumbo jumbo, no I never go to Starbucks simply because I do not drink coffee. Although if there was a survey I would have to admit to a deep dislike of corporate America, anyway. 

So off I trek to Starbucks, by the way, have you any idea how difficult it is to order something from there if you aren't a coffee drinker. Note to self, look for new place to watch people. Anyway I settled on a protein drink, with the consistency of clay (which was gross) and some brownie muffin with a fancy name, that, was pretty good. Posted up in the corner and just read a little, but mostly did my best to look like not so creepy, new to the area guy watching people in a public place... like a creepy guy. From my not creepy observations I noticed a ton, just a straight up ton of men all deep in some sort of exciting conversation, they laughed the spoke eloquently, they debated, all in all it was a good time for them. However all in all it was in some other language, and I had no idea what ethnicity they were. Honestly, I was baffled. They looked black like me, but not 100% but they didn't look Indian either, I really was lost, and had no idea what they were speaking. I quickly ruled out the possibility that it was English, well, cause I speak that, and ruled out Gibberish, as I am a keen speaker of such, which I've never taken a class for but my Grandmother often has told me. "Boy you're speaking nothing but Gibberish again" although I don't know what it sounds like, I would assume I would recognize it, seeing as I speak it and all.

The fun and merriment continued for a little over an hour, me never actually understanding them, but also never blowing my cover as a semi creepy guy watching people. I was wrapping up and noticed that all the men (15-25 coming and going) wore business shirts and slacks and khakis, but a lot of them wore flip flops, sandals or tennis shoes. Which was confusing the life out of me. Were they all business men... who wore open toed shoes? or just really over dressed sanitation employees... who again, wore open toed shoes. I pretty much was getting a little baffled, ad my creepy guy level was probably increasing as I drank my play doh energy drink and was down right squinting at these men to figure something out about them. With that being all the Starbuck fun I could take for one night I wrapped it up and headed home. (where The Lady and I had our first spat, which is all cleared up now thank you, I'll discuss later, read: sometime next week when I can put an objective level of hindsight humor into it but anyway back to the original post, cause this is a really long parenthesis)

I pretty much had decided to go again tonight with The Lady, to see the flock of kinda black like me, open toed, dressed up, non english speaking guys to see if her detective skills could be of assistance. Until, I got to the office and was just recapping my adventure to my co-workers when one of them said in a matter of fact way. "You know that Starbucks right by where you live is apparently a large gathering spot for Ethiopian Cab Drivers". 

You don't say.

This should be noted

I'm going to get right to the point on this one.

I hate reality television. I feel as though there isn't one show of the genre I have ever seen that in any way shape or form was funny, enlightening, entertaining, or as some would say "worth a damn". I especially loathe the ones with contestants who are competing in a house for some sort of monetary prize. The whole concept drives me insane, "friends" forced to live together and describe their events to some camera man as if it happened days ago when in actuality it just happened 15 minutes prior. Imagine if every 45 minutes your boss made you come into the office to discuss, on camera, everything you had just done and what made you do it. No wonder these people are going crazy and bugging on each show, a lot of people don't know this, but they don't put tv's or radio's in those houses, thus forcing the people to interact more often, and thus create more "drama". 

Where in lies the drama of people sitting around voting one another out of a home, or eliminating each other for some random job, or the affection of some total stranger. Ohhh and don't even get me started on the shows that just follow someone (or a family) around, edit it, and call it a show. What in the damnit are doing here people? This is what most people would call being lazy, there are no plot lines to these shows, as we watch them go run errands and to the stores, shop with friends and buy things we could never afford, or break up with boyfriends, leave drunk messages, and gossip. When did we reach the point in which watching other people do nothing constitutes as actually doing something? 

That's all I wish to say on the topic, though I could add more it would progressively get angrier and the night is young so I'd rather not get all worked up over nothing...or something for that matter.

How to hit on a woman

Okay so here's a quick little how to I felt obliged to write on after seeing a miserable attempt on the bus this morning.

In no way do I consider myself a Casanova, however I do understand the most basic of human interactions. So I'm on the bus this morning and a very pretty woman gets on the bus and right behind her was this guy who had apparently been hitting on her at the stop and decided to keep it up on the bus...much to my delight.

Ole girl sits down and my man sits right across from her (strike one, don't hover). He apparently keeps their "conversation" from the stop going in which he's asking her about her profession. "So what, you're into advertising and shit?" (yeah, I'm gonna need you to not refer to her job as "and shit") I will admit her politeness was quite the gesture, I figured for a sister she was gonna snap at my man, but no she let him keep going, again, to my delight. Oh, perhaps now is as good a time as any to point out that she was dressed nicely in a tan business suit with some serious heels on, while Thug Mammal No.4 was wearing cut off jeans, yes cut offs, apparently he was auditioning for the part of Incredible Hulk, a flannel shirt unbuttoned with a white t, book bag,  and the most tattered Redskins hat of all time, oh that's right, and a skate board. Which leads me to wonder, why ride the bus if you already have a skateboard, are you gonna catch a ride to then...go ride? 

Anyway Thug Mammal No. 4 and his skateboard continue further with his attempts. Somewhere between babbling something about "damn gurl you got it" "what stop you getting off at" she managed to drop her politeness and start to give him, the scowl. Again, gentlemen you want to steer clear of telling a woman she has anything so ambiguous, women do not like getting or having anything unless they asked or planned  for it, read: weight, kids, engagement rings, or TM No 4's with skateboards, and also you don't just ask where people live not in this being the easy to stalk era. 

Needless to say, at some point I could no longer contain myself and blatantly started laughing at the situation. Which to some might seem bold, but see, I have been practicing my "get out of my face" face (bear with me, it's a working title) a practiced stare that fends off birds, children, old white women and most notably strangers in public. So when ole boy gave me a look that said partly who are you, and partly wanna ride my skate board. I shot him a glance that said wholly "don't start" and "no thanks I'm not into skate boards". For whatever reason, the shenanigans came to an end and he leapt from the bus at the next stop and scurried off into the horizon cut off jeans in tact.

Okay so perhaps this wasn't as much as a how to as a brief replay of my hilarity early this morning maybe I should put a more in depth how to together.

Great Open Spaces

In a town so big there remains one place to go where you can get total quiet regardless of what may be going on in the outside world, and that place my friends, is an elevator. I live on the 16th floor of a 26 story apartment complex, and it continues to amaze me how quickly people will stop everything they are doing to not talk in an elevator. Maybe its because in actuality you are in a lit closet dropping hundreds of feet with total strangers, being kept alive only by your faith in an elaborate pulley system. Yes, a pulley system, for those of us public school kids that would fall under the category of simple machine. For those of you private school kids, let me borrow some money.

Everyday I board the elevator and plummet 160 feet to the ground floor with total strangers of various backgrounds, all of us eager to not speak, or make eye contact. Come to think of it, elevators might be the most anti-social facet of American culture. Here we stand doing our best to look at the ground and at the random mirror thats in all elevators, note, its only there to make it look bigger. Though lately I have my suspicions that there may be a camera on the other side, but maybe that's a little paranoia. Anyway, here we fall, quietly and staring at the ground, when if you think about it, perhaps we should be a tad more jovial, considering what's at stake. I mean, if the cable, from the aforementioned elaborate pulley was to not do its job, speaking of which, what is the active verb for what a pulley does? Would it be pulleying, pulleyaing maybe ? sorry, okay so if the pulley were to not pullify and we all fell to our demise, how silly would it be to go out in silence. At least we could have the decency to shriek and carry on with our new best friends.

Which is why I've been making it my sole purpose to be the most jovial person ever on an elevator, I been starting with a ritual of shaking everyones hand, pressing the button for their floor, whistling songs, quoting shakespeare, handing out moist towelettes, (side note I spelled towelette right on the first try no red underline ) whatever it takes to get the ice broken, mind you this has led to my photo being plastered all over the apartment offering a ransom for my bounty. Okay so perhaps I made that up, not the part about the spelling towelette right on the first try though. Anyway the elevator is a trip I actually do look forward to riding it with strangers and making them slightly nervous by standing juuust a little too close, not close enough that i'll get tazed, but close enough that I can read the "is this guy serious" look on their face.

Oh the simplicities that make me smile

Get on Sir!!

Auggh so much involved with moving in and getting furninture and learning the new area, sorry again for delayed posts.

But alas, I have started taking the bus to work, and while this may be old hat to some, this is brand new living to me, and by brand new I mean totally foreign and slightly exciting. So the job will pay $120 a month towards my monthly commute, after some leg work I have figured the cheapest route is bus travel. Though it should be noted my leg work was initially driving to work every day and paying $10 dollars to park in a garage. Also I assumed I could beat the system by parking in surrounding neighborhoods in the free 2 hour spots moving my car every few hours, that was a smashing failure, to the tune of a $45 dollar ticket the first day I tried. So bus it is my friends.

Yesterday was my first day, and you would have thought I was a third grader getting ready for the first day of school. I went online figured my route and marched on the bus stop, home made lunch in hand, turkey sandwich and pepperoni to be exact. Standing, ever so valiantly, on the wrong side of the road, at the wrong stop, fortunately I noticed my error in time, jogged across the street and stood patiently. Now the bus shows up there's a guy talking to bus driver and I make the foolish assumption that he is getting off the bus...no no no he's just up there talking for talking sake. So while I wait at the door trying to be patient, I must look like some out of town bumpkin to the bus driver, a freshly bald shaved black woman with HUMUNGOUS star earrings who so kindly shouts to me, GET ON THE BUS SIR. I practically leap the three steps to get on and forget to pay, then I get all nervous that I'm going to get kicked off. So while I sit there I'm trying to figure a way to put my money in the meter, but I'm so nervous as to not step across the 'do not step across"  yellow line. So I just sit there on the edge of my seat in my own little world of paranoia, between the need to pay, the ever so mean bus driver and old guy still talking to her, the moving my car every few hours option isn't looking so bad.

I finally get the courage to leap forward jam my $1.35 into the receiver and sit back down, practically out of breath and kind of proud of myself. Then it dawns on me that, this is not the same way I drive to work, now I'm bugging, I keep looking for familiar signs, stores etc, nothing, and by the way, I have the strong feeling that I may be the only one on the bus who speaks only English. After another 7 agonizing minutes the bus gets back on ground I'm used to, see apparently buses have to pick up other people and this requires going through neighborhoods and stopping at apt complexes, ahhh wise ploy, in my haste to use public transport I forgot about the other 2.4 million people in the area who might need to get around as well.  Finally I get to the "drop spot" aka bus stop but admit it drop spot does make it sound cooler, so there I am at the drop spot which is only a mere 6 blocks away from the office, after a brisk walk I arrive to work, sweaty, baffled, and only 45 minutes late...tomorrow I decide to take an earlier bus.

My Disclaimer

I sometimes (read sometimes as 80% of the time) feel as though I have to come across nicer and softer than is needed. By the way, if you're against black man rants now would be an opportune time to find something else to do, and no I will not be blaming the man for anything, okay, back to what I was saying...

Unfortunately we live in a world whereas people who look similar to me get arrested for crimes, make videos and songs about crimes, play video games about crimes, all in all its a crime based mentality. See, but there in lies my dilemma, I personally am not really a crime guy. I like to live the "legal life" as I have come to call it. Which basically means, I do things like, go to work, go home, don't break laws, whistle while I walk etc. I do however love a good song about breaking laws, or a movie where breaking laws is the principal theme, so in that regard...hells yeah I'm into crime. 

See, and since this form of communication is all font, you do not have the luxury of knowing that I, at times, have a rather deep voice, a voice that carries, and can be intimidating. On top of that I can get pretty passionate about things I'm really into, it would suffice to say I have been kicked out of lectures, events, speeches etc for getting "too loud" with my opinions. So over the years I have been training myself to curb my enthusiasm.

So I find myself, often trying to bust my butt to make sure I am coming across as a friendly non crime loving soft voiced ally. ESPECIALLY in the working world, anytime I make a comment or get animated about things, I have to quickly follow it with, "we are friends", or if I disagree with someone, Ill have to chase it with "now, I'm not attacking you or anything but...". Mostly cause I know that I run the risk of intimidating them all real quick. Its actually hilarious, to me, cause there is a certain point when I'm getting animated in which I can see the look on peoples face go from, "hes making a good point" to "oh no, he might maim me". In which I for about 2 seconds think, you punk, followed quickly by "but you know Im not arguing with you". My mother often tells me...boy you got to bring it down, people don't know how to respond to the scary black man...oh yes they do... tazers baby.

So more or less I would like to just say, no, I am not a ranting raving loon, on the tip of a crime spree middle american peers and cohorts. But alas I am merely a wise sage, filled with the gift of animation, and the ability to command a room with my mere presence, my deepest apologies God did not bless you with the same abilities and no, I will not cower down to make you feel more adequate, less threatened, comfortable, or at ease. As my crime loving counterparts might say "get on my level".

...but you know I'm not talking to you right, cause, well, we're friends.

Adult world...where 9pm bedtime happens

Sorry for the long delay between postings, was back home for the weekend and moving in...but moving on.

I could, in theory, make one long post here about everything on my mind, but as I've been told, some of you are at work when reading this so I'll break them up. Let me first say a few things about the working/office world that me and some of my buddies have started to notice.

Adults, love meetings, absolutely love them, why? because meetings give you an excuse not to work. I have come to find out that half the fun of a salaried job is to successfully figure out how to fill in your co-workers on your last meeting while simultaneously keeping them in awe of your upcoming meetings. See in the work world, a meeting is the equivalent of a college guys post bar hook up. "Dude, you totally won't believe the 3 hour power point I just nailed, had that thing up on the wall, everyone in the room was jealous, and don't even get me started on my word docs everyone was trying to get their hands on...". Needless to say meetings actually keep you from doing your actual job, which surprising to me, is often the least of anyones concern. The main objective of work is to appear to being doing something, hence always bragging about your UPCOMING hook up-er meeting. "Yeah I got this tight little overnighter coming up with the accounting division, shooot you know it's gonna keep me up all night, probably gonna need a few Red Bulls, get jealous". 

One might be inclined to think that the average work week could be condensed to a 30 hour format. However I honestly think that what happens is people get out of college and get adult jobs and become fascinated with the idea of "playing grown up" and secretly take joy in going through all of the intricacies they have spent years watching their parents go through and years training formally (college). We get excited with buying suits, new pumps, neck ties, cashmere vests, office friendly skirts etc. And for the first year or two love to tell family and friends that we, after years of practice, have landed a job, yet in actuality having a job more or less means, a place to go from 9ish to 5ish, a place where we can remain and eagerly wait to go join our friends and our real true love, the couch.

Over time you stumble from the "playing grown up" phase and quickly cross into the threshold of "larvae grown up/young pessimist". A stage easily noticed by your desire to gripe about everything from music not being as good as it was, to fashion quickly changing, to gas prices, to God knows what (think of this as your adult life terrible twos) in short, you and your buddies gripe about everything, and you love to gripe. Don't worry I spend 74% of my time griping, and oh how I wish it could be 75% but I've got to eat and sleep. Soon after its full fledged "pouty adult" mode in which you have reached the zenith, and nothing is as good as it once was, food tastes worse, kids aren't as smart, oh the list goes on. Needless to say, I have come to the opinion that from birth to death we just progressively get more things we take joy in not having joy in. If that makes any sense.

And am I the only person who feels as though staying up till Jay Leno comes on is almost an accomplishment? Damn I used to think Conan was a great show, now I don't even know if it still comes on, I find myself, after work, thinking...whew what a day, time to kick back and relax and go gripe about some stuff on the news. Next thing I know I'll be dead sleep and baffled as to why no one bothered to tuck me in, and crabby about it. I think I'm just gonna start setting my house clocks three hours fast so I feel like I'm still cool, but then again what would I have to complain about then