The Barack Bug

The post below was initially written in April of 2009. As we near the end of President Obama's first term, I think it is fitting to re-post. We are less than 60-days away from Election Day and I haven't heard too much buzz. Please read The Barack Bug and share your current thoughts of the post.

Now that I have your attention, I feel the need to express that you should read the entire post before judging or forming an opinion. I think you will all agree that at the point it seemed possible that Mr. Barack Obama could actually win the presidential election, YBA (Young Black America) began to think and act differently. My first reaction to the new aura that seemed to be felt by most of the world (but definitely D.C.) was "this is great or horrible." With many people who previously had very little expectations of government finally forming at least a slight interest in the election process, barber shop and corner conversations changed. In fact, there was a large percentage of YBA that had been living "unfulfilled" lives which started thinking about improving themselves. I heard several of the drug-slinging high school drop-out youth in my neighborhood talking about how they had decided to change their ways. Some expressed that for the first time they felt they could actually achieve something. Several expressed their unhappiness with their role in assisting with the rapid downward spiral of urban Black America. Drug dealing, once viewed as the only (at least the easiest) means of employment, was no longer appealing to many of these young men. The affect that Mr. Obama's success had on such a large group of people was frightening. I remember wondering what the response would be if Mr. Obama failed. Would too many people fail to realize that even in defeat there is often a valuable lesson to be learned? Would more people accept the bogus, but common, excuse of not striving for anything because the system is set up to have us fail?

I now want to ask if we are still feeling THE BARACK BUG. Have the masses carried out the plans made during the election season's emotional high? Has anyone stopped selling drugs, attained a G.E.D., continued post secondary education, become a better parent, or kicked that habit? You are foolish if you think President Obama will be judged solely on the decisions made in the Oval Office. He will also be judged (although unfair) on the progress of the previously forgotten society. Yes, the same drug-slinging, high school drop-out, and pregnant teen population referenced earlier. Those that have the ability to offer help to this often ignored group should be judged on the amount of time devoted to these individuals in need. Did all of the newly discovered ambition leave after Inauguration Day?

A Million Pounds

So, I've been gone for a long time. This may be cheating, but below is something I wrote in 2009. I am going to, once again, attempt to be more disciplined and submit a minimum of two posts per month. This serves as therapy and I could use some now. Enjoy!

A Million Pounds


Can you imagine growing up with only extremes?
Can you imagine being told, by many people, “you’ll never see the age of 21?”
Picture this, on the same day you also heard “you’ll change the world.”
I’ve always felt as if I were living two lives
What makes it more complex, is nobody with an opinion
Could ever imagine the other opinion having been thought
I’ve been praised for the same things that caused the negative comments
The things that caused the negative thoughts
are what allowed me to finish school, start a promising career,
be co-founder of two companies, and positively impact several lives
How confused should one be after realizing the right path has always
been discovered while getting away with doing the wrong things
I have so many fears that I’m forced to succeed; who knows what I’ll do if I fail
What reaction will I see then?
Will all doubters boast & celebrate
Will all believers give up on me and their own dreams
Shit, how will I handle it
Will I continue to cry alone or celebrate because
One Million Pounds has finally been lifted off of my shoulders

Why You're Not Married

A friend provided a link to the article below on their FB page. I thought, if nothing else, it was thought provoking. I am curious to read your thoughts. Is there any validity to the writer's viewpoint? Enjoy the following article, written by Tracy McMillan.

You want to get married. It's taken a while to admit it. Saying it out loud -- even in your mind -- feels kind of desperate, kind of unfeminist, kind of definitely not you, or at least not any you that you recognize. Because you're hardly like those girls on TLC saying yes to the dress and you would never compete for a man like those poor actress-wannabes on The Bachelor.

You've never dreamt of an aqua-blue ring box.

Then, something happened. Another birthday, maybe. A breakup. Your brother's wedding. His wife-elect asked you to be a bridesmaid, and suddenly there you were, wondering how in hell you came to be 36-years-old, walking down the aisle wearing something halfway decent from J. Crew that you could totally repurpose with a cute pair of boots and a jean jacket. You started to hate the bride -- she was so effing happy -- and for the first time ever you began to have feelings about the fact that you're not married. You never really cared that much before. But suddenly (it was so sudden) you found yourself wondering... Deep, deep breath... Why you're not married.

Well, I know why.

How? It basically comes down to this: I've been married three times. Yes, three. To a very nice MBA at 19; a very nice minister's son at 32 (and pregnant); and at 40, to a very nice liar and cheater who was just like my dad, if my dad had gone to Harvard instead of doing multiple stints in federal prison.

I was, for some reason, born knowing how to get married. Growing up in foster care is a big part of it. The need for security made me look for very specific traits in the men I dated -- traits it turns out lead to marriage a surprisingly high percentage of the time. Without really trying to, I've become a sort of jailhouse lawyer of relationships -- someone who's had to do so much work on her own case that I can now help you with yours.

But I won't lie. The problem is not men, it's you. Sure, there are lame men out there, but they're not really standing in your way. Because the fact is -- if whatever you're doing right now was going to get you married, you'd already have a ring on it. So without further ado, let's look at the top six reasons why you're not married.

1. You're a Bitch.
Here's what I mean by bitch. I mean you're angry. You probably don't think you're angry. You think you're super smart, or if you've been to a lot of therapy, that you're setting boundaries. But the truth is you're pissed. At your mom. At the military-industrial complex. At Sarah Palin. And it's scaring men off.

The deal is: most men just want to marry someone who is nice to them. I am the mother of a 13-year-old boy, which is like living with the single-cell protozoa version of a husband. Here's what my son wants out of life: macaroni and cheese, a video game, and Kim Kardashian. Have you ever seen Kim Kardashian angry? I didn't think so. You've seen Kim Kardashian smile, wiggle, and make a sex tape. Female anger terrifies men. I know it seems unfair that you have to work around a man's fear and insecurity in order to get married -- but actually, it's perfect, since working around a man's fear and insecurity is big part of what you'll be doing as a wife.

2. You're Shallow.
When it comes to choosing a husband, only one thing really, truly matters: character. So it stands to reason that a man's character should be at the top of the list of things you are looking for, right? But if you're not married, I already know it isn't. Because if you were looking for a man of character, you would have found one by now. Men of character are, by definition, willing to commit.

Instead, you are looking for someone tall. Or rich. Or someone who knows what an Eames chair is. Unfortunately, this is not the thinking of a wife. This is the thinking of a teenaged girl. And men of character do not want to marry teenaged girls. Because teenage girls are never happy. And they never feel like cooking, either.

3. You're a Slut.
Hooking up with some guy in a hot tub on a rooftop is fine for the ladies of Jersey Shore -- but they're not trying to get married. You are. Which means, unfortunately, that if you're having sex outside committed relationships, you will have to stop. Why? Because past a certain age, casual sex is like recreational heroin -- it doesn't stay recreational for long.

That's due in part to this thing called oxytocin -- a bonding hormone that is released when a woman a) nurses her baby and b) has an orgasm -- that will totally mess up your casual-sex game. It's why you can be f**k-buddying with some dude who isn't even all that great and the next thing you know, you're totally strung out on him. And you have no idea how it happened. Oxytocin, that's how it happened. And since nature can't discriminate between marriage material and Charlie Sheen, you're going to have to start being way more selective than you are right now.

4. You're a Liar.
It usually goes something like this: you meet a guy who is cute and likes you, but he's not really available for a relationship. He has some condition that absolutely precludes his availability, like he's married, or he gets around town on a skateboard. Or maybe he just comes right out and says something cryptic and open to interpretation like, "I'm not really available for a relationship right now."

You know if you tell him the truth -- that you're ready for marriage -- he will stop calling. Usually that day. And you don't want that. So you just tell him how perfect this is because you only want to have sex for fun! You love having fun sex! And you don't want to get in a relationship at all! You swear!
About ten minutes later, the oxytocin kicks in. You start wanting more. But you don't tell him that. That's your secret -- just between you and 22,000 of your closest girlfriends. Instead, you hang around, having sex with him, waiting for him to figure out that he can't live without you. I have news: he will never "figure" this out. He already knows he can live without you just fine. And so do you. Or you wouldn't be lying to him in the first place.

5. You're Selfish.
If you're not married, chances are you think a lot about you. You think about your thighs, your outfits, your naso-labial folds. You think about your career, or if you don't have one, you think about doing yoga teacher training. Sometimes you think about how marrying a wealthy guy -- or at least a guy with a really, really good job -- would solve all your problems.

Howevs, a good wife, even a halfway decent one, does not spend most of her day thinking about herself. She has too much s**t to do, especially after having kids. This is why you see a lot of celebrity women getting husbands after they adopt. The kids put the woman on notice: Bitch, hello! It's not all about you anymore! After a year or two of thinking about someone other than herself, suddenly, Brad Pitt or Harrison Ford comes along and decides to significantly other her. Which is also to say -- if what you really want is a baby, go get you one. Your husband will be along shortly. Motherhood has a way of weeding out the lotharios.

6. You're Not Good Enough.
Oh, I don't think that. You do. I can tell because you're not looking for a partner who is your equal. No, you want someone better than you are: better looking, better family, better job.

Here is what you need to know: You are enough right this minute. Period. Not understanding this is a major obstacle to getting married, since women who don't know their own worth make terrible wives. Why? You can fake it for a while, but ultimately you won't love your spouse any better than you love yourself. Smart men know this.

I see this at my son's artsy, progressive school. Of 183 kids, maybe six have moms who are as cute as you're trying to be. They're attractive, sure. They're just not objects. Their husbands (wisely) chose them for their character, not their cup size.

Alright, so that's the bad news. The good news is that I believe every woman who wants to can find a great partner. You're just going to need to get rid of the idea that marriage will make you happy. It won't. Once the initial high wears off, you'll just be you, except with twice as much laundry.

Because ultimately, marriage is not about getting something -- it's about giving it. Strangely, men understand this more than we do. Probably because for them marriage involves sacrificing their most treasured possession -- a free-agent penis -- and for us, it's the culmination of a princess fantasy so universal, it built Disneyland.

The bottom line is that marriage is just a long-term opportunity to practice loving someone even when they don't deserve it. Because most of the time, your messy, farting, macaroni-and-cheese eating man will not be doing what you want him to. But as you give him love anyway -- because you have made up your mind to transform yourself into a person who is practicing being kind, deep, virtuous, truthful, giving, and most of all, accepting of your own dear self -- you will find that you will experience the very thing you wanted all along:

Love.

Letter To My Unborn Child

Tupac had a song titled "Letter To My Unborn Child." This song is definitely one of my favorite Pac songs - okay...I actually say this about most of his music. I was impressed that he was aware and accepted the fact that he may conceive a child that he would never meet. This is an uncomfortable reality that many people often deny.

As a child I struggled with knowing that I lived minutes away from my biological father and somehow managed not to have developed a relationship. For half my life I have attempted to convince myself that I could never meet my standards as a parent. During this time, I actually prayed that I would never be tested with the challenge of being a father. With hindsight being 20/20, I now better understand what fueled these thoughts. I believe it was what I needed to do in order to put myself in a position to be the father I always wanted.

So, here is my letter...I've been through a lot in life. During my life, I've learned that everyone goes through a lot. I've learned that falling and failing become less important than the reaction to falls and failures. I've learned giving may or may not be better than getting, but there is no doubt that it is more rewarding. I've learned karma does exist and many things will occur in life that having faith in a supreme being is the only way to keep sane. I've learned that crying isn't just for girls. I've learned that love is the best and worst emotion known to man. I've learned that loved ones will leave your life and people will change - some for the better. I've also learned that hating someone normally hurts you more than the person you exert the energy to hate.

All of the lessons that I've learned in life taught me that fearing life is the worst way to live. Experiencing as many emotions as possible often makes the better emotions so much more enjoyable. Knowing that learning from past experiences makes future hurdles much easier to handle is knowledge that is often learned later than desired.

This letter is no attempt to scare you, in fact its intention is the exact opposite. It is meant to encourage you. Hopefully this letter will help you to learn, understand, and interpret life lessons at an earlier age than I did. This letter should also let you know that you are capable of doing any and everything you truly desire, as long as you are willing to sacrifice.

The Truth Hurts

What do you do when you create a lie to hide the truth and sometimes that lie hurts more than the truth you're attempting to ignore? What are your options when you start believing your lie? Even worse, what happens when you no longer recognize that it was once a lie? Unfortunately, for more than half of my life I have only considered five of my relatives to be my family (at various times this number went to three). In a recent post, I Have Two Purebreds, but..., I admitted that all of my girlfriends worth mentioning have close knit families. I can now confess that I have always envied those that looked forward to family reunions, holidays, and family functions primarily because it was another chance to see family. In fact, I have often been accepted as family at these events by the families of close friends. Although true friendship is invaluable, there should be no bond stronger than that of family. Yeah, that shit sounds good...but that wasn't my reality.

As is often the case, a recent tragedy reminded me the importance of seizing opportunity. It also showed me that a united family can, at the very least, make difficult challenges possible to overcome. I'm currently no where near thinking I am part of a united family, but I can say my family has it's united groups. This isn't all bad. This shows me unlimited possibilities...all in due time. Will my family ever mimic the Cosby's or the Wayans'? Probably not, but I'm currently willing to accept any improvement from the current situation.

It took the death of a relative, sympathy for a loved one, and my discomfort with the aforementioned loved one traveling on the road for at least twelve hours in one day for me to see some relatives that I hadn't seen (or thought of) in a decade. Even after that, it took me seeing several people in pain and an unforeseeable breakthrough, which initially looked like a breakdown, for me to get to the point of wanting some change.

The truth hurts. These words have been said together many times. I chose the title of this post because I may have finally realized that I need a better sense of family to ever attain the level of success that I truly feel is in my destiny. If you know me, you know that hurts. Being a sociable loner isn't going to work forever.

Take Your Time & Hurry Up

I'm not sure exactly when this happened. I do know conversations are now different. Sometime conversations are really different. I grew up in a community that experienced many teen pregnancies. The good girls waited...you know...until they were 21 or 22. When I would discuss my social status, future family plans, and general life goals with people I often received a pleasantly surprised look on the face of others when I shared that I didn't have children. I recognized this shortly after graduating college. In fact, this scenario repeated itself hundreds of times. However, something has changed. That look, the pleasantly surprised one, is different now. That look has turned into some other look. A look I didn't immediately recognize. It is still a look that represents shock, but now I think it morphed to confusion and disbelief. That same look you've probably displayed when you see a 10 with a 5 (you all know what I'm typing about). The look prompting conversation I'm referring to occurs during the conversation asking if I have children. In the past, my "NO" response would be followed with "Oh, really? That's good. You should wait." It is now followed by "Ah, really? Hmm. Why? Well, you do want children, right?" This is when the look takes place.

When did it become weird to wait until one has settled into a manageable situation to have a child? Why is it not normal for newly weds to take some time getting to know each other as spouses before starting a family? Why do I now feel the need to explain why I don't have children? I have only seen four of the seven continents. I have only left the U.S. nine or ten times in my life. If I want any, I know I'm not ready now. I still need to check a few activities off of my "PreDaddy Days" list. If I don't want any, is that really that strange?

I Have Two Purebreds, but...

So, today I had a thirty minute conversation with a total stranger about our dogs. He had a female Red Nose Pit Bull. I was with my two dogs. Nearly an hour after the conversation with this stranger ended, I realized how much the both of us know about our pets. However, the conversation also showed me how little I know about my ancestry. I can tell anyone who wants to listen about at least four generations from my dogs pedigree. Unfortunately for me, I don't know nearly as much about my family tree. Family has always been a touchy subject for me. Those of you that follow my blog (or know me) may know the two - three strong relationships I have with relatives.
I recently realized that I often date women that have close knit families. Maybe I want my view of the perfect family so bad I am willing to get it from another person's family. Maybe I've given up on achieving that level of trust and comfort from my own family. Either way, it is very scary for me to accept. I wonder if my disinterest in researching my family tree stems from the poor relationships I have with the relatives I can see and touch now. Maybe I fear the possibility that I will find something that will cause me to further question who I am. So, what do I do now? Admitting an issue is the first step, right? Should I attempt to repair some of the sour relationships I currently have with family members? Should I start aggressively researching my family's past. I may keep you posted on some of these answers.

The Letter I Never Received

I didn't know if it would be addressed to me by my first or middle name. Actually, I had no memory of him ever saying my name. One thing that I did know was it would be received in December. Yeah, of course it would come in December...my birthday, Christmas, and I'm sure establishing a relationship was one of his New Year's resolutions. I hoped to find it before my mother. I didn't think she would be upset, but I thought it might be awkward. I wanted it to include a check...better yet, cash. I would be able to hide cash from my mom. I hated when she made me spend my money for my stuff (don't judge me). I wondered if he'd apologize for the lost time or just entice me by describing what was in store for our future. I also wondered if all of my questions would be answered in the letter. Actually, I wondered if I'd care about answers when the letter came.

Well, I'm over 30 now and the letter never came. I stopped expecting it a little more than a decade ago. Not receiving that letter from my father, amongst other painful memories, has helped to shape my personality. What I once viewed as a gift, I now recognize is a curse. Believe it or not, it took me hearing an underrated and under achieving rapper pointing out this character flaw in himself for me to see it clearly. There is a piece of me that feels everyone is disposable. When hurt bad enough, I'm able to erase history and act like we never met. Like water - I guess I follow the path of least resistance. Sometimes it hurts too much to confront some issues and/or people. As I mature, I'm less consumed by reasons and more interested in results. In the words of Kanye, "everything I'm not made me everything I am."

If It Looks & Walks Like A Duck...

This saying has always scared me. Pretty silly, right? Take a peek from my eyes. I grew up in the same neighborhood in which my father lived (most of the time). The people I idolized most, the hood drug dealers, often told me about the similarities between my father and me. Let me clear up the comment regarding who I idolized. Drug dealers, at least in the 80's, appeared to be respected (or feared, which equates to hood respect) by everyone through the eyes of a child. Think about it. Drug users respected, or acted as if they did, the suppliers of their poison. Law abiding citizens often feared drug dealers because of their apparent disregard for authority and human life in general. Young children and immature adults often idolized drug dealers because of the glamor, glitz, and chicks with tight clothes that almost always accompanied these characters. Now do you understand what I meant? Oh well, I get it. So, back to why the "Duck" saying always scared me. I often heard "You look just like your father", "That is the way your daddy walks", and unfortunately "Keep this up and you'll end up just like your father." It was easy to ignore the first fifty times I heard any of those comments. However, I reached a point that made me question whether these people were right. As the saying goes...If It Looks & Walks Like A Duck...

I spent much of my adolescent years planning how I could be everything my father wasn't. I decided at the age of 15 that I didn't want children. There was no way I wanted to chance having a child of mine feel what I was feeling. That quote stayed in my head though. How would you act if you thought, even if just for a moment, you would become one of the two people you hated? What if you actually thought it was inevitable? Well, I now better understand the role I play in my destiny. Whew!

We Never Trip Over Mountains...

We never trip over mountains, only pebbles. Think about this for a second. We never trip over mountains, only pebbles. This phrase has helped me concur so many obstacles and manage several failures. I once had an issue admitting my failures. With maturity I learned that growth requires one to take risks…calculated risks. Failure is sometime the result of these risks. The response one has to failure is what I think builds character and defines who a person really is. Not until I understood this did I realize how powerful the aforementioned phrase can be. If you’re lucky, this phrase will impact you.

I can honestly say that I have accomplished several goals in my life. Some of these goals were to satisfy other people, or at least I convinced myself that was the case. I have often used people’s doubt in my ability or negative comments regarding my goals as motivation. In fact, for me this made the reward so much sweeter.

I recently experienced a set-back. A substantial delay in me achieving more of my goals is the result of this set-back. Immediately placing a positive spin on how I should view this occurrence was extremely difficult. Then I remembered, “We never trip over mountains, only pebbles.” Remembering this phrase forced me to remember that some issues occur, albeit annoying, when pursuing great things. A special someone often reminds me that “To whom much is given, much is expected.” So, here I am. The situation has occurred and the only chapter not yet written is the next one. I have a choice on how to best approach this. I could choose to sit on a soap box…you know, talk about how nothing ever goes my way. I could also use this as the reason to give up on all of my dreams (at least temporarily). Or I could take a moment to evaluate the mistakes made or the circumstances that lead the set-back. I’ll choose that one. Stay tuned!

Am I My Brother's Keeper

Like most little brothers, I grew up idolizing my big Bro. I wanted to be as quick, cute, strong, and charismatic as he was. I wanted to attract females that were as pretty as his girlfriends. In fact, I began loving the Lakers only because he loved Magic and Kareem. Because I was his little brother, I could walk through my neighborhood knowing I would not be touched. This excluded his friends that believed the dumb ass notion that they could beat me up to make me tougher in the future. But for everyone else...hands off Baby Bro! Oh yeah, that dumb ass notion may have proven to be true.


The story sounds sweet so far, doesn't it? One would think its all good, right? Unfortunately for me, things changed pretty quickly at this point. Life as I knew it, for the entire ten years of my life, changed drastically. My brother left me. He moved three states away. I hated him for that. How could my mom allow this? Why didn't grandma stop this from happening? Why wasn't my opinion asked? It wasn't until many years later that I finally understood sometimes a young unprepared mother and an angry confused son is a recipe for disaster. I get it. I actually do understand. But still...that wasn't fair to me. I was at a funny age. A preteen in Jamaica Queens when crack was at its peak. Who would I learn the code of the streets from? Like many other black boys in my neighborhood, a big brother was the closest substitute for the commonly absent father. Damn, I started out with a father and big brother...what happened? Why did both of them leave me?


Fast forward to my High School years. I'm sure you've heard the saying "it will get worse before it gets better." No truer words were ever spoken (or written). Not only was my brother six hours away now, but then he decides to join the military. WTF! How could this happen? When I heard this news I immediately thought of Furious Styles telling Tre (Boyz In The Hood) that the "army ain't no place for a black man." As he was preparing to leave for the Gulf War, I was preparing for more senseless trouble here in New York. I now know I was simply angry, confused, and hurt. Tupac had become my idol. Negativity filled the void left by my brother. I started repeating F*&k the world at every opportunity, and I actually meant it. This is when I needed a big brother the most. Mischief and meaningless trouble began consuming much of my time.


Fast forward to his return. Yes, he's back. Several years later, but he's back. This is great, isn't it? Well, lets see. I've already had my first few fights. I've already "touched" my first girl. Damn, I even already experienced escaping the long arm of the law. I don't know what I need my big brother for now. He hasn't been around enough to teach me how to get over on mom and the other stuff I learned by trial and error. In fact, I found myself telling him how to keep mom off of his back. As he attempted to acclimate to the real world again and began his job search, I was in a position to offer some financial assistance. Having been forced to mature quickly, I understood then how difficult it must have been to accept anything from a little brother and more important, his one time biggest fan.


Fast forward to recent years. To avoid tears, not yours but mine, I'll keep this section's summary brief. My brother made me an uncle by having three children. My relationship with his children has brought us closer and been the root of some tough battles. I've often felt that my brother and I each felt, at different times, we were our brother's keeper. During this one sided post, I didn't mention the time I got jumped by some dudes and my brother arrived prepared to make sure they never ever jumped anyone again. I also neglected to mention his willingness to take a charge for me in an attempt to keep me out of "the system". Oh yeah, I also forgot to mention the time his gift of gab allowed me to spend some quality time with a woman I'd otherwise have no shot with.


In the past I felt the pressure involved with being my brother's keeper. I now realize why I have been. However, what I didn't realize is that in a weird way he can also say he has been my keeper. Maybe not directly, but there is very little doubt that our relationship has helped shape my personality. It is said that different people play different roles in the life of others. As the years pass so do the clouds that once blurred my vision of my past. I have yet to fully understand why our relationship has involved so many bumps and bruises (literally), but I have realized that they were necessary. I may regret admitting this to the world, but...I love you Big Bro.

A Gift & A Curse

Many people are fortunate enough to have great relationships with both sets of grandparents. Others aren't as fortunate. Some people are lucky enough to be spoiled by their grandparents. Others aren't as lucky. Few of us, yes I am including myself, are blessed to be the favorite grandchild. Maybe it is their unique ability to have us believe their world revolves around us. Maybe they make us feel so special that we create a reality that convinces us that we are their world. Whatever it is, I felt that I was the reason my grandmother opened her eyes every morning. It was great having someone that I could always count on to have my back. You know, the one voice my mother had to listen to. Yep, even when I was dead wrong. The only problem with truly believing you are the reason another person wakes up is one day at least one of you doesn't wake up. Then what? If you're anything like me and over analyze things, there are many questions left unanswered by this tragic happenstance.

On many occasions I have felt as if life threw plenty of shit in my direction. I often felt that not only did I have a bad hand, but maybe an entire deck without spades. Something was wrong. How could I always get the short end of the stick (whatever that really means)? Many years later, I view things differently. After maturing. After recognizing the benefits of being forced to handle adversity. After I no longer accepted my own excuses. After I began to get it. Who knew she had a bigger plan for me? Who knew the long road trips in which we talked about nothing until I fell asleep served a purpose? Who knew she expected me to accomplish things that she couldn't fathom? My grandma, that's who. Before my grandmother was chosen to reunite with her late husband, she helped set the path for me to be the man I've since become. I feel there are still several accomplishments not yet reached, but they will be in due time.

How much of me is her? Did I attend college an hour from her Maryland home because I had once lived there with her? Did I learn to navigate from New York to Maryland in my sleep (sometimes literally) because I had accompanied her so frequently on that same journey. Did I start buying property mainly because I always felt if she was able to do it with all of the barriers that were present, I had no legitimate excuses not to do the same. Over a decade has passed since I lost my grandmother and I am still learning about our relationship. One thing I learned quickly after she passed is that I really miss her. Maybe I'm nuts, but I honestly believe she misses me as much.

So, being the favorite has plenty of perks. I had my favorite meal prepared anytime I wanted. Unless Murder She Wrote , 60 Minutes, or Matlock were on, I was able to control the remote (okay...we didn't have a remote but you get the picture). Being the favorite also comes with plenty of pressure. I often felt the need to meet her expectations. Even when Alzheimer's entered the picture and she may not have remembered the expectations she set for me. In some ways the pressure has progressively increased because she is no longer physically with me. I recognize my growth and maturity. Because of this, I feel the bar to please her is that much higher. Maybe this is all my weird way of looking at things. Maybe I need excuses to pursue goals. Maybe I am just a bit confused because love often clouds our vision.

Whether you're the favorite or not, cherish time spent with those you love. The one thing you lose and can never find is time. Although I have no regrets regarding the time spent with my grandmother, I do regret not having more of it. In my opinion, the worst thing about being the favorite is I often think I hurt the most.

She Dumped Me

Okay, so I am about to show my vulnerable side. As the title suggests, I am writing about being dumped. Nobody enjoys being dumped. Being dumped hurts and often forces one to ask themselves several questions that can not immediately be answered. Well, I am currently asking many questions that I haven't been able to answer. Unfortunately for me, she dumped me. Why? Was it something I did? Did I say the wrong thing? Was I too hard on her? Are we growing apart? Will there be an even stronger bond when we get through this? I DON'T KNOW. I NEED ANSWERS.

Our relationship started off on the rocky side. It may be an understatement to say I didn't think I had a chance to get on her good side. Many years ago her mood would change for the worse as soon as I would get close. In fact, one time I got too close and she scratched my face. She actually scarred me. The scar lasted about three years. That was approximately ten years ago. The funny thing is shortly after that our relationship started to drastically improve. We began seeing each other more often. I was no longer away at college and had the time to foster a quality relationship. I began to take her out more often. We quickly reached a point we both looked forward to our time together. Me and my beautiful niece. It was great, she reminded me of me. She possessed so many of my habits and characteristics. I actually started to develop some of her habits. My closest friends know my niece taught me how to roll my eyes (don't judge me). Many thought we were a perfect pair. I called her my Princess. And yes, she often acted like one. The two of us were close to inseparable.

Fast forward to preteen years. This is the beginning of the sassy period. The start of body development. The confusing years that include changes...yeah, those changes. Some how things went from me getting two calls a day to not having my calls returned. Why did things change? Was it my increased role regarding the importance of school? Is it because I started discussing different career paths with a twelve year old that clearly couldn't care less? Is it because her favorite uncle became her most strict disciplinarian? Maybe, just maybe it is a necessary stage she has to go through. I went through a rough patch with my older niece when she was close to that age. That rough patch lasted approximately three years. Will I have to wait that long this time around?

Trust me...I'm trying to show patience. This ish hurts! My Princess acts like she doesn't want anything to do with me. Unfortunately for me, she doesn't view my wallet as an extension of me. I call her Princess and she calls me Uncle can I have. Being the bigger person here should be easy, right? She is the preteen drama queen, right? So why am I the one losing sleep? Why am I getting glossy eyed thinking about my Princess. Damn, getting dumped hurts. It hurts even when you know, or at least pray, it is only a temporary break.

Mama's Boy - Good thing or bad?

I'm going to act as if I didn't disappear for several months (I need you to play along). Let's just say if I did actually disappear (which I'm not admitting to doing) it was necessary for me to move forward. Now that I've gotten that out of the way...

Understanding that most of my readers are female, I have a few questions to ask. Is dating a "Mama's Boy" good or bad? Does it matter to you? Do you feel the relationship a man has with his mom is indicative of how he'll treat you? Am I reading too much into this? As you may already know, most of my close friends are female. Because of this, I have already heard several responses to these questions.

I am extremely close to my mother. In the past I have been called a Mama's Boy. I never viewed this as an insult. Should I have?

All I Need Is 1 Mic - Find your mic

How many people can say they truly enjoy their work? Are you one of them? I recently changed careers (once again). Fortunately for me, I was taught the value in enjoying what I do. The need to make money still exist, but the importance of feeling fulfilled is as important for me. I have been able to consistently work in areas that I chose. These jobs were chosen because at different times, my passion led me to different places. Having been raised by my mother (those of you who know her just laughed), I'm not shocked that I haven't foolishly feared changing careers. I say foolishly only because some fear is expected.

The new job requires me to do much more than I initially expected. The new job has already required me to work some weekends. The new job has consistently caused me to go to work early and stay late (often on the same day). I am currently doing so much more than I expected to do when I accepted the job. Guess what? I have enjoyed every moment spent working on the new job. I am not shocked. Not at all. That is who I am. If I didn't enjoy the new job, this posting would probably be about me leaving a job I expected to be great. In a short period of time (less than 3-months) the impact I've made is clear. This isn't my opinion. This is what people have shared with me. I get excited knowing that this is only the beginning. I have so much more to offer and learn as I better understand the job. I truly hope all of you can feel what I've been fortunate to have felt several times.

If you aren't doing something you love, be careful. It has been proven...we can't get time back. Avoid being in a position where you have to ask yourself why didn't I value me or my time enough?

Break The Cycle - R.I.P. M. J.

I understand that for some this is a touchy subject. However, I also understand that there is a valuable lesson to be learned from this story. All of you that are interested have already searched the Internet and watched at least one of the many televised specials searching for answers. This posting has very little to do with M.J.s impact in music throughout the past four decades or the opportunities his success has led to in the entertainment industry. It has nothing to do with the questionable health of the King of Pop. This has everything to do with the poor decision making by the most popular entertainer in history. Michael Jackson has sold approximately 750 million records worldwide. He has 13 Grammy Awards and 13 number one singles (only counting his solo career).

With all of the money earned over the historic career, how could Michael Jackson be in debt? Remarkably, the answer is simple. The King of Pop died in debt due to poor decision making. The reason for the poor decision making may never be known, but the fact remains the cause of the enormous debt is poor decision making. As I stated, there is a valuable lesson to be learned from this story. It isn't necessary that one be a millionaire to learn from this tragic story. The principles behind financial management are the same for one earning $40,000 or $4,000,000.

With frivolous (a.k.a. STUPID) spending being pushed primarily through the "new hip-hop" culture, should we expect more financially appalling stories? Why are so many people foolish enough to follow the blueprint for financial ruin? The formula is simple; if you earn $50 but spend $100 you will end up in debt. Are that many people incapable of living within their means? Is it because of societal pressures or personal ignorance? There are many lessons in this sad saga, among the most crucial is the often ignored obligation to becoming financially educated.

Tell Her Today

Well, she is a woman. She may not say it, but she loves to hear those words. It doesn't matter if you're her son or daughter. Your mother and mine love to hear "I Love You." For them, it serves as a thank you. Thank you for all of the sacrifices made. It may remind them that they're sacrifices were worth it all. Although Mother's Day has passed, there are still numerous reasons to show appreciation for all she has done.

So often life proves to be an interesting cycle. If you're lucky, life starts with many people expressing their love for you. As one gets older, the unfortunate reality is realized...many of us hear those three words less often. However, most would agree the one person who remains consistent is MOM. Big Bro. and Little Sis. still love you (probably as much) but for various inexplicable reasons they say it much less. Then we (generally speaking) have children and accept that it is all about them. They need to know that they are loved. They need to be told how special they are. They are arguably the reason we hear "I Love You" much less. Very few of us would choose feeding our ego over properly developing a child's self-esteem and self-worth. Throughout this process (only if you're lucky), MOM has never stopped telling you "I Love You." If you are really lucky, she even calls you that embarrassing alias before expressing her feelings of affection.

Now that you recognize how good those words help you feel...go ahead...call Mom.

HYPHEN

Have you ever been surprised by how you looked in a photo
Were you ever shocked by your voice on a message
Do you ever question who you are
One of the hardest questions I’ve ever been asked was
“What will my dash represent?”
Yeah, that dash between the year you’re born & the year you die
Wow, kind of tough to answer (right?)
Well, pictures always surprise me & my voice always shocks me
I guess I am still learning who I am
I’ve been told I’m cute; but I’ve also been rejected
I’ve been told I’m funny; but not everyone laughs with me
Many have said I’m smart; but I’ve never averaged a 4.0
Can I be a role model if I too seek one
Can my dash represent unanswered questions?
Organized confusion? Utter chaos?
Damn, maybe it represents –

Okay, so now you know how I came up with the name My Hyphen (for the Blog & poem). I hope you enjoyed my poem. Please share your thoughts/comments with me. I'll share more with you in the future.

Sweet Potato Pie

Sorry for the delay, but I have had a rough couple of weeks (like most of America). Now I am back with a great post from www.people-places-things.blogspot.com
This will prove to be the wording for some of those feelings many of you had during your college days. For others, this can help you add to the list of reasons to dislike a sibling (not really, but do you ever need help adding to that list?). Oh well, I hope you enjoy.

I had to get a story off my chest that I’ve been thinking about a whole lot lately. And it has nothing to do with "style" in the traditional sense. But, I’ve been wanting to share this conversation I had with my mother some years ago for a minute and that desire has increased since Barack Obama became President. And then last night when I learned of the allegations against singer Chris Brown involving songstress Rihanna, I knew I had to post it. It might take me a minute to get to the point of this but stay with me please, there is a definite jewel at the end of this (kinda long) story.

About seven years ago, a friend and I were discussing being away at college in my kitchen while my mother cooked. I joked that although my mother sent food to my brother while he was away at college, I never remember her doing the same for me. It was one of those moments when I was joking, but not really joking. I proceeded to share with my friend all about how my mother would bake sweet potato pies from scratch, freeze them and overnight them to Virginia from New York and how my brother and his buddies in his dorm would inhale them in less than 48 hours of receipt.

Now while circumstances were indeed different when I went away to college (I didn’t live in a traditional dorm and had access to a full kitchen so I could always cook when I didn’t want the café food, I wasn’t as far away as my bro was, etc.) I still felt some kinda way about not getting those pies overnighted to me like my big bro did. My mother being the type of mother she is could sense this and politely said to me, "One day when you have a son of your own you’ll understand."

I didn’t get what she meant by that until a few years later. But when I did finally get it, it was like someone dropped a piano on my foot. The world, yes even with Barack Obama being President, has a way of putting Black men through the wringer. Really, through the ringer. And no I’m not claiming that all Black men are created equal because in my opinion, they are not. For every Barack Obama there is a shiftless, non-child support paying dude who thinks the world owes him something. Please understand that I realize this. But there are also a lot of Black men who have unfortunately never been told their worth. Never been introduced to the likes of Thurgood Marshall or Vivien Thomas or even Floyd Flake. And so when you’re only shown negative images of yourself, constantly at that, you typically start to believe them. See, now I understand how homemade sweet potato pies help to balance that a whole lot. They let you know that someone is rooting for you. That someone has your back unconditionally and is supporting you and your dreams and aspirations. As a woman, I am now usually able to tell when a man has had someone bake sweet potato pies for them at some point in their lives. It isn’t always their mother either. It might be a grandmother (I think that was the case for Barack), it might be an aunt or grandmother, it might even be a teacher.

There is an old adage that goes something like "Black women raise their daughters and love their sons." On the surface, some might think that is what I’m reinforcing in this blog post. But it so isn’t. On the contrary, I hope that folks see I’m saying it is even more important that we encourage Black men to get and keep their ish together. Sweet potato pies, to me, can actually help to do that. These pies can be in the form of genuine encouragement, a hug or a smile. I’ve had situations occur with my brother, male amigos and Mr. TK of walking into a "posh" hoity toity boutique to know that they experience ish I don’t even think twice about, even as a Black woman. (By the way, for every time that my mom baked a sweet potato pie for my bro, my father was going in on my brother and riding him about something. Trust. But that’s a whole ‘notha post for another day…)

My mother has actually been sharing her wisdom on life with me over food for a while now, perhaps that is a southern thing. Mom, thanks for the love and the lessons, as always. Now, can you teach me how to bake a sweet potato pie?

Verbal Medication

“I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.” Michael Jordan
If the second best NBA player since the 80's (behind only Magic) has a concept of necessary failures, why shouldn't you.
It is much easier to offer this advice than it is to put into practice. I have recently grasped the concept of necessary failure and now better understand how to use this to achieve success. During the last two years I have matured in leaps and bounds. I have grown much more than the calendar reveals. Life's lessons are often more significant than any other type. I've been told "Nobody trips over mountains. It is the small pebble that causes you to stumble. Pass all the pebbles in your path and you will find you have crossed the mountain." This quote may provoke different reactions for each of us. Whatever your reaction, keep it in mind. The next time you contemplate quiting, go back to that reaction...remember what you vowed to do next time...now DO IT.