lunch (down the line)

i stayed up until about 2am last night doing grad school work that i should have done last week during my winter break. one may ask, do i wish i could go back in time and make last week more productive? allow me to tell that asshole, bluntly, no. we, as a species, have to move away from the mindset that doing nothing is such a bad thing. lions are king of the jungle, and what do they do? what spreadsheets do they create? what clothes do they wash? none. they just eat antelope, have kids, and sleep. circle of life. and as always, i digress. the fact of the matter is that i am determined to make "productive time" productive time, and "chill time" chill time.

my priorities for this year are "God, Responsibilties, Desires". seems simple huh. it's not. what i like about this system is that specific events fall under various cateogories. case-point: there was a gospel concert i wanted to go to last sunday, but i had grad school work to do. therefore, i had to acknowledge that the concert was not God, but Desire, and that my work took priority as Responsibilty. but that's just me. i think i just digressed again. damn.

you see, it's hard for me to concentrate right now, for at this very moment, i am in class. the teacher is talking, a few people are taking notes, and i think someone may even be participating. who knows. i'm within the large majority of this tech class that is blogging, facebooking, myspacing, banking, imdbing, and booking flights to hawaii (the distinguished lady sitting to my left - shout out). and although 97% of us are not paying attention, we all have managed to have our books on the right page. i don't even know if she knows none of us are paying attention. i don't think she cares. i don't think i do either.

in staying up until 2am though, to complete all the God-forsaken work (one reason why Responsibilty is number 2), i woke up tired - dead to the world. and although i felt like crap, the day went pretty smooth. i had a big breakfast on my 2nd period prep period, which afforded me the opportunity to work through. then, hungry, i come to class - late - and find out that we're having pizza right after the session. it was great. what was even better was the conversation that took place on the way to our second night class. during this convo with several classmates and myself, i was informed that EVERYBODY in the class was sucking. not turning in work, half-doing assignments, not coming to class. it was awesome! i mean, i thought it was just me!!
hell, i'm actually doing better than a good number of the class.

and so, i was brought to a recent conversation from wes, corey, and franklin. for a long time i was anxious to get to grad school. i always figured it was such an adult place. one of scholarly effort. one of great minds. one of superb lectures and intriguing dialogue. and the truth is, that it is that. but as my cuzns pointed out - it's not a big deal. nothing is. every action that we think of in our future is forseen in glimpes, glimpes that exemplify the very essence of the moment. the very epitome of the emotion of that given time. and really, for all intents and purposes, once you get to the future, it's then the present. and then you very likely feel the way you do right now. lauren hill and donnie hathaway put it best. passed the initial hype, "everything is everything" - and always will be.

class is letting out now. i might go grab a meal.

brunch (mini break)

i don't really know what this mac mini means for 4blades yet, but it means something. i just got it and already i'm typing better becasue my last keyboard was messed up. and this iLife proogram seems to want me to play around with it. i dunno, things are different. things have now expanded. maybe i was exaggerating before, with me saying that i was excited to no end, but still, i'm excited none the less. i just had the entire week off from work, and i have to admit that it wasn't really an interesting one. last week, when they asked what i was going to do for my break, i told them "nothing". and now that i really haven't done anything, i can't really say that i'm embarassed or disappointed. i mean, i really left the house a total of 5 times in the last seven days. 3 of those times were the weekend, and probably against my will. people need breaks like that. to hell with a whole lot of traveling ALL the time. sometimes, you just ought to rest and relax. and where there is alot more i would like to write, i have to go take a shower, i have work in the morning.

breakfast (scrambled)

i feel that i can do something else with fourbladesofgrass. i feel the need to. i'm moved to take it to another level. but where. i'm intrigued by my own aimless motivation. but i'm perplexed as to the "why". i'm not bored with 4blades; however, i feel the strong desire to change it. maybe not even the blog itself. hmm. thats a thought. maybe audio, or video. as of right now, i feel like an egg that has just been dropped in a cooking pan, not knowing whether or not i'm about to be fried, scrambled, sunny-sided, or omeletted. but i am going to be cooked. and that excites me. excites me to no end.

two can fit

maaaan, it's cold up here. this is me, in my coat. i thought i got duped into buying this coat for WAY too much - but when i walked into my classroom and all my "cool" kids came running up to me like, "woah", i can only assume it was the right purchase. other teachers even told me it was the right choice.

personally, i wanted to sell it on craigslist.com.

but so many people told me to keep it. i said, "no, it's too damn big!" they said, "it's supposed to be big, you're georgia ass has just never has a big coat before."

but still, look at it! it is too big. don't get me wrong though, it keeps me warm. hell, i'm almost hot when i walk out in the freezing cold. the other day i stood outside to talk on the phone - no one else was there. people were looking at me like i was crazy. but screw them, as much as i paid for this parachute - i should be living ouside. i hope it freezes three times over. damn wind chill. i miss atlanta.

sex and self

there is alot i want to say about two things right now, but i don't really know how to adequately express it. so, usually when i don't really know how i'm going to write about a topic, i just free-write, with no restrictions, and it just comes on out. but that usually results in a long ramble that comes together all in the end. for this though, i'm going to try to "nutshell" it. if i fail, forgive me.

sex and self

sex complicates shit. everyone has heard it. so many have experienced it. so few realize it as truth. sex makes things complicated. it creates expectation. it encourages obligation. it gives one grounds enough to assume certain aspects in a relationship that may, or may not, be there in reality - or just may not be shared by both parties. it is a significant act that means different things to different people, and thus carries mixed messages of significance. i bring this up now because of some recent conversations with colleagues and friends. and during those conversations, i realized that some of my most impactful relationships with women have come to an end, or have met some type of serious conflict soley because of the sexual aspects of the relationship. my little sister, about an hour ago, told me i should wait until marriage. and although i'm not a huge fan of admitting sound advice from one so young, she may have the right idea this time.

self complicates shit. or at least the image of ones self. on a grand scale, image is relative. and how one sees themselve is relative to what they have always known, and to what extent they know it. when that image is challenged, i have found (at least with myself) that there is a subconscious need to defend it. to prove it. in other words, i believe that people feel an internal charge to uphold who they believe themselves to be. i bring this up because someone, recently, told me that i was "serious", and couldn't really picture me ever being "silly". needless to say, i was taken aback. "what???? i'm mr. silly!" i retorted, just shy of retelling every silly thing i have ever done in my life. but, before i could, i realized something very dangerous about myself - i'm young and i'm growing. and what's dangerous about people my around my age having so much confidence in who they are is that we, as a generation, are still growing. when we get caught up in defending a constantly changing self-image, we lose focus. we get so sidetracked in identity that we forget the cause. on a grand scale, we can only defend our image as we understand to be at a given time, and even then, justify it only within the framework of our own experiences and collective consciousness.

and there you have it.

have a nice day.

the art of the holla

sunday, i saw a horny pigeon. the feathers around his neck were ruffled all the way up to his beak and he was continuously trying to jump on the smaller pigeon in front of him. he made noises that i can only describe as a grown man gargling mouthwash after accidentally tongue kissing his dog. vigourously, but patiently, he chased the smaller pigeon around on the sidewalk. it was like a puppy that was trying to carry something too big from one side of the room to the other, always dropping it, always picking it back up. after a number of attempts though, another pigeon passed him. this one didn't look much different from the last one, but he didn't seem to care. and with the most smooth transition i've ever seen a pigeon make, he simply took one step to the left and changed his goal. i don't even think he turned his head. it was as if he were on some invisible path. like it was planned. and like clockwork, he tried jump on top of the new pigeon, steady making that gargling noise under his ruffled feathers. after a number of fruitless attempts there though, he happened to come across a piece of bread. at that, his feathers went down, he took a step to the right and proceeded to have lunch.

yes, i stood there and watched it all.

a number of people passed me by in confusion. you just can't stand in the middle of a new york sidewalk, gawking at something on the ground. not in harlem. maybe in times square, or ground zero, or some other tourist spot. but not in front of old black women that are running late for church. i almost got shot by a deaconess. but needless to say, i found this whole episode interesting. i mean, i wasn't any different than the streets of human beings. this whole thing reminded me of some dude trying to holla a nice girl walking down the street as she ignores him. then, realizing he's not going to get anywhere with her, he tries to holla at the next one. then, realizing that she has her ipod turned all he way up, he says fuck it, and gets a slice of pizza. only to try it again after he finishes lunch.

it's the art of the holla.

i, personally, am not a fan of the "holla". my theory, as some already know well, is that it is like a impacting variable upon a given species, forcing them to adapt for their own survival. for example, lets say one introduces a particular pesticide to cockroaches, and the pesticide kills all the cockroaches in that population except for the one or two that survived. those two cockroaches then go and breed more cockroaches, only this new generation of cockroaches carries the gene that makes them immune to the old pesticide. its the same thing with the "holla". sure it may have worked in 1984. but the women that got duped by the "holla" off the street then ended up pregnant. now they tell their daughters, the new generation, not to fuck with those guys hollerin at them on the street because "they ain't shit". and needless to say, those guys hollerin on the street, are hollerin on the street - it ain't just one guy. so what momma is telling daughter proves true when one guy tries to holla at 128th st, two guys try to holla at 127th st, a woman tries to holla a 126th st, and a whole gang of fuckers try to holla on 125th and broadway. all these fuckin pigeons. and they'll do it to the cute girl walking not far behind as well.

so no, i'm not a fan of the "holla" because women, especially good looking women, are immune to the "holla". it's simply nature, a defense mechanism. the same reason why porcupines have needles, chameleons can camouflage, giraffes have long necks, warbler finches have narrow beaks, and bats have sonar is the same reason why good-looking women are immune to bullshit. it's adaptation. it's survival. it gets to the point where a woman rejects, not necessarily the dude, but she rejects the "holla". she has to. the dude may be a nice dude and is really genuinely interested. but what other choice does the woman have but to label him as another cat on the street tryin to holla, the same one momma told her not to pay attention to.

this does not really pertain to ugly women though, just for the record. if a guy hollas at you on the street, see what he's talking about, give him a chance. not meant to offend, only to advise.

so to recap, guys, don't be horny pigeons. true, the "holla" may work sometimes, but in my opinion, if there is no mutual flirtation, no hint of a chance, no eye contact, no smile, no touch, and no way in hell, don't push it. i think, that if a woman sees you, she let you know that she sees you. until that point, just keep the feathers down.

i ponder

why do we charge canada more for our magazines?

in the butt

i was too eager to order when it happened the first time. sitting there for 15 minutes staring at the menu without any type of sign that service was coming soon. i was starving. i was there with two friends, both of whom were also starving. so it was a precious relief when we saw him coming around he corner looking at us. we all even flashed a smile.

he flashed one back.

then he did what i saw as kinda strange. as he went around taking the orders, he placed his hand on my shoulder, asking me what i wanted. not only was this peculiar etiquette for a waiter, but it seemed little deliberate considering where i was positioned at the table. it took a some effort to come over to where i was in order for him to place his hand on me. but all this is hindsight, i was too hungry to care at that point.

when he did it a second time, i noticed he didn't do it to either of my friends, both of whom were female. no, only me. he came over to ask if everything was alright, and he touched my shoulder again. one of my friends noticed it as well, noting that he server definitely had a sweet aura about him. and so, now having eaten, therefore able to think clearly, i looked over to where our server was standing with another, glancing at our table. glancing at me.

"they think i'm gay," i thought to my dismay. disappointed at the thought that someone just mistook me for a gay guy, i finished the rest of the meal and asked the busboy for the check. my friends consoled me by telling me that it was a compliment of sorts. that he probably didn't think of me as gay, but rather just handsome and wanted to make the subtle gesture.

but there was no convincing me. i was smaller than him by a longrun. he was a big ol' cock diesel joker - very able to toss me around his water bed in the deck of his boathouse or some shit. he would have wanted me to be the taker, and that was just a very disturbing idea. or, on the same token, his sexual persona may be contradictory to his physical appearance. maybe he wanted to be tossed around, and me be the giver, a thought that is equally disturbing.

i cringed all the way through "brokeback mountain".

but i'm not here to argue justification or "right and wrong". i'm simply stating my opinion. and as it stand, as i have stated so many times, homosexuality does not disturb me. if a dude likes the penis, so be it. as my brother so politely puts it, "if one dude is gay, that means another chick is single." what does disturb me though, is the tendency to act female. being gay is one thing, but being a woman, when in fact, you are a man. does taking it in the butt really trigger a gene that creates one to have woman-like tendencies by cultural standards. is it a matter of satisfaction? is it not enough to have the personal consciousness of one's sexuality that one must go and parade it by acting as though they have a vagina? in most cases, acting more female than most females, creating an exaggeration that's almost embarrassing to the opposite gender. are "homosexual men that act like women" caricatures of females, presenting an image of the american woman that modern day women are initially trying to change? could it be argued that these "men" subconsciously work against the womanist agenda, unknowingly fight against the feminist cause, and ignorantly destroy progress made by activism simply by portraying an image of what they believe a woman to be, demeaning Her to a pile of certain actions, reactions, words, and behaviors. is that all a woman is?

again, these are only my opinions and concerns. and where many may not agree with them, everyone has that right. as a young man, my thoughts are likely to change over time. hell, in years to come, may find myself to be wrong. it wouldn't be the first time. nonetheless though, waiters should not be touching the shoulders of their customers, or anywhere at all for that matter. this i stand by whole-heartedly.

everything else is up for discussion.

have a nice day.

subs sit down

back in 1994-95, i was in the integral period of life one would call the sixth grade. 6th grade was the place where you realized that no matter how far you reached the top, you were always relatively below someone else. at least that's where i figured it out. hell, as a fifth grader, everything was on lock. elementary school held no bars and we, as a class, ran the school. the tots were afraid of us, the teachers gave us more responisiblity, and parents started to ignore us now that our innocent chubby cheeks were fading away. yep, 5th grade was magical. 6th grade was an epiphany.

i remember the first few moments of walking into Ralph J. Bunche Middle School (shoutout) and thinking "Wow, all these colors! This must be a great school! So much fun and excitement must go on here for it to be vivid and colorful!" And it was - vivid and colorful. Random walls were painted bright blue against adjacnet, bland walls of off-white. Huge columns, or pillars rather, that ran veritcally through the school, were painted bright pink or orange. And beautiful paintings done by students (decades ago) shined with grace upon the entrance. Many middle schools paint such a picture for entering 6th graders. No need to worry though, the "other students" paint reality real quick.

my first true memory of Bunche Middle School was our first pep rally held on the first week. At that time, I didn't even know what a pep rally was, and wouldn't really know for another two years. All I knew was that the sixth grade was ushered through the side entrance, supposedly as everyone else was, and taken into the gym, where there was this huge roaring sound. The roaring was that of 7th and 8th graders, chanting over and over "SUBS SIT DOWN! SUBS SIT DOWN!" there were crammed into the gym bleachers yelling down to where we were on the gym floor. i thought, what the hell is a "sub?" then, as a teacher grabbed my shoulder, it became apparent that I, I was a "sub", and they were telling me, and the others like me, to sit down, on the gym floor, like the beggars in the middle school society which we were - and now realized.

i bring this up because, just as i was ushered into 6th grade then, i was ushered back today. two of my fellow co-workers and myself took our classes on a field trip to the Museum of Natural History on 81st St. we took the subway. that was an experience all in itself. but not to digress, there were several points were i felt i was in 6th grade all over again. especially when we were sitting in the lunch room and all the students were daring me to kiss my co-worker. their theory is that i'm dating one of three (or five - depending on who you ask) women in the school. some thing i'm dating them simultaneously, in whcih case they (the guys) try to congratulate me. so whenever they can, with their little imaginations, they try to coax me into doing some 6th grade act of love in order to show my "steaming affections that i can no longer deny." today they begged me to give my co-worker flowers for Valentine Day. nevermind the fact that i had no flowers to give. no, they wanted me to pull them out my back pocket because, as 6th graders, they know that that's where i keep my flowers for some strange reason.

6th grade logic is disturbingly flawed.

yet, 6th grade logic is also clever. you see, with the realization that each new life cycle starts at the bottom (in school, at work, in relationships, in american idol, etc.), 6th graders tend to form cliques - a general acceptance within a group of individuals in the same situation. and from these cliques form a trust that enable those in it to never really feel the full blow of "bottom feeding" with each new life cycle. they don't have to go through anything alone. they don't have to be looked on by a crowd and experience "subs sit down." no, they subconsciously form their own crowd - an "in-crowd".

the funny thing is that i was never in a 6th grade in-crowd. i had a friend or two that i would crack perverted jokes with and talk about Power Rangers among, but no in-crowd. i had my family and church, and didn't really have the freedom the other kids had. they took the bus, i was picked up by Papa. they stayed after for after-school stuff, i was helping Love and Frank with their homework. they had relationships; i had a girlfriend that only wanted me for my lunchbag. it was a cool middle school experience, but it wasn't anything near what i'm experinceing now. you see, now, the in-crowd sixth graders tend to want to hang around me, invite me to their lunch table, cut class in my room, and come to me for woman advice (guys) or gossip (girls). and as much as i try to be objective to all of my students, it's hard to turn this kid away or tell that kid "we'll talk later" for the sake of not looking bias in the eyes of the little "reggie"'s out there. or, to put it a better way, i don't want the "non-cool" kids to think that i only cater to the "cool" kids and am therefore unapproachable. whats makes it so hard is that the cool kids are cool kids. and the not cool kids are, well, not. nevertheless, i find it interesting that i have become the teacher they, for the most part, see as "cool", where in 6th grade, i definately was not.

and though i find it interesting, i can't care. not about that. don't misunderstand me, i love them all. even the ones that i don't like that much. i'll give my life for any one of them. and can say that with confidence. i encounter 48 reasons to die every weekday and two saturdays out the month. but i can't care that they think i'm "cool". i'm not their homeboy or their pal. i'm their teacher. so no, you cannot cut class in my classroom. no, you cannot cuss around me. no, you cannnot dap me up. no, you cannot address me "whad up mr. wilborn". no, you cannot look to me for a handout. i give none. you're a cool kid, but fuck you're feelings, you're here to learn and i'm here to teach you.

and we may discuss the literary elements from a clean Jay-Z song while we're at it.

enjoy 6th grade boys and girls, next year you'll be smelling yourselves and experiencing what some call "puberty" and others call the "age of bipolar demonic custody".

deeply

"Theo wondered if those people who are destined to die young had some kind of premonition of the shortness of the hours and that gave their life an intensity, a seriousness like a shadow."
-Kate Atkinson Case Histories

i've wondered that too.