hard places

i got on blogger just now to write about a crackhead prostitute whom i saw earlier today. in a nutshell, this was the same one i wrote about in october, and i wanted to provide an update as to her newest lines and suggestions as to how my children will look. however, i don't wish to dwell into that anymore.

right now, i'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. and where my rocks and hard places may seem insignificant to some, they are nevertheless my rocks and hard places. for insignificance is relative in theory. in principle though, we all share the same conflicts.

sorry, i won't dwell into pseudo-deep rambles either. be patient with me, it's late.

my conflict right now is a seemingly simple one to solve. you see, i just looked at my checking account and saw that i'm doing alright for now. i'm not quite where i want to be, but i can live. however, my collegues at work, the guys, have invited me to Atlantic City for the weekend to celebrate two bachelor parties and a birthday. and where i am doing ok money wise, i definately won't be if i spend it on food, gambling, gas, hotel, and (hopefully not, but probably so) strippers.

and for those that know me well, note: i have sworn off strip CLUBS, not strippers. but that debate can be saved for another blog.

so there you have it. that is my conflict. on the surface, it is a simple finicial problem with a simple finicial solution: don't go. i know, i know. throw in the fact that i have graduate work to have completed by next week and church i'm planning to go to on sunday, i know. ALL signs point to HELL NO. and that's it. there are no Buts, However's, or Yet's. it's that simple. i shouldn't go. and i know it.

so if it's SO simple...why am i going??? why does rare opportunity always beat out sensibilty? why does taking the risk always beat playing it safe? why must one defy logic to satisfy their own thrill of surviving through the circumstance??! yes, i want to come out this weekend doing all that i wanted to do AND all that i needed to do...but i just don't see how that is humanly possible. short-term speaking, i will feel great not going at the last minute, knowing i can dedicate my time, money, and energy toward my priorities. long-term speaking, i will regret not being there for my new friends, especially when they return from the trip with their stories and strengthened bonds of manhood. long-long-term speaking, none of this will really even matter this time next year.

it's the little things that define us though. that which we are willing to risk for the sake of that which we might gain. in this case, i am risking two weeks of financial and educational security in hopes to gain life-long memories and friendships. and when i put it like that, my choice is clear. to my reader, what is your definition? what difficult choices have you made recently that helps define you as a person? and what significance lies in your decision? what's your rock? what's your hard place? and why is it so hard for you to move?

from sammie to rome

spring break 2006, day 2

sometimes it frustrates me that this server lists the most recent posts first, and the earlier ones later. it almost seems kinda backwards. i understand WHY they did it like that, but still, it would be nice to have the option to have it there or not.

on the previous post, i left off with me stranded outside of an empty restaurant in downtown boston. if you're not caught up on that, please take the time to read "grounded, but not" below...

...finished. good. welcome back to the story...

allow me to start from the cab ride. sammie, whose real name i've actually forgotten, drove up in his bright yellow cab with a puzzling look. and justly so. the rent-a-car lots were mostly deserted and dim. few cars were even passing the streets. and by all odds, i probably should have been abducted by homosexual russians before even beginning to look for a taxi. but alas, sammie was cool about the whole thing. pulling up with hesitation, he saw me in a suit and strapbag and figured i was alright. then i hopped in and asked him to take me to the nearest grocery store. he looked at me like a dumbass.

i supposed i was one though.

to make up for lost time, i just gave him the damn address and asked him to stop at an ATM on the way, knowing full and well that an ATM wouldn't accept my broke checkcard. this was quickly proven true 20 minutes later. so we tried CVS, which DID take my debit purchases and gave me $35 cashback. so i did it a couple of times to have enough money for the night, not quite knowing what to pop up. and by pop up, i mean having the taxi driver drop me off at the correct address only for no one to be there. hence, i'm standing on the corner of a deserted street with a strapbag, a bottle of water, some skittles, and orbitz chewing gum from debit card purchases just to get me to this point.

after a minute of standing there, roughly 12:03, i see black people coming around the corner. a young couple looking around like their lost. i observe them for a minute and exercise my deductive reasoning skills. black people + black people + boston = more black people. "hi, i'm reggie. would you all happen to be looking for a party around here?"

yeah they were.

they had a few more directions than i did too. turns out the party was around the back of the building, through the back entrance, down a winding stone staircase, and over a golden bridge gaurded by a green, two-headed, troll in which you had to solve 3 riddles. figuratively speaking. i found brother foley almost instantly, and he proceeded to not only walk me in, but also equip me with two free drink tickets! yea for alchoholism!!

i got tipsy and had a good time. you see, southerners can dance how they want to up north, and they'll just think that they've been doing it wrong. the georgian is ALWAYS right on the dance floor. "what??! how you gonna tell ME how to do the laffy-fuckin-taffy! i'm from atlanta! i know dem damn franchise boys!! look, lean wit it, THEN rock wit it, y'see??!"

so, we ended the night well. had a good time. had some drinks. closed down shop. took a few people home. almost had a orgy with some brazilian girls. experimented with some acid. tarred-and-feathered a couple of free slaves. dressed up like native americans and threw some tea off a boat. you know. we were in boston. when in rome, you do as the romans do.

that was day 2.
don't look for days 3-7.

grounded, but not

spring break 2006, day 1

so technically, this isn't my spring break. it's my students spring break. my grad school classes are actually still in session. i've decided that i'm just not gonna go. besides there is plenty of work for me to submit online. but that's neither here nor there. i decided to go to atlanta for a while to spend time with the lovely family.

i awoke to day one of my "spring break" to bright sun and a slight hangover from the night before. teachers can drink, and don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise. we had gone to a pub at about 3pm and started tossing em back until around 8, when i left to go to my roomates birthday party. so, slowly, i took the morning of day one with caution. i played around on the internet, wrote a blog, watched some tv, talked to mom on the phone a while, and cleaned my room a little. then, around 2:30, i set off for a 4oclock flight to atlanta leaving LGA airport.

late.

i get to the airport at 4:10 and the lady behind the counter tells me that the remaining flights are full (a note that i was well aware of). i tell her "it's ok" because i was planning to stay in the airport all night and hope for something to open up (good ol' standby seating). this smart lady though, i think her name was claudia, told me that i should go through boston and connect to atlanta because those flights look better. "oh, ok".

fast forward 4 hours later. it's 8 oclock, everything in LGA airport has been grounded since 5pm. there are no more flights going out of boston to atlanta and the flights from new york to boston are all delayed until 9:30. at this point i'm hungry, tired, and somewhat horny. i dunno, i think it's something about airports. the only person i know in boston is foley. hm, how to describe foley? i dunno. let's call him my brother foley. so i call him up to let him know i may be in his town for a night, and he tells me that he's throwing a party in cambridge.

so now i'm on a guestlist.

fast forward 2 hours later. it's about 11pm and i'm walking around boston airport (which is a really nice airport). i can't get my checked back because the airport has to hold it for the next atlanta flight, which is at 5:45am. then i realize i don't have any cash. then i remember that i don't have any cash because i don't have any money - at this point, i'm not to get my direct deposit until day 2 of my spring break. so i go outside and don't see any taxi's. and foley's not picking up his phone. but he did leave a text message of the address of the party. so all i have to figure out now is how to get there.

so i hop on a shuttle bus for a rent-a-car company. take the shuttle bus about a mile away from the airport to Heritage Car Rental. Finicially, the only think i can do is make credit card purchases and hope that it's caught by morning. The car rental comes to about 60 bucks, so fuck that, i start walking. lucky for me though, taxi's, for some strange reason are flying around the rent-a-car spots. so i hop one and ask him to take me to the address on the phone, with a quick stop at CVS.

CVS lets you take out up to $35 cashback from debit card purchases.

30 min and $40 bucks later i get to the address in cambridge, mass. and as i step out the taxi, i swear it's the wrong place. the entire block was deserted and the restaurant inside the supposed address was empty. like chairs up - lights off empty. but at this point, it's midnight. so technically, the rest falls under "spring break 2006, day 2".

have a nice day.

bare walls

i have a quote on my wall, "get situated, then act". it's actually in a thought bubble coming from a head that i drew on my whiteboard. and though it wasn't meant to stay there as long as it has, it has lived on due to the fact that people say it when they enter the room. granted, when most people walk into a bedroom they look around to see what you're about, and yes, i guess many take the time to recite random quotes that are drawn on boards and walls. but this quote just seems to stick. it's so applicable. it's so appropriate to my dire need for procrastination and procrastiduction.

note: procrastiduction (verb) - the process by which one is productive on a task soley by way of procrastinating to do another, most times more important, task. example: my mom is procrastiducting when she is suppposed to be leaving for church, but is rather mopping the kitchen 10 minutes before service starts.

anyway, all of this is relevant now because i'm supposed to be packing, getting my flight ticket, cleaning my room, eating breakfast and/or, getting dressed. but i'm not. i'm blogging. about bedrooms and what they say about personality. a concept that i didn't see as anything of importance until people started coming into my room and only saying that quote. because as i wondered why people kept saying it, i realized that i don't have anything else up. my room is relatively bland, i haven't invested in any posters, plants, artwork, maps, pictures, frames, or anything of the sort. i have up a few boards to help me remember crap, a picture or two of family, and one drawing of a guitar player. and a calendar. i can do better.

cousin wes has an excellent room. i can be in there for hours just reading newspapers articles he felt important enough to put on his wall. or a huge map with pin buttons on them, trying to figure out what they hell he's mapping. or my sister love's junky ass room. it's filled with goodies to explore. school papers to read, artowrk she's done herself, pictures on pictures on pictures end. even brother frank has cool stuff in his room. it's a little harder to describe his though. although i must say i'm still quite fond of a aluminum farmer chicken he managed to keep from 3 christmas' ago.

what am i about? what does my room say about me, other than i'm broke? i'll work on that after i come back form atlanta.

if i ever get there.

bridge over troubled waters

i'm facing the same problem now that i was two years ago. first i get a blog. fill it with personal thoughts and ideas. then people start going to it regularly. then things are all good. THEN some stuff in my life happens. then i can't really share it on the internet as i shared so much before. then i am left with little to write because i can't write what i feel. then i suffer from writers block. then i don't write. then i loathe the fact that i was ever so open to begin with.

what will inevitably happen will be that i will stop writing (like so many other bloggers that were once with me). then more stuff will happen. then things will be all good. then i will feel the urge to write again. then i will start up a new blog on some new website. then i will name it something more along the lines of my thought process (depending on whatever year that is). then i will proclaim how i'm back...again...and will stay...again. then it will officially be a cycle.

like the menstral.

or maybe this is just a phase. like an author that gets finished writing a particular chapter in her book, but can't go any further until she finishes signing her divorce papers. or like a doctor that can't complete a surgery without a shot of whiskey and a bag of cheetos. it's a car that can't go through a race without a tuneup. a boxing match that must have the end of it's rounds! this blog is a concert with an intermission!! a show with commercials!! it's Family Guy before it found it's stride on Adult Swim!!! even God rested.

damn the man! save the empire!

and that, my friends, is what you call self-motivation. talking yourself into believing that your writer's block is something that brings you closer to God is not healthy. and contrary to everything that i stated above, i do not condone blaming ones laziness on going thorugh a phase and comparing it to PMS. who knows what this is. and more importantly, who gives a flying fuck. yes, i will write a blog from time to time about how i can't seem to write a blog. you've read this same speech before. you'll hear it again. and where there is some truth in what was mentioned eariler, the REAL truth is that everybody goes through shit. it's human. and our shit affects the next person's shit. and so on and so on, until we all have the same smelly shit. hence the expression.

so. with that said:

1. dating is for losers until i think otherwise.
2. white people are cool, but i love my culture.
3. mice are smarter than we think.
4. no, she's not a lesbian.
5. she's doing her job. it's just her job that sucks - not her.
6. yes, i almost hit him with a textbook.
7. professionals don't deal with the stupid shit.

have a nice day.

wisdom

i just found a new tooth. it's in the far back of my mouth. i thought it was a french fry. but it's not.

nospace

so as i was teaching the kids the other day, a student raised her hand for me to come over. we were covering a pretty heavy topic, and so there was alot of handraising going on during the assignment beckoning for me to come help. however, when i got to her table, her and her little croonies didn't want my help at all. they wanted to know if i was on Myspace. i actually had to smile. "what do these kids know about myspace," i thought to myself, "yeah, i've got a page, but i'll be damned if i tell them that." i didn't have to respond though. the ring leader quickly responded for me, "yeah, you've got a Myspace page mr. wilborn, i bet you do, and when i get home, i'm going to search for you and find you."

needless to say, by this i was taken aback.

"what? you get on Myspace??" i retorted.
"yeah, all of us are," she said, referring to the rest of her little girl group, "all we have to do is lie about our age."

15 minutes later the bell rang for lunch. the moment they left class, i called a friend of mine and gave them my name and password to my Myspace account and had it closed.

and it's like that all the time! it's ridiculous! i can't do anything. i'm safe nowhere. just the other day, a kid yelled out "hey mr. wilborn!" as i was walking around in harlem. i teach them in brooklyn!!! what they hell are they doing an hour away from home! i feel like they're watching me everywhere. in the park, at the movies, out to eat. little eyes watching my everymove. all the time, i'm bumping into them and their devilish grins. some look away, afraid i'll talk to their parents. others stare and grin, daring me to say or do something that they can talk about at school. "guess what i saw mr. wilborn doing saturday night? throwing up in a trash can!! HAHAHAHA!" you see, shit like that shouldn't be taking place in our society.

there is no space for teachers anywhere. we are who we are 24/7. always conscious of the fact that there is a high chance we will walk into someone in which we have to keep a certain level of dignity. unfairly, we are often pegged as role models or people of great moral standing because of the impressions we leave on today's youth. for some, we are the only examples they have. for many of my students, i am their first male teacher. and for even more students, i am their first black male teacher. and where that's all well and good, and i accept that responsibility as i must, now you're telling me i can't enjoy the fruits of recent internet trends? i can't buy honest pornography from the corner guy hustling bootlegs on 125th? i can't sing showtunes in times square after snorting cocaine off the back of a chinese prostitute on a school night?? is that what my job requires of me? did i miss that in the fine print somewhere??? huh????!

fuck investment banking.

return of the titties

if you find that title offensive, don't read any more, because i'm sure the rest will offend you too. but as i have been enduring my tenure in new york, i started to think that there were no sexy people here. and by this, i was very puzzled because i distinctly remember there being loads of sexy people up here when i first got here. then, this week, the heat wave came. yesterday it was 72 degrees. today it's in the high 60's. and just like that, coats came off, pants came off, gloves and hats were left at home, scarfs were thrown away. skin is showing. i walk outside now and i see legs and thighs. i see miniskirts and sandals. i see the haltertops and the low cut blouses. the cleavage is overwhelming. and i don't think new york women believe in bras and panties. in the last 24 hours, i've seen more nipples than a hungry infant.

amd where i'm sure that there is a place to discuss the moral standings of this, i dare not let that place be here.

so it's fine. ladies let your breast shine. let them bask in the beauty that is rightfully theirs. don't thiey deserve it. your sex appeal has hibernated over the course of the last 5 months, soak up the sun. enjoy the heat. and if you feel that people are staring at you, they are. live it up.