Hiatus

I noticed that we all need it eventually. Without it, we would be like blind mice hoping to avoid mouse traps.

Take a step back -- a few days off, to reflect, embrace, or to get your mind right -- we all need it, and so I did it.

The hiatus makes you see things from a bird's eye view -- if you're an independent thinker. If not, you probably won't change -- won't adjust or adapt -- and there's no growth in that.

There are two kinds of people in this world, independent thinkers and dependent actors. And that's not an attempt to degrade anyone who might be the latter by labeling them fake in any way. The term 'actor' is meant to be a verb -- the actual action of doing -- not a noun -- an actor, fulfilling a imaginary role by assuming different facades.

Independent thinkers is self-explanatory I hope, people who think and act independently, almost objectively, and think the same way. But I'm not implying rebellion, not at all, just freedom -- but maybe they go hand in hand.

Independent thinkers -- those who think before they do, and only need approval of a chosen few. Think outside the box, and ultimately, they themselves determine what's best for them -- but that's open to debate.

For me, being an independent thinker is hard work -- almost overwhelming, but as necessary as anything else in other to really progress -- and that's about all I'm interested in. I'm never comfortable, I have an undeniable desire to progress, by any means.

The polar opposite would be the aforementioned dependent actor. The person who lets others makes decisions for him/her and just does it without too many questions -- it's sort of like settling without addressing anything.

They let someone or people decide how they live in almost every aspect of the word -- and they just act on it -- they seek their approval. Dependent actors don't make decisions for themselves because they don't want to make decisions for themselves -- maybe they feel like there's too much pressure, or maybe they're not strong or resilient enough, or maybe -- they just can't.

They are pawns, and as you can probably imagine, dependent actors cannot be trusted or depended on. Maybe they settle or maybe they just seek approval because they can't find it within themselves and so they act how they act -- to each's own. I'm not knocking it. Everyone's different, but this is just not for me.

I needed this hiatus -- most people do. Not necessarily to bring about change, sometimes to truly embrace or address a situation -- I did both. And maybe you'd be able to see differences in my style.

Clearly, the use of "I" a lot more. I strongly oppose getting too personal on a blog or writing about my life, pretty much, because to be honest -- who really wants to hear that shit? Not yet, at least -- that's later on.

The use of "I" is for me to include my opinions -- straying from my usually diplomatic nature. Opinions that are valuable and easy to relate to.

Another change of style is thematic writing. Everyday, there is a theme and I think too much to write all of my thoughts down, so the use of a theme every now and then will help organize my most important thoughts.

I'm still going to write how I usually write, be it creatively or some form of my fake poetry, I just needed a hiatus.

A hiatus to set me back on track and handle some other things -- an adjustment to set an adequate balance between writing and everything else -- but maybe, they too can go hand in hand.

Everyone should need a hiatus, everyone should use a hiatus -- more seldom then frequent, but it assures more clarity than yesterday. If you don't need a hiatus, you're a blind mouse -- how are you going to avoid the traps?

The Real World (not the show)

This is the real world…
This is the level that we find ourselves at--

A place where only the privileged get to do what they love…
The rest of us struggle to get there...

And settle for what pays right now…
Not in the long run…

We don’t have time for that…time is money…
So we hate our jobs.

Disgruntled employees living disgruntled lives--mostly because we’re disgruntled employees.

This is the level of which we live…
A level that changes everything.

I used to be pleasant, but who you are and how you see and perceive things
Change dramatically when your back is against the wall…

When you’re climbing the mountain—what seems like Everest with no harness…
No protection, no insurance.

Everything you knew, everything that used to bring you joy…gets unpleasantly thrown out the window…
With intentions to destroy, not preserve, reserve, or to save for later

And then I think about…it dawns on me that this perspective that I have—the awakening, if you will,
Is shared by millions just like me who are not give the fair shot, the proper opportunity and have no choice but to live with their backs against the wall and don’t worry about anything else because they can’t worry about anything else.

But they’re labeled as thugs, miscreants, etcetera, etcetera…
but they only care for you as much as you care for them..

The only time you even think of us is when you or someone you love is walking down a dark alley, where no cops are around…

Why should we care about you? About what you stand for? About who you have at home? Fuck you. Fuck this.

There’s only one thing that keeps people going, and that’s their personal pursuit of happiness…whether its money or murder. People who give a lot, not to give to others, but to feel better about themselves—to better their egos…the same reason why people take a lot.

We’re not too different after all.

Re: Writing Prompt: Coming of Age

Sure life is short, but it is full of learning experiences or profound moments. If we look hard enough, we would be able to identify something that we learned or a profound moment probably everyday, so writing this, for me, is difficult because there are so many moments that I consider profound, and because I rarely do this.

I rarely include myself in my own stories. Already, I probably set a record for how many times I used the pronoun "I" in a story.

Everyone experiences a coming of age, or at least everyone should. A stage of maturity--an awakening.

If you're on the right path as far as your job, school work, or what have you, that coming of age might be actually growing into and accepting that role and realizing that you have to keep it up.

And if you were like me, that coming of age is realizing that you have to change your life around. That you can't keep on living the way that you're living and expect to be make it anywhere or even be successful at much of anything positively productive.

Luckily for me, I noticed that a change was needed, and was definitely pass due, at a young age--much younger than usual, I suppose. I always have had a firm grip on reality, but like millions of other struggling teens, it was hard to stare at reality in the face--painful even.

At 13 or 14-years-old, bad skin was synonymous with who I was. I was disturbed--aggravated, full of blemishes, like bad skin. But when your skin clears up, you feel brand new. For me, as my skin went through a metamorphosis, so did I as a person.

I was a bad kid, I'd be the first to tell you. I was involved in things and with people I shouldn't have been involved with. I've done things that most people would pray to forget about.

My actions were regrettable, but I don't regret them--let me explain. Everything deviant that you can imagine at that age, I probably did it--or came close to it, but I don't regret them, and I will try my hardest not to forget them because they keep me humble and are partially responsible for the man that I've become.

I needed those days, and I'm thankful that I woke up before it was too late. In addition to being a deviant young teen, I wasn't performing the way I should have in school--I barely got out of the eighth grade.

But I had a role model. A positive role model. A role model who was almost the exact opposite of me. I followed his every move and still learn from him to this day. I looked in the mirror--I stared at my face and I cried. I cried because I knew I wasn't shit.

I saw my role model excelling--exceeding expectations and I witnessed what a huge gap there was between what he was doing and what I was doing.

My brother was getting 90s in his classes, he was getting scholarship offers from the best, distinguished colleges and universities, he was well-spoken, and well-liked by everyone, including teachers, who because I went to the same schools as he did, had great expectations for me because he did so well. I was one of the biggest disappointments they had ever seen, the biggest compliment that I got from a teacher was from my eighth grade English teacher. She said that I was a hoodlum, but I had a heart of gold as she shook her head in disapproval.

I realized that my brother worked harder than anyone, and hard work demands a reward. I stepped it up in a major way. I was always smart, I just applied my intelligence to different things--I didn't have to change my aim, I had to change the target.

And so I did. I dropped friends and became committed. Along the way, I found people who have shaped my life in different ways and I've developed skills that will stay with me for as long as I live.

My work isn't done--there's always room for improvement, but I'm in a far better position because of the realization of my coming of age, by embracing that profound moment.

Is Fear Stronger Than Love?

Inspired by my sister, I read the wall,
And the closet said "fear is stronger than love."

I took it in...a deep breath...gazed at the wall
the gaze turned into a stare...a still, statue-like stare

A blank stare capable of freezing you...a daydream...a revelation

Fear is stronger than love...

Is that how you prefer it?
Is that just the way it is?

Or is it a choice?

Are you afraid to love because you're afraid of heartbreak and heartache?
Is your fear of failure stronger than your desire to love?

You fear the dark, you fear heights, you fear what you don't understand--you fear being misunderstood, you fear...fear--but you don't fear being feared--

That's power...that's another story.

You love innocence, you love nature, you love growth--progression...you love success--money, sex, drugs, music--they're all the same.

The pleasure they give you--the high--it's all the same...love is love, right?

Is fear just a characteristic, a trait of the weak? And love, of the passionate, of the creative?

Or are they just instinct? Human nature.

Nowadays, they want you to fear everything in the name of caution and awareness. But of course, you can fear and love simultaneously--they're cut from the same cloth.

Left arm, right arm--they're both arms--both part of the torso...
both with the same functions, same core values...identical.

Love is fear overcome
Fear is love undone...
love never there

Or is--was it? And you didn't know, you passed it by--let it pass you...because of fear

You don't love fear--you fear love...

I'm awake

I don't know what to name this, pt. 1

Prelude

I, as the rest of you, creatively write. Some things just come to me, some things I take from someone's life (or my own) and expand it to the point of which you can't trace it back. For this one, I don't know...I don't know what to name it, so help me out.

As you read, you will come to find out that there is dialogue between one and a group of people, students. You will also find that there is flashback. The first character, and the one who does most of the talking, is seemingly a teacher lecturing students. Enjoy, and help me out! I am horrible with titles! Read:

I ate a slice of bread this afternoon.

That was my breakfast. I didn’t even have bottled water to go with it, so I drank out of the faucet.

I guzzled the last of the cranberry juice in the fridge this morning when the landlord came and told me I had until the end of the weekend to get out.

In case he wanted to have an in-depth conversation, I’d rather have cranberry juice on my breath than the smell of the morning.

This was life. Everything was fine at the beginning of the month. I was working at a steady rate, paying my bills on time—everything was carrying on the way it was supposed to.

And then I graduated. That’s when life started to smell like the piss and vomit that are the cologne and shower gel of the homeless.

I make that reference because I might be their roommates soon.

Everyone makes a big deal when you graduate—and I guess for some, it is a big deal. And it is a big deal—just in different ways.

The typical college student has a minimal amount of academic-related debt when they graduate. Their parents usually pay their way through school, and some might even pay their loans as a graduation gift.

The typical student is privileged—they are taught that they can have whatever they want, and their parents bring them up that way—privileged and spoiled.

They could fail out of school and still land a well-paying job, just because of the profile that daddy has, or the fact that mommy has connections.

More power to them—that’s fine.

But there’s problem when they don’t notice, as a whole—family and all—what they have. The fact that they’re privileged—they’re blind to it. The realization that they have a head start—a huge one, over us, is a myth to them. It’s just normal life to them.

Work hard, get rewarded—is that the way it goes? Sure…in theory. But in practice…not so much. Barriers, unspoken requirements, profiling, and the many other pounds of the locks and chains post-getting out of the locks and chains that were 200 years ago, are still prevalent.

And they’re the same ones to complain…about how their life sucks because they didn’t get the dog that they wanted, or they couldn’t find the hair gel or the eye makeup that they saw in the latest edition of Cosmo.

I oughta slap the shit out of you. How insulting could you be? But you don’t even do you? And your air-headed ass wonders why there’s still tension.

Look around you…really look—analyze, outside of your farm, outside of the mall, outside of the coupe—look.

It’s a different world out here, ladies and gents—and you need to take notice.

Mothafuckas will kill you—just to get that purse or that necklace, and sell it, so that they could get that loaf of bread. Some dude just last week on the corner of Plainfield and Liberty killed a dude for his wallet—the reason?

He needed diapers for his newborn son.

I remember sitting in the dining halls and eating nasty ass school lunch everyday, and the processed frozen food dinners every night in college, while some people had their gourmet meals—or a Wendy’s hamburger.

Everyday, I just wanted to slap their tray out of their hands, so that their food and drink would hit the floor—so I could pick it up…and eat it.

But I held on…I knew better days were coming for me—darkness before the dawn right? Sure, only for those who really want it…

The difference between Booker T. Washington and W.E.B. Dubois is that Washington wanted us to conform to the system—to settle, to just do what our so-called masters told us to do, and eventually we would progress. Progression through conformity—that’s not taking charge.

On the other hand, Dubois wanted us to create our own shit. To support our own folk—and not conform, why make money for the same people who deprive us (I didn’t use the word ‘deprive’ in its past tense for a reason) of every single liberty that we are entitled to?

Instead, Dubois put his money on the Talented Tenth—the theory that one in 10 black men would become leaders of the world through continuing their education, writing and publishing books, and becoming directly involved in social change, which included establishing black institutions to train and lead black people.

That was the early 1900s—and we could still cling to his theory.

This isn’t a testament or a question of how far we have come through over a century, but a celebration of the fact that W.E.B. Dubois was so far ahead of his time, like Shakespeare was. But he’s painted as a villain who turned his back on country and fled.

Shit…if I had the money—I’d flee, too. Nonetheless, students, Dubois preached in layman’s terms, that in order to progress—you have to take it.

Grab progress by the horns, because as the rest of the bull’s body moves, the horns stay still.

Grab the horns, look it in the eye—and take it down—it’s like a social rodeo.

There will always be the elite—and we have to invest in our elite, and convince them to help us—to invest in us.

He later said that leadership could arise from any level and that social change should happen on every level, and we shouldn’t only depend on the elite.

Dual consciousness—and not that sociological bullshit that they try to teach you, about how it involves one person with two inconsistent trains of thought—is what needs to be really understood by every human on the planet.

We have to not only understand, but EMBRACE how we are seen by other people. How blacks are seen by whites, how whites are seen by blacks, how Latinos, Asians, and everyone else, are seen by each other. We have to read into it—we have to understand and embrace it—and act accordingly—or you won’t last long.

Now, of course there are exceptions—but let’s not get our heads too far up our own asses.