I Love You! (Dedicated to All Women)

...So whassup, huh? Why do you do it? Help me understand.

When you know there's somebody out there that loves you--- the way you should be loved--- why do you allow these cats to come at you with this nonsense and get so far?

What are you looking for? Proof? Proof of your own worth? That's in the fact that you're here, Love. God never made a mistake, and yet he made you. That should tell you something...

Fine, maybe your daddy didn't tell you enough how beautiful you are; maybe he wasn't there at all. Maybe your mother was treated like nothing and felt worthless; maybe she passed it on and taught you to feel the same. Maybe your last boyfriend was a small man who only felt tall when he was belittling you. FORGET THEM: they didn't make you.

I hope you don't mind, but I've been watching you. I see what you're trying to do, even if you don't see it. You're looking for someone to fill that void, to make you feel complete, to reassure you that you're worthy of love and affection. But what you find isn't really love. Because already it starts with self; you're in a relationship to find your self, to fill your self, to appraise your self.

And that's natural, because you're missing so much of your self. For whatever reason, you're missing important, foundational elements that help each of us to live as we should. We all need self-worth, self-esteem...

But you won't find it in a man.

It's hard for you to understand, but you've never experienced a real love, so you just don't know. See, a real love eliminates self; two people come together and give their individual selves away to each other. And in giving totally, they receive totally. And what would normally be a sacrifice just becomes giving to another part of you. You've never been there before, have you...

I didn't think so. So, you're looking for someone to validate who you are. But that's not the purpose of love; and if you're still looking for validation, then you're not ready for love. You have to be complete in yourself before you can find true love.

If you really want to find your value, then you've gotta go to the One that made you and find out how much you're really worth. You're so precious that He chose to suffer and die for you to live, and He wants to have a relationship with you for a lifetime. I know I sound religious, and I really don't mean to, but it's only because you don't understand yet: love is spiritual more than it is anything else.

See, even though we seek love from one another, we're supposed to love the Lord first. Because that's where we really learn how to love. Remember how I said love is two people giving their selves away to each other? Look closely: God did the same thing when He went to Calvary. He gave Himself for us. And in a relationship with God, you learn to do the same: give yourself to Him. And you find out by God's presence in your life how much you're really worth. In spite of neglect, abuse, mistakes, or whatever you came through to get to this point, your worth remains forever in the mind of God. Nobody can touch that.

And then you realize that you're too precious, too beautiful, too worthy to be as insecure as you are, letting just anybody approach you any kind of way. But you don't hafta be arrogant and esteem yourself; be humble and realize your worth to Him. Realize that people will come and go, but you'll still be just as precious to HIM.

And when you get to this point, you'll find a real lifemate. And you'll have the courage to experience a true love, with two people giving unselfishly. Because both you and the one you love will be in Christ together, and understand that His love is the example to follow.

I say all this just to let you know: I love you. And as such, I won't---I can't--- keep quiet and watch you self-destruct for ANY man. I'm showing you how to free yourself; take this and run with it.



Dedicated With Sincereity to All Women

I Can't Sleep

Aside from the shot of coffee, my soul is just getting plain rocked right now. That's why I can't sleep--- actually, I don't even want to sleep tonight. But I've gotta get up at 5:40 for church; it's 12:27am already.

A dreamer that won't sleep.

All this week, I've been fixated on superheroes. At this point, I'd settle for regular heroes. But they're nowhere to be found. You see, just because you stand for something doesn't mean you stand for anything.

Take Ebony magazine for instance: years of urban Black people in poverty and depravity, with lack of opportunity and education, disintegrated families; but before that ever headlines the cover of the magazine, the N word does...

In mathematics/arithmetic, there's a little thing called order of operation. Take 3(5+5) for instance; you can't multiply the 3 until you add the 5+5. Otherwise, even with all the numbers present, you get the wrong answer. This is what the Black community is doing right now with attacking the N word; misprioritizing. Not knowing that, if we address whats important first, many other minor issues will clear themselves up automatically. Of course I can't prove this, but I can definitely sit back and let the fruit be the proof.

But all that is a dot; a pregnant White woman who's been missing for days was just found slain. And at that, they think it was by her Black police officer boyfriend. I could speak on the impending racial implications, but that's the media's, militants', and extremists' jobs sooner or later. And I can't sleep only because I know everybody's gonna fall for it.

I'm thinking... my life has been a constant toggle between draw and drive. I pull people into my ambitions and ventures, but then they prove to be obstructive, and I find myself withdrawing to protect the potential of the plan. Meanwhile, nothing gets done. And I ask myself, is it better to wait for the fullness of time, or to move forward with lowered expectations. I started out at about 17; I just turned 24 this past May. I;m starting to feel old.

My greatest motivation in life has always been necessity; I just realized that. So many things I get involved in not because I have a passion for it, but because I see a need that is not being met that I'm available to meet. The reason I hafta wake up in 4 hours is not because I sought to coordinate Youth Sunday. It's because, about 5-6 years ago, someone resigned the position and no one else stepped up to the plate to keep things going. In a room full of adults, nobody stepped up but the youth...

Which is something else that has been bothering me: perhaps I've given adults too much credit all my life. Now that I'm here at adulthood, I'm realizing more and more that, at least mentally and in terms of representing what I believe in, I've got 1-up on a lot of people I'm supposed to be "looking up to". So, when I want to change the world, where can I find good help these days?

But the crazy thing about it is that I know, under certain conditions, I still have what it takes to endure; I still have the ability to make the impact I've always sought. It sounds cheesy, but I'm so sincere when I say this: if I had this one woman in the world in my life, I would gain unfathomable strength. There's very few things that I know, but of that one thing I'm certain.

The problem is, I can't have her. And I need to get that through my head; it's not going to change and there's no right way to be involved with a married woman. No matter how close a friend she is. But the ray of hope: to know that she would bring that kinda strength out of me, that strength must already be in me. And, Lord willing, I'll find another way to activate it.

It's 1:29am ladies and gentlemen... All of a sudden, I think I may as well pull an all-nighter.

Judgmental: I see that in me right now. To a degree, at least. I try to think the best of everyone. By the same token, I see plainly what people show me; I'm not naive or stupid. I know it's not my job to condemn anyone for what they do or do not do; hate the sin, not the sinner. "Love covereth all things, hopeth all things", etc.

...When I speak of the shortcomings of others, it's not to say I'm perfect or that they're so terrible. It's simply to recognize what I can and can't accomplish with the company I'm keeping, and to recognize what kind of company I need to keep that will help me reach the right plateau.

Maybe I'm not being enough of a help to others; maybe I'm being stingy with my energies. But for every one person who would agree, there's two who would disagree (I'm only broke because I never charge). Is it right to support ill-fated, counterproductive movements? Am I not having enough faith, or am I using the good sense God gave me to support what really counts?

I can't shake this fixation I have on time recently. From 1997 to 2007 I've been making music, writing, seeking, praying, thinking, learning... trying to find my point of entry. Not entry into the laborforce like everybody else; entry into the workforce. Not slaving mindlessly for profit; doing things of lasting importance out of my own passion and drive. And I'm often tempted to say I've been too patient. Sometimes I fear that my window of opportunity has closed.

But then I think of last semester...

I had dragged my heels for the duration of college, starting in 2001, only to discover, in 2007, that I was legitimate in doing so. A sociology professor tells me about the Credentialing Theory of Education, and all of a sudden I'm able to trade my conviction for confirmation. For once, patience was truly and deeply rewarding. But it took so long to get there; maybe this is just another bitter wait to another fitting end...

It's 2:29am now. I'm feasting on ramen, sipping ginger ale.

Turning to BET for my shot of insta-anguish. Girlfriends is on. And lo, I see Waldo! Remember Waldo from Family Matters? Well, he's on Girlfriends right now... playing an 'alternative' man. Let's seeee... so that's Carl Flamin' Winslow, Steve Flamin' Urkel, and Waldo the Flamin' Torch. Seems like you're either playing a foul role, or living a foul reality. (Ketrina, you see ya boy's shirt? That's why I never wear that orange joint you bought me. See, it's nuthin' personal. I just don't roll like that, my cuzzin'...)

My eyes are hot and heavy, but I'm still wide awake. Speaking of eyes...

I've got this situation. Not one of those situations, but a situation in its own right. I mean, it's really not mine, but maybe it is. I'm not gonna go into detail, but how do you tell a mother/guardian that you think one of her kids is nearsighted?

I know, it sounds simple... It's just, I know this lady is very aware of her kids; some of 'em are special needs kids, so she has to be aware of them. I just noticed that this one little girl does the same thing I used to do as a child: she leans very close to whatever she's reading and can't seem to back away from it, and she squints a lot. It's like a reflex, and it's exactly what I used to do before I got my glasses.

But like I said, some of this lady's kids are special needs, so she has to know stuff like this already, right? I definitely don't want to offend her or anything... So I'm pivoting on whether or not I want to point it out. Either way, I'll see her in about 3 hours. Truthfully, it's worth the risk to mention it, even if I'm dead wrong. Because, if I'm right, that would change a lot for the girl and make it easier for to read.

Now look what you made me do... It's 3:39 and I gotta get up at 5:40. I can't stand you...

Nah, but actually I feel a little better now. Just had a lot on my mind I guess. Now, I'm scayed that if I go to sleep now, I'll oversleep and cause a catastrophe. Guess I'll iron ma clothes, maybe take an early-early shower, play with my Afro, sip another cup of ginger ale, and wait for my time.

That's Your Cue...

I generally don't seek deliberately to embarrass people (and you shouldn't either!) but it happens. Now, I'm not talking about embarrassment like, for instance, we're out in public and I'm with you, and I'm actin' a clear fool, making you look like an idiot by association. Nor am I'm talking about embarrassment like yankin' down someone's elastic gym pants, like a flaming homosexual might do (yeah, that's a punch at somebody from high school).

The embarrassment I'm talking about is the direct result of people not knowing when to throw in the towel on things. It is conjured by listening to pride in unimportant matters. What begins as a nothing becomes a something when we're too proud to admit being wrong, or to settle for agreeing to disagree.

I've got some advice for ya; if you ever get into an argument, you'd better not stake your pride on it. This is what happens when you stake your pride in an argument: you lose site of logic. You may have a good argument, but the fact is, once an argument is disproved, it can't be proven no matter how much more you talk.

It's easier to conceive mental pictures, so lemme paint this one for understanding: a Bruce Lee flick. In most Bruce Lee flicks, when you think about it, all those people really didn't hafta get kicked in the face like that. Once they saw the first two-to-four people get trimmed, that was their cue. They just missed the cue because their pride blinded them.

"FOR THE MASTA! FOR HONOR! FOR..."

*POP-POP*

"Four... five... six..."

Sometimes it feels like I see in 5 dimensions or something. When I debate, I see things just as plain as can be. I'm not saying I'm always right; but when I'm wrong, I can see that too. And THAT's the rare ability that I never see from folks.

See, before I take a position on something, this is how I think:

1. This is my rough perspective.
2. This is my rough perspective from an critical, antagonistic, opposing view.
3. This is my new perspective, revised after considering the holes in my own perspective.

I do all this BEFORE I take a stance on something. So, I don't present arguments based on blind faith (unless I'm debating something religious--- which I don't do often, since faith is unproveable). See, logical thinking is like mathematics/arithmetic: process of elimination. In math, you don't spend your time trying to validate incorrect answers. If you work a trigonometric proof and it doesn't work out, then something is WRONG. And once something is deemed incorrect, you CHUCK it. That's your CUE...

Same thing in rational, reasonable, logical thinking: once a thing is wrong, it's ALWAYS wrong. You don't push on and on once your argument is punctured. This isn't a blimp that you can float to a crash-landing... there is no land!

But that's when the humiliation comes back into play.

(Insert visual aid here)

What does it look like when a blimp is punctured over the Pacific Ocean, and the pilot tries to land... where there IS no land... Not a SPECK of land for hundreds of miles... Not even SHALLOW WATER for hundreds of miles...

That's humiliating. That's FUNNY. That's sad... and that's STILL funny.

Moral of the story: it's just as important to know when one has won as it is to know when one has lost. Sometimes, if you don't let go, situations will take you with them. And what could've been a small difference of opinion will swirl into a regrettable, unforgettable circus of embarrassment. Remember: it's about finding the truth, not proving you right.

Animals vs. People

Just to let ya'll know: if it ever came down to mankind versus the animals, I'm sidin' with the animals. Ya'll done pissed me off too many times. I don't like people no mo...

Seriously though (as if I wasn't being serious right then...), I LOVE animals. The debate goes on as to whether or not man is an animal or greater than an animal. Frankly, it doesn't make a difference to me: the fact is, whether we're animal or not, animals have a one-up on us in several areas.

See, we think we're hot stuff because we've got thumbs and technology and intelligence. But ya'll better be careful talkin' about intelligence, because intelligence is relative. Is it more intelligent to have much and be wasteful, or to have little and make the most of it?

Well, that's a good place to start. Animals are more frugal than people. Think about it... when's the last time you've seen an animal go out of its way to kill something else when it was already eating a kill? When's the last time a carcass in the wild got to decay into dust without vultures getting to it first?

But people... people waste stuff all the time. We could be starving on the street, but call ourselves being picky about what we will and won't eat. We'll go out and buy up the mall just because we can, and let the stuff we buy sit around and collect dust. We'll be stingy with the excess we have, even if we know we'll never use it, just because it "belongs" to us. In the wild, whatever doesn't get used gets left behind for another animal to finish off.

Animals don't debate about things. And that's funny, because the same people who contend that man is an animal are usually heavily involved with debates. For example, ideas of gender roles are hotly contested.

And don't get me wrong, even I think we could use more egalitarianism in society. But animals don't gotz noooo problems with gender roles. They say men deliberately set up society to treat women as the infamous "Other", the weaker vessel, etc. Well, since some people consider man to be an animal like any other animal, did other animals conspire to set up their gender roles like that too?

Most species of animals in the wild, by some random coincidence, have their own gender roles as well. You've never seen a pride of lions without a male head, yet the male lion barely does anything! On the other side, male seahorses carry their young in pouches, and you never hear them complain, "This is woman's work!". Some animals don't raise their young at all, and their kids turn out fine.

BUT whatever animals do, it's uniform: what one member of the species does, every member of the species does. Which is probably why it works so well. Man is the only animal that debates about it; and whether or not it's right or wrong, having to debate is a deficiency on man's part. Point: animals.

Animals are genuine. The greatest deceit animals have is changing their skin color or sumthin in order to capture prey. Animals don't lie to each other or plot and scheme to get ahead. And when an animal shows affection, it's not even really affection: it's either feeding time or mating time or feel-good time.

Man... is a shifty-a$$ creature. You can't trust man, period. Man doesn't just deceive the eyes with fashion and makeup; man deceives the mind with laughter and tears. Man strokes egos to get rewards. Man offers up falsehoods to see the downfall of another man; man is the only animal who jeopardizes the existence of the entire species for his individual benefit.

Animals deal in the "real" real world. All they know is what they perceive with their five senses. If they can't see, taste, hear, smell, or touch it, it doesn't matter to them. The highest form of cognition an animal might have is being alerted to candidates for food whose bright colors indicate poisonousness.

Man, however, has a more developed form of this sixth sense: symbolic interactionism. That simply means, man creates meaning for things that, of themselves, have no meaning. So man can draw a picture and offend his whole species because of some symbolic meaning he attaches to it. Man can't walk around naked because the body means something. Man can't make certain 4-letter word noises with his mouth because it means something. And granted, I buy into symbolic interaction because I believe in something higher that orchestrated it, it's still one more thing that complicates that lives of man.

Animals live in balance. Animals don't work for anything: their life IS their work. They don't purchase food, they chase it down and kill it. And when they're done eating, they don't make chores for themselves in the meantime; they chill. And the chilling stops only when it's time to eat again.

Man... man sucks in this department. Man doesn't even work for a living; he works for a pay check. He doesn't work the land around his house and grow food, he goes to a factory to make another man rich, then takes less than his effort's worth in a pay check, goes to the store, and buys what he can afford. And then, man gets overworked; man can't seem to find time for his family, when animals take their families with them on the hunt. Man spends his life exhausted, dissatisfied, and oppressed. He lives part-time and works part time. Animals just... live. And their life is their work.

Animals suffer from few genetic defects. Know why? Natural selection; if you're defective, you don't survive. For survival purposes, animals constantly grow stronger, faster, more efficient at what they do. They constantly adjust to new situations, such as when man impedes with his "progress". It's no wonder animals build immunity to so many diseases and fight off so many allergens...

Man... any disease under the sun, we've got it. Let's take obesity. Imagine obesity in the wild... You can't; obesity in the wild is a formula for not being drafted in the natural selection lottery. Blindness? Another no-go in the wild. Deformity? Not likely for the same reason. Allergies? Won't cut it in the wild. And not only does man get more diseases, but man also has the most limited capacity for fighting off diseases. Why? Because man makes medicines and his body becomes dependent on his own creation. Point: animals.

Oh, but here's the most important reason animals have mankind beat: animals know when it's OVER, when it's time to PACK UP, when they're BEATEN. Animals fight all the time; but when an animal is beaten, it KNOWS when it is beaten, and it humbly submits to the winner by bowing or retreating to the Alpha. This keeps the body count to a minimum and the humiliation even lower.

Man... man is downright retarded in this area. It happens all the time: two men get in a swordfight, and one man gets his swordhand cut CLEAN OFF. The fight is OVER. ...But this idiot charges anyway, for pride's sake. And THAT's how he gets killed. Let's go back to the debating issue: most debates don't really last as long as they actually do. There's the end of the debate, and then there's the proud loser's last stand. He or she persists trying to convince the unconvinceable. And what stops this proud person from arguing? Humiliation. By not recognizing when the battle is over, more people get their prides obliterated than an "intelligent" species can afford to admit. Animals never have that problem; even ANIMALS know that pride precedes destruction. Point: animals.

We may have technology, but man loses to animals because man gets beat in the basics. Advanced-adshmanced... They say if a nuclear weapon detonates, the roaches will be the only survivors. I deduce it's because they'll be the ones lowest to the earth and man will be the only idiots standing. (that and the fact that they're immune to radiation, but you get the point...)

I've Got a Spoon

Unrest never tasted so good... and that's all the hints ur gettin' from me.
Enjoy the poem B-J


I've Got a Spoon

I've got a spoon for a glass of milk
Where chocolate sits at the bottom contained
I've got a spoon for a glass of milk
Devoid of much flavor with color so plain
I've got a spoon for a glass of milk
Whether silver or plastic, no matter I think
I've got a spoon for a glass of milk
For when it's not settled it's easy to drink

Nothing in Excess: The Science of Good Writing

This is gonna start off as a science lesson move into a language arts lesson, and finish with a magic trick. Just be kwiet and listen, lol...

It's funny... I was doing this exercise the other day and I noticed that I left a deep imprint on the carpet with my hands; I had placed the fullness of my weight on my hands, that's what caused it. But then I asked myself, "If my weight is what caused it, why don't my footprints go that deep?"

The answer is simple: surface area.

It's really not hard to understand at all: if you hit a balloon with a smooth rock, it bounces; you hit a balloon with a needle point, it pops. Needle tips have a much smaller surface area. Did you ever stop to wonder why bullets come with pointy tips? Think about if they had flat tips instead: they'd make brunt impacts, probably shatter some bone, and get stuck in the victim, doing more extensive, but less vital damage. But angled tips have a smaller surface area, so they pierce in entry and do twice the damage by piercing out the other side. Less extensive damage, but more lethal.

(That was a rather surprisingly graphic example, huh? I think about fighting all day, whaddaya expect...)

Even in sociology (which is also totally unrelated to this topic) we discussed a thing called "bureaucratic bloat". It's when an institution has many, many positions, and most of those positions are unnecessary and could actually be consolidated, but instead slow down the process of things by having so many hands that orders must pass through.

In the West, we have this tendency to think bigger is better: the more we do, the more we say, the more we put into something, the better it seems. And in a few instances this is correct; in most, it's not. In sports, it's good to have muscle; have too much physique in a sport like track, and your body size will impede your speed. Sugar tastes great on almost anything; add too much sugar to your apple pie, and you devalue the apples and the crust.

I have a point in saying all this...

As I was sitting here at my workdesk, it dawned on me that good writing works in much the same way as reducing surface area--- a stick of dynamite being more effective than a keg of gunpowder, get it? For example: for a while (and still, every now and then) I contended with some of the greatest writers I've ever known in battle rapping. The best of the crew gave me some advice once. To paraphrase, he said, "Get to your punch as quickly as possible; the longer you drag it out, the less strongly it impacts."

I realized instantly that his statement was a parallel to what I was taught by my Enlglish teacher in 11th grade: "A good writer never writes anything without a reason". It was also along the same lines of one man's summation of poetry that I've subscribed to: "Good poetry is saying as much as you can in as few words as possible." Just as a smaller surface area is preferred in the making of bullets, blades, and other such things meant to penetrate, to be a penetrative writer one must learn to write "lean" material and reduce the excess.

I've seen quite a few examples of excess in pretty much every level of writing. I frequently use excess in these blog entries, but that's because I'm only conveying my raw thoughts as they come and, in doing so, adding a more "human" element. In college, I see a different type of excess in many of the "scholarly" journals I'm forced to read. When "astute" men go out of their way to use massive vocabulary to convey simple concepts, that's excess. They're not trying to inform the readers as much as they are trying to erect monuments to their egos.

It reminds me of something I see young MCs do. In battle rapping, there's an element called complexity. Most kids take complexity to mean, "put as many multiple-syllabled words into the verse as possible". What they don't realize is that complexity is in the idea, not the word choice. If your idea is worth anything, you don't need big words to make it sound like more than what it is. This goes for rap as well as journal articles.

But this actually leads me to another point. There's another excess that comes when writers use faulty word choice. When your diction is good, your sentences grow shorter, because you learn to say more with less. When your diction is bad, you spend more words trying to say what could easily have been said... aw screw it, I'm low on patience today. Let's go with examples:

The majestic phoenix beneath the morning glory held the audience captive.
-short, succinct, to the point, full of imagery

The large-winged, gracefully gliding mythical bird in the radiant sun left the audience mesmorized with awe and captivation.
-same imagery, but a chore to read. Great piece, if the reader doesn't lose interest

Good diction, bad diction. Same concept, different effect.

If you can learn to reduce the surface area of your writing, the result will be a greater impact in what you write. You will know that your readers are drawn to your ideas and not to a false image of "astuteness" that wordiness creates. And as you get to your points quicker, your readers will take more away from what you write, as they won't be rushing to just get through with a tedious read.

Before I go, are you ready for that magic trick? Re-read this entry, starting right after the "I have a point in saying all this" part. When you're done, tell me if you get the same message, but in much fewer words...



Voila: EXCESS! B-J

Feelin' Alright

It's a good day when you go to work and Mavis Staples says she wants to do it again...

And you're driving your pop's truck, trying not to come out smelling like cigarette smoke when, all of a sudden, you remember that you need a temporary parking decal!... And you go to public safety hoping you have enough time, but opting to be a little late for work rather than paying a fine... And you go to the little window and the lady behind the counter--- not exactly young, but pretty fresh nonetheless---has on a nice two-piece outfit, showing off a little middie on a hot day. And, when its all said and done, you make it to work with 4 minutes left over...

I'm feelin' alright right now. My baby sister has gone back to UNC; she left about 2 sumn this morning I think (I was KO'd, I can't say for sure). It's... different around the house now. But it won't be long before I adjust to my solitude again. It's just another opportunity to grind...

I'm working on publishing Romancexpress v.1 into a book, and the process is going GREAT this time (it's my second time trying). I've learned from my prior mistakes---putting the entire work into one file and completely overwhelming myself--- and now, I've already organized all the entries the way I want them. It took me about a day and a quarter, versus the week it took me to get half that distance on my first try. Now I'm proofreading, which will probably be the hardest thing. No biggie though, I'm ahead of the curve at this point.

I'm also in the middle of a "break" from school; allegedly Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday are holidays for the students at ASU. Nobody told ME though, plus I'm still on campus anyway because I work here, lol. BUT, I'm not gonna trip about it; the week is scheduled to be hectic from Thursday through Sunday for me, so I'll enjoy this time while I still can.

And might I say, I earned this break. As of last Friday, my first class of the summer came to a close. I kid you not when I say I went from an F to a B in about 2 weeks time; I got off on a horrible, horrible foot, but ended up on the best foot I could've asked for. I thought I was doomed; I blew the first exam and missed a few days. But I held it together solid for the duration of the semester, Marxed all the discussions (i.e., smashed the establishment, lol), and aced the final. That's one history class down, 2 more to go...

Summore good news--- by way of one old friend with whom I've established contact, I've established contact with a SECOND old friend! After her, there's practically only one person I have yet to reconnect with. I feel like I've accomplished... something.

It's funny because I have a cousin who's a freak about geneology; "the family historian" we call him. He makes an enormous deal of keeping all in touch and chronicled, and teaching lineages and such. Well, I'm actually that way about keeping in touch with old friends. That's a big thing for me because you can't recreate lifelong friends easily. I'm a man that prefers familiarity most of the time, and my old friends are still the people I feel most comfortable around.

About two, maybe three days ago I recorded a new song with my "son" Dalayrius (I call him my son cuz he's like me, but meaner, lol). I was a little daunted by his title at first, "Satan's Bridge", but its misleading; the song is actually a conscious and fairly positive joint, so I was down with it.

I'd just like to say, the boy never ceases to amaze me; he's got a rhyme work-ethic that nobody I know can match! And because of that, he keeps getting better and better and more and more versatile. I love the fact that he will rip on anything (chip off the old block). Even this track was an old instrumental from OutKast, who we're both fans of.

What I like most is that this cat, unlike many artists nowadays, doesn't really rely on hooks; he jumped on the track and just ripped and ripped until he got thru saying what he had to say. I merely came in as a clean-up at the end of the song, but you know me: I'm efficient... I don't need a lot of time to make my point and make it STICK. We kept up with each other friggin' well, and the track came out exceptionally nice. Even my baby sister was like, "You need to put that one on your Myspace."

I'm almost done here, but I gotta tell you about this one too. I was in my car the other day listening to the first CD I ever owned: D'Angelo's "Brown Sugar" album. As I was riding, I had track 2 on repeat. It was a joint called "Alright". Gotta be my favorite song on the album, if not the classic "Lady".

Anyway, I was thinkin' to myself how God has already told us everything would be alright, but sometimes I just don't feel it. Yet, whenever I hear this song, it always feels that way--- though the song is only talking about a relationship, the song as a whole creates a feeling of good things.

I started thinkin'... What would it mean to me if God was, in His way, singing this song to us? Singing a song of things working out in our favor. Not literally "singing" of course, but just whispering to us in His way that every little thing will pan out, just as surely as D'Angelo tells his lady in the song.

And, knowing that He is telling us just that, I thought I'd bear record that things are going pretty well for me at the moment. Grace abounds.

Human--- in Color

A long, long time ago, when I first began conscious-rapping, I feared one day running out of material. Then I realized... I'll never run out of material as long as people don't run out of stupid. Furthermore, if they keep displaying the same forms of stupidity, then my material is SUPPOSED to be repetitive.

Though this is a blog and not a rap, the same principle applies...

Today I was watching an episode of Mad TV (Pam Grier was guest-starring, so I had no choice). One particular skit was about the formation of a Negro Justice League. One of the members was an "Uncle Tom" of sorts who gets enlightened by Pam Grier's character, Revolution. After his enlightenment, he changes identities and dawns a black suit and what I thought were shades. The first thought that came to my mind was, "Man in Black?" like the Men in Black movies starring Will Smith. It turned out that the shades were actually glasses, and he was to be a mock Malcolm X or Lewis Farrakhan.

But, the idea was already put into my head: Man in Black. And to me, that held much more significance than what was intended. Break that down... Man-in-Black. See, that's significant because a lot of us STILL don't realize something of vital importance: our identities lie within, not without. Our race/color is not who we are. True, it may determine the challenges we face and/or the privileges we enjoy in life. But when we face God, our colors will not carry any weight with Him; God looks at the inward man, and THAT is what makes us who we are.

SO, if you are a White man, you are not that, but a man in White. And yes, if you are a Black man, you are not that, but a man in Black. Some of us are moreso our race than we are ourselves: that's why some of us won't listen to certain forms of music, thinking it's not protocol for Blacks to like rock or Whites to like soul. Utter stupidity; when you know how to be human, you recognize that all forms of music stretch forth from the same human element. And when you stop lying to yourself, you admit that you feel connected to all these forms of expression even if you don't always cater to them all.

Man lives on the inside of his flesh, he is not the flesh itself; when we die, the soul and spirit of man leave the flesh behind. So how can we merely be the color of our skin or our genetic heritage?

And here's another thing: part of the reason we struggle so much with racism is because, even in 2007, we STILL don't believe that we're all the same. Though science has proven we're biologically no different--- though every myth has been disproven, though we've shown to be a common species every day that we've fought, cried, laughed, raised families, worked, and prayed together--- some people STILL maintain that, because we're different colors, we're different beings. First, Blacks were 3/5ths of a man to Whites; then Whites were "White-devils" to Blacks...

See how much we're alike? We're both STUPID. Either just as stupid as the other.

The Black superhero on Mad TV turned out to be a member of the Nation. But the fact is, we really need a Man-in-Black superhero. And this should be his superpower: the power to remove himself from his Black, physical body and extract the human spirit from all people in his near vicinity to let all see that all are the same.

One day we're gonna realize how true it is that it's not the suit, but what's inside the suit that makes the man. And when we fill out applications, we'll make like the ad campaign, and put "human" for our race.

Dez Only 1

I Regret...

...so many things. If I tried to name them all, I'd be here all night and miss Youth Church in the morning.

A lot of regret to go around; not a lot of guilt, but plenty 'regret. I'll tell you what I don't regret though: with regret comes the chance to keep others from having regrets. So while I might not take a walk down memory lane and tell you my shoulda/woulda/coulda's, I'll still tell you those things I picked up along the way. And you can get the benefit of experiences you've never had; it's the best way to learn, trust me.

1. If you know the Lord, don't fight back against those who offend you. I'm not saying don't defend yourself, but once you know the Lord, do whatever it takes to keep in good favor with Him, even if it means taking a little abuse here and there. Because oftentimes, when we fight back, we don't realize we're fighting a losing battle; sometimes the devil just wants to bring the worst out of you.

And on that note, get saved as quickly as possible. It'll help you avoid sowing bad seeds early in life that will chase you for the duration...

2. Fellas, tell her how you feel... that girl you like, I mean. If she disses you, just take it; it's no blow to who you are, there's just somebody else out there better for you. If that's not good enough, just take pride in the fact that you're a bigger man than at least one other man in this world... which is me.

3. If you want people to be there for you, you've got to inconvenience yourself sometimes and be there for them. BUT, you've also got to know how to say 'no'. If you don't learn how to say 'no' sometimes, you'll find yourself unable to do what you need to do as you overextend helping others; if it'll make you feel better, most people aren't as helpless as they like you to think.

4. Before you go to college, make up in your mind what you're there for. I'm not talking about picking a major; I'm talking about the difference between getting an education and getting a diploma. The two are not synonymous. You don't hafta be educated to get a diploma; you don't hafta have a diploma to be educated.

5. Party with your folks while they're still here. Family, friends, strangers, we all need to party together. Cuz all of us are leaving this world at some inconvenient time.

6. Be hard-headed sometimes. Persistence actually does count for something; sometimes it's good not to know the meaning of the word 'no'. SOMETIMES...

7. Make the most of every situation. Don't get mad when things don't go your way and withdraw; stick it out and at least pretend to adjust. You can turn a disadvantage into an advantage just by your attitude sometimes.

8. Get numbers and emails. Stay in contact with folks. It's easier to not want to talk with the option of talking than to want to talk and not have the option.

9. Whatever it is you do, keep doing it. No matter how long it takes for you to be able to use it, keep practicing. There's nothing more difficult than getting your swagger back after you've put it down for a while. That "if you don't use it, you lose it" thing is almost exactly true...

10. If somebody needs you, even if you don't agree with their methods, lend a hand (unless its gonna get your hand cut off). If the ship goes down, it's no skin off you; you're not the captain. But sometimes a sinking ship is a land of opportunity as well; remember Rule #7.


It makes regrets a little less burdensome to know somebody can benefit from my mistakes. So ya'll take these and live it up for ya boy. The more you smile, the more I smile.

How to Tell if You're a Witch Hunter

Witch hunting was something that happened waaaaaaaaay back in the day when people would prey upon those who were differetn to validate themselves. The catch was, most of those persecuted in witch hunts weren't actually witches. But that's human nature for ya; we're so insecure that we villify people and ideas to have something to stick our chests out about and make us feel good. A social pscyhologist would attribute this to the inherent need to be right; I agree, but prefer to call it pride and raw stupidity.

Anyway, to kill time and to help make the world a better place, I thought I'd come up with a few pointers to let you know if you're a witch hunter. And no, you don't hafta be hunting real witches to be a witch hunter. Check this out:

1. Do you thoroughly consider the views of others before dismissing them? If not, you're a witch hunter.

2. Does your being right come from your feelings, or from bulletproof logic? If it's feelings, you're a witch hunter.

3. Do you make public displays of people you disagree with, or do you go to them in confidence and reason with them? If you like public displays, you're a witch hunter.

4. Do you talk loudly when you're debating to be overpowering, or speak softly to actually discuss the topic? If you like to mouth off, you're a witch hunter.

5. Do you villify people, i.e. take shots at the person instead of sticking to the actual issue being discussed? If you prefer personal attacks, you're a witch hunter.

6. Do you condemn the unknown without trying to know or understand it? If Communism makes your hairs stand up, yet you don't even really know what Capitalism is, you're a witch hunter.

7. Do you jump on bandwagons when people rise against something, even if you're totally clueless to the reasons why? If you have a herd mentality, you're a witch hunter.

8. Do you lump people together based on what they do without pondering their individual reasonings? If you think all rappers sell drugs, you're a witch hunter.

9. Do you care if the punishment fits the crime? If you believe in giving a 14 year old 7 years for merely pushing a hall monitor, you're a witch hunter.

10. Do you cater to certain groups and come down harsher on other groups that occupy the same social stratum? If you fault hip hop for promoting weed, but don't fault thrash metal for promoting meth, you're a witch hunter.


Don't get mad, it's gonna help you. Heck, it might even help me.

Dizzy

I'm feeling reaaall... real right now. Kinda standoffish actually. Not exactly a chip on my shoulder, more like a... speck of dust on my glasses.

I just passed a test that had life and death written all over it. The Cavs took that crushing defeat last night. I went to the bank and found out I hadn't spent as much as I thought I'd spent. And... none of that has to do with how I feel right now.

Sometimes I feel like I'm multiple people (hence all of my wonderful aliases). And as such, 'somebody' in this head of mine just doesn't feel like being magical anymore. What do I mean by magical? I'll put it this way: I saw some very attractive women in the course of my day today. Instead of my usual attitude of admiration and appreciation for the aesthetic value of the woman's form, it was more like... "This isn't even a big enough deal for me to say 'big deal' when I really think about it..." It was almost like something inside of me got the report from my eyes and said, "And your point is..."

I think I mighta snapped last night. There was a moment when I just felt overwhelmed with everything. I was tired of my financial situation, tired of pushing my music, tired of being a history major, tired of phone calls, tired of looking out for people, tired of debating, tired of so many things.... I watched the game and saw the Cavs struggling, and I said to myself, "How about if ya'll make it, I'll make it too. If not, then it's whatever."

I had a test in the morning, but I couldn't bring myself to study. I had all week to study, but I just couldn't motivate myself to suck it up for this one class: "I'm a sociologist, not a historian." No more compromising, I just couldn't do it...

I did a few handstands--- I've been trying to work my way into diamond vertical pushups--- as the time passed. Once, I found the perfect balance; my tall body was set perfectly straight up with no swaying and no strain, arms locked in position. But I sat in the position too long, and my blood... did something funny. Bottom line is, I was dizzy as heck when I finally tried to stand up. I didn't fight it though; I casually collapsed to the carpet and waited for my head to straighten out.

For some reason I've been keeping the house a little straighter on the inside. Don't get the wrong idea, appearance matters nothing to me; I can't use neatness for anything productive. Which is why I can't figure out why I'm being neat. Go figure.

I'm not sure why exactly, but I've got this urge to buy a megaphone. I feel like I have something to say, but I haven't quite figured out what it is yet. And a trumpet; I've kinda wanted to get a trumpet too. Even though I haven't finished guitar or piano yet.

I've been waking up mad early every day for a while now. Dad would be proud. Who cares; my eyes are heavy all day now, and my attention span is shorter than...

I've had a craving for salads for the last few days. That's all I want: chicken salads with Honey Mustard or Catalina or Thousand Island dressing. Tryna see if I can lower my blood pressure to make the handstand thing a little less strenous on me.

It's been storming all week, so you know I've been doing a lot of praying. But it's funny; I got tired of hearing myself asking for the same thing--- asking God to remove my brontophobia. I realized that if He wanted to do it, then it would've been done. So I junked that prayer, and I simply said, "In the name of Jesus, remember me." And ya know, that's actually very comforting. I mean, I know He's never forgotten me before, but it serves as a reminder to myself that He knows. Funny thing is, for some reason the storms didn't feel so bad. Granted, I went to my usual hiding place and did my usual thing... but I did it with a lot less anxiety. I guess that's a good thing.

It's Friday already; yesterday it was Monday. Tomorrow'll prolly be Sunday, because I gotta conduct Youth services once again. I'm expecting a few rappers to come to the house and record some new material. What can I say... weekends are for the fortunate few. I've handed out enough free favors to start a non-profit organization.

You want a shurefire formula to leave you good and dizzy? Try figuring out the way what goes around is supposed to come back around.

What Man Can Reverse Hell

At work today, my boss informed me of a website--- www.innocenceproject.org--- started by a group dedicated to helping the victims of our faulty criminal justice system. The Innocent Project is a group that spends resources toward clearing the names of the wrongly convicted, preventing wrongful conviction, and helping the released reintegrate into society. After discussing the problem of wrongful conviction with her, I decided to write this short poem. Enjoy.

What Man Can Reverse Hell

America is a gun
Once the System has triggered
All the damage has been done
And down will fall the nigger
So what if the mark misses
For what man can reverse Hell
As inward a man hisses
All that's left is a hot shell

Where I Am in Love

For the first time ever, I'm in school and not looking forward to seeing anybody. I'm not watching some television show just to see some beautiful actress. I'm not surfing the mall to catch some proverbial Miss Augusta (that title even sounds awful, doesn't it). I'm not reminiscing on some old crush; not going out of my way to find a new one. In my bed at night, I'm alone in body, mind, and spirit.

And yes, even the "one that got away" and my "dream girl"... I'm tired of reaching for them. I haven't forgotten them, no; they cross my mind every day. But my mind isn't dedicated to them like it was before. It's only a matter of time now...

I'm wearing a deep blue shirt right now; a deep blue, plaid shirt, faded blue jeans, and gashed-up blue sneakers. There's no lovely colors, nothing loveable going on over here right now.

As friends are discussing marriage, working through their relationship problems, I'm 100% for 'em. I do whatever I can to usher relationships higher and higher; I'm a Black Dr. Phil. But I don't Phil anything. Nothing lovely, at least.

I know for fact that a relationship with the "one that got away" would bring out the absolute best in me, it's already in my spirit. I also know that that relationship can't happen. And brooding over it is an act of futility in the name of romance; beautiful, and no good to anybody, particularly myself.

I'm not down on love; love remains permanently in my top 5 most favorable things in life. And agape love still rules supreme: I love everybody and got love for everybody. But as far as being in love with anybody, I don't even like to think of it at the moment. Too much to think about, and utterly inconsequential.

Has life taken the wind out of my sails? On the contrary: in the beginning, romance was no wind. 'More like a sweet fragrance in a settling breeze as I waited for the gales that would take me to my destination. 'Funny thing about the nose; 'you smell something long enough, and your senses just adjust, to the point that you can no longer smell it.

I can't smell it anymore.

Which is why I'm getting away from it. The smell I once enjoyed has become a neutral scent; I need to get away from it if I ever hope to smell it anew. And even if I don't want to smell it anew, I can get away from it to serve that purpose as well.

This is the cold, calculating side of me in action.

I'm hungry, I'm flustered, I'm low on patience, I'm overburdened, and I'm over-exerted. So what is love to me? Maybe a little love would help with that, you say? Or maybe it would put me in the position of my dear friends: needing someone to talk them through the challenge of love. Because love indeed is a challenge---
but a worthy challenge. My hat goes off to the lovers out there.

I'm not in love. Anymore.

Born a Fish

Trying to capture the way I feel gets harder and harder the more I write. But I think this piece pretty accurately describes my mental state at the moment:

Born a Fish

Maybe I'm just born a fish
Rising up t'ward the surface
Squinting as the darkness clears
Eyes wide as the brightness nears
Breathless by the time I'm there
[Or] Suffocated by the air

Greater Optimism; Deeper Pessimism

As I sit here at my workdesk, I'm pretty much overwhelmed: too many thoughts to isolate and develop into complete ideas. I feel like I've had two Vaults and a chocolate bar. Okay, I did have the chocolate bar...

They say it's supposed to rain, maybe even storm today. So what else is new: that's my everyday life. I'm not a pessimist; I've got an umbrella, I'm prepared. Preparation can actually bring positive results from negative situations--- so nah, don't call me a pessimist at all. 'Matter of fact, sometimes I'd rather the worst, just so I don't hafta spend my sweet dreams in prepartion for a rude awakening. "It's the suspense that gets me", as the coined phrase once went.

A homie of mine is thinkin' about getting married. You know me: I love love, so I'm all for it. But what I like about my homie is this: he's not fooled into thinking it's gonna be all peaches and cream and hugs and kisses and even-Steven. What we talked about most over the phone was how much he'd be willing to love this woman when she's: 1) reflecting on old relationships; 2) when she's making crapshot decisions; 3) when it's that time of the month; 4) when she wants to argue just to see how much he'll put up with and how deeply he loves her; 5) when her family interferes. That's not pessimism folks, that's preparation; because these things happen, and you're a TVLand fool to act like they don't.

What a pessimist doesn't realize is that preparation for the worst creates an advantage that creates opportunity for the best outcome. Some people are pessimists and they don't even know it. Do you claw and scrape to squeeze everything you can out of your good times in anticipation of bad times? That's pessimism; you've already decided that the bad times are going to conquer you and prevent your progression. I don't believe in undefeatable foes or circumstances; when a challenge arises, I'm not cowering in fear and battening down the hatches, but examining the opposition for its inevitable weakness. Because, short of God Himself, every one and every thing has a weakness. There are those who pack-up, and those who pack heat; both may survive, but only one attains.

I just realized that this is the true essence of optimism; it's not merely expecting the best, but believing in the potential to bring the best from the worst. It's not the naive arrogance of a man sitting on the beachfront before the hurricane hits, but the practical faith of a man preparing a boat so that he can ride the waters. See the difference?

Preparation isn't the mark of pessimism; a real pessimist surrenders to enemy slavery before the battle begins to extend his own life. A prepared man recognizes that he's outnumbered, then burns the bridge that enters into the city before the enemy arrives. Because his goal is to save his people, not to engage the enemy.

Sometimes preparation means sacrificing opportunity. The rope-a-dope is a perfect example: why take a few hits when you can battle the entire round? Well, when you recognize the greater strength and stamina of your opponent and that your fatigue will cost you the match, that's pessimism to opt to force a footrace. Instead, you prepare the sacrifice of the cards and the early rounds to gain the advantage: your freshness and awareness of your opponent late in the fight against his fatigue and cluelessness. Now you have shot to do what you came to do, which is win the match.

Unless you're just satisfied with a great fight, that's cool too...

It's hard to find the line between respecting opponents and situations or admitting premature defeat. But here's a surefire way to tell if you're being a pessimist or preparing:

1. Define the ultimate goal. If your method of choice does not attempt to achieve this goal but settles for a lesser goal, then you're being a pessimist. If your method is attempting to conquer circumstances to obtain the ultimate goal, then you're preparing.

2. Probability is an excuse for those who don't win. When we come up short, we use stats and probability to assert that we had no chance or that it's okay to fall short. If that's the case, then whenever a challenge arises you should calculate the probability. And if you don't like the odds, then forfeit immediately. The funny thing is, we only remember those who beat the odds; with that mentality, those people never would've tried in the first place.

3. Preparation or pessimism is not determined by the final outcome; either way will not guarantee victory or defeat. Both states are completely mental; your mindset determines if you're preparing or being pessimistic. And again, it comes down to the mere question of striving for the ultimate goal or settling for less to determine if you're in preparation or pessimism.

This entire inscription was sparked last night over a debate over a basketball game. The Cavs, my team of choice (I'm actually a Detroit fan, but LBJ impressed me) is down 2 games to 0. My homie makes a big deal of this, but I studied the Cavs players in both games--- and not just their gameplay, but them as individuals. There was no sweat, no urgency, no panic, no frustration from the Cavs players, or even the staff and coach... which leads me to believe they're losing with purpose. (I say 'with' purpose, because no one loses 'on' purpose; 'with' purpose meaning winning is second priority and the first priority is worth losing for) In the fourth quarter of the last game, the Cavs activated and played like a whole different team, cutting a near-30 point deficit by 17 in a matter of about 5 minutes; if it was from desperation, I deduce it would've happened at least after the halftime break. And even after they proceeded to lose, the same composure and poise was there; even the emotional leader didn't so as much as shake his head.

My contention is that they've adopted a rope-a-dope strategy against the champs: let the champs reveal their weapons, sacrifice two games not to win but to practice playing against the 'playoffs Spurs', then take what is learned and put it into action to take back the series. You get to the playoffs by winning games; you win the playoffs by beating teams. This is a long-term strategy for a Cavs team that knows that defeating a high-caliber, championship-repeating, well-congealed, multi-faceted opponent at their worst (Game 1) affords nothing, as they will only play at their worst for one game and at their best for the remaining six.

(Pardon the interruption, but actually, this is the same reason I prefer to beat people in 'best of 10' series in fighting games! Because, at the end of a stretch, there's usually no question as to who's better. I can use a couple rounds to figure my opponent out--- heck, they can even do the same if they're smart enough!--- and take the rest of the fight to exploit their weaknesses. To date, I've only lost one such series to somebody who was honestly better than me; the rest have ceased to try >B-D)

'Sad thing is, as I said before, winning and losing is not proof of preparation or pessimism. Both are completely mental, which is why this pointless debate could've gone on forever should I have opted to continue it. And what's sadder is, even in ending it, it continues to plague and distract me. So, I decided to resort to writing to make a bad thing even worse... The key word is 'make': any way you slice it, that's a form of control.

Beware of deliberation, and especially deliberation in delay; it's so serious, but so Yu-Gi-Oh elementary.

Booooo Theory; HOORAAAY CLEVELAND!! B-J

"Statistics are for Losers!!"

First off, I would like to thank Steve Harvey for that quote. I wish I had recorded the entire spiel he gave last month, but I think that is the quote of the year, maybe of a lifetime. I'm gonna try to do justice to what he said and paraphrase what I can remember as the concept:

"Statistics are for losers! Statistics are what people use as excuses for their shortcomings! It makes us feel comfortable to know that we're not the only one, or that the likelihood was low for a positive outcome. But if the odds are one-million to one, who's to say that you can't be the one! And how many would-be successes never achieved success because they looked at the statistics before they even tried! How many of that one-million never stepped to the plate in the first place! And that's all the more reason for you not to be like them, and to go for the 'impossible'; because those odds are based on how many cowards wouldn't step up to the plate after seeing the numbers!"

And I agree wholeheartedly. My sociology professor pointed out something that Strongly resonated with my own philosophy: "Always take the weak side."

In life, I find that most of our fear... is pointless. Perfect example: my homie Doc Makin and I were watching the game last night. As a sports-writer, he's really into the logistics of the game: stats, numbers, match-ups, coaching, history, etc. Based on all those things, Doc said he believes the Spurs to win in 6 games.

Me? Oh, I don't care WHAT the stats say. I think according to this principle: nobody comes to lose. As long as nobody comes to lose, everybody is gonna do what it takes to win. Winning and losing isn't a mathematical equation; it's something that is decided a game at a time. And if teams really want to win, they will make adjustments. If they make adjustments, obviously they can't be counted in or out according to stats that were fixed in unchanging stone. Oh yeah, a prediction might prove to be right, true enough. But there's a 50/50 chance of you being right to begin with; that's not a prediction, that's a coin toss.

And most things in life are really coin tosses. No matter what the odds are, it usually comes down to two questions: will you do it, and can you do it better. When you focus things down to what matters, you'll find that the only time odds matter is when you have options. If you have a slim chance of surviving a gunshot and a great chance of surviving a stab wound, you opt for the stab wound. If your only choice is the gunshot, then you learn to work with the only option you have.

In the case of winning and losing, as far as I'm concerned, there are no odds. Not for the people involved. All that one should be concerned with is attaining the better of the two outcomes. A greater team versus a lesser team; what difference does it make. The game is played because of the existance of CHANCE; that's why it's called a "game" like a "gamble", a "gambit". And how many chances does it take to win? One. And since nobody's perfect, the One exists eternally.

But then we lose. And when we lose, the next step is to figure out why. And granted, there's usually noticeable reasons why. But what we forget is that, just like there's reasons, there's also randoms. For instance, what if every shot attempted was hit? What if the other team mised more? And no, you can't throw up statistics--- "X missed because is not a great shooter"--- because stats didn't predict that LeBron would shoot consecutive contested shots in Game 5 against Detroit. What if this person wasn't hurt in the X quarter? What if the crowd was more excited? What if...

What does it matter?

If I was a basketball player, and I missed every shot in the game, do I need to know my shot percentage for the year? No. Because that paper is only a record, not an advisor. All I need to know is that there's room for improvement; and if I give it my all, it doesn't matter how great that room is. And so, I take it upon myself to practice my own shot to perfection.

When we come up short, we come up with statistics to give ourselves a break. "Well, you're not a great shooter, so you're not gonna have a great game from the perimeter". That's called self-fulfilling prophecy. If my goal is greatness, why do I need somebody to tell me reasons why greatness can't be achieved? The mark of a true loser is one who allows the mistakes of the past to dictate his future. And ALL STATISTICS ARE PAST. Something to think about.

You can always find excuses, but I thought we were out to find something more important...

Force Me to Use Force!

What do you do man... It's about 6-7 of them, and one of me. I'm outmanned and outsized. If they invaded my space once, there's not much to stop em from doing it again. I'm not gonna get my homies involved, cuz if anybody is gonna get hurt, it's gonna be me.

But, judging by my aim, if it goes down, I'm not likely get hurt.

Look... I hate guns. I love fighting, but people don't fight anymore 'cuz they're too scared to get wet up; go work at a gym for days, but never throw a straight punch. If I could run trespassers away with the guarantee that they wouldn't return, I wouldn't even consider buying a gun. But these kids nowadays are hard-headed and proud. I need a SOLUTION, not a band-aid.

What do you do? When a cat goes through your car. Oh, you can lock the door next time; he'll just bust a window. It's not my fault man; I knew the cats were shady, so I kept my distance. But I can only control me. Another topic, another time.

It's not just any old neighborhood troublemakers getting under my skin with this one; they kick it NEXT DOOR to my house. That's why I'm thinking that, eventually, it's gonna be a repeat offense. Now, you know we can't have that.

My pops has guns; my uncle has a gun; my grandaddy had a rifle; my cousin has a gun; even some of my homies have guns (some even have gun fetishes apparently). I never wanted to own one, hold one, and definitely not use it. But I can't allow cats to infringe on my territory. See, when my sister and her friend go back to school, I'm still gonna be in this house by myself. And if cats are trying me now with three people in the house, they'll be more apt to try with one person. You know we can't have that...

I'm trying to talk myself out of copping a firearm, I really am. I'm also reminding myself that I'm not immune to anything happenin, like last night. All this keeping to myself all these years has apparently been reduced to nothing in the span of 5 days. Never counted on my walls of silence and isolation being compromised by house guests. Now I've got an irrevocable issue that MUST be dealt with.

It's whatever; I hate this though. I've always hated the thought of guns and killing (I LOVE martial arts though, ya'll know that). I didn't like the sound of guns ever since I was a kid. Never went hunting with pops, never did any of that stuff. But... I'm not willing to live in fear. If that's the case, I might as well move now.

I'm gonna pray about this for a while, but I feel like my options are very limited. Bold animals just get bolder with time; thats why, once an animal has tasted human blood, it's usually put down as quickly as possible. Violating my property is a bad habit that is going to stop VERY quickly. I'm gonna call the police ONE TIME, but the truth is, the police have already been on my street enough times that if it was gonna ward these kids off, it would have already. That's what I think, anyway.

"Me nah look for trouble, but trouble dem fallah me..."
-Phife Dawg

A Lesson On Communication

I was just thinking... I've found myself having to give this speech a million times, and that's just in the year 2007.

I always have a problem getting people to understand that communication is not as simple as sending and receiving messages. You want proof? If it was that simple, there would be no such thing as sarcasm or multiple meanings in prose and poetry. Everything would be taken literally.

So, I thought I'd take a moment while its on my mind and explain to the world how communication really works.

[Spoken] Communication is only 1/3 what is said; the other 2/3s are how it is said and the spirit in which its said. In normal speech, we say one thing, we say it according to its literal meaning, and we say it for an obvious reason. The truth is, most of our speech is not normal. There are not many times during the day when we speak with baseness; we are constantly varying the three dimensions of [spoken] communication to convey deeper meaning than the simple "hello" when we greet each other.

The other day, I told my sister, "You ain't no friend of mine." And she laughed. Does that make sense to you? On paper, no. But in realtime, it would have made perfect since. I said, "You ain't no friend of mine"; I said it in a singsong voice and making ugly facial expressions; I said it as a big brother to a little sister who he could not do without. Without seeing all three of those things, you could easily have misread my communication. But because you now know those three elements--- what was said, how it was said, and the spirit in which it was said--- you're probably laughing to yourself about the absurdity of the statement.

Which is why I don't beleive in waging wars on words. Take another look at the example above. The words spoken were not the words received. Why? Because denotation and vocabulary are, in essence, a miniscule part of communication. So miniscule in fact that you can tell my mood by looking at my face and the ride of my shoulders, and I can tell your background by your interactions with others, and you can tell the forecast by the sky and the lean of the trees, and I can discern your feelings by the gaze of your eyes.

See, the problem with fighting a word is that you're only fighting 1/3 of [spoken] communication; the two thirds still remain. You can tell me not to use the word "hate", but if I say "Whassup" with my lip turned up to you and I'm planning to shoot you when you turn away, there's nothing gained. As a matter of fact, allowing me to say "I hate you" might have given you the chance to run before it was too late. Not to mention, all that's gonna happen is a word substitution: it went from "hate you" to "d#mn you" to "f#ck you". Because the SPIRIT of the words we say is that makes the larger part of communication, not the words themselves.

If you hate me, and you call me a hateful name, yes it might hurt. But the fact is, it hurts more that you hate me than the fact that you called me something hateful. Because guess what? It would hurt me if you said something NICE to me in a hateful manner, or even if your spirit was hateful, and you tried to hide it behind politeness. As a matter of fact, I'd rather people be honest with me than be subtley hateful of me while shaking my hand.

But, one thing about our generation and the generation that gave birth to it: we suck at communication. We don't talk, and when we do talk we don't have anything to say. And when we have something to say, our action--- our body language--- doesn't say the same thing. We need to start emphasizing the heart before we start emphasizing what comes from it. You can turn off a fire alarm if it annoys you; the fire itself it what you need to be concerned with. You can tone down language in hip hop; the inner city depravity is what you need to be concerned with. And all this is a result of miscommunication. Displeasure with the medium shouldn't prevent one from receiving the message. Perhaps, with a greater understanding of communication, we can have a greater understanding of the problems we face and a greater understanding of what needs to be done, and what will only turn off the unpleasant alarms in our society.

And here's some raw communication for ya: what am I communicating by putting that spiel in blockquote? You guessed it... I've already said this before. This time, interalize it. It'll help ya.

A Honduras Wind

Sometimes I can't seem to push myself any further. It's been a long time since I first decided to go against the current; I started out soooo early, and it's been soooo long... I'm exhausted, battered, anxious, frustrated, disappointed... sometimes I'm even indifferent, but I've just been at it so long that I persist by default.

Sometimes I feel half-dead. When my body is ready, my mind is never in it; when my mind is ready, my body is never in it. At 24 I have the knowledge; at 17 I had the drive. At 17 I had the skills; at 24 I have the resources. At 17 I had the participants; at 24 I have the blueprint.

The thing is, I saw this documentary last night about Lisa Lopez. And as I watched and learned more about who she really was, I saw her as a real warrior whose mind was blown. No, she wasn't crazy; she was the right and proper result of crazy circumstances. That's exactly what she was. Still, in the midst of everything, she managed to find a way to give to those around her of whatever was placed in her. Her passion for children--- her passion period--- was a beautiful thing, and she radiated it in the best ways she knew how.

The whole time, I was just thinking, "Lisa, how can you save them when you haven't saved, or been saved, yourself yet..."

And I think at that moment, I realized something: I can't let this world destroy me or what I'm about. It seems that all who aspire to something worthy come back in pieces. I'm not coming back in pieces. To see such a benevolent spirit suffer so much, become so contorted, and eventually scattered to the wind; yet, to see her still make a difference... I feel like it would be dishonorable on my part to bail out now.

Maybe I'll never pop on all cylinders like I want to--- like I've always felt I needed to. That's cool, I can live with that. But I refuse to leave this world without making a resounding impact; maybe several resounding impacts. Nothing superficial, no surface wounds... I want to sink flagships and break keystones. And I wanna do it so much that it becomes an unbreakable bad habit.

And when I die, I want it to be because my time was up, not because my life was taken. And I want to die knowing I'm finished. I want to die in such a way that I can dust my shoulder off to this world, leaving behind a crater on this Earth fit to make the moon blush.

I'm not gonna move to Honduras in search of a peaceful place; I'm gonna be at peace here on the battlefield, in the heart of the Dirty South, and in Capitalism's Capital. And then, I'm gonna chill in Canada because I want to, not because I feel I have to.

In the meantime... ya'll look up the name Dr. Sebi. I think you may find some interesting things. B-J

Pulse Check

It's been a long time since I've written anything about my own life. Remember in Volume 1, how I used to write about intimate things? And even in the beginning of Volume 2, "The Unforgettable Night" and such? This has been a very serious series huh?

But, I think that it's just as meritable. The thing is, it's just as important that we grow mentally as it is that we grow emotionally. I think I've experienced a very much mental growth over the past year. I've said this before, but I felt like my teeth came in over last semester. I gained a lot of affirmation regarding my own ideals, and that did big things for my confidence. The whole Marxist perspective, the field of sociology... I really felt at home there in a way that I haven't felt since... middle school, I guess.

I'm certain that my entire school experience was meant to lead me to that field. That's the first satisfaction I've felt in a long time. Still, I wouldn't quite say that I'm "happy"; maybe "content" would be a better word.

The fact is, I still have some major clouds over my head. I'm nervous a lot, not that something "bad" is gonna happen, but that something's gonna change and make things more difficult for me than they already are. I like change when I control it; I don't like it when I don't.

Anyway, I've got money. That's cool. I've also got debt; not so much my own debt, but debt that came when I got my mother's house. That's not cool. You know how little money means to me; I don't like being in a situation where I hafta think about finances in every decision I make. I've NEVER been a big spender, and now, I just can't afford to be. But, to God be the glory for whatever I have at my disposal.

Love? Bah... it's a thorn in my side. There's only one person in the whole world I really want to be with, and that just can't happen at this point because we're 100% out of contact and she's married; then there's my "dreamgirl", who I guess you might've called my sparring partner in love, though it seems we're drifting apart a little. Tryna let go of some irrational crushes I've had, and I think I'm doing a pretty good job there. Don't get me wrong, I still love love. But it's hard to write about something you're not experiencing, especially when you don't want to say what's already been said. And that's pretty much all I'd do at this point.

I've been able to type so much recently because I'm back at my first job, working at a desk at school. Plenty of time to write and think. No complaints there.

Uhhh...

Oh yeah, the music. I'm still frustrated, working with cats that make music I don't believe in. Feelin like a sell-out, that I am, but I also feel I owe these cats cuz they helped me. This is exactly why I'm reluctant to tell people what I do: not many people are on the same page with me, and the truth is, I'd rather not help cats add fuel to the fire that's already burning our society out. That's just me.

As for my music... I'm having trouble getting it together. Music was a habit for me when I first got into it; now, it's a struggle to put just one song together. Between school and phone calls and work and other cats recording contrary music... psychologically, it's just hard. Not to mention the financial pressure with the house; I gotta get outta school ASAP so I can get some decent income, so music is getting a half-a$$ed effort from me right now. And I hate that.

School's been beating me up this semester. I got out of sociology, and it was like I got stripped of my superpowers as soon as I went back to history. First of all, I jumped in a class that was WAY too hard to be a summer course. So I had to drop it; no problem. The problem was I didn't drop it sooner, so it kinda softened me up in my OTHER class. So now, I'm climbing out of an academic hole.

It happens; just so long as I pass...

I thought about selling the house I'm in and moving into the campus apartments or sumn. It would be fun, it would be cheaper, and I'd have the price of a house backing me up financially. But... I dunno. I don't like being uprooted. It was hard enough to get in the position I'm in now, I don't want to adjust to anything else. You gotta understand, I'm from a relatively same-ol-thing family; we don't do stuff like that easily. It's just a thought though, no guarantees there.

I'm hoping the Cavaliers win the championship, because its been a long time since I've had an inspiring story unfold before my eyes. I saw Game 5 when LeBron made history, and I was so happy to see there's still a little gump left in this life.

My musical prefs have changed a bit. I'm really into the West Coast music--- Warren G, Dr. Dre, DJ Quik--- for their production. I like the funk elements and the delayed kicks and snares. Also, the laid-back deliveries of some of the MCs. It's good summertime music.

Um... I'm 24 years old now. Had my birthday May 10th. Nuttin' really went down, which is cool, cuz that's not me. I don't like being made to do anything, ya know? The best company are the cats that know you for you and accept you as yourself.

Uhhhh... I dunno, there's not a lot on my... OH wait! There is this radio show I've been calling in to a lot. Victory Waters Speaks is the name of it. It's a net show, VERY dope. I get to call in and run my mouth a lot, which is what I do here basically. That's been a treat, and Victory is one of the coolest people I've ever come across. If it's not storming, I might call in tonight too. You should check it out, www.victorywaters.com.

That's about it folks; forcing this is makin' my head hurt. The next time I have some real thoughts, I prrrrooomise I'll post 'em here.

Jesus Peace B-J

P.S. - I think I'm getting tired of the statements at the ends of my posts. Most of the time I don't even like em... That's gonna change pretty soon; I'm almos sure of it.

The Truth About Race

Here's the blunt truth about race in America:

In America, race is a social construct whose only significance is in the context very racism that created it. Think about it:

When you fill out an application, you're supposed to list the information that is relevant to your qualification to work. We--- the intelligent people--- recognize that race in itself has no scientifically observable significance that would affect one's effectiveness at a task; the color of your skin or your heritage would not affect your ability to carry boxes, type, sing, write, direct, or whatever it is you do.

Yet, they still ask for your race. Well, if it has no work related significance, then why do they ask? Think about it:

1. They don't ask for your race because it affects your qualification; they ask for your race so that the racial trends can be studied to make sure that there is no discrimination taking place.

It's a safety measure. Think about it:

Because of racism, various places of work have quotas about how much of a certain race must be present in the workforce. Sociologists and historians and lawyers and various humanitarian organizations are the only ones who really use this information (some employers use it differently, which I will address shortly). The entire need for information regarding race is spawned by the existence of racism itself; without racism, race has no significance.

So, of course, then there's the obvious:

2. They don't ask for your race because it affects your qualification... to work. They ask because it may affect your qualification... to work for THEM. In the worst case scenario, they ask for your race because they want to discriminate against a certain race under the false pretense of race determining the ultimate worth, inferiority, or superiority of a person; again, intelligent people know better. And again, racial discrimination itself creates the excuse for the existence of race.

And, even though I call this The Truth About Race, the fact is that the phenomenon of labeling for labeling's sake exists in a sphere much bigger than race. Any label by which we discriminate short of age--- because with age often does come physical, tangible conditions that affect the suitability of people to work in certain conditions--- exists because of the -ism thereby associated. Sexism creates sex; classism creates class; racism creates race; ethnicism creates ethnicity.

Now that I've written a bit, I can even isolate the incidents into two types: discriminatory labeling and anti-discriminatory labeling. In short--- using the idea of race for illustration--- race either exists for the purpose of racial discrimination or for the prevention of racial discrimination. But in and of itself, race has no significance. The day we decide that race no longer matters, there would be nothing (rational) that could reassert its significance.

Whoa O_o

Hydraulics!!!

This is another one of my lil' idiosyncracies. See, I'm a product of that 1995 era... And I'm Dirty Southern...

I love bounce!!!

I grew up on that Miami/ATL bass music--- that old school "tick-and-bump" that was out waaaay before krunk, waaaay before Ciara, waaaay before Polow--- about the time that the Bankhead Bounce was the dance. Some of ya'll might know what I'm tambout: Uncle Luke, DJ Smurf (Mr. Collipark to you youngin's), DJ Taz, DJ Kizzy Rock, DJ Uncle Al (R.I.P.), June Dog, INOJ, Zae, Carl Mo, Virgo, Afroman and Skeeter Rock, Lil Jon on the TURNTABLES... I can keep namin em, trust me...

The problem is, the bounce kinda... got waaaay deeper than my shoulders, lol. See, back then I used to love playing basketball, and I had CRAZY hops (even though I couldn't dunk, I could block dunks... go figure). And since I was a tall cat, sometimes I used to come down real hard on my feet after going really high up. So I started doing this thing where I'd come down, but I wouldn't lock my legs; I would bounce to absorb the impact. Little did I know, that was gonona become a permanent bad habit and make my legs even stronger , lol.

I don't exercise regularly, so I'm not much when it comes to endurance. But I have a lot of white muscle fibers. (In case you ain' got the foggiest idea what I'm tambout, remember in school when they showed you the picture of the human body with no skin, and it was red and white? Well, those were muscles made of red and white muscle fibers. White muscle fibers are the muscle fibers one uses for explosive movement like powerlifting, coming out the blocks in a race, throwing a punch, etc.) Those fibers make me very explosive when it comes to physical activities, even though I burn energy really quickly.

Along with the explosivity, I also have crazy control of my body; I can go from a state of explosion to a slow, cushiony retraction, to a dead stop if necessary. Sound familiar? It's kinda like a hydraulic pump actually; my body's like a slender hydraulic pump. And as such... I constantly feel like exploding! I mean, hydraulic pumps are pressurized, always ready to release pressure, right? That's me, mentally and physically...

In this case, especially physically. A pediatrist at my church told me that I walk the way that I walk because I have exceptionally powerful legs; and judging by my unconscious habits, I tend to believe that. Like, even though I don't really hoop anymore, I naturally love leaping up random stairs and jumping off walls. And when I touch down, I always land with a bounce or two. The object is to leap as high as possible, but land as quietly as possible, kinda like a cat. In one fluid motion, go from total explosion to total control...

(Seriously, I just realized something: maybe that's why I love fighting so much! It's all the explosive movement! And the more variation between explosion and control in the art, the more I like that art. This is why I love writing; I'm always discovering new things about myself, lol)

'Funny thing is, I never really got into hydraulics on cars. Although I love to see 'em drop and rock, the jumping never really did it for me... which is probably why I never could dunk. (another discovery!)

But that's cool that I can't dunk; because when I'm on the court you can't dunk either. HYDRAULICS!!!...


SCARRED!!! B-J

The First Day of My Life

Can I live tomorrow like it's the first day of my life...

My life has been very simple; there's only been two phases to it. I call these phases "days".

The first day is what I call the period from my birth to my 'awakening'. I remember it well. That was the time when I trusted people; I thought the best of everyone. And I believed in the world and that the world was constructed to the benefit of everyone. And I believed that the problems of society were acts of random misfortune that could be corrected with a light scolding, a little money, a little hug, a simple prayer.
The first day wasn't a period of ignorance, not totally. See, I knew that the world was not a perfect place all my life. But here was the thing: I was led to believe that it was flawed only in the past, and that the mistakes of the past had been corrected. We talked about Martin Luther King Jr. in past tense. We talked about Vietnam in past tense. We talked about welfare reform in past tense.

Well... the last two we didn't talk about in class. But I knew of them as early as the 5th grade. And when I asked about them, they were talked about in past tense.

The first day, a suit and tie meant the utmost success. The first day, I was never told what suit and tie people built their empires on top of. The important thing was, they looked clean in the public eye. And the public's job was to aspire to look like them.

The first day, I read the Bible and saw that it said to abstain from the appearance of evil. I was never taught to know what the appearance of evil was. At least, I wasn't taught to recognize the evil as much as I was taught to recognize the accused. I was taught that the indicted, the shunned, the contrary and different, as well as the convicted, was always the evil.

The first day, I was so happy. I thought the world would care for itself. Take care of all the people. Things would just work out if I kept my head down and kept smiling. The success of the few would trickle down to all. I mean, who in this world would intentionally cause harm to anyone, right? Villains were only cartoon make-believe...

Are you still in your first day?

In the fifth grade, I took a ride with my cousin and mentor. He played a song by a rap group from Atlanta. In this song, nobody was happy. Nobody was on top. Everybody was trying; nobody was succeeding. And... that simply wasn't supposed to be the case.

I don't know if he knew it or not, but I was learning SO MUCH then. I didn't listen to the curse words, cuz I barely knew what curse words were. All I heard was what was being said between them; stories of poverty, desperation, reluctant crime, racial discrimination, anger, disintegrated families, disease, coping... and it hurt me. That pain was like a bottom-slap into reality at the hands of a cruel doctor. "Welcome to the real world".

Yeah, that was my real world entry--- not that condescending speech of most parents to their teenagers. As a matter of fact, that real world was a joke to me after this point; with such critical problems in desperate need of solution, I found it immature of adults to be so short-sighted and concerned about such things as merely attaining a wife and a white picket fence.

I dunno... the point is, the 'first day' of my life ended when I recognized the unfinished business of those who came before me. And I'd give anything to have it back, except the reality needs me to be here in the 'second day' of my existence. My dream is that my son or daughter can live in their first day forever, and that when I introduce them to the "real world", it will be in a time where there is not a more imminent need.

Please: DON'T Go to Hell

Naw, this isn't exactly a Bible study here. Jesus Christ is the Truth; you can trust that. Jesus Christ is the only way to avoid damnation; you can also trust that. But this isn't exactly me trying to push Jesus on anybody. It's me warning you of what I think the true nature of Hell is. Because, if I'm right, it's nothing to take lightly (not that it ever was...).

Ya know it's funny; at some time in our lives, most of us have experienced a burn. Whether it was a 3rd degree fire, blistering metal, scalding water, rugburn, or a drop of hot grease, we all know how bad it hurts. But you know what? I'm convinced that physical burning is NOTHING compared to what Hell is like.

The Bible tells us not to fear those who can destroy the body, but to fear Him who can destroy body AND soul. Of course, that's referring to damnation. But think about it: physical fire doesn't burn the soul, only the body. So, while Hell may be a lake of fire, perhaps it's not just the fire we like to think of.

My first year in college, I was on this super-religious stint. Let me rephrase that: I was exceptionally dedicated; I sincerely wanted to live a life without sin. And don't get me wrong, I still do want that. Let me put it to ya like this: there was a point where I was so passionate about getting above sin that I called my cousin on the brink of tears, and my cousin said to me, "Christians are supposed to be Christ-like... NOT CHRIST HIMSELF!" I was a little overboard, on the brink of that "so Heavenly-bound that you're no Earthly good" state...

But during that time, I experienced something. That very night that I called my cousin 'matter-of-fact, I got this terrible burning in my chest. And all it was was that I wanted to get above sin, but knew that I couldn't do it. It was like hitting a wall of fire. No man on Earth can be perfect, and knowing that was KILLING ME. Sin would always be in my life until I reached the other side; if I wasn't being tempted, then I'd be falling for temptation. There was no getting around it.

I think that was a taste of Hellfire.

It's the same feeling I get often when I search for a special old friend of mine, a friend from that same school actually. We got separated some years ago, and my greatest wish has been that I get to talk to her again. I've been through so much, and each time some new tragedy hit me she was the first name and face that came to mind. SO many times we helped each other through distress; I would've given anything to hear her voice.

But each time, I had to do without my confidant. No one has succeeded in giving me the level of comfort that I know she could've given. People have prayed for me, and I know God is no respecter of persons, but knowing that she prayed for me would have given me so much encouragement. And it doesn't make sense to me that we should be disconnected like this. No sense at all.

I've been denied access to my friend; in my chest, I feel the same feeling as the one before. And I can't help wondering if its anything like Hellfire.

I believe Hellfire is at the gates of hate. I don't hate anyone in this world; as a Christian, I'm not allowed to. But I've been there, at the threshold of hate. I've sat in that boiler room and seen the fire behind the grated door; I know it's in me. All my life, there's been that one person...

I've held such a disdain for a person that, if given the opportunity and permission, I would've assaulted him a long time ago. And over the two decades of my existence, nothing has changed between me and this person. He's belittled and supported me; he's mistreated and provided for me; he's guided and maliciously manipulated me. And sometimes I'm at a point where I'd rather him be my declared enemy, just so we can get things over with. Even then, I know God wouldn't allow me to retaliate the way I want. So I understand when God says he'd rather a man be hot or cold than lukewarm, I really do. Talking, reasoning, praying for and with him... nothing. But because of his position, I hafta respect this man at all times, obey this man at all times, forgive this man at all times...

I've been seething over this for my entire existence, knowing it will never go away. That's gotta be Hellfire.

This isn't meant to be a religious message, but I'm telling you this from the heart: I sincerely don't believe that Hell is a lake of mere earthly fire. I believe it's something more. I believe earthly fire is the "soft" side of Hell; the regret, the reflection, the hopelessness, the distance, the denial... I believe THAT's the essence of Hell's fire. The other fire destroys the body, but THAT's the fire that destroys souls. I really believe that.

Here comes the plug:

If you're reading this, please take a moment to consider Jesus Christ. Because, if I'm right about Hell, it's SO not worth it. Trust me. The pain I feel sometimes makes me see death with appreciation, knowing that one day it'll all pass; I can't imagine knowing there's no relief. And that's what Hell is gonna be like--- there will be no relief. So please, consider.

B-(

Who is NOT a LeBron Fan?!

Because this time, even I'M on the bandwagon! After last night?! You gotta be kidding me!

I'm not a Cavs fan, but I never had anything against 'em; I'm actually a Detroit fan, so I should be mad 'cuz we lost, right? But I'm gonna be honest with you: I want the Cavs to beat us. This is a moment in history, and I wanna see it pan out.

LeBron was one of the most hyped players to ever enter the NBA. But here's the catch: he was the only one that lived up to the hype. Fully, that is. I mean yeah, a few others lived up to hype... but not to this degree. Keep in mind, for those of you who saw the game last night, LeBron is still only 22 YEARS OLD; I'm 24 myself, and I could never see myself, or anybody in my circle for that matter, doing what LeBron did on that court last night.

LeBron tapped into his Emjay last night. You know... that force that players once tapped into to make old school basketball look like a video game? And with a team still under construction and coming into its own, LeBron was able to single-handedly muscle one of deepest, most-respected, and most-slated-to-win franchises in recent history... IN DOUBLE OVERTIME... UNDER EXHAUSTION AND FATIGUE...

But you know what? There's no secret to LeBron. There's one super-rare quality that LeBron has that not many people on this entire Earth have. It's the ability to LEARN. And get this: LeBron doesn't learn from his critics. You know how I know that? Because his critics don't even agree with each other! They're all spectators reading off a paper, attempting to break spontaneous reality down to an equation.

Well, here's an equation for ya: LeBron learns from his own experiences at ground zero. This is why you see noticeable improvements, not merely from game-to-game, but IN the game from quarter-to-quarter. LeBron pays attention, uses introspection, analyzes and critiques the play of his teammates, respectfully gauges his opponents, and adjusts accordingly. He is a STUDENT, in Tim-Duncanesque fashion, sitting in the lockeroom watching video. And this is the wild thing about LeBron: in a series like this, where the Cavs come back from being 2-0 to win 3 in a row (not to mention the fact that the first two games were WINNABLE for the Cavs), you've got a LeBron James who has gained 5 games of playoff experience at home and away, playing both uphill and downhill, against one of the greatest teams of recent NBA history!

Let me break that down to you RPG style: the boy's gaining XP; XP means "experience points"; EXPERIENCE POINTS = UPGRADE. The LeBron of the regular season is dead; the LeBron of Game 1 is dead; the LeBron of game 2 is dead; the Lebron of Game 5 is all that exists.

See, when LeBron finds a chink in his armor, you can guarantee that he's going to work on that weakness until it becomes a hidden strength. Therefore, when critics pull out statistics, it's futile; you're trying to film a documentary with a snapshot quick-cam, and your finger is NOT fast enough, patna. Now a LeBron, who was being criticized for bricking a mere shot or making a bad pass, is being lauded for hitting pretty much EVERY shot that he "wasn't supposed to" make. The stats never woulda showed you that coming.

But lets talk more about game 5, because there's something soooo rare that happened there. I'm not gonna talk about points: he scored all of em. I'm not gonna talk about good decision/bad decision: he won the game, period. I wanna talk about the Forbidden Zone of Playoffs Overtime. Take into account everything that I said earlier: the man learns on the fly. These are the things that he's learned from DOUBLE overtime against Detroit:

1. He can DO IT.

2. What it's like to be truly exhausted.

3. Even when he's truly exhausted, he can DO IT.

4. If it's an unmakeable shot, even if he's exhausted, he can DO IT.

5. If he's got to dunk on somebody, even if he's exhausted, he can DO IT.

6. If he's got to break up a pass, even if he's exhausted, he can DO IT.

See, this game pushed LeBron to his limit. So now, from this point on, his reserve will be even DEEPER. For you Christians out there: LeBron is David, and this game is his TESTIMONY---that lion, that bear that David had to slay for his sheep. So now, David can step to Goliath and square that playa up in his forehead.

But lemme divulge for a second. Let's talk about the team. You know what the Cavs have learned? They've learned that they've got a fit-for-real LEADER, who would carry the entire load himself if he could. Last night, in double overtime, the team began to falter; but they watched their leader press on like a man crazed. Do you know what that DOES when you see your leader go deep for the squad like that? So now, the mentality of the team is, "Our leader came through for us; we will NEVER allow him to be on that court by himself again. EVER." And don't get me wrong, the Cavs played a relatively good defensive game toward the end just with their persistence; and their persistence contributed to the missed shot at the end that made the difference... All I'm saying is that, next time, they're gonna put up points too.

I haven't been excited about basketball since the fall of the Lakers dynasty. I'm not saying LeBron is going to win the championship, or even that he is going to make it out of this series. What I am saying is that THIS is what I come to see. A humble man willing to learn, executing the impossible multiple times out of sheer need, pushing his team until they need to be carried, and then carrying his team when they can go no further. Winning the respect and admiration of his team, his opponents, his fans, his city, and even those who criticized and counted him out. That's a King right there. And I like to believe that, even in Detroit, there's a lot of people that, in their hearts, are cheering for this man right now.

Bravo, Number 23; I Respect Your Emjay... B-J