For months I've struggled with what to put here to describe this blog. I have found the words. This is a journey of a man who has done so much, yet so little, who has been crucified and resurrected, who has a lot of stories and no stories.
All while keeping it obviously, Straight, No Chaser
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
Never thought that we would ever be more than friends Now I'm all confused cause for you I have deeper feelings We both thought it was cool to cross the line And I was convinced it would be alright Now things are strange, nothings the same And really I just want my friend back
And my mind's gone half crazy cause I can't leave you alone (oh can't get you out of my system) And I'm wondering if it's worth me holding on (holding on) Said my mind's gone half crazy cause I can't leave you alone (can't get you out of my system) And I'm wondering if it's worth me holding on (yeah)
I'd hate walk away from you as if this never existed Cause when we kissed the moment after I looked at you different Lately I gotta watch what I say Cause you take things personally nowadays You used to laugh now you get mad Damn I just want my friend back
And my mind's gone half crazy cause I can't leave you alone (oh can't get you out of my system) And I'm wondering if it's worth me holding on (holding on) Said my mind's gone half crazy cause I can't leave you alone (can't get you out of my system) And I'm wondering if it's worth me holding on
oh oh oh oh oh yeah What happened to the one I used to know (oh yeah yeah) The one I used to laugh and joke with The one I used to tell all my secrets We used to chill and be down for whatever whenever together yeah
And my mind's gone half crazy (oh) cause I can't leave you alone (I'm going half crazy baby) And I'm wondering if it's worth me (oh) holding on (over you) Said my mind's gone half crazy (yeah) cause I can't leave you alone (and I just don't know) And I'm wondering if it's worth me holding on (said I just don't know what to do now) we used to chill (yeah) we used to hang we used to do we used to do some many things together (yeah) yeah yeah yeah yeah oh oh yeah oh oh oh
First a simple definition is in order: Post Modernism. Without getting all academic, Post Modernism can simply be defined as everything is relevant and has a place; and thus rejects the traditional values of hierarchy and importance. Most scholars consider, especially among the youth, this to be a post modern era.
I’ve been doing a lot of reading and studying on the concept of Black love these past few months, the academic side of me is trying to understand why the intuition that should be chief among us is often given the LEAST work, or baring that, so easily given up on. Recently, I’ve purchased “In this life together” by the ultimate Black Couple: The late Ossie Davis and his widow Ruby Dee. Let me assure you that only I’m only two chapters in and already I’ve learned so much about what makes a Black relationship. In conjunction with the book, I finally got a chance to finish reading this month’s Ebony Magazine with the beautiful picture of President and Mrs. Obama in an intimate pose adoring its cover. This issue, their annual Black couple issue, explores prominent Black couples and takes it one step further by exploring the impact the Obamas’ have and will have on Black relationships during this time and the post Obama era.. Normally my cynical nature wouldn’t have finished a magazine like that but since being challenged by OOM to rethink my whole “love is war formula”, I gave it a spin.
I don’t think a magazine has ever made me cry so hard as those articles. I was amazed, I was floored, and I was impressed. Most important it made me think. I realized where my formula failed.
It lacked a human component. I treated it like I was exploring “forms of governments” and didn’t explore all the way. In short it was devoid of emotion. I am not backing away from my theory that war, politics and love aren’t different. I am backing away from the notion that a purely political outlook is essential to survival.
See, in this day and age our politics aren’t flawed because for the sake of being flawed. Our politics were/ is flawed because we became apathetic or fearful. We’ve become fearful and apathetic because we think everything matters and thus there should be easy. These feelings were/are brought on by adaptations of a “Post Modern” outlook.
See, because we’ve abandoned a lot of the traditions that made us who we are, we have become in effect lazy. We love the wrong things. I’ll expound more on that in a bit, but basically we’ve forgotten how to struggle in an effort to be chic, cool, or hip. Like our politics/life we no longer want to struggle. If love is a meal then we certainly don’t want to make it from scratch, pouring in ingredients of faith, hope, love and work. Instead we want a “just add and stir” kind of life, ala a cheap cake mix and then get upset and the shitty results.
The one thing I discerned from that issue and the book is you have to fight for what you want, fight to make the relationship what it is. Now of course there are obvious expectations: an abusive mate, a crack head mate, a mate who abuses children. Those are exceptions, not the rule. I am talking about the will and desire to make it work, blend career and home, good times and bad, sickness and health. All of that requires two strong individuals, who are willing to work for a common goal. The one thing I didn’t get from my readings was a concept of ease. There was drama, there was sadness but ultimately what mattered was the team and they made it do what it do.
So how does this tie in to “Post Modernism?” It ties in because Post Modernism or as I like to call it the “Rebirth of the rebirth of Cool" has destroyed traditional hierarchies of what really matters and ultimately how do you get there.
I’ve seen people bleed, cry, and sweat for their Sorority, but not for the man they love. I’ve seen them throw in the towel on somebody they profess to care about, but will fight for the love of their org. I’ve seen men not go home to their wives, who they claim they would “die for” so they can go to the strip club with their frat brothers. I’ve seen people put money into their churches but ignore homes. I’ve seen people let those they love walk out of their life in order to appear cool, as opposed to just letting emotions and honesty guide them. I’ve seen fathers love their jobs and their abstract notions more than their kids. Shit I’ve seen it all. In short, I’ve seen Black love given up for things that will not keep you warm at night, grow old with you, raise kids with you, or even be there in ten years. I think about that last point every time I’m with my youngest son, and I wish I could get those first two years back. There isn’t even a conference any more ya know?
See, while not perfect, the elders and older Black people understood what was important. They understood hierarchy and that some shit when put up against those we love isn’t important. Old school frat boys knew when to go home, old school sorority gals knew when to say no their the sisters so they could be with the one the love. They understood you had to feed your kids before the church, they understood, as David Ruffin so smoothly let us know, that it’s OK to beg.
But we’ve forgotten that. Post Modernism has made us forget what’s important, who’s important and why. Post Modernism has made “in love” the truth, and “true love” the fallacy, and like our politics given us a faulty idea that there is an easy button. And when we press that easy button and there is no fairy tale we become jaded, and want to quit. We want to yield and then come up with a thousands reasons why.
There is no easy button. Ossie and Ruby knew that, President and Mrs. Obama knows that, Will and Jada know that, hell even fictional Back couples like Florida and James and the Black Panther and Storm know that. Love is work. It can be chaos. But you are aware dear reader that this beautiful universe and life itself comes from Chaos?
I guess I’m a little thinking about this stuff because I’m a little hurt and disappointed. I’ve been recently told by two people close to me that: “My concept of love was stuck in the 60’s” and “My persistence bothers them sometimes”.
To the first critique I say “Probably, but couples were happier then, divorce wasn’t a reality and we had a Black Family. I’d rather be stuck in the sixties than live this bullshit today." Heh, The President and First Lady got a sixties relationship ya dig. To the second critique I say “If I can be persistent about things that can’t truly love me back then why not be persistent about something that can?" I’ve spent my whole life chasing an abstract: Black Freedom. I think I can put energy into something not abstract.
I make no apologies about that. I just pray my community quickly 86’s post modernism. Perhaps the Obamas’ will show us the path.
The Last Poets once said “Blessed are those who struggle”. There is power in that statement. There is power because it is truth. I was once told nothing easy is worth having.
That applies to my health, my career and my politics.
It definitely applies to my love life.
Fuck post modernism.
I like my life, in all facets, Straight, No Chaser. TLT 1-19-2009 12:01am
"Black Women will make the revolution"~Eldridge Cleaver
On the current cover of Ebony magazine there is a truly beautiful picture of President and Mrs. Obama with the title "Real Love". It is the kind of picture that in a few months if not already will be sold in picture frames; definitely in years to come it will sit among the classics. I will admit it made me stop and take pause about how I viewed love and life in the paradigm of politics in war. There was nothing political about this picture. It was truly Black love at its finest.
However, that moment didn't last long as I remembered that President Obama, as brilliant and wonderful as he is, is truly a product of Chicago politics and has the potential to be as crocked as the letter S.I wondered how he stayed out of all of the scandals plaguing Illinois politicians. How can a man with boundless ambition not get caught up with (at least anything we can prove) the likes of Bobby Rush, Crazy Rod, King Richie the III, Tony Rezko, and the rest of the colorful cast that occupies the Chicago landscape. It really seemed like that he might be the second coming. It seemed frigging impossible to me.
Then it hit me as I looked at Michelle Obama. She’s the reason. She has kept him honest and grounded. She, being the quintessential Black Woman, was not and is not going to have her family, race, or legacy tainted by her husband’s shenanigans. She is Southside born and raised; she knows the Chicago hustle and knows she got to keep Mr. President out of the nonsense, and I isn’t mad at her. Truth be told that is what makes the Black Love dichotomy so beautiful, the fact that our queens make us men when we sometimes forget how to be men.
So it’s on that note let me say:
HAPPY FOUNDER’S DAY TO THE
LADIES OF ZETA PHI BETA SORORITY INC.
89 years in the game, 89 years of keeping men of Sigma honest. Yeah, I said and I believe it. I’ve seen it first hand in my time in the Blue and White family, it is the Sorors through good times and bad times that keep the men of Sigma honest. From admonishments to handle our business or that kind warning about a man interested in the MAB, yall are often the voice of reason in the family, the ones who make us take a second look, even when we try to close our eyes. I wonder how many times did Arizona keep Charles honest, or how many times the lovely five keep the wonderful three honest. I’m sure it was more times than any of will ever know. I’m sure like Michelle Obama, they had to help temper their ambitions with honesty.
Personally, and I find this to be no surprise with the except of three women, all the women in my life who make sure that Terrance the man does not become Terrance the Prime Minister or some Chinese superhero has been Sorors. Whenever I go into a rant or tirade about how much I truly don’t like my brothers, they remind me that tis not good speech, not a sexy thing and quite dishonest. From love to work, from education to child rearing, my Sorors have been the voice a reason. It’s like having a whole organization of Mrs. Obamas, there to make sure my ambition does not trump my honesty. So this blog, this public thank you is a written testament to my appreciation on how you all have helped keep me honest through kindness, wisdom and just generally being there for me. This tribute is for you. Thank you:
Sorors Maiya and Mosi, my west coast Sorors, who always know when to leave me a kind word or blurb,
Soror Desire: for keeping me real, and making sure that my voice never shakes even when I am tired,
Soror Michele:for being there with a kind word or one of encouragement,
Sorors from Tau Psi Zeta: for Dec 22nd 2006. Please understand that means suction for life, anytime, anything, anywhere.
Soror KJ: It’s funny that I remembered this at the sip, but it was your initial encouragement (when you were with your brother and Milton) and not the meeting with Talae, that Verizon that helped me find the way. I was working at Verizon in the Plaza then and I remember those words: “If you want it then do it.” I appreciate you and your honestly in regards to this family,
Soror Joy T: for being the relationship’s guru guru. Every time I talk to you I learn something new and remember something old. You keep it in simple terms and make me think outside the box. One day we gone write that book ya know?
Soror Lillet: My chief counsel, my attorney my friend. We’ve been rolling for 5 years strong and I appreciate you now like I did then. Thank you reminding me that sometimes I need to relax and enjoy things. Thank you for listening when I need a friend. We’ve gone through a ton of shit together and I’m glad I had you to travel with me,
Soror Nickia: Wow, you didn’t end this years’ blog. I’m sure that makes you smile. Still you are a very important friend and probably the most honest person around me. We don’t talk often but when we do you hold me up to the mirror, like your song, and force me to see that which I try to ignore. I am happy I’ve gone from deifying you to accepting you as a person with limitations and feelings. I’m glad you said what you said the other night. I so appreciate you. I learned a lout during our internship together and even more during our friendship. You need to write a book too damn it,
Soror Noelle: 2008 was a test of our friendship and our bond. But we stayed honest and true; we stayed real. We evolved and grew to be so much more than what either of us could have expected. Even though we don’t hang like we used to it is always a pleasure to get a text or call; an admonishment about not going to church or a question about Black Politics. We will open that joint BorderingSchool,
Soror AJ: A true sister, and lovely wife. Ben has to know what precious pearl he has. You are always there when I need someone to talk to and a reason I still come around the Chicago family. You promote me, chastise me, correct me and really remind me of what the family her is supposed to be about. I truly cant wait till we take that first joint vacation together. Like your chapter sisters, you my friendship for life, and my mother still owes you dinner for the repast. She never has forgotten either. Thank you sister!
Soror Leslie: My pledge mom, my friend, my confidant. I am SO glad we reconnect, so glad you are my pledge mom, so glad you are in my life. I was thinking this am about how when Nicole was power tripping and I got to work, you came to my aid. I still remember her face and horror when you dropped the keys and car off in the driveway and helped me keep my job. I remember the times you and “him” came to get me, let me cry, sleep, work through, and otherwise heal. I remember how we could always call each other. I am glad we are back connected and I can’t wait to teach the boy all the bad shit in the world. Thank you mom for being there for me!
Soror Black Heroin [Classified], it’s amazing we’ve been friends for two years. It seemed like only yesterday I was drunk rambling at the sip, thinking how lovely your eyes were (are) and how wonderful you smiled. Of course let you tell it I was much ruder than I remember but still you saw something. We grew and developed, became friends. You were there for me and vice versa. Finally we are hereI can say that your arrival couldn’t come at a better time; for you reminded me that it was only dark because I had my eyes closed. You reminded me to open my eyes and enjoy the sun. It will truly be a pleasure to have the flyest Zeta in the game rocking my chain.
And yes I’m trying to get back to the 2002 flow.
Zeta Phi Beta Sorority Inc. showing men of Sigma and the Black community love and keeping us honest for 89 years. Who could ask for a better and stronger bond?
I know I couldn’t. These women keep me honest when its so easy to not be.
“Lord forgive him' he got them dark forces in him"-Jay Z
I sat in my room on my futon looking at my phone, staring at the picture we took at Borders, trying to figure out what happened. I have had many setbacks in my career but I don't think one has stung like this primarily because I waited so long and my chance cut short.
I felt a darkness come over me; a darkness I hadn't felt in quite sometime. Let me not rely on lyrical devices, I felt like killing myself and that feeling intensified the more I sat there.
I closed my eyes and tried to shake these emotions but I couldn't, I was in a lonely place of dying and at that point there seemed to be no escape. Honestly I wasn't trying to escape either. I just closed my eyes as this cloud enveloped my mind and heart.
But as real as these emotions were I should not have suddenly changed. A moment ago I was enjoying the happy times and now, I was ready to slit my wrists with the razor on my stand. Something was wrong.
As I slowly opened my eyes I finally understood.
There he was standing in my room, eating a golden apple, smirking. A mirror image of me but perfect, he was wearing a blue shirt and sweater vest, hair cut to perfection and 40lbs lighter than me, a stark contrast to my ragged look, rough beard and tired brown sweater.
Our eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity; then he extended his apple and spoke, voice calm and still.
"Wanna bite?" he asked
"No thanks" I replied. "It'll probably kill me."
He laughed hard. "You insult me T. If that were my goal I'd been done it. I was just offering you a piece of fruit. This still your favorite right?
"You know it is." I reply annoyed by his snarky tone.
"Of course. That's the upside to being able to read hearts. But seriously if you ate more of this and less mattsons, you'd look like me."
"What can I help you with" I ask cutting to the chase.
"Shit. I was just checking on you. I got the notion you were finna do something wild like kill yourself and I wanted to talk ya out of it"
I shake my head in disbelief." I'm touched. But um wouldn't it help you if I did?"
"Not one bit. Sure I"d have your soul for certain, but that way is not fun. Besides it would only cement your selfish rep. I wanna do something better."
"I'm so not listening to this bullshit." I get up and walk out.
He picks up my phone and looks at the picture.
"She is fine. And yall look good together. Lovely eyes. Heh I guess all the time in the world turned out to be just a couple of months hahaha". His laughed and comments pierce me and I stop dead in my tracks.
He starts to speak "but I can..." but before he can finish I grab him by his sweater and say "You.Out.Now!"
And he finishes his sentence anyway "get her back for you. Lemme make you a drink T.You look like you could use one."
I let him go and walk out the room. He makes my apple vodka straight up and on the rocks.
I go into the front room and sit on the couch, head hung low. He hands me my drink. I look at it and take it, drinking it straight down.
"Thirsty much?" he quips
"Yeah. And you're bullshitting me. If it was meant to be Jah would give it to me"
He scoffs and turns the picture to me.
"Pffft. Yeah and not without a cost or some twist. Like when you're 85 and about to die. He's funny like that "
"This may be true, but you want something too. And as good as it sounds I don't think she'd be into a punked out devil worshipper"
"You watch too many movies. I am not talking about that. I am merely asking that in exchange for a second chance, you live as the man you truly are sans the moral and honor bullshit. You live free. You truly be happy and do what you want to do."
"I've out grown those hedonist tendencies. I'm a changed man. So my answer is no. “I reply trying to convince both of us.
"Pffft. No you haven't. What was it Jay-Z said? Oh you can change the top layer...but you are who you are player."
"NO!" I yell as I get up and storm pass him taking my drink and snatching my phone out of his hands. I go back into my room and flop on the futon.
He follows me calmly, more gliding than walking. "Fair enough. How about this: A contest. Winner take all. You survive and she's yours. You lose and you're mine. No tricks."
I shake my head and sip some more vodka, the bittersweet taste burning my throat.
"Winner take all? No tricks?" I clarify
"Winner take all. No tricks" he says and extends his hand.
I take his hand. "Agreed." I sit back down, take another sip and sigh. He hands me my phone back and says “She does have some pretty eyes."
I take the phone back and look at the picture one more time. "Indeed she does. Indeed. I'm ready. Let's get this shit over with." I don't bother looking at him, instead studying my picture.
"Nah" he says in voice that I would almost call sympathetic if I didn't know better. He turns and begins walking out of my room, "you look like you you need's a good nights sleep first. When was the last time you fucking slept?"
"Its been a week." I respond.
He stops at the door with his back to me. "T?"
"Yeah?" I answer, still not looking up, taking another sip and now looking at a different picture.
His voice changes. It’s low and harsh like crushed glass. "Sleep."
The last thing I see is her smile and the last thing I hear is his laugh and my glass hitting the floor, as I slump on the bed.
"I love Phi Beta Sigma, I just hate the niggaz in it."~ TLT
I gave her my weekend schedule with the straightest face. "I need Friday and Saturday for the re dedication and the champagne sip."
"You have got to be kidding" said my baby mama in the most rudest of ways. "You still claim that?" As she held back her laughter I couldn't help but really ponder her words. She's not the only one who questions it. I mean I've been asked at least a thousand times on why I even claim membership.
It's really simple. It’s not hard, and despite what any snarky mofo thinks I really do love my organization. With that said
"Happy founders day to the men of Phi Beta Sigma Fraternity Inc. 95 years of being the sum of all things is no small feat. G.O.M.A.B.
Wait you didn’t know that I was a man of Sigma? There can only be two reasons for that:
A) You've never paid close attention B) I'm doing my job.
I am a member of Phi Beta Sigma. I am a brother of Phi Beta Sigma. I've been one since that fateful morning where I cried on April 3rd 2002 at 3:18:12am. I've loved it 6 years before that.
I love it today. I love the principles. I sing the song at some point during the day. I often recite the 12 inch rule. I'll will defend it against the world. I love the royal blue and pure white. I tried to live by the 12 inch rule and the one I love the most: best performance of duty. I go over history and facts in my head as I go about my daily routine.
I love its rich history and culture. I love the fact it was the first BGLO to have a chapter in African, to introduce legislation against anti lynching, and at the corner stone of the Harlem Renaissance. I love the fact it was at the fore front of the civil rights movement and the Black Power Movement. I love it single handedly ran the Million Man March. Shit I love PBS. I really do.
All of my heroes are men of Sigma. Alain Leroy Locke, Dr. Huey P Newton, Mayor Harold Washington, A. Philip Randolph, Hosea Walker, Ben Muhammad, The Temptations, Blair Underwood and Emmitt Smith; all men of character, race pride, excellence and dignity. Its funny that before I became a Sigma, all of these men where heroes, hell my father used to work for the late Mayor. So if it was good enough for them, then it was good enough for me.
I love the concept of brotherhood, scholarship and service, for it truly through that order will we achieve liberation. The concept of culture for service and service to humanity is fundamental in understanding that we, Black people, are the movers and shakers and must claim what we want and at the same time serve.
Phi Beta Sigma Fraternity Inc, is indeed the people's frat. The founders of my wondrous band really were ahead of their time. It is no wonder that PBS is truly the sum of all things.
Shit to be honest and I mean this as no exaggeration, Phi Beta Sigma is Black Studies and it is Black History.
And to be apart of that means my legacy within Black Studies is cemented. Its on more piece of a larger puzzle, one more reason to affirm why "I am Black Studies".
"But if you feel that strongly Terrance, why aren’t you active"?
Good question Snarky mofo reading this.
I'm not active simply because I hate the niggaz in it. I also believe that my inability to make Sigma define me, rather I define it keeps me away. I believe there are far to many little boys who've experienced nothing and use this to make them feel whole. But that's a blog for another day.
Today I'm not active because I just don’t see the legacy anymore. I see my org that cant decide if it wants to be dark skinned Alphas or literate Ques. I see my org unable to decide if its a street gang or a frat.
I see far to many men using my org as some kind of low budget business and not a brotherhood.
And I simply refuse to be apart of it. Like my relationship with Fisk, I will take what I can, throw away the rest; I will build when needed, serve when asked but keep my distance.
I will do so until we stop making betas and living out our crip fantasies, I will do so until we stop coming up with weak ass social service projects.
I will do so until I feel different.
But the truth is I made a pledge and took and oath. I promised God I would do right by this and I have not. The truth is I get back into the game.
The truth is even if I don’t need Sigma, even if my heart pumps Red, Black and Green and not blue, even if I was a man before I became a MABster, PBS needs me.
*Author's note: This was something Nickia sent me a couple of years back. I figured I'd dust it off and give it a spin.~TLT"
1. Hold me accountable. 2. Avoid liking me just because I'm "different." 3. Don't be afraid to disagree. 4. Listen when my mind wanders. 5. Don't pretend to understand. 6. Don't look for me to complete your life. 7. Don't assume that you're in my life b/c you make me happy. 8. Don't let me hide behind you. 9. Don't expect me to adopt your "issues" as my own. 10. Don't put most of your effort into making me laugh. 11. Don't fall in love. 12. Don't expect me to live by your rules. 13. Don't assume that I don't need to be touched or kiss or held. 14. Don't assume. 15. Ask until you get it... even if it frustrates the hell out of me. 16. Don't mistake a concession for a compromise.
"The rumors of my retirement are greatly exaggerated*" ~Mark Twain
I know snarky mofo reading this you are probably wondering where in the hell is Terrance's blog. Did he finally keep his word to retire? What happened? Well honestly, as a few nights ago I did retire. Straight, No Chaser has pissed more people off than I care to remember, and in fact played a factor in complicating a second relationship. Of course I haven't counted all the exes, but to offer a scorecard, I've been cussed at, threatened with violence, crank called, told I am hated, had my death plotted, threaten to be sued, dumped and almost dumped.
Straight No Chaser, just didn't seem like it was worth the effort. I weighed the need to speak truth to power and express myself against hurt feelings and the effects of singleness: being lonely.
I weighted that the need to have my voice against being accused of seeking attention.
I weighted the need to hone my skills against being told my blog is political and full of agenda.
And initially those forces won. I walked away. I couldn’t take it. Especially this last round, where I just, I don’t know.
Then I thought about it. One of my gifts, as Uncle Charlie once told me was that I am a truth teller. I speak on shit most people would rather not; I bring conversations to the table that others are afraid too. I don’t hold my tongue and I don’t pull any punches.
I am Straight, No Chaser. Always have been and always will be.
Admittedly, I can be a little more responsible with my lyrical Blade. I could be a tad bit more tactful. But I'm sorry. If I love you, I love you. If I hate you, I hate you. I am not, now and forever, going to hide how I feel to make anybody feel good. I'm Terrance L. Thomas, not Tyler Perry. I don’t write about happy endings and fairy tales. I write about truth, hardships, love and politics. Probably all in the same blog.
So, I've taken a few days off. I've edited a few out of love because those blogs truly rubbed loved ones the wrong way (and I may have been out of line).
I also recently discovered some of my older writings, which I am gonna post because I think they are an interesting journey into my growth and development. The first Zeta blog, the one I wrote on the day of my father’s funeral, my qualifications in a woman, and maybe a goodbye blog to an ex are some of the few that I will post. Again, as I hone my craft I think it is important to give the reader an insight into my journey's: who I am and how I came to be.
Either way, the rumors of my demise are far exaggerated. I'm here, still telling my story and the truth...
at least from my point of view.
Straight, No Chaser
1-5-2008
6:45am
*Author’s Note: This is a play on a quote by Mark Twain which reads “The rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated”. I flipped it to fit the blog. TLT
"I feel so bad I want to die" ~Bruce Wayne right before his confrontation with Bane.
I saw many endings to this story, but me sitting at home on a Saturday an emotional wreck was not one of them.
I was supposed to be finalizing a birthday purchase as well as getting my outfit together for a banquet. I was supposed to walk in there with the flyest Zeta, shut the party down, dance with her all night and then go home and sleep. Now honestly I don't think I want to have anything to do with Blue and White now. Too painful and I'm still learning how to deal with pain and sadness and all that.
I was supposed to helping plan a cruise. And valentine's day. It was supposed to be one helluva year.
But on the third day of the New Year, on the same day ironically that shit when south four years ago, I'm sitting at my comp with my emotions fluctuating from anger to sadness, regret to joy that I was even there. What is the old saying bout rather loving and losing than never loved at all. Pffft. Fuck whoever said that. That's akin to being given a hundred thousand trillion dollars and having it all stanched away and THEN being told at least you had the money.
*pause* So the next mofo that tells me "Hey you at least got your shot" will be kicked in the teeth. I've retired chest shots per the reboot.
*play*
I.hate.losing. Seriously. I esp hate losing love ones or losing in situations I was supposed to win. Losing these kinds of situations seriously make me wanna commit ritualized...(retcon), never mind.
No, I wont ponder those thoughts. I wont let the sadness over come me. But I cant help being felt thrown away. Or abandoned. I realize all parties need time to heal but, damn.
I guess that's a judgement call. I doubt if I would call either. In a crazy way that's a sign of true love, not wanting to hear or see the other person a wreck, and not compounding that pain by being in their presence.
I spent late last night trying to figure out what went wrong. I replayed key events and I replayed several moments that defined what killed it. There was no one moment. All the Pieces mattered.
My biggest mistake was my arrogance. I sat on the sidelines for so long and waited for so long when I got in, I wasnt willing to listen to anything. I was told to slow down, she asked me to slow down but I didnt listen. G, Les, BM, General Yan, all told me that I was too intense for this new situtation that it required a slight touch.
The funny thing about arrogance is that it is a shield for fear. You overcompensate for your lack of whatever by overdoing that trait. I was so scared of being told no a second time, so scared he'd return that I overcompensated. I forced my presence.
The irony. She left. And it seems I'll soon be forgotten and become a ghost. One of the ones loved forever but never there.
Ugh. I.hate.ghosts. Now I am one.
Real good Jah. Real good. This how we answer prayers? Seriously we gotta talk because two people don't pray for each other specifically and then you snatch it away to prove what? I mean you can alter life and time. Why cant...never mind. I aint supposed to question you.
Maybe it will happen later. But later is a crazy paradigm. Doing it at 85 with six months to live would not bring me joy. Please keep that in mind.
I'd shot myself if it wasnt so funny. Really.
I wanted this to work. I gave it my all even if my all wasn't always best. I tried to be the one serious man. I tried to show that I didnt want to be one of those men who just wanted to be in name only but in truth.
That's not true. I want this to work. Before some snarky reader says want is not enough I say "Fuck you. It starts with want."
I wanted to marry this woman. That's not true either. I want to marry this woman.
Do you know the last time I wanted to truly marry somebody and not just in name. I mean like with a ring and a date and shit?
Right.
Do you know how many folks where burned by my decision? A lot. I dont regret that either.
Ok that was harsh. A few didnt deserve that. But still......
But maybe I'm being mellow dramatic. Maybe its wrong of me to want a phone call or a text. Maybe I need to hear that lovely voice say one more time even if it is for the final time "Terry Bear, I love you."
Maybe I am hell bent on doing what I want to do.
Or just maybe I'm not afraid to do what needs to be done.
I'll leave that for the historians to debate.
In the meanwhile I'm sit in a corner and cry a lil more.
“Fellow Americans, it is with the utmost pride and sincerity that I present this recording, as a living testament and recollection of history in the making during our generation”~PSA Intro
Every so often a movie franchise, TV series, comic book or other form of entertainment will undergo a process of “rebooting”. In the most literal sense, it means exactly how it sounds: start over. There are many reasons this process occurs, but primarily it happens when the aforementioned wants to stay relevant or change something that makes no sense. A few great examples of this would be The Dark Knight movie series by Christopher Nolan, Daniel Craig as 007, and the Star Wars Prequels. In each case the series underwent a dramatic process to freshen it up, fill in plot holes, etc. Of the three examples my favorite is the Bond reboot. Gone is the hardened veteran who’s seen and done it all, instead he’s a freshly promoted Double 0, arrogant and makes mistakes. It makes the series a little more believable for me.
It should be noted that an essential component to a reboot is the process of a Retroactive Continuity (also known as retcon). Retcon is the deliberate changing of previously established facts in a work of serial fiction.
I see the light bulb in your head. I see the face you’re making. Retcon is a tool of fiction, so you snarky mofo’s are probably asking “How can retcon be used in real life”. Well snarky mofo reading this, one can retcon one’s life by simply changing the impact established events had on one’s life. For example, I often cite my time and subsequent break up with Nicole as the “ultimate” event of the past decade the one event that helped “define” me. With the reboot (and by default retcon) the Nicole event was not the defining moment. Was it a moment? Most definitely, but it no longer will define me. To make that the defining moment is dishonest and bit extra. I mean what about my Luncheon presentation, standing by my mother during my father’s death, standing by Rhonda during her crisis, my time with Nickia and learning from her, all of 2007, and most recently my time with [Classified]. To put so much stock into that is really diminishing to a number of events and people that I remember much more candidly than a break up that was going to happen anyway. Shit, truth be told, had I thought of it I’d gotten her first. So there, it’s done. Retcon’ed. So this means gone is the whole brother “jaded” by love and “hardened” by its setbacks persona. Gone is the brother who you have to work hard to get and break down and love. The truth of the matter is I am an emotional cat, a terry bear who loves hard and truly wants to settle down with the right queen, and you will be judged on your merits not and not because you were/are/is the “anti” Nicole.
Another example is my “Fisk Experience”. In the past I was cited as a place where I “discovered” myself and became free. It was the scene of my first major defeat. Oh the horror, oh the tragedy. Pffft. With reboot the truth of the matter is I never felt home at Fisk, and my connection was more towards a small cadre of people and the relationships that I built and maintained in 3 years I was there than some stuffy ass institution that doesn’t get Black Life in the post civil rights era.. The expulsion was not as traumatic as I claim it was and truth be told I wasn’t coming back anyway because my parents were not gonna let me go back as I had a brand new son. That is retcon’ed too. It happened, but again losing at OH was far more traumatic than losing at Fisk. Shit the Fisk loss put me on the map at OH.
The last example is one that I was recently challenged to let go by one of my associates. In the old series Terrance rarely showed emotion. He was a remorseless strategist who only saw the world as a chess board and people as pieces. The only thing that mattered is the checkmate. This of course made my emotional meltdowns seem all the more “intense”, kinda like when Spock did it on Star Trek to spike ratings. “Oh wow T’s emotional. It’s a moment in history!” Blah. In the reboot the truth is I AM emotional, I do cry, albeit in the dark and I am just a man. While the mission is important, while the goal is paramount the fact is I am haunted by my mistakes and I regret a lot of shit. I’m only human. Shit I’ve been bitching and crying for two days straight over [Classified].
So the obvious question is why the reboot and retcon? Well honestly I need to go through a personal Glasnost and Perestroika, if I am going to become less of a montage of characters and more Terrance. I need to be open and honest; stop with the CIA/MI6 rhetoric (well at least all the time) and truly open up.
I’ve wrestled with this for a while, but after a couple of failed dating scenarios and personal crisis I realized that people don’t trust an enigma. It’s not sexy. The mysterious stranger will get charges pressed against him, not love. I think though it really hit me the night I was told “I don’t know or trust your agenda” or something like that. Either way I need to be more transparent, more man, less solider, more human and less “Prime Minister”.
I must simply be Terrance.
So snarky mofo reading this, you’ve probably saying “Well damn dude I don’t know who the fuck you are any more.”
Indeed.
This is a public service announcement
Sponsored by The Office of the Prime Minister and BFL INC.
Allow me to reintroduce myself…
My name Terrance L. Thomas. That’s with an “A” not and “E”. Terrence is a different dude.
I’m hotter than the Black Studies shit wearing my name; I got the hottest Zeta in the game wearing my chain and will do whatever I need to do to keep it there.
I love my people. Good, Bad and Ugly and I take PRIDE I can walk in the world of the bourgeois Negro and the hood Negro. I’m a citizen of both Afrolantia and Negronia. Yes I’m articulate and will still grab a nigga by the collar quick.
I hate losing. I never learned to lose.
I hate confusion. I take it personal.
I am arrogant to a fault. I need to work on that.
I am sorry for the pain I’ve caused in the past, but I can’t change that, any more can mine be changed. So I’ll use it to be better or let it go. I won’t lose nary another night of sleep again.
I love my Sorors, even the ones I don’t love.
I love Phi Beta Sigma Fraternity Inc, but I HATE the niggaz in it. However I need to get active.
Socialism sucks. Why I gotta share my shit with lazy mofos? Living back with my fam has shown me community property is for heathens.
After Baby mama sister’s stint here I no longer think ignant southern Negroes are cute.
My depression is real. It is not a cute quirk anymore. At 21 is made me eccentric. At 33 it will get me fired, dumped, arrested or killed.
I am not Asian.
I am never going to quit drinking.
I am not interested in “poor oppressed people of color”. I am interested in Black people (defined as those of us here), then my brothers on the continent and the Caribbean. Everybody else means kick rocks. So you messicans and GBLT folks can stop coming to me claiming your struggle was like our struggle. I’m going to start issuing out chest shots to the next mofo who approaches me with some petition and that speech.
Illegal Immigration is a Black problem for if they are working as willing slave laborers, then what is to happen to our labor class.
I would be a Jehovah’s Witness if A) I could keep my politics B) They got some real music C) my mama would stop tying it in to every thing. For example: Me Damn I wanna Pepsi. Mom: Oh Joy Jehovah makes Pepsi. No mom the Pepsi bottling company does that.
It wasn’t the fact that I couldn’t wait, I just insecure and worried if I could make her happy as she was and hid behind the security of a title.
Nickia and I weren’t that happy.
Nicole wasn’t that evil.
I like being a big dude.
I’m not lazy. I just don’t want to move your shit.
Yes you were the best field agent but you defected. So how can I ever trust you again?
I can do math.
Pussy does taste good to me
I’m the smartest guy in the room except when I’m not.
I haven’t written that book not because I didn’t have time, but because I was scared.
Yes I think me and Rhonda got the second best Baby mama/daddy relationship formula. Will and Jada got the first best.
I am now addicted to that coon jingle: Pop Champagne in the Club.
I don’t know everything.
I do talk like a robot or evil dictator.
I love my Blackberry. A lot.
I am willing to wait.
I AM an Obama dick rider
I should have taken Dr. Robinson’s offer. At least then Armstead would have had help.
*Author’s Note: I wasn’t going to post this blog for political reasons; I didn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings or be accused of an agenda or anything. I also wasn’t sure this was the best move in light of some recent events. But then I decided fuck it. What is given and said in love is not taken away in anger. Furthermore I really can’t be concerned with the “press” and their feelings on what I write.
~TLT*
Its that time again where I select the person who was my MVP. This friend stood to and beyond the call of duty and helped me in ways I cant even imagine. This friend proved without a shadow of a doubt their loyalty and their admiration. So what does a MVP get? Honestly whatever they want plus a year of “no-free” requests. In short I can’t tell them no, unless it interferes with my children. They get a gift of their choice. They in effect are treated like an MVP. Some MVP’s like Nickia or Dr. Devin donate their gifts back to my family or waive them. Others expect them, at any rate they’ve earned them.
Usually the MVP award is a slam dunk and easy award to pick. Take Nickia winning it in 2005 or Dan wining in 2006, those were simple and easy picks. Of course every now and again I have a rough choice, like I did in 07, where I had three solid candidates. But even that one doesn’t compare to this one. I mean I needed more help this year than I care to mention, and many people stepped up to make sure I answered the bell each and every time. So let me take this moment to say thank you to a few of them: Latrica, Trina, Dre, Buck, Eric, Jay, Jarmelle, Shannon, Maisha, Applewhite and Ieshia. Thank you. And while some of us aren’t as close as we were, your love and contributions cant be ignored.
Usually I write a blog praising the person, talking bout their highs and lows. But this year I’m do something different. This year I’m going to edit the blog into letter form, to affirm some things and clear up others. A lot has happened in 24hrs and if my MVP and I have reached the end of our season, I felt they should know in totality what they meant.
Family without further adieu I present to you the 2008 MVP:
“We have all the time in the World”~ Louis Armstrong.
Dearest [CLASSIFIED S3 STATUS OR EMPEROR’S EYES ONLY],
I struggled with even to write this blog and announce you as the MVP considering the events of yesterday. I didn’t want it to be seen as a ploy or my actions misread. However, contrary to popular opinion I never hid anything from you. If anything I might not have been concise, I have been honest. So I’m going to put the blog in letter form and pray you understand.
Two years ago, while I was mourning the lost of my father I went to a champagne sip at the frat house and got totally slapped. In the process of being silly I looked across the room and saw a beautiful woman with the most gorgeous eyes I had ever seen. I felt compelled to wink at you. And that’s all I remember. But let you tell it we talked about everything from Jah to Beyonce, to oral sex. Ok I talked about that but the fact is there was a natural connection. I felt comfortable with you. I wasn’t nervous. I knew when we parted company that you were going to be a major player in my life; now in retrospect I would argue that I knew I wanted you to be my queen. As the popular screen saying goes “you had me at hello”. I remember our frustration at not being able to connect, you dealing with the process of life, me dealing with death and we couldn’t find that balance. I remember us keep making baby steps to grow close, only to experience set backs. I remember Borders and our first kiss. I remember to this day how your lips tasted. You did your dance with your child’s father, I did my dance with whomever, but still we managed to find time and grow and build. I remember the sadness when you got back with him to try to work it out, and I remember the joy when we first spoke again and was cordial towards each other. I remember the night we texted and talked, and then went to Borders for Coffee. And I remember the truth that we affirmed: We always wanted each other and both wasted time. And we started on a beautiful journey.
But just because a path is beautiful doesn’t mean it isn’t difficult or has its rough spots; conversely just because something is difficult doesn’t mean it should be abandoned. The Universe was created from chaos, children are created from organized chaos, then how can we assume love can not or will not or should not be created from chaos. If what we said to each other was true then we will walk this path, good days and bad days. If we did not mean it then our time which we had so much of is ended.
Not only were you my lover [CLASSIFIED S3 STATUS OR EMPEROR’S EYES ONLY], you are my friend. You helped me remember how to fly. I lost my fear of being all I could and was able to be the best from me, with no ulterior motives. You inspired me and made me laugh. There was a freedom between us both craved and loved. It was a healthy friendship and I want that to remain as well.
So we have reached a moment of truth, where we have to decide what we want to do. I have made my mind up, and I think you can discern what I want to do. Is this your wish as well?
Take your time and reflect.
Regardless of what you decide, thank you for being my friend, for having my back and for reminding me if only for a moment of my true worth, power, and ability.
You were indeed the fountain of youth.
Congratulations on becoming the MVP queen. It’s yours to do with as you please.
“Having someone who loves you despite your faults Must be nice”~Lyfe Jennings
These are the moments that make me think, were my subconscious takes over and I see the world without time. These are the moments where I take pause and talk to Jah and ask him for help and guidance. These are the moments when I think about days of yesterday past and friends long gone. These are the moments where I reflect upon the vistas of my life and seek clarity.
I remember my father, who sought to help me over come my fears; I remember Travis who lost his life over nothing; I remember the heartbreaks and victories. My mind is running wild. I blame the fine French grapes and the ruby red grapefruit juice.
In between those moments I glance at the mother of my children, she is so happy. I am proud for her. She deserves to be happy, she deserves a man who loves her after the year she had losing both parents this year. She and Kevin look so good together. I am really proud of her.
I go sit in a corner and pull out my Blackberry. I want to send a text message so bad, but I know I’ve done enough and for once I just need to listen and fight the urge. But I can’t help it. This is not how I am supposed to be spending New Years. I wanted to hold her and let the New Year come into being, looking into her eyes and thinking of future possibilities. Instead I’m watching drunk chicks dance and be silly, young niggaz doing shit they aint supposed to do and my sons play Monopoly. I get up and go in the kitchen. I try to fight back the tears; I try not to wonder if she’s thinking about me or if I’m finished. I think of my love and then slowly regret takes over, and I try to hold it in as I feel the tears flow from my eyes. I rush into the bathroom and wash my face. There is no way I can cry at this New Year’s Eve event. None. But I’m sad. I lower my head and suddenly I’m back on that Orange line platform, looking at myself get angry, thinking she doesn’t want to be with me for the holidays. I see my facial expressions change I struggle to figure out why I may be sitting at home or tagging along with Rhonda for the third straight holiday. I watch myself run up the stairs angry that I can’t get the title, and be publically recognized. I want to know where are the blogs with talk about how much she loves me, the open declarations of love like there are of pain. I watch as I pull out my phone and begin typing. I try to tell myself wait, but the other me can’t hear. He wouldn’t hear my anyway. I lower my head in disgust as I watch me hit send and I watch me answer the phone. Then I’m back in the bathroom awaken by a knock at the door. Its Baby Mama and lil sis, who came to check on me. With red eyes and sadness, Rhonda simply says “You can’t do this now. No more sadness this year. I don’t want to spend my final moments of this year being sad or watching you be sad. Can you do that for me? Lil sis offers me a hug and says we’ll talk about it tomorrow. She reminds me that she still believes [Classified] is the one; I just have to learn patience and that I don’t know it all. I nod and regain my composure.
As I dry my face off I’m suddenly transported to Los Angeles, in 2005 and I’m sitting across from Nickia, who’s telling me that my need for public kudos and public declarations are really nothing more than insecurity. She told me that is what weak people do when they want to possess and reminded me that is a major flaw of the concept of in love. It hinges on possesses and selfishness as opposed to individual grown and selflessness. I open my eyes and shake my head.
Sometimes we are so busy looking for the complex, we miss the simple truth. Sometimes our imagination is worse than reality. Shit can be hid in plain sight.
And the reality is my imagination and arrogance caused me to lose focus. I had been so busy worried about her feelings for Rob, so busy wanting the public glory I failed to see that she was committed to me; I needed the title to feel secure, I needed the title to offer the illusion of power. I needed it the same way Ieshia sought it, to try to control. And the irony? She saw through it. Even if I missed it she saw it.
It made me love her and miss her more. I truly am sorry.
As I walk out the bathroom, Lyfe Jennings’ Must Be Nice is playing. I really want to cry but I don’t. I stop and listen. I understand. It was nice. I had that. I fought for that, and in my moment of arrogance and weakness, I stop listening and began to act. I allowed public persona and how it “looked” to influence me. And yes it looked fucked up. It looked crazy, but what was the rule Marvin Gay sung about “none of what you hear and half of what you see”? I shake my head. Next week I fix this. Tonight, I enjoy fine French grapes.
I rejoin the party, and I start to feel better. I continue to reflect on my friendship with Maisha, I reflect on how hurt Alisha was, I reflect on Shannon’s disappointment, I think about Ronald and Sandra, I think about LeMar. I think about the Gen Yan and wonder how we can remain friends but lose the toxic nature. I swear we’re a low budget MI6 and CIA. I say a prayer for each one, I ask Jah to keep those who are still here and remember those who are not. I say my final apologies. I burned heaven and hell a lot this year in order to be happy and take care of my heirs,and I know that its gonna come back. 2009 will be better than 2008, but I’ve accepted that my actions may not show consequences for some time. This is life.
As we approached midnight I said my usual prayer; I told Jah to forgive me for those I’ve wronged, forgive those who wronged me. Protect my loved ones, help me raise my sons and thanked him for giving me one more change. I even hum a few bars of the song. It makes me smile.
Then as we count down to the New I get sad, but I don’t show it. It’s not where I wanna be, but it’s a place to be. I thank Jah one more time and I say happy New Year.
As the clock strikes midnight I speak something into the universe and pray it is heard. I want this to be my last words of 2008.
