Side Effects of You: Kill Bill

*Author's Note: 4-17-2014. This was intended to be the culmination of a five part series that lead to the Good Friday blog, however after a few Blue Moons, I think creatively, it might be best to start here posting this one first, and place it after the Good Friday Blog. Emotionally, I probably need to dump the emotions tied to the final entry as this has had the most profound impact on me. I've started this entry no less that 20 times and I think tonight in between beers sips and tears I can finish it. Let the weekend of dying and ultimately healing continue. I will return to write the author parts at a later date.
Soli Deo Gloria
TLT

"But what a fool believes he sees
No wise man has the power to reason away
What seems to be
Is always better than nothing

And nothing at all keeps sending him..."

~What a Fool Believes (The Dooby Brothers)

I debated on whether to include this final entry in this series as writing about this topic ALWAYS brings about more complications than being silent. But then I asked myself who is it more complicated for: me or the others in my space whom this topic is uncomfortable. However, the first rule in coming out of retirement was no censorship so I might as well be completely honest and write about this person that has left a side effect on me. I'm not sure side effects are even the most appropriate term. Side effects don't last a long time, unless they are residual. This is more than that. This is a gaping wound.

I thought long and hard about how to frame this situation. I kept asking myself what pop culture reference could I use that conveys the entire scope of our seven years together. Ike and Tina? Nah that's too cliched and intellectually dishonest? Batman and Talia? Close, but their dynamic was often complicated by proxy via Ra's Al Gaul. Then I remembered very simply a conversation she and I had some years ago about our dynamic and I realized I had the perfect example staring me in my face. Who we were, who we are can simply be found in the timeless love story (and yes it was a love story): Kill Bill.

For those of you who have been in a coma or living under a rock, Kill Bill is story about two dysfunctional arse people who took heartbreak and disappointment to the next level. I won't offer a full synopsis in the blog but you can either read it here or go check in out somewhere on the internet. I'll wait while you do that.

You finished? Good...now I can get started.. If you have been following this blog you know I've written about her quiet a few times as she has overlapped a number of seasons. She has been through a number of struggles. Yeah she was a major fixture in my life. Of course I'm talking about none other than Wei Yan. You can read about her here, here, and in a number of other posts. I'm sure if you goggled Wei Yan/Blackthought39 you'd get all the blogs mentioning her.   

So what makes this different. Whelp, to quote a line from the Kill Bill, I've never been able to tell the truth to her and what she meant to me. Honestly, I never told her the truth about anything regarding us to all but three people. Conversely, even now I believe she won't tell the truth about me yet that is all immaterial now. The difference is this there is nothing to be lost or gained because of one painful truth: Wei Yan got married. But more on that in a minute. Let's get started:

In our time together she was THE greatest:

• Student

• Lover

• Friend

• Ally

• Step Mother

• Confidant

• Weapon

• Source of Joy

• Source of Pain

• and ultimately enemy. 

As stated, I've written about our dynamic extensively in this space, perhaps as a way to try to make sense of how two people who loved each other so hard, so deeply could ultimately do so much harm to each other. I've put so much thought into US that this last entry in the series was actually written first. Somehow it just seemed proper and true to work on the side effect that had (and has) the greatest impact on me today. While the others do still run through my mind and spirit every one in a while,  more often and not this one keeps me awake at night. This one makes it impossible to ever listen to John Legend or even watch Kill Bill with the same lens. I've read our emails hundreds of times only last month stop reading that love letter she wrote me after my father died in 2006. Yeah. I read the same letter at least twice a month for the past 8 years.

Perhaps what makes this the so hard to process is that now with the hindsight of maturity and honesty, I can admit to myself that I truly loved her deeply. I loved her more than any other woman. Yeah I thought I loved others, thought others really were the truth and maybe a couple of them were that cold (after I this is a five part series) but Wei Yan was IT. I loved and cared for her. I just didn't know how nor want to know how to care for her by her needs. She become my "thing" and I stopped hearing her as a woman and a person. She used to accuse me of quitting whenever it got hard or whenever she didn't acquiesce to one of my demands to find something easier or as she put it an illusion of better. She often accused me of treating her as a tool or as some kind of pawn in a larger cheese game.

And you know what? She was f'n right. The interesting thing is that no matter how many times I thought I found better, the truth is none was better. None lasted. None out shined her when it counted. In all the attempts to break and replace her only one even came remotely close and ironically she's NOT one of the five. The truth is snarky mofo reading this is that I made a choice to get rid of one of the few people on this planet who loved me unconditionally (even if it was dysfunctional) and now I utterly regret it. This decision haunts my sleep and wrecks my spirit. It's par the course with me in matters of the heart. I get pissed, make an irrational decision and then I'm forced to clean up the mess. But this time there is no clean up. There is nothing. Not ever her children I claimed as my own. Nothing. I am deeply sorry for this.

Don't get me wrong I've FINALLY come to peace with the fact she's married. In the back of my mind and spirit I'm rejoicing that she found someone who could do what I wouldn't do. She found someone to love her and be all that I should have been but I was either to afraid or too stupid to be. I pray her marriage be blessed and long. I'm many things. I am not a hater and I don't wish for the worst. I want this to work.

Yet I'd be lying if I didn't say that I wish this was an alternative universe. In an alternate universe, Wei Yan would walk through the doors of this Starbucks, sit at my table and I'd simply say I forgive you and yes. I'd eat the backlash. I'd eat the losses. I'd eat it all because you know what I'd be where I wanted to be. I'd do everything from giving up Facebook to dueling multiple samurai's to make sure this time would be different.

And I wouldn't give two damns to what anybody thought about it. I'd actually hope and pray she forgave me.

But there are no alternate universes at least that I know of. There is the here and now and the promise of a better tomorrow.

Recently, I ran across a picture of her and her husband on twitter. She looked happy. Genuinely happy. My immediate reaction: I got totally sick. Pucking sick. I haven't been that type of sick in years. I threw up right there on the Red line and 35th. I couldn't even cry. I just puked. Then I went home and killed a six pack of beer. Nothing happened. All was left was me and my grief. 

Grief. Brother MB from school says I gotta get this up offa me. I need to write my Lamentations and leave it at the cross. (It's bad that folks know about her in Seminary. I've discussed her in Pastoral Care, with some students in Old Testament, and with some of the Black Seminarians.) He told me to cry and let it out and tonight I'm going to do that. I've already had a healing come to Jesus moment with another dear friend and now I need to have a moment with the Lord for me. I have no other option if I'm going to close this hole in my spirit and move on with my life. This has to die on Good Friday. It has to go in the tomb. I need to mourn and accept the truth. Castles made of Sand right....boy did I make this on sand.

Wei Yan once told me that the time for honoring myself would soon be over. She wasn't lying.  If I'm using the Kill bill analogy Kiddo got her revenge. She got her justice and Bill...got what he deserved....

Giving Honor to My Creator, Who is Forever Praised Amen
In Truth and Transparency,
TLT
4/19/2014
12:15am
*Originally started 1-31-2014, edited on 3-10-2014, and 3-27-2014. Completed on 4-19-2014

Castles Made of Sand...

"So Castles Made of Sand, Fall into the Sea Eventually"
~Jimi Hendrix

If there was an apt description of what the past calendar year would look like, 2013 could best be described as a heavy wave washing away every single thing I built on my little beach called life. With the exception of my children (and even that was washed away as it related to Youngest Heir), and a few scattered allies, NOTHING remains. To give a more vivid picture if the sandcastle example isn't enough, my city (life) looks like Hiroshima after the bomb was dropped. However, I think the image of the sandcastle is most appropriate if for no other reason there is a certain theological context that I will explore. 

But more on that in a minute.

So what did this tidal wave of destruction take in 2013? What exactly was washed into the sea? A number of things which were integral to my existence and happiness: My church home, my best friend, the one person I truly loved and desired, my job, my emotions, my natural home, and in some cases my faith. I'm sure in time these things can be replaced. There will be other jobs and a career from it, my faith is already slowly being restored due to my time in Seminary. Another Church home can be found, new allies made, and even as painful as it is to type, the love I lost (or gave away) can be replaced. I even will have a better place to live. So that's good. Yet that still doesn't explain the why. Why all that transpired happened. There are two simple reasons for this: one spiritual and one not so spiritual. Let's explore them both.

The first and most obvious reason was that on some level God either caused the storm or allowed it to happened. I believe the reason for this is that God needed to see what my infrastructure was made up of in a barren season. In order to achieve this, like so many men of faith before me, God had to make me Anonymous. You see according to Alicia Britt Chole, author of Anonymous: Jesus' Hidden Years and Yours, every so often God needs to see what our roots and branches look like. God needs to see how sturdy we are and thus the excess in our lives (think tree leaves: are stripped away. Once my coverings and trappings were gone, would I survive this test or would I crumble. At the core lie two simple questions that would yield two simple answers: 1) On what ground did I build my faith and 2) Where did I store my treasures?  To the first, the honest answer are that I built my home/faith on sand. I did not obey God in a lot of areas in spite of being sent messengers, signs, and instructions. The response to the second question is even more direct: my treasures stored were no where near heaven. They were in that unstable beach house I put on the sand. In effect, I had become lazy. My infrastructure weak and bloated; like a corrupt city entity I had become self serving and began to take Christ for granted. Thus in essence while I was sprouting leaves I bore no fruit. As the scripture points out, I needed to be put in a whole lot of manure in order to grow. There was no better way to cover me in the mess I needed than to remove the sand castles I was hiding in. But I knew better. On these matters Jesus is clear where to build your home and where to store your treasures. So snarky one reading this, since there are NO social promotions in the Kingdom of God, since there are no sliding or curves I get to rebuild. This time one proper ground and storing my treasures where they belong. 

The second reason is more natural but no less true. Nothing was really taken from me. By not following the instructions in the manual I willingly gave it away. I was not supposed to return to my church. I was supposed to move on. I was supposed to do my best in Arkansas, I got lazy. I was supposed to be more mindful of the needs of my allies and our joint boundaries and I wasn't. I should have never let her go. But I did. I should have told EVERYBODY to fudge off and begged her forgiveness but I didn't. I chose people and a space that is now long gone. Mine was one of hubris. Mine was thinking I knew best. It was the never ending fatal flaw that has brought me to ruin before: arrogance. Nothing was really taken. I gave it all away by not following the rules. This is the truth I take to bed every night.


But what do I do with these realizations? While it is true, I survived, but as one who survived the fire (or in this case a typhoon). But survival isn't necessarily what all this is about. This is about a mature Christian using bad materials, on bad ground, which happened to store his treasures that got washed into the sea.  So the first realization that I need to rebuild, following the instructions laid out. I don't know what's best all the time, if ever really and by not following the plan I'm going to continually get my ish washed into the sea. Yet an underlying theme to in this is something I never really allowed myself to do: grieve. Part of the reason I came out of blog retirement is to write these pure lamentations so I can later write songs of jubilee. It is time that I deal with all the pain in my life; it's especially time I dealt with all the residual scars, the crushed dreams, the guilt and the utter sadness. That's what I am putting on my cross this Good Friday. This is what I am burying in that tomb so that on Sunday I can rise a different man. But I understand the process of the crucifixion. This hurts. It means part of me will have to die so the rest of me can rise. We all have to go through it in some form or another...

For me this process involved learning one simple truth:

"Castles made of sand...slip into the sea....eventually"

Giving Honor to My Creator, who is forever praised, Amen

In Truth and Transparency,
Straight, No Chaser
TLT
4/18/2014
8:56pm

Still Struggling with the Words.....

As most of you probably know I lost my mother last week (7-4-2010). We laid her to rest on Saturday.

I am supposed to be writing a blog chronicling what happened when my mother died, writing thank you letters and filling out cards but I can't find the words.

I can't even organize the notes. I figured I was ready to take this step but I am not.

Give me time.

In the meanwhile go kiss your mother.

Rest easy Queen Mother. I will see you in the morning.

Maria "Tony" Thomas
Wife, Mother, Sister, and Servant of Jehovah.
April 9, 1952-July 4, 2010

In Truth and Transparency,

Straight, No Chaser
(and missing mama)
TLT
7-13-2010
3:32pm

A Better Tomorrow: Yesterday's Joy, Today's Anger

"I keep forgetting" ~Michael McDonald

Shut up snarky mofo reading this. I have a perfectly good explanation for my post.

I tried to stay away but one of my few remaining friends (who I've discussed the following blog with) told me I need to write to release some built up sadness and anger. Since this anger had been inside of me for lil over a month I figured I had to do something to release it.

I know I said December 30th 2009, but I also realized I had so much to say that my retrospective would have been six pages long. But I've never been concerned with length before and honestly that isn't why I am writing tonight.

Tonight, I am remembering one year ago. I smile. I laugh. I cry. I then try to bury the emotions but they bubble to the surface. My failures and fears explode and I realize some things. I realize:

I am angry.
I am bitter.
I am alone.

With these realizations I also realize that I am utterly clueless.

I have no clue how to move forward. As I sit and reflect upon 2009 I realized my worst fear had come true. I am alone, I am confused, and I have been betrayed, abandoned, forgotten and all those other words.

I have no clue how to move forward from a soul breaking experience, in which I gave my all only to be treated like a...I don't have the words. I did it by the book and in return I was misunderstood, vilified, and banished.

I have no clue how to reconcile with my Familia, who despite their pleas to the contrary, truly did nothing during the Crisis, during my mental break, and even now. I have no idea how to love them back when I believe in my heart they left me and could give two shits about my plight.

I have no clue how to forgive those who profess to love and care for me, yet leave me because I don't act according to their rules, heal their way, or bark at their beckon call.

I have no clue how to restore my honor, which I believe I lost during this time. I didn't mean to beg, I didn't mean to fall down, all I wanted to do is be heard and be given a fair chance. I am angry with myself and with her because I don't think either of us took my emotional and mental health under consideration in the moves we made or didn't make.

I also realize I am hella lonely.

I am lonely as my faith is shattered. I have spent almost 8 months begging for a miracle, asking for a sign, praying to be healed, trying to study his word only to be meet with nothing, a vast emptiness in my soul. I now believe he does not hear me anymore.

I am lonely once I leave work. While I am at work with those kids I am loving it. But at 4:02pm a dread overcomes me, and I remember that I am lonely and angry.

I also realize with being clueless and lonely will come/came bitterness.

I am extremely bitter I am probably the only one carrying scars. I haven't been able to date, smile, believe in love, or any of the joy that comes with that. There was no picking up and moving on for me. There was no new interest or old flame. Hell most of the old flames immediately took great joy in my failing and falling (isn't that right?), so even I wanted to run to a safety net there was none. It was me and Roxi Reynolds. Mostly, I am bitter I no longer believe in unconditional Black love nor do I think I will ever find a wife, esp since the woman who I wanted to be my wife walked away and never looked back. I am bitter that I, like King David, won't get to build a temple. Instead I have to prepare my Solomons for the building work.

I am bitter I poured my heart and soul into my writing only to be ridiculed and clowned; only to be met with scorn and a lack of respect. I admit at times this blog was a love letter and a manifesto but still they were my feelings and they got uberly pissed on.

Man I am just angry and bitter....and that makes me lonely.

I miss my smile. I miss my swag.

I miss my arrogant walk. I miss loving Black love.

I miss my friends. I miss my life.

I miss my respect.

I miss faith.

Exactly one year ago life was absolutely amazing. Things had begun to be on point and turn around for the better. The road had begun....and now a year later that road lies in ruins.

Few Friends
No BFL
No Generals
No (the) Queen

Only a handful of remaining advisers, who seek to help me out of this moment.

Where the fuck did it all go? I don't know.

I just know today I am angry as hell and the only person I can talk to about it is my keyboard, this page and God.

Somehow I don't think none of em gives two shits.

Of course this could be the frustration, anger and sadness because of the day. I don't know.

I just know right now I feel forgotten, abandoned, disrespected and alone.

Straight, No Chaser
TLT
11-14-2009
12:01am

The Duel of Fates: Unintended Consequences and The Breaking Of Will

"But this time...is different"~ Batman

I felt like Biggie, wondering who the hell is this calling me at 7:15am. I didn't look at the number assuming the only lunatic to call me would be one of my young people and I honestly prayed that it wasn't because the ONLY time on of them call that early is to tell me they're either locked up or somebody died. Either way I was in the mood for it because hump day blues left me totally fucked up.

I answer half professional half sleep.

"This is Terrance"

The voice responds "Good morning Prime Minister". Instantly I recognize the voice and laugh because its my former student, lover and current great friend "Red". Red is a legend in my world a retired counsel member. Our history is quite complex; we're like the friend my anonymous poster said she had, but now really great friends. She married a great guy and all is well. Sadly the sails of life has kept communication apart and we really hadn't spoken nor seen each other minute but I know for a fact she's a snarky mofo who reads this fine piece of work I call a blog. I also know her eyes go else were.

"Do you realize what time it is?

"Yeah it's the time when normal people get up"

"We both know I ain't normal people"

"LOL. No. You're not. But look wake up, we need to talk".

I sit up on the couch, having feel asleep playing Batman: Arkham Asylum for the XBox360 (good ole product placement) and I tell her to shoot.

"T, you know I love you. But I'mma need to you stop"

"Stop what?"

"Don't be an ass"

"You know I can't do that"

"Actually you can but you don't want to. But you really ain't gotta choice no more."

"Red"

In anger she cuts me off. She begins to layout her concerns for me and my health. She lays out why it won't work and tells me the obvious answer is none of the above. In essence she is pleading with me not to continue and for good measure she tells me how I am mentally killing myself.

I absorb her pleas and I listen; but my response was as it has always been. "Thank you, but my mind is made up. I have no choice but to fight"

By now she is crying and I can hear it in her voice she is worried.

"Nothing can be gained from this battlefield. You remember telling me that when me and his name who isn't spoken broke up. It hurt, but you were right. So now I'm telling you my old teacher "nothing can be gained here".

"Its too early in the AM. Can we finish this later?"

"No. Have you seen the latest piece of intel?" she asks in a flustered voice.

"No, contrary to popular belief that isn't the first thing I do in the am"

"I think you should check it out now. I'll wait."

I go to my laptop which snary preteen left up and I gather my intel"

"You there?"

"Yeah I'm here. I'm reading now"

At this point I am now wishing it was a lunatic or one of the kids. The shit hits me like a ton of bricks and I taste traces of vomit but I fight it off.

"T?"

"Unintended consequence of war. Balance will return"

"Isn't that present in all wars PM? Yours was no different. So you ain't said nothing. Wait are you shittying me? It's is there in black and white. What more do you need to hear and read? Will seeing make you a believer? Or maybe another breaking point. Look, if you continue would you be any different from Yan? Only a fool keeps knocking on a door where he ain't wanted. There are sisters who would love to fuck with you, die to be with you. Why then fight for the one who ain't feeling you ever? You know better. I know you know better cause you trained me"

"It's a little more complex......"

"Yi Liang. You're now fighting an unjust and immoral war"

"That's not fair"

"But it applies. Or better yet, you can run all of Baltimore, but Avon gotta have his corners."

I sit silently. I look at the screen one more time and I log off.

"PM?"

"I'm here. I need to go so I can get the kids off for school."

"I understand, and I'm sorry. You are a godsend Terrance. I just need for you to remember it. Go heal. I love you bro"

"Thank you and I love you too..."

In just 7 mins and 42 seconds Thursday August 27th 2009 is officially shot to hell.

I go through my morning ritual as if in a trance....my mind cant even think straight.

I make coffee.

I take a shower.

I help my heirs get organized.

I try to eat a bagel. I can't

My coffee tastes bitter.

My youngest heir wont cooperate.

I call off work. Don't wanna do it today.

My heirs leave and I go sit on a back porch...the drizzle annoying me. I reflect on all that I have read seen and done.

I reflect on this blog, my conversations her, my debates with Yan, the counsel of BFL, Rev Dr, my bible study, every moment of the past 142 days and it finally hits me...summed up in one line...

Finally I throw up.

By now I've gotten two text messages asking me am I alright and what my next move will be.

My next move..will...be...to...use the advice I gave Yan....

Of 36 Stratagems, only one will work....36 itself.

I walk in the house and the Queen Mother is up.

"You look tired. Is everything alright?"

I kiss her on the forehead and tell her as good as its going to be and smile at her. I turn and walk to the den she yells to me "Pray to Jehovah!"

I try to pray but I can't. I can't find the words. Perhaps I will later..they always do come to me.

I do think I've picked on helluva time to try to quit drinking. Jackass.

Instead and fittingly considering my fixation on this damn game (which I'm about to play now) I remember Batman #497......and the images therein...which describes how this "Bane" of hurt and frustration (even if unintentional) has managed to break this Dark Knight.


It's over..............

And somewhere the "Star" is laughing his ass off.....

Straight, No Chaser
TLT
8-27-2009
9:45am

On Black Men, Depression and Life Pt.1: An Introduction

There are many factors to consider when discussing depression in the Black Community:

• First, because of the racism in psychology and non profit there is not a lot of work done on the Black mind, as it relates to mental health, society and our stations
• Second, how the concept of mental health is treated against cultural norms, IE the church and how one address problems
• Third, the stigma of admitting one has mental health issues and how it impacts the best and worst of us in the Black Community.

Before I start this discussion let me first be open and honest: I suffer from clinical depression. So not only is this an academic piece, it is a personal one, written by a man who is currently in the middle of a major depression and struggling with answers. I understand that by opening saying that to the general public in particular and the Black Community in specific I am going to be subject to extreme judgments, ridicule, fear, banishment and anything else we can think of.

So why then openly talk about it? Well I honestly have learned during the Love Supreme Crisis that the Black Community does not understand depression. This was evident how my network responded: at best I was told to pray it away, at worst clowned. It was even more evident in how (the) queen looked(s) at me; she really believes me to be some kind of monster hell bent on making her unhappy and hell bent on spreading sadness. Neither of these paradigms are true. To be concise, a majority of our people depression honestly believe that depression is caused by one of three things: A lack of FAITH, low self-esteem and/or a lack of toughness. Depression as seen in the Black community is nothing more than the blues, part of our lot in life, side effects of our racial oppression and really needs to be taken in stride and with that one "has to keep their head up."

I understand that. Again, in my own personal context, depression has been oft times dismissed as a quirk, something to set me up for jokes later, and really nothing more than "T" being weak. Even now at a time where I truly need spiritual and emotional uplifting I am surrounded, like Job, by a series of "troublesome comforters"; men and women who offer their opinion regardless of the facts laid out before them. In their eyes all of this "depression" is over a woman, I need to move on and suck it up. I'll admit this was the final straw in a series of unfortunate events, the knockout blow to a wobbly boxer. I also think it is the focus because it is the most public of my trials; matters of the heart always garners attention.

However do not be mislead; losing (the) Queen was a major painful event, but by no means it is the only event. That is one of the reasons I am undertaking this task. I want people to understand this isn't some love sick moment. This shit was coming on before April 4th. I want people to see that depression isn't something you wish away, pray away or ignore. It is serious like cancer or heart disease and must be tackled openly. It is my hope that my that talking about it from the in the moment perspective will change some ideas on depression in Black men and help you all help us and not turn away.

There is one other reason, and perhaps the most important reason I am writing this series: I want it to be my living testament, my account of the Love Supreme removed from the emotions of the earlier blogs, but no less honest and candid. I did not properly document my journey before, during and after "The Long Night". I regret that. But now, this current crisis which I am putting under the "Love Supreme" banner has surpassed that in sadness and despair. Even as I write this I feel alone, empty and very sad. There are days I want to put a gun in my mouth and do it, and there are days I want to keep fighting. There are days when I think about my life and get so sad, I weep bitterly and there are days when I try to find the good things, like my sons about my life.

My sons are the ultimate reason behind this series, because should I fall I know that I will be vilified and branded. I want something written in real time by me to show that I was neither weak nor selfish; I was just a man who lost a lot of friends, a loved one and in the process died emotionally. I want them to know that I fought until the final bell and that I would never ever have quit on them unless there was no more fight. So this is, should the worse happen, my written testament to CJ and Debo. Of course, I'm not aspiring for the worst.

Let me reiterate: I also write because I hope my words can touch someone else in need. I know about this isolation, I know about this darkness. We are apart of a rich culture, being African Americans yet in that culture is a lot of ignorance. Mental Health challenges often are scorned as I said before and even admitting to them violates two major Black Tenets: Keep praying and suffer in silence.

There isn't a lot of help for us, but yet the signs are all in our community. To the "happy" people in our community, we're just low self esteem having, non positive, evil weirdos who deserve to be locked in a corner. Depression is the antithesis of Black Manhood and Blackness, we're not supposed to be phased.

But we are phased deeply. We're not monsters or killers. We ain't gonna hurt nobody (if I had a dime for every time I've heard that in regards to my depression or any other man's depression I'd buy a sports team) in fact is scientifically proven we're more likely to harm ourselves than anybody else. We are simple men who just stay sad longer, hurt longer and work harder navigating the mine field of life.

I sound like an after school special. I just know that clinical depression is real and I think for those of you who are open minded will appreciate this journey and come away with something rich and helpful....

I am also aware that there are those who continue to see me as a villain, a crazed weak man. I cant worry about that audience.

One final thought: This blog has been in the works for some time, and each time I've tried as much as I could to remove more and more self serving emotions. This IS NOT an attempt to sway or convince anybody, it is not about her. I am not trying to cast blame or make people feel sorry for me. I am only trying to educate.

Enjoy the next few blogs. There are my stories. This is my confession, walk with me on this journey.

Straight, No Chaser

TLT

6-17-2009

11:30am

Teach Me Cause I'm SOOOOOO Confused Right Now.

"But know this, in the last days
critical times hard to deal with will be here"
~ 2 Timothy 3:1

I've often wondered if I am a man outside of time, out of place. I've felt that way for a long time. I believe I first encountered this feeling around 2004, when I attended a better yourself workshop. I listened as, well at least my POV, all the keys to living a "happy" life revolved around pissing on people. DO you. Make you happy. Etc. Immediately, being the over analytical snarky mofo I raised my hand and asked "What happens if doing you hurts the community. I mean a crack head is doing what makes him happy when he robs your mama, should that be allowed." I remember the presenter hee hawing about for an answer and dismissing me as thinking too much.

I've wrestled with that notion for sometime, because I have seen and admittedly done shit that made me happy at the expense of the the community and other people. I am told to do me. I don't know.

I'm at a cross roads because I've learned that the qualities I thought made me a fine man: compassion, loyalty, honor, dignity, adherence to order and rules, loving and giving nature in fact where seen as weakness and seen as "suffocating","insecurities", "possessiveness".

This realization utterly messes with one's...man I don't even have the words. I thought that was wanted desired in a King, in a Teacher, Head, etc. To learn that those things are weird and one needs to be carefree, not give a fuck, or whatever this new post modern shit is utterly dishearting. Honestly, its shit like this that makes you stab yourself and commit seppiko me really question my dedication to the concept of Black love and wonder if I should just go straight into the ministry. I do remember a scripture by the Apostle Paul advocating we stay single and dedicate our lives to Jah in 1 Cor 7:27-34. Everyday that counsel seems more and more logical, given my qualities as a man, and the reality I'm facing in Black love. (Of course being the sex addict I am, I have no early clue as to how I could survive sans sex and not fornicate which would make the whole serving Jehovah right concept go out the window.)

All I know is in the beginning I was told "I need A, B, and C." I looked at my skill set and said "Hey I can provide A, B, C, as well as D, E, and F." I did that and now I am being made out as some kind of weak man, a villain for loving someone. That fucking hurts. Like hell. OK..I can be the villain I'll admit that. But weak? No. Pussy whupped? Debatable. Crazy? Most assuredly not.....yet.

Also in the interest of fairness perhaps it isn't the qualities but my implementation of those qualities. I might not be doing it right. But I mean how do you love? Nurture? Show admiration? Is there a text book? A cool way to do it? I'm utterly fucking confused. I really am. Musiq's song "Teach Me" comes to mind:

I was told the true definition of a man was to never cry
Work till you tired (yeah) got to provide (yeah)
Always be the rock for my fam, protect them by all means
(and give you the things that you need, baby)
Our relationship is (suffering) trying to give you (what I never had)
You say I don't know to love you baby
Well I say show me the way
I keep my feelings (deep inside I)
Shadow them (with my pride eye)
I'm trying desperately baby just work with me

I just don't know snarky mofo reading this. What am I doing wrong? How can loving someone be wrong?

It has got to be implementation. But as I said how do you implement love?

It's crushing to know you gave your best and then it wasn't good enough. It's crushing to know the qualities you believe are lacking in the community are seen in such a negative light.

I refuse to believe this is the truth. I cannot. It has to be implementation. But I don't know how to implement.

Teach me Jah. Please do because I'm not understanding and lack of understanding mixed with grief can put a man's mind in a horrible place. I am questioning myself and my worth. Irony. Fucking irony. This is so familiar. I've seen this before but cant place it where. I didn't live it but I've seen it. I'd settle for the crying to come back over this feeling I swear.

This one is gonna fuck with me all day. ALL day.

I'm go try to enjoy the sun and forget.

Enjoy the day blogspot.

Straight, No Chaser
TLT
5-20-2009
9:25am