It almost feels as if my soul is walking around in my head, pacing back in forth deep in though unrestrained by time and space, just thinking and pacing back and forth for what has seemed like an eternity but not even a minute has passed. And I am fatigued, as if I had been sitting in this chair for days. I sit loosely in the chair, looking almost thrown into it, my thoughts holding me captive pinning me lazy to the chair.
I don’t even know what I am thinking about. My mind seems blank most of the time. It seems void, black, scary, are the thoughts that roam in the vast unknowns of my brain. “I'm not ready for this, I'm not ready for this, I'm not ready for this.” but I have got to carry on. I have got to face it like a man and accept the challenges that come with being a man.
I have been plunged into manhood, and not by my own doing, but through the actions of another I have been pushed into a role I didn’t see coming for years. What do I do now?
Its time to grow up. Not to say that I was immature, but I still had a bit of the hard protective egg shell of my youth protecting and covering my eyes. I still live in the nest after all, I haven’t flown the coop to face the harsh cross winds and whims of the world.
The humor in all this is that someone else short comings as a man has forced me to become a man myself. I am reminded of a shirt that read “Mistakes, sometimes the only purpose of ones life is to serve as a warning to others.”
I keep thinking that, that quotes pops up and down in my brain, hiding in the shadowy places of my mind. Not that I have become a failure, no, I have witnessed a failure, and it serves to me as an example of what not to be, what not to become.
So here I go, diving head first, head long into this. Playing my new role and position. I cant back down from it now, the sooner the better, and what doesn’t kill one makes one stronger. If all things work to the glory of God, then what will I be doing for God, what story will emerge from all this that will show the power, mercy, and glory of the most high? I don’t question it, I only wander blindly through a dark tunnel asking when the lights will come on.
I have been plunged into manhood, I am only asking when I get to come up for air. I am only asking what will I do with this manhood. And why God, why did it have to happen like this?
Friday, October 29, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
God help me
It hasn’t sunk in yet, this pain that I feel. I have hardened myself so much over these years, numbed myself to a lot of pain. Mental and physical pain, I almost relish it, I smile at it a lot of times, laugh it off. Laughter is the best way to fight away tears.
People have called it bravado, I hardly understand what that means, yet its not the first time people have labeled me words I didn’t know the meaning of.
I have become numb to the pain because in part I felt like it would never end, I didn’t see a way out. I tried many times to escape this pain, it has followed me around numerous states and countless cities. And yet, it still lingers in the background like an odor, like a smell you have gotten use to, but you know its still there. You smell it whenever you have been away from it for any length of time, and then wham, it hits you as you walk in the door. That was pain for me.
There is so much anger built up in me, I wonder if I am even capable of having any patience, can I even have a family of my own? How will I handle the stress of parenthood, fatherhood to be exact? How can I ever get along in a relationship, with all this pinned up emotion in me. It needs an outlet. I cant carry on like this, the ones closest to me will suffer if I don’t let this wrath out.
I don’t know whats worse, being lied to or being treated so viciously. I told myself that if I ever got out of this cycle of pain, if I ever escaped I would sit down and write everything out. I would have a long cry and sob and boo hoo myself to exhaustion, then I would sit up straight and start tapping away at the keyboard. I would get this Satan out of me.
Vengeance is the Lord's, and yet I want vengeance to be mine. I want vengeance to be mine in such a way that I am no longer the victim but the abuser, I become the hated one, the detestable one, I want my reaction to be such that it would then cause someone else to seek vengeance upon me.
I don’t know when I will allow myself to vent and let the past catch up with me and sink in. I don’t know where or who I can be around and feel safe in letting all that stream out of me. Just thinking about it makes me want to tear up. Can anyone understand a 24 year old man crying tears he has wanted to cry since he was 12 years old?
Someday the reality of the situation will hit me like a ton of bricks, at that moment I will need a trusted shoulder to rely on and some bible verses.
God help me.
People have called it bravado, I hardly understand what that means, yet its not the first time people have labeled me words I didn’t know the meaning of.
I have become numb to the pain because in part I felt like it would never end, I didn’t see a way out. I tried many times to escape this pain, it has followed me around numerous states and countless cities. And yet, it still lingers in the background like an odor, like a smell you have gotten use to, but you know its still there. You smell it whenever you have been away from it for any length of time, and then wham, it hits you as you walk in the door. That was pain for me.
There is so much anger built up in me, I wonder if I am even capable of having any patience, can I even have a family of my own? How will I handle the stress of parenthood, fatherhood to be exact? How can I ever get along in a relationship, with all this pinned up emotion in me. It needs an outlet. I cant carry on like this, the ones closest to me will suffer if I don’t let this wrath out.
I don’t know whats worse, being lied to or being treated so viciously. I told myself that if I ever got out of this cycle of pain, if I ever escaped I would sit down and write everything out. I would have a long cry and sob and boo hoo myself to exhaustion, then I would sit up straight and start tapping away at the keyboard. I would get this Satan out of me.
Vengeance is the Lord's, and yet I want vengeance to be mine. I want vengeance to be mine in such a way that I am no longer the victim but the abuser, I become the hated one, the detestable one, I want my reaction to be such that it would then cause someone else to seek vengeance upon me.
I don’t know when I will allow myself to vent and let the past catch up with me and sink in. I don’t know where or who I can be around and feel safe in letting all that stream out of me. Just thinking about it makes me want to tear up. Can anyone understand a 24 year old man crying tears he has wanted to cry since he was 12 years old?
Someday the reality of the situation will hit me like a ton of bricks, at that moment I will need a trusted shoulder to rely on and some bible verses.
God help me.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
If Lucifer were a person
He would smile a lot. He would have a thick voice, like a car truck going down a dirt road with its lights off at night. And when he got angry his voice would sound like that same truck going down that same dirt road with no lights at 80 miles an hour.
He would do drugs. He would smoke weed and snort coke. He would dress in the best clothes, cross his legs when he sits and talk about high fashion and the latest trends. He would be a chamer, make you feel like a million bucks standing next to you, and when you are away from him you would feel depressed.
He would act like your best friend, and do all the things you wanted him too, you would feel as if you were taking advantage of you. He would be everything you wanted him to be. He would be nothing you didn want.
He would be a man, and yet he would remind you of a woman. He would be beautiful, yet he would be fearsome.
He would answer to any name you called him, but his own.
He would do drugs. He would smoke weed and snort coke. He would dress in the best clothes, cross his legs when he sits and talk about high fashion and the latest trends. He would be a chamer, make you feel like a million bucks standing next to you, and when you are away from him you would feel depressed.
He would act like your best friend, and do all the things you wanted him too, you would feel as if you were taking advantage of you. He would be everything you wanted him to be. He would be nothing you didn want.
He would be a man, and yet he would remind you of a woman. He would be beautiful, yet he would be fearsome.
He would answer to any name you called him, but his own.
Crazy lady
One Sentence:
This same lady comes into the cafe walks around in a circle then leaves
One Paragraph:
I have noticed the same lady come into the store, she looks as if she is wearing the same clothes every time. She doesn’t look dirty, she just looks very plain. Come to think of it actually, I didn’t see her today, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t there. She only makes her appearance once, maybe twice a day. She never stays for long, just enough time to walk around the cafe once, very slowly and then walk right back out the door.
One Page:
I keep seeing the same young white female almost everyday. I see a lot of the same people everyday, but most of those people either camp for hours on their laptops or they are people that use the space and time to study. However this lady, she never orders anything and she never stays for more than five minutes. She doesn’t appear to be “crazy” she looks neat, yet plain. Today I realized that what constitutes a crazy person is their hair. If their hair looks wild and un kept, to most of us they appear to be crazy or homeless. She always has a dark blue jacket on, with plain blue jeans, and she clutches her black purse as she walks around the store. She enters through the doors walks all the way to the edge of the cafe and then, as if the bookstore side is off limits to her, in her own mind, as if there was some sort of wall blocking her, she turns right around and right back out the doors.
The most I have ever seen her do this is twice, and we are always so busy, or at least I am so busy that I cant really stop and ask her what she is doing, besides, its not as if its the craziest thing I have ever seen since working at the bookstore.
A few times I have seen the lady go into the restrooms, which is not to far from the cafe, but most times she refuses to even leave the cafe side. I try to figure out in my head what she is thinking, because it is not as if she is walking around in a daze not seeing anything. I think once or twice I did catch her eye for a split second. I wonder if she is doing this as an experiment or maybe she just feels like she has to make that loop on her way to work or home or wherever she is going. Either way she has to be making money, or someone is giving her money, because her clothes while plain do not look old or worn or slept in.
If the cafe where a movie she would be the extra that keeps showing up in and out of the scene at random times. I wonder what her story is, and exactly why she does what she does. I cant think of anything else to write about this lady.
I dont think anyone else has noticed her pattern, because while what she is doing is not weird in of its self it is very perplexing. It is always easy to spot the homeless people where I work. They will sit around for hours, almost an entire shift, just walking around aimlessly in that small cafe. Yet she does not, she walks the same circle almost everyday. I have yet to notice if she goes down the same street leaving as she did arriving. I have watched her leave plenty of times, but by the time I notice her she has already stepped through the door.
What if she is simply scoping the place out before a robbery. I wouldn’t be surprised in the least.
This same lady comes into the cafe walks around in a circle then leaves
One Paragraph:
I have noticed the same lady come into the store, she looks as if she is wearing the same clothes every time. She doesn’t look dirty, she just looks very plain. Come to think of it actually, I didn’t see her today, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t there. She only makes her appearance once, maybe twice a day. She never stays for long, just enough time to walk around the cafe once, very slowly and then walk right back out the door.
One Page:
I keep seeing the same young white female almost everyday. I see a lot of the same people everyday, but most of those people either camp for hours on their laptops or they are people that use the space and time to study. However this lady, she never orders anything and she never stays for more than five minutes. She doesn’t appear to be “crazy” she looks neat, yet plain. Today I realized that what constitutes a crazy person is their hair. If their hair looks wild and un kept, to most of us they appear to be crazy or homeless. She always has a dark blue jacket on, with plain blue jeans, and she clutches her black purse as she walks around the store. She enters through the doors walks all the way to the edge of the cafe and then, as if the bookstore side is off limits to her, in her own mind, as if there was some sort of wall blocking her, she turns right around and right back out the doors.
The most I have ever seen her do this is twice, and we are always so busy, or at least I am so busy that I cant really stop and ask her what she is doing, besides, its not as if its the craziest thing I have ever seen since working at the bookstore.
A few times I have seen the lady go into the restrooms, which is not to far from the cafe, but most times she refuses to even leave the cafe side. I try to figure out in my head what she is thinking, because it is not as if she is walking around in a daze not seeing anything. I think once or twice I did catch her eye for a split second. I wonder if she is doing this as an experiment or maybe she just feels like she has to make that loop on her way to work or home or wherever she is going. Either way she has to be making money, or someone is giving her money, because her clothes while plain do not look old or worn or slept in.
If the cafe where a movie she would be the extra that keeps showing up in and out of the scene at random times. I wonder what her story is, and exactly why she does what she does. I cant think of anything else to write about this lady.
I dont think anyone else has noticed her pattern, because while what she is doing is not weird in of its self it is very perplexing. It is always easy to spot the homeless people where I work. They will sit around for hours, almost an entire shift, just walking around aimlessly in that small cafe. Yet she does not, she walks the same circle almost everyday. I have yet to notice if she goes down the same street leaving as she did arriving. I have watched her leave plenty of times, but by the time I notice her she has already stepped through the door.
What if she is simply scoping the place out before a robbery. I wouldn’t be surprised in the least.
English Major
One sentence:
I met an English major today we talked about Jesus.
One Paragraph:
I sat down and had a interesting conversation with a young lady who is attending Howard university's graduate program. She was telling me how difficult it was, and she let me look over the class syllabus and the papers and things expected from the students. It actually took my very best reading skills to understand what was being expected. We talked mostly about our faith in Jesus, and some of our experiences in different churches and what it has been like living for God.
One Page:
It all started when she leaned over the counter and smiled at me. “Can I place my bag over here while I look for a book I....” she continued to speak but I stopped listening.
I hate it when people see I am in the middle of attending to a customer and still feel as if their issue is so great, or in most cases so small that I can stop what I am doing to attend to them. So I let the young lady know that I would help her as soon as I finish the drink. She smiled and said okay. I knew that I had seen the girl before, her voice, and the way she wore her hair were familiar to me.
When I finished helping the customer I gave her my attention. She repeated her issue, and I looked at her with an expression of remorse. “Look, we really cant be held responsible to look after people's stuff, I wouldn’t advise you to leave it out here, but this time I will look after it, if you put it behind the counter..” and I pointed in the direction she could put her stuff. “But I just don’t want you to get into the habit of doing that.” I felt funny saying that last part to her, and I didn’t know why
She nodded and said she understood. She then proceeded to tell me about the book she was looking for and why she was looking for it. I was surprised that she was so chatty, but then again people seem to tell me why they are looking for books and what the book is about rather than the title or just simply an author name. As if I need to know that you need a certain book for class, the title and author will do just fine. What also surprised me about her, is that for her level of attractiveness she seemed down to earth and didn’t mind talking. So I helped the best I could given what I knew on the topic, told her we wouldn’t have the book she was looking for but she was free to search, and I told her where and how.
She thought over all I had explained, thanked me and sat down. I remembered her name, and when it was close to time for me to leave on break I walked over to where she sat and said
“Jasmine, I am about to go on break so if you are going to put your bags up, I wont be there to watch over them.”
She thanked me and said she would look for the book at a later time, and then I saw 'Invisible man' on the table. I picked it up, without even asking her if it was okay, and started thumbing through it. I actually saw her eyes light up at the my interest in the book, so I asked.
“Is it for class?” she said yes, and started into a long monologue, telling me she was a English major going for her graduate degree at Howard. She shared a lot with me about schooling and her paper, I didn’t mind. It is always captivating to watch someone talk about a topic they feel so passionately about. I took at seat at her table and we talked about the black race, and then we talked about Jesus. She asked me what made me change, after I told her some of the stuff I got into.
“Wow, you don’t look the type, what made you change?”
I smiled, and looked her in the eye and said “Jesus.”
We sat there for my entire lunch break sharing testimonies about our lives, talking about the churches that we have gone to, just anything that had to do with God. It was good being around another Christian, who saw the world as bad and misguided as I do. It was also kinda cool getting to hear a Brooklyn accent. She asked me “what are those gifts?” when I told her I feel as if God has given me certain gifts for his glory.
I told her I am a writer and out of my back pocket I pulled out five pages of my latest novel and handed them to her. She took them with a smile and promised to read them after she completed her paper which was due the next day. I gave her my email and asked her for her critique. We talked for a little bit longer, about DC and little things like that. She admitted she was not familiar with the area and I told her that if she wanted I would show her around town. She laughed at this and said “aiight.”
I got up out of the chair gave her a smile and said “take it easy, ya?” and returned to work.
I met an English major today we talked about Jesus.
One Paragraph:
I sat down and had a interesting conversation with a young lady who is attending Howard university's graduate program. She was telling me how difficult it was, and she let me look over the class syllabus and the papers and things expected from the students. It actually took my very best reading skills to understand what was being expected. We talked mostly about our faith in Jesus, and some of our experiences in different churches and what it has been like living for God.
One Page:
It all started when she leaned over the counter and smiled at me. “Can I place my bag over here while I look for a book I....” she continued to speak but I stopped listening.
I hate it when people see I am in the middle of attending to a customer and still feel as if their issue is so great, or in most cases so small that I can stop what I am doing to attend to them. So I let the young lady know that I would help her as soon as I finish the drink. She smiled and said okay. I knew that I had seen the girl before, her voice, and the way she wore her hair were familiar to me.
When I finished helping the customer I gave her my attention. She repeated her issue, and I looked at her with an expression of remorse. “Look, we really cant be held responsible to look after people's stuff, I wouldn’t advise you to leave it out here, but this time I will look after it, if you put it behind the counter..” and I pointed in the direction she could put her stuff. “But I just don’t want you to get into the habit of doing that.” I felt funny saying that last part to her, and I didn’t know why
She nodded and said she understood. She then proceeded to tell me about the book she was looking for and why she was looking for it. I was surprised that she was so chatty, but then again people seem to tell me why they are looking for books and what the book is about rather than the title or just simply an author name. As if I need to know that you need a certain book for class, the title and author will do just fine. What also surprised me about her, is that for her level of attractiveness she seemed down to earth and didn’t mind talking. So I helped the best I could given what I knew on the topic, told her we wouldn’t have the book she was looking for but she was free to search, and I told her where and how.
She thought over all I had explained, thanked me and sat down. I remembered her name, and when it was close to time for me to leave on break I walked over to where she sat and said
“Jasmine, I am about to go on break so if you are going to put your bags up, I wont be there to watch over them.”
She thanked me and said she would look for the book at a later time, and then I saw 'Invisible man' on the table. I picked it up, without even asking her if it was okay, and started thumbing through it. I actually saw her eyes light up at the my interest in the book, so I asked.
“Is it for class?” she said yes, and started into a long monologue, telling me she was a English major going for her graduate degree at Howard. She shared a lot with me about schooling and her paper, I didn’t mind. It is always captivating to watch someone talk about a topic they feel so passionately about. I took at seat at her table and we talked about the black race, and then we talked about Jesus. She asked me what made me change, after I told her some of the stuff I got into.
“Wow, you don’t look the type, what made you change?”
I smiled, and looked her in the eye and said “Jesus.”
We sat there for my entire lunch break sharing testimonies about our lives, talking about the churches that we have gone to, just anything that had to do with God. It was good being around another Christian, who saw the world as bad and misguided as I do. It was also kinda cool getting to hear a Brooklyn accent. She asked me “what are those gifts?” when I told her I feel as if God has given me certain gifts for his glory.
I told her I am a writer and out of my back pocket I pulled out five pages of my latest novel and handed them to her. She took them with a smile and promised to read them after she completed her paper which was due the next day. I gave her my email and asked her for her critique. We talked for a little bit longer, about DC and little things like that. She admitted she was not familiar with the area and I told her that if she wanted I would show her around town. She laughed at this and said “aiight.”
I got up out of the chair gave her a smile and said “take it easy, ya?” and returned to work.
Make me rich
It always no matter what seems like it has been such a long time since I have written, even though it has been only been maybe a day.
I hear myself getting taught the same lesson, over and over in life. Recently I have been told “just write.”
as in whatever comes to mind just write, and then later on chisel it away get the marble down to the masterpiece that you know is inside.
Its wield staring at a piece of paper that is blank and then after a few spaced out moments the page is filled with words that you didn’t know you had.
It seems like at where I work there is a story waiting to be told, but I never have the time to sit down and watch it. I am being told solid advice as far as steps to further my writing. Things I always knew I needed to do regardless, but hearing them come from a respected person, it is like concrete weight to the feelings that already press heavy in your heart.
If I can just get a camera again, I have such plans. This writing thing is harder than I thought, yet it seems so easy. I work at a bookstore and I know one should not judge a book by its cover, but still I see such garbage on the shelves and I know that I can write better stories than what I am looking at. Maybe its jealousy, and I am sure a bit of it is, its just a case of someone having something that I want.
Maybe if I just sit back and let the stories flow. I remember a piece of advice given to me, to help, and I want to practice it. “Tell the same thing first in one sentence, then in one paragraph, and then finally in one page.”
So okay, if it helps and enriches me as an artist, I am down.
I hear myself getting taught the same lesson, over and over in life. Recently I have been told “just write.”
as in whatever comes to mind just write, and then later on chisel it away get the marble down to the masterpiece that you know is inside.
Its wield staring at a piece of paper that is blank and then after a few spaced out moments the page is filled with words that you didn’t know you had.
It seems like at where I work there is a story waiting to be told, but I never have the time to sit down and watch it. I am being told solid advice as far as steps to further my writing. Things I always knew I needed to do regardless, but hearing them come from a respected person, it is like concrete weight to the feelings that already press heavy in your heart.
If I can just get a camera again, I have such plans. This writing thing is harder than I thought, yet it seems so easy. I work at a bookstore and I know one should not judge a book by its cover, but still I see such garbage on the shelves and I know that I can write better stories than what I am looking at. Maybe its jealousy, and I am sure a bit of it is, its just a case of someone having something that I want.
Maybe if I just sit back and let the stories flow. I remember a piece of advice given to me, to help, and I want to practice it. “Tell the same thing first in one sentence, then in one paragraph, and then finally in one page.”
So okay, if it helps and enriches me as an artist, I am down.
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