Wednesday, October 20, 2010

...After the Storm. The Sun Came Out.

After the passing of my father in the summer of 2002, I was faced with a far greater challenge than learning to cope with death. This challenge was the eighth grade (Bring in the horror movie soundtrack!), where the girls got prettier over summer time and developed some sort of attractive features (i.e. ass and tatties), and the popular crowd was becoming far more accessible for people like myself, or so I thought. I never really belonged to any specific crowd before; I have always been an individual that for the most part, most people seemed to usually like me overall. I never been one of those people to address that fuckery of a noun HATERS…what the fuck is a HATER?! That was a bit rhetorical; I know what the hell a hater is. Do I have them is the question. Do I care is the bigger question, and if I have had them fuck them. I think our generation is too obsessed with using people who dislike them as an advantage to gain popularity. That is all you hear in these damn rap songs these days “hater nigga this, hater bitch that…” shut the fuck up! You don’t hear Lady Gaga talking about haters and nonsense like that. She has plenty of people, who hate her and cannot stand her, but you don’t see her addressing them; she does her thing and puts out more and more good music unlike the ones who address em. Side note, you don’t see Jay-Z doing it either, well blatantly at least. But, the eighth grade was a year I swore up and down was going to be different from all the rest unlike sixth and seventh grade. I think eighth grade year was the first time I had set goals and accomplished each and every one that I had laid out. I remember during the first month of school in my science class, which was a BEOTCH, we did not have a permanent teacher yet, so the school gave us a sub for the first month of school. When I say Mr. Ward was by far one of the coolest substitute teachers I have ever had, I ain’t lying! (50 Tyson voice). Mr. Ward was a young dude, made hip hop beats, and never dressed up for class…he always had on jeans n shit. I remember one class I met one of the most intimidating yet awesome female MC’s ever! Her name was Esra; she rhymed with the logic of Nas with the pace of Bizzy Bone. She was awesome. We were doing introductions in class and Mr. ward was reading over our hobbies, and he saw that Esra like to rap; he immediately asked her stand up and “spit a lil somethin somethin” for the class. Looking at her, you could easily see that she was nervous and very timid in her approach to the front of the class. Mr. Ward asked for somebody to make a beat on the table top and he was going to beat box along with the beat. The beat got started and Esra began to nod her head to see where she was going to start in accordance with the beat. Her head nodded harder and harder, and then it came out! She sat there nodding her head in all sorts of directions and these awesome combinations of words started to come out, and they rhymed brilliantly! I felt chills run through my body bar after bar. At Key Middle school, it was not uncommon to get in trouble for having freestyle sessions at lunch. It caused such a lovely riot, yet at the same time a ton of hostility if you got roasted while battling somebody. The table I sat at with my friends, primarily my neighborhood friends (Good Hope!) and a few other random people, but it was all cool. I remember the table that was behind us was an all girl table that we constantly got into shit with! It’s funny how things turn out, because one of the girls who sat at that table is now one of my good friends. During a lunch table freestyle session it really didn’t matter who went, as long as they said something funny or cool. I remember one day my friend Donny asked me did I want to battle Esra for fun…I said “hell no!” I could not fade getting embarrassed at lunch again in middle school! It was already bad enough that back in eighth grade I cried when a white girl dumped me on the first day of class. One of my most specific goals that year was to make the basketball team; it had been almost like a dream of mine since the sixth grade. The coach from sixth and seventh grade was an asshole that wouldn’t let sixth graders try out for the team, or was that the school policy? Eighth grade was full of basketball! I played for the rec. team, I played street ball daily, our rec. team was damn near unbeatable so we had to play Boys and Girls Club, and when we won a championship there we upgraded to AAU (the Mecca of youth sports). I remember the day tryouts were held…you want to talk about being a nervous wreck, sweet lord cheeses! I was sweating bullets before we began the drills. Everybody wondered why I was so damn nervous, I mean my gym teacher was the basketball coach and anytime we got to play basketball in gym I tried my hardest to show off and showcase my skills. I remember the day we got called to coaches office where Coach Rey gave us our slips telling us if we made the team of not. I think that day had to be the most nerve-wrecking day of my life thus far! I left his office with the piece of paper folded in my hand, thinking to myself “you made it, you made it…don’t worry, you made it.” I hit the corner that led to the stairwell and opened up the folded sheet of paper and there it was, I MADE THE TEAM! I was now a Key Eagle! After that all I could think about was how proud my dad would have been of me that day. He always pushed me to go after what I wanted even if I do not succeed at least I can say I tried my hardest. I’m not going to give the details of practice, how much playing time I got (which was minimal), my first basket, or who we played each game. All I can say is this, our team made Montgomery County history as far as Middle School sports go. We were the first team to go undefeated and average seventy plus points per game, even though we did not face our rivals, Banneker Middle, which was a game everyone on the team and within the student body wanted to see. Being on the basketball team had a bit to do with that newfound popularity that I had gained that year too. It was almost overwhelming in a sense. The next thing I knew is that I could not walk down a hallway without getting a handshake from the dudes or a hug from the girls. It was one girl that I had wanted to hug for the longest time though, her name was Laila. My friends use to clown me all the time for having a crush on her…I think she is the reason I have a thing for girls with braces. It all started in the sixth grade when she asked me to hold her books while she figured out her locker combination, we didn’t exchange names or anything…I just took the books and glanced at her here and there. It took me three years to say actual words to her and get some sort of positive response. I had my few run-ins with her before. The first time was at outdoor-education where my friend Diego ran over to her and told her that I said her and went out. She came over and BOMBED MY ASS OUT by repeatedly telling me that we WERE NOT A COUPLE; the public humiliation sucked. The funny thing about Francis Scott Key Middle School’s dances that were thrown every couple of months were that once you bought a ticket you were handed a school directory. The school directory was such a gift and a curse when communicating with the opposite sex. I remember one day, calling Laila up unexpectedly and asking if she wanted to go see a movie Saturday…I immediately got hung up on. Then the eighth grade rolled around, and ironically I bumped into her and her friend Lauren at the movies. My friends and I were walking back up the hill to the mall at the movies and she and Lauren were headed to the Checkers that sat on the top of the hill as well. I got into the mall with my friends, and then acted like I was hungry. Now being that I had just ate a few minutes before, my friends looked at me like I was insane and taunted me and called me FAT! I went into the Checkers and pretended that I did not see her or Lauren sitting there eating, and then it happened! She asked me to sit down with them. I had never been so happy and nervous at the same time, but I felt like after years of trying and trying to get this girls attention that this was my moment! I sat and conversed and forced myself to eat this food that I honestly did not want to eat, but oh well. The conversation lasted so long that my friends had actually left the mall to come look for me. These fools stormed in and already knew what was going on. The teased me a bit but they were not blatant enough to get Laila or Lauren to understand what was going on. I think Lauren knew though. After we left the mall I went home with the biggest smile on my face. I got home and laid down for a bit and then thought about resorting back to that damn directory and calling her just to see if I could squeeze some more conversation out of the evening. I called her, she picked up, I could hear Lauren in the background talking or doing something, and Laila said that she was going to call me back. At this point I was like “oh I know what that means” I had already learned from older kids that when someone says “they’ll call you back” it typically means that they won’t call you back. But too my luck a few hours later, while I was sleeping, my phone rang! I woke up, talked with this awesome girl I had had a “thing” for since the first day I met her. I do not remember exactly what the basis of the conversation was or how long we talked, all I know is that on Monday I got my first hug from her and on that Saturday we hung out at the movies for the first time, not by coincidence. It was the beginning of one of my most memorable and cherished friendships...

Thursday, October 14, 2010

I Think It's Safe To Say.

I am back! New attitude, new outlook on life, and new posts coming for y'all! The past couple weeks have been far tougher than I could have ever imagined. I finally got myself a car, 99 grey Nissan Sentra, named Kalmia. I don't really know why I named it that...I saw the name on 16Th street in DC and I just really liked the name. The car has been a bit stressful as far as maintenance goes...I mean the engine runs superb, but the body was a bit banged out. Luckily some asshole hit me at a McDonald's drive thru and I was able to take the money the insurance company gave me, after being stifling little assholes about the ordeal, (FUCK PROGRESSIVE INSURANCE COMPANY! I don't care how nice that weird lady is on the commercial) and hook my car up with some body work. My household has not been the most peaceful place to stay, since my mom put my little sister out for fucking up once again. At least I can say that my sister is in a far better place than PG County though. I find it sad that a majority of these teenage girls in PG County are far too fast and trusting when dealing with sex and who they interact with. I do not know what the standard is in these young girls minds when it comes to choosing dudes to date or even consider talkin to. I may sound like an old ass man as you are reading this, but what ever happened to decency? What ever happened to good hygiene? What the hell happened to CHIVALRY! I swear, as an avid user of public transportation, it pisses me the fuck off the the fullest extent when I see a train full of people, and there are women standing and men sitting down as if it is okay. Stand your ass up and let that woman sit down! The sad part is some of the dudes sitting down act as if they are entitled to sit there before a woman. My grandma would have tore me a new asshole if she saw that I didn't give up my seat to a woman or better yet, a woman carrying a child. When I do give up my seat on the bus or train the other people look at me as if I have lost my Goddamn mind! fuck off! I'm sorry for doing the right thing, I just feel wrong if I don't, and I have this annoying little old woman sitting on my shoulder yelling in my ear saying "nigga you better get up before I make you get up and go cut a switch!" Don't sit there and act like you never had to cut your OWN SWITCH for YOUR OWN ASS WHOOPING! My grandma did not play that bullshit when it came to me, my brother, and my sister and how we treated people. But back to the issue of dating standards. These days it seems like the more you disrespect yourself and other people, the more people are attracted to you...or are they attracted to the thought of the amount of attention they may get while they are with a person like that? Nobody enjoys a chase of someone worth having anymore. It's like fastfood, everybody wants to eat, but nobody wanst to put time in the kitchen to cook up a healthy meal that will last a few days and do teh body, so they resort to soemthing cheap, unhealthy, quick, and easy to satisfy their hunger. Whatever the excuse may be, it is a fucking shame! There is nothing more heartbreaking and disappointing than decent person with the most rowdy, loud, rude, and obnoxious being imaginable. i can't help but look at myself in the mirror and ask "damn what the fuck are you doing wrong Mr. Wright?' But this is typical in the area I'm from...The DMV (DC, Maryland, Virginia). I would be asinine to think that these standards existed only in the DMV; I'm sure it exists in other cities, it's probably worldwide, but I do not know of other places, just here. I remember last semester at my old school PGCC, Go OWLS! (Prince George's Community College) my club (GEEK) held a forum called "Battle of the Sexes" to debate issues that come up between men and women all too often. Typical PGCC, we got some of the most dumbass responses from a few men on the panel, and the women answered in the most basic annoying fashion. Turns out that they liked bad boys...I mean everybody wants somebody with a little edge, but I would hope that they wouldn't want a person with a jail record, more than one baby mama, and zero respect for the English language (I hate people who have terrible grammar)...I was so wrong. But people are going to like what they like regardless of all the signs that display how bad it is for your are hanging right in their faces or not, like cigarettes. I will admit, I miss my sister and I hope she gets back on the right path. We all hurt, but there is a certain line that you do not cross to express your frustration. My mom is stressing over the issue, which is understandable. The whole ordeal was unbelievable, lots of words exchanged, about 95% of them were hurtful...and the fact that all of this shit happened on a Sunday was even more disturbing. It is not like I do not know where my sister is, she's in VA with my dad's side of the fam, and knowing them, they are gonna straighten her ass out just right. I think that's called TOUGH LOVE. I think more people need that kind of love, I honestly believe our society is so damn bad because of these nonchalant parents raising these bad ass kids however the kids desire to be raised. It's like they scared to whip they kid ass! Punk ass laws n shit about what is and what isn't appropriate in regards to raising kids. Half these politicians who make these laws and sign these bills know damn well they hate the fact that putting their kid in "time-out" did nothing more than bring their kid up to be hooked on hard drugs, have unwanted pregnancies, or commit suicide. Time-out is for BEOTCHES! I am so glad to be back writing and posting more blogs. I have literally been too stressed to write, but day by day, things are getting much better. It feels good to be back feeling good.