Monthly Archives: March 2014

Today’s Word is… SUPERMAN

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So, I miss her.  

I miss her quirkiness, her creativity, our chemistry. 

I miss the way I was when she was in my life, I was excited, optimistic, ready to conquer the world.  She was my muse, my peace, my hope.

With every subtle reminder, every drop of alcohol that lands in the pit of my stomach, every moment alone, I want to plan my comeback.  I can surprise her somehow, maybe write her something from the heart, maybe this post, I mean she used to read. If only I could remind her I used to mean as much to her as she me.

But what’s the point?  Maybe we can reconnect for a couple weeks, a few months, even a handful of days and while I would treasure every minute…it’d still be temporary. 

We could never be happy, because she’s unhappy. 

I have to remind myself of that fact when the urge to try resurfaces.  I could make her laugh, smile, swoon, cu…but still, I cannot make her happy. Its a recurring theme as of late, I’m falling out with people for no other reason than life sucks.  All I can do is exhibit patience, continue to reassure but eventually kind words fall on deaf ears.  Eventually “you don’t understand” and “you’re not there” and “you don’t care”, her distancing becomes your kryptonite.  Life has become my greatest foil; looking for love in a market of debt, stress and anguish.  Underemployed or unemployed, broken hearts and broken families, not that I’m remotely special, but I guess I can’t let life take love.  Work will always go “good”, my rants seldom on repeat, I just hate feeling like a burden.  Or maybe misery does need company; maybe I’m just not vulnerable enough?  (Spoiler alert: that’s the topic of the next post)

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I can’t be Superman, I’m a bandaid for a gunshot wound.  Yet I’m stubborn, I try to help anyway but life continues to win.  I can’t undo what her ex did, I can’t make those bills disappear, I can’t wipe away every tear, I can’t just fix her life so she can be with me.  All I can do is hopefully find someone with minimal baggage or someone who likes me enough not to care.  Its a sign of the times I suppose, people put off romance for life all the time, couples marry and have kids later in life if they do so at all, I know plenty of people who just swore off dating indefinitely.  This just might be one of those things I’m on the outside looking in on, my life is far from what I want it to be but shit, I can multitask.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… PRIVACY

[The following is a repost from about a year ago, an oldie but goodie with a few added thoughts, enjoy]

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The "I just found his blog" face

A little while back, Twitter quietly enabled a feature to download your own archives, every tweet you have ever sent there at your disposal.  Now I’m an admitted Twitter lover, I’ve had mines for over 4 years (5 now), about 30,000 tweets (41,000 which is about 8000 year, 21 a day, thats actually not THAT bad) to my credit.  It also serves as a snapshot of my life, my words, my thoughts as I grew and mature.  Some of it, I look back and laugh, others merely shake my head.  Notably a very public spat with “Her” that wasn’t a good look for either of us.  As time progressed and Twitter itself became more popular, more people I knew in real life started logging on and naturally I dialed back a little.  Not that I was essentially being someone that I was not, but rather there were traits I rather not have highlighted.  When I started this blog, I was going to make an accompanying twitter account but I thought better of it.  Like Facebook and Twitter before it, I didn’t want to once again have to worry about censorship or saying things here I would have to explain later.  I feel we are all entitled to some sort of privacy, something that’s is all but lost in a social media era.  

So there’s a girl, let’s call her “Special”, (met a new girl, shes not as special but ironically the same convo came up, as for Special, idk we just….stopped.) Anyway, now me and special are talking, she mentions something on instagram,

“Are you on instagram”
“Yeah”
“What’s your name”
“Tristan”

I mean she could’ve been more specific, but seriously there is a method to my madness.  Any person I’m considering seriously dating, complete social media blackout, don’t friend, follow, poke, like, tag, me.  I don’t have anything to hide but there’s nothing for you to see.  This was an easier sell than I even thought, perhaps because by now we all know somebody who has or personally have had a relationship end because of social media.  People are flirts, keyboard gangsters, their profiles are able to be access but hundreds or even thousands *fixes tie* of people, no one wants to embarrassed, that high road looks a little too high for my taste.   Ultimately she agreed.  It was too easy….maybe she has something to hide. (New girl only has professional social accounts, or so she says)

That’s what makes this a double edged sword.  Who knows what she posts?  Who knows if she just gonna just be Googling me anyway?  If she finds something she doesn’t like can I get off per the 4th amendment?  To answer my own questions, I don’t care. I don’t need to see thirsty negroes posting “damn ma” on her pictures (okay I might’ve snuck a peek and it wasn’t me it was a friend who wanted to see who she was). I don’t say anything on my social networks that would get me in trouble and everyone knows women don’t believe in illegal search and seizure, will break in your house, steal your tablet and then have something to say about a Facebook message she saw. 

Perhaps privacy should’ve always been the alternative, “She” was on all my sites and every tweet felt like I was on the first episode of “Martin”, I told “Miss” about the blog as my friend, now she’s a jilted lover who loves to hate to love to hate reading.  Exes before that had the passwords and everything.  Social media blackout….this might could work.

-Stan-             
 
       

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Today’s Word is… THINKPIECE

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I miss being able to enjoy things.  Not that I don’t, but rather I miss when things were just….what they are.  Now in a social media era, EVERYTHING is an issue.  Whether its an album cover, a song lyric, a joke, you can pretty much conjure up a 800 word think piece on anything.  Now I’m a fairly progressive young black man, there’s plenty of things that I’m sensitive to or completely understand the outrage for.  I guess I miss the ignorance of yesteryear, things I enjoyed as a child being left alone shielded from the narrative reaching that is…the think piece.

I could see them invading my timeline and Reader now

“Is Marge Simpson a feminist”
“What Doug teaches us about children with ADHD”
“Martin vs Pam: when he doesn’t accept your friends”
“You look different Aunt Viv, Fresh Prince’s troubling issue with colorism”
“Is Topanga Lawrence fit shaming high school girls”
“I can save myself. Why this mom doesn’t allow Mario Bros in her home”
“What the East coast/West coast beef…(actually those were done)
“Why Michael Jordan must see it isn’t just the shoes”
“What Full House should teach us about independence”
“Screech, Urkel and street harassment”
“What Boy Meets World teaches us about classism”
“Sonic the Hedgehog and how environmentalists are standing up to industrial corporations”

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I was kidding, but this actually happened. Women can hack roms too, girl power.

I got a little carried away.  Point remains, its beyond irritating.  For every thoughtful post there’s 100s of exaggerations by desperate writers hoping that their trollfest would go viral.  I myself, said earlier in this year that I would write less about myself and more about current events but when you see me writing open letters to Justin Beiber, please tell me to retire from blogging.  Not to tell someone what they can and cannot write but I feel there’s more pressing issues and platforms are continuously wasted on the irrelevant.  The Ray Rice incident fueled me to write, Pharrell not having enough black people on his album cover…eh, not so much.  I wrote a two part post following the Steubenville rape trial, I can’t see myself writing a thinkpiece on Breaking Bad.  But hey, different strokes, I just refuse to give a damn enough to read or discuss it.  Just like some may not feel the need to read a think piece on think pieces. Whatever.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… PHONE

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I’ve been on this earth for 25 years, quarter century, a crack dealers jail sentence.  I’m a tweener between 90s baby and millennial and usually bounce sides.  For example, I think Jordan is the greatest player ever but can admit Kobe/LeBron do some things better.  I went my entire high school education without a cell phone, but been on some form of social media since 17.  I said all that to say this, where I’m really split between 90s baby and millennial is that I hate talking on the muhfuggin phone.  I was that teen on the phone all night talking about nothing but our first world problems and adult feelings we aint know nothing about, but these days I’m over it.  Let’s go to lunch, video chat, hell write me a letter, but why do some women seem so insistent on talking on the phone?  By some its usually women older than I am or have some Steve Harveyism that a man who doesn’t call got a wife or doesn’t like you.

Perhaps its the introvert in me that cringes every time my phone rings. A ringtone is never not intrusive, whether I’m at work, actually using my phone, or just sitting alone in four cornered room staring at candles.  Other people’s phones annoy me, especially in public when I hear the sh t and apparently they can’t.  The convenience of a cell phone is its downfall, at least back in the day, I left and the phone stayed there, something about always having access to me, not a big fan.

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There’s exceptions to the rule like if one of us has a question that needs an immediate answer, I’m mad and need to yell at you, you have a great story or one of us is driving, or you’re just that incredibly awesome we can talk for hours and its effortless.  Two people. Two people can probably make that claim.  Otherwise, its a chore and what makes it more of a chore is trying to hide the annoyance in my voice.  Bluntly put, our daily lives are not that interesting.  Even in an era of social media/blogging, even this blog I put it out there, people read or don’t, talking on the phone you’re forcing them to listen, care, respond.  Texts you can respond at your own convenience, in person theres almost always something else going on (TV, food, activities, people watching). 

Maybe I’m being too hard on phone calls, people bore via text and real life.  I think we communicate too much sometimes, that 2 hour phone conversation would’ve been better had we just got up.  If all I did today was talk to you, what’s there to talk about tonight?  Admittedly romance is lost when I’m just words on a screen, but so is hearing your voice and not seeing your face.  Phone calls are just as impersonal, even if you’re getting more attention than a text its still only part of them.  A text is a snack, a call is an appetizer, face to face is the meal, you don’t want to feel up on either but if you’re that hungry why not go for the snack until the meal comes?  That makes sense right? 

-Stan-

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