Monthly Archives: August 2014

Today’s Word is… UNRETURNED


Well said, Charlie. Well said.

I remember the first time I was asked out.  It was back in high school, a new transfer student who knew no better than to like my dorky ass, had asked me out to a movie or something, I was seeing someone at the time, so I……said yes.  I mean, it was just a movie.  After the movie on the way home talked she finally asked what was actually happening here, I told her I liked hanging out with her but I was “in love” with my girlfriend.  She was crushed.  I was crushed.  I never had turned down (for what) anyone before.  It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.  I was always the guy getting rejected now here I was on the wrong side of a curve.  How did other people do this routinely?  I couldn’t get used to it.

Still not used to it. 

When we talk about unrequited love, its often from the perspective of the rejected, never from the one who just cant return those feelings.  Perhaps its privilege, there’s not many ways to say “woe is me, these people like me and I don’t want them back, wah” without sounding full of yourself and because internet, there will usually be someone ready to humble you.  Being desired is widely accepted as a positive thing; don’t overthink it and take the flattery.    But I’m an avid overthinker, so when someone loves me unrequitedly (that’s a word, just don’t try and play it in Scrabble at Game Night. Also I need more friends who have game nights) I often wonder what is it I’m doing wrong?  Was I leading on?   What vibe is she picking up that I’m not? Why can’t I just return those feelings?

Sometimes I forced the issue in the hopes that maybe she’s just a few paces ahead but I’ll catch up.  I don’t catch up.  And whats worse you put Nala in danger now that hope I gave is only going to make the ultimate rejection feel that much worse.  You would think I know better, as much as I’m rejected myself, but apparently I don’t.  Now she probably hates me or will eventually, its just a matter of matter of how she wishes to be perceived.  As I’ve said before, the most awkward thing about rejection is toeing the line of being bitter.  There’s no right/wrong side to it, on one end no one is ever obligated to love you, then on the other no one is obligated to like you.  She can’t hold it against me I don’t feel the same, I can’t hold it against her that she says f*** this friendship.  We can’t, but we will, because we’re human. 

In a perfect world, all attraction would be mutual.  I don’t want anyone to want me unless I want them. 

[That reminded me of this quick sidebar: So the other day, a follower posted a picture of this girl with “smash or pass” she was the typical bathroom model, body stacked I didn’t find her face cute so per the rules i responded “pass”, somehow the girl saw past the hundreds of other thirsty responses and decided to engage me and let me know how she didn’t think I was cute either blah blah money haters that usual stuff people without actual comebacks say, never mind that I’m not the one sending pictures of myself for others to rate/judge/thirst but the fact that all her attention that morning went to discrediting my lone nay vote speaks to the idea that some people have egos that must be stroked even by people they “are in no way attracted” to.]

Anyway doe, I feel it says a lot about a person who revels in romantic interest from someone when they have no desire to do anything with it.  For normal people with compassion, it’s not a pleasant feeling. Superficial crushes are a different story, we tend to harbor less guilt when we know they don’t know enough about you to actually like you.  Real romantic crushes, its like you find me attractive, appreciate things about me, want to commit to me, love me with all you have….gee, thanks but no thanks.  That just will never feel right to me.  I don’t know how some people do it.



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Today’s Word is… HURT

So recently, the above video went viral featuring some gentleman, presumably from New York(“You Grimey Son!” the most New Yorkiest phrase ever uttered) freaking out after his girlfriend, his world, his cinnamon apple (I cant mock as im just as lame with pet names) is leaving him. Who knows what he did to deserve this fate but by threatening to humiliate her by posting pictures (yet he’s the one who’s being embarrassed, score one for karma) he’s hard to pity. Now we’ve all been humbled, we’ve all been angry but I cant think of anything as low as publishing intimate photos on the internet. I can, however, relate to his hurt, relate to his pettiness. Hurt makes you do crazy things.

As someone who may or may not have

-sent flowers to her with a passive aggressive ass card

-sold our prom tickets for a throwback jersey

-called her mother on her birthday and intentionally forget hers

-stood her up in the middle of the city

-saved a Valentines Day gift and gave it to someone else the following year

-went on Instagram and “unliked” every picture

-#heyboo’d her best friend (never pulled the trigger i just wanted her to see these homegirls ain’t loyal)

That’s not even including the classic drunk dials, long winded messages and sleeping with someone you regret(that someone being the very person you were trying to over in the first place). Ultimately, I came to regret everything (maybe not the birthday thing, her mama loved me) because when the dust settled all you’ve done is burned a bridge. Breakups are humbling and embarrassing and not everyone, see video, can handle such a traumatic experience. Thats only amplified in an era where your mental breaks are being filmed, you can look on your phone and see 3 dozen people “like” that your girl is single now, or your Twitter rant is a click away from going viral. Hopefully, he calms down and doesn’t hit send on something he cant take back, hopefully she doesn’t take him back (cuz crazy) and he grows from this just like I and many other dudes have. Just throw on “Say You Will” and your best I ain’t crying face and soldier on until it don’t hurt no more. Damn, now I miss my caramel sunflower.


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Today’s Word is… STRANGER

[Editors Note: Repost, cuz writers block and I was halfway done with a post and thought, hey didn’t I do this already? Anyway, this felt fitting since we’re in this end of the summer lull where people suddenly start reappearing in our inboxes, hearts weary from a long summer of dating and have come to realize that hey, maybe you aren’t the worst they can do. Say no to comebacks, except Jordan, because Space Jam. Rendez-vous le jeudi!]


So, I got a text from this girl I used to see that she chose this cutie pie with whom she wanna be. She apologized if the message got me down then she CCed every man she see-seed around town. I wasn’t down, just a little confused we wasn’t together, or dating to say the least, we went out maybe once or twice, text when I was bored, had roles reversed I don’t think I would’ve shown the same courtesy. Guess she thought more of me than I her, it happens. It made me wonder if that’s how it should go down usually, when you are off the market do you go tell it on the mountain or let it be. The times I did tell someone that “I know we not together but I need to tell you we not together”, it was people who I knew would want to know this (i.e. I seen you naked or I really don’t want to talk to you anymore). There’s been times when I really would’ve appreciated a heads up and times like this when I really didn’t need to know you was gone. What’s more awkward than breaking up with someone who never considered dating you is when you do so and then you try to go back to said person who never actually considered dating you. Which is exactly what happened with the aforementioned woman who’s trying to make a comeback. Nah.

It’s just a natural occurrence in life, especially for single people there will be the ones who just disappear/reappear like Copperfield. I’m good for it myself, whether you’re committed or not, there’s favoritism, I might talk to someone all day every day while someone else might get stuck in the meh zone. Out of sight, out of mind. Why someone might disappear, it can be for whatever, you’ve run out of things to talk about, they found someone new, their phone got cut off, you took too long to put out (kidding, partially.) The comeback is always funny. It’s one thing if you run into an old flame at the store and we re-exchange info but when you just seen her Jamaican vacation photos on Facebook and suddenly you scrolling through the contacts trying to find a way to re-break the ice you let freeze solid months ago, another story entirely. Spoiler Alert, if you wondering why suchandsuch just reappeared, peep the sultriness of your last uploaded photo or avatar. (Sidebar: If you’re over 21, I’ma need you to not still be getting your phone shut off every other month and to have a consistent email that isn’t Why ol girl reappeared, maybe it was my Facebook photo, maybe she’s trying to get back to her old life before dude, who knows? But so starts the awkward reappearing stranger convo (sadly this is exactly how it happened)

I wonder what he’s been up to…

“Hey stranger”

I’m pretty sure I’ve spoken on my hatred of this phrase. Translation: “I’m acknowledging we haven’t talked in a while but I’m not acknowledging it”

“How you been”

No one ever cares how you been that whole thing you wasn’t speaking otherwise, well they would’ve spoke. Translation: “you still single?”

That’s good

Regardless what you said they don’t care. Translation: “Now ask me a question so I can tell you I’m single or I’ll be in town”

I miss you

Again, bullshit. Translation: “Do you actually miss me”

But you never hit me up

Prepping the role reversal…. Translation: “Eat the cake, Anna Mae…”

I see how it is

Wait, YOU hit ME up why am I explaining myself Translation: “Gotcha bitch”

We should hang out sometimes

Availability and interest confirmed, on to phase 2 Translation: “Ask ME out so then it becomes your responsibility to plan”

Ok, sounds fun see you then

What? I don’t have shit else to do. Translation: “Game. Blouses.”

Don’t talk to strangers kids.


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Today’s Word is… FERGUSON


It was my freshman year of college.  The football team was on a Cinderella like run and had made it into the Division 1AA championship against Appalachian State, the defending champs.  It was a hard fought game, ultimately going to Appalachian State. Disappointed; students started to pour out onto the campus, curious, me and my friends went to go see what the buzz was about, after all, we lost.  The vibe on campus however, felt like anything but.  Thousands of students are cheering and chanting, saluting a great season for our team.  Not sure how or what started it, but the crowd went from happy to agitated pushing and shoving.  Police came in on horses,  warning students to settle down or go back to your dorms, ain’t gotta tell me twice, we were about to go about our business.  Then comes a “Fuck the Police” followed by a beer can hurled at a mounted cop.  And chaos ensued.  Places trashed (you know, that we’re spending thousands of borrowed dollars to be), students arrested and expelled. 

Again, this was over a football game….that we lost.  This was after 3 Super Bowls and a World Series.  These dumbasses rioted their own school that they’re still paying for.  Privilege, at its finest.

Fast forward to now, I watch with horror as the events unfold in Ferguson, MO. This didn’t start over a lost football game, this started because a police department would rather turn their back on the community they sworn to serve and protect than turn in on of their own.  Because a police department would rather use their power to make an example of Ferguson than let Ferguson serve as an example of the power of a community.  I’m watching livestreams and vines, and its shocking this was a quiet suburb 2 weeks ago.  People on social media who I’m usually chop it up with about sports and music are actually in the trenches, they aren’t militants, they aren’t anarchists, they’re parents, they’re bloggers.  These cops throwing flashbangs, pointing military grade weapons at civilians, they aren’t soldiers, they’re suburban police officers and highway patrolmen.   Ferguson could’ve happened anywhere, even in the quiet suburban town I live now.  (Well I have faith in our elected officials, and in the local police who all live and are a part of the community they serve, such a novel concept ya think… that Ferguson would not happen here)

But alas, here we are.  I wake up and check certain timelines for updates (who have more credence than cable news). I’ve donated to the cause, I’ve used my own platforms to encourage and inform, but still…I feel helpless.  You wait and see if this will spark a change that will affect history or will this just go down as another #Occupy movement?  How ugly can this get?  Divisive positions are being made amongst parties, amongst races, amongst agendas and we’re already losing sight of what’s broken already.  So as I watch people debate about who gets treated worse, the media skew facts to fit their agendas, politicians get questionably quiet, the police dept double down and get more aggressive, a young black man have his legacy  vilified, I feel like I’m back on campus again wondering what is all of this for?  …..we lost.


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Today’s Word is… INNOCENCE


I am #MikeBrown

It was about 8-9 years ago.  I’m at the local pizza shop grabbing some food, next thing you know I’m getting rock bottomed.  I should’ve just had called for delivery. I’m immediate turned on my stomach and trying to get a glance at my assailant, I see two shiny shoes and an navy pants, it’s the good ol Boston Police.  I’m searched frantically by one as the other watches with his gun aimed directly at my royal blue du-rag, they grab my wallet and let me up and escort me out as the staff and other patrons wonder what the hell just happened here.  I’m stare at the two men, trying to discreetly read their badge numbers in case I got a broken rib of something.  Apparently I fit the description of someone who was reported carrying a gun,  they run my name, nothing.  A girl from the neighborhood passes by and says “oooh Tristan what did you you do” “Being black on a Thursday” I responded. Technically I was right, I wouldn’t fit a description if I was white, but I digress.  The first cop, a mid to late 30s white guy chuckles and shakes his head, the other a taller heavy set black guy wasn’t amused.  Thinking about it now I can see why he was offended, perhaps he didn’t like his blackness being questioned *shrug*.  Perhaps in one of the earlier forms of YOLOing, I became somewhat smart with the officers, my side hurt, I was hungry, and I was a straight A student at one of the best high schools in the city, I only dressed otherwise.  I knew I didn’t do anything wrong so why worry…

That was me. Two years ago.  Even in my early twenties, in spite of being routinely stopped and frisked on my own porch, even after being charged with a felony with no credence just because they could, (intimidation of a witness, it took thousands of dollars and months of going to court for them to realize, the “witness” wasnt showing up was because this “witness” didnt exist, charges ultimately dropped.  I was bailed after a weekend, other friends lost months of their lives for no reason). Even after I got the talks, “dont roll in packs”, “carry and articulate yourself well”, “never give them an excuse”, two years ago, I still didn’t want to believe. 

Then Trayvon happened.

Then Mike Brown happened.


And countless others.  The former two that much more profound because whats more heartbreaking than the loss of young black life is society’s rationalizing of it.  That all it takes is smoking pot, or a menacing photo for masses of people to feel comfortable with your murder. 10 years ago, I thought that my honor roll grades, and respectability was enough. Two years ago, I knew better but I didn’t want to accept it.  Now, I see the light as it coruscates across the country and across the world.

  I’ll never be good enough for them.

My stocky frame, my melanin, strikes fear whether my du rag is in a knot or my Armani tie is in a windsor. I could’ve died that evening a decade ago and my fellow Americans would say “good”.  My parents would to turn on the TV or computer and see outsiders discuss how the world is better without their baby boy.  Maybe the officer would be arrested, maybe they’d be a trial, not for him but for me….in my 16 years had a lived a life worthy that one ought to be punished for ending it prematurely?  At 26, I’m still one bullet away from being a hashtag being on trial for my own murder. That’s terrifying.  I or anyone I love can be the next Mike Brown, the next Ezell Ford, the next Sean Bell and all I can do is try to be a good old boy and  pray.  Not I didn’t know this before, but as I’m watching “respected” officers tell lies, the media amplifying said lies all because the masses would rather a trigger happy white cop play judge, jury and executioner than cross paths with Mike Brown on the street, you see why whats going down in Ferguson is much bigger than Michael Brown.  You see why Twitter has been on fire the past week and a half.   This can’t be life, the game is rigged, people are done standing idly by while police and media figuratively “sprinkle a little crack on him” Dave Chapelle(c).  Yet and still, some people, even black people, don’t get it…..actually I feel like I need a fresh post to vent on that……To be Continued



Filed under Simply Stan

Today’s Word is… REAL


So I got another email, a followup of sorts.  This tims the reader “Peach” (its cheating to give your own nickname but in this case I’ll let it fly) met a guy on Twitter (I guess I did miss one; e-lationship) and after dating each other online now they’re casually dating offline. The thing is she “counts” the online courtship while he wants to start back at one and see where things go because he didn’t “know” her.  She reluctantly agreed, but is now looking back at what WAS the previous year, and is she wrong to feel like they’re a wee bit past a feeling out process. (Yeah yeah yeah insert communication, express wants and all that all advice column speak.)What’s more interesting is the differing opinions on the online courting.   Retell this story out of the matrix, they meet at a bar, talk frequently, hook up a few times, he keeps pressing for them to be together eventually and now a year into it, he says lets see where things go. Now he appears to be the one leading on.  In both instances, those sweet nothings and hypotheticals were empty, the difference is what happened in cyberspace is more assumed remain there and in real life.  For some reason.

People love to pretend “the internet isn’t real” when its convenient to do so, as if there’s not thoughts behind the words, feelings behind them, people behind them. This isn’t the 1995 when the heaviest internet users were creeps, nerds and agoraphobics, its 2014 where everyone is connected.  It’s a copout to dismiss someone on the internet when you, a real person, are on the internet.  Peach’s mistake in falling for a guy from Twitter is no different from falling for the guy who buys her a drink.  Ol boy’s stance to “see” where things are going lacks merit because Peach is as real as she’s ever going to be, so just call it what it is; you told her what she wanted to here, got a couple nudes, a few lovers weekends but that’s all it was.  Been there. Its no different than any other dude lying to kick it in real life.  Been there also. 

I been “Peach” too, investing time and feelings into someone only to have the rug snatched from under me. She plays the internet card while left singing “Am I Wrong” like Nico &Vinz and that song wasn’t even out yet.  LDRs are for suckers.  By rule, people tend to rationalize wrong behavior by dehumanizing the wronged (like an unarmed teenager……nope i wont go there today, stay tuned tho).  Relegating someone to words on a screen or an intimate relationship to online role play drives one mad because you know you aren’t delusional in thinking it was real.  It’s not even worth trying to convince that real feelings was hurt been there as well and just have to move on. to locals only  no matter how awesome this new one seems


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Today’s Word is… WRITE

[Editors Note: For my 2 year Stanniversary, I thought about maybe doing a best of, a where are they now, opening the floor to questions then I thought, why not just take the day off. So yeah, #itstherepostbaybeh]

“Writing, it’s like talking to yourself but in a sane way -Unknown, or again I just made it up. Whatever.

When I started this blog, I wasn’t sure what it would be.  I honestly still not sure what it would be, the concept of SFW is so open I can pretty much make it anything, there’s an infinite amount of words, definitions and interpretations.   Initially I wanted to revive concept from a blog I had when I was 18 “A Day in the Life” where I basically just reflected on my day to day affairs, then I realized a)my life isn’t that interesting b) thats pretty much the equivalent of the type of Facebook posts I hate now.  So I broadened the concept to make more generalized posts.  When I came up with the “Words” idea, there were some words I knew I would write. Words like “Love” “Communication” and “Faith”. Words I myself always read about but never quite defined personally. Others were completely reactionary, such as my reflective family posts, current affairs, which tend to be my more popular posts. I never cared (nor care) about views, niches or trying to show myself in the best light.  What I put forth is me, my thoughts, my feelings, my life, it’s nice when readers understand but I’d be lying if I said I expected them to.  There’s been plenty of posts I begin feeling one way and changing towards the end.  Each post I begin a new adventure, picking my own brain.  Life is the lecture, SFW the notes.  People think I’m being modest when I say I’m not a good writer.  I read other blogs and I’m blown away by the moods set, characters animated, thoughts so elegantly stated.  Myself, I’m just transcribing my thoughts, some thorough others not so much.

So why a blog, and not just a word document?  Short answer Keisha made me.  Long answer, for one I like the process of writing.  As I said before I’m not typically wowed by my own product, the basic concept of taking a single word and turning it into a 700 word narrative is challenging.  Taking a mild rant and spinning it into an amusing post is whimsical.  Second, I like to entertain.  in school I wasn’t a class clown because real g’s move in silence like lasagna. I was more of a sniper, you never knew where or when it was coming but would get my laughs in.  I grew up in a home where sarcasm was a second language, you either had to joke or become one.  Humor is universal, some people are never angry, some people never cry, I dare you to find someone who doesn’t laugh at anything.  Third, writing is just my favorite way to communicate.  I talk fast sometimes, I don’t always hear other people I distract easily, writing is just easier.  It’s organized, anyone can interpret it at their own pace, and it can’t be changed.

This blog in particular captures those three reasons.  The challenge stems from either taking posts I write based off something that happened and I try to restructure around a particular word or theme, or just starting with a word and defining it but in a way that I’m not just writing a definition.  Relating anecdotes are hard, now I see why politicians just make them up as they go along.  I love making others laugh and seeing that others get my sometimes odd sense of humor.  And finally I love the new people I’ve encountered via this blog and others, from all over the world, even if they found it by accident.  I love being able to express myself how I want (give or take grammar edits) and being able to give my unbiased view on the world on my small piece of internet real estate.  That is why I write.



Filed under Randomness, Simply Stan