Tag Archives: discretion

Today’s Word is… INTEL

Growing up, I was an Allen Iverson stan. I had multiple jerseys, the shoes, (my mother wasn’t with the braids so I did what any rebellious teen did…. I just faked it with a du rag and headband. Cuz black mama). I had just missed the Jordan era, he was the dude from Space Jam who you had to create in video games cuz he was too good for them. AI was my Jordan and I wasn’t hearing otherwise. As time has gone on, analytics and advanced stats gave the real tea on AI: he was a very inefficient scorer, turnover prone, one of the worse defenders in the league, was really bout 5’9 1/2, wasn’t a great 3 point shooter but he threw them up anyway, may not start for most teams let alone be the face of a franchise. Fuck them numbers, B. Iverson is a blind spot where I could be blissfully ignorant enjoying what I was watching without knowing too much. It was a simpler time.

These days, perhaps we have too much information. You may not be here if your parents could send subliminal tweets to each other during a fight, Barack and Michelle were able to fall in love because he never had to experience being left on “read”, I could be married to my college sweetheart if she never found my Twitter. (No, I wouldn’t. ) It could also be for the better; you can search his @ name and “bitches”, “black women” or “females” and see what’s he’s really bout, you may find out on Facebook she wasn’t as single as she let on, you see every too damn friendly comment left by others on their pictures or just learn early that they ain’t really bout shit. Why waste precious time and energy when you can learn all about someone with a few clicks. But what’s the fun in that? Isn’t life about learning things the hard way, experiencing the ups and downs…I guess? Yet, at the same time, we millennials. (well I have no idea who is a millennial is anymore, it feels like the goalposts keep moving.) I guess I’m wondering aloud if maybe we just know too much.

Then there’s me. I have a kinda almost weekly semi-autobiographical blog. A far more intimate setting than even my social media accounts. Here, I just say whatever is on my mind without much thought about who (hi sweetie?) may or may not be reading. Well, mostly. I’ve learned there’s still plenty I should keep to myself. I often wonder if SFW is maybe too much information. Every doubt, every thought, every feeling doesn’t need to be articulated… publicly. Yet we millennials overshare to the point of exhaustion. I’ve said before that I couldn’t date another writer, we’re too neurotic, too analytical, project too much (There’s only room for one me in the relationship and I’m already me). You’d think everything is good and next thing you know you’re being dragged on Harper’s Bazaar because your wife finds it emotionally draining to speak to you directly. I’ve seen followers literally thread every detail of their day and as a follower I’m mildly amused but if I was a love interest I would run for the hills.

I guess I enjoy a blissful ignorance. I want to be able to ask about your day and actually not know the answer already because you made 36 snaps. I want to watch AI highlights and not know he could’ve made a higher percentage shot if he passed it earlier. I don’t need to know what her homegirl thinks about me (unless she’s taking my side), or that she saw that text an hour before she decided to answer it. That’s not the same as being blindly naive to cheating and otherwise disrespectful behavior, it’s I’m going into this as objectively and open as possible.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… MARTIN

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Martin Payne was the original Twitter niggas before Twitter niggas existed.  Quick witted but scathing, loved his woman but not at the expense of his street cred, always ready to fight but never ready to fight at the same damn time.  Dragged women for weaves and their weight…..he was before his time.  Above all else, Martin was good for saying something on his radio show or to his boys that got him in trouble at home.  The best example being in the very first episode:

“Let me tell you something about my girl Gina, GINA worships the ground I walk on.  If I tell Gina to jump, she says ‘how high?’ I tell her watch her head cuz she going to the moon…she don’t give me all that backtalk because she know she got a man who can…..De-liv-ah”

(Yes I did that from memory, its my favorite episode). Of course, Gina got home and reminded him who really worships who

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This was 24 years ago (feel old) yet it’s probably more relevant today than its ever been.   Why? Because just as Radio Martin wrote a check Martin at home had to cash, in this day and age its not uncommon to find yourself in situations where you have to be mindful of what you say because you never know who’s reading.

In the episode Martin was clearly wrong, but in real life its very easy to slip up and have a Martin moment.  We’re increasingly passive aggressive in this social media era, communication has been reduced to subtweets and memes.  I have to check myself sometimes, as much as I want to say “she gets on my fucking nerves” and hit send, I need to be cognizant of the fact I’m sending this to 3500 strangers who can do with it what they wish. (A few months back I made a cheeky crack about my ex girlfriend and it blew up to the point I’ve had a stranger in real life point at me and be like “pull the plug”…Twitter is amazing and frightening at the same damn time). As the great philosopher K. Omari West describes it, I’m just talking like it’s you and me.  Which it is, but then it isn’t.  Lord knows my Twitter has gotten me in trouble over the years, much like Martin I tried to trivialize, tried to get indignant but at the end of it, like Meek Mill or Azaelia Banks, I was catching this L. (Shoutout to the white reader who doesn’t get any of these references). 

Just as I have had my Martin moments.  I’ve had my Gina ones too.  Have a little squabble, you’re like Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
I’m gonna shake it off, shake it off (see white readers, I got you) and then log on social media and there’s that passive aggressive meme, subtweet or Beyoncé lyric, and I’m like WTF?!?  Now she got other people in our business?  Letting some other dude know something is rotten in the state of Denmark?  Be ready to lose my mind up in here, up in here.  I’m (something like) a writer, I like to think I’m subtle and clever with my shade, while she might as well post my picture with a red circle around it like “this is exactly who I’m talking about”.  Gets on my damn nerve.
(So as you can tell, this may or may not happen occasionally)

Two Martins seldom work, you both sending shots, until someone goes for the jugular and now you’re screenshotted on BlackSportsOnline.  We are a society that promulgates our thoughts now, for better or for worse and someone gotta be the Gina and maintain the order offline.  It’s not even a gender thing, we just seen Beyoncé just drag Jay for half an album and he can’t fire back, he just gotta love them ankles and listen to Dangerously in Love to remind himself she still loves him.  Actually, Bey might be Martin AND Gina, Jigga is just Cole.  Poor Hov.  He stabbed a guy and now he’s this.  Anyway, sometimes you just got to respect how people choose to express themselves, provided they aren’t flat out disrespectful. 

Me, I’m very much a Martin.  I’m going to say what’s on my mind whether social media or here.  I’m respectful and will elucidate on something said if necessary (I just really really don’t like to).  My ideal match gets that about me but can also hold me accountable if I stray too far off the reservation.  Sometimes I say things she might not like or agree with but respects my right to say it. Or…maybe she’s better off just blocking me and refusing to read this blog (Hi).  Maybe we are just too woke for our own good these days. We wouldn’t be here if our grandparents knew everything the other was up to and thinking about.  While the onus is on a Martin to not be out here talking reckless especially in public, a Gina gotta understand that every word isn’t meant for her eyes and ears.  But we know most people aren’t that understanding so just watch what you say in these stweets…lurkers be lurking. 

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… ADELE

[Editor’s Note: THIS IS NOT A REVIEW, I don’t know why people would want a review of an album 24 hours after its release, do you really need someone to tell you that you like it.. Or do you just want some talking points to sound smarter when you discuss it? Pewn Pewn, shots fired. And now for your featured presentation]

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So I listened to Adele’s new album.  I loved it.  Maybe even more than her previous ones.  (Not to say it’s better, 21 musically is absolutely stellar and the more superior album).  25 is a tale of reflection on the one that got away, unrequited love and “this is probably a bad idea but fuck it, I need this” sex…shit, that’s my life.   (I won’t touch A Million Years Ago, because I don’t appreciate Adele strumming my pain with her fingers, singing my life with her words, it was like how I imagine Ronda Rousey felt when she caught that kick to the dome… I knew it was coming but I didn’t know it was coming…damn you!) As I listen, with each track it sets in that maybe I’m actually the on the wrong side of these love songs.  When did I become the bad guy in this movie?  Is this what white people felt when they first heard To Pimp A Butterfly or Black on Both Sides?  It’s like being the person who watches Hannibal and is like, you know he isn’t that bad, technically he is just hunting meat that can talk.  Care and manipulation, killing then eating…isnt that where chicken comes from?  See…. I’m turning heel.  Total, help me sang.

I also listened to Bryson Tiller’s debut album. (Yes I’m using Adele and Bryson Tiller in the same breath, just rock with me for a second) When I was able to move past the fact “Trap Soul” is just an meaty oaker made genre for artists who don’t got enough bars to rap and don’t have the range for traditional R&B and gave the album a fair spin, I liked… the first 6 songs.  I’ll take the mediocre (yes I just used mediocre again in case someone didn’t get the joke and thought I was an imbecile) singing over those tired yell raps.  What I did come away with is… This is what the other side sounds like;   A man who gets jealous when she tries to move on, tries to win back her heart even though he has no intentions on doing something with it.  A man who would take that offer for “one night only” even though he knows damn well she isn’t really bout that life.   A man who doesn’t get his ego stroked by his conquests but rather how sprung he can get her.  Shit… Am I that guy? 

Yes. Of course not.  Depends who you ask.  Look she grown she should know better. God ain’t thru with me yet.  The correct answer is that I was.  Without googling I can say Bryson Tiller has to be under 25, because that’s how an under 25 year old would do things.  (When you get over 30 then you can just say it’s sex addiction,  shoutout Eric Benet.)  I’m closer to Adele’s age than Bryson’s, closer to the antagonist in Adele’s songs than the protagonist in his.  I would’ve said Adele is doing it to herself,  but now I can say… You know what, I get it.  Growth and shit. 

As with most double standards, the same way no one wants to heat white people’s hurt feelings over the #inward, the one on the other end of the love song is the villain.  No matter how good you think you’ve elucidated or how logical your argument… If you’re the one breaking the heart it’s your fault.   I bet  Adele’s ex is somewhere like, yo but SHE ASKED to come over and SHE made the first move….. Been there bruh, been there. 

-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… STANNIVERSARY

Do you know what today is…It’s our Stanniversary.  Today marks 1 year of Stan of Few Words.   I thought I would’ve been quit by now, seeing as I’m someone with 2 unfinished novels, a couple of half designed websites, 3 business prospectuses, and a partridge in a pear tree.  It’s been an interesting year,   In my first post, I said I had no idea where this blog was going, to an extent I still don’t.   I don’t even know where this post was going.   I can talk about my favorite posts, or my greatest hits and shameless plug them so that new readers who likely missed them can see them.  I can write about all the things I learned in 365 days of blogging.  Answer reader questions that I probably answered directly but never in a post.  I can openly express gratitude to all my readers and humbly brag about stats and followers.  Or I can jam all the anniversary blog posts cliches (you mean like naming your post a Stanniversary) into one super mega cliche blog anniversary post.  Or just be me and completely just say whatever is on my mind and hope it makes sense and my jokes land.  Yeah, let’s go with that.  

What makes this blog work is refreshing honesty.  As the writer I don’t feel I have to pander to my audience, my audience I would hope they feel are getting a unique perspective. [Sidenote: Perhaps that is why I assume reader emails really took off, something I didn’t even anticipate, or even expected to get into, haven’t they been reading, I absolutely suck at relationships].  However, even accidentally, the author has taken a voice of his own.  Stan is me with hindsight, me with maturity, me without an ego.  Stan dives on the swords I cannot.   Stan is willing to openly express, his desires, his fears, his faults under a relatively low profile.  Stan doesn’t have to explain himself, he just speaks and it doesn’t matter if anyone listens or agrees.  I wish I had that luxury (confused yet, I hope not), I want to be understood, I want to be heard.  I don’t want have to speak for what Stan feels, which is why some of my readers follow me on Twitter, Instagram or Facebook, with nearly 4000 followers at my disposal, I never promote this blog.

Not that Stan and my everyday self are night and day.  One’s able to say whatever he feels, one isn’t.  It’s like being drunk, except I can give eloquent thoughts.  A handful of people who know me and Stan,  Ms, Miss, M and now Dessiner. If you’ve read long enough you know the tales of the first two, M and I never had issue and Dessiner just…gets me.  The internal conflict of a writer is how to be an effective storyteller without betraying the confidence of others.  I try not to, thus the nicknames in the first place, and again I’m not just telling a story for hits, I do so for me.  Stan has evolved into a third party, plenty of times I write something and seeing it in print I can say, “damn, that was really messed up of me” or “wow, I really did play myself”.   Expression limits regret, if I tell a story of Stan and “Her”, its me cleansing myself of any memories and thoughts of <redacted>, I’m not putting her on blast.  I spoke on my social media presence, even then it’s my real name and picture, mutual friends and even a much larger audience.  Worrying about what I say to my handful of readers whom you don’t know possibly saying, “wow, she’s cold”, silliness.  Getting upset over something I wrote as if I didn’t express it to you before, silliness.  

We all project ourselves online in one form or the other. The girl who takes the glamour #goodnight picture, before you wash off that makeup, take off that Vickie secret bra and throw on that old t-shirt you stole from of ya exes, throw on a head wrap or one someone who is very outspoken on Twitter but shy in person.  Just remember, worlds will collide and you never want to find yourself so far on the other side of the fence that you can’t explain yourself.  There’s nothing I wrote in the past year I would have any problem saying in real life, I just choose not to.  I rather shrug and let Stan say why I’m upset.  It’s worked for me this past year, time will tell if it will in the next.  Thanks for reading.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… DISCRETION

I’m a picky eater.  I eat cereal and salad dry, 9/10 will go to any restaurant and order a burger, because it’s almost impossible to mess up a burger (although I’m eating better these days so I’ve learned to expand my options).  My sister brought this up when expressing her frustration that my nephew like me, is extremely picky.  She doesn’t know how our mother dealt with me, even though it was simple, what I didn’t know didn’t hurt me, “what’s this” “Dinner. Eat.” So upon entering college with a hefty meal plan at my disposal, I was free to eat whatever I wished.  Omelettes, waffles, burgers, pizza, turn down for what. The result,  60 lb weight gain.  The moral of the story what’s convenient isn’t always what’s best. 

So I was talking to a friend, topic ventured to sex and relationships.  I had asked was she open to something casual or was she shut down like Derrick Rose until she was in a relationship.  She said the latter and when asked the same question I realized that by default I too was shut down.  I thought about all the golden tickets I returned to sender lately, wasn’t intentional but I just knew it was best not to go that route with some of them.  “You’re a man of integrity so I can see that” she said. “Yeah Yeah” “Awww your integrity ain’t keeping you warm at night” It really ain’t. Neither are those degrees.  However, as a pseudo attractive, eligible bachelor, I’m like 18 year old me at the dining commons again.  Exes, crushes, coworkers, e-boos, turn down for what….because the aftermath  is not worth it for xxx minutes of pleasure.  Sure I can be the guy that can cash in the ticket, we grown, she’ll be iight, I’m in pursuit of my own happiness.  But that’s just not me and Me knows that’s not her (yes I said Me knows, just roll with it).  Maybe there is something to that INFJ personality type I keep contesting. 

As we get older we learn the value of discretion; leaping at every possible opportunity isn’t necessary especially when I consider what exactly I’m looking for long term.   Men are raised to be hunters, to slam home every lob tossed up their way, if not something is wrong with you.  Sure if you’re not attracted then it’s easy. If you are, then it’s much harder to have mind control over Deebo. The flesh is weak.  The best you can do is focus on the consequences, losing a friend, job, or making up some narrative that she will go “Snapped” on you if you smash then pass.  Also, it comes from understanding she isn’t about to be your last hurrah, know that there’s always a better opportunity out there.  Of course easier said than done when it’s cold outside (and it is the month of May this some ol bullish) she’s texting “when you’re going to come see me”.  

Perhaps she could use better discretion, double standards suggest that I’m just a blaaaack man coming to you from the Southland and I can’t control my urges. Furthermore, she should’ve knew what my interests are and who I be with before hooking up and it’s her fault.  She can be naive, I can be a man.  Or I can just act like I didn’t see it (because outright rejection never works, women will rationalize every reason you have not to but that’s a different post), she can just find someone who doesn’t have her best interest at heart and I…well I have my integrity.  -__-

-Stan-      

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