Flying Saucers

I'm going to start off on a tangent but then get on track. I promise. All I ask is that you bear with me. 

I'm a man. 

I love and have played a multitude of sports. Whether organized or unorganized, I was there. One of those sports is football. I love my home team. Always have and most assuredly, always will. I've never hitched a ride on any bandwagon. If my team struggles, then I struggle. That's how it is and that's how it will always be. Everyone has their reasons to become a "fan" of whatever team they want. Some do it out of frustration. Some do it for popularity. Some do it for acceptance. Who am I to judge? 

What I will do, however, is voice my opinion  about your team. That's what men do. And I am a man. Anyone and everyone (that's a fan of Sports) has the right to opine about the teams I love. Is it sometimes hard to take? Of course. I'm not devoid of emotions. While I am a man, I am still human. With that being said, because I am a man, that means I am also an adult. And as an adult, I prefer to surround myself with individuals who share the same attribute...being an adult - whether on social media or in person. I like to leave the childish behavior for actual children - call me crazy. 

With that being said, I've been disappointed  several times this year and it's only February. All day long, I have folks all on my time line posting pics and comments about anyone and everything. From celebrities to sports teams and everything in between. On several occasions, the commentary  was directed at my own teams. What did I do? I unfollowed them.  

NOT. 

Come on. I'm an adult. Remember?

I did no such thing. What I did do was toss a playful barb back at them or sometimes even laughed it off. I'm grown and that's what grown people do. Or at least, that's what I thought until I found myself blocked, deleted, unfriended and unfollowed on more than one occasion. The most recent severing was yesterday. The "reason" for it is both laughable and sad at the same time. Am I hurt? Hell and no. I'm a man. What I am is disappointed that these people didn't let me know sooner that they were ultrasensitive. I could've saved all the conversations and exchanges and playful banter for a like-minded adult. Instead, I wasted time [read: YEARS]. Thanks. 

Now look. I get it. No one wants to have their character assassinated. But that's not what happened in any of these situations. People's (men and women) panties got bunched up over things that don't directly affect them. And in every case, I've sat and watched them dance all over the Internet making fun of and criticizing whomever and whatever they pleased. So to have the gall to act as if they're above it is both preposterous and laughable. I will not walk on eggshells around people like that. If you can't take it, don't dish it. Don't even serve it on an appetizer plate. You know, those little round plates that are the size of saucers? Whatever happened to saucers anyway? 

"Now take these words home and think it through or the next [blog] I write might be about you"

- Mobb Deep, 'Shook Ones Pt II'

A Peek

Way before I was hitching a ride through the world wide web - hell, before I even had a real computer to call my own, I had blank book that a friend gifted me. She worked in the card and gift shop next-door to the music store where I held a sweet part time gig.

Back then, I hadn't a clue that I would develop a "knack" for the wordings. All I had were instances where I found myself being "creative". The moments (a.k.a. breaks between distractions) were rare. Even rarer still, were the times I actually wrote in this book. Well...tonight, I stumbled upon said book and decided to share an entry (a.k.a. me, thinking I'm saying something)...

QUESTION

excuse me.

miss.

can I talk to you for a second?
i just want to ask you something...

are you her?

(why?)

cuz i'm him. and you know...

out in public
we can be them
and in private
it
can
be
just
US.

My Block

When I look back on my childhood years and cruise neighborhoods that I have no connection with whatsoever it dawns on me that my block wasn’t like too many other blocks. There were 4 girls on my street and about…no wait…there were 5 girls on my street…I forgot about Rosemarie…the Italian girl. Damn…she was something indeed. Hmm? Oh right, right…back to what I was saying…5 girls and almost 20 dudes. The bulk of us were within the same age range. We did everything. We played two-hand touch football and wiffle ball in the street and tackle football in the park with no equipment. (Dumb, I know.) We hung out on the steps on the corner. We hung out on stoops. We went swimming in my pool…but not everybody and not all at once. We made efforts to stop using profanity by punching in the arm, anyone who cursed. We rode bikes together. We did freestyle tricks in the street. We all went in the house promptly at 3 o'clock on Saturday afternoons to watch the Kung-Fu flicks for an hour. We did everything - except go to the same school. I went to a Catholic school and they went to public schools. Around the time of junior high and on into high school, their focus was primarily on getting girls to do nasty things with them in someone’s house while their parents were away at work. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that I didn’t have any type of desire to do the same thing. I did. But I had some strict parents and a whole lot of NO experience and NO inclination as to how one even commences a mission of such magnitude. So all I could do was listen to exaggerated stories of boasting and adolescent sexual prowess. Always listening and never speaking. I was the quiet one.

One summer, the next door neighbors’ niece and nephew came to visit for a few weeks. Her name was Daya. She was my age. She was from Maryland. And she was really cute.

I don’t remember how we got to talking. I’m 99.9% positive that it was she that initiated the conversation. At an early age, I had the art of “ignoring a girl but at the same time being completely aware of every move she made” down to a science. I was good.

Now even though she started things off, it was me that asked her to the movies. She said yes and that Saturday we caught a matinee. It was a little bit of a walk, but it was a beautiful summer day so all was good. We headed out around noon passing my boys across the street on the corner. At this point, they’ve all said something to Daya in the previous days so they all knew her. Not one of them asked us where we were going because they all assumed that we were likely only headed to the corner store. Little did they know (and me too for that matter) I was headed out on my first date.

We talked about everything. She talked and I listened. I talked and she listened. She told me about her dreams of being a singer. She even sang for me on the walk back. She had the most incredible voice. I showered her with compliments but at 13 there was but so much my limited vocabulary could convey to her. Luckily for me, it was more than enough.

Now, if you were to ask me what movie we saw, I'd have to be honest with you. I haven't a clue. Something PG rated. Or maybe we were daring and saw an explicit PG-13 flick. But all in all, we were gone for about 4 hours…maybe more. It felt like an eternity in boy years. By then, my boys were somewhere else on the block doing boy things. I could see them out of the corner of my eye nudging each other with elbows, staring with facial expressions that read, “Oh snap”. My face? Texas Hold' Em Style. Even though it's nothing for me to pull it off now, back then it felt like the most difficult thing.

Fast forward an hour or two later. I was in the house watching some TV when my parents came home. They told me that they saw the girl from next door on the corner with the boys from the block. I guess they were just looking out for me and didn’t want me to get my hopes up with her. But I knew what I was doing. Everything that I knew and enjoyed to do now with a woman all started from that one summer’s day.

It was all I needed.

"We conversated, made her laugh, yeah you know me bro.
Even though I know the steelo, she wild sweet, yo"

Mos Def - Ms. Fat Booty