Saturday, July 26, 2008
Morning Edition - 7/26/08
The Sigh
Sighs (that deep inhale/exhale) are an unconscious reaction to the good, the bad and sometimes the stagnant feeling that a change is gonna come. Lately, I’ve had my share of sighs; all for very different reasons. Work has been really living up to its name and I rarely have a free moment. The instant I walk through the doors of the 9-to-5, my colleagues are like kids when dad comes home. I barely put my bag down when folks flock to ask questions, get updates and seek help. Encouraging in some ways, if you need to feel wanted and needed, but draining when you’re trying to stick to finishing-up items on your to-do list.
My relationship with BD continues to be on the up-and-up. No complaints, no changes, no downs – and no ups for that matter. We’re looking forward to our Disney family vacation for the Labor Day holiday. The good thing is BD and I have reached that point in our relationship where we know what makes the other tick. I still have minor issues with BD’s ability to tackle sitting down with the Minnie to talk about what the “us” entails – particularly that Cocoa is not daddy’s best friend, but life-partner. When we last spoke about the subject before the summer, BD agreed that he would wait until the Minnie was officially out for summer recess to meet this task head-on. Now, it’s damn-near August and the convo hasn’t happened. Have I put pressure to have BD take care of this? Hell no. I firmly believe that each stage of development – or lack thereof – has its own meaning. I appreciate what his fears may be, but hold fast to what my inner voice tells me. If the convo doesn’t happen by summer’s end, my confidence in the positive progression of our future is diminished. Simply put, the thought of having a child in the mix of my relationship is something that I have enough anxieties about without feeling secretive or closeted about it. Hey, I’ll cross the upcoming bridges when I get to them, but I think the ultimate sense is that I’m not fretting about what is not in my power to change. I’m always putting ME first which means that I’ll consistently evaluate my relationship and the direction it’s going in to assess whether its something that is a positive force in my life.
My 39th birthday is less than two weeks away and I’m sighing at the reality that this will be my last year in my thirties. Wow, time really flies. I may not feel 39, but I sure as hell look it. The toll of late nights, hard work and worry are visible on my face – an issue that I intend to remedy as a gift to myself when I turn 40 in ’09. Until then, it’s a matter of keeping the body healthy and bringing the face up to speed when we hit the big 4-0. I’m really not asking anyone for their blessing or permission on getting some “refreshments” done; I believe it’s a matter of personal choice.
August 17th I set sail for my 7-day cruise to Grand Cayman, Cazumel, Belize and Honduras. I’m excited about finally getting my RELAX on. I’m worn out and this will be my first disconnect from work, home and my relationship in two years! I’m hoping my gut cooperates and whittles down before my trip, but shit, I don’t really care. I do work out 4-5 days a week to keep in decent shape.
The BIGGEST sigh is from the realization that I’m finally ready to start the process of writing my book. I told myself that until I was ready I wasn’t going to give a fuck what anyone thought. Writing the book was going to be about me writing a semi-autobiographical account of my life in third-person. I say “semi” because it won’t all be me or all be true. There’s a sense that I want to keep my life semi-private and there are things that are a bit too painful or uncomfortable for me to ever truly uncover. By writing in a voice that keeps the reality of ME obscure protects my anonymity through the process. I’ll periodically let everyone know where I’m at. Suffice to say, I’m in no rush and believe that whether the book is “da bomb” or bombs, it will be the first time in my life that I’ve let go of it all…the good, the bad, the demons and the triumphs. So as I hit that last quarter of summer sigh, I’m pensive.
The great thing about this time in my life is that I know who I am and I feel truly fearless. ::::SIGH:::::
On Blast
What are you sighing about?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Friday, July 25, 2008
Morning Edition - 7/25/08
On Blast
Do you ever sit back and miss the times that you almost had?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Morning Edition - 7/22/08
Wendy Williams; Radio Talk Show Queen to TV Host Flop
Long known for bringing out the worst in her radio talk show guests, Wendy Williams has been given a six-week stint on Fox (select cities) to see if her far-fetched interviews – that often border on slander – can translate to TV. Unfortunately, I missed the first week of the show, but was sure to DVR Wendy’s second week attempt at daytime television. Her special guest yesterday was Omarosa – the fork-tongued, ice queen of Trump’s reality Apprentice series. Just before the stone-faced bitch was set to take the stage, Wendy announces that she’s going to “set her straight,” making a reference to the type of interview Omarosa was sure to expect. To Wendy Williams’ unprepared surprise, Omarosa was not going to be outdone by the 40-something hood rat that banked on sealing Omarosa up and sending her packing. Omarosa came out swinging; called Wendy to the carpet for playing nice with her TV guests while on the set, only to tear them a new one during her afternoon radio talk show – The Wendy Williams Experience. To Wendy’s horror she even alluded to Wendy appearing to have had a nose job and needing a wig that didn’t sit “three inches above her head.” The result was Omarosa scoring all the right points and sealing Wendy on her own show. Hey, I’m no fan of Omarosa, but I’ll be damned if she hit one out of the park for all the Whitney Houstons of the world who fell victim to the queen of double-talk and mean.
Moral of the story: It’s easier to catch your enemy unprepared, than to announce your plans to put them in their place before they hit the set.
Omarosa is one guest Wendy did not anticipate going word-for-word with. The judges all give Omarosa 10s across the board.
On Blast
Success in one medium (ie. TV or radio) do not translate to automatic FIRE in another medium. While Wendy may be an interesting radio personality she does not make a good TV talk show host.
What other journalist, artist, etc. has proven a success in their genre only to flop in another medium?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Morning Edition - 7/17/08
Life As I Know It
Looking back over the last year I can appreciate the many changes that have brought me to who I am today and how I’m living today. While I’d love more time and energy to post to my blog – my journal of sorts – I just don’t have the wherewithal to live my life and journal about it. There are evenings that I have just a few moments to read my favorite blogs – even if I can’t comment on them. The office has been an absolute madhouse and there’s a part of me that feels a sense of fulfillment and accomplishment to be the go-to guy on a plethora of projects. Oddly, the five weeks spent nursing a fractured rib forced me to focus on all things work. My usual lunchtime jaunts to the gym were cut out and returning last Monday to the treadmills and toning, only proved that five weeks away from all things physical can feel like a lifetime. With less than one month until my Caribbean cruise, I have some tightening to do. The good thing is that I’m less hard on myself with regard to my body. Coupled with the fact that I haven’t gained much weight during my down time, this back-to-the-future body reshaping may not be so bad. As for BD and I, I’m so satisfied – physically, emotionally and mentally – that I can only think that being still and communicating what your needs are will sometimes pay off. Today, BD and I are best friends, passionate lovers and fun-loving parents. During my parents two-week stay, my mom and I were able to honestly speak about BD and the Minnie and what I wanted for our future. Although my parent’s religious beliefs don’t allow them to cosign on our union, they are supportive and caring. In the coming weeks, I’m going to really try to post – I have plenty to say – and I’m definitely reading my blog family’s postings often. It’s shaping up to be a great summer and I hope everyone is taking the season and life by the horns. Ultimately, life as I know it is what I’ve made of it.
On Blast
What goal can you honestly say you’ll reach by summer’s end?
Keep passin’ the open window…
Looking back over the last year I can appreciate the many changes that have brought me to who I am today and how I’m living today. While I’d love more time and energy to post to my blog – my journal of sorts – I just don’t have the wherewithal to live my life and journal about it. There are evenings that I have just a few moments to read my favorite blogs – even if I can’t comment on them. The office has been an absolute madhouse and there’s a part of me that feels a sense of fulfillment and accomplishment to be the go-to guy on a plethora of projects. Oddly, the five weeks spent nursing a fractured rib forced me to focus on all things work. My usual lunchtime jaunts to the gym were cut out and returning last Monday to the treadmills and toning, only proved that five weeks away from all things physical can feel like a lifetime. With less than one month until my Caribbean cruise, I have some tightening to do. The good thing is that I’m less hard on myself with regard to my body. Coupled with the fact that I haven’t gained much weight during my down time, this back-to-the-future body reshaping may not be so bad. As for BD and I, I’m so satisfied – physically, emotionally and mentally – that I can only think that being still and communicating what your needs are will sometimes pay off. Today, BD and I are best friends, passionate lovers and fun-loving parents. During my parents two-week stay, my mom and I were able to honestly speak about BD and the Minnie and what I wanted for our future. Although my parent’s religious beliefs don’t allow them to cosign on our union, they are supportive and caring. In the coming weeks, I’m going to really try to post – I have plenty to say – and I’m definitely reading my blog family’s postings often. It’s shaping up to be a great summer and I hope everyone is taking the season and life by the horns. Ultimately, life as I know it is what I’ve made of it.
On Blast
What goal can you honestly say you’ll reach by summer’s end?
Keep passin’ the open window…
Monday, July 07, 2008
Morning Edition - 7/7/08
The Road To Hell Is Paved
With just three nights remaining before my parents return home to Puerto Rico, the only line that repeats in my head is, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” When we planned my parent’s trip to NYC, we agreed that 14 days was a long time for anyone – even my loving parents – to stay for a visit. We have a saying in Spanish that directly translated says, “Fish and company both stink after three days.” Whoever masterminded that word tooling apparently had parents exactly like mine. I love my parents and love having them to visit, but as one person trying to work a full time job, play entertainment coordinator, maid, driver and counselor to my aging parents for 14 days straight I am thoroughly worn, irritable and dagger-tongued. My mother, a relentless tyrant, refuses to understand why I would be exhausted by the end of each night. Last night, as we ate dinner she mentioned she would never visit NYC again since she, “was such a burden during her visit.” Rather than counter her guilt-inducing drone, I decided to meet it head-on. “You wouldn’t be a burden if you and dad would simply understand that I’m only one person trying to make your stay as comfortable as possible – by myself!” Rather than relent and see my dilemma she plowed forward with her ranting. “I’m just so sorry you’ve been so put-out and have been so inconvenienced by our stay.” By now, she managed to work herself into a good frenzy and was doing the heavy handed boo-hoo. My guilt was replaced by rage. “I’m really sorry that your stay was so horrific that you don’t want to return,” I chided, “Maybe you’re right…maybe it was a bad idea for me to think that I could single-handedly tackle cleaning, driving and catering to two people while trying to work AND be a pleasant social butterfly – on under five hours sleep per night.” Just as quickly as it started, there was silence. I returned to the kitchen to wash dinner dishes and she retreated to her corner for a wardrobe change before announcing that I would be driving her to see another family friend; then to see my brother and his family; and finally home to clean-up snack dishes; walk my dog; iron for work and shower for bed. Am I feeling guilty? Slightly. I should have had the forethought to realize that the extended stay would be a bad idea. The moral of the story is to follow the rules of engagement – regardless of who you’re dealing with:
Opt to stay at hotels when visiting out of town family and friends
If you’d like to make you’re family/friend stay an extended one, attempt to find several friends/family members to jump between to prevent exhausting any one person.
Recognize that no matter who you’re staying with, you are changing their routine and altering the normalcy of the home you’re staying in.
Respect the rules of the home you’re staying in, including: Level of cleanliness, bedtime hours and return furniture, etc. to where you originally find them.
Allow your host time to regroup, rest and collect themselves. Take trips out on your own and make plans to give your host time to have their home to themselves.
Hey, I’m sure some of you will think my take on my predicament is cold or unrealistic because I’m dealing with my parents. The truth is, everyone is different and handle situations differently. As someone who has lived alone most of my life, I’m less concerned with what anyone thinks and more interested in loving and missing my parent’s next visit. God willing, I’ll have an opportunity to make intelligent decisions about having my parents visit me for years to come.
On Blast
What has having extended-stay company taught you about yourself?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
With just three nights remaining before my parents return home to Puerto Rico, the only line that repeats in my head is, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” When we planned my parent’s trip to NYC, we agreed that 14 days was a long time for anyone – even my loving parents – to stay for a visit. We have a saying in Spanish that directly translated says, “Fish and company both stink after three days.” Whoever masterminded that word tooling apparently had parents exactly like mine. I love my parents and love having them to visit, but as one person trying to work a full time job, play entertainment coordinator, maid, driver and counselor to my aging parents for 14 days straight I am thoroughly worn, irritable and dagger-tongued. My mother, a relentless tyrant, refuses to understand why I would be exhausted by the end of each night. Last night, as we ate dinner she mentioned she would never visit NYC again since she, “was such a burden during her visit.” Rather than counter her guilt-inducing drone, I decided to meet it head-on. “You wouldn’t be a burden if you and dad would simply understand that I’m only one person trying to make your stay as comfortable as possible – by myself!” Rather than relent and see my dilemma she plowed forward with her ranting. “I’m just so sorry you’ve been so put-out and have been so inconvenienced by our stay.” By now, she managed to work herself into a good frenzy and was doing the heavy handed boo-hoo. My guilt was replaced by rage. “I’m really sorry that your stay was so horrific that you don’t want to return,” I chided, “Maybe you’re right…maybe it was a bad idea for me to think that I could single-handedly tackle cleaning, driving and catering to two people while trying to work AND be a pleasant social butterfly – on under five hours sleep per night.” Just as quickly as it started, there was silence. I returned to the kitchen to wash dinner dishes and she retreated to her corner for a wardrobe change before announcing that I would be driving her to see another family friend; then to see my brother and his family; and finally home to clean-up snack dishes; walk my dog; iron for work and shower for bed. Am I feeling guilty? Slightly. I should have had the forethought to realize that the extended stay would be a bad idea. The moral of the story is to follow the rules of engagement – regardless of who you’re dealing with:
Opt to stay at hotels when visiting out of town family and friends
If you’d like to make you’re family/friend stay an extended one, attempt to find several friends/family members to jump between to prevent exhausting any one person.
Recognize that no matter who you’re staying with, you are changing their routine and altering the normalcy of the home you’re staying in.
Respect the rules of the home you’re staying in, including: Level of cleanliness, bedtime hours and return furniture, etc. to where you originally find them.
Allow your host time to regroup, rest and collect themselves. Take trips out on your own and make plans to give your host time to have their home to themselves.
Hey, I’m sure some of you will think my take on my predicament is cold or unrealistic because I’m dealing with my parents. The truth is, everyone is different and handle situations differently. As someone who has lived alone most of my life, I’m less concerned with what anyone thinks and more interested in loving and missing my parent’s next visit. God willing, I’ll have an opportunity to make intelligent decisions about having my parents visit me for years to come.
On Blast
What has having extended-stay company taught you about yourself?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Monday, June 30, 2008
Morning Edition - 6/30/08
Folk-Lore
Last Wednesday night, the whole Cocoa sibling posse’ gathered to pick up the folks from JFK International Airport in NYC. The flight was delayed and we used the time to reconnect and catch up – laughing and carrying-on with each of us being funnier that the last person telling their story. When my parents finally arrived at 10:00 p.m., we loaded them up in my sister’s minivan and I drove everyone home, before bringing my parent’s back home with me. That’s right blogger fam, my folks will be bunking with me until July 8th. As the usual disclaimer, I’ll establish that I absolutely adore my folks. My mom and dad mean the world to me and having them stay with me is both a privilege and a joy. That said, my folks are older now and as many of you will attest, as we grow older, we regress to childhood. My parents are playful, curious and downright nerve shredding. I’m blissfully enjoying mom’s home cooked meals and pay the price for them by thoroughly cleaning my kitchen until 2 a.m. most mornings. I’ve never seen anyone make such a mess preparing meals! My dad lost his hearing aide within two days of arriving – actually, he flushed it down my toilet by accident. As many of you know, I give my parents my bedroom when they stay with me and I take the sofa bed in my living room. By Saturday, I was irritable from lack of sleep, horny from the lack of my man and starting to get downright testy. So, I had a movie date with my man and headed out to watch Wanted. As an aside, the movie is off-da-chain! Four-mutha-F’in-stars! When BD and I returned, my parents were asleep and I decided to rekindle some back-at-home freakiness. I asked BD to spend the night with me on the sofa bed and he nervously agreed. I then crept to the bathroom, started the shower and pulled BD in with me locking the door behind us. We did the hottest sneak-freak since junior high. We then quietly retreated to bed before my parents woke up a few hours later to the surprise of BD lying in bed with me. Hey, I believe in comfort-via-shock…what can I say? My father was initially uncomfortable, but eventually warmed up once the bed was stowed away and I was cooking breakfast for BD and the folks. BD and I then drove my parents to church and returned to christen my, until now, ignored living room. We tore the place down and fell fast asleep. When we woke up we went for broke again and just as we were done and were walking to the bathroom to wash up, my parents knocked at the front door. They hitched a ride with my uncle and returned unannounced and with company! BD ran into the bathroom and I tossed his clothes in behind him to dress there. I then realized that I hadn’t washed up and smelled like hot-butt-naked-monkey love! I yelled, “Coming!” ran into my kitchen and did a 30 second face wash with apple dishwashing liquid. I zipped my jeans while unlocking my front door and greeted my company. Before anyone could make their way to my living room, I dashed in front, snatched the sheets from the chaise lounge and tossed them behind the thing before tucking the lubricant bottle beneath my couch. My father looked at me strangely and I wondered if anyone could smell the remains of a great evening. I served everyone drinks and as my uncle and his wife left I gave them the over-the-shoulder, please don’t get close to my face-and-neck area kind-of hug. BD was slightly flushed and I looked like the cat that swallowed the bird. As I left my parents to get ready for bed and started my car to drive BD home, we both laughed as the reality hit that if my family had arrived 1-minute earlier they would’ve been privy to the loud screams of pleasure pouring from my living room. All said, it was an exhausting and exhilarating weekend. Sometimes taking it back to the days when you had to have a sneak-freak can really add the extra spice to that already scalding lovemaking. I guess the only thing that troubles me is that I haven’t found the condom wrappers in the living room yet! I pray that I find them before my parents do or it’s going to be a really awkward week.
On Blast
Caught in the act…Tell of a time when you were caught (or almost caught) having sex.
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Last Wednesday night, the whole Cocoa sibling posse’ gathered to pick up the folks from JFK International Airport in NYC. The flight was delayed and we used the time to reconnect and catch up – laughing and carrying-on with each of us being funnier that the last person telling their story. When my parents finally arrived at 10:00 p.m., we loaded them up in my sister’s minivan and I drove everyone home, before bringing my parent’s back home with me. That’s right blogger fam, my folks will be bunking with me until July 8th. As the usual disclaimer, I’ll establish that I absolutely adore my folks. My mom and dad mean the world to me and having them stay with me is both a privilege and a joy. That said, my folks are older now and as many of you will attest, as we grow older, we regress to childhood. My parents are playful, curious and downright nerve shredding. I’m blissfully enjoying mom’s home cooked meals and pay the price for them by thoroughly cleaning my kitchen until 2 a.m. most mornings. I’ve never seen anyone make such a mess preparing meals! My dad lost his hearing aide within two days of arriving – actually, he flushed it down my toilet by accident. As many of you know, I give my parents my bedroom when they stay with me and I take the sofa bed in my living room. By Saturday, I was irritable from lack of sleep, horny from the lack of my man and starting to get downright testy. So, I had a movie date with my man and headed out to watch Wanted. As an aside, the movie is off-da-chain! Four-mutha-F’in-stars! When BD and I returned, my parents were asleep and I decided to rekindle some back-at-home freakiness. I asked BD to spend the night with me on the sofa bed and he nervously agreed. I then crept to the bathroom, started the shower and pulled BD in with me locking the door behind us. We did the hottest sneak-freak since junior high. We then quietly retreated to bed before my parents woke up a few hours later to the surprise of BD lying in bed with me. Hey, I believe in comfort-via-shock…what can I say? My father was initially uncomfortable, but eventually warmed up once the bed was stowed away and I was cooking breakfast for BD and the folks. BD and I then drove my parents to church and returned to christen my, until now, ignored living room. We tore the place down and fell fast asleep. When we woke up we went for broke again and just as we were done and were walking to the bathroom to wash up, my parents knocked at the front door. They hitched a ride with my uncle and returned unannounced and with company! BD ran into the bathroom and I tossed his clothes in behind him to dress there. I then realized that I hadn’t washed up and smelled like hot-butt-naked-monkey love! I yelled, “Coming!” ran into my kitchen and did a 30 second face wash with apple dishwashing liquid. I zipped my jeans while unlocking my front door and greeted my company. Before anyone could make their way to my living room, I dashed in front, snatched the sheets from the chaise lounge and tossed them behind the thing before tucking the lubricant bottle beneath my couch. My father looked at me strangely and I wondered if anyone could smell the remains of a great evening. I served everyone drinks and as my uncle and his wife left I gave them the over-the-shoulder, please don’t get close to my face-and-neck area kind-of hug. BD was slightly flushed and I looked like the cat that swallowed the bird. As I left my parents to get ready for bed and started my car to drive BD home, we both laughed as the reality hit that if my family had arrived 1-minute earlier they would’ve been privy to the loud screams of pleasure pouring from my living room. All said, it was an exhausting and exhilarating weekend. Sometimes taking it back to the days when you had to have a sneak-freak can really add the extra spice to that already scalding lovemaking. I guess the only thing that troubles me is that I haven’t found the condom wrappers in the living room yet! I pray that I find them before my parents do or it’s going to be a really awkward week.
On Blast
Caught in the act…Tell of a time when you were caught (or almost caught) having sex.
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Evening Edition - 6/18/08
Ode to the Minnie
I didn’t make one of my own
I didn’t seed; no heir to my throne
Then I met your daddy one frigid day
My life all changed; No longer gray
A partner, a child; gifts for sure
A growing boy; my soul’s cure
Today your 9th birthday we celebrate
My heart is full; now let us eat cake
Keep passin' the open windows...
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Morning Edition - 6/17/08
My First Father’s Day
After a couples-with-kids night that bled on until close to 2 a.m., BD and I returned home to put the Minnie to bed and shower. Just as we got in the bed and BD was kissing my neck and stirring me into the mood, I heard myself snore. That’s right folks; I’ve officially reached that point in my relationship where I’m suffering from parental wear-out. That’s when you want to do so much more, but your body just won’t cooperate with you. I quickly turned to BD and said, “I’m sorry baby, but I’m just so tired….” As my voice trailed off BD settled into a comfy spoon and whispered, “That’s alright. I know you’re tired.” That was all I needed to immediately fall into unconsciousness. Early in the morning, I felt BD ease back into bed – apparently after a quick trip to the bathroom. As he kissed my cheeks and began pulling down my underwear, I stretched in that classic morning body contortion that precedes a good a.m. quickie. It was then that there was a loud knock on the bedroom door and a shrilly voice asked, “Can I come in?!” BD adjusted himself, got up and opened the door for the Minnie who ran, jumped into my bed and began trying to tickle me. Luckily, I managed to pull up my underwear moments before his leap of faith. As he chuckled and tickled BD and I, we both turned on him and began to act like tag team wrestlers. It was then that the Minnie reached under my pillow and said, “Hey! I think your fairy Godfather left you a card.” Since he’s always a kidder, I assumed he was pulling my leg, but there in his little hand was a pretty eggshell-colored envelope with my name on it. I took it from his outstretched hand and began reading my first EVER father’s day card. I swallowed hard to push the frog from my throat and said, “Well whatdya know…my fairy godfather actually did send me a card!” BD and the Minnie looked at each other and started laughing and I jumped back in the bed. They both gave me a big hug and before I could give in to any further mushiness I blurted, “Okay you two, I’ll start breakfast and you two brush those funky pie holes!” As the Minnie ran past me to the bathroom, BD grabbed me from behind and kissed my neck. “Happy father’s day baby,” he said. “We’re so lucky to have you in our lives.” I gave him a quick peck and said, “I’ll be the lucky one once you brush your teeth.” He turned me around and hugged me tightly and I felt like the luckiest man in the world. As I cooked my boyz some breakfast I began singing in tune with the gospel song playing from the blaring stereo in the living room. “Cocoa, you make incredible eggs, but you really can’t sing,” the Minnie smiled. I said, “Oh yeah, well wait until you’re all grown up and miss my eggs.” He turned right before leaving the kitchen and said, “I love you…” Yeah, this really was my favorite Father’s Day ever!
On Blast
Any man can make a baby, but being a good dad is much harder than I ever imagined. To be a role model and responsible, protective, fun-loving dad to a child is a 24/7 gig.
What man made a positive impact in your life and gave you the blueprint of what a man should be?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
After a couples-with-kids night that bled on until close to 2 a.m., BD and I returned home to put the Minnie to bed and shower. Just as we got in the bed and BD was kissing my neck and stirring me into the mood, I heard myself snore. That’s right folks; I’ve officially reached that point in my relationship where I’m suffering from parental wear-out. That’s when you want to do so much more, but your body just won’t cooperate with you. I quickly turned to BD and said, “I’m sorry baby, but I’m just so tired….” As my voice trailed off BD settled into a comfy spoon and whispered, “That’s alright. I know you’re tired.” That was all I needed to immediately fall into unconsciousness. Early in the morning, I felt BD ease back into bed – apparently after a quick trip to the bathroom. As he kissed my cheeks and began pulling down my underwear, I stretched in that classic morning body contortion that precedes a good a.m. quickie. It was then that there was a loud knock on the bedroom door and a shrilly voice asked, “Can I come in?!” BD adjusted himself, got up and opened the door for the Minnie who ran, jumped into my bed and began trying to tickle me. Luckily, I managed to pull up my underwear moments before his leap of faith. As he chuckled and tickled BD and I, we both turned on him and began to act like tag team wrestlers. It was then that the Minnie reached under my pillow and said, “Hey! I think your fairy Godfather left you a card.” Since he’s always a kidder, I assumed he was pulling my leg, but there in his little hand was a pretty eggshell-colored envelope with my name on it. I took it from his outstretched hand and began reading my first EVER father’s day card. I swallowed hard to push the frog from my throat and said, “Well whatdya know…my fairy godfather actually did send me a card!” BD and the Minnie looked at each other and started laughing and I jumped back in the bed. They both gave me a big hug and before I could give in to any further mushiness I blurted, “Okay you two, I’ll start breakfast and you two brush those funky pie holes!” As the Minnie ran past me to the bathroom, BD grabbed me from behind and kissed my neck. “Happy father’s day baby,” he said. “We’re so lucky to have you in our lives.” I gave him a quick peck and said, “I’ll be the lucky one once you brush your teeth.” He turned me around and hugged me tightly and I felt like the luckiest man in the world. As I cooked my boyz some breakfast I began singing in tune with the gospel song playing from the blaring stereo in the living room. “Cocoa, you make incredible eggs, but you really can’t sing,” the Minnie smiled. I said, “Oh yeah, well wait until you’re all grown up and miss my eggs.” He turned right before leaving the kitchen and said, “I love you…” Yeah, this really was my favorite Father’s Day ever!
On Blast
Any man can make a baby, but being a good dad is much harder than I ever imagined. To be a role model and responsible, protective, fun-loving dad to a child is a 24/7 gig.
What man made a positive impact in your life and gave you the blueprint of what a man should be?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Morning Edition - 6/11/08
Sisters; A Study In Contrasts
My older sister Evelyn graduated from college on May 28th. I immediately took a day off and was front-and-center, my eyes filled with tears, as I saw her dream of a higher education become a reality. As I mentioned in a previous post, she has shown amazing strength and resilience overcoming catastrophic turmoil only to use that kick-in-the-stomach as the propulsion to take her to that magical day. This month she’ll close on her second home – in NY no less – and is doing a bang-up job raising two beautiful boys. At the other end of the spectrum, my little sister Frances, who was set to graduate on June 27th, has had a failing report card all year long and is likely to end-up in maternity gear rather than a cap-and-gown by year end. All said, I love them both and recognize that everyone has their own path in life to follow and their own future to create. My best to both.
Ghetto Is Ghetto, So Stop Bitchin’ and Do Something About It
When you live in the ghetto –regardless how great your specific apartment building may be- it’s still the ghetto. Case-in-point, my neighborhood is the epitome of ghetto and my neighbors see any temperature over 60 degrees as an open invitation to hang-out in front of the building and subsequently my window on the ground floor. After repeated calls to the police, the city complaint board and my building’s management company, I still come home to weeknights of frustration and disappointment – even the brink of catching a case for assault and battery. I refuse to give up though and insist that there MUST be neighbors like myself – hardworking folks who want a decent place to live without paying through the nose for it. Sadly, I also find myself saying, “This is exactly why decent neighborhoods show their ass and refuse to rent to minorities.” All clouds have a silver lining and mine may very well include my demanding to be freed from my lease to escape the discomfort thereby facilitating my move with BD. I’ll keep everyone posted.
Ribs and Mash
A couple of days before Memorial Weekend I took a quick run a few blocks from the office to a sporting goods store and bought racquets for BD and I to take on my new spontaneous passion – racquetball. After a romantic Friday and Saturday it was time to hit the courts for what was set to be a competitive endorphin boost. I find that working out and competing against my partner in sports invigorates me and serves as a sort-of aphrodisiac. So as I was acting like Rafael Nadal on the court the most incredibly haphazard accident happened. My right foot slipped on a wet leaf that had been inconspicuously sitting on the court for the first two hours of play. As my the momentum propelled my body backward and my right leg forward, my left leg folded like an accordion under my weight twisting my torso like a crunchy cheese doodle. I heard a loud crunch and assumed my leg was broken. Suffice to say, that I’ve never had an accident in sports before and the shock and adrenaline-spiked fear that I was sitting on a broken leg had me scream in horror. I quickly asked everyone who attempted to help me up to back away and straightened my body and my legs in front of me. I felt my left leg and realized it was extremely sore, but not broken. After a few moments I stood up and had a ghastly pain in my left side and a throbbing leg. So, what say you would be your reaction? Well, I did the opposite! I played another 30 minutes hobbling on my pained leg and excruciating side. Finally, BD and I came home, showered and went out on a dinner date and a romantic walk through the city. I purchased a knee brace during our walk and – you guessed it! – walked on. When we returned home I swallowed 800mg of Ibuprofen and made passionate love with BD. Caution to the wind, we spooned until about 3 a.m. when the throbbing in my leg and breathtaking side-pain were unbearable. I quietly climbed out of bed and took another 800mg of the anti-inflammatory pills and lay back down. I spent the next three days in unbearable pain before setting my machismo aside for a doctor’s visit. The results were devastating. I tore tissue around my left knee and have a fractured rib. The doctor assured me my leg would be as good as new in two weeks, but my fractured rib would take 4-to-6 painstaking weeks before it mends. Nothing could be offered – well, outside of numbing narcotics. Today, two weeks after my accident, I am popping more than five Percocet pills a day just to function. A testament of my determination to plow forward is that I haven’t missed a day of work and was front and center on Saturday’s 93 degree scorcher trying to play a more docile game of racquetball. The pain and discomfort are still very real, but I will not be sidelined. The gym is on a 6-week hold – which is anxiety-overload for a person who suffers from Body Dysmorphic Disorder – but I have resorted to avoid the scales after realizing I had gained six pounds in just two weeks. In another four weeks, I’ll just pick up where I left off. Today, hearing the words ‘ribs and mash’ conjure wincing, rather than salivating.
On Blast
What about the Black and Latino culture makes you feel that some housing discrimination is justified?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Monday, June 09, 2008
Morning Edition - 6/9/08
…And That’s How Cocoa Was Born
Over twenty years ago, while living in Plainfield, New Jersey, I came face-to-face with my reality as a Puerto Rican man of color. A young black woman approached me during a barbecue and asked where my accent was from. Shocked that I even had one – an accent that is – I simply said, “I’m Puerto Rican.” The woman took one step back and said, “Child please…why is it that black men can’t just be black? …they always tryin’ to be somethin’ more exotic and shit.” Offended, I explained that although I may be a man of color and look like many of the African American men who were in attendance, I was Puerto Rican. The argument was short-lived, but the discussion lived on in my head for quite some time. I always knew I was perceived to be an African American man at first glance, but that reality didn’t diminish the enormous pride in my heart for my culture; being Puerto Rican. For years, I struggled between what others perceived and what I believed in my heart to be an obvious reality. Then, just before my twentieth birthday, it hit me. Regardless of what anyone thought, perceived, believed or felt, I was a Puerto Rican man who just happens to be cocoa-colored. To be clear, there’s nothing wrong with being African American – if you’re African American – but if you’re Korean and someone insists that you’re Chinese, it’s a problem; a problem I let the ignorant dwell on today. As I enjoyed the Puerto Rican Day Parade with my girls Chocolate and Pumpkin yesterday, I marveled at how I was among more than two million other Puerto Ricans celebrating our culture, our heritage, our homeland in all its amazing splendor and with all our different influences and complexions. I was never one to be pigeon-holed by anyone, so I knew that choosing to create and tattoo Cocoa Rican on my right arm was my reconciling my pride in who I am and who I will always be.
On Blast
Perception is reality…or is it? Has anyone judged you based on your appearance and got it wrong?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Afternoon Edition - 5/27/08
Memorable Memorial Weekend
For many years I took to the road with the other summer-enthused travelers only to sit on a parking-lot-like road or a packed plane to join the “crowd” at the latest hot spot. A lot has changed in the last year – including my need for clubbing, partying and hitting the circuit. Friday night I treated myself to a hot bath – bubbles, candles and the like – followed by a relaxing movie. With the extra day to spare, I suggested to BD that we reconnect with our own friendship circles since I hadn’t seen hide or hair of my friends in weeks and rumor had it that I was suffering from HLS – hibernating lover syndrome. As my eyes popped open just after noon on Saturday, I stretched and felt the refreshing feeling of someone who finally did his body good and turned every sleep-depriving interruption off. I started my coffee, hit the shower for a wake-me-up and fixed myself a real scrambled eggs, bacon and cinnamon raisin English muffin breakfast. After a light tidy-up around the crib, I gave myself a pedicure, a fresh shave and hit the gym for a heart-thumping two-hour workout. Once home I called BD to see if he finalized his evening plans with his pals only to find that he had chosen to chill at home for the evening. I’ve finally reached the point with BD where I prefer chillin’ at home with him than spending an evening burning through cash at a club or bar. It’s this weird sense that I’m having the best time ever and I can actually have a drink, watch a movie, dance and have a sure-fire hot piece at the end of the evening. I know…I digress. So as I jumped into my car and took my trek into the city, I pumped my Keyshia Cole and enjoyed the light traffic downtown; it appears folks had ignored the high gas and airfare prices and had deserted Dodge. Once downtown I stopped at a bar, downed two quick Heinekens and was meeting my friends at the club by 1 a.m. After pumpin’ it out for three sweat drenched hours, we hit one of our favorite breakfast haunts for bagels and lox before returning to the B-X and some much needed rest. My body rhythm doesn’t appear to include overnight drinks and party marathons anymore and boy does it show. By 6:30 a.m. I was feeling light-headed and yawning more than a 2-year old at church. I didn’t wake until noon Sunday and quickly dialed BD to let him know I was coming to get him. With the Minnie at his mom’s house, BD and I played paddle ball for two hours and; several bruised ribs and inflamed ligaments and tendons in my left leg later and the big question remains whether I’m getting older or just so competitive that I just can’t let one get by me…yeah, I’m getting older folks! After a quick after workout romp in the hay, BD and I took a quick shower, laughed about how hard we played and hit Cowgirls (featured in Sex in the City back in the day) for dinner. The food was magnificent – from appetizers, to dinner to dessert, BD and I shared from each other’s plates and just gorged on well prepared southern comfort staples. After dinner we walked around the west Village hand-in-hand and even stopped off for jewelry, a couple of DVDs and some teenage-esque stolen kisses on the strip. We rode home, both feeling a sense that life can be full of good sometimes. A hot bath later and we were curled up catching Boy Culture (I’ve seen the flick, but I wanted BD to love it as much as I do). Once the credits rolled, we did too…several times…before falling asleep sometime after 4 a.m. I woke up to BD staring straight in my face, which quickly had me pull the sheet over myself. He pulled it down and kissed me dead in the mouth; a real no-no for me since I suffer from MPBOCD (Morning Pre Brush Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). I turned on my other side and we lay there spooning until I could no longer hold the morning water. I fixed a great breakfast and we hung out with BD’s friends in the afternoon. By the evening hours it was time to pick-up the Minnie and drive my boyz home. Even with the agony of what feels like broken ribs and a fractured leg, I’ve never felt so complete, so fulfilled and so content. Memorial Day weekend was just that….one to be remembered.
On Blast
You’ve lived; you’ve accomplished so much; you’ve done it all really….then you do next to nothing with someone you love and realize how much you’ve missed.
Can you recall a time when you filled your calendar from Sunday to Saturday in an attempt to keep yourself busy and in-the-know only to find out you were like a mouse face-first on a glue trap – stuck going nowhere, pained by your predicament and beginning to stink to others?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
For many years I took to the road with the other summer-enthused travelers only to sit on a parking-lot-like road or a packed plane to join the “crowd” at the latest hot spot. A lot has changed in the last year – including my need for clubbing, partying and hitting the circuit. Friday night I treated myself to a hot bath – bubbles, candles and the like – followed by a relaxing movie. With the extra day to spare, I suggested to BD that we reconnect with our own friendship circles since I hadn’t seen hide or hair of my friends in weeks and rumor had it that I was suffering from HLS – hibernating lover syndrome. As my eyes popped open just after noon on Saturday, I stretched and felt the refreshing feeling of someone who finally did his body good and turned every sleep-depriving interruption off. I started my coffee, hit the shower for a wake-me-up and fixed myself a real scrambled eggs, bacon and cinnamon raisin English muffin breakfast. After a light tidy-up around the crib, I gave myself a pedicure, a fresh shave and hit the gym for a heart-thumping two-hour workout. Once home I called BD to see if he finalized his evening plans with his pals only to find that he had chosen to chill at home for the evening. I’ve finally reached the point with BD where I prefer chillin’ at home with him than spending an evening burning through cash at a club or bar. It’s this weird sense that I’m having the best time ever and I can actually have a drink, watch a movie, dance and have a sure-fire hot piece at the end of the evening. I know…I digress. So as I jumped into my car and took my trek into the city, I pumped my Keyshia Cole and enjoyed the light traffic downtown; it appears folks had ignored the high gas and airfare prices and had deserted Dodge. Once downtown I stopped at a bar, downed two quick Heinekens and was meeting my friends at the club by 1 a.m. After pumpin’ it out for three sweat drenched hours, we hit one of our favorite breakfast haunts for bagels and lox before returning to the B-X and some much needed rest. My body rhythm doesn’t appear to include overnight drinks and party marathons anymore and boy does it show. By 6:30 a.m. I was feeling light-headed and yawning more than a 2-year old at church. I didn’t wake until noon Sunday and quickly dialed BD to let him know I was coming to get him. With the Minnie at his mom’s house, BD and I played paddle ball for two hours and; several bruised ribs and inflamed ligaments and tendons in my left leg later and the big question remains whether I’m getting older or just so competitive that I just can’t let one get by me…yeah, I’m getting older folks! After a quick after workout romp in the hay, BD and I took a quick shower, laughed about how hard we played and hit Cowgirls (featured in Sex in the City back in the day) for dinner. The food was magnificent – from appetizers, to dinner to dessert, BD and I shared from each other’s plates and just gorged on well prepared southern comfort staples. After dinner we walked around the west Village hand-in-hand and even stopped off for jewelry, a couple of DVDs and some teenage-esque stolen kisses on the strip. We rode home, both feeling a sense that life can be full of good sometimes. A hot bath later and we were curled up catching Boy Culture (I’ve seen the flick, but I wanted BD to love it as much as I do). Once the credits rolled, we did too…several times…before falling asleep sometime after 4 a.m. I woke up to BD staring straight in my face, which quickly had me pull the sheet over myself. He pulled it down and kissed me dead in the mouth; a real no-no for me since I suffer from MPBOCD (Morning Pre Brush Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). I turned on my other side and we lay there spooning until I could no longer hold the morning water. I fixed a great breakfast and we hung out with BD’s friends in the afternoon. By the evening hours it was time to pick-up the Minnie and drive my boyz home. Even with the agony of what feels like broken ribs and a fractured leg, I’ve never felt so complete, so fulfilled and so content. Memorial Day weekend was just that….one to be remembered.
On Blast
You’ve lived; you’ve accomplished so much; you’ve done it all really….then you do next to nothing with someone you love and realize how much you’ve missed.
Can you recall a time when you filled your calendar from Sunday to Saturday in an attempt to keep yourself busy and in-the-know only to find out you were like a mouse face-first on a glue trap – stuck going nowhere, pained by your predicament and beginning to stink to others?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Monday, May 19, 2008
Morning Edition - 5/19/08
Pappy Dearest
So maybe I’m a great friend and a not-so-great parent. Truth is, I never wanted kids and after watching some of my friends raising some, I’ve come to the realization that it’s not an easy feat. After realizing that moving-in together would have to wait a bit longer, I suggested to BD that we spend weekends together to get acclimated to the idea of living together. I especially felt that the Minnie and I needed some getting acquainted in the cohabitating area. I mean, it’s obvious BD and I will have no issues living together, but bringing a child into the mix usually changes things – shoot, it changes things in straight married couples who have their own biological offspring, so why wouldn’t it have an effect on ours? For dinner Saturday night I opted to take the easy way out and just served Stouffers Pizza – straight from the box to the oven to the dinner table. The Minnie loved his casual, easy fare, but began picking the green peppers from the Three Meat and Pepper variety I served. As I sat, slightly disgusted by his picking the pizza apart, I finally asked, “Why are you pulling stuff off your pizza and even fishing stuff out of your mouth to put on the side of your plate?” He looked at me matter-of-factly and announced, “I don’t like the green stuff.” I looked at BD and then back at the Minnie wondering whether this would be an appropriate time for a little old-school Cocoa-parental-hand-me-down to take place. “First of all, have you ever had green peppers before?” A nonplussed Minnie shot back a simple, “No.” “Then why are you pulling them off? They’re actually delicious,” I tried. “Well, I don’t like them,” he retorted. I thought about the delicious sugary snacks I bought the night before and how he wasn’t going to touch a thing if he didn’t have this pizza. “It’s rude to pull things out of your mouth in front of company and if you must there’s a way to do it. More important, if you don’t eat your dinner, please don’t ask for any dessert or snacks afterward.” The Minnie is very strong-willed and shot back a quick, “That’s fine, but I’m not eating the stuff I don’t like.” Not to be outdone – especially by an 8-year old – I gave him a steely glare before informing the Minnie, “If you’re done, you can wash your hands and be excused.” He took a few more bites before jumping up, washing his hands and returning to his video games. As I washed dishes in the kitchen and talked to BD about appropriate home training – including the issue of the Minnie not having his regular meals in their entirety and then wanting snacks to quell his hunger later, the Minnie sauntered back into the kitchen. “I’ll have a donut now please.” The sneer that comes with redemption crossed my face. I turned off the water from the sink, grabbed my dish towel and dried my hands before responding, “No, you won’t have anything else, since you already said you were full at dinner.” BD respected my interaction with the Minnie and never intervened. “I didn’t say I was full. I said I was finished,” the Minnie corrected me. “Well, you’re completely finished here as far as I’m concerned. You’re going to learn – at least with me – that you can eat snacks and desserts so long as you don’t waste our regular meals. You will not throw away good food only to have sugary snacks. Please go play your video games and don’t bother coming back to the kitchen until it reopens tomorrow morning.” He paused as if ready to say something else, but thought better of it. He returned to his games and I returned my attention to BD. “That is the way it works. He should be eating regular meals along with these fill-in snacks.” BD assured me that the reason his eating habits were off could be attributed to his grandma (BD’s mom) feeding the Minnie anything he wanted; whenever he wanted. “Well you’re the dad and there is some home training that needs to be established,” I continued “He cannot be allowed to pick his food apart at the dinner table, place his feet on furniture and basically run uncontrolled in the home.” BD agreed and I felt a sense that although this won’t exactly be a piece-of-cake, it can certainly be worked-through to bring about some structure. As I dropped off the BD and the Minnie at their house last night and got out to hug the Minnie, he kissed my cheek and I hugged him tighter to me. I drove home deep in my thoughts. Just as I began to wonder whether imposing my own home training on the Minnie was appropriate, I realized that I unconsciously had answered my own question. Yes, it’s appropriate. At the very least, the Minnie is a guest in my home and at best, he’s my future step son. We have to have a semblance of structure if we’re going to coexist.
On Blast
Have you encountered a spoiled child first-hand that forced you to react in the absence of control by their parent(s)?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
So maybe I’m a great friend and a not-so-great parent. Truth is, I never wanted kids and after watching some of my friends raising some, I’ve come to the realization that it’s not an easy feat. After realizing that moving-in together would have to wait a bit longer, I suggested to BD that we spend weekends together to get acclimated to the idea of living together. I especially felt that the Minnie and I needed some getting acquainted in the cohabitating area. I mean, it’s obvious BD and I will have no issues living together, but bringing a child into the mix usually changes things – shoot, it changes things in straight married couples who have their own biological offspring, so why wouldn’t it have an effect on ours? For dinner Saturday night I opted to take the easy way out and just served Stouffers Pizza – straight from the box to the oven to the dinner table. The Minnie loved his casual, easy fare, but began picking the green peppers from the Three Meat and Pepper variety I served. As I sat, slightly disgusted by his picking the pizza apart, I finally asked, “Why are you pulling stuff off your pizza and even fishing stuff out of your mouth to put on the side of your plate?” He looked at me matter-of-factly and announced, “I don’t like the green stuff.” I looked at BD and then back at the Minnie wondering whether this would be an appropriate time for a little old-school Cocoa-parental-hand-me-down to take place. “First of all, have you ever had green peppers before?” A nonplussed Minnie shot back a simple, “No.” “Then why are you pulling them off? They’re actually delicious,” I tried. “Well, I don’t like them,” he retorted. I thought about the delicious sugary snacks I bought the night before and how he wasn’t going to touch a thing if he didn’t have this pizza. “It’s rude to pull things out of your mouth in front of company and if you must there’s a way to do it. More important, if you don’t eat your dinner, please don’t ask for any dessert or snacks afterward.” The Minnie is very strong-willed and shot back a quick, “That’s fine, but I’m not eating the stuff I don’t like.” Not to be outdone – especially by an 8-year old – I gave him a steely glare before informing the Minnie, “If you’re done, you can wash your hands and be excused.” He took a few more bites before jumping up, washing his hands and returning to his video games. As I washed dishes in the kitchen and talked to BD about appropriate home training – including the issue of the Minnie not having his regular meals in their entirety and then wanting snacks to quell his hunger later, the Minnie sauntered back into the kitchen. “I’ll have a donut now please.” The sneer that comes with redemption crossed my face. I turned off the water from the sink, grabbed my dish towel and dried my hands before responding, “No, you won’t have anything else, since you already said you were full at dinner.” BD respected my interaction with the Minnie and never intervened. “I didn’t say I was full. I said I was finished,” the Minnie corrected me. “Well, you’re completely finished here as far as I’m concerned. You’re going to learn – at least with me – that you can eat snacks and desserts so long as you don’t waste our regular meals. You will not throw away good food only to have sugary snacks. Please go play your video games and don’t bother coming back to the kitchen until it reopens tomorrow morning.” He paused as if ready to say something else, but thought better of it. He returned to his games and I returned my attention to BD. “That is the way it works. He should be eating regular meals along with these fill-in snacks.” BD assured me that the reason his eating habits were off could be attributed to his grandma (BD’s mom) feeding the Minnie anything he wanted; whenever he wanted. “Well you’re the dad and there is some home training that needs to be established,” I continued “He cannot be allowed to pick his food apart at the dinner table, place his feet on furniture and basically run uncontrolled in the home.” BD agreed and I felt a sense that although this won’t exactly be a piece-of-cake, it can certainly be worked-through to bring about some structure. As I dropped off the BD and the Minnie at their house last night and got out to hug the Minnie, he kissed my cheek and I hugged him tighter to me. I drove home deep in my thoughts. Just as I began to wonder whether imposing my own home training on the Minnie was appropriate, I realized that I unconsciously had answered my own question. Yes, it’s appropriate. At the very least, the Minnie is a guest in my home and at best, he’s my future step son. We have to have a semblance of structure if we’re going to coexist.
On Blast
Have you encountered a spoiled child first-hand that forced you to react in the absence of control by their parent(s)?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Friday, May 16, 2008
Evening Edition - 5/16/08
Sis Makes Me Proud
Although many would say that I am the hard-edged strong child of our sibling bunch, my sister Evelyn has proven time-and-again otherwise. After suffering some devastating blows in her personal life in the last two years, she mustered the strength to put her problems aside and climb up the corporate ladder to a very prestigious executive position at her firm, finished-up her degree (graduation is May 28th!) and just bought her second home in the suburbs of upstate New York. My chest swells with pride as I see the true measure of her strength and resolve. While I consistently talk a good game and appear to conquer the world, my sister quietly sits at the head of her table, a woman who speaks less and does more. Congratulations sis. You are truly to be admired, respected and looked-to as the doer of our bunch.
Give Me Body
At 160 lbs. I’m hardly obese, yet I’m not exactly in that svelte summer shape I believed I would be in by late May. One week ago I injured a ligament on top of my right foot. The excruciating pain left me unable to run, jog or even walk properly. One week of serious Ibuprofen and rest and voila! I’m almost fully recovered. Tomorrow I am scheduled to hit the gym for an extended weekend workout. Starting Monday I’m reducing my caloric intake and removing some unmentionables from my diet. The objective is to be at 150 lbs. by mid June. Ten pounds in one month doesn’t seem like an unreasonable goal, but the key is to do it right. The consensus – well, at least here in NYC – is that I look better at my current weight than at my thinner goal. Go figure…
One Year Later
Exactly one year ago today, I signed the lease on my apartment. Since then I’ve furnished my bedroom and living room and even received a few pricey gifts along the way. As I’ve mentioned in the past, I really love my place. Yes, there’s the issue of living on the ground floor in the ghetto that can have your nerves shot the first three months, but I’ve adjusted. The voices and sounds that, at first, sounded like they were coming from inside my apartment are now correctly identified as just outside banter. The panic induced by the occasional roach visiting from outside or a not-so-clean neighbor is now obliterated with a simple call to the exterminator; heck I probably see one every six months…I know, one too many. So, it can be said that I’ve settled in. I love the layout of my apartment and it really is the perfect size for me. What has been a persistent annoyance is that one year later it doesn’t have the “homey” feel I know is characteristic of the way I like to live. The simple reason is I haven’t invested much time in organizing, setting up or decorating any room in my house. Right now it is a fully furnished apartment that looks as though all the deliveries were made today and I haven’t arranged and set-up the furnishings. This weekend, I’m doing my wash, thoroughly cleaning – hands-and-knees in bathroom; hard brush scrub of the kitchen floor; arranging my living room furniture and buying a level to assist my not-so-handy ass in hanging my artwork. I’m also considering taking a few photos in the coming weeks that I will have blown up to poster size and used around my apartment – narcissistic maybe – but I want to be surrounded by happy pictures me surrounded by the folks I love. All-in-all, I have about five weeks before mom and dad visit me for their yearly 2-3 week stay. Since a sofa bed is now part of my living room set-up, this year should be a cinch cohabitating with the folks. I’ll keep you posted.
On Blast
The strength to look adversity in the face and use the momentum of life’s blows to propel you forward – rather than to shrivel and curl into a ball – is an amazing quality. Is there someone you have the highest admiration for after witnessing their incredible struggle to arrive where they are?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Although many would say that I am the hard-edged strong child of our sibling bunch, my sister Evelyn has proven time-and-again otherwise. After suffering some devastating blows in her personal life in the last two years, she mustered the strength to put her problems aside and climb up the corporate ladder to a very prestigious executive position at her firm, finished-up her degree (graduation is May 28th!) and just bought her second home in the suburbs of upstate New York. My chest swells with pride as I see the true measure of her strength and resolve. While I consistently talk a good game and appear to conquer the world, my sister quietly sits at the head of her table, a woman who speaks less and does more. Congratulations sis. You are truly to be admired, respected and looked-to as the doer of our bunch.
Give Me Body
At 160 lbs. I’m hardly obese, yet I’m not exactly in that svelte summer shape I believed I would be in by late May. One week ago I injured a ligament on top of my right foot. The excruciating pain left me unable to run, jog or even walk properly. One week of serious Ibuprofen and rest and voila! I’m almost fully recovered. Tomorrow I am scheduled to hit the gym for an extended weekend workout. Starting Monday I’m reducing my caloric intake and removing some unmentionables from my diet. The objective is to be at 150 lbs. by mid June. Ten pounds in one month doesn’t seem like an unreasonable goal, but the key is to do it right. The consensus – well, at least here in NYC – is that I look better at my current weight than at my thinner goal. Go figure…
One Year Later
Exactly one year ago today, I signed the lease on my apartment. Since then I’ve furnished my bedroom and living room and even received a few pricey gifts along the way. As I’ve mentioned in the past, I really love my place. Yes, there’s the issue of living on the ground floor in the ghetto that can have your nerves shot the first three months, but I’ve adjusted. The voices and sounds that, at first, sounded like they were coming from inside my apartment are now correctly identified as just outside banter. The panic induced by the occasional roach visiting from outside or a not-so-clean neighbor is now obliterated with a simple call to the exterminator; heck I probably see one every six months…I know, one too many. So, it can be said that I’ve settled in. I love the layout of my apartment and it really is the perfect size for me. What has been a persistent annoyance is that one year later it doesn’t have the “homey” feel I know is characteristic of the way I like to live. The simple reason is I haven’t invested much time in organizing, setting up or decorating any room in my house. Right now it is a fully furnished apartment that looks as though all the deliveries were made today and I haven’t arranged and set-up the furnishings. This weekend, I’m doing my wash, thoroughly cleaning – hands-and-knees in bathroom; hard brush scrub of the kitchen floor; arranging my living room furniture and buying a level to assist my not-so-handy ass in hanging my artwork. I’m also considering taking a few photos in the coming weeks that I will have blown up to poster size and used around my apartment – narcissistic maybe – but I want to be surrounded by happy pictures me surrounded by the folks I love. All-in-all, I have about five weeks before mom and dad visit me for their yearly 2-3 week stay. Since a sofa bed is now part of my living room set-up, this year should be a cinch cohabitating with the folks. I’ll keep you posted.
On Blast
The strength to look adversity in the face and use the momentum of life’s blows to propel you forward – rather than to shrivel and curl into a ball – is an amazing quality. Is there someone you have the highest admiration for after witnessing their incredible struggle to arrive where they are?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Monday, May 12, 2008
Afternoon Edition - 5/12/08
Trust In the Lord
I’m not a fanatical Christian, but I do believe in God. The son of a Pentecostal minister, I have faced many situations in my life that have proven God to be real and REAL important in my life. So, it should come as no surprise that when the issue of my moving to a larger house with BD and the Minnie came up, I put all of it in God’s able hands. My prayer was simple, “Lord, this seems perfect; a storybook relationship; a fairytale bond between BD, the Minnie and I; and a unanimous decision between us to live together. Let your will be done, so that what is BEST for me transpires.” Well, today, the strangest thing happened. I called my rental office – the last folks on my list to contact – to inquire what the details of my move meant to my lease arrangement, etc. Well, I was in for a BIG surprise. The entire scene could be checked for the Lord’s handprint, since it was so polite, swift, but to the point that there was no anger, resentment or bitterness of any kind with the parties involved. It turns out that since I signed my lease sometime in February, for the June 2008-June2009 season, I am bound by the agreement to stay in my place until June 2009. Breaking my lease – even while forewarning management - would mean losing my security deposit (a hefty bundle) and the risk of a suit by management to recoup the amount left to be paid on said lease. Well, my brothers and sisters – Brother Cocoa doesn’t quite have it like that. So, with heavy heart, I phoned my baby and we sat for lunch where I told him the details of the call with the building management folks. We both agreed that the impending move did not hold us together – our love does. We’re going to switch to Plan B. BD and the Minnie will stay with me often and we’ll proceed with getting to feel completely at ease with living together. All said, I trust in the Lord.
On Blast
It’s hard to say, Thank you Lord,” when you don’t feel that you got your way or what you wanted. That said, the beauty of trusting in the Lord is that you believe that he has done what is best for you – LONG TERM.
That said, have your plans been altered, where you later realized it was what was best for you in the long run?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
I’m not a fanatical Christian, but I do believe in God. The son of a Pentecostal minister, I have faced many situations in my life that have proven God to be real and REAL important in my life. So, it should come as no surprise that when the issue of my moving to a larger house with BD and the Minnie came up, I put all of it in God’s able hands. My prayer was simple, “Lord, this seems perfect; a storybook relationship; a fairytale bond between BD, the Minnie and I; and a unanimous decision between us to live together. Let your will be done, so that what is BEST for me transpires.” Well, today, the strangest thing happened. I called my rental office – the last folks on my list to contact – to inquire what the details of my move meant to my lease arrangement, etc. Well, I was in for a BIG surprise. The entire scene could be checked for the Lord’s handprint, since it was so polite, swift, but to the point that there was no anger, resentment or bitterness of any kind with the parties involved. It turns out that since I signed my lease sometime in February, for the June 2008-June2009 season, I am bound by the agreement to stay in my place until June 2009. Breaking my lease – even while forewarning management - would mean losing my security deposit (a hefty bundle) and the risk of a suit by management to recoup the amount left to be paid on said lease. Well, my brothers and sisters – Brother Cocoa doesn’t quite have it like that. So, with heavy heart, I phoned my baby and we sat for lunch where I told him the details of the call with the building management folks. We both agreed that the impending move did not hold us together – our love does. We’re going to switch to Plan B. BD and the Minnie will stay with me often and we’ll proceed with getting to feel completely at ease with living together. All said, I trust in the Lord.
On Blast
It’s hard to say, Thank you Lord,” when you don’t feel that you got your way or what you wanted. That said, the beauty of trusting in the Lord is that you believe that he has done what is best for you – LONG TERM.
That said, have your plans been altered, where you later realized it was what was best for you in the long run?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Friday, May 09, 2008
Morning Edition - 5/9/08
Happy Birthday Baby
Tomorrow is my baby's birthday. One of our favorite things is watching comedy movies and shows...we just love laughing. Of late, we're hooked on LOGO's Big Gay Sketch Show. Below is one of my favorite skits...Love you pa...Happy Birthday!!
On Blast
Do you have a friend or family member that says the most inappropriate - yet hysterical - stuff? What's the funniest thing that comes to mind?
Keep passin' the open windows...
Tomorrow is my baby's birthday. One of our favorite things is watching comedy movies and shows...we just love laughing. Of late, we're hooked on LOGO's Big Gay Sketch Show. Below is one of my favorite skits...Love you pa...Happy Birthday!!
On Blast
Do you have a friend or family member that says the most inappropriate - yet hysterical - stuff? What's the funniest thing that comes to mind?
Keep passin' the open windows...
Monday, May 05, 2008
Afternoon Edition - 5/5/08
One Year Later; Is Moving-In the New Marriage Equivalent?
Just one year ago, I moved into my new apartment. Admittedly, I should be further along on the decorating and lived-in feel of the place, but I’m not home enough to really concentrate on what needs to be done. The great part is that all the required pieces of the puzzle are now there. I purchased my new bedroom furniture one month after moving in and just a few months ago, had my new living room suite delivered. What’s really left to do is to organize things the way they belong and insure that my artwork is hung strategically throughout my home. Not to mention that I want to include some personal pictures as poster-size art for my place; yeah narcissism at its finest. So it may come as no surprise that I am having cold feet surrounding my in-depth discussion about BD, the Minnie and I biting the bullet and living together. To heighten my anxieties about the matter, the perfect place has opened up and would require BD and me to hasten our plans and be moved-in by August 1st. We’d discussed many of the details – including my new role and responsibility as parental figure in the household. Although I never wanted children before, I really love the Minnie and we have a great relationship. My concerns are as follows:
1. BD has not spoken to the Minnie regarding our specific romantic situation AND possible upcoming move (yes…I realize the kid isn’t blind, but he’s also only eight)
2. BD has NOT come out to his family – including his own mom who presently shares the responsibilities of raising the Minnie
3. Although I appear to get along famously with the Minnie, I’m afraid that once the daily routines kick-in, I may not come across as Mr. Laugh NFun anymore
On Blast
Given my short list of anxieties, which would be the most serious for you and based on an August move, which do you believe is most urgent on the list of priorities?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Just one year ago, I moved into my new apartment. Admittedly, I should be further along on the decorating and lived-in feel of the place, but I’m not home enough to really concentrate on what needs to be done. The great part is that all the required pieces of the puzzle are now there. I purchased my new bedroom furniture one month after moving in and just a few months ago, had my new living room suite delivered. What’s really left to do is to organize things the way they belong and insure that my artwork is hung strategically throughout my home. Not to mention that I want to include some personal pictures as poster-size art for my place; yeah narcissism at its finest. So it may come as no surprise that I am having cold feet surrounding my in-depth discussion about BD, the Minnie and I biting the bullet and living together. To heighten my anxieties about the matter, the perfect place has opened up and would require BD and me to hasten our plans and be moved-in by August 1st. We’d discussed many of the details – including my new role and responsibility as parental figure in the household. Although I never wanted children before, I really love the Minnie and we have a great relationship. My concerns are as follows:
1. BD has not spoken to the Minnie regarding our specific romantic situation AND possible upcoming move (yes…I realize the kid isn’t blind, but he’s also only eight)
2. BD has NOT come out to his family – including his own mom who presently shares the responsibilities of raising the Minnie
3. Although I appear to get along famously with the Minnie, I’m afraid that once the daily routines kick-in, I may not come across as Mr. Laugh NFun anymore
On Blast
Given my short list of anxieties, which would be the most serious for you and based on an August move, which do you believe is most urgent on the list of priorities?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Afternoon Edition - 4/29/08
Black or White; What About the Blue?
The Sean Bell case highlighted arguments regarding race, policing and the value of life. Questions surrounding whether individuals who have felony convictions for drug distribution; are patronizing venues that are less than reputable; and have previous weapon possession charges are entitled to the same treatment by law enforcement officers. I’ll be the first to recognize that our men in blue risk their lives everyday for a paltry sum of money, but it is a profession they chose to undertake. For the same pay they can shuffle paper as an administrative assistant or work as a customer service representative. All said, police officers are sworn to uphold the law, while serving and protecting the public. Unfortunately, the blue has been long known to be a group with many more prejudices and above-the-law tactics than any black or white constituent. So, suffice to say that whether an officer is White, Black, Hispanic, etc. he is taught and cultured to be BLUE first. This means there is a loyalty to your kind – the blue – fellow officers. Whether alleged assailants are black or white is less relevant than the fact that the men in blue are still in a culture all their own. Ultimately, I’d like to think that the Bell case has less to do with race and more to do with the responsibility of police officers to uphold the law – even when those laws contradict your human feelings toward those that may be perceived as drug-dealing gutter trash. In the Bell case no weapon was ever recovered and all the alleged assailants at the scene were unarmed. To complicate matters further, all shots fired were from the police officers themselves – all 50. The argument that the excessive shots may have been fired when officers heard each other’s blasts and believed they were being shot at by the assailants is silly. The three officers were trained professionals, taught to remain fairly calm in situations like these. Can it be said that officers who may have joined the gun battle should have pulled their weapons and begun shooting too, since they heard shots being fired? This isn’t the wild-wild west. We have reached a time in our society when not everything is as it appears. Police officers must understand that to have the respect and loyalty of the communities they serve they must admit when glaring mistakes have been made. Judges routinely instruct juries to disregard anything mentioned that may unfairly affect a jury trial – be it previous offenses, previous charges, moral choices, etc. – and unless a defendant takes the stand, their priors are kept out of the case at hand. Do I personally believe Bell and his pals were rebel-rousing thugs who may have had too much that fateful night and gone too far? Maybe. Do I feel in my heart that it is ethical to shoot an unarmed man 50 times in the name of justice? No. Maybe we’ve rid ourselves of a drug dealer in NYC, but by saying it’s okay for the blue to serve as the reigning culture in NYC to make determinations on who lives and who dies we’re creating a two-fold problem: First, a disconnect and mistrust between constituencies and the men/women paid to protect and serve them AND second, a sense that if you want to be above the law, it’s not a matter of black or white – it’s a matter of blue.
On Blast
There are over 304,000,000 folks in the US and 800,000 of them are sworn law enforcement officers. With rulings like that of the Sean Bell case, are we saying that less than 1% of the population –the blue – is the controlling culture? Would you be as comfortable giving any race/culture the same privileges if they comprised 1% of the population – be they white or black – and permitted them to live above the law?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
The Sean Bell case highlighted arguments regarding race, policing and the value of life. Questions surrounding whether individuals who have felony convictions for drug distribution; are patronizing venues that are less than reputable; and have previous weapon possession charges are entitled to the same treatment by law enforcement officers. I’ll be the first to recognize that our men in blue risk their lives everyday for a paltry sum of money, but it is a profession they chose to undertake. For the same pay they can shuffle paper as an administrative assistant or work as a customer service representative. All said, police officers are sworn to uphold the law, while serving and protecting the public. Unfortunately, the blue has been long known to be a group with many more prejudices and above-the-law tactics than any black or white constituent. So, suffice to say that whether an officer is White, Black, Hispanic, etc. he is taught and cultured to be BLUE first. This means there is a loyalty to your kind – the blue – fellow officers. Whether alleged assailants are black or white is less relevant than the fact that the men in blue are still in a culture all their own. Ultimately, I’d like to think that the Bell case has less to do with race and more to do with the responsibility of police officers to uphold the law – even when those laws contradict your human feelings toward those that may be perceived as drug-dealing gutter trash. In the Bell case no weapon was ever recovered and all the alleged assailants at the scene were unarmed. To complicate matters further, all shots fired were from the police officers themselves – all 50. The argument that the excessive shots may have been fired when officers heard each other’s blasts and believed they were being shot at by the assailants is silly. The three officers were trained professionals, taught to remain fairly calm in situations like these. Can it be said that officers who may have joined the gun battle should have pulled their weapons and begun shooting too, since they heard shots being fired? This isn’t the wild-wild west. We have reached a time in our society when not everything is as it appears. Police officers must understand that to have the respect and loyalty of the communities they serve they must admit when glaring mistakes have been made. Judges routinely instruct juries to disregard anything mentioned that may unfairly affect a jury trial – be it previous offenses, previous charges, moral choices, etc. – and unless a defendant takes the stand, their priors are kept out of the case at hand. Do I personally believe Bell and his pals were rebel-rousing thugs who may have had too much that fateful night and gone too far? Maybe. Do I feel in my heart that it is ethical to shoot an unarmed man 50 times in the name of justice? No. Maybe we’ve rid ourselves of a drug dealer in NYC, but by saying it’s okay for the blue to serve as the reigning culture in NYC to make determinations on who lives and who dies we’re creating a two-fold problem: First, a disconnect and mistrust between constituencies and the men/women paid to protect and serve them AND second, a sense that if you want to be above the law, it’s not a matter of black or white – it’s a matter of blue.
On Blast
There are over 304,000,000 folks in the US and 800,000 of them are sworn law enforcement officers. With rulings like that of the Sean Bell case, are we saying that less than 1% of the population –the blue – is the controlling culture? Would you be as comfortable giving any race/culture the same privileges if they comprised 1% of the population – be they white or black – and permitted them to live above the law?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Monday, April 28, 2008
Afternoon Edition - 4/28/08
Ask Not For Whom the Bell Tolls
I’ve discussed the Sean Bell case with a very close friend of mine and I agree with her on many of the points she brought up regarding the case, yet my brain returns to three points:
1. No one – outside of the law enforcement officers – overheard Sean Bell or his pals speak of a weapon.
2. Why did the plain clothes officers follow Sean Bell for more than two blocks when they allegedly overheard that he was carrying a weapon or was in the process of obtaining a weapon?
3. Why were 50 shots fired by three law enforcement officers when not ONE shot was fired by the alleged assailants?
Now, I’m not dense or blind to the fact that some in Bell’s camp have a criminal record, but this still doesn’t address the three points that cross my mind. Were Bell and his friends caught in the middle of a prostitution bust? That would be plausible, except none of the employees or dancers at the club were arrested that night. Were they drunk the night they were going to operate their vehicles to go home? This may very well be true, but I’m sure they would’ve taken a DWI charge to 50 bullets that night.
In jury trials – well, the ones I’ve witnessed – the jury is instructed to make their determinations based on the facts presented to them – not previous offenses. In this case the records of all the victims in this shooting were public and discussed widely in the media. Now, although some believe that some of these men were drug dealers, etc. it can be said that the death penalty has not been exacted for dealing drugs in this country.
On Blast
I’m not siding with anyone. I do however feel that to resolve the three points that continue to cross my mind I have to be honest with myself.
Do we want to promote anarchy and vigilantism by approving the execution of individuals that may be considered criminals (or potential criminals) without a fair trail?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
I’ve discussed the Sean Bell case with a very close friend of mine and I agree with her on many of the points she brought up regarding the case, yet my brain returns to three points:
1. No one – outside of the law enforcement officers – overheard Sean Bell or his pals speak of a weapon.
2. Why did the plain clothes officers follow Sean Bell for more than two blocks when they allegedly overheard that he was carrying a weapon or was in the process of obtaining a weapon?
3. Why were 50 shots fired by three law enforcement officers when not ONE shot was fired by the alleged assailants?
Now, I’m not dense or blind to the fact that some in Bell’s camp have a criminal record, but this still doesn’t address the three points that cross my mind. Were Bell and his friends caught in the middle of a prostitution bust? That would be plausible, except none of the employees or dancers at the club were arrested that night. Were they drunk the night they were going to operate their vehicles to go home? This may very well be true, but I’m sure they would’ve taken a DWI charge to 50 bullets that night.
In jury trials – well, the ones I’ve witnessed – the jury is instructed to make their determinations based on the facts presented to them – not previous offenses. In this case the records of all the victims in this shooting were public and discussed widely in the media. Now, although some believe that some of these men were drug dealers, etc. it can be said that the death penalty has not been exacted for dealing drugs in this country.
On Blast
I’m not siding with anyone. I do however feel that to resolve the three points that continue to cross my mind I have to be honest with myself.
Do we want to promote anarchy and vigilantism by approving the execution of individuals that may be considered criminals (or potential criminals) without a fair trail?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Monday, April 21, 2008
Evening Edition - 4/21/08
1st Annual Blogger Family Reunion; Assessments
Preparing for an event that brings together men from different geographic areas, different cultures, different age groups and all with different interests – save one (blogging) – can present a logistics nightmare for many planners. Before anything is said, first and foremost, a HUGE thank-you to Warren Jones for making the details of this event seem effortless and low cost – even cost-free for some…but that’s another story. The truth is, I’m sure Jones spent a pretty penny booking a beautiful suite overlooking Baltimore’s Inner Harbor and another grip to provide the behemoth, gas guzzling Suburban that carted many of us around. Although Darius Williams and I spent some time coordinating the event, Jones was the mastermind securing our meeting headquarters and shared transportation – thank you Jonesy! You’re a class act.
The Assessments; In Order of Appearance
Norris
Summary:
If there was ever a disservice done by a pic on someone’s blog it is certainly That Dude Right There; aka Norris. Norris’ blog picture is reserved – almost aloof and defensive; the reality is Norris is hysterically funny with a southern warmth and charm that immediately draws you in. I felt at ease with Norris from the moment we met and had a nonstop chuckle from his many witty sayings.
Same as blog:
Norris’ ability to see things for what they are and not give the negative the power to overwhelm him are qualities that transcend his blog and are ever-present in his live persona.
Different than blog:
Norris’ sense of humor and charm make him magnetic in person. His blog needs to be changed to reflect his personality and infectious spirit.
Assigned Nickname Post-Meeting:
Southern Comfort
Warren
Summary:
Warren is the college room mate I never had. Smart, funny, direct and together, Mr. Jones aka Warren Jones is the go-to guy when you want someone to give it to you straight, yet have the sense to know how to deliver it. Whether we were shopping, partying or just shooting the breeze, Warren felt like an old friend. His ability to be strong AND vulnerable made him an instant friend and a potential trusted confidant.
Same as blog:
Warren is fearless. Whether he’s tackling criticisms, delivering wisdom beyond his years or making someone feel included, Warren takes it head-on.
Different than blog:
Warren cares. It may not come through that he’s a true people person and for all the sharp-wit and ability to decimate his opponent, Warren, more-often-than-not, chooses the high road and makes everyone feel important.
Assigned Nickname Post Meeting:
B’Mo’s Finest
E
Summary:
Eric aka E is a clear case of a man who lives through his blog. Silent to the point of invisibility, many of us struggled to drag E into our conversations, but we found that his answers were few and far between. Don’t be fooled…when he did answer his commentary was hysterically funny and you got the sense that there was so much more to the man than meets the eye.
Same as blog:
The cartoon holding the spot on E’s blog may very well be the person writing the thing…imaginary.
Different than blog:
Everything. E is an imaginary persona who sent his introverted brother to the blogger family reunion. LOL
Assigned Nickname Post Meeting:
The Lamb
Andre
Summary:
I didn’t have much contact with Andre’s blog pre-reunion, but he appeared to be one of those guys that knows where the party is. He was one of the first to arrive at the venue and the first to kick-off his shoes and settle right in.
Same as blog:
N/A
Different than blog:
Andre’s blog gives the impression that he is an event guru and one who is an A-list type socialite. In reality, Andre appears adept at maximizing his opportunities to get the most out of the event at hand.
Assigned Nickname Post Meeting:
Lottery (Dollar and a dream)
Jared
Summary:
For close to two years now I have felt like the older sibling – let’s keep it real here, more like a parental figure for Jared. I’ve felt protective of him and have watched with great interest how he moved from blissful innocence to a more explorative young man. At close to 19-years old, Jared is the baby of our blogger family and my heart was full to finally meet him in person. He’s a confident young man and I felt that chest-swelling pride to hear him growing into his own – as a man AND as a gay man of color. Jared is smart, witty, fun and responsible all rolled into one. Definitely one of my most anticipated meetings of the weekend.
Same as blog:
Jared is extremely forthcoming and his live personality and his blog do nothing to muddle the feeling that Jared is telling you exactly what he is feeling. There’s a sense – whether online or in-person - that Jared has drawn you in and harkens the teen in all of us.
Different than blog:
Jared is much taller in person. His blog picture gives a sense of a waif-like child, but Jared towers over many at 5’11”. He’s slightly shy and it makes him all the more endearing.
Assigned Nickname Post Meeting:
BJ (Baby Jared)
Joey
Summary:
Joey aka Joey Bahamas is a Bahamian prince. This isn’t an attempt at a dig. Joey carries himself with a regal peace that is neither condescending or patronizing – it’s simply an air of distinction. He’s able to interact with all with an ease that comes from polished social skills. Still in his early twenties, Joey has a grounded understanding of life, what’s important and especially how to let your confident REAL self shine.
Same as blog:
Beautiful inside and out; eloquent; poised.
Different than blog:
Great height; legs that extend to his neck; Not at all pretentious or conceited.
Assigned Nickname Post Meeting:
KAI (King and I)
Ty
Summary:
Ty, of the Aspire blog fame, is not one to have catty blog postings and often has blog postings with entries calling for creative participation. In person there’s a strange sense that his quiet cool can easily be replaced by a much more aggressive sexually charged man OR a no-nonsense professionalism. In either case his personality is that of a well-rounded chameleon; able to be anything he’d like to be.
Same as blog:
As smart and engaging as his blog suggests.
Different than blog:
PHAT ass…sorry, got side-tracked…he’s a very funny in person. A feeling of warmth and understanding that isn’t conveyed in his blog is evident in person.
Assigned Nickname Post Meeting:
SS (Shape Shifter)
Fuzzy
Summary:
Fuzzy aka Daniel and the author of I Wonder can at times come across as genuine, yet aloof. In person Fuzzy appears coy and flirtatious. He appears to have no issues expressing himself and letting folks know how he feels. A great heart.
Same as blog:
Appears to genuinely care.
Different than blog:
A lot more relaxed than the somewhat regimented feel you get from his personality on his blog.
Assigned Nickname Post Meeting:
Emeril’s Nem
Shawn
Summary:
The heart at peace with the mind; that’s the thought that kept crossing my mind every time I looked over at Shawn. His somewhat colorful and creative persona from Dreams In A Fitted becomes quiet, still and tan in real life. Does it conceal the creative side of the dreamer? No.
Same as blog:
Great sense of humor and a sense of child-like innocence.
Different than blog:
Not a party animal; not really a heavy drinker.
Assigned Nickname Post Meeting:
Quiet Storm
Promiscuous X
Summary:
Xavier aka Promiscuous X exudes sex appeal and luscious street corner boy. His boyish grin gives way to a bust yo’ face snarl…all in a matter of moments. In the end, you get a sense that X is a fun-loving below the radar kind-of guy. He’s quiet, but will speak his mind when asked. All said, he’s what was referred to in Paris Is Burning as “Up and comin’ legendary.”
Same as blog:
The look on his blog is the man you will meet in person.
Different than blog:
Nothing…he’s a leopard with spots unchanged.
Assigned Nickname Post Meeting:
XTM (X to many…LOL)
Darius
Summary:
Another case of change that blog pic applies to this character as well. Darius Williams comes across as a low-maintenance high-revving character on his blog, but his real life persona is quite the opposite. D is light-hearted with an undercurrent of “let’s spark it.” Case-in-point, during breakfast D managed to visually notice the difference between cheddar and American cheese on his eggs, wanted his meat cooked more thoroughly and noticed a spot on his knife that couldn’t be seen with the naked eye, but had the waiter handle all of these issues – pronto! In my 38 years on earth I’ve been called colorful, raw, direct, funny, witty, but never raunchy….D holds the title for the only person to mash all my personality traits into one giant negative. Bless his heart! LOL.
Same as blog:
He’s as tall as he tells you he is. I’m wearing a neck brace following an attempt at a lengthy face-to-face conversation.
Different than blog:
D may tell you that he’s a rough and tumble man, but we saw the teddy bear come through…even if the teddy wore a teddy at times.
Assigned Nickname Post Meeting:
Mabel
On Blast
What perception of yourself did you hold near and dear only to find that everyone who met you at the blogger family reunion didn’t see quite the same way?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
Morning Edition - 4/21/08
1st Annual Family Reunion A Complete Success!
My official run-down of the 1st Annual Family Reunion will be posted real soon, but suffice to say that I had a blast! The name we chose for this gathering was fitting…we were a true family. I’m sure we’ll have more versions of the event from my fellow bloggers than written of the Christian Bible, but one thing should be true of all posts and that is that we are all counting down the days to our 2nd Annual Blogger Family Reunion in San Juan for 2009!
On Blast
Some folks' REAL personality doesn't translate into their writing, while others clearly represent who they are when they put fingers to keyboard.
Who at our blogger family reunion represented the greatest difference between their blog persona and their real-life personality? Why?
Keep passin’ the open windows…
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