Aries pt 2

Yesterday, I told you about Aries part 1. Here's some more:

My next Aries woman was Sheila. Let me just cop to it now, because when I tell the story, you’re going to figure it out anyway. I met her at school while I was still dating Lisa. I know, I know! T. is a lying, cheating dog. Really it was just this one time. Shall I continue? We were both English majors so we had many of the same classes. Sheila was an ATLien by way of Arkansas. The first thing I noticed about her was the way she said my name, not my blog name but my real name. Something about her southern drawl intoxicated me. She was dynamic, adventurous and independent. That attracted me more than her looks. We used to compete to see whose English papers would be the best. There was no other competition in our classes. Sheila and I would attend those inane study sessions with the rest of the students and basically just fall into a world of our own, with conversations totally unrelated to the topic at hand. It was just an excuse to see each other outside of a class setting.

One night I saw her at an on campus party and we retreated into our familiar pattern of ignoring everybody else around. I had a girlfriend, but it didn’t matter to either one of us at that moment. We got closer than we should have. Sheila and I just vibed like 2 compatible souls. One thing led to another and well you know the rest. Her quick wit and adventurous spirit rubbed off on me. I never imagined that I would be the one to cheat on a girlfriend, especially Lisa. Before you knew it, Sheila and I had a quasi relationship, complete with rules that we came up with to make sure neither one of us caught feelings. We kicked it for a couple of months before we came to the realization that it wouldn’t work out.

The thing about Sheila was that she refused to be controlled, under any circumstances. She had the typical Aries trait of being domineering. There were times when she would violate our cheating agreement intentionally. For example, if Sheila saw me and Lisa together on campus, she would come up to me and give me a hug. I think she did that just to see how I would react. This definitely was not a reciprocal thing. If I saw her on campus while she was with another dude, she would not even acknowledge my existence. It was like I was a character in a Ralph Ellison novel. When I would call her out on that, she would display that Aries quick temper and curse me out. Sheila certainly kept me guessing, because in the next breath, she would come back and ask when we were going to spend time together. Overall, I think Sheila was just selfish, she wanted me, but only when she wanted me. Her arrogance dictated that everything had to be on her terms. I can respect that, after all I was the bad guy in this situation anyway. We eventually broke the cheating part of our relationship off and remained friendly throughout the rest of our college days.

Lisa never found out about my transgression (unless she discovered my blog.) We were together throughout college and graduation. She eventually moved to Nashville to go to medical school, while I languished away in Savannah, in a post graduation rut, trying to figure out just what the hell I was going to do with my degree in English Language and Literature. We finally broke up when she came home for winter break. There was no animosity between us, we both just needed different. Our lives were going in separate directions. Just don’t tell her mama that. I think she still thinks we are going to get back together. More to come in part 3.

Aries Pt 1.

Positive characteristics: Courageous, Dynamic, Pioneering, Adventurous, Independent, Quick, Assertive, Competitive, Determined, Forceful, Leaders, Creative

Negative characteristics: Domineering, Selfish, Intolerant, Impulsive, Impatient, Arrogant, Quick-tempered, Violent

Can you guess what Zodiac sign this is? I'll give you a hint. The real life T. always seems to get hooked up with them. Give up? I'm talking about Aries: March 21 - April 21. There was a time that all the women I dated were Aries. It wasn’t intentional it just seemed to happened. Now, I’ve done the research and realized that Aries and Sagittarius are compatible signs, but it just got to the point where it was ridiculous. Let me tell you about it.

My first Aries was Lisa. I met her at the end of my sophomore year at Savannah State. You remember those days after finals when there is nothing to do? All the out of town kids were packing up to go home, so a group of the local kids were hanging out in the student center, watching Tempest Bledsoe’s talk show ( remember that shit) and playing spades. Now, at my school, that was a daily operation. You either played cards, shot pool or played ping pong. It was the hangout spot where you could meet girls and vibe with people from all over the country. I was chilling with this cat I went to high school with. Tom was a lanky 6’8” cat that I knew back in the day, but never really hung with. But on this day, a brother didn’t have many options. We formed a team and proceeded to wreck shop on the spades table. (Do y’all play Joker, Joker, Deuce, Deuce?) After dismissing all comers with a quickness, we were about to head out. That’s when Lisa walked in. I was intrigued by not only her looks, but the confidence that she displayed in boldly stepping up to our table and challenging us to a game. We played 3 games, (her and her girl beat us 2-1, damn reneging) and then we stood outside the student center and talked for awhile. I got Lisa’s number and planned on calling her over the summer, but as fate would have it, I accidentally spent the dollar she wrote her information on.

Fast forward to the beginning of the fall semester. I was fresh to death in my Karl Kani shirt and Girbauds on the first day of classes. You know, gotta make a good first impression at a HBCU. The girls were looking hot and I was on the prowl trying to catch a lonely impressionable freshman. I mean what girl living in the dorms wouldn’t want to hang out with T.? I had a 87 VW Fox and could take them to Burger King or to Wal-Mart. LOL. I made my way to King Frazier student center with my homeboy Tori. We were chilling on the steps just shooting the breeze and watching the girls rocking the tennis skirts. I felt a tap on my shoulder and looked up and there was Lisa, giving me a look that was part “glad to see you”, and part “why didn’t your punk ass call me?” I explained what happened and although I could tell she didn’t really believe me, she gave me her number again. This time I was smart, I wrote it down in my $90 calculus text book. Ain’t no way I was going to lose that. I called her almost as soon as I got home from my part time job that night. Several phone convos led to face to face convos in the biology lab (she was pre –med.) Face to face convos led to us going out. Going out led to us becoming a couple, a couple that was together for 3 years. Lisa had most of the positive Aries qualities: she was courageous, dynamic, independent, creative, and assertive. Not to mention competitive. We had some of the fiercest Scrabble games known to man. I had never been with someone as competitive as I am. From that first day at the spades table I knew Lisa would be a challenge, one that I was more than willing to take.

For all her positive traits, Lisa also displayed some of the typical Aries negative characteristics. Well, I don’t wanna call them negative because these are the things that make a person complete. Lisa had her selfish moments, and she wasn’t very patient. The thing that irked me the most though was her intolerance. Did I forget to mention that Lisa was a church girl? When I first met her, she went to church every Wednesday and Sunday. We didn’t even have sex for the first year of our relationship (Is that TMI?) Religion is cool with me, but Lisa had a way of thinking that didn’t allow for different points of view. It was all about her church’s doctrine. We would often end up in heated discussions if I disagreed with something that went on in her church. Anybody that knows me knows that I don’t back down either, so that was a cause of stress in our relationship. Lisa was also quick tempered. Not so much with me, but with her older sister who she viewed as a disappointment. I remember one time, we were at her sister’s house and they were arguing (as usual.) Lisa went into the kitchen and got a knife. I swear to G.O.D. if I wasn’t there to stop her, I think Lisa would have sliced her sister’s jugular. I guess that falls under the violent characteristic on the list.

Lisa was my first Aries woman. She exhibited many of the Aries characteristics listed above. I think I was most attracted to her determination. She was the most focused woman I knew at that time. I didn’t know that I would have 2 more Aries in a row. This post is getting too long so I’m gonna stop here and post the rest later this week.

It was written…

Tagged Again

Damn it! After about 2 weeks of avoiding this one, I finally got tagged. Ms. New Booty, I'm gonna get you for this one. Today you get to hear about my boring sex history.

1. How old were you the first time? 17
2. Name of your first? Shaylinda J.
3. Good or Bad? It was bad, but we eventually got it together
4. Name of the worst and why? Francesca... we had one too many drinks.
5. Name of the best and why? She knows who she is and because she is a multiple orgasm woman and down for whatever.
6. Weirdest place you ever had sex? In the parking lot of a church
7. Favorite Position: Her on top or 69.
8. Ever fake an orgasm? Yes. She was already done and I just wanted to get some sleep.
9. Would you admit it if the person asked? I did, and on a sidenote, I don't ever wanna know if someone faked with me. Keep that sh*t to yourself.
10. Favorite time of day to have sex? Early in the morning.
11 Most times you have had sex in one day? 4, I was out of town for 3 weeks and had to make up for lost time.
12 Same person? Hell Yeah!!!
13. Ever fantasize about someone other than the one your with? yep, I have an active imagination
14. Restrictions during sex? Stay the f*ck away from my bootyhole. Seriously, what's up with that. Do some men actually like that?
15. Accessories? depends on who I'm with
16. What? handcuffs, scarves (for tying up), whatever toys she got. Oh yeah, a hair scrunchie. That one was nice.
17 Done it in the rain? Nah, and after reading Mocha's comments on Missy's blog, I don't wanna anymore
18 Done it in a car? yes, see # 6
19 Had a Threesome? Don't get me started on that sh*t. I passed up the opportunity once with a couple of female friends b/c I didn't want to ruin the friendship. I wanna kick my own ass for that sh*t.
20 Want to have sex now? depends on who's asking!

Tag Time. I'm tagging any and everybody reading this. If I had to do it, so do you. I don't wanna hear no excuses either, cuz I will come to your blog and talk sh*t until you do it.

It was written...

Let's Get Over The Hump (Day)

First let me address yesterday's post. I didn't mean to sound like I was depressed, I was just tired. And when I'm tired, the words just flow. So maybe I am subconsciously in a funk, but consciously I'm cool. But anyway, lets move on to bigger and better things. I don't have much to talk about today. I just wanna share with you somethings that I have recently learned about myself.

1. I am extremely spiteful. I had a peer at work try to call me out for something yesterday and I went the f*ck off in an email. I responded point by point explaining how much more work I did than him and listing all of his faults. I professionally called him everything but a muhfucka. By the time I finished the email, I was shocked at how mean I was. I still sent it, but damn I'm mean. I found out this morning that he called in sick. I hope he didn't do that to avoid me, but I'm pretty sure it did. Why do I find that shit extremely funny?

2. I am a horrible photographer. Let me restate this. I am horrible at taking pictures of myself. It looks so easy, so why do all of my "self portraits" come out looking like I am high or drunk or both?

3. My name is T., and I am an attention-aholic. I checked my blog like 50 times yesterday trying to see if anybody new is reading it. When there were too many people around my desk at work, I went on break and checked from my cell phone. Pathetic, aint it?

4. I really find "The Wayans Brothers" hilarious. When I went to sleep last night, it was on BET and when I woke up (tv was still on) it was on again. I found myself cracking up both times even though the humor is as low brow as it gets.

5. I still sometimes slip into my fake New York accent. I haven't lived there in 19 years, but when I'm talking to someone from up top, I say "yo" and "Ma" a lot more than usual. Must be another subconscious thing.

6. I think I already knew this one, but my face shows everything I am thinking. The other night, I was in line to get a drink at the movies. In another line, there was this short guy about 5'2" with his "girlfriend." She was about 6' 2". I looked a little closer and the woman was a fucking man. He had a weave ponytail and those clear stripper heels on. My face had this quizzical WTF look on it? I tried to not reveal what I was thinking but my facial expression gave away all my confusion. I looked like this:
















Aiight, I'm late for work, so I gotta get going. Holla at y'all later.

It was written...

A Nothing Weekend

I'm supposed to be sleep now. I mean I actually fell asleep a couple of times during "24" tonight. Had to wake up and rewind the tape (I'm too cheap to get TiVo.) I didn't really plan to write anything tonight, but since I'm awake I might as well. Let me give you a rundown of my past few days. I basically have been flaking on everybody for the last few.

Friday night, I was supposed to get up with some associates and go bowling or something. By the time I left work, I was too tired to do anything. So I watched the NCAA tournament and chilled for the night. About 1:00 AM, I realized I was still up, so I could have gone out, but by that time it was too late. I had already flaked on those plans.

I intended to have a busy Saturday. First I was going to meet B.B. for breakfast at her new crib. I overslept and missed that shit. (Go ahead and curse me out, I know you are thinking it.) Next, I was supposed to go with Kristie and Eric to a function, I think it was a wedding shower for one of their friends at 2pm. By the time they called and said that it had got pushed back to 4 pm, I had already made up my mind that I wasn't going. I just didn't feel like dealing with a bunch of people I didn't know. So I spent the afternoon in my boxers playing around on the computer and looking for new blogs to feed my addiction. Then Jessica called and told me she is moving to Memphis. Damn, that sucks! Don't get me wrong I'm proud that she is making moves in her career, but now I gotta find a new hang out patna. We made plans to check out "Inside Man." After finally taking a shower and getting dressed (yes, I was lounging all day), we headed out to Atlantic Station. It was packed that night. We got there like an hour early but most of that time was spent in line to get tickets so we didn't get a chance to explore. Anyway, the movie was tight, Denzel did his thing and Spike Lee finally made a mainstream movie that still had some edge to it. I got home around 2:00 and talked on the phone and blogged for awhile.

Sunday, I had one thing to get accomplished. I had put off getting my digital camera since Christmas, so I decided to finally do that. I almost didn't go b/c George Mason and Florida were pissing me off in the damn NCAA tournament. But I finally got it. You can check out my pic in the previous post. Later that night, I watched "The Sopranos" (anyone else find it boring?) while my friend E washed her clothes. Basically, I had a weekend of doing nothing, but I am content with that.

You would think that with doing nothing all weekend I would be recharged and ready for another week of hell(work.) But unfortunately, it didn't play out like that. I am still tired and burnt out and need a vacation. It doesn't help that I am up at 3:00 AM writing a post instead of sleeping. Enough complaining, I'm gonna try to catch some Z's and get to work at a reasonable time, like that's really gonna happen.

It was written...

This Is Me...

I've Been Tagged

What’s up with this whole tag thing? I didn’t like tag when I was a kid. I’d rather play hide and go get it. Anyway, Nikki tagged me (and the rest of the damn blogging world) with this one. I wanna do something a little different than everyone else, so I am going to try to put a quote from a hip hop song in each attribute. Here we go.

10 Attributes of My Perfect Lover

1. Gotta have a sense of humor. I am sarcastic and love to joke and I need a woman who will do the same.
Quiet and shy, baby girl my gift got you high
Made you wanna hit me with the keys to that five
Just jokin baby, I have a sharp sense of humor
Wish I woulda bumped into your frame a lot sooner
Ghostface "Camay"

2. Gotta keep herself up. I prefer a woman to be feminine. Don’t be afraid to get your hair and nails done or go shopping. I like the “girly-girls.”
Cause baby girl got all the right weaponry
Designer fabric, shoes, and accessories
Chinky eyes, sweet voice is messin' with me mentally
Mos Def "Ms. Fat Booty"

3. Gotta love music. She doesn't have to like what I like, but music is such a big part of my life, I need her to feel it too.
So far, I hope you like rap songs
Bonita Applebum, you gotta put me on.
A Tribe Called Quest “Bonita Applebum”

4. Gotta be intelligent. I been through the whole dumb girl thing and I ain’t going back. I need a woman to stimulate my mind.
Because I love a young lady that's beautiful
but one that's smart for me, is more suitable
In other words, to make it simple and plain
You gotta have a brain in order to be Ms. Kane
Big Daddy Kane “I Get the Job Done”

5. Gotta make me a priority. I put my woman first and I expect that same thing. She needs to have my back like I have hers.
Talk bad about her nigga guaranteed to snap like bra
Strap stickin together like grandma and grandpa-pa
Outkast “Jazzy Belle”

6. Gotta be sexually liberated. We ain’t young no more. Don’t be afraid to try new things.
Yo, my girl's a grown woman who ain't trynna get her eagle on
She'd rather be in bed gettin' her Kegel on
In and out, working the walls when the heat is on
Like Mary J. or Tweet is on, now sing along...
Little Brother “Say It Again”

7. Gotta love children. I want a woman who will be a good mother the same way I plan to be a good father. Nothing should be more important than the child's well being.
My pretty black princess smell sweet like that incense
That you buy at the bookstore supporting black business
Teach her what black is; the fact is her parents are thorough
She four reading Cornrows by Camille Yarborough
I keep her hair braided, bought her a black Barbie
I keep her mind free; she ain't no black zombie
Talib Kweli “Black Girl Pain”

8. Gotta inspire me to be a better person. I need someone to keep me from becoming complacent and nurtures my personal growth.
I just want you to know
Your whole being is beautiful
Im going to do the best I can do
Cause i'm the best when i'm with you
Common “Come Close”

9. Gotta appreciate the “little things.” Love is not always about the grand gestures. Sometimes it's just the simple act of spooning and watching her while she sleeps.
There's no one way, it can be explained
I guess it's the way I smile, when I hear your name
It's the little things that you do, that mean so much
It's the care that you put, into every touch
It's the way I touch you, and you touch me
I guess some of us, are so lucky.
Whodini “One Love”

10. Gotta challenge me. Don’t always give me my way; that is the quickest way for me to lose interest. Express your opinions even if I don't agree.
Plus I love the fact you got a mind of your own
Method Man “All I Need”

So there’s my list. This was extremely difficult and I don’t know what I was thinking trying to incorporate lyrics into it. I’m not tagging anybody, because this is probably all over the blogosphere already. Anyone who is not already doing this on their blog, feel free to share your attributes in the comment section. And if you have already done it, feel free to put the link in the comments so everybody can read it.

It was written...

Criminal Minded

Inspiration - "Criminal Minded" Boogie Down Productions "Criminal minded, you've been blinded/Lookin for a style like mine you can't find it/They are the audience, I am the lyricist/Sometimes the suckas on the side gotta hear this/Page, enraged, that I'm not in a cage/Free as a bird to fly up out on stage/Ain't here for no frontin just to say a little somethin/Ya suckaz don't like me cause you're all about nothin"

What I'm Listening To - "Breakin Atoms" Main Source

Question(s) I Asked Myself Today - "Am I telling too much with this post?"

A sit-eation (yeah, I spelled it like that on purpose) came up today that made me think about the old T. See the old T. was a miscreant, a deviant who would sooner pick your pocket than talk to you. Without going into too many details, I had an opportunity today for a quick come up and for a minute, I forgot that I was a grown ass man. I fought the temptation and didn't involve myself in the criminal enterprise, but I thought to myself... "If this had been a few years back..." Back in the day, I didn't concern myself with matters of right and wrong. If there was an opportunity to take your shit, your shit would be tooken (yes, I typed that on purpose too.) I ran scams like a professional confidence man back then. You wouldn't see it coming. The quiet guy in the corner was scheming on a way to get you for what you got. Let me give you a few examples.

Back in high school, I never really had any money. I mean, we lived comfortably but there wasn't anything left over for frivolous things like allowances. Being a prideful teen, I had to find a way to supplement my income so I could afford to go to football games or Jack and Jill parties. $5 was a lot of money to me then. So I hustled. Nothing bad like selling drugs or armed robbery, I used my brain and sneakiness to achieve my goals. There was this kid at my school named Brad (I can use his real name b/c there is no chance of him ever reading my blog.) Brad was a little white kid who wanted to be down with the brothas, and chose my crew because we were Black, but not like scary Black, if you know what I mean. Brad used to always brag about his material possessions. I felt it was my duty to liberate said items from him. Over the course of 2 years, I must have stolen 3 walkmans, a gameboy, and untold amounts of cash from Brad. The ill thing was he never knew how his stuff kept coming up missing. The way I did it was slick. I watched him when he opened his locker and stole the combination. Then later when he was in class, I would help myself to his belongings. My justification was that he was a white boy who had every advantage and I was a Black man stilled denied my 40 acres and mule. Whatever, I know that's bullshit, but selling Brad's stuff kept me laced in the freshest Cross Colours and British Knights.

In college, I had a similar hustle. But this time, because I went to a HBCU (SAVANNAH STATE UNIVERSITY, REPRESENT!!!) there weren't many overprivileged white kids to rob. I made it my mission to steal from those guys who were being supported by mommy and 'em. A good rule of thumb is "Don't brag about what you got in front of T., because it will come up missing." Case in point, I had an associate by the name of Bear. Bear had his own apartment and always had the fellas over to drink and smoke weed. This nigga just got extra verbose when he was faded, bragging about what he had. Mind you, he aint have a job, so really that's not his shit, its his parents shit. One day, me and my homeys decided that we were tired of hearing his rhetoric and decided to teach him a lesson. As usual, that night there were a ton of people at Bear's apartment getting intoxicated. My man Kareem starts feeding Bear shot after shot of liquor (we were drinking Bacardi 151) and when Bear said he was through, my other homeboy Tori and I goaded him into drinking some more. "Come on, man! Don't be a little bitch!" Bear succumbed to the peer pressure and drank until he passed out. Slowly the throngs of hanger-ons either left or fell asleep, and that's when we struck. We stole every last one of Bear's Playstation games, the majority of his cd's and $100 he had hidden in a empty Alize bottle. When we saw him the next time, he told us that he got robbed and we acted like we ain't know what happened. My justification was I needed it more than he did.

It wasn't until a couple years after college when I was finally scared straight. I can't tell you this story, but suffice it to say that my criminal ways didn't diminish after graduation. I found a new hustle at one of my jobs, straight white collar. My justification was "these mf's should be paying me more for all the work I do!" It was all lovely for awhile, I was enjoying the free money until I got caught. Well, maybe I should say "suspected" because nothing was ever proven and no charges were ever filed. But I got interrogated. Now, I had thought about that moment before, but I never thought that I would end up like Caine in Menace to Society. You remember that scene with the detective saying "you know you done fucked up right?" That's how I was, every ounce of coolness I had going into the room disappeared. The shit scared the hell out of me and I have been (mostly) legal ever since.

Yeah, I admit that I thought about it today. But that only lasted a split second. I'm not the same cat I used to be. I think about right and wrong now. I no longer try to justify my fucked up actions. Besides, I'm too pretty for jail. Anybody else do dirt back in the day? We won't judge you, I promise.


It was written...

Little Brother

Inspiration: Last night's Little Brother concert

What I'm Listening To: A conference call for work. Damn, I can't believe I am at home taking calls.

Question(s) I Asked Myself Today: "If an if was a spliff, would we all be stoned?" Don't ask, people always say "If this happened" or "If that happened." You can't worry about the what could have been, you just gotta live your life, dawg. I know this question doesn't make sense to anyone but me, but it's my blog so deal with it.

So I meant to write this post last night, but I came home and crashed instead. Last night was the Little Brother show at the Roxy and to say I enjoyed myself would be an understatement. I had been looking forward to this concert since I first got the email back in January. But I almost didn't make it...

In anticipation of going out last night, I had rearranged my schedule at work to get off early. That meant that I had to go to work at 7:00 in the morning. Anybody that knows me knows that I am not a morning person, so that was a struggle for me. I made it to work around 7:30-ish and proceeded to go about the mundane duties of my day. Everybody was shocked to see me there of course. I can't count how many times I heard, "T., what are you doing here this early?" I even caught a couple of my employees casually strolling in late. It was funny to see them start walking more quickly when they caught my disapproving gaze from my desk and then come up with lame unsolicited excuses. But anyway, my plan was to get out of there at 3:30, take a nap and get to the Roxy at 7:45 to pick up my ticket from the Will Call window. Somehow, I got caught up doing stuff and didn't even take a lunch. The next thing I know its 4:00 and I am still at work. I turn off my computer and say peace to my team and at that point everybody and their mother decides that they just have to talk to me before I go. You know that scene in the Godfather where everybody was trying to get a favor from Don Corleone? That's what it was like. I literally had people lining up at my desk to talk to me. Now, I wasn't trying to be rude, but I think I came across that way b/c I wasn't really listening to anything they were saying. I was just focused on going home. After cutting several conversations short, I finally made it out the door at 4:45 with my plans for a quick nap dashed.

When I got home, I ironed up the Roc-A-Fella shirt, one of the few remaining casual items in my wardrobe and sat down at the computer to catch up on blogs. I know I could have made better use of my time, but I am a procrastinator. In my mind, I had plenty of time; the show didn't start until 8 and according to MapQuest (the sorry muhfuckas, more on that later) it only took 19 minutes to get to the Roxy. The next thing I know it's 7:00 and it was time to be out. Did I ever tell you I have a horrible sense of direction? I think it's hereditary. If me and my family were runaway slaves, we would follow the underground railroad the wrong way and end up even deeper in the south. Knowing my shortcomings, I allowed 45 minutes for a 20 minute trip. So, I'm following the directions I had printed out and everything was cool. I actually thought I would be somewhere early for a change. I was following the map perfectly: I-75 to exit 255 - Check. Turn left on West Paces Ferry- Check. Ride for 3.2 miles and turn left on Early St- Now we have a problem. Where the f*ck is Early Street? I looked at the odometer, I was at 3.2 miles but the street was nowhere to be seen.

I rode past for a few more minutes, think that maybe Mapquest just had the mileage wrong, then got anxious and busted a left on some street thinking I could still find what I was looking for. That was a dumb move. Don't ask me how I got there, but next thing I know in heavy traffic on Piedmont looking for landmarks that I remembered from a drunken night in Buckhead 2 years ago. What happened next was a comedy of errors. I made a series of bad traffic decisions and ended up back by Lennox Square Mall. I know the questions you are asking yourself, cuz I asked myself the same thing. Why didn't I just turn around and go the way I came from? Why didn't I just ask somebody how to get there? T. don't roll like that. Logic goes out the window when I'm driving. It's like my IQ level drops significantly when I'm looking for something. I eventually found 285 and just took the long way down Roswell Road, which is what I should have done in the first place since I know that street. I finally got to the Roxy at 8:40.

After picking up my ticket, I headed to the bar to get a quick drink (shit, I deserved that after what I put myself through) and asked someone what I missed so far. I didn't catch the opening act, Defari, which was no big deal for me. The consensus was that his show was nothing special. Besides, I only came to see Little Brother anyway. I made my to the performance area and waited for the next act. That's when L.B. came out. They did about an hour set. I was rapping along with them and getting hyped up. Now, T. don't dance, but he damn sure was throwing his hands in the air and waving them like he just don't care. It was a great hip hop show. They did a lot of my favorite joints of "The Minstrel Show" and a couple off of "The Chitlin Circuit", and one old joint off the "The Listening." The great thing about their show was that you could just feel the love they had for performing and they had a lot of fun on stage. You didn't see a lot of the posturing and looking hard that you find in a lot of rap shows. These brothas have a pure love for hip hop and it resonates in their performance. They ended the show with their single "Lovin It" (I still don't understand why they don't have another single out yet, the album is full of hits) and I was thoroughly satisfied, although selfishly, I wish they would have stayed on longer, and did some more of their old joints.

The headliner of the concert was Dilated Peoples. I tried to get into their show, but not having heard much of their music, I wasn't really feeling it. I did know 2 or 3 of their songs, but that was it. The high point of DP's show to me was their DJ, Babu. He took it back with his mastery of the turntable. You don't really see that many cats who can scratch like that and build a track live on stage. Babu was nice with the cuts. I got one of their free CD sampler so I can see if I can get into Dilated Peoples. They had a pretty nice following, but I was just standing there trying to feel the music, but not succeeding. After the show, Little Brother was hanging out in the lobby signing autographs and taking flicks. They were very accommodating to the fans. I'm no Stan, so I just gave them a pound, and told them "Great show" and kept it moving. I took the scenic route home through Downtown Atlanta, and when I got home I tried to write this post and watch the season finale of "The Shield" but fell the f*ck out instead. I woke up this morning with a hoarse voice and happy that I went to the show. Right now I am typing this while on a conference call for work, so I have to go now.

It was written...

I Stand Accused

Inspiration - "I Stand Accused" - Isaac Hayes "I stand accused/ Of lovin' you too much/ And I hope I hope it's not a crime/ 'Cause if it is, I'm guilty Of lovin' you, you, you" I know it ain't hip hop, but I love his music. I can listen to "Hot Buttered Soul" everyday and not get tired of it. Plus, Ike has been sampled so much by rappers that he is like an architect of the hip hop movement.

What I'm Listening To: A bunch of R. Kelly joints I downloaded

Question(s) I Asked Myself Today: "If Duke loses, can I still win my tournament pool?" Yes, I need Duke to lose in this round and Gonzaga to lose in the final four and Connecticut to win the whole thing. Then I can win bragging rights.

A while back, I got accused of a heinous crime. Somebody had the nerve to imply that I was sensitive. I was shocked. T. is a lot of things: T. is abrasive, T. is arrogant, T. is an asshole. But T. is NOT sensitive. I immediately recoiled at the image of me with a greasy S-Curl wearing a yellow suit and dancing around like Ralph Tresvant. You know, crooning to the ladies about how they need a man with sensitivity. I can't go out like that. However, after my Ally McBeal type fantasy was over, I thought about it. Maybe I am just a little sensitive.

I do care about people's feelings. Even though I sometimes talk without thinking, when I do mull it over, I try my best to sugar coat things or say them in a way that won't offend people. Case in point, there is a girl I work with that is, let's just say, hair and make up challenged. She draws in her lip line with a pencil and she comes out looking like the Joker from Batman. She also slathers her hair down on her face with gel. When the gel gets old, it gets all dry, crusty and flaky. While what I really wanna say to her is, "you need to wash your hair because it looks like you just got a money shot in a porno," I had to find a way to say that tactfully to avoid hurting her feelings. So instead of destroying her with my harsh words, sensitive T. suggested that she do her hair differently because it would look good on her. It didn't work, but you get the point. I was sensitive about that because I cared about her feelings.

I also do care about political and societal issues as well. Like most people, Hurricane Katrina hit me hard. Call me sensitive if you want, but I just couldn't bear to see those children suffering. I donated as much as I could at the time and gave away a bunch of old clothes. I think about the ramifications of our country's political landscape and how it will affect the poor and underserved members of our community. I guess in that way I do have some sensitivity in me.

On another note, I think I can display sensitivity in my personal relationships too. I try not to treat people disrespectfully. While you always hear about cheating male dogs, I have only cheated on someone one time, and that shit will never happen again. (Cut me some slack, I was in college at the time.) I like to think that I really listen when my girlfriends are talking and respect their dreams and aspirations. I know where my respect for women comes from. I grew up in a household with 4 generations of women. I lived with my great grandmother, my grandmother, my mother and my sister. If that doesn't teach you how to treat women, nothing will. Now, I still have a problem expressing this sensitivity, but it's there and I'm working on being more overt with it.

So, after my initial rush of testosterone, I think I am okay with the label of being sensitive. I had to realize that being sensitive doesn't mean that you are suspect. My question for all of you ladies reading this is this: Do you want your man to display sensitivity or do you prefer him to be a so called "real man?" Also have you had a boyfriend that was too sensitive? Where do you draw the line? Sorry to give you homework, but I am really curious about what you guys think.

It was written...

Freestyle Friday

My cable company sucks. I am writing this damn post at work, because my cable (including my internet) has been out since Wednesday afternoon. I haven't had time at work to come up with a cohesive post, so I am going to just tell you some of the random thoughts that popped in my head today. I call it Freestyle Friday:

Syracuse really screwed me. I picked them to go to the finals, I thought they were a team of destiny, but they just underacheived like usual. Check out my bracket

Why did this chick just pinch me? (I found out later)

Am I really not supposed to notice titties at work? Come on, I know there are sexual harassment laws, and I'm not seeking them out, but damn, you should see what these women are wearing.

I wonder how many times I can not answer my phone before they will get the hint. I'm talking about my work phone, but this goes for home too.

Okay, I just read Nikki's post and apparently since I didn't wear green on St. Patrick's Day, muhfuckas think they got the right to infringe on my personal space.

When I wore that green shirt on Wednesday, I had to beat them girls off with a stick.

Damn, I'm a cocky muhfucka. (not really, but maybe sometimes)

I want a drink. Like really, really want a drink. I'm no alcoholic but today is one of those days.

If this girl don't quit talking to me while I'm blogging, I'm gonna lose it.

I haven't been to a strip club in 2006. Time to rectify that oversight.

I talk on my cell phone like I am still in high school.

I need a vacation like nobody's business.

Forest Whitaker is killing it on "The Shield" this year. He really is a phenomenal actor

I really like Mos Def, and I think he's a good actor, but the WTF was up with that accent in "16 Blocks"

For some reason, I have been getting road rage. I've been cursing cats out left and right on my 5 minute ride to work.

Seriously, this girl needs to stop talking to me,. I don't care about the guy you met at Vision.

I bought 10 boxes of Girl Scout cookies from my niece. What the f*ck am I gonna do with 10 boxes of cookies?

Little Brother at the Roxy on Tuesday. I am there. I wish my friends were into hip hop like I am, but since they aren't, T.Casanova will be going solo to the concert.

I haven't gone grocery shopping in a month. I got butter, sugar and expired milk in my kitchen.

I know it's messed up but I don't comment on any blogs written by men.

I love to say "I told you so!" because I like the validation of being right all the damn time.

Keyshawn Johnson has comparable stats to Michael Irvin, so why does everybody hate on him? I wish the Falcons would sign him but it ain't gonna happen because our G.M. can't stand him from when they were both in Tampa.

What is that sample in that new T.I. song? That catchy ass tune got me saying "What you know about that?" all day.

Remember in "Purple Rain" when Prince just flipped and bitch slapped Apollonia? That's what I wanna do to the next person who comes to my desk uninvited. (Private message for ___: Remember the I Would Die 4 U dance? "all, all, all I really need/is to know that u believe)

It's time for me to get a girlfriend, I've been solo long enough. But I am gonna miss doing what I want when I want.

The next woman I can put up with (or vice versa) for 3 months is getting knocked up. (I'm joking, I think)

I wonder if she is thinking about me right now.

Enough freestyling. Time to go home.

It was written...

Get At Me, Dog

Inspiration- "Get At Me, Dog" - DMX "Yo, yo ya niggaz wanna be killers (get at me dog)/Ya niggaz wanna feel us (get at me dog)/Ya niggaz want the real (Get at me dog)/Rrrrrr arf arf what the deal"

What I'm Listening To - "Doggystyle" - Snoop Doggy Dogg

Question(s) I Asked Myself Today - "Why am I so fly? I don't know. But why am I so high? It's that indo" I had a Snoop flashback today. (G'z Up, Hoes Down)

It was a cold winter morning in Spring Valley, New York. I was chilling in my bomber jacket with my rainbow coalition of friends. You know how it is when you are kids, race doesn't really matter. I had a white friend (Timmy), a Jewish friend(Ira) and a friend from India (Gautam). The year was 1983 or 84. I can't really remember. I think my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is affecting my memory of this day, but I'll try to relay the story as best I can. There was a fresh sheet of snow on the ground that morning. Snow that had yet to be corrupted by car emissions and other air pollutants. Some may even say that it was beautiful. Me and my three friends, were waiting for the school bus at the front of our apartment complex. We were in 3rd or 4th grade at Elmwood Elementary. We talked about the latest cartoon or Choose Your Own Adventure book as we tossed around a football. We threw snowballs at the little girls who protested, but secretly loved the attention. Then it happened. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what was going on across the street. (Cue the Dee-Bo music from Friday.)

The older kids went to Kakiat Junior High School and their bus stop was directly across from ours. Generally, they didn't mess with us and we didn't bother them. I do remember being fascinated with their behavior. In second grade, I heard one of them say the word fuck and I have had a love affair with that word ever since. To me they were the coolest of the cool and I couldnt wait until I was old enough to be like them. This morning though, their actions caused me a problem that I would have for the next 20 years.

In my part of New York, there were tons of stray dogs. I think when people got tired of feeding their pets they would just put them out of the house. Consequently, it was no big deal to see packs of dogs roaming the streets. That morning was no exception. 2 big ass, mean looking Doberman Pinchers (that's what we called them, I know it's really Pinscher) strolled up to the Junior High School bus stop. For some reason, the older kids decided it would be fun to pelt the animals with snowballs. The dogs were agitated, but not really phased. A little bit of snow wasn't enough to get rid of them. The rainbow coalition sat back and laughed at the antics of our elders. Then this kid, Brian decided that he would up the ante. I guess he thought it would be funny to throw an ice ball. For those raised in the south, an iceball is basically a snowball with water on it. The water freezes and the ice gets hard. Believe me, from experience, that shit hurts like hell if you get hit. Many a snowball fight has ended because someone decided to hurl an iceball. That was enough to dead all the playing and start a real fight. Anyway, enough of my digression. Brian chucked the iceball at one of the dogs and hit it square in the head. His schoolmates apparently became inspired and decided to follow suit. Iceballs were flying like Scud missiles in Kuwait. You can only imagine how the dogs reacted. (Cue the music to Jaws.)

The rainbow coalition and I stood at our bus stop unaware of what would happen next. We were just innocent spectators. Who knew that they would take out there wrath on us poor unsuspecting elementary school students? Like a lion picking off the weakest gazelle, the two dobermans (or is it dobermen?) darted towards our direction. We scattered like White women in a horror movie, not knowing where to go to escape their murderous intent. I scampered up a tree, unaware that my ass didn't know how to climb a tree. Timmy and Gautam were not so lucky. One doberman grabbed Gautam and took a chunk out of his leg. I heard his wailing from atop my perch in the tree. The bite went through his yellow plastic boots. Meanwhile, the other dog had a mouthful of Timmy's pants leg. I can still see Timmy's face turning red as he frantically tried to extricate the doberman's incisors from his flesh. Ira ran away to parts unknown. I had no idea where he disappeared to, nor did I care. He was safe. The other students fled as well, but I was fixated on self preservation at that point. After what seemed like an eternity, our bus pulled up. Finally, we were rescued! However, our punk ass bus driver took one look at what was happening and drove off, leaving us to fend for ourselves against a pair of manaical canines. (cue Psycho music)

Eventually, the attack was over. I slithered down from the tree and helped Gautum (who had the worst wounds) to his feet. Timmy managed to stand up under his own power. Since the bus had left we staggered to the back of the apartment complex to go to our respective apartments and call our parents. About halfway there, we were accosted again by the sounds of loud barking. I looked over my shoulder and screamed "THEY'RE BACK!!!" Now, I was the only one without any bites so I was moving quicker than my friends. I sprinted to the first open door and begged for Timmy and Gautam to hurry up. Just in the nick of time, they reached the door and I slammed it shut. We sat in the hallway, and looked out at the snarling dobermans barking like they they just found a dimebag in one of our bookbags. We knocked on doors until we finally found an adult that had enough heart to chase the dogs away.

Ever since that day I have hated dogs and I don't mean a little bit. I mean full on phobia shit. It doesn't matter how big or small, I can't stand to be around them. Imagine a grown ass man fleeing from a shitzu and that's me. When I was living with my ex, she brought home a little mutt, a Jack Russell terrier I think. I tried my best to live with 'Lady' but I couldn't do it. The thought of this little demon dog roaming around the house while I slept was too much for me. So, what did I do? I lied and said that I was allergic to dogs. I acted like I couldn't breathe when 'Lady' was around. I mean I could have gotten an Oscar for my performance. So the ex gave the dog up. I never told her I was making that shit up until recently. Yeah, I admit it, T.Casanova is a little punk when it comes to dogs. But I have a pretty good reason, dont ya think?

It was written...

Don't Believe The Hype!

Inspiration - "Don't Believe The Hype" Public Enemy "Their pens and pads I'll snatch'Cause I've had it/I'm not an addict fiendin' for static/I'll see their tape recorder and I grab it/No, you can't have it back silly rabbit/I'm going' to my media assassin/Harry Allen, I gotta ask him/Yo Harry, you're a writer, are we that type?/Don't believe the hype"

What I'm Listening To - "Muddy Waters" - Redman

Question(s) I Asked Myself Today - "Should I write this post knowing that most people are going to disagree with me?" Of course I should. I ain't never been afraid to say what's on my mind.

So I know I'm gonna catch hell for this one. But I have to say it. "Flavor of Love" is the stupidest shit I've ever seen. Let me rephrase that. I've never seen a whole episode, mainly because I just want pull out a .9 and shoot my TV whenever it comes on. Let me tell you why I feel this way.

Public Enemy was one of my favorite rap groups of the 80's and early 90's. They were all about Black conciousness. Even when Flavor Flav came out for some comic relief, it still had a message to it. Remember "911 is a Joke?" Yeah, it was funny, but it still had an undercurrent of a social message. These dudes were the epitome of anti establishment hip hop. Flav was that cat that told us "motherfuck him and John Wayne." Fast forward to 2004, and this cat is on "The Surreal Life" cooning around with Ivan Drago's wife. I couldn't understand how one of the guys responsible for "Fear of A Black Planet" could go out like that.

But who am I to judge? If Flav wants to play himself for a 6 foot white women, thats his choice. Then I saw his next show, "Strange Love." He took the silliness to minstrel show levels. The whole show was based on the fact that he and Bridgett Nielson were different. She had him ballroom dancing and he had her in the hood getting fronts. Everybody was talking about it, but I just thought that he was soft shoeing like a muhfucka. All he needed was some exaggerated big lips and a slice of watermelon. Maybe I think too much, but all I saw was everything that Public Enemy stood for was being desecrated.

2006 came and Flavor Flav got a new show, "Flavor of Love." This show featured 2o attention whores vying for Flav's romantic attention. Let's not even talk about why these women wanted Flav. It was obviously a publicity thing for most if not all of them. Flav ain't exactly (insert your favorite male celebrity here.) But to look at the idiotic behavior that he displayed while courting these women, I was just embarrassed. I know it aint my place to tell a grown man how to act, but this is how I feel. Flav is playing himself on VH-1, the same channel that would not play a Public Enemy video if the fate of the world depended on it. When they were pointing out the injustices Black people go through, they didn't want him. But now that he is willing to show his ass on TV, they can't get enough of him. I caught a bit of the finale episode the other night and it was like watching a train wreck. You don't wanna see it happen, but you can't look away. The sistas, (at least he had sistas), were hoeing themselves out to be on TV. The things they said and the way they acted were obviously (to me) contrived. And when he gave the "winner" some gold fronts, I had to turn the channel. I couldn't take anymore. I know lots of people like this shit, but I just can't stand it.

I wish I could meet Flav so I could remind him that he was once part of an important movement. I don't know what happened to him but he has gone from a cultural icon to modern day Sambo. Flav once said that before he would sell out he'd get the hell out. But that's exactly what he has done. I want to remind him of the lyrics to one of his own songs. Flav, don't believe the hype, because after the fame dies down you will be just another Black man who had his time and lost his self respect. So everybody if you got something to say, go ahead and hit me up in the comments. I realize that this is not the popular view and I am ready for the criticism.

It was written...

Saturday Night at Atlantic Station

I just got back from Atlantic Station in downtown Atlanta. It was my first time there. Here are a few observations:

1. There were a lot more Black people than I was expecting. I don't know where I got the idea that it would be an other man type of scene, but I was pleasantly surprised to see so many brothas and sistas hanging out.
2. There was not a huge police presence there. Usually whenever there are lot of Black people there are a lot of police watching. It wasn't like that tonight. It was just a chill scene.
3. Atlanta has some beautiful women. There really are more eligible women than men in Atlanta. I saw many groups of women out together enjoying themselves. Basically, the only men there were with women.
4. Jessica should never wear heels when we go out. She already is about 1/4 inch taller than me. The heels just made me look even shorter.
5. Atlantic Station is the cleanest place I've been in the city. There were no panhandlers and no trash in the streets. The whole place is catered to pedestrians, so there were no cars cruising back and forth.
6. There were plenty of spaces in the parking garage. Parking was also very reasonably priced. Most of the time downtown parking will run you 10 or 15 dollars. Or if you don't mind a crackhead watching your car, you might be able to slide for $5. I was there for 3 hours and only had to pay $1.
7. It smells really good there. I don't know what restaurant it was, but there was a lingering aroma throughout the streets. I wanna go back to eat at some of those establishments.
8. The movie theater was top notch. With the exception of the slow concession stands, everything was cool. The reclining seats were very comfortable. It was almost like those home theaters you see on MTV Cribs, but on a larger scale.
9. I will always get lost when I go downtown. For some reason I can get there, but I can never find 75 North to get back home. Tonight was no exception.
10. I think I found my new hang out spot. I'll probably go back next weekend to chill. I want to check out some of the bars next time.

It was written...

Notorious B.I.G.

Inspiration: The music of The Notorious B.I.G.

What I'm Listening to: Ready to Die and Life After Death - Notorious B.I.G.

I met him in Brooklyn. He was hanging out with Heavy D. and "A Buncha Niggas." When he spit his verse I knew he would "bring drama, like ya spit on (his) mama." He was a "head peeler, girl stealer/ coffin sealer, ex drug dealer." We hit up a club to "Party and Bullshit." Some mess popped off and I "asked (him) if he had his gat." His response was a slick "Sure do. 2 .22's in my shoes." The drama died down and we became friends. BIG told me about his "Dreams" as he would "sit back, relax, steam a blunt and sip a Becks." We reminisced about the old days and he let me know that "Things Done Changed." I'll never forget when he said " back in the days our parents used to take care of us/Look at them now they even fuckin' scared of us/ calling the city for help b/c they can't maintain/ damn, shit done changed."

See they had good reason to be scared. Me and Biggie was on some "Gimme the Loot" stuff. We was "slamming niggas like Shaquille, shit is real/ when its time to eat a meal/ (we) rob and steal." Eventually, he tried to move away from the life of crime. He put me on to that "Machine Gun Funk." On a cold winter night BIG told me that he was "doing rhymes now/ fuck the crime now. Come on the ave, I'm real hard to find now." That didn't stop him from issuing a "Warning" to anyone who would test him. For them, there would "be a lot of slow singing and flower bringing/ if (his) burglar alarm started ringing." You couldn't test him. Biggie was "Ready To Die" if need be. He said " Fuck the world, fuck my moms and my girl/My life is played out like a Jheri Curl.

I asked him to give life "One More Chance" Surely there was something to live for. For Big, that reason became the ladies. He didn't care if they were "skinny or fat, light skinned or black." He had a motto he liked to call "The What": "bitches I like 'em brainless/ guns I like them stainless steel/ I want the fuckin fortune like the wheel." And he got it, too. His life became "Juicy" after a while. Where at first "birthdays were the worst days, now we sip champagne when we thirsty." The money didn't go to his head though. He remembered back when it was an "Everyday Struggle" He never lost sight of his drug dealing days. He knew "how it feel to wake up fucked up/ pockets broke as hell, another rock to sell." Biggie didn't glorify those days, but he damn sure didn't forget.

Around that time, he started messing with this girl named Kim. "Me and My Bitch" he used to say. He relayed how she "liked to play ceelo and craps/packin gats, in a Coach bag, steaming dime bags." He loved it when she called him "Big Poppa." But she wasn't the only one in his life. One night at club he told me that "one of these honeys Biggie got to creep with/sleep with, keep the ep a secret why not?/ Why blow up my spot cuz we both got hot." It was a matter of "Respect." BIG had come a long way since "Nineteen seventy something" and couldn't bring himself to settle down with one woman. He liked to say that he "don't sweat those hoes" because they would just as soon get with a "Friend of Mine." He told me a story about a girl he was messing with. He said one day he was "on the creep up the avenue/I seen her on the block, who she rappin' to?/That's my nigga Dee, damn he got G/Now she fuckin him and fuckin me, see/You know that ain't right"

That shit was "Unbelievable." to me. But it didn't phase him. He still had that Brooklyn swagger about him. His lyrical prowess was never in question. Everybody knew who he was and if you didn't he would let you know. He'd say he was "B-I-G, G-I-E, AKA, B.I.G./Get it? Biggie/Also known as the bon appetit/Rappers can't sleep need sleepin Big keep creepin/Bullets heat-seekin, casualties need treatin/Dumb rappers need teachin" That put all of the other rappers in their place. Eventually the stress of being the best led him to have "Suicidal Thoughts." He said he "was sick of niggas lying, I'm sick of bitches hawkin/ matter of fact, I'm sick of talking. And just like that it was over. He told me he was "Ready to Die" a while back, but I didn't believe it.


One shot couldn't touch him. Thank God for that. He started to "Get Money" with Junior Mafia. He even taunted his enemies by asking "Who Shot Ya?" Biggie was indeed "Brooklyn's Finest." He had so much to say about his "Life after Death" that one CD couldn't hold it all. I was "Hypnotize(d)" when he told me "I Got a Story to Tell" about "Mo Money, Mo Problems" He posed the question "What's Beef?" and then answered his own query with a "Kick in the Door." "Notorious Thugs" from all over followed his "Ten Crack Commandments." He taught me that the "Sky's the Limit" and it don't matter if you are "Going Back to Cali" or waiting for that "Long Kiss Goodnight", "You're Nobody ('Til Somebody Kills You)" Sadly on March 9th, 1997, somebody did just that. An assassin's bullet cut down the greatness of Frank White AKA Biggie AKA The Notorious B.I.G., AKA Christopher Wallace.

I now know how people feel when they remember vividly where they were when JFK or John Lennon was killed. I'll never forget that night laying on the couch when my sister called and told me the bad news. The feeling of disbelief at a life ended way too soon. The promise of a genius snuffed out in its prime. A ghetto griot no longer around to spin his tales to the masses. REST IN PEACE, BIGGIE!!! You will never be forgotten.






It was written...

Growing Old

Inspiration - "Growing Old" - Outkast "Fat titties turn to teardrops as fat ass turns to flab/Sores that was open wounds eventually turn to scab/Trees bright and green turn yellow brown/Autumn caught em, see all them leaves must fall down/growin old"

What I'm Listening To - "Baduizm" - Erykah Badu

Question(s) - "Why is Blogger buggin out? I have been trying to save this post for 30 minutes"

I think I'm getting old. Don't get me wrong, for the most part I'm still young at heart. I still like to do the things I did when I was in my 20's. I still look young. I still sometimes get carded when I'm buying a drink. But there are a couple of things that have happened since my 30th birthday that lead me to think I might be getting old.

When I was 29, turning 30 was no big deal to me. I had that "age ain't nothing but a number" philosphy. So imagine my surprise the day after my birthday, when I looked in the mirror and saw one gray hair in my beard. It was like the universe was saying, "I'm gonna give you a sign that you are old." I learned to love the solitary gray hair in my beard. It kinda makes me look distinguished. At least that's what I tell myself.

In my teens and twenties, I never got cold. I mean I don't think I owned a coat for the last 10 years. I was the cat that kept his heat off all winter. If it was 30 degrees outside, then I would rock a hoodie, but not a coat. I would pray for snow, and living in ATL, that just didn't happen. Since I turned 30 though its like the script has flipped. All of a sudden I can't stand the cold weather. I find myself using 2 blankets and turning on the heat in my crib. And don't get me started on Georgia Natural Gas and their high ass gas bills. Them mf's sent me a $96.17 gas bill last month. I can't wait for winter to be over; my 31 year old ass is sick of the cold weather.

The worst part of growing old is the little annoying aches and pains that I never used to get. In the last year and a half since I turned 30, I have had little shit happen to me that I can't explain. Last year, after a 4 hour car drive, my neck got so stiff that I couldn't turn my head to the left. So there I was, 30 years old, buying Ben Gay. I also had to go to the doctor for migraines. I had them when I was a kid, but I controlled them in my 20's. Once I turned 30, I was having headaches everyday. I had an MRI and they didn't find anything, luckily. It turns that the cause was mainly caffiene. So I had to give up my morning cup of coffee and my afternoon Cherry Coke. I am not a morning person at all. That caffeine boost was what got me through the day, but now since I am getting old I had to give that up.

The latest sign of getting old happened 2 days ago. I was at my desk at work and decided to walk around. I was getting sleepy and needed to get up to clear my head. I stood up and noticed a sharp pain in my left elbow. I thought nothing of it, but when I got home my arm was so stiff that I couldn't even hold my phone to my ear. (I'm a natural southpaw so I hold the phone in my left hand.) It felt and looked like my elbow was dislocated and needed to be popped back into place. I couldnt understand what happened. It wasn't because of physical exertion, I was just sitting at my desk when my arm locked. That night I couldnt even sleep, because whenever I moved the pain would wake me up. I have to face facts: I'm getting old and there ain't a damn thing I can do about it.

Let me say it again. I still feel young at heart. I listen to young people's music and like to play young people's games. In fact for the most part, I can't believe that I am in my thirties. I still stay up all night like I used to, but it seems like my body is trying to tell me that I am old. Aiight, I'm out.

It was written.

Friends

Inspiration - "Friends" - Whodini "Friends is a word we use everyday/Most the time we use it in the wrong way/Now you can look the word up, again and again/But the dictionary doesnt know the meaning of friends/And if you ask me, you know, I couldnt be much help/Because a friend is somebody you judge for yourself/Some are ok, and they treat you real cool/But some mistake kindness for bein a fool

What I'm Listening To - "21 & Over" - Tha Alkaholiks

Question(s) I asked myself today - "How many times can I be late for work before they start noticing?"

Today's post is all about the friends. If any of you are reading this, I apologize in advance for putting your business out there. I'm leaving out names to protect as much as your anonymity as I can. But this is my forum for being able to talk about things. I feel sometimes that friendship is not always what its cracked up to be. I feel the pull to revert into my old loner self because the unnecessary drama is getting to me. My real life people reading this, don't ask me who I am talking about, because I am not going to tell you.

First of all, I don't have (m)any male friends. The last time I had a guy I could consider a real friend and not just someone I go to the strip club with was about 5 years ago. Therefore, for the purpose of this post, all of the friends are going to be women. To me, its just easier to share thoughts and feelings with a woman. And you get a better perspective on things besides, "you should f*ck that girl." But friendship with a female also presents its own set of unique problems.

Case in point, I have a friend now that I think is using me as a substitute for her man. She wants me to go with her to all the places he wont go. She seems to get jealous when I hang out with other friends. She gets upset if I disagree with her. The other day, she asked me to go to the mall with her and if you read my pet peeves post you know I don't do shopping with women. It's like we are boyfriend - girlfriend only without the f*cking.

I'm also finding myself caught in the middle of a situation between 2 mutual friends. Now, being the man that I am, I'm still cool with both of them. Your beef ain't got nothing to do with me. In fact, it ain't no thing for me to hang out with one on Friday and the other on Saturday. The messed up part is that we used to all hang out together and now I almost have to walk on eggshells to avoid creating a stressful situation. Now neither one has asked me to choose, but I feel the unspoken pressure to pick one friend over the other and I'm simply not going to do that. I'm still holding out hope that they can get their sh*t together. This is one of the pitfalls with being friends with women. In my experience, they seem to have falling outs over petty stuff and then I get stuck in the middle.

I recently had been doing some thinking, and I've come to realize that I have a couple of friendships that are pretty one sided. I'm always there to listen to their problems but I don't think they are on that same level with me. I think that I am just a natural listener and I don't like to talk about myself. I've revealed more about myself in this blog than I do in real life. That being said, if a situation arises that I need to talk about, I don't know that some of my friends really understand where I am coming from. It's a really momentous day when I actually ask someone for advice, partly because I am fiercely independent and partly because I am a really guarded person. (Some would say that I have a fear of intimacy, but that's a whole 'nother post.) For example, a while back when I was having some girl trouble, it kind of got dismissed as "oh, T.'s trying to be a pimp." That kinda f*cked with me, because I am far from the player type. I'm the guy who has 2 and 3 year relationships, and for them to reduce what I was going through to that showed me that they don't really know me.

Before you start thinking that these problems are all my friends doing, I have to acknowledge my part in this. I can sometimes be a bad friend. I freely admit that I spread myself too thin. There's just not enough of T. to go around and I find myself neglecting them sometimes. One of the things I am working on is learning how to balance my relationships. I am guilty in the past of putting friends to the side in favor of a woman. I've lost too many friends by pulling a disappearing act when I get in a relationship. I'm gonna try to make sure when the time comes that I don't do that again. I also have a knack for saying the right thing at the wrong time. In my quest to help them out, I can sometimes come across as insensitive. I have to realize that even though they need to know the truth, I have to come up with a better way of saying it.

So there's the saga with my friends. I'm writing this because I need to express what I'm thinking before I do the easy thing and just become a loner (again.) Friendships are very rewarding and necessary, but I still struggle with letting people get close enough to know the real me. That's another thing I'll have to work on. Aiight, enough thinking for one morning, I gotta get to work.

It was written...

No Doz Girl

I need to keep this short cuz I'm supposed to be going out with my friend Jessica. But I had to tell you about the ill sh*t that happened at work today. I'm minding my own business walking around like I always do, when I see this girl, slumped on the desk crying. My natural reaction would be to keep it moving, but something told me that something was amiss. So, I ask her what's going on and she tells me that she took 2 no doz with a coke and now she cant stop shaking. There's a couple of other people around, but they are looking at her like she is faking, and not taking the situation very seriously. I sat down next to the girl and looked at her and she literally looked she was going through some Parkinson's disease tremors. Her hands and face were shaking and she couldnt stop her leg from moving. I told one of the other manager's that we need to call an ambulance, partly because the girl looked horrible, and partly because if anything went down, we would be responsible. The girl kept insisting that she didn't want to go to the hospital, and to just call her baby daddy to pick her up. Against my better judgment, I went along with it. One of the other women grabbed her cell phone and called the guy. In the most niggerish tone imaginable, this mf said: "What the f*ck am I supposed to do? Tell her to take her ass to the hospital." I was in shock, the mother of his child is damn near about to black out and he showed no sympathy at all. Then they give No Doz girl the phone and they commence to have an argument while she is in the midst of her caffeine induced tremors. I was like ok that's enough. So I take the phone away from her and attempt to calm her down. She is now hyperventilating, and telling me that her heart was beating really fast. I don't know what came over me but I went into save the day mode. I motioned for the other manager to call 911, while I took care of No Doz girl. She was still insistent that we not call an ambulance, so I told a little white lie to keep her calm and said that we wouldn't. In the meantime, Baby Daddy got a conscience and decided to call back, which just upset No Doz girl even more.

SIDEBAR: (D~ did I steal this from you?) No Doz girl has a major crush on me. She has made no secret of this. I don't say this to make myself sound like a pimp, but its important to know for the rest of the story. Okay, let's continue!

I'm trying to keep her alert but calm at the same time. It's not working. I'm thinking to myself, "where the hell is the ambulance?" The other manager goes downstairs to wait for the paramedics so she can let them in the building. The other employee was talking on the cell phone to No Doz's baby daddy. That left me alone with a convulsing, hyperventilating woman, whose 5 foot nothing frame could not handle 1 pill, let alone 2. I know CPR, but I don't know what to do in case of an overdose. I just remembered from a very special episode of "Family Ties" that you need to keep the person awake and alert. I suggested that she stand up and walk around, but her leg was shaking too much for that to work. She reached for my hand as a sign of comfort. As a male manager, I am very careful about touching female employees, I ain't trying to get a lawsuit. But I realized that I had to do something in this situation. I grabbed her hands and every time she looked like she was going to drift off, I squeezed them to snap her back to consciousness. This worked for a while, but the damn EMS still wasn't there. She alternated between being hyper and being groggy. I figured I had to calm her down as much as possible so I spoke to her in soothing tones normally reserved for late night pillow talk or a therapy session. I don't know where the encouraging words came from but she seemed to respond. No Doz girl was actually lucid for a quick second. She smiled at me with the admiration of a school girl with a crush and said "Thank you."

This moment was fleeting as in the next minute she blacked out and fell into my arms. Almost simultaneously the paramedics arrived and took over. Two firetrucks and an ambulance full of life savers relieved me of my duties. They put an IV in her and eventually drove her to the hospital. When she left she was conscious, but this situation scared the everloving sh*t out of me. What if she died and I was the only one there? That's way too much responsibility for me. I admire anyone who can deal with this kind of thing on a daily basis cuz this one time was one time too many for me. This turned out way longer than I planned, and I am now officially late.

It was written...

Blaze a 50

Inspiration - "Blaze a 50" - Nas from the "Lost Tapes" "Blaze a 50, sit back in the drop top Azure Bentley/of course wit me, this chick who'd make Bobby divorce Whitney/Brazilian candy, from Miami/masseuse, wedding ring on, lovin Celine Dion/hate rap, told me where she get cake at/ she's a part time danca, part time romanca/tries to be a mother when she gets a chance ta/left her husband, alone to raise they son hes in pampers/modeled for a year, got her bachelors degree/33 recoverin from plastic surgery/went from 34B to 36 double D/met her in San Diego at tha Super Bowl party"

What I'm Listening To: It Was Written - Nas

Question(s) I asked myself today - "What am I gonna write today for my 50th post?"

This is a milestone for me. I know it may not seem like much but this is my 50th post. I thought about going for the easy lyric for the title, but that's not my steelo (remember that word?) So instead of going for a 50 cent lyric, I chose an obscure Nas song that most people don't know. I thought about what I was going to write for #50. I considered doing a 50 things about me list, but I already did 101 things, and that shit took forever. If my new readers wanna learn about me, check it out. Then I considered I considered doing a list of my 50 favorite hip hop albums, but I did lists all week. I guess I just will take this time to reflect on my 3 months of blogging.

The first thing I noticed is that I love writing every (other) day. This blog has inspired me to start writing again. I got a couple novels I'm working on and when I'm satisfied with the language, I'm going to post an excerpt. One is a fictional biography (does that make sense?) of my father and the other is a story of a Black serial killer. I know that sounds crazy, but just wait til you read it. It's even wilder than you are thinking.

I really like the whole idea of reading other people's blogs. I like how that everybody is so different and in various parts of the world, but can still get together to vibe. I've read blogs from all over and I am amazed by the talent and honesty that people put out into cyber space. I'm also happy that so many people are checking me out (Thanks Tam and Nikki.) It really strokes my ego to read the comments and check out the site meter, which is by the way my new obsession. I'm not the most social person (okay, I'm actually anti social), so having this blog is my way of reaching out to people. It didn't start out that way. I really just wanted to write just for the sake of writing but the whole sense of being a part of a community appealed greatly to me. (Damn, what's with all the parentheses tonight?)

I also realized that I am like Rain Man when it comes to lyrics. Even I can't believe that I can come up with a lyric for almost every situation. I hope when I get old, all these rhymes in my head don't make me go crazy. I can just see myself 80 years old in a nursing home telling the nurse to "Drop it like it's hot." Or telling my grandkids about the first time I heard Biggie's "Ready To Die." It was September '94 by the way. My first junior year of college just started and I used to ride around in my VW Fox, bumping the album all day. I memorized all the lyrics in about 2 weeks and tried to put everyone at Savannah State on to the hot shit. (Yo Puffy, I need a check for that shit. Damn, more parentheses.) But my point is that my blog has made me appreciate hip hop even more than I did before.

Well, I've reached 50 posts and I'm not bored yet. In fact I'm more energized than ever. I hope this feeling lasts for awhile because I think this has been good for me. I've learned some things about myself and feel that I have grown as a writer and as a person. Now if only I could learn how to proof read and stop procrastinating, everything would be all good. Holla at y'all later and I hope you stick around to see what happens next with T. Casanova.

It was written...