Apologies to Tomorrow for My Yesterdays...

I'm sorry, tomorrow... Today has been about realizing that I made a lot of mistakes yesterday.

Those who came before us that offer us advice really do know stuff... my parents, for instance, offered me, through a series of suggestions, demands, and asswhoopings, a path toward their version of success. They saw themselves as my life-GPS telling me when and which way to turn en route to success... But that's not actually what they were. They were far less state of the art. They were much more like maps illustrating the location of failure, drawn with the natural ink of parental concern to help me avoid peril. Fear mongerors, they were. They would say, "Do you want to end up in jail, son?"

And frankly, their fear mongering brought upon me the feeling of vertigo, as Milan Kundera describes it: Is vertigo the fear of falling? "No, vertigo is something other than the fear of falling. It is the voice of emptiness below us, which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves."

As a parent... I will propose a right way, as the only way.

-JH

The world continues to spin on it's axis, and rotate elliptically around the sun... the oceans continue to inch up onto our shores... suns still shine, hearts still beat, new children are still born... the cycle of existence continues...
The wind may move rocks, streams may wear stones to pebbles, and changing seasons may bring leaves to the knees of trees they once ornamented, but the only independent things that ever really change are the minds of men. We live, love, lose, and most importantly, we learn. With how we value education in today's world, it may seem counter-intuitive to suggest that life's lessons are moments when the world's many malices manifest. How negative, one might think? But life's infinite dualities emerge in our lessons, as our own enlightenment occurs with the equal and opposite darkening of our sense of truth... our enlightenment may, in fact, be better described as the beclouding of our senses; our minds darken, as they bring light upon the pitfalls of our life’s journey.
As I experience my own personal beclouding, I realize that comprehension/social maturity is to moments of disappointment as molecules are to atoms... The Neucleus of these atoms is, tragically, good intention... The buzz of life's electrons creates confusion, which becomes bad situation. Whether it's love life of loss, it's all eventually lost.

The World Today...

It's one of those news days offering so little that CNN is still covering the faux near-death balloon story. Great... So I guess the latest significant, albeit ridiculous, thing that happened in domestic news was Obama's Nobel Peace Prize... and no he didn't deserve it. Since that's a dated story, my only two options here are looking outside this American bubble I feel so trapped in, or not writing about "news" at all. Eenie meenie minie... no wait... see, the problem with bloggers, often times, is that we want people to read our stuff. We want EVERYBODY to read our stuff... so we end up approaching our writing like popular musicians approach their "art." To write when one does not actually want to write... when one just wants to be read is, frankly, what I'm doing right now. Writing as a means to an end is trash...

After some soul searching...

The Half-Sentence

I'm pretty ashamed of my growing impatience, although I don't think I'm wrong to blame it on the techie world. You know that ridiculous feeling you get when you are chatting with someone online... someone you find yourself uniquely infatuated with... or about some juicy, or particularly thought provoking shit... and they write half a sentence then press enter, then their boss calls on the phone and has them doing some work-related stuff for a half-hour. After about a minute or so of waiting you realize that the person got pulled off to do something, although the thought crosses your mind that the person may have realized that they don't want to say whatever they were going to say... so they stop themselves and try and complete the sentence in a less harmful way. What could it be, you think? and then...

What's the point?

Everyday I ask myself this question at least once... and usually more like once an hour: what the fuck is the point? As I began writing this blog entry, the question crossed my mind... and I asked myself the question twenty minutes ago as I went through my wardrobe in search of some outfits to wear to work this week. The question has only one real answer...

An ode to my uncle... Turning 60.

Family is like a cast from a play. Everyone has a role to act out. There is the protagonist, the good guy, or central character or group of characters for which the audience is meant to feel most sympathetic; there are supporting characters, cast members who assist in the progression of a story; and then there are the antagonists who operate in direct opposition to the protagonist(s); and so on. The major difference between a family and a play’s cast, aside from the obvious real vs. fiction distinction, is the fact that members of a family seem to swap roles from time to time. The father is sometimes the protagonist, toiling away at work and fighting to bring home the proverbial “bacon.” Sometimes, the father is a supporting character assisting the mother in her tireless efforts to provide for the children, as she assumes the protagonist role. Then other times, the father becomes the antagonist, doing things that are counter to the ultimate goals of the family unit. Our role in the cast of family is dictated not only by the branch we occupy in the family tree, i.e. are we the youngest brother, the father, or the oldest daughter, but also by the kinds of choices we make in life.
Despite my agnosticism, I have always felt that our family was incredibly blessed; like there was an angel on the top of our family tree. As the oldest, you have operated in close proximity to her. You have been a role model for your siblings and their children, many of whom have wanted to follow your lead and become lawyers, as have Kamilah and Nkem (and perhaps me, one day), attend Carlton, as did my father, and attend Northwestern, as has Michael (and perhaps me, one day, hehe). From your position on our family tree, you have been able to have a profound impact on what kinds of choices other branches were making. Because of you, other branches have flowered in your image. Presumptuous as it may sound to assume that I can start playing casting director here, but I am taking it upon myself to grant you a spot on the security council, as one of very few permanent members of our family’s “board of protagonists”… not just because you are the oldest child of a great man, but also because you have been a great man yourself. To 40 more years!!!

An ode to my uncle... Turning 60.

Family is like a cast from a play. Everyone has a role to act out. There is the protagonist, the good guy, or central character or group of characters for which the audience is meant to feel most sympathetic; there are supporting characters, cast members who assist in the progression of a story; and then there are the antagonists who operate in direct opposition to the protagonist(s); and so on. The major difference between a family and a play’s cast, aside from the obvious real vs. fiction distinction, is the fact that members of a family seem to swap roles from time to time. The father is sometimes the protagonist, toiling away at work and fighting to bring home the proverbial “bacon.” Sometimes, the father is a supporting character assisting the mother in her tireless efforts to provide for the children, as she assumes the protagonist role. Then other times, the father becomes the antagonist, doing things that are counter to the ultimate goals of the family unit. Our role in the cast of family is dictated not only by the branch we occupy in the family tree, i.e. are we the youngest brother, the father, or the oldest daughter, but also by the kinds of choices we make in life.
Despite my agnosticism, I have always felt that our family was incredibly blessed; like there was an angel on the top of our family tree. As the oldest, you have operated in close proximity to her. You have been a role model for your siblings and their children, many of whom have wanted to follow your lead and become lawyers, as have Kamilah and Nkem (and perhaps me, one day), attend Carlton, as did my father, and attend Northwestern, as has Michael (and perhaps me, one day, hehe). From your position on our family tree, you have been able to have a profound impact on what kinds of choices other branches were making. Because of you, other branches have flowered in your image. Presumptuous as it may sound to assume that I can start playing casting director here, but I am taking it upon myself to grant you a spot on the security council, as one of very few permanent members of our family’s “board of protagonists”… not just because you are the oldest child of a great man, but also because you have been a great man yourself. To 40 more years!!!