This is it! The end is neigh! Today is Thursday, June 9. This time next week, I'll be unloading my truck load of shit into my new house in Charlotte, NC. This time next week, I'll be a North Carolinian. This time next week, when I get hungry and don't have anything in my fridge, I can't just go on Seamless and order from one of the amazing restaurants at my disposal just blocks from my current apartment. In a week I won't be able to take classes at HB Studio anymore. I will leave behind some great friends to move on to the next chapter of life.
In a week I'll be auditioning more. I'll be able to watch my nieces grow up. I'll reunite with old friends. I won't be able to so easily have fattening food delivered to my door. I'll have central air conditioning. Life will become easier, financially. I will have time to write more. I WILL get my webseries filmed and online! In a week I will have to/get to mow my own lawn. I have to/get to build a fence so Ellie can run around in her own back yard. If I fart on one side of the house, Amanda won't be able to hear it on the other side of the house. (Let's be honest, she'll still be able to hear it. I have loud farts.)
I've spent the last several months weighing the pros and cons of leaving. It makes sense to move. It really does. But I won't live in Brooklyn anymore. Being here for the last five years has really changed me. It's been such a learning experience and has helped me grow as a person. I had grown so used to moving around when I was younger that living in NC for 18 years left me feeling claustrophobic and trapped. My dad was in the Air Force and that meant we moved every three to five years. From the moment I was born (almost literally, I was born in Honolulu, Hawai'i and left when I was one month old) I had the life of a nomad. I lived in Maine, Nebraska, Germany, Texas and then the family settled down in North Carolina. With each move came a new school. New friends. New surroundings. New bullies. Each one shaped me. Each move crafted me into the person I am today. But I felt like I was missing something along the way. I left Charlotte in 2000 to go to college in Wilmington, NC. Four years later, I was back. It wasn't the move my mind and body needed. It wasn't until I moved to Brooklyn with my wife five years ago that I felt like I was where I wanted to be. It was the move my soul had been craving since moving to NC in 1993. It was independence. It was a way for me and my wife to grow as a couple without the direct support of family. (Yes, we still received occasional support from the parents. There's only so much you can refuse from two sets of parents who want to do everything for you!) Personally, it was proof that I could do it. And I did.
As I move on to the next phase of life, I will always look fondly upon NYC. I've lived in a lot of places, but only a few of them ever felt like home to me. Brooklyn was my home for five years, but it might as well have been five decades. "If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere." Maybe I didn't quite "make it here" the way I wanted to or originally set out to, but what I learned about myself has made me a stronger person. I never signed with an agent or a manager. I only auditioned once for a commercial. I never sold a script or had my webseries produced. But I honed my craft. I wrote. More than I had in years! I wrote sketches. Even produced a few. I wrote the first season of a webseries. I wrote about three quarters of a feature length script. Who knows if I would have done any of this had I not moved to NYC.
I will take everything I learned from HB Studio and Upright Citizens Brigade and I will continue to grow as a writer and an actor. And I'll do it all from my new home.
Thursday, June 9, 2016
Friday, May 27, 2016
What I learned from living with 3 black men in college.
The house in which I lived for most of my college career had four rooms. Roommates graduated and left and new tenants occupied their cleared space. At one point a fellow student at UNCW, Derrick Thompson, moved into a vacant room. Yes, he's black. That summer, after more roommates graduated and moved on to make lives in other cities, Derrick asked two other friends to take up space in our ranch style abode. Enter Keven Brown and Jason Alston. Yes, they're also black.
I learned more about three guys I didn't know much about. We went out. We hung out at home. We helped each other out. We had our disagreements. We got over them. You know, all the things people do together. Sure we had our cultural differences. But the only thing I truly learned was more about three men that I still call friends.
I guess the real reason I decided to write this was to show that we are all people. We all have our idiosyncrasies. We have some differences culturally, but in the end we're all just people. There was nothing to learn about living with people of a different race, nor did I think there would have been.
As I get older and I see the younger generations melding more and not seeming to allow race to become an issue in their lives, it makes me think that maybe things will get better. We are becoming more tolerant as a society, however we're far from equality. Only serious reform is going to help this country.
Maybe nobody reads this. Maybe only tolerant people read this and give it the ole thumbs up. Maybe it pisses somebody off. Who knows. But now I've written it and my hope is that even one person sees it and that person goes on to effect change. Even if it's only on a personal level.
I learned more about three guys I didn't know much about. We went out. We hung out at home. We helped each other out. We had our disagreements. We got over them. You know, all the things people do together. Sure we had our cultural differences. But the only thing I truly learned was more about three men that I still call friends.
I guess the real reason I decided to write this was to show that we are all people. We all have our idiosyncrasies. We have some differences culturally, but in the end we're all just people. There was nothing to learn about living with people of a different race, nor did I think there would have been.
As I get older and I see the younger generations melding more and not seeming to allow race to become an issue in their lives, it makes me think that maybe things will get better. We are becoming more tolerant as a society, however we're far from equality. Only serious reform is going to help this country.
Maybe nobody reads this. Maybe only tolerant people read this and give it the ole thumbs up. Maybe it pisses somebody off. Who knows. But now I've written it and my hope is that even one person sees it and that person goes on to effect change. Even if it's only on a personal level.
Monday, May 23, 2016
Obligatory HB2 Rant...
Okay, I really try to keep my political beliefs to the minimum of minimums on social media. Occasionally I'll have a friendly chat with a friend over politics, but that's about it. I feel that since I'll be a Charlottean again in just under a month, I can weigh in on this.
I'm not a historian. I'm in no way, shape or form anyone you should listen to about politics or government. I have no experience in the matter, but I do have opinions. I feel I keep a fairly open mind to peoples' opinions, however there are times when I just want to slap a mother fucker and ask, "What the fuck is wrong with you!?"
Pat McCrory needs one of these slaps.
For the sake of keeping this post (somewhat) short, I'm only going to discuss the "Bathroom Bill" portion of HB2, mainly because that's what so many people are focused on right now.
Imagine this scenario: A woman walks into a bathroom. She passes another woman as she makes her way to her private stall. They smile at one another in passing. The woman goes into a stall, closes the door, hovers and pees. There is another woman in the stall next to her doing the same thing. She finishes, tidies up, (hopefully) washes her hands and exits the bathroom.
One or both of the women she passed were transexuals. She had no idea. She wasn't molested. She wasn't in danger. She was none the wiser.
Now imagine this scenario: That same woman walks into a bathroom. She passes a man as she makes her way to her private stall. He smiles at her, but she doesn't smile back, because WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A MAN IN THE WOMAN'S BATHROOM!? The woman goes into a stall, closes the door, hovers and pees. There is another man in the stall next to her. But he's not peeing. He's in the women's bathroom to spy on her. How can he get away with this?! Because all he has to do is say that he was born a woman and now he has access to any fucking bathroom he damn well pleases! Maybe he's taking pictures of her from above the stall partition. Maybe he's waiting for a little girl to come in. Who the fuck knows!
McCrory and other narrow minded fuck-sticks will have people believing that we need to protect our women and children, then passes a law that actually does the exact opposite!
I have a dick. I was born with a dick. I like my dick. I want to keep my dick. I also happen to be straight. I like women. I like boobs. I like vaginas. I like looking at boobs and vaginas. I'm not a piece of shit. However, if I was a piece of shit, I could easily camp out in a women's bathroom and wait for opportune moment to spy on an unsuspecting woman. I could walk right into a women's bathroom and hide out and molest a woman. And all of this would be made easier by HB2.
One of my favorite places to eat in Charlotte is an amazing restaurant called Soul in Plaza Midwood. They have two bathrooms in their establishment. Both are gender neutral. There is a single toilet in each and a lock on the door. This has never been a problem (to my knowledge). Nobody is at risk. You go in, you lock the door and do you your business. Sounds like the perfect set up.
What all of this dumb shit really boils down to is a lack of knowledge about a group of people. A lot of people fear the unknown. Racism tends to come from a lack of association with a particular race of people. One thing I do remember from my history classes is that we must know our past so we can learn from our mistakes. That point was clearly made in almost every history class I took. Apparently, many of our elected officials missed that.
It wasn't long ago that this country was treating Japanese people differently because of the bombing at Pearl Harbor. Or that separate but equal was a fine way of coexisting with black people. It was perfectly acceptable to slander a gay person or to call someone gay as a way of insulting them. And apparently we've learned nothing from that.
I am what a lot of people would consider a "progressive". I welcome it with open arms. People who are not progressive are considered "traditionalists". I see nothing wrong with traditions. Keep your traditions. I'm not trying to take anything away from you. But really, when it comes to making laws that effect citizens of the United States of America, "traditionalist" really just means "scared, straight white people". Straight white men have been running this country and anything that challenges that is scary. Obama scares the shit out of them. Gays are going to corrupt their children! Transgenders are going to molest everyone! Blacks are going to rob them all! Muslims are going to bomb everything! The sky is falling! The sky is falling!
In my eyes, a progressive is open to understanding. It's someone who is willing to listen to the unknown and not judge a belief that is different from theirs. You don't have to understand something to accept it, but you should be open to understanding to live a fuller life.
I can go on and on. I can write pages on the people who are supposedly pious and all about family values that are found molesting children or caught up in sex scandals. I can write even further on christians who try to argue that the bible is the word of god (it's not) and that we should structure our government around those ideologies. All I'll say is that this is NOT a christian nation. This is a nation for all people. For everyone to be free. Not just those who our small minded governments choose to be.
You want to make laws based on christianity? Mark 12:31 Love your neighbor as yourself.
I'm not a historian. I'm in no way, shape or form anyone you should listen to about politics or government. I have no experience in the matter, but I do have opinions. I feel I keep a fairly open mind to peoples' opinions, however there are times when I just want to slap a mother fucker and ask, "What the fuck is wrong with you!?"
Pat McCrory needs one of these slaps.
For the sake of keeping this post (somewhat) short, I'm only going to discuss the "Bathroom Bill" portion of HB2, mainly because that's what so many people are focused on right now.
Imagine this scenario: A woman walks into a bathroom. She passes another woman as she makes her way to her private stall. They smile at one another in passing. The woman goes into a stall, closes the door, hovers and pees. There is another woman in the stall next to her doing the same thing. She finishes, tidies up, (hopefully) washes her hands and exits the bathroom.
One or both of the women she passed were transexuals. She had no idea. She wasn't molested. She wasn't in danger. She was none the wiser.
Now imagine this scenario: That same woman walks into a bathroom. She passes a man as she makes her way to her private stall. He smiles at her, but she doesn't smile back, because WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A MAN IN THE WOMAN'S BATHROOM!? The woman goes into a stall, closes the door, hovers and pees. There is another man in the stall next to her. But he's not peeing. He's in the women's bathroom to spy on her. How can he get away with this?! Because all he has to do is say that he was born a woman and now he has access to any fucking bathroom he damn well pleases! Maybe he's taking pictures of her from above the stall partition. Maybe he's waiting for a little girl to come in. Who the fuck knows!
McCrory and other narrow minded fuck-sticks will have people believing that we need to protect our women and children, then passes a law that actually does the exact opposite!
I have a dick. I was born with a dick. I like my dick. I want to keep my dick. I also happen to be straight. I like women. I like boobs. I like vaginas. I like looking at boobs and vaginas. I'm not a piece of shit. However, if I was a piece of shit, I could easily camp out in a women's bathroom and wait for opportune moment to spy on an unsuspecting woman. I could walk right into a women's bathroom and hide out and molest a woman. And all of this would be made easier by HB2.
One of my favorite places to eat in Charlotte is an amazing restaurant called Soul in Plaza Midwood. They have two bathrooms in their establishment. Both are gender neutral. There is a single toilet in each and a lock on the door. This has never been a problem (to my knowledge). Nobody is at risk. You go in, you lock the door and do you your business. Sounds like the perfect set up.
What all of this dumb shit really boils down to is a lack of knowledge about a group of people. A lot of people fear the unknown. Racism tends to come from a lack of association with a particular race of people. One thing I do remember from my history classes is that we must know our past so we can learn from our mistakes. That point was clearly made in almost every history class I took. Apparently, many of our elected officials missed that.
It wasn't long ago that this country was treating Japanese people differently because of the bombing at Pearl Harbor. Or that separate but equal was a fine way of coexisting with black people. It was perfectly acceptable to slander a gay person or to call someone gay as a way of insulting them. And apparently we've learned nothing from that.
I am what a lot of people would consider a "progressive". I welcome it with open arms. People who are not progressive are considered "traditionalists". I see nothing wrong with traditions. Keep your traditions. I'm not trying to take anything away from you. But really, when it comes to making laws that effect citizens of the United States of America, "traditionalist" really just means "scared, straight white people". Straight white men have been running this country and anything that challenges that is scary. Obama scares the shit out of them. Gays are going to corrupt their children! Transgenders are going to molest everyone! Blacks are going to rob them all! Muslims are going to bomb everything! The sky is falling! The sky is falling!
In my eyes, a progressive is open to understanding. It's someone who is willing to listen to the unknown and not judge a belief that is different from theirs. You don't have to understand something to accept it, but you should be open to understanding to live a fuller life.
I can go on and on. I can write pages on the people who are supposedly pious and all about family values that are found molesting children or caught up in sex scandals. I can write even further on christians who try to argue that the bible is the word of god (it's not) and that we should structure our government around those ideologies. All I'll say is that this is NOT a christian nation. This is a nation for all people. For everyone to be free. Not just those who our small minded governments choose to be.
You want to make laws based on christianity? Mark 12:31 Love your neighbor as yourself.
Thursday, May 12, 2016
Shit Just Got Real! (Let me have my Binkie)
We found a house! Holy fuck! We found a house!
Okay, we're just renting, but this move back to Charlotte is getting more and more real by the day. Yesterday I packed pretty much everything that is not being used in the living room, which includes four boxes of DVDs/Blurays. Yes, we have a problem.
I've had to return to Charlotte twice in the last three weeks to find our future home and everyone there is welcoming us back with open arms! It's comforting and scary all at the same time. I was even roped into working one night while I was back. It was surreal. People were welcoming me back, asking if I was back permanently, trying to book me for more work the following week. At the time, I still had about two months before I was supposed to move!
I'm still not able to be fully comfortable with the move. I'm trying to relish my time in Brooklyn before I'm permanently in Charlotte. I felt like my time as a Brooklynite was already being taken away from me. Brooklyn has been my home for the past 5 years. I love it here! I want to make the best of every day I have left. So much of my time is already being taken by packing and preparing for the move, please don't take more of it away from me!
I know I sound like a shitty asshole complaining about people being happy to have me back in Charlotte. I'm grateful! I truly am! Having all of my friends welcome me home is definitely going to make my transition back to Charlotte that much easier. Just let me have my binkie. Let me hold onto it for just a bit longer. In five weeks, you can take it away and put it in a box in the attic. When I get really sad, just bring it out for a weekend and let me hold it, then it can go back up. But for now, I just want my binkie. I promise to take care of it. I promise not to forget it or leave it behind or let it get dirty (well, any dirtier than it already is...).
Okay, we're just renting, but this move back to Charlotte is getting more and more real by the day. Yesterday I packed pretty much everything that is not being used in the living room, which includes four boxes of DVDs/Blurays. Yes, we have a problem.
I've had to return to Charlotte twice in the last three weeks to find our future home and everyone there is welcoming us back with open arms! It's comforting and scary all at the same time. I was even roped into working one night while I was back. It was surreal. People were welcoming me back, asking if I was back permanently, trying to book me for more work the following week. At the time, I still had about two months before I was supposed to move!
I'm still not able to be fully comfortable with the move. I'm trying to relish my time in Brooklyn before I'm permanently in Charlotte. I felt like my time as a Brooklynite was already being taken away from me. Brooklyn has been my home for the past 5 years. I love it here! I want to make the best of every day I have left. So much of my time is already being taken by packing and preparing for the move, please don't take more of it away from me!
I know I sound like a shitty asshole complaining about people being happy to have me back in Charlotte. I'm grateful! I truly am! Having all of my friends welcome me home is definitely going to make my transition back to Charlotte that much easier. Just let me have my binkie. Let me hold onto it for just a bit longer. In five weeks, you can take it away and put it in a box in the attic. When I get really sad, just bring it out for a weekend and let me hold it, then it can go back up. But for now, I just want my binkie. I promise to take care of it. I promise not to forget it or leave it behind or let it get dirty (well, any dirtier than it already is...).
Thursday, April 14, 2016
I'll Have the Large Margherita Pie with a Side of Fuck You...
It's no longer a secret that my time in NYC is coming to an end... at least from a perspective of "home". Trust me, I'll be back! By the time the apartment is packed and my uncomfortable ass guides a fifteen foot cube truck back to Charlotte, NC, my wife and I will have put in five years and one month in the greatest city in which we've had the pleasure of living. With each passing day, I become more and more aware of my limited time here.
A lot of my friends and family have asked why we're leaving NYC for Charlotte if we love it here so much. To be honest, we're being pushed out. To live comfortably in NYC, you have to have a combined income of around a quarter million per year. I'm serious. You know how people talk about how the middle class is dwindling? It's true. Maybe a lot of America doesn't see it, but if you spend any significant amount of time in a larger city, you'll understand. Please don't misinterpret all of this and assume I'm one of those guys that went to Europe and then came back pretentious as fuck and telling all Americans how they don't anything about how to live properly. I know those people and they suck.
Without divulging too much information about our financial status, it basically boils down to this: either make enough money to have everything you want or sacrifice basic comforts for the chance to live in NYC. You want a big apartment? A nice neighborhood? A yard? A house or even a row house? Pony up the cash! I know what you're thinking: "But it's like that everywhere!" True, but I know I can find a place in Charlotte with twice as much space in an equally safe neighborhood with nicer amenities and a yard for half as much money. If I want to try to "save" money living in Brooklyn, I have to either move to a less safe neighborhood, reduce my already small apartment to something even smaller or move to another borough. And we've considered these options, well, maybe not the less safe neighborhood. We've explored Queens, but our friends there are telling us that rent is increasing each year there as well. The problem with that is the fact that raises don't even come close to keeping up with the increasing rent.
The cost of living continues to increase while the pay does not. It's that simple. Add to that getting fired and having to live under the constraints of what unemployment pays out, and we're fucked.
Every time I think about leaving, I get sad. But then I have to remind myself about all of the shit we have to do just to stay afloat here and it all makes sense. Most days I go through my routine which includes some light packing just so I'm not blind-sided all of a sudden two weeks before we leave with having to pack up the whole apartment. Some days it hits me. On those days, I just want to curl up on the couch and cry. But what a waste of a great moment that would be! On those days, I should be getting out and taking advantage of what will soon be the city I left behind. But I don't. Maybe because in my personal life, I'm horrible with time management. Maybe because this city, as much as I love it, is really shitty to me.
The "bad relationship" analogy could be made here, but that's just too cliche. So I'll go with this instead: NYC is my Julianna's Pizza (and, ironically, is the only place that can provide this pizza). I love Julianna's Pizza. But what if every time I went there, the price of the pizza increased and the servers sneezed in my face, farted next to my table, pushed me out of the way, had the cops harass me, pushed flyers into my hand, kicked me in the balls, mugged me, spat in my face, kicked my dog, stabbed me, shot me, poured a mixture of salt, lemon juice and piss on my wounds, you get the point. Now if all of that happened to me when I went to Julianna's, I would write a bad Yelp review, but it's not going to stop me from eating that delicious pizza. That's how I feel about NYC. So it's really just the healthiest option for me to leave. But as I said before, I'll be back. Because Julianna's has a policy that if you're just in town for a visit, they treat you better. The cost of the pizza is still pricey, but now I have more money to spend on it so it's not really a problem anymore.
Today I woke up to find out that both Kobe Bryant and the Golden State Warriors made history last night. Not only was it Kobe's last game, but he scored an unprecedented 60 points in his final NBA game, more than double any other player in NBA history. The Warriors won their final game of the season to put them at 73 wins total for the year, beating out the record set previously by the Chicago Bulls.
To see these amazing accomplishments, I could only look inward at what I had done with my time in NYC. I moved here to continue my pursuit as an actor. I did some things. Some I never expected I would do. Some were too little, too late. And all of it helped shape me as a person and an actor. But sometimes I feel that all I really accomplished here was a taste for great pizza.
A lot of my friends and family have asked why we're leaving NYC for Charlotte if we love it here so much. To be honest, we're being pushed out. To live comfortably in NYC, you have to have a combined income of around a quarter million per year. I'm serious. You know how people talk about how the middle class is dwindling? It's true. Maybe a lot of America doesn't see it, but if you spend any significant amount of time in a larger city, you'll understand. Please don't misinterpret all of this and assume I'm one of those guys that went to Europe and then came back pretentious as fuck and telling all Americans how they don't anything about how to live properly. I know those people and they suck.
Without divulging too much information about our financial status, it basically boils down to this: either make enough money to have everything you want or sacrifice basic comforts for the chance to live in NYC. You want a big apartment? A nice neighborhood? A yard? A house or even a row house? Pony up the cash! I know what you're thinking: "But it's like that everywhere!" True, but I know I can find a place in Charlotte with twice as much space in an equally safe neighborhood with nicer amenities and a yard for half as much money. If I want to try to "save" money living in Brooklyn, I have to either move to a less safe neighborhood, reduce my already small apartment to something even smaller or move to another borough. And we've considered these options, well, maybe not the less safe neighborhood. We've explored Queens, but our friends there are telling us that rent is increasing each year there as well. The problem with that is the fact that raises don't even come close to keeping up with the increasing rent.
The cost of living continues to increase while the pay does not. It's that simple. Add to that getting fired and having to live under the constraints of what unemployment pays out, and we're fucked.
Every time I think about leaving, I get sad. But then I have to remind myself about all of the shit we have to do just to stay afloat here and it all makes sense. Most days I go through my routine which includes some light packing just so I'm not blind-sided all of a sudden two weeks before we leave with having to pack up the whole apartment. Some days it hits me. On those days, I just want to curl up on the couch and cry. But what a waste of a great moment that would be! On those days, I should be getting out and taking advantage of what will soon be the city I left behind. But I don't. Maybe because in my personal life, I'm horrible with time management. Maybe because this city, as much as I love it, is really shitty to me.
The "bad relationship" analogy could be made here, but that's just too cliche. So I'll go with this instead: NYC is my Julianna's Pizza (and, ironically, is the only place that can provide this pizza). I love Julianna's Pizza. But what if every time I went there, the price of the pizza increased and the servers sneezed in my face, farted next to my table, pushed me out of the way, had the cops harass me, pushed flyers into my hand, kicked me in the balls, mugged me, spat in my face, kicked my dog, stabbed me, shot me, poured a mixture of salt, lemon juice and piss on my wounds, you get the point. Now if all of that happened to me when I went to Julianna's, I would write a bad Yelp review, but it's not going to stop me from eating that delicious pizza. That's how I feel about NYC. So it's really just the healthiest option for me to leave. But as I said before, I'll be back. Because Julianna's has a policy that if you're just in town for a visit, they treat you better. The cost of the pizza is still pricey, but now I have more money to spend on it so it's not really a problem anymore.
Today I woke up to find out that both Kobe Bryant and the Golden State Warriors made history last night. Not only was it Kobe's last game, but he scored an unprecedented 60 points in his final NBA game, more than double any other player in NBA history. The Warriors won their final game of the season to put them at 73 wins total for the year, beating out the record set previously by the Chicago Bulls.
To see these amazing accomplishments, I could only look inward at what I had done with my time in NYC. I moved here to continue my pursuit as an actor. I did some things. Some I never expected I would do. Some were too little, too late. And all of it helped shape me as a person and an actor. But sometimes I feel that all I really accomplished here was a taste for great pizza.
Saturday, April 9, 2016
My Friend, Walker.
Growing up I had a friend, Walker. Looking back on our relationship, I use the term "friend" quite loosely. When we first met things were great. We got along well. We enjoyed each others company. Sure we had our disagreements, just like all friendships do. He could be a bit extreme sometimes and I would think, "Do I really want to continue this friendship with Walker?"
It was kind of weird building up to that. It was a gradual change in him. Maybe it was me. Maybe I had matured faster and just expected more out of that friendship. But the constant let-downs really started getting under my skin.
In the beginning he seemed like a genuine guy. Maybe he was a bit fake every now and then, but I guess we can all get that way from time to time. But as the years went on, I believed less and less about him. He became hokey. He would tell me one thing and do another. I kept him around because I felt invested in him. I don't believe he ever intentionally tried to piss me off, he just got lazy about our friendship. He also has to do this fake southern accent. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, sometimes it's atrocious!
This past year, all of his friends and I went out for his 6 and half year anniversary of bringing us all together. I know, what a weird thing to celebrate! As usual, Walker was the center of attention. But something was off for me. Everyone else seemed to love his antics and even touted this night as the "best night of Walker, ever!" I bit my tongue and looked on in amazement! Had Walker actually fooled all of his loyal followers into believing in anything he did? He was like a politician telling us one thing to get elected and then doing none of what he promised!
For those of you who know him, Walker is not one to shy away from drama! I've seen him make people cry. I've seen him play games with peoples' emotions. He's even somehow been able to almost lose large groups of friends only to string them along just long enough to rope them back in. And this seems to be his biggest game. Time and again I feel like I just want to walk away from him and never look back, but something about him keeps me there.
This past Sunday I was out with Walker and his entourage. He was back in the spotlight. We were doing our thing as we always did. He went off on tangents, kinda typical for Walker. And I felt it happening again. I was back on that string. But this time, I saw the knot coming undone.
I was already out, so there was really no point in leaving that night. I sat through his excruciatingly boring antics: a thread of false anticipation lazily laced together late into the night. And in the end, he gave me nothing. I looked around the room and saw people on the edge of their seats as I sat back comfortably not buying into his bullshit.
I left, unfulfilled. I wasn't mad. I was disappointed. I don't feel like Walker owed me a better ending to my night. I felt like he wasted my night. I felt like he found me sitting there watching him and stopped for just a moment to lock eyes with me and let me know that he was going to do whatever he damn well pleased and that he no longer gave a shit about how I felt. This moment could have lasted a mere moment, but it felt like years.
Walker is away for several months. He'll be back. and I'm sure when he returns, I'll be there. But I'm skeptical. And it's only a matter of time before he pushes me away for good. I hope dies and leaves me with better memories before that happens.
It was kind of weird building up to that. It was a gradual change in him. Maybe it was me. Maybe I had matured faster and just expected more out of that friendship. But the constant let-downs really started getting under my skin.
In the beginning he seemed like a genuine guy. Maybe he was a bit fake every now and then, but I guess we can all get that way from time to time. But as the years went on, I believed less and less about him. He became hokey. He would tell me one thing and do another. I kept him around because I felt invested in him. I don't believe he ever intentionally tried to piss me off, he just got lazy about our friendship. He also has to do this fake southern accent. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, sometimes it's atrocious!
This past year, all of his friends and I went out for his 6 and half year anniversary of bringing us all together. I know, what a weird thing to celebrate! As usual, Walker was the center of attention. But something was off for me. Everyone else seemed to love his antics and even touted this night as the "best night of Walker, ever!" I bit my tongue and looked on in amazement! Had Walker actually fooled all of his loyal followers into believing in anything he did? He was like a politician telling us one thing to get elected and then doing none of what he promised!
For those of you who know him, Walker is not one to shy away from drama! I've seen him make people cry. I've seen him play games with peoples' emotions. He's even somehow been able to almost lose large groups of friends only to string them along just long enough to rope them back in. And this seems to be his biggest game. Time and again I feel like I just want to walk away from him and never look back, but something about him keeps me there.
This past Sunday I was out with Walker and his entourage. He was back in the spotlight. We were doing our thing as we always did. He went off on tangents, kinda typical for Walker. And I felt it happening again. I was back on that string. But this time, I saw the knot coming undone.
I was already out, so there was really no point in leaving that night. I sat through his excruciatingly boring antics: a thread of false anticipation lazily laced together late into the night. And in the end, he gave me nothing. I looked around the room and saw people on the edge of their seats as I sat back comfortably not buying into his bullshit.
I left, unfulfilled. I wasn't mad. I was disappointed. I don't feel like Walker owed me a better ending to my night. I felt like he wasted my night. I felt like he found me sitting there watching him and stopped for just a moment to lock eyes with me and let me know that he was going to do whatever he damn well pleased and that he no longer gave a shit about how I felt. This moment could have lasted a mere moment, but it felt like years.
Walker is away for several months. He'll be back. and I'm sure when he returns, I'll be there. But I'm skeptical. And it's only a matter of time before he pushes me away for good. I hope dies and leaves me with better memories before that happens.
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
Black Woman Gives Dollar to Homeless White Couple Proving She's Not Racist
On a Monday afternoon, while riding the C train into Manhattan, a young white couple walked the aisle of an average train car spouting their spiel to anyone willing to donate. Several people acted busy or just plain uninterested. An occasional dollar was folded into the hand of one of the young couple.
Grace Harrison, a black 64 year old woman from Brooklyn, took this as the perfect opportunity to prove her acceptance of people of non-color. She reached deep into her purse and pulled out the crispest one dollar bill she could find, stood up and carefully approached the young man.
In an overt act of kindness and pity, she breathed in deep to avoid having to smell him as she got closer, and held the dollar high just before placing it in his hand, careful not to make actual physical contact with his dirty flesh. Mrs. Harrison then turned proudly to face the car full of skeptics and returned to her seat knowing, much like Rosa Parks on that fateful December day in 1955, that she had in fact made a difference.
Grace Harrison, a black 64 year old woman from Brooklyn, took this as the perfect opportunity to prove her acceptance of people of non-color. She reached deep into her purse and pulled out the crispest one dollar bill she could find, stood up and carefully approached the young man.
In an overt act of kindness and pity, she breathed in deep to avoid having to smell him as she got closer, and held the dollar high just before placing it in his hand, careful not to make actual physical contact with his dirty flesh. Mrs. Harrison then turned proudly to face the car full of skeptics and returned to her seat knowing, much like Rosa Parks on that fateful December day in 1955, that she had in fact made a difference.
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