Tonight I was talking with my friends Ann and Devin and we noticed the lack of responsibility children today in the US have. Children today have it so easy and they don't even realize it. It's just so incredible how our kids take everything for granted. They need to look at how it used to be and where our people have come from. Especially our African-American children. The topic came up during a discussion about the treatment of children in Bangladesh.
Ann: Children in Bangladesh carry bricks on their head to help build buildings.
Is that cruel??
You might think it is but those kids are learning a lesson about what it takes to help contribute to their community. Everyone there are working there for the betterment of their community and their lifestyle. That's how they are. I bet those kids will know the value of what it means to keep their community growing and making it better. It's keeping them from going out in the streets and learning a way of life that's detrimental to their own life.
US kids are going out, hanging with their friends into the wee hours of the night, having sex, making babies, drinking, and taking drugs. Half of their parents don't even know where they are and what they're doing. Kids have their parents do everything for them.
Devin: Kids get mad about their daddies giving them $700 instead of $1,000. I wish I would get mad about my mom giving me $40. I could do a lot with them two $20 dollar bills.
Parents need to realize that coddling their children is hurting them in the long run. They have in the back of their minds that their parents will end up bailing them out. Putting money in their accounts so they can go out and get drunk.
Kids in the old days used to get out of school at 12 years old because they knew being at home helping their parents build houses, feeding the cattle, and picking eggs to sell would help their family to put food on the table. Kids today don't even think about helping out their parents. Tey want to get their paper so they can go out and buy the latest kicks, the flyest clothes, and put rims on their broke down car to make them appear cool. How about working to save money to go to college and not have to pay so much to make it through or take out a lot of loans that you will have to pay back. And if you don't, mess up your credit even more than you already have because the minute you get a little plastic in your hand you go off. Believe me. I know from experience that credit cards are NOT the way.
Our kids need to get it together and it's up to the parents and elders to let them know that it takes a lot of preparation to move into adulthood. It's not an easy transition and you can't keep looking for an easy way out to make it through. When you get to the point where you can't work for a living or you can't hustle then what are you going to do? You're going to be struggling until the day you die.
We as a people, all people, need to know that just because you weren't born with a silver spoon in your mouth that you can't make it. Life is work and it begins the minute you know what you want your future should be. Don't blow it because you think the good life is going to be handed to you without any work on your part.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Coming to the Conclusion of Gaining Responsibility
I have this friend named Conclusion and I came to her to see why she thought my life wasn't exactly where I had pictured it to be at this point in my life. Conclusion lived in a posh high-rise apartment complete with just about all of the amenities you could ever ask for. My favorite feature definitely had to be her fabulous kitchen. There was stainless steel appliances, cherry wood cabinetry, and granite counter tops. The kitchen looked as if she had just moved in and that's because Conclusion was not a cook. She despised cooking actually. Although she didn't use her kitchen, to her, it was a symbol of all the things she had accomplished in her life. Her apartment, vacation home in Maui, Jaguar, Mercedes, and Bentley, which are her prized Cocker Spaniels, and her custom Range Rover SUV all show that despite all odds, if you try and believe you will achieve. Because Conclusion's life wasn't always so glamorous. In fact, it was plain ole' rough growing up in the urban jungle of Chicago. But Conclusion was always determined to make her life a better one no matter what.
She helped me to realize that life doesn't always go exactly as you intend. People too often live like they have the rest of their lives ahead of them. They forget that tomorrow is not promised today. Conclusion told me that in order to live life to the fullest, you must live everyday like it's your last. I told her that's what I try to do. Sometimes things just get in the way. But I tend to let those things get me down and forget to focus on what I currently have. Just because I'm not where I want to be now doesn't mean that I won't get there. I finally started to understand what I needed to do and I was glad I came to Conclusion.
We decided to call our friend Responsibility. He invited us out to dinner and we decided to join him. We asked where he wanted us to meet him and he replied, "McDonald's." Conclusion and I were taken back because we were looking for something of a little more substance, but we decided to go with Responsibility's suggestion. We pulled up to the McDonald's that was way across town from Conclusion's ritzy neighborhood. We stepped out of her Range Rover and made our way into the McDonald's. Immediately we gained stares, as we always do, and we shrugged them off as usual. We found Responsibility sitting at a table near the back of the restaurant. We went over to him and I quickly noticed his outfit from two seasons prior. But he was still a nice looking guy. The ladies all loved him and he loved the ladies. That is, the ones who would still give him the time of day after they found out his financial situation because of his excessive lack of sharing.
Responsibility is a recent college graduate and struggling to find his next path in life. He has so many great ideas and everyone believes he has all the potential in the world to succeed but Responsibility wants to make sure his next move is exactly where he wants to go. He works two jobs and rarely has anytime for anything else unless he is fortunate to gain the same day off from both jobs. So he has money, he just chooses not to use it. Everything about him is very minimal. His apartment is quaint and quiet, has all the necessities and nothing more. He doesn't try to be flashy with grills in his mouth, diamond necklaces, the latest kicks, or big shiny rims that overpower his car. Speaking of his car, he still drives the same Toyota Corolla he has been driving since his junior year in high school. He wears nice clothes that usually don't cost a lot of money. He may spend a little bit extra on his more professional attire. But Responsibility has a game plan. His objective is to take himself to his all time potential and that entails precise planning. He disagrees with the majority of the American society's philosophy of living way above their means. He is stingy with his money for a reason. When this life passes him by and he is into his old age, he wants to make sure that he will be taken care of. Also, he understands your worldly possessions cannot be taken with you when you cross over to the other side.
Conclusion and I greeted Responsibility before heading up to the counter to order our food. As I was walking up, anticipating my ten-piece nugget meal, I noticed Betrayal outside in the parking lot. I was hoping he wouldn't see me because I really didn't want to cause a scene. Especially after what happened the last time.
She helped me to realize that life doesn't always go exactly as you intend. People too often live like they have the rest of their lives ahead of them. They forget that tomorrow is not promised today. Conclusion told me that in order to live life to the fullest, you must live everyday like it's your last. I told her that's what I try to do. Sometimes things just get in the way. But I tend to let those things get me down and forget to focus on what I currently have. Just because I'm not where I want to be now doesn't mean that I won't get there. I finally started to understand what I needed to do and I was glad I came to Conclusion.
We decided to call our friend Responsibility. He invited us out to dinner and we decided to join him. We asked where he wanted us to meet him and he replied, "McDonald's." Conclusion and I were taken back because we were looking for something of a little more substance, but we decided to go with Responsibility's suggestion. We pulled up to the McDonald's that was way across town from Conclusion's ritzy neighborhood. We stepped out of her Range Rover and made our way into the McDonald's. Immediately we gained stares, as we always do, and we shrugged them off as usual. We found Responsibility sitting at a table near the back of the restaurant. We went over to him and I quickly noticed his outfit from two seasons prior. But he was still a nice looking guy. The ladies all loved him and he loved the ladies. That is, the ones who would still give him the time of day after they found out his financial situation because of his excessive lack of sharing.
Responsibility is a recent college graduate and struggling to find his next path in life. He has so many great ideas and everyone believes he has all the potential in the world to succeed but Responsibility wants to make sure his next move is exactly where he wants to go. He works two jobs and rarely has anytime for anything else unless he is fortunate to gain the same day off from both jobs. So he has money, he just chooses not to use it. Everything about him is very minimal. His apartment is quaint and quiet, has all the necessities and nothing more. He doesn't try to be flashy with grills in his mouth, diamond necklaces, the latest kicks, or big shiny rims that overpower his car. Speaking of his car, he still drives the same Toyota Corolla he has been driving since his junior year in high school. He wears nice clothes that usually don't cost a lot of money. He may spend a little bit extra on his more professional attire. But Responsibility has a game plan. His objective is to take himself to his all time potential and that entails precise planning. He disagrees with the majority of the American society's philosophy of living way above their means. He is stingy with his money for a reason. When this life passes him by and he is into his old age, he wants to make sure that he will be taken care of. Also, he understands your worldly possessions cannot be taken with you when you cross over to the other side.
Conclusion and I greeted Responsibility before heading up to the counter to order our food. As I was walking up, anticipating my ten-piece nugget meal, I noticed Betrayal outside in the parking lot. I was hoping he wouldn't see me because I really didn't want to cause a scene. Especially after what happened the last time.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
We Have Got To Do Better
I look around at my people and I have to say I'm not impressed. Not everyone is letting me down though. There are those out there who actually have the sense to do something with their life. Those with goals and ambitions other than breaking into the music game, playing professional sports, being the trophy on the arm of the neighborhood hustla, or becoming the ultimate video vixen. Not saying that there's anything wrong with those professions if that's what you choose to do. But why is it becoming socially acceptable in our community to strive to be these things. By any means necessary. Then my people get into these fields and totally take us back 5,000 steps.
You got the rappers out there telling how the hood is so cool and how it's so important to be down. The last time I checked the hood was not some place I would praise or a place where I would ultimately demand respect for because I was from there. I'm not knocking the hood. I have family members who are from the hood. My dad is a hood boy. But where is my dad at now? He lives with his wife of 23 years, raising and caring for his three children and now his grandson, in a two story house in a somewhat suburban neighborhood, driving a nice truck, provided his wife with a nice sports car, his children with their first and second cars, and spending most of his time now caring for horses. My dad did not let the hood take him over. He didn't automatically assume the position of being "ghetto" and getting stuck in a situation that he could get out of with a little effort. Most hood people think just because they're from the hood that that's where they always have to remain when there are other options. If my people would only start teaching their kids that an education is important, appearance is key, and that respect comes full circle then maybe we can start to change things around. But no. We let our kids (who can't spell their own names, can't speak proper English, or can't pinpoint the United States on a map) go out knowing every word to 'Pop, Lock, and Drop It,' 'Lipgloss,' and every other countless song and dance there is. I know plenty of little kids who can't even tell me where they live but tell them to do the Souljah Boy and they will tear it up. We have these rappers and singers out here talking about rollin', smacking b*tches and hoes, and bustin' a cap in someone's ass because they stepped on their fresh new kicks that everyone must strive to get since everyone in the world can afford them. I really hate when some rappers and singers talk about how much cash they have, how many diamonds are on their necks, how many cars they drive, and all that but then ask them to give a speech or explain something of educational value and they wouldn't be able to do it. I'm sorry, I might not have all the glitz and glamour, but I'm real happy about my education. I think there should be standards for some people who go into the music industry. Music stars are icons and are looked up to and some people just shouldn't be given a platform to be looked up at.
Sports figures. You have some greats out there. Jackie Robinson. Michael Jordan. Ken Griffey Jr. Rodney Peete. All respectable Black professional sports players. Then you got the Michael Vicks of the game. I know you all have probably heard all about him. Fighting and killing dogs. Animal cruelty all over the board. You have organizations out there who frown upon people who wear fur jackets and test medicines on animals and here he goes participating in the demise of these creatures. You have all this money and you can't find something of good moral values to do to occupy your time? Please believe if I had some pro football money, $37million to be exact, I would be traveling all over the place, handling my business, taking care of my family and friends, and helping out with all kinds of charities and foundations. But he wants to fight some dogs. Because it's so fun to see animals with razor sharp teeth dig their fangs into each other, clawing and scratching until the death, And if they don't win you go and kill them. Oooohhh... Sign me up. That sounds so exciting. And now look at you Mr. Vick. Your team is asking for $22 million of their money back. Sucks for you. But I can't talk to bad about him because he found Jesus yall. Yes. In light of all that is happening to him he has found Jesus. Hooray! But isn't that always these big ballers call to Glory. The minute they get caught up in something THEN they find Jesus. Whatever.
Now for my ladies. I am seeing more and more crazy tail hair styles. I'm seeing more and more inappropriate outfits. I'm seeing more and more disregard for being a lady. And some of these, unfortunately, are the mother of children. I have a neighbor, I don't know how or why, but she has a little boy and I feel so sorry for him. I mean, I just feel sorry for him. There's just too much to highlight about his mother that it would take me all day. But just to say some people shouldn't be parents. But I bet he'll know how to Two Step in a couple of months. Exercise is always good. But my ladies, my sistas, because you know we gotta put an 'A' at the end of something if we want it to be considered a black thing, is it too much to ask to have a little class. I love my friends. All of them are responsible, level headed, well presented, and respectable young black women. It's so interesting going to the club with them. My friends spend time picking out their outfits. Making sure they look nice, fit correctly, and is, therefore, appropriately assembled so as to make them appear as respectable as they possibly can be. Dress like a hoochie and be treated like a hoochie. Dress like a lady and be approached by the gentlemen who actually think they have a chance of gaining your attention. I'll go out with my friends and walk into the club and it's like wow! Booty shorts galore. Mini mini mini mini mini mini skirts. Clothes that are just way too tight. Hair colors that'll make a rainbow jealous. Gawdy jewelry. It's just a mess. And can't leave the fellas out when talking about clothing because it seems that 100XL shirts, 75x125 jeans, and fitted caps are the acceptable gear for ANY place they have to go. Can I see some pants pulled up and worn on the waist that actually fit. Nice polo and button down shirts. It's not appropriate to be street ALL the time. Just try to be taken seriously dressing that way and see how far it will get you. I respect those who can be street but at the same time know when to turn it on and off.
I'm real sick of black people who down those black people who are actually trying to be respected in this very fickle society of our's. We already have to fight so hard to be respected, get certain positions, and to be taken seriously because of our counterparts whose mission seems to be to ruin everything for the rest of us. Sure I may wear my clothes the right size instead of wearing clothes fit for a 300 lb man, talk properly instead of yo yo yoing and knawmeaning all willey nilley, walk with a sophisticated confidence instead of like one of my legs is shorter than the other, and care about my education and my advancement in the career world but does that have to mean I'm acting white? Does that have to mean I should be subject to scrutiny? And what kills me even more is that my people think they can get away with saying mean and hurtful things and if you have the backbone to say something back and stick up for yourself then they wanna get mad. Don't dish if you can't take it. That brings me to a story my friend told me not too long ago. It was about this couple who was going into the store together. Another guy came up and approached the girl and she had to let him know that she was there with her boyfriend. The boyfriend stepped in and politely let the guy know that they were together. WHY did the other guy shoot them? I mean, can't take rejection much. And we're talking about a black man here and a black couple. We have got to do better. All people have to do better but I would really like for my people to try just a little bit harder. Can we take after the Jewish community please. Because they came over to the United States and tore it up. We need to look out for our own. Build each other up instead of tearing each other down. And let's stop killing each other please. PLEASE. Killing is wrong regardless.
I just want us to continue what our ancestors started back during the Civil Rights Movement. We have already moved into a time of more equality but there is still so much more than can be done. And the only way we can succeed is to stop giving ammunition to those in power, because there are not many of us up there in rank in the United States, to look at us and believe that taking a chance on us will bring some undesirable consequences.
We have got to do better. For the sake of our future as a people. Because remember, what one of us does reflects on the whole lot.
You got the rappers out there telling how the hood is so cool and how it's so important to be down. The last time I checked the hood was not some place I would praise or a place where I would ultimately demand respect for because I was from there. I'm not knocking the hood. I have family members who are from the hood. My dad is a hood boy. But where is my dad at now? He lives with his wife of 23 years, raising and caring for his three children and now his grandson, in a two story house in a somewhat suburban neighborhood, driving a nice truck, provided his wife with a nice sports car, his children with their first and second cars, and spending most of his time now caring for horses. My dad did not let the hood take him over. He didn't automatically assume the position of being "ghetto" and getting stuck in a situation that he could get out of with a little effort. Most hood people think just because they're from the hood that that's where they always have to remain when there are other options. If my people would only start teaching their kids that an education is important, appearance is key, and that respect comes full circle then maybe we can start to change things around. But no. We let our kids (who can't spell their own names, can't speak proper English, or can't pinpoint the United States on a map) go out knowing every word to 'Pop, Lock, and Drop It,' 'Lipgloss,' and every other countless song and dance there is. I know plenty of little kids who can't even tell me where they live but tell them to do the Souljah Boy and they will tear it up. We have these rappers and singers out here talking about rollin', smacking b*tches and hoes, and bustin' a cap in someone's ass because they stepped on their fresh new kicks that everyone must strive to get since everyone in the world can afford them. I really hate when some rappers and singers talk about how much cash they have, how many diamonds are on their necks, how many cars they drive, and all that but then ask them to give a speech or explain something of educational value and they wouldn't be able to do it. I'm sorry, I might not have all the glitz and glamour, but I'm real happy about my education. I think there should be standards for some people who go into the music industry. Music stars are icons and are looked up to and some people just shouldn't be given a platform to be looked up at.
Sports figures. You have some greats out there. Jackie Robinson. Michael Jordan. Ken Griffey Jr. Rodney Peete. All respectable Black professional sports players. Then you got the Michael Vicks of the game. I know you all have probably heard all about him. Fighting and killing dogs. Animal cruelty all over the board. You have organizations out there who frown upon people who wear fur jackets and test medicines on animals and here he goes participating in the demise of these creatures. You have all this money and you can't find something of good moral values to do to occupy your time? Please believe if I had some pro football money, $37million to be exact, I would be traveling all over the place, handling my business, taking care of my family and friends, and helping out with all kinds of charities and foundations. But he wants to fight some dogs. Because it's so fun to see animals with razor sharp teeth dig their fangs into each other, clawing and scratching until the death, And if they don't win you go and kill them. Oooohhh... Sign me up. That sounds so exciting. And now look at you Mr. Vick. Your team is asking for $22 million of their money back. Sucks for you. But I can't talk to bad about him because he found Jesus yall. Yes. In light of all that is happening to him he has found Jesus. Hooray! But isn't that always these big ballers call to Glory. The minute they get caught up in something THEN they find Jesus. Whatever.
Now for my ladies. I am seeing more and more crazy tail hair styles. I'm seeing more and more inappropriate outfits. I'm seeing more and more disregard for being a lady. And some of these, unfortunately, are the mother of children. I have a neighbor, I don't know how or why, but she has a little boy and I feel so sorry for him. I mean, I just feel sorry for him. There's just too much to highlight about his mother that it would take me all day. But just to say some people shouldn't be parents. But I bet he'll know how to Two Step in a couple of months. Exercise is always good. But my ladies, my sistas, because you know we gotta put an 'A' at the end of something if we want it to be considered a black thing, is it too much to ask to have a little class. I love my friends. All of them are responsible, level headed, well presented, and respectable young black women. It's so interesting going to the club with them. My friends spend time picking out their outfits. Making sure they look nice, fit correctly, and is, therefore, appropriately assembled so as to make them appear as respectable as they possibly can be. Dress like a hoochie and be treated like a hoochie. Dress like a lady and be approached by the gentlemen who actually think they have a chance of gaining your attention. I'll go out with my friends and walk into the club and it's like wow! Booty shorts galore. Mini mini mini mini mini mini skirts. Clothes that are just way too tight. Hair colors that'll make a rainbow jealous. Gawdy jewelry. It's just a mess. And can't leave the fellas out when talking about clothing because it seems that 100XL shirts, 75x125 jeans, and fitted caps are the acceptable gear for ANY place they have to go. Can I see some pants pulled up and worn on the waist that actually fit. Nice polo and button down shirts. It's not appropriate to be street ALL the time. Just try to be taken seriously dressing that way and see how far it will get you. I respect those who can be street but at the same time know when to turn it on and off.
I'm real sick of black people who down those black people who are actually trying to be respected in this very fickle society of our's. We already have to fight so hard to be respected, get certain positions, and to be taken seriously because of our counterparts whose mission seems to be to ruin everything for the rest of us. Sure I may wear my clothes the right size instead of wearing clothes fit for a 300 lb man, talk properly instead of yo yo yoing and knawmeaning all willey nilley, walk with a sophisticated confidence instead of like one of my legs is shorter than the other, and care about my education and my advancement in the career world but does that have to mean I'm acting white? Does that have to mean I should be subject to scrutiny? And what kills me even more is that my people think they can get away with saying mean and hurtful things and if you have the backbone to say something back and stick up for yourself then they wanna get mad. Don't dish if you can't take it. That brings me to a story my friend told me not too long ago. It was about this couple who was going into the store together. Another guy came up and approached the girl and she had to let him know that she was there with her boyfriend. The boyfriend stepped in and politely let the guy know that they were together. WHY did the other guy shoot them? I mean, can't take rejection much. And we're talking about a black man here and a black couple. We have got to do better. All people have to do better but I would really like for my people to try just a little bit harder. Can we take after the Jewish community please. Because they came over to the United States and tore it up. We need to look out for our own. Build each other up instead of tearing each other down. And let's stop killing each other please. PLEASE. Killing is wrong regardless.
I just want us to continue what our ancestors started back during the Civil Rights Movement. We have already moved into a time of more equality but there is still so much more than can be done. And the only way we can succeed is to stop giving ammunition to those in power, because there are not many of us up there in rank in the United States, to look at us and believe that taking a chance on us will bring some undesirable consequences.
We have got to do better. For the sake of our future as a people. Because remember, what one of us does reflects on the whole lot.
My Farewell
Goodbye. Goodbye to the lifestyle that got me so caught up. I will debate to the death anyone who says I "chose this lifestyle." If I had a choice, please believe this wouldn't be it. The Lifestyle. What is it really about? Does it automatically lead you to be surrounded by crazed lunatics. The ones who tell you, "I'm here to enjoy myself. I'll be in my own little corner." I ask if they want to be alone. "Well you know how I am." But what's this? They're now in the corner, but not by themselves. Flaunting in front of your face something that you could never be. Didn't even have the decency to take it somewhere else. Letting you know there's no shame in their game. I pretend I don't care when I really do. Finally looking for that one to call my own. I know nothing good will ever come my way. But yet I continue to try. To no avail. I do run across the occasional one who is really not my type. The ones who are also desperately looking for that one. I'm then lead to break them down just as others have done to me. Because I have a particular type you see. A type that in any other situation I would turn my nose up at and wonder why the education system failed them so. I guess it's that swagger. Don't know why that is. But now, I'm through. Done with all the bullshit. Done with caring. Done with trying. I need to live for me. Travis Motherfucking Watkins. Stop dealing with these lame asses who aren't even good enough for me in the first place. Because I'm a Star. Always have believed that and I will continue to believe that until my Star is finally noticed and put on display. Why settle for less? Why deprive myself of what I truly know I can achieve. But I'll never get it. My luck is not that prosperous. I always get hurt. Always left alone to pick up the pieces. But no more. I won't continue to let myself get hurt. No longer to allow a piece of myself to leave in another's lap. Being put into a position of pain just to fulfill someone else's pleasure. I ask myself if it's worth it. I think. I contemplate. I make a decision. I give up. Give up on the lifestyle that has brought me so many tears. So many sleepless nights. The life that has lead me to mix a bottle of pills with a bottle of Vodka. The Lifestyle. They think I chose this. Well they're wrong. And now this style is out of season and from now on I'll live my own life in my own style. Farewell.
Just A Thought...
I was just thinking about something. You know how people go to the doctor, right? The doctor tells you that you need a shot. "Something for the pain," he says. "This will make you feel a little drowsy, but after the chills, the shakes, hot flashes, hallucinations, fatigue, and possible coma you'll be fine," she proclaims. A good question came to me after thinking about how many shots I have received in my lifetime. The numerous amounts my friends have received. People in my family. Both of my parents had shots. So did my grands. But wait... Let me ask one question. When we get shots, take pills even, how do we know what's really going into our bodies? I mean, doctors can be putting anything into us and we're totally oblivious of the contents. You think you're getting a shot for a polio vaccine and, oopppsss, they just put cancer into you. We don't know. Shoot. I would not even ATTEMPT to attend medical school. Hell, I hated science class. Except high school chemistry. That was fun. And 7th grade science. But that's beside the point. What is being injected into my arm when I go to hospitals? Somebody needs to answer me. Because I wanna know. Dammit. People, let's look at this.
We have people in these Top Secret laboratories mixing and mingling all these chemicals, catering a mixture to one particular ailment, saying it's ok to put into your body, and administering these mixtures to millions of people. Uh uh. Something just doesn't seem right. First of all they already have these big and real confusing names for this medical stuff. Oxyplaroadialneanlay. Think that's a real drug? Well it's not. I just made it up. Where is my check. Because really, where are the names for these things coming from? It just doesn't make sense to me.
And why are there more mixtures of chemicals that are used for treatment and/ or to soothe these ailments than there are to get rid of them? For good. But, wait a minute, I forgot. There are people out there making millions and millions of billions of dollars making and distributing medication to help prolong the effects of "the most deadly and incurable diseases." I bet you there is a cure for cancer locked away in some New Mexican mountain. The cure for HIV/AIDS is in some invisible super top secret facility in the middle of the rain forest surrounded by savages. The common cold. Someone has something for that as well. In a vault underground somewhere. As long as there is money to be made through pharmaceuticals, oh, those cures are not coming out anytime soon. But really, what are we allowing to be put into our bodies?
We have people in these Top Secret laboratories mixing and mingling all these chemicals, catering a mixture to one particular ailment, saying it's ok to put into your body, and administering these mixtures to millions of people. Uh uh. Something just doesn't seem right. First of all they already have these big and real confusing names for this medical stuff. Oxyplaroadialneanlay. Think that's a real drug? Well it's not. I just made it up. Where is my check. Because really, where are the names for these things coming from? It just doesn't make sense to me.
And why are there more mixtures of chemicals that are used for treatment and/ or to soothe these ailments than there are to get rid of them? For good. But, wait a minute, I forgot. There are people out there making millions and millions of billions of dollars making and distributing medication to help prolong the effects of "the most deadly and incurable diseases." I bet you there is a cure for cancer locked away in some New Mexican mountain. The cure for HIV/AIDS is in some invisible super top secret facility in the middle of the rain forest surrounded by savages. The common cold. Someone has something for that as well. In a vault underground somewhere. As long as there is money to be made through pharmaceuticals, oh, those cures are not coming out anytime soon. But really, what are we allowing to be put into our bodies?
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
The Inner Circle
I have the most absolute bestest of the best friends. I only have like five of them. Well maybe I'm exaggerating, but at the most I have like ten. I associate with others but I only consider them to be acquaintances. When I think of a friend, I think of someone who can overlook your faults. To a certain level, of course, but minimal faults can be overlooked because they truly see what you have inside. I have plenty of faults. Too many actually. So many that I keep asking myself how I ever came across such great people. And more importantly why they choose to stay in my life. Friends are there for you when you're down. Friends are there to support you in your darkest hour. Your friends should never bring up the things that hurt you the most and more importantly, like Vegas, whatever is said or done within the circle should remain in the circle. But my friends, my true friends, the inner circle, they are so terrific in every way. And everyone of them bring something new and different to the table. I know that's why I hang around them. Added on to the fact that I love them dearly I also learn a lot from them everyday. They teach me so much about life and how to deal with it. And I definitely need that right now because life as I know it is so rough. I need positive energy around me at all times or else I'll go crazy. That is why I decided to take a lot of people out of my life. I can only take some people in very very small doses if even that. I don't have any time for someone who is going to make me feel low. I do that enough for myself. The friends that I have now know pretty much everything about me. They also know that I like to talk about myself. Not in a conceited or it's all about me way. It's just that some of the time I have to tell them about stuff so that I can hear it and they can hear it. Then I can interpret what some things mean or the value of others. They will also let me know their thoughts and feelings. And it's always just us. Most of the time. Sometimes there are little tagalongs. But whenever we're together it feels like a hundred people are in the room. We do a lot. We laugh a lot. We have soul to soul time. We have even cried together. I have even cried in front of them and I usually don't let anyone ever see me cry. But that's how great my friends are. I just feel so comfortable with them. They are my friends for life. I hope they know that. There might be other acquaintances and such but they are the only ones I will truly consider to be my friends. To be my family.
Thoughts Before Giving Up
Was all that I have done ever enough?
I lie awake and try to make sense
To make sense of a life that was destined for strife
Or was it?
I had every opportunity in the world
I could be anything I want to be but first I must find me
Was I ever grateful?
Of course I appreciated everything done for me
But maybe my gratitude was hidden by pride and attitude
Do I even matter?
I don't even know
My vision used to be so bright but now lacking so much light
Should I go on?
Should I...
I lie awake and try to make sense
To make sense of a life that was destined for strife
Or was it?
I had every opportunity in the world
I could be anything I want to be but first I must find me
Was I ever grateful?
Of course I appreciated everything done for me
But maybe my gratitude was hidden by pride and attitude
Do I even matter?
I don't even know
My vision used to be so bright but now lacking so much light
Should I go on?
Should I...
Succinctly Single
He's Single
Succinctly single to be exact
Tired of running around only to be let down
Showing love to those who only care about one thing
Giving his all and having his heart-broken everytime
He's fed up
Getting ran over is not what he envisioned for his life
He can't believe this is the life that he "chose"
Everyday is a constant struggle in his skin
Before he can be comfortable with another he has to find the voice within
Why do so many like to play games?
They lie, cheat, steal and never even care
They lead a life meant to hurt him after swindling him into believing
Believing that someone finally is there just for him
They build him up only to tear him down in the blink of an eye
Leaving destruction in their path they move on to the next... and the next... and the next
Never looking back and never giving a second thought of how he is
That's why, now, he's succinctly single
Keeping to himself what others used to get so easily
But not anymore
Because he's, in a few words, briefly and concisely single
Sorry fellas, but this one got away
Succinctly single to be exact
Tired of running around only to be let down
Showing love to those who only care about one thing
Giving his all and having his heart-broken everytime
He's fed up
Getting ran over is not what he envisioned for his life
He can't believe this is the life that he "chose"
Everyday is a constant struggle in his skin
Before he can be comfortable with another he has to find the voice within
Why do so many like to play games?
They lie, cheat, steal and never even care
They lead a life meant to hurt him after swindling him into believing
Believing that someone finally is there just for him
They build him up only to tear him down in the blink of an eye
Leaving destruction in their path they move on to the next... and the next... and the next
Never looking back and never giving a second thought of how he is
That's why, now, he's succinctly single
Keeping to himself what others used to get so easily
But not anymore
Because he's, in a few words, briefly and concisely single
Sorry fellas, but this one got away
Friday, June 8, 2007
Paris Hilton uses Celebrity status to her advantage
Photo Source: Associated Press
I knew it was going to happen. It was just a matter of time. Something told me that they weren't going to keep Paris Hilton in jail for the whole time period allotted. Celebrities just don't go through the same things as us normal people do. I mean, look at R. Kelly. Where in the world is his "peeing on 14 year-old girls" case going? I haven't heard anything else about it in a hot minute. And he's just going around "flirt"ing and having the "same girl" with people on his new album. I'm like hello you pee on little girls. Can justice prevail here?
But in true celebrity fashion Paris Hilton played a bogus "nervous breakdown" card. Someone on the Today Show put it best that a nervous breakdown is "a 50's thing" and I agree with him. You don't just have a nervous breakdown all of a sudden. There are other things that usually lead up to a nervous breakdown and 3 days in jail is not going to do it. There are people who have been in jail for years. If they say they're having a nervous breakdown can they be released early? And having studied a case about a bear company producing a bear wearing a straight jacket with the slogan "I'm crazy for you" and them getting hounded by groups that deal with the rights of the mentally ill, it's simply an unacceptable use of a psychiatric diagnosis.
Then the funny thing about the whole thing is that she has "been reassigned" to stay in her lavish Hollywood Hills home and has been fitted with an ankle bracelet. But how about she asked for cupcakes to be sent to her home and a stylist and a makeup artist to come over to ensure that she looks good. Uuuuummmm... what? Are you serious? I love you to death Paris and would switch places with you in a heartbeat pre-jail sentencing, but think about the message being sent to all your young fans. "If I can become real famous and do crazy things they aren't going to do anything about it."
I bet you someone got paid off real well. I still don't understand though how the Sheriff department made the decision for the reassignment when the judge himself said she would not be put under house arrest or work community service. Naomi got to do community service but all she did was hit someone with a phone. I'm pretty sure that might hurt and all that but not as much as it would hurt getting hit by a car driven by a drunken driver which Paris has clearly shown she does all the time. It's irresponsible and I'm upset that more than likely just because she's a celebrity that she got off so easy. I want to be a celebrity one day but number one I'm not going to lose my head and go crazy like most of these celebrities do. They're under a lot of pressure, I know, dealing with the media and all that crazy mess. But celebrities that choose to live in LA, where the paparazzi hang out the most, need to get over it. Move to Kentucky and build a big mansion or something. Don't get all down and out because your business is all out there neither. The life of a celebrity is a chosen one and if you can't handle it then get out and make room for those people who want to become a celebrity, not only to fulfill a dream and obtain certain rights and responsibilities, but to also help out in their community and other worldly affairs, gaining a platform that gives you the ability to reach a vast number of people. Instead of going out partying and drinking so much Paris how about you involve more of your time with charities and other outlets like that and maybe you won't get in trouble as much.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Second Chapter
June 10, 1984
Travis RayShawn Watkins was brought into this world at 6:38 P.M. Pretty healthy little baby except for a little jaundice, which is a yellowish stainage of the skin that eventually went away, and stunted growth for awhile. I didn't find out that I hadn't grown any for a brief period until I was much older and a doctor told me during a checkup while looking over my charts.
The location was Chester County Hospital, a hospital in what I would consider a small town in good ole' South Carolina. According to one of my grandmothers Phylicia Rashad's mom lives there. From my baby books and photo albums, brightly colored and neatly ornamented, everyone humanly possible was at the big event. Got a lot of presents and beaucoup amounts of money that I haven't seen. And apparently I was really into Michael Jackson during the '80s. Don't exactly know how my parents would know their infant's favorite artist was Michael Jackson or that I was a supporter of Ronald Reagan.
Enough about all of that and enough about South Carolina for a bit since I wasn't there for very long. Shortly after my birth I was whisked off to start life, my life, in another whole new world. This seems to be the perfect opportunity to introduce my parents and highlight their life decisions that would inevitably lead to decisions I was forced to make in my own life.
September 24, 1964
On this day my father, Daryl Cedric Watkins, was brought into the world. Well according to my grandmother he might have been born in 1963. We're not really sure. He stuck by 1964 so we stuck right by it as well. My father was what I would call a "Hood Boy" just because of certain stories I have heard along the way and the hood is where most of my dad's side of the family did and still reside. He is one of 6 children, 4 brothers and 1 sister, and my grandmother never married their dad. I know him though. Also know he has other kids, from what I have heard, and they're very similar in age to my dad, my aunt, and my uncles. If my grandmother would have married my grandfather though my last name would be Feely. Not really feeling that. "Travis Feely." Nope. Not one bit. Although I can't be sure that if that part of history was changed that I would be here. But anyway, thanks grandma for keeping and giving your children your maiden name.
It's interesting because I never really thought too hard about that situation until now, but for some reason it just helped me understand my dad a whole lot more. He grew up in the urban area, like I said before, of Rock Hill, SC. From stories people have told me, Daryl was a very rambunctious, wild, and overly careless child. He would run around with his brothers and get into anything they could find that would usually end up with them getting their ass spanked. Forget spanking. Because even though Willie Ann Watkins adores her grandchildren and has never spanked us or allowed for us to be spanked in front of her I hear she tore some back-sides up back in the day. Even kids that weren't her own. That was back in those days when if an elder saw you messing up they had automatic permission to wear you out. But it seems she had to be tough. My dad and his brothers were out of control according to family friends. They would get into fights, steal, vandalize, sneak out, and whatever else they could do to prove they were the biggest and the baddest. No one wanted to mess with the Watkins Boys.
My dad was not all bad though. He was involved in the church, a family tradition that still was around when I was younger where your butt was going to be in church no matter what and you were going to be on the choir, on the usher board... Our family has done it all. He was also a Boy Scout and later became an Eagle Scout and also an athlete. He loved playing football. It used to be one of my dad's out of the blue conversations.
"I remember when I used to play..." Oh no. Here we go. You couldn't help but just sit there and listen until he was done. Except one time when I had to go. He started talking about being tackled and hearing a cracking sound. Then he looked down at his leg and his bone was sticking out. I was over it. Had to go. The Rock Hill High Bearcats. Geez. That's like the staple of life in Rock Hill. Every time we go home I always hear some kind of story about the Bearcats or the Northwestern Trojans. Then it didn't help that pretty much every guy on my dad's side of the family that was born after 1960 has played for the Bearcats. The Watkins name is like a legendary tag for those of us who go to Rock Hill High. You're like automatically expected to play. Good thing I didn't attend because they would have been highly disappointed.
Even though my dad was considered to be Mister Bad Ass, that didn't stop him from gaining the attention of the sweet country girl.
July 20, 1965
This is the day my mom, Melinda Jacqueline Sterling, was born and I do believe we were born in the same hospital. I think she was even delivered by my doctor's father. I think. I could have made that up but I'm pretty sure that's what I heard. I hear a lot of things. Some things I have to drastically interpret because my family tries to trip the youngins up. My mom was born to Churchill and Laura Sterling and is the fourth in line of 5. She has two brothers and two sisters. Her two oldest siblings, my aunt Mary Elaine and my uncle Christopher, have the last name Craig, which is my grandmother's maiden name, are lighter skinned, and have finer hair that my mother and her other two siblings. That situation has never been fully explained. My sister, cousin Laura, and myself have been on the investigation for awhile now though. Especially when our cousin Chrishena started calling this short, light-skinned guy from our grandmother's church granddaddy. Very strange.
My mother was raised in Edgemoor, SC, which is the country side of Rock Hill. And believe me it is the coooooouuunnntry. There are trees and fields for miles and miles. So many animals around like deer, turkey, rabbits, snakes, cows, chickens, pigs, goats, and even two peacocks that came out of nowhere a few years ago. My grandparents raised their children in a small 3 bedroom, 1 bath home that they purchased for $100 and had transported and placed on their land. Looking at old pictures I noticed they did a ton of renovations and additions over the years. It's interesting to see how it used to be and how it is now, as they still live in the same house.
My grandparents were and still are a strict religious family. There was not much my mother and her siblings could without fear of being punished. They had to be on their p's and q's at all times. And my grandmother was and still is very much old fashioned. Stockings must be worn with all dresses and include a slip in there too because you're not going out of the house without a slip on. Hair must be neat and trim. You're not going out of the house as a "bama chile." Everyone must be in attendance before dinner could be served. That has changed a little bit nowadays because I like to eat and more than likely if I'm in Rock Hill it's a holiday and there is a big tasty meal waiting. My dad, grandfather, and uncles like to disappear right before dinner is about to be served and I began the "screw them" movement where when the food is done whoever is in the house says grace and fixes their plate.
My mother, along with everyone else, helped take care of the house, fed the animals, tended to the gardens, washed and hung clothes on the line, and prepared dinners. Everyone was pushed in whatever they did. Coming from a family that worked for everything they had and, more than likely, just to make ends meet it was put upon the Sterling clan to go for what they wanted and strive to be the best. It was also told to them to not feel like they were too good to do something. My grandmother will tell the story real quick of how she used to clean white folk's houses and watch their children.
My grandparents wanted their children to attend York County Schools but their house was just over the county line in Chester. Their backyard is literally in two different counties. So they came up with a plan. They decided to buy a simple mobile home, placed it in the backyard on the other side of the county line, and used that address to sign their children up in York. That mobile home would become a popular spot to go play cards and drink. My grandmother didn't really allow that kind of mess to take place in her house. She didn't put up with that, especially drinking. My grandfather still to this day hides his Seagram's Dry Gin out in the yard and occasionally sneaks off for a couple of little swigs.
With my grandparents getting their children into York County Schools my mother eventually ended up at Rock Hill High. She was the all-around student you could say. She was considered to be one of the pretty ones but also was a tomboy. She was cordial to most people, got good grades, participated in student government, band, cheerleading, track, volleyball, basketball, and ROTC. One might consider my mom to have been a goody two shoes. Wrong. I've heard plenty stories about her too. Like the times she would sneak away with her siblings and their cousins to go to "Cry Baby Bridge." It's this bridge, that I have even snuck away too myself, that is supposed to be haunted by the ghost of this baby whose mother threw them over the edge and drowned in the waters below. It's really creepy because sometimes you can really hear the faint cry of a baby. How about the times my mom would get her butt whooped for eating green plums and sweet grass when she wasn't supposed to. My grandmother told me she used to tell my mom to not eat the plums until they were ripe because she would get sick and not to eat the sweet grass because she didn't know what could be on it. My mom did it anyway. I ended up being the same way. Tore those plum trees up and the sweet grass too. Or how about the time my mom got in a fight on the school bus. That was a real funny story to hear. But not as funny as the story about my mom and her friend riding on a school bus my dad drove after school. See, my mom and her friend were not supposed to be riding on the bus, but they did it all the time anyway. Well one day my dad received a message over the radio to bring the bus into the depot immediately. There was no time to drop off the two stowaways. So my dad had to let them off the bus in the middle of the hood, which is way uptown and real far from the country. Keep in mind this was before cell phones were even thought about. It's just funny picturing my mom's semi-bougie and country self in the hood with nowhere to go or anyone to call because she knew if she would have called home it was over.
I've never heard many stories about my parents’ courtship. Haven't even seen any wedding photos. I just know they were high school sweethearts and my Grandma Laura did not like my dad very much. At first, whenever my dad would make it down into the wilderness to visit he had to stand on the opposite side of the dirt road and talk to my mom from there. She was there when he got arrested one time. He was there when she first became afraid of flying when a plane carrying their ROTC troop fell a few hundred feet. They both were there at my Grandma Watkins's house on February 25, 1984. That was the day they would become Mr. and Mrs. Daryl Watkins. Less than four months later I made my debut and their lives were changed forever.
Travis RayShawn Watkins was brought into this world at 6:38 P.M. Pretty healthy little baby except for a little jaundice, which is a yellowish stainage of the skin that eventually went away, and stunted growth for awhile. I didn't find out that I hadn't grown any for a brief period until I was much older and a doctor told me during a checkup while looking over my charts.
The location was Chester County Hospital, a hospital in what I would consider a small town in good ole' South Carolina. According to one of my grandmothers Phylicia Rashad's mom lives there. From my baby books and photo albums, brightly colored and neatly ornamented, everyone humanly possible was at the big event. Got a lot of presents and beaucoup amounts of money that I haven't seen. And apparently I was really into Michael Jackson during the '80s. Don't exactly know how my parents would know their infant's favorite artist was Michael Jackson or that I was a supporter of Ronald Reagan.
Enough about all of that and enough about South Carolina for a bit since I wasn't there for very long. Shortly after my birth I was whisked off to start life, my life, in another whole new world. This seems to be the perfect opportunity to introduce my parents and highlight their life decisions that would inevitably lead to decisions I was forced to make in my own life.
September 24, 1964
On this day my father, Daryl Cedric Watkins, was brought into the world. Well according to my grandmother he might have been born in 1963. We're not really sure. He stuck by 1964 so we stuck right by it as well. My father was what I would call a "Hood Boy" just because of certain stories I have heard along the way and the hood is where most of my dad's side of the family did and still reside. He is one of 6 children, 4 brothers and 1 sister, and my grandmother never married their dad. I know him though. Also know he has other kids, from what I have heard, and they're very similar in age to my dad, my aunt, and my uncles. If my grandmother would have married my grandfather though my last name would be Feely. Not really feeling that. "Travis Feely." Nope. Not one bit. Although I can't be sure that if that part of history was changed that I would be here. But anyway, thanks grandma for keeping and giving your children your maiden name.
It's interesting because I never really thought too hard about that situation until now, but for some reason it just helped me understand my dad a whole lot more. He grew up in the urban area, like I said before, of Rock Hill, SC. From stories people have told me, Daryl was a very rambunctious, wild, and overly careless child. He would run around with his brothers and get into anything they could find that would usually end up with them getting their ass spanked. Forget spanking. Because even though Willie Ann Watkins adores her grandchildren and has never spanked us or allowed for us to be spanked in front of her I hear she tore some back-sides up back in the day. Even kids that weren't her own. That was back in those days when if an elder saw you messing up they had automatic permission to wear you out. But it seems she had to be tough. My dad and his brothers were out of control according to family friends. They would get into fights, steal, vandalize, sneak out, and whatever else they could do to prove they were the biggest and the baddest. No one wanted to mess with the Watkins Boys.
My dad was not all bad though. He was involved in the church, a family tradition that still was around when I was younger where your butt was going to be in church no matter what and you were going to be on the choir, on the usher board... Our family has done it all. He was also a Boy Scout and later became an Eagle Scout and also an athlete. He loved playing football. It used to be one of my dad's out of the blue conversations.
"I remember when I used to play..." Oh no. Here we go. You couldn't help but just sit there and listen until he was done. Except one time when I had to go. He started talking about being tackled and hearing a cracking sound. Then he looked down at his leg and his bone was sticking out. I was over it. Had to go. The Rock Hill High Bearcats. Geez. That's like the staple of life in Rock Hill. Every time we go home I always hear some kind of story about the Bearcats or the Northwestern Trojans. Then it didn't help that pretty much every guy on my dad's side of the family that was born after 1960 has played for the Bearcats. The Watkins name is like a legendary tag for those of us who go to Rock Hill High. You're like automatically expected to play. Good thing I didn't attend because they would have been highly disappointed.
Even though my dad was considered to be Mister Bad Ass, that didn't stop him from gaining the attention of the sweet country girl.
July 20, 1965
This is the day my mom, Melinda Jacqueline Sterling, was born and I do believe we were born in the same hospital. I think she was even delivered by my doctor's father. I think. I could have made that up but I'm pretty sure that's what I heard. I hear a lot of things. Some things I have to drastically interpret because my family tries to trip the youngins up. My mom was born to Churchill and Laura Sterling and is the fourth in line of 5. She has two brothers and two sisters. Her two oldest siblings, my aunt Mary Elaine and my uncle Christopher, have the last name Craig, which is my grandmother's maiden name, are lighter skinned, and have finer hair that my mother and her other two siblings. That situation has never been fully explained. My sister, cousin Laura, and myself have been on the investigation for awhile now though. Especially when our cousin Chrishena started calling this short, light-skinned guy from our grandmother's church granddaddy. Very strange.
My mother was raised in Edgemoor, SC, which is the country side of Rock Hill. And believe me it is the coooooouuunnntry. There are trees and fields for miles and miles. So many animals around like deer, turkey, rabbits, snakes, cows, chickens, pigs, goats, and even two peacocks that came out of nowhere a few years ago. My grandparents raised their children in a small 3 bedroom, 1 bath home that they purchased for $100 and had transported and placed on their land. Looking at old pictures I noticed they did a ton of renovations and additions over the years. It's interesting to see how it used to be and how it is now, as they still live in the same house.
My grandparents were and still are a strict religious family. There was not much my mother and her siblings could without fear of being punished. They had to be on their p's and q's at all times. And my grandmother was and still is very much old fashioned. Stockings must be worn with all dresses and include a slip in there too because you're not going out of the house without a slip on. Hair must be neat and trim. You're not going out of the house as a "bama chile." Everyone must be in attendance before dinner could be served. That has changed a little bit nowadays because I like to eat and more than likely if I'm in Rock Hill it's a holiday and there is a big tasty meal waiting. My dad, grandfather, and uncles like to disappear right before dinner is about to be served and I began the "screw them" movement where when the food is done whoever is in the house says grace and fixes their plate.
My mother, along with everyone else, helped take care of the house, fed the animals, tended to the gardens, washed and hung clothes on the line, and prepared dinners. Everyone was pushed in whatever they did. Coming from a family that worked for everything they had and, more than likely, just to make ends meet it was put upon the Sterling clan to go for what they wanted and strive to be the best. It was also told to them to not feel like they were too good to do something. My grandmother will tell the story real quick of how she used to clean white folk's houses and watch their children.
My grandparents wanted their children to attend York County Schools but their house was just over the county line in Chester. Their backyard is literally in two different counties. So they came up with a plan. They decided to buy a simple mobile home, placed it in the backyard on the other side of the county line, and used that address to sign their children up in York. That mobile home would become a popular spot to go play cards and drink. My grandmother didn't really allow that kind of mess to take place in her house. She didn't put up with that, especially drinking. My grandfather still to this day hides his Seagram's Dry Gin out in the yard and occasionally sneaks off for a couple of little swigs.
With my grandparents getting their children into York County Schools my mother eventually ended up at Rock Hill High. She was the all-around student you could say. She was considered to be one of the pretty ones but also was a tomboy. She was cordial to most people, got good grades, participated in student government, band, cheerleading, track, volleyball, basketball, and ROTC. One might consider my mom to have been a goody two shoes. Wrong. I've heard plenty stories about her too. Like the times she would sneak away with her siblings and their cousins to go to "Cry Baby Bridge." It's this bridge, that I have even snuck away too myself, that is supposed to be haunted by the ghost of this baby whose mother threw them over the edge and drowned in the waters below. It's really creepy because sometimes you can really hear the faint cry of a baby. How about the times my mom would get her butt whooped for eating green plums and sweet grass when she wasn't supposed to. My grandmother told me she used to tell my mom to not eat the plums until they were ripe because she would get sick and not to eat the sweet grass because she didn't know what could be on it. My mom did it anyway. I ended up being the same way. Tore those plum trees up and the sweet grass too. Or how about the time my mom got in a fight on the school bus. That was a real funny story to hear. But not as funny as the story about my mom and her friend riding on a school bus my dad drove after school. See, my mom and her friend were not supposed to be riding on the bus, but they did it all the time anyway. Well one day my dad received a message over the radio to bring the bus into the depot immediately. There was no time to drop off the two stowaways. So my dad had to let them off the bus in the middle of the hood, which is way uptown and real far from the country. Keep in mind this was before cell phones were even thought about. It's just funny picturing my mom's semi-bougie and country self in the hood with nowhere to go or anyone to call because she knew if she would have called home it was over.
I've never heard many stories about my parents’ courtship. Haven't even seen any wedding photos. I just know they were high school sweethearts and my Grandma Laura did not like my dad very much. At first, whenever my dad would make it down into the wilderness to visit he had to stand on the opposite side of the dirt road and talk to my mom from there. She was there when he got arrested one time. He was there when she first became afraid of flying when a plane carrying their ROTC troop fell a few hundred feet. They both were there at my Grandma Watkins's house on February 25, 1984. That was the day they would become Mr. and Mrs. Daryl Watkins. Less than four months later I made my debut and their lives were changed forever.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
First Chapter of my Memoirs
They say it's best to start at the beginning. I beg to differ. Like many others I tend to look at the end of a story before I make the commitment to read it. My story is most suited to start off at the culmination of what my life created. It, my life, created, manifested, developed, unleashed what I like to think is a very well rounded and substantially interesting world. A destiny beyond any other. A portrait of what it means to be a starving artist. A monster who longed for what could inevitably be impossible but still felt an arm length away.
This seemingly happy college Senior who possessed every delusion of grandeur still had a grip on reality but failed to bring reality into any aspect of his life. His drive and determination led him to be a loner with many friends, a schizophrenic who led a secret but realistic life, and...
It's all too much to illustrate without making myself look like a looney tune. Although you may often notice that he sometimes likes to refer to himself in third person. I try not to, believe me he does, but I feel my other side better understands me. More than he ever would alone. I used to think life, my life, was right on track. Everything was in place to make every and all people who ever doubted me, put me down, hurt me, lied to me, cheated on me, defeated me, punished me, resented me regret the day they engraved their name on my cornerstone of revenge and payback. I simply knew that what I wanted more than anything in life was to make a name for myself. No longer to remain an open target for ridicule and disappointment. I wanted, no, needed to be seen as a positive source in the World.
Right now our society is filled with reflections of lies and corruption. There's a pointless war going on and many people fail to see the destruction our current government is doing on us as US citizens and other innocent people who unfortunately are in a country that doesn't care about them. Weather patterns are becoming more and more bizarre everyday but that doesn't make more people stop and think about the turmoil they're bringing onto our planet. I now know what Mr. Gore is complaining about and trying to help others understand. Al and Tipper for weather and mental health awareness. I love it. More people should become involved in local and worldly affairs but they choose not to. Most are absorbed in self awareness, only caring for themselves and the gain they can bring upon themselves. Rims, bling, Tims, and sting. It's sad when meaningless things that can't go with you after you leave this place start to envelope your life. It happened to me at one point. Before I realized those things were not the meaning of life.
Travis needs a cause to gun for. He has so many opinions about many different things: gay rights, the homeless, why black people are continuing to bring each other down, how come reality tv shows about the rich and fabulous are so popular when the majority of the population are just average people, and whether there really is a cure for HIV/AIDS and cancer but the government sees dollar signs when it comes to medication and treatment of these deadly illnesses. I can go on all day about the things thought about on a daily basis. I even have interviews in my restroom. Sitting on my commode I pretend I'm on Oprah or other talk shows and I pour my heart out. It's a great release but who in the end heard any of my inner most thoughts but me, excuse me, God and me. He's always a good source to go to, however, I'm still not making much of an impact on the world.
This is going to be a drastic change in topic but I eat pretty much the same thing all the time. I like to try and be adventurous in life but never when it comes to what I consume. Well I can't say never because there have been a couple of instances I gave into what I thought was a fear. Chicken is my staple, followed by pretty much any kind of vegetable and then little odds and ends such as pasta, french fries, Chinese, Mexican, but only tacos, spanish rice, chips, and salsa, and lots of candy. Definitely anything, well, almost anything my grandmothers would make. I'm telling you this because although I don't eat a vast variety of foods I do eat a lot of what I like. I haven't been eating much lately though. Another element my life has dealt me, not having the ability to partake in food as I would like. When I do have the ability to purchase food for myself I have to make it stretch nowadays. I will feed off of a pasta dish for about five days before my paranoia sets in and I start to believe the dish has gone bad. I then throw it away along with a little piece of myself. He goes hungry sometimes to preserve food for a little longer. Just until he knows of his next opportunity to get groceries. When that day comes he usually will try to prepare a little feast for his friends just so they will never suspect he sometimes goes without food. At the most there is one meal a day with snacks and such to hold me over. It's never enough especially with an appetite like mine. My stomach has begun being a nuisance lately. I can never get through a day without some kind of gurgling action going on. Makes it hard to sit through a class comfortably, afraid for someone to hear my hunger. There's not much I can do about it now. Not much he can do at all.
"You're going to be such a big star."
"Travis, you are a superstar."
"You are fabulous."
"I can see you doing that. Definitely." I hear it all the time from many different people. Some I have never even had the priviledge of meeting in person now in these days of Myspace, Facebook, and other online media. They have only heard stories of me or seen pictures that have been taken. It's always the same thing.
"You're going to go far in life."
"I have told people that of all the people I know I feel you are going to make it big." It is all great to hear. Take it in, think about it, dream about it. It's who it comes from that really matters though. Friends, real and Myspaced, acquaintances, professors, advisers, they can say it all day, everyday. Sometimes it takes a source even closer to you for you to truly believe it. A father, a mother, your sister, a brother. Maybe an uncle or an aunt. Grandparents too. Someone who was there and has known you since the moment you made your debut in this world. From those sources it touches you the most. Haven't heard anything like that from them in awhile. They give me some encouraging words every now and then but then they are quickly followed by how disappointing I have begun. They are kind of slowly turning their backs on me which in turn is causing me to turn my back on them. They lost all hope and fail to realize what I am truly trying to accomplish. It will eventually lead you to lose sight of all your own hopes and dreams and leave you feeling like you have no one close to you believing in your ability. Then you start to think it's partly, and possibly, mainly your fault.
So who does he turn to? His friends who are going through their own set of circumstances? His set of acquaintances who are only ever around when it is convenient for them and to help feel better about themselves? Or his imaginary life that he leads only in his mind and private company complete with a new family, career, financial stability, and all the notariety he could ever dream of?
I'm broke, alone for the most part, depressed, unfocused, set in my ways while hating the predictable, but most importantly I'm scared for my life. I can't let myself down though. Just won't allow for it to happen.
Because in letting himself down would be letting down the World.
This seemingly happy college Senior who possessed every delusion of grandeur still had a grip on reality but failed to bring reality into any aspect of his life. His drive and determination led him to be a loner with many friends, a schizophrenic who led a secret but realistic life, and...
It's all too much to illustrate without making myself look like a looney tune. Although you may often notice that he sometimes likes to refer to himself in third person. I try not to, believe me he does, but I feel my other side better understands me. More than he ever would alone. I used to think life, my life, was right on track. Everything was in place to make every and all people who ever doubted me, put me down, hurt me, lied to me, cheated on me, defeated me, punished me, resented me regret the day they engraved their name on my cornerstone of revenge and payback. I simply knew that what I wanted more than anything in life was to make a name for myself. No longer to remain an open target for ridicule and disappointment. I wanted, no, needed to be seen as a positive source in the World.
Right now our society is filled with reflections of lies and corruption. There's a pointless war going on and many people fail to see the destruction our current government is doing on us as US citizens and other innocent people who unfortunately are in a country that doesn't care about them. Weather patterns are becoming more and more bizarre everyday but that doesn't make more people stop and think about the turmoil they're bringing onto our planet. I now know what Mr. Gore is complaining about and trying to help others understand. Al and Tipper for weather and mental health awareness. I love it. More people should become involved in local and worldly affairs but they choose not to. Most are absorbed in self awareness, only caring for themselves and the gain they can bring upon themselves. Rims, bling, Tims, and sting. It's sad when meaningless things that can't go with you after you leave this place start to envelope your life. It happened to me at one point. Before I realized those things were not the meaning of life.
Travis needs a cause to gun for. He has so many opinions about many different things: gay rights, the homeless, why black people are continuing to bring each other down, how come reality tv shows about the rich and fabulous are so popular when the majority of the population are just average people, and whether there really is a cure for HIV/AIDS and cancer but the government sees dollar signs when it comes to medication and treatment of these deadly illnesses. I can go on all day about the things thought about on a daily basis. I even have interviews in my restroom. Sitting on my commode I pretend I'm on Oprah or other talk shows and I pour my heart out. It's a great release but who in the end heard any of my inner most thoughts but me, excuse me, God and me. He's always a good source to go to, however, I'm still not making much of an impact on the world.
This is going to be a drastic change in topic but I eat pretty much the same thing all the time. I like to try and be adventurous in life but never when it comes to what I consume. Well I can't say never because there have been a couple of instances I gave into what I thought was a fear. Chicken is my staple, followed by pretty much any kind of vegetable and then little odds and ends such as pasta, french fries, Chinese, Mexican, but only tacos, spanish rice, chips, and salsa, and lots of candy. Definitely anything, well, almost anything my grandmothers would make. I'm telling you this because although I don't eat a vast variety of foods I do eat a lot of what I like. I haven't been eating much lately though. Another element my life has dealt me, not having the ability to partake in food as I would like. When I do have the ability to purchase food for myself I have to make it stretch nowadays. I will feed off of a pasta dish for about five days before my paranoia sets in and I start to believe the dish has gone bad. I then throw it away along with a little piece of myself. He goes hungry sometimes to preserve food for a little longer. Just until he knows of his next opportunity to get groceries. When that day comes he usually will try to prepare a little feast for his friends just so they will never suspect he sometimes goes without food. At the most there is one meal a day with snacks and such to hold me over. It's never enough especially with an appetite like mine. My stomach has begun being a nuisance lately. I can never get through a day without some kind of gurgling action going on. Makes it hard to sit through a class comfortably, afraid for someone to hear my hunger. There's not much I can do about it now. Not much he can do at all.
"You're going to be such a big star."
"Travis, you are a superstar."
"You are fabulous."
"I can see you doing that. Definitely." I hear it all the time from many different people. Some I have never even had the priviledge of meeting in person now in these days of Myspace, Facebook, and other online media. They have only heard stories of me or seen pictures that have been taken. It's always the same thing.
"You're going to go far in life."
"I have told people that of all the people I know I feel you are going to make it big." It is all great to hear. Take it in, think about it, dream about it. It's who it comes from that really matters though. Friends, real and Myspaced, acquaintances, professors, advisers, they can say it all day, everyday. Sometimes it takes a source even closer to you for you to truly believe it. A father, a mother, your sister, a brother. Maybe an uncle or an aunt. Grandparents too. Someone who was there and has known you since the moment you made your debut in this world. From those sources it touches you the most. Haven't heard anything like that from them in awhile. They give me some encouraging words every now and then but then they are quickly followed by how disappointing I have begun. They are kind of slowly turning their backs on me which in turn is causing me to turn my back on them. They lost all hope and fail to realize what I am truly trying to accomplish. It will eventually lead you to lose sight of all your own hopes and dreams and leave you feeling like you have no one close to you believing in your ability. Then you start to think it's partly, and possibly, mainly your fault.
So who does he turn to? His friends who are going through their own set of circumstances? His set of acquaintances who are only ever around when it is convenient for them and to help feel better about themselves? Or his imaginary life that he leads only in his mind and private company complete with a new family, career, financial stability, and all the notariety he could ever dream of?
I'm broke, alone for the most part, depressed, unfocused, set in my ways while hating the predictable, but most importantly I'm scared for my life. I can't let myself down though. Just won't allow for it to happen.
Because in letting himself down would be letting down the World.
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