Amber."Fear stifles our thinking and actions. It creates indecisiveness that results in stagnation. I have known talented people who procrastinate indefinitely rather than risk failure. Lost opportunities cause erosion of confidence, and the downward spiral begins."Charles F. Stanley
I’m fairly certain that in a few weeks time, these thoughts won’t matter. Or they will and I’ll only think about them in passing.
So much of my mind lately has been about giving, about feeding this narcissistic value of being and existing. That if I give, if I impart wisdom or a laugh or even make somebody beside myself smile - I actually exist.
Legacies and all that.
It’s been a summer for the most part that has taught me that giving works. It also takes plenty of patience to see that through but giving does indeed work. You tell your friends how great they are, how they somehow outdid you in the chase for a mate. You tell your friends, those you may even crush upon that their dreams are worth chasing, that obstacles are merely bullshit excuses we lob at ourselves hoping doubt would slam them home.
"Send it in Jerome!"
I thought I may find love this summer, instead I found just a bit more of myself. Of my own selfish wants to bind together with somebody’s selfish needs to become a rather intriguing mix. Visited New York, became entranced with the thoughts of a transplant making it big like so many others. Visited New Orleans because where else would you get all of your vices six hours away from home?
Some of my friends are confused and that’s perfectly fine. Some of my friends are living and that’s fine as well. Some are fed up, some are angry, some are content.
Why am I so consumed with the chase though? That never satisfying always go bigger, fuck just a bit more longer, let your lips enjoy the kiss and the embrace … chase? Victories don’t seem as sweet as the chase. That’s all the summer has been for me - a chase into a rabbit hole.
Chased briefly a woman who was formerly a cheerleader who didn’t necessarily enjoy a great quote.
Chased for a few months a 1,600 mile mental fling. Still may be chasing that.
Chased a woman who grew into a great friend, only when I seemed not available for the race was she unavailable when I returned.
Chased … Chased … Chased.
Something tells me I gave plenty to chase a lot. And when the inevitable occurs, all of my bits of selfishness will turn into something else.
My selfish wants for her to see her as I do.
"Bourgeois Ghetto" photographed Jamil GS , Vibe Magazine December 2002
#RP via @jasfly
Me. T.I. | @troubleman31 at @937thebeat’s #behindthebeat private listening session. #dreamlife (at 93.7 the Beat - KQBT)
Primed and ready for this Shelton wedding. (at Crystal Springs)
The #Rakim Interview via @dayandadream.
I hate talking about death.
I know its inevitable, its the final end and something that will eventually look us all in the face but I hate speaking in terms of the end. It feels macabre to me, the one fetish of all fetishes that makes my skin crawl and immediately jump to a different plane of the Earth. Maybe because I don’t necessarily deal with death as best as anyone else, or watching people…
Writing about death sucks, writing about those you care about close to death sucks harder.