I Let Me Down (Written in 2009)

It is often said that everyone plays the fool a time or two in life, but what if you are always playing the fool. It seems like everyday is spent as the outsider and dummy of the group. “Why am I the one always getting hurt?”, “What is it about me that attract people that I allow to hurt me?” “Why do I fall for it every time?” These are questions that are often asked in that type of situation. And it’s all because of the one emotion that plagues mankind more so than any infectious disease: love.

It seems so simple in the storybooks-boy meets girl, girl meets boy, and they fall in love and live happily ever after. That is how it’s supposed, or so I thought. If I would have known then what I knew now, I think I would have saved myself a lot of heartache.

You don’t want much out of it, just some reciprocity, but I guess even to some people that seems to be too much to ask. And in your mind, you know the reality of how the story ends, but your heart is another story. It longs for the storybook ending at every available opportunity. No matter what the logics of the mind say. That is how a heartbreak occurs. When one person is stuck on a thing and they are determined to prove other people wrong and at times prove themselves wrong and then they are let down by the very thing that they are fighting for.

As an adult, you wish on a star for that one thing that you think would satisfy you in life; even though you think in your head “Yeah right, like a star can grant me that!” But somewhere deep in the crevices of your soul, you think “maybe this time, it just might work, maybe this time it will be different.” Other than that you wouldn’t have tried to wish it. And whether you care to admit it openly, you can’t help but to be a little disappointed when it doesn’t happen.

That is how children stop believing in Santa Claus for Christmas. They ask for one simple (to them that is) thing every year. And they get everything else that they ask for but that one thing. That one thing that would make it the best Christmas ever to them. The sting of disappointment every year is enough to make them stop believing in the magic that the holiday season is supposed to bring.

That is how I feel now. I’m not hurt, but I am disappointed. More so at myself than anything or anyone else. I knew better in my head but I allowed emotions to take over and get the best of me. And now, once again, I’m the one with the gaping hole in the middle of my chest that used to be filled with something that I thought was the greatest thing on this natural earth. No matter how or why it ends, it always ends. And I’m the puppy that is left going home to lick her wounds after the fight that should have never been.

The world of hip hop has let me down again. Hopefully for the last time. I need to take a break from it all and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to return to it the way that I used to. It has become the very thing that it has tried to hard to protest against musically. It has sold out to the main stream and didn’t even realize it. And I was so busy listening and thinking of my own songs that I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t realize it either. Until now that is. My eyes have been opened and now I see the truth. I have been forced into the realization that Slick Rick and Doug E. Fresh are no longer in the game. They have been replaced with watered downed renditions of emcees. And I am left with that and not by choice.

My love for hip hop has been tainted. A love that was once so pure and innocent is now slowly becoming non-existent. Which is not necessarily a bad thing I’m coming to realize.

What once was, is no more.

Drummer One (written back in 2010)

Over the years, I have tried to get over it but time and time again, I find myself back where I started. Listening for the rim shots of my Drummer One. With every lick of the sticks and kick of the bass comes floodgates of feeling and emotions that I try so hard to convince myself aren’t there. Feeling that I try to forget. We’ve played this song below. More times than I care to admit. Repeating the same rolls and breaks every time. But every time I’m like a child that watches the same movie over and over again. I know how the song ends but yet and still every time I hear the intro, I’m glued to it, anticipating the surprise ending that never comes. So I am posing a question to myself. Why don’t I turn off the radio? Why is it that I am still shocked about something that I’ve heard before? I know it’s not the special edition with all of the added and deleted scene footage, and the alternate ending. I keep hearing the same song over and over again. Every phrase is the same, every hook, and every vamp. The only difference is the performance. Because it is live, there are a few different variations from time to time. There are some new rolls and possibly some that I will never hear again for whatever reason. But as I said before, the skeleton of the song is the same. It is a track, so it never lets me down. With it being on a board, the timing of the song can be alternated. It can short, it can be long, and it’s all up to Drummer One. It is set up to adjust to the mood of Drummer. He can play it in regular time or in half steps. The bass line is always consistent. One thing any drummer is taught is to stay in the pocket, no matter what else you do stay in the pocket. So that’s what he does. His style varies; by he always remains in the pocket. And unfortunately for me, he makes it every time. He doesn’t miss a beat. And neither do I.

Rest in Peace My Drummer... 

Is Your Yes Sure (First Bible Study Lesson Notes)

I promise you, It’s just like your mind to mess with you when you're given an assignment. And the enemy just sits back and watches you destroy your own self. Enjoying that you’re doing all of his work for him.  Less work of him to do.

When the man of God gave me this assignment, I promise it felt like my insides were caving in on me. My heart hit my toes and tears formed in the corner of my eyes. And every thought was why I felt like I couldn't do this. I said to myself (and God) “In all the years that I’ve been around, this was the place that was only held by my leader and the ministerial staff, who am i to stand here in this position”. I looked at my life’s choices and where I feel like I am in my walk with God and said “surely, I’m not worthy. What in the world am I going to bring to EVERYBODY. I’m the least of them all”

Then He said to me “none of them has lived a perfect life either. None of them haven’t lived without mistakes or decisions that they weren't proud of. None of them are without fault, so why should you be any different."

We so often say that “Lord you can use me. Use all of me” but that one phrase is so loaded and misused.  We honestly don’t know just how much we’ll give and allow to be used until we get to a place where we have to give more than what we bargained for.  I was (and still am) perfectly content with being where I was. In an effort to "stay out of the way” and stay "under the radar”. I enjoyed staying in that corner behind that there camera.  It allowed me the comfort and peace of knowing that I wasn't being charged like those on the other end of my flash.  I was held to a standard, but not as high as those on the other side.

Isaiah 29:13

(KJV) Wherefore the Lord said, Forasmuch as this people draw near me with their mouth, and with their lips do honour me, but have removed their heart far from me, and their fear toward me is taught by the precept of men:

On Sunday we talked about the women in the lineage of Christ and how all of those women had a couple things in common. The biggest one was shame

Shame-a painful feeling of humiliation or distress caused by the consciousness of wrong or foolish behavior.

Synonyms for Humiliation

embarrassment, mortification, shame, indignity, ignominy,  disgrace, discomfiture, dishonor, degradation, discredit,  belittlement, opprobrium; loss of face;  informal blow to one's pride/ego, slap in the face,  kick in the teeth, comedown

The man of God talked about shame and how with our own shame and our own secrets that we carry, it cripples us from stepping out.  I remember when I was pregnant (both times) and I used to literally pray and cry to the Lord “why me????” “Why do I have to be the one pregnant. I’m the youngest adult, we've only been here so many years, I moved here with my CHURCH, I’m not married, and yet, I’m the one with the baby”. I didn't get an answer the first go round.  And then the second time, my petition got worse. I literally cried saying “Lord, WHY ME?!” and then one day, just as clear as I’m standing here speaking, I heard Him say to me “why not you?”. So even now, as we’re entering this different phase of ministry, the Lord is still saying “why not you? You say that I can use you...Why are you limiting me through your own hands?”

Isaiah 29:13

(NET) The Sovereign master says “These people say that they are loyal to me; they say wonderful things about me, but they are not really loyal to me. Their worship consists of nothing but man-made ritual”

(MSG) (verses 13 and 14)

“These people make a big show of saying the right thing,
    but their hearts aren't in it.
Because they act like they’re worshiping me
    but don’t mean it,
I’m going to step in and shock them awake,
    astonish them, stand them on their ears.
The wise ones who had it all figured out
    will be exposed as fools.
The smart people who thought they knew everything
    will turn out to know nothing.”

We’re a people that likes to say that we know what God wants us to do with us and because of that, we’ll give our all. We’re so quick to say “Lord if you send me, I’ll go”. But is your yes sure? Is your yes truly from your heart, or is it just with your lips or your mind and understanding of what you think He has for you to do? 

When the Lord gives you a task that steps your out of your comfort zone, I firmly believe that it’s at that moment that He is seeing what’s really in your heart.  The way you respond and the way that you execute the task is what your heart truly believes. 

The one thing that we try to keep to ourselves and cover up and conceal, can God use that very thing to speak life to someone else? Their shame was their ministry. Can He really use your womb, can He use your voice, can He use your broken decisions, Can He use your shame? Or is it too much of an embarrassment to allow God to use? That struggle doesn't fit the life that I’m portraying now, so people are going to look at me differently…I don’t have that issue anymore, and I don’t want people took treat me like I’m still that way. God wants to know if He can use that too. Or is your pride too strong to let it be used? 

Psalm 4:2

O ye sons of men, how long will ye turn my glory into shame? how long will ye love vanity, and seek after leasing? Selah.

I’m not saying to go and profess to the rooftops all of your dirty laundry and say “now that I've confessed my all, you can come to Jesus now!” I’m not saying to divulge it all. The Word says in Proverbs that “a fool uttereth all his mind…”. But God is saying “can I use it if I see fit for it. Will you allow it to be a part of your all too"

PUSH

 Lord I need you to come in.  I felt it begin, and then it was gone.  It’s easy and then it’s hard.  It flows, and then it’s backed up.  I want to give what I want, but I know what I heard You say to me, and I don’t want to, no I can’t negate that part.     I’m trying too hard to be something that I know in my spirit that I am, but I feel like I’m not.  I believe in my heart that You are using me for Your purpose, but my mind and my memories keep telling me that I’m not worthy.  I’ve been called powerful and an encouraging, and I feel like I’m trying to force it out.  Knowing that it’s never comes out that way.  I want it to be able to flow like it used to.  I want it to be able to be second nature like it used to.  I want to be able to just step out and do and feel that comfort that I used to.  But I need your help.  I don’t want the extreme emotion to be the driving force for me to be able to perform.  But it feels like that’s the only way it seems to happen.  I want the fullness of ministry, instead of the fullness of my emotions.  I want my belly to give life instead of stillborn. I want to look at my baby and love it. Not feel intimidated by it. 

“Just trust me daughter”, I hear a subtle whisper in the wind say. “What you feel is the push of the end of the struggle.  The intimidation is simply the understanding of the gravity of what you have inside of you. But what you have yet to realize is that while you were going through those moments, I was giving you what you needed for this moment here.  I’ve promised you balance and you haven’t even taken the time to see it yet. When the job was lost, I supplied the need.  When the baby got sick, I gave you peace.  When you felt like your heart was shredded to pieces, I gave you strength.  When your experiences (that you felt were so out of my will) tore you down, I gave you wisdom.  And when you felt like you couldn’t go any further, I gave you a boost. 

Whether you realize it or not my child, I’ve been there the entire time, shaping and molding your womb to bring forth the life of your gift and your calling.  For this entire time, I’ve shaped you, grown you, and matured you for this perfect moment.

But Lord, how do I get through this thing? How do I get the balance that’s been promised to me? How do I know if I’m even doing this the right way?

 And He simply says PUSH

The time is now for you to release. The time is now for you to bring forth.  The time is now for you to produce life…The struggles were only the labor pains.  No labor comes forth without pains.  Even nature teaches you some things my love.  The more intense the pain and the closer together the pain comes, the closer you are to your birthing.  And I’ve been right there holding your hand, coaching you and helping you breath.  Now the time has come for you to buckle down and push.  I’ve been waiting on you. I didn’t want to force you or allow you to force yourself before it’s time, because this is important to my work.  There will be no miscarriages or still borns of this gift.  You cannot abort this gift. It’s coming and it’s coming now.  Everything you’ve suffered through has been for this moment.  All of the tears have been for this moment.

 Now PUSH

 

Homework Assignment

This was an actual assignment that I had for class. The assignment was to choose a photo (from a series of 5 that were provided) and write a story as to what happened leading up to the photo being taken, and what happened after. Any perspective that you want and in any tone you want. So, as I was writing, I had to inquire into some creative freedom. My professor basically said "go for it", so I did. Excuse the expletives. :) Also, there's no title. Sorry. LOL


Here's the image that I chose

Here's my story:

          Every day lately, it seems to be the same thing: day in and day out. Everybody wants to make a name for themselves. But that they don’t understand is that while their “making a point”, they’re taking me away from my family.  My wife cooked my favorite dinner, but do I get to eat it? No.  Why? Cause I’m standing here, looking at these punks that want to protest.  I have to take away from tucking my kids in because I have to work.  “It’s all a part of the job” they tell me.  Tell that to my family. 

“Hey Johnson!” One of the guys says to me as we pull up to the building. I gave the most disgruntled “fuck off” waves that I could muster back in his direction.   “This should be a peaceful one tonight they said” he said to me as I was getting out of the car.  “I sure hope so, I would like to sleep in my bed tonight” I tell him as I pull out my task force vest and shield.  ‘I’d so much rather be at home’ I tell myself…well, here goes nothing. 

We all get in line, arm to arm and shield to shield.  Why won’t these kids just go home?? I say as I brace myself for what is getting ready to come next. *snap* a flash goes off and it hurts my eyes.  Somebody just took a picture.  

“Ladies and Gentlemen! It’s time for you all to go on home” Chief says over a bullhorn as he walks in front of us. It’s loud and in my ear, but I’m already in defense mode.  I look over the crowd standing in front of me. There are at least 20 of them and 30 of us.  The one on the ground yells back “No justice, no peace. Tell your men to go home. We’re not going anywhere until our voices are heard”.

“Look, I’m not going to say it again. You all need to go on home!” Chief said again “We don’t want things to go left field and we can all have a good night.” Just then, something came flying through the air in our direction.  ‘What the fuck is that’ I said to myself. Then more started coming. These little ass holes had bags of dog shit and they were throwing them at us! Really?!

 “Draw your weapons and protect yourself at all costs!” we heard yelled. We knew what that meant. Shields drawn and gear in place. It was time for battle and we were in an all-out attack with some damn kids.

No sooner than I got over what happened, they started running towards us with bats and who knows whatever else. We’re using the shields and gear to protect ourselves from this chaos, trying to not really hurt anybody but not get hurt.  And all the while, this little shit is still sitting on the ground in that same damn spot not saying a word.  I want to pull my gun out and scare the living daylights out of him.  Everything about him is smug.  From the sinister grin on his face to the way he’s sitting here watching these people put themselves in jail or worse.  He doesn’t care anything about these people.  He’s out here for something else…something doesn’t quite sit well with me about him. 

Just then, my suspicions were right…the little shit stood up and pulled off his hoodie. Strapped to his chest was pound after pound of explosives.  “NO JUSTICE! NO PEACE! Meet me in hell mother fuckers!” “BOOOOOOMB!!!” Everybody (officers and protestors alike) screamed. They had no idea…They really had no idea! All of the fighting ceased and we took off after him. But before anyone could get to him, he did it. I covered my face with my shield and BOOM! There was blood, charred flesh and limbs everywhere. Blood ran down my shield from somebody, I don’t even have an idea who’s.  The entire area was covered in smoke and his lifeless mass was on the ground, right in the same damn place where he sat.  I turned around to see who was alive behind me.  Just about everybody was gone: chief, all of the protestors, camera crew from the news that came out, reporters. (I didn’t even see them) It looks like the entire block was taken out. Cars were on fire. It was nothing but a pure mess.

A drip fell and hit my eyelashes…then another. What is this? I said to myself. I touched my face and saw that it was blood. I immediately dropped my shield and felt my head. ‘where was it?’ I felt around and there was a big gaping hole where my helmet was. All I felt was wet.  The more I panicked, the more tired I became. Soon I felt myself falling. I tried to steady myself, but it my arms didn’t work. All the while, blood was dripping into my eyes.  I didn’t even feel myself hit the ground. The only thing I saw and felt was the black abyss of death.

Liberty

The writer that knows their keys is the equivalent to the artist that knows their tools.  The skill of their craft is contingent upon how well they know them.  They have to know the individualized functions of them all to be able to use them to their fullest capacity and get the greatest result. 

I’m sitting here with my head back and my eyes closed and I’m able to move across my keys just as fluidly as if I was looking at the screen.  With no particular thought in mind, but allowing my fingers to do the thinking and allowing that creative freedom to roam.  I find it interesting that when I open my eyes and look at my keys and my screen that the words don’t flow as easily as they do when my eyes are closed.  I wonder if it’s an unsaid fear at the sight of my own thoughts staring me in my face on the screen, of just an unsaid but understood self-confidence issue. 

I believe that I’m a good writer and I love to watch or hear of the effect that my writing has on others. But the freeing aspect of putting those thoughts into visual words has always been the greatest fear of mine to overcome.  My thoughts are provoking, and after last week’s blog, just as powerful as my words. For they are the very foundation of where those words emerge.  And it’s because of that power, that I’ve kept them hidden for years. Just now really emerging to let the words fly free.  Knowing that when they are read, that a portion of me has also been revealed.   It’s a journey that I’m willing to take so that I can be just as free as those that read.  Why allow them to be free by the very thing that at one time bound me?