Goodbye blogger...

It is with a heavy heart that I announce the closure of this blog. Join me on the Tumblr though at 1misunderstoodgenius.tumblr.com.

smell you later

The Meaning of Life

This will be my last official post at this address. Except of course for the next one which will be directing you to my new address. This will, therefore, be my last post at this address concerning my thoughts and feelings about a certain subject. All set? Cool. Let's begin...

I realized, when I was thinking about the topic of which I am about to relate, that the title was eluding me. I hemmed extensively and followed those with some haws and then discovered that the main purpose of my life up to now and my continuing relentless pursuit of this topic was the only constant thus far. It is truly the only real motivating factor in my existence. And, it's growing. Intensely. So the title of this piece, at least for me, is nothing if not the realest description of my feelings on this subject. A subject I fear people have forgotten. A subject I refuse to give up on.

Something happened to me about a week and a half ago. It has happened before. It might happen again. But regardless of the frequency in which these things take place, the feelings and torment invovled are no less significant. See, another relationship of mine ended. It had just passed the 10 month mark and it involved someone I was very much in LOVE with. There were differences of course, some more glaring than others, but we were able to get past them, for the most part, and continue to try and create something important and substantial. We seemed to be on the same page mostly and the break-up was not expected (at least by me) nor was it necessary (if you ask me). However, we no longer exist as a couple. I am in the stage of mourning right now where I'm wondering what she's doing constantly, and everything reminds me of her. Familiar territory for me so I'm getting a little better at handling it. It is not where I want to be though and it was somewhere I did not expect to be again. So why did this happen?

Well, it was inevitable I guess. There were signs from very early on that I should have acted on or maybe addressed so as not to pro-longed what turned out to be a doomed union. I just figured and hoped that the inherent gaping omissions to what I believe to be a meaningful relationship would one day rectify themselves once we truly made headway on the path to discovering each other. There was no infidelity (as far as I know) and no abuse. There was no lying or dishonesty. There were mistakes, but nothing monumental. The truth is that it was a good thing. A great thing even. All it really came down to was a simple question: "What do you believe LOVE is?"

Of course that wasn't verbalized, or even hinted at, but through actions and personal philosophies you learn from people, you can draw your own conclusions. The problems here were that what I defined as LOVE wasn't the same as she did. I needed someone to make an effort. To make me feel important. To make me feel special and needed. I don't think I'm in the minority here. And hopefully, a lot of people's partners recognize these lapses, whether it be brought to their attention or just naturally, and make the necessary adjustments. After all, you obviously know how if you've gotten to this point in the first place. And shouldn't it be the most important thing? To make sure that if you LOVE someone you treat them that way? The way you would want to be treated? I guess that's the real sign. Are they willing to make the effort anymore or not?

One of my best friends is dealing with this right now under much more serious constraints then I was. You see, he is married. Again. To the same woman. I'll explain. This friend of mine got married, had a kid, got broken up with, got destroyed, rebuilt, decided with the greatest of intentions and with unbelievable effort to try again with her. And it's not working. And he keeps trying. And it's not working. And he pleads with her to make an effort. And she doesn't hear him. Or even try. And now, through some kind of heaven sent twist of fate, he has reconnected with a woman who has moved him and allowed him to feel like he matters. He gets her. And she gets him. And now, he is in LOVE with her. More than I've seen him be with anyone in a very long time. I cannot get him to shut up about her. But to see him talk about her is fantastic. That's what LOVE is supposed to do. Is this wrong? How can LOVE be wrong? It might hurt, but in it's true state, it's never wrong. Never.

Outside influences on the relationship are unavoidable. Even when you are not in the throes of coupledom, things will affect your so-called life. The main thing to remember is that they will be a constant and random thing. You can't guess what they will be or where they will come from. All you can do is prepare. Prepare by looking your friend in the eyes and saying, "I can't get through this and neither can you. But we always can." What could be more important than that? Don't people understand that everything that life throws at you, EVERYTHING, can be conquered if you have that someone. That teammate. That bond. That LOVE.

All that you have to do is come to the inevitable conclusion that every single thing you ever thought you wanted out of life stems from LOVE. IT is the one constant when all this goes away. IT should be respected, sought, and revered as the ultimate discovery we can uncover and experience during our brief time here. IT is ageless, timeless, and all-consuming. Why would anyone worry about anything else? Sure, money gets you security and status and is a necessity for the material life you wish to procure. Fun is fun and a great way to temporarily reward yourself for your hard work. And sex is awesome, all be it empty and possibly health compromising. But what's real? What is the feeling that literally NO vice can duplicate. NO promotion at work can hope to come close to mirror. NO cars or clothes or fame and wealth can come close to. It is the truest pursuit and the noblest of journeys. It is the most rewarding endevour and the most painful failure. IT is simply the reason.

All things are fleeting. All things end. They must. They are plastic. They are brick. They are paper. LOVE endures. IT takes us to where we always wanted to be better than any drug or vehicle. If IT weren't the most important thing in this universe we've created, why would we bury people side by side when they pass. Maybe that's a bad example and kind of cliche, but when all of this goes away and we cease to be, we still wish our lifeless bodies to be beside the ones we loved. Pointless and profound. And real. The truth is that if there were no chance of acquiring anything at all, LOVE would still be chased. IT's in our souls. IT's the true need. So why not give it your all?

LOVE does everything. IT is the ultimate bond that nothing can come between. And it means everything. The true test and commitment of our lives and it should be taken as seriously and as happily as is possible. Because things aren't always gonna be great. It's gonna suck sometimes. But you can make it if you want to. Nothing besides a complete feeling of retreat and surrender can end it. The true question is: "If the money runs out and the well runs dry, will you still be here by my side?" Will you? Because it eventually will. And how much do you both value LOVE. Because when the lights go off and the music stops, can you still sit together on the floor and be content and truly happy? The happiness that is only allotted to those fortunate ones who know what they have and the gift they have found. And you can. It's not that hard. Nothing is that hard. If you have LOVE.

The Mall Map of my Life or "I Am Where?"

Sorry it's been a while. I've been preoccupied with things that would hold no interest to you I'm sure (rehab) so please don't ask. Over the course of the last month, or however long it has been, while Charlie Sheen has been winning, I've been doing the opposite. Or so it felt.

Grinning

I've been looking inside to try and figure out why, at 32 years old, do I feel like I am in the position that I am in. Occupationally, emotionally, and relationshipally (new word, called it! Screw you squiggily red line). All this potential and nothing to really show for it. No piece of paper from a post secondary, no job geared toward creativity, a bunch of failed romances in the rear-view. Why has this happened? Where did I go wrong? How could I have let all these people down? Is there seriously something wrong with me? To talk to others they would say yes to the last one. I'm not making progress and I'm not doing what I should be doing and not in the manner in which I should be doing it. That's called motivation. That's encouragement from the people I love and respect.

So obviously I'm letting people down at an alarming rate. I've lost relationships with girlfriends and even best friends because of my shortcomings. I've lost apartments and jobs because of my lack of motivation and hard-work and it is unquestionably all my fault. I need to suck it up, work harder and do exactly what other people should say I should. I should be sure to follow all the steps that have made them such huge successes in their lives and to do anything less would be folly and would bring shame upon them. I've lost respect from family members, lovers, and myself for never being able to live up to their expectations. My God, what a failure I've been.

So I guess I should just work harder and refocus my life. I mean, even if I'm unhappy, at least I'll be able to please those around me for a short period of time, right? I need to just bite the bullet and remember all those expectations put on me since I was in elementary school and live up to them already. That's the true path to respect, happiness, and contentment.

Fuck that! And if you have ever fallen into any of those demographics that were mentioned before, fuck you too. I know who I am. I know what I'm capable of. And apparently, I'm not quite sure yet where I fit in. I've spent so much time figuring out that I would like to try and be a good brother, son, friend, boyfriend, worker, and human before I solve the age old problem of finding the perfect way to unleash all of this potential. What started off as probably well-meaning quasi-encouragement has become a stifling anchor that is slowly drowning me. And I just took it off. And now I'm mad. Like the Hulk. And at this point, you won't like me when I'm angry. But what's important is that I will. And I do. And congratulations all you people, I am now going to be selfish. Sorry I can't make it to that thing on the weekend. Doing me right now. No time for date night, doing me right now. Oh you have an idea about what I should do to better my life. Cool, I'll be over in about 3 years to discuss it. This is what you wanted right? Well, Happy Fucking Birthday.

Please understand that this is good anger because it feels justified and is not hurting anybody. Well, not any more than how much the other things have been hurting me for over 20 years. And I'm sorry if this is looked upon as a negative piece. Believe me, it's as positive as it gets. And I'm getting happier. It seems like the only attention I had been getting from people I loved and respected for a long time has been criticism and judgment on how I live my life. No more. That's called empowerment and hope. It may not jive with your life or expectations but hey, maybe we don't jive as people. Period.

Love to all that have only given advice when it has been sought, and allowed me to experience their love before their misgivings and judgment. You know who you are. If not, if you are reading this, then you belong in this group. I hope I haven't let you down too much. But if you really feel that you want the best for me and always have, this should make you happy. Because I am. Or at least I'm trying. I actually always have been. But now it's for me. And only me.

See you next time...with a smile on my face

Nocturnal Admissions or Conversations with a Sleeping Beauty

My girlfriend is many things. An incredible person. The ying to my yang (any definition of yang is acceptable). A formidable opponent. She is all of those things and much, much more. One of the things she happens to be is the most entertaining person to fall asleep beside. Even when she is unconcious she is still funny and brilliantly endearing. This is the reason that even with eyes closed, she's a star.
For Christmas I bought her a T.V. and because of this purchase, she tends to fall asleep before I do. She drifts away quietly while I remain transfixed by "The Walking Dead" or "Tosh.0". The real show however is when she begins to enlighten me with gems precariously tucked inside her sub-concious. This is when the fun begins and the T.V. mute button is pressed.

The following conversations were transcribed from actual dialogue exchanged during two of these sleepy talks. Please understand, I am completely awake and at some points, kinda fucking with her. For the benefit of the reader, her voice will be in bold and mine in italics.

Conversation 1:

"Jupiter"
"Huh? What"
"Jupiter, baby."
"Jupiter? What about it?"
"It's too hot. Jupiter. Hot."
"Jupiter? But it's so far from the Sun."
"No. Jupiter's hot. The Sun is hot."
"Yes I know the Sun is hot. But Earth is closer. Jupiter would be cold."
"No. Jupiter. You don't know. Jupiter's hot."
"No you're right, I don't know. So Jupiter is hot. So, what does that mean?"
"Jupiter. We can't go there. Too hot."
(pause)
"Say Jupiter again baby."
"Noooooo. Jupiter."

Conversation 2:

"The sand."
"Hmmmmmm?"
"Sand and mosquitos."
"Mosquitos? What about them?"
"And sand."
"What? Like the beach?"
"Yeah. Sand and shells."
"But the-"
"They'll cut our feet."
"The shells will."
"Yeah and mosquitos."
"They'll cut the mosquitos feet too?"
"Mosquitos."
"Well now you're just not making any sense."
"Mosquitos."
"You know what I call them? I call 'em Skeeters."
"Hmmmm. Stupid."
"Do you know where the Skeeters are born?"
"In the sand."
"Under the sand eh? Won't they bite your toes?"
"Noooooo."
"Well where do they live Skeeter Whisperer?"
"Beach Chairs."
"Of course."
"Mmm-hmm."
"They live in the beach chairs do they?"
"In the beach chairs."
"Yeah. That makes more sense."
"Biting mosquitos."

I keep my phone right beside the bed for an alarm just in case I oversleep. Now I have a new quest. To make filmings of this phenomenon. She doesn't read this anyway so I'm somewhat safe.

Stay tuned.

Sean's Book Club 2 or "ALLOW ME TO REINTRODUCE MY SELF, MY NAME IS...books"

As one gets older, and sort of more in touch with oneself, you begin to take stock of who you really are and what really matters to you. Over the course of your life to this point, you have loved certain things, liked even more things, and have been temporarily infatuated with things that come on really strong for a while but tend to fizzle out after a time. Pretty soon, you realize that after your maturing period has somewhat slowed and plateaued, you're left with a handful of things that still hold a great deal of meaning to you even after all that time. For some it's a style of dress. For others it might be a hobby or type of food. For me it's hip-hop. A love affair that began when I was 8 years old and has been with me (albeit off and on through the dark times) ever since. It is one of the things that has had my heart and mind since a genre of music could and It's never died. These feelings were completely cemented and brought back to the forefront after I read the following two books. Essential reading for the true Head.

The first book is "Can't Stop, Won't Stop" by Jeff Chang. This book is without a doubt one of the best researched books of anything I have ever read. Including those books you can't take out of the library. Seriously, if you don't know hip-hop after reading this, you'll never know. The style of writing is incredible too. It not only breaks down the inception and conception of hip-hop from it's roots in Jamaica to it's appearance and evolution on the shores of the east coast, but it also describes the political causes and effects and delves into the culture not just as a musical genre (which is what hip-hop is always mistakenly singularly viewed as) but as an exploration of what a minority class in America utilized to define themselves to those who either didn't know or didn't care.
The writing is flawless in explaining everything from the way the gangs used to function and the reasoning behind them to even describing, in vivid detail, a break-dancing routine by Crazy Legs. You can see him performing. It could be the main text book for a class in the culture. It could also be a love story for those who have been in it from jump. It's subtitled "A History of the Hip-Hop Generation" and that is exactly what it is. And that my friends is exactly what we are. Regardless of what type of entertainment you view as enjoyable (and more power to you. It's your choice.), you belong to that generation. No other culture, musical or otherwise has defined our age group more intensely, even world-wide, than hip-hop. Sorry to all the Metal-Heads out there, but you're in our time now.

I have always had an immense amount of respect for Jigga. He is unquestionably one of the best who has ever done it. He could also be the most successful MC from a business stand-point. This man has gone from hustlin' crack on the corner, to owning and operating multi-billion dollar organizations and creating platinum selling music. This book however, reaches a bit more inside the man. He tells the story of his life, from the crack game to the boardroom, but with humility and humanity. He also allows us to take apart 36 of his songs and helps us along for the true understanding of his music and his artistry. It's an amazing account of this man's journey through the music and through the demons that still torment him to this day. For those of us who have followed the music for so long, the breakdown of the lyrics were somewhat redundant, but there were things that even an all consuming Head would find surprising.
There is levity in this book also. I had my YouTube open as I read because he mentions videos from an early stage in his career that had to be viewed. The thing is, while I laughed, I realized this dude's swagger and confidence is unmistakable and that defines real. He always has a belief that his shit is the dopest and he's got the right plan. An MC always pushing the envelope and a few steps ahead. This book not only describes one MC but the art of the MC as the central figure n the culture. The spokesman of a generation and a movement. The rabble-rouser and journalist of the streets. Even if you're not down with HOV, read it anyway. Get in touch with the true nature of hip-hop genius.

These three videos were all put out before Jay-Z BECAME Jay-Z.

"Hawaiian Sophie" by Jaz. Jay's boy Jaz just got signed to EMI. After all the other songs were recorded, the label said they needed a radio-friendly song for the people. They decided for this song, flew Jaz and Jay to England to shoot the video. Jay flies in at 00:40.



Quick note: Jaz never released anything after.

"Show and Prove" by lotsa dudes. This one has a lot of MC's on it but it was Big Daddy Kane's joint and he put Jay-Z on. Oh yeah, watch for ODB after Jigga's verse. Jay starts rhyming at 02:51. 1994 son!!!



"I Can't Get Wit That" by Jay-Z. This last one is the first Roc-a-Fella video. Made for $5000 and shot in Marcy, this was Jay right at the start of the label. Minimum production, light on the imagery, hip-hop in it's rawest. The difference between this Jay and that Jay, strictly from a flow aspect is huge. We in '94 again son! Enjoy.



GEEEYYAAHH!!!

Insight. Daytime television style.

Because I am awake usually around the 10 am vicinity, I am subject to all manner of high quality television broadcasts. I like to sift through the less desirable, boring ones and also every show that begins with "Judge" or ends in "Court", and concentrate on programs that guarantee an enrichment of my life intellectually, emotionally, and most of all, spiritually.

Here now are the 10 things I've learned whilst watching a week of "Maury":

"I like golf."

1) Every woman over 400+ pounds is having way more sex than you are having. Or will ever have. Or knew was possible.

2) Maury Povich finds black people precious.

3) Fertility is based solely on a lack of brain cells. It's kind of a trade off.

4) The demographic of this show have always wanted to go to school for a week and get a degree. They just needed the phone number.

5) The most popular letters in American names are "Q" and an apostrophe.

6) Maury Povich finds black people kooky.

7) The best way to make your point in an argument is to yell at the same time as the person you're arguing with. Helpful Hint: Keep repeating phrases like "That's what's up!", "What's up now?!", and the word "Whatever."

8) There are less contraceptives in Alabama than in all of Africa.

9) Becoming a father is a horrible, horrible thing.

10) If you're a white guy in the South, you have to grow a wispy goatee. It's a law.

Until next time America.

Urinal Etiquette or "You're too close Man!!!"

I really hate to do this but sorry ladies, this post is for the guys again. I'm not saying you shouldn't read it but I'm not quite sure how helpful you will find this. I'm almost positive that no ladies use urinals (sober) so the importance of the subject might elude you all. However, if you are looking for some insight into a man's world and the intricacies therein, this will be something to behold. Alrighty, that being said, I shall begin...

Guys. Have you ever been at a urinal, whether it be in an arena, workplace, mall, restaurant, church, urinal store, etc., and as you are standing there being relieved of all those fluidy castoffs, some dude shoots in the bathroom door, makes a beeline to the wall toilets and chooses the one right beside you? Invading your personal peeing bubble and sometimes even grazing your elbow with his? Or worse, what about the slow head turn and look. You have to immediately turn your head so you can make sure he's looking you dead in your eye. And then comes the awkward smile, or nod. Any gesture at that point is creepy but you make sure his eyes don't drift downwards regardless of the uncomfortable situation. And what about the dreaded, "How's it goin'?" This is not the time to be friendly. In the bathroom it's time for business and that's all. If conversation was a priority, or even an inclination, there would be couches and a Tassimo. But it's all porcelain and paper. Get out without any friend making and rejoin the world. These guys mess that whole experience up.

"Weird. I always thought you were Jewish."

I'm not a particularly uptight guy. I'm pretty open and friendly and I enjoy all people for the most part. Just when I'm up against a wall with my John Thomas front and center, I'm not looking to share my day. The very last thing I want to do when my paws are on my pecker is to strike up a conversation with a complete male stranger. There needs to be space given and received in the bathroom. I'm not in there for fun.

If by some chance I go in and out of 3 urinals there is a guy at the middle one, it's stall time. I respect the unspoken laws that come with public urination. It was something that was taught to me a long time ago whether through words, observation, or just common courtesy. I'm finding nowadays that many men have not had these lessons verbalized to them and just cannot grasp the concept at all. I give older guys, like 65+ a break. Not because I like the senior men potentially leering at Larry, but because at that age they really don't give a fuck. Those are the guys who also like to stand about 35 feet away from the urinal without shame at let her go. They get a pass. But any guy younger than that, smarten up!

Unspoken rules and regulations are what keep society going. They are what we as humans living together govern our everyday lives by. They're the laws of the common man. They allow order when merging onto the highway. First you go, then I go, then it's the next guys turn. It's a beautiful thing to watch when it's done properly. But think how angry you get when somebody skips the line or doesn't let you in when it's your turn. It's complete heresy. And believe me, you are not the only one becoming enraged. That is a real sign of community within the human race. It's what separates us from the animals. Same goes for newspaper boxes. You could take them all if you wanted to. You could grab them, run down the street screaming, "I'm a pretty bird!" while flapping them, and then go home and wallpaper your den with them. But you don't. Somebody else might want to read the news. Considering strangers is a pure and lovely happening.

Therefore, to all the men I will unfortunately have to share public bathrooms with in the future, let's keep our distance, keep the acknowledgments to the barest of minimums, and the chatter to zero. Nobody's going in there for a laugh or a heart to heart. Go in and get out. Oh and wash your hands too. If you promise to do that at least, I'll talk to you at the sink.