Where I am in this moment (plus)
I don’t cry anymore. I haven't since August of 1999. But this morning and I just feeling like crying. I want to cleanse myself and wash away some things, mainly frustrations. I want to just let it all come down. Every tear that falls will leave me cleaner and lighter. I am sure that each drop will weigh at least one pound. And I will cry a thousand tears.
What would I be crying for? I’d cry because I am afraid of the unknown. I’d cry because I am young and don’t know what to do. I’d cry because I don’t know if what I’m doing right now feels right. I want to be free. I want to think. I want to be vibrant. I want my days to feel like spring. I want to be the person that I was meant to be. I want to allow my spirit to dance as it is destined to do – but here on earth not just in heaven.
Today a man that doesn’t know he knows me told me something I’ve been struggling with for some time now. He said that I should do what I think about doing not just think about it. But how do I make that happen? Where does that road lead? I am not sure where the one I’m traveling leads to either but at least I am already on it and it has some directional signs.
There is nothing to fear but fear itself. I say that. I hear that. But I don’t know if I’m yet receiving that. The one thing in this world that I hate more than anything is uncertainty which is itself a paradigm because the world is uncertain.
Lately, I have been asking myself just when will I come to the point where the two roads meet. When will I find myself in that place when all my experiences in life and what God has prepared me for meets with just that, what I believe in my heart he has and is preparing me to do and be.
*the phone rings*
It is 11AM on Thursday morning and I am at my desk at work and my cell phone is ringing. It is Ajones, the first person I truly had a crush on and thought I could share something special with. The first person to ever also crush my feelings – repeatedly. I have not heard from him in some time. We went to high school together and he now lives in the DC metro area. I saw him a few weeks ago and he paid me very little friendly respect. He called me just now to ask if he should let his parents claim him on their taxes because he is trying to figure out what is best for his financial aid package.
In all of that there are many stories. Good friends would in some way insist that phone call was the point where my two roads meet. Ajones is 2 years younger than me and like several other young black men come to me for guidance, an elder of sorts though I am their same age or they just a little younger. Someone who sees me out and about asked me a few months ago would I be his mentor. In some way I get satisfaction from seeing all of them succeed and it ultimately makes me feel good. At other times it is draining on me and I wonder where the hell is my mentor. What about me?
So much, so much. Just like me, I’m so much. In fact for years now I have been told I am too many things – masculine not being one of them. That was a conversation I had with someone on the internet this morning before I came to work. A guy I was chatting with seemed interested in our conversation and even me, that was until I told him that I wasn’t masculine. And again the burden of my beauty weighed down heavy upon my shoulders with the rest of the weight of the world.
He went on about masculinity was part of the package that he was looking for. I had a flashback to when a fellow back in Cleveland who I admired told me that I was a wonderful young man and if I went to butch camp I could have any man my hearts desire. All during my childhood I was called names and denigrated because I did not fit the mold of what it meant to be a black boy or a boy at all. I was too feminine. I was too girlish in my walk, talk, ways and thoughts. I was looked down upon. Some things just don’t change. Even in the community (if one exist) of those who talk about loving and being loved and accepting and being accepting – to a large degree I am not loved, I am not accepted and in this lifetime I know that I won’t be by a vast majority. No matter how talented, committed, spirited I am – they won’t see past the construction of a male identity that enslaves them and they help perpetuate.
A few weeks ago Pooquie and I talked about black manhood and black masculinity and masculinity in general. He said he wanted to just be the best man he could be. I offered that I just wanted to be the best person I could be. We both paused because that was quite a thought and quite a statement about how we looked at the world and how we looked at ourselves – through our own lenses prescribed and created individually for us by our own separate life experiences.
That’s where I am right now. I have some shit on my brain and here I am exposing all of me in the medium that helped create me. But that’s another story for yet another day. Bare and naked. Here I stand in this moment.
* * * *
I have just returned from lunch. I'm back at my desk and wondering how is it that in the midst how in this moment in my life (its linear and in another second my mood will change) why I am so extremely productive with business and personal projects I'm working on.
What would I be crying for? I’d cry because I am afraid of the unknown. I’d cry because I am young and don’t know what to do. I’d cry because I don’t know if what I’m doing right now feels right. I want to be free. I want to think. I want to be vibrant. I want my days to feel like spring. I want to be the person that I was meant to be. I want to allow my spirit to dance as it is destined to do – but here on earth not just in heaven.
Today a man that doesn’t know he knows me told me something I’ve been struggling with for some time now. He said that I should do what I think about doing not just think about it. But how do I make that happen? Where does that road lead? I am not sure where the one I’m traveling leads to either but at least I am already on it and it has some directional signs.
There is nothing to fear but fear itself. I say that. I hear that. But I don’t know if I’m yet receiving that. The one thing in this world that I hate more than anything is uncertainty which is itself a paradigm because the world is uncertain.
Lately, I have been asking myself just when will I come to the point where the two roads meet. When will I find myself in that place when all my experiences in life and what God has prepared me for meets with just that, what I believe in my heart he has and is preparing me to do and be.
*the phone rings*
It is 11AM on Thursday morning and I am at my desk at work and my cell phone is ringing. It is Ajones, the first person I truly had a crush on and thought I could share something special with. The first person to ever also crush my feelings – repeatedly. I have not heard from him in some time. We went to high school together and he now lives in the DC metro area. I saw him a few weeks ago and he paid me very little friendly respect. He called me just now to ask if he should let his parents claim him on their taxes because he is trying to figure out what is best for his financial aid package.
In all of that there are many stories. Good friends would in some way insist that phone call was the point where my two roads meet. Ajones is 2 years younger than me and like several other young black men come to me for guidance, an elder of sorts though I am their same age or they just a little younger. Someone who sees me out and about asked me a few months ago would I be his mentor. In some way I get satisfaction from seeing all of them succeed and it ultimately makes me feel good. At other times it is draining on me and I wonder where the hell is my mentor. What about me?
So much, so much. Just like me, I’m so much. In fact for years now I have been told I am too many things – masculine not being one of them. That was a conversation I had with someone on the internet this morning before I came to work. A guy I was chatting with seemed interested in our conversation and even me, that was until I told him that I wasn’t masculine. And again the burden of my beauty weighed down heavy upon my shoulders with the rest of the weight of the world.
He went on about masculinity was part of the package that he was looking for. I had a flashback to when a fellow back in Cleveland who I admired told me that I was a wonderful young man and if I went to butch camp I could have any man my hearts desire. All during my childhood I was called names and denigrated because I did not fit the mold of what it meant to be a black boy or a boy at all. I was too feminine. I was too girlish in my walk, talk, ways and thoughts. I was looked down upon. Some things just don’t change. Even in the community (if one exist) of those who talk about loving and being loved and accepting and being accepting – to a large degree I am not loved, I am not accepted and in this lifetime I know that I won’t be by a vast majority. No matter how talented, committed, spirited I am – they won’t see past the construction of a male identity that enslaves them and they help perpetuate.
A few weeks ago Pooquie and I talked about black manhood and black masculinity and masculinity in general. He said he wanted to just be the best man he could be. I offered that I just wanted to be the best person I could be. We both paused because that was quite a thought and quite a statement about how we looked at the world and how we looked at ourselves – through our own lenses prescribed and created individually for us by our own separate life experiences.
That’s where I am right now. I have some shit on my brain and here I am exposing all of me in the medium that helped create me. But that’s another story for yet another day. Bare and naked. Here I stand in this moment.
* * * *
I have just returned from lunch. I'm back at my desk and wondering how is it that in the midst how in this moment in my life (its linear and in another second my mood will change) why I am so extremely productive with business and personal projects I'm working on.
posted by ClayStarr at 11:23 AM
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