#this is almost 40

[sarahmoon]

Yes, I’ve gone down the Poldark rabbit hole. Yes, I’m old enough to remember the original on Masterpiece Theater.

[hyuninc]

#49 // Charles Mingus “Let My Children Hear Music”

Lately been in a funk. Wondering if I’m allowed to be there. Or if I’m only allowed to keep the funk to myself. Smile. Grin. Everything is everything. You know me, baby. Cut down on social media. Deleted the apps off the phone. Had to admit that I was addicted to the rush. Can’t FOMO if I don’t know what’s going on. Don’t feel the need to show off my life all the time. Cause you probably won’t like what’s going on some of the time. Not that it should matter. Cause my goal is not to be an influencer. I tell silent faces that I want to do work that matters. Hoping that it resonates. But may be right now is more important. The moment. Is what matters. Tomorrow’s not promised. Then you’re at tomorrow wondering what happened to yesterday.

What did I do with my time here? A crisis deferred or delayed? We were promised greatness and we patiently waited. Greatness isn’t us. It’s in us. Why we so afraid to let it out? The world is so ugly. But we are the world. Not just them. But us too. This is almost 40. What have I done? What haven’t I done? I had goals. I shared them. With my friends, family, strangers, and co-workers. They believed in me. Always knew you would. They said. Still think you can. They said. Got the arrogance to think that I could have done it better than those who did it but lack the confidence to do it. I had a vision of how my life would be. When things didn’t work out, I said, hey, that’s OK, just roll with it, that’s life. (Hold up, I just changed all the “you’s” in this paragraph to “I’s”. Can’t be a coward to myself forever.) You’ll be fine. Just enjoy the moment. Don’t beat yourself up. I try not to think about that anymore. So now I think about not thinking about that a lot more.  

Thought love was supposed to easy. Natural. Like breathing. C’mon let’s stop talking about it already. If you have to talk about it all the time and think about it all the time and work on it all the time then well, that ain’t love baby. Used to mock self-help books and therapy. Until I realized I couldn’t do it all on my own. Acceptance of my comeuppance. People who tell you you don’t need people be the loneliest and the neediest. Don’t need those people. Had a hard time understanding my friends who were “going through it.” Then realized that they were simply growing. Changing. The sarcastic male dismissal of anything emotional. As we age our physical strength depletes. Need to lean on our minds and hearts more. But we treated them like leg days at the gym. Neglected. Infrequent. Now desperately trying to make up for lost time. Ain’t no fresh pressed juice cleanse for that.  

Gotta stop comparing myself to those who don’t even know I exist. Dad told me once. I’m not disappointed in the grade if that’s the best you could do. I remember that one. Can’t remember the last time I gave my best. Life stuck in drafts. Too scared to lose so I don’t even play.

Wasn’t always this way. A fire burned. Youth. Lit. Didn’t care what or who I burned down. You were all coming with me. Sometimes it gets hard to see through the smoke. Responsibilities force you to turn it down some. And the fire alarm goes off. A supervisor tells you to simmer it down a bit. Choose your battles. Can’t fight the world. Although the younger me thought I could, that I should, that I would. I saw my father get burned by the institution of higher learning he gave his life to, that we gave our lives to. They didn’t even watch. They ignored the fire away. He mentioned it. We never talked about it. I hope he wrote about it. “I could relate,” he said about Brad Pitt’s character feeling like he was unfairly let go from of job in “Tree of Life.” That’s when I knew he hurt. I don’t remember what I replied.

It will be different. Believe it. Will it. Stop worrying about the likes and views. Life is not a metric. Tell your truth. Even if the whole world calls you a liar. Believe in the uncertainty and the unknowing. Even if that uncertainty is unknowingly you. Believe so strongly that they call you crazy. They laugh and mock because it unsettles them. Get uncomfortable until it’s no longer so. Then do it again. Tune out yourself. Especially the you who says can’t all the time. Block the noise so that you can bring the noise.  

Bring the funky funky noise. 

[felipeanuel]

Bucket List: Bang! Bang!

Was thinking about doing something wild and reckless before  I hit 40 next month. What’s more wild and reckless than a black man taking a road trip down South to Crazy-opolis (aka Florida). Have friends down there that I miss dearly enough to take that risk. Plus they’re white. So hopefully hanging with them when I do make it down minimizes my risk of being shot for wearing a hoodie or listening to a podcast too loudly at the gas station.  Unfortunately those friends are moving into a new house around the time that I wanted to visit. So that ain’t happening.  And I’ve been advised to fly when it does.

In the meantime, I want to do something I’ve never done.

”Turn down a meal. AmIright?“

Shut up, peanut gal Fashion Police panel in my head.

I want to exercise my gahdamned God given right as citizen of this great nation called America. I want to bear arms.

”You really think you should go sleeveless with those Honeybaked Hams you call biceps?”

I want to shoot a gun.

”Let me quiet then.”

Thank you.

I know people who are packing--

”In more ways than one. AmIright?”

Well, yeah . . . I’ll give you that one.

--but I’m talking about doing it legally, responsibly and in a relatively safe environment.

“Again, in more ways than one-- you he-harlot!”

Gotta good cookie recipe and I’m sure I can shank a few walkers with my knitting needles, but my cardio game is kinda lacking.

“Kinda?”

Completely

So I need some sort of extra-advantage when the zombie apocalypse spills out of Crazy-opolis and takes over the globe. Because you that shit’s starting in Florida with some un-vaccinated kid in Disney World being patient zero. Gotta be ready. Gotta know how to handle a piece. 

“Again. He-harlot!“

“Shut it!”

.

[chrisafer]

It's my half birthday

In six months, I will enter the fourth decade of my life (*knock wood*).

Jesus, how did that happen?

Anyway, I am reading Randy Shilts' The Mayor of Castro Street and it has got me thinking about how incredible the changes that have happened just in my lifetime are and I have hope for more but not a ridiculous amount of hope just the right amount (I hope) but what I have learned more than anything from this book is that I am grateful for all of the things I take for granted on a daily basis and I'm sure that a kid who will be 40 in 2053 will take for granted even more and I hope that I'm around then too to make her grateful.