checkmySTAATS: Not UR Average Blog

I Hope I Don't Miss My Stop

2011-10-25T02:46:00.000-04:00

I hope I didn’t miss my stop.
Too caught up in the music, the melody, the melodrama of miscommunication.
I hope I didn’t miss my stop.
Too busy staring off into another lovers eyes, starting to believe the lies of my brain overriding my heart.
I hope I didn’t miss my stop.
It’s the same stop I always make after a long trip. Weary. Unwilling to submit to the idea that this station will always be vacant when I stop by.
I hope I didn’t miss my stop.
I hope I didn’t confuse a connection with a destination. A transfer with a terminal feeling of elation.
I hope I wasn’t dickmatized with a nice body and no aspirations.
A fuck buddy with no future.
A past figure with a foundation of forever.
I hope this journey brings me back to my stop.
Hopefully this is the long road. Less traveled. Of lessons learned lamenting through looking glass at concrete moments etched over in linoleum.
I feel like I’ve missed my stop.
They all look like. Tell me the same things. You were the last one that felt like home.
I want to be home. Not riding this bus of busy ideas, bustling bodies, and bawdy banter.
No matter how much I travel. I’ll always come back to…my stop.

ALIEN ANT FARM

2011-08-23T00:47:00.003-04:00

I am not from here.
Don’t recognize your customs and your ways & means.
Your standards of poor.
Depravities and atrocities committed in the name of deities lesser than me.
You aliens. Ant like. Farmed as cattle.
Bred as sustenance and cannibal.
You make mockery of appearances uncomfortable in your own vessel
Glamoured modifications to be original.
Pack like in your mimicry.
Constantly looking towards an Alpha, content being a Beta, obsessed with the Omega
Forgetting that this language is younger than mine.
Infant like Ants. Alien Nature. Farming land producing no spoils.
Spoiled. Ungrateful. Unaware that gifts I’ve bestowed upon you should be mocked.
Drafted then call my fiction fantasy.
Fantastic.
Phantoms filled with folly and fear, failure.
Fractions of full falsehoods.
Fooled for fuckery, flashes in frying pans, food filleted, fermented meat.
Meet your higher power.
Leave these Farms. Ants. Alien although foreign should not always be unfamiliar.
Sometimes. I. Wonder. Have You Ever Considered. The Way You Look From Here.
I look at you and wonder.
And I don’t believe that your elitist ideal of being the only being.
Waiting for me to collide with your ideology to reassure your inflated ego.
To satisfy your justified juxtaposition that in infinity minute best describes you.
I create miracles as common as smiles.
You ask for moonbeams and mysticism.
I naturally levitate and you commission Otis to elevate to my level.
Rolling on vogues.
Languishing in your little boxes. On hillsides. That all look the same.
Unable to recognize the value I’ve added to your existence.
Unfeasible to walk in my shoes I gave you syncopation,
A cacophony of sounds, rhythms to connect you. You use it to divide.
Able to live a Golden Life. Content with Pyrite Masks.
You idiosyncratic Ants. Farmed for Harvest. Afraid of your Alien.
Maybe if I called myself by a different name you’d respond differently.
I am in moniker God unto myself.
Worshipping all others but me.
It would be so easy to but you’ve become unself-awared.
Unrealized power. Strong like ANT.
Potential. Untilled like FARMS.
ALIENATING my peace.

80's Baby

2010-09-11T00:48:00.010-04:00

I gave you fast times at Ridgemont High but never got Breakfast Club.
I was Wet, Wild & Crazy. You said I couldn't do that on television.
You taught me The Facts of Life. I gave you Head of the Class.
We Silver Spooned according to Webster's diction.
You wanted me to give you a break.
You faked the Good Times.
Made me introduce you a Perfect Stranger into my Family Matters.
I was your 80's Baby.
I worked blocks, found coins, rode clouds, climbed stairs, ate shrooms,
picked flowers, spit fire.
U still didn't give me 1up.
I made wishes Traded Places, Framed Rabbits, got Big,
and you still played Chopsticks better than me.
I Smurfed you. You fed me Duck Tales.
Gave you 13 Treasures you left me with 13 Ghosts.
Wanted to turn you into a Jem but you were content being a Misfit.
I tried to be your Prince Charming brush cinders from your umbrella.
I wanted to give you Venice villa. Wanted to be your Tramp.
You chose vaudeville act. A pauper the Land Before Time.
I was your 80's Baby.
Your Super Duper Double Looper.
I sang you songs from inside. You called me Teddy Ruxpin.
My mouth you broke but the words were still there.
I thought we would Never End. I implore you to remember me Bastion.
Can't you see I was your luck dragon. Betray you?
I gave you dip for your stick, chewed your bubbleyum,
loaned you quarters for water.
I wanted Now not Later.
As you kicked Earth at the idea, we wrote our names in Fire, simultaneously blew wind up my ass, drowned my love with Water, and when I showed you my Heart...
With our powers combined...I am still not your guy?
I'm your 80's Baby.
You fed me Ritalin. Yet you were the one with the Affection Deficit Disorder.
Dumbed everything down. Made it small. Benign.
All I wanted was forever. To resurge 30 years later fresher then ever.
But you don't remember the 80's like I do.
So when you're ready to turn back time thrice. Find a straight road.
Get up to 88mph.
Infiniti starts in 82.

We Are The World (remix baby)

2010-02-13T03:10:00.006-05:00

Watch the video before you comment on this post please.

In the interest of all that are locally, nationally, and internationally involved in some form of community service congratulations. Thank you for being apart of something without being told, coerced, or staged into a photo op to do something to make a difference in someone else's life.

The devastation in Haiti by no means is a mere thing to scoff at (Pat Roberson and The 500 Club) and the country will spend endless amounts of money and time to get on its feet. The donations and benefits are all necessary and should be thought about even after the cameras stop rolling.

But this mediocre attempt of a rendition should be shortened by oh I would say 3 minutes. The rapping section...FAIL! Busta Rhymes, Swizz Beatz, Lil Wayne, LL Cool J, Snoop, T-Pain, Kanye, Akon and Will.i.am (sorry) needed to be barred from the recording studio. Its a song not a freestyle. Autotune should not be allowed alongside real singing artists. Do something different. But don't stand there alongside "sangers" like Pink, Mary Mary, Celine Dion, Jennifer Hudson, Adam Levine, Josh Gruben. I mean they put their hearts into it. And have the vocal talent that 25 years ago I am sure would have been welcomed in the studio with Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder, etc.

I am not a hater. I am just done with Hip-Pop. I am sad to see it die a little more each day.

Tears For A Fallen Soldier

2009-07-13T01:07:00.003-04:00

I shed tears for a fallen soldier
Who was killed in the line of duty
By being in the right place at the wrong time.
Ring…Ring…that’s my cell. It’s my Mom.
‘Hey, how you doing son?’
Cool. Just getting off work.
‘How was your day,’ she asked.
Fine.
‘Anything new going on.’
Not since I talked to you last night.
‘Are you home yet?’
I’m just getting out of the car.
‘I hate to do this over the phone.’
Do what?
‘Your godbrother is dead…is dead…is dead’
It echoes in my head still today.
My brother in god was murdered at the age of 21.
Killed in the line of duty; although he wasn’t in the armed forces.
A fallen soldier, who didn’t have beef with anybody.
A soldier who hadn’t enlisted but enrolled.
Killed on campus, a shot to the temple.
A shot heard by Temple right off Broad Street.
For being Black and trying to do better, someone took his life.
I never thought higher education would have me lower my brother into the ground.
I have trouble remembering his voice, as if the dirt on top of his coffin is blocking it out.
I’m sitting in the church not believing my eyes.
Can’t believe my blurry vision and sweat stained face.
Can’t breathe; the room is closing in.
That’s not him. He’s gonna wake up.
I can’t view the body; so my godmother tucks him in for the last time.
She screams, ‘Why him before me Lord?”
Why?
I hear his cousin sobbing, ‘They killed my family.’
Inside I scream, ‘They killed a piece of me.’
I strip off my jacket and tie and run from the church.
Run from my memories, run from the present, run from GOD.
How could you let one of your soldiers dies?!?
I wait and I wait; until I have to carry your body entombed in steel.
I steal away from this place and remember the trouble we used to get into.
I buried my brother the day before my 22nd birthday.
That night I never wished for anything so hard then for you to have life on Earth.
I bled red blood from black ink as I had your wings etched on my back.
In hopes that one day I can trade you for your halo.
I shed tears for a fallen soldier, who I carry on my back.
So when I read the words ‘NEVER 4GET’ in the mirror,
There’s no more tears left to cry.

R.I.P.
Justin A. Winstead
November 19th, 1982- July 13th, 2004

© July 2004

To Love A Man

2009-06-06T03:50:00.005-04:00

One of my best friends turns 49 in a month. I turn 27 two weeks later. You might have heard me say it before but my parents are my best friends. And my Dad...well my Dad is the only Man whom I ever really loved. This might seem overly sentimental, but I am a Cancer by Zodiac. We wear our emotions on our sleeves. We are unpredictable, pleasing, sensitive, and have an uncanny knack for creating beauty within chaos. I like to think that I am my Dad's beauty. One of his greatest accomplishments. One of his closest friends. By the time you read this Dad I will have teared up at at least 5 or 6 television shows or movies that depict a Father and his Son; because I realize I took having you in my life for granted for years.

I feel the need to cry, not out of sadness or weaknesses, but in humility. I am humbled how I could be made in God's image, but shaped in your eyes. It is that reverence that fills me with Joy. Joy I found hard putting into words, so hard that my eyes cloud up with unfulfilled exaltation.

Growing up my father wasn't at every school concert, football game, awards ceremonies. But he was around. His presence and support expressed daily. But not with a "go get'em Tiger" and punch on the arm, my father strove to make conceivable the very essence of my accomplishment was further proof that I could do more. That "B" could be an "A". That I was of age to drive, but needed to learn to maintenance. He drove, moved, pushed, and made me question would there ever be anything I could do to make him completely happy. I didn't realize until years later that he was always happy. But what agitated him was that I was okay with being good, when he recognized that I could be great. I realized years later he had protected me, provided, molded me, then polished me to ensure that I shined from that point forward.

I was like him. To hear him tell it I was a better version. I had succeeded in becoming the man he wanted me to be. Still with shortcomings and sometimes reluctance for parental advice, I found a friend. In a Dad that I had fought for years. He was always my friend. But didn't have time to be a friend. He had responsibilities that included daily guiding two young Black boys lives.

He is a Cancer by Zodiac as well. He taught me stoicism. To guard my emotions to those that would harm me. He taught me Responsibility. That to shirk it would only delay its arrival. Taught me acceptance.

My father this past Christmas told me that he loved me. That no matter what I did in life he would still love me. That his acceptance wasn't needed anymore. That the fact that I still sought it in all things that I do was humbling. That he wished he was as talented as I was when he was my age. That he was proud of me. Had been for years. And that there wasn't much that I could do to tarnish that. That is why I tear up. I can say I love a man that loves me. Without condition. And I may not say it every time I hang up the phone but know that I will always look towards you. Seek your council. Be your College Basketball buddy. And talk shit during the football season. I will try to impress you and your friends. Even when you tell me not. And if I am half the Dad that you are to me. Well my kids will have been given one of the greatest gifts in the world.

I Love you Dad.
Happy Father's Day
(early)

PB & J

2009-05-19T06:15:00.005-04:00

I've never liked living off Peanut Butter snacks.
But it's funny how Jelly always seems to fill me up.
I hear how he speaks about you.
And I remember I used to say those things.
But I sounded more sincere.
Meant it more when you were here.
Wanted to fly you to the Moon
Or at least to the 2nd star on the right.
But lofty ambition and secret omissions
Sealed our Peter Pan Jar.
I'm a Smucker.
Jammed up over a condiment I felt was stickier more than sweet.
It may not mean much to you but what was a Jiffy in your eyes
Still sticks to the roof of my mouth.

I really never liked Peanut Butter situations.
But know he wouldn't crush a Grape in a fruit fight.
And I want to tear his crust off
Thinking about his spoon stirring you.
As the Jelly spreads over the surface that I used to eat from.
We've reached a Concord and I respect your relationship.
I don't even venture down that aisle called memory lane.
You've made it clear that in the matter of Love & War...
Well War can be so cold.

As my heart has frozen over
Only noticeable by the Crunchy sound of Chunky heels
Echoing off grocery store shelves
A Monkey wrench I want to throw or maybe a tantrum.
All to be as full as you made me.
So no the grass isn't greener on the other side
There is just Envy.
And in my fallout shelter no more Peanut Butter
Everything's...Empty.
So I sit and watch as all this Jelly tries to tempt me.

Irregular

2009-05-06T04:06:00.003-04:00

He made me different.
Decided that normalcy would only make me complacent.
Unaware of how life makes miracles and murders.
He made me a water sign.
So that my journey would be heralded with crests and valleys
Give way by high and low tides.
Handicapped by the fluidity of emotions and stoicism of events.
He made me confused so that understanding would be a choice
So that the unappreciated nuances of the world would be examined closer.
Darkness brought to light.
He made me an insomniac to realize that in the hours of silence
A pen scratching the surface of sheets still sounds.
He made me a packaged collarless t-shirt
To be missed by handlers
Bundled up and sold to the world.
To climb off the store shelf into a basket; brought home
Only to find that their newest purchase needs to returned.
Retagged.
And labeled Irregular.

S.S.S.

2009-05-06T03:25:00.004-04:00

Stood up I somberly sit
Seeking solace in shelled, shadowed souls called homo-sapiens.
Surely sober selections should birth smarter results.
I sulk.
Seeing that such solutions aren’t so easily solved.
This story sauced in alliteration sings of solitude.
Loneliness.
In search of sharing some time.
Seconds unseen by sun dials
Darkness unscathed by solar storms.
Except scenes of others smitten with Spring love.
Newness.
Stepping softly in silence slyly feigning innocence.
So cautious not to sully ones reputations.
Until suddenly Summer sets a sizzle smoldering screaming Sex.
Shawls and sweaters shed to solicit scantily sewn straps.
Stripping so you see the shape, size, each rise and fall as you sigh.
To smell the scent that sticky situations like this seep into sheets.
The sensation of stirring until your body hums
Swells with a song of Doe Ray Me Fa Soooo…
Slow rolls in silk or satin sounding sweet until
Smeared make-up shows scars.
Exposed.
Vulnerable, susceptible to sorrow, scared.
You say see you soon.
Avoiding shifty side glances.
Searching for shirts, sock, shoes.
Steeling away whatever split-second signs of serenity.
Separating feeling from adrenaline and serotonin.
Seconds turn Spring to September.
A cycle of see, salutations, sex, so long.
Smothering any sense of security in seeing your smile.
Suitcases sit by stairs.
Preparing to step through looking glass.
Lamenting at footprints left in the sand.
Surface deep you splash trying to save what has already succumbed to sickness.
Sputtering, sinking, I’ve already forgotten you.
Sand shifts. Footprints scatter.
Solids now broken.
Simply said this was not that serious.
Not a sonnet rising and falling with iambic pentameter.
A selective soliloquy sold with strands of sarcasm.
Shit. Our start and finish was synonymous.
Stop looking for single reasons.
Signs.
This ship has sailed.
No Dear John.

Sincerely
Signed
Staats

America Unleashed

2009-04-30T02:54:00.008-04:00

I heard the funniest comment the other day. I called a friend to chit-chat and they said, "Can I call you back I am on a long distance call." This may not be so strange to you. But I called a cell phone. Of a friend that was out-of-state. And it made me laugh. My Mom used to say that was the reason why she didn't click over when she had another call, because she was a long distance call, which she was paying more for.

Second funny thing. I got asked why didn't I have a house phone. I replied because I didn't need another unnecessary bill. I use my cell phone as personal computer, GPS, music player, digital camera, calculator, notepad, calendar, and sometimes to make phone calls. I am in all senses of the word tethered to my technology. How many of us aren't? If you are reading this put your hands down.

We are findable, transparent, stereotypical, quotable, and virtually addicted to the leashes that keep us connected to each other. I am not excited for this advancement in technology. It reminds me of the movie Crash and Demolition Man. Don Cheadle says in Crash, "We're always behind this metal and glass...I think we miss that touch so much that we CRASH into each other just to feel something." And in Demolition Man the characters no longer touch during intimate moments, everything is experienced through sensory machines.

When was the last time you sent a loved one a hand written letter? Or you called friends and family to let them know you had made it to a destination safely. Little things like respecting a person's character and not interrupting them at 2am with text messages that only say "R U up?" Niceties are no longer extended. Facebook invades our personal lives so much that I do not look forward to my 10 year reunion. I am greeted by smiling faces, marriage announcements, bridal showers, baby's births, and a constant barrage of daily updates from people that I haven't seen since I picked up my diploma back in Baltimore.

Some say it's a plus. But people are supposed to fade from your peripheral for a reason. They are not meant to have access to your life's ambitions, your joys, sorrows, all that you would share with only people who know your middle name. Now for business purposes network away. But I am not narcissistic enough to think that my life is that important to other people or even entertaining enough for you to "follow" my every move. Or that I would want to update you every time I wiped my ass while I was fighting off Swine Flu.

I just would like to give the excuse one day that "sorry I missed your call I was out of town/out the house/out of my mind". And that be reason enough for not calling you. Texting you. Twitting you. Adding you. Sending you requests. Sharing songs/video/music. I just would like some anominity that life is supposed to afford you. We have to realize that our next generation of leaders will have belonged to some internet community, that unless they know at age 13 they want to be President there will be images of them that people will refer to to assassinate their character with just a right-click and save.

I've driven back home after getting to work because I left my cell phone. Felt like I had walked out of the house without pants on. We will never be unleashed. But maybe we can give ourselves a little more personal space from prying eyes and scrolling screens.

Salvation

2009-03-30T22:59:00.008-04:00

One night while watching television I felt a moment of enlightenment. Not something profound, self-evaluating, but undeniably spiritual. I was watching Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles (yes I am a nerd) and the main character John Connor asks his Uncle what he would be like in the future. And I began to wonder what if would be like to know who or what you are to become in the future. Especially if the man/woman you are to become will be herald as the Saviour of Man. Imagine the pressure. Imagine the task set ahead of you second guessing your actions, trying to be something that everyone thinks you should be. Now before this becomes a piece of "living your life for you and not what other people think", I realized ironically that this story sounded very familiar.

If you have seen any of the Terminator movies this should be easy to connect the dots.

Dot 1: John Connor
Dot 2: End of the World
Dot 3: Mother impregnated by a man that hasn't been born yet
Dot 4: Saviour of Man
Dot 5: One "man" manages to rise from the ashes to put right what is wrong with the world.

Recognize the story. For you that need a better picture.

Dot 1: JC. (Jesus Christ)
Dot 2: The Apocolypse
Dot 3: The Virgin Mary
Dot 4: Son of God
Dot 5: Revelations

You could only imagine the joy I felt in this story. That something sown so deep in cinema was a road map to Faith.

Belief.

Salvation.

Now I am far from any Saint. Nor do I prescribe to much of organized religion (although I still consider myself Christian). And before zealots tear this piece to pieces we have to realize that all people do not have the same walk with God. That His path is different for all of us. That faith is defined in believing without seeing. That salvation comes only to those that welcome it. The correlation isn't that difficult to make.

Death. Famine. Destruction by fire. End of Days. Judgement Day. Salvation. The last two being actual subtitles taken from the Terminator movies.

We all know the story of Jesus as told by the Bible. We have listened to or tried to sweep under the rug the thought of Jesus Christ being not the Son of God but a man who lived and died. I believe that the story is blended. I think the same way that God chose men to spread His word the same could have been done in the story of Jesus. That this man had such a relationship with God that it was as if God lived in him. Does that make him more human yes. Does that make him any less of a Messiah to people no. I feel that with religion its one way or the other. That there does not exist room for doubt. None of know for sure. And I don't want to use this piece to start a huge debate on Church and Religion (two different things).

All I wanted to point out is that our purpose is not always foretold. That our future is not written in stone. But if...just if...you were told that you would be the beginning and the end. That you would lead millions. Save countless others. Do great work. Perform miracles. Bring Heaven to Earth. Create paradise. Rise against the Dark and Evil in the world. How would you handle the pressure? Would you buckle? Would you strive to be the best man or woman you could be one day at a time? Would you make mistakes? What would you want your legacy to be? That you were infalliable? That you were untouchable? Would you want people to model themselves after your reality or your perception? How would you change your story so that everyone found Salvation?

(some) Churches should focus on changing their message to Salvation...it's for everyone. Rather than casting the first stone. Let he who is without sin...

The Day The World Stood Still

2008-11-05T01:29:00.006-05:00

The irony of November 4th will always remain in my mind. On this day in the 2008th year After Christ; 332 years after the Declaration of Independence was signed and our governing body was officially created; an African-American man became President of the United States. Ironic, I say because it wasn't your usual definition of African-American. Majority of African-Americans (traditional) are not able to trace their heritage to their ancestors in Africa. We were not given the option to hold to our identity, to our history, to help shape a future steeped in remembrance. Nothing to help us weather the 400 year storm that would be the enslavement of Africans. I find it apropos that the first President of color be the son of a Kenyan father and Caucasian mother. A marriage if you will, of the quintessential cornerstone of the United States embodied. A nation built on the backs of Africans, and the misguided directives of newly declared independent Anglo-Saxons.

Our President is bi-racial. He is a color that I identify with on a personal level. He is articulate. He is an American that I am proud to say is someone I support. Not all of his policies but his ideologies. Barack Obama made the world stand still today. And because I was up at 5:30am I too helped changed the world today. No matter what happens or doesn't happen the United States changed today. The last color barrier has been shattered (+5% win is shattering in case you didn't know).

Now color withstanding a lot of work must be done. We all know that time is something that will tell, but patience and perseverance is what our President asks of us. "With great power comes great expectation." And no greater tasks exists then making sure that those millions of people that voted today help do their part in continuing to contribute and sway politics on all sides. Today it truly is our voice that was heard.

Michelle Obama mentioned that we can no longer live in fear of our decisions. I don't know if it is that fear that gives me chills as I listened to Obama's acceptance speech. That this man holds the dreams and hopes of so many, yet as shown from earlier attempts, his life is now and will always be in danger as not just the President of the United States but as a African-American man. The Plexiglass wall that shielded President Obama could not enclose thoughts of how depraved this world can be. That I don't want another negative blemish on the face of America. I do not want to relive my parents anguish of the assassination of MLK, JFK, or even my own personal association of seeing the World Trade Center Towers taken down. Those days of the world standing still are over.

President Obama is here! Let us rejoice! Seeing him on stage reminds me of the movie Deep Impact. When Morgan Freeman's Presidential portrayal gave his speech of rebuilding, I couldn't help but again be reminded of the irony of tonight's address. It was the last few minutes of a great epic movie. Where the American spirit perseveres, thrives, succeeds, even in the face of imminent disaster. His eloquence in his speech brought tears to eyes. The story of Ann Nixon who President Obama's speech included is History. HIS STORY. OUR STORY. The progress that we have made. That we are making. And that we will continue to make. So stand still as the credits roll. Take in the moment that we get to live in today. That story will forever be embedded in the fabric of this nation and this world. Listen to the music play, the faces of the Obama family, the Biden family, the supporters, the parties in the streets, the lines of people voting, the speeches, the parodies, the moment in 2004 where a Keynote Address speaker transitioned from Junior Senator to Leader of the Freeworld. Listen as African ancestors finally get to rest in peace. Truly. Stand still. And realize the world too is standing. Waiting for change.

Motivation

2008-08-22T00:21:00.001-04:00

At the gym last week I recognized there are different things that motivate people. Some are self-motivated. As if we can see what we look like while panting on treadmill at level 5 we will agree that we are out of shape and that we never want to look like that person in the mirror again. Others get amped up by the After Pictures. That is what I call the gym bunnies or muscle dudes walking around with the least amount of workout attire allowable. They represent what we want to look like, areas that we need to work on, a visual message of you can look like me if you keep working out. What I would like to come with After Pictures (AP) are bios and Before Pictures (BP). Like if an AP used to be 50lbs overweight and now has 3% body fat I am going to be on every machine that they get on. Maybe not as long or as heavy but that's motivation to some.

I like to be the best. At everything. Or at least better then most people. The air of competition drives me most of the time. Perfect example: I was at the gym running on the treadmill and my goal was to consistently run for 5 miles in less then an hour. I do it about three times a week. Well today Gym Bunny Suzie (the name I came up with her in my head) gets on the treadmill next to me. Needless to say she cranks it up to 8. Blonde hair, little chest, and even smaller butt start bouncing on the machine. I like to keep my towel over the time so that I can't tell how far I have to go or how many minutes I have been running. Time for me is not motivation. But Suzie is just running along. And not even sweating. Soon I look over at her digital reading and she has caught up with me. Well not to be outdone I cranked up the juice on my treadmill. Now I never noticed Suzie look over at my progress or dripping sweat everywhere or even acknowledge that I had non-verbally entered her into my track and field competition but she beat my ass. Like Jamaica versus the US. What I didn't realize was during our race I was breathing right, swinging my arms, and pacing my steps that I ended up burning more calories and finishing my 5 miles just under 50 minutes. MOTIVATION!

So what motivates you? A word of encouragement? Seeing someone do better than you? A set goal? I believe we should make realistic goals, but don't but time stamps on them. Especially when they concern physical activity. Do enough to make it noticeable to you. So when someone does notice it. You can tell them you should have seen your Before Picture.

JUST IN

2008-07-12T02:14:00.005-04:00

Just IN! Just IN! Just IN!

Some of you don't know it but I loved a man.

I loved a brother.

Not in love, like everythng is all happy and gay.

No; love like there isn't anything in this world I wouldn't do for you love.

Just IN...the world doesn't hold it's wonder for me without you.

Just IN...13 is an unlucky number

22 is unforgettable

And 19 lifetimes can't replace this one.

Just IN...I want to have a son.

A little boy with a big-head and a bigger heart so that I can call him by your name.

Justin; my godbrother; brother in GOD; I looked up to you.

And days don't pass without me still looking up.

Just IN...forward progress with unknown steps is scary.

I can't do this alone.

We can't do this alone.

So GOD if you could spare him for a little while to help us heal

I'll be waiting at the airport by new arrivals looking for his flight to say JUST IN.

In Memory of

Justin A. Winstead

November 19, 1982 - July 13, 2004

Happy Secretary's Day (Belated)

2008-04-25T16:40:00.003-04:00

Is it a general requirement for all secretaries, receptionists, and administrative assistants to be mean and spiteful. You know the kind that won't call to the back to find out if you had an appointment. If it isn't in their books you don't matter. The same ones that will make you wait in the doctors office and tell you he will be right with you. Stop lying. Just say he is busy, backed up, eating lunch, doing the other receptionist, and will be out in a while.

They huff and puff on the phone when you ask them to give the party you are trying to reach a message. It's your job like it or not. Stop taking shit out on people so damn early in the morning. You can't be that pissed off at 8am. And if you are fake it. Stop inflicting your infectious, hateful demeanor on those you encounter throughout the day. Oh, and you know you aren't busy at your desk. We know you are emailing your coworker down the hall about America's Next Top Model or where you want to eat for lunch.

I know your job is important. I am not trying to take that away from any of you. Without you you could potentially stop the flow of an office's whole day. Just apply a little bedside manner. Smile when I come through the door. Do not scowl and tell me to have a seat before I even tell you what I am here for. No one ever gets promoted from administrative assistant to CEO. Be nice. It goes a long way.

50 First Dates

2008-04-24T22:48:00.011-04:00

Needless to say I'm picky when it comes to dating. So when you ask what I like I can't give you just one answer to sum it up. That does not mean I am indecisive. I've just got my standards as well as stoplights, warning signs, and baggage claim checks that must be reviewed. But I'm thinking I might need to advise my advisors that my life of speed dating is making me wary.

Potential candidates must be: Short kind of tall; slim kind of thick; brown kind of yellow; smart kind of intelligent (no variance there).

Not very hard I think. Overall I am tired of starting over. As every different date I go on I answer the same questions. Imagine how many times I get asked when is your birthday? Favorite Food? Where I am originally from? What I'm looking for in this dating scene? What movie should we see? Restaurant to eat? Where to pick you up or meet? My place or yours?

I feel like I should be submitting a cover letter with resume. Because I am sick of interviewing for a job that I sometimes don't want or that you think I am not qualified enough for. Ultimately I just want someone to share my day with. I'm looking forward to second dates, third trips to your favorite vacation spots. Being recognized by your favorite cousin at their wedding. You coming through my bedroom door a set of keys in your hand because you have it like that. No longer screening phone calls from dates gone awry who didn't get the message that they have been replaced. Not even replaced a 1st date means that further follow-up information was needed before meeting with other applicants.

I've made compromises lowering my bar thinking it might be me. Only to wonder if I can fit out the window in the bathroom. Get my friend to call with an "emergency". Or to slide my arm from under your head without waking you up. No one likes being rejected. And others don't know how to reject respectively.

You are not my type. I'm looking for someone (fill in the blank). Oh my friend said you looked different. I have no job. I live with my mama. Do you have money to pay for your half? I'm not exactly single. I'm gay.

Some extremes are not worth exploring. But ultimately how creative do you think I am to come up with 50 Original First Dates? How many first times do I have to see the same movie? Add some explanation next to your name in my phone so that I know which _____ I am calling? How many times do I have to wake up every morning and meet someone new?

Here's to 51.

To the comments that might come or not. Often we say date and meaning something else. It's like the word love. It's up to interpretation. For someone a date is a movie. A drink. Dinner. Some combinations of all three and many other variations. To others a date is a hookup. Or a mutual understanding between two that you are interested in repeating any of these actions. It is not a relationship. Nor does one date entitle you to anything other then potentially a second date. And more common then not people date more then one person at one time. Hopefully you are not on date number 5 with three different people, but hey if you have the time do you. It's called considering your options. I have realized that I am becoming a serial dater. That's coming to an end. I read this line in response to a different topic but it still holds relevance.

"I wonder if the core of the problem is that in our fear that we'll never find anyone and be lonely for the rest of our lives, we become too active in a process in which we should be more laid back, patient and passive."

Here is to a passive Staats. So when 51 does show up, maybe some of the cynicism will have ebbed away. Or at least he will have different questions to ask.

Transparency

2008-04-07T03:53:00.005-04:00

Allow me to be naked; stripped down if you will.
Unable to say what's on my mind I want you to witness me...complete transparency.
I'm a little out of practice,
A little out of shape
So please excuse the nudity.
Because this feeling that I shouldn't be feeling...
Is
This
Love
?

'Before I lock my love away, excuse me let me testify...You've accused me of a, you've accused me of a...'

You've accused me of a crime that I readily admit to.
But admonishment does not beget absolution.
My guilty plea is me telling you I would do it again.
Don't let me off on a technicality
Because my non-conviction would result in a Doubly Jeopardy.
I'll take Infidelity for $1000 Alex.
My wager everything that I don't have.
Just humbly hoping that by barterng my love
You can help make it valuable again
And not clear.
Transparently so.
Lit up by an overhead projector.
With words written on it.
Magnified.
Transposed for all to see.

'Before you lock my love away...'

Excuse me while I am transparent.

© April 2008
Staats

Top 10: Are You a Jump Off?

2008-02-26T01:34:00.005-05:00

A la David Lettermen's Top Ten Reasons...

Was talking with some friends and the question came up what constitutes a jump off? Or what are some signs that you aren't really dating someone you are just their sex partner? And that is basically the definition of a

JUMP OFF (adj.) : to be only a sexual object. (see also, One Night Stand, Cut Buddy, BUDDY, etc.)

The Top 10 signs that you are/might have been/or are currently someones jump off...

10. All the pictures in their place are turned down when you come over.
9. If you don't know their last name.
8. If every "date" has been at your house and involves alcohol.
7. If they are always have naked when you come over, or you don't wear underwear when you go out.
6. You haven't met any of their friends or family and you've been "dating" for over six months.
5. There are multiple toothbrushes in the bathroom and none of them are yours.
4. They refer to your "dating" situation as "just kicking it", or "oh we are just cool".
3. If you have never spent the night.
2. If they only call you or return your phone calls after 12am and before 6am.

And the #1 sign you you are a jump off is...

1. You aren't bothered by the empty condom wrappers in the trash can when you come over.

All That Glitters...

2008-02-24T02:40:00.003-05:00

IS NOT GOLD!!!!

Had to put that part in caps. I was having a conversation with a friend the other day about a woman he had hooked up with. Now he was telling me that she was so fine, and physically all that he wanted in a woman. He had been lusting over her for a long time and finally got the opportunity to sleep with her. Well it came at a very inconvenient time because it snowed up here in the Northeast the other day. And of course that was the night that she wanted him to come over. So with about 4 inches of snow already on the ground he hopped in his coupe (bad car in the snow) and made the normal 15 minute trip in about 40 minutes. After some awkwardness they proceeded to have sex. And within moments it was over. For her. The word my boy used to describe it was WACK. He said he has gotten more excitement with himself. The young lady wanted him to stay the night and wait for the snow plows. He said it would be fine that he would just retrace his tracks. I can't help but laughing as I type it, because life is set up with many tales like this. Not as sexual but in general.

Everything in life that glitters is not gold. Often we spend so much time putting someone on a pedestal that they are undeserving of. Their outward representative looks so enticing that we often lose temporary sense and do something that we wouldn't normally do or we are just so excited at the opportunity that we through caution into the wind. What looks too good to be true usually is. Me and my boy talked about mediocrity isn't necessarily the answer, but that most of our basic needs can be taken care of it. Some of us have had sexual encounters, hookups, one night stands with people that we would never want to be see out with. But they might take care of another need really well. Not saying to live in that mediocrity but perfection doesn't exist. No one gets all they want off of their physical/mental checklist when dating. So beware of all that glitters. FOOL'S GOLD IS AROUND IN ABUNDANCE.

F@#! That Valentine

2008-02-14T06:05:00.006-05:00

If you are spending your money today on flowers, cards, and candy for the first time for your boo...you are officially a loser. And I am laughing at you while you try to bargain your way into a reservation at my restaurant. Because maybe you were unaware that its open 362 other days out the year. So learn to express your love for someone every day and not just Valentine's Day. It's not a holiday. It's Hallmark's Day. And I am not jealous of anyone. I'm very content with my choice of not celebrating something I think is so mundane. Valentine's Day to me is trendy, and I am the last person you will see doing the same thing that someone else is doing.

So fellas who have succumbed to the monotony of February 14th be prepared to buy the bouquets of flowers, chocolate covered whatevers, shrimp cocktail, lobster tails, and the bottle of wine...all to find out you still aren't getting any at the end of the night.

And ladies be content with your man for what he does for you not for what you think he should be doing, so what your coworker got Callililles delivered to the job, and your homegirl got a horse and carriage ride, be happy that someone wakes up and says I love you. And it's not just your day either so get him something too. Ungrateful asses.

This is me every year. So don't think this is the cause of anything. Most of my friends know I haven't done anything for this faux holiday for years. It's just how I get enjoyment from it. Yes I believe in love. I just don't believe one day means I love you more then the last. If you want to contact me do you. I am out spreading my discourse and cynicism to the masses.

In the immortal bridge from Andre 3000's album The Love Below and the song "Happy Valentine's Day"...

F@#! That Valentine's, F@#! That, F@#! That Valentine, F@#! That Valentine's Day...

Staats' Top Ten

2008-02-02T10:10:00.000-05:00

A la David Lettermen's Top Ten Reasons...a funny question came to mind when my roommate noticed I had a Band-Aid over my nipple. (Don't ask). Anyway I wondered...

What could be the top 10 reasons a man would have a Band-Aid over his nipple.

#10. Bacon flavored cologne and a pet German Shepard.
#9. To find out the hard way why men don't breast feed.
#8. A piercing job gone really bad.
#7. Someone triple dog dared you to see if it would stick to a frozen pole like in the Christmas Story.
#6. Trying to start a new Band-Aid trend like Nelly did.
#5. Overzealous girlfriend who is on a diet.
#4. To distract you that there are really three nipples on your chest.
#3. Ran out of Pasties.
#2. Couldn't remember the "Safe" word while playing with your Dominatrix.

And the #1 reason a guy might have a Band-Aid over his nipple...
In memory of Janet Jackson's Superbowl Halftime Show.

Just had to be silly. Enjoy the Superbowl.

I Choose You

2008-01-19T02:03:00.000-05:00

Have you ever felt a little awkward as one of the few members of the wedding party that has to get up for the garter toss? You look back at people you have known for almost a decade and realize that most of them are either a Mr. & Mrs. or well on their way to being one. And time makes you have one of those flashback moments. It's like the ending of The Wiz. When Dorothy starts singing "Home" and all the people she loved and has come to love appear in the stars, that's how I felt. Only the song in my head and that the DJ was spinning to my soundtrack was "International Player's Anthem" by UGK ft. Outkast. That was the tiniest thought that I had while I watched my friend William Kennedy wed the former Latasha Lyons.

Rewind to North Carolina A&T State University in Greensboro, North Carolina. My life could have went in so many different directions if I hadn't met this kid from Fayetteville, NC by way of Chattanooga, TN. He was the first friend I made when I moved from Baltimore, MD. I was homesick by the end of Freshman Week, my roommate hadn't arrived yet, classed hadn't started, and I was filling out forms for Late Registration at Morgan State. I stumbled across the Union. And spades. And Will. And a few other brothers that would welcome me into their fold and nickname me Sisqo (the Bmore association, plus my bright shirt). Oh it was definitely a joke. Those were two things you had to be able to do to sit at a Spades table down there. Of course know how to play good, and to talk shit. Will a.k.a Bullethead was my running mate. We survived out of each others refrigerators, pockets, connects, closets, and rooms.

Fast forward 4 years to my move back to Greensboro, and once again sharing an apartment complex with my homie. Who happened to be living with the woman I had heard had tamed this WyldChild. That woman who would become the mother of his child. And on the first weekend of the new year became his wife. Eight years in the making. And all this flashed before my eyes as his wife-to-be came down the stairs. The CeCe Winans song "Alabaster Box" was song by a member of the choir, and I had heard the song before but never really listened to it. It talked of a broken woman giving her life to Christ and somehow also sang the song of Tasha joining her life with Will. And from Tasha's presence, to Will's emotion showing on his face, it was enough to move even the groomsmen to a tear. We had to avoid each others eyes as to not fully give into the spirit of the moment. But I was moved. And envious. And excited. And filled with happiness that I was asked to share this moment with two people so willing to give of themselves to stop becoming a "me" and become an "us".

The reception hall zooms back into focus as Andre 3000's voice comes over the speakers. And Will realizes that 'we got his back like chiropractic...now hurry hurry go on to the altar I know you ain't a pimp but pimp remember what I taught ya, keep your heart..." And you know what he turns and says to his wife before the speakers blow out...'I Choose You'.

Moments of Greatness

2008-01-18T04:14:00.000-05:00

Me and some of my friends were partaking in some recreational fun and the conversation ensued that actually carried some content. One of them suggested that if I had trouble remembering what vital knowledge I was dispensing that I should invest in a digital voice recorder. I thought the idea was ingenious. How else would I remember my Moments of Greatness. That is what I have decided to call it. I believer under certain circumstances your brain relaxes and issues thoughts that are void of screening, pretense, subterfuge, and is on many levels profound. To others maybe not so much.

I made the comment that I felt more comfortable electing a President that also had recreational fun or at least used to. How else would they be able to save the world on a daily basis? Yes some of you are reading this and you are not comprehending. It's ok. It means you probably have never been Great and have nothing to compare. Proceed to the next blog entry. For those that have been Great you know what I am talking about. You may have cured cancer during this Greatness or came up with a way to bring about peace in the Middle East. Start recording your conversations. I'm going to give it a shot. Now I don't think recreational fun should be embarked upon on a regular basis, because then the moments would be less great. But every once in a while if you feel the desire to use more then 10% of your brain at one time, well think about having some fun. LOL.

Alicia Keys American Music Award Performance

2007-12-05T04:22:00.000-05:00

Now this is for all you Jamaicans, West Indians, Reggae and Dancehall lovers young and old, this is truly worth of a Reggae Collabo. And the best performance that night. Sorry its so late

This Christmas

2007-12-03T04:19:00.000-05:00

(**Bloggers note: Amidst the Writer's Strike going on nationwide, it really gives focus to the freedom that all writers possess. For those apart of the Union that exercise this freedom I commend them. But in the same breath realize that I don't think I could subject my craft to the scrutiny of others. And I use scrutiny loosely because what is a blog but for others to read and comment. I mean to be forced to edit my work, submit to deadlines and paychecks. I do this because I like to, and not because its a task assigned to me. So this piece is somewhat of a break from the norm. I don't usually do request work. I don't write on command about any topic or specifically for any one person so AJ (you know who you are) this is in part for you. But I also had some notes on this that I wanted to share as well.) **

I had the opportunity to see an ensemble cast that resembled a lot of my family members and situations in the form of the new movie 'This Christmas' a few weeks ago. I was still doing my best Scrooge impression, as I was not so ready to move from turkey to Tree Trimming so fast. It seems like the Holiday Season always surprises up when it does arrive. And opening the day before the Turkey and Over Roasted Honey Ham had even been cut came this film that at first glance looked like the second part of Soul Food (which also opened up right before the Thanksgiving Holiday season) a little more than 10 years ago. The similarities ensued as the commonalities between many movies focused on the closeness of African-American families. The reason why these movies do so well is because many African-Americans identify with the characters and scenarios.

There is always that matriarch (although I am sick of the name Madea...thanks Tyler Perry) who seems to cook dinner, decorate the house, balance the check book, run the family business, keep the peace, and still seems to know what's really going on in her children's lives despite their locations. (Shout outs to all the women that do this with one hand tied behind her back). Then as stereotypical as usual Papa is missing in action as The Temptations (<<Thanks Dad) put it so quaintly 'Papa was a rolling stone, wherever he laid his hat was his home...'. The one difference is that the movie does focus on how blended families can still work out. Many strong male characters in the film (Delroy Lindo, Idris Alba, Colombus Short, Chris Brown, and even 'Cousin Fred') stress the importance of family and the sacrifices that we make for the sake of blood.

The women in the movie all represent African-American women in many different stages of their lives. The separated mother (who is still getting her groove on but hasn't moved on from her 1st husband), the career college student (who has the best intentions with school, just not as much focus), the too focused career woman (who can't get out of her own way and allow someone to love her outside of her family), and the stay-at-home-mom (who does what too many women do nowadays and think that infidelity should be overlooked for lack of confidence and find ways to excuse it). Very Soul Foodish, but portrayed very well by Loretta Devine, Lauren London, Sharon Leal, and Regina King, respectively. And on a side note, big ups to the director for making sure Regina King had next to nothing on. I mean housewife or not she stayed in the gym to keep that body tight and tried to keep her man home and satisfied. Hey if you're going to do it, you mind as well be the best at it. LOL. And no matter what role Regina King plays she always seems to carry that homegirl quality. Every family has a member like her. You have to give her creativity points too, baby oil and a leather belt. LOL. That ranks up there with Al Greene and the hot grits.

Not trying to give too much of the movie away, but I think it appeals to me because I come from a pretty close medium to large size family. Where if you share that similarity can attest that hijinks's like those in the movie happen at many a family function. Most of all it reminded me that Christmas really isn't Christmas without being surrounded by the ones you love. Not necessarily the ones you like, but when all is said and done you know they would do anything for you. And yes they will judge, point fingers, fight with you on the front lawn, at the bar, or on vacation, but let someone from outside the family step to you and they will have your back. I feel like I have celebrated Christmas for the last two months. The only thing I really wanted was to spend time with all of my family. It was part of the reason why I have moved back to the Northeastern area. My brother is back from Iraq and him and his entire family made the trek from Hawaii to the East Coast. At the drop of a dime my family was there to celebrate with dishes of all kinds and of course spirits. That's family.

This Christmas don't send yourself into credit card debt that you will be paying off til August. It's not worth it. Enjoy the greatest gifts that this season has to offer. Turn over and smile at the special someone that makes this cold season a little warmer. Or walk down the hall and peek in on the little ones whose innocence you are shaping while they are still caught up in being comfortable and not the commodity of this Holiday. And if you have to by train, plane, bus, or automobile make sure that home is where your heart is This Christmas morning. Rejoice and be glad. And lest not forget that 'Jesus is the reason for the season'.

**(Bloggers 2nd note: I'm an old school fan too. Chris Brown as talented as he is needed to leave Donny Hathaway's original alone. Too many runs. The soundtrack for the movie is bumpin' though. And for me it's not the Christmas season until I hear The Temptations 'Silent Night'. By the way this will be my only Christmas piece. It snowed today in Jersey and with it being December it seemed perfect timing to post this. I will not be posting many movie reviews, just ones I feel strongly about. But another good one to check out if you haven't seen it is The Family Stone. Now with that said you won't see anything about The Perfect Holiday, you know that other movie starring Morris Chestnut and Gabrielle Union (for like the 5th time). Although I will be seeing the new Will Smith production I Am Legend, again no other plugs especially since I hope it doesn't follow the boring footsteps of Tom Hank's one man show Cast Away. And if you went to go see This Christmas you probably also got a chance to view the trailer for the new Ice Cube movie featuring Katt Williams. I'm not even going to tell you the name. One word for it Buffoonery. LOL. I'm going to sneak in. It's my way of not really supporting.)**

"I want to wish you a Merrrrrry

Merrrrrrry Christmassssss

To eaccchhhh

To all of youuuuuu

Merrrrrrry Christmasssss

To all of youuuuuuuuu

(in the deep voice)

Merry Christmas from the Temptations"

Servers Strike Back

2007-11-30T15:40:00.000-05:00

For all of you who DON'T wait tables!!!
If you go out to eat, or plan to EVER again... READ THIS!

P.S. An addendum to this list will be coming soon.

HOW TO TIP

easy tip: take 10% of the total price of the ticket and then double it.
$50.00 tab = $5.00 x 2 = $10.00 would be an alright tip.

The next time you're out eating at a resturant, look at your server. Do you think they are really happy to be doing that job? The answer is no, they are not, but it's what we do, and we do it for the money so please help them out. Its a tougher job than you think and you should pay them accordingly!

There are SO many people out there flooding the restaurants w/o any knowledge of how to tip. Here is a short guide for the general public to follow. Feel free to print out and store in your wallet and/or purse.

1. CHILDREN "THE LITTLE DEVILS":
If you have children, DO NOT let them, open and dump anything on the table (ie; salt, sugar, etc). IF YOU DO, you must leave an extra $5 for the server to clean up YOUR CHILD'S mess & to restock the now unusable wasted items. We are neither their babysitter nor their parent. The least you can do is pay us for the extra work. Also make sure you control your kids and don't let them scream or run around the restraunt. It's very distracting and rude to others eating, not to mention dangerous if they get ran over by a server with hot food in their hands.

2. "THE CAMPERS":
If you feel the necessity to stay for longer than 15 minutes after you pay, its an extra $3 every 30 minutes. We make our money from the tables. If you are in one and we can't seat it, we don't make money. Not to mention, if you are our last table we have to wait for you to leave before we can leave.

3. COMPLIMENTS:
Telling a server they are the best server they've ever had is not a tip. If we are good, let us know by leaving us more money. We cant pay our bills on compliments. Its not that we don't appreciate the praise, its just that if you say that and then leave 10% it's an insult.

4. THE SALVATION PAMPHLETS:
Prayer cards and any other religious pamphlet is NOT a tip. It is insulting that you assume we are w/o religion and must save us. Again, like ..3, we can't pay bills w/prayer cards. We'd go to church on Sundays if it wasn't mandatory to work on Sundays because EVERYONE who goes to church follows it by eating out.

5. TIPPING:
It is not 1960. Cost of living has gone up dramatically since then. 18% is the MINIMUM amount of what you should be tipping your servers. Look at the first number of your bill. ie. if your bill is $30, double the 3 & you have a $6 tip. If the second number is more than 5 however, you must add a dollar. Remember, our companies pay us minimum wage (minumum wage for servers is $6.75 in CA, $3.13 in FL, $3.09 in IA, $2.13 in NJ, 2.65 in MI, 2.15 in OK, $2.13 in TX, $2.43 in NC). And we are taxed on 10 percent of your meal automatically anyway. So if your meal is $100 and you leave $10 and we tip out $4-5 to the busser, bartender, and whoever else then we pay tax on 10 dollars and we make $5. It seems small but it adds up. How many times do you eat out per week and do this?

6. THE COMPLAINERS:
If you get a discount because your food was prepared wrong or something, do not take it out of our tip. We didn't cook it. The cooks get paid hourly regardless if the food sucks. However, we only make what you give us.

7. THE LATE ONES:
If you come into the restraunt 10 mins before closing or any time near closing hurry up and order your food and get out. Closed means closed, not social hour. It is so rude to sit there and take your sweet ass time. We can't leave until you leave because we have to do sidework and clean the table you are sitting at. We don't want to stand there waiting for you for an extra hour just because you don't want to go home. We recommend 24 hour establishments such as Dennys if you wish to sit into the wee hours of the night.

8. THE TABLE HOGGERS:
If you only come in for coffee or a dessert, to do paper work, or to have a meeting, don't sit there taking up our booths for hours. We are not Starbucks or a hotel restraunt. If you want to sit for hours, go there or else you better leave a good tip for us and camping fee included.

9. THE GREET:
When we come up to the table to greet you and we ask how you are doing, please let us know. We honestly want to know how you are doing. And ask us how we are doing as well. It's called manners. If you are in a bad mood we want to know that from the beginning. A confused stare or complete silence does not suffice as a reply to "How are you doing?". Also most of us are REQUIRED to say certain things during the greeting, so please don't interrupt our greeting and say "I want coffee", "Can we get some bread?", or "What are the soups?" Just sit tight for a damn minute & let us talk. You're not helping us out & saving us time by stopping our greet, you are pissing us off.

10. THOSE DAMN CELL PHONES:
Don't ever talk on your cell phone in a restaurant. This is probably the rudest thing to do. If you must be on your cell, at least keep your voice down in respect for other customers. If you are on your cell phone when we walk up to greet your table we will walk away and not return until you get off your phone. Just show some respect and give us your attention for a couple of minutes.

11. THE PICKY PEOPLE:
When you're taken to a table, sit there. There's a reason you were taken to that table and it's because that server is next on the rotation. If you prefer a certain table, section, window seat etc. specify that to the host/hostess BEFORE they walk you to your table!! Don't wait till they get to the VERY back of the restaraunt then ask "can we have a booth?" "Can we sit by the window?" No! The reason you weren't sat by the window or in a booth is most likely because the server by the window or the server with the booths just got sat and you will receive better service if you stay put. If you ask BEFOREHAND the hostess has time to sit you accordingly. They have time to find you a table where you will be happy to sit AND receive good service!

12. THE WAVERS:
If you wave at me or try to talk to me while I am talking to another table or have a huge tray in my hand, I WILL ignore you. We have other people besides you to take care of and unless we are standing still or hanging out by a computer, we are doing something. It is rude to think we will stop what we are doing for one table just to come help you. Let me put this heavy ass tray down in the middle of the dining room to find out you want more sauce. Do not grab me, or wave, or shake your glass, or call me ma'am or waiter or any other pet-name you want to call me because you were on your cell, or talking, or interrupted my initial greet where I told you my flippin' name!

IN OTHER WORDS, WE DO NOT HAVE IT EASY AS A SERVER! TAKE CARE OF US AND WE WILL TAKE CARE OF YOU!

Camelot

2007-10-30T04:24:00.000-04:00

When Love was all brand new I used to greet her outside of the gates,

Open armed ready to be in love.

Only to be slayed.

No suit of armor vulnerable to enemy attack.

I retreated into my castle to let my heart heal,

Knowing that when Love came again I would be better prepared.

I learned more about my strengths and weaknesses during this reflection period.

And I wasn't looking for Love,

I had already eaten from that apple and didn't want to be Adam twice.

When Love disguised as someone else came calling it was from beyond my moat,

My defenses had increased since last we met.

Love spoke of foundations and how mine seemed so strong,

And asked for permission inside my castle.

Leery I conceded.

And Love did not attack.

For it not because of the full armor, shield, and sword I now carried,

Maybe this wasn't the same Love.

This love had taken control of me, but not by force.

Love made herself at home,

And as soon as she realized my heart was on my sleeve,

She knocked it off, threw it across the room, and stepped on it,

With spiked stilettos as she left my castle.

My guards came to my aid and tried to assess how they could have been tricked so easily.

Uncertainty, who is normally first to respond, begin tot second guess Intuition,

Who then accused Hope of being too soft.

Ultimately, Pain took hold of the situation and helped pick up the pieces of my heart.

He took it deep within the castle.

Fortified it behind doors and locks and wore the key around his neck.

He would stand guard and remind me if I ever came down for my heart,

That Love could not be trusted.

He ordered sentries be on the lookout for Love.

And if she was found she was to be shot on sight.

I thought this drastic, so I convinced Pain that Love would be observed,

And final judgement would belong to him.

Pain said he would agree but warned me not to bring Love anywhere near him,

And that she needed to be observed for at least 3 months.

If the other guards found her to be no threat then we would see.

That is why there is a thin line between Pain and Love. Love and Hate.

Pain reminds you that when it hurts so bad,

Even if you didn't recognize it it was Love.

And once Love has found your heart, it would really Hate to be left alone again.

So while you may walk around my castle unscathed,

You can not hurt me love.

There are defenses in place to prevent that.

Walls that must come down first.

So while I see you on the horizon,

I wonder if in 3 months I can trust what I have learned about you.

And ask myself am I ready for Love?

TV Schizophrenia

2007-10-24T03:45:00.001-04:00

I have a DVR. It's the only way I can watch television nowadays. And after getting off late at night there is nothing on television to watch, so I just record shows aimlessly. Tuesday night I got off early (9pm) and happened to catch up on some of my favorite shows. Random as it may sound these are the thoughts that ensued:

Heroes (NBC) is one of the best written shows I have seen in a while. In case you didn't know I am a nerd. A functioning nerd but still a nerd. The intricate character plots and twists definitely keep you tuned in.

Lebron James is a funny dude. Not funny haha, but funny to laugh at. If you missed it I'm sure its on YouTube already, the King of Basketball allowed the group over at Saturday Night Live to do whatever they wanted to him. Which includes dressing him up as a Solid Gold Dancer with Jheri Curl and skin tight gold pants with matching top.

I hope my wife (if I ever get married) at 56 has a body like Jane Seymour on Dancing With the Stars(ABC). I mean GrandMami is fly. A little pale for my tastes but still fly. And she is flexible...which helps her on the show of course. I am still pulling for the Cheetah and the Spice Girl in the finals.

Ellen Degeneres and the dog issue has gone way to far. At first it was a little sad to hear. Then I remembered that I am not a pet person. And although I can be sympathetic, empathy escapes me. Although her cult fans need to be stopped. Stop sending death threats just because your favorite TV host is losing her mind during a taping.

And in case you have been sleeping underneath a rock. Ellen Degeneres is a lesbian. Not that that matters. I just kind of needed a segue into my next topic. Gay fictional characters. It was alluded to in the on-air friendship between two hobbits in Lord of the Rings. And ironically didn't include gay British actor Ian McKellan (Gandolf the Grey/White). But another in the Wizarding World was recently let out of his magical closet. Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Wizarding, in the uber-popular Harry Potter series, is in fact gay. Gasp!!! Religious zealots are devastated that their children have been at the center of this plot by J.K. Rowling and they are currently in the process of trying to see how fast a 700-page book burns. Get a life. In a book that alludes to everything but sex, the last thing we need to be doing is re-reading the series to find clues to a ficitional characters sexuality. (Hell look at Bert and Ernie from Seasame Street...oops you did know...right) Although, it might be interesting to see if in the 6th Harry Potter movie installment the actor that plays the now vilified character has a little more limp in his wrist when flicking his wand. Stereotypical gumps.

Why is California always on fire? I mean always. Really? Can someone please explain it to me. And why is it always a special report on ABC about it?

VH-1 is officially the new BET. I remember once upon a time there were very few programs that catered towards Blacks on the network. In the last month VH-1 has seen the premiere's of Hip-Hop Honors, I Love New York 2, The Salt-N-Peppa Show, as well as their continuing specials dedicated to Iconic members of Rap and R&B music. BET aired the Hip-Hop Awards. Ummm...kind of dropping the ball aren't ya? Now, I'm not saying that VH-1 always put together quality shows, but in comparison to BET...well there isn't much to compare now is there.

And couldn't help but mention that certain people in Hip-Hop are too funny. In the immortal words of Dave Chappelle..."When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong". This weeks recipient of the award goes to Foxy Brown. In an attempt to prove that although she wasn't the first female MC to do hard time she is the baddest to do it. While serving a year in jail (Riker's Island), the BK rapper has recently gotten herself 2 months in the Hole. For you non-prison show watchers is solitary confinement for acting a damn fool. Need a say more?

No more TV for me tonight. This schizo thing might be a reoccurring thing. Or just might be completely random. Guess we will all find out.

Why Did I Get Married?

2007-10-17T12:13:00.001-04:00

An institution as old as time. Marriage. Some do it for personal gain, because of family obligations, for money, some do it for love, and others for many other reasons. But how many married couples get asked the question "Why Did You Get Married?" And further more who would answer truthfully? Tyler Perry's new #1 hit movie "Why Did I Get Married?" which premiered last week asks four couples that question on a weekend getaway and the drama that ensues.

Many have reviewed the movie, which is being marketed as a Dra-medy (Drama/Comedy), but it's a very real look into the motives of couples. And how loving someone is harder then not loving them at all. Now, I'm not going to spoil any of the scenes for those haven't seen it yet. But after watching the movie I looked at all those in my circle of friends, family, co-workers who were married or getting married. I wrote a piece a few years back called "The Single Man's Blue's", and my desire to be married with children. Watching this movie showed me that many couples even with their best intentions have secrets, lie, withhold information from their loved ones. Some do it maliciously, some do it to "protect" them, and some do it because they think the truth would be worst to handle.

I had the opportunity to speak with my ex about an act of infidelity that I had committed while we were together, that I later confessed too. At the time I thought I was being forthcoming, in hindsight I realize there might have been a selfish acknowledgment since my conscious was eating at me. Nonetheless I recently asked her if she wishes that I hadn't told her. And she said yes. WOW! That simple truth on my part changed our lives and relationship with each other. So I begin to wonder what secrets my friends, family members, even my own parents kept from each other.

My parents have been married for almost 25 years. They have outlasted some of their friends', siblings, and other marriages. And I wonder if the simple word of TRUST is what keeps them together. That my mother trusts my father and vice versa. I think that was the apparent disconnect in the movie between all of the couples. They didn't trust some aspect of their spouse. Their job, career goals, past, ambition. Or for others they think that some secrets should be ignored no matter how apparent because they are the only man/woman in their life. Such self-pity often keeps dead end marriages together far longer then they should last. Others feel a sense of responsibility to children, family, society to keep their marriage intact. They provide others with an idea marriage at the expense of their own happiness. It doesn't seem fair.

I see my parents and think why did they get married? I have a pretty good idea of why. A better question is why after all these years have they stayed married? And that answer matters more then the first. The reasons of why always seem to be minuscule when compared with the reality that is now. And for some the answer isn't pretty. I have seen so many friends recently get married for what seems to be the right reason. I am even in two weddings in the next 3 months. One of them is a do-over. It was called off a year ago (Damn non-refundable deposits). I wish all the happy couples many years of happiness. And when those unhappy days come (and they will come), don't make lists of Pros and Cons of your spouse, but remember what made u say "I Do", in the beginning, and try to imagine if you had said I don't. If that foundation is enough to stand on, then you need to try to make things work.

As for me I am as single as a long mid-summer day in Alaska (That's almost 19hrs of daylight. LOL) And I'm happy being with me. And when the time comes for me to get married somebody print this out and shove it in my face and remind me to think before I rent another non-refundable tuxedo.

Where Did My Theme Song Go?

2007-10-13T03:59:00.000-04:00

"It's a rare condition this day and age to read any good news on the newspaper page..."

Do you remember that theme song? Remember the rest of the words? Or what show used to start with that same diddy every TGIF? Family Matters. But apparently music doesn't. There is a very small percentage of television shows (thanks to reality tv) that actually have real actors, but also are missing that vital theme song where as soon as we hear it we are instantly connected with our favorite characters.

Do you remember the television show that recreated there theme song and introduction every season? "The Cosby Show". It was as much apart of the show as the scripted dialogue. So why have so many writers and shows opted out of this age old (well as old as television anyway) tradition? 1.5-2 minutes. The average hour long television show only actually airs 40 minutes of footage the rest is filled with commercials and credits. And you have a DVR that automatically records programming you have faced frustrations with programs that go one or two minutes over and you miss the ending of a great cliffhanger. (Ha! Ayo, I'm tired of using technology. You can't trust it for everything)

In an effort to gain a whole episode worth of shooting (22 episodes= avg season; 22 + 2minutes= 1 extra episode) these shows have decided that no introduction is necessary. Literally. No theme. Either a quick recap or lead-in and then just the name of the show. The first 2 minutes of shooting usually reserved for special guests appearances to have their names displayed now include the principle characters. Now for shows like "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" ("In West Philadelphia born and raised"), we all knew who Will Smith was but we only kept up with the other characters because of the intro which happens to be one of the most popular rap lines sung by all, ranking up there with Sir Mix-a-lot's "Baby Got Back". There isn't a hard formula to follow, the greatest words aren't even necessary just a catchy tune. Look at Showtime's hit show Weeds. ("Tiny boxes on the hillside...") They have the same theme song, yet song in a different genre each week. Its really quite creative.

I bring this up because I am a nostalgia type of guy. Music is the only form of time travel that I am aware of. So networks if you wonder why no one remembers your last failed attempt at a cult classic hit television show, think about bringing some lyricists and create a jingle that jogs the memory.

"Where did my theme song go, I'm wonder where it went off too. I miss my theme song so, I'm searching but I can't get through. Please tell that song if you hear it, that someones longing to learn it. Where did my theme song go, I'm wishing it would get back soon. Get back soon."

So what's your favorite theme song? Mine goes along with this posts picture. Let me know. Better yet let's see you kick some of the lyrics.

2007-10-12T03:45:00.000-04:00

Far be it for me to allow faulty associations from faux friends.
Ultimately ur unforgettable excuses are useless when usually I didn't expect much from u.
Cautiously I convey conscious decisions to be more selective about the collective I keep in confidence.
Keeping those that don't want to be kept, killing time rather then being a kickstand.
Yet you rather misrepresent yourself; youthful delusions have let me know that your youngness is contagious and at my age it's time for you to leave.
Ordinarily I would organize my thoughts better; ought to open up to the idea that friends can be opposites and understand you.
Usually I have plenty of umbrellas to stand under; uncommonly too often I find myself in the rain. An understatement which I will forever utilize.

be careful of those with ulterior motives and of those you are quick to call friend. and for those offended by this piece, just read straight down the side.

First Day of Class

2007-10-12T03:12:00.000-04:00

Hello I'm STAATS.
That's two A's in the middle.
Or A Squared if you like Algebra.
And on the subject of math I am a Fraction of your random stereotypes.
As some Black women like to categorize me I am Half of "one of the four".
Usually meant to describe the Ratio of available Black Men to Black Women.
Gay, in Jail, married, or just doesn't want you.
So being Half of that Equation I am either Bi, on probation, in a serious relationship, or have very little interest in you.
Nonetheless it makes for a great Theorem that we will not be proving today.
It just serves as an introduction to this Mathematical lesson.
To find out more you can turn to your Glossary in the back of your book.
Past the answers to only the Odd questions,
Which you still can't turn in without showing the Work.
I am that One question on your final exam that takes the whole class to unravel.
And even then that isn't enough time.

To truly grasp this course you must understand that I use words to speak the most universal language...
MATH.
Very few people grasp the remedial skills to excel to STAATS.
I'm not for everybody.
Although my existence has always been permeated by the association of basic Numbers.
It is the intricacies in how they are used that create me.

For example:
I am the bi-product of 1 plus 1.
An 11 plus 14 brought forth a 7 born on the 22nd day.
Twice named and forged with statistical value I am a 1st born 2nd.

Statistically speaking the Average man has 8 Perfect years in his life.
As I have reached my 5th Perfect year I am beginning to see that life really is what you make it.
That a 3-year detour is just a detour.
The Line may go off on a Tangent, but still Intersects on the same Plane.
Be it Jersey, NC, Philly, or Bmore, it's Congruent.
Not the same but Equal to.
It might sound like an over complicated way to explain something so simple.
But for those that struggled in Math, and haven't taken STAATS yet
Feel free to hit Graph on your TI-82 Calculator.

© October 2007
Staats

Honestly Speaking

2007-10-11T03:39:00.000-04:00

Honestly speaking, I’m not so honest.
I’m complicated.
But if I wasn’t would you be here.
If I didn’t present a break from the norm, obviously there would be no need for me to be so honest.
Honestly.
If I was to write my honesty down it would be an epic tragedy.
If I was to sing it, it would be the saddest love song.
If I was to just do it…I would be presiding over my own eulogy…but I’m still here.
I’m still standing…still living in the now.
Still watching my life in Technicolor and digitally mastered surround sound.
Honestly speaking, I’ve walked through life unaware of my surroundings.
Right and left blinders on so I see only what is ahead.
But I can still see a future so I’m really trying to speak honestly.
Create a foundation that is not cemented in half truths.
And truthfully you must be someone short of amazing.
Truly.
My eyes aren’t protected from your light, blinders or not.
You create such a supernova of possibilities that I can’t possibly let this moment slip by.
I want to stop time, fight to live in this moment.
But I just can’t fight anymore.
Can’t make this piece sing right no more.
All there is left is left.
There used to be a time when I thought I could slick talk on the day of judgment.
Now I know for my actions all I can do is repent.
I have a Friend that I turn to that says that no one is without imperfection.
Well, I know I’m not perfect. But does that have to be my direction.
Must I love so hard for me to fall even harder.
Will my pursuit of happiness ever stop being a cylindrical pursuit
Or is confusion ever a two dimensional plane.
As I rambled my Friend smiled, eased my pain, and uttered peace be still.
Do not steal away into the night.
Do not steel away your emotions.
You’ve tried catching love 21 times.
Honestly speaking, maybe catch 22 is a commonality that obviously speaks volumes.
Honestly speaking of course.

© December 2006
Staats

Don't Let Me Die Alone

2007-04-20T03:57:00.000-04:00

Don't let me die alone
Away from everyone that knows me past my ID bracelet
Endless hallways lined with numbered doors
Metallic bedside manners and echoed emptiness.
Don't let me die alone.
By myself before being boxed away and laid to rest.
By myself where exchanged pleasantries are hello's and goodbye's
Rather then good morning and good night's.
Don't let me die alone.
You get tired of waiting for visitors that don't come.
You miss out on invitations to come by for the holidays.
You start to lose hope.
Hoping that maybe the grass is greener on the other side.
Don't let me die alone.
Put me in the attic or the basement.
Or the room with no windows on the far side of the house.
Somewhere I can ask for a hug.
From someone other then the stainless steel bars that keep me in place at night.
Don't let me die alone.
I'm telling you this now while my eyes are still brown and clear.
Before cataracts sets in and they turn Gray.
Like Alice through the looking glass I'm still here.
I can see you.
And I'm asking you while I can.
Please don't let me die alone.
Fawn over me while combing my hair.
Or wrap me up in that blanket before it gets stolen.
But don't put me away
Away from all the little reminders of why I should stay here.
Away from front porches with grandkids.
Or playing bingo at The Center down the street.
I might get in the way and I'm sorry.
I just want to be around
I want to stay a little while longer
I know I have to go one day
I'm not fighting that
I just don't want your last memory of me to be you answering the phone.
I'm sorry Sir, your Aunt died.
Alone

R.I.P
Alice Gray
9/25/12 - 1/30/07

© February 2007
Staats

We Don't Care What People Say

2007-04-20T00:54:00.000-04:00

Disclaimer: I'm back. Shannon this Blog is for you avid reader that you are. LOL. It's been a while but just because a writer doesn't write as frequently doesn't make him any less of a writer. Just makes them a little backed up. And the more I keep bottled in the more people I go off on. So here is some steam...

Contrary to popular belief I am alive and well.
The reports of my untimely demise have been greatly exaggerated
Although an aggravated assault was made on my character I avoided assassination.
But I'm still going through the motions.
The walking dead.
Still hiding behind this mask of smiles.
My writer's block was less of a block and more of a safeguard from the outside world.
I wasn't nor am I in search of understanding.
I don't write so you have a better idea of who I am.
Those days of seeking social acceptance have ebbed away at some of the bestest/greatest/worstest/most miserablist years of my life.
As I get ready to put this book up on the shelf I realize that this isn't it.
This isn't a book.
It captures as much of my light as a spark does to a dark hallway.
It is time for me to close this chapter.
For good this time.
No revisiting past mistakes.
I've concluded that life puts you through constant tests.
Some harder then others.
Because if life didn't test you how would you know if you were any stronger.
Isolation, assimilation, reconforming to what people wanted me to be that was my test.
I've been fighting against becoming comfortable in North Carolina.
Refusing to play well with others in my box,
Has prepared me to live outside of these four walls.
Where I am no longer a danger to myself.
Time to stop walking to the sound of flapping lips
And dance to my own music.

Your Eyes Are Telling

2006-09-16T03:47:00.000-04:00

Your eyes are telling me things that I want to hear,
They whisper your thoughts and invade every orifice humbling me.
Your eyes are telling me that infinity is not just a word,
That with every blink you open one million more possibilities.
I see galaxies and quasars in your irises,
I see beauty marks peppered in your skin for every freckle.
Your eyes are telling the future,
And the mysticism is too much for me to not look away.
But I want to know the future
I realize the urgency of the matter
That I once knew you and you knew me at a different time.
I realize that it’s only been a week
But every time I speak I want to say your name.
I wonder to myself, and sit and think everyday, why we do the things we do.
Are we all bound to make mistakes, or is this a slow R&B joint.
Every time you listen to it, it brings you back to that moment of strange happiness.
If we are not meant to be, why did we enter each others lives?
I still wonder about that question daily.
I look into your eyes and wonder why we aren’t talking
It’s like being kicked into a deep sea, and I’ve drowned.
What makes me miss you?
I don’t know, but my heart is heavy never the less.
I’ve heard you have someone new, and that makes me so happy.
You heart is large and I’m glad you found someone to fill that.
You’re more deserving of that then anyone I know.
Your eyes always see greatness in people.
The power of a smile, kindness in a touch, sweetness in a kiss.
I take in your gaze knowing this may be it.
That was you to me, my joy as well as my pain.
But your eyes they are telling me everything that I want to hear…
But your lips won’t say…
Won’t say…

© October 2005
Staats

I Am

2006-09-11T03:42:00.000-04:00

One year later I am falling
Not from 105th street, but from the 105th floor
I am falling not to my death, but to my life
I am the firefighter who’s only hope is to help people as the WORLD falls at my feet
I am a worker down the street looking at a movie cause all I see is black and white.
As my modern day nuclear winter rains down on New York City my mind flashes to scenes from Independence Day
And I wonder will 9/11 ever give me any freedom from the hold that it has taken on the world.
I am strapped in my seat belt on American Airlines thinking if I die today will it prevent others from dying tomorrow.
I am Scarface saying ‘I never seen a man cry until I seen a man die.’
I am Jay-Z and I can’t see them coming down my eyes but I got to make this poem cry.
I am the brother who can’t tell my sister I’m sorry for the fight last night
The father who will ever see my son become the man I know he can be
I am the son conceived without my Dad ever knowing and me never knowing him.
I am the family member who is tired of being exploited by a fascist game of chest, as if I’m the pawn for America.

Pawn takes Rook, America Strikes Back
Knight takes Pawn, a college student in the reserves shipped off to Iraq.
Queen to castle, flags, berets, calendars, World Trade Center paraphernalia a capitalist society capitalizing on a country’s heartache and pain.
King advances to King, Bush to Hussein press forward ready to bring the Free World to its knees.
One move to checkmate, one move to Armageddon.
I am the spirit of peace to the soul of a broken world, embodied in the children and family of those lost.
I am strength where a nation threatens to fall.
I am a celebration of life.
I am a college student, 19 years old, late for class, turning on my TV thinking I left the channel on HBO, because America is on
Fire and the world is holding its breath.
And it can’t be real.
I am a son waiting by the phone for my father to call.
You know he still works down the street from the Pentagon.
One year later I still am.

© September 2002
Staats

What's In A Name?

2006-09-08T04:39:00.000-04:00

Why bother to get to know me?
While introducing yourself does my appearance immediately appear too strong?
You've already decided that my curly hair against dark brown skin is too aggressive.
So when you hear my non-traditional name you look for ways to emasculate me.
My name is not pretty.
It is strong, bold, if anything handsome.
My name is not different or weird.
It is unique, uncommon, a not ur average moniker.
Do not look for ways to trivialize my existence.
I am not to be watered down as to suit your palette.
I will not fit in your box of how I should look, act, or sound.
My name is what it is.
And it defines me.
Don't try to familiarize it with something you've heard before.
Nor try to rhyme it with the 1st thing that comes to mind.
You won't hear it in a Dr. Seuss scheme or find it on a key chain.
If I say every syllable so you can hear the phonetics in it
You claim that you aren't slow.
So why do you keep referring to the indentation after the 'e' as an asterisk?
It's an accent.
To bring emphasis to the fact that you are unaware of my complexity.
Do not give me nicknames, abbreviations, or massacre who I am.
What does a man have but his name?
It is not urban, African, have any mystic connotation.
It is me.
And without my full name you will never really know me.
Deonte'.

Staats
© September 2006

Is $315 Dollars Worth Your Soul?

2006-08-31T01:44:00.000-04:00

I know that this is not going to be everyone's favorite topic. But since when do I write to please others. I do it for me. I wrote this piece a long time ago. Seven years to be exact, so those that might have chosen this route. God bless you and I hope you have healed or are in the process of healing from this life lesson.

This is the question that too many teenagers and young adults, more so high school and college students, have to ask themselves on a daily basis. To abort or not to abort? It's not a question but a reality more often then necessary. Abortion, many cases being the product of irresponsibility and people not dealing with the consequences of their actions. We live in a world that tries to shortcut a problem, and think that they come to a correct solution. When in fact that thought process is what has resulted in 1.2 million abortions a year. Over one million mistakes? The thing about being a mistake is that after it has been done once, it shouldn't happen again. "We made a mistake," is no longer an acceptable excuse. Those of us that are supposed to be support systems are as guilty as those that commit the act. Think you are removed from the situation, lets try a scenario:

You see a woman going into a dorm room/apartment/house with your friend, the same woman your friend said he was going to "give it to". You then realize this is the same guy that said he doesn't use condoms, because he has never got a woman pregnant before. A few weeks later the woman is missing class/work/functions because she's too "sick" to leave her place. She's pregnant. You know it, she knows it, and your friend knows it. But it isn't any of your business when you find out that she is going to get rid of the baby. You even tell your friend to hand his business, and that no woman is worth losing his scholarship/job/comfortable life over.

Remember that beginning part, is $315 dollars worth your soul? Better yet is $315 worth the life of anybody. Common said it best with, "From now on I'mma use self-control instead of birth control." It isn't worth it. For those other there handling yours, good for you. No, you don't deserve an award, what you need is a soapbox for you to get up on and preach to those headed down the same path that you once travelled. Truthfully, how many of us are ready to be a parent? I'm not. And looking back on my life, I'm just lucky that God also decided that He didn't want me to somebody's parent.

Think back for a minute on your past sexual history. Has there been anyone in that history that you would want as the mother or father of your child. Some of us don't even talk to the people that we've engaged sexually. She's not the woman your momma wanted you to bring home, nor the guy that your Dad wanted to see with his daughter. But fellas, let's be real; if the girl you got pregnant, be it your girlfriend or just some random girl, and wanted to abort the baby would you try to stop her? Probably not. I would. I couldn't live with the thought of killing my son, my daughter, just so I can go out and make the same mistake again with somebody else. Or on a larger scale, kill off the next President of the United States, the doctor that finds a cure to cancer, or helps repair the ozone layer. A child is not a burden and should never be considered such.

In some cases having a child forces the parents to grow up. It's almost a test, to see if you'll step up to the plate of responsibility. Many choose to be a base runner, so that they can play the field and try to win at life without ever swinging a bat. As a baseball player can you live without ever hitting a ball? As a person could you live with yourself if you killed your unborn child? I do believe there are certain instances where the rules should be bent. This is a very sick world that we live in, where molestation, rape, and incest happen more often then they ever should. But I am pro-life.

Some people aren't ready to be parents. I'm not. But if you're not use common sense and a little thing called restraint. You don't have to "poke" everything in a skirt. Or ladies you don't have to get everything in a nice car or with money in their pockets. And ladies "it's too many Black women that can say they mothers, but can't say that they wives." So the next time you encounter a brother with a child, give him the time of day. That child tells you what is in that man's soul. Don't worry about a ready made family or the baby's mother. That man isn't just a man, but a father single or not. He is responsible, dedicated, committed, and someone that can be counted on. At least in one little person's eyes. Every one makes mistakes, but he didn't. That child isn't a mistake, the conception of that child wasn't a mistake. God doesn't make mistakes. And that child is God's definition of that man.

"I don't wanna, go through the drama of having a baby's momma/
Weekend visits and buying' J's ain't gonna make me a father/
For a while bearing a child is somethin' I never wanted to do/
For me to live forever I can only do that through you/
Nerve I got to talk about them niggas with guns/
Must have really thought I was God to take the life of my son."

-excerpts from Common's "Retrospect for Life" featuring Lauryn Hill.

People Don't Dance No More...

2006-08-30T09:14:00.001-04:00

...All they do is... Snap

Yes, I'm guilty of listening and enjoying what is the emerging leader in Hip-Hop and R&B jams from the south labeled "Snap Music." But secretly I am awaiting the downfall of the ever catchy dance craze that is sweeping the urban community and saturating it with non-dancing club-hoppers.

It didn't occur to me until I was at Club 112 in Atlanta (the home of Snap Music), this past February how ridiculous it is to see hundreds of people doing the same synchronized dance. Stuff like that is only supposed to happen in movies. No one outside of couples are doing the exact same dance at the same time. Unless you are down in the "A" listening to pre-release of Goin' Down by Young Joc, the newest member of BadBoy South. Before the hit song made its way smoking on a midnight train from Georgia, the snap dance could also be seen mixed in with many of the city's other natives. Groups such as D4L and southern rivals Dem Franchise Boys had previously been battling privately and over the radio airwaves, with songs such as "Lean With It, Rock With It", "Shake Your Laffy Taffy", and "Betcha Can't Do It Like Me", giving verbatim instructions as to how to best do their dance.

Other Southern artists realized they were witnessing the latest shift in power in the Hip-Hop community. Not since Bass Music and the Bankhead Bounce had the south gained crossover appeal from the more dominant East Coast and West Coast styles of Hip-Hop. Soon the females of the ATL jumped on the bandwagon with lady like versions of how to Snap. Cherish's smash hit "Do It To It" was choreographed with ease just bouncing and snapping away, only to be followed up by Monica's "Everytime The Beat Drops". If you aren't sure what songs are snap songs, just listen to the background of any radio friendly song. In a hours time you should hear at least three songs, that have snaps to emphasize a point or to add to the chorus. The motto: The beat has to be hot, but the snap has to be hotter.

A visit to Los Angeles last month, showed me how strong of a hold it had over the nation. And it hadn't just ended with the snap. The Motorbike (made infamous by the Young Joc video) which is exactly what it sounds like someone imitating they are revving the engine on a motor bike has managed to strike out as the number 2 dance craze. Only to be followed closely with the "Shoulder Lean" perfected by two other Atlanta natives, T.I. and Young Dro. Despite the popularity of such shows as So You Think You Can Dance, or the popular teen movie Step Up that stresses the beauty of all dance forms, I don't think this is what they had in mine. Those that excelled in the two step are cheering all the way to the dance floor. Creativity is now being frowned upon. Finding yourself at any club not going along with the crowd when these songs drop is tantamount to Hip-Hop treason. Not only do you stick out like a sore thumb, but you also are blocking someones hand that is trying motorbike or snap in your direction.

Now before you jump on my case, like I said I enjoy the music. The beats although simplistic are entertaining. And sometimes a little snap here or there is okay. But people exercise moderation. Every song isn't a snap song. Or something you shoulder lean into. When pop acts start mimicking your style its time to give it up. Not to break an already great mold, Diddy the creative mind behind MTV's Making The Band 3 group, Danity Kane, teamed up his lovely lady ensemble with their labelmate Young Joc for another stirring rendition of who can snap better on the groups first single "Showstoppin'". The format has also changed time zones with Chicago's newest boy group One Chance, that appear on Usher's new label, featuring their first single "Look at Her" featuring Fabo from D4L snapping away.

One more thing before I go. "Chicken Noodle Soup"?!? Chicken Noodle Soup with a Soda on the side? I must say I prefer snapping to someone kicking me in the club as they are "getting it", as the song instructs. Can Cee-Lo please take a break from Gnarls Barkley and return to Goodie Mob. Just so that they can do a remix.

"Because people don't dance no more, all they do is this..." Snap.

Change The Station

2006-08-21T21:23:00.000-04:00

you think that Right Here is Where I Wanna Be?
Can't You See i'm a Star?
i Shine so brightly in the sky that hubble will have to wear Stunna's
just to avoid Damaged lenses.
but rather then Showstoppin' I'm out here Hustlin'.
tryna make a dollar out of 15 cents (a dime and a nickel).
Round-n-Round I go Patiently Waiting for Happy Hour.
serving round and rounds of liquid absolution.
i wonder Whatchu Lookin' 4?
it's not Down Bottom of the glass.
trust me i've already checked.
How Does It Feel to be Torn between doing What You Want?
and doing what other's Tell Me.
It Seems Like I'm Ready to make another change.
But it's this One Thing that keep's me here
in this land of green that is as barren as any desert.
If i could just Snap My Fingers or make One Wish to change my fortune I would.
i pray for serenity, but She Keeps On Passing Me By.
i have to realize she's not my Superwoman.
that my problems are tangible.

someday's Nothing Even Matters at all.
i feel like i can Touch The Sky.
and end up Floating on Cloud 9.
but it eventually it All Falls Down
like the Rain outside my window.
Can You Stand It?
the pressure of the Impossible.
it's an everyday occurrence when i start my day.
a regular Deja Vu.
only today i'm quitting.
telling them that This Is For My People.
i will no longer hasten to your call
no longer Smile or answer to your Oh Boy cry for service.
i may be Down But Not Out.
not by a long shot.
i have purpose.
and nah, I Ain't Mad At Cha,
but RESPECT is something everybody deserves.
and i'm Everyday People just like you.
yeah, even Me Too.
but I won't wait until Next Lifetime to finally get a piece of the pie.
i want it now.
this is my survival story.
and Sometimes I just get to thinking.
feel like A Long Walk
On My Own.
thing see a little bit clearer now that the rain is Gone.
still waiting on my bright Sun Shiny Day.

© August 2006
Staats

20 Questions

2006-08-17T16:10:00.000-04:00

Excuse me Miss, but can I offer you some companionship?
You know a companion?
Someone to keep you company?
Share a cup of coffee; some conversation.
No, not looking for a relationship.
Wouldn’t know how to deal with one.
See, I’m damaged goods,
I’ve been broken and I’m still tryna put the pieces together.
What do you want to know?
I’m ready for the Q&A.
Are you ready for the answers?
Fantasy is what people want, but reality is what they need.
As long as you don’t ask we can still keep this easy fantasy.

Who am I?
I’m an addict.
Been addicted to the same thing for 5 years.
Didn’t realize it was an addiction until today.
Got told that I looked tired.
The way they said tired, I felt they were talking about my spirit.
My fascination with my addiction matured into a realization
Really it was my perversion.
Twisted images making a slow motion picture.
Sorry, I’m putting too much on you.
More questions?

Where have I been?
To everywhere and nowhere.
Past then, forward to never, here to now.
I’ve been someone’s companion, someone’s company before.
Also been a mover and shaker.
Prince and pauper. Criminal and victim. Hoe and John.
I’ve been to love and to heartache.
They don’t live too far from each other, so it was a short trip.
Still interested?
I’m warning you the politically correct answers are about to dry up.
You should stamp me return to sender.
Glutton for punishment?

What am I looking for?
Solace. Not to be confused with solicitation.
Longevity. Consistency. Not this frantic day-to-day.
Nor this same shit different day.
Not this same bed different…
Again I digress.
I’m looking for understanding. Yeah, understanding.
But do you understand? Yes. No.
Wait. Hold on before you ask another, I have more to say.
I kinda like this question.
I am looking to be self-medicated.
Self-motivated into trying self-healing.
I am looking to make the things wrong with me right.
Healed, because someone that is so sick like me
Has no business trying to make something new.
Especially, when I don’t know if I’m contagious.
My emotional nervous system has Acquired an Immune Deficiency Syndrome.
Yes, before you ask I’ve looked into herbal remedies.
And I’ve tried rubbing alcohol in a glass on the rocks
But swallowing hasn’t helped either.

How many women have I slept with?
Interesting question.
You tell me why you would ask that.
Why that is something that you want to know.
You give me a valid reason and I’ll give you an honest answer.
But to me that is an inconsequential.
I don’t do number questions.
How many? How many times? How many places?
Are you coming home with me tonight?
That’s the only way you get to an immediate answer to something like that.
Yes, I’ve been promiscuous and had pre-martial sex
And almost always used precaution.
Still doesn’t remove me from the consequences of pre-natal care
Or clinical treatment every six months.
If I were you I would’ve asked when was the last time I’ve been tested.
No, it doesn’t imply that you want to sleep with me.
It’s almost like asking do I care about myself and those that I bed.
I’m no saint. Nor an angel.
Only wings I think I will ever get are the ones etched in ink I have.
And those were a gift.
Sorry, another tangent. Touchy subject for me.

What do I do for a living?
I hustle.
I put pen and per and illustrate in block script.
No, it doesn’t pay the bills, but you asked what I did for a living.
In order for me to live I have to write.
Have to work out my problems on parchment.
I’m parched. Your turn.

What's my problem?
I’m an addict. I think too much.
Like I think you don’t ask the right questions.
I think we scratch the surface
Then get upset when we find that the well we’ve chosen to drink from is shallow.
You sit there trying to strike oil.
Things seem like I could be someone to get to know.
But don’t try to mold me.
I’m broken pieces.
Told you before.
I’m trying to use this upfront and honesty thing.
Prevent the highs and lows in getting acquainted.
Not ready to be someone’s rock.
But maybe we could be companions.
And when you want to ask the right questions
But you aren’t happy with the answers, I’ll respect that.
You can walk on by and there will be no hard feelings.
I’m not trying to scare you.
I’m a work in progress. Working on me.
And honestly. Well we all have secrets.
I’m willing to share with you.
But ask the right questions.
Something’s are easier to say yes or no to
Then volunteering information.
Until then. I’m here.
Trying to keep you company.
But I’m more then comfortable being by myself.
Are you?

© August 2006
Staats

So Simple As...

2006-08-10T23:03:00.000-04:00

A Booty Call at any given time
Defines the Evolution of our Future
Go ahead and try to Hide the shock
Ignore the Justification that i don't Know you.
Lament over the Moves that brought us to these crossroads.
No; Obviously the simplicity of our Progress should be simple.
you know ABC.
that's Quaint, curse me.
it doesn't Reverse the Situation.
Tantamount to breach of contract
it was Understood that our interaction was an acquaintance.
your tantrums speak Volumes to your motives
Whatever they may have been.
multiple infractions of unabashed indiscretion
like Xerox copies no time different from the last.
You called it our Zero drama situation.

1 moment things are good
the next 2nd we end up in this 3-angle of
Love, Lust, and Loneliness.

© August 2006
Staats

Stratosphere

2006-08-10T22:58:00.000-04:00

Boy, keep your head out of the clouds
The air is so thin up there
And you can't tell left from your right
Vast, nothing, as far as the eye can see
But I can see why you like it up here
The clarity is so tangible
It gives order to your thoughts
Makes them manageable
Easier to handle
I've never seen the sun trace across the sky and color in the clouds.
If I was a bird I couldn't fly this high
The air is so thin
It took 30,000 feet to cruise
To realize at this height I have nothing to lose
That I can heal myself
Learn to correct the mistakes I've made
Understand my own self-worth by putting my troubles on a shelf.
With my head in the clouds
I can't tell if its Cumulus or Nimbus
I just know that it surrounds me
When it gets pregnant with rain, I too become dark and heavy
But up here, in this Stratosphere
Everything is so Blue
And vast. Nothing, as far as the eye can see.
I wonder how far does nothing go?

© July 2006
Staats

Movie Review: Miami Vice

2006-08-02T01:17:00.000-04:00

WACK! OK, sorry had to get that unprofessionalism out real quick. Without giving away too many of the hapless less energetic parts of the film, I was very disappointed to say the least. Miami Vice, starring Jamie Foxx and Colin Farrell, never bring home the plot. From the opening scene, where the title of the movie never comes up, it starts and stops and has no real continuity. You don't know if this is days, weeks, months. The movie is extremely monotonous. And the action that a Micheal Mann film (Collateral, Heat) normally brings is not evident. The few action scenes are well scattered out, and they come at very obvious times. The two multi-million dollar stars even fail to come off as genuine in their parts.

As of watcher of Miami Vice the series, I felt that Tubbs and Sonny had a very strong repoire. This was lacking in the movie adaptation. The partners looked as if they had been paired together last week. Dry was how my movie companion described it. And that's exactly what is was. Dry. And long. At the end, it seemed a mockery and comedy-less version of Bad Boys. The fast cars, clubs, women, stretch of Miami freeway, boats, planes, all seemed repetitive. With none of the charisma that we look for. Sorry Jamie, you can't win them all.
2.5 out of 5 Stars

Time Travellin'

2006-07-16T04:11:00.000-04:00

Check the Flux capicatator and set the coordinates for the 2nd star on the right.
Please fasten all seatbelts.
Check the no smoking sign, check; engines ready, check; all carry on items securely under your seat, check;
Relax, get a grip it’s not often I’m going to take a trip.
A trip to a post 9/11 vision of a post dated postcard that reads The Renaissance but is light years away of the post no bills destination of mine.
I time travel in a Sky Blue Taurus and be it not heavenly nor bullish it provides escapism.
Leaving a place that leaves no one behind; Michael J. Fox couldn’t even jump start this Deloran.
Nor could any Historian reading my biography 50 years later fathom this distorted theory of creationism.
Where time is irrelevant, able to bend at my will.
Willingly, I refuse to complete the circle picking places and dates along my timeline.
Sometimes just reaching forward and bringing everything to a halt.
Just listen. Hear. Strain. Comprehend.
The Thundercats are on television, somewhere in a Pacific Time the Devil’s Mafia grabs a golden figure.
But I can’t figure out what location I’m at or what year.
The only similarities of the cartoon and the rapper is that they both screaming about Ho’s.
I’ve seen this all before. Dreamed it. Willed it.
Wanted this to be everyday. Not sure what day it is.
All I know is that the sun is out and it feels good.
This time and place so far from my space, which only allows me a small representation of this H.G. Wellian.
On these voyages to the Center of my Universe, I try not to meet myself so as not to cause a Paradox.
You know a Paradox. How can two people occupy the same place at the same time without causing some multi-climatic seismic cataclysmic catastrophe that might rip the space time continuum? Great Scott!!!
Continuing on Back to the Future, because I don’t know if I’ve been here before.
Dreamed it. Willed it.
Am I going back, or if it’s the future have I not already been to
The Rage up in Harmdom that is met with coincidence filled with signs that flash red sending you signs.
No turn on red. Do not lean on doors. Do not cross. Do not pick up the table hurl it across the room and kick Rage’s ass. And do not pass go…or collect $200 dollars.
Anger and money won’t speed up my clock. Anger and money’s offspring Greed is a bitch; that Karma is still chasing, a never ending time in a never ending story.
I must say this inebriated feeling can’t be abbreviated or bottled up to send a message to my fellow travelers who’ve lost their way.
This is not a broken circle; not a path for you to follow. It only helps me measure my stats.
I am Staats by the way. Not your average. But the summation of all that I want to be. I transition space to exist in my own math.
Where 1 times 2 times 3; divided by a man traveling on a train from North Carolina who leaves at 11am on a 6,000 mile journey will reach his destination yesterday.
And he doesn’t even leave until tomorrow.
I’ve seen this all before. Dreamed it. Willed it.
Wanted this to be everyday.
Time’s up.
Please put all trays in the upright position. We will be coming off Cloud 9 shortly. Also turn off all electrical devices as they may short circuit something. We just don’t know what.
The time is now whatever you want it to be. And don’t let anyone tell you differently.
As always we know you don’t have much of a choice when you Time Travel. But we do appreciate you tripping with us.
You may know take off your seatbelts.

© March 2006
Staats

His Daily Variety

2006-07-13T04:52:00.000-04:00

Bored at work? Want to read something of substance or just somebody else's ranting and raving. Please check out my fellow blogger in crime. Me and this guy have collaborated on some word pieces, and some future projects for you to be on the look out for. Show him some love. The man with many names. Click the name to check out... HisDailyVariety

Friends How Many of Us Have Them?

2006-07-09T21:38:00.001-04:00

"I'm just hanging out with a few friends."

How many times have we uttered those words, and at the same time realize that it is the furthest thing from the truth. Its amazing how loosely we use the word Friend. It's just an easier characterization then having to say, "I am with an associate." Or that some people you hang out with occasionally are out with you. But would you consider them friends? Probably not. We form associations with people, and they have qualities that one day might matriculate into friendship. But its a word that I find very hard to mean genuinely. It's hard for those that I meet in the future to enter my circle of friends. Considering that I have had some of the same friends since 7th grade. Or that I travel with friends that I met my freshman year in high school. It makes those people that come into my life for a short time feel more as acquaintances. Not to knock what they have the potential to be, or that the road to friendship is hard. There are just little things that you expect from your friends. They are your rock, they have seen you cry, they tell you about yourself even when you don't want to hear it, they are someone that you would ask for a loan from. They are your support system.

Friends know your last name, and they have heard your middle name. They just might not remember it. They know your birthday. You visit their parents or send them cards on holidays and special occasions. Your younger siblings become their younger siblings. I have friends that are as close to me as some family members. They are my extended family. The fact that I can be myself whenever or wherever with them is the greatest thing about friends. You don't have to put on a mask. You don't have to lie, you can just be you. And they don't care who you are today or tomorrow, they still want to be apart of your life. So without naming names, I am thankful for my true friends. The Crew. 10 years. And somehow we still can stand each other.

"Friends, how many of us have them. Friends, ones we can depend on. Friends, how many of us have them. Before we go any further, let's be FRIENDS!!!- Whodini

Friends Dating Friends?

2006-07-09T21:37:00.000-04:00

Good idea or not? I don't think so. Friendships are valuable assests. Friends are there to bounce ideas off, share highs and lows, but dating complicates all of those things. Yes, I think that the person you are dating should be your friend. It's a very fine line. Their are people that you meet that you are attracted to, depending on how fast you move, you might try to befriend them before trying to date them. That's fine. Now their are people that have grown up each other, went to the same schools, lived around the corner from you, whose friendship is the very foundation of your association. Dating those people are where things get complicated?

You are familar with the dating patterns of your friends. You know when they don't return phone calls, what that really means, or if they want to go out a lot, you recognize those patterns. Because good friends talk to each other about past relationships. It's also evident that when friends start dating each other, they become oblivious to certain things. They take for granted the nature of your foundation. Sometimes they become great partners, but forget to be great friends. And then what if something goes wrong?

You might have the same group of friends. Who is allowed to hang with who? You put your common friends in awkward situations by making them decide who they are closer to. You find yourself at mutual events and try to avoid each other. But you share a history. And you are expected to graciously cope with the introduction of their newest partner, at these mutual events. It's hard. It's easy to a big person on the outside, but on the inside it takes its toll. So really examine is dating a close friend, really worth the risk. Cause when the dust settles will that girl or boy next door still be there.

He Ain't Heavy...He's My Brother

2006-07-07T02:51:00.000-04:00

Is it possible to be overly excited and dreading something all in the same moment. I am overly excited to celebrate my birthday with friends. Overly excited about seeing my brother in Hawaii. Dreading what the next year will be like while he is in Iraq. Prayer. That's all I really have. I have reassured myself that GOD is going to watch over him, while he is away. That HE is going to make a way for his wife and his kids, and that we will hear from him regularly. That we will get updates that he will be coming home soon. But I don't know. The unknown is the scariest thing to me right now. How many other families, brothers, husbands, wives, pray for the same thing? How come their prayers weren't answered? How come they were sent there in the first place? All these questions. And the fact of the matter is, everyday closer I get to seeing my brother, is another day closer for his deployment. It's hard being the strong one in the family. Hard shouldering the concern, and the hurt, and the acceptance. It's hard when you're expected to have all the answers. But all you have are all these questions.

"Don't mess with my money, or my kids. My husband can take care of himself," is what my mother always says. But the US Army is messing with my brother. I know he's going to come back. I just pray somewhere he will still be that little boy that peels in the sunlight, and that I used to tear up when we were fighting. And I pray somewhere he will continue to be that man that is doing something with his life, and that three little kids think that as long as their Daddy is around everything else is just fine. God speed and get home soon.

Independence Day

2006-07-07T02:28:00.000-04:00

America can star spangle me and hang me from a banner
Anything to claim independence and use it for glamour
Cause no matter how you add it up and put it on the 4th of July
Two hundred and fifty years to a black man ain’t shit but a lie.
See I don’t have forefathers that signed some important parchment
I have ancestors that traveled the Atlantic in a two feet by four feet compartment
Whites have George Washington and them that created the Constitution
I have but to look out the window and see how my ancestors built this American Institution.
Go ahead and sign your John Hancock and keep trying to feed that bullshit cock to my people
Cause now your free so what about me
Now lets not forget my man Abe Lincoln
Whoa, wait a minute what the hell was I thinking?
Anyone who actually thinks that that selfish bastard meant to free us is about to get a history lesson
January 1, 1885, let me sign the Emancipation Proclamation, a documentation of falsifications, written in a act of desperation, full of nothing but defecation from a nation well versed in masturbation of Blacks.
So while we get the jerk off we are supposed to be happy about the 4th of July
WHY?
We the people, in order to establish a more perfect union…bullshit
All men are created equal…you’re really not serious
One nation under God…now you use the Lord’s name as your shield
Well I am here to knock you off your high horse
Now that you are looking up at me from the muck that is the USA
Don’t ask me to pledge allegiance to a place that doesn’t believe in itself
A nation that constantly reneges on what its foundation is supposedly built on
So I’m going to amend, and amend, and amend some more until there is nothing left.
I ain’t fooled by the fireworks,
The 4th is just a day for me to get off work.
Juneteenth is the day when Blacks were free
So that’s the date when you can start to talk Independence with me.

Oh, say can you see from the crosses burning light
That the home that we built is so shaky and scheming
And the screams that you hear
Will create their new fear, as I bring truth to the light
And my fist is still here.

© July 2002
Staats

Executive Dining

2006-06-30T02:45:00.000-04:00

Ahhhh!!! The service industry. Yes, easily one of the oldest professions in history, yet its blue collar image has caused many to frown down upon this honorable position. Let’s face it. It’s one of those jobs that have to be done. Now, not to be confused with the fast food industry; waiting tables can be a very lucrative job. Often held by students and young adults, because of the flexible schedules and fast cash options, waiting tables is seen as a stepping stone or transition into another field. Everybody in their life time has dined at a restaurant; some better then others. But what often keeps a customer patronizing that particular restaurant has to do as much with food quality as it does service. So why is it that good service does not beget good tipping practices?

Upscale and fine dining establishments such as H20 in Washington, D.C, Dolce in Los Angeles, Justin’s in New York, or even the chain of Ruth’s Chris restaurants located all over the United States, have tipping practices that have gratuity already added into the customer’s bill. Many after hours cafes and diners also use this method as late night patrons may not be inclined to leave a significant amount for a tip. Well, before we analyze these practices, first a little education. For it is education on the idea of gratuity where I think we fail to completely understand each other. Previously, waiters and waitresses have had the luxury of having a job where the IRS cannot accurately determine how much money they make in tips. A new occurence to deter this has been the implementation of declaring tips. This concept is universal and takes place in many restaurants. Servers are given the option of claiming the amount of tips that they may have received in a shift, so that can be properly credited on their pay stub. Many restaurants have it where servers cannot claim anything less then what they have made in charge tips, everything else is based on the honor code. This honor code, many are not apt to hold up. Reason being, that majority of waiters and waitresses make a whopping total of $2.13 cent an hour. Half of minimum wage. The IRS has also added a portion into tax forms specifically for those that make majority of their wages in tips. So, if you don’t claim it they can’t track it. But that too also has its reprecussions and consequences.

Ok, back to the matter at hand. $2.13 an hour. Slave wages. With inflation and the economy doing all that it can to make sure the improverished stay that way, this cannot be an ample means to sustain most people’s lifestyles. Some restaurants go above and beyond to help guide the guest to what a suitable tip should be. Some Bonefish Grill restaurants, a subsidiary of the Outback Corporation, include a suggested gratuity of 18% percent that is printed by the total price of the meal. So let’s give you a few rules to follow the next time you decide to eat out.

Rule #1
If you are on an Executive Account (meaning you get reimbursed for your meal), or you have a Corporate Card, and the service is great. You should automatically tip 20%. It’s not your money and you can write it off.

Rule #2
Do not blur the line between a servers mistake and the Kitchen cook’s mistakes. Your waitress did not undercook your steak, so please don’t take it out on them.

Rule #3
10% gratuity is for bad service and bad service only. It is never ok to tip that low amount. 15% - 18% for decent service.

Rule #4
Always treat your server with the same respect that you would want to be treated. No yelling, no snapping fingers to get their attention, and definitely no grabbing.

Rule #5
If the restaurant closes at 11pm, then you need to leave no later then 11:30pm. Servers want to go home at the end of the night too. So please don’t walk into a restaurant at 10:58pm and expect for everybody to be happy.

It would be my wish that everybody on this Earth should have to wait tables at least one weekend to really get the experience that I am speaking about. As a former waiter I would never not leave a decent tip, because I know what they have to go through. So just keep that in mind.

The Single Man's Blues

2006-06-30T02:37:00.000-04:00

I have the single man’s blues. Why is it that all of my friends from high school are having kids and getting married? Well some are actually doing it the traditional way by getting married and having kids, but I’m not knocking it. Anyway, I am sick and tired of being asked to be a godfather, a groomsmen, a bachelor party planner (well I like that part). All of it is just pissing me off. And it’s not like I don’t know the reason behind it, I just realized that its affecting me this way.

In the past 4 years I have not dated any woman of that marriage caliber. And I feel that I am in the minority when talking about this subject to my single male friends. I have a desire to be with one woman for the rest of my life, with little rugrats following in tow. I just don’t see it happening for me in the near future. Or any future for that matter.

And I am not saying this for any factual reason, its just the quality of women that I have chosen to date don’t make it past 3 months let alone enter into that lifetime category. So I live vicariously through my siblings who are married with kids, and I try to be the best uncle possible. But sometimes I feel reckless enough to allow thoughts of getting some random girlfriend pregnant just so that I can share in the joys of fatherhood. Now me being as responsible as I am, those thoughts are fleeting. Plus, I am allergic to baby-mama-drama. Nor, do I want to put my kids through that. I don’t know. I just been real mellow. I have a birthday coming up soon, and I just feel like I haven’t done anything to leave my mark on this world. I don’t feel sad…more like melancholy.

‘And since my sweetie left me hollow/Well it aint been the same old thing…/I know someone that lives there/And I know she won’t refuse/To put some music to my troubles and call them Harlem Blues’ -Cynda Williams, Mo Better Blues Soundtrack

Black Error Television Awards (remix)

2006-06-28T03:33:00.000-04:00

I just realized the last post I put up here started off talking about the errors of the BET Awards. But I changed my thought pattern halfway through. Well as Diddy says, "This is the remix."

Here are a list of things that I could have done without seeing on the Awards program.

#1. Baby Mama Slob Down

I understand surprise performances and collabos. I am all for that on Award shows. Definitely a way to make things new and spice some things up. But when does spice become spoiled. I felt sick watching Fantasia and Jamie Foxx tounge wrestling on TV. And then she didn't even sing. She just Bobo'd across the stage and screamed into the mic.

#2. Stop Beating Around the Bush

Stop digging up old sitcom actors and actresses just to throw a twist into their little skits. Yes, we all have been dying to see Janet and her new and improved body (since her bounce back from the Fat Farm). What I didn't need was the Good Times cast, Strung Out, Where Have You Been, and Sickly. I mean JJ, Thelma, and Micheal. Although it was a nice way for lil Penny to make a comeback, I had flashbacks to Hot Iron marks. Next time let the 40-year old sex symbol have the stage to herself.

#3. X-Men 3: The Ghetto Storm

I don't know if I am more offended by Mary J. Blige screaming for 46 seconds, or the fact that she looked like a ghetto superhero in her catsuit, knee high Power Ranger boots, and half a pony attached to her head. Yes, I've never been a Mary J. fan. Some might even call me a hater. But didn't she look like she was about to take off in flight to fight crime. Maybe that's her mutant power, scream and screech, until you turn the channel.

#4. Check 1, Check 2...

"My mic sound right, check one...my mic sound right, check two...my mic sound right, check three...are you ready"
...NO!!!
Sound checks are so that we can work out kinks, like microphones working. CD's being cued to the right spot. And that all backups are ready. So what happened during TI's performance. Now you wish you had a five minute delay don't you. Now BET just looks bootleg. And it has nothing to do with the venue. Its the Kodak Theatre. You didn't see this kind of foolishness during the American Idol Finale.

#5. The Original Metro

PRINCE! What else do I need to say. This dude had on some shoe boots, a purple pant suit, a matching purple neck scarf, flawless make-up, and his hair was flowing. Yeah, I'm still talking about a dude. I mean his hair looked better then half the women in the audience. Ladies, step your game off. Those women out there with original style like Kelis, that makes you Bossy. But until you float around the stage, and your hair doesn't move, you are nowhere near Prince. LOL.

Black Error Television Awards 2006

2006-06-28T02:39:00.000-04:00

Black Error Television, should have been the name of last night's awards program. And the biggest error came from the executives that decided to have Damon Wayans, host the 6th annual telecast. Wayans, who seemed under the influence, was unbearable, unenergetic, unfunny, and boring. He lacked the comedic style of Cedric the Entertainer, Steve Harvey; the grace of Monique; or even the entertaining skits that Will & Jada put on last year. Overall the show could've hosted itself. But that's not where the error stops.

Rapper, and BET Best Male Rap Artist winner, TI, had a performance marred with sound problems. The artist in true performer style went on with the orchestra accompanied version of "What You Know About That", which through the first half of the song had no background accompaniment. The sound just failed. The crowd tried to get into it. But the violin heavy arrangement was still missing the familiar bass line.

Diddy, would also fall victim to microphone failure; which continued when his BadBoy South act Young Joc took the stage to perform a short version of "It's Going Down". In good fashion Diddy made light of the failure and still showed that whether its high flying choreography or the latest down south snap, pop, shoulder lean, dip dance combo that he can still do it like no other.

The show had 3 highlights for me. The best performance Award for me goes to Busta Rhymes.

Not only did he get 6 of the 7 artists that were featured on his "Touch It" remix (missing only DMX), he also featured a unheard verse of Eminem. Busta puts on a show, and he made sure that his 2006 Club banger wouldn't be outdone ever. The BET Stage has seen many people on there at one time for one performance, but not everybody had a verse like this incident.

Best Concert Award: Goes to the Chaka Khan Tribute.

Now I say the tribute because Chaka, looked like her and Damon were sharing some of the same substances backstage. She didn't seem to command the stage like she is known for. She felt more comfortable turning the show over to her fellow performers in the likeness of Prince, Stevie Wonder, Yolanda Adams, and India Arie. Yolanda Adams for the first time I have seen singing secular music. And then singing "Sweet Thing" and "I'm Every Woman" better then Chaka could think about. Yolanda wailed on both songs, and showed that even gospel artists could be Divas.

Best Epileptic Performance: Goes to Beyonce'.

She killed it. She sounded great on the track. She looked great. The all girl band was sexy and showed you what Earth, Wind, & Fire would have looked like if they had been women. She gyrated all over the floor, flung her Diana Ross style hair-do and worked every part of the stage. Noticeably missing was her Bootylicious area. Ms. Knowles seemed to have made a deal with her personal trainer to trade in her Bounce for a Better Tummy. Her butt was definitely smaller, but the 6-pac was a little more defined. I guess she is trying to hold off on looking like her mother for a few more years. B's new single from her sophomore CD B-Day, "Deja Vu", is very deja vu for the BET Awards. She hit the stage a few years back with "Crazy in Love" with her then rumored man Jay-Z. This year seemed to be a little of the old saying "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." Only difference was the clear butt pat that President Sean Carter gave Beyonce' during their opening performance.

Overall, the show was the weakest of the last six years. It just didn't seem to have BET's Star Power that they are always toting as their personal mantra. Maybe next year we can get Monique back. And lets see how much of Beyonce's performance she can duplicate next time.

Blessed and Highly Favored

2006-06-25T14:32:00.000-04:00

Today the prodigal son made his long awaited return to church. It has been the first time that I have set foot in a church in over 6 months. 7 months to be exact. For no other reason then me not doing what I needed to make sure I was up on Sunday mornings.

Nonetheless, today all roads were leading to some religious edifice. The duality of the day can't help but be noticed. On my drive the weather was not good nor was it bad. On side of the sky offered a bright and clear display; the other half was dark and pregnant with heavy rain clouds. Almost if GOD Himself was welcoming me back home, but at the same time telling me that His House should be a first choice and not a last resort.

Do I think that this is my last resort? I seem to have a habit of letting the devil take so much out of my life, before I remember that GOD is consistently working on me. That all I have to do is call on him. I am like that guy with a new car. Yeah it looks all shiny and brand new, and even has a indicator that tells me when gas is getting low. Well I was treating GOD and my spirituality as that gas. I had filled up on church with the last great blessing in my life, and felt that I had enough to hold me over. Well, my gas light came on a few months ago. I ignored it and kept on driving, trying to get the most out of my buck. Well, even with a new car if you drive your car on fumes it can hurt the car and its engine. If you read about my nervous breakdown earlier then you realized my car almost seized and stopped completely. I realize I was spiritually empty. I needed a recharge. And the recharge I needed required me to attend church and pray just to pray, not only when I needed something. I kept ignoring GOD's warnings to come to him in prayer. I was too caught up in my own life.

The pastor today mentioned that if you are going to fall, don't fall for something so easy. At least put up a fight. He mentioned that your favor comes not in the form on money, but a blessing that is more abundant then any amount of money. Long story short, I go to a luncheon, that I am late for after church, and I am talking to one of my coworkers. Now this coworker was the first person in Greensboro to invite me to church with him. And we are talking about school, and my trials and tribulations. Well he then casually mentions that he made a pledge to his church to donate $250 dollars to help college students buy books. He offered to pay for my book for my summer course. Right there. Not one hour from when I left church. That's how fast GOD worked in my life. He didn't have a check waiting for me. HE sent me a message through an avid church-goer, a friend of mine, that all I had to do was come to HIM in prayer. And the pastor mentioned to know the difference between favor and something you forced to happen. Had it this offer come from anybody else I might have seen it as something I was willing to happen, but a man that knew my heart, and knew my faith, and listened to my story helped me help myself. So today is a great day.

So yes I am still driving that car. But this car is a different one. It's an electric. It requires me to come home and plug in to recharge. In other words I need to stay plugged into GOD and HIS word for HIM to work things out in my life. And that HE needs to be my first choice and not my last resort. Because not only am I blessed to have people in my life that are working on me as well, I am also highly favored.

Insecurities

2006-06-23T09:38:00.000-04:00

Handle with care; Contents are extremely fragile
Should be the label on my forehead
Should warn you that on the outside I have it all together
But on the inside I can't tell my up from down.
But I do know I love you
But I have more then issues
I have subscriptions.
And the subscription is to Insecurity Magazine.
But I want you to read me.

Learn about the nuances and idiosyncrasies of me.
I want you to look at the advertisements.
See past the torn pages or folded corners.
Past my everyday wear and tear.
The words still say the same thing.
They just are a little harder to read.
I want you to read me; write letters to the editor.
Skim, the table of contents.
Find articles that make you laugh.
Pictures, that make you smile.
Editorials that make you think.
But understand I am a work in progress.
My content could be clearer if I had better subjects.
I am a product of my environment.
An archive of failure and success.
I am a Rubix Cube made of crystal.
All jumbled up, complex, fragile, but fixable.
Play with me, Turn me, Flip me, Look at me, Learn me.
But don't break me.

Handle with care.
Although I'm transparent, don't look right through me.
Everything isn't all cut and dry, until all the pieces are in the right order.
Confusion brought to clarity.
And what's clear is that I love you.
But I have more then issues.
I have subscriptions.
And the subscription is to Insecurity Magazine.
But I want you to read me.
So Ma'am, how long do you want to sign up for?

© April 2006
Staats

A Tale of Two Beautiful Minds

2006-06-23T08:48:00.000-04:00

How is it that a writer is just getting to this point to start a blog? And on top of being a writer, I also like to talk alot. Again, another point that should have led to creating this a long time ago. Regardless of those reasons or any others that may come to mind I am starting this blog to chronicle my neurosis. I have come to the conclusion that I have suffered a severe emotional/nervous breakdown in the last two weeks. And of course the health insurance that is provided by my job does not cover pyscho-therapy. Let me start from the beginning...

A vacation is supposed to be just that a vacation. I indulged in one of these a few weeks ago. It was a vacation to see my family. Living in North Carolina only provides me with the emotional support that I allow my "friends" and associates to prescribe. True support comes from those that share a bloodline, that want to see you succeed with no alterior motives. But family can also press on you emotionally. For those that know me, and will get to know me I am not the most emotionally stable person in the world. But it works for me. My trip home brought up some insecurities that I didn't realize were still around. And as the India Arie song says, "No one has the power to hurt you like your kin."

My trip to Philly gave me the greatest experience to see my younger cousin graduate from high school. This guy is so much like me its scary. Seeing him graduate, meeting my sister's new husband, entertaining relatives, and friends is emotionally draining. But I enjoyed every bit of it. The instability found its foothold in my life through the 5-hour drive from Baltimore to Greensboro. That's a lot of time to be in a car with your worst enemy. Me. A good friend told me that I am my own worst enemy. That I allow outer influences to control my thought process, which starts an internal war. And trust me my mind is not the setting I want for World War III.

I have created in my mind two personas. One, that acquiesces to everyone and everybody. I am the poster child for someone that has it all together. I am articulate, intelligent, funny, amusing, thoughtful, nice, and honest to name a few things. This persona, we will refer to as Status. Status is fun to be around. He's even-tempered, very rarily shows any negative emotions. He always has a shoulder for people to lean on, and even when both shoulders are occupied, he has a spare pair so don't get worried. Status, smiles at work. Tap dances around his boss, all the while feeling like he is trying to place in the Field Negro Olympics. Status is liked by all...

Then there is Staats. Staats has been pushed down so far, that he doesn't really have a good clue as to who he is. But he does know who he would like to be. Free. Free to do what he wants. Say whats on his mind. To tell his boss to go to hell when he asks me a question that he should obviously know the answer to, since he is the boss. (Although, I've been there longer then him). To tell his friends, that yes you have issues, but I have my own subscriptions to deal with. And sorry I would like to be a willing participant in your pity party, but I just can't today. To tell people NO. No I will not listen, not help, not come get you, take you, buy you, sex you, go with you, indulge whatever you want to do. Today is about me. Selfish is what Staats wants. He hears the word spoken all the time, just never takes the opportunity to use it. To do things for self. Staats and Status had a fight, and for a while Staats threw a wrench into Status' world. Status was mean, surly, hateful, vengeful, overall unpleasant to be around. And this was evident to many people. But Staats was calling the shots. Repression is a bitch. I feel like their are two people in my head trying to guide my actions.

Today, well today I think I have things under control. I think. I have four new gray hairs thanks to my meltdown. But I don't think my problems are anywhere near being solved. I have been able to keep a healthy balance, or so I thought, for years. I can't go down this dark road again. Won't allow it. Honestly, I don't think Staats or Status can exist at the same time in my head. I am going to have to figure out who Staats is, and stop hiding behind Status' mask.

Soulmates

2006-06-20T17:26:00.000-04:00

SOULMATES

Some cultures believe that for every person you are intimate with
You give them a piece of your soul.
So me being promiscuous, does that make me soulless.
Are there women walking around with my happiness?
My artistic talent, my wit, my drive.
All those I could do without.
But can I find the woman that has my stability.
Can I trade back that one encounter, one lustful rendezvous, one meaningless night.
For a moment of peace.
Not a tangible piece, but genuine peace.
Over 100 pieces of my soul divided,
Multiplying emotional stress but still leaving me empty.
Void. Troubled. Not even half a man.
I have nothing to give of any substance
I have no soul to offer my mate.
I have no conscious to stop me from bed hopping.
I have no more pieces of me to give.
I have been rubbed raw emotionally.
Where the good and the bad hurt,
Where the hurt hurts so much its blinding.
Where you just want to end it all.
But question:
Where does a man with no soul go when he dies?

© June 2006
Staats