Saturday, December 13, 2014

Dorm Stories

I enjoyed my time at the “Ugly Sweater Party”. I didn’t win anything but I didn’t need to. I got the opportunity to spend time with some awesome people. The Meyers are excellent hosts!

As far as good dorm stories, yours were so good, I simply couldn’t think of with any. At least not until I got in my car and drove away, then I started to remember stuff. One story in particular I will share here.
It was Christmas Eve, I came back to the dorm. There were only 3 of us who did not go see family, Chris Wolfe, Paul Spinosa, and myself. Now earlier that day, Morris Henderson and I went to do our visitations. We were visiting with a Russian family who requested that we have dinner with them. We resisted at first but I (against my better judgment) gave in and Henderson followed and we ate with this family.

Now I’m back at the dorm and Wolfe got a turkey from work. He went online at the library and downloaded a recipe on how to “smoke a turkey”. He spent all Christmas Eve night smoking it. On Christmas Day I got up and he was finally done and he showed it to me. This was the blackest turkey I had ever seen in my life. I mean, leather jacket black. It was … buh-lack!

I didn’t make fun of him. In fact, I asked him if I could have a slice. He served me up a slice. Turned out the skin was just black. The flesh underneath was a healthy edible color and it was delicious!!! I know, right!? It had a wonderful smoked flavor! Then Brother Spinosa came downstairs and saw it. He clearly didn’t want any and was very skeptical of it.
Here’s where it got interesting…A knock came on the door. I answered it (I think) and it was Morris Henderson. The first words out of his mouth were,

“Are you throwing up yet”?

Naturally I said, “No. Why”?

He explained his suspicions. That we both ate with that Russian family the day before, therefore, if he was sick and projectile vomiting everywhere then surely I was too. I hadn’t. So he went back to his dorm.
As soon as he left and I closed the door, I went straight to the bathroom and projectile vomited myself! It was terrible!! It started coming out of both ends!! Worst Christmas Day ever!

So now I’m sitting in the living room of “The Coop” trying to catch my breath thinking, “Make it stop! Make it stop!!” Then I run to the bathroom again then come back.

Now I notice these two looking at each other and avoiding eye contact with me. Wolfe felt bad. He looked dejected and downcast. Spinosa looked worried and they kept speaking in hushed tones. Finally Spinosa spoke to me.

“Grant, did you eat some of Wolfe’s turkey”!?

Not sure where he was going with this I said, “Yes, I did”.


I actually had to laugh at this point but I explained to them both that I was sick for another reason, which I shared with Henderson that night. He was RIGHT! Eating with that Russian family made us both sick.

Neither Wolfe nor Spinosa could be fully convinced. Spinosa never had any of the turkey. Wolfe never cooked another turkey that I am aware of and when I do visitations and people offer me food my answer is emphatically “No thank you”!!!!!!

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

This Morning’s Epiphany 9.23.2014

I had an epiphany this morning. It is such that I want to write it down and place it upon my blog so that I may go back and read it and remember it. When I graduated New Testament Christian Seminary, my class’ title was Ministers of Truth. I loved that title and wanted to live up to it. I’ve never forgotten how it made me feel when Pastor Davis pronounced this title upon us. The sheer aptness, the incomparable appropriateness of the title, was exactly the theme of my four years of study, of everything my teachers drove home to us. This is the truth and we are ministers of that truth!

Bible College did not make me a bible scholar. It only prepared me to become one. Something I am still working on becoming til this day. I definitely have a long way to go. In that journey I have focused on many things in the bible. Things I understood immediately (thought I understood anyway) and the things I read and did not understand but felt strongly about.

One of those things can be found in Revelation 3:17-18, “(17)… Because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked:
(18) I counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that thou mayest be rich; and white raiment, that thou mayest be clothed, and that the shame of thy nakedness do not appear; and anoint thine eyes with eyesalve, that thou mayest see…”

I never really understood this verse of scripture until today. I found myself to be in the case of verse 17, but wanting to be in the case of 18. The question arises, how does one buy gold tried in the fire; and that white raiment to clothe oneself in so that the shame of our nakedness isn’t showing? (Nothing is more embarrassing than a wardrobe malfunction in public) How do we obtain that eye salve to anoint our eyes so that we can see properly with our spiritual eyes?

I’ll tell you how and with what! The currency is our faith! The transaction is endurance!! We live our lives serving God, walking by faith. When things come our way to test that faith, we bare them, we endure them. We resist the devil and he is forced to flee from us. Every time the devil flees, every time our faith holds out, we earn that fire tired gold! Our garment remains white. Our eyesight has been anointed with that eye salve that causes us to see more clearly what is of God and what isn't. We are less concerned with the material world and more concerned with the spiritual! We can clearly see right from wrong and are able to make the choices that better affect us both spiritually and physically.

We all know how God makes a definite difference between the carnal man and the spiritual man. We know how God feels about carnality!

[Romans 8:7, “…Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be…”]

God hated Esau but loved Jacob!

[Malachi 1:2-3, (2) “…I have loved you, saith the LORD. Yet ye say, Wherein hast thou loved us? Was not Esau Jacob's brother? saith the LORD: yet I loved Jacob, (3) And I hated Esau, and laid his mountains and his heritage waste for the dragons of the wilderness.]

What was wrong with Esau that caused God to hate him? I believe it was his carnal mindset! He only cared for the world in which he lived. He cared more about his life than his life as it pertains before God. He was in line to receive a blessing from his father, (his birthright) that would make him the physical and spiritual leader of his people, yet he sold it all to his brother for little more than a bowl of beans.

[Genesis 25:30-34, (30) “…And Esau said to Jacob, Feed me, I pray thee, with that same red pottage; for I am faint: therefore was his name called Edom.

(31) And Jacob said, Sell me this day thy birthright.

(32) And Esau said, Behold, I am at the point to die: and what profit shall this birthright do to me?

(33) And Jacob said, Swear to me this day; and he sware unto him: and he sold his birthright unto Jacob.

(34) Then Jacob gave Esau bread and pottage of lentiles; and he did eat and drink, and rose up, and went his way: thus Esau despised his birthright.]

He despised his birthright. That which God would have given him, which was rightfully his, he despised it. What was the end result? He still became a mighty people, but God still laid waste to his habitation. His carnality caused God to hate him.

I don’t want God to hate me. I want God to love, adore, and treasure me! …and I want to live up to that, WHATEVER IT TAKES!!!
So I’ll humble myself. I’ll accept whatever humiliation comes my way…but at the end of the day, I will bow my head low to the ground and call Jesus Christ my Lord, my savior, my Master!

{Thank you Jesus and God the Father for it is through your mercy and grace that I am saved and by your grace that you allowed me to happen upon this epiphany this morning. Help me to give more attention to myself as it pertains to you and your will for my life and those around me!}

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Dreaming In A Docile Society

I had a weird dream last night. I dreamed that some associates and I were investigating a mountain Home. The house was built into the mountain. We discussed living there, you know, the pros and cons. Pros, we could bring livestock up there and raise them. Also, it’s securely set in the mountain and is a basically a mansion. On the downside, or cons, an earthquake that could bring the mountain structure down, not to mention a correctly placed missile.

While we examined the place I told one of the guys in my party that I recognize this place. I recognized it because he had sent me there to do a job once when we worked together (he was the QA guy and I was the installer). The area I installed seem so big and wide now, and I wondered what the owners had done with the place. They, clearly, had abandoned it. Even left behind some old cars, but one of them was new enough that I was reasonably sure that it worked. Perhaps in their retreat, they had no time to get to the vehicle.

While we examined the place, a space ship flew overhead. From the shape of it it didn’t look as if it could fly, yet it did and the size of it was…disconcerting. What came next was just as bad. A horde of portly, older women marched on our position. These women all looked the same leading me to the conclusion that they were clones. They had an aesthetically, non- threatening persona, that is until they were within 20 feet of you. Then their malicious intentions were clear. They pulled out these knives that looked like glass shards and began to attack us.

Even though I was a US Marine, I hate violence. My mom in teaching me how to deal with bullies unwittingly made me a pacifist. It wasn’t until later that I learned that sometimes you have to fight. This was one of those times. As the clone got close, she drew her glass knife, yelled some unintelligible battle cry and attacked. I don’t know what I was expecting because I didn’t immediately move to defend myself. Once I had been cut, however, I moved to defend myself. Years of martial arts training came back to me in a flash as I moved without thought. I disarmed one and took her down. Then another, and another. In an instant I had a glass knife and I was the aggressor. I remember grappling one clone and stabbing her repeatedly in her midsection, way more than necessary to take someone down. No blood. Weird.

The next thing I know we were back in the city. We were in some sort of hospital or medical facility. What I haven’t shared with you yet is that this dream was apocalyptic in nature. Our government made a deal with the devil. They got access to alien technology beyond mankind’s imagination and the aliens got us. I suspect that when our world leaders realized what they really got themselves into, it was too late. I remember thinking something along the lines of where was God in all of this? I wondered if Jesus had already returned for the ones who were worthy and I was deemed unfit to go and had to stay here on a planet whose social system had clearly imploded in upon itself and the replacement rulers were content to treat the rest of us like fodder, meat for the grinder, game legally expendable at their slightest whim.

We tried to quietly leave the hospital. We pressed the button for the elevator only to discover that it doesn’t work. In a new facility like this? Clearly someone wanted us to stay right where we were. I don’t know how we escaped the mountain retreat, nor do I remember how we escaped that medical facility. I do know I ended up in a friend’s house. His mom was just an innocent bystander in this. I did not tell her that I was being pursued. Suddenly her power did not work in her apartment. I knew they were coming, be it for me or for us. When they arrived, I was in the bed room trying to think of an escape route. I found one, the way I came in. I realized as they went through out the apartment and finally settled in the bedroom I was hiding in but pretending that I was where I was supposed to be, they drilled us with questions. While I got suspicious glances, I took the opportunity to move around them letting them believe I was cooperating with their “inspection” of the premises. I removed my belt wrapping it around my fist so as to use the buckle as a bludgeon. I leaned against the door jamb, my posture clearly saying, “Your move”.

Everything that happened after this was fuzzy. We were on the run. People helped us but they did not get involved. It was as if they had accepted this new society as normal. Like birds trapped in a cage too long, they accepted their fate without a fight, without a struggle. I wonder if something was being done to them, fed to them to make them so…docile. After all, this was America! Our nation was born out of the fires of revolution and rebellion! Somewhere, someone convinced the whole country, the whole world to just lay there and take it. But there was a few of us who could not accept that. Mind you…this was just a dream.

Monday, November 11, 2013

A Patriot’s Heart (Veteran’s Day Science Fiction FTW)

Monday- November 11, 2013. Veteran’s Day

Chapter 1
Rynal Grant woke up with a smile on his face and a slight kink in his back. He stretched it out, yawned then lay back upon his pillow. Then he became serious and recited a prayer and thanked his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for allowing him to see yet another birthday. He acknowledged that tomorrow isn’t promised but was grateful for what he had been given, even though he felt himself un-worthy. He ended his prayer, got up, showered, dressed, and then made his way to Starbucks. This was his tradition for the past few years, to celebrate his birthday with a nice hot cup of Joe from his favorite coffee place. He just knew that this would be a birthday/Veteran’s Day he’d not soon forget.

At Starbucks he got his coffee and sat down in a comfortable chair. The soft earth toned chair matched the motif that is Starbuck’s signature. He enjoyed being around so many different people’s. He saw them each as someone with a different story to tell. He glanced at them then looked away not wanting to appear creepy. It’s just that he found them so interesting. He could write stories about each of them, made up of course, simply for his own amusement. He could do it because he felt some kind of way about them. He hoped that they were all having as wonderful a day as he was having. Then he focused his attention on his Facebook page. So many notifications from his Facebook friends wishing him a happy birthday drew a huge smile. He had been at this all weekend. Sunday was the United States Marine Corps birthday and Monday was his birthday and simultaneously Veteran’s Day. So having served as a U. S. Marine rounded off the excitement and pride he felt. He posted a picture of himself in his dress blues, that uniform that is easily recognizable the world over. Yes. He was very proud of his service. Proud indeed.

He glanced at the old man to his left. He studied the lines on the old man’s face for a minute. He had a scar that was almost indistinguishable from his normal wrinkles. That combined with the milky whiteness of his left eye was enough to tell the tale. This man was a soldier. He guessed a Vietnam Veteran. The man was elderly, but Rynal could tell from looking at him, he would not have wanted to meet this man in his prime. The old man glanced back then casually looked away. Rynal hoped he hadn’t offended him. He continued to while away the time on his Facebook page, jumping back and forth between social networking sites, as his laptop’s battery slowly drained.

Chapter 2
Being so immersed within the internet, few people recognized the sky. What began as a clear and sunny day was quickly obscured by dark clouds and lightening. It would later be described as a tornado opening in the middle of the sky. Out of the tornado flew a giant insect looking ship. The back of which opened and produced smaller flying ships and bug eyed soldiers who, once their feet hit the ground, began to fire at everything, anything, and anyone in their way. They made their way from the strip mall’s parking lot over to the Starbucks near Hardy St.

Finally the hipsters inside of the Starbucks noticed what was going on. If that didn’t get their attention the explosions and the couple flying through the glass wall did. Rynal quickly packed up his laptop, phone and made for the door. He ignored everyone and everything else. There was so much chaos going on around him, he panicked. He got outside and made a break for his car. Before he got 20 feet from the front door of the Starbucks he found standing directly in front of him a soldier. The humanoid bug faced creature stood 6’5” tall and he pointing right at Rynal’s chest a strange but recognizable weapon, his rifle.

The people inside Starbucks looked on helplessly. They knew this man was about to die. One man even had his camcorder capturing and streaming to YouTube everything that was happening. They all felt useless and dismayed at the inevitable. To everyone’s surprise, including the alien soldier, Rynal grabbed the barrel of the rifle slap the bottom out of the smug invader’s grip then pulled the trigger. The smug grin left the alien’s face when his guts exploded. He lay on the ground looking as if he could not believe this was happening to him of all creatures. He stared into Rynal’s face. He no longer saw someone to conqueror. He no longer saw a story he was going to share with his buddies when this was all over. He saw the face of a U. S. Marine. A face full of mercy and kindness…just no mercy and kindness for him. This was the last face he saw before wishing he stayed home on his own planet.

Something blossomed within Rynal. After he shot the alien attacker in the face he ran back to the Starbucks tucked and rolled behind a parked Hyundai. To his surprise bumping up against him was that one eyed old man with the scar on his face. He shouted with glee,

“Hooah, Devil Dog! This reminds me of the battle of Hue, during the Tet Offensive! We were taken by surprise, but we had some surprises of our own!!”

Rynal, surprised, asked, “How did you know I was a Marine!?!”

The Scar faced Vet said, “Because you yelled Oorah! While you were killing the bug! Name’s Sargent First Class James Metcalf, but you can call me Scarface!”

Rynal didn’t realize that he said anything when he killed the alien. Later he would be totally surprised and glad for his actions when he watched the video that showed him expertly disarming the alien soldier, yelling “Oorah” then pumping the alien with more than the required amount of rounds to kill, well, any living thing.

Scarface said with an edge of satisfaction, “Let’s send these buggers back where they came from.”

With those words the two Veteran’s reenlisted themselves back into their respective branches of military service and they began to drop the alien invaders within the vicinity. When the aliens were down, the human survivors, veterans and civilian, men and women, young and old took up their weapons and began to fight back giving the alien invaders what for.

Chapter 3
Carly Monroe was feeling fidgety. She sat beside her mom quietly watching the program as it progressed. It was a Veteran’s Day program held at the Mississippi Armed Forces Museum. Her grandfather was one of the many veteran’s honored for their bravery during this country’s time of need. As a sophomore at the University of Southern Mississippi she honored her grandfather and her father who was currently a Major in the United States Army serving in Afghanistan, by showing up with the rest of her family for this momentous occasion.

If you asked her, she would have told you exactly how she felt about war. She hated it. She viewed it as the most disgusting action a country can take. The end result is the loss of innocent lives of men, women, and children. The “powers that be” should sit down and talk it out rather than kill each other and put innocent people in danger. She once voiced this to her family. It was after they buried her older brother Caleb, a Marine who died saving a village and his platoon mates back in 2003 in Iraq. She loved her brother so much. He was the most gentle person she knew. She could always count on him to brighten up her day. Even when she knew she was annoying him, he still made time to sit and listen to her.

Her mom would say, "If you two weren’t three years apart, I’d swear you were twins." This was her relationship with her brother.

She thought he’d go off to college and become an actor or some kind of a professional in the entertainment industry, however, when 9/11 occurred, that Monroe patriotism flared up within him and he joined the USMC. Secretly she tried to talk him out of it.

“What are you thinking? Are you trying to make mom, dad and grandpa proud of you? They are! Caleb you don’t need to do this!!”
This drew a small burst of anger from him.

“Yes I do! Carly, we were attacked! Everything I know and love is right here in Kosciusko, MS! If those terrorists think that they can come over here and destroy our way of life, then someone has to stand up to them! Me or someone else like me!

Carly replied, “…but why you!?! Can’t someone else do it!?!”

Caleb, gently grabbing her by her shoulders and looking down into her glistening blue eyes then said to her,

“Because someone has to stand up to the bully. See this scar over my eye? I got it from Richie Jacobs. I was so afraid of him, so were my friends. Dad told me that I should stand up to him. I asked him why me too. He said because someone has to. If not you, then who? One day Richie was pushing my friend Terrell Jones around, calling him the N-Word and what not. Even though he was way bigger than me and Terrell, I still walked over there and stood up for my friend. That day Terrell and me gave ol’ Richie Jacobs a well deserved beating. He hasn’t bothered either of us since. I hate bullies. I WILL stand up to them and give them the whooping they need. It’s like grandpa said, “The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.” I refuse to just sit around and do nothing. I’m gonna fight!”

Carly, tears flowing freely, but still persistent asked, “B-But what if you die?”

The words came out shakily. Caleb replied,

“If my sacrifice affords you a day, a week, a year of freedom to live your life without fear, then I think it’s worth it.”

Her thoughts drifted back to the present. Her grandfather had taken center stage and was giving a speech backed by several
vets, one of which was a Tuskegee Airman. They stood covered in their medals offering the best salute men of their age could offer. She caught wind of what was to be her grandfather’s last recorded words.

“…my actions, and the actions of these brave men behind me have afforded this country the freedom they now enjoy, but I fear our time is at an end. It is up to young people like you to fight for the freedom of the generations that are following you. In the words of Edmund Burke, “The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men (and women, he looked at his granddaughter) to do nothing.”

At that instant, her grandfather’s chest exploded into a cloud of red that sprayed everyone in the front row. In the commotion that followed she ignored it all and ran to his aid. She lifted his head and called to him. The aliens subdued and or killed the armed soldiers in the museum. One of their kind, perhaps a Lieutenant approached the podium and began to make clicking sounds that no human understood. He pressed something on his breast then began again. He urged everyone to calm down and assured that this would not take long. He asserted his people’s dominance over the peoples of the earth. He told of how they came from a great distance away in search of another planet to take over and that the primitives here had two choices, to obey and live or resist and die.

Carly recognized several things here. This alien guy, with his condescending talk, was a bully. Bullies need to be taught a lesson. She noticed his side arm and that he did not consider her a threat. She noticed her grandfather had come to for the moment and was mouthing something to her. She leaned in closer to listen.

“You can do something baby. Be strong. You can fig-…”

She thought of her brother Caleb and his words to her. She decided to do something. She didn’t know what exactly, but it would be something for sure. She kissed her now dead grandpa on the forehead, whispered goodbye, and then lay him down. She glanced around taking stock of the room. The aliens were comfortable that there were no other threats so they were somewhat relaxed. She could hear the struggle going on outside, and soon the rear door to the room they were in burst open. A small group of U. S. Army soldiers comprised of both men and women came busting through the doors firing at the aliens.

That was all the distraction she needed. She sprang to her feet, snatched the alien lieutenant’s side arm out of its holster then fired point blank into his back and said into what she believed to be his ear,

“That was for my grandpa and this is for my planet!”

She fired into his back a second time then discarded his limp body to the side. Unconsciously taking on a classic shooter’s stance she fired at the alien soldiers at her left side, dropping every one with an accurately placed head shot as the Army soldiers who unknowingly provided her with the distraction, dropped the rest. The aliens in that room did not stand a chance.

Carly Monroe’s views changed that day. She realized that there is a time when you must fight. She realized that the weak and defenseless needed a Caleb Monroe to come to their rescue. She purposed within herself to be that defender of the weak. Not only would she fight, but she would see to it that these invaders who haphazardly took innocent lives got exactly what they deserved.

…to be continued…

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Women Problems: Why Do I Bother

~ I have a problem. I know I’ve titled this post “Women Problems: Why Do I Bother?”, but my real problem is I haven’t learned the art of “Baby, You’re Right!” Perhaps it’s because I’ve been single for so long. Perhaps it’s because of my pride. I’m not clear on the reasons and the whys. What I do know is women drive me crazy. Thus far, I have endeavoured to keep this blog positive and I think I have done a very good job of that. However, this post is a rant to someone. I don't mind you reading it but don't be all bent out of shape with me for this one rant. ~

The reason I didn’t want to continue talking to you is because I realized, right off the bat, I was the bad guy. No matter what valid point I made, it would be turned around and used against me. It was clear to me that you were in a very emotional state and I really didn’t want to argue. I wish I didn’t send you that last text message, telling you just that, because I just furnished you with ammo for the next time you want to argue. I apologize for that.

As far as communication goes, I understand you want to feel “loved” and “pursued” and “wanted” but the fact of the matter is if I don’t call you for a couple of days doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You should understand, I’m 37 years old and I’ve never been married. I’m used to having time to myself. I love you but sometimes I like to be by myself. I’m a loner like that. If we were actually married, I would look at things differently. I know you are always going to be there. I know the kids are always going to be there. I understand that. Guess what…we’re not married! I’m, technically, still single and I still want time for myself (many times I feel like you expect me to be a husband but I don’t see it that way because we aren’t married…yet).

You seem to want me to change a lot of things about myself before we get married. I understand that with “precision understanding”. I know if I don’t (for example) brush my teeth regularly before I’m married, I’m not going to do it after I get married. Well, I’m not the only one who needs to change things prior to our “elusive” nuptials. I do remember the episode that followed an announcement I made to you when I explained to you that when we get married, you would have to attend seminary school (I was only trying to plant a seed, prepare you for the future). You got all upset as if I slapped your face. I wasn’t asking you to drop everything you were doing right now, change, and move away from everything you know with me (just so you know, I don’t expect to live here in MS until I’m old unless God wants me to. If I had my way, I’d be somewhere else like London, England). You say you love me and that you have faith in God but why does it scare you to move to the other side of the country with me so that you can attend Bible Seminary? It’s not like you won’t be able to visit (I want a wife not a prisoner)!

Wait! Let me guess! You are afraid that I’m going to change on you. You are afraid that I am going to become someone else or treat you differently around people that you do not know. You are afraid that I will not be responsible with/for your kids because after all, “they are YOUR kids and you have a responsibility to them and because they aren’t mine, I won’t care about them the way you would! That’s a mother’s love!!!” (Really!? You think I’m that heartless, really!?!)

This tells me that you don’t trust me or understand me. I understand, but you your feelings on the matter were so strong it causes me to wonder, why would you be with me at all? If I’m this “threat” that you think I am, if I am this “big danger”, why are you with me? Would you rather I lay my ministry to the side and just change into what YOU want me to be and you yourself not have to change? (This is the impression I get from you.)

It is for this reason that I have not “officially” proposed. For one thing, to be with you is expensive. I have not been the most financially responsible in the past, I know that. For the past few years I have been actively working to reverse my financial situation. So far, I don’t see how being with you is going to change that (I’m not blaming you for my financial situation. I clearly said “I have not been the most financially responsible in the past”).

Look. I can go on and on and on about many things. Your “communication policy” (How much affirmation do you need!?!), your reluctance to change but demanding that I be different, even your subtle attacks on my character (…because you’re so perfect). I am forced to ask myself, why do I bother? Why do I put up with you? Six years ago, I broke up with you (I’ve broken up with you several times within the past 7 months actually) because of similar things I’ve enumerated above. If I am as “messed up”, as you obviously feel I am, why would you put up with me?

It’s things like this that frustrates me so much. Why should we bother? You’ve mentioned to me that you have a ministry to perform before God. You’ve told me what that is. I honestly do not see how that is going to work if we are married. You don’t seem to be the kind of woman that can let a man be a man and run things. Though you claim that this is what you want. All I see from you is a big ball of fight, resistance and rebellion.

I know this is where you’ll try to point out some flaw I have. Yes, I have flaws. I choose to keep those flaws between me and God. I prefer to work them out with Him, but tell me something…why is it you have so much confidence/understanding in God and His word but the meaning of I Corinthians 11:5-6 totally and completely eludes you.

[I Corinthians 11:5-6, “…But every woman that prayeth or prophesieth with her head uncovered dishonoureth her head: for that is even all one as if she were shaven. (6) For if the woman be not covered, let her also be shorn: but if it be a shame for a woman to be shorn or shaven, let her be covered.]

So, yeah, we all have areas we need to work on. My closing statement or the sum of it all is my reluctance to marry you is due to you. I put up with you because I do love you and I feel that you are my soul mate. I am careful and reluctant to marry you because despite me feeling like you are my soul mate, I want to be sure that I want you (too many times people have told me to take my time, well, I’m taking my time). To want you means I’m willing to put up with all of your problems (many of which you have not shared with me and it’s not due to my lack of communication or you having the opportunity to tell me) and quite frankly, “I can do bad all by myself”.

I would much rather us not be married and happy than to be married and miserable. I feel like this, if you feel like I am going to be a problem/more trouble than I am worth to you, then feel free to let me move on. Sure I will hurt, but I will also put on my big boy pants and move on with my life. That is how I feel about you. I know people believe that if you love someone, you’ll do anything for them or to be with them. I believe that includes letting them go as well. I don’t require much of you, but I do require that you be “with the program”. If you can’t do that (you’ve been reluctant thus far) then please…love me enough to let me go on my way. There ARE other people out there for us. There is NO shame in NOT getting married.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

I Hate The Word "Gangsta" & Here Is Why

I like words. In the lexicon that is English, there are so many words that by themselves are useless. However, when combined with other words they become something greater. They become a tool for good or evil. Many times they are used for good, like waking people up to threats, empowering them to face that threat, and giving them that forward thought that they’ll need to continue on. Other times they are used to tear down and destroy. They are used to incriminate the guilty or insinuate guilt. Even worse, they are used to divide people, to manipulate entire nations, bringing them to a quick demise, a sudden end by words that are not a correct reflection of reality. These are the words that I hate and avoid.

In today’s modern vernacular, there are words that didn’t previously exist in the afore mentioned lexicon. However, due to their popularity, they have quickly become, or perceived to be, “normal” everyday words. These words will not be found in proper dictionaries such as tend to carry historically respectable names like Oxford, Webster, or Britannica. These words, these slang words are only found on the internet. More specifically on websites like, where any Joe Schmoe or Suzie Schmoe, as the case may be, can provide a definition. That being the case it gives those words the same credibility as an article found on Wikipedia. On Wikipedia I found an article stating that Steve Urkel (a fictional television character from the ‘90s sitcom Family Matters as portrayed by Jaleel White) is the current and 44th President of the United States of America. Enough said.

As I stated before, I like words. I like catch phrases, epitaphs, and different and various euphemisms. There is a word that is used that I dislike. It’s not that I hate the word in and of itself. I hate that “urban” meaning the word. This word is “gangsta”. I hate it, utterly despise it, can not stand it. Sure there was a time when I used it to my own amusement and in some cases seriously. However, as a Christian, as a man of evolved understanding, as someone who once was a child with childish thinking but is now an adult having put away childish things, especially that childish thinking, I’ve come to passionately dislike that word and it’s urban meaning. So let’s go through the number’s here:

gangster. Noun: a violent, brutal person who is often a member of an organized gang -- see HOODLUM - Student Thesaurus

gangster. gang•ster. noun: a member of a gang of criminals : RACKETEER - gang•ster•ism /-stschwa-secondarystressriz-schwam/ noun -Merriam-Webster

gang•ster (gngstr) n. 1. A member of an organized group of criminals; a racketeer. 2. A member of a gang of delinquents. gangster•dom n. gangster•ism n. -The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition copyright ©2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company.

It all gets pretty redundant after a while. It doesn’t take a genius to see where the term “gangsta” came from. Today people who would take upon themselves the term gangsta are delusional. Many of the “gangstas” I’ve ran into were usually kids, from preteens to the older teenagers (those whose predisposition is to seek an identity). They start them out young much like communist who start their programming with children. This is obviously done for nefarious reasons. The thing that made me dislike the term is the fact that this is promoted as something good to be. This is promoted like is something to be proud of, adored, worshipped. The truth is it is not. Since when has it become acceptable to be proud of one’s sins? Murder, recreational drug distribution, hating people because they are from the north end of town and you are from the south end...this makes no sense to me! What makes it worse is the entertainment industry. They make movies such as Scarface, New Jack City, and more recently, American Gangster and people flock to these in droves. I understand that it is story telling. I understand that these things are taken from real life situations. I even understand the term “art imitating life”. The problem is when life begins to mimic art.

This is where the brunt of my whole problem with the word lies. Recently I read a facebook post about Samuel Whittemore, who at 80 years old killed 3 British Soldiers on April 19, 1775. He was shot, bayoneted, beaten, and left for dead, but recovered and lived to see 98 years of age. My first response in my mind to put on the post was this: “An 80 year old man did that…and still lived 19 years? Dude was GANGSTA!” Then I thought about it. Why would I say that!?! Needless to say, I put something else, because I will not glorify all the things “gangsta”, “gangster”, “g” (or any other variation of the word) stands for.

By they way, many of these people on the music side of the Entertainment Industry, namely rappers, come from well to do homes. Many of them did not rise from the various ghettos around America like they claim to have done so in their music. Many of them come from good homes, well to do families full of professionals such as doctors and lawyers. They went to good schools, gained education from quality institutions, and now get paid to portray a lifestyle for which , many of you are willing to use your EBT cards to emulate. I wish I was stretching the truth here, but sadly, I’m not. So go ahead, point your hat the wrong direction, leave your belt at home, buy your 4 year old Air Jordan’s, and dye your hair the brightest shade of pink on the spectrum, then stand up in public and tell everyone how much swag you currently possess. Then realize how much of a fool you are for living within the bounds of the Entertainment Industry’s “hive mind”. Or…wake up to reality.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Disturbing Dream

I had a disturbing dream. So disturbing that as I sit and type this, right now, I can still feel the fear of it all. It’s been 12 hours since I awoke from that horrifying experience.

I found myself standing in a parking lot. Perhaps I was in parking lot of the apartment complex where I grew up. I’m dressed in my security guard uniform. It’s dark out. I can see just enough. Is it dusk? Or has a dark reddish cloud settled upon everything. I'm not sure. Suddenly I look towards the place my mom’s apartment should have been.,...someone is charging me. This is the biggest man I have ever seen in my life.

He makes no sound. No grunts, nothing. The only thing that made me aware of his presence was the ground as it trembled beneath my feet, in tune with every step he took towards me. As he drew near me he reached behind his head and produced an ax or a tomahawk of some sort. He came at me with one purpose and that was to get to me.

I was so startled, I managed a yelp. I'm glad I still had the faculties to reach for my pistol. In that instant, I didn’t even know if it was there. Now that I think about it, I don’t even know if the gun would have fired or if the bullets would have even slowed him down. He got closer, closer, and closer still.

I awoke speaking in tongues. I believed it to be a cry for mercy or help from God, the only one I KNOW that can help in such a situation. I’m so relieved that I woke up. I’m equally relieved that it was just a dream. Or was it? I looked at my alarm clock. I had been asleep for approximately 1 to 1 1/2 hours. While I don’t know what the dream meant, I am certain that I don’t want to have it again. My only concern right now is what does that dream mean?