On The Verge

It's just before 5AM on what should be just another Tuesday.  It's painfully quiet here in my apartment, even with the white noise in the background.  All this silence has left me thinking about my life and where it's headed.  It's an odd experience to constantly feel on the verge of greatness or disaster.  It's how I've found myself feeling more often than not lately.   I have a career, bills are paid, a teeny tiny bit of money in the bank, a beautiful apartment, you know...all the basics.  Even still, I can't help but sense that the universe is still out to trial on whether my life will really be great or not.  It's strange how one can feel so out of place when everything is seemingly in order.

It's very much like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel but not being not awake enough to determine if it's a train or the baby Jesus.  Maybe this is what purgatory feels like.  Am I being made ready for something?  I wish I could share with you that I've just been enlightened with the answer to my own question, but alas, not so much.  I suppose it's really more philosophical than literal, although the two seem to intertwine effortlessly.  

I have bad dreams to thank for this moment of mental Purgatory that I find myself in.  I should be asleep; not tapping away on my laptop listening to my ice maker work over-time.  I've decided that since I have to be up early, I will just make some coffee and push through this sleepless and thoughtful moment in time.

The Bottom Line: I will let you know as soon as I find it.

One Way Street

As a Dallas native, you'd think Downtown Dallas(pictured above) would be a breeze for me.  Not so much.  I end up driving the wrong way on a one way street every time.  It's as reliable as the rising of the moon.  It WILL happen.  It would seem that I can do nothing to prevent it.  I just pray I make it out in one piece.  One thing is certain though, I always find my way out.  As it turns out most times, my adventures in avoiding head-on collisions often place me in the perfect spot to get out of the area.  Go figure.

It occurs to me that life is really the same way.  Sometimes we avoid things that seem like a "wrong way".  We follow the signs that have been laid out for us...keeping our lives moving in the same directions as everyone else.  The issue with this is that sometimes we need to get lost or turned around.  We need to travel down that one way street because in the end, it will get us to where we need to go.  Yes, it may go against conventional wisdom; hell, it may even be dangerous.  Sometimes we have to take risks.  Sure, there are roads that are well traveled and signs that tell us which way we should go, but hey...new roads are always being built.

The Bottom Line:
Don't be afraid of traveling the wrong way on a one way street.  It may end up being the exact path you needed to take.  Just watch for oncoming cars and chances are, you will still end up right where you belong!

Fag

I recently discovered that I have an internal struggle.  No, I'm not coming out of the closet.  If you are reading this blog, you are about nine years too late for that story!  The struggle I'm speaking of is how offended I feel when straight people use the word "fag" as a way to insult other straight people.  It's taken me back to that mentality of... 'I can say it because I AM ONE'.  For example, African-Americans referring to themselves as 'Niggas'...  It's not really cool for white people to say it, unless of course you are a white rapper.  I also know Mexicans who refer to themselves as Wetbacks, but you wouldn't catch me saying it.  Even Jews have little reserve about self-depreciating humor.  It does seems like a double-standard to me.  At the same time, part of me feels like I've paid my 'gay dues'.  I feel I have the right to call someone a fag if I want, although I rarely call a straight person a fag; and I really only use the term with people that I know.  It occurs to me that if you are Black, or Jewish, or Mexican, or Gay, etc...you automatically get a pass to give derogatory terms your own meaning and power.  Maybe that way of thinking is wrong.  Maybe nobody should ever use derogatory terms, even among one's own "group".  

I'm not pretending to be on one side of this issue or the other.  I really am torn.  I absolutely believe in freedom of speech.  On the other hand, I am a firm believer in responsible speech.  Know your audience.  Show some respect.  I understand that some people discount the term "fag" because they've never had to experience the rejection, pain, hatred, or contempt that can go along with being openly gay.  Maybe it's just that it's too soon to be insensitive about it.  After all, while there is still racism in the world, the general struggle for basic rights is fading.  Gays in America are still in the middle of a fight to be treated as equals under the law.  Maybe 10...20...30 years from now the word fag won't carry the sting that it does right now.  Until then, I will always try to speak with my audience in mind. I will do my best to remember that I shouldn't discount any one group because of who they are or even what they believe.  It's not an easy task, as I do not agree with everyone about everything.  I do, however, always try to respect those I come into contact with...even if they are raging lunatics.  ;-)

Truth or Dare

I'm deep in thought on another inglorious Monday.  I'm thinking about the game...Truth or Dare.  If you've played this game a lot, you may have noticed a trend.  There are those who will almost always choose Truth and then there are those who will always choose Dare.  I've yet to meet a person who was equal parts dare and truth.  It just never seems to work out that way.

Many personal relationships are marred by a truth or dare mentality.  You have those people who will always tell you when you have a booger on your face or that you are way too fat to be wearing that.  Then there are those who call themselves friends but spend the entire relationship just daring you to discover that they have a hidden agenda.  Sometimes the agenda is romantic.  Sometimes it's convenience.  Every once in a while they turn out to be nothing less than your enemy.

Where does this fascination with playing games in relationships come from?  Why do we feel the need to play Truth or Dare with those we allegedly care about?  Shouldn't it always be truth?  Are relationships mostly based on lies and mutually accepted delusions?  (For you hard core Sex and the City fans, that last question will sound familiar.)  As a kid, I can remember being scolded by adults for being childish or immature or silly.  I'm beginning to think the children have it right.  Consider this, most little kids will simply look you in the face and tell you they don't like you...or to go away...or I don't want to play with you.  Adults on the other hand, will go to lunch with you, add you on their Facebook page, or even show up at your party.  When it comes to relationships, maybe we SHOULD be acting like children.  What would happen if we all were to partake in a brutal honesty week?  Oh...Em...Gee.  People's friends list would be slashed in half.  There could even be a fist fight!  All hell would break loose. The sad thing is, the only thing that seems to be "holding things together" is this sense of playing games.

What on earth could we accomplish with our newly found free time?  Cutting to the chase could add days or weeks of free time to your life.  With all the time not wasted on bullshitting with people in our lives we could learn a new language, go back to school, take up a hobby, or any number of productive and honest things.

The Bottom Line: There are worse things in life than being a mother-fucker.  Tell the truth.  Don't get caught up in the games that are all too easy to play.  If there is a giant booger on someone's face, for god's sake...TELL THEM!

My Life in Seven Boxes

Photo By - David Ross Jackson

It's a sunny and beautiful day here in Texas.  It's late January but you'd swear it was Spring outside.  Inside, things are a little more like Winter.  I will be starting a new chapter in life in the coming months.  While I look forward to what lies ahead, I can't help but think of the things I'm leaving behind.  Today, I prepared all the boxes filled with my kids toys, clothes, colorings, books, and other memories.  Soon, I will take them to my sister's home about four hours North of here.

For those of you who may not know, on the last day of June 2010, I relinquished the rights to my children.  I did this with the hope that they would be able to have a life free of the hatred and contempt their mother has for me. I wanted them to be have a childhood that does not make them feel as though they have to choose between Mom and Dad.  In the nearly nine years since their mother and I split, relations have become progressively worse.  This has made my children miserable and hurt them in ways that only two bitter parents could.  I won't pretend that everything was my ex-wife's fault.  It wasn't.  When it came time for us all to move forward, however, she was unwilling.  Working tirelessly to back me into a corner, she finally got her wish.  I couldn't, in good conscience, allow my kids to go through this torture any longer.

For seven months now, I could not bring myself to get rid of anything that belonged to my kids.  I still can't.  Even the smallest little stray Lego could not be thrown away.  My hope is that one day, I can open these seven boxes and show my children just how much they are loved.  I want them to know that no matter what has been said or done, they were always my life and my inspiration.  I felt it was necessary to put some distance between me and these boxes of memories.  I've been deeply hurt by all this.  I need time to heal...to grieve...to breathe.  I need a fresh start.  I need to see new dreams realized and leave behind all the sorrow that comes with the decision I felt I had to make.  Everything I've done since my children were born has been with them in mind.  That won't change.  I want to be ready to embrace them again one day.  I want to be strong and full of life for them.  These seven boxes, which represent my true love and my very soul, will be placed in a quiet and safe place somewhere in Oklahoma.  My love for my kids will remain with me at all times.  I will never forget the two loves of my life.  I will never forget my two blessings.  I will never forget their unconditional love for me.  I will never take for granted how I was forever changed from the inside out by the two most powerful forces I've ever encountered... my Solomon and Emiley.

When the heartache seems insurmountable and I feel as though I may die of a broken heart, I will remember that somewhere inside of me lives a love that will never die and never be changed...not by time nor circumstance.  It lives on forever and I will be forever grateful.