Renaissance

Wednesday, November 21st, 2007.

I was in South Hadley, MA thinking about what I was going to do for Thanksgiving. I didn't have the money to go home, but I really wanted to go. My girlfriend at the time also wanted to go home, but didn't. We spent our Thanksgiving together in an on-campus house. I wore a dirty shirt, as I hadn't done laundry in the month I'd been there. Tonight, I'd sleep on the floor undoubtedly. Not because I had any problem with my then girlfriend, but because I was 270 lbs and the cot we shared wasn't large enough.

I spent that morning watching Swingers. After the movie, I tried my hand at Super Mario brothers for the Wii. She bought it for me, and I played it daily. We turned the T.V off and went grocery shopping for the next days dinner. I was scared as to how much money I'd spend. I came to South Hadley with about 600 dollars, and quickly depleted that. Groceries are not cheap, and the amount left on my pre-paid greendot card was about $150.
We got into Solange's wagon and headed to Big Y, and she told us about her latest encounter with Juan. I sat quietly in the back, and chuckled when jokes were told.
After purchasing two cornish hens, a plethora of ingredients for some shit called "Eggplant Rawk" we loaded up the wagon and left. It was ridiculously cold that day.

I was unemployed and constantly feeling obtrusive. I had nothing to offer except love and dick, and one of the two I wasn't good at. Maybe even both. I had no phone, I'd alienated all of my hometown friends and family, and with the exception of a woman who frequently called to inform me about Jesus, I heard nothing from the people back home.
I was surrounded by tons of women menstruating at the same time, and who all thought I was an unshaven burden.
I was happy.

Fast forward two months, January 2008. I'd moved back to Detroit, and I recently acquired a brand new ex-girlfriend, due mainly to my omnipresence. I'd smothered her, and I knew it was ending which was the worst part. As she had finally had her fill, I was just becoming comfortable with the fact that I'd fallen for someone, something I didn't anticipate.
I had to go back to work, I couldn't stay with my mother. I didn't want to, not just because I was a 21 year old man and needed my own space. I just felt belabored with countless responsibilities that weren't supposed to be mine. I have 3 younger brothers and a father fresh out of rehab. I, selfishly and understandably, wanted to step away from the role of father. I didn't even know how to be a big brother, which bothered me.

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I lost many friends and family members, who felt I left the city to chase some woman, which was exactly what I did. I felt if they were truly my friend, they'd understand that if I failed, then it was my failure and they'd be there to say "I told you so, now let me help you up". Instead I didn't even get an "I told you so" from half of them. No words. Nothing.

Overall I felt, for lack of a better term, like shit. I began drinking, heavily and nightly. I was hurt and I began to investigate the problem. For some reason, I felt like I had failed everyone and I began to look in the mirror and assess my own problems. Who was I? Why was everything falling apart? I felt that if everyone had a problem, it couldn't possibly be everyone else. It had to be me.
I ran, miles and miles away. 600 miles away. I felt like I should go someplace where no one knew me, and I could adopt any persona I wanted. I wasn't happy as me, and I needed to be a better me. I could be happier without my family and my friends, who didn't accept my decisions and viewed them as mistakes, as opposed to life lessons. I could escape them and have that life that I wanted, and thats exactly what I did.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008.
I was on my way to D.C Ink on U st. I wanted to get a tattoo. I'd thought long and hard about what I wanted. So many people have so many different things, and a tattoo is a permanent thing. There's no backspace button on your skin, so I had to be sure of where and what i wanted. I began to think, there were many tattoo ideas I had before. Some funny, some quite serious.
I saw this ambigramm that said Life one way, and Love the other way. I knew it was what I wanted. I immediately knew I wanted it on my hand. I want to see it daily to remind me of the similarities of life and love, and the drastic differences, and how they both correlate with one another. I could talk about those two forever, but I'll spare you the sermon.
I had a sudden attack of conscience. This tattoo was the first original thought I had since I moved out to Maryland. Who was I? Had I really been so weak that I'd changed every single aspect of my life to appease those around me? I thought about everything. The music I was listening to, the people I was around. Even the show's I watch and the clothes I wore were deplorable. I made fun of people who wore regular fit jeans, and there I was. I'd pay more attention to what shoes a person was wearing than what the person was saying. I hated those types of people, and I'd become that exact person. The man who had more money than taste. Who cared more about the appearance of the person than the person themselves.
I'd paid hundreds of dollars for clothes I hated, and hours listening to music i abhored. Come the fuck on, Young Dro? The man raps about fruit.
I'd completely lost touch with James, but why? I felt like I had to prove something to my family members, my friends, and the one whom I felt got away. I spent so much time and put forth so much effort trying to be this new person, someone who'd be better than the man I was, when I didn't realize that all I needed to be was the same man who got the friends and girl, and whos family loved him.
I needed to tell my friends a quite sincere "fuck you", if they thought I'd abandoned them and refused to forgive me. A real friend is understanding and forgiving.
I needed to tell my family to be a bit more accepting of the fact that yes, i made a decision that they believed to be bad. And yes, what they said would happen, happened. But to chastise me and hold my decisions against me was not what I needed at that time. I needed help.
I needed to realize that I was single not because of something i wasnt doing, but because of something I did. Changing into another person wasn't going to bring the person back. It'd probably push them further away, which it did.

I had a conversation today with someone whom I care deeply about, and they were kind enough to call me on my shit. A real friend will call you on your shit. If someone is willing to sit back and watch you fail at anything, they're not your friend. I appreciate them saying something, even if it was out of pure distaste. If you're reading this and you have some shit to say to your friend but you're afraid of hurting their feelings, tell them right now about themselves. They may not like what you have to say, but if it's needed then speak up.
I'm taking tomorrow off. I need to spend some quality time with me. I'm gonna charge up the iPod and go to a park or somewhere downtown. Buy a notepad and write a bit. I need some time to myself, and I don't really know when I'll want to be bothered with another person.



If you read this blog and haven't commented on a single post, comment on this one. Fuck it, dont say anything. Just reflect on yourself and how you interact with everyone. Anyone you come into contact, via internet, work, phone, hell even the person behind the counter at subway making your Italian BMT. You affect everyone, and you may not know it. Pay attention as to how you treat others. Even though you may never see them again, they'll remember those kind words.

I edited this post about...2890 times, but never once did I change the title.