'Let It Burn :)

So I fasted for 9 days. Strictly fruit/vegetable juice, much of it made right in front of me, water, tea, a hint of soy, for 9 days. No food whatsoever. It wasn't hard at all; well, some days were a bit challenging because of social situations I found myself in. And a coupla times, someone at home cooked some bomb shit or Nena wanted me to share a meal with her. But it was way harder to find a right time to stop. It began as a detox I guess, and turned into some sort of cleansing, though honestly, I'm still not sure why I did it. Towards the end I felt really frustrated because after 9 days I didn't experience some great understanding. I'd just lost a good amount of weight, cleared my skin up, re-energized my body, and started sleeping better. For some reason, I felt like that wasn't enough to call the fast successful. I was bugging. It was extremely fruitful (no pun intended), as I reset my palette to desire better foods and proved to myself that I have higher levels of discipline I can access when necessary. It'll take another blog to tell you about the trips I took within while fasting. I was also on a Facebook status fast - one word statuses (although I cheated with short commentary within parentheses). Each one word status revealed my mindstate during that point in the fast. It was a great exercise in being succint.

I feel genuinely renewed finally. I did it for me. There was no announcement and no detailing throughout, beyond my one word statuses. Only a handful of people even knew I was fasting. It was between me and God because I needed authentic renewal with no interference this time. It had to work. Something told me it had to work this time. Every so often I begin training. Sometimes I don't know what I'm training for, but I'll train. I need to prepare for something. And this was some sort of preliminary. Something is changing again. In a way it hasn't since I (painfully) evolved in my mid-20s. '09 is ending in a purifying fire, a good scorch. I'm gonna spend the last 10 days of the year watching it burn with a smile on my face :)

I'm StarPower, and I approve this message.

This Can't Be Life

I'm supposed to be involved in, and recognize the plights of A&E and B because their situations are meant to give me the perspective I need to remain my victorious self. A&E have apparently been swindled out of a lot of money by someone who identified 2 lesbian drug addicts as the perfect pair of victims. They now have no place to live. B's mother just passed away and he came home to find the apartment they shared padlocked. He doesn't seem to have family or a way back into that apartment that doesn't involve a difficult dance through the housing courts. He also has no place to live. I guess this is a good time to tell you that I have no place to live either. Well, no, that's not entirely true. My wife and I, in an effort to save enough $ in a relatively short time frame to buy a house/condo, decided to take the risky course of action of not renewing our lease & each staying at our childhood homes. Y'all know how I feel about her (she's a rare creature of another time/place) and of course there is more than just finance involved so this has been a wild chapter of my already sometimes-hard-to-fathom life story, but that's for another blog. So, I don't have my own place for the first time in a decade; I stay at grandma's (for maybe just a few weeks more). Grandma loves me so it's all good for me to crash. I help her out with my teen siblings, keep things in order, give her a li'l green, all that. But A&E seem like they also want to stay at grandma's because if it wasn't for hard luck, they'd have no luck at all. B has asked grandma for a square foot or two at night as well. Needless to say, grandma is not a fan of turning her apartment into a hard-luck hostel. She told A&E and B that although she would like to help, she can't. Their reactions have been to still try to inch in while yours truly was at work/school. A&E and B know each other, by the way, but have no connection to each other beyond their desire to crash at grandma's. They both also have reason to feel like grandma's crib could be the answer to their problems. B and his mother, who have lived upstairs from grandma for 25 years, didn't get along with anyone in the building but grandma. Once B's mother passed away, he only felt comfortable reaching out to grandma. A, you should probably know, is my grandmother's daughter. Yup, yeah. She's my mom. All of this brings me to tonight. I have been uncomfortable here, not because I'm unwanted, but because the change in lifestyle has been more than I anticipated. I often complain about my situation. But as I came home to A&E rushing to handle their business (whatever that may be) in the back room before I got home, and B humbling himself to steal a few moments of warmth in the kitchen, I thought about how even though I've been sort of miserable living where I've been, I'm still in total control of my fate with the ability to go a variety of satisfying directions. I could conceivably get an apartment or room at any point because I have the resources, but I don't because I (supposedly) have a plan I'd like to stick to. I knew I would have it rough but chose what I thought was the best option for my near future and was (outwardly) supported by all the most important people. A&E and B, however, don't have many, if any, other options besides the hoped-for kindness of grandma. They don't have money and the ability to find another situation when things get too sour, that comes with it. I feel for them, but in the grand scheme of what my life is right now, they don't get very much leeway to turn sympathy into accomodations. My grandmother did not want any of them here, but did not want the burden of putting them out, so as they all tried to buy a few extra minutes of free lodging, I modeled man-of-the-house-ism for my teenage brother by swiftly and firmly reducing the population of the apartment by 3. The temperature may near freezing tonight, and the next stop for any or all of them might be a shelter, roof, or basement, but I had no choice but to send them into the night. They couldn't stay here so there was only one place I could send them - someplace not here. Many of the decisions they made long before I was old enough to know what being coldly decisive means, somehow lead to tonight. We all intersected at a time and in a place that none of us - most of all, me - expected to meet at. The difference between us though, is that I get to stay. I don't say that with any satisfaction. If my heart wasn't already a tattered organ being held together by undeserved unconditional love, I'd tell you it broke tonight. I pray God's will is to keep them all warm and safe.

"Believe me, if it was meant to be, it'll be soon" - Jay-Z "This Can't Be Life"

Save The (S)Hero

If you don't take enough time for yourself, you will inevitably be pretty useless to others, no? The less capable depend on the stronger among us because they know we are not only capable, we're game. It's what we do, we just can't help it. If we can clean it up, and no one else is able/willing, then hand us the broom and make way. Those who need us are often all too willing to let us save them. They often don't care about the price we pay, the internal toll. Yes, it is ultimately our decision to help, and because it is in our nature, there is nothing we can do about that, but those who are being helped shouldn't wait until we ourselves are a lot less capable due to the demands and pressure we sometimes overburden ourselves with, to suggest we step back for a moment.

Having said that, I'm realizing that much of the time, what I'm asking for will never happen. When someone is in a lot of trouble, they rarely ask the savior if s/he is up to the task of saving, especially if the savior offered to save unsolicited. This means it's up to the savior to find time for his/herself, time to get rejuvenated, and to do it without feeling guilty that the helpless may need help while we're away. Because if they need that much help, well then, are we really helping at all? Isn't the greatest help getting someone to help his/herself? If we get burned out, what will the consequences be? What happens when the hero needs saving?

Amateur Pathology

From the very beginning, my mother did her best to put me on the right path. Too bad it was the PSYCHOpath. No, I'm kidding, somewhat. My mom is more like a sociopath. I happened to develop tendencies more closely associated with psychopathy.

Every Day Is New Year's Day For Someone

My birthday was on Thursday and few people knew b/c I didn't really mention it as it was approaching or on the actual day. A while back I told my facebook page not to mention it either. Now understand, I'm not one of those people who don't celebrate birthdays and holidays bc at some point in my twenties I decided being enlightened means being a smug contrarian. I don't personally celebrate holidays and birthdays, I can be quite smug at times, and much of my personal stance in life runs contrary to popular opinion. However, those things don't converge to form my stance on celebrating my birthday. I celebrate others' birthdays. Hard. As far as mine is concerned though, I realized a few years back that if I treated every day with the zeal most people reserved for their birthdays, I can be a much happier, more productive person. Why look spectacular on Nov. 19, and just great on the other days when I can look spectacular every single day? Why do (and expect) extra special things for myself on that one day when I can have high expectations and achievements every day? If I can go a li'l harder on Nov. 19, I can go a li'l harder every day. Every day feels like a birth for me. I'm crazy intrigued by the possibilities for progress and excited for whatever unexpected moments may occur. Shit, I even look forward to how I'm gonna turn the losses into wins down the road. The thing I find most awesome about birthdays is the fact that it's your own personal New Year's Day. It's when your new year begins and I give myself the gift of reflection. It's not always a pleasant experience but it is a gift. I don't incite or generate celebration, but if someone else does, at this point in my life, I'm more than happy to join in. I have slowly went from feeling like I don't like to/want to accept gifts, to re-imagining my concept of what a gift is. I guess saying I don't celebrate birthdays is inaccurate; I celebrate everyday, so when my birthday comes around, it just feels like a continuation. My latest thing is having the same enthusiasm for Monday mornings that I have for Friday nights. No weakdays or weakends for me.

Like I said on my other blog (http://t-e-c.blogspot.com/), b/c of my current living situation my attempt at a return to consistent blogging will almost exclusively (I know, that's an oxymoron) be done through my iPhone. So the updates will be no-frills. We're here for the words anyway, no?

The sun was just shining nowhere but on the small corner of couch I was writing at, very intensely. I was annoyed but too lazy to move. After I did I thought, "Awww, look at the sun, trying to get my attention. You gotta sustain life on Earth and be the pulse of the solar system, yet you take time out to acknowledge me and request my attention. What a cute little star you are."

"I call my brother sun cuz he shine like one." - Tical

Quen got me some new Starbucks snacks that ain't even come out yet, some new exclusive shit. I'm mad excited and I feel like Lady of Rage's character from "Next Friday" who was up on the new snacks before they came out.

My red football, I'd never kick you around/
even though u treat me like Charlie Brown/
you Lucy me, when u see me/
like me and u can be something we can never/
why do we endeavor and choose not to sever?/
let's burn it up and turn up the lever/
and then watch it die as we stand together/
and pray to the sky and get high off the embers.

I spent the night of my birthday at a wake, btw. I ain't mad. A lot of life seems to light up around you when in the presence of death. I never called you anything, but I guess Ms. Jean seems most appropriate. Ms. Jean, wasn't that gospel song that Alfred sung (sang?) something else? I was into it, for real. Good stuff. I knew you liked me, I could just tell. I liked you too. I really respect how you went home also. Nena will take care of people and things. I realize my job is to keep her healthy enough to do what she was born to do.

Check this out, I was in front of a building and (stop me if I told u this already, I feel like I might have) and a group of people were outside bc the door was closed and no one answered when they rang the bell. I stood there for about 15 seconds with them then I pushed the door open. None of them decided to try that. There was a time I would have stood there w/o trying it also. What does that say about my personal growth, if anything? Why did it take me 15 seconds to go in?

"Tell me who knows a peaceful place where I can go." - 'PAC

I'm on Twitter, yup. http://Twitter.com/starpower4life.

Too much bad food mixed with too little exercise is gonna start adversely affecting my sexy any minute now. I refuse to be R. Belly. Man can't live on cuteness, swagger, and charisma alone!

I know, I know, who SAYS that? Me BITCH! HA Ha ha...oh man. Shits and giggles man, gits and shiggles.

Yo iPhone, stop trying to correct my niggery. I know what the fuck I be trying to type, b.


I'm StarPower, and I approve this message.

Hooray For Hidden Treasures

I was just made to realize that romance novels were, and probably still are, many women’s version of porn. My man, ever read one of those things? Shiiiiiit, when I was a teen, I think I read “Lucky” by Jackie Collins. It was sitting around, so I opened to a random page and I saw words like “cock” and “mount” and I knew she wasn’t talking about chickens and horses. There were explicit, gratuitous sex scenes galore, and since it was a book, I didn’t have to sweat the volume or the awkwardness of watching a sex scene with other people (ever come up on an unexpected sex scene while watching tv with family? Yeah, that’s fun. And by “fun” I mean ridiculously uncomfortable). I was at the phase teenage boys, especially in the ‘90s, went through where they couldn’t get enough of mafia-related things, and since this book was about an Italian crime family, I couldn’t put it down. I read something like 800 pages in a week, an accomplishment for someone who didn’t really read novels. The sex scenes were little gifts that would appear on unanticipated pages. From then on, I was able to add romance novels to my mental trove of places I could get my hornball fix.

Random

In my dream last night, I went to Verizon to get my phone serviced and the rep was flirting with me. Even in my dreams I’m full of myself I guess, more so probably. She told me to wait on a different line for the next phase of service; she was really nice, brown-skinned, thick, homely. As I waited on the other line, the service rep over there was very lively; a middle-aged, short latina who was either arguing or joking with the customer in line. The next thing she did was put her face in some sort of pie and smother her face in cream. I thought it was kind of creepy, but everyone found it amusing so I decided that I was just being uptight and loosened up. Then another rep, a young, slim, slightly-stressed looking twenty-something latina started to throw liquid in the air, liquid and then food. At first, it seemed kinda festive, as weird as that sounds. Then it became a bit scary, I don’t know why. I went behind some shelves where I thought the food and liquid couldn’t reach me, but then I started to see it fly overhead. Some people on the side of me were genuinely frightened; I think that’s where my fear came from. I was scared of not being scared enough. I was just thinking all we had to do was walk out, even though I didn’t want to lose my place in line or something, so I was content to just wait it all out for a while. The last thing I remembered before waking up was heading towards the door. It was getting too weird in there, and when that happens in my dreams, I either leave where I’m at or wake myself up. This wasn’t a nightmare, wasn’t a funny dream, an erotic dream or even an interesting dream. Just random.