About a month ago, I found myself in a bit of funk. Things weren’t necessarily going badly but emotionally, I wasn’t feeling great. Instead of doing what I normally do, I threw myself into fun experiences. I spent money on a few projects in the crib and went on a few spontaneous dates. I thought if I kept myself busy, I wouldn’t have time to be alone with my thoughts. However, the more preoccupied I was, the more jumbled my mind became.
One thing I’ve always maintained is that I don’t like to be a burden to people. When I start to feel this way, it’s just easier to keep things to myself. I wrote about this a few days ago on Medium – which to my surprise, a lot of people can relate to.
Two weeks ago, after a date, I spent the night over the young lady’s house. Before this, we hadn’t talked for maybe a week. So after settling on the couch to watch Netflix, she flat out asked what my deal was. I didn’t know how to coherently say what was going on in my head because I didn’t fully understand most of the time. More importantly though, I didn’t want to be judged. I didn’t want to be analyzed. I didn’t want her to think differently about me.
By nature of how technology works, journalists, influencers, and large donors spent the better part of September sharing photos of exhibits and intimate details of what thousands of visitors could expect from the National Museum of African American History and Culture during opening weekend. The nerd thirst was so real that Very Smart Brothas did an advice (satirical?) piece about how in-demand tickets for opening weekend were.
Thanks to Twitter, I happened to see when timed passes would be released. I’m not a morning person however this was worth setting several alarms for. I didn’t get tickets for Saturday or Sunday but there were a bunch of slots for weekdays. A few friends and I wound up making the trek into DC anyway Saturday morning and got a decent view of the ceremony too (pictured below). To be there was surreal having missed out on both Inaugurations. Taking in President and First Lady Obama one last time at a major event was so worth it.
When I told my boss I’d need a weekday off to go to the museum, he got excited and suggested we make it a group thing because he has a connect. Yeah, nah fam. Everything I’d read warned me that the curation of the museum’s artifacts and the story it tells needed to be processed delicately. And given the general tone-deafness of
some white people, I didn’t have the capacity to absorb their reactions too. While the museum is one they need to see, I believe it’s an institution for us to consume privately first without white noise.
Yesterday, after two straight weekends in Philly and New York where I ate terribly and drank a little too much, I got off work early for the first time in months. Thanks to a Monday Night Football game, a few clients canceled their sessions. I left work around 3:00 and went home to decompress from the weekend. It felt great to catch up on sleep, do some cleaning, and just chill.
With a new workload and a new writing gig, my free time is more infrequent. I expected that and made necessary adjustments to make it work. But I’m in the period of realizing that managing the blessing of more money and more responsibility is tougher than I could have imagined. In fact, it’s become more apparent that we’ve been lied to about what it actually means to follow your passion.
It’s been a long time that I’ve written about my sex life in great detail. The reason for that is there wasn’t much to tell. However, this year I’ve been struggling with my celibacy.
Around my birthday, a woman offered to cook dinner for me. It seemed innocuous enough but I still had reservations about it. The truth was I didn’t trust myself around women. It had become increasingly more difficult to not be overrun with sexual thoughts. My heart and mind were in one place but my body wanted to respond the way a human body naturally responds to pleasurable stimuli. Not only was it a conflict of emotions, it was a conflict spiritually.
I didn’t wake up one day and decide to be celibate. I gradually made the decision to stop viewing sex as an automatic expectation in a relationship, though. I also decided to stop using sex as an escape.
2016 has entered the record books as one of the greatest years for sports of all time. The Olympics is the summer’s pinnacle–this year, particularly for black America.
After controversy in the semifinals, the women’s 4×100 relay stamped their ticket to the final. They added 100m Silver medalist Tori Bowie as the anchor. Bowie, who clocked in 10.83 seconds in that final has had a tremendous season. I saw her in the trials and expected her to have an impact on Team USA’s quest for gold one more time in the relay.
Watching how far of a gap the USA women’s relay team had between them and the rest of the world was astonishing, but not surprising.
The pure domination that black women exuded from the beginning of the Olympics was undeniable and exhilarating to witness.
This summer has seemed particularly long. I’ve been working a lot and haven’t had much time for anything else. It’s paying off though because I recently came into a job promotion that was unexpected. As a contracted opportunity, it’d put a few extra thousand dollars in my pocket. The problem is agreeing to it would inevitably pull me away from the career that’s always been my passion.
Earlier this year, my mind was made up professionally. After my trip to IMG, future plans were clear and financially, everything was starting to align as well. With my second job, I was able to save the money needed to pour into my passion. But when my contract was up and the review went well, what was supposed to be a short-term gig turned into a viable career option.
With any decision that involves money, I weighed all possible outcomes. Along with some personal things that happened within the same week, I was emotionally drained. It was as if divine intervention had taken control since my boy hit me up with dates for a group trip that had been on the table all summer. Given what I was going through, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
The Outer Banks in North Carolina reminds of certain parts of the Hamptons, except much more affordable. My boy’s family has owned a house there for about 30 years and recently did a ton of renovations on it. The house and the neighborhood was pretty amazing! What I appreciated was how normal it felt. Even though it’s a vacation home and the beach was literally in the backyard, everything about it felt like being at home. I didn’t feel out of place or uncomfortable. That helped immensely with the anxiety I was already smothered by
What was funny is I’d gone to Vermont with this same group back in February. I’d had a conversation about career plans then because I’d recently graduated. When the same person asked for an update, it was nice to have good news to share. It wasn’t about impressing anyone. It was solely about having confidence and peace in the direction I was moving in.
Sometimes, getting out of the house is exactly what you need to re-focus your thoughts.
Twitter is a fascinating place. And by fascinating, I mean, it’s a platform where you see a lot of crazy opinions that you didn’t know existed. I log on almost everyday to a slew of opinions that throw me for a loop.
This week, it was an interview in which of LaLa Anthony said the following:.
It’s not rare to meet a guy that you are head-over-heels for, but he’s lacking the affection or compassion that you may need. He may think that showing you that he loves you means buying you a pair of shoes, when you may just want more alone time, surprises that require a bit more thoughtfulness or a hand-written note that makes you smile every so often. Communication is key.
At face value, there’s nothing wrong with what she said. Yet her comments sparked a Twitter debate in which some women took the stance of “aww hellllll nah, I ain’t teaching no man how to love me. He should just know.”