I’m not sure how many times this has been brought up, if ever, but Obi Wan Kenobi was a piece of shit. Let’s recap:

Obi-Wan was a Jedi Knight trying to train The Chosen One, Anakin. He didn’t have any business doing that and he should’ve known it and not agreed to train him when Qui Gon Jin asked him. Dying wish or not, that was dumb. He didn’t even fuck with Anakin like that, anyway.

Then he sucked at training Anakin. Obi Wan regularly taught Anakin to disobey orders. He couldn’t tell that Anakin was in love with someone a decade older than him and she was in love with him, too (which is SUPER pedo-y, by the way). He didn’t notice how Anakin’s anger wasn’t going anywhere, but getting worse as he got older. He was concerned about that from the jump but just wrung his hands about it/ignored it as time went on. He trained Anakin so horribly that he couldn’t even talk Anakin out of doing dumb shit in their fight together.

Then he just left Anakin for dead even though he wasn’t dead, took Anakin’s son, Luke, and gave him to somebody else so he could kiiinda watch over Luke.

16 years pass and he ages like a grape with lupus.

Then he gets into a fight with Anakin again and just gives up. Talking about it’s going to make him more powerful than Anakin can imagine. All it did was make him a ghost that haunted Anakin’s son. Lazy fuck just wanted to make somebody else do his work and was willing to die to get away from his responsibilities.

I purposely skipped over Obi Wan lying about what happened to Anakin to Luke because it deserves it’s own space for how it played out. Here is that space, in the form of ‘How the Conversation Between Luke And Ghost Obi Wan Should’ve Gone’(aka: The Whole Reason I Wrote This):



Luke:          Nigga, you told me Vader killed my daddy. Bitch, he is my daddy!

Ghost Obi: Well, I mean… yeah, that nigga gave you half your DNA or whatever… But he       changed his name and shit, so he ain’t really your daddy no more. He killed yo daddy because he changed his name! That’s was the truth!… From a certain point of view…

Luke:         … ‘From a certain point of view’?!?!? Bitch, you lucky I can’t touch no ghost because I would kick yo ass right now! ‘A certain point of view’. You lying ass mothafucka. Fuck you! I’m out!


You can’t just be lying to people and telling them that their daddy killed their daddy. That should’ve been the end of Star Wars, for real. And that should be the last in a long line of Obi Wan Kenobi fuck ups.


Fuck Obi Wan Kenobi.


This post will be on a subject that is annoyingly  touchy: the phrase “Black Lives Matter”. 

Not to be confused with organization called  Black Lives Matter (whose existence I was unaware of until a couple months ago) that I don’t pretend to be a part of, nor do I align with all of their tactics. 
When people say “Black Lives Matter” or use the hashtah #BlackLivesMatter, a large number (perhaps the vast majority of people) see it as a declaration of superiority or singular importance. This is bot the case. That interpretation is nothing more than a failure of your reading comprehension brought on by bias. You can argue with someone else on this point. Nothing in this 3 words indicates “only”. You may want the statement to indicate such a thing, but it’s not actually there. Which leads me to my real point of this point of this post…
How many of you believe a Black  person (or any other person that grasps the concept and tries to correct your incorrect assumptions) when they tell you what Black Lives Matter means? Why would you argue with people who created and use the statement about its meaning? Why is it impossible for you to accept that you’ve misinterpreted the statement and they knew what they meant when they said it? 

The English language, for all its shortcomings and nonsensical tendencies, does a great job of providing context and allowing speakers and writers to express themselves completely. 

The statement “Black lives matter” is a complete expression. It says everything the speaker/writer intended to say. The message need not be analyzed much to be grasped. The lives of Black people matter. That’s what it says. That’s what it means. 

Somehow, people decide the statement is actually means “Only Black Lives Matter” or “Black Lives Matter more than anyone else’s lives” or some other divise (incorrect) meaning. This is a failure to comprehend what you’ve read/heard. It is a personal ineptitude in interpreting the English language, proven by the popular counter “All Lives Matter”. If you truly believe all lives matter, you shouldn’t have a problem with people saying “Black Lives Matter”. Black lives are part of all lives, so you can just agree that Black lives matter. If you actually believe all lives matter. 
But why can’t you agree? Why can’t you accept the statement “Black Lives Matter”? Why have you decided that anyone who says” Black Lives Matter”is a terrorist or has no respect for anyone else’s lives or don’t actually value Black lives? What is so threatening about a proclamation of the imprtance of Black lives? 

A professor responded to the accusation that Black Lives Matter is an exclusionary statement by saying that  it is a focused statement. There is a huge difference in focus and exclusion. Focus can lead to exclusion, but to assume it automatically leads to exclusion is folly. It is, in this case, bias against the chosen focus. There is absolutely  nothing wrong with declaring the importance  of a specific person/race/nationality/culture/etc. when  it is that specific person/race/nationality /culture/etc. that has been impacted. “Pray for Paris” is not a call to ignore the problems in any /every other part of the world. “God bless America” is not the damning of every other nation in existence. It seems that most people understand this… until “Black  Lives Matter”. 

Why does the cognitive dissonance kick in with that phrase? What stops people from understanding why we say that when we say that? 
Don’t blame the media. You are (most likely) an adult. You have your  own mind. Why do you allow yourself to see Black Lives Matter as an attack on anyone that’s not Black? Why do you see it as an attack on police (who, by the way, can also be Black)? Why are you so appalled and repulsed by Black people vocalizing what everyone should feel about themselves? Why can’t we say our lives matter? Why can’t we expect and demand to be treated fairly when we feel we’re being treated otherwise? Why would anyone feel the need to try to check a Black person for that? Why do Black people “need” to focus on anything else before we can focus on the importance of our lives? Who are you to try to tell us we don’t believe in the importance of our lives as a response to us telling  you that we unequivocally believe in the importance of our lives? Why would we lie about that? Why would we lie about thinking our lives matter? Do you believe our lives don’t matter? If so, clearly all lives don’t matter to you. If you think we have issues in our communities that need to be addressed, you’re right. If you believe these issues mean we can’t say “Black Lives Matter”, you are a piece of shit masquerading your apathy/antipathy towards us as concern for us. 

No human is perfect and there’s no way an entire group of people will be perfect.

Perfection is not a prerequisite to being treated like a human being. 

Especially not by civil servants like the police. If it were, we would all be getting shot by the police for resisting arrest, running away from cops, being in the presence of cops. Because none of us are perfect. 

 If it were, we wouldn’t have due process for anyone. We would live in a society where the police officer is the judge, jury, and executioner for every citizen. There would be no recourse for a police officer taking your life, even if it was under questionable circumstances. Because none of us are perfect. 

You would die and be villified no matter what. Because none of us are perfect.

Your killer would be sainted and made rich solely because he killed you. None of your killer’s peers would try to stop him/her,either because they couldn’t or because they were afraid to try our because they liked that your killer killed you. You would not be free. You would not have value. You would not have justice. You would not be valued. You would not matter. Because you are not your killer. You were you and you were worthless. And your killer was priceless and above reproach; a demigod in the eyes of the disconnected, protected, apathetic or antipathetic. 

You would either lose your own sense of self worth of you psychosomatic your worth and take a stand to make others recognize your worrh. That worth would not be recognized unless focused upon.

The worth of all things  when all things  aren’t being undervalued is not pertinent to the undervalued who seek justice. The worth of the undervalued must be focused upon. It must be clearly and emphatically stated. 
So, again, why can’t you accept that? 

I never read it, but I know Michael Jordan has a book entitled I Can’t Accept Not Trying. This, as far as I can tell without having read Jordan’s book, is pretty much what I’m going to be going on about right now.

There have been numerous occasions where I just gave up, or expected someone else to do something I was capable of doing. There have been times where I’ve done as much as I could manage. And I’ve failed in both processes. I have realized, after a lot of pain and self reflection, that it will never be easy to fail when something matters to you, but it is ridiculously more difficult to deal with failing when you know you should’ve and could’ve done more but chose not to do more.

In hindsight, you’re likely to find a million ways you could’ve done things differently, or more you could’ve done. You may convince yourself that you could’ve been perfect and that in that perfection you could’ve handled the situation perfectly and prevented the failure. That line of thinking is the start of a long an arduous guilt trip that you will suffer on until you end it and realize you aren’t perfect and, though you should try to be the best you can be, you never will be. Hindsight isn’t the best judge because you are removed from the scene; you don’t have the factors of the moment bearing down on you anymore. Especially emotions. You can be much more clinical, which is dangerous if that’s not how you were in the moments of a situation’s life in the present. Always try to keep in mind all of the factors at play if you decide to go back and analyze a failure.

Me and guilt are pretty familiar. I can always find something I could’ve done to be guilty about. I will always feel horrible when something I’m invested in fails. It’s part of who I am.

What I have found, that is extremely important, is that there’s a solace to be found in knowing you tried as hard as you knew how to try. That you didn’t just give up. That you didn’t put your responsibilities in the hands of others. That you didn’t leave important things unsaid. That you didn’t leave things you could’ve done undone. That you tried your hardest. You put your soul into it.

You will fail. You will suffer. You will suffer much, much more if you fail and weren’t trying your hardest. There is no medium effort that is acceptable on the path to achieving what is important to you. Do yourself the favor and try. There will be millions of regrets you never have to learn to live with if you’re trying. Serenity will befriend you quicker and on a much deeper level when you know you are trying.


I want you to know that you are worthy of love. I want you to know that you are loved. I want you to know that you deserve to be loved. I want you to know that you are a good person. I want you to know that you deserve to love, to give and receive love. I want you to know that you are allowed to feel. I want you to know that you are allowed to express how you feel. I want you to know that everything isn’t your fault. I want you to know that, when it’s more than just you at fault, you don’t have to take all the blame. I want you to stand up for yourself and demand that your existence be respected. Your emotions, your opinions, your dreams are all important and all should be respected by anyone who claims to care for you. I want you to never take a backseat, for you will only end up hurting yourself and anyone riding with you. You are not made to be ignored. You are not made to be docile. You are made to lead. You are made to be powerful. You are made to run with the horses and navigate the uneven grounds. You are made in His image and His image reflects no weakness. Even when you are weak, you are strong, if you remain true to who you are. There is nothing to properly compare yourself with. All else is in some way different from you, so do not allow yourself to be made to believe anyone knows all that is best for you. Trust yourself and all that God has blessed you with. You will stumble, so He gave you the strength to get back up and the intelligence to learn from your missteps. You will be injured, so He gave you the ability to mend and to make yourself stronger and more resilient. You will doubt, so He gave you His words, He provided you with family, He introduced you to friends who will help you until you regain your confidence and belief. You will not fail, for He has not built you for failure. He has fashioned you as an achiever and a winner. You will bring joy, honor, pride, and prosperity as you are meant to bring. And in the joy, in the honor, in the pride, and in the prosperity you will find that you are the creator of love. That is why you are worthy; the Creator’s image is that of a creator.

I want to sleep. I want to sleep until the pain is gone. Until my hands stop shaking. Until I stop feeling empty. Until I regain my appetite. Until this is a dream. Until I wake up and everything feels right. I want to sleep and dream of anything but this. I want this to be a dream that I will soon wake up from.

I want to escape. Escape the reality. Escape the agony. Escape the loneliness. Escape the misery. Escape the powerlessness. Escape the helplessness. Escape the possibility that my hope is not to be realized. Escape the possibility that I can’t have what I want no matter how hard I worked for it, no matter how hard I’m willing to work for it.

At the very least I want a break. A break from myself, from my life, from my own head. And if it just so happens to break… Let me out.

Image of God in my body, my spirit shatterproof. My thoughts are raindrops, committing suicides as they splatter upon your tattered roof. Clearly, this is for my own health cuz yall don’t hear me. My aural aura is water, earth, fauna, and flora. My oral orders, kill a pussy. Drown a clitoris. Just a little murder. But I just might resuscitate and relieve their burden. I know. Little morbid up in my orbit. Timothy Burton. The MC. My vocal chords is overlording over every opponent recording. Conquered Kong’s Kingdom with mjolnir way back in NC. Banished Maslow, now I’m surgical with this mothafucka in MD. Beloved, as blessed as we are, it’s looking and feeling like pushing and steering the SL in DR. Longer exposure smooth it out, unless you lose your composure. From the midwest, nonetheless, it’s deep rooted. And you can’t say the same so at your best, you’re Back II the Future found footage. Traveling gravely paths. What exercise can give a man earth shattering mass? I deadlift like the apocalypse. Skull crushing and chakra shifts open 24 hours pressing all my potential to unlimited power. But it’s all mental so information’s devoured. Like a nerdy Galactus, your planet’s on my to do list. I’m feeling like a cactus in a garden full of tulips. Do you get? Or is assuming you do get what makes me foolish? Either way we keep it moving like witnesses, wanting nothing to do with. Your neighbors basically atheists, tryna drink at communion. Or perhaps, this is just celluloid movement. We’re all just playing our roles . They’re vampires and bats. They’re damn liars and BAPs. They’re the downtrodden masses. And I’m the poor sap who picked it up and the mask fit. Feeling all care-y is scary til you become exactly what you fear. Now every time the script says to kill, you shed a blackened tear. Shedding your apathy, now you’re a raw nerve. Addicted to empathy, you roam. Gorging on hearts like hors d’ouvres. Then bask in it, the Daywalker with mass brilliance. And you just drank the last drop of red wine from your flask so you dash to fill it. Feel it?

First and always, I wish you the best. I wish you happiness and prosperity. I wish you peace of mind and good fortune. Always.
I’m not writing this to make any demands. You don’t have to do anything. You aren’t required to do anything. You never have been. I’m not trying to bind you in any shackles. I’m not trying to own you. I’m not trying to control you.
I am not in a competition with you. I am not trying to make you feel like a bad person.
I seek understanding. I hope for progress and for positive acknowledgement.
I am not expecting to do any one thing to miraculously get you to want to be accept me. I am hoping that you will find enough compassion to let me know if I’m doing anything that’s moving in the right direction. Otherwise I won’t know if I’m spinning my wheels in place, moving backwards, or going forward. I’m in the dark and I’d like some help. Not step by step guidance, just progress reports. But you don’t have to. You are not required to help me.
I am hoping. I am hoping that you will do things to let me know I’m making positive progress so that hope doesn’t fade in me. I am not invincibly strong nor am I infinitely stubborn. I get weary as I’m sure you do. I will be there to reassure you. To keep you motivated, strong and on a path of progress. I am not required to do this. I want to do this. I do find joy in doing this when I see that it’s helping you bc you deserve better. Better than I was. Better than I am. Better than you have been treated by any other man. Better than your boss treats. Better. There is always better. And I will always want that for you.
I’m not asking for perfection. I’m not demanding even your compassion. I’m hoping for it. It to motivates me. In everything. But I do not pretend that what motivates will translate into what you feel the need to do. I am aware that you don’t owe me anything. I am aware that you resent me to at least some degree. I earned it and I will not tell you how to feel. I don’t have that right.
I do have the right to tell you my intentions. Every meaning I intended to put behind my actions. I will acknowledge when that intention is foul and beg for forgiveness and try my best to prevent foul intentions from poisoning my words and actions in the future. I will tell you when my intentions were good and what they were and hope you will believe me and take them into consideration when you think about my words and actions. I will acknowledge when my good intentions are executed miserably. A good intention wrapped in horrible execution deserves ridicule. Hopefully it also benefits from the grace of the receiver when the intent is explained.
I have apologized numerous times for numerous things. I pray that my apologies are accepted and taken to heart. I have done good things that I hope you will accept and acknowledge. I have made progress that I hope you see and acknowledge.
I believe you are right in your assessments of me and my faults (hopefully I’ll event make it to believing your assessments of what’s good in me). However harshly the assessments are communicated, you are right. I believe you are right. I believe in your words. I trust your judgment.
Because of that, you are a catalyst for change in me. Change is not instantaneous. Change is not a smooth process. But change will occur. And that means I owe you gratitude.
I am required to be grateful to you for that. I am not required to be, yet I still find myself, in love with you. As far as my inexperienced heart can tell, I am in love with you. I love you. I love you. I love your daughter. I wish you and her all the positive outcomes possible in your lives. My expressions of care, gratitude, compassion and interest will likely be imperfect. Full of good intentions gone awry in the attempt to express them. Full of good intentions that blossom into wonderful actions and words and other expressions.
Love doesn’t make things easier, as far as I can tell. But love does make things more important. I will fight through anything and anyone (including myself and you) in the name of it because I would not fight if not for love. I would not feel pain or sorrow or joy or happiness as deeply as I do without love. I’ve tasted love and no other taste comes close. You are the core of this love. The seed and the flower. I dream of the aroma of the love I have found in you. The hope that dwells in the future of this love is the most compelling call to the future I have ever experienced. I hope you will allow it to grow. I hope that I will allow it to grow. I want it to grow. I hope that you want it to grow.
But I make no demands. I can only hope that these are your wants, wishes, and hopes as well.
So I do.

*note: This was written December, 2013 not June, 2014. It has been posted mostly to remind myself of what I felt the first time I fell in love.*