Tag Archives: new year

The First 10 Days of 2017


​If I could use one word to describe the first 10 days of 2017, it would be “fuckery.”

Yep…Fuckery.

Call it a dark and twisted sense of humor; nonetheless, I find beyond-belief ridiculousness amusing. Chris Brown and Soulja Boy opt to turn their social media squabbling into a celebrity boxing match? My only question is “Who is throwing the fight party?!” Shirley Caesar’s support of Kim Burrell’s “sermon” makes a gospel legend the new Ken Bone? Y’all ain’t know who she is until the end of “Hold My Mule” became “beans, greens, and KFC fixins.” Hell, as I am typing this, there are think pieces being entitled “Who Are Migos?” because of the Golden Globes. Someone has literally been assigned the task of deciphering “Rain drops drop tops. Smokin’ on cookie in the hot box.” (Note: At first, I thought Lil Uzi Vert’s verse was Kevin Hart as Chocolate Droppa).

You know your life is fuckery-filled when your friends refer to ludicrous happenings as “Chad stories.” I like to think that my circle comes to me because while there is lots of laughter-often at someone else’s expense-I give insight in navigating through otherwise troubling waters. I am more than okay with this.

I don’t make resolutions that begin January 1. It sounds like a lot of overthinking to me. Somehow, this year I am doing so. A text message sent to the wrong person, a funny story and inside jokes on Snapchat, and [redacted] made me finally embrace the fuckery. 

Why am I doing so? Honestly, I love that my life plays out like a well-written sitcom. While staying calm and collected, I facilitate hurricane after hurricane because it’s adventurous. Last week, my supervisor gave me an apology for being thrust into a department adjusting to a new paradigm. With a look of sincerity and shrug-off, I let her in on one of my finest attributes: I thrive in chaos.

While I do need to work on processing emotions and wanting to “feel” more, that’s not who I currently am. If there is one person on the planet my friends and family can put their money on that will not lose their cool, it’s me. I am the cause of all of the foolishness that seems to find me. I attract who I currently am which is someone currently looking to sharpen themselves for the sake of helping others around me.

While there were others, 2016 is when I fully embraced being single. My drama-free life got dull in February. It feels as if saying to myself “Man, I am in a great space. There is no ridiculousness!” was enough for the universe to say “Say no more.” Said universe heard my statement, combined Paulo Cohelo’s famous quote from “The Alchemist” with Murphy’s Law and needless to say, life has been nothing short of a hoot. There is never a dull day, over here.

When in doubt, I am always in control. I may not have much governance over others and what they do; but I rule and run me. With that said, bring on the fuckery, 2017. I can’t wait to write about you next January.

The Unexpected and Inadvertent Extension of Christmas

It’s a Friday morning.  I have more than a shitload of work to do and I don’t feel like doing any of it.  I woke up Monday morning all kinds of excited because that meant that after a week of children being home, finally I can get back to work.

By all means, Monday was epic.  I woke up at 4 am, hit the snooze button twice, went to the gym, got home and got shit DONE!  It was amazing.  On my mind was my most amazing Christmas break of all time, which happened by default because I came down with chickenpox literally at the stroke of 12 in 1993 (“Happy New Year!  Chad, you have chickenpox” my mom said).  That week I spent two days with my mom and the other three with my pops and it was lit!  My dad let me do whatever the fuck I wanted to…It was a fleeting thought that was pleasant to relive for thirty seconds.

Tuesday morning, I woke up at 4 am again.  Hit the gym, did dead lifts at 315, barbell shrugs at 385 lbs, and had the feeling that today was going to be a repeat of Monday’s productivity.  I happily wake up the kids for school just to find out my nephew was sick and had vomited all over the floor.  My mother had to leave for school, so I was prepared to take Cydney and my nephew to school.  My nephew said that he was felling better and would be able to do school.  Five minutes later, I realized that wasn’t happening.

I was able to be productive during the first part of the day because he was asleep.  I wrote my heartfelt daydream about Timile’s thirtieth birthday, finished mixing for Cydney’s podcast, and spent most of the afternoon just kicking it with my nephew because I knew the company was needed.  Feeling the effects of lifting rediculously heavy, I took a brief nap before Cydney came home because I just know that the ball of energy she requires I didn’t have.

Wednesday morning, I wake up a little later.  I get my nephew to school and I then take Cydney.  I proceed to get busy by doing  some writing, responding to some emails, submitting a pitch or two, and a short phone conference in as well.  Around 1 pm, I head to the gym because I didn’t go this morning.  It’s leg day.  This was my first leg day since March because my legs were do big all of my jeans looked like jeggings.  I was kind of excited about this.  I load up the plates on the leg press, looking forward in seeing if I still had what it takes to press twenty-four plates that weighed 45lbs each (plus the machine is around 1,200 lbs).  I do one quick warm up set with twelve plates and my phone rings.  It’s my mother saying that Cydney’s school called her because Cydney had gotten sick in school.  So much for that.

Wednesday afternoon and evening, I changed sheets three times because Cydney had vomited on them.  I had to stop the car twice while at stop lights because she had thrown up en route to the house.  It was rough.  But my baby wasn’t doing well, so it didn’t bother me and I was in dad-mode for real.  She sat with me and watched both Rocky III and IV with some “intermissions” in between.  Clearly she didn’t go to school on Thursday.  While Cydney was feeling better yesterday, no work got done because it was her day to have me to herself by rocking out and doing whatever she wanted.

So I guess to some extent, I had another extended vacation.  It wasn’t the kind that I wanted or wished for; but I guess to some extent it was needed.  I enjoyed myself as well.  There’s something about when the kids are under the weather that the soft and nurturing side kicks in and you just want to be there for them followed by letting them have fun along the way.  I knew how much it meant to me, so I was more than happy to do it for them.

 

I Love My Life

 

I keep a screenshot of the picture above.  It has become a running joke among my friends and me.  Usually the photo is sent via text message or whatever way I am communicating with them.  It is the punchline that describes my facial expression and what I am thinking to myself in response to something someone either said that behavioral experts, scholars, and The American Psychological Association have defined as “that bullshit.”

Somebody’s gotta be “that guy.”  God knows I live for great stories…so He keeps giving me great ones to tell.  I am more than fine with this because He gave me the ability to write or orate tales of tragedy, drama, and “that bullshit” humorously with little to no embellishment (Note: the little is solely for reasonable doubt purposes and being cognizant that everyone forgets minor details and piece things together…I’m usually pretty dead on, though).

Within the past two weeks, both of my parents have said to me in some capacity or another that I am or that my way of thinking is pretty cynical.  My father’s exact words were “You’re too young to be that cynical and jaded.”  I explained something to my mother about people and seeing virtually everyone’s insecurities on Facebook.  Her response to the tone and inflection as well as the words coming out of my mouth was “Wow, that’s really cynical.”  I don’t like to believe that I am that distrustful of people.  I’m a realist prepared for virtually anything who is quietly hoping for the best, yet expecting the worst, and running the gamut of possibilities so that I can be prepared to adjust, just in case I’m wrong on pinpointing people’s actions based on their behavioral patterns.  However, my parents are my parents.   They have nearly thirty years more life experience.  They know their son; so they’re probably right.

I have joked around about being a cynic, wrote a post about it on this site, and often look at this trait of mine from a deficit perspective.  People often see this as a negative trait.  However, I believe that all aspects of one’s personalities that we dislike are also responsible for part of their charm.  All creative people have a “dark side.”  I guess this is mine.  Being pretty distrustful of people has made way for me to tell honest tales-tragic or lighthearted-and never losing my sense of humor.  Even when I drop this picture of N.O.R.E. with a thugged-out grimace, a song entitled “I Love My Life,” I make myself the punchline even though I am laughing at someone being dumb.  I guess it is my way of saying that I am holding myself accountable for my actions.

To make this all New Year’s-y, 2015 was pretty epic for me.  Almost all goals that I set for myself last year I accomplished.  Sure I gained about 35 lbs of mostly muscle.  Yes, I quit smoking.  I visited Timile’s cemetery and made some semblance of peace with my “in-laws.”  These actions were all bi-products of a lifestyle change: self-acceptance.  I can be a know-it-all, obnoxious, cynical, condescending, emotionally closed off, and so many more things.  Nonetheless, you can always count on a great anecdote because of it.

I love my life…

Forgiveme if this post seems a little all over the place. I’m currently trying to force myself out of writer’s block.

 

The New Year

Image
Cydney standing on my lap while I write this post

It seems like no matter how old we are, religion, balls dropping in Times Square, or our staff accountants start a new ledger the new year begins when school starts.  As a New Yorker, the new year begins anywhere between a day or three after labor day.  It is the time of new beginnings, starting fresh, and or settling back into a new routine. Or maybe I’m learning that its the same way as a kid when summer ended we all said we were going back to school fresh and going to be the popular kid or that our football team is going to win it all.

Due to me just receiving documentation that I have permanent custody of my daughter Cydney she is not in preschool or daycare just yet.  While she may not be it still is the beginning of a new year.  I think the reason at the point that I gauge this as the turning point is because of two years ago.  As I’m writing this with Cydney standing on my lap trying to reach and eat plastic bananas I think about how the last couple of falls have meant new beginnings.

In 2010, my fiance and I had just found out that she was pregnant.  We were debating upon staying in Atlanta where we had went to college and called home sing 2003 and 2004 respectively or moving to New York City where my family lives and was equidistant between her family in Buffalo and in Virginia.  We were getting excited about our new life that was on the way, what were we having, and all of the possibilities and what ifs that comes along with the first stage of expectancy.  Ultimately in September we moved up to New York and on out minds was starting anew the three of us and our two cats in tow.

In 2011 the three of us were living in Buffalo, knee deep into fighting cancer and seemingly making progress.  No matter how bad some days were we were happy.  At this time, we were planning our move from Buffalo to Virginia where she could do treatments near her parents or holistic treatments in Atlanta.  We were just as happy as we were the year before in Atlanta still planning the rest of our lives after cancer: moving back to Atlanta, what schools Cydney would attend and just looking back at this time as time that made us the strongest.

This fall, its just Cydney and I back in New York City starting over and her mother with us in spirit.  Its been a year of loss, custody cases in two different states and five days in court, and a whole lot of other things.  However after five months of being reunited we seemed to have hit our stride.  While being a self employed musician is fun I’m heading back into the corporate work force and we’ll be hitting a nice little stride settling into what will become “normal life” for a change. 

As a kid when summer ended we all said that we were going back to school fresh and going to be the popular kid or that our football team is going to win it all. I look back at the last two Septembers and this one in the same way on January 1 everyone has resolutions about eating right, going to the gym, quitting smoking, etc.   I’m learning as a parent that slowly evolves into I hope that for my daughter to look forward to the fall with my own goals and expectations and soon for her to have her own.

Happy New Year, Parents!