Trust is a hard thing to come by.
When it comes to other people, it’s also one of the easiest things to lose.
When you start on an endeavor, you have to learn to trust your own instincts. Now, it is true that no man or woman is an island. It is also true that reinventing the wheel is a waste of time. But what isn’t true, never has been true, is that you have to rely on someone else to be your conscience when it comes to making decisions for your own life.
In the millions of decisions that you will make over the course of your life you will probably make thousands of mistakes. But here’s the best part, each of those mistakes are yours to make. They are unique to you and no one else. And even better, if you make those mistakes they are honest. You are not treading in someone else’s shoes, rehashing bullshit that they have already gone through.
No one will EVER be in your corner the way that you want. You will meet people by the dozens. Some will be friends. Some will be lovers. Some will offer advice and what seems like consent for you to be yourself. But the only person that can give you permission to succeed or fail is you.
Yep that’s right. No one is coming to your rescue. That is both a curse and a blessing.
As a child you are taught that your parents will fix everything (God willing you were gifted with parents). They make sure your boo-boos are patched. They scare away the boogie men from the closet. But once you are an adult, you are on your own.
It doesn’t matter how many friends you have. It doesn’t matter how much money you are worth. It doesn’t matter how many people work for you. At the end of the day, all you have is…you. Make the best of it.
No, all of your decisions won’t be correct. Probably more than a few will be spectacularly wrong. But at least they will be honest. You can’t rely on the advice of anyone else. Even the president, one of the most powerful people on the planet, is virtually alone when it comes time to make that decision to send other human beings into combat to die.
It’s not a bad thing though. When you make decisions for yourself you are exercising your right and responsibility as a thinking human being. Free will is what it’s about, even the bible says so. God or the universe or eternal energy, or Gaia (whatever) have willed to you the ability to make up your own mind about what is right for you. If you are a parent, you even get to do this for other human beings, but only for so long.
And this is what I meant at the beginning of this article. Your trust for your own ability to make decisions for yourself MUST outweigh the trust that you give another person. It doesn’t matter how much they claim or swear to be in your corner. As a living, thinking being you have to accept the fact that you are there specifically for you. Just like they are their for their own needs.
I don’t give a fuck if you’ve been married for 60 years. Your decisions will ultimately only affect YOU!
I know that all of this sounds incredibly obvious, but apparently it isn’t. I’ve known several dozen people in my life, me included, who tend to trust outside people before they trust themselves. I trusted my parents. I trusted my lovers. I trusted the professionals that I’ve known. And ultimately, the advice they gave was only words. Sometimes words of encouragement. Sometimes words of instruction. But still only words. It was up to me whether or not to accept them and trust the validity.
One of the reasons that I have enjoyed reaching into my 40’s is that the level of clarity that I’ve gotten about who I am is increasing. I don’t automatically accept other people’s bullshit as truth. I’ve learned to accept how I feel inside as the only barometer of what I should or shouldn’t do. It’s been very liberating.
Please don’t fuck up like I did and wait until you are in your 40’s or 50’s to accept the truth of life. You are in control. Not the forces outside of you.
Trust isn’t dead, but it shouldn’t be given lightly. And even when it is given, remember, you are the final authority on you. When you go into the casket, it will be alone, so why assume that someone knows what’s best for you better than you do?
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Getting in touch
I’ve been told to write from my pain. It gives the words a certain strength that might otherwise be ignored. It also supposedly gives the words credence. I guess the idea is that my pain drives the deeper part of me. The part that I need to nurture and show true self love for.
I have been to enough events with real ‘getting paid’ writers to know which ones are writing from their pain(or heart if you prefer) and which aren’t. When you read a story, you can tell if the author is being honest or not. When the author isn’t honest, the story rings false. Even if you can’t immediately identify the problem, something about the whole tale is empty.
One of my favorite authors, Stephen King, typifies this way of thinking. In the scheme of things, his life has been okay, but far from ‘good’, at least initially. He went through some tough times that included really crappy jobs, the death of his mother and drug/alcohol addiction. He received enough rejection letters that he had to use a railroad spike to hold them all on his wall. But he managed to turn his pain and memories into some incredible stories. He connects with people on a very basic level and understands some of the reality of how relationships play out on the human stage. This understanding works its way into his fiction and as a result his stories are more believable. The characters who populate his fiction worlds are actual human beings. Albeit, human beings who have been thrown into some really unreal shit.
His outcome is several million dollars in sales of his fiction, nonfiction and probably his laundry list if he felt so inclined.
I have been a fan since I read Carrie in school.
Dean Koontz used to write the same way. His characters were believable, if a bit over the top with their abilities and reactions to things. Phantoms is one of the books I count among the creepiest that I have ever read. And if I had to pick 10 books to take to a deserted island, it would be one of them. But I had a minor problem with the doctor and her sister not attempting to leave town after finding all of the grizzly things that they did. I think a more human response might have been to get the hell out of dodge no matter what. I recognize that this would have killed the story, or at least made it less powerful. Two young white women at risk and all that jazz. But it seemed a little odd. Of course everything else that happened made pretty good sense. Like I said, it’s one of my favorite stories.
And there are other authors out there that I feel are real and show themselves on the page, even if unconsciously.
Alan Dean Foster loves and cares about the worlds he creates and the people he populates them with. Flinx is a character that goes back to high school and some of the best years of my life. Creative years packed with growth and exploration. And the knowledge that life hadn’t yet started, but boy did it look fucking awesome. That might be part of the reason why the stories are still so powerful for me. Nor Crystal Tears still works after all of these years. And his newer stuff, The Catechist trilogy is just sheer fucking poetry.
There are others. I’ve been a fan of the written word since I learned how to read at age 5. It’s probably why I keep trying to convince myself that I can write fiction and join the ranks of those that I admire so much. Being counted among the likes of Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Alan Dean Foster, Orson Scott Card, F Paul Wilson, Robert McCammon, and Octavia Butler would be the crowning glory for me.
Of course, the crux of the problem is being able to write from my feelings. To truly emote through my characters in a way that is believable and interesting to others.
This is a problem because real life has taught me to stay the hell away from my emotions. It’s much safer to put those pesky emotions behind a door and safeguard them from pain and rejection. A life time of holding back to keep from being hurt has ingrained that kind of thinking deep in my subconscious. It’s going to take something way more convincing than the words of transient people in my life to tear down that wall. Something on the order of an emotional nuclear bomb is needed. And based on how I hold things in, probably more than one. The problem is, as I’ve gotten older, it’s become harder to offer that trust to anyone. Or to accept it in return.
Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that everyone is out to get me. Far from it. As a matter of fact, my fears run in the exact opposite direction. I am more afraid that no one fucking cares. It makes putting things down on paper just that much harder. I have to convince myself that my writing is just for me and maybe someone - someday will read it and like it. But the larger, internal part of me isn’t buying it. No one has cared to this point, so what, I write a few hundred thousand words and all of a sudden people care? What the fuck?
Okay, so that won’t work. So the question becomes ‘What else do I need to do to get the stories out? Because regardless of what I might think, the damned things aren’t willing to stay put. I have new story ideas bubbling inside me like a bad pudding. They are just clamoring to get out and be told. To be part of the universe that surrounds them. I can’t shut it off, and really, I don’t want to.
So getting in touch with my emotions and then learning how not to be afraid of being hurt is the only way that I will ever be the writer I know I am inside. It’s a process. Anything worth doing usually is.
I have been to enough events with real ‘getting paid’ writers to know which ones are writing from their pain(or heart if you prefer) and which aren’t. When you read a story, you can tell if the author is being honest or not. When the author isn’t honest, the story rings false. Even if you can’t immediately identify the problem, something about the whole tale is empty.
One of my favorite authors, Stephen King, typifies this way of thinking. In the scheme of things, his life has been okay, but far from ‘good’, at least initially. He went through some tough times that included really crappy jobs, the death of his mother and drug/alcohol addiction. He received enough rejection letters that he had to use a railroad spike to hold them all on his wall. But he managed to turn his pain and memories into some incredible stories. He connects with people on a very basic level and understands some of the reality of how relationships play out on the human stage. This understanding works its way into his fiction and as a result his stories are more believable. The characters who populate his fiction worlds are actual human beings. Albeit, human beings who have been thrown into some really unreal shit.
His outcome is several million dollars in sales of his fiction, nonfiction and probably his laundry list if he felt so inclined.
I have been a fan since I read Carrie in school.
Dean Koontz used to write the same way. His characters were believable, if a bit over the top with their abilities and reactions to things. Phantoms is one of the books I count among the creepiest that I have ever read. And if I had to pick 10 books to take to a deserted island, it would be one of them. But I had a minor problem with the doctor and her sister not attempting to leave town after finding all of the grizzly things that they did. I think a more human response might have been to get the hell out of dodge no matter what. I recognize that this would have killed the story, or at least made it less powerful. Two young white women at risk and all that jazz. But it seemed a little odd. Of course everything else that happened made pretty good sense. Like I said, it’s one of my favorite stories.
And there are other authors out there that I feel are real and show themselves on the page, even if unconsciously.
Alan Dean Foster loves and cares about the worlds he creates and the people he populates them with. Flinx is a character that goes back to high school and some of the best years of my life. Creative years packed with growth and exploration. And the knowledge that life hadn’t yet started, but boy did it look fucking awesome. That might be part of the reason why the stories are still so powerful for me. Nor Crystal Tears still works after all of these years. And his newer stuff, The Catechist trilogy is just sheer fucking poetry.
There are others. I’ve been a fan of the written word since I learned how to read at age 5. It’s probably why I keep trying to convince myself that I can write fiction and join the ranks of those that I admire so much. Being counted among the likes of Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Alan Dean Foster, Orson Scott Card, F Paul Wilson, Robert McCammon, and Octavia Butler would be the crowning glory for me.
Of course, the crux of the problem is being able to write from my feelings. To truly emote through my characters in a way that is believable and interesting to others.
This is a problem because real life has taught me to stay the hell away from my emotions. It’s much safer to put those pesky emotions behind a door and safeguard them from pain and rejection. A life time of holding back to keep from being hurt has ingrained that kind of thinking deep in my subconscious. It’s going to take something way more convincing than the words of transient people in my life to tear down that wall. Something on the order of an emotional nuclear bomb is needed. And based on how I hold things in, probably more than one. The problem is, as I’ve gotten older, it’s become harder to offer that trust to anyone. Or to accept it in return.
Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that everyone is out to get me. Far from it. As a matter of fact, my fears run in the exact opposite direction. I am more afraid that no one fucking cares. It makes putting things down on paper just that much harder. I have to convince myself that my writing is just for me and maybe someone - someday will read it and like it. But the larger, internal part of me isn’t buying it. No one has cared to this point, so what, I write a few hundred thousand words and all of a sudden people care? What the fuck?
Okay, so that won’t work. So the question becomes ‘What else do I need to do to get the stories out? Because regardless of what I might think, the damned things aren’t willing to stay put. I have new story ideas bubbling inside me like a bad pudding. They are just clamoring to get out and be told. To be part of the universe that surrounds them. I can’t shut it off, and really, I don’t want to.
So getting in touch with my emotions and then learning how not to be afraid of being hurt is the only way that I will ever be the writer I know I am inside. It’s a process. Anything worth doing usually is.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Lasting Relationships
I have a question.
Do people ever get to have truly lasting friend and family relationships? Or is it more likely that you will spend your life meeting what amounts to transients? If you live to be 80 or 90, how many dozens or hundreds of people will you meet in your life? And when it’s all said and done, how many of them mattered?
At 43 I have lived in several foreign countries and quite a few states. I have met people from all walks of life and I have been honored to call some of them friend.
But each time we moved, each time I had to start over again, those names, faces, and memories were relegated to a historical footnote that would ultimately be forgotten. With any luck I had taken some minor internal education away from meeting those people, but more likely, nothing would have been gained from the relationship. For either of us.
I suppose that some of that is natural. Everyone you meet isn’t going to be some mythic presence that dramatically alters the path of your life. Only people in the movies get Bagger Vance, or Gandalf. The rest of us are relegated to all too human friends, with all too human failings.
I can’t count the number of times that I’ve moved in my life. Its way more than 30. Houses, streets, cities, schools – all woven into the tapestry that tells my tale. Sometimes it’s been a wonderful adventure populated with erotic notions, sardonic humor and fascinating people. But for the most part all its really been is exasperating.
When you don’t know where your home will be from one month to the next you become anxious about the future. When you don’t know if the people around you really give a damn, you hold back your affections. When you aren’t sure, you temper your emotions. NO ONE likes to have their feelings stomped all over. No one likes to feel used, or uncared for. Like it or not, Humans are social animals. We crave attention and affection from each other. When that craving is carried too far, or is continuously unmet, the drive to fulfill it can become an addiction. People in this mode will do almost anything to achieve the feeling of being desired by another human. Some of these actions are unhealthy, some are illegal and some are downright deadly. But they are completely understandable reactions.
Personally, I think that there is a worse threat than addiction to need. Some people completely shut down when they are denied the simple touch of another person. They learn not to desire anything because desire leads to rejection and rejection leads to pain. Since people will do anything to move away from pain and towards pleasure, complete shutdown becomes a defensive reaction to rejection. Pretty much any kind of rejection. From love relationships to searching for a job.
Your friends and family are sometimes there to help you through those times. They offer strength and balance when you need it. Family is supposed to be forever. Friends might not be, but there is that promise of longevity at the beginning of any friendship. And there are even times when your friends offer more support than a family member. But again there is the problem of ‘how long’. Also, there is a basic issue with how deep you are willing to let strangers into your world. There are things about you that your family knows simply because they were there. But even in a familial relationship you have secrets. Remember, there are going to be things you try to hide from everyone, even yourself. So you will develop friendships, but they are stunted from the get go because you are not obligated to share.
The only relationships that will probably last me all life are the ones I have developed with my children. I have been there for all four of them since they were born. I admit to a certain distance with my emotional displays, but physical caring and meeting of needs has always been there. They have known a quiet, low drama childhood filled with as much laughter and freedom as possible.
As a parent I have taken pains to be consistent with my forays into discipline, permissiveness and transparency. I don’t feel that hiding the truth of the world from my children makes them stronger. They have learned about sex, drugs, the perils of dating, having real friends and how to avoid having friends who can get you arrested. My theory is, if a child is old enough to ask a question, they are old enough to hear the answer. Some people have disagreed with us about how open we are with our children, but I refuse to raise ignorant drones.
Despite all this, there is a level of secrecy between me and my children. There are things I’ve done that they will NEVER know about. That’s only natural.
So I guess I answered my own question. It is possible to have lasting relationships. Despite
that, no one will ever know all there is to know about you. And that goes for the woman or man you sleep with right on down to the person you bought donuts from yesterday morning. Long term relationships are possible. Complete transparency isn’t.
Nor should it be.
Do people ever get to have truly lasting friend and family relationships? Or is it more likely that you will spend your life meeting what amounts to transients? If you live to be 80 or 90, how many dozens or hundreds of people will you meet in your life? And when it’s all said and done, how many of them mattered?
At 43 I have lived in several foreign countries and quite a few states. I have met people from all walks of life and I have been honored to call some of them friend.
But each time we moved, each time I had to start over again, those names, faces, and memories were relegated to a historical footnote that would ultimately be forgotten. With any luck I had taken some minor internal education away from meeting those people, but more likely, nothing would have been gained from the relationship. For either of us.
I suppose that some of that is natural. Everyone you meet isn’t going to be some mythic presence that dramatically alters the path of your life. Only people in the movies get Bagger Vance, or Gandalf. The rest of us are relegated to all too human friends, with all too human failings.
I can’t count the number of times that I’ve moved in my life. Its way more than 30. Houses, streets, cities, schools – all woven into the tapestry that tells my tale. Sometimes it’s been a wonderful adventure populated with erotic notions, sardonic humor and fascinating people. But for the most part all its really been is exasperating.
When you don’t know where your home will be from one month to the next you become anxious about the future. When you don’t know if the people around you really give a damn, you hold back your affections. When you aren’t sure, you temper your emotions. NO ONE likes to have their feelings stomped all over. No one likes to feel used, or uncared for. Like it or not, Humans are social animals. We crave attention and affection from each other. When that craving is carried too far, or is continuously unmet, the drive to fulfill it can become an addiction. People in this mode will do almost anything to achieve the feeling of being desired by another human. Some of these actions are unhealthy, some are illegal and some are downright deadly. But they are completely understandable reactions.
Personally, I think that there is a worse threat than addiction to need. Some people completely shut down when they are denied the simple touch of another person. They learn not to desire anything because desire leads to rejection and rejection leads to pain. Since people will do anything to move away from pain and towards pleasure, complete shutdown becomes a defensive reaction to rejection. Pretty much any kind of rejection. From love relationships to searching for a job.
Your friends and family are sometimes there to help you through those times. They offer strength and balance when you need it. Family is supposed to be forever. Friends might not be, but there is that promise of longevity at the beginning of any friendship. And there are even times when your friends offer more support than a family member. But again there is the problem of ‘how long’. Also, there is a basic issue with how deep you are willing to let strangers into your world. There are things about you that your family knows simply because they were there. But even in a familial relationship you have secrets. Remember, there are going to be things you try to hide from everyone, even yourself. So you will develop friendships, but they are stunted from the get go because you are not obligated to share.
The only relationships that will probably last me all life are the ones I have developed with my children. I have been there for all four of them since they were born. I admit to a certain distance with my emotional displays, but physical caring and meeting of needs has always been there. They have known a quiet, low drama childhood filled with as much laughter and freedom as possible.
As a parent I have taken pains to be consistent with my forays into discipline, permissiveness and transparency. I don’t feel that hiding the truth of the world from my children makes them stronger. They have learned about sex, drugs, the perils of dating, having real friends and how to avoid having friends who can get you arrested. My theory is, if a child is old enough to ask a question, they are old enough to hear the answer. Some people have disagreed with us about how open we are with our children, but I refuse to raise ignorant drones.
Despite all this, there is a level of secrecy between me and my children. There are things I’ve done that they will NEVER know about. That’s only natural.
So I guess I answered my own question. It is possible to have lasting relationships. Despite
that, no one will ever know all there is to know about you. And that goes for the woman or man you sleep with right on down to the person you bought donuts from yesterday morning. Long term relationships are possible. Complete transparency isn’t.
Nor should it be.
Friday, January 16, 2009
There and Back again...
Remember playing the “What do you want to be when you grow up” game?
Ever figure it out? Yeah, me neither.
When I was young my first impulse was to be a scientist. I loved the idea of learning about the natural world and I was especially drawn to the stars. It would be cool, I thought, to be an astronaut and go to strange new worlds, to seek out new life and…whoops, sorry. Star Trek flashback. But anyway, I did a lot of studying about stellar bodies like black holes, various sized and colored stars, and Mars. I was stupid for Mars. To this day I’m not sure why.
I even calculated the exact speed of light in seconds. And how long it would take to get to Andromeda.
The names were magical, lyrical even. Super Nova, Large Magellanic Clouds, The Pleiades, Sol, the Plane of the Ecliptic. Words that carried power and mystery. Unfortunately, I got a little older and realized that being an astronaut was probably not something that I really wanted to pursue. It required entirely too much school and discipline. At 10 years old, discipline was not a ready concept in my world view. Being a scientist was still in though. And that’s when I turned my attention to the ocean. And Jacques-Yves Cousteau.
I know this sounds weird, but the man is one of my personal heroes. Right along with Captain Joshua Slocum and Captain Bill Pinkney. Men who realized the natural power and beauty of the oceans. And each time I went to the beach as a child it stirred my imagination like nothing ever had. To this day, being at the beach or on a sailboat is still one of my greatest thrills.
I thought that working as an oceanographer or ocean engineer would be the best thing ever. Once we moved to California I did research on how to become an ocean scientist. I talked to people who were on that career path in college. I even went so far as writing the phone numbers for Scripps and Woods Hole on the headboard of my bed. And when Bob Ballard made his discovery of the Titanic, I knew for ‘sure’.
Of course, life got in the way. I discovered sex. Once that happened, all bets were off. I stopped caring about science. I stopped caring about school altogether. It took me about 20 years to get over that nonsense and place sex where it really belongs – a sideline to life, not the end-all be-all.
Starting out as an oceanographer at 40 was out. At least for the immediate future. Having a family to raise puts your dreams into perspective. When the mortgage is due, dreams take a back seat to putting ass in chair and earning money. So now I fix computers, write things for people and sell stuff on eBay and I find other ways to bring in money. I have a lot of interests from music to sailboats so I think that’s why I was never able to really decide on a single course. It all looked so fascinating to me that I didn’t want to commit. I was afraid that if I committed to one thing, I would never experience the others. Of course the flip side of this problem is that I ended up not committing to anything. The only thing that ever stuck with me was writing and I couldn’t kill that no matter how hard I tried. And take my word for it, I tried.
The closest I ever came to giving up writing was after I met a true professional and realized that I wasn’t even close to being in his category. At the point that we met he’d already been writing for something like 20 years. He had stories that had appeared on the New York times list. He’d worked with some of the biggest names in Science Fiction, including Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle. He used to describe himself as the only fully functioning, heterosexual black male in science fiction. He wasn’t even slightly intimidating, but I was intimidated nonetheless. I really wanted to quit then, but it just wouldn’t go away. The little kid inside who wants to tell stories refuses to be quiet. Oh, well.
Enter podcasting, and a new way for me to get my stories out. Even if they aren’t publishable quality. I can write a story, polish it to my hearts content and then podcast it. It might be that no one ever hears it, but then again, you never know. And the discovery of podcasting led me to an unlikely inspiration. An author named Scott Sigler. I’m a low key person, so his style is over the top of what I would ever even try. But the energy and spirit were incredible. This led to other discoveries. Escape Pod, Mur Lafferty, JC Hutchins, Darker Projects, Pseudopod, The Drabblecast and about a thousand other venues for Science Fiction, Fantasy, Horror and business to business information.
This is where I currently find myself. Putting energy into new media and the whole idea of having ownership of my own brand. So much so that I built a studio in my garage and have been creating my own podcast series.
Guess what? It’s got me writing again. Every day I learn a bit more. Every day my stories get closer to being completed and out there for others to hear and enjoy.
Hmm. So maybe there was a way to commit to one thing after all...
Life has a funny way of moving you along from place to place. It doesn’t matter how hard you dig in your heels and scream. Things or events will come along and knock you from your ‘safe’ perch. For me it was the simple acquisition of an iPod and iTunes. For you it might be getting up in the morning and deciding to take a different route to work. Or maybe a little less sugar in your coffee. Try not to fight it too much when it happens. That just makes it take longer. Fate will not be denied. You will change.
From scientist to podcast wannabe. Cool.
Ever figure it out? Yeah, me neither.
When I was young my first impulse was to be a scientist. I loved the idea of learning about the natural world and I was especially drawn to the stars. It would be cool, I thought, to be an astronaut and go to strange new worlds, to seek out new life and…whoops, sorry. Star Trek flashback. But anyway, I did a lot of studying about stellar bodies like black holes, various sized and colored stars, and Mars. I was stupid for Mars. To this day I’m not sure why.
I even calculated the exact speed of light in seconds. And how long it would take to get to Andromeda.
The names were magical, lyrical even. Super Nova, Large Magellanic Clouds, The Pleiades, Sol, the Plane of the Ecliptic. Words that carried power and mystery. Unfortunately, I got a little older and realized that being an astronaut was probably not something that I really wanted to pursue. It required entirely too much school and discipline. At 10 years old, discipline was not a ready concept in my world view. Being a scientist was still in though. And that’s when I turned my attention to the ocean. And Jacques-Yves Cousteau.
I know this sounds weird, but the man is one of my personal heroes. Right along with Captain Joshua Slocum and Captain Bill Pinkney. Men who realized the natural power and beauty of the oceans. And each time I went to the beach as a child it stirred my imagination like nothing ever had. To this day, being at the beach or on a sailboat is still one of my greatest thrills.
I thought that working as an oceanographer or ocean engineer would be the best thing ever. Once we moved to California I did research on how to become an ocean scientist. I talked to people who were on that career path in college. I even went so far as writing the phone numbers for Scripps and Woods Hole on the headboard of my bed. And when Bob Ballard made his discovery of the Titanic, I knew for ‘sure’.
Of course, life got in the way. I discovered sex. Once that happened, all bets were off. I stopped caring about science. I stopped caring about school altogether. It took me about 20 years to get over that nonsense and place sex where it really belongs – a sideline to life, not the end-all be-all.
Starting out as an oceanographer at 40 was out. At least for the immediate future. Having a family to raise puts your dreams into perspective. When the mortgage is due, dreams take a back seat to putting ass in chair and earning money. So now I fix computers, write things for people and sell stuff on eBay and I find other ways to bring in money. I have a lot of interests from music to sailboats so I think that’s why I was never able to really decide on a single course. It all looked so fascinating to me that I didn’t want to commit. I was afraid that if I committed to one thing, I would never experience the others. Of course the flip side of this problem is that I ended up not committing to anything. The only thing that ever stuck with me was writing and I couldn’t kill that no matter how hard I tried. And take my word for it, I tried.
The closest I ever came to giving up writing was after I met a true professional and realized that I wasn’t even close to being in his category. At the point that we met he’d already been writing for something like 20 years. He had stories that had appeared on the New York times list. He’d worked with some of the biggest names in Science Fiction, including Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle. He used to describe himself as the only fully functioning, heterosexual black male in science fiction. He wasn’t even slightly intimidating, but I was intimidated nonetheless. I really wanted to quit then, but it just wouldn’t go away. The little kid inside who wants to tell stories refuses to be quiet. Oh, well.
Enter podcasting, and a new way for me to get my stories out. Even if they aren’t publishable quality. I can write a story, polish it to my hearts content and then podcast it. It might be that no one ever hears it, but then again, you never know. And the discovery of podcasting led me to an unlikely inspiration. An author named Scott Sigler. I’m a low key person, so his style is over the top of what I would ever even try. But the energy and spirit were incredible. This led to other discoveries. Escape Pod, Mur Lafferty, JC Hutchins, Darker Projects, Pseudopod, The Drabblecast and about a thousand other venues for Science Fiction, Fantasy, Horror and business to business information.
This is where I currently find myself. Putting energy into new media and the whole idea of having ownership of my own brand. So much so that I built a studio in my garage and have been creating my own podcast series.
Guess what? It’s got me writing again. Every day I learn a bit more. Every day my stories get closer to being completed and out there for others to hear and enjoy.
Hmm. So maybe there was a way to commit to one thing after all...
Life has a funny way of moving you along from place to place. It doesn’t matter how hard you dig in your heels and scream. Things or events will come along and knock you from your ‘safe’ perch. For me it was the simple acquisition of an iPod and iTunes. For you it might be getting up in the morning and deciding to take a different route to work. Or maybe a little less sugar in your coffee. Try not to fight it too much when it happens. That just makes it take longer. Fate will not be denied. You will change.
From scientist to podcast wannabe. Cool.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Ronn & Religion
Lately I've been wondering about religion.
Over Christmas I spent some time with my Aunt, Uncle and a cousin I haven't seen in almost 20 years. We got into a sort of 'pseudo-scientific-anti-religious debate that saw the 4 of us doing lots of hollering, lots of arm waving and ultimately became one of the highlights of my week.
My aunt is a staunch Roman Catholic. Has been for as long as I can remember. In fact she and my grandmother are the sole reason that I am a confirmed (if lapsed) Catholic. She trusts the church to be the guide for her conscience. But to be honest, I think it goes deeper than trust. She has faith that the men who run her religion are based deeply in their lore. She has an incredible amount of energy and spirit to give to the search for meaning. Those sacrifices, and make no mistake – she sacrifices for her religion, work for her and the world she has built for herself.
My uncle is the complete polar opposite. His belief is firmly rooted in the here and now of everyday life. He spent 3 years in Vietnam. He has seen and faced death before so it’s not really a surprise that his belief in God or any one religious schema is more dogmatic than faith based. He has studied Buddhism and other religions and I think his feeling is that they really all build on each other. Take the strength of one, multiply it by the strength of another. Toss in a little of your own personal belief, honed over years of trial and error, and walla, there you have your own personal religion that fits who you are.
I’m probably oversimplifying, but I think my point is made. My aunt is rigid in the extreme about what she believes. For her, the bible is a living breathing testament of God’s will. For my uncle, flexibility is the key and to him the bible is a great historical novel with all the trimmings. Sex, politics, scandals, contradictions and pretty much everything that makes up the human experience.
So, who is right?
Personally, I think they both are.
First a little background to explain my answer. I am a child of the late 60’s and early 70’s. I came of age in the 80’s. My mother was a Baptist, who only rarely went to church (that was then; she goes a lot more now). Since my parents were divorced I would sometimes shuttle between Long Island, New York and Utica. During the times I was downstate, my Grandmother and Aunt took it upon themselves to see to the training of my soul. I attended Sunday school at a local Catholic church. I received my confirmation when I turned 12. And I have to be honest; there are parts of what happens in the Catholic Church during mass that I miss. There is something cleansing about dipping your fingers in holy water, crossing yourself and kneeling in prayer. I’ve never once knocked religious beliefs as an individual practice. My problem comes from how I feel about religion as a system of control, but that’s outside the scope of this particular entry. I’ll write about it another time.
I learned a lot about the basics of how the church worked during that time. I didn’t know anything about the politics of it. I mean heck, I was only 12 years old. But one thing always stuck with me. There seemed to be a division in the church. Catholics didn’t like Protestants. Episcopalians didn’t like Lutherans. And everyone seems to hate the Baptists… It confused the hell out of me because I thought we were all supposed to be one big happy family under God.
Anyway, I completed my training (or indoctrination – your choice) and decided that I liked enough of what was happening in the church to stick around for a while and learn more. I do credit the church with opening my eyes to the fruits of education over and above what I was learning in school. Up until that point I never realized that learning could come from other sources.
That was when something strange happened. Having my eyes opened to reality caused me to begin to question what I was being taught. I’m not sure exactly what it was, but I think that the more I learned about the life of Jesus, the more I questioned the purpose of it all. If he was the son of God and was placed here to remove our sins, then what went wrong? Because as far as I can see from a historical standpoint, we have had more than 2000 years to muck things up again. If we were absolved of all blame while he was here, what about the intervening years since?
As a race we have done some pretty disgusting things to each other. From multiple millions dead in countless wars, to the Spanish Inquisition, to the Crusades to the Holocaust. And the funny thing was, when you question why God would allow these things what you get is a roundabout answer about mans fallibility and the devils culpability.
Um, okay. Not an answer, but then, since the subject matter is so murky to begin with, a non answer is probably the best I could hope for. This is what started my slide into the wonderful world of the lapsed. The more I studied, the more holes I saw in the fabric of reality. There were so many contradictions just in the bible alone that I didn’t see how it could all be true.
Now, I’m sure that since I said that, someone will call me on it to produce evidence of contradiction. That’s fine, here’s what I came up with –
God for everyone or just a few?
PSA 145:9 The LORD is good to all: and his tender mercies are over all his works.
JER 13:14 And I will dash them one against another, even the fathers and the sons together, saith the LORD: I will not pity, nor spare, nor have mercy, but destroy them.
Is wisdom good or not?
PRO 4:7 Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting get understanding.
ECC 1:18 For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.
1CO 1:19: "For it is written, I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and will bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent."
Judging
1 Cor 2:15 "The spiritual man makes judgments about all things, but he himself is not subject to any man's judgment:" (NIV)
1 Cor 4:5 "Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait till the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men's hearts. At that time each will receive his praise from God."
Who bears guilt?
GAL 6:2 Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.
GAL 6:5 For every man shall bear his own burden.
Source - http://www.infidels.org/library/modern/jim_meritt/bible-contradictions.html
This is just a sample of what I found, I'm sure there's more but I don’t want to be a smartass and I don’t want to belabor the point. I think that you can see for anyone studying this material, there would be questions. Especially if the person studying has a scientific mindset, which I do. I believe that this is another reason that so many people reject religion outright. If mechanical devices had the same number of contradictions built into them, no machine or device would work. We’d all still be riding horses to work and banging on drums to send messages.
Which brings me (sort of roundabout, sorry) back to my earlier question. Of my aunt and uncle, who is right? As far as I am concerned they both are. In the confines of the world that they have made for themselves their answers work. Just like you. Just like me.
I really think my aunt would have been happier as a nun. And I think that my uncle would be happier flitting about the world gathering experiences. So her faith and his skepticism are exactly right for them. It fits and that’s all that matters. (It’s also the only way that I know them, so if they changed it would affect my worldview.)
Personally, my church is a stretch of sandy beach with the waves pounding the shore. Any beach will do. My connection with God, or higher self, or whatever you want to call it, is the deep feeling of peace that I get when I walk along that beach. Beyond me is the ocean, vast and powerful beyond my capability to comprehend. Right in front of me, but unseen at the same time. Incredibly mighty, and incredibly fragile. (Sounds a bit like how God is portrayed, eh?)
That’s the only church I need. And my connection to God is just as strong as someone who spends 15 hours a day doing devotionals in a tax free building. So is it a religion? Nah, I don’t think so.
But it is spiritual.
Over Christmas I spent some time with my Aunt, Uncle and a cousin I haven't seen in almost 20 years. We got into a sort of 'pseudo-scientific-anti-religious debate that saw the 4 of us doing lots of hollering, lots of arm waving and ultimately became one of the highlights of my week.
My aunt is a staunch Roman Catholic. Has been for as long as I can remember. In fact she and my grandmother are the sole reason that I am a confirmed (if lapsed) Catholic. She trusts the church to be the guide for her conscience. But to be honest, I think it goes deeper than trust. She has faith that the men who run her religion are based deeply in their lore. She has an incredible amount of energy and spirit to give to the search for meaning. Those sacrifices, and make no mistake – she sacrifices for her religion, work for her and the world she has built for herself.
My uncle is the complete polar opposite. His belief is firmly rooted in the here and now of everyday life. He spent 3 years in Vietnam. He has seen and faced death before so it’s not really a surprise that his belief in God or any one religious schema is more dogmatic than faith based. He has studied Buddhism and other religions and I think his feeling is that they really all build on each other. Take the strength of one, multiply it by the strength of another. Toss in a little of your own personal belief, honed over years of trial and error, and walla, there you have your own personal religion that fits who you are.
I’m probably oversimplifying, but I think my point is made. My aunt is rigid in the extreme about what she believes. For her, the bible is a living breathing testament of God’s will. For my uncle, flexibility is the key and to him the bible is a great historical novel with all the trimmings. Sex, politics, scandals, contradictions and pretty much everything that makes up the human experience.
So, who is right?
Personally, I think they both are.
First a little background to explain my answer. I am a child of the late 60’s and early 70’s. I came of age in the 80’s. My mother was a Baptist, who only rarely went to church (that was then; she goes a lot more now). Since my parents were divorced I would sometimes shuttle between Long Island, New York and Utica. During the times I was downstate, my Grandmother and Aunt took it upon themselves to see to the training of my soul. I attended Sunday school at a local Catholic church. I received my confirmation when I turned 12. And I have to be honest; there are parts of what happens in the Catholic Church during mass that I miss. There is something cleansing about dipping your fingers in holy water, crossing yourself and kneeling in prayer. I’ve never once knocked religious beliefs as an individual practice. My problem comes from how I feel about religion as a system of control, but that’s outside the scope of this particular entry. I’ll write about it another time.
I learned a lot about the basics of how the church worked during that time. I didn’t know anything about the politics of it. I mean heck, I was only 12 years old. But one thing always stuck with me. There seemed to be a division in the church. Catholics didn’t like Protestants. Episcopalians didn’t like Lutherans. And everyone seems to hate the Baptists… It confused the hell out of me because I thought we were all supposed to be one big happy family under God.
Anyway, I completed my training (or indoctrination – your choice) and decided that I liked enough of what was happening in the church to stick around for a while and learn more. I do credit the church with opening my eyes to the fruits of education over and above what I was learning in school. Up until that point I never realized that learning could come from other sources.
That was when something strange happened. Having my eyes opened to reality caused me to begin to question what I was being taught. I’m not sure exactly what it was, but I think that the more I learned about the life of Jesus, the more I questioned the purpose of it all. If he was the son of God and was placed here to remove our sins, then what went wrong? Because as far as I can see from a historical standpoint, we have had more than 2000 years to muck things up again. If we were absolved of all blame while he was here, what about the intervening years since?
As a race we have done some pretty disgusting things to each other. From multiple millions dead in countless wars, to the Spanish Inquisition, to the Crusades to the Holocaust. And the funny thing was, when you question why God would allow these things what you get is a roundabout answer about mans fallibility and the devils culpability.
Um, okay. Not an answer, but then, since the subject matter is so murky to begin with, a non answer is probably the best I could hope for. This is what started my slide into the wonderful world of the lapsed. The more I studied, the more holes I saw in the fabric of reality. There were so many contradictions just in the bible alone that I didn’t see how it could all be true.
Now, I’m sure that since I said that, someone will call me on it to produce evidence of contradiction. That’s fine, here’s what I came up with –
God for everyone or just a few?
PSA 145:9 The LORD is good to all: and his tender mercies are over all his works.
JER 13:14 And I will dash them one against another, even the fathers and the sons together, saith the LORD: I will not pity, nor spare, nor have mercy, but destroy them.
Is wisdom good or not?
PRO 4:7 Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting get understanding.
ECC 1:18 For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.
1CO 1:19: "For it is written, I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and will bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent."
Judging
1 Cor 2:15 "The spiritual man makes judgments about all things, but he himself is not subject to any man's judgment:" (NIV)
1 Cor 4:5 "Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait till the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men's hearts. At that time each will receive his praise from God."
Who bears guilt?
GAL 6:2 Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.
GAL 6:5 For every man shall bear his own burden.
Source - http://www.infidels.org/library/modern/jim_meritt/bible-contradictions.html
This is just a sample of what I found, I'm sure there's more but I don’t want to be a smartass and I don’t want to belabor the point. I think that you can see for anyone studying this material, there would be questions. Especially if the person studying has a scientific mindset, which I do. I believe that this is another reason that so many people reject religion outright. If mechanical devices had the same number of contradictions built into them, no machine or device would work. We’d all still be riding horses to work and banging on drums to send messages.
Which brings me (sort of roundabout, sorry) back to my earlier question. Of my aunt and uncle, who is right? As far as I am concerned they both are. In the confines of the world that they have made for themselves their answers work. Just like you. Just like me.
I really think my aunt would have been happier as a nun. And I think that my uncle would be happier flitting about the world gathering experiences. So her faith and his skepticism are exactly right for them. It fits and that’s all that matters. (It’s also the only way that I know them, so if they changed it would affect my worldview.)
Personally, my church is a stretch of sandy beach with the waves pounding the shore. Any beach will do. My connection with God, or higher self, or whatever you want to call it, is the deep feeling of peace that I get when I walk along that beach. Beyond me is the ocean, vast and powerful beyond my capability to comprehend. Right in front of me, but unseen at the same time. Incredibly mighty, and incredibly fragile. (Sounds a bit like how God is portrayed, eh?)
That’s the only church I need. And my connection to God is just as strong as someone who spends 15 hours a day doing devotionals in a tax free building. So is it a religion? Nah, I don’t think so.
But it is spiritual.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Finally - Focus and Truth
Anyone who knows me is aware that I am not a person who can make and keep resolutions. I tend to make up my mind about things slowly. It's a reaction to a childhood full of rash, often painful decisions.
It's been suggested that my taking time to think things through is a form of procrastination and even self doubt. While there is evidence to bear out both of those conclusions, they are far from the whole story.
I've recently accepted the fact about me that I am not really all that disposed to large changes in my life happening too quickly. I know people who seem to flit from situation to situation like a self destructive moth, but I can't imagine anything more polar opposite to me. I am a nester. I don't mind change in small bites, and I like my nest to be fairly orderly with 0 drama. There is only one place that I consider home (and no, Georgia is NOT it). Everywhere else is just a vacation spot.
So until I can get to that one place and finally put down the roots I so sorely desire, I've made some promises to myself. Not resolutions mind you, real concrete - time driven promises.
The first one is that I intend to honestly question everything I do for clues as to why I felt that action was necessary. If the action doesn't fit in with my values and goals it will not be repeated. In other words, I am working on no longer lying to myself. It's pretty amazing how many people I know lie to themselves about their lives on a daily basis. They tell themselves that they are happy and everything is fine, meanwhile the roof is on fire and the motherfucker is burning...
I'm no exception. I know for a fact that I lie to myself more than I lie to other people. I tell myself that a minor weight gain is natural and part of getting older. Part of that is true (which is why its so poisonous) but the reality is, my weight gain has more to do with me abusing my body with alcohol and not exercising more than anything else. Where is the lie in this? Knowing what I feel like right now, today, is a direct reflection of what I did to my body yesterday, but doing nothing to make it better. The lie is in telling myself that the headaches, weird body aches and other issues are not a problem. If something hurts and you act like it doesn't you are lying to yourself, and over time you can do some serious harm.
The second thing I promised myself is that I will write every day. Even if the stuff I write (fiction wise) really sucks ass. I have 5 novels in various stages of completion. One of which is more than 20 years old. I started the fucking thing when I was in High School. Another of those lies that I tell to myself - There will always be time to finish. And - The novel has to be perfect before I write it. And - This is the greatest piece of unmitigated bullshit that no one has ever read. And - well, you get the idea.
Once upon a time I set a daily word count for myself of 500. 500 words per day would give me a fairly good size novel in about 6 months. I set the bar that low because I didn't know if I could convince myself to write even that much. I kind of laugh at that now because I am frequently writing 2000 words or more in some of these posts. But, ah! Yet another lie! Although I am writing much longer posts here and elsewhere on the web, I haven't worked on a single word of fiction in over a month...
One of my novels, Hunter, has two first readers who are ready to beat me over the head with sticks because I left them hanging at chapter 11. Gotta do something about that.
Anyway, this was supposed to be a short post. Go over the two things that I promised myself. Make them known so that I HAVE to stay focused on the things I spend so much time telling people that I want. And I was supposed to put a list of the new blog here with a minor explanation.
So much for short. Of course I've always had diarrhea of the mouth. Just ask my Kindergarten teacher. (Really, she wrote it on my first report card - Talks too much)
Here are the other blogs -
The Oceanpedia www.oceanpedia.blogspot.com - This is an experiment aimed at an old project of mine about a website that contains all kinds of info about the ocean.
Hanley Communicator www.hanleycommunicator.blogspot.com - This is a new one designed to help me stay focused when it comes to building Hanley Communications, Not Your Average Geek and eventually Giggle & Twist (Umm, more on that later). I have a passion for developing businesses and ideas into money generating engines. Something tells me that I am not alone.
Sam Cooke is singing A Change is Gonna Come and I couldn't agree more.
Later
It's been suggested that my taking time to think things through is a form of procrastination and even self doubt. While there is evidence to bear out both of those conclusions, they are far from the whole story.
I've recently accepted the fact about me that I am not really all that disposed to large changes in my life happening too quickly. I know people who seem to flit from situation to situation like a self destructive moth, but I can't imagine anything more polar opposite to me. I am a nester. I don't mind change in small bites, and I like my nest to be fairly orderly with 0 drama. There is only one place that I consider home (and no, Georgia is NOT it). Everywhere else is just a vacation spot.
So until I can get to that one place and finally put down the roots I so sorely desire, I've made some promises to myself. Not resolutions mind you, real concrete - time driven promises.
The first one is that I intend to honestly question everything I do for clues as to why I felt that action was necessary. If the action doesn't fit in with my values and goals it will not be repeated. In other words, I am working on no longer lying to myself. It's pretty amazing how many people I know lie to themselves about their lives on a daily basis. They tell themselves that they are happy and everything is fine, meanwhile the roof is on fire and the motherfucker is burning...
I'm no exception. I know for a fact that I lie to myself more than I lie to other people. I tell myself that a minor weight gain is natural and part of getting older. Part of that is true (which is why its so poisonous) but the reality is, my weight gain has more to do with me abusing my body with alcohol and not exercising more than anything else. Where is the lie in this? Knowing what I feel like right now, today, is a direct reflection of what I did to my body yesterday, but doing nothing to make it better. The lie is in telling myself that the headaches, weird body aches and other issues are not a problem. If something hurts and you act like it doesn't you are lying to yourself, and over time you can do some serious harm.
The second thing I promised myself is that I will write every day. Even if the stuff I write (fiction wise) really sucks ass. I have 5 novels in various stages of completion. One of which is more than 20 years old. I started the fucking thing when I was in High School. Another of those lies that I tell to myself - There will always be time to finish. And - The novel has to be perfect before I write it. And - This is the greatest piece of unmitigated bullshit that no one has ever read. And - well, you get the idea.
Once upon a time I set a daily word count for myself of 500. 500 words per day would give me a fairly good size novel in about 6 months. I set the bar that low because I didn't know if I could convince myself to write even that much. I kind of laugh at that now because I am frequently writing 2000 words or more in some of these posts. But, ah! Yet another lie! Although I am writing much longer posts here and elsewhere on the web, I haven't worked on a single word of fiction in over a month...
One of my novels, Hunter, has two first readers who are ready to beat me over the head with sticks because I left them hanging at chapter 11. Gotta do something about that.
Anyway, this was supposed to be a short post. Go over the two things that I promised myself. Make them known so that I HAVE to stay focused on the things I spend so much time telling people that I want. And I was supposed to put a list of the new blog here with a minor explanation.
So much for short. Of course I've always had diarrhea of the mouth. Just ask my Kindergarten teacher. (Really, she wrote it on my first report card - Talks too much)
Here are the other blogs -
The Oceanpedia www.oceanpedia.blogspot.com - This is an experiment aimed at an old project of mine about a website that contains all kinds of info about the ocean.
Hanley Communicator www.hanleycommunicator.blogspot.com - This is a new one designed to help me stay focused when it comes to building Hanley Communications, Not Your Average Geek and eventually Giggle & Twist (Umm, more on that later). I have a passion for developing businesses and ideas into money generating engines. Something tells me that I am not alone.
Sam Cooke is singing A Change is Gonna Come and I couldn't agree more.
Later
Friday, January 2, 2009
Roles of the Black Man
There seems to be several identities available for black men to fit into. If you are in one type or another you are fine, but if you are a free thinker or someone who seems to be a bit ‘off’ by society standards, that relegates you to being pigeonholed as not a ‘true black man’.
These are the roles I’ve noticed over 43 years of living. Please understand I am not making this up. This is information freely available to anyone who looks. Is it an end-all be-all? Heck no. But it is what people get to see each night on TV. And regardless of what kind of world you would like to live in - never for one moment - think that you as a black man or woman aren’t being judged by the images portrayed on movies, TV and other forms of media.
The academic nerd – think Steve Urkel. An extremely intelligent individual usually with bad people skills and no sense of style. This person can figure out your taxes before you can say H&R Block, but he would never be invited to a party. I have looked this one up and there isn’t currently anyone alive (famous or noteworthy). It seems as though all of our best inventors and scientists shot their wad before 1972.
Ref: http://www.infoplease.com/spot/bhmscientists1.html
The intellectual (know it all) – think Dr. Michael Dyson or Tavis Smiley. These men are extremely intelligent and well spoken. They move in social circles that usually do not include large numbers of other black men or women. Even if they were educated in traditional black colleges, they are somewhat shunned for the level of knowledge they possess and only seem to be able to connect with others of their same level ‘breeding’. People in this category are Dr Cornell West, Dr Bill Cosby, General Colin Powell and the others mentioned above.
Mandingo the Thug – the current crop of sports or music stars. Pants sagging down past their ass. Large, expensive designer clothes. Lots of diamonds and gold and ‘bling’. Weed or some other type of drug is usually part of their moniker. Or their counterparts/protégé’s the guys on the corner slinging dope or claiming to be pimps. Entire neighborhoods here in ATL are run by men like this. This also accounts for probably 80% of the black men in prison. People in this category are Suge Knight, DMX, Yin Yang Twins, Ice Cube, 50 Cent, The Game, Snoop Dogg.
The urban mogul – usually young and well monied. In business for the dollar and no other reason. Big houses, big cars. Owners of businesses like record companies, event planning agencies, night clubs, and even restaurants. People in this category are P. Diddy, Jay Z, and Russell Simmons.
The list isn’t all inclusive. I’m sure that another writer or social historian would probably be able to come up with something much more cynical and on point. My intent is to get people talking. Maybe even yelling. Whatever it takes.
I have a friend/mentor who is convinced that black men have been marginalized in film since the beginning of time. For a while I argued the point with him because I am a big fan of films. But the more I watched, the more what he said sank in. And I also noticed that the marginaliztion wasn’t just confined to movies. It happens everywhere. Steve Urkel was far and away one of the funniest characters on TV. But he was also completely not a threat to anyone. While the strong male characters on the show, Eddie and Carl, took a back seat. Even Eddies best friend, the completely clueless Waldo, was non-threatening. It wasn’t until Theo Huxtable came along that there was a hint of a black man who could be entertaining and strong at the same time. That led to Will Smiths character (played more for laughs than actual myth busting) and the character of Uncle Phil. A black judge no less who owned a huge house and had a butler. (Husband, father, provider, layer down of the law – almost too perfect)
So anyway, before I start rambling on and get truly pissed, I’ll bring this to a close.
Am I less of a black man because I love to read and write and watch old 50’s SciFi movies? (apparently yet another blight against black America in film – did you EVER see anyone black the Saturday morning monster movies?)
Am I less of a black man because I listen to all forms of music, including rock, classical, ambient, hymns and even a tiny bit of country?
I don’t think so, but sadly there are those who do.
These are the roles I’ve noticed over 43 years of living. Please understand I am not making this up. This is information freely available to anyone who looks. Is it an end-all be-all? Heck no. But it is what people get to see each night on TV. And regardless of what kind of world you would like to live in - never for one moment - think that you as a black man or woman aren’t being judged by the images portrayed on movies, TV and other forms of media.
The academic nerd – think Steve Urkel. An extremely intelligent individual usually with bad people skills and no sense of style. This person can figure out your taxes before you can say H&R Block, but he would never be invited to a party. I have looked this one up and there isn’t currently anyone alive (famous or noteworthy). It seems as though all of our best inventors and scientists shot their wad before 1972.
Ref: http://www.infoplease.com/spot/bhmscientists1.html
The intellectual (know it all) – think Dr. Michael Dyson or Tavis Smiley. These men are extremely intelligent and well spoken. They move in social circles that usually do not include large numbers of other black men or women. Even if they were educated in traditional black colleges, they are somewhat shunned for the level of knowledge they possess and only seem to be able to connect with others of their same level ‘breeding’. People in this category are Dr Cornell West, Dr Bill Cosby, General Colin Powell and the others mentioned above.
Mandingo the Thug – the current crop of sports or music stars. Pants sagging down past their ass. Large, expensive designer clothes. Lots of diamonds and gold and ‘bling’. Weed or some other type of drug is usually part of their moniker. Or their counterparts/protégé’s the guys on the corner slinging dope or claiming to be pimps. Entire neighborhoods here in ATL are run by men like this. This also accounts for probably 80% of the black men in prison. People in this category are Suge Knight, DMX, Yin Yang Twins, Ice Cube, 50 Cent, The Game, Snoop Dogg.
The urban mogul – usually young and well monied. In business for the dollar and no other reason. Big houses, big cars. Owners of businesses like record companies, event planning agencies, night clubs, and even restaurants. People in this category are P. Diddy, Jay Z, and Russell Simmons.
The list isn’t all inclusive. I’m sure that another writer or social historian would probably be able to come up with something much more cynical and on point. My intent is to get people talking. Maybe even yelling. Whatever it takes.
I have a friend/mentor who is convinced that black men have been marginalized in film since the beginning of time. For a while I argued the point with him because I am a big fan of films. But the more I watched, the more what he said sank in. And I also noticed that the marginaliztion wasn’t just confined to movies. It happens everywhere. Steve Urkel was far and away one of the funniest characters on TV. But he was also completely not a threat to anyone. While the strong male characters on the show, Eddie and Carl, took a back seat. Even Eddies best friend, the completely clueless Waldo, was non-threatening. It wasn’t until Theo Huxtable came along that there was a hint of a black man who could be entertaining and strong at the same time. That led to Will Smiths character (played more for laughs than actual myth busting) and the character of Uncle Phil. A black judge no less who owned a huge house and had a butler. (Husband, father, provider, layer down of the law – almost too perfect)
So anyway, before I start rambling on and get truly pissed, I’ll bring this to a close.
Am I less of a black man because I love to read and write and watch old 50’s SciFi movies? (apparently yet another blight against black America in film – did you EVER see anyone black the Saturday morning monster movies?)
Am I less of a black man because I listen to all forms of music, including rock, classical, ambient, hymns and even a tiny bit of country?
I don’t think so, but sadly there are those who do.
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