The Power Of Intent

I know I promised back in April that I'd blog every day in May for some reason or another, but I felt like reneging on that.

There is so much on my mind and running thru that I could do something on the daily, but most times (since last fall) I feel like if I share too much then occasional lurkers, haters and such could meet me at the corner store with a mental list of groceries they'd think I'd buy based on old habit, shit I ate in front of them back in the day... Stuff like that.

I stay guarded these days. Even with my other half, I've developed this habit of only telling her things either as I do them or when I'm on the brink because trust is built over time and folks will pull away even when you're pushing them with their permission. Not that we don't plan or budget for bills and such or sit and enjoy each other, I just am not in the mode of telling folks what my next move is strategically because most times it freezes them up and my shit becomes compromised. Remember the corner store thingee in that paragraph above.

Fear, hate, hateration, mistrust, doubt, habit and silence are all killers in the eyes of folks that dream and try to act upon them. I have given in to this fact that this is the world I live in and there is nothing much I can do but live in that realm. See, I'm not afraid to announce my shortcomings to the world because I know that I am not alone. It's the fact that there are a bunch of slightly overweight, grown-ass men with old people ailments at a young age that pay taxes and abide the law every day that have personal issues with folks right in their own homes and some abroad, living nicely but have a handful of debts over their heads that go out and work every day and deal with loved ones and strangers that have problems worse than theirs that just won't speak the fuck up and acknowledge their own shit so for me there is no one else in common to peer up with so in announcing plans and such I stand by myself.

I am unfortunately alone.

So there is a lot that I cannot share.

So I don't.

I could rant and rave over politics, sports and women like most cats that blog do but I don't. I'm not trying to differentiate myself from anyone or stand out. There are a lot of cats out there that have witty droppings or are unwittingly posting for pussy that have a fan base. I have been accused of using this forum in the relentless pursuit of the poi poi and at times I've been forced to prove otherwise. That ain't the reason I'm here.

I've been doing this shit right here since 2000 when I ended a decade and then some relationship with with my high school sweetheart in some vain attempt to purge my inner demons and find out why my thang is so dysfunctional. I've owned five domain names and blogged under three (brownblogger being the latter), the other two I had to shut down because they just weren't supposed to exist in partnership with certain situations and people and I still feel like this is the most cathartic thing for me to do even though I hate doing it these days.

I've had folks stalk my blog and also study it in order to get the right answers in order to get close to me only to ostracize me and make me a villain in their lives. I've had women and men email me with all sorts of offers business, sexual, fraternal and otherwise just to gain my favor. With the exception of three people, I've refused to even hear most out. I've gotten emails, text messages and voice mails from those that had ulterior motive thru their actions to get me to validate themselves, even though the only thing I ever hoped to accomplish with blogging is to gain understanding of my own self. Some of those situations had led me to hate a few, even with me going as far as damn near providing actions towards and wishing them death.

One thing you do not know about me that I'm going to tell is that there was a launching point of my expressive self. I was graduating the eighth grade and even though I had a daddy in my stepfather who met my mom somewhere in my fourth year of life, Ma Dukes kept telling me of my biological father who fell off the edges of the planet with the help of my grandmother shortly after I was born. I was told how I look like him, acted like him and how my shape and hue was just like this cat. So of course one day when Pops was at work and I was getting yet another report about this cat she called him.

Damn.

Now I'm a grown-ass man and I understand the paradigm of relationships between baby daddy slash baby momma as it relates to the trust factor of a particular captain save a hoe or him and what that does for the normalization of rent and food costs per capita in the Midwest circa the late twentieth century. What I didn't understand is how quickly she used a rotary phone and got dude on the other end and had him talking to me when I know that my step dad was hitting it with tenacity enough to have my mother sprung (we supported his drug habit for years) and manufacture my younger sibs on one income in the 70's minus Bookman, Willona and Penny. Balderman Davis did make appearances every fourth episode in fulfillment of his CBS contract per the actor's guild and was able to keep his open schedule abstract from city business to show off his favorite family outside the projects which netted us valuable TV time as well as free cheese and powdered milk on the regular.

Okay, so my mother was still in love with my biological, no problem. What I got over the phone was this manufactured concern and advice on how to get thru high school and a tip or two on women. I said three or four words and made sure I never called him sir, hung up the phone when asked to speak back to my mother, looked at her and said: "I already have a father, fuck this guy." I walked out the room and it was just a few years ago that she tried to invoke the name of dude in front of me when she stopped herself short of doing so because she remembered my expression.

From that point I felt the need to let folks know from the jump what was going on in my mind because I knew where I wanted to be and how in certain situations and with certain folk. Most times it works but sadly there are times when me expressing myself just doesn't resonate with whomever.

Being the asshole know-it-all that tells you so has never hurt me. One of the many valuable lessons I learned in the military is how most folks will use you and all that you have for their own emotional gain. War isn't about strategy or death for that matter. War is the act of using folks, situations and places for the simple justification of one's existence and the padding of their soul so they can die in peace knowing that their shit actually meant something to them and the defense of that theory. This is what most people do to you, so I prepare for that shit by waking up every morning and knowing it will happen to me in some way, shape or form. Knowing that it takes an asshole know-it-all to tell you so that you'll understand hurts immensely. I tire of playing that role but I am required to do so damn near daily. It ain't a blog persona I play online, trust me, when I say that I'm the asshole with the painful reality check knowing that fear and pain controls what you do.

Too bad it has taken real time spent offline for some to find out. And they still do nothing cause' they're scared, live in fear and are comfortable in performing non-action.

I just wanna be me and I'll always express myself. I'm not required to post it online every day. Dr. Wayne Dwyer pushes the opinion that the power is in the intent and most know of my intentions so from this point (again) I will not push myself onto you, who ever you are even though I never have. You have to choose between the red pill or blue. I cannot apologize in advance if your experience is not what you expect so choose wisely.

Until then I'll keep expressing myself the way I wanna. I do own the domain name, I just need the intention to do so and the time even though I remain guarded and feel like I can trust no one. Sometimes I ask myself why I come back and post at all.