Asshole Dreams

Sometimes I wish I was an asshole.

I mean, think about it... They're the ones the world loves to talk about. They're always the most memorable. And every actor knows that it's more thrilling to play the villain than the hero.

Oh and women love the 'bad boys'. Not those shiny suit wearing, dancing around on screen, Puff-Diddy-Daddy-Dirty Money-Combs types. Nah.
But they love those quick to cuss a brotha out, can't stand his own father, "I'm not scared to hit a kid" kind of guys.

I swear it seems like guys like me have been fighting this uphill battle ever since MC Lyte proclaimed "Gotta what yo? Gotta get a ruffneck!"

I'm sorry. Let me start over.
Hi.
I'm Jeff. And I'm a nice guy.
I open car doors, let women on and off of elevators first, give up my seat to the elderly, I've never called a woman a "bitch"... Well, not directly. But come on, when Miss No-Turn-Signal in the Kia cuts me off on the 101 I have the right to call her out of her name as long as my windows are up and she can't hear me.
To be fair, I would call Mr. No-Turn-Signal the same thing.

But back to the point...
I was that good, straight-A student, never got into a fight unless I was defending my mother or brother, love to make everyone laugh, always had a legal hustle kind of kid. And that's what's turned me into the had two college degrees by 20, still loves to make everyone laugh, go to work every day even though I have plenty of vacation time, fight nothing but stereotypes man that you see today.

I'm that guy that your mother wants you to spend more time with. That guy that will tell a women she's beautiful just in case nobody else has told her that day. Mr. Great-First-Impression. That's me.

I'm everyone's best friend but nobody's fantasy.
...Lucky me.

But I'm tired of putting my heart up for auction and watching as the bidding gets lower and lower. Sometimes I want to walk around in just a vest, or a wife beater, or shirtless... simply because I'm tired of wearing my heart on my sleeve. I understand Rosa Parks. Because I'm tired of sitting in the back of the bus watching people walk in and out of a life that I strive for, nonchalantly, as if they are owed what they have been privileged with. I'm tired of coaching my female best friends and governing their section 8 relationships, while I'm sitting here hoping for escrow with an option to buy, and all these guys want to do is rent.

I swear I just want to punch your boyfriend in the face and turn to you and say, "F*ck him! I'm in love with you!"
But I can't do that. Because I'm a good guy. And that's just not believable from a guy like me.

Plus, these women don't want a 'good guy'. Sure, on paper they do. And they'll even say they do. But when it comes down to it, they can't see themselves with someone that they feel is soft. And society has trained us to think that nice guys are just that. That the well-mannered are pushovers.

Why do we bastardize what we idolize? Build shrines for ideas that we're too scared to admit we think. We stand proudly on the shoulders of titans and then celebrate when they're overthrown by the Olympians.

You know what... F*ck it!

I'm happy the way I am. I look forward to proving everyone wrong. And to eternally loving everyone who I prove right.
I'll be laughing at the women who have spent all their time chasing bad boys, and when they're ready to settle down, the good ones are all taken.

If nice guys really do finish last, then I guess life is like golf. Low score wins.

Have a nice day.


Live, love & learn!
-The King

Forgot Your Password

I can't help but smile when I scroll through our photos on Facebook. You know, that one ever-growing album that's just called "Me And Her". Every uploaded moment that's captured by light-sensitive lenses reverts me back to that specific time and date, and I relive it like it's Groundhog Day.

May 17th:
The first time I kissed you in front of your friends. You swore I was against public displays. So I had to prove you wrong. With my hand already around your waist, I pulled you in a little tighter and then...
FLASH
Your friends are so trigger happy with their cameras. We laugh it off.
FLASH again.

June 9th:
I stare into your eyes and slowly wipe your hair off of your face. I tell you that I love you for the umpteenth time. You say it back and, in jest, you add, "Now tell me something I don't know." So I tell you that I want to watch your hair turn gray. Your eyes widen and you do that thing where you smile with only the right side of your mouth.
FLASH
An arm-length shot of that expression is the perfect way to remember this moment.

I continue to scroll through the images. I spend an eternity in each fraction of a second. Oh, how I live to make love to your life.
Never before has someone been able to so easily login to the account that is me. And that's exactly what you've done. Lupe said it best, "You's the dame who's the username to all my passwords."
I built Fort Knox around my heart, and you broke in and left your fingerprints everywhere so that I could easily find you.

I speed up the rate of my scrolling through the Zuckerberg-constructed flip book of our lives together. It's like making a movie. And then just as clear as day I can see it. The slow progression from kindred spirits to indifferent individuals. The distance between us from picture to picture increases. Your jubilant smile gradually descends from the upper corners of your cheeks, down to the clinch of your jawline. I am increasingly extending myself towards you, to no avail.

Then it finally hits me like an 8.9 to the spine. My brainstorm sends emotional waves crashing against both sides of my head. The flood runs down to my heart until my chest is left as nothing but a big red dot in the middle.
...I think I know how Japan feels.

I've spent so much time reminiscing over our earlier memories that I have been blind to the ongoing truth. I'm losing you. These pictures seem to tell the story that your mouth can't.

You know, aborigines believed that taking one's picture took part of their soul away. So maybe we just took too many pictures.

I don't know.
But what I do know is that there's no way that you could look through the same early recaps as me and still find yourself losing grip on our reality.
Do you not still sift through the perfectly public collection of our love? Do you no longer count the 'likes' from picture to picture to see which moment our friends think is our finest? Have you lost all desire to login to my life?

Maybe you still want to.
Maybe you just forgot your password.


Live, love & learn!
-The King

Dear Younger Me

Dear younger me,

Hi.
First off, that woman that you call mom. She will prove to be the strongest woman in the world. Trust in her. Even when it's hard to, know that you'll understand and appreciate all of her decisions later in life.

One day you're going to have a younger brother. Love him. Protect him. Not just physically, but mentally. Don't ever let the bond between you falter. Because if it does, it will slowly kill you inside.

You are going to be blessed with opportunities that some can't even fathom. Cherish those times and enjoy every minute of it. And when it feels like your peak is long gone, and people start doubting you, just return to your safe place... your mind. You know how to make anything you fight for happen. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise.

You will pick up new talents faster than you can keep track. But even though they come easy, don't take them for granted. Work hard. Your work ethic will be your defining trait.

Friends... You're going to go through plenty of those. Many that you will think will be there forever. ...They won't. But when it comes to long term friends, there are the kinds that you think will never leave your side, and then the ones that you never even think about losing because your side is their side. Hold on to those. You will gain a couple of friends that will become your additional brothers. You'll know it when it happens.

Girls... Try, for me, just try to approach girls/women with the same confidence that you have in your trades of choice. In this case... Finally let yourself live outside of your head. Don't over think everything. But when you feel something strong in your gut... stand true to it. Your gut instinct is one that people will grow to admire and respect. You do the same.

Finally... There's nothing wrong with being the "good guy". There is nothing wrong with the morals that you will build for yourself. You are destined to affect lives and touch the masses. ...Get ready. And try to sleep as much as you can now!

Live, love & learn.

You. Me. Us.

Dear Broken-Hearted Girl

Dear broken-hearted girl looking for love,

I tried.

But it's hard to help you see through the windows that you keep painting over.
Such a beautiful girl with a heart as big as America. So I guess that makes me Obama, because I keep getting blamed for everything that your last man did to you. Don't you know that it's going to take more than one term to fix all of that?

I know it's hard for your deflated spirit to bounce back high enough for anyone playing your game to maintain a steady dribble. Your ups and downs are 80% down, 5% up, and 15% hovering in an emotional purgatory, trying to climb your way up while still bracing for the impact of the fall.
The pain that he caused was like that of an abandoning father; sure, you'll be able to live your life, but those scars will always find a way to manifest whenever true beauty starts to appear in your life.

He lassoed your heart with promises of infinite happiness, delusions of never growing up, all of Midas' gold, and clouds for shower heads because your natural high would have you too far above the ground to use common plumbing. He grabbed a hold of those strings connected to your heart and held you over his head refusing to ever let you go like a child with their first big red balloon.
Then he tightened that invisible lasso in your chest and kicked the worlds tallest mountain from under your feet. He watched as the now noose around your heart forced your body to go limp as you swung from his redwood, hanging by your chest plate with your shoulders back and eyes up to him, the boy who had become your new God, asking "Why?!"

He made an Emmett Till of your innocence.

I get it.
...I get it.

And then here I come. A man with similar pledges of commitment. I made the self-sacrificing vow to always make you smile; even though my heart skips a beat every time you do. To hear you laugh for ten minutes is the most exhilarating near death experience I could ever wish for.

But in every sparkling token of affection that I hand your way, you still see his reflection. Somehow my silhouette resembles his shadow. My hug reminds you of his choke; and I wish... I wish I could wipe your slate clean.
I wish that he did the one thing that a virus like him is supposed to do, and completely reformat your hard drive.
I wish he never had the chance to break down your walls, and hymen, with his false starting, yellow flag of a penalty existence.

I wish...
I wish I was more like him.
Because, at least for now, he is the only person that has access to your heart.
I wish my name sounded more like his, so that when you accidentally calls his out in conversation I could at least trick myself into believing that you really did say mine.
I wish I had the power to leave marks on your heart. Not to hurt you. No. Just to make sure that one day I'll be remembered as more than just 'that one guy you dated after him'.

But you are doomed to repeat this cycle. Repeat it until the day that you're willing to drop that emotional baggage and just let the airline lose it without any thought of getting it back. When you realize that not "all men are dogs" just because you've dealt with a bitch.
But when it finally does sink in, don't come looking for me. Because I will probably have just gotten to the point of getting over you.

Dear broken-hearted girl looking for love,

Keep trying.


Live, love & learn!
-The King

Pause

Play.

"One thing about music is when it hits you, you feel no pain."

Pause!

Bullsh*t.

Then how do you explain that gut-wrenching feeling that I have every time I hear someone singing along to a SouljaBoy track?

Rewind.

I'm sure everyone has at least one song, that if played will reconnect them to a memory in their life and instantly evoke an ancient emotion. It's like pressing play on paused feelings. That's what makes good music great. The ability to emotionally connect people that have never met. The reason music can cross boundaries of gender, race, religion, status, and geographical demographics is because in it's simplest form it holds the few universal truths that everyone has experienced.

Happiness, sadness, anger, pain, love.
That's how you connect to millions. Relate on the most natural of conditions.

Pause.

Sidenote:
You know, our hearts don't actually look like those cookie-cutter shapes that we're used to that slightly resembles a pair of lips, or breasts, or an ass, or whatever Freudian-esk Rorschach response you see. Our hearts actually look more like a fist... wearing headphones. So while the Jersey Shore steadily fist pumps its way through the caving behind my ribs, I am reminded daily that music is what drives me.

Fast forward.

And how do you explain that emphatic joy that I experience every time Eminem starts yelling on a song and instantly dwarfs his peers?

Pause.

Now I know you might be saying, "That's different. That's happiness, not pain."
But isn't it those that make us those most happy that are able to put us through the most misery?
No?
Rewind to the second to last person that you fell in love with and then fast forward to the feelings you felt when they first broke your heart.

Pause.

How does it feel?

You see, love is giving someone everything they need to hurt you, but having faith that they won’t.
So when you say, "Oh my god, I love Beyoncé!" What you're really saying is, "I've invested my time, money and energy into this person who so far has lived up to their end of the bargain by delivering something that I thoroughly enjoy. But the minute she delivers a lackluster album, or considering your level of love for her... two lackluster albums, you're going to pack your bags, chuck up the deuce, and bounce with that 'don't call me, don't text me, stop trying to reach me through your videos on youtube' attitude."

Fast forward.

So, you see, if music can give you the highest of highs, then obviously it can deliver the lowest of lows. That's just the laws of nature. Like any child with a Lego set, you build things up to knock them down to build them up again. It's instinctual.

Rewind.

This started about music and pain.

Play.

"Hop up out my b..."

Skip!

Did that hurt you like it hurt me?
Anyway... Getting back on track. I guess my point of this is for everyone to remember, the next time they're rhythmically writhing with someone over the earth-shattering rumble of the bass and ear-ringing hiss of the tweeters... remember that the song that right now makes you yell, "That's my sh*t!" may one day cause you to say, "Turn that sh*t off!" All because of the melodic structure full of strategic chords and reflected reverberations that now resonates with a void in your heart that was created the day you chose to forget the words to your favorite song.

If that's not pain, I don't know what is.

Stop.


Live, love & learn!
-The King

Love Is A Unicorn

How can anyone find real love?
Such a seemingly impossible search. We might as well be looking for unicorns.

How can we expect anyone living in this day and age to truly find love? Or even know it when they see it?
What does it even look like? What does the product of a single-parent home think of the possibilities of finding a mate to love for the rest of their life?

I'm not talking about that mother-to-son, brother-to-brother, 'hey... I might not always like you, but I'll always love you', I didn't chose to have you in my life but I'd rather die than lose you from it kind of love.

No.

And I'm not talking about that bff, known you since I was two, best friends for as long as you don't piss me off, I'll cry on your shoulder every time I don't find the love I'm actually talking about kind of love.

Nope. Not that either.

I'm talking about that 'in sickness and in health', hold your hands even when they're ashy, look into your eyes and know everything you're saying, kiss you with morning breath, rub your feet even though I've been walking all day, willing to watch you age... even though I know that it means that you will slowly go from my type go 'My God, you look old'.

That's the kind of love that I've never seen.
That's the kind of love that I've been told my whole life is the truest pleasure in life.

We're raised on stories of adolescent characters going to desperate lengths to get the attention of the potential love of their life. But, why do fairy tales always end when the actual relationship starts?

What does "happily ever after" really mean? Maybe it's "happily even after." As in, living happily, even after falling victim to the 41% divorce rate. Living happily, even after losing your best friend and putting little Jasmin or Jamal through the perpetuating stress of watching their parents fall out of endless love.

These stories, just like life, don't give any real insight as to what you're supposed to do if you really do find love. In hindsight, it's about as frustrating as being a young man and realizing that sex ed is not going to teach you how to make your woman orgasm.
Shoot, that might even help love last.

But no. We are left to build the image of love in our imaginations. And doomed to scrutinize everyone who doesn't live out our fantasies; completely disregarding the fact that they are just trying to live out their own.

I've fallen victim to this cycle. I've been the hunter and the prey. I am the lost lover who has advice for everyone but myself. I am that product of a single-parent home who's just trying to find what he's never seen. Trying to be the example that I never had. Trying to start my fairy tale where the others end.

Somehow I still have faith in the mystical, magical, practically unknown for this millennium thing that is true love. I don't believe in elves, fairies, wizards, or trolls. But I do believe in God. And if God is love... and I'm created in his image... I have to be able to find my reflection. Even if I've never seen it before.

So while everyone else is stumbling around the emotional Sleepy Hollow with a heart full of hope and no clear head on their shoulders...
I'll be hunting unicorn.


Live, learn & love!
- The King

How Did I Get Here?

Justin Nozuka's latest album blares through my speakers as I make the same drive I have made a countless amount of times. But today's ride is one that I will not soon forget.

Or ever.

My mind whips its way through a pensive parallel universe as my dissociated body drives itself. The fact that I didn't run into any other cars is a miracle. Then again, I don't even remember seeing other vehicles on the roads that I know for a fact were riddled with traffic. Buildings became a blur as my eyes glazed over with a frosty film that resembled an antique camera filter.

As I recite the words to the tunes that are accompanying me on this trek, I feel the first stream of my eye's salty secretion trickle its way down my face. Songs that used to make me so happy to sing along to are now stabbing me with pain.

It isn't just the music that's bringing this out of me. Nor is it where I'm going to.
It's where I'm coming from.

I just left from seeing you in a way that I have never seen before. In a state that I wished I never would see. You laid there in that hospital bed not knowing what to feel or expect. I sat there next to you not knowing what to feel or expect.
It took all that I had to keep a calm face while by your side. All the while, my brain was being poisoned with 'what if's. I was able to control these thoughts in the moment, but they are currently getting the best of me.

I can't lose you.

My life would cease to function without you to share it with. You have been there for as long as I can remember. Please don't leave me right now. I'm not strong enough to handle it.
That's right, me... The pillar of forced strength is saying that I can NOT take you being taken away from me.
Not now.
Not ever.

The tears continue to pour down my face in a manner that would make Niagara proud. For every one that I try to fight, four more follow. I am now howling the words to the music. It is my only remaining grip on reality in this moment of insanity. The harder I cry, the louder I sing. The louder I sing, the more it hurts. The more it hurts, the harder I cry. My circle of sorrow.

I think about everything that I've never told you. Everything that I may never get to. Everything that I wish I never did. And everything that I can't wait to tell you again.
We have unfinished business. You have unfinished business. I'm destined to be great. And you're destined to be even better.
I'm sorry for every word constructed by me that has ever hurt you. I'm sorry for every word constructed by anyone else that hurt you that I wasn't there to protect you from.

You are my heart. You are my inspiration. You are my focus.
You are my brother.

My car comes to a slow stop. I made it to work.
How did I get here?


Live, love & learn!
-The King