Archive for 2018

Paradoxically, a lot of what makes someone talented gets in the way of real hard work.

By that I mean that most times the opposite of talent looks like hard work. And most times the more talent you have the harder it is for you to get any real work done. For the path between talent and hard work is that much longer the more talented you are and running from one end of the scale to the other is that much more time consuming, that much more difficult.

Basically, talent and hard work aren’t friends, and if they are they live on opposite ends of the world. Making great shit happen then seems to be less about talent or hard work and more about conquering the gruelling marathon in between both, and then staying still for a while.

All marathoners are geniuses then. But not all geniuses are marathoners. And for the rest of us talentless dummies (most of us, basically all of us) with shorter tracks to run hard work is the only thing that really matters in this race against ourselves.

Yeah, hard work seems to be the only thing that really matters. For if there’s anything that’s really true it’s that the world is run by hardworking idiots. To quote Beyoncé, “Who runs the world? Who runs this mutha?! We do! Yeah!!”

Beauty makes us a promise it can’t ever deliver.

A promise of complete salvation.

If/when attained completely, it promises to save us from not just the world’s but our own negative views about ourselves.

But it’s not just beauty that does this. The notions of wisdom, goodness, strength, and abundance also make us promises of unshackling that they can’t ever deliver on. Even our dreams promise us that they’ll absolutely save us from the world and ourselves.

This is one of the things that’s always confused me about being human.

That, although the truth will set us free, at our core, we very much like our impossible promises of total salvation. That, although the truth will set us free, we very much like lying to ourselves. Need to lie to ourselves even.

Strip us of all of our beautiful beliefs that lie to us, that promise to us deliverance that will never truly be, and what are we left with? In essence, absolutely nothing. Unmitigated truth isn’t just heartbreaking, it’s life-breaking. It’s suicide by another name. For Continue Reading →

I never really got why there aren’t more straight black men fighting for feminist or LGBTQ+ issues. And vice versa, I never got why anyone part of the LGBTQ+ or feminist movements would choose not to fight against racism.

I mean, almost globally, a woman going to her job’s HR department to speak out about the sexual harassment she’s facing looks very similar to a dark-skinned man going to their local government to speak out about police harassment.

I mean, even if the person they’ll both be talking to looks exactly like them, both walk forward realizing that the overall system has a vested interested in keeping things quiet, and thus in being anything but on their side. Both are very similar in that they walk forward realizing that things won’t really change.

All this before we even start looking at the next person in line who, identifying as LGBTQ+, will have to walk down both paths while also realizing that things won’t really change.

In fact, it seems everyone in the world realizes that things won’t really change. Mothers of black boys, girls, and queer kids today are still giving them all the same haunting speeches they have been throughout the ages, “Here’s what you do so you don’t give them a reason to abuse you. Here’s how you keep quiet. Here’s how you come back home to me, safe.”

I’m tired of that speech I guess. Mothers today are still telling their kids that they should change themselves because the world won’t, and we’re still too busy acting like we aren’t all connected to pay attention. Still too busy acting like we aren’t the world.

Actually, nevermind, maybe I do get it after all. Even I was taught how to be quiet. I mean, even after all this comes to light and the dawn of a new day approaches, even I myself think that we won’t really change. Screw waking up when the bed’s so warm right? I mean, screw changing the world when I can’t even change myself right?

Why fight for you when I won’t even fight for myself? Right?

A lot of people think that because I’m one of the nicest and happiest people they’ve generally run across in real life that I am in essence kind-hearted. I’m not, really. Life is war, and I’m not in any way better than the next person over; I’m just a rebel. A renegade. A defector. A deserter.

I was born in genuine wartime, in genocide, I’ve got scars as old and as deep as me, there’s no way I can be the common definition of “kind.” I’m kind simply because I’m a rebel who sticks to his principles.

See, unconditional love is the only way I know how to give society, and life in general, the middle finger. It’s the only thing that doesn’t make sense in this world, and so it’s the only real revolution. To quote WarGames, “The only winning move is to not play.”

To reiterate the point, I grew up amongst gangsters as well, there’s no way I can be the common definition of kind. The lesson I took away was that real gangsters don’t fear nothing from no one. I just simply realized that all unkind actions are based in fear of a future possibility of something bad happening. So what and who’s there to be unkind to if you don’t hold fear in your heart?

I mix with all types, and I haven’t gone one day of my life without laughter. How about you?

I’m on that #GloryChildFlow. How about you?

Sometimes you get on people’s bad sides permanently just because you’re not what they expected you to be. Because you’re more than anything that can be simply summed up.

Simple mathematics, consciously or subconsciously, they hate being wrong. And your very being, your very presence, is a constant reminder of that.

#Hahaha
#LikeThereAreRulesToThisGame
#KeepOnKeepingOn #ForwardAlways

I don’t really do deep, honest, heartfelt conversations.

They rarely happen in “real” life. Especially when people ask for them. In almost all occasions people in a conversation are testing each other. On their knowledge, morality, successes, failures, &c.. Conversations are a battle-field in which the general mindset of both sides is, “What can you do for me?” And that mindset isn’t wrong, the world is a harsh place and ain’t none of us got time for anything but our lives and the people in it. The battle-field is necessary.

I’ve found that people are only ever truly honest when they’re alone by themselves. This is why I write and love reading. I get to reach and understand people when I and they’re at their most honest self. Diaries are honest. I also like sharing a lot of my work after midnight for the same reason – because it’s a time when people are alone with themselves.

Honest conversation rarely happens in life. So rarely it’s best to say it never happens at all. I’ve found that the best thing to do (as a response to the world) is to be stupid, and occasionally play the devil’s advocate. You learn a lot about people by putting yourself beneath their contempt. It’s the only honest thing about them sometimes. Most times.

But people don’t like playing the fool, let alone embodying them. Pride I guess. Leads to a lot of missed lessons if you ask me. But what do I know, I don’t really do conversations.

You don’t have to pick between religion or science. There’s a difference between a religious education and a scientific one. One lets you navigate the world, and one lets you understand it.

Navigate life’s seas by the compass—religion—you deem best for yourself. You can even choose to sail without a compass. It’s up to you. But it’s always helpful to know why the sea’s acting the way it is.

It’ll take you a lot longer to understand why the sea—life—is acting the way it is than it will for you to understand how to navigate it. In fact, you’ll never truly understand it. So I suppose it all comes down to whether or not you want to understand how life works exactly, or whether you want to know how to move through it safely, happily, and assuredly. No wrong choices. You can even have both educations. Or none.

#ChooseYourOwnAdventure

*Born in Rwanda, flew to Los Angeles, grew up in Texas, Georgia, and very very briefly New York, before I moved to Toronto, Canada to become a proud citizen.

Being black in the US more or less means that you’re African-American. And being black in Canada means that you’re just another immigrant, like everyone else in Canada.

If you’re black in the US there’s a general feeling of camaraderie against a common foe. Some attribute this to African-Americans not knowing where in Africa they’re truly from. And so you get this mish-mashed group of dark-skinned peoples banding together for a common cause like orphans realizing that you can make a family with the people around you. This creates a great solidarity amongst African-Americans, but you’ve also got to realize that lands that create orphans in the first place aren’t that great.

In Canada black people know their origins.

Western Canada has a lot of Continue Reading →