I’m confused. Well, my body is … and my brain. I woke up early this morning, glanced around my dark bedroom and found the red numbers that represent the time on a nearby dresser. 7:30. Then, without thinking, I reached down to the floor near my bed and checked my cell phone to, again, see what time it was, but also to check for text messages, emails, tweets, etc. It’s become habitual. Every day I wake up and check to see if there’s any semblance of news that I need to cover.
I’ve become a master of the “almost.” Everyone knows life comes with plenty of disappointments; it’s absolutely cliché, but it really stings when you come so close to something only to be told “you’re not the guy.” And for that to happen so many times to one person – it’s a miracle my self-esteem is still in tact! I grew up in a Christian home. Some would use the terms “ultra conservative” and “sheltered” when I describe my life growing up. I don’t completely disagree, but I
I quit my job. You probably knew that already though. I’ve gotten a few messages after posting my blog opener. Messages from friends who give me kudos, or to tell me they understand how I felt, or to ask me what my plans are. First of all – and I felt this way with my newspaper, too, whenever I’d write editorials – I find it wildly humbling, yet also entertaining, that anyone would want to read my drivel. I’m just some strange black kid (well, 29-year-old isn’t exactly a kid,
Don’t be a Stranger This is an editorial I printed in the West Side Journal newspaper. It ran in the April 2, 2015, edition of the weekly newspaper in Port Allen, La. <blockquote> <div>My family started a business in 1994. I was a mere 9-years-old, but I remember my father explaining that he was getting out of the Air Force that had stationed us in the Biloxi/Gulfport, Mississippi area just two years earlier, and was going to start a carpet cleaning business.</div> <div>I’m p