Ila,

I've been high for ten days. Nothing can bring me down. Not screaming in the middle of the night, not a poopy diaper ten minutes after I just changed a poopy diaper that made me wonder if you were secretly eating soul food or barbecue or enchiladas because there is no way that all of that could come from just breast milk, not crying when you no longer want Daddy to hold you because you want boobs, and Daddy doesn't have boobs, so you have no use for me at the moment. Nothing.  

The closer that we got to the due date, I was constantly asked, "Are you ready?" I would always say that I was as ready as I could be. Our bags were packed, everything was set up with the hospital, home was organized, we were just waiting for the arrival. I knew that there was nothing that I could do to prepare for this. It is no simulation. I've been a (step) dad for almost five years now, but this is a totally different experience. I've been present every step of the way. From week 1 day 1 to week 40 day 5. The journey was amazing. Watching you grow inside of your mother. Wondering what you would look like, and praying that you would be healthy. Seeing you enter the world was the most miraculous moment that I have ever witnessed. Your mother is a soldier. 17 Hours of labor. I wouldn't have made it through 17 minutes. Intense ain't the word. When she finally started to push, after hours of contractions that no doubt would've had me on the floor ugly crying, I was focused on Al's face. Trying to help her breathe. I didn't know what it was looking like down there and wasn't sure if I wanted to. I got myself together, heard my inner voice say, "Stop being a punk and watch your baby be born!" I looked. It was definitely a view that I will remember forever. The second that I saw you exit her body, and enter this world, my life changed forever. I was supposed to cut the cord, but everything was happening so fast. The midwife tried to hand me the scissors like I was an umbilical cord cutting pro. I didn't want to mess anything up, plus I had tears in my eyes. I told her to cut the cord, I didn't need that experience. Just do it right! She did, I kissed your mother, and we cried tears of joy. Our dream had come true. My brother kept telling me how excited he was for me to experience this. I didn't know exactly what "this" was. Now I know. I can't explain it, but I love this. I love being a father. 

We've wanted you for so long. At times, it seemed as if you would never come. We were tested, but we persevered and fought for you.  Now that you are here, it still doesn't seem real. I can't stop staring at you. I am in awe. You are perfect. In every way. When we first found out that we were pregnant, I thought that you would be a boy. Well, I hoped that you would be a boy. For all of the reasons that men want sons. So that I could have a little Ry running around the house. A little potna. Somebody that I can teach everything that I wish that I was taught about being a man. I had a vision of us on the basketball court all hours of the night, training like Jake and Jesus Shuttlesworth. However, that dream was put on hold when we went to the doctor in week 20. "This baby is a girl." I'll never forget that strong Indian accent saying those beautiful words. A girl. Wow. Negro logic states that men get daughters as karma for being no good. I have to disagree, that makes you sound like some kind of punishment. You are everything but that. An absolute gift, I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I wouldn't trade you for the world. And if you are the result of karma, I guess that I did something right.

I needed you. I needed new life. I needed to see a miracle. Your name is a dedication to your grandmother, I wish that she could be here physically, we lost her about a year and a half before you joined us, but I know that she is with us, she is with you. You are the product of myself and your mother, but, you are your own person. I can't wait to see who you turn out to be. I am honored to serve as your father. I am here to help you. I hope that I can guide and teach you, as I learn from you.  I am not a perfect man. I've made many errors in every role that I've played in my life. But as your father, I have a clean slate. I know that this won't last long. Now that I think about it, I already made a mistake when I set you up for failure by leaving your diaper hanging halfway off of you. I guess I was jamming too hard to our diaper changing song. (Wipe me down. Shoulders, chest, pants, shoes.) I will make plenty of mistakes along the way, but lack of effort will not be one. I will give you my all. I will protect you and provide for you. You are mine, and I've got you. I love you. Always.

Full.

This time, last year, I was extremely excited. New Years Day has always been one of, if not my favorite, holidays. I love the feeling of a fresh start, a clean slate. When the clock hits midnight, it feels as though anything is possible. 

I was ready. I had my goals and plans all lined up. It was going to be a great year. A year to remember. That, it was. 

I will never forget 2016, it was a year of milestone events in my life. A year of extreme highs, I married the woman of my dreams in May, and released my first book on my 30th birthday. And a year of devastating lows, we had a miscarriage in January, and my dear mother passed away in August. Peaks and valleys.

In his famous ESPY speech, a dying Jimmy V said that three things were necessary to have a "full day." 1. Laugh. 2. Think. 3. Have your emotions moved to tears. He stated that if we all did that every day, that we would have an exceptional life. I had plenty of great laughs. I've thought myself to headaches. And I've cried more tears in the last 365 days than in the 29 years prior. I've cried tears of joy and have bawled of sorrow. There were days that I didn't know how I could make it. But, I'm making it. I'm sure that these days will be joining me in 2017, but, I know now, more than ever, that I will not break. 

Life is to be lived. And live I did this year. I had a full year. Full of ups and downs. Wins and losses. Blessings and Lessons. Ayyee. For me, 2016 was the true embodiment of a year in a life. Life has never been easy, this year was not an exception. I've gained a lot, lost more than I could imagine and in the process, learned more than ever. This year has taught me the true meaning of love. On the 28th of May, I was floating. When I said, "I do" everything felt right in my life. I knew that I was headed in the right direction. It was the best decision that I ever made. Three months later, I learned how valuable time is. My mother's time on this earth came to an end. That is still hard for me to type. But that is a fate that none of us will escape. In her death, I learned that your legacy is built on how you live, and not how long you live. Her impact will be felt by generations to come. I hope that the same will be said about me when my time is up. I have to live every day knowing that my legacy is on the line. 

2016. What a year. I'm happy that this one is over. Though it is now in the past, it will always remain with me. A day won't go by in my life without a memory from this year crossing my mind. Both good and bad. Now, it is time to make new memories in a new year. I just pray that this year, the good is heavier on the scale. 

2017. Let's do it. The mission hasn't changed. Do good, be great.

Tighten Up.

I turned 30 on August 5th. I didn't have any big celebrations planned. All that I wanted to do was release my first book, "Young Man, Rumble".  I originally planned to release the project in the first quarter of the year. But, life happened. At this time, I knew where I wanted the story to begin, but I didn't have a clear ending.  After the pregnancy, miscarriage, engagement and marriage, I was ready to complete the story. I also knew that I wanted to release it on my 30th birthday. I couldn't think of a better way to bring in my third decade on earth.

 It was now June, I was on the clock, and it was ticking. I've never written a book before. I'm completely new to this. I didn't know exactly how this process worked, but I got to work. I started writing like my life depended on it. I had a deadline. I had to get this out on time. 8/5. This was non-negotiable. I finished the rough draft in early July. I then began a grueling editing process.

 I edited and re-read and re-read and edited for weeks. I damn near had the whole book memorized. I wanted it to be perfect. This is my first release, they say that you only have one chance to make a first impression. It was crucial that I make a strong introduction as an author. I have failed so many times. I didn't want this to be another plan that I didn't see through. I wanted to execute. I wanted to start my thirties off on a positive note.

 I turned the book into my designer and got the proof back on August 2nd. I had three days to spare. Right on schedule. Things were working out exactly how I wanted them to for one of the few times in my life. I was so excited. The proof looked amazing. It was exactly what I wanted. Seeing that beautiful royal blue with my name on it as an author was a great feeling. One that I will never forget. I skimmed through the book, everything looked good. I was all set. Three days later, I released the book at midnight of my birthday. I felt high.

 YMR had a great opening weekend. I was feeling good. Orders were being placed and delivered. While I was at work on Monday, Alex was reading the book and putting some excerpts on snapchat. I was in a great mood, this was her first time reading the project and she loved it. This was the first feedback that I had received. Before I released it, the book was under lock and key. When I got home, I asked to see her snapchat story. While watching, my heart dropped. I noticed an error on a page. I couldn't believe what I saw, something so obvious. How could I miss this? I read every word of this book what seems to be a hundred times. I was sick. Al tried to calm me down, saying that it wasn't a big deal. But it was to me, it was the biggest deal. YMR is a representation of me. I wanted it to be perfect. It wasn't. I didn't want one more flawed copy to be sold. I made the book unavailable for purchase.

 We took a short road trip that evening. I asked Alex to go through the book and mark every error that she found. I felt knots in my stomach every time that I saw the red pen touch a page. I'm an artist, and I'm sensitive about my shit. I was confused. I saw errors that I already corrected. I now realized what happened. I fucked up. I turned in the wrong draft to the designer. I blew it. I didn't do my due diligence. When I received the proof, I should have checked it thoroughly. This whole situation could have easily been avoided. I was so disappointed in myself. The errors aren't major, most probably wouldn't even be noticed. But I notice them, and I want the project to be as tight as possible.

 I was pissed for about 3 days. I let myself down. Every time that I saw a picture of a book that arrived, I cringed. While I am very proud of the now limited edition that was sold during the opening weekend, I needed to get my best work out. I had to get it together. I fixed the errors and sent the correct draft to my designer.

 After the initial disappointment, I relaxed. Nothing has ever come easy for me, I didn't expect this to be any different. I now appreciate this project even more. YMR represents me to the fullest. It is a story of resiliency and fighting through adversity. It's ironic that the actual release came with its own struggle. One that I brought on my damn self. This just makes the book even more special to me. I am proud to announce that YMR is now available again. You can find it by clicking the YOUNG MAN, RUMBLE link at the top of this page. I thank you all for going through this journey with me and allowing me to express myself.

Fight for our lives.

In this country, a black man only has like 5 years that we can exhibit maximum strength. And that’s right now. While you’re a teenager, while you’re still strong or while you still wanna lift weights, while you still wanna shoot back. Cause once you turn 30 it’s like they take the heart and soul out of a man, out of a black man in this country. And you don’t wanna fight no more. And if you don’t believe me you can look around, you don’t see no loud mouth 30 year old muthafuckas.

-Tupac Shakur

To say that this has been a tough week for black folks would be a huge understatement. We’ve been in this country for about 20,000 weeks now. None of them have been walks in the park. Still, this one hurt more more than usual. The week had potential to be decent. With Monday being the 4th of July, (I don't celebrate) it would be a short work week for most of us. That’s always a positive. NBA Free Agency was more active than usual, so that was great for sports fans. Monday and Tuesday, the biggest news story was Kevin Durant teaming up with Steph nem. Now, that seems so miniscule, and so long ago.

We have seen our brothers ALTON STERLING and PHILANDO CASTILE killed by shots fired by cops who took an oath and are paid (by us) to protect and serve. We are still trying to convince this corrupt system that BLACK LIVES MATTER, it is painfully clear that the system does not agree.

My strength was tested this week. I had many conversations with my friends about what we were dealing with. Sadly, none of us were surprised by any of the events that took place this week. Why would we be? This is nothing new, black people have been treated worse than shit in this country ever since Plymouth Rock landed on us. It was getting to me. I’ve always been a fighter, trying to think of ways to bring change. I couldn’t think of any. Are these just the times that we live in? This is how it has always been for us, here. Is this how it will always be?

I am tired. Tired of seeing black men bleed to death when I look at my phone, tired of hearing that all lives matter, tired of hearing black women and young children cry because the men in their lives have been stolen from them, tired of knowing that even though the murders were recorded that these cops will probably never see the inside of a cell. I'm tired of hearing excuses, STOP KILLING US.

I am tired of cops being killed, which is tragic, and something that I do not support, being compared to the murders that cops are committing. A police officer's life being at risk is a hazard of the job. A job that they signed up for. This is why they are issued a gun, armor, a brotherhood that will stand by them no matter how poor of a job that they do, and what seems to be a license to kill anyone that makes them feel threatened in the least bit, even if they are fully complying with the law. We are not issued any of these tools a long with the targets on our back that we receive at birth. And we for damn sure don't receive a pension with full benefits after twenty years of being black.

I felt hopeless. I felt helpless. I felt drained. I was growing weak.

I will be 30 in less than a month now. Maybe Tupac was right, have I lost my heart and soul? Have I lost my desire to fight? Will I be silent? Should I just try to stay safe and hope that I don’t become the next hashtag?

I am grieving for my people. That could be my family standing at the podium just hours after I was executed. I am already hurting for our future. Will this ever change? My wife and I are trying to bring a black baby into this world, what will we be getting him into?

Thursday night, I read a beautiful, heartbreaking article on my favorite website, theundefeated.com by Justin Tinsley. He shared a lot of the thoughts that were going through many of our minds,including myself.

“The sobs of Cameron Sterling, and a 4-year-old child’s last images of her mother’s boyfriend are the newest tattooed tears. Emotions like the ones I’ve battled these past few days make me wary of having a family. I want to have kids and a wife. I do. But I can’t help thinking that if I don’t have a family, then I have fewer people to leave behind in pain. The world has me contemplating aborting the best part of me before I even get a chance to create him or her. Every man has a breaking point — and I’m nearing mine.”  

My heart went out for him when I read this. I knew exactly where he was coming from. I was at the same point.

I woke up Friday with a realization. I am black. Being crippled by fear is not an option. To be black is to be strong and fearless. It is in our DNA. If we stopped moving forward when we got tired, or frustrated, or felt hopeless, our bloodlines would’ve died a long time ago.  That is not an option. That is not what we do. We didn't give up during the middle passage. Nor during slavery. Nor during Jim Crow. And we won't give up now. We don’t die, we multiply. I won’t accept throwing in the towel. As long as I am breathing, I will always fight. I will always want more for my people and myself.

If anything, this will make us fight harder. The people that hate us and want to kill us off, want us to give up, but it will not happen. We will grow stronger. We will grow closer. We will build each other up, and hold each other down. We will develop new plans and ideas until we receive what we deserve, and are treated how we need to be treated. We will not be broken.

Individually, I will continue to strive for black excellence. I will work on my weaknesses. I will not let my light be dimmed. I will love my people harder. I will do and give more. I will continue to live to the fullest. I will continue to work towards my purpose. I will work to exceed my potential. I will stay on my life's mission: Do good, Be great.

My wife and I will not let the evil in this world prevent us from having the family that we want. We will continue to keep trying, and hopefully soon, we will have a black son. (I will continue to claim a baby boy until he comes, I need backup in this house.) We will raise him to be great. We will raise him up to be proud. We will raise him to be strong, compassionate and caring. I pray that he doesn’t have to endure the same things that we are dealing with now, but if he does, he will be prepared to fight for what is right with his head held high. That is what we do.

One Month In.

Time is flying. Today marks one month since we said our "I Do's".  May 28, 2016. The day that everything changed.

When I woke up, I knew that it would be a huge day, but I didn't know what to expect. This is the biggest day of my life. I am making the most important decision that I've ever made. How do I prepare myself for this? Do I even try to prepare myself? Do I go with the flow? I've never gotten married before. I'm not true to this, I'm new to this. I decided to go with whats gotten me this far, winging it. Whatever is going to happen, will happen. I decided to just embrace everything as it came and enjoy the day.

I was not nervous. I was not afraid. My feet weren't cold at all. I was ready. I wasn't under any pressure. This is exactly what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. It was time to take the next step. The only thing that I was slightly worried about was delivering my vows. 

We decided to write our own. The pressure was on. I was brainstorming for weeks. I had to recite my vows after Maya Angelou Jr. Great. The bride has literally written books of love notes. I was outmatched. I decided to stop stressing, and just write down what I promise to do as a husband. I was proud when I finished them. I let mom hear what I came up with, she approved. I was set.

The hours leading up to the ceremony went by so fast. It felt like I woke up, blinked, and was standing in front of the Reverend in my suit, (cleaner than an a deacon on Easter Sunday) waiting for Alex to join me, so we could get the party started. 

And there she was, walking towards me. So beautiful. Tears flowing down her cheeks. I was hoping that they were tears of joy. People had been asking me all week if I was going to cry. I had no clue. If I felt the tears coming, I wouldn't hold back, but I wasn't planning on needing any kleenex. It was a happy day, and I usually only shed tears on sad occasions. I was elated. No tears were on my face, only a big picture day smile.

The Rev was performing a great ceremony. Al delivered beautiful, heartfelt vows, like I knew she would, and now it was time for me to handle my business. I cleared my throat, it was showtime... 

I commit my body and heart to you, to be yours and only yours. 

I vow to stand by your side, through the peaks and valleys of this life. To laugh, cry, and grow with you. To pray for you, and with you.  To share the joy of the good days, and comfort you through the hard nights. 

I vow to protect and provide for our household. To lead our family and support your dreams.

You are a blessing and my best friend. I vow to treat you as such, with loyalty, trust, honor and respect. Above all, I vow to love you, as you are, unconditionally and without hesitation. Always.

My job for the day was done. The bride was kissed. Mr. and Mrs. Spearman were presented.

The rest of the night was a blur. We had a great time with our friends and family. We laughed, cried, (Mama's speech got me) and danced the night away. The day was a success. We were already out here. Now we were REALLY OUT HERE. 

The past 30 days have been some of my best to date. I feel born again, It's hard to explain, but it is a great feeling. I feel high. Just knowing that someone wants to ride through life with me, forever, is a good ass feeling. I didn't think that it would feel any different. We've been a unit, and living together for a good amount of time now. But, just being a husband and having a wife has made all the difference. I am living for more than myself.

God willing we will have about 25,000 more days together on this journey. I know that they won't all be as sweet as these first 30, but if the majority of them are close, life will be good. It's up to us to make that happen. 

I know these so called playas wouldn't tell you this...

Photo by: Erika Layne

I've known that I was going to marry Alex since July 2013. The first time that I saw her coming out of LAX, I knew it. Well, I knew that I was supposed to, I wasn't sure if she was going to let me. As soon as I saw her walk out of those doors, I knew it was a wrap. I wasn't ready to be a husband, hell, I wasn't ready to be a boyfriend, but I knew that one day, if she was willing to put up with my crazy ass, she would be my wife.

I guess she's willing. Almost three years later, she's still here. We've been through so much, and have grown together. Neither one of us were ready to be married when we first decided to give this a shot. We just knew that we wanted to ride together and see where this road would take us. She didn't know that she was getting in an old cadillac with a broken passenger door that only opens from the outside. In other words, her ass is stuck on this ride! In too deep.

We're very non traditional. We openly discussed marriage often. We both knew that it was what we wanted. Charleigh would ask me once a week when are we getting married. She wants a little brother or sister and thinks that marriage will automatically make that happen. I hope she's right. I always would tell her "soon." One day, Alex and I decided that we were ready. We said fuck it, let's set a date. "We ain't gettin no younga we might as well do it." So we agreed on the date, the location, she bought her dress that she had been looking at for about a year now and we told our family and friends to save the date. Only one thing was missing, the ring on her finger.

I'm big on making memories. Alex, not so much. She has made it clear to me over the years, that she does not want a big extravagant proposal. And even though we had already decided that we wanted to get married, I still wanted to make a memory of the moment that I asked her to be my wife. 

I got the ring that she wanted. I knew what she wanted because she's been showing me rings since we first started dating, she made it easy for me. I ain't got time to get some mystery ring and then she doesn't like it and doesn't want to wear it. I wanted her to love what I was asking her to wear every day for the rest of her life to let guys know to leave her the hell alone. Now, I just had to figure out how I wanted to ask her to wear it proudly and be my wife. 

We were planning on going back to Kansas City together for a weekend. I thought perfect, we can make a memory in my hometown. I was going to take her to our favorite museum back home, to have a picnic on the lawn, it's a beautiful location. I was going to have a photographer set up in the cut to take pictures of me on one knee. It was going to be a good memory. However, like the great prophet Andre 3000 said, "You can plan a pretty picnic but you can't predict the weather." Alex wasn't feeling good and had a lot of work and travel coming up, so she couldn't make the trip back to KC with me. Plans ruined. 

Now I had no plan, and the clock was ticking. She told me that she wasn't going on the trip on Tuesday and I was flying out Friday morning. She would be working in California when I got back, so we would be apart for almost two weeks. I needed this ring on her finger before I left. Thursday rolled around, and I still couldn't come up with a plan. I decided to do something that I personally think I'm great at, wing it.

Thursday is our date night every week, I knew that by the end of the night I had to pop the question that I already had the answer to but I didn't know how. So I had the ring in my pocket and was waiting for the right moment. We went on our date, and had a great time. We went to a nice restaurant and had a nice booth that looked set up for proposal. But I knew that Alex would be embarrassed and pissed if I dropped down to one knee in front of all these people. So, it didn't happen there. Next thing I knew we were back at home, ring still in my pocket. The clock was ticking. 

We were in the bed listening to some of our favorite songs, that tell our story over the last three years. We were feeling great, we were in our element, laughing, kissing, enjoying each other. While I was singing to her, I took the ring out of my pocket and placed it in her hand. She asked "what the hell is that?" with a look on her face that I'll never forget. She knew what the hell it was, and she was ready for it. I slid off the bed, on to one knee. I grabbed her hand and looked her in the eye and asked "you really fuck with me huh? you really love me?" She said yes, I told her, "I love you too, more than anything in the world, will you be my wife?" She said, "YES." with the biggest grin I've ever seen on her face. Mission complete. Memory made. 

Fix.

I went back to Kansas City two weeks ago. I had the honor of being a groomsmen in one of my close friend's wedding. I was happy to make the cut and help my boy celebrate. I wasn't happy with the size of the pants of the rented tux, but it wasn't about me. I was just home for thanksgiving, but for some reason, that felt like so long ago. The days leading up to the trip, I was feeling anxious, I was ready to go. I couldn't wait to get back. I needed to feel the energy of the city. Something about going home always makes me feel rejuvenated. I go home for a few days, get my Kansas City fix and go on about my business back in reality. When this visit was over, I felt no different.

I spent the majority of my time with my parents. They live across town from each other, so I was making a lot of trips back and forth. They are both dealing with health issues, so I was  happy to do whatever I could to make them feel a little better while I was with them. Which most of the time meant just hanging at the house laughing and joking with them or praying with them, or listening to words of wisdom, or laying in the bed with them, or taking them to get something to eat. I would have cooked for them, but I'm not trying to kill them. I can't throw down worth shit in the kitchen. I just wanted to be in their presence as much as possible.

Other times when I have came home, I couldn't wait to be in the streets. As soon as I would touch down in the city, I was on the move. I needed to hit all the spots, be on the scene. This visit, I was happy being wherever they were. I was not able to see everybody that I wanted to, or that wanted to see me, but I felt like spending time with them was what was important.

When I wasn't with them, I was with my other family, my friends. It's crazy to see where we are now. Time is flying so fast. It seems like only yesterday we were giving teacher's hell, getting kicked out of classrooms or fighting and tearing shit up and getting kicked out of clubs. Now most of my boys are fathers, some are husbands, all of them are good ass people. We all have responsibilities these days, and take care of them, but when we get together, we still ain't shit. Just how I like it. 

Son and friend are two roles that I take very serious. Sometimes, I question myself if i'm being the best that I can. I left Kansas City in 2011, I needed to explore, I was looking for excitement. It was very necessary. In the almost 5 years since I left, I have had a lot of great experiences and met a lot of great people including my soon to be wife. So, I know that I made the right decision when I left, but lately I've been missing home a lot more. I feel guilty not being there more for my parents. I wish that I was closer to my boy's kids. I don't long for excitement as much as I used to. I find happiness just being with people that I love and that I know love me.  

I'm blessed that whenever I go home, it's like nothing has changed. Despite the gaps between my visits, the connection is still there. That connection and support that I get from my people back home and my family out here makes me want to be great. I know that I will only be as strong as the people in my life. If I can be as strong as the people that made me, I'll be alright. They make my life better, I hope that I do the same for them.

I often think about moving the family from Maryland back to Kansas City. The main motivation for this is me missing my family. That's not a good enough reason. For one, my mother would be pissed if I was there just looking her in the face everyday. She would kick me out after a week. I've got business to take care of and work to do. Right now I am exactly where I need to be. Doing what I need to do and making them proud is more important than my family seeing me everyday. So until I need my next hit of home, I'll be here in the DMV handling business, trying to put on for my people. 

Cold Winter.

I am writing this at 6:30 PM on Wednesday, March 9th. I am at home, alone, in a good ass mood. I'm feeling great because the sun is finally back out in the DMV. There were times this winter that I wasn't sure that it would ever return. Today it was 81 degrees and sunny. Look at God. I hope that spring is here to stay, this winter was tough in more ways than one. 

I'll never forget the smile on Al's face on the early January morning. Her cheeks were covered in tears of joy, she was holding up a pregnancy test with two positive lines to the camera on her phone. I told her not to take the test without me, but I guess that she couldn't help herself when I left her at home by herself. She doesn't listen. I found out on FaceTime at work. To say I was happy, would be an understatement. I didn't give a damn how I found out. All that mattered to me was that I was going to be a daddy. That was the longest 8-hour shift I ever worked. I couldn't wait to get home to celebrate. 

The days that followed were some of our happiest. We couldn't stop talking about the baby. I was calling it a boy, trying to speak it into existence. I can't handle another woman in the house right now. I need back up. We spent all of our time debating names, picking out clothes, and preparing for our new addition. We told Charleigh, and our families the great news. Everyone was so excited for us. 

I've been waiting a long time to be a Pop. (Well, since I've been with Al, before then I was trying to avoid becoming one at all costs.) To have someone call me Daddy. I wasn't scared at all. I was ready. I was excited. I was finally going to be able to put all of these years of studying my Pops, Uncle Phil and James Evans to use. I was ready to embrace my new title of Father. 

Unfortunately, less than two weeks later, we found out that we were having a miscarriage. Something that I now know is extremely common. This was devastating news. We've been praying and hoping for so long. We finally get it, and just like that, all of our excitement is gone.

I was hurt, but I knew that I needed to go into support mode. I knew that Al would need me. We were both very confused and upset, but it is my job to console her. I'm not sure how good of a job that I did, but I tried.  I didn't have anything to say, there was nothing that I could have said that would make this situation better. All that I could do was pray. I didn't ask why, I only asked for peace. I trust God. Always. In the good times, and in between them.

Life isn't fair, but life isn't over. I know that one day soon, I will see hat smile on Al's tear covered face again. I know that we will have our baby (boy). And one day I will try me best to be the greatest daddy of all time. Until then, we will just have to enjoy trying. I ain't mad at that. 

Can't Ban The Snowman.

It was all good just a week ago. I thought it was sweet. All of December it was warm out here in DC. I was wearing light jackets. Enjoyed it being 60 degrees on Christmas. I didn't even know where my long john's were. Didn't need them. Sun was shining almost everyday. It felt like we had an extended autumn. I thought that maybe the LA winter weather has followed me out here. 

Enter last week. Winter storm Jonas came to town and just tore shit up. When he was finished we had about 30 inches of snow, and the whole region was shut down. 

I left work on Friday afternoon, right as the snow started to come down. Al was already at home.  Bun decided that she wanted to be snowed in at her grandparents house. That's the fun house, junk food, tv, and playing all day. Easy choice for an 8 year old. So, Al and I were snowed in all alone. 

We were stocked up on groceries, and the power didn't go out, so we were good. We had a great time, had the chance to just be lazy and not feel guilty about it. We literally were doing nothing, just chilling. (word to Bruh Man.) We just ate good, laughed a lot, napped a lot, watched some netflix, read, wrote. The usual... (I'm lying, we were hopping around the house like Melvin and Jody's mama in Baby Boy. Ayyee. But we did all of that other stuff too.) We only went outside for about 5 minutes because I really wanted to take some pictures. Al was pissed, but she eventually agreed. We got some good shots, I literally felt my balls freezing off, so we went back in the house. 

I didn't step another foot outside until Monday when I made my way to work. I could've stayed home, but I already felt guilty about calling in Saturday and Sunday. I HATE calling in to work. I pride myself on being reliable, I hate letting people down, so if I can make it in, I'm gonna make it in. I get that from my Pops.  

I worked Monday. It was a good day, felt good to get out of the house. The whole city was still shut down, so there was no school, mostly no work, so it wasn't that many of us in the streets. When I got back to the house, Bun was ready to come home and we were just as ready for her to come back.

Tuesday, still no school. I'm off every Tuesday and Wednesday, so it was a full house. We had a good time, just took it easy. It was good to have Bun back home. I was hoping that they would have school on Wednesday so we could get back to our regular schedule. ( Me resting uninterrupted, getting ready to start my work week.) Nope.

Wednesday morning, I woke up in a bad mood. I was tired of being in the house. The boxing gym had been closed for almost a week now. I was going crazy. After another full day all stuck in the house, we were all getting restless, so Al suggested that we go to the mall. Bun has been trying to get there for weeks. She loves shopping. She gets that from her Mama. 

I just got paid, so I was playing FAKE sugar daddy. Charleigh got some toys, Al got a shirt. I got to drive and buy. 

We were hungry, so we went to California Pizza Kitchen. I'm happy now, whoever invented the bbq chicken pizza should fly first class into heaven. We're having a good time. While we're eating, Al starts dancing to the music playing in the restaurant, in her seat. Before I could say my favorite word, I hear a little voice next to me say, “Ayyeee”. I swear I felt a tear come to my eye. I was so proud. Al is already using all my lingo, and now Bun too. No single moment has made me feel more like family. She was proud of herself too. Like “Yeah, I said it, ayyee." And it was a good one too, she sounded like Jeezy in 2005. It was perfect. I love that little girl. I know that she pays close attention, but now I know that she sees and hears everything. I've never been in this position before. Everything is new to me. I love it. 

Now I'm back at work. They still didn't have school today. All day I've been wondering what the girls are doing at home. But, I'll find out when I get there. They ain't going nowhere, and as much as they love to shop, I need to be working around the clock.

#Goals Revisited

I've been meaning to write this for at least a week now. For some reason, my brain just wouldn't focus on the task. Maybe I had too much going on, but now I am sick in bed and have nothing going on. ​

With the start of every new year, I come up with my goals for the next 365 days. I only had three goals for 2015:

1. Be as happy as I can, as many days that I can.

2. Live better.

3. Get closer to God.

Looking back, I definitely accomplished all three of those. 2015 was a crazy year for me. I had a lot of wins and took a lot of losses, but I made it through. And I'm in a better place starting 2016, than I was a year ago. ​

This year, I have a lot of things that I want to accomplish. Both individually and as a family. The other day, Al suggested that we try to stop cussing (I cuss, not curse) for the new year. I told her that she could do whatever she wanted, but I'm not limiting my vocabulary. Hell naw. Besides that suggestion, we agreed on some really good ones.

 I love this time of year. It's a fresh start. Everyone is so optimistic. For me, it feels as if anything is possible, and this year I'm definitely thinking big. ​

I feel as though I'm finally figuring this crazy thing called life out. I'm in the best position of my life​. I know that it won't be easy, and that it will have it's ups and downs, but I know for a fact that this will be the best year of my life to date. I talked to God about it. (He said that he couldn't promise that the Chiefs would win the Super Bowl, but it's possible.)  I now have a clear vision of what I want my life to look like, and I am in full control of my destiny. This is the year that I make it happen. 

I only have one goal this year, and that is to create the life that I want to live.​ Now it's time to get to work. 

Fill her up.

@artbyaliyah

During this time of year, we often hear that it is better to give than to receive. I don't mind doing either. I've always loved to give, but I also enjoy receiving. I'm learning how to become better at both.

In the (not so long ago) past, I was extremely selfish. Especially in my dealings with women. Never being in a relationship before, I was mostly concerned with what I was receiving from the situations.

When I first got with Al, I was trying to figure out how the hell I was going to do this. I had ZERO relationship experience. Well, I take that back, I had two "girlfriends" in high school for a total of twelve days. I ended both "relationships" on the sixth day. (and rested on the 7th) I just wasn't feeling it.

While trying to figure this out, I decided that I needed some outside help. I didn't have anybody to really ask for advice. Not too many people that I'm close with have success stories. So I decided to do some research. I bought the book, The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman.

In the book he talks about how different people speak different love languages. According to Chapman, a persons love language needs to be spoken, for them to be satisfied. The five languages are Words of Affirmation, Physical Touch, Receiving Gifts, Quality Time and Acts of Service. I feel like I need 4 out of the 5. I'm greedy. (Receiving gifts doesn't do that much for me.) But I was reading with a selfish mind. I was thinking about what I needed to receive and not what I needed to give.

The book was a great read, but experience is the best teacher. One thing that I've learned being with Al, is that our love has seasons. There have been times when we are both doing great, and everything is all good. There have been times that I have been weak and I need her to pick me up. There are also times when she needs me to pour into her more and love on her as much as possible.

Right now, we are definitely in a season where I need to give. I embrace this season. I'm focused on giving. I've learned that the more love that I pour into her, the more love I see flow out of her. Thus, the happier she is, which means that I'm doing my job. Plus, the more love that I deposit into her, the more I get in return, and I'm still greedy. I need all mine.

I pray that she continues to feel comfortable letting me pick her up. She's so independent, and because of experience, it isn't always natural for her to receive love. But she accepts it from me, and as long as she does, I won't stop giving it.

Double Time.

“Keep grinding boy, your life can change in one year. And even when it's dark out, the sun is shining somewhere.” -Cole

I am writing this at 10:30 on Christmas morning. At work. I wish that I could be home with the family, but I'll be back with them in a few hours. Bun's face is glued to her new ipad anyway. Al and I will celebrate tonight...

I'm so blessed. Since I had to be at work at 8, I woke the girls up at 6 to celebrate early and open our presents. Bun JUMPED out of bed. I didn't have to tell her twice. Al was moving a little slower, but she joined us.

This was my first time being on this end of Christmas. Seeing how Happy Bun was opening her gifts made me understand what my parents felt about 20 years ago. I can't even explain how good it felt. My parents made sure that we knew the true meaning of Christmas. (Cues Jesus is the Reason for the Season). They also did whatever it took to make sure that we had a great Christmas, and we knew better than to ask for too much, so we were always happy.

This time last year, I was away from the girls. I was back in Kansas City. My Mom was just starting her second bout with cancer and I was praying and believing that it wouldn't be her last Christmas with us. Al and I were in a not so great place. I was out of work, and didn't feel productive at all. I was down. but for damn sure wasn't out. I knew that I had to stay positive, keep my faith, and understand that what was going to be, would be.

Fast forward a year later, I'm back in the DMV. Spent my first Christmas morning with the girls. I just got off the phone with Mom, she's still pushing strong. She's not going anywhere anytime soon.

Whenever I tell someone that I'm working on Christmas, they say something along the lines of, "Damn, that ain't right." But I'm happy to be here. I prayed too hard for a job that I enjoy, to complain when I've got to work. I've gotta do what I've gotta do. And I had to get this holiday pay. If Bun was waiting on Santa to bring her gifts, she would've came up short. I can't have that, so I'm here. Hardly working. Listening to Mary Did You Know on repeat. God is good.

Training Days.

I've been in a really good mood lately. I'm blessed. I'm healthy, Al and I are good. I really enjoy going to work, I am using my mind, I am being creative, I feel productive. Life is good.

One thing that I've been needing is a new hobby. Since I've moved out to the DMV, I haven't had much of a life outside of the girls and work. I don't know many people in the area, and I'm too old to be out here trying to make new friends.  I've just been staying to myself and my little family. I LOVE spending time with the girls. I'm not complaining at all. However, I need man time. 

So I was trying to figure out what I could start doing. First idea, strip club tour. Decided against it, i don't feel like getting smoked and Al would shoot the club up like St. Louis in Player's Club.  I decided to go with my second choice, join a boxing gym.

I've wanted to join a gym for a while now, but I haven't followed through. Procrastination.   I found a gym not even two miles from the house. I decided that I would go take one class and decide if I wanted to join afterwards. I walked in, the gym was Black owned, Tupac was playing over the speakers, and Ali posters were all over the gym. I had seen enough. I joined right there on the spot. Commitment.

I've always loved boxing, and one of my biggest influences is Muhammad Ali. I've always watched old film of him training. Being in the gym makes me feel more like him. So I really enjoy the work.

Everything that I do now, I try to make sure that it has a purpose. What intrigued me the most about boxing is the level of discipline that the great fighters must have to be great. They have unbelievable work ethics. They have to take incredible care of their bodies. They have to be smart and patient in the ring or they risk getting knocked out.  

I could get real fake deep about my reasons for boxing. Talk about how life is a fight and I'm using the training to prepare for it. Or how, if you let your guard down, life can knock you out. But I would be bullshitting. I just like to fight. And I'm hoping that I'll get in the best shape of my life so Alex won't be able to control herself when she sees me naked. Ayyee.

Just work.

I am writing this at 7PM on Sunday evening. I got off work a few hours ago, and just woke up from a nap. This was one of them, I don't even remember falling asleep, where am I? Naps. I woke up to check the Chiefs score, we're just about to win our 6th game in a row. Now I'm fired up. Good Sunday.

When I got off work, I picked Al up from the airport. She'd been out of town since Thursday, working. The house has been so quiet over the past few days. I've been doing a lot of thinking, eating a lot of struggle meals, and taking some good naps. But mostly thinking.  

I have always been obsessed with the future, I can't help it. I try to focus on the day and live in the moment, but my future is constantly in the back of my head. My mind has been racing these last few days. Maybe because it's now December and 2015 is basically over. It seems like just yesterday we were saying happy new year and now Bun is already writing her Christmas list. Santa said no to the puppy, not gonna have me outside picking up dog shit in the cold. No ma'am. (Side note:  The quiet that I have been enjoying over the last few days, is GONE. As I'm writing this, Al is playing her music at hole in the wall strip club levels.) But I've been thinking about my life, and where I am. I don't believe in coincidence, I believe that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. However, where I am, is not where I intend to be forever. 

I am blessed. So blessed. I thank God multiple times a day for putting me in the position that I am. All of my needs are met, and I will never take that for granted. I vividly remember praying to be in the position that I am in now. I am in position to control my own destiny. 

Today at work, I was talking to one of my co-workers about life. We have a lot in common. He's a young king trying to make something happen in this world. We bounce ideas off of each other every day, and help each other game plan. We strategize and brainstorm. While I was encouraging him to go after what he wants, I started thinking that I need to take my own damn advice. I've always been able to encourage people, I think that's one of my best qualities. I take pride in being a very positive person, but when it comes to myself, I don't always give that same push.

At times I have been my own worst enemy. For some reason, I've held myself back from really attacking my dreams. I know what I want to do, and what I need to do, but for some reason, there is hesitation. The solution is really simple. I've just got to do it. I've got to put the work in. I have no excuse.  I want to be better, I need to do better. Across the board, for every role that I play in life. 

I've never wanted to be average, but honestly, I've been giving average effort. Because of this, I have been getting average results. Sometimes it is hard to admit this, but it's the truth. To get where I want to be, I can't bullshit myself. I can no longer hold myself back, or trip myself up. Life already comes with enough obstacles that I won't be able to avoid. I refuse to be responsible for my own failure.  

"We can do whatever we want to do with hard work and the ability to make a decision." - Michael Chernow

Straight up. 

I made the decision a long time ago that I never wanted to be average. At anything. I can not be scared of success. I must fulfill my potential. Failure is not an option. I'm on it. 

Pick me up.

I am writing this at 7:05 PM on Wednesday evening. I planned on working out tonight. However, I'm feeling lazy, so that's not gonna happen. Good thing I've already got a woman. I ain't trying to impress nobody, she thinks I'm fine already, I'll try again tomorrow. So instead, I've just been taking naps off and on for the last few hours.

I've been off work for the last two days. I had been looking forward to having time to just take it easy. I just wanted to hang with Al and get some rest. We had been planning all weekend to go check out a museum. I had nothing else on my schedule for 48 hours. You know, when we break, WE BREAK.  I worked a double shift on Monday, 16 hours, a hot 16, 2/3 of the day, all damn day, too damn long. When I finally got home, I was excited to sleep. 

I took a shower as soon as I got home. Al was sleep by the time I got out. I got in bed, but couldn't fall asleep. Monday was my brother A1's birthday, since he passed in August, I've had a lot of tough nights. This was another one of those nights, he was on my mind heavy. That shit is still crazy to me. It pissed me off that he wasn't somewhere celebrating another year of life.

I fell asleep eventually, but when I woke up I was still upset. I didn't feel like doing anything. But I knew that Alex had been looking forward to going to see the exhibit. So I pulled it together and we went. We had a great time at the exhibit, it was some beautiful art there. When we left we were starving, we grabbed some food and headed home. It was nap time.  

I woke up in a really bad mood. I wanted to just be alone. That's how I've always dealt with things. Alone. Al woke up and could sense that I was upset. I told her that I wasn't mad at her, I just didn't feel good. She was getting in the shower and I was about to go seclude myself.

I felt dumb when I walked out of the bathroom. First because I was leaving her in the shower, ain't nothing going on in the living room better than that view. Secondly, because I knew that it wasn't fair of me to ruin the whole vibe of the house. When I'm upset, ain't nobody happy. I can ruin everybody's day. I went back in there and she had me laughing and took my mind off of things. I can never stay upset too long around her. I can be irritated, I can damn sure be annoyed, but not upset.

I'm still learning how to be a partner and how to have a partner. I'm so used to dealing with shit on my own, that sometimes I forget that I don't have to anymore. Just being close to Alex cheered me up last night. I'm still learning to depend on someone else. It's not easy.  

In the middle of the night, I heard a little crying voice in our room. Bunni had a bad dream and was upset. We both scooted over and let her in our bed. Those 2 know how to hog a damn bed. They had me smashed against the wall. I woke up because I wasn't comfortable. I looked at Charleigh, she was knocked out like Ronda Rou...never mind. But she was sleeping great, she didn't look anything like the little girl that was wiping her eyes and distraught a couple of hours earlier. Just being around her family made her feel better. I've realized that it works for me just the same. I just have to accept it and stop being so damn stubborn, thinking that I don't need anybody. I'm learning. 

Crowned.

I am writing this at 8:00 PM on Monday evening. I have been on a natural high all day. I was up late last night watching the World Series. I know that most young Americans don't give a damn about baseball. I know that most young Black Americans REALLY don't give a damn about baseball, but every Kansas Citian does. Why? Because the Kansas City Royals won the World Series last night. I feel like JP from Angels in the Outfield.

I took Al back to KC with me for the first time last year. She couldn't believe how much pride that we have in our city. Everywhere we went, people had on Kansas City gear, hoodies, beanies, socks, buttons, tees, and of course our signature royal blue KC fitteds. She loved it, we got her and Bun some gear, and I named them honorary Kansas Citians.

Most outsiders don't understand what we're so proud of, but we don't care. We love our city. Through the good, bad and the ugly. 

This World Championship definitely falls under The Good. (I will not be mentioning the bad or the ugly, not today.) This Royals team represents every thing good about KC. They are hard working and tough, they never quit, refused to back down, they just kept pushing, against all odds, they literally refused to lose. They wanted the crown, and they took it. We don't expect any handouts in our city. We want something, we go and get it. 

I love Kansas City because I owe so much to it. It groomed me. It gave me a sense of survival. It toughened me up. It taught me how to deal with disappointment. It taught me the definition of loyalty. 

Our loyalty paid off last night. We love our city, and anything that represents our city. We are especially crazy about our sports teams. We will represent our Royals and Chiefs no matter what, and trust me, it's been tough. We hadn't won a championship in my entire life. The Royals last won the ship in 85, I was born in 86. Last night, we finally made it back to the promise land. Watching it on tv seemed unreal. I could feel the energy. The city has been partying all day and it will continue tomorrow with the victory parade. Pound for pound, we can party with the best of em. They have closed all the schools so that the kids can enjoy the moment. I was real close to saying fuck work and heading home to party with my people. But my bills looked at me like I was crazy. Moments like these make me wish that I lived back in the city. Maybe one day, we will. I would love to instill this Kansas City Pride into my kids one day. But for now I'll be walking around the DMV with my KC Fitted on representing the city that made me who I am and that I take with me everywhere that I go. The home of Charlie Parker and Walt Disney, Tech N9ne and Janelle Monae (heart eyes emoji), the birthplace of Misty Copeland and too many other amazing people to name, the best barbecue in the world, and the 2015 World Series Champions, my city, Kansas City.

11.1

I'm writing this at 7PM on Sunday Night. Today has been a good ass day, and will be even better if the Royals beat the Mets tonight and win the World Series. I'm fired up! 

My day started at 6AM. Earlier than I prefer for a Sunday. Al called me before the sun came up to let me know that she was at her gate waiting for her flight to bring her back to DC from Alabama. She had to go work down there for a few days, I was ready for her to come back to me.

Waking up early to a phone call from Alex brought back memories. When we were long distance, she would call and wake me up EVERY DAY. It would be around 7 here in DC and 4 where I was out in LA. I love to sleep, so when I started sacrificing sleep for her, I knew that something serious was going on here. For months, she would ask the same question when I picked up the phone half sleep, "What are you doing?" What do you think I'm doing? Just up, hanging? Playing ball? Partying? You think I got chicks in the living room getting it ooon and they ain't leaving til 6 in the morning? I'm sleeping! She asked me what I was doing when she called this morning, even though I was clearly still half sleep. I told her that I was sleep, she didn't care, kept on talking. I was trying to stay awake and pay attention but that wasn't happening. I told her that I loved her and would be at the airport waiting for her in a few hours. 

 Other than the early wake up call, this Sunday has been going just the way that I like my Sunday's to go. After I picked Al up, we had a big breakfast, took a great nap, the Chiefs kicked ass, took some fun pictures, went to the mall, (didn't ball, didn't holla at broads, sorry Pimp C) picked Bun up from her grandparents, came back to the house with a couple of hours to rest before game time.  

Notice that I only ate once today. Not good for any day, especially a Sunday. Where is Big Mama when you need her? So we're all chilling, Al is editing photos, Charleigh is having a magic show, high off Halloween candy, and I'm starving. I remembered that I had some leftover wings from last night. I jump up, pop my 8 lemon pepper wings and rice in the microwave. I could already taste them. I could've finished all of them last night, but I saved them specifically for this moment. It's not much better than leftovers that you forgot that you had.

I went to take my shoes off, I like to be comfortable when I eat. I hear Alex from the other room, "what are you making babe?" I'm thinking, "who wants to know?!?" I knew that she was already full, she ate at the mall. I came out of our room and told her that I had some wings left over from last night. As soon as I finished my sentence, I hear the sweetest little voice ask, "can I have some?" Damnit! My thoughts, "did you chip in on these wings?!? " But I'm wrapped around her finger, I made Charleigh a plate, half of my wings gone, just like that. Sacrifice. 

I saw a quote on Instagram a few weeks ago, it said, "Lust feels like love until it's time to make a sacrifice". Well just today, I've given up sleep AND food, this is for damn sure LOVE.  Even though I talk shit, and I don't consider these real sacrifices, I do enjoy making all of the real sacrifices needed for our family. I know that they are making me a better man, I wouldn't want it any other way.

It is now after 9, Al and Charleigh are in the kitchen throwing down. I'm watching the game uninterrupted waiting on a plate that will be 10x better than my leftovers. Look at God.  

J-O-B

I'm writing this at 11:45 PM, Friday. I have the house to myself right now. I spent my night watching the Royals kick ass (shoutout to the home team) and eating a gluttonous amount of chicken wings without any judgment. Aye. Great night. 

I want to be sleep now, but I am waiting for Al to get in from a concert with her (fast) homegirls. I don't know what made her think that she could be out this late. Curfew around here is usually before the street lights come on, guess I need to tighten up the ship.  She better be walking in the door any minute now, so I will be able to rest. 

While lying here, I am thinking about how grateful I am. I'm exhausted right now and thanking God that it's Friday. I'm looking forward to getting some rest this weekend. I started a new job last Monday. It has been a great past two weeks. This job has really taken a lot of stress off of me. I hate having an unstable financial situation. (Being broke) My prayer was for stability and that has been provided. I am working the hours that I want in the environment that I want to be in. This is a great step for my family and I. I've prayed for this for months now, and I will not take it for granted.

I am working at the Central Heating Plant in DC. It's a real cool gig, as gigs go. Exactly what I wanted. A place where I can do my work and go home. Once I walk out the door, I don't think about work until I walk back in. I'm working with a great group of guys there too. Some OG's giving me game about marriage, family and life in general. And some young fellas around my age, trying to figure this shit out too. We have a good time every day. I don't dread going to work, this is a huge plus for me.  

Timing truly is everything. I thought that I was going to be starting this job, last October. God clearly had other plans. The past 12 months have been crazy for me. I've had extreme highs and devastating lows. My faith has been tested, but I've never lost it. I have been humbled. I found myself working jobs that I never imagined, working harder than I ever had. I've cried more in the past 12 months than I did in the past 12 years. I've grown closer to Alex and Charleigh. I've learned a lot about myself and what I'm made of. I have seen again, just how precious and fragile life can be. I've learned a lot of valuable lessons. This time last year, I wasn't in a good place mentally. Now I know that I am ready for this job to be a stepping stone in my life.

Alex just walked in the house, I'm half sleep writing this, I'll resume this entry in the morning...

It is now 8:30 AM, Saturday morning. It felt so good to sleep without having an alarm set. I had a crazy dream that T-Pain was singing at our wedding reception back home in Kansas City. Goals. It was a good ass time, but I woke up right in the middle of “In Love With A Stripper” (she poppin, she rollin, she rollin) because my allergies are whooping my ass this morning.  

But let me pick up where I left off, I'm in a great place right now. I feel like I was broke down to my core in the past 12 months, and I have been built back up. I am so excited, not only for the future, but for today. I have a clear vision of what I want my life to look like, and I am getting closer to it. I am humble and hungry, ready to attack life and be who God created me to be. I feel like I'm really starting to understand what life is about, or at least what I want my life to be about. I know that it won't be easy, but I'm up for the challenge. I can't predict what life will throw at me, but I will always roll with the punches and keep moving forward. 

Today, I am going to enjoy my day off. I'm about to wake Al up and try to get some breakfast. (Food, not groceries) I just found full episodes of Hang Time and City Guys on YouTube so I'll be spending my Saturday morning in 1998.

This ain't the honeymoon...

Like every other human on this planet, I love music. I love all types of music. I've learned that most people say that they love all types of music. When I'm driving for Uber, I often ask the passenger what music they would like to listen to. They often say, "it doesn't matter, I love everything." knowing good and well that they don't love the Boosie that I just stopped blasting when I turned on to their nice suburban street.

I love rap, but I've always been an R&B head. I blame it on all of the Midnight Storm on BET and The Quiet Storm on Hot 103 Jamz in Kansas City that I consumed as a kid. I used to fall asleep with R&B playing in the background. I've loved R&B since before I had any business loving R&B. I vividly remember singing Pony word for word with Ginuwine on the radio in the 4th grade. I didn't know what a bachelor was, but you couldn't tell me that I wasn't one and looking for a partner. (Someone who knows how to ride....without even falling off) It didn't matter to me that I didn't know what they were talking about in most of my favorite songs, I just knew that they were jamming. When I got older and knew what they were talking about, my appreciation for a lot of my favorite childhood songs, grew. 

I remember in my senior year of High School, John Legend's first CD came out, "Get Lifted."  One of my favorite songs on the album was "Ordinary People". This is a classic, I loved singing it. I tried to learn how to play it on the piano, but I couldn't get past the intro. It was my shit. Could I relate? Hell no. I was 18 years old and only cared about playing ball and chasing females. I wasn't worried about love.  I didn't want to be an ordinary person.

However, now that I'm grown, and in a grown relationship, I believe Ordinary People could  be the realest shit ever wrote. I would insert all of the lyrics, but we all know the song. If you don't, the bridge sums it all up. 

I hang up, you call. We rise and we fall. And we feel like just walking away. As our love advances, we take second chances. Though it's not a fantasy, I still want you to staaaaaay.

Uncle John knew what he was talking about on this one. This love shit can be HARD. There are times when Al and I are completely happy with each other for weeks at a time, but that's not always the case. In the past 7 days, I have received the silent treatment, slept on the couch for 2 nights, talked and made up (ayyye), had a great date on our weekly date night, had an amazing weekend, got back into it on Sunday, went to bed not speaking to each other, talked it out and laughed about it Monday morning, and we're currently doing great again. We ended our night discussing baby names that we will hopefully put to use one day. This really ain't a movie naw, no fairytale conclusions yall. But we aren't confused, we know what we want, and that's why we always work our issues out and get it back right.

This was a crazy week for us. We usually average about 25 amazing days, 3 quiet days and 2 days at each others throats a month. I guess it's becoming our system. It works for US. Even though what we have is nowhere near perfect, we are still standing, and growing stronger every day. Sharing a life with someone isn't easy at all, but we are both willing to put the work in. 

My Mom was laughing at us tonight and telling me how crazy we are. She calls us  the craziest little couple she's ever seen. Well according to John, we aren't the only ones.

Long Live A1

There was a time when I thought that I couldn't cry. Not like I had to be a man, and men don't cry. I just thought that I literally couldn't cry anymore. I had dealt with some things and thought that they should've made me cry, and I would be extremely upset and hurt,but tears never came out. I thought that maybe my tear ducts had broken. I didn't think much of it, I just figured that I didn't need the actual tears anyway, I still felt all of the hurt in those situations. I went years without having tears on my face. 

Recently, this crazy theory of mine has been debunked. I don't cry often at all. I ain't no punk. However, tears have formed in my eyes and have fallen a few times within the past year. All very serious situations, and I have absolutely no shame about it. 

This week, I've been dealing with one of those situations. Last Saturday, I was sitting in the barbershop waiting for Al to get her cut, when I noticed that I had three missed called in the few minutes that I had stopped staring at Instagram and flipped through a GQ magazine. This was odd, I was sitting next to the only person that calls me back to back to back. When I unlocked my phone, I saw that I was tagged in a photo in Instagram. I opened it and saw a picture of one of my best friends, someone that I considered a brother, Richard. (Rich for short, AKA A-1, I just called him ONE, for shorter.) I was confused, my eyes jumped to the bottom of the caption and I saw the letters RIP. I felt my heart fall to my feet. I couldn't believe what I was reading. I got up and walked out of the shop, Alex followed me. I showed her my phone and she was dejected for me. She had never met him, but had heard a lot about him. She hugged me to console me. I was in denial, this couldn't be true. I called my brother Joe back, and he confirmed the bad news. Somebody stole my brother's life in St. Louis the night before.

Rich was a great guy, a really good dude. Full of life and joy. He had a huge heart. He was a natural leader. ONE wasn't a big guy, but he had the heart of a lion. I never saw him back down from a challenge, on the court or in life. All he cared about was the people that he loved. His woman, his kids, his family and friends. He just wanted to make sure that everybody was taken care of and happy.

I met him in 2007. We were both transferring in to Lincoln U to play ball. We played the same position, so we would be competing for the same spot. He was from St. Louis, I was from Kansas City, you would think that it might be some friction, but we immediately clicked. We went on to become great friends. We ran in the same crew, BMC. We were brothers, we did everything together. Good and bad. We were as tight as possible. His positive spirit was contagious. I don't remember ever being in a bad mood around ONE. No matter what was going on. It didn't matter if we lost a game or won, if we were throwing one of our legendary Blue Magic Monday parties or were getting threatened with being kicked out of school and having our scholarships taken away. Rich was always  Rich. After college, we went our separate ways, but our bond was still the same. I knew that we would be brothers for life. I just didn't know that his life would end so early.

This past week has been tough to say the least. ONE has constantly been on my mind. I'll think about a good time that we had and crack up laughing, then those laughs will turn into tears because I know that we won't make anymore memories. I've been having dreams that we are all together again, ONE is alive and well, we're back running wild, enjoying life. I wake up and it's back to reality. I've called my brothers everyday so we can try to encourage one another. We know that there are no words to make the situation better, but we're all in this together. When someone close to you dies, people try to console you. They tell you things like, “he's in a better place now" or “everything is gonna be alright”. Those statements might be true about older people, who have lived a full life. But in this situation, it just doesn't seem true. Rich was 28 years old, a family man. His kids and his woman need him here. Things are not alright. My guy had a lot of life left to live. He had a lot more to give to this world.

While being encouraged this week, I was told that I will get through this. That's true, I will. I've dealt with enough death to understand that life must go on, so I will get through this. But I'm not sure if I will ever get over it. I'm hurting for Rich. I'm upset for his family. Even though I feel so much pain, I can still find joy thinking about the good times that we had. I'm happy that we crossed paths. I am proud to be called your brother. You will continue to live on through me. So salute to my guy Richard Colby Williams. Watch over me, I'm gonna make you proud. I love you Bro.