fertilizer (january 17th, 2018)


If there’s one piece of music that can explain my state of mind at this very moment, it’s “The Scientist” by Coldplay. Take away the sappy elements and just leave the words “Nobody said it was easy” there, dancing beside the piano and that’s my mind right fucking now. I’ve felt like this year constantly had a feeling to it. It didn’t feel positive or negative. It just had a feeling. Never thought I would be somewhat distraught for the first entry of a year I felt so good for but fuck it.

I just got off the phone with my father. It’s around 9:30 when he called me. I just came home around 6 hours earlier and I was out the house since 8 the past morning. I pick up the phone and it’s the usual: asks me what I’m doing and I told him I’m gonna clean the room and wash clothes and whatever the fuck. He then takes a small breath and that one pause described his mindset, the tirade he’s about to give to me, and the thoughts for the past couple of weeks for him in a nutshell. Long story short, he’s observing my moves and questions if I’m really working, if the drive’s still there, if I leave out the house to not do anything in the house, and ultimately tells me by the end of the month (or the week, rather), if nothing pops up, I’m out the house. He’s gonna find other arrangements for me. Good way to start the year off.

Even though in earlier entries I would mask the character of my father as a person who bickers and constantly tells me this or that or whatever. The image I portray is not him whatsoever. It’s just the way I feel towards him at that moment but in all honesty, I LOVE MY DAD SO MUCH. I can safely say that I wouldn’t be who I am without him. I look like him. I talk like him. My manners, my aura, my personality, even my open mindedness in terms of culture and entertainment, is because of him. I seriously don’t know where I would be without him and that’s something I’m proud of because it’s often portrayed that having no father is a common and credible thing among African-American men. I’m proud to say I have a father and I’m even more proud to say that he took care of me and he still serves as the greatest father you can ask for. I remember when he told me about the time he found out I was about to be born. He was at work and he left on the clock to see his first son transition from one plane to another. He drove through the rocky streets of Newark, potholes and all, in a citrus-colored 1965 Lincoln Zephyr. He said he drove so fast to the hospital, one of the hubcaps fell off. I can tell every day that my dad has a undying love for me. It’s infinite. It’s vast. It’s endless. We would kill for each other. I just had to expound on the love we have for each other even though words can’t even explain.

So, when he told me of his plans to find arrangements for me, he felt it was fucked up. He didn’t like it one bit. He doesn’t wanna put his first son in this type of predicament because he loves the fuck outta me but it’s truthfully a disruption for delight. Something I abuse is comfort. We, including myself, strive to be comfortable. We work every day to get the finances we need to not only be solid and firm and content, but to be comfortable. I tend to find a place and abuse the comfort because that’s what I am. I grew up comfortable. My parents worked hard to make sure me and my siblings are comfortable. But when you’re too comfortable like me, you lose sight of what needs to be done slowly and surely.

I leave the house to live life. I’m essentially a homebody. I love staying home but as a 23-year old man who’s been a hermit his whole fucking life, I use my off-days to do stuff. I use them to find whatever jobs I can find (or willing to find), get rest, see friends and family, and things like that. I don’t leave the house to prevent from doing chores. That’s stupid. I live here. I can’t get away from these chores at all. There’s no way around it. I wanna help my father with stuff around the house. The drive has risen since the year started. I’ve been setting goals for each month of the year. I’ve been thinking extensively on where I wanna be by the end of the year. This year is different in this regard but this time last year, I wasn’t with people who are striving and working towards the same things. I’m with a team now who wants to be successful and wants to be a formidable group when it comes to fashion, music, culture and entertainment. I’m not saying the homies I was with didn’t have that. I was just hanging with them yesterday. There’s just a chemistry there between the three of us friends that’s evident. We’re gonna be something and I can bet the house on it.

He also talked about the three options. The first is a full-time job, which is something I’ve been working on. Coach is thinking about it but haven’t officially talked to me. I’m taking it because I have no time at this point. The second option was school, which is something I really don’t wanna do. I was in school just around 5 years ago and since then, I give a side-eye to those institutions. So many people under mountains of debt, with degrees and still working dead-end jobs to pay the people back, let alone to get by. Besides, I didn’t like it anyway and I don’t think I will now. Thirdly, it was the thing I hate the most for whatever reason: the military. The last time I was in cahoots with the military was sometime in 2013 when I was thinking of going to the Air Force. I was in a position that sorta resembles my position now, as a young man with no route, lack of drive and ambition, and blah blah blah. The only difference is I know what I wanna do and I know I can be successful from it. Overall, the situation fell through because I didn’t think it was the right thing for a talented guy like me. I always thought I can develop the drive and get a good job and get money and stuff, but here we are, 5 years later. My dad explains that I need discipline and money, the two things the military provides, but I feel so good about my music and design that I don’t need the military. I sincerely feel I don’t.

I still feel like I’m by myself and I wanna figure this all out by myself. I’m almost stubborn about it because most of my life played out of moves I didn’t make myself. I grew up spoiled. My mom took care of college. My pops is paying for the roof over my head. I’m 23 and a half years old. I don’t wanna be a burden to anyone. I wanna learn how to go about this shit by myself because when I die, I’ma be by myself. I don’t wanna start the year off like this but this is what it is. By February, if I don’t end up with more money or somewhat of a change, I’m out the house. I can’t fucking believe it’s going like this. As good as I felt about this year, it starts off like THIS.

I love myself. I realize that there’s MILLIONS OF THINGS wrong with me but I love myself. I love my family. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I love how grateful I’m becoming. I have a heart. I have a great personality. People love me. I’m glad I possess the qualities of a good dude, in mind, body and sound. But these wrongs get the best of me literally all the time, almost effortlessly. I stay in a good mood and still end up doing the wrong things, from laziness to lack of ambition to procrastination. I don’t even wanna be that anymore. I did it for 20 years. It’s fun. You don’t have to do anything. But I’m 23. It’s time. It’s time to do something. I wish I can etch away the content that’s bullshit and stupid and dumb and annoying about myself and become that, but that would make me imperfect. Being imperfect is what makes you perfect and even though I wanna run into traffic for being this way, I still wanna live life and laugh at what I’m going through. I wanna get to that place so bad, where I’m thinking of the long, drastic, arduous journey. But the struggle, the resilience, the strength, the discipline, the decisions, the determination, the will, the wrongs, is what makes boys men, girls women, and children into adults. Nobody said it was easy. Everything comes from bullshit.