...

Yeah, no title for this one. There's been some unequal distribution of entries on my blog, as my "Preaching To The Choir Boy" section-which is basically parables about my life- hasn't seen a new entry in quite some time. And I don't think there is a better time than right now to write in this section. The past few days, and maybe even month, has been very trying and taxing for me. I've been emotionally precarious so much lately that I needed something to calm my feelings. So I decided to relax, listen to some cathartic music and sleep my problems away. Although I'll have to come back to reality, it temporarily makes me feel better.

One of my biggest problems, which I can now say has turned into a full blown personal quagmire, is my devotion to "making a difference". What's funny about it, is that it shouldn't really be a problem, but for me it is and has been. And I think it's becoming worse. I'm working for this program now where I'm helping rising high school seniors develop their college applications. They come to a host site (the site is a college campus where the program uses the facilities as a venue) and spend four days working on the nuances of the college application process. Well, being the person that I am, I came into my last workshop with an expectation to magically change the kids over four days because I knew what backgrounds they were coming from. By the end of the workshop, I was left hopeless and frustrated. I was so frustrated and disappointed with what I had endured that it put me in tears. What kills me the most, is that I care that much. I feel like the more I learn and see the potential for those around me to have their consciousness raised, the more my passion thickens and I try harder to drastically change everything about them in an effort to make them better people. My mother had to console me. She told me there's no way I can save them all and I should concentrate on the ones who show the most potential, and guide them for the time that I have them and make an impact on their lives.

I just have this hankering for "make a difference" so bad that it impedes my ability to actually do it. I think I've completely lost patience at this point, although I'm trying to improve that. For example, during the workshop while we were having a session, I had asked all the young men in the room to stand. I instructed them all to pull their pants up to waist level. Subsequently, I spoke at length about why that was important, going on about how no matter where you're at, you're always on display and as young aspiring college students and also just people, you should develop a sense of respect for yourself and others, so on and so forth. The next day, at least half of them were wearing their pants off their a**es again. I lost my patience, and for the rest of that day I had a miserable disposition, and that wasn't good for the students. I think I've fallen in love with this "affecting change" thing. But the relationship just isn't working out. It's not that I want to give up on helping people, it's just that I have to use my discretion a little more. My mother told me that I'm not going to get to people as I am right now. But when I get to where I'm going (meaning as a prominent filmmaker), I'll be able to affect people a little more. All hope isn't lost though. I think I may have gotten to a few of them. And that matters. I think I'm just too concerned with trying to get through to everybody. It's a wonderful passion when you want to always be of service to your fellow (wo)man, but it cannot be so strong that you're stressed and unable to get through your days without feeling hopeless. And that's how I felt. I think this part of my personhood is what I need to try and work on the most, more specifically, my patience. I can't save the world, who can? I just have to learn that change happens by watering one plant at a time, not showering the lot with a hurricane.

There were some things that I found really disturbing though. One day, I had to help a young woman develop her personal statement for her college application. Honestly, it was one of the most painful experiences I ever had. I spent an hour and a half helping her with simple grammatical errors that she should have learned in the fourth grade. I'm not trying to condemn her, but that reality really just bothered me. And after reading a few other papers, it seemed as though almost all of them were writing on a level that they should have surpassed years ago. Her and other papers were extremely depressing. They constantly write how they talk; writing colloquially. For someone else, that experience might have rolled off their back, but for me its unsettling. These are the kind of things that I want to quell, but at times it seems so helpless that it hurts. That's one of those things that just put me in such a depressing mood that I couldn't smile and when I did, it was a sullen act. Sigh... I know there are programs that aim to help these kids who are coming from the worst socio-economic backgrounds, just like I did. But with today's generation, and how poorly they are being guided by the worst facets of society (two being mainstream hip hop culture and poor parental tutelage), it seems as though they're hopeless. But we can't accept that right? We can't... And that's exactly what bothers me so much. Seeing what the reality is and knowing what it could/should be. I guess I'll have to just let it go. I don't have a choice really. Patience.......patience..........

Another experience that emotionally affected me was a surprise call. I consider myself an only child because I was raised only by mother for most of my life and I didn't have any siblings. But the truth is, is that I have a younger brother. Although he's my half brother because he was born of a woman who is not my mother, he's still my brother. And he called me today... When I heard him tell me over the phone it was him, I was completely shocked. It was one of the rare moments in my life where I didn't know what to say. What could I say? I asked him how old he was now, and he told me he was thirteen. I'll be nineteen in a few weeks, and that means I haven't spoken to him in over six years. My family ties were severed because of past conflicts, so I never had a relationship with my younger brother. But I spoke to him for the first time in over six years. The call was brief. He was actually calling to tell me that he was moving to Atlanta, Georgia on Wednesday. Another blow... My one and only brother finally calls me and what he has called me about only means that a significant relationship that I could have with him is now a dwindling possibility. That totally sucks. I was just so shocked that I told him I was going out soon and that he could give me a call anytime. I absolutely have no idea how this is going to progress. He's entering high school now. Wow.... All I know is, he has my number, and if he calls, I'll be there for him.

My brother's phone call instantly made me think of my father, who I actually heard speaking through the phone. And anytime I think about my father, I get angry. It's amazing to me, really. After growing into a respectable, decent young man and human being, surviving one of the worst high schools in New York City while graduating the top of my class and being admitted into one of the best higher education institutions in the country, developing a core set of mores that I carry with me everyday, achieving a bevy of milestones in my early years and devising passionate aspirations to be something rare, all without the help of my father; I still have strong feelings about him. I appreciate my stepfather for being the auxiliary paternal figure in my life because he has helped with my personal development a lot. But no matter what I do in life, the thought of my father just disturbs me. I guess I'll never get over that feeling of abandonment and accepting that the person who helped create me consciously decided to not want or take care of me. That's always going to hurt, I guess. Honestly, if my father had gotten on the phone, I would've hung up. Period. I really don't want to speak to him. I have so much to say to him that I could have a stroke getting through my first sentence. But I know that the time will come when we'll have to meet and settle things. He and I are getting older, and it's only a matter of time before his conscious shadows him so much that he'll come running after me and then I'll have decide if I want him back in my life. I really don't know the answer to that question right now. Just the thought of it depresses me, which adds to the emotional roller coaster, or should I say water tide, that I've been on.

Other parts of my life seem empty as well, especially with women. I think I've created these standards that are so rare to find in people, or at least a significant combination of them, that I haven't really ran into someone I genuinely like. And the females that I do like, I haven't been able to get to. I think the characteristics that I'd like in a female are comparable to that of a 56 year old woman with a Ph.D.. who often frequents cultural venues. Yet again, that's depressing. But that's not it really. I'm not really big on having a lot of friends, because I'm really concerned with who I keep around me.

"Who you keep around, let's you know who you are" From the screenplay of The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift

So I often find comfort in a select group of people. But the best possible situation for me is to consistently enjoy the company of another person. I haven't found that person. I've had a few, but the 'relationships' went down the toilet. And I've lost that balance. When I get into these lulls of dejection, I don't have anyone to trust to help me get out of them because I usually just convene with one person who I know is close to me. But I don't have that right now, which is probably why all of these things are seemingly consuming me right now. I'm not even finding the urge to fraternize. Hopeless... But here again comes this issue of patience. I have time. I know I do. Someone will come along. Hopefully. Again, I really don't have a choice but to wait.

There are more things that I'm going through, but I've seemed to exhaust this blog entry. Sigh... I'll be fine though. I'll be seeing the next batch of students in the coming days so I'll have to put on my happy face so I can try to be of service. Patience....I know.

Parting Thoughts:
Charlie Rose's show has become somewhat of a muse and therapeutic for me. I often watch the episodes where he sits down with people I admire and aspire to emulate. It makes me feel good watching and hearing others attest to the dream that I want to come true. Here I am, constantly immersed in my own reveries about what I want to be, and there are many others who are the manifestation of what I envisage for myself. For all who say certain aspirations begin and end with dreams, I'd implore them to study those who have already made those dreams come to fruition. And what I hear them saying, is that when they dreamed when they were younger, the only thing that mattered was what they felt in their heart and what they thought. I also watched Will Smith say that you have to be somewhat delusional to actually go for the seemingly impossible.

It will happen Kuamel, it will.

Oh yeah,
I can finally say that my music library is eclectic. I think I have at least 25 songs in about 11 different genres of music. While alternative rap and jazz dominates my library, I have world/folk music, electronic/electronica, Rap (old school and new), Soul, Rhythm & Blues, Classical, mainstream/pop, comedic, Neo-Soul, rock (alternative and soft) and reggae. My song count has crossed the 1925 mark. That's big for me because my music ear is really hard to please. Now if I could just get an iPod....

Like the The O'Jays said, "I love music".