Tuesday, December 22, 2015

The Celebration of Not Celebrating Christmas

I believe I was about 9 years old when I got my Super Nintendo system for Christmas. My aunt, who I was living with at the time, bought it months in advance. She also bought my cousin a Sega Genesis. So for months whenever we got the chance (which was whenever she wasn't in the house) we would move the couch (she "hid" them behind there) and visually make love to the back of the boxes. We just could not wait to open these things up and play and play and maybe even play some more until our thumbs no longer existed. And Christmas came. And even though we knew what we were getting, me and my cousin were still beyond excited to get those systems. How our thumbs survived is anyone guess. That story is very important to me for this simple fact: that was the last Christmas I was excited for. Since then, I've gotten either no gifts or gifts with no thought put into them (shoelaces!), or gifts with no thought put into them (again, shoelaces!!!!) and lumped together as a birthday gift (December 26th, baby!). Sure, I've gotten older. So that has to account for some of the lacking excitement. But there's more to it.

You see, I'm not what you would could religious. But I know that there are some religious to Christmas. People look at it like giftsgiftsgifts either in the "gimme" sense or the "here ya go" sense. It shouldn't be this way. The word Christ is in the name, for Christ's sake. See what I did there? Take a hint as to what it would possibly mean.

But (BUT) Christians, do me a favor. Stop making everything related to Christmas about Jesus. Candy canes are not symbols of Jesus. And I'm not making that up either. Someone posted a picture on Facebook of a candy cane and diagrammed all the Jesus in it. The red is the blood of Christ. The white is the cleanliness or something of Jesus. The cane is shaped like a shepherd's cane. I almost vomited. Even religious people were calling that a little over the top. And if a child wants to believe in Santa, let them. Don't brainwash the child tell him that he's/she's wrong. I mean, you believe in a magical man with comic book-like powers too, right?

I won't be celebrating Christmas this year or any other time in the near future. Unless I have some kids and a wife and a dog and a house with a fireplace and a Lexus. So, you know, very unlikely. I will keep enjoying the perks of Christmas, like paid time off. I'm not gonna go up to my boss and say "hey I don't celebrate Christmas so don't pay me". Who would do that? An idiot, that's who. And I'm not an idiot, so there's that.

This won't be a long post because it almost turned into a anti-religious rant, and I won't have that. So I'll end this by saying Happy Christmas, but much more importantly, have a great Derrick's birthday the day after (which is, after all, a much MUCH more worthy holiday to celebrate).

Sunday, July 19, 2015

July 17th, 2015: My Re-Birthday

Holy crap. It's been awhile since I blogged anything. Two reasons: I've been busier, and I've had no inspiration. So it's safe to say that if I'm finally writing something, I've been less busy and inspiration hit. And boy, did inspiration hit. Hard as fuck.

Saturday, March 21st, 2015, I wrote about how I wanted to be more social. To this point, that has been a raging failure. I didn't really change anything. Mainly because I decided "ehh, whatever" and not even try anymore. I even stopped using social media. Deleted my Snapchat account and deactivated Facebook. I will say though that the Facebook wasn't necessarily because I wanted to stop be social. It was mostly due to that fact that people were posting really dumb shit on it all the time. I was succumbing to dumb shit, so I took a break. I just recently reactivated Facebook and recreated a Snapchat account (***CHEAP PLUG ALERT*** Follow me on Snapchat @ justwhatever82). So I'm trying again to be more out there.

Wednesday, February 18th, 2015, I wrote about how I had a fear of acceptance, and that single life was the life for me. About a week or so ago (on a random Tuesday night, no less. I'll never forget that) I just changed my mind. My brain literally said, "the fuck you doing?" and I agreed. Maybe...no, not maybe. It IS time to start looking for that someone. The fear of acceptance is gone. The fear of rejection was never a thing for me. So this should be easy. Right? RIGHT??

Well, no. I'm still not used to the whole "getting out there" thing. I'm trying. It's moving slowly but I'm trying.

Meanwhile, while all of this was happening, I was having another internal mind-struggle. I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell a specific "someone" how I really felt about them. I went back, forth, back again, back one more time, forth again, and in this weird zig-zagging circle thing (you should've seen that) about it. But my biggest issues with telling her this was that it could get awkward between us. I didn't want that. A "no" answer would be fine, but a "no" with awkwardness would be terrible. So I wouldn't risk it (even though I posed that question to Facebook and everyone said OMG DO IT DO IT DO IT YES YES YES DO IT!!!!). And yet, I still agonized about it. Until this past Friday night.

Friday, July 17th, 2015, I went to the Beat Hotel (or Beat Brasserie if your fancy) in Cambridge with a couple of friends to see my good friend Domenic play with a jazz band. It started out like an ordinary jazz bar night; drinks (many!), food (good!), and great music (with the incredible Melissa Bolling singing!). About two hours later my friends left, and a group of four sat next to me (a wife, her husband, her sister, and her sister's boyfriend). They were extremely friendly and social. The wife noticed that I smelled really good (Irish Spring!!!) and from there it was on. She's 33, originally from Kansas, and visiting from Cali. She then just mentioned how I was such a good-looking man. I thought to myself "for real"? Then I said out loud "for real"? The more we talked, the more I realized that it seemed that she loved her husband, but wasn't really having the greatest time with him. Like she wanted to know what it was like to be single again.

It was maybe 1:30 in the morning or so and is was the group's time to go. Hugs from everyone. The wife was last and told me that I needed to find that someone. She's out there, and that I have too many great qualities to be single. She hugged me and then kissed me (ON THE LIPS!). This was the pinnacle to a perfect night. Nothing else mattered. And at that point, I became reborn. I knew that this needed to happen on a much more regular basis. I don't know what her and the group's angle were, it means nothing.

And for what's it worth, her sister's boyfriend did say at one point "don't we look like of bunch of swingers"? It crossed my mind at one point. And Facebook friends also mention "cuckold". For the record, I don't care. If they were swingers, if they are in open relationships, if I was being cuckolded, it mattered none to me. I needed that. Badly.

So the feelings I have for that "someone" died that night. Not cooled. Not slowed down. Dead. We can (and hopefully, will) be friends for a very long time. And for the first time in months my brain is clear. I feel like I can think again. That mental weight has been lifted. And it feels amazing. Looking back on it, everything about that day aligned amazingly (and eerily) perfect. Everything:

  • I bought Irish Spring soap instead of the normal Old Spice body wash. May not seem like much, but the soap is much more subtle and not overpowering. The wife loved it.
  • I bought a spray antiperspirant/deodorant instead of the typical Old Spice deodorant. Again, small thing, but it kept me from being a human water pump. 
  • I razor-shaved instead of shaping up the mess on my face called a beard. Again, it was loved.
  • I decided to dress up a little more. Wore a button-down shirt with black dress pants and black shoes. I would normally do the jeans/sneakers combo, but I just felt like being different that night. 
  • We weren't even supposed to go the Beat Hotel. It was supposed to be The Beehive until Domenic texted me about the venue change. I don't meet this life-altering group of people at The Beehive. 
  • Even the friends I was with. That played a part in the night as well. 

There are other things that came together perfectly. I won't go into detail yet (save that for a followup blog post someday, and believe me, it will be massive). I have never felt that way in my life. And I need more of that. Next year, I will celebrate December 26th, since that is my actual birthday. But don't think that I won't be thinking about having a party for July 17th, my new, "other" birthday.

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Rashida Marie Strober Says The Darndest Things

Rashida Marie Strober is an idiot.

Now that that's out of the way, I'll explain why.

Kendrick Lamar (the best rapper in the game right now) released one of the greatest albums of all time last month: To Pimp a Butterfly. To sum up that album as succinctly as possible: pro-black. He talks about black struggle a lot, and he's passionate about it. There is a song on the album called Complexion (which is really ironic considering what this post is about).

Complexion (two-step)
Complexion don't mean a thing (it's a Zulu love)
Complexion (two-step)

It all feels the same (it's a Zulu love)

That's the chorus. Basically it means this: the color of your skin is meaningless. The Zulu philosophy of human kindness is more important. Love is love.

So recently, Kendrick announced his engagement to his secret, longtime girlfriend Whitney Alford. Whitney is black, but light-skinned (she is a mix of black and maybe Armenian, but I not 100% on that). Generally speaking, when you hear of two people loving each other for long time to the point where they want to marry one another, you congratulate them and you feel happy for them.

Enter Ms. Strober, out to prove that she is not gonna take that happiness shit from someone so pro-black. She called Kendrick a "fake conscious" rapper and a "coon".

Rashida Marie Strober is a self-professed "Dark Skinned Activist" and runs the "Dark Skin Is Beautiful" Campaign, which means at some point in her life, she was probably hated on and discriminated against due solely on the complexion of her skin. And honestly, loving your skin color in the face of discrimination is great. Hell, I've been called many names over my lifetime, some which include:

Burnt Toast
Purple (seriously. "You're so black, you're purple")

But that name-calling didn't turn me into a light-skinned-hating activist, either. You either rise above it or wilt. I rose. Rashida wilted. She (and others like her - which seems like there just can't be THAT many people like her) needs to realize that you cannot turn hatred into hatred. Being discriminated against should not mean it's time discriminate others. Rise. Don't wilt. Idiot.

Also, why is there a need for activism of this sort? Ms. Strober took the literal sense of the work black in black people. It's almost as if she's saying "Date/marry/have marital relations with people your own skin complexions". Love is love. You like who you like. You are attracted to who you are attracted to. Skin color or complexion shouldn't mean a thing.

You're not helping any cause. You're only making things worse. Case in point:

In doing research for this post, I did some Googling (it's 2015. That's a word now AND you know what it means. Get familiar). This was one of the websites I went to. Right under her picture (which, truth be told, is a great picture of her. She's beautiful.) is a clickable embedded webpage ad. It has two buttons and it wants you to answer a question: What are you interested in? When one of the buttons say "Coon", that's not a good look. I didn't click the buttons, because it most likely would have made me angrier, either because of the content I find or viruses.

You don't go calling people coons. Then you get ads like this just in case you do call someone a coon. Other than maybe the KKK, who is this helping? What cause does this go to? There's no reason for this kind of activism. Love = Love.

And Ms. Strober, you might wanna cover up. Your secret racism is showing...idiot.

Saturday, March 21, 2015

The Grand Social Extroversion of Derrick Lavell Williams

1. A shy person
2. A person chracterized by concern primarily with his or her own thoughts and feelings

Sounds mostly like me.

1. An outgoing, gregarious person
2. A person concerned primarily with the physical and social environment

Sounds mostly what I want to be.

Going over my last post - the one where I sounded like I hate women, but don't - I realized that the fear of acceptance (or rejection, for that matter) should have nothing to do with my (lack of) social interactions. I don't fear acceptance from people on a social level. And I certainly don't fear rejection from people. I like people (mostly). I have a small group of friends, but I've become so comfortable with having those friends that I don't try to make new ones. It's disturbing.

So I came to a conclusion: extroversion. Plain and simple. Let's get out there and meet people. I have a job now that lets me explore that even further (because...$$$). But here are some roadblocks and how I plan on busting through them:

1. I dislike nightclubs.
I'm not a dancing maniac or anything. And while delicious, alcohol is not a regular occurrence for me. And I'm also not a big fan of crowded clubs. Too many people. And sometimes, too many drunk people. And also sometimes, too many drunk people hurricane-barreling into me while they "dance".

Solution: Go more often. Not enough to be a regular, but go and get over it. Don't drink much. Realize that drunk people are extroverted (to an extreme level, but still).

2. I dislike crowds of people.
And I'm talking about "no space to turn" crowds. This isn't just related to clubs, either: bars, parties, parades, buses, trains, elevators, all of 'em.

Solution: I usually let buses, trains, and elevators pass by if they're full. I'm not a small guy: I feel like me squeezing onto things annoys people. And I don't like to annoy people. Well, it's time to annoy people. I'll use buses and trains as sort of a training program. If I can be OK with being on a crowded Green Line train, I can be OK anywhere. And if I have to annoy some people along the way, fine by me. They should know that they are helping me become a better, social person.

3. I dislike going to large, social events (like parties) where I only know one or two people.
This is a a lot like problem #1, but it forces two different options: either (a) mingle, network, and socialize, or (b) babysit a wall/post/room/front porch.

Solution: Mingle, network, and socialize. Simple enough.

4. I dislike spending money socially...kinda.
This is mainly due to the fact that I have usually had inconsistent and/or low-paying jobs. And since social interactions were low on my list, I felt the need to spend elsewhere.

Solution: For the first time ever, I have both a steady AND good-paying job. So no more monetary-based excuses. Gotta make it rain. Thanks Obama!

These four things can be worked on. There used to be a fifth roadblock, but that has been fixed completely. In my last post, I said:

"I'm a gamer...I'm not stopping."

Well, I've mostly stopped. Gaming used to prevent me from going anywhere or doing anything. Back this past Black Friday, I bought a PS4. At that time I knew that I was going to be at school during the week, but I figured that I can play till I fall out on the weekends (since I had nothing going on anyway). I sold my PS4 a couple of months later. I didn't feel like playing it - not even on the weekends. And that was before I wanted to be a socialite. I am no longer going to school, but I don't miss the PS4, either. I still game a little (and when I say a little, a mean a little), but it will no longer stop me from doing something or going somewhere. My Grand Social Extroversion of 2015 is real, and it will change me for the better. I'm certain of that.

Still don't think I'm looking for a romantic relationship, though. Although that sentence itself is a sign of progress. "Don't think" is better than "never, nope, not at all, LOLWOMEN" though. 

Yay for progress!

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

The Fear of Acceptance

Let's go way back. In my youth, I had really bad issues about self-esteem. I always thought about how I looked. Or dressed. I was too fat. I was too dark. So naturally, while other teenager boys at the time were doing teenagery things as it relates to the opposite sex, I was basically a clam. I didn't open up to girls. Ever. Not even in a friendly sense. I had a deep fear of rejection. I always thought that the girl would LOL if I asked her out, or even talked to her. That fear stuck with me for a good while.  Nowadays, there should be no excuses. That self-esteem issue I once had is gone (mainly because I realized how unbelievably awesome I am). 

But somewhere along the line, I also realized something else. This no-relationship thing? I liked it. I actually enjoy being alone. It's so...calming. Or something. My fear of rejection turned into a fear of acceptance. I've watched seemingly great relationships end suddenly over the past few years. And while I'm not saying that it would happen to me if I were in a relationship, why risk it? For the sake of being with someone? Nah. I'll chance it.
I've always felt that I would be a horrible boyfriend/husband. Some people (females mostly, single ones at that.) disagree. I'll just spell some things out as to why I'd be terrible at this relationship thing:
  • I'm a gamer. Women hate that. I'm not stopping.
  • I'm fat. Women hate that. I'm working on that, but in my own time and way.
  • I'm black. Rasist women hate that. I'm not bleaching.
  • I love to cook...for me. Women hate that. Even though I'm going to school for cooking, it hasn't necessarily made me less selfish (which women also hate).
  • I don't text/call people often. Women hate that. I'm not changing.
  • I like my beard. Some women hate that. I'm not shaving. I'll shape it, and maybe trim it sometimes, but the beard stays.
  • I'm honest. Women (apparently) hate that. Women also sometimes confuses honesty with being an asshole. So...I'm an asshole. Women hate that.

That last point drives me insane. Women are the most beautiful creatures on this Earth, but also the most confusing and weird and (sometimes) insane creatures on this Earth.

Woman: How does this dress look? Should I return it?
Man: It looks great. Keep it.
Woman: OMG You are such a liar! Just saying that just to be nice. WAAAAAHHH!
Man: WTF?


Woman: How does this dress look? Should I return it?
Man: It looks terrible. Take it back.
Woman: OMG You are such as asshole! Why would you say that. WAAAAAHHH!
Man: WTF?

Sometimes, there's no way to win. I lie, I lose. I tell the truth, I lose. Why would I even take the risk of being apart of that? Not saying with 100% certainty that it would happen, and I know there are really good, non-tempermental women out there where this wouldn't happen (too much). But any number over 0% makes it risky.

There are maybe 2 (maybe) females right now in my life where I can see possibly being in a relationship (maybe!), but that's so iffy that I don't bother progressing with anything. So what do I look for in a woman? Nothing, really. That woman doesn't really exist. So I'll stick to myself. It's cheaper that way.

P.S. I also have to bring this up. About 6-7 years ago, when I've lived in North Carolina with my sister, there was a friend of hers that would swear on a Bible that I was unquestionably gay. She thought that I loved the ballet (LOL). If she saw this article she would use it for her case. Remember earlier when I said that "women are the most beautiful creatures on this Earth"? I mean that. I'll join the KKK and start lynching black people before I become attracted to a man. So basically...

"The female body is a work of art. The male body is utilitarian. It's for gettin' around. It's like a Jeep."
- Elaine Benes (of Seinfeld)