It Ain't Hard To Tell

It ain't hard to tell, I excel, then prevail/The mic is contacted, I attract clientele/My mic check is life or death, breathin a sniper's breath/I exhale the yellow smoke of buddha through righteous steps/Deep like The Shinin', sparkle like a diamond/Sneak a uzi on the island in my army jacket linin/Hit the Earth like a comet, invasion/Nas is like the Afrocentric Asian, half-man, half-amazin/Cause in my physical, I can express through song/Delete stress like Motrin, then extend strong/I drank Moet with Medusa, give her shotguns in hell/From the spliff that I lift and inhale, it ain't hard to tell

Track 10: It Ain't Hard To Tell

I'm finally finished with my Illmatic series. It's a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it gave me some ideas to write about during this long month of posting everyday, but on the other hand, it was kind of confining. It seemed like a good idea when I started but I guess I should have came up with a outline or something instead of just freestyling. Anyway, here is the final installment of the Illmatic series: It Ain't Hard To Tell. Lord knows what I'm gonna blog about after this is over.

It ain't hard to tell... that you are way into me. You try to play it cool, but come on, we both know what the deal is. I've been in your position before, and its okay. Just play your role. In our group dynamic, you are the stalker and I am the stalkee. You don't have to pretend that that's not the case just because I called you out on it. I really wish that wasn't the case, there's nothing worse than a sometime-y stalker. I would respect it a lot more, if you were at least honest about it. But when your words say one thing and your actions say another, it's just, well its ridiculous. I told you that I can't date you because you work with me and you say you understand, then what is the reasoning behind the early morning text messages and the jealous looks when the other shorties come to my desk. It ain't hard to tell you are just fronting. You ain't hardly fooling me.

It ain't hard to tell... that you are some fucking vultures. I understand that it's news that his mom died, but are the tabloid style headlines really necessary. You never talked about him on your show before, now you are trying to exploit this story and make it into a sensational story. Leave these poor people alone to grieve. No need to make it into a cautionary tale about the evils of plastic surgery.

It ain't hard to tell... that your radio station is bootleg as hell. I like that you are independent and play some underground hip hop from time to time, but do you really have to be so unprofessional? I mean, isn't part of being a DJ making sure that your records don't skip? Shouldn't you know before the song is halfway over that you are playing the dirty version instead of the radio version. And what's up with the dead air? Rule # 1 of the radio: never have any gaps that cause people to turn the station. Let me not even get into the amateurish scratching and mindless babble during interviews. You can at least pretend like you know what you are doing.

It ain't hard to tell... that I'm starting to hate everything Boston related. Them damn Red Sox, them damn Patriots, now them damn Celtics. Give somebody else a chance to shine in the sports world.

It ain't hard to tell... that I often think about stuff to say and then censor myself. That's not a bad thing, because my thoughts are sometimes too much for people to take. Like when the vegetarian girl decided to lecture me about what I was putting in my body, my immediate thought was "I got something to put in your body." Funny? Yes. Appropriate? No? But the little smirk I held on my face made it obvious that I wanted to say something.

It ain't hard to tell... that I'm really looking forward to Thanksgiving. Not so much for the food, but for the chance not to go to work. I'm on major coasting mode this week. No above and beyond for me. I need a vacation and this little 4 day weekend isn't gonna do much, but its needed nonetheless.

It ain't hard to tell... that that shit just ain't gonna work out. I can't keep putting myself out there with someone who is as nonchalant as, well, me. I refuse to be a bug a boo. If you want to get at me, you know where I am, otherwise, it was nice to know you for the short time that I did and I'm sure that I'll see you sometime in the future. We'll just chalk it up to bad timing, and leave at that.

It ain't hard to tell... that last paragraph is gonna be the one that everyone focuses on. But it really ain't that serious. LOL

It ain't hard to tell... that I'm mad as hell about the writer's strike. I've been looking forward to the next season of Lost and 24 and now I don't know if they are gonna come on at all. You can tell I'm mad by the random outbursts of profanity directed to nobody in particular whenever I turn on the TV and hear about another damn reality TV show.

It ain't hard to tell... that I really suck at communication. First there was the broken phone for a week, now I forgot to charge my phone so it died at work today. It's like I don't want to talk to anyone. It might be a good idea to actually make some phone calls if I actually want someone to take me out on my birthday. (5 days and counting!)

It ain't hard to tell... that this posting everyday thing is harder than I expected. I have plenty of ideas in the infant stage in my drafts, but not enough time to flesh them out. Or better yet not enough resolve to finish them. Now that this Illmatic series is over, maybe I'll work on some of those. Don't hold your breath though, I'll probably take the easy way out for the rest of the week. Besides, nobody will be reading anyway. It's Thanksgiving week for Pete's sake.

And just like that.. I'm gone. Thanks for coming by and checking me out everyday. I really appreciate the feedback you guys give. I know it sounds like I'm done blogging for a while, but I'm not. I'll be here same blog time, same blog channel tomorrow. Be easy, everybody!

Represent

"Represent, Represent"

Track 9: Represent

Remember Kut Klose? I'm just saying, I know I'm cutting it close for today's post.

So, I went out to the party last night. It was a birthday party for some people we lived with in Spring Valley, NY. It's funny how everybody has at one time or another congregated down to the Atlanta area. I didn't take too many pictures because I was on play with kids mode. There were no eligible bachelorettes there; everyone was either married or engaged or (almost) family. And the booze? Man, these parties used to be legendary for having an open bar and people getting good and drunk. I guess since they are getting older they only had wine and soda. I stuck with the soda since I am not really into the vino. Dude from Gn.arls Ba.rkl.ey (the producer) came. It was his father's birthday. I grew up with him in Spring Valley. I was a couple years older than him so I never knew he was into the music like that. I just remember going to their house and playing bumper pool and hating on them because they were rich. LOL. Anyway here are some of the limited pictures I took. I'll spare you the pictures of the "take a picture of yourself" contest I had with my niece. It was crazy. I would shout out an emotion and then she would take a picture of herself. Aiight, Spring Valley, New York, represent!!!



My Godbrother Trevor and his family


My Aunt and my niece


Me looking drunk, but not drunk



Trevor and Brian (AKA Da.ngerMo.use)



Gn.arls Ba.rk.leys BE.T, MT.V and Gra.mmy Awar.ds.


Next Up: Track 10: It Ain't Hard To Tell

One Time 4 Your Mind

One time 4 your mind, one time/ Yeah whatever/ One time 4 your mind, one time/ It sound clever

Track 8: One Time 4 Your Mind

I'm stuck on coming up with a post with the title One Time 4 Your Mind. The only thing I could think to do was write a rap to it, but since I've already subjected you to my nostalgic attempts to flow, I'll pass. Instead I'm just gonna break the title down to its parts and focus on one aspect of it. Let's talk about the mind. As in my mind plays tricks on me. I know that's a different rapper, but like I said I was stuck. I started thinking about my mind and some of the weird and quirky stuff it causes me to do. By the way, I know I am stretching to stay within the concept that I laid out for myself. Anyway, my mind is strange place. I'm sure most people have weird thoughts and weird things they do. Here are 10 strange things my mind makes me do.

Tucking in my shirt: I absolutely cannot look in the mirror while I'm tucking in my shirt. I will take my glasses off or close my eyes until I am finished. Then once the shirt feels like its tucked in properly, I will look and make adjustments. I don't know what that's about, but my mind really doesn't want to see the tucking in process.

Finishing Lyrics: If I get a random lyric stuck in my head, my mind wont let me function unless I figure out where it came from. Often that involves running through an entire verse until I determine the source of said lyric. Then once I identify it, I have to say the rest of the song. Most of the time, its in my head, but occasionally I will do this out loud leading people to question my sanity.

Germs: I alternate between being a germophobe and being nasty. I've been known not to wash dishes until a science fair project starts growing on them, but at the same time complain if someone comes around me with a cold. It's like my mind says its okay wallow in my own filth, because they are my own germs, but bring someone else around me and I will apply the Purrell like its lotion and I'm Ashy Larry from Chappelle's Show.

Touch: I really don't like to be touched. My mind makes me immediately and involuntarily recoil when someone touches me in an unsolicited manner. This doesn't go for people I want to touch me, but I'm really not a touchy feely person. All them high 5's and hugs? You can keep that. There's this girl at the job that always touches my back when she walks by me. One day, I'm just gonna accidentally slap the shit outta her and claim it was my reflexes. LOL. I'm exaggerating, but I have told her to stop touching me, but she thinks I'm just trying to be a jerk.

Christopher Williams: I talk to myself. No need to elaborate on that one, go ahead and call me crazy.

Obscure References: See above. My mind really enjoys making obscure references that most people wont understand. I think that's why I like Family Guy so much because they will just come out of the blue with some reference that makes no sense at all, but I'm sitting there like, I remember that shit. Today's obscure reference (other than the Christopher Williams one) was when I told someone that I was serious like Jermaine Jackson. Now that I read it, it sounds corny, but at the time it was funny to me, even though they had no idea what I was talking about.

Third Person: My mind likes for Rashan to talk about Rashan in third person. For instance, Rashan will say "Rashan is a fucking genius!" which is an actual quote Rashan used at Rashan's job today.

Sleep Disorder: You already know this one. I can't sleep like a normal person. My circadian rhythms are all fucked up. I think it started back when I was a teenager and this happened. Ever since then I have had a problem sleeping. I think I was just afraid to go back to sleep and somehow trained myself to stay up all the time. The weird thing is that I can sleep all day, but not at night. It has to be a mental issue.

Alone: My mind won't allow me to be lonely. No matter how alone I am, my mind always provides me with a distraction so I don't long for other people's company. This one gets me in trouble because I'll forget to call people back because I'm just sitting there enjoying myself. Wait, that sounded like I was talking about mas.. What I meant was that I enjoy my conversations with myself.

Curiosity: "My mind wont allow me to not be curious" (Cee Lo - Cell Therapy). I am nosey as hell, especially if I'm not supposed to know. If you try to hide something from me, I'm gonna look that much harder until I inevitably lose interest. It's not that I even really care, its just in my mind, I think I should know everything. How dare you try to hide something from me? I use my Magnum PI skills to find out stuff that I shouldn't really know, but can't not know, ya know?

Next Up: Track 9: Represent

One Love

You was my nigga when push came to shove/One what? One Love

Track 7: One Love

I was out in my sun room/storage area yesterday, looking through some old papers, marveling at my genius. Yeah, I was on my own shit, I admit it. I saw a bunch of essays and midterms that I got A's on without reading the book or studying. I read over some of my old lyrics from when I thought I was a rapper. Man, it felt good reminiscing. I had a sappy smirk on my face reading that old stuff. Then I found a journal that I forgot about. I read through it and it read kinda like a blog, except there were no comments, and no filler posts like yesterday. It was just the straight uncut thoughts of 18-19 year old Rashan. I ran across this entry and the emotions came flooding back. Here it is:

October 7th, 1993

I talked my father today, for the first time in nearly two years. He and my mother separated when I was about 8. Since that time, the lines of communication have basically been cut. We used to give each other the courtesy calls on holidays and birthdays, but in the last three years, I realized that he doesn't deserve my respect. My father owes over $30,ooo in unpaid child support for me and my two siblings. He always says that he will send money, but never delivers. The most recent example of his irresponsibility occurred this summer. I need $46 to pay for my tuition. He told my mother he would send it. To this day, I still haven't received the money. If not for the generosity of my friends, I would not be attending classes this quarter. I never ask my father for anything unless it is pertaining to my education. I have been told that I am too proud for my own good, however I don't feel that way. I am, however, too proud to beg. In the first place, I shouldn't have to beg for my father to take responsibility for the children he claims he loves. Secondly, no matter how diligently I have asked in the past, he has never delivered. I have become more responsible because I had to take up the slack of a "Deadbeat Dad. When I become a father, I will be more responsible for my children than my father was for me. No child should have to deal with this.

I've written about my father before, in this post on the old blog. I've been very candid about his drug use, lack of child support payments, and general lackadaisical attitude towards his children. But I have come to reconcile those thoughts. As I got older, I became more understanding of his situation. I never made excuses for his behavior, but I realized that regardless of his faults, he gave me life, and a large part of who I am is because of him. Reading my writing reminds me of his writing. The way that I write on any spare scrap of paper is classic Ricky. Damn, that man's face is just like my face. That man's mannerisms are just like my mannerisms. That man's love of music spawned my love of music. That man's intellect was passed down to me. See, now I know its all One Love. He and I are one.

It made me sad to see the bitterness I had for him. I like to think of myself as being more evolved than to just dismiss my father. It wasn't always like that though. Now, I know I was young, but to think of the time I wasted being bitter sickens me. I wish now that I had more time to just chop it up with him and relate to him as a man. Although we reconciled before he died, I just wish that I had a better relationship with him. I know its not all on me, but when I read over what I wrote on that October day, I had to fight back the tears. Its been 12 years since he passed on, but I still feel the pain occasionally, especially when I read his letters and see myself in him. It's all love, Ricky! One Love!

Next Up: Track 8: One Time 4 Your Mind

Memory Lane (Sittin' In Da Park)

True in the game, as long as blood is blue in my veins/ I pour my Heineken brew to my deceased crew on memory lane


Track 6: Memory Lane (Sittin' In Da Park)


This should have been the easiest post for me to write, but for some reason it became the hardest. The title "Memory Lane" lends itself quite nicely to one of my stories about the craziness of my past, but I think I may be tapped out. I couldn't think of any other stories that I haven't already shared. I've told you all about my dirt, my wild Savannah experiences, and growing up. What more can I say? I'm sure as soon as I finish this post, something will come to me and I'll regret that my long term memory finally failed me. But while we are on the subject, let's talk about memory.



Can memory really play tricks on you? For me, I know that it does. I tend to see the past through rose tinted glasses sometimes. I can remember stuff that happened a long time ago very fondly, whereas at the time I probably wasn't viewing it so positively. Is it just natural to see the past as "the good old days?" I thought about that as I remembered this story. My nostalgia makes it seem like it was the most dramatic (in a good way) time ever, or perhaps that's just the writer in me. Anyway, let's take a trip down "Memory Lane" when she and I were "Sittin' In Da Park."



She and I.. sitting in the park. Not a care in the world except what movie we would go see on Saturday night. Her with her biology textbooks, me with some masterpiece of English literature that I was supposed to be reading. We would sit for hours staring at the lake, in between chapters of academia. Hardly a word crossed our lips as she sat between my legs and I stroked her hair. Class let out at 11, and the next one wasn't until 2. So we sat in the park, communing with nature, stealing kisses, and pretending to study. Walking around the fountain hand in hand reciting sonnets with our eyes. Young love in full bloom.
THE ACTUAL FOUNTAIN IN DAFFIN PARK


She and I... sitting in the park. Worrying about final exams and car insurance. Her with her Physiology textbooks, me with my book of rhymes. I had long since given up the pretext that I was actually studying. We would sit for hours staring at each other, in between bites of Popeye's Chicken and gulps of Mystic juice. We talked more then, talked about our fears, our dreams, what was to come. Class let out at noon, and the next one was at 2:00. Less time to spend with each other, but more intellectual conversation. She challenged my mind, that's one of the reasons I loved spending time with her. We didn't feel the need for public displays anymore. Our love had matured.
THE PATH WE WALKED


She and I...sitting in the park. Graduation was upon us. I was taking 2 classes, she was taking a full load. Temporary worry lines painted fault lines upon her face. I, carefree and aloof sat there restless. We sat there for hours, she with her MCAT study guide, me with a Source magazine. We didn't really talk, but my presence was required. I, fidgeting and squirming, her not paying me any attention. I, wondering what was going on in the student center, her not wanting me to leave. Less than lovers, more than friends we sat in the park growing apart. To her, the park was pristine, relaxing even inspiring. To me, the park was stifling, boring and full of bugs. We didn't look at each other the same way anymore. We both knew that love had been replaced by co-dependency. We needed each other, although we didn't necessarily want each other. We liked each other, but it wasn't necessarily love. We loved each other, but we weren't necessarily in love.
OUR SPOT (Or one that looks just like it)

I alone...sitting in the park. A symbol of a relationship gone on too long. Emblematic of a love too young to be so serious. I sat in "our spot" and re-read her letter. She was doing fine in Virginia, and I was doing fine in Savannah. That's when I knew it was over. Her words betrayed the fact that she didn't miss me, and I didn't miss her either. Well, maybe a little, but not like we should have missed each other after seeing each other every day for three years. It used to tug at our heartstrings when we spent the weekend apart, now she was gone for a month and a half, and I was okay. I knew that our time had come to an end, but was afraid to verbalize it, afraid to lose my first love, afraid to prove my mother right, but most of all, afraid that she would not be okay, which is what I cared about more than anything in the world.



She and I...traveling in two disparate paths. Denying the inevitable, replaying the memories of our park. Always holding a place in each other's hearts, albeit as supporting characters, instead of the leading role.

(Stupid scanner won't work, so I couldn't post the picture of us. We looked-ed good together at graduation. LOL)



Next Up: Track 7: One Love

Halftime

Nas, why did you do it?/You know you got the mad fat fluid/when you rhyme, it's halftime.

Track 5: Halftime

I'm still posting everyday, even on Saturday and Sunday. I know alot of people don't read blogs on the weekend, so if you missed yesterdays joint, just scroll on down to the previous post.

You know how in sports at halftime, the coach will give a pep talk to inspire his team? Tonight I gave myself my own version of the halftime speech. Just reminding myself of what I need to do to be successful in a certain aspect of my life. Take a look at my split personality at work...


Coach T. Casanova: Rashan, I brought you in my office to talk to you about some things.

Rashan: Aww, coach! This isn't one of your pep talks again, is it?

Coach C: Indeed it is. Now I know you think you don't respond well to these, but I've been seeing some areas of improvement we need to focus on. Sit down, and let me holla at you for a minute.

Rashan: C'mon coach. I've been doing much better. Can't you just give me some credit for that?

Coach C: You are the team captain, and I cannot accept mediocrity from you. You have been stepping up, but your efforts have not been nearly good enough. Do I need to remind you that we are losing?

Rashan: Nah, I see that. But it ain't all my fault. I feel like I'm getting singled out.

Coach C: It is your responsibility to motivate the team. And its mine to motivate you. You might as well stop griping because you are gonna hear me out whether you like it or not.

Rashan: Okay, lets get this over with.

Coach C: What's going on with you and the ladies? I thought we talked about this before. You are getting too old to be so complacent.

Rashan: Well, see, what had happened was...

Coach C: Let me stop you there. Cuz I already know what you are going to say. I don't wanna hear that bullshit about Social Anxiety Disorder. You talked to PhD, didn't you? You didn't run from her.

Rashan: Well, you see how well that turned out. I haven't even talked to her in a while.

Coach C: Have you called her? Or are you just waiting for her to call you?

Rashan: She's just too busy. I don't wanna interrupt her studies. Getting her doctorate is very important to her. I don't wanna get in her way.

Coach C: I can respect that. But why haven't you tried to get with anyone else? I'm not saying you have to marry them, but you can at least take someone out on a date.

Rashan: C'mon, coach. You know as well as I do that I only attract crazy. Like old girl at the job. She gets mad if she even sees me talk to another female, platonic or otherwise.

Coach C: I don't accept that excuse. I will admit that you have had your share of crazies in your life. But for every crazy, there's a normal woman out there that you never got the chance to meet, because you are not applying yourself.

Rashan: But..

Coach C: But nothing! Honestly, how many women have you tried to engage in conversation over the last few months.

Rashan: Well, none. But...

Coach C: But nothing! You miss 100% of shots you never take.

Rashan: So, you gonna hit me with cliches now?

Coach C: Only when they are appropriate. You can't just wait for them to come to you. You have to put yourself out there. I've been telling you that since high school.

Rashan: It works though. They do approach me sometimes. Just not lately. I'm just in a slump, that's all.

Coach C: Ask yourself this: Of the women that have approached you, how many of them would fit into the stalker/crazy category?

Rashan: Shit, you right! Those do tend to be the most possessive, controlling ones.

Coach C: Damn right, I'm right! And I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. It's time to cut out that shy shit and be a man.

Rashan: Hold up, bruh! Don't be questioning my manhood.

Coach C: No, that's not what I'm saying at all. I am really proud of you for how you have stepped up for your family. And how you go to work every day even though you hate it. I would never say that you aren't a man, but in this aspect, you got put up some more shots. And don't just be going for the easy layups, either.

Rashan: So you saying don't call old girl from the old job? I'm saying, I could call right now and get you off my back.

Coach C: See, now you are confusing things. I'm not talking about getting easy sex. I'm talking about getting someone you can spend some time with. You know someone that you would respect and possibly build with. I know you have no way of knowing until you try, but, Rashan, you have no way of knowing until you try! Nah, mean?

Rashan: I think I do. Basically you saying that I gotta kiss some frogs and shit.

Coach C: Hell yeah!

Rashan: I feel you, coach. I really do. In fact its like your thoughts and my thoughts are the same. I've given that some thought, but I'm getting to old to just be dating.

Coach C: You gonna make me repeat myself? You will never know if she is the right one unless you take her out on some dates, get to know her, and see if you are compatible. You trying to skip the process and that won't work. It's like you're just throwing up the first open 3 pointer. You have to work within the scheme, pass the rock around, then you get the high percentage shot.

Rashan: Nice sports metaphor. I really do understand.

Coach C: Son, this whole conversation is a metaphor.

Rashan: Right, Right.

Coach C: So are you onboard? Can I count on you to get your head back in the game?

Rashan: I want to, coach. I really do. I just don't know if those moves are in my repertoire. I mean, I'm the master of the crossover. I can make the girls think I'm going one way, and then go the other, but as far as working within the offense I just don't know. Any advice?

Coach C: Oh, I see you are using metaphors now too. Nice... But let me tell you this. Your problem is will, not skill. You have to be willing to do the work. You have to be willing to not take a no so damn personally, that it causes you to foul out of the game.

Rashan: Aiight!

Coach C: You gotta apply all the lessons I have taught you, otherwise I'm just wasting my breath. We can talk about this until we are blue in the face, but unless you actually run the play, all the coaching in the world isn't gonna help you.

Rashan: So what do you want me to do?

Coach C: First of all, I need you to get up out the house. I didn't say anything last weekend when you lounged around all weekend, but again this week? That's just ridiculous. Didn't you have people who wanted you to go out with them?

Rashan: Yeah, but I just didn't feel like going anywhere.

Coach C: Do you think you are gonna meet people sitting around in your drawers? Seriously, man get up, take a shower, shave and just go out. I know you don't do clubs, but there are chill spots all over Atlanta, where you can meet like minded ladies.

Rashan: Uh-huh. Next weekend, I promise. I'm already supposed to hang out on Friday. Maybe I'll come with something for Saturday too.

Coach C: That's a start, but I need you to do something else for me.

Rashan: What's up!?!?

Coach C: Talk to people. You don't realize it, but people really are interested in you. You have a unique mindset and people respond to that. You just have to let your intellect shine. Let your wordplay shine. Shine, nigga, shine!

Rashan: That's Wu-Tang right? "No Hooks?" That joint they did with Shaq?

Coach C: Yeah, sorry about that. Sometimes I'll just bust out with rap lyrics without knowing it. But you get my point. Next weekend, I expect you to score. I'm not worried about your shooting percentage. I want you to keep shooting until you make a basket. Can you do that for me?

Rashan: Yep, I'm down. Hey, coach? Thanks for the pep talk. I actually feel much better now.

Coach C: I knew that you would. We are the same, ya know? That's how I know what you need, better than you even know it yourself. Now get out there and have a strong second half. Don't make me pull out the Hoosiers quotes on you, cuz I'll do it.

Rashan: At least it ain't Rudy. God, I hate those inspirational movies. They are just so lame.

Coach C: Hey, man whatever works! Aiight, halftime is over. Let's get back to it. Can I get Team Rashan on three?

Rashan: Dawg, its just you and me in here. That would look kinda crazy.

Coach C: Just humor me, will ya?

Rashan and Coach: 1,2,3... Team Rashan!!!

Next Up: Track 6: Memory Lane (Sittin' In Da Park)

The World Is Yours

Whose world is this?/The world is yours, the world is yours/ It's mine, it's mine, it's mine/ Whose world is this?/ "It's yours!"/ It's mine, it's mine, it's mine /Whose world is this?

Track #4: The World Is Yours

I started to hold this one until Monday, since nobody really reads blogs on the weekend, but then I remembered that Monday is a holiday, so they won't be reading anyway. Long story short, here's today's post.

Dear God,

I know the world is Yours. I wholeheartedly respect that. And I don't want to seem disrespectful in any way, but I have some questions. Why is the world like this? Why are we always going to war or killing our kids or just generally hating each other? I like to think that because You gave us free will, all of the problems of the world are because of us. But Your representatives always rebuff this thought. They say that You work in mysterious ways and that I shouldn't question. They give You the glory for the good and blame the d'evil for the bad. They tell me that everything happens for a reason, and I while I get what they are saying, I'm not too sure I agree.

For instance, why would it be in Your will to have Your people suffer through over 400 years of slavery and even after the evil institution is over, still suffer merely because of the color of their skin. Or how could You intend for 6 million people to die in a holocaust perpetuated by evil men using Your name. Or even on a smaller scale, what part of Your plan makes a man take a perverted sexual interest in an innocent child? Things like this I don't understand. Again, I mean no disrespect at all, but if what the church says is true, You created me to be inquisitive, so I'm sure You understand.

Here's what I think. I think You gave man dominion over the earth and quite simply, we are messing up. We have been for generations and we will for generations to come. I think man's capacity for destruction is a choice that You have allowed us to make. You have told us how to please You, but whether or not we do is up to us. To me that makes more sense than to think that tragedy is a part of Your plan. I know it makes it easier for the families of victims to cope, but in reality, God, it is mankind that is responsible for the ills of the world.

Am I off base? I pray that You would let me know if I'm on the wrong track. I pray that You will correct my path if I'm going astray. I know I haven't always lived up to Your Commandments, but I'm trying to be a good man. You already know this, but my disdain for the church, has nothing at all to do with You, and everything to do with the people who claim to be Your representatives' hypocrisy. You know my heart, and I just ask these questions to become closer to You. The world is Yours and I'm just trying to find my place.

Your Loving Son,

Rashan Jamal


P.S. - Two more questions for You? If a soldier dies in combat right after killing an enemy, does he go to hell? And how do You feel about these preachers using Your name and word to get rich? Thanks, God. I look forward to Your response.

Next Up: Track 5: Halftime

Life's A Bitch

Life's a bitch and then you die; that's why we get high/Cause you never know when you're gonna go/ Life's a bitch and then you die; that's why we puff lye/Cause you never know when you're gonna go

Track 3: Life's a Bitch

Okay, I don't know how I feel about this one. I wrote it out and deleted it like 5 times before I just decided fuck it. Either you feel it or you don't. I freestyled this into my phone on the way home from work. The beat in my head was "Roc Boys" off that new Jay-Z album. I listened to it when I got home and made some tweaks so it could be 16 bars, but for the most part its off the top of the dome. It's been awhile since I actually had a coherent freestyle when I was sober, so here it is. If you think its wack, I can respect that, but if you feeling it, go on and hit me up in the comments.

Life's A Bitch (freestyle)

They say that Life is a bitch, and then you die
Have you ever taken a second to ask yourself why?
Why niggas always struggling succumbing to stress
Anesthetize with liquor, Newports and sess
We do what we do in a quest to get high
Escape from our reality, just to get by
While some try to hustle, some just give up
Consider suicide when the rainbow's enuf
Well, if you ask me I gotta let you know
If Life is a bitch, then that bitch's my hoe
I'm a put her on the stroll, she'll be sweeter than honey
Hollerin' bout "Bitch better have my money."
and if Life is a bitch, I'm a pimp her out
Doesn't matter what you and I lament about
See, Life is what you make it, it is what is
For some it's their job, for other's it's their kids
For some it's their God, for others it's their family
Whatever gets you through it, maintain your sanity.
Do what you gotta do to live your life
Cuz you really gonna miss that bitch when you die
I know life can be hard when the stress starts attacking
And you wonder why life is such a bitch when your Black and
Your pockets on a diet and you need to get paid
These girls steady tripping and you need to get laid
And you might be afraid of what's next to come
And the negativity be straight vexing some
What you really oughta do is just look her in her eyes
And say "Bitch, you can't break me. I'm running this life"
Be surprised how your outlook can change in a second, B
Control your own life, and make your own destiny.
They say that life is a bitch and then you die
Well stop calling her a bitch, cuz that bitch is my life.


Next Up: Track 4: The World Is Yours

NY State Of Mind

It drops deep as it does in my breath/I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death/Beyond the walls of intelligence, life is defined/I think of crime when I'm in a New York state of mind

Track 2: NY State of Mind

(This was written under the influence of Benadryl, so excuse me if it seems rambling.)

February 1st, 1986: Spring Valley, New York

The day of reckoning was upon me. I had known for months that I was leaving NY. All my stuff was packed, all goodbyes had been said, nothing left to do but hop a plane and head down south. I was 11 years old and flying dolo on Delta. I can't remember why, but my mom, sister and brother weren't coming until the next week. I also can't remember what airport I went to, but I do remember that it was snowing. I had the red and black lumberjack with the hat to match, (that's the truth, not just stealing Biggie lyrics) and I was carrying my boombox. In the deck, I had UTFO's first album. I had the vinyl, but I had just recently converted over to a Maxell cassette tape. In the pockets of my bomber jacket, I had other tapes, mostly stuff I recorded off the radio including "Rock The Bells", a song I was obsessed with. After a brief layover in Charlotte, I arrived in Savannah, Georgia and was greeted by my grandmother. The first thing I noticed was the heat. Son, it was 85 degrees down there and I was rocking the lumberjack and long johns. For real, the game switched up on me for real. I was in for a major culture shock...

Growing up as a Yankee in the south, I kept my NY State of Mind. I proudly proclaimed "I'm from New York!" when asked where I came from. Sadly that didn't mean too much to the other kids at DeRenne Middle School. I was an outsider, but for the most part I didn't mind. Besides, I didn't really understand half of what these kids were saying anyway. Their southern slang was so much different than my northern slang. When I would say something was "def" they would look at me like "huh?" or when they said they were gonna "box me" I didn't know until too late that meant I was about to be hit. I'm playing, nobody ever hit me. But you get the point, we were just different. I would say "youknowwhatI'msaying" after every one of my sentences, and they would say "Iknowdatright" after every one of theirs. Eventually, I learned how to communicate with them and incorporate the down south talk with my New York talk.

There were times where my NY State of Mind got me out of trouble. For example, in 7th grade, I had invested in a candy selling biz with a classmate. I was the financing, and he was the salesman. I should put his myspace page up here to put him on blast, but I wont do that, although if you go to my page and look for the only guy on there, you'll know who I'm talking about. LOL .Anyway, one day we were in the gym taking a standardized test (not sure why we did this in the gym) when some other kids started stealing the candy out of homeboys book bag. Son, they were messing with my money, so I had to step in. I'll be damned if 4 of the meanest, most delinquent ass teenagers at the school wanted to fight me over some candy. They caught me and Fred outside at lunch. I was holding on to the bag and refusing to back down. Fred literally left me holding the bag (although he denies that he jetted on me). I couldn't punk out though, I'm from New York. I don't play that shit. Thank God my bravado worked. Them fools actually thought that I could fight. My NY State of Mind got me through that one.

As I got older, I maintained that NY swagger. I walked like I saw the rappers walk on Yo! MTV raps. I emulated the slang I heard in the hip hop music. I rocked the baggy jeans like I saw the New York cats wear. Remember when Africa medallions and X hats were big? I had them joints. You couldn't tell me I wasn't still from New York. I tried to turn brothers on to that NY hip hop. You could find me rocking my GangStarr tape, or my PE, or Tribe Called Quest, or some Boogie Down Productions. When they would ask me why I listen to that crap, I would proudly proclaim "I'm from New York, boyeeee!!!" Even down south, I kept that NY State of Mind throughout high school. But then something happened that changed all of that...

I went to college and met people from all over the country. I realized that I don't really like some people from NY. I mean, I liked the idea of them, but the actual people were kind of... annoying. I mean, they were cocky and rude and arrogant. Always talking about how shit was gully (what da hell does that word mean anyway? I missed the memo on gully) in New York. And everybody I met from NY had a tough guy act that I was beginning to be able to see through. It was like they were herbs up north, but came down to Savannah and acted like they ran the projects. Half them cats never even saw the projects. I wondered, is that what I sounded like all those years ago when I moved from New York? Did my NY State of Mind turn me into an arrogant jerk that thought I was better than everybody else? I think it did.

So now when people ask me where I'm from, I don't yell out "I'm from New York, kid!!" That was 21 years ago; I can't claim that anymore. But occasionally I still have my NY State of Mind moments, particularly when I'm listening to some horrible rap song inflicted on my ears by a Southern artist. I'll find myself thinking "We don't do it like that in NY. We actually write lyrics" before catching myself. I'm not from NY, and some NY cats (cough Jim Jones cough) are just as wack as these ATL cats. Besides, my man Rakim told me back in 87, that "it ain't where you from it's where you at", nahmean?

Next Up: Track 3: Life's A Bitch

Illmatic: The Genesis

I have a strange idea. It's either gonna be incredible or incredibly lame, but since I committed to posting everyday this month, let's give it a try. If it doesn't work, then I can always just stop right? Anyway, my idea is to take my blog title posts from the songs on one of my favorite albums ever: Illmatic by Nas. I'll write the post based on the song title. It will not be matching up with the song lyrics, because my life is so much different than the stuff Nas was rapping about, but it should at least spark some ideas to write about. Track # 1 is called "The Genesis." This may be esoteric and only make sense to me, but here we go anyway...

Track 1: The Genesis

The Genesis of this blogging thing happened in December of 2005. That's when I started my first blog. I had no idea what I was doing. I had no idea what I was going to write about (much like today.) I just knew that I had recently discovered the whole world of blogging and liked the idea. I don't remember the first blog I read, but I do know it was a girl from NY that was writing about her experiences dating. The idea was novel and fresh to me that I just had to be a part of it.

So, I sat there on December 3rd, and put key to keyboard. The first post was sort of an introduction. I entitled it "Who I'm Is" after a quote from T.I.'s song "Rubberband Man." At the time, he was blowing up in Atlanta and you couldn't go an hour without hearing that song on one of our various urban radio stations. I just sat down and wrote. I realized that my niche in the blog world was to be Mr. Hip Hop. All of my blog post titles were quotes from hip hop lyrics. I knew nobody was reading, but I didn't really care. I started out just writing in the hopes that someone would feel what I was saying, or at the very least care enough to leave a comment. It took about a month before I realized that in order to have people read my shit, I had to read theirs. So I did. I read and commented and next thing I knew, I became pretty popular. Mad comments every day. My work life consisted mainly of reading blog posts and responding to my comments, not to mention obsessing over my site meter. Trying to figure out who was reading my blog.

A funny thing happened along the way. I started getting invites to have IM conversations and later invites to real life hanging out. It was cool. Anti Social Rashan was breaking out of his shell. This all started out from just a boring guy trying to pass the time. I became part of the in crowd and started meeting more and more bloggers. It started out with her, then later I met her and her, Even later I met her, and she came and crashed at my apartment when she was in town. I went through the whole gamut from blog crushes to blog beef to blog cliques etc. Blog life and real life were pretty much overlapping.

Then it all came crashing down. The people I was cool with no longer wanted me around. I don't blame them. Some ill shit went down, and I just kept quiet about it. The thing about sharing so much about yourself is that people feel entitled to know every aspect of your life. That's my fault. I'm sure they expected me to talk about it like I did with everything else. But it was too personal to me. Slowly but surely, these same bloggers stopped visiting, stopped calling, stopped IM'ing me. And I stopped blogging. For an entire month, I thought nothing about my blog or anyone else's blog. When the time was right, I came back in a new spot. I linked from the old blog to the new, you see. I wasn't hiding out, I just needed a change. The blog colors changed from dark to light. It was symbolic of what I was trying to accomplish. I was trying to get rid of the negative energy that surrounded my old blog. Let's just say it didn't work. It took a few months, but I finally realized it wasn't the blog that had the negative energy, it was me. I had to reevaluate my life and get my shit together.

And now here I sit. I like blogging, but I'm not obsessed with it. I write my innermost thoughts, but not everything. I'm candid, yet reserved. I read blogs but not so much that it takes over my whole day. I've not met any more bloggers in person (not that I'm philosophically opposed to the idea.) I've learned how to share just what I want to share, and not every little thought I have. I mean what I say in my tag line.. This time I'm gonna try to do things differently. I think for the most part I have.

The Genesis was an insomnia laden December night in 2005. I wrote some damn good blog posts (like this one), had some damn crazy blog ideas (like the damn 8 part Blog Real World series, da hell was I thinking with that one?), and met some cool people. But you know what? I wouldn't trade it for the peace of mind I have now. Only time will tell what will happen next.

Tomorrow: Track 2: NY State of Mind