Even in 2007?

I had been going through some financial stuff and whatnot. When I was able to recover from the issue, I decided to take myself a little trip to unwind. This was in December of 2007 around the 20th. I went to the city of brotherly love. I didn't really know anyone, except a couple of homeboys from college, but that wasn't really my purpose. I hit them up so that we could hang out while I was there, but my main purpose was just to chill and unwind. I stayed at a decent spot while I was there. I'm actually a gold passport member, so I collect points and get discounts when they offer promotions.

The second day of my stay I decided to go to
Ms. Tootsie's. You know, that's one of the restaurants the queen of television spoke about on one of her shows. If Oprah puts her seal of approval on it, then you know it's bonafide. Remember when she said something about not eating beef and some of the heavys from the beef industry sued her for lost profits? I enjoyed what I ate. When it was over I wanted to stroll down South Street and check out the scene before returning home. At some point it got a little wet and messy. I tried unsuccessfully to hail a cab for about 20 minutes. 20 freakin' minutes.

I thought that perhaps the reason that the cab drivers weren't stopping was because I wasn't doing it right. Maybe I should have been flailing my arms in a left to right motion instead of up and down. I'm not exactly a city slicker. Being a good ole country boy I thought that my cab hailing ability left something to be desired, as hailing cabs is not a valued skill in the south because everyone has a car. Anyway, no one would stop. Meanwhile the drizzle has turned to light rain. I start the trek back to my hotel. I ran up on some dudes hustling cds on the street. I asked them why the cab drivers wouldn't stop for me. They told me that there had recently been a series of cab driver murders committed by individuals who looked like me.

Let me describe my appearance. I looked like an Express model, minus the height. Loafers, jeans, sweater, light bubble jacket. Clearly not threatening. And it's not like I have dreads or anything that people associate with a threatening black man. I'm clean cut, small framed and well attired. Still these m effas wouldn't stop for me. So I'm still just walking back to my hotel. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

That's RACIST like a mug!! Here I am staying at the fuckin' Hyatt Regency looking like an Express model (I'll throw in articulate--you know how white people say that like it's a compliment that you can use the King's English) and these peeps won't give me a ride that I'm willing to pay for back to my hotel. I wasn't headed to the projects or the rough side of town, but they wouldn't even stop so that I could tell them where I was going. They simply saw my outer shell and opted to keep it moving. I guess they don't need money that bad.

Other than that I had a good time just unwinding and chilling. I met some interesting people one night on the street. (Don't ask). Suffice it to say that I've never met a stranger.

I Got the Hook Up

When I went downstairs this morning after a rather event less night, the living room carpet, kitchen and bathroom were soaked. I discovered that some kinda way the toilet downstairs had sprung a leak. Where the toilet meets the ground--you know where the caulking is--there was a steady stream of water just running out. Talk about freak occurrences. I called the maintenance emergency line and after about 20 minutes they sent someone. Did those m effas hear me say "emergency"? I left while ole boy did his thizzle to fix the problem. By the way, I was expecting the regular maintenance dude but instead I got a white boy who looked like he had just done meth or was on his way for a hit as soon as he finished.

I'm out doing the Saturday morning errand thing. I dropped my car at the car wash. Call me old fashioned, but I don't do those AutoBell type car washes. No machines on my fiberglass. Only real live hands can get near it. When I got out the car these two workers approached me trying to get me to have my car compounded which costs like $150-200. I was like not for that price. I've been getting along just fine. I mean, the car was in desperate need of a makeover, but I just hadn't planned on putting that kind of money into it today just on a random Saturday errand trip. We negotiated on a flat rate of $100 to do the job. He did a little test area on the trunk for me before I decided to let him do his thing. I was pleased with that so I got him to do it for me. I walked about three blocks to the barber shop.

When I got there it was thick as it was Saturday morning, but luckily my barber only had the guy whose hair he was cutting in front of me. After my barber brought sexy back, I went to the ATM (still walking) to get the cash I was gonna need to pay the dude working on the car. Understand that I got from the tone of the two dudes' voices and the fact that they pulled me to the side that this was going to be some under the table/side hustle type stuff. When he was finished with the car, I asked just to be sure if I was supposed to pay him or the guy at the cash register. He told me to pay him and to just get in the car. Mind you, the dude behind the cash register is now outside with us watching this go down. I'm sure he suspected that his coworker was involved in something unscrupulous because he had been watching Mr. Compound work on one car for about three hours and dude behind the counter knows how much money it costs for that service. He knew that no one had been in to pay for that type of service, so I'm sure the sum of those circumstances raised his ire. Anyway, I got in the car thinking to myself, "I'm taking orders from a stranger. This has got to be illegal." Before I got in the car I had made a motion to take the money out. That's when he told me to get in the car and he'd get it from the other side. Again, I'm thinking that this is weird because he's orchestrated how to complete this transaction without seeming, in his mind, suspicious. I laid the money on the space between the gear shift and the arm rest where the ashtray is and he was wiping down the exterior of the car. He opened the door like he was wiping down the interior of the car and swiped the cashed, asked me if I was pleased with his work, I said yeah and he kept it moving. I drove off quite amused knowing that I had participated in this deception. The realism is, though, that the car looked 346,764.92 times better than when I took it in there.

I grabbed something to eat from K&W. The couple in front of me looked kinda sad. They were black and had about five children, one of whom was in a carrying thing (I can't remember the name, but you know what I'm talking about). Ole dude ordered multiple entrees for his plate. K&W is ala carte like Picadilly or Morrison's or whatever they have in your neck of the woods. Back home my living room had been totally rearranged (read: messed up). The maintenance dude moved stuff to one side of the room revealing the poor job I had done of vacuuming regularly. There's also this blower down there that is supposed to be helping the carpet dry faster. They moved my table and chairs in the dining area as well. I wonder if they expect me to move that stuff back or if they plan to move it back when they come pick up that fan.

A friend of mine I'm sure is quite upset with me because I wouldn't take any of her calls yesterday. Sometimes you're just not in the mood to talk. Nothing personal.

I'm a visual learner so here are pics of the whip and my ransacked living area. I threw in an extra. The last one is of my immediate family at Christmas. You finally get to see him*. At this time he's blind and a double amputee.





Left to right
1st row: My younger brother and him
2nd row: My older sis, my mom and myself - Don't I look like I don't belong? I was uncomfortable because I really don't do him and don't like to be in his presence for extended periods of time. By the way in this pic I'm around 145 lbs. down from the 171. Now I'm at 140. I'm not going much further.

Let My People Go

I'm sick of this school. I need to get hired in the A. I can't wait until I can move. These Negroes get on my effin nerves. I was late Tuesday. When I got to my classroom Mr. G was in my room with my students getting ready to make a phone call to someone. I don't know who he was getting ready to call. I was maybe ten minutes late. I come on in and start class and he slips out the door. No problem. Later on that day he sees me and makes a comment that I need to fix my alarm clock. Why *plural form of the word that we buried* gotta try to be slick out the mouth? Since he gotta put his mouth on me about me being a few minutes late, I decided not to come to work the next day at all. Was I being petty? Maybe because I know I'm leaving I just don't care anymore. One day I'll be able to say I'm free at last. I need to be out of this toxic environment.

Obligatory Post

I'm at home right now in the bed when ordinarily I would be at work. I decided to take me a day. I haven't taken very many days off this school year and so I figure I'm due a day to just stay home and chillax. I'll grade some papers perhaps that I've been "grading" for the last five or six days and do a little house work and whatnot. I'll probably rewatch the last episode of The Wire that's on OnDemand and face devastation again as I see my favorite character be so unceremoniously gunned down, with no warning, pomp or circumstance. Now that he's gone, I can't image what they are going to do for the final couple of episodes.

I bought some books the other day from the local Barnes and Noble. I have Race Matters by Cornel West, "Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?" by Dr. Beverly Tatum and Raising Black Boys by Dr. Jawanza Kunjufu. Sometimes I'll get on a 'black' kick and just wanna read stuff and be intellectual and whatnot.

I haven't heard anything from the application I submitted for Atlanta Public Schools, but I'm sure they'll be contacting me soon. I mean, I'm young black and a man--who wouldn't want me to teach their kids? Not to mention the fact that I'm actually good at what I do.

Off the subject, but let's say you used to talk to this girl (or boy or whatever depending on who you talk to). A lot of time has passed since ya'll parted ways, but sometimes you think of them fondly and kinda wish ya'll could try again. You've been with other people and so has she. As a matter of fact she's with someone right now. If you were really feeling her again, would you step to her even though she's with someone else or would you let it ride? What if the person is married?

By the way I'm watchin' ole Barak. I really like him. I even have a picture of him on my fridge from when I went to hear him speak. I'm hesitant about him receiving the nomination, but the way things are looking, he just might pull it off.

Games

So I usually leave work around 2:15 each day, even though we're technically not scheduled to get off until 3:55. The school I work at is on a block schedule, so I teach three classes and have fourth block planning which starts at 2:09. I don't sign out or check out with anyone because I figure there's so many people who work here and so much junk going on that no one has time to keep up with little ole me. I get home on the sofa in my draws and a t-shirt ( I start stripping at the door) chillin' eating me some pork fried rice and chicken wings and my cell phone rings. It's someone from the school, but you know it's the main number, so there's no way for me to tell who it is. I answer and it's one of the assistant principals who is my primary evaluator. Let's call him Mr. G. The conversation goes something like this:

JayBee: Hello
Mr. G.: Hey JayBee, I need to meet with you.
JayBee: Um..okay..can it wait til tomorrow?
Mr. G: Naw, we need to do it today.
JayBee: What's it about?
Mr. G: We can't talk about it over the phone. We need to discuss it face to face.
JayBee: Okay...um give me about 15 minutes and I'll come over there.
(In my mind I'm like crap because I'll have to get dressed and drive back to work to see what the freak he wants.)
We go back and forth a little bit more. I've forgotten now exactly what he said to make me say this:

JayBee: Mr. G., stop playing games. You know I'm not on campus.
Mr. G.: I know you're not. Didn't I tell yo black azz not to be leaving without anyone knowing?
JayBee thinks to himself,"I don't remember him saying it, but whatever" I don't respond.
The conversation fizzled. He really didn't need to meet with me, but he and another teacher decided to "get me" by calling me knowing I wasn't at work. Luckily for me he like me and he wasn't being serious. The realism is though, we too m effin old to be playing games. If you want something from me, just say so.

The thing that I don't like about asking people who are in authority to do stuff is that there is the chance they could say no. Me being me, if it's something that I've already decided that I'm going to do, I'm going to do it anyway. If I do it and you've already said no then you'll think I'm being insubordinate. That's why I'd rather ask for forgiveness than ask for permission. Umma do me (Rocko) and if it's a problem later on, I'll just be like my bad--I didn't know--I'll do better or some similar half-azzed excuse.

I Get It Now

The title of the previous post was actually a little premature. Now I can say that I am officially in recovery. After I took the entire prescription, the rash got worse. I don't know if my body rejected it or if I'm allergic to prednisone or what, but it got worse rather than better. Since then I ordered some stuff online that is supposed to eradicate the condition. I noticed today that most of the ones of my arms, face, and some of the ones on my stomach are beginning to dry up. Maybe a couple more weeks and I'll be back to normal. At least I'm hoping it won't be much longer than that. I can't help but wonder if God is communicating something to me through this. You know how they say everything happens for a reason? Well maybe He needed to slow me down so that I would reassess some things in my life. I will hasten to say that it has worked. I get it. I need to do better in my personal, professional and spiritual lives. I've vowed to do some things differently. For one, I'm really going to work on forgiving that man my mother claims is my father. In addition, I'm taking a step back when it comes to offering (unsolicited) advice to friends/colleagues. Only at someone's behest will I put my mouth on their situation/issue. This is particularly challenging for me because when someone comes to me with a problem (or something that I perceive to be a problem) I instinctively go into fix it mode. This little bump in the road (no pun intended) has forced me to pray much more and seek God more closely. I've known for quite some time that my spiritual life was grossly off kilter, but I was complacent in what I was doing--half going to church, not praying or reading the Bible, not consulting Him for guidance and direction. I know better and this has made me remember my roots because for the issue I'm experiencing, there really is not another being on whom I can rely save and except for Him. I get it now. I'm listening.

Listening to Sam Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come"

In Recovery

My niece noticed two red bumps on my forearm during my visit home for Christmas. I hadn't noticed them myself, but I did think them odd. Over the next maybe 8-9 days more of them appeared. It was at this point that I became concerned because I didn't know what they were or from whence they came. (Check that Bible-esque language.) I left work early yesterday to go see the doctor. The bumps did itch, but just ever so slightly and not all the time. They are on my chest, arms, legs and stomach. I waited in the doctor's office for what seemed just short of an eternity, because before the doctor was to see me he got an emergency call and had to step out. He took a quick look at the bumps, reared back in his chair and listened to me answer the questions that he asked and finally gave me a diagnosis. He said they were mulluska something or 'nother. He told me they can come from children or adults--anyone whose skin with whom you have come in contact. He gave me a two prescriptions. The first one is prednisone which had a laundry list of side effects, but is supposed to be very effective. The other thing he gave me is Zyterc, an antihistamine and to quell the itching. I'm hoping by next Friday, at least the bumps will be all dried up/gone away. I'll keep you (all one of you) informed. In other health-related news, I tried a colon hydrotherapy treatment today. The initial sharp pain of the tube insertion subsided within seconds and let's just say the flood gates began to open. The realism is that the initial insertion was so momentarily uncomfortable that as reflex I grabbed the lady because I was out of sorts. It's all good though. I left with my dignity and manhood intact.