This is just going to be a casual thought dump, so bear with me. I was going to let that last post breathe, and skip this one, because I was really “tawkin’” in that motherfucker! What’s crazy is, I’m never satisfied with these posts, and that’s partly why I end up publishing the rough drafts. If I spend too much time writing, I end up being hypercritical of my word choices and the structure of my sentences, and I sometimes feel compelled to start over. And I really, really didn’t like the last post, but I hit the “fuck it” button and put it out. Once, I was in class, and we were tasked with drawing a circle. Everyone in the class pulled out a sheet of paper, free-handed their circles, and continued on with the teacher’s instructions. By the time everyone was nearly finished with the quick and simple assignment, I was still trying to draw my circle. The problem was, I couldn’t get that motherfucker symmetrical enough to be satisfied! I wanted my shit to be perfect, or as close to perfect as possible. One of my classmates saw me with multiple drawn circles, and she didn’t like hers, so she took one of mine. After a while, the teacher saw me struggling, and she walked over to assist me. When she looked down at all the circles that I had drawn, she recognized what I was trying to do. Then, she smiled, bent down, and whispered that all of my circles were prettier than the rest of the students’. I don’t know if she was being truthful or if she was just stroking my ego, but her compliment boosted my confidence. I wouldn’t say that I am a perfectionist, but I’ve always held myself to a certain standard. The older I get, the better I want for myself. There’s value in our values! Besides that, I’m neither high maintenance or materialistic. I like nice things, but I’m also marginally minimalistic. In five years, I see myself in a position of great influence. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’m distinctive in multiple respects. And I’m convinced that I have things to offer people that the average doesn’t. More often than not, if you let people tell you who you are, you will never trust in yourself. A lot of stupid motherfuckers believe they’re being rational and objective when they criticize and appraise people that they’re unfamiliar with. That’s ridiculous, primarily because most people instinctively function and act on emotion. You can’t be objective if emotions are involved! And when you dislike, disbelieve, or distrust someone, especially when you don’t know that person, those sentiments are aroused by fear—which is an emotion. What are you afraid of? You’re fearful of the unknown—being wrong about the person, being inferior to the person, being intimidated by the person, being harmed by the person, being swindled by the person, etc. Additionally, you can’t reasonably base your uninformed assumptions on logic, and you can’t assess someone’s merit on the strength of said uninformed assumptions. In other words, how the fuck can someone who doesn’t know you tell you who you are, what you’re capable of, and where your path leads? Many people never pursue their goals because they’re scared of failing or they dread the “I told you so”. Once again, fuck people! The average person is an unaccomplished, incapable nobody who wishes they had the tenacity and audacity to say “fuck people” and unabashedly chase their dreams! I don’t want to be the president—I want to have far more power than the president! In politics, a lobbyist is someone who partakes in organized attempts to influence legislators, typically via bribes, large donations, or other incentives. But my plan is to influence people on a personal level, and I’m already doing it. For instance, I say slick, smart shit that sounds good and makes perfect sense, so I know people are going to repeat it or rephrase it. And the more I enlighten the People, the more enlightenment the People can spread. Plus, an adequate amount of important people are familiar enough with me to know that I’m the source of a lot of said enlightening statements. But please don’t let that make y’all think I’m going to keep playing the background!
If y’all don’t start saying my name or crediting me as a source of inspiration, I’m just going to start cooking every-fucking-body! And y’all know how I give it up! But I promise I ain’t even said shit, yet! Joe, my website traffic increased exponentially the Saturday following my little “once upon a time” story. And it’s been up ever since. I know word has gotten back to you. Also, I don’t know if that “diss Ish next” proposal was directed at me, but anybody can get it! Obviously, I don’t discriminate much. I’m motivated by the thought of being a household name and a topic of intellectual discussions. Where other people just like to feel important, I want to actually be important! And that’s one of the many distinctions that I mentioned earlier. I’ve always felt like I was different, and I’ve always wanted to be different. There was a time when I would do outlandish, diverting things for attention, but I quickly realized that wasn’t my natural steez. When I was in high school, one year, I permed my afro and used styling gel to spike my hair like a white boy. After a fresh temp fade, nobody could tell me that I wasn’t styling, right? Man, niggas damn-near clowned me out the school! And if I wasn’t me, I would have folded. But I kept rocking my spikes, and niggas continued to clown me. A week later, three copycat-ass, dick-riding-ass niggas decided that they wanted spikes, too. But nobody roasted those niggas, and motherfuckers tried to front like I wasn’t an innovator. Honestly, that was around the time that I began to stop fucking with niggas. Throughout my life, it was always the little things that woke me up to people’s bullshit. I’ve always hated fake-ass people. I went to school with a rapper who recently passed away from an overdose in Chicago. He wasn’t that successful as a rapper, but he was always popular around the area where our schools were located. This motherfucker had gold teeth in elementary school, if I’m not mistaken. I didn’t hang out with him or his crew because I wasn’t cool enough. But we had a few mutual acquaintances. I just wanted to be a kid when I was younger, but those niggas wanted to be gangsters. One of the rapper’s buddies ended up killing himself during a game of Russian roulette when we were in high school. May they both rest in peace. But the guy who passed from the self-inflicted gunshot wound was a fucking menace! One time, in elementary school, he had to eat lunch in the classroom because he was being disciplined for bad behavior. When we got back from the lunchroom, that motherfucker had stolen everybody’s pencils. The teacher knew he had the pencils, but she was at her wit’s end and she didn’t confront him about it. So, everybody had to borrow the teacher’s pencils, but all those motherfuckers had been sharpened down to nubs, and it was difficult to write with them. Nonetheless, we laughed about that shit for years. Another time, in the same classroom, a game called “pencil pop” had been banned because it was distracting. Pencil popping is exactly what it sounds like—one person holds their pencil horizontally at both ends and the other person uses their pencil in a flicking or chopping motion in efforts to break the horizontal pencil. After each “pop”, the participants alternate positions until someone’s pencil breaks, and whomever pencil breaks first is the loser. After walking into the classroom one day, my pencil broke in my pocket as I was sitting down. As I stood up to go sharpen the salvageable part of my pencil, the guy who had stolen pencils before yelled out, “he was playing pencil pop”. The teacher pulled me out of class, took me to the principal’s office, and called my home. I was so fucking mad, I was crying! Being falsely accused of something that you know you didn’t do is infuriating. And that was yet another small incident that taught me a big lesson. Like I mention all the time, I’m the type of person who learns something from every single thing that I experience. And it’s been like that from day one. That’s just a predominant characteristic of intelligent people—we observe, analyze, dissect, absorb, reflect, etc.
I wouldn’t trade my mind for anyone else’s! And I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s. Everything that I’ve been through, good and bad, has been educational. For example, had I received more support and encouragement from my family growing up, I may have been just another boring-ass, cookie-cutter college graduate with no self-direction or mental solidity. “Pressure makes diamonds” is a pithy expression that describes the process in which rare and precious people are birthed from enduring pressurizing adversity. A common trope amongst neglected children is the tendency of their elders, parents, and guardians to invalidate the neglected kids’ feelings about being disregarded. Anew, my trauma is minimal because I’ve always been emotionally mature. But anyone who attempts to claim that they nurtured me, in anyway, is a fucking liar. Respect must be reciprocal for it to work. And I’m not a proponent of the notion that everyone should respect older people just because they’re older. Get the fuck out of here! If you’re a stupid motherfucker, I may refrain from calling you that exactly, but I’m liable to make it clear that you lack good sense. A lot of old motherfuckers are stupid as fuck, and I think it was either their vaccines or something in the water back in the day! Everyone that I communicate with who has people over the age of 50 in their lives, expresses that mental illnesses are undoubtedly present within said quinquagenarians. But don’t get it fucked-up, mental unhealthiness is an eternal epidemic! The fact is, humans aren’t as evolved as some people presume. As a species, we are barely intelligent. I watch a lot of science-based content, and the claims that scientists are making these days are just sad. These stupid motherfuckers actually believe that they know more about outer space than they know about Earth’s oceans! If you follow science, you’re aware of the fact that scientists retract declarations and claims as often as they make them. And that’s because even the smartest humans are stupid. Yes, since I am a self-proclaimed intellectual and smart person, I imagine I must include myself in my own denunciation. However, I’m still more intelligent than the average person, so go figure. Inspiration is defined as the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative. People’s stupidity is my biggest inspiration, and the essential essence of my blog, so I feel obligated to thank you stupid motherfuckers for being so vacuous and villainous. Thank you! Yet, I wish I had a more uplifting reference for inspiration. I can see why some people may perceive me as a negative person. But that’s only because I oppose stupidity, and people are innately offended by opposition. I’m saying that smart people very likely think of me as a beacon of positivity. My favorite color is fuchsia. I’ve always loved that color, but I was ashamed to tell people when I was younger. The people who sexualized colors had to be some miserable-ass motherfuckers, right!? I’m just attracted to beautiful things. And psychologically, vibrant colors have a vivifying effect on perceptive people. For instance, if gloomy weather makes you downcast, you know what I mean. I like to stick close to things that brighten my mood and steer clear of shit that darkens it. And nothing dims my mood more than dim-witted people! The best advice that I could ever give, is for everyone to find a way to be comfortable alone. Granted, I’m aware that not all families are as dysfunctional as mine. And no, everybody’s not a loner like me. But if you’re not a Siamese twin, you’re an individual. And as an independent person, your most pronounced power is your independence. The ability to think, feel, see, hear, smell, speak, and act on your own accord is the single-most influential characteristic of your independence! And if you believe that’s true, which it is, how should you feel about independence’s antithesis—dependence? If you’re dependent, you must rely on others. If you’re reliant on things that you can’t control, you can be controlled. And if under someone else’s control, you’re a slave! It’s funny that niggas profess that they could’ve never been slaves, but they freely do everything that other niggas tell them to do. What the fuck is that about?! Peace.