I’m back! No, not really. Lately a few old friends keep bringing up my blog so I decided to log in for nostalgic purposes. I see that I have 49 unfinished and unpublished posts. Since I’m in need of a mental getaway, maybe I’ll go ahead and finish a few of the posts I started. I say a few because I barely remember what I thinking yesterday, nevermind trying to remember where I was going with an idea 3 years ago.
I wrote this, or at least last edited this on January 19th, 2011. Other than some spelling errors, I’m just going to leave it unfinished and post as is for many reasons. Many many many reasons. Many many many many…ok you get it.
The 3 L’s
I miss my youth. There was less pressure back then. The word babies was hardly spoken to me. The word marriage seemed like it was reserved for folks a few years away from Viagra dependency. The transition to my current point in life was fast. Way too fast. One minute I was young and partying wrecklessly, then I was grown and sexy partying a little more responsibly, and suddenly I’m just old. I don’t hear about parties anymore. Now it’s marriage this, baby that. I can’t go a day without hearing about it. I beginning to wish the plague upon anyone who dares approach me about this. However, this post isn’t about me. I’ve already expressed my refusal to be pressured. This is for you. You being the people who are in such a rush, you are confusing the 3 L’s. Like. Lust. Love. And also for the people getting outside pressure. Don’t run, I’m here to help. I won’t save you 15% off car insurance, but if you’re a woman I might save you from tattooing “DaShawn’s Property” on your left butt cheek. Or if you’re a guy, I might save you from you from 3.3 baby mommas.
Simply means you take pleasure in something. There’s no forever attached to it. You can like ice cream today and hate it tomorrow. Better yet, what you like right now may not be good for you in 10 minutes. Control yourself, don’t make it more than what it really is. Often times your inner desires will make you believe someone has everything you’ve been searching for when they really have 20%.
Means you’re horny and the sex is good. Somehow this creates an illusion that all your needs are fulfilled. Be careful though. Sometimes the words “I Love You” are thrown in during dirty monkey time. The reason for this is because “Your p**sy is bomb and I want do this again very soon” is quite the mouthful and awkward. Unfortunately “I lust you” hasn’t been accepted into modern society yet so act accordingly.
Every once in a while in my nephew’s presence, I’ll notice him staring at me and smiling. Studying my behavior, watching my every move as if to mimic it later. He’s looking up to me if you will. I’m his uncle, Godfather, and role model. Three titles I’m honored to have and do my best to uphold. I’m assuming the feeling would be amplified if I had sons and daughters of my own.
Fat Joe and Lil’ Wayne might be able to make it rain money, but that doesn’t impress children. Doesn’t impress my nephew. When he was younger he thought I could actually control the weather and make it rain or make it stop. Beat that. He outgrew that notion, but still he innocently thinks I can do anything. Whenever he discovers the things I can’t do he laughs in disbelief and surprise. My inability to swim or dunk are currently his favorite things to laugh about, but I’m still a superhero in his small eyes. I must admit, it feels great.
With all of this in mind, I can’t help but to wonder about the hundreds, thousands, or millions of men who run away from this responsibility. It doesn’t make sense to me. A common excuse is that they grew up without fathers. I could be wrong, but I would think that would be motivation to step up when their turn comes around.
I don’t like to put everyone in the same tiny box. Maybe some men have their reasons for abandoning their children. Maybe even, they spend the rest of their entire lives regretting it. Unfortunately though, what isn’t shown will always remain unknown. More importantly, what we should realize is that whatever the reason, good or bad, the kids may never understand. Even when the kids become the adults, they may never understand.
I must go now. For the time being he also thinks I’m a NBA 2k11 legend and is requesting my help. Unlike controlling weather, this I can at least try to live up to his expectations.
– Vic Louis
I was watching music videos the other day. Had my feet up, enjoying the great feeling of paying off a nut-pinching loan. A video by Big Sean(?) came on and I saw that the name of his album is “Finally Famous.” Despite the album title being a bit of a stretch and far too soon, the word “famous” stuck.
I figured there’s a few ways to become famous. Be rich and act clueless (apparently America loves that), play professional sports and dominate, get a high government position, get a low-key government position and get involved in some scandal (usually adultery or taking bribes), become a movie star, create an electronic device that the world acts like they can’t live without, sleep with someone important and release it to the media, become a serial killer, be a head mafia figure and elude the FBI for years. Ok, after thoroughly thinking it through, there are more ways that I first thought.
Anyway, although I desire to write great scripts that agents and viewers will love, I’m all set with the negative attention that sometimes comes with fame. I’m quite content with the fact that something comes up if you Google my name. I’ll just take that and the money, please. I don’t want to be harassed by paparazzi. As obnoxious and stupid some celebrities look when they attack a paparazzi and break their camera, I can’t really blame them. Imagine if you were just trying to cross the street while picking a wedgie, and a bunch of strangers are snapping photos of you. Some photos in which will be used for negative purposes. I like my privacy and don’t appreciate anyone who would go out of their way to invade and/or expose my personal life. My family, my health, my relationship, is all personal and I should be the only person who decides who that information is shared with. It shouldn’t be left to any schmuck with a camera.