Posts Tagged With: blogs

Look Who’s One!!

That’s right…a year ago today a little corner of the internet called The Mind of the Last Atlanta Native came into being after a little coercing from my buddy Alba, one half of the sports blog, The Sporty Girlz. One year, 57 posts, and 429 comments later here we sit.

When I started this thing I had one thing on my mind: World Domination. No, seriously. I knew I loved to write and I wanted this place not only to be an outlet for my rambling and sometimes incoherent trains of thought but also as a means to become a better writer and to let other people see my work other than family and the few friends that I let in on my talent. I’ve met lots of cool people that also share the need to scribe, I’ve had good reviews and bad, I’ve been able to share some thoughts via this page that would have otherwise been nothing more than a passing thought as I played Call of Duty on my PlayStation. For this first year of blog life, I’d like to say thanks to all of you that have taken the time to come by and take this madness in. I am highly appreciative for your comments, for clicking the like button, for sharing this spot with friends and family. Nothing in the world makes me smile bigger than when I get an email or a message from one of you saying that you laughed or that you shared something and they thought it was really good. Those kinda things kinda validate the reason I decided to start this little thing in the first place.

So, again, thanks. The second year of my goal of World Domination via the written word starts today. Keep coming by, keep sharing, keep reading; I’m not going to lie to you, it makes thisAtlantanative feel good when you do…especially if you’re a female reader and you do so in a sundress. **drool**

Love all y’all, that’s my word.


~thanks for reading 🙂

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Categories: Atlanta, Decatur Stories, Humor, So Incredibly Random | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Unconditional Love and the Dodo Bird

Hey all.  I visited my parents the other day and just looked at them, together. Just happy for the most part, except for when my Dad goes all Sagittarius and gets on my Mom’s nerves; you can read about their story here. Then I took a little time and teased a childhood friend of mine yesterday about his day long publicly flirtatious back-and-forth with his wife via his Facebook page. After that I took a look at some pictures I have at the house of my grandparents, who were together for 55 years, and other family members and friends who have had the ideal “Black Love” relationship. And then I silently mourned. I mourned because it is the opinion of yours truly that the idea of love unencumbered, love unconditional, and love in completion in “The Community” is dead. Now, mind you, I don’t think that love as an ideal and emotion is dead, just the idea that love is something that one can be ultimately successful in. That’s dead, extinct, just like the Dodo Bird, in this society, in my opinion.

Love in its simplicity can no longer exist for the simple reason that people won’t let it; it seems they would rather focus on everything that can derail an otherwise ideal situation.  You can’t go online without being force-fed statistics on the plight of the Black relationship. The headlines read like a clarion call of disappointment and dread.

70% of Black women are single

42% of Black successful women don’t have a man

Marriage Eludes Black High Achievers

More than half of Black Men Are Fed Up with Black Women

While these items, all of which were among the thousands of hits that came up with a simple experimental Google search, were probably meant to spur discussion on the dynamic between men and women in “The Community”, they succeed to only drive a deeper wedge between two groups that are the hope for future generations of people. Blog writers, in a search for traffic and comments, focus on the items that divide and the comment vultures start flocking almost immediately because as we all know you can draw more people with despair than happiness. Movies and plays are almost always focused on love gone completely wrong because, as the saying goes, art imitates life. Or does it?

Is art only portraying what is being lived by people in various Metros around the country or is it painting an unreal actual that people are coerced into thinking is real? My parents told me so years ago when I was a teen that “You find what you’re looking for and you are what you take in.” Unfortunately a lot of otherwise intelligent people are being hooked by the statistics of the pundits and the wailing of the whiners and believing that love can’t be found, and if you find it you’re instantly thinking of what can go wrong because of whatever reason you just read about in that link you were sent to your email, not because you legitimately believe in your heart of hearts. The more often you read about everything that is wrong with relationships the more you’ll believe it, and then when you start to believe it you start to look for it, then before long you’re believing that love can never happen for you because of what a bunch of other people wrote. And that’s why the quest of a Black man and a Black woman finding an unsoiled love free of preconceived notions and perceptions is dead. It’s dead because people are lazy and would rather have their ideas fed to them and then believe whatever it is that the most people are believing or talking about. Because of this the most inane of arguments and discussions get unnecessary run all because people don’t wish to think and live for themselves; this is an awful way for love without condition to die, isn’t it?

Now, none of this is to say that love is not without its issues. As long as things cost money there will be issues in a relationship. However what I am saying is that with the speed that news and opinion travels via the internetwebthingy and the propensity for said news and opinions to grow out of control, chances are slim that news of the demise of healthy Black relationship are unlikely to stop anytime soon, especially with the frequency that people like to hear about such things via blogs, TV, radio shows, etc. Hopeless romantic as I am, I choose to believe that such a thing for me is possible even with my quirks and otherwise questionable loose ends. And if, at this moment, you are without a relationship I challenge you to believe the same. I challenge you to ignore the statistics, to ignore those “link sharers” and others that choose to perpetuate the myths that love is impossible for whatever the reason is this week. Focus on happiness, and perhaps happiness will be on the other side of your search; but if you search for what is wrong with everything then don’t be surprised when that’s what you come across; like my parents said, you find what you’re looking for.

~thanks for reading

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Categories: Attempts at Seriousness, Family, Relationships | Tags: , , , | 1 Comment

Not All of You, Just Enough of You

I don’t delve too much into the male/female dynamic too much on this blog because I don’t want to be that dude. Plus, it seems that every blog run by a man is offering his two cents on the matter of the Mars vs. Venus goings on between ladies and gentlemen in and around the world. Typically I leave such matters to those bloggers. However there is one thing. As mentioned in a blog not too long ago I come from a family that has generally had a good experience with love. Though I’m not yet married, the relationships that I have been in have generally been healthy and, though ended, I sit on good terms with a number of women that I once called “girlfriend”, “significant other”, etc. Also in my love lifetime, I’ve been cheated on, dumped, and occasionally felt disrespected. It’s happened to the best of us whether you know of it or care to admit it or not. And in this knowing is the main difference between men and women.

When I was in the 5th grade I took a stab at playing little league baseball for the first time; for the most part I stunk to high heaven, I was a good athlete and a great fielder but for some reason I couldn’t hit that ball to save my soul and no matter how well you catch and throw, if you can’t hit you become a pariah among your fellow 11 year old teammates. About 3 games into the season we’re having batting practice and I’m flailing away with the bat, tears are starting to well up in my eyes because my teammates have been counting strikes and they are now up to “Strike 8!” The head coach, a Jamaican cat named Coach Bennett, shook his head and said, “Ay mon, do dis for me, ok? Settle down; take a deep breath, ‘n jus relax, ok?” I wiped my eyes took a practice swing, forgot about the snickering pre-teens behind the backstop and the next pitch I sent a screamer right over the pitcher’s head into center field. The next pitch I turned on was a shot right down the third base line and the next one after that nearly cleared the fence in left center field. Suddenly the laughs had turned to cheers, my teammates high fived me after my practice session and, no, I wasn’t automatically a little league All Star but things were better simply by simplifying things and just hitting “de damn ball”. Now, what does that story about 11 year old redemption have to do with male/female dealings? Glad you asked.

When mess goes wrong you got two choices, only two. You can dwell on it, let it get in your soul and fester and grow into something that looks like bitterness or you can take a deep breath, settle down and get back after it. I won’t paint in broad strokes here and say that all women do the former but it’s a good number. In fact, the number is so big that you’ve let your disenchantment become marketable; women’s (not all of you, just enough) inability to turn the relationship page has made a small fortune for Steve Harvey and Hill Harper. It has provided fodder and dramatic material for any playwright that titles his work in the form of a question (“Why Did I Get Married?” or “Why Am I Not Married?”) or a direct petition to a higher power (Lord, Send Me A Man! or God, Send Me A Man! or Lawd, Why The Men You Send Keep Beating Me?). Women’s (not all of you, just enough) inability to turn the relationship page sends you to your Facebook page to write that pain driven status message that read something like:

“90% of all my fellow beautiful women are being cheated on right now, just open your eyes and see it, girl!”

And if you’re not the one typing that tripe then you probably have someone on your list that does. Women’s (not all of you, just enough) inability to get back in the batter’s box and swing again drives you headlong into the church of All These Men Ain’t Sh*t. Women’s (not all of you, just enough) need to scream to the high heavens created where you, too, can friend them on Facebook and tell your own tale of fear and loathing (hyperbole, much?) to the others hurt or pathetic enough to listen.

Men don’t do that.

Admittedly, we probably don’t wallow because we’re usually the ones that do (read: get caught) the majority of the dirt, that’s my word, not on some ol’ win the female crowd for the sake of staying on your good side BS. I’ve done enough dirt in my day to know how we get down sometimes. That said, women are not without fault in the failings of relationships yet the wailing doesn’t prevail as loudly, if at all, from the men that have been wronged. Yes, a man doing so would move him into “punk” category both with his boys and surrounding ladies but it doesn’t make the desire to vent, lash out, and type a Facebook status quoting, “B*tches ain’t Sh*t”, from that great Negro poet Dr. Dre any less strong. The main factor though, other than the fact of a man losing universal respect for crying over love gone wrong, is that there is no win in that game. I think that’s the thing that men get, and one of the main facets that I’ll never understand about women (not all of you, just enough).

Is it just because women, the fairer sex, are the more emotional? Is it because you process your pain differently? What is it that justifies in the task of blanket blaming, that if one does it the other will too, and so will that one, and so will that one over there. I’m sure there’s not one answer or reason why, it’s kinda like that old question about how many licks it takes to get to the center of a blow pop; and even if there is an explanation my male brain probably wouldn’t be able to decipher that area of the Matrix but I figure it is worth a try anyway. But since other men out there are making a fortune trying to help you out I’m gonna offer something for free. Instead of running to your circle, instead of scathing Facebook messages, instead of creating a website, instead of blaming everybody but the right person (in some cases, self) simply settle down, take a deep breath, and relax. That’s for free…you can have it, courtesy of Coach Bennett.

~thanks for reading

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Categories: Attempts at Seriousness, Relationships, So Incredibly Random | Tags: , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

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