• I was hired on to a contract that puts me on client-site and gives me excellent experience handling contract financials and personnel management, which in turn puts me in an excellent position career-wise both short- and long-term.
• I live in the DMV, which for all my whining and complaining is an amazing place to be for a young socially-conscious and politically-aware young IT professional like myself.  I'm literally surrounded by opportunity.
• I think I make a strong candidate for one of the top-tier MBA programs in the area, regardless of which one I choose.  Which itself exposes me to more positive experience and opportunity for success.

My relationship situation (or lack thereof) and lack of dependents are part of the reason why I was able to tear up roots and move out here.  Moving out here is the only reason why I have the above positives going for me.

So why complain?  Good point.  From this point on I'll make it a point to remember that I'm in the driver's seat, not hitchhiking.

See you at the finish line.  Or not.

Your grandfather died yesterday.  I’m sorry that you never got the chance to meet him; I didn’t know him all that well myself.  I’ve been thinking about you for a while now, which is actually what drove me to get back in contact with him this past holiday season.  He hadn’t been a part of my life for years, but my thinking was that one day you’d want to know where you came from, and I wanted to be able to tell the whole story.  His passing is making me think about a lot of things, so I figured I’d put virtual pen to paper and talk to you about why your Dad is such an insufferable pain in the neck.

What I want most for you is to have what I never had: a sense of community, continuity, and support.  When you’re thirty years old I want you to have a circle of close friends that you’ve known since elementary school, since middle school, since high school, since undergrad.  I want you to be able to say you grew up in a house, on a block, in a neighborhood.  I want you to be able to tell stories about family traditions and summer vacations.  I want you to have opportunity and resource at your disposal; “can’t” will not be a part of your vocabulary.  You will have, know why you have, and never take what you have for granted.  Your grandmother and I both agree: In the past, the major failure of the working and middle class family has been to shield their children from the pain of the labor that bears the fruit that they enjoy.  You will learn the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

Speaking of your grandmother, I hope to instill a strong sense of responsibility within you the way she did for me: If you fall, it’s up to you to get up, dust yourself off, figure out why you fell, and try not to fall again.  All while refusing to blame others for making you fall in the first place.  To be honest I hated what she put me through when she was putting me through it, but today I recognize how invaluable of a gift I received.  As I’m sure I’ve forced you to read by now, it is the willingness to take responsibility for one’s actions – whether right or wrong – that separates a boy from a man.

Behold Monument, Atlanta, GA

One last point: A man needs a father to teach him how to carry the weight of this world, but he also needs a woman to show him how to appreciate the beauty of this world and all it has to offer.  More than that, he needs a mother to teach him how to love and respect women, ALL women.  I know your mother drives us both crazy, and you may have even had your heart broken by a few young ladies at your school.  That’s to be expected, especially if you’re any son of mine.  But Son, the moment you begin to let the pain that only a woman can cause make you hate, you’ve lost.  Your soul dies a little, and it isn’t an easy thing to repair.  Trust me, long before I met your mother I was at the precipice, but the way your grandmother raised me allowed me to step back.  That’s a key lesson: Don’t let anyone – no matter how stinging the lash – beat the love out of you, because the moment that happens, you’ve lost something that can’t be regained.

At the end of the day, what I want most is for you to be better than me in every way possible.  I’m sure I’ve made mistakes and I’m positive I’ll make some more, but I’ll never stop improving myself so that I can continue to improve you.  I’ll always have your back whether you want me there or not; that’s one lesson I learned from your grandfather.

Time for me to get out of here, Son.  If I’m going to be the ideal of manhood by which you gauge yourself, I’ve got a lot of work to do.  Kiss your mother for me, and if you tell her I wrote this you’ll be limping to school in the morning.

I love you,

Your Dad

P.S.:  I’d say “Stay out of my office or I’ll hurt more than your feelings,” but if you’re any son of mine you’ve already broken into the computer, found the porno, and figured out how to cover your tracks.  That’s my boy. 

…the last time I cried.

for Mary-Anne

I was in my ex-girlfriend's dorm room, having a long talk. She was trying her best to communicate to me that she'd fallen out of love with me, was in love with someone else, yet at the same time hurt my feelings as little as possible. She'd told me that she needed to spend more time focusing on her schoolwork, on graduation. She couldn't afford to have a boyfriend right now. She couldn't, nor did she want to, be with me any longer. I approached this situation as I approach everything. Intellectually. Analyzing everything. Trying to tell her that I was willing to wait for her…that there was no reason our relationship of 3 years had to end because of a change in her life. That two people as deeply in love as we were, such a deep and powerful love, should be able to work through and around any crisis, no matter what. This conversation continued for almost an hour. I tried to figure out why suddenly she felt this way, and she tried to spare me the truth.

I don't remember specifically the end of this conversation. I just remember a rising surge of panic. My brain, my heart, and my spirit were having difficulty processing the fact that suddenly and through no fault of my own, this woman who I loved and cherished with everything I had was suddenly disappearing. I was not willing to just discard my feelings for this woman to throw away the sheer bliss that she had made me feel over the course of our relationship. Worst of all was the fact that there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't change her mind. I couldn't make her see something that she hadn't already seen. I couldn't make it all better. That frustration combined with the pain of impending loss made me break down. I cried longer and harder than I believe I've ever cried in my life. I remember covering my face with my hands and just sobbing…sobbing….babbling incoherently about my love for her. I am not a crier at all, nor am I terribly outwardly emotional. The loss of control was terribly embarrassing; I remember trying to make myself stop, saying "This is so stupid" over and over again, trying to explain the way I was reacting against the fact that she was still calm. Trying to stop only made the tears flow harder, made the sobs more painful.

It has been almost a year since that moment, but if I close my eyes right now, I can recall the utter joy of the next moment. As I was curled up on her bed wailing out my grief and pain…my love, my life, everything that was in me that I couldn't seem to communicate to her verbally….everything came out of me, and as it was pouring out, she reached out and she touched me. She put her hand on my back and my head against her breast and she held me. She held me and rocked me and whispered that it would be alright. That we could work this out. That she was sorry for hurting me. Hearing her say these things brought such relief that I actually started crying harder. Feeling her body against mine having been so long without it brought me such pleasure that my cries actually increased to an almost feverish pitch. There was absolutely nothing like that moment. Sweetest pleasure, most bitter pain. We made love as if we'd never touched one another before and we would never see one another again. Afterward we lay in bed and talked about how a love like ours could conquer all. I kissed her hair and I marveled at her beauty and I thought to myself "I am lucky. I am blessed. Love can conquer all, and two people who truly love one another can do anything to sustain that love. This woman loves me as I love her. I am happy." That was the last of those moments.

Our moment, which to me was the center of the universe, the beginning of an always-increasing pinnacle of happiness….our moment was a lie. Perhaps 'lie' is extreme. Let's say that moment was a gift. A gift from a woman who no longer loved a man, but couldn't stand to see him suffer. A moment that that man, in the years ahead, could look back on with a smile and gladness. Time has worn my anger at discovering the truth behind her actions, the things she couldn't bring herself to tell me. Time has allowed me to look back on my love….and smile about the last time I cried.

Was there something I could have done to change this outcome here
As if I blinked my eyes and suddenly she up and disappeared
How can love escape your grasp without you ever letting go
And until she returns to my arms I may never know

Musiq Soulchild — "Mary Go Round"