Back to the Crib

I literally put together a crib today. I'm looking at it now. I sort of want to sleep in it. Nevermind the fact that I'm a grown ass man that won't fit.

But as I was building this massive structure, I thought to myself "Where are all my zany friends to help"? I've seen enough TV to know that one of two things happens when you assemble a crib:
1. I throw caution to the wind and disregard the telephone book sized instructions and make something that looks nothing like a crib. Or...
2. A group of my nutty friends come over and it's an all night bonding experience. We talk about the days before marriage, who got with which girl in high school, and we all come to some sort of epiphany at the end of it all. Well guess what? None of that happened. TV has lied to me once again. Instead, I put that crib together like a boss. But there were no shenanigans, no tomfoolery, no skullduggery.

I read a really good blog by Jill Mader that talked about how TV has diluted her perception of friendships. But how about how TV has completely ruined my perception of life was supposed to be like?
I wrote a while back about how my early childhood shows tainted my vision of love. I never met my Winnie Cooper, Topanga, Dina Alexander or Joey Potter. Yes, I met a great woman, but I searched and searched for those archetypes of women for a long time. There's a piece of me who still wants to be Vanilla Ice in Cool as Ice - roll into a small town on my motorcycle and woo some small town girl who has no perception of the inner city. Find me one person who doesn't want an Elliot Reid, Lana Lang or a Robin Scherbatsky. You won't find a one.

But enough about that. Sidenote time.
- I am totally in LOVE with the song Lost by Frank Ocean. I play it in my head as I walk around work, the gym and while in my car. If you look closely at me at work (with my headphones in) I am usually bobbing out to this. In fact, I'm blasting it right this second.
- Being sick is for the birds. I have a nasty summer cold that I can't seem to shake.
- I recently read The Art Of Racing In The Rain. The book should be called "the art of not buying this book EVER".
- I am still giddy over my pen purchases a few weeks ago. They are totes.
- How oh how have I never thought to make a rap song/album called "Rapscallion"?

Consider the source

Advice. It comes in all shapes, sizes, and forms. Most times it's not even good or sound. Take me for example. In my personal life, my advice is usually the worst possible thing you can listen to.

For instance: I have a friend. For the sake of this story, we will call that friend Darrel. While in high school, he was having some trouble with his girlfriend. Instead of saying something like "Actually, what you said may have actually hurt her. You should call her up and apologize". My response was "Oh you were totally in the right. That girl is psycho. We should go out and forget about her".
Long story short, we ended up running from the police through the Dinkytown train yard, spending 20 minutes in the Mississippi river, getting a hunk of cheese thrown at us by a group of hobos, and Darrel lost his wallet and house keys. Looking back now, that was one of the funniest stories I tell at parties. But Darrel lost a really good girl because of my advice. By the time he got around to apologizing to her, her response was literally "You obviously weren't THAT sorry because you spent all night out with Jon B". I wonder how many times those words have been uttered by other significant partners...?

Since I've gotten older (and hopefully wiser), I think my advice has finally caught up. The reason for thinking this is because DeJean got into Georgetown University. DeJean was someone I met when he was in 9th grade while I taught at his school. He was literally one of the most thugged out kids there. But he had a part of him that was out of this world unique. We related quickly, talked about rap and graffiti, and formed a pretty good bond. After teaching at the school we stayed in touch (mostly through email) and I would give him advice and tips on people to meet with when he finally decided that college was something that he wanted to do. Needless to say his "family" had no way to pay for school so we spent a lot of time talking about grants and scholarships. He applied to a lot of places and eventually got accepted to Georgetown. He is also getting a full ride. I hooked him up with a UPS job out there so he'll have some spending money. He sent me an email the other day talking about the change of scenery. He's even going to have a study program with one of my favorite people on the earth, Michael Eric Dyson. I told him for all the work I put in, he needs to go to West Baltimore and take some famous Wire-Spot pictures for me. He said he left the ghetto to go out there, and has no interest to go take pictures in one. I admire him for that.

Sidenotes!
-It's the 46th street block party today. Hopefully it doesn't rain
-Just reread The Old Man and the Sea. Such a great book
-Drew gets home soon. If I'm in town, I'll have to throw it down with him. Forces will collide if Mike Boo is in town the same week. That's like what happens when you cross rays in Ghostbusters. If Steve Dahl gets in the mix, you have the formula for a legendary weekend.
-Twitter takes up a lot of my time

Pens like whoa

Since about 7th grade, I've been on the never-ending search for the best pen. It's probably one of the nerdiest things that exist in my life. Ponce de Leon had his fountain of youth, I have my fountain pens. I can safely say that I've never found "the one". I used to think pens were strictly for writing notes and such. But then in middle school, I got introduced to Prismacolors while sketching (funny how so many things today stem directly from my graffiti stage). 

After I found out about the awesomeness of the Prismas, I was destined to find the best pen for every day activities. I will say that I have found the best work pen. It's the Zebra brand. I can't live without it. My whole day gets thrown off when I lose them bouncing back and forth between meetings!

But recently, I've been looking for the best pen for journaling. Mostly, I've been using a fancy calligraphy pen that I found at an antique shop, but it's not very adaptable. It's great for when I'm laying in bed or sitting in the loft, but not for when I'm on a biking trip. I need one that I can travel easily with.

So I ventured out yesterday, and I think I actually found some! I have a very easy criteria for these pens: 1. Be comfortable. 2. Don't bleed through the pages. 3. Write with an ink flow that cascades. You see, my handwriting is sometimes sketch when I'm going fast, and I need a pen that can keep up. I'll let you know the updates of the 4 I bought (I know you must be dying with anticipation). I also found out a brand from Japan that I had to special order. According to a work peer, it contains ink that isn't available in the US! 

Sidenotes:

- The only thing she gotta make for dinner is the reservations. Classic Sir Michael line.

- I love this weekend. 3 big art fairs + my bike + a little ambition = dopeness.

- I love Twitter more and more each day

- What would life be like without wasabi? I don't know, but I don't want a life like that. 

- Reading books that I'm not even 75% loving is difficult.

- Got a text from the old gang asking "You down for making a comeback album"? Sure it was a joke, but now that I reflect on it, I might actually be down for making another record. But this time I would actually hook up with legit musicians and find an actual studio. I wonder what kind of appetite the Twin Cities would have for another rap album...? Slim to none.