Week 30

I didn't make my bed this morning....

     The movie starts soon and I still need to the wake up. Time for breakfast? Only if I want to wait until tomorrow. I better get up. Yup, gonna get up. Any minute now. Ah, here we go. A face cloth and tooth brush later and I'm staring at my unmade bed. There's no time.  I mean sure there's time but really there isn't.

     Shit! It's dad's birthday. It's already 1:30pm back home and I haven't called or texted anyone. He did tell me that they were going to a show. I can probably wait to call. Ugh, but if I do he'll say I didn't care enough about him to call. Ring. Ring. Ring. No answer. Of course. The bed will have to wait.

     It's not until I'm in Simi Valley that I start to remember what I've heard about Simi Valley. So far no cop cars in sight. Fingers crossed that I won't be a hashtag before the credits roll. Corndog bites and civil rights. It's enough to make me cry. I do cry, though not because of the corndog. This movie makes me think. About life and the struggles of being black. Also about how no person nor relationship is perfect. 

     Dad calls during the show. I wish him happy birthday after the credits have rolled. I have to call back later for our talk. I know I have to but I really wish I didn't. Thinking and driving. I know she would've loved that movie. I'll talk to her about it later. I still need to make my bed.

     A healthcare shopping spree and one rebuilt toilet later and I'm finally ready for breakfast. It's 9:30pm. I fold my sheets as the bacon cooks. Pretty sure I'm doing life wrong. She calls me soon after. I like our talks, even if they're mostly disagreements. She tells me she loves me. I say I love you too. It's nice to really mean it. Nothing left but to show the day away.

Ugh. Why did I make my bed today?

Week 29

2015 To Do List

I should've started this when I still had a full bottle of wine.....

• Learn how to properly start lists.
• Stop hating the mirror. It's not the mirror's fault.
• Write more.
• Read more.
• Realize that writing this list and reading it doesn't count.

• Love yourself.
• Seriously, love yourself.
• Reread last two items.
• FUCKING LOVE YOURSELF!
• Stop cursing so much.
• Fuck that.

• Make HER love you.
• On second thought, forget about HER. SHE's been nothing but trouble.
• Find a way to be happy about going to work again.
• Realize that that last item means find a job you like doing.
• Accept your flaws.
• Realize it's ok to cry...but NEVER do it.
• Stop going out of your way for people who won't do the same.
• Or keep doing it. Just makes you the better person.
• Share your true feelings more willingly.
• Actually, keep that shit to yourself. Trust me on this one.
• Find reasons to fear death again.

• Forgive more.
• Drink less. More. Just keep drinking.
• Make someone proud.
• Smile, and mean it.
• And at the end of the day...at the end of everyday....look into your heart, and do whatever the hell makes you happy.

25/14

 
 It all started with a party. The first I'd ever had. I remember spending the entire day cleaning the basement and worrying that no one would show up. Within the hour there were more people in my basement than I could count. That night I drank and danced and shot the shit with a group of people I had barely known a year earlier. The clock reached zero, ball dropped, and everyone cheered. Not a bad way to spend the first moment of the year.

Two days later I was 25. I remember thinking about how I didn't feel any different. Just another year of being caught in that limbo of being either too young or too old for everyone else's liking. Still, despite having most of my friends forget or bail, I managed to use the occasion to drink and dance the night away. Then January 4th came along, and the year officially started for me.

Waiting. Waiting. More and more waiting. From January to March, there was nothing but waiting. And then one day the phone rings, and someone tells me I'm the new Associate Producer. I say thank you and hang up. My stomach drops. The next 3 months are a whirlwind. I struggle and thrive. I prove to myself I can do it, which is what's important, I suppose.

How about spending a couple weeks in June out in L.A. to get a feel for the place? Don't mind if I do. At least that's what I was thinking. 2 days in L.A. and I find myself in an office surrounded by producers who are firing questions at me. All I can think about is what I was wearing. Smiles and nods and a "we'll call you in a few days" and I'm out the door. 2 days after that and I'm working my first job in California. On a beach. I wonder what will happen in the next 2 days? Also, I wonder if I should've asked the tour guide for her number?

And then it happened. After 3+ years of feeling cold, trapped, and hopeless for any kind of future, I suddenly found myself with a California mailing address. There are some days where it still doesn't feel real. 

I've never really been one who likes to look back and sum up an entire year. Good shit and bad shit happen all of the time, no matter what the date is. But I'd be remiss if I didn't look back and see this year for what it was. Over the last 365 days I've made strides that I weren't sure were possible. I've felt joy and anxiety. Jump in excitement and screamed in rage. I was afraid. I cried. I fell in love again. I did enough to say, in the most unintentionally ironic way possible, this year was my year. And for the first time ever, I'm excited for what's to come.

           

Week 27

Perhaps the truest test of adulthood is to not go running back home as soon as things get tough.

     Anyone who's spoken to me lately knows that all I've been able to think about is coming back home for the holidays. It's the only thing that's gotten me through the last few weeks, especially with work pushing me closer and closer to the point of fuck it. I've been relying on this trip as a sort of recharge. But now that I'm here, I think I'm realizing that it's not going to be that easy.

     It's true that going home makes us revert back to our old selves. Old habits and desires. Even feelings for old crushes. So far I've had no desire other than to act like a lazy child. And it's nice, to be honest. But there's something else there. The unnerving feeling that it's all just a facade. Things aren't really this good. They never have been. This is a problem I've always had with vacations; the knowing that it's all going to end very soon.

      And the cold hard truth of the matter is that I do have to go back. No matter how much I may think I want to stay. No matter how much I think I'll be happier back here in the place where I was never really happy before. This isn't where I belong, and I cannot be allowed to forget that. No matter how much I wish I could.

Oh yeah, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Week 26

Secrets...........Yup

     If I know anything it's that everyone has secrets. Big and small. Short and tall. I don't know a single person who isn't keeping AT LEAST one secret from me and other people. And although we rarely think about it, secrets are a big part of life.

     I'm writing this because I too have secrets. And lately they've been on my mind quite a bit. Whether we realize it or not, secrets tend to run our lives. We orchestrate things in order that no one ever find out what we are keeping. We go to great lengths to make sure no one find out what lies within the darkest corners of our minds.

     I guess I should apologize to anyone who believed that by the end of this post that they would learn my secret(s). As it stands I have no intention of revealing what has been plaguing my mind. Too many eyes may see this, and I'm not ready for the truth to be released. But rest assured that there is something there, and I doubt it will go away anytime soon. And I wonder if she knows.

     

Week 25

Love.....ok, here we go.

     Anyone even remotely close, or who's friends with me on Facebook, knows that I am a firm believer in love. And not just the notion of roses, heart-shaped boxes, and Nat King Cole songs. I believe in the all of the laughter, sorrow, smiling, crying, heartache, joy, and overall work that goes into making love last. And it seems that believing that puts me in the minority in this day and age. And, if you really think about it, maybe it should.

     We live in a strange time. A time of Facebook and Twitter and an unrealistic expectation of instant gratification. A time of Twilight and 50 Shades of Gray and Justin Bieber. I'm not sure what that las thing has to do with anything, but my point is that we live in a very different time from whence our parents and grandparents came. So different that the old fashioned ideals about relationships and love may no longer fit. People these days don't have the patience for long relationships. They want love, and they want it now. And not just that, but they also need their significant other to look like Jennifer Lawrence or Liam Hemsworth. Anything else would be settling, and this is not a generation of settling. 

     Wether you agree with any of this doesn't matter, because you have to admit that changing of the times have rewired the minds of our generation. We've been raised to believe that love is recognizable from the start, and if it isn't there then, then it will never be. We've also become too accustomed to kids coming before marriage, and single parent households. All the while we scream for tradition to be upheld. For people to hold out for their true love and to recognize that there are more important things than looks and money. But maybe it's those of us screaming that need to evolve with the times. Maybe I need to evolve.

     

     Well, let's give this a shot. First thing to realize is that looks matter. There's no point in searching for love if you're not going to look the part, so keep your shit together and be attractive. Next, realize that sex is a must. The days of giving the relationship time before giving your body to someone are over. A lot of people (mostly guys) aren't willing to wait around, so if you want a chance, you've got to change up your mindset. But mostly, if you want real love, you've got to be ready to be completely miserable. Chances are you're going to come across quite a few assholes and bitches in your quest for everlasting happiness, and the hardest thing you'll have to do is pick up the pieces of your heart over and over again after these individuals get down with it. And even then nothing is guaranteed. I wish I believed that love came for all us, but I don't. I can't. But I do hope that those of you who are destined for it will recognize it when it arrives, and not just throw it away because it doesn't look like Taylor Lautner. 

     

Week 24

(EDITORS NOTE: This week a great injustice was perpetrated in my hometown. Once again America was shown exactly how much value the life of a an African American carries, and the country has been tearing itself apart ever since. I know that now would be the time to say something profound and speak on the matter, but I don't have it in me. Truth be told I've been focusing all of my energy these past few days on not completely losing myself. That's why I'm choosing to use this blog to help take my mind off of matters. Besides, I can say confidently that no one reading this would want me to breathe life into the thoughts in my head.)

 We live in a time of infinite possibilities. Where the most powerful computers fit in the palm of your hand, and televisions have higher IQs than most college grads. Where missiles can pin point the big toe of an enemy combat, and dating apps allow for Darwinism to take place in the speed of light. So, baring all of that in mind, I would just like to say that there's a good chance I have aliens living in the apartment next door.

     Ok, first of all, shut up. I'm not crazy. I just happen to think that there are intelligent beings from another galaxy living next door to me in an apartment complex in Van Nuys, California.

SHUT UP!

    I already know your next question. Do you have proof? And you know what? I don't. But I have a really strong gut feeling, and my gut always leads me to good places; Imos, Wing Stop, Pei King, etc. And I trust my gut right now. Here's my evidence.

•      Since some time in October an eclectic group of people have gone in an out of that apartment. All different shapes, sizes, races, and species (I'll explain the species part in a second).  And always in groups of twos.
• Aside from the first two people,  a white couple around my age, I haven't seen anyone come in and out of the apartment more than once. After seeing the couple twice, next was a middle aged white male in business attire and a little kid maybe 3 or 4 years old. Then the other day was a college aged black girl with a little chihuahua. Always in groups of twos.
• Though I never hear any footsteps, barking, or crying, the door opens and closes frequently.

Now I know that none of this is definitive evidence. I would, however, just like to go on the record and say that the other day while I was first piecing all of this together I got the faint taste of blood in my mouth. At first I waved it off as some weird after taste from breakfast. But as it persisted I started to wonder. On a hunch I blew my nose, and the amount of blood that came out was enough to fill the first 6 minutes of an episode of CSI.


So in the event that I disappear off the face of the Earth, you all are my witnesses.

Merry Christmas from Hevy Williams