Begin Again

As I try to make amends again, so that we can begin again

You're figetin' and picturin' the end again

Can't say I blame you for rememberin'

Saying to yourself,"Here we go again"

I know this looks like the same show again

But open your eyes to the difference

I know that you were hopin' when,

I decided to end again

That I would never appear again

But I am here again

And let's be clear, I won't disappear again

I need you near again

So as we get in gear again

I propose that we both show discipline

And there will be no revisitin

So we won't end up here again

And you won't have that fear again

Glad I can make you laugh again

I'm focused on the task again

Of making you my wife again

We back to livin' life again

So when friends begin their whisperin'

With words that are discouragin'

And sayin' he runnin' game again

Just tell them this ain't the same again

Then maybe I can prove to them

The guy who I really am

Then you won't have to be ashamed of him

And you can claim him again

Just like you did way back when

And it will be me and you again

To end all these begin agains

Invisible Sis.

December 3rd is what I heard was the day of you birth

I never saw THAT day, though I've seen that day over 25 times

And yes I tried to make that rhyme but please let that sit on your mind

Was never told what happened, just knew I came in your succession

I did see the pics tho, with tubes in your nose

I stare at those pictures endlessly, just to see if you look like me

I'm pretty sure that you're the perfect intertwine of Fatz and I

Definitely more refined might I add but that's kinda sad

Just knowing that you departed before I got started

How you would've acted I'd like to know

Maybe a cross between my shy and reserve and Fatz' loud and ghetto

Think you can get the picture but I LOL at the mixture

Wonder if looking in the stands, I would've had another biggest fan

Probably wouldn't be as crazy as the ones to your left and right but that's alright

'Cause I'm sure you would've been crazy in your own right

Wonder how we would've all fit on that fold out couch

And with whom you would've stayed when we were almost spread out

Just writing this now makes me wish you were here

But last night in my dream you appeared to me clear

So although you will never be here physically

Through my thoughts, heart, and words you'll always be with me

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 17

The prom came up in the blink of an eye. I would have to gauge my excitement at an 8, on a scale from 1 to 10. But if you check out my father at the time, he was at a 1000. I've never seen him so excited. I think one of the big reason is because my father loves to dress. He gets his suits custom made and he likes how he can come up with his own way of expressing his weird self thru fashion. Another reason was because I didn't really like to dress up when I was younger. So my father saw this as an opportunity to bless me with his sense of fashion.

When I say that my father spared no expense for my prom, that may be an understatement. I had never been shopping in Georgetown before then, and I haven't been since! He picked out the nicest things he saw and asked me to try them on. Then when I saw the price, I would immediately put the article of clothing down. He would just say something like, "Go 'head man and see how it feels!" So I did and to be quite honest, the saying, "If you look good, you feel good" was totally accurate. I would look in those mirrors (aye, don't the shops in Georgetown have the clearest mirrors?) and think to myself, "dag, am I really this handsome?" (lol that's not arrogance because I really didn't think much of myself back then)
I remember one shirt in particular that made me look like a celebrity. It was 100% silk and I'm sure that you can guess that it was a pretty penny. I tried that shirt on and took it off knowing that my father wouldn't spend the money that it cost to get it. Not only did my father buy it, but he got the man to knock off $40 from the asking price. I was amazed. Not that my father spent the money, but that he did so with a smile on his face. If any of you know my father, you'd know that he cries about money all the time. So for him to spend that money and not trip was a shock.

K.K. was just as excited about the prom as I was. And if she wasn't, she needed to be nominated for an Academy Award. Instead of going to a store and buying a dress like most of the girls at the prom, she went to taylor and had her dress specially made.

On the day of the prom I ran around D.C. like a chicken with his head cut off. I skipped school because I knew I had a lot of stuff to accomplish. I started off my day at TJ's house getting my hair done. His mom was great at working with my short hair, so I knew I would go to her. I really appreciated her. After my hair was finished, I tried to pay her for all the times she did my hair for free and she wouldn't accept it. Now matter how much I pleaded with her, she wouldn't allow it.
I left TJ's house and went to P.G. Plaza Mall. I really can't remember what I went up there for, but I'm sure it had something to do with the prom. Actually, before all that running around, I have to add that the first thing I did was pick up my rental car from the airport. This allowed me to do all the running around that I "needed" to do.
I had a couple other friends that needed to pick up stuff too, so after I got my hair done I picked up Lenny and Kenny to ride around with me. I felt so grown riding around by myself running errands. You couldn't tell me anything that day. I had a car that didn't have to leave at the end of the night. I had, what I thought, would be the fliest outfit at the prom. Plus, I had a fist full of money in my pockets (Thank you Aunt Dollbaby).

After I did all that running around it was time to get ready to go. I took my time. I'm a person that usually starts getting ready 5 mins. before I'm supposed to be there, but that day I started to get ready about 2 hrs. before I was set to leave. I didn't want to sweat (I'm a heavy sweater lol) before I actually go there, so I took my time doing everything.
When I was done dressing, it was time to take pictures by myself. Since I was driving, I had to pick up my date, and my family wanted to get pictures of me before I went and got her. So I modeled a little bit before I went off to pick up KK.

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 16

Going into the last months of high school was difficult knowing I hadn't signed with a major college. In early May, it was down to two schools for me. Blair Academy and Fort Scott Community College.

Blair Academy was a post graduate high school in Blair, New Jersey. I knew that if I wanted to show Pitt I could still play, then I had to go to a place where I would be close to them, and I had to play and play well. This was a little unorthodox for someone in my position. I was already a qualifier in my Junior year of high school with a 3.0 gpa and over 1000 on the SAT's, but I figured if I went to this school for at least a semester just to play football, then I would have a shot at getting recruited again.

I sent my film to Blair and they were excited to get a player such as myself interested in their program. As soon as he saw the film he gave a critique and requested that I visit the campus immediately. I was happy to be shown such interest seeing as how much recruitment turned from a dream to a nightmare. I also knew that this could set me up to gain interest from other schools after I completed my time there.

Fort Scott Community College was located in Fort Scott, Kansas, about 3.5 hrs. away from Kansas City, Missouri. I was surprised when the coach came to my high school and asked to see me. At the time, I didn't realize that community colleges had on campus housing, let alone gave scholarships. So when he asked me if I wanted to come to Kansas I was shocked. At the time, one of the schools that were up and coming in college football was Kansas State. So I thought that this could present an opportunity to garner the interest of their recruiters.

In the end, I picked Fort Scott. With all the opportunities that I had come my way, I thought that this would be the best one. It's a shame that I was totally wrong...

Ventilation!

I know by now that you guys are sick of me interrupting my "Maturation" series to talk about whatever, but I feel the need to vent. If you are around the Washington, D.C. area, and have been keeping up with the news, then you would've heard about the conspiracy that the Mayor (of DC) and Chancellor (of DCPS) are in the process of cooking up. Okay, before I start throwing out allegations, let me attempt to make my case as the resident conspiracy theorist.

If you've talked to me in the past few weeks, then you would known that I am in danger of losing my job. Now, I haven't been stressed as I would have been previously in my adult life, but I have been concerned mostly for my colleagues.
A few weeks ago my principal called a meeting for every faculty and staff member in the building. Being that I perform other duties around the school, I had to be debriefed after the meeting was over. Basically, the meeting was to inform everyone that because of a miscalculation in the budget for education, teachers have to be terminated all over the city. And that there will be cuts made at every school based on enrollment and need. At my school, we are slated to lose just one teacher (allegedly) but there will be 900 teachers out of a job district wide by October 1.
Every since this meeting I have been actively searching for information on the facts about this situation and have come up with some pretty strange findings.

Okay, so the Mayor and Chancellor came out in early September saying that there was a 40 million dollar deficit in the education budget. So their proposition is to cut more than 900 teaching positions across the district to make up the difference. This cut has to be made before the end of their fiscal year, which is October 1.

Now, let's make sure you guys are with me. The Chancellor, who is trying to keep the focus on students, found out there was a glitch in the budget and decided to fire teachers.

So, let's dive deep into my theory. The first fact I want to give you all is: The Chancellor has been trying to get a deal done with the teachers union every since the contract ended 2 years ago.
This is a very important fact to remember. If there is not contract, there is basically no representation.

Fact 2: The reason a deal hasn't gotten done, is because the Chancellor wants to have the power to fire any teacher that she deems ineffective.
This wouldn't be a problem if the measure for evaluating the teachers wasn't so subjective. It's like, at any moment, you can be looked upon as being ineffective, by any evaluator, due to means beyond your control.

Fact 3: The main teachers that voted against the deal, were older teachers that have over 15 years in the system.
The teachers with the seniority have been placed on a level field with teachers who just reached the system.

Fact 4: The Chancellor and Mayor were notified of the budget figures back in May.
I'll save my comment for the next fact...

Fact 5: The Chancellor gave the DC principals permission to hire 900 NEW teachers over the summer.
I assume that we are asking the same question right now, "If they knew it was going to be a problem with the budget, why would they hire new teachers?" Let me give my theory.

I believe that the Chancellor faces major opposition in implementing her plan from the older teachers in the system. These teachers are the ones who make the most money because they have so many years in. Right now there is no contract between the teachers union and the school system. This means there is basically no protection for teachers. So since negotiations for a new contract are back in effect, there is conveniently a 40 million dollar deficit that gives the Chancellor the ability to fire whatever teachers she wants.
Now, doesn't this smell a little fishy? I believe that she feels younger teachers are more apt to side with her plan. So if she gets rid of the older teachers, than she has enough steam to control the teacher's union. Which definitely doesn't have the teacher's interest at heart. But as she would say, "It's about the kids." Now, I do agree with that, but if you create an environment where the teacher's aren't secure in their position, than you take away the little bit of "glamor" that the teaching profession has. Which, in my belief, will create an even deeper teacher shortage.

My theory will not be able to be proven until October 1. If I'm correct, then you will hear that a large majority of the teachers that were fired had over 15 years in the system. And if my theory is true this is definite;y an administration that I don't wish to serve under. This is the worst way to make a statement in my opinion. You leave hundreds of teachers with no job in the beginning of the school year, in the middle of a recession and we're supposed to have faith in you as the leader? My theory may be a bit radical, along with my stance, but "It's Just My Thoughts, Just What I Was Feeling At The Time"

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 15

After that trip to Morgan State I realized two things: 1) I was running out of time for big schools to give me a scholarship and 2) If I didn't get a scholarship by a big school, I was going to have to do something unorthodox for a person in my position.

I went to into my senior year with so much promise, but now it was all turning into a nightmare.
If you can remember back in the story, I talked about how KK had expressed interest in going with me to my prom. Well, somehow during the year we ended up losing touch. With all that I had going on, I hadn't really communicated with her like I should have. So needless to say she was slated to go to the prom with somebody else. This wasn't all bad, because even though I wanted her to go with me, I ended up finding somebody who wanted to go with me.
Denise and I were in Mrs. Pixley's room one day when she made a joke saying that she wanted us to go to the prom together. I took it as a joke intially, but through further conversation I found out that she was serious. So we exchanged numbers and decided to have a talk about how we were going to do this.
Denise and I had all our plans together by the beginning of April. With the prom less than two months away, I was happy with the decision I made to take her to the prom. This was short lived. The first thing I found out, through a casual conversation, was that Denise had a boyfriend. This wasn't that much of a big deal, because even though our interaction was flirty, I didn't see myself dating anyone at the time. But I did want to know how her boyfriend felt about her going to the prom with another man. So I decided to ask her about halfway through April and received the shock of my life. She told me that her boyfriend was a little leary of her going to the prom with some other dude and that she would not be able to accompany me. I laugh about this now as I write, but I was pissed off when she told me. I'm not really one to hold grudges, (or at least not consciously) but I didn't speak to her again until prom night. Honestly though, the way my life was going at the time, I just figured that this was the life of Jarrett Burgess. What was one more disappointment added to the resume of heartbreak that I had already experienced?

I decided that I was going to go to the prom by myself after that experience. I knew that I had messed up the chance to go with who I really wanted to go with, so I figured I'd just show up by myself rather than face another disappointment.
One day I was over TJ's house getting my hair done when KK walks in. I was explaining to TJ's mom the situation of why I was going to the prom by myself when KK chimes in in frustration. I believe she said something like, "She waited til the last minute to tell you she wasn't going?!?" After I went back over the story with KK, she tells me that we were supposed to go together. I knew that, but since we hadn't really talked about it since the previous summer, I figured she either had forgotten or didn't want to go with me anymore. This is where our lack of communication comes into play because she thought the exact same thing. This would've been great news, but as I said early, she was already going with someone else.
The next thing that KK did was what I consider now, a small piece of redemption to an otherwise disasterous senior year. KK called her prom date and informed him that while she did accept his invitation to the prom, she had made a prior commitment to go with me almost a year ago. I was speechless. I couldn't believe that she would do a thing like that. Now, I wouldn't usually celebrate someones misfortune, but I had went through so much that year that I didn't care. I needed something to be happy about and this was it. So KK and I began making our plans for the prom.

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 14

Once I got home my sadness turned into full depression. I had other scholarship offers, but Pitt is where I wanted to go. I spent all of Sunday evening in the bed. I didn't accept any calls and I didn't want any company. I thought I needed at least a day to get myself together so that I can go look people in the eye and pretend that I wasn't hurt by Pitt's decision. I was wrong. I stayed in my room for the next three days. People were at school anxiously awaiting my "good" news and I was at home wallowing in self pity. Not only was I hurting about not being able to go to Pitt, I felt like I had let everybody down. I was all set to have a press conference, because I would've been the first player since Jerry Porter to play at a big time college program, but I would have to face everyone and tell them that my honesty may have screwed up my chances of that.

I arrived at school on Wednesday to a bunch of people waiting to hear how my trip went. I knew that I couldn't break down in front of everyone, so I just told everyone it was cool and that I had to take my other visits before I made a decision. I don't think anybody could read me back then, but if they were able to, they would have been able to see that I was hiding something.

The fact that I had other scholarship offers didn't cheer me up any. I already knew that if Pitt could pull out of a deal with me, then so could the other schools. I was right. I started to get call after call telling me pretty much the same thing that the coaches at Pitt said. I would say that I couldn't believe that this was happening to me, but I did believe it. I figured that Pitt would alert the other schools of my injury in an attempt to make sense of their decision to pull my offer. They would look stupid if I went to a school that played them and shined. This is just my opinion and I have no factual evidence to prove this. But here I stood, one of the best players in my city, without a scholarship offer from a division 1 program. It all seemed like a sick joke.

I was so desperate to play at a the division 1 level, that in the spring, I took an unofficial visit to Morgan State University. I knew by this time that no 1-A school would take a chance on me, so I kept my search to all black colleges.
Morgan seemed like the logical choice at the time because I had two former high school teammates that were already on the squad. Plus they had offered me a scholarship my 11th grade year but it some how wasn't honored due to a change in the coaching staff. So I went there as a last ditch effort to save my dream of playing professionally (back then I thought only division 1 players played in the pros).
They showed me no love that weekend. I wasn't allowed to talk to the coaches directly and I wasn't treated like the caliber of athlete that I thought I was. I felt disrespected. I was thinking to myself at the time, "How the hell can sorry *ss Morgan treat me like this?!? They have been the worst team in their conference for years! They need me!" Obviously my thoughts didn't matter. They told me, via one of my former teammates, that I was too slow to play in their defense, so if I wanted to play for them, I would have to pay my own tuition and walk on. I went home pissed off that I even wasted my time.

Bridezilla vs. Groom Kong

I want to apologize once more to those of you who have been reading my maturation series. I wanted to hold this topic until I finished the series but I don't see an end in sight, and since my cousin Candy advised me to stop writing it on my blog so I will have something for the book, I felt the need to slide this post right in the middle here. So thank you for your patience as I skim through "My Thoughts".

A few weeks ago I was having a conversation with one of my friends about marriage. Now, I'm nowhere near close to leaping over the broom, but I getting older and I must have these types of conversations to sort out my feelings about the matter. Actually, the conversation was pretty one sided, which is why I felt the need to write this post.

I know that there aren't many guys who read this blog (shot out to the ones that do) but this one is aimed at you. Ladies, I will attempt to capture the essence of the argument that SOME of you have and pass it to males, in a male perspective.

So, the conversation basically started when my friend Irnise and I were talking about what type of wedding she wanted. She pointed out every detail. From the colors that will be worn, down to who will make the cake, she had everything laid out. I was a little amused by it initially. I was thinking to myself,"How she done made all these plans with no husband?" As I continued to listen I wondered how I would feel if I walked into a situation where my future wife had everything planned without discussing it with me first.
The more and more I thought about it, the more and more irritated I got. I do understand that for a lot of women, the wedding day is like a big exhibition that you have been dreaming about since you were a little girl. I just can't understand, that as an adult, why should this dream trump the opinions of whatever man you are going to marry. I mean, after all, a marriage is more than the superficial parade that is put on display the day that two become one.
Before I get on men, I will say that some women use this as a day to show off and invite people who they really don't care for as a "rub in the face" if you will. I think this is very childish and selfish and doesn't really have the institution of marriage at heart.

As I started to weigh in on this a little more, I realize why women plan these big elaborate weddings with all the trimmings: Because we allow them to! Now ladies, before you get up in arms by my use of the word "allow" please let me explain. We as men, for the most part, have no thoughts of marriage while we're young. We talk about the "M" word as if it is some type of obscenity. Then when we do finally find "the one", we become as inactive as possible thinking that this is somehow "her" day. Now, whether this is do to laziness, fear (lol), or just plain old nonchalance remains to be seen, but I am here to start the revolution!

We as men need to be more proactive in the process. When you decide that you have found the woman that you would like to spend the rest of your life with, make time to sit down to discuss as a team, what type of wedding you want to have. Don't just go along with every demand because you don't want to take an interest in what was always thought of to be a day for the woman. This day is about the union of the two of you! So the TWO of you should be equally involved.

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 13

I awoke Sunday morning to a dreary day filled with light rain. In a few hours, my mood was just like that day.
Coach Simms came to the hotel and picked me and my parents up right after we checked out. We were taken over to the football offices to have the final meeting with the head coach before we were on our way. When I got in the car, I noticed that coach Simms had a disturbed look on his face. I didn't think much about it at the time, but as I sit here and reminisce, it was so prevelant. As we made the trip to the office he asked me how bad my shoulder injury was. I told him the same thing I told the doctors. He had no response. The rest of the ride was in total silence.
As we arrived at the office, coach Simms led us up to coach Walt Harris' personal office. The door was closed and we sat across the hall waiting for coach Harris to finish his meeting with another recruit. When the door opened, I saw a recruit coming out with a big smile on his face like he had made his choice also. Me and my parents walked in the room and sat down. Thinking that this meeting was just a formality, I sat down with the biggest kool-aid smile in anticipation of telling coach Harris that I had made my decision. I wasn't prepared for what happened next. After giving me and my parents a greeting, the first words he uttered were,"Your shoulder injury scares us." I went deaf after those words. I knew what was coming next. All I can remember about the meeting was looking at my mother and the hurt mixed with disappointment on her face. She knew I wanted this. And in the manner that it was snatched from my grasp was heartbreaking, for not just myself, but for her as well.
I walked out of that meeting in disbelief. I couldn't understand how in less than 24 hours my joy and excitement could turn to heartache and pain. Other than the blank stare that I had I didn't show any emotion. Like I said before I'm not a crier, but Lord knows I wanted to. I think I needed to. This moment in my past I have never fully gotten over. I can't say that I would change the experiences that I had, but I would have loved to see what would've happened if I would've become a Pittsburgh Panther.
Before we left to go home, the University provided us with breakfast. Now, I don't usually pass on a meal, but I was so sick with what transpired in that meeting that I couldn't eat. I watched as other recruits enjoyed their meals with smiling faces and thought to myself,"I must be a glutton for punishment." It was at that moment that I felt like nothing would ever go right in my life. I had experienced so much disappointment in my life, and I thought this was supposed to be my moment to have that rectified. At the time I felt like God was using my life as a comedy sketch.
With all the commotion, we had forgotten that it was my dad's birthday. So with the exception of me saying Happy Birthday, we drove home in complete silence. I know my father wanted to say something to make me feel better but there was nothing that would've fixed that moment. No kind words. No scripture. It would've went in one ear and out the other. I wouldn't wish that type of hurt on anyone.

When Keeping It Real Goes Terribly Wrong

I intended to stay away from writing about issues other than "The Maturation of J Reed" series for many reasons. But what Kanye did last night has the blog sites lit up and I felt the need to give my 2 cents on the matter. If you have read any of my old stuff, you'd know that I always have a unique angle that I choose to weigh in on and this time is no different.

For those of you that did not see what happened last night, let me give you a brief summary. Kanye West is seen on the red carpet with a cup of Hennessy. Taylor Swift wins an award that Kanye, along with the rest of America (well obviously not the rest of America) thinks that Beyonce should have won. Then Kanye goes on stage to express his opinion.
Now, before I get to my real issue I have to say that the method that Kanye used to express his opinion was a bit out of control. It was really unfair for him to take away from Taylor Swift's accomplishments in that manner and I think he needs to apologize to her among other things (maybe he can throw her on the hook of a new song, or produce something for free). But whatever he does, he has to rectify this. If not for Taylor, then for his own career sake. Now that I'm done chastizing Kanye, let me get to the rest of the world.

I saw plenty of Facebook status, and Twitter updates that verbally bashed Kanye for that little stunt that he pulled last night. Now, while a lot of these updates were expressing frustration with Kanye for what he did, many of them took this as an opportunity take shots at him as a person.
I understand that Kanye is disliked by many people. Let's examine why. Well other than his usual outbursts that was so eloquently displayed last night, he is thought of to be very arrogant. He says whatever he feels at the time without any regard for peoples feelings or what they think.

I find it ironic that as we tell people to be themselves all the time, we scrutinize Kanye heavily for being who he is. We hate him because he says the things that we think, but don't have the platform or courage to say ourselves. How many of you thought George Bush hated black people? Would you say that in front of a camera? No? Neither would I, but I can appreciate someone that can display the courage that I don't. I think we as human beings make it impossible to be who we really are. It's okay if we are being who we are as long as it fits inside the little box that America thinks you should be. And we all call ourselves real? In my opinion, we are all holding back from being something that somebody else considers wrong or unacceptable. This makes us a politically correct carbon copy of the person that we wish we were. So in essence, when are you ever really being yourself. This could be the reason why so many men are living their lives on the "down low." Or it may be why we keep seeing priest and married men on "To Catch A Predator." They attempt to live their lives in the parameters set by the people who judge and scrutinize, but some how can't keep up that facade. Now, I am in no way saying that these people should go out and approach little kids for sex or be openly gay, but if they were able to talk about it without considered being sick or crazy, then maybe they could get help or guidance.

To sum up my point, The World (and I say The World because it's not just Americans) will only allow you to be what they think you should be, and the moment you step out of that you're an outcast. Kanye might be an arrogant asshole, but it's who he is. It's who he was made to be. So the next time you criticize anybody for being who they are, go to the mirror and ask yourself,"Am I being myself, or what The World thinks I should be?" You'll know your answer if you can continue to stare yoursellf in the eyes...

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 12

As soon as football season was over it was time for basketball season. I was so exhausted that I figured I would take a week to just unwind before taking it to the hardwood. I found out that this wasn't such a good idea.

With as much success that Coolidge's basketball program had, the administration felt the need to hire a new coach. Mr. Crumpton was more of a disciplinarian than the last coach, so I understood when he told me that my little leave of absence was not acceptable and I would not be allowed to play basketball that year. I wanted something to be involved in, but with the college visits I had set up, I knew that I wouldn't be able to give %100 of my time or effort. So I took his decision as a blessing in disguise.

A few weeks prior to the end of football season I was officially offered a full athletic scholarship to the University of Pittsburgh. Coach Simms called to congratulate me, and to set up my official visit. My visit was set for December 7, 2001. I was so excited about taking a visit that everyday until the date seemed like an eternity . I knew that this was one of the first steps to my dream of being a professional athlete.
The day finally came and I was on my way up I-270 accompanied by my parents. You see, some recruits go on these visits alone. I had mixed feelings about my parents coming. I knew that this was a huge decision in my life and I wouldn't dare make it without my parents. But I also heard what went on during these visits, and I didn't want my parents attempting to prevent me from having a good time. So in the end my better judgment prevailed and my parents came along.
When we arrived in the city I was in awe. I hadn't really been out of D.C. before, so the change of scenery had me captivated. When we got on campus I felt like a celebrity. They had students there welcoming us and it felt like something out of a movie. I felt like all of my hard work was deserving of this moment.
The night came and the coaches and our player hosts had taken us to dinner. I found out that the type of recruit you were was determined by what host you received on your visit. For instance, if you were given a freshman that was currently redshirting and didn't play, you weren't high up on their list. But if you were given a star player on the team, then they must really feel you're going to be something special. I was given Gerald Hayes. If you watch football, you'll know that he played for the Superbowl runner up Arizona Cardinals. At the time he was the star linebacker on the team and a Butkus award winner. Now, I don't know if I was that special to have him escort me around all weekend, but he was my host. G. Hayes made sure I had a good time. I won't encriminate he nor myself, but I was well taken care of as a recruit.

On saturday morning I met back up with my parents and told them the bare minimum details of my evening, but my father was no dummy so he already knew pretty much what went on.
That day we took a tour of the city and campus with coach Simms. He took me around to the departments where I thought I would want to pick a major, and allowed me to speak with professors about the rigors of a college workload. I was so ready to take it on. I had already settled in to the role, mentally, of being a student athlete.
That afternoon we were taken to the practice facility where we met the strengh and conditioning coaches, the team doctor, and the athletic trainers. They took every recruit into a room and did a basic evaluation. This is where I may have made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. When it was my turn I was asked a series of questions. I was asked if I had in-curred any injury that season. I was up front and truthful and told them that I had dislocated my shoulder, but I only missed one game so it wasn't an issue. They told me that it felt a little loose but, "nothing rehabilitation couldn't cure." I was even told that I would be sent workouts to strenghten the shoulder, so that I would be %100 by the time I made it on campus. The evaluation ended with all of us smiling and shaking hands.
If I didn't feel like a celebrity the night before, I really felt like one that night. We were taken to Heinz Field, where the University shares the stadium with the Pittsburgh Steelers, and treated first class. We ate at one of the restaurants in the stadium and then taken downstairs to see the locker rooms. I was astonished when we got to the locker room and saw a locker with my name on it and a jersey hanging in that locker that also bore my name. Everybody took pictures and then we were rquested to go outside on the field. When we got to the field, the lights cut on and it was show time. They called each recruits name and played clips of their highlite tapes on the jumbotron. When they got to me I was excited. I couldn't believe that I was being treated in this manner. I looked at my parents and they welled up with pride. I had never seen that look they had in their eyes when it came to me. It almost brought a tear to my eye because I was so overcome with emotion. At this moment, I knew Pittsburgh was where I wanted to be. My parents could see I had made my decision already. But this joy was short-lived. Very short-lived...

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 11

Even though we didn't accomplish our goals as a team, I had a lot to look forward to. I was being recruited by many schools and my dream of playing football at a Division I college looked like it was going to be realized. During the season, the recruiting coach from the University of Pittsburgh, came up to Coolidge to see me in person.
I was in class when I heard an "all call" for me to report to the counselor's suite. I didn't really get into too much trouble around Coolidge so I knew it had to be something about school. When I walked in the counselor's suite I see coach Shawn Simms the running back coach and recruiting coordinator for the Washington, D.C. area. He told me that he needed to come see me in person to make sure that I was big enough to sell me to the head coach. You see, when evaluating a player on tape, he can sometimes be much smaller than what the tape portrays, so coaches will come out to see the exact size for themselves before making an investment.
Coach Simms was very pleased with my size (I don't think I have to say no homo, but in the case that I do, please stop reading and go kill yourself). He told me that he was glad that he hadn't wasted time coming down to D.C. for a "little guy." I think he saw me as a steal. I mean, the school that I really wanted to go to was the University of Maryland. But since they expressed no interest in me early on, they weren't a threat to him. Also, Virginia and Virginia Tech, which were the two other local schools, hadn't really express any interest in me either. My assessment was, that since I didn't have Dunbar across my chest, I wasn't a good player (sarcasm). Pittsburgh saw something in me though. Well now that I think of it, maybe it was just Coach Simms that saw something in me...

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 10

There were a few things that happened during my senior year that would prove to have drastically changed the way my life is today. These events happened on and off the field, but the defining moments happened on the football field.
Statistically, my senior season was off the hook. I would have games where I would walk off the field with about 20+ tackles. I know some of you don't realize the significance of that number, but let's just say 6 or 7 tackles is a good game for a player. None of my stats were enough for me to ignore my goal. Our goal. We wanted to win a Turkey Bowl. But first we needed to get in the play-offs.
Four days after September 11, while the majority of sporting events all around the country were canceled, we were still on a bus headed up to Chester, PA. I didn't understand the stakes of the game at the time, but they were definitely high. I didn't know it, but in the stands was a recruiting coach from the University of Pittsburgh. So this game was an audition that I didn't know about. It probably was a good thing that I didn't know about it because I'm not sure how the pressure would've affected me. I had one of the games of my life. I was all over the field. I got sacks at will. I made teeth chattering hits. I would say that was one of the best games in my career as a football player, if not thee best. As a team we ended up winning that game, but as an individual I lost. With the clock winding down and Chester in position to score a touchdown to win the game, I came up big with a tackle and forced a fumble on the quarterback. I hit him so hard, that I dislocated my shoulder. Thankfully my shoulder popped right back into place, but the ramifications of that play reverberate into my present and future...

Roosevelt High School was one of our biggest rivals. Not only did they share one of our colors, but they were in the next neighborhood south of us. The thing that really made us rivals was we were mostly from the same neighborhood. Kennedy Street was the line that separated what school you would go to. If you were north of Kennedy you went to Coolidge. If you were south of Kennedy you went to Roosevelt. I myself lived south of Kennedy but was granted special permission to go to Coolidge just like many of my classmates. There were also many people who lived north of Kennedy that decided to go to Roosevelt.
This closeness in proximity made for a very interesting matchup against Roosevelt my senior year. We were pretty much all friends but on this day that friendship had to be pushed to the side. With two more games to play, the only thing that was standing in the way of our goal was Roosevelt. We would have to eventually beat Wilson, but since Roosevelt had beaten them already, we knew they were the key. That game came down to one play. I like to call it "Thee Play." We called a play that would send all of the receivers to the end zone but myself. My job was to stay in and block to make sure nobody hit Tony P (our quarterback). With ten seconds left, at the 30 yard line, and down 6 to nothing, we knew that this would be the only play that gave us a chance at victory. Roosevelt was well prepared for this. They called a blitz which rushed Tony to throw the ball a little earlier than he wanted to. This may not have been a problem, if he hadn't have thrown the ball to me. At the time, I was laying a block on one of the blitzing linebackers that had broke free thru the line. After I made that block, I turned to see if Tony had released the ball. To my surprise, he had and it was right in front of me. I think any other player on that field would have dropped that ball. but I expected it for some reason. I wanted the ball in my hands. I needed it. If I could secure the win with a 30 yard run with time winding down I would be a savior (no disrespect Jesus). I caught that ball and looked for my nearest escape. One problem. Not only did I expect to get the ball, but Roosevelt did also. I was determined to score a touchdown though. I was hit by the first potential tackler and he bounced right off me. This slowed me enough for other potential tacklers to pursue. But hit after hit they continued to bounce off me. I was still trying to make a move to escape when I realized that the time was running down and I still hadn't progressed enough up the field to score. One of the players from the other team finally realized that the only way that he was going to bring me down was to go low and take out my legs. It worked. As time expired I was being tackled and the game was essentially over. I knew at this point our goal would not be realized. I have never cried so much in my life. I'm not really a crier, especially in front of people, but I sat right there on the field and boo-hooed like a baby. I had never felt disappointment like that before. I would've welcomed all of the ridicule and scrutiny just to win that game. It hurt. So much so that I couldn't fight back the tears. I layed there for about 30 mins weeping like there wasn't going to be a tomorrow. People attempted to console me but it didn't help. Even K.K. came on the field to dry my eyes but I couldn't move. I was heart broken. I think at one point I even blamed God. I didn't understand how I could want something so bad, and it no be given to me. I don't think I have ever gotten over that loss. Of course I don't blame God anymore, but from time to time, I look at that game and try to see if there was anything I could've done differently to make the outcome more favorable for us.
That next week we had Wilson. Other than the fact that we played in the same division, we weren't really rivals. We had nothing to play for other than pride. I didn't wanna go out as a loser though. We killed Wilson. Well maybe I'm exaggerating, but we beat them soundly. I had another stellar game, but I was more proud of the fact that we were able to bounce back after a heartbreaking loss to Roosevelt. We didn't just show up with the attitude that we didn't have anything to play for.

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 9

Working at McDonald's was bitter sweet. Of course it's always good to have money in your pocket. I was able to go and buy the type of clothes that I wanted now. K.K. was working there with me which definitely was a plus. But it seems that all you can really eat when working at McDonald's is...well, McDonald's.
All of the hard work of staying in shape went straight down the drain after only a couple months. Every day that I worked, I ate McDonald's. My life was looking like "Super Size Me." People noticed it and weren't shy about telling me. I had managed to destroy nine months of training in about two months.
On a brighter note me and K.K. were working shifts together and getting close. Some days we would take breaks together and talk about different things that were going on in each of our lives. By this time she knew that I was in to her. I couldn't tell if the feeling was mutual though. She was very nice to me but it never really advanced past that. Then one day, while both of us were enjoying our break, she asked me a question that made me think that she may have been interested in me also.
I was talking to K.K. about the upcoming year and telling her what type of things I was planning. Some how we stumbled on a conversation about the senior prom. I told her what I wanted to do that night and I told her that hadn't decided who I would ask. She responded by telling me that she would love for us to go to the prom together. I was definitely surprised at the statement she made. So I replied, "I would love for you to go with me to the prom" with the biggest kool-aid smile on my face.

The summer pretty much ended and it was time for football practice to start. I knew with my summer McDonald's diet that I would have to play my way into shape. So the four weeks leading up to the first game I practiced as hard as I could. I gave maximum effort on every sprint and every play. I eventually got into better shape but those four weeks were hell.
I went into the season feeling great about my teams chances to make it to the play-offs for the first time in about 1o years. We had a pretty good nucleus of athletes and I knew that I would have to be lights out for us to accomplish our goals. To look back on it now, one of our goals was probably unrealistic. But there was one goal that, with 10 secs. left, was within our grasp...

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 8

My 11th grade year moved along smoothly. I continued to show promise on the football field and a lot of smaller school coaches were inquiring about me. Even though my team was sub par, I was playing great. But if you were to ask me back then how I played, I would've probably said something like, "Not good enough to win." I took losing really hard. I would try and smile around people, but when I was all alone, I would punch walls and kick stuff over. I finished the season as one of the best players in the city, but I knew that if I wanted to be a star my senior season would have to be lights out.
I continued to play basketball during my 11th grade year. One of the reasons I didn't stop was because I knew it would be in my best interest to stay in shape. Another reason was because I thought it would look good to college coaches if I played more than one sport. I also knew that I would be the starter with the guarantee to move up to varsity at the end of the JV season. This was probably a great decision on my part. I played good during the season. One of the highlights being that I scored the game winning basket against our archrivals, Dunbar. This culminated into a spot on the varsity bench for the rest of the season. I wasn't really salty about riding the bench onn varsity. I knew I wasn't great in basketball, so my heart wasn't in it like other players. Plus, I knew that with the type of team we had, we would probably play for the city championship. And right I was. We skated to the championship game and I felt special to be a part of it. One of the reasons I was so excited about the game was because I knew that everybody who was anybody would be in attendance. See, alot of the events in the city were more like a fashion show than a true support for the event in itself. And with the game being at Coolidge, it made it extra special.
Everybody on the team talked about one thing. Jackets. We could've cared less about trophies. A jacket represented something to us in the city. So much so that I was willing to play whatever sport I could just to get one. But that week leading up to the championship game, all we talked about was getting a jacket. Me and my other fellow bench riders were even talking about it on the bench during the game. Everytime we would go up, T.J. and I would look at each other and say, "Jackets!" Sadly though, we never got those jackets. We lost the championship game to Spingarn.
With all of the sports I played, the school year was over before you knew it. But I had payed so much attention to the field and the court, that my grades suffered a little. This definitely wasn't a good thing. My grades hadn't gotten bad enough to threaten my admission into college, but for my personal satisfaction, they were horrible. I knew that I couldn't start my senior year off this way.

The summer before senior year I decided that I would have to work once more. I still wasn't dressing like I would have liked to and I was always broke. So I decided to work at McDonald's. When I went on my interview, I saw something very interesting. K.K., T.J.'s cousin, was having an interview the same day...

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 7

My participation in the competition would have been a "feel good" story if we hadn't have come in 2nd place again. I think I was more upset with the loss then the jokes that came as a result of it. Of course the jokes came rolling in though. But by this time a was pretty numb to ridicule. It came from so many angles that joking back just seemed pointless. So I pretty much ignored it.

Another person that I had great admiration for in high school was Tyrone Adams. I really hate the use of the term swagger, because it sounds gay (no offense to anyone), especially when referring to another man, but T.J. reeked of arrogance. We were polar opposites. I was more reserved and quiet but T.J. was loud and flamboyant. I'm sure people wondered why we would hangout together. I honestly think it was because he represented what I wasn't. Deep down inside I wanted to have that confidence that he possessed. I would have to ask him why he hung out with me (lol). If I had to take a guess, I would say that it was probably my work ethic. I noticed that he would make sure he worked out with me. Whatever I was doing in the weightroom or on the field, no matter how counterproductive, he was right there with me.

In hanging out with T.J. I met a lot of his family. In fact, when I started growing my hair, it was his mother that would sit for hours braiding or re-twisting it. But one family member in particular I was glad that I was introduced to.

The summer going into my 11th grade year I was introduced to T.J.'s cousin, K.K. I remember being introduced to her in Coolidge's gymnasium and being speechless. She was beautiful. So beautiful that intially, I wouldn't even look her directly in the eye. The good thing about K.K. is that all though she was very pretty, she was also very humble. And if she wasn't, she made sure she appeared to be. I never heard her bragging on herself like some of the other girls around Coolidge. This made her even more attractive.

The start of 11th grade looked very promising for me. I switched positions on the football field from quarterback to fullback and linebacker, I had received numerous letters from colleges expressing interest in my athletic ability, and I was a captain on the football team. All of these things lead to a boost in my confidence. I was considered an upperclassman so I went from being ridiculed and scrutinized, to admired and looked up to. That felt great. People still had their jokes though, but by this time I wasn't really sweating it. I knew in my heart that at some point in the future I would have the last laugh.

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 6

One of the people I respected most in high school was Antonio Pixley. Tony P was probably the most well-known and respected person in the school. He was very athletic and like myself, he played every sport that you were allowed to play in our high school (except one lol).
One of the reasons why Tony was well respected, was because his mom worked at the school. Now that’s not a knock on him, but more of a testament to how much everybody loved Mrs. Pixley. Mrs. Pixley was like a mom away from home at Coolidge. She was one of the people that you knew genuinely cared about you. She could always see when something was wrong, and knew when to lay into you for things you did, that you had no business doing. Mrs. Pixley showed this kind of love to everybody around Coolidge. For this very reason, I had no problem helping her with whatever she asked of me. However, one thing she asked of me my 10th grade year would challenge my previous statement.Along with working in the book room, Mrs. P was also the coach of the cheerleading team. She had a solid resume of 2nd place finishes in competitions but wanted something that would put her over the top. One day, while a few of my football teammates and I were chilling in her room, she asked us a question that would take a lot of thought to answer. Mrs. P asked us if we would help her in the cheerleading competition. Basically, she wanted us to be the base to her stunts so that routines would be more exciting. I mean a few football players could throw a person higher in the air than a few cheerleaders. I want to say that I accepted without hesitation, but that would be a bold face lie. I had mixed feelings because I knew that Mrs. P would have done anything for me. However, I also knew that this would be just the ammunition people needed to start a whole new comedy routine at my expense. In the end, I felt that my loyalty to Mrs. P for the love she showed me far outweighed the ridicule that I would receive for my participation in the cheerleading competition. Don’t get me wrong, it was tough, but I knew my decision was the right one.

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 5

Playing quarterback in the passing league was as challenging as it was fun. For every good pass I threw, there were like 5 that were horrible. But as bad as I was at the position, my teammates still expressed confidence in me. Partly because there wasn't really anybody else to play the position(lol).
Right before the start of my 10th grade season, I was as confident as I had ever been up to that point in my life. My wardrobe was enhanced slightly, I was about to be the starting quarterback of my varsity high school football team, and I was ready to start school and see what everybody's view of me was.
I learned quickly that the pressure of the quarterback position was worth the acclaim and popularity. The position is so glamorized because of the huge amount of responsibility that is placed on the shoulders of the person that occupies it. I never felt pressure like that. At least not up that point of my life. I would hear people in the stands yelling for me to "hang up my cleats." I'm pretty sure that they knew that I was out of position, but they could've cared less. I was the quarterback of the team and the scapegoat.
On the contrary, the plan was somewhat of a success as far as school went. I was cool with people all over the school. Especially since that year there was an influx of students that came from Paul Jr. High to start the 10th grade at Coolidge. They weren't there for 9th grade, so they didn't see me as the "DKNY rockin' bamma" that some of the other students did. That was cool with me because I was a lil tired of being ridiculed. Girls that were new to the school that weren't familiar with my fashion woes judged me strictly on my attitude, personality, and athletic ability.
That year I showed flashes of greatness on the football field, but my year was loomed largely by mediocrity. I guess that's why the coaches decided midway through the year that a 2 quarterback system would probably be best for the team. This was a blow to my confidence but back then I was a "whatever for the team" type of player (actually I still am). So I took it with a grain of salt knowing that I would still be used in some capacity.
That football season ended with us losing about 6 games, which was still the best season we had had in awhile. But something at the end of the season didn't sit right with me. All of my teammates that were set to graduate, were very upset that we weren't as competitive as they felt we should have been. Even though they never admitted it, I think they secretly blamed me for the way the season turned out. This was a blow to me at the time because I felt like I sacrificed gaining experience at my natural position to help out the team. I was so down about the attitudes that they displayed, that I made it up in my mind that I would abandon the position the following season.
I wanted to keep my popularity up (lol at how much of a loser I was) so I decided that I would join the basketball team right after the season was over. I figured it was a great way to stay in shape also. I realized something while playing on the basketball team: People around the city, not just in my school, knew who I was. I was shocked by this. Who would've thought that my decision to play quarterback would give me notoriety around the city. Obviously this was a boost to my confidence. I remember one player from Eastern High School asked me was I playing in the All-Star game that year. When I told him I was only a 10th grader, his jaw hit the floor. He said, "Man you have 2 more years to play, you better go to the league (NFL)." I was proud of comments like those that I received. It had me feeling a different way about myself. But something I did at the end of my 10th grade year almost put me square in the spotlight of ridicule once more...

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 4

The end of my 9th grade year represented alot to me. I knew that there wouldn't be any stupid rule preventing me from doing what I loved to do, and I was excited about coming back to school with new clothes and a new attitude.
At the beginning of summer, I decided to do 3 things. 1) even though I didn't need it, I signed up for summer school to help myself in english, 2) I signed up to work with the Boys and Girls Club that was located in my school, and 3) I worked as hard as I knew how to get stronger in the weightroom. I was never at home. I would leave out at 8 in the morning and I wouldn't return until about 9 in the evening. I needed to do everything in my power to make sure that I was cool and popular. One thing that really helped me with this was the transfer of Rob Reed. I know you all are like, "what?" Well let me explain.
Towards the end of 9th grade Coolidge had hired new coaches. I think they were impressed with my versitility so they talked about putting me everywhere on the field. Well almost everywhere. Rob Reed was projected to be the quarterback of the team for the upcoming year. In my opinion he was a very good passer and would be the most logical choice to run whatever offense we would have. But midway through the summer, Rob decided to transfer high schools. I don't really remember why, but I just remember thinking, "Who the hell is going to be our quarterback?"
One summer day after working out in the weight room, me and a couple of my teammates went on the field to throw the ball around a lil bit. I would throw a couple of passes and act like I was going to be the new quarterback. At the end of our session, I went and stood at the opposite 30 yardline, and tried to see how far I could throw the ball. I would consistently throw it out the back of the endzone. So one of my teammates made the suggestion that I play quarterback. I laughed at the idea, but as I had more time to reflect on it, I knew that was just what I needed to make me popular. I mean, who doesn't know the starting quarterback of their high school? So I showed the coaches my arm strength and went into the passing league with the position of quarterback.

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 3

I must forewarn you all that this will probably go on up until volume 10. I have alot of stuff I need to run through and I know if I did it in one post you wouldn't read it all. So I appreciate you all being patient with my maturation process. When I departed at volume 2, I was talking about something that gave me a lil bit of confidence as I entered High School.

The end of my 8th grade year was a happy time for me. Not only was I about to leave Takoma, the place where I had been shunned by my peers, but I was looking forward to a fresh start where I didn't have to be such an outcast. Another thing that made the forseeable future so bright for me was the fact that I had went up to Coolidge, my future high school, and tried out for the team. (yes as and 8th grader) I was so eager to be one of the cool kids that it never dawned on me that I wasn't experienced enough to play with these guys. I went into the practices with no fear. I caught every pass. I remembered every play. And I just soaked up as much knowledge as I could about playing football in high school. I did so well that before I was even enrolled a Coolidge, people already knew my name. Well not really. I was actually referred to as "Jethro" for reasons I choose not to dicuss now. But what the giver of this name didn't realize, is that even though he probably gave me this name as a joke, I took it as a term of endearment. I felt like I belonged. I would pretend that I hated the fact that they would give me such a nickname, but secretly, I was proud that they called me anything. The fact that they would even notice me enough to give me a nickname was a testiment to how well I must've done on the field. So I took it with a grin.
When 9th grade started, I was beaming. I was one of the only kids that would walk through the halls and know all the upperclassmen. They treated me like a lil brother and I was proud of that. Since I was the only 9th grader playing a varsity sport, I felt like I was special. Only problem, DC had a stupid rule (that they changed because of my coaches petition AFTER I got to the 10th grade) that prevented 9th graders from competing in varsity sports. So yes, after much hard work, I wasn't even allowed to play in games. This really had me down. And most importantly, it opened the door for me to be scrutinized again. People were like, "If you're supposed to be so good, why won't they let you play?" No matter how hard I tried to explain, people still couldn't get why I wasn't playing. Not to mention, I was still dressing pretty much the same as I did when I was in middle school. Which opened the door for more jokes and ridicule. Imagine a kid walking through a hallway of Jordan's, Nike's, and Reebok's, with a pair of DKNY shoes on. It wasn't like I could choose what I wore. I had to wear what my parents could afford. But of course when you're in high school kids don't think like that. All they saw was this big dude with shoes that probably shouldn't be worn by any man. So basically I was back to getting joked on. It wasn't too bad though because I had learned to cope. Or at least I thought I did. My way of trying not to allow the jokes to get to me was to either ignore them, or laugh with them. I think this made me appear weak to a few people. I mean I could fight, but what was I going to do? Beat up half the kids in my grade level. I guess I could've made an example out of somebody but I learned a long time ago that, that isn't the way to handle things (I'll explain this in a latter post). So I would be fuming on the inside but still trying to keep a smile on my face. I was glad that 9th grade flew by so fast. Not only was I going to be able to get a job so I could buy my own clothes, but I received the greatest look to my confidence...

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 2

I first want to say thank you to all of you who took time out to read my first post of this series. I didn't expect very many people to read it, but I'm glad you all enjoyed it. I was just scratching the surface with that post so be prepared for me to get deeper because I think it's very necessary for me to expose myself totally (well almost totally lol).

I'm sure most of you read yesterday's post and were like "I thought him and Fatz (my sister) were close?" Yes we are close now. It took a lot for me to realize that my anger shouldn't have been towards her. She wasn't the blame for my lack of attention. So I was able to let that go years ago. But the residue from my lack of attention still lingered.

When I was in middle school I was the ultimate outcast. Imagine a kid that's almost the size of his teachers...Add that with the fact that he had to wear hand me down clothes that were either a lil loose or a lil snug, he was on a different side of town, and you have a social moth on your hands. I still think about those times and laugh. I felt like everybody was against me when I got to Takoma. It took a few months for me to even find somebody to be friends with. And don't let me mention the girls. I think this excerpt from "Song Cry" from Jay-Z sums it up, "Use to tell their friends I was ugly and wouldn't touch me..." I would try to be nice to whatever girl I liked but they would run the other way like I had the plague or something lol. So once again sports became my way to cope. By this time I had become pretty good in football, so playing that was equally for enjoyment as it was for notariety. But when basketball season rolled around, I knew I had to sign up when I was told how big it was at Takoma. Almost instantly I could see some peoples view of me change. Don't get me wrong, I was still made fun of, but I was starting to be treated a lil different. Instead of girls running when they saw me, they would just tell me I was ugly to my face lol. I remember having a crush on this girl named Tikea Via. And I can vividly remember the look she had on her face when somebody told her that I liked her. It was a look of disgust mixed with pity. I'll never forget that look. That crush slowly faded, and more crushes soon followed, but the sting of that particular account is probably one of the memories that has driven my teenage and adult years. It was pretty much more of the same through out Middle School but something happened at the end of 8th grade that gave me a bit of confidence...

I'm pretty sure that you want me to continue right now, but in the interest of the next post, I must stop (got to have insurance that you're gonna read the next jount lol)

The Maturation of J Reed: Vol. 1

It seems that after almost 26 years on this earth, I‘ve realized something vital to my maturation process: I do not know who I am! Now, I know when you think of that you say, "How do you not know yourself?” That's a question that I may have asked someone if I heard him or her say the same thing a few years ago. (Hell maybe even a few months ago) However, if you look at the statement without focusing on the superficial meaning of it, you may understand before I type another word.

If I go back as far as I can remember, I can pull out some things that can directly attribute to the man that I've become. If you ask a person some of the characteristics that I display, they may give you a few answers. Some would say I’m a very nice guy. I think I’ve heard someone refer to me as a gentle giant. (I think that sounds pretty gay if you ask me but whatever) You may have even heard me referred to as humble. I think I agree with that assessment of me (well maybe all but that gentle giant crap) but there are many things about myself that I haven’t allowed anyone to know.

Growing up I didn’t receive very much attention. From my family, to my teachers, to my peers, and especially the young ladies, I was looked upon as somewhat of an outcast. This forced me to do everything imaginable in order to gain attention.
I started playing football at a young age. I saw it on TV and really loved the nature of it. Plus my family all gathered around the TV screen whenever the Redskins were on, so I figured the only way to gain the attention of my family was to play ball. This plan didn’t really work well because only a few family members made it to a game (Well, until my team made it to the championship) and my sister was still the family attention grabber. This was very frustrating for me. To do all you can to fight for attention only to be ignored. Then, to add insult to injury, the person you’re competing with receives attention so effortlessly.
Have you ever resented someone without them knowing it? Well that’s what my life was. I low key hated my sister. And it wasn’t even because of the hell she put me through. (I’m sure most of you have seen the knife wounds lol) My sister was able to walk in any room and be received well by anybody. My family loved her. People who didn’t know her loved her. And I ended up the weird and awkward tag-a-long lil brother. It’s even emotional to write about now because I remember just trying to be better than her in everything. No matter how I tried to out shine her, I was the outcast.
In order to keep “My Thoughts” rolling I must stop this post right here. There are a few reason I started off with this sequence of events and they will be relayed in the next post. So please keep reading. Thank You!

Welcome Back

Well, well, well. I don't even know what I'm doing sitting in front of this computer screen. I've taken a nice lil break from writing, and have found myself back in the mood to release "My Thoughts." Alot has gone on this summer that I must share with you all and my only forum is this blog. Even if you don't read this post it's important for me to bare my soul in the next coming posts, so that I can work through the issues that have plagued my life, not only for the last few months, but for my entire life. So the next few posts, I have to employ you all (sorry no compensation lol) to be therapists as I try and work through my problems. I like to thank you in advance for working for free (I know everyone wants to get paid for their work during this depression lol) because I have some stuff that I need to lay on the table about my life in general, in hopes that it will release me to become a better person. So sit back and allow me to lay on your couch as we get knee deep in the mini series that I like to call "The Maturation of J Reed"

Everybody's Gangsta

At a young age I realized that the block wasn't for me

don't get me wrong, my upbringing was drenched in poverty

More oodles of noodles and syrup sandwiches than any dude you see

But thoughts of the fast life I knew I had to concede

Not because it wasn't glamorous and attractive to me

More because it was scandalous and retractive to me

In a world where it seems like "Gangsta" is the thing to be

It's seems uncouth would be the word you'd use to define me

But I'm ok with it, 'cause I know it sets me apart

And I know my personality will pierce you memory like a dart

Seems like pretending is in and has become a new art

But being "Gangsta's" a facade, not who you are in your heart

I know that the road that I'm on is the one less traveled

full of freshness and newness not worn with dirt and gravel

So if Gangsta's the path you choose it'll be an uphill battle

'Cause at some point you're waiting for your life to unravel

But if Gangsta's what you need to help your self esteem

Then please kill yourself, 'cause that excuse is stupid to me

Just be yourself, 'cause I truly believe

That none of these guys are ever as Gangsta as they seem

Make It Rain?

I know what a few of you are thinking: "Jarrett, would you stop posting poetry and get to some subjects that I can argue with you about!" Alright, alright! I'm on it! I have something fresh from a story that I heard this week that I'm sure a few of you will disagree with. So sit back and let me spill "My Thoughts."

Not sure what year it was instituted, but child support has been the savior for many a child. Men who decided to go in raw (figured there was no use in sugar coating it) have been dreading this decree by the government every since it's existence. I must say that I really am not too empathetic to them though. But one thing I get upset with, is women who misuse this money. Don't get me wrong, I think there are a few things a mother must have to take care of a child. But if you are a woman that is attempting to live above your means with the aid of this money, then I think you should be ashamed of yourself (I would tell you to go kill yourself, but we can't leave the kids without a mom if the dad isn't around). I have seen women buy really nice cars and keep themselves groomed really nice, while there children walk around looking homeless. It's really trifling if you ask me.So basically, in the stroy that I heard, the woman was supposed to be using the EXTRA money that she was getting from her childs father to help pay tuition for her oldest child. To make a long story short, the daughter had to take out a few loans because her tuition wasn't being paid. Meanwhile, momma is driving around in a new SUV (Infinity Truck I believe it was).

I know some of you will read this post and say, "But what about the fathers that don't pay child support?" To that I say, Two wrongs don't make a right. Everybody knows that there are deadbeat dads out her who don't give a damn about their kids (If you refer back to my "Give Him A Chance" post, you will see how I feel about them) but that doesn't give women the right to punish the men who do care about their kids. Plus these women only end up hurting the children in the long run. You might not care about this post. You might not agree either, but "It's Just My Thoughts, Just What I Was Feeling At The Time"

Day Dreamin'

They say a picture's worth a thousand words
But as I stare at this photo I become mute
No sentence can accurately articulate how I'm feeling at this moment
This zone I'm in has cut me off from the outside world
Sound has disappeared and apparently time has stopped
No glance from the image that has transferred me from one thought to the next
Fingers snap in front of my face to try and break this trance that I'm in
Those attempts go ignored
Ignored because they were noticed, but the trance could not be broken
When I finally come to, I realize that my day dream took a lil over 3 minutes
And the snaps of a finger I was ignoring, was of someone deserving of my attention
But sadly that attention was divided
It may always be divided
The division between my reality and day dreams may not be tolerated for long
So as I buy/by my time, I do so with the knowledge that I may be cursed
They say a picture's worth a thousand words
So why won't the words come out?

Ready To Go...Go

Sittin' here with stuff on my brain has me in search of an outlet
You've turned my SUBTLE THOUGHTS into harsh scenes
These RAW IMAGEs set my mind ablaze with the possibilities of the unforeseen
Are these images considered to be CRUEL INTENTIONS?
Not sure, it would depend on who you ask
Don't ask me though, because my mind is like a JUNKYARD
I tried to clean it up, but my efforts have been futile
Even with this fact I've always considered myself a GOODFELLA
But am I? I think I am
I'll have to open that up for discussion as well
I must admit that it's your RARE ESSENCE that sets you apart from all that I see around me
And that has me hoping for an UNCALLED FOR EXPERIENCE
One where I would let you take TOTAL CONTROL
Would love to pore honey all over your body
But I'm broke so we have to hit the carryout and settle for some MAMBO SAUCE (lol)
I might have to wait to see your REACTION before I try something like that though
I can LISTEN to N E GROOVER on the block and they can tell me what my approach should be
But I have to say the verbalization of these thoughts has my heart in a CRITICAL CONDITION
Well F*ck it, Mama said have no fear, plus I'm already out of my chair
So I ask her "Are you 'Ready To GO...GO'"

I hope that you all see the theme. I put the key words in all caps so it shouldn't be that hard if you are from the Washington, D.C. area. And even if you aren't there have been a few people who have still been able to see it. Leave me as comment and tell me how you feel about it.

African American?...Wait! Did You Just Call Me N&*%$*?

I had this big write up about "My Thoughts" on why I don't necessarily prefer to be addressed by the term African American, but in talking to a friend, I was referred to a poem that has encompassed the same feelings that I have about the matter. So I would like to share it with and you can comment on what you think about it.

The Black American Poem

By Smokey Robinson

I love being Black. I love being called Black. I love being an American.

I love being a Black American, but as a Black man in this country I think it’s a shame that every few years we get a change of name.

Since those first ships arrived here from Africa that came across the sea there were already Black men in this country who were free.

And as for those that came over here on those terrible boats, they were called niggah and slave and told what to do and how to behave.

And then master started trippin’ and doing his midnight tippin’, down to the slave shacks where he forced he and Great-Great Grandma to be together, and if Great-Great Grandpa protested, he got tarred and feathered.

And at the same time, the Black men in the country who were free, were mating with the tribes like the Apache and the Cherokee.

And as a result of all that, we’re a parade of every shade.

And as in this late day and age, you can be sure, they ain’t too many of us in this country whose bloodline is pure.

But, according to a geological, geographical, genealogy study published in Time Magazine, the Black African people were the first on the scene, so for what it’s worth, the Black African people were the first on earth and through migration, our characteristics started to change, and rearrange, to adapt to whatever climate we migrated to.

And that’s how I became me, and you became you.

So, if we gonna go back, let’s go all the way back, and if Adam was Black and Eve was Black, then that kind of makes it a natural fact that everybody in America is an African American.

Everybody in Europe is an African European; everybody in the Orient is an African Asian and so on and so on, that is, if the origin of man is what we’re gonna go on.

And if one drop of Black blood makes you Black like they say, then everybody’s Black anyway.

So quit trying to change my identity.

I’m already who I was meant to be I’m a Black American, born and raised.

And brother James Brown wrote a wonderful phrase, “Say it loud, I’m Black and I’m proud! Say it loud, I’m Black and I’m proud!”

Cause I’m proud to be Black and I ain’t never lived in Africa, and ’cause my Great-Great Granddaddy on my Daddy’s side did, don’t mean I want to go back.

Now I have nothing against Africa, it’s where some of the most beautiful places and people in the world are found.

But I’ve been blessed to go a lot of places in this world, and if you ask me where I choose to live, I pick America, hands down.

Now, by and by, we were called Negroes, and after while, that name has vanished.

Anyway, Negro is just how you say ‘black’ in Spanish.

Then, we were called colored, but shit, everybody’s one color or another, and I think it’s a shame that we hold that against each other.

And it seems like we reverted back to a time when being called Black was an insult, even if it was another Black man who said it, a fight would result, cause we’ve been so brainwashed that Black was wrong, So that even the yellow niggahs and black niggahs couldn’t get along.

But then, came the 1960s when we struggled and died to be called equal and Black, and we walked with pride with our heads held high and our shoulders pushed back, and Black was beautiful.

But, I guess that wasn’t good enough, cause now here they come with some other stuff.

Who comes up with this shit anyway?

Was it one, or a group of niggahs sitting around one day?

Feelin’ a little insecure again about being called Black and decided that African American sounded a little more exotic.

Well, I think you were being a little more neurotic.

It’s that same mentality that got “Amos and Andy” put off the air, cause they were embarrassed about the way the character’s spoke.

And as a result of that action, a lot of wonderful Black actors ended up broke.

When we were just laughin’ and have fun about ourselves.

So I say, “fuck you if you can’t take a joke.”

You didn’t see the “Beverly Hillbilly’s” being protested by white folks.

And if you think, that cause you think that being called African American set all Black people’s mind at ease…

Since we affectionately call each other “niggah”, I affectionately say to you, “niggah Please”.

How come I didn’t get the chance to vote on who I’d like to be?

Who gave you the right to make that decision for me?

I ain’t under your rule or in your dominion And I am entitled to my own opinion.

Now there are some African Americans here, but they recently moved here from places like Kenya, Ethiopia, Zambia, Zimbabwe, and Zaire.

But, not the brother who’s family has lived in the country for generations, occupying space in all the locations New York, Miami, L.A., Detroit, Chicago… Even if he’s wearing a dashiki and sporting an afro.

And, if you go to Africa in search of your race, you’ll find out quick you’re not an African American, You’re just a Black American in Africa takin’ up space.

Why you keep trying to attach yourself to a continent, where if you got the chance and you went, most people there wouldn't even claim you as one of them; as a pure bread daughter or son of them.

Your heritage is right here now, no matter what you call yourself or what you say And a lot of people died to make it that way.

And if you think America is a leader on inequality and suffering and grievin’, how come there so many people comin’ and so few leavin’?

Rather than all this ‘find fault with America’ fuck you promotin’, if you want to change something, use your privilege, get to the polls!

Commence to votin’!

God knows we’ve earned the right to be called American Americans and be free at last.

And rather than you movin’ forward progress, you dwelling in the past.

We’ve struggled too long; we’ve come too far.

Instead of focusing on who we were, let’s be proud of who we are.

We are the only people whose name is always a trend.

When is this shit gonna end?

Look at all the different colors of our skin…

Black is not our color. It’s our core.

It’s what we been livin’ and fightin’ and dyin’ for.

But if you choose to be called African American and that’s your preference, then I ‘ll give you that reference.

But I know on this issue I don’t stand alone on my own and if I do, then let me be me.

And I’d appreciate it if when you see me, you’d say, “there goes a man who says it loud I’m Black. I’m Black. I’m a Black American, and I’m proud”.

Cause I love being an American. And I love being Black. I love being called Black.

Yeah, I said it, and I don’t take it back.

I'm Going Going, Back Back To...Africa?

It's been a few days since I was able to think of a subject worthy of writing about. So I would apologize, but it really takes a lot for me to concentrate enough to write on this blog. I would like to thank Kia and Krystal for their heated disagreement (I think they almost came to blows lol) that has had "My Thoughts" for the past few days.

Growing up, I constantly heard people talking about going back to the "Motherland". (As if they had been before lol) I always wondered what the fascination of a journey to Africa was about. I mean, we are considered "African American", but what would the journey actually satisfy for them?

Fast Forward to now. I still don't understand SOME peoples reasoning for wanting to go back to Africa. (it seems that I have to put SOME WORDS in ALL CAPITALS so I'm not MISQUOTED) I feel like, if you've been tracing your heritage, and you've been studying your culture, and you've found that there is a direct link to Africa, then sure, go ahead and take the voyage. But if you're like most people, who blurt out that you want to go back to Africa, without any type of information of your past, then you're just saying it because it sounds good. Or maybe you do want to go, but what is your basis? I'm going to just say, I have NO desire to go to Africa. Not trying to be insensitive, but I haven't taken the time to track my heritage and I feel if I pretended like I wanted to go to Africa, the decision would be made off ignorance and hypocrisy. I don't even consider myself "African American". (No I'm not Tiger Woods lol but I have a fresh post coming up about that topic so stay tuned)

I would like to know what you think about this topic though, so please leave me a comment on the matter. And whether your comment is shares my view or is the total opposite, "It's Just My Thoughts, Just What I Was Feeling at the Time"

Not A Retraction...More Like A Definitive Reiteration

In lieu of the attention that my "Ladies, Don't You Feel Disrespected?" post has received, I felt that it was vital to clarify exactly what "My Thoughts" are.

I have received a bunch of different comments that I attempted to address under the comment portion of my post, but I couldn't get to all of them without a long comment. So I will use this post to address all of the things that i didn't get to.

First things first, my question that I posed as the title of this post was what I was trying to get at. I might have strayed away from this, but none of you answered this question. I feel like these songs are offensive, but if I see you jammin' to them, it's telling me that you like and support this song. Even if you say, "I only listen to the beat." Those words will creep up in your subconscious. (yes I paid good attention in Psychology class)

Second, I was asked why do I support this music and expect women not to. Ladies, you can support whomever you like. I'm not here to stand on my high horse and judge you for the music you listen to, because yes sometimes I do dance to it in the club. If I came off as judgmental, I deeply apologize. My thing is, as women, if you don't fight for what you believe in, who am I to fight your battle? It would be a lost cause if I ran out here and boycotted dancing to these songs and you all are still in the club shakin' your ass. The DJ's will continue to spin what YOU want to listen to because YOU are who they are marketing to at clubs. Don't believe me? Pick up a club flyer, and even though it has a naked lady on it, I'll be damned if it doesn't say LADIES FREE B4 12 and FELLAS DISCOUNTED B 11...They want YOU in the club, so they play what YOU want to hear.

Third, the comment about my perception of a woman dancing to this music. I feel like my perception of a woman isn't formed until the first conversation. Now, I won't lie, I admire the shape of a black woman, especially while they're winding. So I can look at you dancing all seductively and fawn over you all I want, but it doesn't cause me to make a snap judgment about you as a person.

Fourth, the question of, "How do we get women to respect themselves?" My response would be to first start setting the example. Everyone's parameters for respect will be different of course, but be the example setter. I just saw something very interesting. I was waiting on my FIRST GRADE class and I heard them singing the lyrics to "Low" by Flo Rida. Now those lyrics aren't the worse out there, but they are hardly appropriate for FIRST GRADERS. This means that their parents are allowing this ENTERTAINMENT to influence them. My suggestion is that some of you ladies need to mentor these young girls. Show them that they are worth way more than ENTERTAINMENT leads them to believe they are. Then maybe they won't aspire to be video girls and strippers. (not to knock anybodys hustle)

Final comment: I debated whether I was going to address this statement because if the degree of ignorance it possessed. But Anonymous #2, I have to say that if you believe that entertainment is just entertainment, then you have a skewed view of the world. Entertainment has a profound affect on almost ever facet of American culture. So the statement "Let entertainment be entertainment" is a part of the problem we have. We want to turn a blind eye to the problem and pretend that it doesn't exist. But where exactly will that get us?

For all of the people that commented, I appreciate you. I like how you pushed my mind to the limit with this post. I just hope that the discussion of this topic will continue to live on in your lives so that we can find a solution. If I omitted someones comment, please leave me a response in the comment box. I usually end off my posts with the title of this blog, but I hope all of you (even those of you that don't agree with me) continue to read and comment on "My Thoughts." I don't claim to know everything, but I am willing to educate myself on the things that I don't know. And I know that some of you can provide some valuable insight to further my education. Thank You

Ladies, Don't You Feel Disrespected?

So, it's no secret that I love music. Even though I'm the self proclaimed hip hop head, I listen to many genres of music. (I guess I said that as a disclaimer for the defense of my musical enjoyment. lol) But hip hop seems to be the genre I identify with the most. This is probably because of the era in which I was raised. One thing's for certain, hip hop definitely varies from artist to artist. But one common link for the majority of these artists is the objectification of women.

Every couple of months I hear a song come out, that's so unbelievably disrespectful to women, I shudder. (I might be exaggerating with the shudder lmao) I attribute this to the fact that I would probably get slapped in my face if I ever said some of the things these artists said to a woman. But every time I visit a club or lounge, I see these same women dancing their hearts out to these offensive songs. Now, I never really thought about it until I heard a few women say that they didn't want to hear any positive music while they are partying. They can't dance to this. I think the exact quote was, "I need to be called a bitch or a hoe (whore) in order to shake my ass."
After further observation, I see that alot of women share this philosophy. (lol)

I know that a few of you need evidence because you just like to prove me wrong. So exhibit "A" is a song called "Some Cut" by Lil Scrappy f/ Trillville. I won't even go as far as to give you a verse, the hook (chorus) says it all:

"What it is hoe, ah what's up. Can a nigga get in them guts. Cut you up like you ain't been cut. Show yo ass how to really catch a nut. So give me yo number, and I'll call. And I'll follow that ass in the mall. Take you home let you juggle my balls, while I'm beating down yo walls"

Now ladies, picture a guy coming up to you, wherever you may be, saying something like that as an opening line. How offended would you be? I can answer for the majority of women that I know, ( I say majority, cause I don't know about some of you lmao) You would be irate. And rightfully so. But are you encouraging this behavior?

Now, I know some of you that read this blog, and I know what you're saying to yourself right now, "I mean, it's just music. I have the right to dance and listen to whatever I want." This may be true; but does music NOT influence our culture heavily? You'd have to agree with that, right? So it's safe to say that if you are in the club dancing to these songs, you are encouraging these artists to continue to make them. Which in turn, gives guys the boldness to emulate what they hear in these songs.

To sum it all up ladies, your role in the degradation of women is prevalent. Although this role might seem minute (that's mi-nute), it has a profound affect on the progress of equal rights. I'll just say, "Either you're a part of the problem, or a part of the solution." If guys continue get the power to say and do whatever the want to you, it would be setting back the progress that great women have made to be accepted as equals. Maybe I'm thinking to deep about this, but hell, "It's Just My Thoughts, Just What I Was Feeling at the Time."

Racism Post

Have you ever been in a disagreement with people who weren't willing to relent their position in order to see your point of view? Did you continue to argue? Did you just let them talk? Did you get mad and leave? You want to know what I did? (No? Well I'm telling you anyway! lol) I'm writing this post. Since I wasn't able to get "My Thoughts" out during this disagreement, I have used this post as my platform of uninterrupted discussion about this particular issue.

Before I tell you about the "argument" that I didn't continue to participate in, I want to give you a few definitions to refer back to that I defend my stance with. Dictionary.com defines racism as- a belief or doctrine that inherent differences among the various human races determine cultural or individual achievement, usually involving the idea that one's own race is superior and has the right to rule others. It defines prejudice as- an unfavorable opinion or feeling formed beforehand without knowledge, thought, or reason. (please remember these)

I don't really mind the fact that people confuse these definitions, because after all they are similar in some respect. The thing I have a problem with, is you allowing your ignorance of the differences to affect what comes out of your mouth during a disagreement.

So, yesterday I was in the teachers lounge with a few of the teacher aides. Not unusual for a thursday afternoon, because this is the day where we can all eat lunch together because of my planning period. We usually talk about some topic that is currently on someone's mind. Yesterday we settled on racism. Still a controversial topic, racism has been interpreted different ways by different people. If you refer back to the definitions I put in the second paragraph, you will see my interpretation of the word. But basically to some it up, racism is prejudice acted out. So one of the aides says, "Black people are racist as hell". (this is the statement that kicked off the disagreement) I simply said, "how so?" Then she went on to talk about how black people SAY whatever they want out of their mouths about other races. I totally agreed with her, but I tried to explain that technically this isn't considered racism. She must have THOUGHT I said black people aren't racist and she quickly defended her "argument" by saying that I was ignorant if I didn't agree that black people were racist. I quickly snapped back that she might want to check the definition of prejudice and racism if she wanted to continue this discussion, but by this time the whole room was on her side of the argument. So I figured if I just shut up and listen, I would have some great material for this very post. The last question I asked to fuel the fire was, "Is affirmative action racism?" (Oh I must not that it wasn't only black people in this discussion, just so you won't think there was a bias)  This is what I received after that question:

1. Yes affirmative action is racism

2. Historically Black Colleges and Universities are a form of racism (one aide also went so far as to say, "What if there were historically white colleges?" I really need somebody to comment on this one)

3. Black owned businesses, who only hire minorities, are a form of racism

Somewhere through the construction of this post, I lost the initial purpose of what I wanted you to comment on. I think the Idiocy of this disagreement has me befuddled. I don't have time to express all my thoughts about this post. But I really need to know that I'm not crazy, so please comment on this post so I can respond. And however I respond, "It's Just My Thoughts, Just What I Was Feeling at the Time."

He Lives in Me?

So, before I get knee deep into this post, I want to first say that coming up with a title was pretty interesting. Without giving away too much, I'll just say the controversy of this topic caused me to make a joke out of it. So just listen to (or read, I guess) "My Thoughts".

The inspiration of my posts come from a myriad of different avenues. But it seems that recently, talk radio has had a significant affect on thoughts, that I might not necessarily have considered without it.

Today was no different then most days. I hopped in the car and tuned in to "The Russ Parr Morning Show", where I was greeted by Lil 'Wayne singing about an "officer". (go figure lol) I usually get mad when I hear music and no talk so I turned on a cd. I would've continued to listen to the cd, but I realized that it might be an interesting topic on the show. So I flipped back over to radio, and sure enough the topic was so controversial that I had to share it with you all.

I know for a fact that the majority of you who read this post are affiliated with some church. Whatever the denomination, you go to that church to hear the word of the Lord (or Allah). Some people take into consideration the size of the church, the popularity, or what the members have parked in the parking lot, as a basis for attendance. But how many of you go for the person that's delivering the message? I mean, does how he/she conduct him/her self play a big role in your attendance? Yes? No? Well listen to this...

On the show today, a woman sent an email in about a problem that she has with her pastor. Not really surprising, because a lot of people have some sort of disagreement with the leadership of their respective church. But her problem wasn't as superficial as wondering why the pastor is rolling around in a Benz while everyone else is driving a hooptie. She actually has proof that her pastor is not only bisexual, but he has been living on the down low for at least the last 4 years. Now, I'm not the type of person to put anything past anyone, but a person who is in a leadership position, such as a pastor, can not afford to make this sort lapse. Forget that the pastor is engaging in homosexual activity, which is clearly a practice that is not condoned by the church, he is also married which means he is breaking one of God's commandments. Now, far be it from me to sit up on my high horse and pretend that I haven't sinned or fallen short of the expectations that God has for me, but then again I'm not appointed to the position of spiritual leadership. That's not to say his sins are any worse than mine, but his are under a microscope of an entire congregation, while mine are simply overlooked by people whom are not in my inner circle. I'm sure at some point over this past paragraph, you've asked yourself the question, "How is the emailer so sure the pastor is bisexual?" Well apparently he has been in a secretive relationship with her blood brother for the past 4 years.

As you can see, I have a problem getting to the point. The purpose of this post was to get your feedback on this story, and to see if you would continue to be apart of the congregation where the leadership didn't necessarily practice what he/she preached. I intend to leave my opinion in the comment log after I've gotten enough feedback. But whatever my opinion is, "It's Just My Thoughts, Just What I Was Feeling at the Time."