I am obviously having a crappy week because this title is by far the least creative thing I’ve written in a while. It is blunt, straightforward, and lacks innovation. Let’s call this the Apple-After-Steve-Jobs title, or AASJ. I will do better . . . next time.
Anyway, the title has no metaphorical significance. Nor is it an analogy of some sort. Nor is it borrowed from a song (And this is a total detour, but R&B and Country music are both equally depressing. This title could easily be either the name of one of those broken hearted, Keyshia Cole -type songs OR a unique rendition of those super sad, super violent Country songs with lyrics like “She broke my heart, so I broke her jaw.” #ImJustSaying). Any-who, this week’s entry is a reflection on the month of October and what it means to me. Prepare yourself as I invite you into my personal life. Note: If you have no interest in my historically tragic love life, feel free to skip to my commentary on the artist Future or the sociopath Hitler. By the way, am I really this random in person? #DontAnswerThat
In High School, I was kind of an oddball, always weird, always myself (some things never change). Anyway, I was a straight-A student who had a secret crush on the bad boy, rebel-types. Senior year, I dated this guy, who henceforth will be known as Incarceration. Ya see, Incarceration had a violent streak in High School, which, at the time, was the definition of H-O-T-T hot! Incarceration was known as that one guy who would KILL YOU. I attribute his blatant disregard for the law and his obsession with all things “naughty” to one of the following:
Napoleon complex. Yeah Incarceration was a short man. Not Oompa Loompa-short but noticeably smaller. Don’t judge me!
Peer pressure. Of course I would date the one white guy with all black friends. What can I say? I like my cream with mocha.
Mother with Cancer. Yes, I did hit you with some hard reality just now.
Whilst in our juvenile fling, my main function as Incarceration’s girlfriend was to calm him down as his mother’s condition worsened. Then, one day the word came, and my sole function was to console him because she had passed.
Her death came suddenly and viciously. And if you are a guy like Incarceration, feeling the world come crashing down on you, on top of hormones, school stress, and whatever else, you tend to lose your ever-loving mind. So, Incarceration went to prison, and I went to college. Sad love story, but aren’t they all?
Anyway, that being my first love, it was a tough loss. And no I’m not speaking about the emotional attachment I had to Incarceration. I am referencing the lost of adolescence. That was the day I understood how tragic “lost” can be. It disturbs me how much he had to grow in that short time from diagnosis to death. Incarceration was stripped away from his childhood, almost the second he learned of his mother’s illness.
I cant imagine what that feels like. Maybe like a child actor, being forced to play adult roles during the day, and then return to the broken remainder of a childhood they have in their trailer? Maybe? Anyway, in truth, being exposed to such R-rated emotion and events can have a huge, negative impact on a child. It killed MJ, it ruined Britney Spears, and it is coming for Honey Boo-Boo. And no I am not here to discuss America’s obsession with entertainment. That was just me going on a tangent again. The bigger problem is Cancer!
Without a doubt, Cancer is the most vicious, unforgiving, disgraceful disease of our time. It corrodes the family dynamic. It destroys adolescence. It creates widows. It changes lives forever. And the National Football League recognizes these truths.
So that is why I like October. It is football season, the leaves are changing, and we get a reminder that despite our pathetically disinteresting lives, there are people who are struggling in the world, fighting daily for their existence. And there’s nothing quite like a bunch of big, black, beautiful, behemoths chasing pig skin to help remind us of that. Yes, the NFL takes advantage of players and refs, is incredibly sexist, and impossibly over-commercialized. But watching these 6-ft-bajillion football players in their pink shoes, pink gloves, and pink socks, breaks my heart. And some go so far as to wear their pink accessories well past the month of October. I just love it!
I present now my philosophy: life sucks and then you die. At the very least, you can find some purpose in it. Even if that means turning your incredibly demanding and exploitive job into an awareness program. Or popularizing your heart-wrenching story to forewarn potential parents about the pitfalls of stardom. Or raising money to support a Cancer foundation in memory of a mother who changed how you saw the world.
Whatever it is, just do it! #Nike
Just an FYI, I will try and be less “after school special” next week.
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