Daddy Did It

What it look like folk? Its that square Steez back at ya with the chronicles. Today is a brisk Thursday morning. I'm a little hungover, which caused me to miss my train and be more than a little late for work. But its all to the good. Let's get to the bidness at hand....shall we?

So since Butterbear and I have decided to stop wasting each others time, we have had more than a couple arguments(with the police being called twice). A recurring theme has been the children. Moreover she repeatedly has told me that she has a deeper bond with the kids than I do? To that I say...GTFOH!!! I guess she's trying to convince herself. Either that or she is rehearsing for family court. Either way its bullshit and she knows it.

This is a prevalent thought especially in the black community. We are a maternal society, for obvious reasons. But don't get it confused ladies, just because you shit out a couple kids doesn't make you Claire Huxtable. There are a lot of half assed or no assed dads out there I know. But there is an equal amount of half assed moms. What women like Butterbear need to understand is that the bond from a father is miles away from where a bond with a mother should be.

Of my four children, three of their first word were da-da(daddy) for whatever reason. I'm extremely close with my kids. But I realize that a lot of men in my age bracket aren't. Something else I realize is that fathers(present or not) are typically blamed for any and all shortcomings a person have, and rarely given credit for success. Peep Dear Mama by Tupac....his mother was a crackhead, and he had nothing but love for her. Even though her being a crackhead probably contributed to the hardships he rapped about in that song, he still took time to shit on his father(who wasn't around) in that song and several others.

As black people we have been conditioned to devalue the importance of men in general and fathers in particular. Some of this is warranted. Because as I stated there are a lot of half assed daddies. But each day there are men like me that wan their children to have the father figure that they never had. And for any woman(my wife included) to try to strip that is not only stupid, but dangerous. So miss me with that bonding shit, when you ain't waking up on the weeken to feed your kids, you ain't feeding them properly among other things. You ain't a mother at that point...you're just the hole they came through.

I'm out

Mama Told Me There'd Be Days Like This

*sigh*
What it look like folk? Its that square guy Steez back at y'all with some of these chronicles. I'm fittin to get right to it as I'm not in the mood to fuck around today. Shall we?

Well my marriage is essentially over. Among other problems(some that I have written about on this very blog) Butterbear caught me out there fuckin around. The story is the same as you've heard from several young black people you know. Girl suspects something, girl goes through boys shit, girl finds out about other girl, shit hits fan. That happened like 3 weeks ago or two. I don't know. In any event she doesn't want me anymore and I have finally gotten the out that I've been looking for for the past few years, or was I?

As I write this I am trying my damndest to stay objective and not trash her. But at the same time this is MY blog, not a Boyz II Men song. Feel me? When its all said and done we both fell short of what we should have been. And while her missteps aren't as openly egregious as mine, they hold no less weight. Basically saying, if we stated that the rules were to be one way, and she circumventented them for her own game isn't that "cheating". Word game? Maybe.

I wrote a blog some months ago questioning whether we were ready to be married when we jumped the broom almost 7 years ago. I came to the summation that we(or at least I) wasnt/weren't. Over the past few days my wife has sounded like a Mary J song mixed with a lifetime movie. Fuck that. All that "I just want my family and my life back, but YOU ruined it" she even had the nerve a week ago to say she wants her freedom. WHAT?!?!?!? Not to be callous but isn't she the one who went through my personal belongings like I was a prison inmate. FOH.

In short, as a man I acknowledge any and all wrongdoing. I take responsibility for my actions. I was wrong for stepping out. I was wrong for being decietful to the woman I vowed to be honest with. But most of all I was wrong for being shortsighted enough that I failed to realize that to HER marriage was the destination and not the beginning of the journey. And lastly I was wrong for not listening to my mother.....

I'm out

Monopoly On Pain

What it look like good folk? It's ya main square Steez back at it on the blogosphere. I'm sorry I been gone for so long since the last entry. Sorry to say I've been mourning since my last entry. One of my younger cousins passed on some tragic shit. And frankly I haven't had shit to say. But I'm back now, so, let's get to it. Shall we....

Recently I've been up in my hometown of the Steel City(Pittsburgh Pennsylvania for those of you not in the know). Spending time with my fam in the wake of this tragedy. While doing so I realized something that I guess has always been apparent to me. Black people like to have a monopoly on pain. But also never share happiness. What I mean is, at the funeral everyone wanted everyone else to know that THEY were the saddest person there. Don't get me wrong, it was sad no doubt. The square even shed more than a couple tears. Now, there wasn't the typical grandstanding. But I noticed more than a couple instances of bullshit. It is that which it is I guess.

But that isn't my real issue. Everyone grieves in their own way. My question is, why, as black people aren't we as free and open with our happiness? Given all the shit we've endured as a people, why do we find it so hard to express joy, yet invite others to wallow in agony with us? I don't have the answer. Though I've been thinking on it for the better part of 3 weeks. I want those of you that read this to comment. But not really on the nature of this piece(though you can if you want). But I want everyone that comments to share a happy memory with all of the readers of this blog. Ima do the same right now.

I remember when my cousin Marcus(the one that passed) fucked his leg up riding his dirtbike. He had to have surgery and all that....even got a staph infection. Well he got through all that. Had a big cast on his leg and all that. Well me and his older brother(we were like 15 at the time) used to hit the mall every weekend. Get dressed, try to talk to girls, buy a shirt or something. Well this time Marcus wanted to come. So my aunt FORCED us to take him with us. Well we get to the mall and he's on crutches. We get him one of those jackleg mall wheelchairs. Now this nigga got fresh just like us. So here we are taking turns pushing him around the mall and still tryna front for the girls. While he is sitting in the wheelchair cocked to the side like he's Don Magic Juan or some shit. LOL.

I'm out

How Many of us Have Them

What it look like good folk? I know its been a while. But I'm back droppin that square knowledge for y'all. For those of y'all that don't know I'm the friendly neighborhood square Steez. Since its been a minute, I won't bore y'all with the details. Let's get to it, shall we?

I've been racking my brain for things to talk about on here. Nothing good was coming to me. Then the longer the time between blogs, the more I felt compelled to hit y'all with the Doug E. Then it hit me, FRIENDS. A universal problem/blessing. So I've lined up four situations or scenarios going on in my life. Hopefully y'all can feel me.

I've never had many friends. I typically kept people around for convenience or to stroke my own ego. But lifelong bond type friends has never been my specialty. Then I looked at my facebook(yeah I have one of those) and clicked on the "friends" tab. Of the 30 some odd images that popped up, aside from family and coworkers I realized I haven't seen most of these people since before I had hair on my nuts. And most of them weren't my friends THEN. From there I was looking through my old blogs. I went all the way back to the first one. I had just parted ways with a friend of over 12 years. I was angry. I was hurt. I was confused. Is that what friendship is about? Well this young lady is back in my life...sorta. she is currently at the business end of a mighty stiff arm, compliments of yours truly. Recently I had a conversation with a *ahem* friend. She said "friends should never be a burden". Talk about real shit. Though I knew this subconsciously, which is the reason for the distance between the original friend and I, it held more weight coming from someone else.

Next, I wanna talk about Butterbear and I. Now, as most of y'all know, her and I were friends before we took it to where it is now. Like really really good friends. Recently I can't but help to think that the friendship, while it is the foundation for our union, is also the reason for its detriment. Feel me. We have all been there with a friend when the joke goes "too far" and someone gets punched in the mouth. Well how do you handle that when the friend is your wife? Things that are easily hashed out or even forgotten about when dealing with friends are now marital issues. Household problems. Having a friend you deem to be lazy is one thing. Having a lazy spouse is totally different. Dig? I have resolved that our friendship is gonna save or completely destroy our marriage.

Speaking of destruction, I have completely laid waste to a friendship that I've had for a while now. Nah there isn't any beef but my actions within the confines of the friendship have assured that said friendship is on borrowed time. What can I say? I have an addiction to high explosives. Let's just hope I can handle the earthquake that is coming.

Lastly, I wanna shout out my muthafuckin FRIENDS Rick, Tiz, and Mel. They are pretty much the only real friends I have. And most definitely the only friends I've made since becoming an adult. We shared an evening together in celebration of our(me, rick, and mel) birthdays. Ball isn't the word. We all had the greatest fuckin time imaginable at Dave and Busters. Good food, good drank, good friends. What else could a square ask for?

I'm out

Parents Just Don't Understand

Yo what it look like folk? Its Steez back at y'all with a lil post. I was chillin with my kidss and got to lookin back on my own square childhood. So I decided to share somethings with y'all. Its gonnna be pretty short and sweet so.....Shall we?

Instead of getting all teary eyed about my past I decided to have a lil more fun with it. I'm gonna list the 5 Wackest pieces of Gear my mom ever put on me. To preface this conversation I must say that like a lot of you we didn't have much money. My mom was a single mother raising 2 bad ass little boys. She got laid off and was out of work for a spell. So as you can imagine a lot of my clothes were hand me downs. Some also came from the Red White And Blue, which was more or less a bootleg Goodwill(imagine the horror). So without further adieu I will give you the Top 5 Wackest Pieces of Gear my mom ever got me.

5. A bright red pleather Duck feather Down jacket. This is when everyone was rocking Triple Fat Goose down jackets. My mom got me this atrocity. Add to that the fact we lived in a Crip neighborhood and I would have most likely been gunned down for wearing it.....

4. This one is low on the list cause I asked for it. I knew my mom would never spring for some Jordans so I would have her go to Payless and get me the look alikes. Instead of the jumpman logo they just had a nigga holding a basketball on them. Where was Shaq back then?

3. My mom bought me a whole collection of those MC Hammer parachute pants. All different colors and patterns. *shakes head*

2. This irregular ass Enyce shirt....the shirt itself was fly. But the sleeves were too tight. Now I got some pipe cleaners and I was STILL doing the Hulk in this shirt.

And the coup de grace...the ABSOLUTE worst piece of gear I ever had to rock(Bosslady 82 you might remember this one)

1. A Fila Hat. Now, this one deserves some explaining. Peep this is when Fila was the shilznit. I always got the hook up for the first day of school, being that my b day is usually a week or so before. So this was it...my first day in the 6th grade...at a new school. I wanted some new fila kicks, a fila sweatsuit, and a matching hat. My mom came the fuck THROUGH. Navy blue sweatsuit with red and white trim. White high tops with navy and red trim. Pretty fly right? Well let's get to the hat....it was a navy hat with FILA written across the front. The only problem was Fila was spelled out with those white felt iron on letters. LMFAO. My mom couldn't find a hat she liked so she MADE one. Lol. Man I rocked it anyway. Just to the back so people couldn't tease me to my face.

So there it is...my list. Why I'm a square frome way back. Y'all can respond with some of your worst gear memories if you like.

I'm out

P.s. I just wanna say thanks to my mom....I know you were doing the best you could.

Tryna Make it in a Stupid World pt 4

What it look like folk. Its ya favorite square Steez shining a bright light on the stupidity out there. This one is located right under the market frankford el where frankford meets kensington for those of you located in philly. This used to be a porn theatre. It closed down a year or so ago.....now I see why. I don't know about y'all but I don't know who is dumber. The muthafucker that mispelled the sign. Or the person that actually hung it up.

Do You.....

What it look like folk? Its been a minute since I blogged. Not much been crackalakin. I was gonna blog about Steve McNair(r.i.p) but couldn't find much to say about it. Oh, for those of you wondering and that have hit me up and asked, me and butterbear are getting it together. Thanks for your concern, or at least your nosiness disguised as concern. But let's get down to bidness. Shall we......

Disclaimer: in no way is this post meant to degrade any muslims or the religion of Islam....if you sensitive about that then curve.....

Take a look at the image above. That's Loon. The dude that used to rap with Ma$e and Diddy. Now his name is Amir Muhadith. He looks like a terrorist. He has just converted to islam and posted videos on youtube speaking on his conversion. This in and of itself is fine. Nothing wrong with a man(or woman) finding God and peace with religion. But why do people(black people in particular) have to take this shit off the deep end? The pic above is a screenshot from an interview he did on al jazeera. Now peep now on the left he is there in his sunni uniform. Al Jazeera deemed it necessary to do a split screen. On the right they ran clips from his videos. Videos of him grinding on pretty young tenders. Whith his shirt of. Consuming(or at least pretending to) alcohol. Not to mention the guy who interviewed him, most likely a life long middle eastern muslim, looked like he stepped fresh out of a wall street boardroom. Clean shaven, crisp suit, gel in the hair. Despite Loon, oops I mean Amir's best efforts to distance himself from his musical past, the reporter went as far as to request a rap. Bottom line? The reporter didn't buy what Loon was selling, no matter how tight his kufi or how long his beard.

Do you. This is a proclamation most commonly heard in hip hop circles. Most commonly it means for a person to do what comes natural to them. Basically be yourself. I've been noticing a regression in this attitude among my people. Especially in the inner city. Historically black people have been stripped of everything, from our language to our names. Most commonly these things were replaced with the names, languages, and religions of our opressors(gasp!!!! Yup even the muslims). So its kinda sad to see us in this day and age using these things to identify who we are as individuals. As I said, there is nothing wrong with being muslim, christian, jewish or anything else. But that shouldn't replace or sublant what or who you were before that.

Who am I? I'm a man. I could throw hundreds of adjectives before man. Black. Intelligent. Funny. Emotional. Sensitive. Fat. The list is long. But that's the core. Sure I could also wax poetic about my own perception of myself...but I won't. But the type of answers I hate are, I'm a father. Well I've only been that for 6 years. Was I nothing for the other 20? That doesn't identify anything about me. Its a part of what I think a man is(providing he has children). But that's not some proverbial bookend to where I begin or end. Because I DON'T begin or end.

So folk, friend, foe, readers. All I'm saying is you are more than a religion, a place, a job title, a degree etc. Our potential far exceeds that. When you limit youself to a title you limit your possibilities.

I'm out