MISS UNDERSTOOD

 

November 16, 2011

                 I once dated a woman who liked to wear a brown dress with the words MISS UNDERSTOOD written in bold white letters across the front. She was a really cute young lady; really provocative, and fast in her ways. She irritated me but she inspired me as well. I only got to hang out with her two times before our lives blew us in different directions. I think about her from time to time. Every now and then I Google her name to see what she’s been up to; what new art she has made, how she’s wearing her hair, and to check out the latest degree she’s working on.

                This girl was a real strange kind of beautiful. She was the kind I was never able to figure out. I am convinced that if I would have dated her consistently from then all the way until now, she would still be a sensual puzzle that I could never quite put together. But whatever we had fizzled out and it fizzled out quickly. I know for a fact she never thinks about me. It always feels slightly uncomfortable to know that someone has impressed upon your life 1,000 times more than you have impressed upon theirs. It’s like that awkward moment when you see someone from your past and you are excited to see them, only to discover that they either don’t remember you or don’t really care that you’re alive. Then you wish that you hadn’t even said anything at all.

                I once saw the young lady a few years after I met her walking toward a BART station in Berkeley, CA. She didn’t say hello to me. I wonder if she ever got a chance to read these words would she speak to me then.

-YB

What is Real?

August 30, 2011

I’ve wasted so much time obsessed with what I can’t do that it’s hard to believe. I have been so consumed by the trap that I was raised in that I don’t even think of freedom as a viable solution. I no longer need anyone to oppress me because I destroy most of my own dreams before they are ever even conceived. The mind can be a terribly wretched thing when it works the wrong way. Can anyone ever truly be inferior to another person? Can anyone ever really be hopeless? How often is a human being ever actually trapped? Even in prison a person can still dream. A person can still read. A person can still compose timeless letters. A person can still be in love.

I see men on the streets of Oakland, Berkeley, and San Francisco talking to them selves. I saw a friend of mine at the gas station by my house a few mornings ago looking beat down by life. I said hello and he asked to pump my gas. I was utterly crestfallen but I allowed him to do so. We talked. It was awkward. Even though I’m broke I gave him money. He smiled. I drove away and I vowed to never go back to that place again. A lot of these brothers appear to be too young and too strong to be out on the streets. The problem is that each one of them believed the hype. They believed that there lives were really hopeless and that their minds really weren’t worth holding on to.

I have staggered before and I will stagger again. At times I feel too jaded to shine and far too content with just getting by. It’s a proven fact that life can be very cruel and malicious but what other options do we have. If we are not living then what are we doing?

YB