THE RATIONAL POST – SLANG HUGH – ONE BALL ISN’T ENOUGH

Not Enough Balls…

Genius. Albert Einstein. Steve Jobs. Michael Jackson. Michael Jordan. Eccentric, rare and often misunderstood. Often dismissed as crazy.  In my opinion, crazy is a necessity for a genius.  Greatness isn’t forged from used molds.  It’s created with a unique spark, an uncanny ability to look not only recognize the Matrix but find a way to write new code. Make new rules.  Your own rules!
Now trailblazers aren’t responsible for the trees that are chopped down and left in their wake.  Their eyes and efforts are focused on the prize, clearing a new path.  Any damage caused is collateral.  It’s a path to the dream, and if you’re not on the yellow brick road, easing on down with the Dorothy the genius, then maaaan, fawk ya, let the wicked witch have your visionless ass.  Enemies will be made along the way.  Simply because the way one thinks is different from anyone else’s.  One man fits the criteria.  One man may be eligible for the title he has already bestowed upon himself.

Genius. Albert Einstein. Steve Jobs. Michael Jackson. Michael Jordan…. and LaVar Ball? Yes, you read that right LAVAR BALL!!! Is he polarizing? Yes. Is he off putting? Yes. Is he different? Unique?  Creating enemies? Blazing paths?  The answer is simple and it’s not A, B, or C.  It’d D ALL THE ABOVE.  YES!!

Is he a genius? Before I answer that question, let’s examine the man.

A black man in America, who has managed to raise, 3 sons who ALL have full scholarships to a top division 1 university. Not 1. 3! His eldest Lonzo is projected to be top 3 2018 NBA draft pick, after having a very successful year at UCLA.

Let me repeat, A Black Man in America!  The chips are already stacked again him and the bad cards have been dealt before he even sat at the table.  The big boys of the game already are looking at you with the “who are you again?” Face.  Yet Lavar boldly spits in that Face of authority while yelling “I need 2 billion!!”. To Nike. To Adidas. To Reebok. To whomever.

And while we laughed at this man and told him he was crazy.  He smiled and told himself he was a genius…a genius with a plan!! A father with a plan for his sons.  A blueprint for the empire!  Their empire!! Doing the very thing that any father should try to do.  Make a kingdom for their princes to one day rule over.  in the case of the royal Ball brother it’s not a crown they have been passed but a shoe company. Understand this, that $500 shoe – that even I will admit is a bit steep for my lower middle class pockets – is a crown jewel in the cap of King LaVar’s cap.   He has made his first born, the FIRST black athlete, not with his own shoe.  His own shoe Company!

The only draw back to genius is that its not recognized until results are shown. And the Ball family’s genius title rest heavily on the shoulders of its eldest son Lonzo. In the words of Skip Bayless, Lonzo has the target of a tattoo bigger than Lebron James’ “chosen one” emblazoned on his skin. Will he be able to carry that mantle? Will he be able to meet his father’s lofty expectations and predictions? Will he be better than Steph Curry and Lebron? Either way I’m not so sure he has to be THAT good, but he must be DAMN good!! But only time will reveal if the son truly must pay for the sins of the father.

As for the father, I often wonder what our real problem is with LaVar. Is it because he dares to defy the rules? Is it because we in the norm can’t comprehend what goes thru the mind of a mad man aka genius? Is it because we rarely see the image of a black man, demanding respect, commanding power, from those that he may be worthy to challenge, all while building a future for his family that is already making history? The irony is, he may be unworthy in the eyes of John Public, but in his mind and effort he is worthier than us, who dare to criticize. And that makes it clear to me, that there are not enough Balls in the world!

 

Genius. Albert Einstein. Steve Jobs. Michael Jackson. Michael Jordan. Eccentric, rare and often misunderstood. Often dismissed as crazy.  In my opinion, crazy is a necessity for a genius.  Greatness isn’t forged from used molds.  It’s created with a unique spark, an uncanny ability to look not only recognize the Matrix but find a way to write new code. Make new rules.  Your own rules!
Now trailblazers aren’t responsible for the trees that are chopped down and left in their wake.  Their eyes and efforts are focused on the prize, clearing a new path.  Any damage caused is collateral.  It’s a path to the dream, and if you’re not on the yellow brick road, easing on down with the Dorothy the genius, then maaaan, fawk ya, let the wicked witch have your visionless ass.  Enemies will be made along the way.  Simply because the way one thinks is different from anyone else’s.  One man fits the criteria.  One man may be eligible for the title he has already bestowed upon himself.

Genius. Albert Einstein. Steve Jobs. Michael Jackson. Michael Jordan…. and LaVar Ball? Yes, you read that right LAVAR BALL!!! Is he polarizing? Yes. Is he off putting? Yes. Is he different? Unique?  Creating enemies? Blazing paths?  The answer is simple and it’s not A, B, or C.  It’d D ALL THE ABOVE.  YES!!

Is he a genius? Before I answer that question, let’s examine the man.

A black man in America, who has managed to raise, 3 sons who ALL have full scholarships to a top division 1 university. Not 1. 3! His eldest Lonzo is projected to be top 3 2018 NBA draft pick, after having a very successful year at UCLA.

Let me repeat, A Black Man in America!  The chips are already stacked again him and the bad cards have been dealt before he even sat at the table.  The big boys of the game already are looking at you with the “who are you again?” Face.  Yet Lavar boldly spits in that Face of authority while yelling “I need 2 billion!!”. To Nike. To Adidas. To Reebok. To whomever.

And while we laughed at this man and told him he was crazy.  He smiled and told himself he was a genius…a genius with a plan!! A father with a plan for his sons.  A blueprint for the empire!  Their empire!! Doing the very thing that any father should try to do.  Make a kingdom for their princes to one day rule over.  in the case of the royal Ball brother it’s not a crown they have been passed but a shoe company. Understand this, that $500 shoe – that even I will admit is a bit steep for my lower middle class pockets – is a crown jewel in the cap of King LaVar’s cap.   He has made his first born, the FIRST black athlete, not with his own shoe.  His own shoe Company!

The only draw back to genius is that its not recognized until results are shown. And the Ball family’s genius title rest heavily on the shoulders of its eldest son Lonzo. In the words of Skip Bayless, Lonzo has the target of a tattoo bigger than Lebron James’ “chosen one” emblazoned on his skin. Will he be able to carry that mantle? Will he be able to meet his father’s lofty expectations and predictions? Will he be better than Steph Curry and Lebron? Either way I’m not so sure he has to be THAT good, but he must be DAMN good!! But only time will reveal if the son truly must pay for the sins of the father.

As for the father, I often wonder what our real problem is with LaVar. Is it because he dares to defy the rules? Is it because we in the norm can’t comprehend what goes thru the mind of a mad man aka genius? Is it because we rarely see the image of a black man, demanding respect, commanding power, from those that he may be worthy to challenge, all while building a future for his family that is already making history? The irony is, he may be unworthy in the eyes of John Public, but in his mind and effort he is worthier than us, who dare to criticize. And that makes it clear to me, that there are not enough Balls in the world!

– SLANG HUGH

Slang Hugh can be heard as part of the Podcast “The Man Dem” alongside Sir Toks –   and found on instagram @slanghugh 

Advertisement

The Rational Post – “The Gender Adjustment” – SLANG HUGH

International women’s day has just recently passed. And for 24 hours North America expressed its politically correct support of all things of the feminine gender. Insurmountable PDAs all over social media and WhatsApp statuses heralding the great accomplishments of the most beautiful species to ever grace our planet. And deservedly so. It had me thinking about how far women have come in the last few decades or so.

No longer do we look at them to be barefoot and pregnant, in the kitchen, making breakfast burritos and pancakes for hubby and the kids, all while breastfeeding lil junior. Now we expect her to do all of that and hold down a career. At least that what it seems like. It appears that our primitive perspectives on the abilities of women throughout history may have, ironically built us a social and ambitious Voltron. The perfect synergy of independence and responsibility, but is anything really perfect?

While this growth in humanity and equality should be more than applauded, and supported, we must recognize that there is some dry humor within this story of triumph. Or better yet confusion, gender role confusion.

In the rise of women to power, men and women seem to be baffled as to where they fit in each other’s lives. Men not too sure if the man that their father was, is now archaic and often the Neanderthal of this modern gender role mix era.   And women are unsure whether they can fulfill their obligations of job, relationship and children responsibly, while allowing a man to help with any of it. Yes our ladies may have gained a lot of freedom, and independence, but they may have sacrificed love and family to get it.

Women have made the most adjustments, but the juggling also effects the lions in the circus called relationship. We men have become bewildered with our own state. For years we were told to be more sensitive, caring.   Not to try and be so tough, it’s ok to cry etc. Some found it to be a tough transition. Others compromised what was once considered a natural stance to bend in for change.

The pendulum swing hasn’t fully come to a stop. We are stuck in a weird space where buying your woman a beautiful dress, makes you a gentlemen, but asking her where she going while wearing it makes you a pig. In a masculine purgatory of opening doors and respecting independence. While she just wants companionship but not the old fashioned ego that often comes with it. A man to be the head of the household but not the boss of her.

This leaves us in love purgatory, where neither of us can relate enough to make a relationship. A constant tug of war to see who runs things. All I hear about is men and women complaining about not being able to find a good opposite version of themselves to settle down with. Maybe it’s because we don’t’ know whether to “act” like men or women anymore? Maybe it’s because we don’t even know what a man and woman is supposed to act like? Perhaps there’s a middle ground that we are missing? One thing is for sure, we are in a transition period, what I like to call the gender adjustment. And if it’s up to cats like the brother Jaden Smith we will have no use for the word GENDER in the future.

-SLANG HUGH

Slang Hugh can be found on instagram @slanghugh

“I can’t Live Without My Radio” – the Rational Post – Slang Hugh

“I Can’t Live Without My Radio”

The club or the radio is no longer the place for good music… sorry let me rephrase that. The club or the radio is no longer a place for GREAT music.

You will get the music that makes you move or makes you feel good, and as long as you have that, the content quality is irrelevant. Most of the people can recite the simplistic lyrics they hear not because they can relate to them, but because they hear it 80 times a day. How many of us screaming “BALLIN”, have ever had a tennis ball size of dollars to waste never mind the basketball sized dreams we shoot every time that song comes on. When is the last time you saw an ounce of coke that wasn’t covered with a red and white swirling label, and yet you are singing with great commitment on how much “IN LOVE WITH THE COCO” you are.

It can be argued that this music is so popular because it allows the listener to escape their reality. Much like a Sci-Fi action movie it is the window into a world that we aren’t familiar with and therefore are excited for the experience. To some extent I agree with this idea. I get that playing a game of musical dress up can be fun. Hell when I was a kid I moonwalked like MJ or did the foot shuffle like James Brown. Dressed like Bugaloo Shrimp or shaved my head with ONYX. Yet those days of role play seemed much less harmful to its listeners. What’s the worst that could happen when we emulated Bobby Brown’s My Prerogative dance moves? a hard slap from mom for being a little too exuberant with the pelvic thrusts? Exactly compared to our heroes these major radio play artists are the Cobra Commanders to our Lt. Hawks and G.I. Joes. And it has a generation of kids growing up wanting to be just like the misogynist, greedy, money chasing, sexually explicit, drug paraphernalia totting, violent advocating, entitled artists they hear and see every day. We can easily apply those adjectives to our youth of today. And how can you blame the product of Drug talk and Dollar throwing for trying get rich or die trying. To want what they want despite consequence. And that’s not exclusive to the evil dollar it includes the opposite sex and sex in general.

Ya ya I know we had Prince and Marvin Gaye talking about sex right? Well Marvin wanted sexual healing “wake up wake up wake up, let’s make love tonight.” And Prince is the one that we know as the King of Dirty songs, one of his worse lines “Take me baby, kiss me all over/Play with my love/Bring out what’s been in me 4 far 2 long”. Now let’s fast forward to the 2000s to the current reigning queen of Hip Hop Nicki Minaj “This dude named Michael used to ride motorcycles/Dick bigger than a tower, I ain’t talking ’bout Eiffel’s/Real country-ass nigga, let me play with his rifle/Pussy put his ass to sleep, now he calling me NyQuil”. In fact forget the lyrics, check the song titles, The Dream’s “P***y”, Estelle’s “Make her Say (Beat it Up)”, then go listen to the songs, and you won’t be surprised.

And I don’t want to act like the golden years of urban music lacked the 2 live crews and NWAs. Sex, drugs and violence has been and will always be a good seller. We all like to hear the degradative music at times. We all want to let go and just be for moments in our lives. The problem is the balance! Or lack thereof. We have far too many Ja Rules and not enough Tupacs, overwrought with Blurred Lines, with What’s Going Ons, far and between!! I remember going to places like Party center and hearing Public Enemy mixed with Tribe Called Quest mixed with King Tee, mixed with En Vogue, and the list goes on. Nowadays the DJs seem to be all plugged in to one universal podcast, in which one artist performs the same song to the same beat that sometimes has a remix on every 3rd song. The creativity is gone in our music, the intelligence gone in our lyrics. Shoot half the time we can’t even understand the words being said, and that’s not due to them being too complex either.

All is not lost, like I said the good music is no longer on the radio or in the clubs but it is out there! As much as the internet has all but destroyed the record companies, it has created a platform for the most underground, fresh, different, and even weird music. Nowadays the good music isn’t handed to you. You have to put on your Indiana Jones hat and go searching for such treasures. You’re not going to find Joey Bada$$ at the top of the sand pile, you’re not going to discover a Drew Anthuny or Ro James without using a flashlight a little bit. Part of the problem is that we wait for the hipsters to dictate to us what we are allowed to like. In some ways the radio and record companies have transformed into these bloggers and cool kids on the net that blow up certain mainstream artists such as Bey, J, Ri, Drake etc. while the others are forgotten and therefore largely ignored by the masses. As usual many artist break through that glass ceiling and cultivate a strong following to propel them to at least B list celebrity. And sadly by that time they have been changed to maintain that status.

Same old soup warmed up a little bit and we slurp it right up. No one to blame but ourselves, the good music is out there, it’s just for us to seek it. Like most good things in life, you can’t attain it without some work, just ask that winter body girl with the summer body dreams.

– SLANG HUGH

Slang Hugh can be found on instagram @slanghugh

Check Out Slang Hugh with TOKS on the podcast The Man Dem – https://itunes.apple.com/ca/podcast/the-man-dem/id1144116291?mt=2itunes.apple.com

the RATIONAL POST by SLANG HUGH – “JUSTICE BY NUMBERS”

Picture this. You’re driving along on a warm spring evening, and you get a call from a friend. Your phone is attached to the Bluetooth so you press the answer button on you steering console and say hello. You, enjoying the convo so much that your foot effortlessly presses down on the gas, without you being the wiser. After all you’re just following the flow of traffic, and there’s a car slightly ahead of you, a lane over. And bam it happens, an officer appears out of the Wild Wild West, with the cowboy stance, cocked radar gun, and raised left hand that would command a deaf man to halt. “Shit”! You curse to yourself, “damn it, it is the end of the month, isn’t it?!”

Yea it’s the end of the month. Such a simple phrase, with such a complex foundation, when referring to law and order. It’s the end of the month, and the hunt was on. This was the time of the month where law abiding, everyday drivers, know to skate on thin ice, in the spring, with tank road wheels and tracks. We know that it’s the cop’s last chance to fulfill their offering to the almighty numbers. They must meet their requirements of justice by quota.

Justice by quota huh?   Think about that.

A police man or woman is required to write a certain amount of traffic tickets in a month. They don’t call it a quota of course, although the description of the practice is eerily similar. Justice by the numbers. And this is just for traffic tickets. Simple violations of speeding or driving with only one headlight are enforced largely, not for public safety but because someone has a boss to answer to. And he has a boss that answers to the almighty sum. And I get it, being in law enforcement is a job, and therefore somehow the employees must be held accountable. Yet it seems to me that we have made the mistake of grossly accepting what is, as what is should be.

Law and order have been casted in a Sesame Street like cartoon skit, in which the digits on a paper come alive and belt out a catchy sing a long lesson of how to hit citizens with fines and suspensions.   And I say again, that’s just traffic tickets. If on what we could consider the base level of law enforcement, traffic laws appear to be, then imagine what is done on the higher levels, such as robbery or even murder. Are we to believe that the detectives aren’t told to solve a certain amount of robberies within a certain time frame? Are we to believe that the homicide division has no parameters or time expectations attached to their occupation? That would be as ridiculous as thinking that because the team leader, at the call center you work in, no longer has to take calls, he/ she no longer has to listen to and grade a certain amount of calls.  The jobs and requirements change but both still co-exist. Any job you can think of comes with bosses and quotas to please them.

The big difference between that call center job and being a police person is stress and obligation. The weight of a city’s safety is far more Herculean to lift than Mr. Thompson’s smartphone bill. But the only difference between the traffic cop and the homicide detective is the degree of difficulty. It’s much easier to find a speeder than it is a murderer, unless of course you’re forced to find a guilty culprit in both scenarios. It’s no surprise that prisons are filled with those who claim to be innocent. What is more of a secret, is that many actually are. See the numbers are there to make sure the lazy guy in the call center takes as many calls as the diligent worker. What makes you think that being in the employ of the city or government is any different? Connect the dots. If someone’s pay check and therefore, rent, mortgage, food, clothing, and overall well-being is dependent on them meeting certain numeric ideals set by their superiors, in most cases, that someone will do what it takes to keep their job. And in some cases, that someone will do anything to fulfill their obligations!

I remember an HBO show called The Wire, which I deemed the most realistic cop show ever made. So real that it depicted the members of the police force as quite simply, complex humans. Some felt the call to duty, others simply felt the need of a pay check. And in both cases not all were on a noble journeys to do better for civilian or family. Hierarchal Pressure, mixed with prejudice, and systematic oppression leads to innocence being tarnished by numbers at the hands of officers. If you have a quota and time limit to meet, damn sure the not so empathetic amongst the Police force will grab up the first person that “fits the description”. If you need to keep food on your table, you may not feel right doing it but it’s not farfetched that you may plant a couple grams here and there. And I’m trying to paint a picture of corruption, although it does exist.   I’m speaking of the guy who doesn’t want to harass the teenager on the street, but he knows doing so might give him a better chance at finding something and bolster his arrest record and then result in him moving up in rank eventually, than speaking to the kid and getting to know him, so that he doesn’t have to feel like all cops are enemies tends to become a less desirable option. This leads to a stigma and wide gap between Police and public relations.

I’m a 40 something black male, who’s lived in Toronto and the suburb of Brampton my whole life, never committed a crime, but have never encountered a Policeman in a situation of positivity.   And I’ve been stopped by police for everything from traffic violations to drug trafficking. Of the former I may have been guilty, of the latter never. The system is flawed based on the idea that justice and what’s right can be defined in quantity and not quality. It should never be reduced to how many tickets and suspects can be tallied.

By no means is this a bashing of the brave men and women who put on that uniform every day and literally risk their lives doing a job I’d never even consider. This is about the system in which they operate. And how it operates.   People are not numbers, and their treatment or justice shouldn’t be looked at through a calculator screen. To me the math is simple, but to them it may just be…numbers.

– SLANG HUGH

*SLANG HUGH can be heard alongside TOKS as part of  the podcast “THE MAN DEM”. https://itunes.apple.com/ca/podcast/the-man-dem/id1144116291?mt=2itunes.apple.com  

He can also be found on instagram @slanghugh

“ONCE WERE KINGS” – THE RATIONAL POST by SLANG HUGH

I looked at the magazine with the bold title that stated Black History Month emblazon across it with an inviting font for any who wished to learn or reeducate.  It wasn’t a very big magazine, in fact it was closer to a pamphlet, or if I was to be more flattering of its size I’d say it was children’s book thick.  if this collection of pictures and words was a woman it would’ve known I was lying and either slap me for being so rude, or walk away at such an exaggeration about her mediocre frame.  But this piece of history, my history, was inanimate and couldn’t rightfully respond to my thought in kind. Instead it just laid there.  At first I was bothered by the meager size.  Don’t judge the book by its cover, I know, but the lack of mass made me not only judge, but executioner in that moment.  I already was dreading the lack of a true and full history, awaiting me on the interior.  As I stared at the cover, wondering if I should even bother waking the black hulk inside of me, with what I believed to be the prejudged annoyance that laid between those sheets, I noticed something else.  There was a picture of what seemed to be a young black woman’s eyes.  The pic was black and white but I made what I consider a great discernment that she was black.   Perhaps it was the title that sparked this Sherlock Holmes like brilliance.  What I also discovered through my magnified psyche was what the young lady’s eyes said.   They were sad and in, what I saw, as pain.  Instantly I felt sorry for her without even knowing her story.  I imagined that if that cameraman had pulled back 3 or 4 feet, I’d find a scene from one of those “Adopt an African child, for a $1 a day commercials”.  Complete with the “Arms of an Angel” crooning of Annie Lennox, soundtrack to help drive home the disparity.   And then it hits me.  Is this what black history looks like? Is this what we consider a positive representation of black people, in a month that is said to celebrate them? Sad, pitiful and in need of help? Downtrodden, poor and in tears? Is this the poster child of Black History Month?

I’m not one to believe in the necessity of a black history month period.  Black history should be as celebrated as any other history, and treated with the same respect.   It should be taught in schools, with just as much focus as other cultures.    The John F. Kennedy story can’t be told without the Martin Luther King part.  Just as the story of Martin shouldn’t be left without a reference to Gandhi finding inspiration in him.  This should be year-round and not regulated to a month.  My history is not any more important than yours, and it’s not any less important! But fine, February is the month, come and gone, and of course I understand why. There’s is a void and perhaps for now this is the most sand we can get to fill this black hole. The world is more concerned with what is than what should be.  So, February is the closest you’ll ever get to a 40 acres and mule.

All I’m asking is, must the mule be old and sick? And does the 40 acres have to be in the desert?!?!? Our history did not begin with slavery! I know I know, that’s one of those “we all know this” things, right?  Well apparently, the publishers and writers of this book, I mean magazine, I’m sorry pamphlet failed to recognize.  Why not a picture of a great Egyptian Pharaoh on the front? Or how about Mansa Musa the richest black man ever!! Estimated the 4th richest man in history! Like the movie about one of our greatest we “Once We’re Kings”! But why do we seem to have to be regulated to a story that starts with us in chains rather than adorned in gold ones when the story is relayed?  Nothing about Nat Turner’s revolt or the Maroons rebellion against their enslavers. No mention of the strength and resilience the people of that time really showed. Our history didn’t end with civil rights either!! I know I know more redundant facts from Slang Hugh huh?  But the photographer for this cover seems to need a reminder.   Hey why not let a regal picture of great inventor George Washington Carver, or the beauty of the brave Viola Desmond, the Canadian Rosa Parks, grace the cover?  Or how about representing our present victories such as business magnate Michael Lee Chin?

I wish I could tell you that I opened the book and the first pages made this entire blog entry unnecessary.  I wish I could say that.  But as predicted the sigh barely had time to rest in between my fears and actuality.  The actuality, was that the fears were warranted.  Page 1 to 5 of a 15-page booklet was about slavery and the underground railroad, which brought many blacks to Canada.  Such a rich and monarchial his and her story reduce to whips, chains, and brutal fights for freedom. And with that I have a simple request.  Well simple to me.    Keep the little girl for the cover, but next time have her smiling and in a strong stance with her black fist up in pride!  Because despite all that struggle you printed on pages 1 through 5, Page -100 to 0 would show why we were strong enough and proud enough to not only survive but thrive!!  And that is truly BLACK HISTORY.

THE RATIONAL POST – SLANG HUGH week one – KIDULTHOOD

Perhaps we are too awake to dream.

We have all dreamed as kids. Ambitions of being firemen, joining the police force, or even being a superhero were a natural part of our youthful existence. Some of us simply want a family, to be a mother or a father one day and raise dreamers of our own. These dreams tend to drive us for a great portion of our adolescence. Often growing bigger and stronger than a tree when planted in fertile soil. Immovable, due to that soil being our naïve and young minds. Maybe it’s that in our development years we are still somewhat asleep. I don’t mean literally, although that may be true, because we sleep a lot more as children, which probably contributes to this theory, but figuratively. Our eyes are partially closed to the world at large.

Especially to the negativity, to the idea that some things are impossible. Or that gender, color, race, and economics are obstacles we can’t overcome. We don’t even fathom these to be rules at those ages. I mean I used to tie a bed sheet around my neck and believe I was as strong as Superman and could fly. It was only my parents’ strong Jamaican accent telling me “Stop the foolishness!” that would wake me from my cognizant slumber devoid of reality. We benefit from not really knowing what is expected of us, gain from the lack of practical responsibility, and thrive from simply not knowing that it’s possible to fail.

So we fly, we pretend, we imagine, we play, and we have fun with our lives. To us in those early stages the math is simple, if you want to run, you run! You want to jump, you jump! Oh you’re bored? Go play!

Somewhere along the lines we grow up and the simple addition and subtraction becomes trigonometry. The weed of practicality invades our mental greenhouse and blocks our dream tree from the sun until it not only stops growing but becomes almost non-existent. Whether in school where we are basically taught to defer our dreams for good careers and credit. Or at home, where our parents dreams becomes our own and our will to make them proud make our dreams become more and more lofty and sometimes unattainable. With age and responsibility we lose the fiery enthusiasm. Do you remember what it was like to fall in love with something as a child, or even as a teenager? How much you threw yourself into dancing, or sports, or drawing, or gimp!? I would spend what seemed like hours playing basketball, trying to do the same move I saw on TV the night before. Or literally days perfecting memorizing lyrics I wrote so I could rap them over the phone with my peers.

At the time I didn’t realize it but it was my ambitions, my goals, more accurately my dreams that fueled the vehicle for perfection. It wasn’t work then, it was just doing what felt right, what felt good. Eventually our dreams become similar to our physical flexibility, you stop trying to touch your toes and after a while you can barely even see them without feeling a great strain. And rather than go to the gym we grab another bag of chips and go right back to the couch. And in sets the defeat.

See the cycle? Somewhere someone gave us the idea that if we haven’t achieved certain dreams by a certain age then, quite frankly, you are a failure!! And that is simply a lie! Hence why SO many adults are walking this earth with a black cloud on a string. Carrying around their failures like a pet on a leash, who shits all over the place and not only do you not poop and scoop but you step in it and drown yourself in the crap. This is no way to live, and a sure way to die while still living! Many zombies walk this earth way before Walking Dead was scripted.

Now I’m no expert. In fact I’m writing this from the perspective of a man who has lost his dreams along the way, and I’m currently trying to find them again. And probably like some of you reading this it’s hard to believe that my desires are still attainable. Like many of you I’ve had others give words of encouragement and while I listened, inside I was rolling my eyes eagerly waiting for the conversation to be over, so I can go back to NOT LIVING. Or I’d have excuses that I was convinced were valid reasons ready to fire back in defense. I simply no longer could wrap my mind around how I was going to be an adult and fulfill my childhood ambitions at the same time. I’m starting to realize that the answer to that is in the issue.

Dream as a child and act as an adult.

A child will think of doing something and go and do that very thing immediately, without considering the consequences, but their attention is easily switched when something more enticing comes along. An adult will take their time, plan their steps and act accordingly, provided it suits their needs. You have to find a way to combine the two.

Act on your dream….NOW, while planning for the outcome of success. The math is simpler than we care to believe. The steps which are only three fold to me. Find your dream, prepare for it and then make it reality. You may not have the money to take your model portfolio pictures but you have a camera phone, and a mirror to practice every day until you get the money. You may not have the resources to start a business, but have you asked a store owner how they got started? You may want to lose a few pounds but can’t stop eating that pizza, have you joined a gym yet? We have to stop making excuses for the way we CHOOSE to live and make the CHOICE to LIVE!!

They say life is about the pursuit of happiness, but to me it’s more about the pursuit itself. Happiness comes in progression.

Dare to dream as a child but act as an adult.