I think I'm just getting too old...

This morning I woke up and set up Valentine's Day presents around the house for my wife and two kids. I did this this morning because I wanted them to wake up to this. To bring a smile to their faces. To carry whatever warmth my gifts might bring, with them through the day, as life does it's best to wear you down from sunup to sundown.

Out of the three of them only my daughter went through her gifts. Yes, it caused her to run a little behind for school but she knew what she got and thanked us for the gifts. She took the card I gave her and read it in the car again and again until she had sounded out all the big words and was saying them easily. And then when we walked into her school she happily went into her day and joined the ranks of screaming kids passing out candy. This morning, my son had the same amount of time on his hands as my daughter. When I pointed out his gifts, just gifts, that had nothing to do with Valentine's Day (he's a teen boy, after all) he grunted, took the peanut butter cups and left the rest sitting exactly where it was. I asked my wife if she opened her gifts and she said she had had no time and that she will open them this evening.

Such is life. I don't believe my good intentions were wasted. I gave in the spirit of giving. I'm only slightly saddened that neither of them took the time to receive what I hope is my good cheer. Many, including my wife, would argue that Valentine's Day is a silly day. But it's an opportunity (aside from all the retail gluttony) to show and share your love. But I've been guilty of doing the same myself from time to time. Not having enough time. Being focused on the requests of strangers. Making sure I get everything I need to get done outside home until I'm so drained I don't have the emotional capacity to acknowledge what going on in my home. But ultimately it's the little things that give you the strength to combat the big things. Today I will take a page from my daughter's book and try to focus on the little, happy, silly things that make the world go 'round.

Happy Valentine's Day.

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Thoughts? Please, let me know in the Facebook or Disqus comment sections below.

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Thoughts? Please, let me know in the Facebook or Disqus comment sections below.

When my wife is out I worry, not about what she is doing or who she is with, but whether or not she is safe. But rarely have I properly expressed this concern. Meaning I usually am a complete grouch by the time she gets in. She picks up on my bad attitude immediately and things have traditionally devolved from there. That is, if she even makes it home without me blowing up her phone to demand where she is. The latter action usually only happens if it really begins to get late. Regardless of the reason, neither of us have gone to bed happy.

But I'm a different person now (long story on this another time).

Recently my wife was out at a networking dinner with her associates and I did everything that I always do: cleaned the house and put the kids to bed (well I made the big one go to bed). But I added a couple steps:

I'm not the guy with my arms out...

I've been blessed to not suffer from writer's block. But I can be distracted from writing like nobody's business. April was a month that knocked me on my you know what. It was a time of change, some good, some bad. Either way, all of it came together to prevent my brain from focusing that much on Makes Me Wanna Holler.

And here they are in no particular order:

Boxing: Not so much boxing but remolding my schedule to fit that of someone who works out --- intensely. This covers everything from what I've been eating, when I've been eating, what I've taken out of my diet, and when I sleep. I've actually had to start sleeping to get a decent night's rest in order to function. You'd think this would be obvious, but bad habits learned over the last four years of my daughter's life has made the obvious not so clear.

My Wife: As the woman I've pledged my love to immerses herself more and more into her MBA program and starts telling more econ and statistics jokes, more and more of the responsibilities here at home are piling up on me. I've gone from being Dad, to House Administrator. All I do these days is tell little people what to do, drive them around and feel like I'm going in circles in the process. I've even begun to start cooking again --- something I did daily and effortlessly as a bachelor. Now, I've either knock a meal out of the park or I sit at the head of the table with my kids looking at me like, "Why are you feeding me this?" Then once I get everyone to bed I have all the time I need to dig into the pressing matters of my own life. I take a deep breath, crack my knuckles and pass out for the night.

Photography: I booked 3 gigs between the end of March and the month of April. Easy enough on the shooting end, not so easy on the editing end. The beautiful thing about my relationship with photography is that each photo session is leaps and bounds better than the last one, but then I have to still deal with the one before it, trying to exact perfection and spending a lot of time doing it. I'm also building another blog and doing it very very slowly.

The Future: This one comes up daily. I spend a lot of time thinking of my family and what we're going to be doing in the next six to eight months.

My New Smartphone: I am not a proponent of smartphones. Being connected at all times is something I've always dreaded. My wife decided to switch my plan to hers and get me the same new shiny smartphone she has. She told me I didn't have to use all the features if I didn't want to...Like that was going to happen...after a week of staring at the box and holding on to my old phone which was duct taped together, it took all of a day for me to connect my new phone to everything I do online. Now it rings and sends me notifications constantly. And I'm too weak to ignore it.

AAU Basketball: It was my idea to have my son try out for AAU basketball in his age group. I wanted him to play on a competitive level. I wanted him to actually try out for a team. Something he has yet to do at his high school (they just sign up). He made the team, he's practicing two nights a week and playing four games each weekend. Sometimes the games are back to back. Sometimes, there are huge lags of time in between. Sometimes they are all under one roof. Sometimes they are located no less than 20 miles from home. My goal was to wear him out. It didn't dawn on me that the same would happen to me.

My Son: If I ever thought I was running out of material for this blog, all I had to do is sit still for a couple days and let my son simply exist. Over the course of this past month, even with the revelation that he may be learning disabled, this boy has given me enough material to blog about until Father's Day. Just to catch you up: I currently own all his time. His cell phone hours are restricted. And the door to his room is missing (I took it down). Why? Because my son has decided in his infinite teenage wisdom that since he doesn't like school, he's simply going to stop participating in it. He had it all figured out. He'd be social instead. He blamed everyone for his shortcomings --- from teachers to fellow students to that creature named I Don't Know. And then his grades came in. A horrific piece of paper I affectionately call his Concerto in F Flat. Not for lack of understanding, but rather lack of effort as in not turning in homework or showing up to class. And he's become a victim of the very technology (emails and IMs) that led him to believe he could pull a fast one and not get caught. This past Monday I sent out 10 emails to his teachers and received about 20 in return. He's not a bad boy, he's actually pretty well behaved. He's just misdirected. Stay tuned for the redirection.

Stay tuned for the blogging...


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In the last ten years...

• The movie, Spider-Man, made all my daydreams about superheroes visually plausible.

• Batman Begins and Dark Knight made real for me the notion that a man with no superhuman abilities could don a costume and will himself to be a force against crime (if you can get past the fact that his billionaire status completely exposes him to be Batman) and that a crazy person (Heath Ledger's Joker) could easily exist in today's times.


• Daniel Craig returned to the 007 franchise the brutality, swagger without schtick, and fine tailoring that disappeared from under our noses once Sean Connery departed the role of James Bond.

And now there's Avatar...

Now that the Oscars have run their course and everyone who was supposed to win has, I feel comfortable in speaking out about my love for this movie. Is the story one that we've seen or heard before? Yes. Were the Na'vi a very obvious sampling (or celebration) of all the indigenous and aboriginal Indian peoples of Earth? Yes. Should James Cameron have given credit where credit was due? Where? In the credits? For all who were up in arms about this movie I have one thing to say...Sci-Fi. Other than the Western European ideology of Eminent Domain and the violence it breeds and the classic science might vs. military might clashes, there was very little that was real about this movie --- from the Robotech derived military exo-suits, to the impossibly large gunship, to the blue (translucent at night) people who were described as being ten feet tall but looked closer to fifteen in most of the scenes with humans, to all that beautiful scenery and all those ugly, UGLY animals.

This movie was so unreal that while watching it the first time, it took me nearly a quarter of the movie for my mind to accept what it was seeing. Suspension of disbelief at the movies has never taken me so long. But then there was the love. And the love was real.

I absolutely loved this movie. I loved everything about it. I loved the celebration of simple living. I loved the visually stunning landscapes and airscapes (if there is such a thing). I loved the love story that evolved between Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) and Neytiri (Zoe Saldana), even though it was totally obvious from the very beginning. I LOVED watching her fight for her man. I LOVED that she loved him fiercely and with no drama.

Was the dialog complex? No. But I don't know how complex a conversation can be between people who speak different languages, let alone aliens. (Some of my best conversations ever were had in Brazil when I could barely put a sentence together in Portuguese).

For me, Avatar was a movie that allowed me to escape into a life of simplicity I'm not sure I'll ever know and see through the eyes of someone else. Kind of like an Avatar. I recently saw it again after having seen it just two weeks earlier. It was like watching it the first time. It didn't drag for a second and I didn't sit though a single scene haughty because I knew what was going to happen next. It was like seeing it brand new all over again. And amazingly, I want to see it again. Something I never want to do while a movie is still in theaters. I simply can't get enough of it.

For being able to do that writer and director, James Cameron nailed it. Without seeing or reading about it, it was obvious to me that this was the story he had in his heart, the one that had to wait for all his other movies to be made first. There's a story like that inside of me. It's been in my head since 1985. At the end of this blog and all the other projects cooking in my head I hope and pray I get to share it one day.

But despite all this and maybe because of it, Avatar was no Hurt Locker. There is no comparison whatsoever, nor should there be. Why we force creative forces to compete alongside one another will never make sense to me. Nor will making real world arguments against sci-fi/fantasy movies that are about as real as a teenage boy getting bitten by a radioactive spider and instead of dropping dead instantly, he wakes up the next day and transforms himself into the one of the most powerful superheroes ever.

For a great take on all that was Oscar please visit the craziest dad I know, Jason Mayo is Outnumbered for his Oscars Through Interpretive Dance.


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Please forgive the bad grammar of this post title, but my son inspired it and right now he's the only person who can get me so twisted up that I abandon the grammar my momma ingrained in me.

I passed my old iPod Touch down to my son because he pulled his grades up for the 2nd quarter of high school. And he has it as long as he continues to pull his grades up. He has moved quickly to customize it to his tastes --- deleting my jazz and my daughter's sing-a-long music while asking to upload a few current cuts that he likes (and we don't).

I'm pretty open about the music as long as it's not outrageously obscene or disrespectful. I only allow for radio edits when available and I do my best to filter everything else. This is what happened when my son asked me to download, I Invented Sex by current R&B pop (and I mean pop) star Trey Songz:

Mom: No way.

Son: Huh, why not?

Mom: Are you kidding me? I can't control what you listen to at school or wherever but I'm not promoting a 14 year old boy listening to a song called I Invented Sex.

Son: But what did you do when you were young and listening to songs about sex.

Me: They didn't make that kind of music (I choked on the word) when we were coming up. They didn't even make it ten years ago. And it definitely didn't get airplay because of the FCC regulations. But you know these days people are desperate to do anything that will keep their record sales up.

Son: Oh.

Me: You know he's---

Son: (cutting me off) ...bisexual. I just like the beat.

Me: (Sigh) I was going to say he's being clowned on the Internet by real women. There's a blogger, named Denene Millner, who spoke out strongly against Trey Songz in a post called Boy Please. His ridiculousness in suggesting to the little girls that their only value was between their legs and little boys that they are porn stars which, by most accounts, most women will say most men (no matter the age) are not.

My son nodded his head and said he understood this.

Me: Besides if some little girl doesn't know enough to respect herself ---

Son: (cutting me off again) --- hey if she doesn't that's not my problem.

You could hear a pin drop in my living room except for my daughter usual evening ramblings. I can't say I haven't thought or even uttered the same words myself in my early and maybe late twenties. But I was grown and dealing with irresponsible adults.

Me (sternly, now glowering at my son): Don't be a jerk.

His mother lit into him about being the product of a family made up predominantly of women (on her side) and the fact that he wasn't raised that way, and that he had a mother and a sister under the same roof.

Mom: If a girl throws herself at you, you walk away. You can set an example. Everyone looks up to you, you can set the bar wherever you want it.

Me: Where is all this stupidness coming from, the football team? Because that can be remedied real quick.

Son: Hey, blame it on high school (that suburban oasis he attends where everyone is doing their best to be a tough guy or a playboy - although this happens at most high schools).

The wife and I both took turns educating and tearing into him for the next several minutes. He disappeared into his room and didn't emerge for a couple of hours.

The conversation with the boy who will be man continues...

Unlike Trey (Wack) Songz and the rest of his contemporaries competing for the most irresponsible and unhealthy lyrics ever, there are some men left who are clear on the fact that they didn't invent sex. Clear on the idea that it's best not to kiss and tell and certain that the best lovemaking takes two --- not one little boy singing about being a jackhammer on some inexperienced girl in a bed made of cheap materials. Some men actually like women who know what they're doing, who are comfortable in their skin, who are their match and then some. Some of us (yeah, I'm including myself in this group) know that true lovemaking is about giving love and being humble enough to let your guard to truly let the love flow, with little to no concern as to whether the love flows back. It might hurt if it doesn't but that doesn't stop this category of men from try, try, trying again. They're every color of the rainbow and they lurk quietly in plain sight, unnoticed by most.

In direct contrast to Trey (Wack) Songz, the singer below doesn't need to sing about headboard-breaking or how skilled he is in the sack. All he does is pour his heart out (like warm honey) all over the woman he's singing to or fantasizing about. This is a dude who gives and asks for forgiveness when he's wrong (just like this uber-wrong video I've posted below). Humility is at the core of his game and his cup is filled and overflowing with love. I've never been mad at this dude for being who he is. I'm actually willing to admit I've taken notes, for better or worse.



It's a travel day for me, folks. I won't be back online until late today (maybe). So if you post and I don't respond, don't take it personal.

Peace.

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Happy Valentine's (Love) Day!

If music plays as much of a role in your life as it does mine then please enjoy the playlist below as a token of my appreciation to you. Enjoy your day with the one you love or if that's not the case in your life then please enjoy the day enjoying all the fruits and treasures in your life.

For all you lovers out there please read this, then add the playlist below.

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Ever heard the R. Kelly song, If I Could Turn Back The Hands of Time?

If you haven't you can read the lyrics here.

I wrote a book of poetry and short stories way back when. Contained on many of its pages are one lamentation after the other, forlorn, unrequited blah blah. Over the years people have told me how profound it is and how it speaks to them, or to a relationship they once had.

I was having a conversation with someone the other day about the book and it's contents. How it was compiled based on poems and short stories I wrote between the ages of 18 to 23. How if I had it to do all over again, I wouldn't. Not the book, but the experiences that served as motivation for many of the stories.

Even more, if I could travel through time now as grown-man E.Payne I'd be waiting for fresh faced E.Payne at every turn...

• When he opened the closet door in his dorm room, I'd be there to jump out to smack some sense into him.
• When he went to turn on his car to go driving off into the night to stalk a former lover, to plead at her window that she was the only one for him, the car wouldn't start because I'd arrive five minutes earlier to cut every single wire and tube under the hood.
  
• When he hatched some cockamamie scheme such as writing a script to read on the phone to that special someone who was no longer speaking to him. I'd turn the desk over and rip up the paper.
• When he got dressed in his best Willi Wear rayon ridiculousness to go to a party so he could maybe create a chance moment with the one who used to be his, I'd pop out of the underwear drawer, choke fresh-faced E.Payne out, dump a pile of VHS tapes all over him and make him stay home, keep him company and we'd watch some good movies. And then I'd go back further.
  
• In high school when fresh faced E.Payne opened his locker, I'd explode out of it and kick him up and down the hallways, throw him down a few of the iron staircases and beat him with his backpack until he begged me to stop. And when he would ask me why I was doing what I was doing I'd simply say, "You're too good to suffer the disrespect that is waiting for you in Algebra and Social Studies. You don't need to stay up nights listening to Sade, wondering why girls would rather have a bad guy who can't put a sentence together and only wants them for their bodies, to a decent fellow like you. There's nothing wrong with you. You wear glasses, that's all. Your parents are a little on the strict side but only because they love you. Don't do what I did. Don't change your outward appearance thinking people will accept you because they won't and when you realize this it's going to hurt like fire. And then you'll embrace what you knew all along, it's what's inside that counts. Don't hate yourself because you don't think anyone loves you. Love your God and love yourself and don't worry about what you can't control. Live everyday to the fullest, enjoy the little things, but stay mindful of the big picture." Then fresh-faced E.Payne, bloodied and broken, would say to me, "But aren't you me? How am I supposed to know what you know if I don't live as you did?" I would stare into my younger eyes, sigh, click my heels and disappear.

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Recently, a few single friends of mine have thrown an interesting question my way. It wasn't what I expected --- the usual, "Why did you get married?" Instead it was, "How did you get married?" I guess in 2009 seeing someone you like, having sex with them and dealing with the fallout of having gone to bed with a psychopath just isn't what it used to be anymore. If it was ever anything to begin with.

Getting back to that question. It definitely posed a challenge because I honestly never thought about it. I didn't make a conscious effort to have someone fall in love with me. I didn't plan on getting married nor work to find the woman who would say I do. But as I think back what I did do was to stop taking myself seriously. Completely.

Better put, I stopped giving a you know what about what anyone thought of me. I don't know what brought it on. I distinctly remember waking up on the morning of my 28th birthday and not caring anymore. I just got tired of it. I still dressed to impress, but I sought to impress no one but myself. I didn't sweat not having the things I thought I should have, I developed an immediate appreciation for the things I did have. Life became a beautiful thing that I was able to clearly see. I published a horribly edited book of my poetry and short stories. I gave notice at a job that made me absolutely miserable and landed a new one within a week of handing in my resignation letter. I learned to laugh at myself, with myself and for myself. I actually became quite self-centered after liberating myself from the whims of others. But none of this meant I was a eunuch. When it came to the women I had a simple requirement for relations(hip): she had to be able to laugh with me, at me and at herself. She also had to be able to put a sentence together and not leave her house not looking like who did it and ran, but that's a another story for another time.

Truth is folks, I've let time and circumstances chip away at this freedom I once basked in. This past Thanksgiving I had a chip on my shoulder the size of Texas (shout out to all my Texan readers) because I did the very thing I'm saying not to do here --- I let the thoughts and subsequent actions of others bother me. My daddy blogging brother from another mother, Outnumbered Is Jason Mayo, wrote an excellent, but depressing post, The Saddest Thing I've Ever Heard, about the decline of laughter from childhood to adulthood. I'm going to take up his challenge and laugh in the face of all the crap life throws my way. I can't holler all the time.

I've never been above random outbursts of silliness. Typically music has been at the source of these incidents. As a child who began playing piano at the age of six, music has always been intrinsic to my life. And with music comes the dancing.

That's right, the dancing.

I'm that guy who knows how to dance thanks to cotillions, step shows, school assemblies, etc.. But I'm the guy who chooses not to. I like to have fun with music, any and all kinds.

Such as the theme music to the original Taking of Pelham One Two Three:



I did about 7 more takes of this, but my wife liked this one the best. Especially the part where I was rolling around on the floor.

Yes, folks, I was THAT guy in the club and made no bones about it. If a woman was too uptight to be bothered with my very obvious antics, then it was her loss, plain and simple. When my wife and daughter saw this video they both were curled up together laughing until they cried. That's what I'm talkin' about.

If the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, the way to a woman's is definitely through laughter.

My bottom line to the single set and us tight, stiff, serious married people with children - know that it's okay to be light and be silly, even stupid, from time to time and make sure you're with someone who is able to do the same or at least appreciate you for being that way.

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Before this week is over my family and I will all be under the same roof once again after a long-feeling, but short in duration, summer spent apart.

• My 14 year-old, high school freshman, J.V. football playing son, will be hidden from view behind the door of his room embracing his Xbox 360 Live fighting online with his friends and refusing to show his face accept to raid the refrigerator.


• My daughter's daily activities will most like not be disrupted by her return home: watching a little bit of Noggin; coloring; drawing; counting; spelling; beginner's reading; demanding everything under the sun; and telling me what to do at every turn, despite the fact that I tell her she sounds rude and not like Daddy's Baby Girl (I'm not sure she gets it yet --- or cares).


• My wife and I will begin a new journey and chapter in our nine-year saga together as we head into the final days of our second year of marriage; celebrate (hopefully) both our birthdays in September; move into a bigger, but still temporary dwelling that will serve us all a little better in comfort, if not price; and move forward, doing our best to work together versus whatever it was we were doing this summer and have been doing for as many months as I can remember (just keepin' it real, folks).

This summer was a painful one for me. It was also quiet and at times lonely. At one point or another and at times overlapping each other...

• I didn't see my son for a month and a half.


• I didn't see my daughter for nearly two months.


• I didn't see my wife for three weeks.

When these incidents overlapped I found myself with a tremendous amount of time on my hands. With no job and a crumbling self esteem, I wasn't sure at first what to do. I almost felt paralyzed to move without the wife or some kid in tow. But alone with my thoughts I involuntarily began to deconstruct my life in an effort to make sense of it --- the life I lived when none of these other people comprised my life and the life I now live with them. My primary question was, how the hell did I end up as the head of a household? Am I doing enough? What am I not doing right? Why can't I do more? Are my kids happy? Is my wife happy? Am I happy?

After several days of solitude I discovered it is the answer to this last question that is the key to answering all the rest.

On this blog, I've made several mentions of being unemployed, I've even lamented about it. But I haven't talked about how much I love to sit down to crank out my posts from one day to the next (it's almost like a drug). I didn't mention the joy that overcame me when I took an introductory Adobe Dreamweaver class in July and discovered that as a result of blogging I've inadvertently taught myself HTML and CSS (and didn't really need to take the class). Or how the photos I've been posting lately come naturally to me. Or how an established artist pulled me aside to tell me I've missed my calling as a photographer and need to start taking classes yesterday. This summer and long since before then, I've focused on what isn't and overlooked what is.

My solitude was like a blank sheet of paper the size of a football field. I got to sit in the middle of it, look out across it, and retrace my steps while planting new ones. I vowed to do my best to relearn and embrace what it means to be me.

In July, I lost 10 pounds. In August, I traveled alone to Atlanta after having a fight with my wife that would've sent most men to their divorce lawyers or jail (just keeping it real), reconnected with old friends, both male and female, went to dinner (alone), attended an arts festival (alone), frequented a couple of bars, and visited a few schools (a scouting expedition for the kids), relied upon the kindness of strangers more than once as I was rained on repeatedly, attended a film fest, and in sum had a blast and managed to stay out of trouble the entire time I was there given what I left and what was waiting for me back home.

In August, I traveled to every corner of the five boroughs of New York, abandoning my distaste for burning gas and ungluing myself from my fear of going places alone if going alone meant doing the things I wanted to do versus sitting at home waiting for a friend to make time for me (which I did at first). I went to restaurants, bars, get-togethers, a play, cinema under the stars, street fairs, green markets and a couple of friends' author events. I eventually connected with friends who got on the same page with me and had some really great conversations.

In August (yesterday) I rented a bicycle in downtown Chicago and rode along the Lakeshore stopping only to snap photos and ultimately stopped cold by a city sponsored Triathlon route. I eventually abandoned the Lakesfront and rode through some beautiful downtown neighborhoods. And tonight, on the last day of August, I will board a train with my daughter for a 20-hour trip back to New York. I haven't ridden the train since 2001 and I decided I wanted the serenity and a glimpse of America's countryside on one of Amtrak's most scenic routes, accompanied by my daughter's wide-eyed enthusiasm. These are all things that I wanted to do and these were all things that I did, just like I used to when I was just a Man, when there was no Dad and no Husband. These were the things that added to the totality of me so that one fateful day in 2000, a woman would cross my path and make me into a Dad and a Husband.

In trying to make sense of life I've completely overlooked it's simplicity and probably made things more complex than they've needed to be. As far as work goes I've been so hell bent on seeking fulfillment (a bad thing when done in excess), somewhere it got lost in the translation that fulfillment comes from the richness of life provided by the fruit of my labor --- regardless of the labor. Meaning, if I wanted to, I could live like a king, but work for UPS. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with working for UPS. Believe me, the thought has crossed my mind more than a few times.

So like the birds of the air who live simply from point A to point B, why should I do any different? All I have to do is live each and every day to the fullest --- the good ones, the frustrating ones and the downright I-wish-I hadn't-even-got-up-ones. All I have to do is fight for the richest life for myself by simply getting up each and everyday (well maybe 6 out of 7) and giving my all to this life that has been given to me, pouring every ounce of myself into the moments I have with my children and the wife. It's like Reagonomics, a trickle down of my riches onto my family. If I'm happy and fulfilled with myself, then I will encourage/reprimand/build up/love/endow with life lessons/discipline my kids with prudence and sensitivity and a genuine heart. The same goes for when when I kiss/am honest with/am being a friend to my wife. That's all I have to do. And that's where the hardest challenge lies. Why? Because the only one who's been in the way of this, even when I've blamed others, always has been and always will be...me. Even when someone else is in my way it's up to me to get around them, or pray for the strength to do so. Think about it: the next time you talk about what you can't do or what someone is doing to you, listen to yourself. What word do you find yourself using more than any other? I'll bet you money it's "I".

The older I get the simpler life becomes. Not because life has gotten any simpler. It's actually gotten ridiculously complex, tragic and needlessly violent. But for me, with age, I'm finding my focus getting sharper. The distractions that have kept me trapped in a morass of complexity, especially the ones in my own head, are falling away with each passing day. In their absence, only the beauty and simplicity (even during the tough times) of life remains. It's up to me to keep it that way and I'm committed to doing so upon my return to a full house. The same goes for you and your life if any of this sounds familiar.

I hope you make it all make sense for you in your own special way.

See you in September.

Voting ends today!


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Blue Nile the is place to shop for Engagement Rings.

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As we head into Father's Day some chatter about me has suddenly stirred. On Tuesday we had Women's eNews that featured a blurb on me and now my blogging hermana, Carol Cain Alvarez, a.k.a. NYCityMama has done a feature article about my family and I on her blog today. Make sure you check it out.

So for now, enough about fathers. It is POURING and dark in New York City. I've gotten so accustomed to blogging I sometimes forget that I write fiction. If you've visited here before you know I have a thing for the rain. It's relaxing, it provides a great opportunity to read and it can be the backdrop for romance.

With that said, I'd like to share a micro-fiction (very, very short) story that I wrote for Spindle Magazine back in February of last year. I think it's appropriate for a day like today.

So here it is:

The Gentleman
by Eric Payne
Copyright 2008, Spindle Magazine - A New York State of Mind


The orange glow of a smoldering cigarette cast light on the smooth brown cheeks of the woman who stood, facing me.

"Smoking's bad for you," I said quietly outside her front door into the darkness that separated us.

"For all I know..." the woman said out of one side of her mouth while holding the cigarette in place with the other, "...you are too."

A few hours earlier we had been complete strangers sitting across from each other on the F Train from the City to Queens. I couldn't help but stare. She was gorgeous and I was nearly drunk after a night out with friends. Thirty years old and unconcerned with failure, it was easy to introduce myself. She told me her name was Jean, pronounced it the way the French do. From there I managed to talk her off the train at my stop to join me for a cup of coffee at a diner near my apartment. It got late quickly and she accepted my offer to drive her home.

"I only smoke outside every once in a while, but you're right, you know," Jean admitted with a sigh. "I actually quit a month ago...been holding onto this last pack...a crutch, I guess." She took two deep drags before letting the white stick fall from her fingers. We both watched the cloud of smoke rise and fade beneath the streetlights. She shrugged her shoulders and uttered a whimsical, "Oh well," then popped an Altoid.

"Maybe I make you nervous," I said smiling.

Jean gave me a sly smile as she bent down to collect her half-smoked cigarette. "Maybe," she admitted coyly.

She stood to open her door -- a heavy piece of oak attached to a well-manicured, brown brick Tudor on a treeless street in Laurelton. A bark sounding more like a question than a statement or a warning greeted us.

I peered over her shoulder.

"My boyfriend," Jean explained, smiling. "He doesn't like it when I'm out late."

"Big or small?"

"Medium...he's a mutt." Jean paused to glance up and down her block. "Well, what a pleasant surprise for a Thursday! I'm glad I didn't ignore you on the train...but it's getting late."

Before I could say anything, she grabbed the lapels of my jacket and pulled me close. Her funky, Flapper's bob tilted back as she gazed up at me. The full moon overhead floated as a reflection in her large brown eyes.

Jean stopped, seemingly suddenly aware of the mixed signal she was sending. She hastily let me go, leaving behind her prints in the black velvet of my jacket.

"Thanks for everything," she said in a restrained tone. "The conversation, the coffee, the ride home. And thanks for walking me to the door...you're truly a gentleman."

"Don't be a stranger," I said. "You have my number. Maybe we can get together for more coffee...or something."

"Or something. Goodnight, Elijah."

"Goodnight, Jean."

The door closed behind her. I stayed on the porch long enough to hear the lock click.

"Don't be a stranger," I muttered sarcastically to myself. Definitely not one of the smoothest things I've ever said to a woman. I took a deep breath, catching an unexpected soft whiff of her perfume on my jacket.

I descended the four gray stone steps of her porch headed for my car, cold and night nipping at me every step of the way. I appreciated Jean's self-restraint. I, myself, had given up one-night stands and all other kinds of meaningless sex at the beginning of the year.

But it was late and cold, and I was lonely. I would've taken her if she had taken me.

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Lately, I'm really in love with the wife. Over the weekend I played around on iTunes looking for as many (but not too many) songs that made me think of Spring romance and reigniting love anew. And so I came up with the following playlist: (you can download it here by clicking) Spring Love
- "a neo-soul collection inspired by Springtime love. Something you can listen to before and during a romantic dinner in, and on a long weekend drive with a lover..." or however else you want to.

Enjoy!

SONG - ARTIST

Good Morning - John Legend

A Long Walk - Jill Scott

Dancewitme - Maxwell

Back in the Day - Erykah Badu

Cross My Mind - Jill Scott

Remy Red - Angie Stone

Me and Those Dreamin' Eyes of Mine - D'Angelo

Soul Sista - Bilal

Hopeless - Dionne Farris

I Belong to You - Lenny Kravitz

You Got Me - The Roots

Sobeautiful - Musiq Soulchild

Somekinda - Dwele & Antwan Gardner

Pretty Wings (Uncut) - Maxwell

Love Rain (Coffee Shop Mix) [Featuring Mos Def] - Jill Scott featuring Mos Def

You're the One That I Like - Raphael Saadiq

You - Raheem DeVaughn

Seconds of Pleasure - Van Hunt

Outside Your Door - Me'Shell Ndegeocello

Lady - D'Angelo

Honey Molasses - Jill Scott

Kiss Me On My Neck - Erykah Badu

Luxury: Cococure - Maxwell

Slow Dance - John Legend

Know You Now - Amy Winehouse

Pop Pop - Angie Stone

Baby Come Over - Hil St. Soul

Stay With You - John Legend

Love That Girl - Raphael Saadiq


If you don't have these tracks or want a few of them you can download Spring Love on your iTunes account right now.

Check out my Mother's Day Playlist while you're at it.

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Mother's Day aside, the last fourteen days have been extremely unpleasant for me. It happens to all of us at one point or another where everything comes crashing down all at once. Well laid plans go bust and dreams get deferred against your will no matter how hard you try. I am one who believes wholeheartedly in the idea of every setback being a setup, especially as a believer in Christian doctrine, a witness to miracles and a man who's faith has driven him through certain failure to success. But the last two weeks reduced me to a snarling, backbiting, hate-speaking mess of a man. And it all ended in tears in front of the one woman who knows me just about as well as I know myself: my mom. And the woman who knows me almost as much, my wife, helped me wipe away the tears.

In the midst of all this it dawned on me that in my wife and I's pursuit of a great life for our family we have consistently overlooked the fact that we never went on a honeymoon. Yes, we got married in Barbados, but we left right afterward, plugging ourselves right back into the belly of the beast that is New York and barely missing a beat in the parenting department as all of us with kids know we must do (I hope you know this).

But my wife deserves her honeymoon --- our honeymoon. And I'd like to include you guys in the planning if possible as I begin my quest do right by her in this regard. I had a sheet of paper where we listed our top choices and now it and the notebook it was in have gone missing in my house. I completely expect to find it after I publish this post. I do vaguely remember our options, but none of the specifics:

1. Europe - Paris, Portugal, Spain
2. South America - Argentina, Brazil
   
3. The South Pacific - Fiji Islands, etc.
   
4. A bunch of Mediterranean Isles (I think)
   
5. Morrocco

All the places that are currently being decimated by war and are hardly safe for Americans were left off the list, so all of the Middle East is not an option, nor is India, and Egypt (my dream vaca).

Based on the above, where should we go? For those of you who love an anonymous poll you can vote at my Honeymoon Quest 2009 Poll.

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It used to happen to me repeatedly. Mother's Day would sneak up on me and WHAM! I was running around scrambling to find something for my mom, usually at a premium because I waited so long.

The Internet has since eased this predicament somewhat and over here at MakesMeWannaHoller.com I want to help out too. I've got some quick suggestions just in case you need something for the mothers you love --- the ones that birthed you and/or the ones who birthed your children.

If she likes flowers:

• Send 12 Assorted Mother's Day Roses + 6 FREE + FREE vase, $29.99!
• Save $20 on 20 Assorted Tulips for Mom, plus get a FREE vase, only $29.99!
• FREE Chocolates and Vase with 24 Assorted Petite Roses, $34.99!
• Save $10 on Potted Mother's Day Roses, only $39.99!

If she's a mom-to-be:

• Get $5 shipping on all orders through Mother’s Day at Motherhood Maternity. Offer ends May 10.
• Get $5 shipping on all orders through Mother’s Day at Destination Maternity. Offer ends May 10.
• Get $5 shipping on all orders through Mother’s Day at A Pea in the Pod. Offer ends May 10.
• Celebrate Mothers-to-be Day at Motherhood Maternity!
• Celebrate Mothers-to-be Day at A Pea in the Pod!

If she loves her iPod/music:

• iTunes Gift Certificates – Easy, last-minute Gifts for the Holidays
• iTunes Gifts

Hope it all works out!

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Below are the results from the poll I took last week.




I'm happy to report that the majority found that their love lives have gotten better since marriage. But it was a very small majority. Being a man and knowing how men think I'm intrigued to learn a little bit more about these results. Here are 2 follow up polls. Please respond the one that applies to you. And just like before, it's anonymous.







Check back for the results and more questions. There's a method to the madness.

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I was all set to write something else for this week's Fatherhood Friday until I took this picture of my daughter while we were hanging out at Fort Tryon Park, one of my favorite places to chillax.

My daughter is but a speck compared to this tree, which stretches far past the frame of this picture, and everyone else that sits down or stands next to it doesn't fare much better. I have no idea how old it is, but given the age of the park, I know it's been around longer than all of us in the 20, 30 and 40 set. Large and gnarled it doesn't yet have its leaves which will soon shade thousands of visitors from the sun and provide homes for this season's set of insects and birds.

Isn't the same true of life? Life is bigger than all of us. It has also been around longer than us and will definitely continue on after we've all passed on. Like the Kansas song says (a recurring theme for television's Highland series, one of the worst and most addictive shows I've ever watched, "all we is dust in the wind" --- mere moments in the grander scheme of things.

Our economy, our nation, our world is all in a state of flux and turmoil. Everything from American cars to the price of milk is cause for complete woe. The media apparently has decided it isn't doing its job unless it's paralyzing us with a daily dose of insurmountable odds.

And then there's this tree... I'm certain it has weathered crisis after crisis that man has found himself swallowed up in. It doesn't seem to care. Neither does Life.

What are we really in control of? Like this tree my daughter is running from and Life itself, we aren't the biggest or even strongest things here. We die, seasons and trends change and three years from now, the madness right now might have direct effect on the future, but the current days, times and feelings will be nothing more than a memory.

I want to take a play from Life's game and simply exist, in spite of it all. Children instinctively understand this all too well. They just want to play. As we grow older and take on responsibilities we get stiff, tight and worried over things we ultimately cannot control.

Does this mean one should toss their hat into the ring of anarchy? No. But I do believe the only thing we have control over is what we do in our individual walks of life. I strive to do my best --- in work, at home, with my family, the occasional stranger in need of a random act of kindness and myself --- so that no matter the outcome, I can live without regret (or at least try). Maybe if a handful of people (no names required) tried to do this maybe our current state of affairs would be a little better. Maybe.

Life isn't too short, our time here is. Make the most of it. Starting with this weekend. Despite today's problems, today I can't be bothered. Happy Fatherhood Friday to my Dads (and Moms) and Happy Friday to everyone else.

Peace.


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...or any woman you're serious with on your way out on a date:

1. You're wearing that?
2. So who's paying tonight?
3. What was wrong with your old shoes?
4. How much is this gonna cost?
5. I hate chick flicks.
6. What do you mean [insert movie] (Spider-Man 1 & 2, Transformers, Hellboy, Iron Man, Batman Begins, Blade Runner, Underworld, The Mummy, Indiana Jones, Star Wars, Snatch, Layer Cake, Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels, The Dark Knight, Terminator, Predator Vs. Aliens, Watchmen, Incredible Hulk) isn't romantic?
7. Why don't we just stay in? We don't have to get dressed up or anything. I'll make the popcorn. You like it buttered, right?

Feel free to add to this list (within respectable reason - this is a PG site...mostly). Today is Fatherhood Fridays and this is my second time contributing. It's sponsored by Dad-Blogs, a great group of guys (and gal or two) dedicated, via social networking, to family and fatherhood. I'm glad to be a part of it.

Happy Friday!




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In college, Frat Life was my thrill. It was my Pop Life until I graduated.

Today, March 10th, back in the Spring of 1991, I crossed the burning sands into the Black and Old Gold paradise of Alpha Land --- Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Incorporated. This happened at Cornell University --- Alpha Chapter, where the organization was founded in 1906, at exactly 9:40:49 am, or as I prefer to say crisply, "Nine-forty and forty-nine seconds." Out of an original line of six, my big brothers made fast work of the faint of heart and whittled my group down to three. Because this happened so early in my process (the first two weeks) my original number on this line (#3) dropped again and again until I became the first man on the line. At 5'11", I'm one of the taller #1s that did not pledge alone. For the remainder of my ten weeks "on line" I was at the mercy of a gang of Napoleonic, vertically challenged men (previous #1s who were my big brothers). There wasn't a day that passed while I was pledging that they didn't make me pay for being number one. But they also made me strong. When it was all over and done with, I had been freed from a very self-contained shell that had me fearful of pursuing the best in life for myself for fear of what others thought. It took a total of 14 weeks (4 weeks pre-pledging, 10 weeks pledging) for 22 men to put Eric the Fearful Nerd to death --- something I had been trying to do on my own in vain all my life.

After pledging, I came to know just how hard I could work against the odds to achieve what was necessary. I learned that if anything was stopping me from doing anything (within reason and the law) more times than not, it was myself. This lesson was not only applicable to frat life, but my life as a whole.

I can't say I still agree with pledging the way it was done back when I pledged, but it definitely made a better man out of me --- or rather brought forth the one who had always been there.

To my two sands, both of them doctors in Miami: Happy Anniversary.


The Alpha House on Cornell's campus. The place that birthed me.As a Sphinxman pledge, it was a house of horrors. As a Brother, it was HOME.

Even though it was the 90s, there really is no excuse for the A Phi A fishing hats. I'm in the middle, holding the clippers, giving out free haircuts. My number 2 is the shirtless one getting the haircut, and my number 3 is the other cat with the fishing hat. We were still new at this point. My line brothers' hair grew back quickly (we were bald when we pledged, and being bald back then wasn't cool). But mine didn't, even at the time of this pic it hadn't reached where it was prior to pledging. I should've known I was destined to rock a baldie...


A couple years and too many road trips, step shows, liquor, females, and too little studying later, I evolved into this guy (center in the dark brown fake Shearling wool jacket). I was an Alpha Man who didn't need to wear letters because I had them branded into my flesh in two places. I was a senior and too fly for my own good. I had yet to meet the real world and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.


This one of my sands and I popped up on Facebook recently and I couldn't resist. I said I thought I was fly.


But eventually a man grows older and put the things of his youth behind him...


...and take new steps down new paths...hopefully not alone...


...and life becomes something different from anything & everything he's ever known...

...but as much as things do change...


...some things (wearing shades) are just destined to remain the same.



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They say a picture's worth a thousand words...

During a rough patch just before our marriage my then-fiance had a brief breakdown and put her head on my shoulder as I assured her all would be fine. I'm not sure why, but one of our closest friends whipped out her cellphone and snapped this grainy pic of this moment of embrace. It's a telling photo of who we are when we're not at each others throats.

• In times of need are you there for someone (mother, brother, lover, spouse, sister, father, friend, etc.)?
• And/or, is someone there for you?