There is no box, just as there is no finish line. There are no limitations, short of those laid out by the laws of physics and even then there are workarounds.

My mantra since college has been "I cannot submit, I will not submit, I refuse!"

I have a little girl who enjoys being "girly", playing dress up and princess and plenty things having to do with the color pink. But she is also a dancer, a singer, an actress, an artist, a gardener, a budding scientist, a straight A student, a writer and a mathematician. She also wrestles and can land a pretty solid punch.

And this is the stuff she does for fun.

I don't play the man versus woman game though many around me feel compelled to do so with me. I liken it to being forced to play chess when you don't have any knowledge of where the pieces are supposed to go. My thinking hasn't even allowed me to create a hierarchy where I could consider debating women as being less than men. I look at both genders as people. My heart breaks when I see women disrespected just because, my ears burn when I hear songs that disrespect women just because. I send up prayers when I see women, thinking they are playing a "man's game" and only playing into a system of manipulation that has no business existing. I was born of a woman. I am married to a woman and I am raising someone who will one day be a woman.

As a father I am in the empowerment business. This means shutting down all thoughts that would trick someone into believing they are less than because of who they are. Arming my little one with the ability to speak boldly to anyone who tries to box her in and providing as much opportunity as humanly and financially possible to learn and grow and develop into a powerful Child of God so that should anyone should try to box her in she'll simply laugh and keep moving. I'm sure she will be hurt on her journey of life. It's a father's hope that the pain won't run too deep or too long to derail her in any way. For me International Women's Day isn't about feminism or the feminist movement, as I'm sure it is for many feminists and the finger-pointers who wish to debate everything just for the sake of being contrary. Rather, it's seeing everyone as I have been taught God does --- beautifully and divinely unique but ultimately equal. And treating them accordingly.

Learn more about International Women's Day.

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

During a pivotal and particularly dismal time in my life when I was 19 years old I was talking to my father and I remarked flippantly, "I don't care..."

Instead of going off on me he paused, appearing almost bewildered and asked, "Son, if you don't care, then who will? Who will take care of the world if you won't?"

No words ever had a stronger impact on me than these and they have been my guide from that day forward.

I often hear, "I don't care." Mostly from adults. And the words make me cringe. Because with so many people choosing not to care about their communities, their front lawns, where they throw their trash, their fellow man and even their spouses...how can we accomplish anything good that will last? How do we raise our children with the expectation that they should take us seriously when they see us disrespecting everything including ourselves?

I am just one...but I do care.

I spend a lot of my time talking with my daughter. She is still young enough to provide a fresh perspective on life that is free from the framing of a news outlet or a political agenda.

So yesterday when we got into a conversation about slavery --- presumably because her school is celebrating Black History Month, she asked me, "Why did they do that? Why were those people so mean to them just because they didn't have the same skin as they did?"

Her question was so impassioned it sounded more like a plea --- Daddy, please tell me how this could have happened?

At nearly 8 million views I am clearly late to this party. The story of my life these days. I'm not a car, I'm an eighteen wheeler. All my many wheels are spinning in different directions. Some of them are even twirling like tops.

But I digress...

My first viewing of the video was while I was in church this past Sunday. The service revolved around getting out there and doing something for your community. They played this and my heart was warmed.



"If Michael Jordan had quit, there'd be no Space Jam."

Priceless.

Don't be boring.

Don't give up.

Have fun.

Make it happen.

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

When planning for peace, prepare for war. Thanks movies this statement has been raised to dramatic proportions, but it is so unbelievably true. People who meet me sometimes believe I'm mellow or don't sense the urgency of a situation, but when you've been battling beasts, swatting away butterflies is nothing.

Speaking of planning for peace, I'd be remiss not to mention the significance of this day: the birthday of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Like Ghandi he was a peacemaker who dug his heels in and battled a war that erupted around his actions to bring to the national stage the reality that all people, regardless of skin color, socioeconomic status and so on, are created equal and should be treated with equal dignity and afforded equal opportunities.

Thought's? Let's continue the conversation. Talk to me at @EPayneTheDad or on Google+ at +Makes Me Wanna Holler - Man, Dad, Husband. Or share your thoughts on Facebook or Disqus below.

Today in 2012, is the first-ever International Day of the Girl...

As the father of a girl and knowing that my wife was once a girl everyday is Day of the Girl. I can't imagine any harm coming to either of them. But harm comes to girls every day.

Marriage should be a time for celebration and joy – unless you are one of the 60 million girls around the world forced into marriage before the age of 18.

Imagine the life those girls — who are 7, 10 or even 16 years of age — endure. Child brides have a diminished chance of completing their education and are at a higher risk of being physically abused, contracting HIV and other diseases, and dying while pregnant or giving birth.

But it doesn't have to be this way. Help end child marriage visit: http://www.care.org/getinvolved/international-day-of-the-girl/index.asp

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Thanks for reading! Follow me on Twitter at @EPayneTheDad.

I'm not going to write something ridiculous that starts with "At dawn 41 years ago a great..." Instead I just want to announce to God and all of you how thankful I am to have notched 41 years on the chalkboard of life. Through the joy, the tears, the fog and the mystery of it all I am thankful that I have been able to serve my family and my community and hope to continue to do so as long as I have breath in my lungs. I do so not because I'm special but simply because it was done for me (my folks are in the top two pics above) and there's no reason to break the cycle. My heart is filled with thanksgiving. Specifically I'd like to thank my wife and kids for the great times and the not so easy times and everything in between.

Before this day is over, please do something nice for someone you love, know or don't know. That will help make my day complete.

Here's to life.

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Thanks for reading! Follow me on Twitter at @EPayneTheDad.

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Thanks for reading! Follow me on Twitter at @EPayneTheDad.

Lat week my teen got into trouble - that kinda trouble that you hear other people's children's parents talking about when they are talking other people's children. We didn't wait for him to come home, we called him out at his school. We, admittedly more his mother than I, let him have it in spectacular, old school fashion. Should he ever have kids he now has a story to officially tell them.

Although I spent the rest of the day fantasizing about putting him out I was surprised when I got in late with my daughter and saw no signs of him having come home to go to practice (his usual routine). I began to wonder, but not fear.

Early on in our relationship, my wife told me, "...sometimes you have to go left to [eventually] go straight." And she was right. But as of late I am moving through a revelatory experience. Call it being fully into my forties now. Call it having too much time on my hands. Call it being plagued with an overactive mind. Call it the power with having as many years behind you as are potentially in front of you. But I see my path and how weird it's been. Despite all the writing and plotting I've done I see the mistakes I've made, how many times I've gone left to go straight, as recently as January and I can recognize something that makes me shudder --- most of the more incorrect decisions I've made were tied to lack of knowledge or even denial of knowledge of self.

This morning I got on the scale and it registered the number 186.5. That is a solid 10 pounds less than I was when I started back working out at the end of June. I've changed my diet, I've changed my level of activity (outdoor boot camp, biking, swimming and some running) and it in turn has changed my attitude, enhanced my vitality and helped me to calmly navigate through things that normally got me all twisted up in knots. Not to mention, pants that were cutting into my waist, fit once more and the protruding bulge beneath my that had become commonplace in all my shirts is now gone. My only complaint/issue/acknowledgment, etc. is that I am not the young man I once was. Thanks to my 40 year-old willpower I'm working out harder than I ever have. But thanks to my 40 years-old body, recovering from my workouts has become almost as painful as the workouts themselves. C'est la vie.

But I've got 10 more pounds to go. And I'd like to lose them by my birthday, which is exactly 6 weeks away.

And I challenge you to lose them (yours not mine) with me.

Despite all the positive speak I put out here and on my blog it was about a week ago I was ready to quit, EVERYTHING. But I decided to move through it because I actually don't know how to quit. Something in my brain (or maybe my heart?), similar to an override that I can't control, simply won't allow it --- forcing me to move/persevere/endure even when I don't believe I want to.

I made it to Sunday where I received a powerful Word at church. The best way for me to sum it up is this:

Things get toughest in the middle of your journey. You can barely remember what drove you to start and even if you know what the end-reward looks like you're no longer sure it's worth the battle, the misery, the pain. It just isn't fun anymore. It is in the middle where you are most vulnerable. In a race, it's in the middle when you begin to psych yourself out. When people quit, they quit in the middle having no idea how close they may have been to the end.

Keep pressing through the outside hate and work on despite of the inside doubt. I promise I'll be right there with you doing the same. It may not be today or even tomorrow, but your time is coming.

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Thanks for reading! Follow me on Twitter at @EPayneTheDad.

I screwed up royally last week, passing on a high-paying opportunity and then feeling worse when I tried to backtrack off my initial stance. I sealed my fate the second I opened my mouth and probably epoxy-super-glued it when I came back to backtrack. I spent about 18 hours feeling like I had failed and well, I had. I did everything you're not supposed to do --- I was honest about my feelings and what I wanted. But in the midst of my self-admonishment an idea sprang forth directly based on that failure and now I have a crystallized game-plan, one that might be the most solid I've ever had. One I can pitch and talk about in my sleep. No more convincing myself first in hopes that I'll convince someone else. Thanks failure! Out of the womb of failure, success is born. (As long as you don't stay trippin' over the failure part).

Stay tuned.

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Thanks for reading! Follow me on Twitter at @EPayneTheDad.

I've lived in Chicago. I've lived in Connecticut. I've lived in New York City. I live in Atlanta. I would like live a portion of my older years in the Caribbean.

Whenever I visit places, most recently, my native Chicago, I leave with this sense that I am leaving something behind. Some peace or ease of living that exists there that doesn't where I currently reside. The same happened during a trip to NYC a few weeks ago. And so too did this emotional yearning occur when I departed from my four day press-trip to the Bahamas.

But the entire time I was home in Chicago I listened to my mother complain about the declining quality of life, the escalating prices of everything, and the outrageous murder rate (which everyone should be complaining about). While waiting to fly out of Atlanta to the Bahamas I met a woman in the airport, a recent transplant to the city, who professed that she hated the ATL. Even in my own household there is a geographic pursuit of happiness --- an assignment of almost mythic grandeur to either a place you once were or a place you have yet to arrive that leaves persons perpetually unsatisfied. I've been guilty of the same. I think most of us who walk upright, breathe air and communicate via language have been at least once.

I was raised a Christian. I was raised to be God-fearing. I was raised to be thankful for all that has been given to me and all that is in front of me. When I wake in the morning I thank the Lord for the air I breathe, for the sky and sun above and I ask that I be a blessing to all around me regardless of whether anyone blesses me back.

As I aged and matured in years, wisdom and my own faith walk I realized I had certain abilities. The ability to create something out of nothing. The ability to take a little bit and turn it into a lot. The ability to make the mediocre great --- in time. In my late twenties I began reading money management books and learned how to save and how to live debt free and how not to splurge on myself. My life became an exercise in sacrifice for the great payday. I taught myself to become more by being less.

Two days ago around 2 am I walked right into my son's room. The lights were on, he was wearing a scully (winter cap) and talking on the phone. He popped up, shocked and said, "Oh, I have a cramp in my leg and couldn't sleep."

Me: *Blank Stare* Then I said, "Shut it down and go to bed."

I breathed a sigh of relief that that was all he was doing. Gone are the days of jumping on the hardline and screaming at both children for being on the phone in the middle of the night. Or listening with your hand over the mouthpiece so they can't hear you breathing.

That gosh-darn iPhone circumvents parental controls. Looks like I'm going to have to turn off the circuit breaker at bedtime.

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Thanks for reading! To learn more about me, you can read my story.

From my brother and my friend, SPEECH. He's breaking it down about...everything --- these days and times, fatherhood, staying relevant and really knowing what's up.

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Thanks for reading! To learn more about me, you can read my story.

This post is especially meaningful considering that the pastor of the church I attend spoke on this this past weekend.

Now that I am thoroughly settled into my home, thoroughly ingraining myself in my community and doing my best to do my best on my new social media gig at one of the largest companies in the world (no pressure), I have begun to sift and sort through my stuff...

Garbage out...

Once I hit adulthood I began to collect a record of my happenings --- ticket stubs from great concerts, pictures with the handful of famous people I'd bump into on the streets of New York, my documented experiences and paraphernalia from my fraternity, Alpha Phi Alpha, Playbills from famous Broadway plays. My thought behind doing this is that should I suddenly cease to exist on this planet, as is often the case with humans, particularly African American males, those I leave behind would be able to sort through my stuff and piece together the life I've lived --- who I was and where I've been. There are journals that spell out in great detail my goals, aspirations and dreams. In the midst of my stuff anyone looking will find my heart.

This is my daughter attending an awards ceremony for a piece of art she created. Bright. Focused. Driven. Poised.



and........this is my son.