07.25.09
Posted in Uncategorized at 11:29 pm by wmrj
Ten years ago I purchased a bed. Last week, I put it together. Wait, before you start judging, let me explain. At 19, one really doesn’t get the whole logic and theory behind the need to connect the headboard to the bed frame. At 29, however, something just kicks in and makes you want to tackle all these little challenges that you just lived with before. No lie, this year I’ve done things I’ve wanted to do all my life. I dusted my lamps. I changed the vacuum bag. I killed a spider without calling my mom OR dad to come over as backup and encouragement. Nope, I tackled this challenge on my own. Last but not least, I learned that everyone in the world isn’t Black by simply cleaning off my TV. Imagine my surprise to learn that Barbara Walters AND Madonna are White. No, really, they are. You can’t argue me down about this one. Maybe you should clean your TV screen too.
Ok, so let me be honest with you. The real reason I connected the headboard to the bed frame was not because I’d finally gotten to that item on my to-do list after 10 years. Instead, I’d finally gotten tired of my old bed frame clanking every time I made a move for the remote or got up to go to the bathroom. After years of having my neighbors think that I’m a tad bit more “active” then I really am at 2 in the morning, I decided to upgrade before I was voted off the island by the rental office and labeled with offensive names that I wouldn’t dare say in public or in this blog. Imagine explaining to your neighbors that you really aren’t a (insert appropriate word here), and that you just have an over active bladder. All this time I thought their sneers were because I had my own blog, not because they thought I was a “man of the night.”
Anyway, I purchased the bed frame from Value City Furniture—an experience all in itself—and decided to stop at Lowe’s to get screws and stuff to attach the headboard because I was told that there weren’t any in the box. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Lowe’s, Home Depot, or any other store of that nature, but, for one, they are huge. You could be lost in there for two months before a search team would find you. And two, there are sharp things everywhere that could injure a clumsy person like me. I can see the headlines now: Young male gets arm caught in key making machine before being strangled by a set of mini blinds. More news on this breaking story at 10.
So, I ask the lady at the door where the screws are, and she says, “Over in hardware.” I say, “Isn’t the whole store hardware?” I thought it was funny, but apparently having a sense of humor IS NOT a requirement for working at Lowe’s. I eventually leave the store with 16 screws, 8 washers, and 8 nuts—not including the two I…wait a second…my mom might be reading this…so 8 nuts. As luck would have it, when I got home and opened the bed frame box, guess what I found: screws and nuts. Trip to Lowe’s wasted. Thank you Value City Furniture employees for being so well informed about the products you sell. And if there are any readers of this blog who are employees of VCF, of course, I don’t mean you. You’re wonderful. Keep up the great work!!!
Anyway, with all the bed frame pieces laid out in front of me, I immediately got to work. I followed the instructions step-by-step and had the frame together within a matter of minutes. Next, I opened the pack of screws and saw that the tops of each were rounded and there were no holes for me to use one of my handy-dandy screwdrivers. I was so disappointed because I never get to use my screwdrivers and I’d really like to get my dollar’s worth. But, “No problem,” I said to myself. “Let’s assess the situation. What would Barrack do?” I reached for my hammer to bang the screws into my wooden headboard. Despite my best efforts, the screws refused to work with me. I then grabbed a pair of pliers, and that’s when the magic happened.
Forty-five minutes later, I had three blisters and one screw completed. 3 ½ hours later, my whole hand was one big blister and all of the screws were in place. I was so proud of myself for starting a project and seeing it through. I wasn’t even worried that my hand needed to be amputated because of all the manual labor. Instead, I just ignored the throbbing and patted myself on the back because I was a big strong man with tools and everything. My biological father would have been so proud—even more proud than that time when I was 28 and I finally learned the difference between golf and basketball. Imagine my shock when I learned that Tiger Woods didn’t play for the Clippers. You learn something new every day.
The point of all this, and I do have one, is that we, as individuals, can do anything we set our minds to. If Oprah can be the most powerful sorceror in the world, and Barrack can be president, why can’t I put my bed frame together? After that accomplishment, the sky is truly the limit. Now, I finally believe that all things are possible. I can’t even begin to explain how good this realization feels. The only thing to do now is set another big goal for myself. Hmm…maybe I’ll vacuum.
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07.20.09
Posted in Uncategorized at 1:42 pm by wmrj
Today I’m going to try something different. Usually, I try to keep my writings humorous. However, with the recent deaths of well-known individuals such as Michael Jackson, Steve McNair, Farrah Fawcett, and the Oxy Clean guy, reality doesn’t always seem so funny. But in addition to the deaths of celebrities with whom we’ve never shared the same air, taking a brief gander at the local newspaper or the nightly news will reveal that people are dying right in our front yards and it’s not due to bouts of cancer, drug use, heart attacks, or bad choices. Instead, the cause of one’s demise could be that person sitting beside you on the bus, or across from you in a business meeting. It could be the person you pass before entering a store, or the person you accidentally cut off in traffic that may decide whether you’ll make it to see the next day or not.
On Saturday, I stopped at the local liquor store. Now, I hate the use of “liquor store” because it has a bad connotation regardless of whether you drink responsibly or not. And if something horrible happens at such an establishment, the victim is looked at as a lesser person than they would be looked at had they been assaulted in a grocery store. It’s almost like we blame the victim for being in a liquor store in the first place. Anyway, I pulled up in front of the store and noticed that the lights were out. There were people standing out front. It wasn’t until I got out of the car that I noticed about 60 roses taped to the outside of the front door. I then noticed that the people, who I thought were just congregating outside, were signing posters and shaking their heads in disbelief.
When I approached the crowd, I asked what happened. At that point, I hadn’t yet peeked through the glass door to see the blood on the floor less than three feet away from where I stood, or the various broken bottles that remained in the same spot where they’d landed two nights before during a senseless altercation. I was told that the owner, a man I’d seen each time I stopped at the store, had been killed in a robbery less than 48 hours earlier. Two masked gunmen, at some point, had been standing in the exact same spot where I was standing before they took the store owner’s life. And for the victim who had gone to work that Thursday just as he had done for years since he purchased the establishment, he, too, had stood where I was standing to open his business for the day. Of course, he had no idea that day would be his last.
His car still sat in the parking lot where he’d parked it.
I will never understand how a person could kill another human being. What reason does anyone have to end another person’s life? And how does one live with themselves after committing such an act? How does one eat, sleep, or watch TV after killing someone? It’s sad to think that we live in a world where a person can strive to do the right thing and live there life the right way, but be murdered because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, or because they had more than what others are willing to work to earn, or for some other senseless reason.
I’m not sure how to end this because, as I read the paper about the 5-year-old who was struck by a stray bullet discharged from the gun of a 17-year old, the shootings of the police officers who were simply responding to a domestic violence report, and the 26-year-old who was found shot to death in his car at a park, it appears that these incidents are becoming the norm. With each occurrence, the shock value decreases as we become more and more desensitized and began to expect these types of things to occur. In fact, after being told of the store owner’s death, one former patron asked a Baltimore Sun reporter who was covering the story if “the store was going to open.”
So, no laughs this time around. Instead, I’m hoping and praying for change and a miracle. My heart goes out to anyone who’s been affected by these or any other senseless acts of violence. To those of us blessed to have seen this day, please be careful and stay positive through these trying times in which we live.
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07.06.09
Posted in Uncategorized at 2:03 pm by wmrj
So, we’re in the midst of the technology age. We have gadgets that fit into the palm of your hand that can hold thousands of songs, games and videos. There are GPS systems that can tell you the best route to go to avoid traffic and your mother-in-law. And these devices know when you don’t follow instructions. How many times have you heard “You missed your turn, dummy,” from the same voice that lovingly guides you to your destination as long as you do exactly what she—I’ve named mine Shirley—says? Oh, and let’s not forget about Twitter, Facebook, and MySpace where you get the latest greatest updates about anything and everything that your family, friends, and coworkers are doing at any given time including whether their last trip to the restroom was successful or not. Every few minutes you’ll get an alert that says, “That last one was a doozey. Whew, I really didn’t think I’d make it out alive. By the way, if you happen to be at the Kmart on route seven, you may want to avoid the restroom. I’m telling you this for your own good.”
Recently, I went out on a date where it took two months for our schedules to line up where we could have one-on-one time. Translation: It took two months for my date to make the time for us to have one-on-one time. Now, I know you’re wondering why I would wait around for two months for someone to make time to get to know me. Well, I was really interested in the person and I figured that maybe my date really was just that busy. I mean, I get busy too. If Desperate Housewives is on, don’t even think about calling me. And, on top of that, I have a life. The plants need to be watered. The fish has to be fed. The bookshelf needs to be dusted. And somehow I’m still supposed to find time to squeeze in my two sit-ups for the month. See, I’m busy too. Yup.
Anyway, so after a two-month waiting period, I finally got to hang out with my date. I thought it would be magical. I showered and everything. I expected fireworks. I thought I’d see my date and Karen Carpenter would start singing, “Why do birds suddenly appear, every time, you are near? Just like me, they long to be, close to you.” I thought we’d talk about our hopes and dreams. And if Karen Carpenter was busy, (well, she did kinda die a while back so odds weren’t very good that she would have been available), I expected the birds to sing, and violins to play in the background. I mean, there was so much I wanted to know about my date. I just wanted to talk. Share a secret or two. Put down my big manly armor and be vulnerable for a moment.
But before I had a chance to get comfortable, the competition for my date’s attention began. Contrary to what I’d hoped, there were no birds chirping or sounds of violins. Those sounds were replaced by the sound of my date’s phone chirping and the typing and texting that followed. After a few minutes I said, “You finally got me here and you’re going to spend the time texting?” My date replied, “I’m not texting. I’m on Facebook.” I guess, on some level, this was supposed to have made me happy that I wasn’t being ignored for some measly little text messages. Instead, I was being ignored for Facebook and all of its urgent messages about how jalapenos don’t go well with waffles. What a relief? Call off the firing squad.
As much as I enjoy technology, I have to say that I’m starting to agree with some of the experts about how it’s affecting the way we deal with each other when we’re up close and personal. It’s like we’ve forgotten how to relate to people unless we’re sitting behind our computer screens or hiding under our beds with phone in hand. We get confused when we actually see someone’s mouth moving—oh my gosh, it talks. I picture these texters, Twitters, Facebookers, and Myspacers pulling up to a drive-through, being asked to place their order, and them getting all confused about what to do. “Umm, are you supposed to be talking to me? Can’t I just text you my order? I’m going to need to speak to your manager.”
Although I mentioned the texting/Facebook issue, my date continued to type like it was nobody’s business throughout the few short hours we spent together. I’m not sure how to feel about that. Maybe Facebook has some policy that says messages that aren’t checked within two seconds of delivery will self-destruct. Or, maybe there’s some type of fine imposed if you don’t read and respond to messages immediately. Or, maybe all those gym bunnies really don’t like working out, but go to the gym every day because it’s a part of their sentence for not commenting on their Aunt Mabel’s status update about her taking shots of Metamucil.
A couple of my friends say I should take my cue from the movie He’s Just Not That Into You or get used to the fact that I’m just not that interesting and I have the looks and personality equivalent to a pile of dog poo. Now, I can neither confirm nor deny this allegation, but I think that, at the least, they could have compared me to something a little cuter. But seriously, as we walk around with our phones and IPods that can make breakfast, spank the dog, and drop the kids off at soccer practice, aren’t we as people getting more and more out of touch due to the many technologies developed to keep us in touch? What do you think?
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