Epiphany...NOBODY has EVERYTHING...

This will also be one of those "what is the meaning of life?" posts that I've been known to write.

As I was thinking about what I was going to get a friend of mine for his impending birthday, I was faced with the age-old question: what do you get for someone who has EVERYTHING? That made me think about what exactly is meant by "having EVERYTHING". And who seems to have everything in our society? Celebrities.

We revere celebrities. We adore them for what they have; they appear to have everything they (we) could possibly want. They live lavish lifestyles and cavort with the world's most visible, influential (and sometimes notorious)people. Their wealth eclipses the average person's lifetime earnings exponentially. They appear to have EVERYTHING. As a result, it appears that they have a lot of things just handed to them on a silver platter; free clothes from designers that we shell out our hard-earned ducats for, swag bags from awards shows that would make the average person feel like its Christmas in April, the ability to incite complete worship and mayhem simply by stepping into a restaurant. But look deeper. Do they REALLY have EVERYTHING? Are their lives REALLY that much different from ours, because they don't have to deal with some of the obstacles that we do? In other words, if we cut them- do they not bleed? My initial thought is that they do, indeed.


Shaq, who is 7 foot 1 (check), wears a size 17 shoe, has millions in the bank and scores of adoring fans- has a little dick (I don't know that personally- I'm taking Karrine "superhead" Steffans' word for it!)

Pamela Anderson- she who has the starring role in many a heterosexual male's masturbatory marathons (and perhaps in a couple of homo's dreams as well!)- has a very serious, if not lethal, form of hepatitis

Stevie Wonder- creator of some of history's most creatively musical songs- will never be able to see the beauty of purple in his lifetime.

Magic Johnson.













I'm sure even the "chairman of the board", Oprah Winfrey- who has more money than GOD and is probably the only person on the face of the earth that could singlehandedly solve the Cuban missile crisis, bring peace to the middle east, find a cure for the common cold, and get to the bottom of who exactly killed Tupac,Biggie, JFK and Jimmy Hoffa (all while encouraging you to live your best life)-has some perceived void in her all-expansive life. Who knows.

Some of my most beautiful, stunning, striking and genetically gifted friends have also been saddled with the most extreme cases of low self-esteem and self-loathing (whether they acknowledge it or not is another story).

It seems that many times we concentrate on what we DON'T have instead of what has been made available to us. We measure our success against those who appear to have much more than we do. Life, for some of us, is a scorecard of obtaining things that we lack (materially, spiritually, etc.) in a desperate attempt to have it "all". So...who REALLY has it all? I guess it depends on what you define as ALL? Is good health, loving family and friends having it all if you live in the projects- or in Iraq? Or is having millions in the bank but having to endure the disdain of all those around you something you can live with? Is there a middle ground?

I don't think I have the answer to the question for everyone. I was thinking the other day that if I had everything I could possibly ever want materially and have the unquestionable devotion of the love of my life as well as the guarantee that I would enjoy the health of an 18-year old for the next 80 years- would I STILL not feel complete?

I think the answer lies not in having it all, but in achieving HAPPINESS. Happiness, regardless of what your bank account, prognosis, or mother-in-law says, is the feeling that none of these things can limit or affect your peace of mind. PASSION drives us as human beings as well. Everyone will tell you that if you find something that you are passionate about in life (and would do it even if you weren't getting paid), that you are on the path to HAPPINESS. They would also go on to say that helping others has an indescribable happiness all its own. I would also add that STRUGGLE is another aspect of having it all- because if you never had to work for anything, how would you develop a true PASSION for achieving it? How would you appreciate it? Its only through surpassing OBSTACLES that we truly know our strengths. Into everyone's life a little shade must fall. It lets you know you're alive, human, mortal. Obstacles define your character, the lack of which prevents your character from fully forming. Imagine having every one of your wants fulfilled. How would you move forward, knowing that no matter what you did you would be satiated? What kind of person would you be? It has been said that “What defines us…is how well we rise after falling”. But what if you didn't have to struggle for anything? Trust fund babies and members of royal families must face this question sooner or later.

So, instead of asking ourselves what do we have to do to have it ALL, maybe the question should be: what will it take to experience true HAPPINESS?

I met a BEAUTIFUL woman named Shelly at a barbeque this past holiday weekend. We started talking about, of all things, what is "having everything", and what that means. Its funny how these things happen. Shelly said something that I think sums it up: "you know, having it all is actually just waking up every morning- THAT'S happiness."

Thank you Shelly...

I hold these truths to be self-evident...

Oprah ends each edition of her 'O Magazine' with the last-page article entitled "What I know for Sure". Reading the last issue, it made me think about what I know for sure (or what I THINK I know for sure).

So Far, I have learned that:

1- I believe in LOVE. I just haven’t really experienced it yet.

2- Power and Beauty are the constructs around which everything is based.

3- Bullshit, no matter how pretty it’s packaged, no matter how many polysyllabic words surround it, no matter how many people tout it as dogma, no matter how it has withstood the test of time, is still- at its core- BULLSHIT!

4- Sooner or later, everyone-EVERYONE- will disappoint you at some point and on some level. And there will come a time when you will also disappoint yourself

5- YOU have the power to dictate the way you are going to be treated.

6- If you surround yourself with people unlike yourself who have their own talents, aspirations, and vision, YOU grow more.

7- Skin color will ALWAYS matter- even to those who lecture that it shouldn’t.

8- Even those that should know better, don’t always know better.

9- Ms. Mitchell was right; you don’t know what u got ‘til its gone.

10-The MOST important lessons you can teach a child are that they are BEAUTIFUL and that they MATTER!!!

11-People show you EXACTLY WHO THEY ARE within the first 5 minutes of you meeting them.

12-There are always THREE sides to any story.


What do YOU know for sure?

Open Mike- Grown Man wit' MINE!!!

The scene: chad g. steps up on the makeshift platform stage at the open mike. He is dressed in grey Akademiks sweatpants, a white polo rugby shirt and white Nike uptowns. He adjusts his blue Yankee fitted- his "poet hat"- surveys the crowd for a few seconds, puts his left hand on the mic stand, clears his throat and then offers them this:
"Ahem!!! This piece is called "'Grown man wit' mine"- based (partly) on a true story..."






Saw him guzzling that “ghetto lemonade” at the Pink Tea Cup
You think I took my pseudo-Dominican punk-ass over to say “wassup”?
Saw him dropping it hotly at A P T
You’da thought I woulda opened my mouth a little, to ask him to drop it with ME
Behind him in line when he picked up his grande skim Mochachino latte
Seems like after he got his change and turned around, I coulda had SOMETHIN' to say

Clocked him eating brunch reading the Times at Bar 89,
Perfect opportunity!
Before I could move some dude from the restroom sat at the table and cock-blocked me

Peeped him drinking White Zinfandel at the Tower in ATL
and thought "damn, is dude following me?
'Cause if ya REALLY interested, roll up, broad-chested, and ask the kid for the celly".

But I know his type: ugly-fine with plenty of knotches in his Dolcegabbana belt
Satisfied with the facial and other more satisfying features he’s been dealt
Goin' thru boys and breaking their hearts with no emotions felt

But I wouldn’t mind being one of ‘em...

I need to just step to him and say:
"Yeah, you got pecs and abs and all that other jazz- but fuck dat I got those
Just like you nigga, I got deep eyes, full lips, 10 fingers, 10 toes
And you breathe air and fart and dream just like me
So all this posturin’ and side-glancin’ you doin' only tells me you’re not ready
For all the boy-passion and thigh-crashin’ and tongue-lashin’ I’m trying to give
And if you thinkin’ I’m just some good dick and wide back
Lemme change ya perspective.
Yeah you probably had ya heart broke and ya brain smoked by some boys not worth ya time
Well I have too and 36 years due, I’m finally a grown man wit mine
So if you not tryin to taste these lips and grab these hips you really losin’ out
'Cuz there’s at least 3 dudes RIGHT NOW who wanna know what I’m all about"

But then I stopped myself and realized I’m making all of this up in my head
That I’ve not said 3 words to this brotha and I’m already pronouncing him brain-dead…

WE DO THAT TO EACH OTHER, YA KNOW!!!!

So I walked up to him, with all this in my head and said “SUP”,
Convinced that his reaction would be WACK
You know what he did y'all?
He flashed me those pretty browns and those pearly 32's and said
“SUP” back!!!

So I said to him:
"Look, I'm not gonna do back flips and endure mind trips to let you know I think you FINE
I'm just gonna step in ya personal space and let you know the taste
'Cuz I'm a GROWN MAN WIT' MINE

And just when I exhaled and laughed and tried to find something else on my behalf to say
He opened his mouth and what came out COMPLETELY made my whole fuckin' day

He said:
See I think you too are fine and I'm a GROWN MAN WIT' MINE
So I'mma tell you what I saw...
I saw you getting choked up at the Pink Tea Cup
And standing at bay while I got my latte
And coming at the wrong time at Bar 89
And looking good as HELL at that party in ATL
So I'm glad you had the balls and gall to step up and all
to see if our vibes would grind

I said:
"Oh yeah? well I'm glad too, thats just how I do
'Cuz I'm a GROWN MAN WIT' MINE!!!"


WHAT?!!!

My father's name is Miguel...don't SON me to death!!!

My mother's name: Janice. My father's name: Miguel. Unfortunately, they have both taken the outstretched hand of God and joined him in heaven. In my estimation, those are the only two individuals who have to right to address me as "son"; NOT my boys who I hit the club with, NOT the brother working at ATRIUM greeting me as I walk through the door, NOT the dude asking me for the time as I'm waiting for the 2 train. And certainly not my good-good-girlfriend (whom I will not name, but she knows who she is!). Where the hell did this come from anyway? When did "bruh", "playa", "kid", "bro", "playboy", and the like morph into "son"?

I had the same stance two or so years ago, when everybody was going around calling each other "pa" ( i.e., "sup pa?"). Don't call me "pa"; I have no kids- to date, that I know of. (Pero, si hablamos espanol, puedes llamarme "papi" o "papo"- claro?).

This expression has become so ubiquitous amongst the brown and sexy that I don't think it even sounds strange to people anymore. And... its not confined to males! True story: I'm riding the A train back to Brooklyn late one night (as I've been known to do). Two o'clock in the morning on a Thursday. The train pulls into the West 4th Street station and the throng get on. Three young women, who couldn't have been more than 16 if they were 20, sat immediately across from me. What stunned me most was not that they were teenagers OUT SO LATE ON A SCHOOLNIGHT, nor that two of the three could easily have auditioned for "America's Next Top Model" and gave Ms. Jade a run for her money. What really furrowed my brow was the conversation-"...yo, dat nigga was mad cute, SON!"..."...soon as I get home, I'm hittin the bed, SON!"..." "...I'm not feelin like goin to class tomorrow, SON!". Since when is it okay for FEMALES to call each other 'SON'? WTF??!! That's supposed to be sexy?

Now I might be overreacting; "son" could just be another term of endearment that defies gender-specific categorization; sort of like "partna", "ace", or "running buddy". But I don't think so. Those colloquialisms denote an equality with those being referred to. When you address someone as "son", it denotes progeny, someone who would not be here if it hadn't been for you or your hormones. It automatically places the addressed in a subordinate position and the addressor in a position of reverence, respect and in most cases authority. Maybe its just me, and maybe I'm having a bad day, but unless your seed is responsible for my existence, unless you put me through college with your hard-earned money, unless you guided me into becoming the man that I am today, you don't have the RIGHT to refer to me as "SON".

but I digress, son...LOL