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But I’m cleva when I bust a rhyme
I’m cleva, always on ya’ mind
[S]he’s cleva and I really wanna grow
But why come you’re the last to know?
I was talking to Wood and J Bro earlier tonight and I expressed that I felt like I was surrounded by idiots. Yes, I have a habit of turning against people when I feel disrespected, ignored, or misunderstood, and what may register on my monitor as bullshit may not register at all for anyone else. I’ve been accused of having too-high standards, even of being stuck-up. I just tend to want more from people on a human level. I have been forced to lower my expectations in order to save myself from disappointment, but should I have to do such a thing?
To clarify, this is a post about dating and my lack of a special friend.
I feel like I think different from everyone else, which could quite possibly be why this friend is non-existant. I’m not one of those people that says “I want someone to get on my level” or anything pompous like that, because pompous I ain’t. Tell me how wanting someone to be able to carry a decent conversation, maintain communication and be reliable is too much to live up to? Those are very simple, human things. When my brothers, and sisters for that matter, say they want someone with a high-paying job, nice house, a nice car and knows how to dress, people can relate to that. On a superficial level, this is something people can understand. Superficialities are quite global. We all have that level of depth, but not everyone can relate to something deeper. So we work hard to attain these things, and for what? To be abondoned for the next man with a faster car, bigger house (ass or dick) and fatter wallet? I think if we brought the human aspect back into dating and communicating with each other, things would be a lot easier for people like me. But, we are afraid.
If you want to feel me, better be divine
Bring me water, water for my mind
Give me nothin, breathe love in my air
Don’t abuse me, ’cause these herbs are rare.
I try not to look for faults in people, I try not to expect people to disappoint me. But very few have made me feel like they were worthwhile. As I said before, I have a low tolerance, so certain things can turn me off, no matter how attractive a person is. It could be a person’s values (or lack thereof), grammar, attention span, etc. Some people are able to let these things slide for a good piece or trophy, but I cannot do that. Ignorance and foolishness make my dick go limp.
I am gradually coming to terms with the fact that my attitude isn’t making this any easier. I own my faults. I can speak openly about them. I know I need work, but this is something that changes on its own, with time and experience. I cannot be expected to make an “attitude adjustment”. It’s just unreal.
I also don’t believe that I am a new and improved version of the black male animal. My concerns about the behaviors of my kind do not come from any sense of superiority. It comes from love, and wanting people to treat others and themselves well. It’s about understanding that returning a phonecall is just keeping the lines of communication open and being polite, not trying to insinuate a relationship. It’s about understanding that when you say “I mean what I say”, you’d better not be lying to me. It’s about not reducing one another to a quick bone without giving them warning.
Time to save the world
Where in the world is all the time
So many things I still don’t know
So many times I’ve changed my mind.
So all this has led to a state of confusion on my part. I am constantly trying to figure out or modify what it is I truly want. It’s like going to a fast food joint, craving a number one, but they ran out of sourdough bread, so you ask for a number 6, but there’s no honey barbecue sauce. So you you roll your eyes at Shequanda at the counter and turn to your friend and say “These are the options?” Either your friend will say you’re too picky because he or she is complacent with what people have to offer and has already reached the point of not asking for “too much”. Or, he or she will say “Let’s go somewhere else, this is bullshit.”
But where else could I go? How can someone such as myself be content anywhere if I am the victim of how I perceive things? Is it really just perception at all?
My feelings haven’t much changed since March 1st, but my approach has. I would like this to be the result, that’s as much as I can offer right now. But I’m not gonna whore myself to get there. I’m stubborn like that. I may reinvent myself from time to time to keep things fresh, but what’s on the inside remains unchanged. If I look like a thug, I am nOva. If I look like the boy next door, I am nOva. If I look like a fashionable sexpot, I’m still me. The thug, the boy next door and the fashionable sexpot get attention and numbers, but no one sticks around for nOva. I’m too opinionated, too conscious, just too many things. And I am one of the few people that understands that shit just ain’t “aiight”.
I would say we need to work harder to make sure others strive for more (substantial things) in their personal interactions and relationships, if only to break the cycle that has lead to everything from cronic heartbreak to disease. But if not everyone does it, how can we expect change? And should we just sit around and let things be as they are? Should we just bide our time and wait for the magic to happen? Why even put forth the energy?
So this is what I’m left with. The feeling that I am lost in a sea of people that just don’t get me. Always having to defend what I believe, even to those that are close to me. Always having to wonder why I’m misunderstood to the point of backlash and left in the cold. Always wondering why I have to be long-winded in order to get my point across, while when I’m short, it’s taken the wrong way. And even when I am long-winded, someone will have a rebuttal to every. single. thing. I’m saying.
Many nights he was alone
Many, many, many nights
His light was so bright that they turned away
And he stood alone.
And it’s a more profound loneliness than simply being in a room by yourself.

Top 5 things wrong in my field of vision right now:
1. That I got so drunk last night that I was actually dancing to Dipset! Dipset! in a straight club. (I really mean it.)
2. I was checking out girl’s asses last night.
3. Because of Janet’s little wardrobe malfunction, networks are taking the fun out of every program on television.
4. Kanye West has a hot-ass song on his website that ain’t on the CD.
5. I ain’t even mad at the comments 50 Cent made about gay people.
Name four things you wished you had:
A cut-buddy, my check, a better computer, and some new clothes.
Name four things you are thinking about:
1. Ideas for my long-suffering novel.
2. All my graphics and web projects and getting them up and running before I become bored with the idea of them.
3. How pissed I am that my check is late.
4. How many secrets I’m keeping that won’t be revealed for weeks to come.
Top 5 songs of the right now:
“Home” -Kanye West
“She Wants to Move”

( Via Will )

My life is rated NC-17.
What is your life rated?

I am so mad at Jason for this:
“Life is a box when you’re chocolate.” – Forrest Gump…if he was black.
On Mixing:
So Baby Momma is enjoying my mixes and some junk. How schweet!! I still need to mail out the CDs to those that participated in the contest, so if you emailed any answers, please e-mail a mailing address you’re comfortable with so I can send them out. I’ve decided to do a series of mixes, one every month. I think it would be a good way to get support for the site. So like, make donations and stuff and you’ll get the mix of the month. Right now, I have 3 that I made for the quiz, an all-Mary blend which is hot as hell, and I am working on a Roc-A-Fella and Biggie one. There’s also a few more that I won’t mind sharing. And just to be clear, 5 bucks ain’t gonna cut it.

read more…

Remember back in the days, when niggaz had waves
Gazelle shades, and corn braids
Pitchin pennies, honies had the high top jellies
Shootin skelly, motherfuckers was all friendly
Loungin at the barbeques, drinkin brews
with the neighborhood crews, hangin on the avenues
Turn your pages to nineteen ninety three
Niggaz is gettin smoked G, believe me…
I usually outline entries like this, but I decided to just flow from the heart instead of the mind today and eschew the pretention.
If you are a hip-hop fan, you know what today is. You know why I changed my design this week. You know who my favorite rapper and artist is. If you know me, you know me and this guy share a common name in Christopher. Track #2 from Ready to Die is fading out as I write this, and things certainly have changed.
I wonder how different things would be if he was still around. You wonder how many albums he would’ve dropped by now. You wonder what a Biggie and Kanye West joint would’ve sounded like, or Biggie and The Neptunes. Another Biggie and Jay-Z collabo or perhaps even a 50 Cent collabo that wasn’t post-humus? How far did his influence reach as far as other rappers’ careers? Would Jay-Z be retiring? Would The L.O.X. have jumped ship? Would Lil’ Kim’s albums be a little more focused and cohesive?
And you think of the bad. What if he had fallen off? It happens to every rapper at some point, someone always becomes irrelevant. Would he be embroiled in several mini-beefs that don’t end in death but instead question one’s cred? These things often cross my mind as I listen to music and not just his. You ever hear a song and just go “Man, B.I.G. would’ve ripped that shit!”?
I’m still pissed about it, because I feel like hip-hop has definitely lost something. He was the only artist that made me love this music as much as I do. These days, it’s hard for me to connect to much of it without him around. As far as I’m concerned, everyone that came after him is expendable. Biggie was perfection personified.
There’s a reason fans like me look at people like B.I.G, ‘Pac, and J.M.J. as martyrs of some sort. Very few artists these days display any redeeming qualities other than their talent for making hits. Very few are moving forward and changing the game. It’s hard these days to say what separates one cat from the next because everyone sounds alike now.
When Biggie rhymed, you felt like he was sitting right across from you, telling you how his day went. He was personalble, and his conversational humor made you feel right at home. We related to this guy. He wasn’t a pretty boy, by his own account he wasn’t very attractive at all. But you can imagine with the amount of charisma he had why any woman would want to be by his side.
People outside of hip-hop just don’t get it. To them, he was just another rapper that lived by the sword and died by it. But every culture, every generation has someone that just speaks to them. He laid his flaws on the table, let everyone know how he felt about the game, made me understand that as a black youth, I was valid, no matter what anyone else would have me believe. He talked about struggling. Me and a lot of people I know are struggling right now, hustling in our own ways to get by. That’s why Biggie matters to us, that’s why we broke down when we lost him. He was our voice. Not necessarily the face of our culture, but a damn good representative of how a lot of us felt.
I encourage everyone to have a private Biggie moment at home today if you haven’t already. Play five of his hits. Play the whole damn album. Nod your head. Recite the rhymes. Remember that feeling? Only Biggie can make you feel like that and no one else.
On this day, I won’t mourn his passing. I will instead mourn everything else that seemed to die with him. Turn on the radio or BET and you’ll know exactly what I mean. I feel for the ones that will come up in this era of music not knowing or understanding what made him one of the greatest.
Things have changed.
From one Christopher to another, we miss you.