Thursday, October 15, 2009

So I Guess This Means I'm Back...

It’s been a while since the last time I wrote anything here (we elected a black President and Michael Jackson passed away, just to name a couple slightly significant events that have transpired since my last entry). One reason has been school and work. However, I’ve managed to do enough outside of those endeavors to make that excuse practically irrelevant.

Another reason is that, in this Twitter Age (Thank You! I coined the phrase myself…), I wonder whether anyone is interested in reading more than 140 characters at a time. Do folks have a long-enough attention span to read a whole blog entry anymore? I guess I’ll find out…

A third reason concerns what J-Smooth calls “The Little Hater.” Sometimes I just don’t think what I have to say (or write) is important enough to put out there in the ethers. Other times it seems as though everything that could possibly be said or written on a subject has already been said or written. So why am I chiming in with my opinion on the matter? (I sense that I will continue to struggle with my personal Little Hater. To be continued…).

But all of the above is tangential to what I’ve discovered to be the real reason I stopped writing, and that reason goes a little something like this (Hit It!): the more I wrote, I found myself thinking I was actually working toward solving whatever controversy I was writing about (as if my explanation of what “Greatest Rapper Of All Time” really means would actually cease inane notions that Mos Def is…mos’ def’ in the top 3. Silly me…).

Now, it’s not beyond my personal parameters to possess an inflated view of the weight my opinion holds (what can I say; I get it from my Mamma…and Daddy). However, without realizing it, I became severely frustrated that my words didn’t change anything. Black folks still overreact when a racist old white guy drops the N-Bomb (or rather, unnecessarily react), The Duke lacrosse players never got a proper apology from the likes of Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton, and Soulja Boy still has an effin’ career (the last wound cuts the deepest…). Keeping this frustration in check will be an additional challenge for me.

So now that see why I stopped writing, the reason why I want to continue writing became clear and is shockingly simple (at least to me): I miss writing. I miss expressing myself in this format. I miss the therapy that writing offers me. I feel more comfortable doing this than verbally illustrating my point of view.

So, in the proverbial words of Brett Favre (again!) and a posthumous Michael Jackson: I’m back (it’s either ironic or the basis of a bad horror movie to claim that a dead MJ is claiming he’s back, even proverbially…).

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