On Negativity

Look, some people are just negative. They are hard-wired to see the fault and see if and how it affects them first. That will always be their first reaction and their default setting.

It doesn't mean they aren't kind people, or even good-hearted or fun-loving, but... BUT, that trait will always show up. They will always find the one note missed in a beautiful song of thousands of notes. They will always find a way to be stressed or unhappy, even in the best of circumstances that so many others would consider a dream. If they have food, it's the wrong kind... if they have water, it's not what they wanted, if they have a roof, it could be better. If they are dieting, it's the worst ever. If they have lost weight, it's not enough. They will always want more and more and more... whatever it is, it could be better or different. They are just never going to be satisfied.

So, stop trying.

Life your life. Do what you are going to do. Go where you are going to go. Let them come, or not. Let them join, or not. They will be confused and hurt when you retreat or don't always seek to include them. And rightly so, either love them or don't love them. But don't be their "sometimes" friend. But, under no circumstances are you required to cater to them or ensure their happiness is secured ahead of your own.

The world is a big, beautiful, fun place - and even with the horrors that hit us daily - it's still great to be alive and sentient and able to pursue your passions and life paths. Do not let someone else hinder and derail that. Invite them along, but don't stop for them.

Cheers,
#JustBeingMichael ツ

Open Letter - September 10th, 2014

Hello All –

Normally, I don’t like “open letters.” But, timeliness necessitates efficiency in this scenario. So, rather than message everyone privately, or rather than make it seem more dramatic than what it is... I'll just address it all at once, publicly, and let my "yay be yay" and my "nay be nay."

Several of my friends have either called, texted, or sent messages about my recent silence. Nothing is wrong, but I’ve been quiet lately on social media for several reasons:
--I’ve been inordinately busy with work. Really. I have a few jobs and I'm swamped.
--I’ve moved houses and I’ll be blunt: that is the most soul-sucking task of which I know. I wasn't ready.
--I am dealing with some spiritual/emotional issues and learning to just submit to God’s will – which is hard for me.
--I was just taking time to regroup and kind of get my own mind in order, and my own words in order. I don't like to make blanket announcements before I have crossed my "t's" and dotted my "i's." I don't like to be caught making an announcement before I've done my homework or signed my contracts. And I don’t like it when others make weird statuses about “I’m taking a break” or “I’m cutting my friends list” or even “There’s so much negativity.” Rather than be a hypocrite (because you have ALL seen me call those types out) I just took a break and handled my business(es).

But I am going to address this fully: I have gotten very, very positive feedback and lots of reinforcement about my life journey from last year to this year. And I want to extend a heartfelt thank you to my family and to my friends. Really. My mother and my sister have been invaluable. There are some sources of outreach and support I NEVER thought I'd get. And to be honest, there has been some reconciliation and outreach from old friends and even ministers that I NEVER thought I'd speak with again. My long term support system has been amazing to me. Friends really are the greatest treasures. I am MORE than blessed with people that love me. And I’m truly lucky enough to have new friends and support as well. Tampa Bay has become home. But...to be honest, there’s also been negative feedback. Some people think I am too “Jesus-y” and that I have just taken it TOO far. That’s okay, too. It’s okay for you to feel that way, and it’s okay for me to do it. You’d likely be just as vocal and write just as much about it if you’d been healed and if you’d been delivered and if you’d been given a new lease on life. However you need to feel and whatever you need to do is fine. Mute my feed. Feel free to unfriend me on this platform. Facebook to me is a tool to accomplish a means. It is by NO means my only source of reality or truth. And I don’t get offended by being unfriended or muted, or blocked. I’m kind of grown that way. It doesn’t mean we can’t sit down for a drink, or coffee, or I won’t hug your neck when I see you in person.

All of that being said, it’s the perfect segue for me to use this platform to publicly announce that I’ve surrendered to the call of the ministry, in whatever form that takes in my future. My close friends and even just those that read my writings know I’ve squandered quite a bit of time in my life. But this is a natural progression for me; and it is one I will not take lightly, or will I ever turn away from again. Luckily for me, God’s callings and gifts are without repentance. The anointing is still as strong and the way God works through me is better than ever. God and His love are infallible and unconditional.

Truly.

And, frankly, I’ve had candid conversations with mentors and with my pastor about my initial lack of enthusiasm for anything more than just “being back in church.” This is more than a “find something good to do with your hands…” or “hand to the plow” situation. I kind of begged God to get out of it (if I am being transparent in my own journey), but the resounding answer has been that God placed me where He wanted me, and I’m to work in the Harvest. It’s hard to decline such an invitation (er, command) after the year I’ve had with the digestive issues, cancer, and complete recovery for my health and spiritual issues. Complete recovery.

I’ve been privileged to find myself in a great church and am sitting under a wonderful pastor for this season in my life. I miss my family and I miss Jackson, but I’m also positioned well to secure my job, and my finances to the point to where I can be a minister, in whatever capacity I’m asked to serve. God wants us to bloom where we are planted and work where we are called. Currently, I am working in two ministries with music and teaching at my church and loving every, single minute. Whatever comes, and whatever has to happen in my life to accomplish these, I’ve been really, really blessed to be armed with the support team and resources in this time of my life and during these transitions.

Hope that clears some of it up. Nothing's wrong. I'm not being quiet on purpose. I won't quit giving all credit to God for the changes in my life. I won't quit talking about Jesus and I will continue even further in ministry and in working with whatever I'm asked to do. Can't get much better than that for a second chance. (or third, or fourth... or fifth... or maybe sixth or seventh...)

Much love and prayers to you all.

Cheers, #JustBeingMichael ツ

How Do You Respond To Criticism?

Proverbs 15:31-33: 

"If you pay attention when you are corrected, you are wise. If you refuse to learn, you are hurting yourself. If you accept correction, you will become wiser. Reverence for the Lord is an education in itself. You must be humble before you can ever receive honours.

No one is perfect, therefore at some point in all of our lives, we will face criticism. We will be corrected. We will be subject to someone judging our work, our lives, or our actions. Granted, that is not always comfortable and it is not always received well. Essentially, no one likes criticism, but encountering some is inevitable. What do you do in that moment? How do you handle that situation? We need to learn how to respond in a Godly way, that best represents our ability to learn and grow. Although we might be tempted to become defensive or angry, we must remain calm and listen. The words may hurt, but great benefits come to those who carefully consider what is said.

Have you ever heard the phrase, "Practice makes perfect." Teachers, coaches, mentors, parents, friends, leaders, bosses... they are all there to get our best performance. That performance may be on a job site, or in a musical production, or on a test. No one does something perfectly the first time, and most people need multiple times in practice to be of any skilled level in performance. If we refuse to accept advice, correction, or reproof, we'll limit our potential for Christlike-character development and spiritual growth. Some of life's best lessons come through difficult experiences. If God allowed the situation, you can be sure that He wants to use it in transforming you into His image. Whether the criticism is valid or not, whether it's delivered with kindness or harshness, your goal should always be to respond in a way that glorifies the Lord. Remember that you are responsible only for how you handle yourself, not for how the other person is acting.

Here is what I have learned over a lifetime of public service, government work, ministry, and being someone that builds things for people, I have been given the opportunity to hear many people's gripes and complaints about a process, a software, a policy, or a change to workflow. It can be disheartening when a criticism comes your way, but here are some tried and true tips to get through it with some dignity, some grace, and able to hold you head high and maintain respect for your merit: Be quiet and listen until the other person has finished. Don't interrupt or immediately try to make excuses or deny the criticism. 9 times out of 10, even if you disagree, you must realize that perception is reality to the person talking to you. Their life may seem like it is ending because a button doesn't work, and they don't have access to the bigger picture of other things on your plate. And sometimes, it is a legitimate criticism that you just don't realize about yourself. Make direct eye contact to show attentiveness and respect. Even if you don't have time to process this data yet, and you can't confirm their criticism of you... be an adult that handles yourself with dignity. Look them in the eye. Show respect to them for having them intestinal fortitude to come to you directly, regardless of manner. When your critic finishes, thank them for bringing their concerns to your attention. This seems crazy, but it is imperative that you understand you may be at fault and it is your responsibility to have that gut check and determine legitimacy to their claim. Vocalize that by telling them that you will consider what has been said. And don't make a promise you cannot keep. Don't immediately deny, but don't immediately apologize and promise an easy fix. Pray. Pray and ask the Lord if the accusation is valid. Let Him search your heart and either affirm your innocence or convict you.

Every rebuke is an opportunity from God. Worldly or spiritual, it's a chance to let your Christian character shine by showing Christ's love to your critic. If they are angrily attacking you, your respect and kindness become a powerful testimony. Criticism is also an occasion to humble yourself and accept the Lord's correction. Don't overlook the lesson.

Cheers, 
#JustBeingMichael ツ

My Testimony... To Date

Hello Friends & Loved Ones…

I have truly treasured the support and friendship from everyone in the past year of my life. It’s been overwhelming, and to be blunt, surprising to me. There are sources of inspiration and support that have come completely out of left field. People have shown up to assist, pray and be there for me that I never even thought I’d be able to see or speak with again. And there are those that I’d assumed I’d have their undying support throughout my life, that were nowhere to be found and that I had to practically beg to make time to catch up.

These are not indictments – just facts.

As many of you are intimately familiar with, for the past several years I’ve suffered a lot of overall health and wellness issues. Many of my closer friends know the, at times arduous, journey I’ve been on with regard to my health and my digestive disorders. Those that are closest to me know the miraculous recovery I’ve been given, and how that action has been instrumental in reconciling my faith, my spiritual and emotional journeys as well.

I believe in giving credit where credit is due, and to God, for all of the magnificent and, honestly, wondrous works in my life, I give thanks. The place I was last April, one short year ago, and where I was six months ago… sitting in a doctor’s office, with a death sentence on my head. I’ve made magnificent strides. The cancer (yes, the Barrett’s esophagus had become cancerous), my hiatal hernia, the ulcers, and the perforated esophagus from advanced GERD have all been cleared by my physicians.

Let me be clearer: All. Of. It.

The testimony I am able to give is one of not only one of me working with my physicians, and the real, true struggle of trying to eliminate toxins and poisons from our current societal lifestyle. But it is a testimony of true miracles. At least two, if you count things that neither I, nor my doctor could have done or did. I think the daily struggles and the strength, willpower, and ability to get up and face the day were miracles, too. That’s not for me to split hairs on. Regardless of your belief structure, regardless of your faith and what it allows you process in your own mind - mine has made me whole. What should have occurred, didn’t. What shouldn’t have occurred, did. And even my wonderful doctor is now asking me about this God that I keep talking about. Why am I so adamant that I don’t generalize the name of God, or give credit to just any old spirit up there, and I keep calling him Jesus? Why am I so quick to give credit when medical science cannot answer my questions? (I never meant to be someone else’s catalyst, or testimony, but I suppose my plans are not always the ones that matter.) I can’t answer the theology of it all. And even my depth of knowledge and scripture isn’t adequate in the face of what is being described by two of my doctors now as a miracle. Here is what I know: The pictures of my esophagus and stomach today are that of a model, healthy adult male vs the ones that resembled ground turkey that needed to be removed and I’d have feeding tubes and require specialized pills and diets forever. I have always heard of things like this happening. And I’ve joked with several of you that it always happened to someone else. If you were a Bourn, or if you were a Craft, or that one girl at Jr. Camp’s Roomate’s Sister’s Friend got healed. We all tell and retell those stories. It’s so different when God touches you personally. I had made peace with dying. I really had. I thought I’d not have the surgery, I’d not treat the cancer, and I’d made peace that I’d squandered my calling, my anointing, and my gifts, and that I’d likely go to hell. I guess those plans of mine were also not exactly what God wanted. What a difference 6 months, the Lord, and prayer can make!!

Some of you have been precious to me during this time. You listened and stood by during my struggle in quitting smoking, quitting unhealthy and disastrous eating and drinking, and even with my sedentary to active lifestyle. The struggle was real, y’all! Those of you, know who you are, and you are very dear to me! The encouragement you have given during the surgeries, the extreme eating and monitoring plan – you’ll never know how much it meant. You were even kind, when I wasn’t. My god, who knew that detoxing and the wild restrictions of food, drink, and vice would make me so irritable and cranky! I still can’t walk by someone smoking a menthol cigarette without tearing up and wanting to beg for just one puff! And even though I can have some wine or some clear liquors… I can smell Jager or think of a Jager Bomb and I still miss it! Those late night phone calls where I questioned God’s reasoning and why I was “having to deal with all of this spiritual crap” mean the world to me now. The fact that God would even wake me up and deal with me still freaks me out. And it still makes me want to smoke. Isn’t it crazy how even when clean and sober and having detoxified the body… our minds still want what would hurt us! To those that listened to me whine and complain, to those that listened to me go through all of this and question my sanity and spirituality… to those that stood beside me during the death of my sweet Mamaw Sue during all of this… you will never know what it means to me, and I don’t think I can adequately repay you.

The end of it is not over. I had kind of hoped it would be. I thought, “Oh, Great… I’ll get involved with a local church, work, and tithe and just kind of build a great little life.” Oh, if only God would just do what I say, and listen to the plans and designs I submit!!! But that, too, isn’t meant to be. It has been an amazing 6 months since October, my diagnosis, and my release from what would have been certain death to this new lease on life. God gives old men like me dreams and visions still…

I no longer despise the life given me. I no longer despise the hard times that brought me to where I am today. I no longer laugh in the face of my callings. I no longer rail and rage against the inevitable submission I must make to God for all He’s done for me. Yes, my life is important to me… my life’s work is important to me… But how I pay my bills is becoming less important to me, because I want to make a life not just a living. I want to leave a legacy besides that of only the drudgery of what I’d allowed my life to become. Success has a price...

I wasn’t happy…

My body wasn’t happy…
My spirit wasn’t happy…

And they all began to shut down. It took a crossroads. It took a death sentence. It took a miracle.  

What happened after that is something at which I can only marvel. I prayed. I, simply, quietly, and directly, prayed. Now, I am a great designer, planner, and coordinator – but, I could not have planned and coordinated the next steps my life is going to take. The meticulous dovetailing of professional, personal, and ministerial projects and partners came together in a way that I could never have imagined, much less asked for, and worked toward… I have been blessed with talent. I have been given a mind and memory that scare some people. I have been given the ability to communicate verbally and with writing. And God has seen fit to allow my work, my career, my skillset, my expertise, my family, my talents, my passion, and my gifts to all met at one crossroad. I get emotional when I truly think of the next steps and projects. I want to make even more proactive and positive steps in my own life and thus, I’ve decided to restructure my life.

All of this has been leading to this announcement and this proclamation: I’ve quit my current job, and will be altering my career path, effectively. As in, effective immediately, effective permanently.

I’ve been privileged to start my own company, Kennedy Solutions, and I’ll be fortunate enough to be working with government and working with public healthcare. It’s an expertise I’ve acquired along the way. I’ll still be working with Federal and State programs – but I am committed to working with integrity, honesty, and expertise. I’ve already been blessed to secure contracting and to finalize all of the paperwork (prior to any announcements, thus the wait and the teasers.) And once a few things started rolling, even more contractors and people wanted to partner and connect to begin doing good work, that we are proud of, in a way that benefits both us, our government, and people. We are doing creative consulting… we are something different!!

Kennedy Solutions has also been invited to participate in national initiatives due to our experience in Healthcare, Nutrition and Wellness. I have to admit, we have a unique and personal perspective when it comes to wellness and taking care of the body through holistic nutrition.

And here is where God is just hilarious, and where my personal dreams (dreams I’d given up on) have come true: We will be doing non-profit work with both ministry and pastoral programs. I’m fortunate enough to where I’ll be in partnership with my parents and family on projects. This is exciting because my “dad” has talked to me about some of my theological and writing ideas. The fact that I’ve been offered a partnership and a book deal on a theological series is very humbling (Zacchaius, #IBGAS, and my testimony). My mom and I have decided to partner on a music project, and I’ve been blessed to be invited to participate in ministry with a local church in the Tampa Bay area.

Oh! And, certainly not least, we have been working with Google on fun tech projects and have just secured the next phase of working through wearable technology! We are excited to announce that we are partnering with Google on wearable tech and government and healthcare!! It’s crazy how one moment of fun and a seemingly harmless meeting a year ago has turned into a new part of our career and project goals. We will also be working with Microsoft right here in Tampa on win8 and government solutions… I’m even getting the opportunity to further my education and fulfill a personal lifelong dream of obtaining a terminal degree! (Working on my doctorate!)

I don’t know what everyone else is going through. I don’t know if some will consider this post conceit, or bragging. I can’t really be bothered with how it will be received. I’ve been bursting inside to share the Good News of what has been going on, and just couldn’t until contracts and business was completed. But, I do know this… the more I have relinquished my own plans, and the more I have given to God, the more I’ve received… and in ways I’d have never been able to design or contemplate. Let that galvanize your faith today. Maybe you are sick – well, I’ve been there – bolster your own faith and watch what God can do, when you actively participate. Maybe you have a dream – exercise your faith, and give it to God, even when losing that control is scary, and watch the hand of God move in your own life.

One of the great men I’ve known, T.L. Craft, said “if you make God’s business your business, God will make your business His business.” And that’s just true. I’ve never understood just how true until recently.

You cannot outgive God.

You cannot outserve God.
You cannot outpace God.
You cannot outlove God.

I am blessed beyond measure.

Cheers,
#JustBeingMichael ツ

An Open Letter to My Girlfriends...

This is an open letter to my girlfriend(s). You are an amalgamation of many types of women. You are not singled out. You are not being put on “blast” or notice. But I want to speak to “you,” if you can consider yourself a collective, a group, a “you.”

I love you. I think you are great. I think that you have unique, special qualities that no one else will ever have. I think your eyes are beautiful. I think that the way you carry yourself is unique. There will never be another human being like you on the face of the planet. You could be someone’s twin, and your unique and personal perspective of the world is still your own. You are the only you that will ever exist. I want you to know that I see you. I do. I really, truly, and honestly “see” you.

Having that sight and being in a sympathetic, but “outside-looking-in” perspective, is hard. I see you, but I am powerless. I see your struggles, and yet, I cannot tell you how to navigate them perfectly. I want to offer support, but without directing you. And I think that the pain you endure is needless, and in some ways, self-inflicted. I am concerned for you. I am worried for you. I pray daily for you. I don’t know how to help you, other than to be a shoulder, and to pray. But I also think that you need to be told a few truths:

• God never makes people to be copies of anything else. I’ve never known any artist that appreciated being told how to create art. I’m sure God gets pretty pissed off when you explain to Him that he made mistakes. I know you share a thousand pictures and inspirational quotes from Instagram about this, but do you read them? Do you believe them? You should.
• I’ve never known you to be secure. Ever. I get that you were raised this way from birth, but you might want to change this before you take this behavior into your golden years. You have stated you know this, but if you are not doing anything real, or measurable to make those changes, you are just talking in circles with the same group of people. What good does that do?
• Life isn’t something that you wait to begin. You won’t be happy “when.” You must make each moment of your journey count. Life will not be any better, or worse, or any more “livable” when:
• You finally pay off your loans
• You get that car
• Your divorce is final
• Your husband comes to his senses about your worth
• You get shoes that make that other heifer eat it!
• You are finally in a relationship
• You get married
• You get a fancier purse
• You have a baby
• You find a better best friend
• Why would you ever give up your dreams for someone else’s dreams? Can they not be accomplished together, as a unit? As a couple? As a “we?” If the answer is no, then that is NOT the couple, “we,” and unit you should be in…
• Men want a Proverbs 31 woman, and we talk, preach, and write books about it. Yet, we rarely talk about what kind of man WE need to be, in order to attract that type of partner. You will never attract a man that is worthy of a Proverbs 31 woman, if you don’t demand it. You can’t “be” a Proverbs 31 woman, and hold that as a standard-bearer, if you allow yourself to be treated as something else. If you don’t require good, fair, and equitable treatment – why would you think you are going to be treated that way?
• Just like you have standards of how you would like to be treated, you should give that respect back. Respect goes two ways, and if you are constantly upset at how others treat you, but never at fault in your mind of how you treat others, then you have some self-reflection time to take. 
• Grown women don’t “pretend” something didn’t happen, like they were on a child’s playground. Adults address the issue, and move past it, if possible and applicable. Forgiveness is there for a reason. Trust me, if you are my friend, I will forgive any grievance I have, but I won’t ignore it.
• Generally, you think too much. About everything. Calm your mind, breathe deeply, and understand that as a designed, created, and unique person, you deserve the respect, time, and peace that anyone else deserves. You don’t deserve more, but you don’t deserve less. Not every single thing is about you, your business, or for you. You do not have to expend any energy on what some other man or woman thinks of you. You just don’t. Save yourself the time and frustration.
• If you love someone, that is not always enough. I know that is heartbreaking news, but it is true. Love will not pay your bills. Love will not get you a job. Love will not put food on your table. Love will not make you live for God. Love is a comfort, and a luxury, and an extra. It is not a requirement, nor is it a right or a promise. You have been sold a lie, and you have been sold a fairy tale. You will be happier if you realize that real, true love is hard work and it is something YOU create, not fall into, or out of, or are “blessed” with.
• Love does not always equal faithfulness. I know many men that love their partner, wife, spouse, husband and cheat like dogs. They don’t “mean” it badly. They “love” their partner for all of the home life, and things offered there, but that isn’t always enough. You need to decide you’re your acceptable boundaries are, and how you would expect to be treated, and how you expect your treatment to be received. It’s not all your fault, but it’s not all his either.
• Yes, we like sports. But hear this… it’s because it has numbers and someone wins. That really is why… it’s not some deep rooted sexual thing. It’s not ingrained. It’s genetic and it’s how we are raised to be in power. Sports aren’t about how we FEEL. It’s binary. It’s “did you win, or lose.” Who did better? Who did what to help win? Individual, team, Olympic, whatever… sports are easy because we don’t have to talk for four hours about who said what that made them FEEL badly about a sports. We sportsed our hardest and outsportsed the other sports and won! That’s the basic reason. 
• Yes, we think participation trophies are dumb.
• Yes, we agree that it’s dumb to have overly-sensitive men. You don’t really like them either. But you don’t want us to be too distant either. It REALLY does confuse and frustrate us, both as your friends and as the guys you would date.
• You assume that your ability to split a hair seven ways is also something men do. No.
• Men are generally not good people. There are a few good ones. And there are many, many of them that strive to be the best they can. But almost EVERY man is flawed, hard-headed, and reared to be excellent and believe in himself. Men are never raised to constantly berate themselves, diet, feel less than, or fight over things that are superficial. Men are raised to be in power, and feed, and grow. As a partner to that, you need to get over the fact that you, as a woman, are generally raised to keep yourself small, and only reward yourself out of excellence, and not because you deserve to be raised that way to just naturally be powerful and excel. That is an unfortunate lie you have been taught.
• Why would you ever argue or fight in public with another woman? Oh, honey... Facebook, Twitter, and your text messages are public.
• Why would you consider yourself the winner if you "won" the guy in a fight with another woman? You are still the loser in that situation, honey. Your man is trash at that point. And you are not any better off for having "kept" him in that situation.
• Why would you berate another woman on her level of what you deem is acceptable levels of femininity? You hate it when men do that with masculinity? Why would you exhibit the exact behavior?
• Why would you constantly rotate your friends? You seem to constantly be talking about one of us, to the rest of us… I say this in love, but you always talk about your opinion on one person of the day, to all of the rest of the group is noticed, and it’s weird. That’s why people get testy. If you will talk TO us about the others, you will talk ABOUT us to the others, even under the guise of venting.
• You will always be the other woman, until you remove yourself from that position. If he will cheat WITH you, he will cheat ON you. It is not his wife’s fault, it is his fault. Regardless of what she is, or is not, he will never leave her for you. If he does, he will leave YOU for the NEXT one.
• You can proclaim, all day long, that you are a modern, empowered, liberated woman. Great. I think that’s just great. Go for that. Be yourself, be unique, and be excellent. But if you proclaim, that… please live up to that. 
• Don’t back down on being a great, empowered lady, if you are just going to cry about being single. 
• Don’t claim to be unique and how you are holding out because you deserve it, if you are making a spectacle of yourself in public by dating any old man that will give you 5 minutes of attention.
• Don’t claim that you are excellent and a Daughter of the King, if you are allowing yourself to be used like public toilet, and then wondering why no one thinks you are marriage material, datable, or even respectable.
• I do not think anyone should ever be disrespected, but hear me clearly… if you see a person in a police uniform, you assume they are a policeman. If you see a person in a fire uniform, you assume they are a fireman. If you see someone in a whore uniform, you just naturally assume they’re a whore. Don’t cry foul because someone thinks you are a skank, if you dress, walk, and talk like a skank.
• If you are dating, shacking up, partnered, married, and your partner is beating you. Leave. I made the horrific and awful mistake of allowing someone to hit me, and then I hit back. And then they hit me, and I’d hit back. I should have turned my back, walked away and never looked in the rearview mirror. What happened was that I was brought to that level, acted in a completely irrational, childish, and retaliatory way and I hit back. Some think that’s fine, I don’t. I wish I hadn’t… but if you get hit. You need to move on. Period. The end.
• If you are married, and your husband is cheating on you. Do you find this acceptable?
• No? Leave.
• Yes? Why? Because your pastor told you to wait? Uh, was it a man? Why? Why would someone tell you to take years of mental abuse? Why would they not counsel the offending party to restoration, instead of the VICTIM to adapt to abuse? I don’t understand that. From a male perspective, a man would NEVER take that advice or adapt to mental and emotional abuse.
• Yes? Well, if you are into that, and he does, and you are allowed to, and it’s open and your business… that’s up to you. I don’t think that’s right, and I don’t want to know, but you do you, honey.
• When you have a guy that loves you and does things for you and is kind to you, and treats you well and is interested in you, and you put him in your friend zone… that’s your fault. 
• When someone, anyone, tells you who they are, you should pay attention to that and listen to what they’ve said.
• Girls that tell you how hard they go, and how they “keep it real,” are “crazy,” or that they will “cut someone”… well, then listen to them. Heed their warning! They are telling you straight up… and when they turn that ON you… you always act surprised. Stop it.
• Guys that tell you they are not interested are not interested. Stop analyzing every single word of every text, email, FB, or conversation. They said it. Clearly. Not interested. Slips ups, drunk kisses, drunk booty calls, using you like a toilet to get their needs met, and then STILL not committing or making any progress with you won’t change if you invite and encourage that behavior. Why would it? People treat you exactly as you let them.
• Guys that tell you they are interested will ACT like they are interested. Don’t fall for words of love, if no actions of love are behind it.
• You will not always get out of something or someone what you put into something or someone. You are promised that, and you are told that… but I honestly think that’s where your disappointment comes from. That’s not true. Guys learn that from sports, games, and the playground. Just because we train someone doesn’t mean they’ll perform under pressure. And if they can’t, we don’t keep letting them so that their feelings are not hurt. Because then the whole team fails. Girls seem to think that if you train someone, and they fail, then you got let down on a personal level. That had NOTHING to do with you personally. It had NOTHING to do with YOUR situation. Some people will NEVER be a good investment, and NEVER give you what you gave. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it, or that you can’t love them with a Godly love, and try to help anyway, but you can’t take it personally.

I realize that some of these are very direct and hard to swallow. I even realize that as a friend, you may think I have no insight. But I do, both as someone that’s been there, and someone that sees from a very unique perspective. I love you. I do. I think the absolute world of you. You are my mother/sister/best friend/ex-girlfriend/ex-best friend/future wife/confident/co-worker. I don’t want you to hurt, and I don’t want you to spend years wasting your time learning a lesson that you could get over in days if you focused the energy and knew that sometimes it’s just not about you, or because of you, or something you could even control.

You are great, just like you are. You are loved, whether you realize it or not, just like you are. You are going to be just fine, even if you can’t see it. And you will THRIVE in the face of some of your obstacles, even if you don’t believe it.

I love you.

Cheers,
#JustBeingMichael ツ

Confidants, Constituents, and Comrades...

Sometimes old sermons are still the best sermons. And this is good stuff!! Good preaching, yes... but really good teaching as well. I know that I needed this today. You have a destiny and a dream God has given you... and you wont' get there alone. You will have:

• Confidants (those for you, and that you are completely in sync with. They are those that will be with you through good or bad, ups and downs, and will be there regardless.)
• Constituents (those that are for what you are for. They agree with your causes and what you stand for. They are not necessarily for YOU, and they will follow the next person that aligns with their belief or cause.)
• Comrades (Those not for you, or your dream or cause, but they are against what you are against. They will join with you to fight a greater enemy. They come and go.)

This applies to Church, Life, Family, Friends, Work... You can see and administer this wisdom throughout many areas of your life. You will need people, regardless of how many times you try to make it alone. The honest truth is that you can't make it in this life alone. You will need all three at different times and God will show you, whether at a family reunion that makes you grit your teeth or if you are in a difficult project at work. There will be those that see your vision and dream, and there will be those that only join in to defeat a different failure or enemy. Don't let that break your heart. See people honestly and categorize them where needed, but... always know the difference.

Cheers,
#JustBeingMichael ツ

#MamawSue on Life Makeovers & Changes...

My Mamaw is an amazing woman. She's full of common sense, wisdom, and moral fortitude. She's also a pistol. She'll tell you things before you realize that you didn't necessarily want to hear them, and even later realize that you needed to hear them.

I was trying to talk to her about my "Life Makeover" and the Changes I've been working on... She had already told me this quote years ago, but she said something similar to it again and gave me some encouraging words. Granted, she said she didn't understand "makeovers" in general. Her school of thought was:

"If you were being who you were supposed to be, or wanted to be in the first place, you wouldn't need to fix anything or have a makeover. Let that be a lesson, pet... live the way you are supposed to, and do what you know is right, and you won't have to change friends or 'say you're sorry'."

Well, Mamaw, hindsight being 20/20, I'll do that from now on. She also told me:

"Don't never regret anything. If you never make mistakes, hon, then you would never learn how you should fix them. Sometimes you have to know how to make things right. Fixing things and making things right is a great skill to have in this life."

She even said she'd add me to her prayer list. If you know my Mamaw, that means I'm also being gossiped about!!! But THAT's a whole 'nother story!!

Cheers,
#JustBeingMichael ツ

Accountability Is Key...

OR – HOLD ME TO IT!!!

If something is broken, fix it.

If you have a broken item, that cannot be fixed, get rid of it.

If something is hurting, mend it.

If you have a hurt item, that cannot be mended, end it.

That seems elementary. That seems like common "horse sense." But it isn't. We are barraged with images and with ideals that our society has become too quick to discard things. And we have. There are more divorces than ever. It's at an all time high. There are more relationships that end, and some for no more reason than a misunderstanding. Today, there is more pollutions, trash, and "thrown away" items than ever before. We ARE a society that wants things instantly, becomes bored or un-impressed even faster than that, and we are quick to discard, leave, abandon, and divorce at a rate that could make even the most jaded cynic blink.

Is that a bad thing?

 

Yes, and no. Selfish and senseless abandon are not great qualities. And our society today makes it more tolerant to do such "because it makes us happy." But, there are things to be said for working through relationships, mending friendships, fixing broken heirlooms, practicing and working to be better at sports, work, and acheiving our goals. Those are honorable and great things. They are just increasingly rare qualities in our society. But there are times when things cannot be fixed, cannot be mended, and cannot be overcome. There are times to honestly admit that, and honorably find a way to move on to the greater good in your life. There is absolutely no benefit to holding onto the bad things. Old things. Broken things. Dead things. Outdated things. If you cannot fix it, why are you hoarding it? If you can fix it, why haven't you? What is the fear and procrastination that are preventing that?

Proverbs 13:9: "The righteous are like a light shining brightly; the wicked are like a lamp flickering out."

I want to be righteous. I want to be a light to others and I wanto to shine. Brightly. But, that's hard to do if you are clouded, burdened, and distracted. You cannot fulfill your directives and destiny, if you are carrying the the discarded and broken things of other people's expectations, disappointments, and baggage. And that means your family, your friends, your lovers, and your internal voice. Those burdens are not yours to bear. Life goals, life goals, life goals...  You cannot reach them and become what you were meant to be if you are hoarded down with old broken things you will never use. And there are times to stop, back up, fix whatever needs fixing, and keep going... and there are times to know that something is irrevocably damaged and move on. I struggle with that decision repeatedly. The only advice I have is to pray for guidance and wisdom to know those situations.

In my own life, I've had to make the decision on which path to take - I've had to determine what I thought could be done with situations. Could they be fixed, mended, or patched together? Or did they need to be discarded? It's never an easy call. Especially when other people are concerned. But, I've had to apologize, and eat a little crow before to save a friendship. I've had to, also, end friendships that after some evaluation, I determined to be something I didn't need to have in my life. I've had to work with lovers and patch things up in relationships, and I've had to end relationships. I've had to relegate and compartmentalize people so that I didn't depend on them or think of them as certain labels (lover, family, friend, acquaintance) or of a type (trustworthy, wary, sneaky) so that the actions of peopel would not either cause me to be dependent on them or would not disappoint me. If you expect nothing, you are not let down when they deliver nothing. (The flip side is - that's a sad way to be... but sometimes necessary).

The truly wonderful thing in my own life is that I have friends and family I trust implicity to hold me accountable to my new life goals. There are very few I can say that about these days, but a man can count himself lucky if he has even one friend, right? I have more than that, and am doubly-blessed. I need the accountability - to keep me honest, and to call me out not only for the physical goals, but the emotional goals. There is now a formal and definite exercise plan in place. There is a a formal and definite nutrition/food plan in place. For those I've told about my health issues - there is a formal and definite plan in place for the upcoming surgery vs. pills. I'm still not sure I want surgery, but either way, it's being handled. There is NOT one yet for the smoking and drinking cessation and moderation plan. But, there will be. (Roma no se construyó en un día, no?!)

Not to mention the exciting and new career opps I am getting. I can't believe much of this is even coming my way. Still, all of this is still going to be a work in progress. As of yet, there are no set plans for the [in]famous attitude and snark. Also, as an afterthought (it should be a given, but just in case) there are no set plans to not be a vocal participant in my own life and the course of my nation. It IS election season, after all. And that's enough rambling about me for today. ツ

Cheers,

#JustBeingMichael ツ

You Are Not My Responsibility-Today's Life Lesson

Rabbi Edwin Friedman tells the story of a man who had given much thought to what he wanted from life. After trying many things, succeeding at some and failing at others, he finally decided what he wanted.

One day the opportunity came for him to experience exactly the way of living that he had dreamed about. But the opportunity would be available only for a short time. It would not wait, and it would not come again. Eager to take advantage of this open pathway, the man started on his journey. With each step, he moved faster and faster. Each time he thought about his goals, his heart beat quicker, and with each step, he moved faster and faster. Each time he thought about his goal, his heart beat quicker; and with each vision of what lay ahead, he found renewed vigor.

As he hurried along, he came to a bridge that crossed through the middle of a town. The bridge spanned high above a dangerous river. After starting across the bridge, he noticed someone coming in the other direction. The stranger seemed to be coming toward him to greet him. As the stranger grew closer, the man could discern that they didn't know each other, but yet they looked amazingly similar. They were even dressed alike. The only difference was that the stranger had a rope wrapped around his waist many times. If stretched out, the rope would reach a length of perhaps thirty feet.

The stranger began to unwrap the rope as he walked. Just as the two men were a bout to meet, the stranger said, "Pardon me, would you be so kind as to hold the end of this rope for me?" The man agreed without a thought, reached out, and took it.

"Thank you," said the stranger. He then added, "Two hands now, and remember, hold tight." At that point, the stranger jumped off of the bridge. The man on the bridge abruptly felt a strong pull from the now-extended rope. He automatically held tight and was almost dragged over the side of the bridge.

"What are you trying to do?" he shouted to the stranger below.

"Just hold tight," said the stranger.

This is ridiculous, the man thought. He began trying to haul the other man in. Yet is was just beyond his strength to bring the other back to safety.

Again, he yelled over the edge, "Why did you do this?"

"Remember, "said the other, "if you let go, I will be lost."

"But I cannot pull you up," the man cried.

"I am your responsibility," said the other.

"I did not ask for it," the man said.

"If you let go, I am lost," repeated the stranger.

The man began to look around for help. No one was within sight. He began to think about his predicament. Here he was eagerly pursuing a unique opportunity, and now he was being sidetracked by a stranger for who knows how long.

Maybe I can tie the rope somewhere, he thought. He examined the bridge carefully, but there was no way to get rid of his new found burden.

So he again yelled over the edge of the bridge, "What do you want?"

"Just your help," came the answer.

"How can I help? I cannot pull you in, and there is no place to tie the rope while I find someone else who could help you."

"Just keep hanging on," replied the dangling man, "That will be enough."

Fearing that his arms could not hold out much longer, he tied the rope around his waist.  "Why did you do this?" he asked again, "What possible purpose could have been in your mind?"

"Just remember, " said the other, "my life is in your hands."

Now the man was perplexed. He reasoned within himself, If I let go, all my life I will know that I let this other man die. If  I stay, I risk losing my momentum toward my own long sought-after salvation. Either way, this will haunt me forever.

As time went by, still no one came. The man became keenly aware that it was almost too late to resume his journey. If he didn't leave immediately, he wouldn't arrive in time.   Finally, he devised a plan.

"Listen," he explained to the stranger hanging below. "I think I know how to save you." He mapped out the idea: the stranger could climb back up by wrapping the rope around him and loop by loop the rope would become shorter. The dangling man had no interest in the idea.

"I don't think I can hang on much longer," warned the man on the bridge.

"You must try," appealed the stranger, "If you fail, I die."

Suddenly a new idea struck the man on the bridge. It was different and even alien to his normal way of thinking. "I want you to listen carefully," he said, "because I mean what I am about to say."

The dangling man indicated that he was listening.

"I will not accept the position of choice for your life; only for my own. I hereby give you back the position of choice for your own life to you."

"What do you mean?" the other asked, suddenly afraid.

"I mean, simply, it's up to you. You decide which way this ends. I will become the counterweight. You do the pulling and bring yourself up. I will even tug some from here." He unwound the rope from around his waist and braced himself to be a counterweight. He was ready to help as soon as the dangling man began to act.

"You cannot mean what you say," the other shrieked. "You would not be so selfish. I am your responsibility. What could be so important that you would let someone die? Do not do this to me."

After a long pause, the man on the bridge uttered slowly, "I accept your choice." In voicing those words, he freed his hands and continued his journey over the bridge.

The End

How To Properly Break Up... With a Psycho

Gay men and lesbians everywhere have been struggling. Not just struggling to survive, or have some semblane of equal rights, but also to get married. We've been so busy trying to be treated fairly and equitably, that we forget that sometimes... the right thing to do is to end a relationship.

Now I, personally, want the technical right to marry, but I don't know if I'll ever exercise that right. However, I have exercised my right to break up - thankfully - many times. And that's what this blog is about...

Unfortunately, not every guy out there takes rejection well. Or with a modicum of dignity. Some can't handle it and may, in fact, go crazy. Out of their head. Off the deep end. Some live in the deep end. You know the types... guys that want to go through your phone, guys that don't want you to look in their closet, or their house, or their freezer. That's a red flag. Don't ignore the gossip about your boyfriend or his exes! Heed those warning signs! If he brags about how he put sugar in an old trick's gas tank because he snubbed him, run! If you hear about how he set his exes bed on fire... with his ex IN it, run!

How to Break Up:

1. If you need some help in quips or one liners to get the conversation started, go here.
2. Do it in a well-lit, well-populated public place. Have friends nearby or be surrounded by people you will never see again, just in case it gets ugly. It will probably get ugly, so drop your pretension and your pride - just go to the ugly.
3. Maybe you don't want to do it in person AT ALL. If you are that kind, then there is a website that can help you by sending a form letter to the person that is no longer the object of your affection.
4. Don't do it at home, but if you MUST do it at home, hide the sharp objects.
5. Flatter him. And for ONCE in your life, at least try to sound sincere and don't crack up as you tell him that it's you, not him. That he's too good for you, etc.
6. Change the locks. Seriously. http://www.fondrenlocksmith.com/ @fondrenlock from Twitter does a GREAT job of locks. He's very reasonable AND he's a super nice guy.
7. Apply for the Federal Witness Protection Program.
8. File a restraining order.
9. Move. Change your identity.
10. Fake your own death. Hold a funeral. Write a fabulous obituary about yourself and have it run in the local paper. Now, when I Googled "How to Fake Your Own Death" the list of responses was HUMOROUSLY large. There were 6.5 MILLION responses. And my favorite is the WikiHow.
11. Join a gang. Have that gang beat the ever living shit out of him. Of course, you'll need to prepare to die young, since you are in a gang now.
12. If all else fails, bring in The Closer. Bring the heavy hitter, the sharp shooter, the final word: Have your mother break the news to him. Tell your mom that you think you might not be gay anymore and he just won't leave you alone. She'll LOVE getting to do it. :)

However you end up breaking free and getting away from your crazy soon-to-be ex, good luck!

Cheers!
#JustBeingMichael

Mother's Day: A True Story

-or-

Momma, I DO Try To Make You Proud

You cannot be a truly good Southern boy and not love your Momma and your Mamaw. That’s just fact. I hear so many people these days talk about their mothers in such negative terms. I think that’s just a crime – a TRAVESTY – if you will. Mommas may not always be the best people, but that’s because they are probably not Southern. I didn’t say all Mommas were perfect. But I implied that nearly all Southern-bred, born-and-raised Mommas are! (Because they just are…)

All of that leads me to the very interesting and intriguing task that I currently have at hand – I am sitting down and actually, on purpose, writing a sweet and true blog about my Momma. I didn’t want to at first, because she and I are SO much alike. It’s difficult to examine a thing and to want to describe it in both glory and gory detail – only to realize that you might as well be looking into a very, very magnified and high-definition mirror. So, I tend to focus on my Momma’s best qualities and her funny antics… because that’s what I like best about my own.

Truthfully, I almost made this blog more like an ode or a haiku-based thing. But, my Momma deserves a little more than that. Oh, my stories are just full of her mischief and her particular brand of homespun goodness. She’s a handful, and she’s sassy and spoiled. But she is one of the biggest parts of my heart and I love her. So, Momma, as MUCH as I rag on you, and tell ALL of our business, this one is just for you:

LaNita Sue was born and raised in Smith County, Mississippi. She was a princess. She was the incredibly gifted and talented first child AND grandchild of two sets of families. My grandfather was the eldest of his siblings, and the patriarch of our two families. And my grandmother was the eldest of her siblings, and the undisputed matriarch of her family. So, my Momma, was in fact born pretty much a princess. If hardworking, truck-driving, plantation-farmer’s daughters can be a princess. (They can. They most certainly can.) Yes, they had the big country house, and yes, my Papaw James was a man that could make some money and put food on the table and sable on his daughter’s back, but it was a simple life. Now, that’s not to say it wasn’t without its ups and downs, but it was a good life – a simple, southern, good life.

Trust me, as an heir to this family and one of the children of a child that had this kind of upbringing, that’s easier said than done to have a good, simple, southern life. We are all characters and we are all head strong, proud and independently CO-dependent on one another. But let’s face it, life can be more welcoming and certainly more genteel when your daddy has land and chunk of change; you have a sable; you are a talented debutante; and you sweep the categories in your high school’s “Most…” list every year. (That’s not an embellishment or an exaggeration.) I still, STILL, laugh and cherish my mother’s Senior High School Yearbook. She won every single thing. (Well, everything but friendliest.) And you have to understand, my mother is one those incredible people that can light up a room, just by being there. She is funny, she is personable, and she is exciting. But she is “unavailable”. My mother once explained to me that she was perfectly happy getting Miss Congeniality instead of Friendliest.

“Why wouldn’t you want that, too?” I asked, incredulous that her competitive nature had waned. I know that personally, my competitive nature in High School and College was spot on. I wanted to be in everything. I wanted to be INVOLVED in everything. And I was. If I wasn’t, I usually found out where, when, why, who, and how.

“Well, son, because with one, you just had to have manners and act like you were raised right”, she instructed. “You don’t have to actually care or listen to people drone on and on and on…”

That is the essence of it. That is almost the essence of her. And it was a lesson that stuck. You can give and give and give, but you have to save something for you. You have to take care of yourself and ensure that you save something to rejuvenate and regenerate with… so, that you can give more again later. (She also taught me this lesson spiritually later on in life when she and I would talk about singing, playing, and praying for people.) Still, I was floored. I know I’M competitive and I love recognition. But she won Miss BHS, Best Dressed, Most Popular, Most Talented, Most Congenial, She was Prom Queen, Homecoming Queen. I mean, the lady had a skill set that was IMPRESSIVE.

And to give credit where it truly belongs, my Mamaw Sue had a lot to do with that. My Grand Great Aunt Myrt (short for Myrtis) and my grandmother raised my mother. My grandmother was a go-getter for the 1940’s. She was not a stay-at-home wife and mother. She was an original Steel Magnolia. Faced with a husband in the war, and when he returned partially disabled. She hiked up her skirts and she found out exactly how to survive. She was a surgical nurse, she worked at a plant, and she helped on my grandfather’s farm. She was quite a woman. And she got her Aunt to move in and help with my mother, and eventually, my sister, and then, with me. She helped make my mother the debutante she became. I just wanted those women to get the props that they deserved for helping to not only create, but shape and celebrate the woman my mother would become. In hearing my Momma reminisce about those times, you can tell she was loved, and happy.

And later, as with all princesses, they get courted. They get suitors, and they get chased. My mother was no exception. She had her share of men that wanted to date her. And her parents were pretty careful about who they would let her date. However, Momma eventually found Daddy. She met, fell in love with, and married my natural father. Like any good woman, she knew her place and immediately set up a house and began having babies… I’m JUST kidding. I just wanted to make sure you, Reader, were awake and paying attention the words I actually put out. No, Momma was kind of progressive for a child of the 50’s/60’s. She totally started her own beauty salon business and was the bread winner. Now, my Dad was no slacker – there was a reason she was attracted to him. Dad’s family had some money, but nothing major, but his father owned his own mechanic business. My paternal grandmother was an impressively beautiful and exotic creature. She and I were not what I would consider “close”, but she was a woman to be reckoned with. Her style and lifestyle were legendary around the town they lived in, and my grandfather took care of her and kept her happy. My father, Dad had inherited his mother’s good looks, charm, and wit. Dad was definitely funny. He was quick witted, and he knew how to work and make a dollar. He has done everything from drive a truck to work in a plant, to start his own brokerage. The man has a mind on him. Or did, but that’s a different story and another tale.

So, much like Pac-Man, and Ms. Pac-Man, they meet, they fall in love…

…they produce amazing children. Now, I was not present for the birth of my older sister Dawne or any other siblings, really. I can only speculate and define what I know from MY childhood with my mother. I am my mother’s baby. THE baby. The BABY! And I love it. I love that for her, I am the one that broke the mold, that was the end all be all of what she thought she could create. And I have a feeling, I was not expected. J Not at accident, per se, just… a surprise. But, what a damn awesome surprise!  I know my other brothers, sisters, and steps, halfs, everyone really… they roll their eyes, they groan, but they know it: I am spoiled. And I was the baby child on one family, the ONLY boy on the other, and the BABY BOY on another. That kind of status brings POWER, heifers. Recognize. I. Love. Every. Minute. Of. It.

In conversations with my oldest sister Dawne, she and Momma were not very close when she was little. According to them both, at times there were just tons of conflict. I can’t imagine why!! Dawne was a very headstrong, independent, and opinionated child. I mean, seriously, two alpha females are never going to get along perfectly. It just doesn’t happen. Dawne and Momma have always been… complicated. However, now that we are all grown adults and people have children of their own; we all get along, and we all laugh about all of the struggle. But going through it always seems harder than the memory of the pain or the… conflict,.. or the appearance of things. I am very grateful and even somewhat relieved that they are so close now. Jealous? Eh, normally, I’d find a way to be the favorite, but Dawne does deserve some LaNita quality time. It can make you feel like you are the center of the universe when our Momma turns that smile on you and asks you questions about your life and is truly interested in you. It makes you feel safe, and happy, and warm. I’ve had that my entire life from her. Hell, I learned at her feet how to be just like her and how to make others feel that way. So, no… I’m not jealous that Dawne gets that now. I am thrilled.

All of that being said, and it being truly – just what it is – I had a very, very nearly ideallic childhood. Now, there are moments in my childhood that are hilarious. Moments that are embarrassing for my mother (the time I chose to use the bathroom in the parking lot at church during a softball game because “they wouldn’t take me to the bathroom”) Or times I think made me trust people less. (Like the time that both Momma and Daddy thought the other one had me and left me at church on the pew asleep). There are times that are sad. (when we lost Mamaw Claire (great grandmother) and when my father lost my Papaw Burl). When there were deaths, when there births, when there were just any happenings… Our Family always were there. We were there for literally everything. We were there for graduations, for hospitals, for parties. I can say I grew up RIGHT. My Momma took me everywhere with her. Not very many baby sitters, not very many times my parents went places that they couldn’t just throw me on a hip, and I went to.

Even as a small child, I can remember the bands and quartets my Momma played in. She could sing, she could play, she could talk. She was just very, very talented. I can remember the people coming to the house for dinner, drinks, and to sit around and sing and play. It was pretty amazing to sit at the feet of some pretty awesomely talented people. That was one of the first times I learned how to dance. People in the living room, playing music, and Momma had little boy me stand on her feet and sway. She told me that my Daddy didn’t have anything on my dancing. I remember that clearly. She had a way of making me feel like I was the only child. It was rare, because it’s hard to get her full attention, but when you do… everything else goes away for a while and you sit there and just want more of it.

This kind of life was the norm. It was beautiful. It was fun. At least for a while… Then they divorced. I didn’t understand the concept of divorce when I was little. I was precocious. I was smart. And I was kind of a smart ass, but I wasn’t very “deep” emotionally. I mainly focused on me. (Some might say that not very much has changed.) My father was, like I said, a beautiful and charming man, but he was also a whore. A man slut. He was just not great at being present for others. (I inherited that quality – I have to fight against it EVERY single day) and he was just not a great husband to her, or a father to me. He loved us. Yes, he did. He is a man of dreams and wants and he envisions (in conversations) of being a hands on great dad, but the reality is that he just isn’t. Unless you can benefit him. So, clearly, here… she showed that she was only human and could make mistakes. Don’t get me wrong, I am glad they met and had sex, and made me. But, my Lord and God, could two people have ever been more wrong for one another. They were both popular and beautiful. They were Mr. And Mrs. Everything. But they were both selfish and spoiled people that just didn’t need to be together, at least after years of my father and his shenanigans. I am so grateful that God saw fit to let them divorce when I was young and still allow my Momma to bloom and blossom and eventually follow her path to something that made her perfectly happy!

I have to be nekkid honest with you, Reader. Growing up, I can’t say that I ever had a great male role model, No great father figure. I was confused about my own father, because I didn’t have the emotional capacity to reconcile words and actions. It never dawned on me that people lied or that you couldn’t say what you meant. Guile and little white lies didn’t really exist for me until my parents’ divorce. I had always said exactly what I thought. I got my ass whipped quite a bit (for instance, when I interrupted church to let my mother know while she was on the piano that the bathroom was out of toilet paper, and I needed to be wiped before we could go on with service), but I was a mischievous and willful child. I never exactly “clicked” with my natural father because, he expected people to give him his way and be in awe (this, sadly, is not an exaggeration or embellishment. He would bark at people and Dawne and my younger half sisters just acted like that was the end of the world). I just never was. My sister WORSHIPPED him during childhood, and up to her teen years. Don’t get me wrong, I loved and still love my Daddy, but I just never saw the big deal with him after the divorce. It was the first time I can remember an adult lying to me to my face and expecting me to believe them just because I was little. I was eight years old and I cried because he really thought I was going to just buy into it. My first great heartbreak and my first taste of disappointment when adults don’t quite act like adults. And then I had a pretty shitty stepfather. I’ll tell that story one day. Momma and I have agreed I can tell it one day when we both reconcile all of our emotions about some of the things that happened. This is why I still don’t trust male authority figures to this day. Through no fault of her own, she gave me situations where I had to learn to be my own person (even more than I was). And to be honest, that has helped me so much more than she’ll ever know. I know that at times she felt badly that she and my Daddy didn’t work out. And she still feels guilty that she married a man no one in her family wanted her to marry, and then the situation turned so abusive and volatile. But trust me, I am fine. I am better than fine.

It was even BECAUSE of some of those situations and not IN SPITE of those situations that I learned just how to be me, do me, take care of me, and ensure that I never lose my voice or my place again. I won’t ever. It sucks for my partners or lovers, because I never back down and I never give in. Eh, who cares… compromise is overrated. Right?  Even though this topic may not be quite as funny, I’ll just say this for myself, and in praise of my Momma: I'm glad that she taught me not to hate men for what they weren't, but to love them for what they were - to just give it over to God in matters of family and heartache.

I guess you just have to give some credit where credit is due. I am always talking or writing about my Momma and my Mamaw, and I love them. But sometimes, it’s better to not be quite so flip and funny and to really tell it like it is:  I appreciate the southern gothic and crazy family I was born into. I can finally love and revel in their love in ways I didn’t always treasure the way I do now. Now, I can sit on a porch, drink some tea, and just “be” with family in a way, that my younger self could not. I had something in me that drove me to run, to always achieve, and to do even more. I give full credit for the person I became to LaNita Sue. She was Momma – a nurturer and the one that could make my tears stop. Or just be a soft shoulder when I needed it. She was Daddy – there were several years where she and I just had each other when everyone else was somewhere else and she had to be the one that helped me put on football pads and learn tennis. She was provider, consoler, parent, and friend. There were times in my life when she was (literally, and that wasn’t fun) my teacher, (not literally) my cheerleader, costume designer. There was just NOTHING she couldn’t or wouldn’t do or help me with.

She is talented. She is faithful. She is an example.

I'm so glad for a Momma that knew how to get up and do for herself when men or situations seemed to knock her down. I am so glad for a Momma that knew how to get back down on her knees and pray for the things that only God could give us. I'm so glad for a Momma that taught me to do my best, and hope for the rest. I'm so glad for a Momma that told me from a very young age that we could call out to a God that would listen when no one else would.

I know, I know, this blog is getting long and usually all of my material is so funny. And this had its funny moments. And its serious ones, and its sad ones… just like Momma! LaNita, I know you have a hundred things to do and probably will never read this blog, but if you do… Honey, I am SO PROUD to have come from you and to have ended up so SCARILY like you.

Happy Mother’s Day

Cheers,

JustBeingMichael

Easter Part Two: Flaming Fish Houses and Required Ministerial Obligations for Lottery Winnings

“That hussy is staring at me!” my sister Dawne seethed at me through clenched teeth and with eyes becoming increasingly hazy.

Um, okay, I thought to myself. At first, I was unaware of the quickly escalating situation. I merely knew that she was addressing this comment to me, and apparently the glances of the rest of the table turned toward me in wonder… Presumably wondering what the hell I proposed to do about it. Clarification: Not what I proposed to do about said hussy and her stares, but about my sister and her second outburst at dinner.

Allow me to back up and catch you, Gentle Reader, up on what had transpired to this point…

My sweet and endearing mother, LaNita had agreed to host all of the children and family for a multi-birthday + Easter celebration weekend at her home in rural, southern Mississippi. En route to Hattiesburg to pick my eldest sister, Dawne, up: I had already had multiple conversations regarding appropriate presents, the presentation of said presents, and exactly what the weekend of “spontaneous” fun would hold. Dawne and her son, MY amazing nephew, Devin, piled into Big Red so we could haul our asses to Sandy Hook, MS.

Armed with instructions from my mother, we make a pit stop to do a bit of light shopping* before we arrive at the Parsonage. [Note: Light shopping here is a misnomer. It wasn’t easy, lazy, or fun. It wasn’t light. Dawne was having back issues and wanted to be let out at the door. This is the only open place in a small town. Everyone was there. Also, it was a WalMart, which I am morally opposed to supporting, but am smart enough to know when I’ve been bested. Thirdly, as noted from the multiple calls from multiple family members, this pitstop and shop session was no longer optional, it was clearly mandatory.] So, I drop Dawne off at the door and drove off to the empty end of the parking lot. Now, I am a reasonably secure person, and I am tall and beefy – so people don’t generally intimidate me, but WHY would a car with Esse-scripted writing on the windows and a white thug, his skank, and their babies pull up RIGHT beside my truck and park? Dude, you have like, 8 spaces around here. Then (no lie) he gets out of the car, pulls his cargo shorts up, buttons them and off the family traipses into Wal-Mart. Now, it is truly none of my business if a man wants to drive his family around in a Rice Rocket with his pants down. But this entire non-exchange from myself to them gave me many questions – what were they doing? Was he getting road head from the skank while toddlers were in the car? Was he just hot-natured and needed to cool off? Why in the world would he do that? I don’t ride in my underwear (when I wear underwear) with other passengers. That’d just be weird. This whole thing was perplexing me and giving me pause. Then I thought to myself, “I’d never see this kind of shit at Target.”

As I thought about this, and sauntered lightly towards the door, my nephew was waiting for me, and Dawne had procured her hov-a-round. I walked briskly past and loudly stated, “Excuse me, ma’am” and promptly stomped off to the housewares department. The extremely well-stocked housewares department. I was more than a bit impressed for a Wal-Mart in BFE, MS to be stocked so well for kitchens and the like. Then I remembered that I was in BFE, MS where kitchens and the joys it brings are to be celebrated as only the truly Southern know how. I perused the aisles of pots and pans, of utensils for every imaginable purpose in a kitchen. I found silicone heat resistant spatulas. I found cupcake tins, mini cupcake tins. And I found micro bite sized cupcake tins. I found bundt pans of all shapes and patterns to produce impressive desserts for when it would be the user’s week to assist with “Dinner On The Ground”. They were all impressive. Well, except there was a shocking lack of cast iron available, but this is fucking Wal-Mart, not Le Creuset. We live as best we can…

Having fondled and imagined myself using almost every piece in lots of scenarios (one of which involves me cooking with Meryl Streep as Julie Child – don’t ask) I finally found the Coffee Pots. And now that I had EXACTLY what the Rolands needed in their coffee pot, I began narrowing down the choices. Let’s just heave the small carraffed coffee makers off of the shelves. Nope, not you. You don’t have a timer to make the coffee for waking up. Not you, either. You don’t have an independent water supply filter. Oh, you have all three, but not a mesh coffee filter that’s green and reusable. Aha. Found it. Into my buggy it goes. I go back to daydreaming about Meryl/Julia and wondering what I might cook for this weekend when my phone vibrates in my front jeans pocket. I giggle because it’s dangerously close to being erotic.

It’s just Dawne, “Where are you?”

“I am at the house/coffee pot section. I am done when you are. But I need a gift bag or something. I’ll meet you at the cards and bags.”

“Okay…” and I hear the whir of the electric scooter taking flight.

[Note: I do not make fun of my sister for using a hovaround. In a small town. At the Wal-Mart. I make fun of her because she uses it as a weapon and to run people over. I should have known this from Christmas. I should have known this from years of assessing her personality and psychological skills. But she is very, very crafty in molding others to her will and causing you to temporarily forget any past injustices.]

I heave my buggy back into one of the crowded main arteries of traffic flow and deftly merge into the Wal-Mart patrons. I am a bad driver and I am horrible at things like “rubbernecking”. I am reading the unfamiliar aisle signs and trying to find D & D.

Success!!

Well, nearly success. I am ready to get to the aisle and I can literally see the items I need, plus I see the back wheels of a hovaround. Dawne is near and I want to hurry up. Why is no one moving? They see that I need to get by and get to the aisle. One lady glances over, mistakenly does not acknowledge me, and then continues to browse while not giving right of way. Lady, you just fucked up. I push my buggy into this older lady to get her to move. She glares at me and I (with some bravado and without any remorse) curl the right side of my own lip up into a snarl.

“Pardon.” I stalk past. She doesn’t move her buggy. So I stop my buggy, and physically push hers to the side so I can continue. I’ll eat her for breakfast. Fucking sow. Oh, and Happy Easter, you hateful, country bitch!

Undeterred by this small fray, I bravely carry onto the gift/card aisle and meet Dawne. After 0.2 blistering seconds of contemplation, I have a beautiful gift bag, and tissue paper thrown into the buggy and have loudly and deftly announced:

“I’m ready to go.”

“Me too, I’m almost done.” Dawne chimes.

Hmm. What the hell does almost mean? It's time to get up out of this Wal-Mart. What would people at Rainbow think? What would my friends say? Okay, let me rephrase this,

“I’m ready to go. Now.”

And then, my gaydar-spidey sense begins tingling. Something fun and fabulous is near… I reach out into the unknown with my subconscious – spinning glitter, hope, and rainbows into a web…. AHA! Located in the card section, close by, but hidden behind ugly and non-matching envelopes was “Pocket Unicorn”!!! I became immediately enamored of this small, wonderful device. “Come Prance With Me!” “Unicorn Loooooovees you! Do you love Unicorn?” I almost clapped with delight, right there in a country ass Wal-Mart. How did God know I’d need a quick pick me up after a long, delayed work week, and an eventful and tedious ride? I am reminded of the old song, “Jesus Loves Me, This I Know”. Well, I knew it because he gave me a gay ass Pocket Unicorn Card of Awesome. Happy Resurrection, Jesus! Eventually, everyone is ready to pack up, pay, and get back on the road. Oh, and I turned that Unicorn Card into several notificaton and ringtones on my phone. Oh, Unicorn…

Now, if you have never been “received” or if you have never been in a big ole Southern family, you don’t understand how we all greet one another. It’s an art. It’s a balancing act. It’s delicate. Hug too little or in an incorrect order, and you can go HORRIBLY awry. Hug too much, and in an incorrect order, and you can be accused of hiding something.

Typically, hugs and obeisance should go in this order:

• Oldest Matriarch
• Her peer siblings and peerage equals (same level on the other side of the family)
• Next generation, (generally the daughter of the Oldest Matriarch or the next oldest in line)
• Mother
• Female Siblings
• Oldest Patriarch
• His peer siblings and peerage equals (same level on the other side of the family)
• Father
• Male siblings
• Anyone younger than you or the equivalent of NEXT generations (your siblings offspring, their offspring, and so on)

That seems like a lot. But it’s a time honored ritual and it’s practiced without hesitation and without discussion. The only time it’s ever really mentioned is when you DON’T do it correctly. Usually a well meaning Great Aunt or Uncle will visegrip your upper arm as you are pulled aside and reminded to immediately go speak to “Aunt So and So” since she’s waiting for you. Small children are generally excused of this behavior until they are of an age to drink coffee or when they are too old for the children’s table and begin learning the family trees. I’ll conclude your mini lesson on etiquette and true southern manners now.

Back to the riveting story: We arrived and the elaborate dance of getting out of the car first. Going to the door, going inside and making the proper and appropriate greetings. ONLY then returning to your vehicle to unload your luggage acceptable. Plus, at that point, you have family to help carry things. If you are like me and many other southern belles, we don’t pack light or travel easy. We pack for every conceivable occasion and travel like we are in first class on a Cruise Liner. And we expect to be offered refreshments upon arrival. It’s not only practical to those that have traveled and fought their way to your home, it’s customary and polite to make sure that you present your guests with a buffet of choices.

“Son, do you want something to drink?”

“No ma’am. I need to get my thangs out of the truck.”

“Are you sure? We have coke, diet coke, sprite, apple juice, some fresh orange juice, water, and sweet tea.”

“Mama, I need wine after the drive and Wal-Mart.”

“We have white, red, and that awfully nice box of zinfandel I like.”

“Maybe just a touch of sweet tea”

This conversation is then rendered completely pointless when a BubbaKeg of ice and sweet tea is presented to the new arrival. This is also why I love being born, raised, and PROUDLY a true genteel Southerner. You can’t learn, practice or fake this. It’s bred generation after generation on gentility and quiet, unwavering, hard as nails, Southern etiquette and manners.

Mamaw Sue was there. She was stunning in her own electric mobility chair. She had cut her hair shorter than normal. Normally, when you have beautiful white hair, I enjoy a bit of length and “fluff” to it. But she had cut it very short, and permed it. It was cute, but it was only “Little Old Lady” cute. It wasn’t may favorite. Loved her little outfit that I am sure Mother bought for her and she waved at me and motioned for me to come and hug her neck.

Annie Doris was there (this would be considered almost a peerage equal, and crosses over to next generation) Annie D was on the other side of the family, but she is also not as old and is the sister of my mother’s husband. Old than them, younger than Mamaw. And she is a total hoot. She’s not quite there for the Little Old Lady status, but she isn’t in the Momma/Daddy stage.

Of course my Uncle Larry was there. Physically. He’s already clocked out a bit, mentally. He means well, and he will pipe up and join random lines of conversation here and there. I don’t say that to be unkind or make fun, but he is HORRIBLY Epileptic and cannot help but stop in mid-sentence and stare off into nothing for tens of minutes and then finish his sentence like nothing had ever happened.

LaNita (my famous mother) looked FABULOUS. Well, to me she looked a little thin, but not so much that I was worried. But her style is amazing. She never let’s me down.

Curtis, the preacher, my stepfather, was in a white tee and shorts. Classy. HAHAHA. It was casual and we were all ready to lounge around.

Well, everyone else was ready to lounge. I was ready to eat lunch (in the South, lunch is called dinner, and dinner is called supper.) There was a hashbrown casserole that would make a Pentecostal woman wear lipstick! My word, it was FINE! Annie Doris had fried up a couple of chickens and Momma had made a broccoli/vegetable salad that I could have eaten thirds of! Not to mention that Annie Doris had baked up her FAMOUS pecan pie. Pie so good, it was worth fighting my sister Melanie for. Pie so good we hid one of the extras so that people would be forced to only enjoy the one pie, and then eat other means of dessert. Mel and I were no fools about pie. I sat there and ate two entire plates of food. Even my fat was disappointed in me. Maybe you didn’t catch that the first time you read it. Even. My. Fat. Was. Disappointed. In. Me. That’s a terrible feeling to know that your own body is angry at your choices in diet (and sometimes life, but that’s another story…) Melanie, Dawne, and I sat on the back porch at the “kids” table and caught up. Fun.

After the food was completely consumed, dishes were washed and the appropriate amount of appreciation was shown to the cooks – we got to some important topics as the children. What were we doing next and to survive?? Clearly our next stop was Angie, Louisiana – BUT, how? How were we to pile into a vehicle all together and without much notice? How would we explain where we were going and what we were doing?

Oh, you as the reader don’t know either – Angie has Lotto tickets. It has Powerball. It has MegaMillions. It has the little individual tickets that are the “scratch off” kind. It has so, so many different kinds of tickets. And, as such, we want to go and give them money in the hopes of winning more money back from them. It’s called gambling. The Bible called it “casting lots”. I call it foolishness. It’s silly really, and no one I have evern known in my life has won. Except for everyone in my family EXCEPT me. Melanie wins regularly like 5-20 dollars. Dawne wins. Others win. I never win. Never. An interesting point in this story is that while this little rinky-dink store in a “one STOP sign” town is that they have at least thirty kinds of lotteries to play, and will not take a debit card. Just an observation. So, what did we do? Well, we DIDN’T tell Mamaw, we mentioned it to Curtis, who politely ignored his heathen children, and told Momma that we just simply HAD to go out for a bit: As with any trip in our ministry-oriented family, the children all piled up together to go get lottery tickets. Hurrah!

Scratched out, we naturally ended up around a piano and practiced for our songs at Church. But that’s boring. I mean, we had fun. We all teased and sang, and we laughed and did good. We usually do. But so many things happened this weekend. So, so many. So, rather than bore you with minutia... Let me just get to one of my personal favorite highlights of this weekend: Mamaw ran over Dawne with the hovaround. I can’t even sit here and type it nearly a month later without laughing out loud. Apparently, Mamaw needed to use the restroom. She's old and she needs assistance walking, sitting, etc. And the old thang just up and decided to wheel herself to it. That's her first mistake and caused quite a ruccus about us putting her in a home. Now... unbeknownst to poor old Dawne, and also, at some point, Mamaw had taken her shoes off and was in slippery stocking feet. (That’s important. ;)) So, Dawne offers to help her and take her to the bathroom while we were all fooling around during music practice. Well, Dawne is a strong woman, but she’s had two hips replaced and a bad back due to necrosis of her bones. So, when sweet Mamaw’s feet the floor, she began to slip and hit the button on the hovaround.

Picture this: Dawne, behind the chair, helping Mamaw from behind sit up and then stand up. Mamaw's feet, starting to skid... Then. Mamaw hits the button on the arm of her hovaround. The hovaround begins backing into Dawne and knocking her into and down the wall of the restroom.

This would be funny enough. But there's more: Dawne, having been thrown to the ground, is no longer holding on to Mamaw, who is now clutching the hovaround even tighter and has thrown it into a higher gear, further running over Dawne and pinning her against the wall. Dawne later told me that "from what she could see in her vantage point" that Mamaw was trying to help and “her little feet were just a-kicking". I had to leave the room, I laughed so hard.

Oh, and where was my mother during this? Laughing. I am truly that woman’s son.

We get home and get ready for dinner out. This is going to be fun, and also, Gentle Reader, where YOU came into this story. There are about 15 of us sitting around a large, long picnic style table and eating some DELICIOUS fried catfish, hush puppies, and tater logs. I know this isn’t the healthiest food, but my GOD, it was truly unreal. Momma sat in the middle, Curtis, and then myself. Then down was Devin, Melanie, and Annie Doris. Across from me was my hilarious sister, Dawne, then some church people, then Larry (an uncle) and down from Momma was Mamaw. Now, I didn’t realize certain things had transpired at home AFTER Mamaw viciously ran Dawne down in her mobility enhancer also commonly called a hovaround. So, when things started going down, I was shocked. Well, more accurately, I was slightly dismayed at first, but shocked mostly. Then it started slowly clearing up as the fog lifted. Momma had given Dawne some old pain meds from a surgery for her back since Mamaw had run her over. Dawne decided that one wouldn't do, and after finishing off several pills and a glass of wine, those meds had decided to kick in during dinner.

I had already had a glass of sweet tea and a refill, and had received my all you can eat platter of fried catfish goodness, when… I notice Dawne is not moving, holding a piece of fish in midair near her face, and GLARING off at another table.

“That hussy is staring at me!” my sister Dawne seethed at me through clenched teeth and with eyes becoming increasingly hazy.

Um, okay, I thought to myself. At first, I was unaware of the quickly escalating situation. I merely knew that she was addressing this comment to me, and apparently the glances of the rest of the table turned toward me in wonder… Presumably wondering what the hell I proposed to do about it. Clarification: Not what I proposed to do about said hussy and her stares, but about my sister and her second outburst at dinner. So, I looked at Dawne’s glassy, large-pupiled eyes and said, “Have some frieds, love. The starchy goodness will help your mood.”

“Michael, she IS SO looking.”

“No one is looking. Except me. And everyone at this table. And the two people behind you that clearly heard you.”

“No, that bitc…”

“DAWNE!”

“…uh, lady… is staring holes through me. What is her problem? What is YOUR problem?” Oh, lord. When a country girl feels insulted and quits talking about you and begins talking TO you. Things have deteriorated in your situation. She has started saying it over Momma and Mamaw to the lady she swears is looking at her in a non-flattering manner. What do I do with this? Now, I had gotten her to quiet down a small, teeny, tiny bit. And then Annie Doris chimed in and said, “Well, it does LOOK like she’s staring over here.” Thanks, Annie D...

Hmm, Dear Readers... what would YOU have done? Would you have looked? Well, let’s see, the only pastor in town at a table with his hot wife, her trail-riding-grandaughter-mowing-hovaround mother, her weird and mildly mentally retarded brother, several loud church members, a high-as-shit daughter waving fish around, sweet old Annie Doris, gorgeous Melanie, Devin, and a tattooed gay son all at one table talking VERY loudly and looking around. Who the hell WOULDN’T look around. I say no one. Because I know I SURE would have looked, and maybe even commented to my own dinner companions.

Hindsight being 20/20 for my sister, that, of course, is the kind of logic that will escape you when you do your Momma’s old surgery drugs. Don’t do drugs!

The rest of the weekend is pretty normal and kind of a blur. It was SO good to see family, friends, church family, and to be in service with my Momma and Mamaw. It’s rare that I get to go to church and cry, pray, and sing with my family and those times are some of the best and most precious times to me. Truly. I am loud and vulgar and don’t always make the best choices, but my word… my lord and God, I love hanging out with them and just going to church. Now I will say this one thing, Curtis Roland preached his guts out that Sunday. We all sang our hearts out and then he left every gut he had on the floor of that pulpit. Much respect for a great sermon. (I doubt he reads my blog, BUT if he does, then I hope he knows I am TOTALLY stealing a sermon for a book idea I have. Deal with it, Pops…)

I can’t wait to see them all again, soon. Oh, and PS – I didn’t win a damn dollar in that lottery! I guess no tithe is necessary!

Cheers,

JustBeingMichael