Daydream

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“All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible. This I did.”

– T.E. Lawrence aka Lawrence of Arabia

She walked into my Human Anatomy classroom with red heels as high as my state of mind, dangerous weapons of mass seduction that immediately inspired my perpetual infatuation. She carried on her right shoulder a Louis Vutton purse as big as my ego, and her countenance bore a sparkling pair of eyes as charming as my charisma. It was like The Lord had returned prematurely as a woman, because the light she radiated was undoubtedly divine. And I’d heard through the grapevine, that she only considered herself a nine. Faint attempt at modesty if you ask me because this girl was phenomenally fine. Her lips wore the color of sweet red wine. And all I wanted to do was dine…with her. Ok maybe I lied…more like have her…for dinner. And perhaps also for dessert. Oh the thirst! She was the oasis to my desert! Her hips were like an hour glass pouring infinite golden grains of sand, with enough winding curves to leave even the Prince of Persia wishing he had a genie of his own, like Aladdin, so he could simply wish to be reduced into just one of those tiny grains of sand pouring down inside her. And her thighs? Lawd her thighs! Suffice it to say they’d make many a priest reconsider, and let out long deep sighs. Not to mention her breasts…now they were like luminous lanterns, lighting the way for sore eyes. A counter-intuitive sight, considering that they practically frequently rendered me blind as I eventually found my face planking in them! But not before we were married (of course). For this woman of wonder would not be hurried. Her disposition was rather clear: the only manner of man she would ever seriously entertain was he who would position himself to patiently wait; who would not treat her like some kind of helpless bait…but who would gladly withstand the fire, and yet never tire…of waiting to exhale, at just that precise moment when he’d finally have her approval, after first obtaining her Almighty Father’s approval. Honestly, that narrow path less traveled was preposterously difficult, especially for one who’s already quickly stumbled, along the wide path all too frequently traveled, by way too many sailors, rocking all the wrong fishing boats. I almost called it quits as I was seeming to lose my wits! But then I remembered, nothing worth acquiring is ever easily acquired. For me, that was a very, necessary, epiphany. It’s been more than worth it ever since that defining lesson. Today, I have the pleasure of experiencing Heaven…on Earth in two places – when I kneel with her in church, and when I lie with her in bed, making love faces. After a love life of hopelessly romantic strife, this is the story of how I met my lovely wife. And for the rest of my life…well it would seem, that I will never forget this…daydream.

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My Favorite Class

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She was only a stranger until I first laid eyes upon her. Impressed by her course description I decided to enroll. I then quickly moved my way up into her honor roll. And she immediately became my favorite class. I must’ve made a good first impression myself since she named me the class prefect. However, due to our natural geographic incompatibility and my financially limited mobility, I had to settle for a distance education. You know what they say about online classes, I found it so hard to focus! Seeking leverage over competing students I would’ve gladly been the teacher’s pet but this was college. So fancy, she made me trust my intuition over her tuition. Her lessons were quite expensive but worth every penny. I even applied for financial aid just so I could afford her intellectual aid. I took out emotional loans, of which I still owe the balance. I have since dropped out of all my other classes and defaulted on my outstanding loans. I pray my exes find a way to forgive me. But once you find the one for you, you’ve finally found your major. Having already changed it quite a few times, I was convinced I had at last discovered my calling. To think I started out as just a foreign exchange student who quickly became an acquaintance, who eventually became an Associate…but I messed up. I failed her! And then I became a Bachelor for it…for a while…that is, until she gave me a second chance to make amends for my bad romance. Today, I am proud to say I have a Masters in her. Soon enough I’ll be able to give her this PhD! I mean, it’s been about six years, you know! Besides, with my new-found pedigree, we both agree I’ve definitely earned THAT degree! Some tell me that it took me way too long…maybe this is true, but to each his own. It’s not a sprint but a marathon. Moreover, a wise man once told me that what matters most is not the destination but the journey. The bottom line is, I have stood the test of time and passed my final exam. Henceforth, I shall take this class every year until death do me drop out.

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Math I Am

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“I’m not the common denominator, I’m the standard deviation.” -kR

The equation I had to solve to arrive at this point was very difficult.
It took me several angles, countless functions and multiple variables.
The Statistics were dismal and my Probability for success abysmal.
Not sure which was worse – my Pythagoras dilemma or my misCalculus.

All I remember clearly is that the Matrices had me far from rational.
Were the numbers real or were they prime?
How much farther did I have to extend my radius in order to reach my diameter?
I couldn’t tell while trapped in my oversized parabolas.

I do recall that in my limited circumference someone offered me Π
I was elated until I discovered that this Π was rather tasteless.
Then I met a lovely figure, a Sweet 16 in whom I was well delighted.
Until I found that the Square of my feelings was merely the Square Root of hers.

I was depressed for a while in the small Area where I lived.
Not to mention the pain I endured while circling her Perimeter over and over.
The length and the width, times two; again and again and again.
It’s hard not to reminisce about my lost x, who many are still trying to find today.

One Professor X once told me that there would always be a need to find her.
But after I’d found x umpteen times I found myself looking for y.
Fearing it wouldn’t be much longer before I would be asked to find both x and y,
I gave up on such infinite and futile searches altogether.

I took a long voyage with several others aboard The Geometry.
Soon enough we encountered a storm that left us stranded on the Island of Trigonometry.
From there, there would be no escaping until the rescue ship Algebra came around our way.
And that’s how I came upon the Quadratic Formula that forever changed my life.

I multiplied my strengths and divided my weaknesses.
I added my faith and subtracted my fear.
It was then that I truly became a factor.
It was then that the fraction that was me was converted into a whole number.

Today, I am confident as I approach life’s multitude of problems.
I know that as long as I have the right formula I can solve them all.
For years I have practiced and put my skills to the test.
I have even earned a brand new name – Math I Am.

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N***as ain’t S**t

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“I don’t need no man,” her unsolicited mantra would sound the alarm in our ear drums, a constant reminder to whomever was unfortunate enough to be counted among her audience, whereas our sole wish was to hit the damn snooze button. “I don’t want a man,” would follow suit, as if to properly distinguish her needs versus wants and nevertheless inaccurately disparage both as unnecessary synonyms that were not applicable to her chosen life of hermitical solitude. “Niggas ain’t shit!” Well, the n-word must’ve been used here to identify and emphasize her disdain for the alleged culprit, although this rhetoric had worn its welcome and now bordered on gross annoyance. Undoubtedly, this woman was suffering from a paralysis of the heart. Yes, she was hearticapped! Apparently, the last “nigga” had put her heart in a chokehold and strangled it, crippling whatever little love she had left. This tragedy obviously resulted in the disintegration of what was once a peculiarly strong black woman, and had replaced it with an utterly destructive black hole, capable of sucking with overwhelming gravity, even the faintest of feelings that would naturally fall upon those around her who would dare to fall in love. “Ain’t nobody got time fo that!” She would instinctively retort whenever questioned about her bitter disposition toward her male counterparts; and for that matter, all matters of the heart. No harm, no foul, she swore. Besides, all is fair in love and war. She’d become indifferent to the difference between the two. But here’s the irony of it all: One fateful day, she received a call…from her 9 year old son’s school informing her he’d been sent home for acting a fool, and coming to school…in a dress. Apparently, he’d insisted all day that he wanted to be a woman instead. As she confronted the boy when he got home later that afternoon, she looked at him scornfully and scolded, “Boy, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” A sad scene followed indeed as the young boy sobbed uncontrollably. At once overwhelmed and emboldened by his misery, the poor boy looked up at his mother pitifully. His face flooded in tears, he managed only to reply all too familiar words, “Niggas ain’t shit!”

 

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