Soul Reasonings: the feelings, movements, stirrings and impulses that we feel in our soul, which cause us to act, think and speak.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Soul Reasonings: The N Word

Coming out of this week “Soul Sounds” is a small discussion I have been meaning to open for awhile. The Spotless Cussbud and I have engaged in a couple of heated debates over the use of the word “nigga”. Over many house limes and glasses of scotch, The Curious Mouth (of “Bring It To The Table” fame) and I have also had conversations along similar lines. They are both of the steadfast opinion that the “N” word needs to disappear (TSC more so than TCM). I hold the more moderate view that, though derogatory, it does hold a valid place in our vocabulary. (In short, I do use it, but I’m cutting back. Drastically.) This place just needs to be very carefully and clearly defined. Now, please note that I am not advocating the existence of this word in everyday vernacular. I acknowledge that it is very offensive in nature. But I also believe that the word serves to describe a very visible and real subset of society.

So, we all know where the word gets it roots from. If you don’t know, wikipedia.org will do a better job of bringing you up to date than I can. 50% of people get offended simply by its use. The other 50% could offend you with simply the sheer volume in which they use it. I don’t necessarily fall into either category, because I simply think the word is being used in the wrong syntax. If I call you a “nigga”, trust me, I am not your friend, and I am not bestowing you with compliments. I am classing you with a breed of people who do nothing other than cause me endless heartache and embarrassment: ignant black people. And I did not misspell. Trust me, I wrote this in MS Word first, and my spell-check is on. Right now, there is an angry, red, squiggly line staring at me. Ignorant means “quick to anger”, or “lacking in knowledge”. I mean ignant.

Now, let’s examine what the word “ignant” means. By doing this, you will see what I mean when I refer to “nigga” behaviour, and thus come full circle to the type of person I am referring to, when I call someone by this moniker. “Ignant”, in my opinion, is the antonym of “classy”, or even common sense. “Ignant” is sitting down in your office, around your co-workers, and discussing in a loud voice over the phone that thing your man did to you last night (be it good, bad or indifferent). “Ignant” is arguing with the cashier at Burger King for 15 minutes, that you want chicken fries as your side order, when she is explaining to you quite clearly that it is a premium item. (True story, though the cashier got so frustrated that she acquiesced. Maybe I should try that some time. But I digress). “Ignant” is crying that your daughter died a virgin, when she just got stabbed to death in a fight over a man. (That one is also just plain sad on many levels, social, emotional and common sensical. And yes, I made up sensical).

Being “ignant” (aka “nigga” behaviour) goes beyond just random acts. It’s the attitude that makes it ok for us to refer to women as hoes, sluts and bitches. It’s the belief that a college education is overrated because you either think it is a waste of time, or that you “keeping it real” (Note: I am willing to understand if you tell me college isn’t for everyone, or that shit happened, and you never got the chance. But at least try to bullshit me). It’s the belief that the guy who gets up every morning to hit his 8-4:30 (we in Trinidad, unless you have flexitime, 9-5 don’t exist), is a fool and an ass, because he is trying earn an honest day’s pay. Conversely, it is the belief that you never had the chance the first guy did, so you’re going to rob him, because you gotta live/feed yuh family. When you both went the same schools, and had the same opportunities. “Nigga” behaviour gave us Soulja Boy and the “Superman”! (Ok, end rant.) And by the way, this behaviour is not limited to only black people. It just irks me the most because black people always seem to have the most to lose, yet this type of bullshit seems to be most prevalent amongst us. And no, it isn’t our culture either.

I end with this: the word “nigga” isn’t going anywhere, anytime soon. While I agree with the Spotless Cussbud and the Curious Mouth that it is offensive (to a point), I do think that it has its place. We just need to look at what that place is. And stop being niggas while we’re at it.

Friday, May 29, 2009

Dos Equis...The Most Interesting Man In The World...

"He once had an awkward moment, just to see what it feels like...".
Nuff said, lmao. Just click on the link...

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Soul Sounds #1: Lupe Fiaso's "The Coolest"

True to my word, here is the first offering for our “Soul Sounds”. Now this comes with a caveat. Due to circumstances beyond my control (studying, classes, youtube pulling down videos like crazy), I may not be always able to post audio along with the lyrics to these songs. And even if I am, for the fore-seeable (next couple of months), I will probably post the lyrics in the morning, and then the video/audio clip later in the day. Sorry folks, but that’s just the way it gonna be for awhile. Oh yea, and if you looking for Soulja Boy’s greatest hits in this space, you need to go back and take that left turn at Albuquerque. Now, on to our story…

Our inaugural “Soul Sounds” post is certain to raise the initial ire of the Spotless Cussbud (as she shall now be forever referenced in this space), due to the repeated use of one of her least favoured words (my arguments on this point is another post for another day). However, in this case, it is merited and adds value to the song. “The Coolest”, by Lupe Fiasco, is a blend of social commentary, introspection, and pretty cool theater. It examines what makes us cool, and how far we are really willing to go to get it without being overly judgmental. However, I’ll save further discussion on this topic for the commentary. Without further ado, ladies and germs, “The Coolest”:


The coolest niggah... what? [X16]
Lord please have sympathy, and forgive My Cool Young History, as
The coolest niggah... what? [X4]

[Verse 1]
I love the Lord,
But sometimes it's like that I love me more
I love the peace
And I love the war
I love the seas
and I love the shore
No love for no beach
baby, that's loyal
But she doesn't see, therefore I spoil
I trip, I fall
run up and brawl.
I love her, with all my heart
Every vein, every vessel,
every bullet lodged
With every flower that I ever took apart
She said - that she would give me greatness,
status, placement above the others
My face would grace covers
of the magazines of the hustlers
Paper, the likes of which that I had never seen
Her eyes glow green with the logo of our dreams
The purpose of our scene,
The obscene obsession for the bling
She would be my queen,
I could be her king
Together, she would make me cool
and we would both rule, forever,
And I would never feel pain
and never be without pleasure, ever, again
And if the rain stops,
And everything's dry
she would cry
Just so I can drink the tears from her eyes
She'll teach me how to fly
Even cushion my fall
If my engines ever stall
and I plummet from the sky
But she will keep me high
And if I ever die
She would comission my image on her bosom
To hum
Or maybe she'd retire as well
A match made in Heaven set the fires in Hell
and I'll be...

The coolest niggah... what? [X8]
Lord please have sympathy,
And forgive My Cool Young History as
The coolest niggah... what? [X4]

[Verse 2]
And so began our reign
The Trinity, her and I came
No weather man could ever stand
What her and I can
Hella hard
Umbrella, whatever,
put plywood on propeller panes,
And pray to God that the flood subside
'cause you gonna need a sub till he does reply
And not one of Jared's
You think it's all arid
and everything's irie
Another supply
That means another July
Inside my endless summer
That was just the eye of the Unger
Felix, 'cause he is the cleanest among the
Younger, outstanding achieving up-and-comers
The ones that had deadbeat daddies
and well to do mommas
But not well enough to keep 'em from us
The ones that were fightin' in class
Who might not pass
Rap record pressure to laugh
and a life not fast
"Can you feel it?"[echo]
That's what I got asked
"Do I love her?"[echo]
I said I don't know
Streets got my heart, Game got my soul
One time's my sunshine will never hurt your soul
Quote
To a crying, dishonored baby momma
Who's the momma to a daughter
That I had fathered from afar
My new lady gave me a Mercedes
and a necklace with a solid gold key
Like the starter of a car
The opener of a door or two pounds of raw
You gave me a baby, but what about lately?
then ha-ha-ha-ha-ha'd
Right up in her face, G
There's more fish in the sea,
I'm on my mission to be, be

The Coolest niggah... what? [X8]
Lord please have sympathy,
and forgive My Cool Young History
The Coolest... what? [X4]

[Verse 3]
Come. These are the tales of The Cool.
Guaranteed to make you go and fail from your school
And seek unholy grails like a fool
and hang with the players of the pool
Fast talkin' on the hustle
No Heaven up above you
No Hell underneath ye
and nowhere will recieve thee
So.
Shed no tear
when we're not here
and keep your faith,
as we chase

The Cool [echoes]

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

1 Year Later...

So, I haven't written anything new in a bit, cuz I've been studying for exams. But apparently I've had enough inspiration in drunken stupors to carry me for awhile. This one is short (really, really short), but it was written in about 15 seconds in an alcoholic haze...

Btw, following in the footsteps of our foxy, filthy-mouthed, female friend (who stole my idea, even though I never mentioned it to her, ;)) I'm gonna post one song per week that I like or feel, with the lyrics attached. Cuz I want to...


1 Year...

1 year wiser,
1 year lighter,
1 year brighter,
1 year later,
I'm still here,
Darker and colder.
C2h, aka Triniyute

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Serenity

I think this is the best piece I've written to date. The structure is borrowed heavily from Sonia Sanchez's "I am Looking At Music", but she's a boss I could only strive to reach...

Serenity aka. I Found Myself

 I have found tranquility,

In the spread of dye on parchment
Words defined by ink and born of thought
Taking their tales of woe and setting them free

I have found peace,
In the tossing of words to the wind
In the melody of song in the air
and the peals of laughter dancing on the breeze

I have found strength,
In the smiles of others,
Their shoulders always ready to be cried on
The backs ever waiting to share overbearing burdens

I have found tranquility again
I have found peace again
I have found strength again
I have found myself again...

C2h aka Triniyute: 1/5/2008 @8:30p

Heart Unavailable

This was written when I was trying to deal with a particularly difficult break up. 

Heart Unavailable

 

Sorry, but my heart is unavailable right now

It tried to answer the phone but,

It simply has too much baggage in tow,

See, the last time someone called,

It answered quite happily

It danced, it sang,

It skipped and it ran

Then it tripped, and it fell.

 

It tripped by itself, see

Chasing something it didn’t know how to reach

It stumbled, then rolled

Fell and then folded,

It bruised its head and busted its lip,

Shattered its leg and broke its hip,

Then it lay there to die

Battered and bruised, it lay on the ground

Months passed, before any strength, it found.

 

Anyway, it’s better now,

But not by much,

It’s still healing itself

And re-learning to trust

It’s just there lying,

And staring at 4 walls,

It’s just there praying,

That it won’t feel pain anymore

So it apologises for being unable to answer your call

But my heart holds little hope,

For what the future holds in store.

 

Written by: C2h, aka. Triniyute @5/5/2008, 7:45a

Soul Reasoning...(Posted on Facebook 27/11/2007)

These are the ramblings of a discontented soul. I have held in a lot from a long period of time and dealt with it poorly. I figure it’s time for me to let go of my demons, and I needed to try a new way of doing it. The old ways didn’t always work. So, I’m doing so in the only other way I know: in words. I don’t know what I expect of posting this online publicly. Not pity or empathy, I think I have played for that often enough in my life. Maybe just the sense of peace that one gets from letting his emotions out openly. To those who read this and think it trivial and unnecessary, I don’t blame you. I would probably think the same thing. Just needed to try something new. To the people referred to below, I apologise. I really do. There are multiple names to go with each situation. Why now? Two close but unrelated friends of mine have put things in perspective for me. One has been kind enough to let me lean on her when she is the one who really needs support. Luv ya and I’m there beside you all the way. The other showed me that I do have the strength to hold others up even when I feel I can’t hold my own self up. Therefore, I have the strength to change. And thanks for the idea for the online blog, Calfee. I stole it from you so I have to give you credit for it. Who knows, it really might be therapeutic, and I might get the courage to do it again. Here goes. It’s gonna jump all over the place, so if you taking time to read it, be forewarned. 

There are things in my life that I truly regret. I regret not finishing my degree. I regret not telling my mother how much I truly loved her before she died. I regret my decision to love some one who did not love me back. I regret not being able to love someone who truly did love me. I regret hurting those who I love, and who loved me back, by pushing them away from me. My life can be summed up by the regret I have for mistakes made, opportunities lost and chances spurned. Does that mean that my life is one huge regret? No. I would change some of the decisions I made but I would not change the experience that I have gained as a result of those same decisions. If that seems paradoxical, it is and I do not apologise for it. It is the simple truth. But in the myriad of “what-if’s” that shape my past, I think I found the stimulation for the “what-may-be’s”. And maybe, just maybe, that is what keeps me going. Hope. Not hope that the past will suddenly change, but the hope that past will shape the future in a better way.

I was taught to be the best person I can be by the most beautiful person I ever knew. She forgot to mention that you will fall and scrape your knees on that journey. I have realized that I have a very long way to go on the journey to be like her. I have had my share of disappointments, and disappointed more than my fair share of people. I have tried to be in equal parts, a good son, nephew, great-nephew, brother, cousin, friend and boyfriend. I have had some successes and some failures. In my rush to become that perfect person, I forgot the greatest lesson she ever taught me: the sign of a great person comes from putting others first and yourself last. I have neglected to do that in a big way. As I confessed to someone recently, I have been selfish. In retrospect, although I was referring to a specific set of incidents, it can be applied to a much larger perspective. I can blame people and circumstances, but that is the panacea of the vain and fools. I need look only at myself for blame. 

So what does all this mean? Something and nothing. Recent events have forced me to take a deep, long and hard look at myself. And I was not pleased with or proud of what I saw. In short, it was nothing like the person, my mother taught me to be. I have unknowingly supervised my own change in to a dark, brooding and unlikable person, who according to very reliable (and brutally honest) sources, regularly turned his back on people he calls treasured friends. I have ignored the offers of help that have been given to me by friends and family alike. And I apologise for it. And most of all, to Ma, I’m sorry it took so long for your lessons to stick. I guess it just took me this long to figure it out. But I am ready to use those lessons now. Just help me to stay on the right path, for it is winding and hard and lonely at times. But that is what makes you a better person, isn’t it?
I haven’t said it much but, thanks Ma. I love you a lot and I miss you.

And that is (part of it) in a nutshell.