just got back from two weeks in ATLANTA :D
- It was hot hot hot, exchange got me feeling rich
- Everything is SO big. B.I.G
- Probably one of the most comfortable place I’ve visited
- They love my accent but never understand most of what I say
- There are lots of reaallly old cars and reaally big ones
- Never seen so many people with elaborate chest tattoos
- Fast food in atl was unreal
Got to enjoy it all with family, met lots of new people. Good times. The MLK centre was definitely a huge highlight, especially on the 50th I Have a Dream speech anniversary. It was actually really emotional, close to tears. Went into his house and the street he grew up on etc. The whole segregation and discrimination ordeal became so real
Went to an american uni, saw the accommodation which was seriuosly miles better than the prison camp we call ‘halls of residence’ over here (I might be exaggerating) blahblah. Obviously the real gist wont be on this blog entry but I thought I hadn’t updated in a while
Post Holiday Blues; its raining and cold back in England
forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could be any different
It’s a dangerous love affair.
I used to write love poems. That is, until I stopped loving. My words were my greatest asset in the pursuit of a woman. I’ve talked my way into a fair share of hearts. In my experience: The one true way to a woman’s heart is through her ear. The poems I wrote were by far some of my cleverest work. They made sense and always said the things that no other man had told the woman that they were indirectly intended for. I’d never really given a poem that I wrote to someone… She just read it on a blog in some place that was strategically placed. The words were her’s and she knew it. She was mine and I knew it.
I haven’t written a poem, aside from rap verses, in years. My poems were always a bit more emotional than my verses anyway and they didn’t need to fit into a four beat bar. They were sporadic like me. The women on the other side of my pen knew that. Those poems were the truest insight to who I was at that time behind the bravado and cool. I was a gentle hearted boy looking for the love of a woman who had an equally gentle heart. I’ve lost that desire somewhere along the way. My pen is somewhere with it.
I’ve gone from a writer to a thinker, from an eloquent speaker to an extremely reclusive person who spends more and more time within the confinements of his own mind. I don’t have many interactions with other people. When did I lose my way? Did I truly lose my way or have I found the person that I am intended to be? That’s a complete 180, man. I don’t feel like I can progress until I figure out if I’ve lost or found myself. It’s a dangerous field to play and I’d rather play it alone.
I’m interested in finding someone to share a few things with. You know, like little tidbits about my day. No one really intrigues me, though. Everyone is mundane beyond belief or I feel pressured to reciprocate whatever feelings they may have for me. I often find myself in situations where someone is spilling their guts to me and I can’t find the perfect words to say back. If this were 2008, I’d have some poetic response that would steal their hearts— but it’s not 2008. I don’t have the words. Really, all I can say is “oh.” So am I really interested in finding someone? What the hell, man. I’m a confused man.
I just want you to love me and not be upset if I don’t love you back.
I’m surprised Obama has actually spoken out about the verdict in the George Zimmerman case and about race/racism very bluntly and honestly.
He’s a politician, but here he is doing a very “person” like thing.