Perspective

Self,
(This may be a two part series depending on the type and amount of comments that are generated here.)

Scenario:
Let's say you have two people, England and Spain. Let's say England primary language is English but she speaks a little Spanish , but Spain, she only speaks Spanish. Now in the midst of a conversation England says something in her poor Spanish and in response Spain gets angry and walks away. England is left standing there confused, not sure why her friend is upset, since she doesn't feel she said anything disrespectful/insulting. (For the moment, the actual words England spoke aren't important.)

Is England the blame for the altercation, for what she said to Spain? Or is Spain, the blame because of how she interpreted England's words?


This scenario I'll be a bit more specific but it will also make it harder for me to describe. Same thing you have two people engaged in conversation....Lets call these two Iowa and Illinois. They speak the same language. Iowa says to Illinois, "Hey I think you are [\'fat\]" (I used the phonetic spelling from an online dictionary.) Illinois is upset with Iowa, won't speak to her anymore, but Iowa is confused as to why Illinois is angry because in her head she was suggesting that Illinois is wonderful because she was saying "phat ".

Who's to blame for this altercation? Illinois for her interpretation of Iowa's words. Or is Iowa to blame due to her poor choice of words in expressing her true thoughts and sentiments?

I definitely want as much feedback as possible.

Celebrate

Self,

As I said in an earlier post my birthday celebration didn't stop just because my birthday was over. Last Night some friends and I went to a restaurant called "The Melting Pot." This restaurant specializes in fondue cuisine. I had a great time! We laughed, drank, ate, and laughed some more.

This was my first visit to the restaurant and I look forward to going again....SOON!

Sincerely,

Pharaoh

It's Official!

Self,


Well, I am officially 33 year old now. I feel wonderful, look it too! Right?


This was what I wore to kick-off my birthday weekend. As a last minute decision I went to see Lalah Hathaway at the El Rey Theatre here in Los Angeles. I had a great time even though I tried unsuccessfully to get some folks to go with me. But I PARTIED just the same by myself! Lalah was great, she even suprised the audience with a guest appearance by Rahsaan Patterson. So that was Friday evening.


Saturday I really didn't do much most of the day but lay around in my underwear and a robe relaxing. (That was just what I wanted and what the "doctor order.") Towards the end of the evening I was chit-chatting online and this guy (who as it turned out I knew his boyfriend) invited me over to chill and play cards (spades...eww) but I enjoyed myself....til like almost 5am.


Sunday, my actual Birthday. I slept in....rather late considering that I didn't get home til after 5am remember. I dressed and went to my parents house where my family, including my cousin from Arizona and her family was waiting for me. In honor of my special day, we had a large feast. We had lobster tails, steak, shrimp scampi, mashed potatoes, salad, and whole kernal corn. Of course, the evening included cocktails and champagne, but nobody got drunk.


The celebration doesn't stop there, on Tuesday a few friends and I are planning a trip to "The Melting Pot" which is a fondue resturant. I'm looking forward to it since I've never been before.


All in all, I had a great birthday. I thank everyone for all the birthday wishes. They are all special to me. And since I celebrate for nearly 30 days....I imagine that there will be a few more coming my way. But a couple unique ones were that Schehimazade had his "unofficial boyfriend" sing happy birthday to me, and Darktomahawk wrote a B-Day post for me on M.A.L.E.


Sincerely,
Pharaoh

Birthdays

Self,

One day last week my Str8-husband invited me over for dinner with him, his girlfriend, Clara (a variation of her real name) and Clara's three kids. Well due to scheduling issues, the kids ate before I arrived and the three adults sat at the table eating and talking.

One of the many things we discussed in our merriment was birthdays, particularly mine. (which at that time was just under two weeks away but currently only 4 days away.) Clara asked how old will I be turning. When I told her 33 she got a little excited and said that it was big one (as in a major birthday, not just that I'm old!) I was a little baffled by that because I had not considered it to be a significant birthday. To me the significant ones were 16 - for driving, 18 - for voting, 21 - for drinking, 25 - for one quarter of a century, the birthdays with "0" at the end - as a mark of a new decade, 50 - both new decade and half a century, maybe 65 for retiring purposes, and 75 representing three quarters of a century of living, and told her so.


She said that as she understood it birthdays with double digits are suppose to be lucky ones. And she then recited that her 33rd birthday was a really good/special one for her and mentioned what happened for on that birthday that made it special. I of course, quickly process what would make a birthday with double digits special and in our discussion mentioned that the same reasoning could apply for birthdays with sequential numbers.

As I mentioned in a previous post that I use my birthday as my personal marker for the new year, so now although I was not depressed or anything like that, I have to say that I am a little bit more excited about my coming birthday and the blessings that it could possibly bestow in the coming year.

Sincerely,
Pharaoh

Soldier Status

Self,

Every once in a while a musician will record a song that for lack of a better term, becomes my anthem.

Sade's "Soldier of Love" has become my newest anthem. The song laid it's trap for me with it's opening trumpet and the introduction of the baseline.

The trap was sprung with the line:

I lost the use of my heart, but I'm still alive.

I became the song's prisoner with the verse:

I'm at the borderline of my faith,
I'm in the hinterland of my devotion,
In the frontline of this battle of mine,
But I'm still alive.

The chorus sealed the deal;

I'm a soldier of love
every day of my life
I'm a soldier of love
all the days of my life

But when I got to the bridge - I became a devoted disciple:

I been torn up inside
I been left behind
So I ride
I have the will to survive
in the wild wild west
trying my hardest
doing my best
To stay alive
I am a soldier

I don't want to sound crazy (or bitter) but I think this is (or should be) the anthem for about 90% of gay men particularly black gay men. We all got battle scars...some just call it baggage.

And although I've known and claimed it for years, that I am a soldier of love, there's a certain solace that comes with the song.

Take a listen, tell me if you feel it.



Sincerely,
Pharaoh

What the hell!

Self,

Ok I have to rant a bit because...well I can.

People who know me, knows that I'm not much of a car person. I don't really subscribe to the school of thought that uses vehicle purchase as a status symbol. Basically a car is nothing more than a vampire like tool that sucks the life (ie money) out of your wallet or purse, as you are consistently making monthly payments, insurance premiums, registration dues, and maintenance/upkeep cost, and then it is essentially worth less than the purchase price.

I will concede a few exceptions: Bentley, Ferrari, Lamborgini, Aston Martin. Honestly, I'm not sure if I would include Porche, Rolls Royce, Corvette, or Jaguar in that group but I may be slightly bias because either of those in that second group can and often are spotted on the roads of Los Angeles in multiples.

That said I also understand that people other than me will label BMW, Mercedes Benz, Lexus, Infiniti, Hummer, Audi as status symbols.

However, I have a problem with people getting these status symbols and can't really afford them. I don't just mean can't afford the car because you bought one while you are living;
(a) in your parents' house, still
(b) in an apartment,
(c) or with a roommate that is not a spouse or tenant in your house. [This last one is a little tricky because a person in this situation may not necessarily buy a BMW as a status symbol but simply because they like the car and they have the resources to do so....and I don't have a problem]

Yes for the most part those are all indicators that a person may not actually be able to afford those cars. Although I have a problem with this behavior....that's not quite what I'm talking about. For example I was out at one of the malls not too far from where I live and saw a Bentley coupe in the parking structure....and it was dirty! I mean if you going to spend that kind of money on the car surely you can come up with $5 to run it through the car wash. You should never, NEVER let a Bentley leave your driveway, looking like you went off-roading, ....unless you are on your way to the car wash. Otherwise, you can't afford a Bentley.

Part of what is fueling this post is that I've recently seen several cars on the road with expired tags. I don't know how it work in other states but here in Cali the plates/tags are renewed annually from the month of purchase and are good through the end of the month of the current year. So for Thunderbolt, my Nissan Xterra, the tags are good til the end of November 2010. My issue isn't with those who drive 3-4 days now more than a week with expired tags. I'm talking about those that have tags that expired back in August. And of course there was a BMW I saw with expired tags, which I think had expired in October. I mean if people can come up with the funds to pay a annual fee to keep their 1987 Buick Skylark properly registered, than Surely someone who enjoys the status of driving a BMW should be able to do the same. If not, then you probably can't afford to own that car.

Sincerely,
Pharaoh

Avatar

Self,

The first new movie I saw of the new year Is AVATAR. The story is almost predictable, however I think it's saving grace is that there were some scenes that are ...... just stunningly breath-taking beautiful.

I won't go into details, in order not to ruin it for those who haven't seen it yet. I have to say though if you have an opportunity to see in in 3D, do!

Sincerely,
Pharaoh

Welcome 2010

Self,

Ok, so what had happen was....

As I said the plan for New Year's Eve was to attend a church service/gospel concert at one of the "mega" churches here in Los Angeles that was to feature a performance by Kelly Price.

We arrive ....a tad late - one of the other choirs was already on stage singing and praising. We found and settle into our seats. It's kind of hard to judge the size of the crowd because we were sitting in the former home of the Los Angeles Lakers, with I guess 10,000 seat capacity- but that wasn't the size of the crowd although more seats became occupied as the night continued to have a hefty number of people attending by midnight.

It was an entertaining event, along with the choirs there was a comedian who was doing impersonations of some of the well known evangelists. Kelly sounded great.

As I told a friend on the phone whom I was talking to as I got ready for the evening, I don't know what I was expecting from this event, but something said I was suppose to go. So I sat in my seat and listened.

There was a part of me that tried to feel out of place while sitting there. But, that went away. There was a part of me that tried to feel bored. But, that went away.
There was a part of me that tried to feel annoyed or frustrated. But, that went away.

There was a part of me that was waiting.

As I was getting ready, the friend I was talking to on the phone had commented that he didn't see me as the church type. I chuckled to myself, because I knew he thinks he knows me better than I know myself. I'd bet most people would think the same thing. Of course he and folks in general would think that about me, because they don't know everything about me. There are just somethings that a guy has to keep to himself, this is one of them for me. No, I'm not the type that is in church 3 times a week and twice on Sundays either. But I do attend a service occasionally. (The frequency is irrelevant. LOL.) When I do attend service, there are times when I feel the "spirit" come over me. Sometimes is like a wave crashing on the shore. Sudden and intense. Sometimes it like a sustained gentle rain. Subtle but thorough. It was that feeling/sensation for which part of me was waiting.

As I sat there listening to the music, I'd clap my hands. I'd tap my feet. I'd rock to the rhythm. I'd repeat the lines the person holding the mic would instruct the audience to say. All the while I was waiting. Waiting for that feeling to come. Waiting for an epiphany. Waiting to feel enlightened. Waiting.

At a little after11pm the minister grabbed the microphone on stage. He spoke words to bring into the existence the blessings that will bestowed upon us in the new year as he counted down the minutes and finally the seconds we had left to endure 2009 in order to receive those blessing.

In the beginning minutes of 2010, as the musicians still played, as one friend went searching for a missing scarf, as we discussed the need for bathroom visits before making the trips to our vehicles, as we were ultimately ushered out of the Forum, the waiting had stopped. No, the sensation I had been waiting for did not come. And I was perplexed. As I I stood with Prince Esquire, and three of our female friends discussing where we could still run to for food and "libations" before "last call," I contemplated my perplexity. I was puzzled as to why I didn't receive the sensation of being wrapped in the spirit. For the briefest of moments I faltered. I couldn't fathom the crisis that not having received that feeling meant. It dawned on me that maybe the problem was me assuming it was missing in the first place. The did the sudden feeling of the "spirit" coming to me, because maybe it was already present.

About that time we found a small hole in the wall bar near LAX where we downed a few cocktails before closing time. Then went down the street to a packed Ihop to eat. After dropping Prince Esquire and another friend off I mad my way home. I attempted to make a detour to create some "fireworks" but there was no response to my 4:30am text and phone call. So I finally climbed into my wonderful comfortable bed ( I love my bed, I love my bed) about 5:10am.


Sincerely,
Pharaoh

PS Oh I saw the man who would be my husband....if I ever see him again. (He was on stage in one of the choirs. I have no clue who he is.)