Not days. Not weeks. MONTHS.
In the pursuit of excellence in all areas, I’ve become a master of mediocrity – and accepted it. Perhaps I need to get out of my own head more often and reflect upon the landscape surrounding (and/or created) by yours truly apart from the social media footprint that I have come to loathe recently. Being the smartest guy in the room doesn’t mean much of anything if 1)no one is there to challenge your strengths to improve you, and 2)I’ve found myself regretting a number of things I have said over the years, and sometimes the Memories function in Facebook reminds me of such cringeworthy posts from an earlier period of my life. Thankfully, I forgot my original Black Planet account information and the subsequent password although it is likely you’d still be able to find a picture of me sitting on the porch at my college apartment apparently dressed like I had left either church or a pledge meeting in a blue sweater vest, gold necktie, and plaid pants. [Once upon a time, plaid Hilfiger slacks were a thing: I don’t think I can find a pair in my 2019 size like I could in 1999 me].
Why am I not blogging much these days? Keep reading
to find out the answers.
First and foremost, I haven’t even thought about the
Dad Chronicles in the past year and
it was time to prioritize my family’s privacy over what curious eyes would like
to read, share, discuss, and so forth. Meeting each self-imposed Monday
deadline became more difficult as the time passed, and I found myself with more
new content of stories of new parenthood that required three or four days of
the writing process excluding the inevitable editing day(s) which could range
from two hours to two days, depending on subject matter. There are some things
I haven’t tried yet such as combing Caeli’s hair, so there is always room for
more adventures. Also, thanks to my wife for keeping Little Miss Sunshine from
looking like the “black child who has lived around white people too long” meme
with hair all over the place, extra-ashy, and not matching, or worse, wearing
fugly t-shirts of graphics long past their expiration dates.
I’m
not saying she has found my old No Fear t-shirts though…
The next reason is I work too damn much. Between the
main grind and the side hustle, jotting down a few notes in a pad or Evernote
may or may not always happen regardless of how much time I choose to dedicate
to the literary meal ticket I expected for myself many years ago. I like having
the main job and barbecue is really a stress-relieving passion, but there comes
a time when doing 80+ hour workweeks for months becomes detrimental to general
health and sanity not to mention a strain to our marriage. As much as I know my
cook times for briskets, pork shoulders and butts, ribs, etc. that stuff still
takes time to become Dub Shack BBQ-quality! A pop-up could occur sometime this
year under a few unlisted conditions; we shall see.
Third comes from being so perpetually gassed thereby
I haven’t been able to give my best at any one area – and the congregation of
Mount Zion Baptist Church can tell that better than anyone else not living in
my house. Some folks benefit from seeing a familiar face while others are
pleased with an offering check every other Sunday – and this does not exclude
the new members’ classes I used to teach nor the food pantry ministry dates and
potential opportunities for donations as forecasting has proven to be one of
our biggest challenges each quarter. In a world which merely showing up at
least 48 of the 52 Sundays is no longer a reality for a significant number of
us, I have recently taken issue with some of the traditional dogma within our
churches. However, I’m not entirely inclined to speak of it in this forum;
confidentiality is the 800-lb. elephant in the room that sometimes gets abused
for self-promotion or to absolve the transgressions of an individual who has
made it his or her business to point fingers at everyone else while pretending
the closet has no dust nor skeletons. Please believe that I am a defender of
the Christian faith – I am reserving the right to criticism even as some
leaders use the religion to better position themselves in white supremacy,
their own financial gain, and paternalism versus truly following what thus
saith the Lord.
We know Jesus overthrew the tables in the temple but
too often misunderstand the Scripture as it is twisted to fit a certain agenda.
I’m not limiting myself to only the New Testament plus Malachi 3:8 but
certainly that would be a start in quelling the confusion; as a further
reference to where I am going, read 1 Corinthians 9:1-18 for the logic behind
the phrase “taking care of the man of God” that so many pastors invoke today.
This does not state the pastor should take a vow of poverty (this day and age,
it would be quite noble) rather his necessities are taken care of; as far as
lifestyle and ensuing habits, that is a matter between him and God. In that text,
Paul states that he could ask for income, yet he also acknowledges he does not
necessarily need it due to his occupation as a tent-maker.
The people looking for physical proof of
authenticity [read: paperwork instead of
spiritual power and usability] are the ones who most often miss the boat and
fail to recognize God’s evidence even when it is IN OUR FACES. As a matter of
fact, it can be said that we do not even have the sense, spiritual or
otherwise, to know whom God’s men are! Just because some of us look good in
black suits, white shirts, and some pocket-square-and-tie combo does not mean
we are the ones designated for the tasks at hand.
Whoops, I digressed from the main point of why I
stopped blogging. My bad.
Truth of the matter for why I haven’t blogged much
this year: I’ve run low on unique content.
You’d think that over the course of 6.5 years that I would have a buffer in
place for undeveloped topics and ideas except that is not the case. We can go
on and on about my disdain for the American political system (and law
enforcement, to an extent), but making a note of the inequities of systems that
unfortunately for a certain demographic is working as intended is exhausting.
I can also carry on raising my #BlackLivesMatter banner alone in all facets of life, yet I feel
many citizens have treated this hill as a fad until things go sideways.
I could’ve continued with the Dad Chronicles but at some point you’ll know more about my private
life than I do, inadequacies, graying nappy hairs, slowing steps, and all
without mentioning the reality of providing a decent, God-fearing life for my
family in a world that demands looking for only Number One instead of making
hay for the less privileged among us.
As I resume blogging for at least this one post, I
hope it provides the chance to rediscover a working schedule to introduce new
content whether it is palatable to the masses. Without throwing away my
original disclaimer, I am back to presenting material in all sorts of gray and showing
there are more ways than one to skin a cat.
