The Other Half Of Things

Today I am writing this from Vancouver, British Columbia and in shock of “how the other half lives“.

For one, I thought I was always the “other half“, but when you sneak a peek into reality TV, you suddenly find yourself in a position of no authority or atlas to deem anything you touch the “other half”.

So, quietly last night, as I walked into the 18th floor of downtown high-rise condo filled with sweet smelling Thai food, glass windows that snugly embrace you, and a crowd of folks that did have to know your name to call you family, I found myself in open arms without any choice. The view was spectacular and the scenery in and out of the condo was amazing. It didn’t take long to realize how much humility to have in possessing such great friends scattered all across the globe.

Yes, this is the real other half.

See, and I’ve expressed this more often than none, I’m the luckiest guy on Earth. I have a great family who ultimately have no choice but to love me. I have friends who have to put up with my analysis of our friendship through my own bipolar lens. And to boot, I have a great job where I get to hang out with a crew of intelligent people that aren’t afraid to laugh at each other. Coming to visit my friends out here in Vancouver has only solidified the fact that you don’t have to have a house in the middle of the city, a fat wallet, or a job in the White House to make your life feel a tinge of grace or respect from the great things around you. Already, and I have only been here for one day, I have found the beginnings of a new and incredible family that will undoubtedly change the face my own future.

Yes, I know how the other half lives now.

Just like me.

M.C. Davis

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Poem For A Poet

A simple
use
of a
metaphor,
inside two
vowels
with a few
more consonants
thrown in,
and words
like “what not”,
and “this and that”
are allowed
to take
center stage,
while
words like “Oh My”
and “Say It Ain’t So”
will surely protest.
Poems
that link
poets will
definitely
produce poets
that link
poems, and
if anything,
those
poets will
dance in the
streets
like a wild
day
without the
noise of life
to interrupt
you.

M.C. Davis

Statement Of Purpose

So, there I was, minding my own business when suddenly, I was asked a question:

Define your statement of purpose?

At first, I thought, what the heck? I can do this. I’m a writer and in most cases, I’m pretty aware of the thin line between bull and reality. However, in this case, a graduate school application from George Washington University was asking this very important question, which changed the tone of not only my response, but also my expectations.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a fierce writing challenge like the most of ’em, but for once in my life, I felt the sting of not being fully prepared or entirely aware of what my worth. For the first time in my life, I felt like the outcome of my statement would ultimately create a new stir in me….that perhaps might feel good. So, after the statement was written, in addition to the several layers of the application, I found myself in a slight quandary.

What truly is my worth? Do Am I owning up to my personal life statement?

Although the original question was geared towards a graduate school application, I don’t think I’m done putting some serious analysis to the thought of my worth and internal expectations. Of course, this type of question has been kicked around for years but for once, I’m taking it much more seriously.

M.C. Davis

Metro Ride

Zoom! Zoom!
Blast! Blast!
The hum of
oil inside of
pistons inside of
gears, and I’m tickled
because my day
just started Metro-style,
like the time
we flew uphill
and in between
damp trees.

Hiss! Hiss!
Jam! Jam!
The smell of conversation,
Blues, and paper cards
fill up the air
like hot-air balloons,
and I’m hyped because
my walk is tall
and my ears are perked
like Sammy-dog
on a good day.

Blam! Blam!
Plot! Plot!
This Metro ride
is hot and sexy,
and the air resonates
like an A string
or a slow dance
with the one
that beats your heart.

Yes, this Metro ride
beats applying
to Harvard Law,
and I’m stoked
because in
between the noise,
an orchestra quietly
nudges Beethoven
for a final movement.

M.C. Davis

The Little Things

My friend OD (pronounced Oh Dee ) called me today and said the most remarkable thing. She said:

"Isn’t is wild when you’re life is crazy and distorted but your voicemail message stays the same?"

Yeah, I thought.

That is crazy but some things in our personal space should stay the same.

And that just happens to include voicemail messages, hugs, and lemons for those damn glasses of lemonade.

Thanks OD for reminding once again how lucky I am to have such an insightful friend.

M.C. Davis

We Spoke About This Type Of Thing Before Eh?

…or, was that you?

So, this week of sorts has been quite exhilarating for me. I’m working MIDS (which is by far the most productive shift for me) and the days are not as heat intensive as before and like I mentioned a few posts ago, I am happy to be in a creative and wonderful city with an equal creative population surrounding me.

My runs are getting better. Now, instead of taking the Metro after work like a weak and miserable misfit, I am running back and to be honest, I don’t know why I didn’t do it before. For one, it saves on an already liberal Metro pass fee and feeling I get when I get home is unexplainable.

I wonder if they can bottle a runner’s high?

The job is not only becoming a family of the coolest people, but the “techy” stuff is loosing its grip around my “I don’t know” stage. It’s incredible and I’m learning so much about myself and the dynamic of what it takes to be a Superstar amongst other Superstars. Also, I’ve decided to find my Portland West and after a careful review of the after school programs in the area, I think I may have found the most awesome programs with some of the best solutions to learning I’ve witnessed in a while.  So, wish me luck as I once again add one more item to my hectic schedule.

I’m also applying to George Washington University for a Master’s in Project Management. This revelation, if you want to call it that, is much needed right now. Everyday I feel a few brain cells leaving my body like little Martians on tiny space ships and if you know anything about the Martians, then you should know that in some ways, they’re useful to our existence.

Please don’t ask me to explain that.

The neighborhood is what it is and my friend, who I thought was the coolest Joe ever, fell through on me. We had a slight falling out and for once in my life, I walked away with my wits and the love for myself intact. For once, I realized that there are some things that we sign up for in life and dutifully, like those soldiers we all love to hate, we follow to the ends of the Earth. Then, there are those other things that we neither sign up for or desire in our lives and the impact, in how we view ourselves, sometimes far exceed our willingness to accept those consequences of our choices. So, a towel was thrown and it didn’t land nicely.

So, yes, we did speak about this type of thing before, and it hurts me to live in such a wonderful world and even think about neglecting the beauty or joy in it.

It’s just not me.

M.C. Davis

Dream Deferred

Dream Deferred

What happens to a dream deferred?

 

  Does it dry up
  like a raisin in the sun?

  Or fester like a sore–
  and then run?

  Does it stink like rotten meat?
  Or crust and sugar over–
  like a syrupy sweet?

  Maybe it just sags
  like a heavy load.

 

Or does it explode?

Langston Hughes