<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d13627209\x26blogName\x3dThe+Cynical+Ones\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLUE\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://thecynicalones.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://thecynicalones.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-4590904552691322950', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
About Me

Writer. Music head. Political junkie. Pop culture whore. Funny black boy. Looking to have a voice in the world -- with a few good sponsors.

View My Complete Profile

Find Me Here:

The Recession Diaries

The Spin

Stay Tuned


The Roll


Aliya King

All That I Am: A Diary of My Randymethoughts Pt. II

Amerika's Muse

Bark + Bite

Basement Elevation

Bomani Jones


Brooklyn Sista

Clay Cane

Concrete Loop

crunk and disorderly

Dope Penmanship

Fly Cliches

Four Four


Got Sole?

Hot 2 Def Inc.


Just Another Girl on the IRT

Me, Myself An Eye

Middlechild Promotions

Mz. Virgo

Necole Bitchie

Negrita Linda

One Boy Revolution

Oo Itz Santo

Queen of the Non Sequiturs

Queen To Be

Rhymes With Snitch


Straight From The A

Thank God I'm Famous

That Grape Juice

The Fury

The Real 7

The search for RELLevance


Toya's World

Previous Posts

Fox News Hates Black People
A Milli Versions
Let Me Know
Stepped On My Js
Take That, Haters
Yeah, His Album Is Out
Maybe This Isn't Love
Obama Gives Country Chance To See Itself


May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009

Add to Technorati Favorites

Site Meter

free page hit

Wednesday, June 18, 2008
1:23 PM

The Twitch


My eye won’t stop twitching. It’s been that way for two days now. They say it’s a sign of stress. As in fatigue -- y’know, being tired…or sick and tired. Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.

I would call it a block, but at this point it’s more like a levee. I’ve been having a really hard time wrapping my mind about things to write about. That’s unusual for me. I read all day, and have an opinion on just about everything. But lately it’s been more and more of a struggle.

I feel drained. Really frustrated with the way things have gone. I can’t go into detail (that would be stupid of me), but I will say a few things.

Some Black institutions (be it educational and/or corporate entities) can push you to joining the Klan. I’m talking buying a pick-up truck, slapping a Confederate flag on the back of it, then taking a hammer and knocking one of your buck teeth out and turn into a real-life Uncle Ruckus. This doesn’t apply to all (I deal with a couple), but a significant number of them, which is a terrible average.

I am many things, but a professional still ranks among the top of the list. As you sow so shall you reap. I’ll leave it at that.

Another aspect of the twitch could be things not working out the way I planned, and opportunities (burgeoning on several now) that have slipped by. Such is life. You deal with it, move on, and keep changing your plan until you find one that works for you. Ok, I get that. And despite the tone of this post, I do believe I will be fine. But I want to be better than fine in the future, and to be honest, would rather be fine right now rathern than later. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, eh? I know, I know. I believe I can fly, too.

You can only read “you’re a great writer,” “you’re a good writer,” “you’re a strong writer,” “you’re an incredibly talented writer,” “you have so much potential to grow” accompanied by the ever-annoying “BUT” without become maybe a little jaded, no? They’re only making room for the right people to get it, huh?

Then there’s the notion of knowing when you’re being played, and the realization that in any other instance, you would immediately give the person playing you an instruction on how they can go fuck themselves. But alas, you have to grit your teeth, suck one up for the team. Or you find a sponsor – which I really hope would happen already. Are there any blog readers willing to trick and treat for your man? C’mon nah, don’t be shy. I won’t do anything for you, but hey, I’m good company. I send nice emails, too.

Humor. That’s my vice. It helps me deal when bad things happen. ‘Tis why I’m hilarious.

Alright, I’ve already exposed way too much. I know I’ll be fine, but I wanted to vent, and it’s my blog so why not use this medium to do so. I’m sure some of my friends are tired of me. I hope not, but I wouldn’t fault them. What can I say? I don’t believe in lying. It's not an issue of if for me, it's more like when and all that takes place between 'when' and now. If it helps, I’m still always encouraging of my friends even when I get tempted to go on a shaking spree. Now if only people of similar lineage could be as gracious. Mmph.

But speaking of encouragement, thanks to those that every so often, randomly tell me they love my shit and that I make their day or bring a smile to their face. It’s appreciated. Soon those words will come with a really pretty contract. But until that day, the hump fight moves forward.

This, twitch, though. It has to stop. It’s not actually noticeable, but it’s hella annoying. I feel like if it lasts any longer, my left eye is going to have a stroke and my new nickname will go from ‘Twitchy’ to ‘Wonkie.’

Not sexy.

Have a good day, people.

The Cynical Ones.
posted by Michael at