Shit Happens

October 17th, Wednesday... I attended my college's homecoming this past weekend and I have to say that I had a good time. Of course I saw all the usual suspects and they told the same lies they told last year but... All in all, it was cool to be there. Some people got fatter, some were drunker, and some were just plain boring.
My problem with attending stuff like that is I cannot remember anyone's name. I have forgotten so much about college, I think I have College Alztheimers! I look at people with a blank stare on my face until they say something or just flat out say their name in order for me to get it. Of course I am embarrassed but, when I think about it, some people were just plain dull when we were in school.
I always saw college as a place where you needed to stand out without the use of a fraternity or sorority, or social club. Who the hell are you? I did not want to share my name with anyone or anything that would take away my shine. I was loud, obvious and crazy when I was in college. I dared to do stuff others shunned away from. I liked being out there!
The problem with that is now that we are in real time, I am labeled as a loon! I had no girlfriend, I did not marry my college sweetheart, and I have no children to show. Yeah, college was great... Back then! Now I am someone they remember as the guy who had no problem using the women's bathroom when all the stalls were full! Go figure...

A Warped POV by A. Dacosta Brathway

November 30th, Wednesday... I said it! I said it to a friend of mine that another pedophilia situation would come up after the Penn State thing and here it is! This is going to sound real weird but parents don't have a clue what they are releasing their kids to when athletes are recruited and exploited by major universities. Hell, these days it is just college period! Just this year two females were killed on campus at two different colleges in the state of Maryland.
How sad is it to think that you allowed your son to go to a school to aid in his becoming a man and he comes back a... well... violated? Or, your daughter goes away and never comes back home? Sure parents send their kids away to college to get rid of them but they don't want to (really) get rid of them!
And... and... What the hell is this shit? Old, prune faced freaks preying on youngin's? Are you kidding me? Outside of what has been revealed, my fear is that it is STILL going on somewhere! When caught, what should be done with them? Screw rehab! (Pun intended!) Jail the freak and subject his ass to the realm of possibilities! (Pun intended again!) "Allegedly."

A Warped POV by A. Dacosta Brathway

September 20th, Tuesday... I attended my alma matta's homecoming this past weekend and I had a half ass time. I should have been excited to see the people I went to college with but I saw them last year and the year before that and the year before that, ad nauseam. They are a year older (as am I), they look tired (as I feel), and they are still telling lies (as I did!).
The routine was the same... I walked around the campus w/ a group of guys I hung out w/ in college. We laughed, we ate, we reminisced, and we talked about people. We talked about the young ones, who we thought did not have a clue about how to manage college like we did, back in the day. In retrospect, who gives a shit if they don't do it like we did? Why would they have to? Actually, homecoming is intended for the alumni to come back and see how things have changed but the events seem to cater for the present students so I'm thinking, "...why even go back every year?" There is no real getting together w/ them. The fraternities and sororities cook, eat, and dance on their plot of land. Everyone else walks around like a bunch of well dressed transients... There's music, loud talking, drinking (under the disguise of some popular drink container), men watching ass shake in skin tight pants and women wondering what the hell they are looking at?
Did I have fun? Not really. Am I glad I went? Yeah, pretty much... I always say I am not going to go but I usually do attend. Will I go next year? I'll say that I'm not but I probably will. How long will I keep up this charade? Hell if I know...

A Warped POV by A. Dacosta Brathway

March 29th, Tuesday... I'm sitting and working on my journal and I have the TV on. It's the Housewives of Orange County (Yeah, I watch shit like that sometimes!) So I'm listening to a woman explain her life which is no job, controlling husband, nannified kids and she is talking about how she is designing a fashion line! That shit is amazing to me! How does one get on a "make believe" (fake ass) reality show and just get a seamstress and start a fashion line?
I remember when I was in school and the teacher asked us what we wanted to be in life, all I ever heard was policeman, fireman, doctor, lawyer, Indian Chief. As an adult all I hear about is these exotic careers! Out of the box ideas that have made millions for dropouts!
"Venture capitalists" who throw their money into hair brain schemes (Bernie, where are you now?) on the strength of a powerpoint pitch. Where the hell was I when this stuff was going on? I went to college! (Obviously the wrong one!)
I'm even amazed that people can make money doing a blog. (I haven't made a dime off of mine! SHIT!) I was even told that my blog was of the op. ed. variety. What do they know?
In my next life, I want to come back as the star of a reality show called Black Househusband of Bed-Stuy! Wait a minute, on second thought, never mind. I'm not feeling like being the brainless, stupid Brotha!

Excerpt from "My Life Sucked..." by A. Dacosta Brathway

I never thought of my life being rough, considering my high school experiences, until I was told that I had to be signed out of school. My mother, who was livid when she found out she had to sign me out, threatened to send me to live with my father. The trick was that we had to find out where he was to know where to send me!/ I remember it being a frantic search... My mother called every family member she had a number for to see if they knew of his where-a-bouts. When all else failed, she had me to scour every bar in the 'hood. After several days, I finally found him sitting on the last stool of the last bar I searched. He was drunk and did not know who I was when I raised his head off the bar. After a brief struggle, I finally got his house keys out of his pocket, then tried to get him to tell me where he lived. He must have given me about fifteen addresses before the bartender confirmed which address was the correct one./ When I got him home, there was debris everywhere. There were newspapers all over the floor... Damn near everywhere I stepped there were dead roaches. They were dead because there was no food in the house. There was no garbage in the garbage cans or in the refrigerator. The man did not eat... Nor did he feed his roaches! There was, however, plenty of empty liquor bottles laying around. Maybe that's why there were no mice around... All the booze was gone! I dropped him on his unmade bed and took his work boots off. Man his feet stunk! The race between his breath and his feet was a close one! After getting him in a position on the bed where i could be sure that he would not fall out of it, I started looking around his apartment for pictures, letters, or some sort of momento that would give me a clue as to who my father was. He left my mother when I was three years old so I never lived with him. Every now and then he would send my mother some money but I could see that most of his cash went to buying spirits and cigarettes. My dad smoked like a chimney in a farm house on a cold winter's night. He would light a fresh one with a spent one. I knew that because there was only one match, in the ashtray by his bed, burried under twenty cigarette butts! The apartment was sparsely furnished. He did not look like he needed much. He went to work, then the bar, then home. The cycle was endless... I did not find anything of real value in his apartment but I did notice that his work boots were all polished and lined up in his closet. His work pants all had sharp creases and were very clean. My father was an electrician and I was told that he was a very good one. He was known for his fearlessness around live wires, which was evident by the burns in the palms in his hands. He could pull cable with the best of them. He was a tall man with a strong build. His laugh was loud and hearty. He laughed like a content drunk! As I stood there and stared at him sleeping and snoring like a car with a busted muffler, I wondered... If I could live with my dad and keep him sober, would he teach me his trade because after getting kicked out of high school? I wondered because there was no way I was going to be able to go to college!