Posts tagged as:

love

21 Gun Salute

21 Gun Salute

Many of us live in an anarchist revision of love, hoping to understand its structures while simultaneously rationalizing why they just won’t work for us (and in many cases, trying to destroy previously conceived notions!) It’s amazing that any of us fall in love at all, or even attempt to understand this synecdochical emotion wrought with emotions, as if there is only one side to love. There’s certainly a side to love many of us hope to achieve, and even a few of us have achieved, whether with siblings or significant others, and when we see it, we go “Oh look, that’s great. At the end of the day, I wish I had that.” Even guys get like that sometimes.

Then there’s this ugly and funny side of love that makes Jazmine Sullivan sing a song asserting that animals in their natural habitats would be less injurious than heartbreak (I still side with the lions, tigers, and bears). We play this constant game of chess when some of us only prepared ourselves for checkers. We ponder whether the other thinks of us with the same affections and aspirations, questioning every little move the other makes, or a culmination of their moves, sometimes on a whim or a simple question asked by another party.

Sometimes, I feel like I get it. Men often complicate things by thinking that they’re king of the jungle when they’re only pawns, in hopes of alluring suitors who’ll buy into the bravado. Women often have to make things difficult to find a strong suitor in her own right; that’s an evolutionary and natural process. A small part of me knows that these sorts of things keep humans heavily interested and “in the chase.” Oftentimes, particularly with men, the chase makes the whole first part of the experience worth it. Also, the idea of favoring someone or something can often get clouded by misperceptions of what our individual roles are with respect to others.

However, a bigger part of me feels that, as a society of extremes (e.g. “#fail” or “best.___. ever”), we don’t take into account of our own emotional needs. Furthermore, our constant affronts often conflict with our own true intentions. Sometimes, we hold so steadfast to our “game” that we become empty vessels unwilling to shed our borders in the face of false security. We’re willing to shoot down close intruders and put  those who wish to penetrate our borders through such a grueling process, they either cry from the whole experience or simply ditch in the middle of the naturalization process.

1/2 the time, we’re really just looking for someone to believe in so strongly, that even after we go through it all, guns blazing and smoke settling, we’ll still feel like it’s all worth fighting for. Then again, maybe it’s time for a war we really feel we have to fight.

Jose, who’s got 21 guns …

{ 3 comments }

She Will Be Loved

by Jose on April 29, 2009 · 2 comments

in life

Holding Hands

Holding Hands

It’s easy to sit here,
Clasped hands
Staring eyes,
Inclement weather,
Winds rustling our jackets every which way
In front of a fluorescent building sometime closer to midnight than mid-day
That three letter phrase tauted so heavily
By romantics and lunatics alike
That swelling in my chest and the screaming of the conscience to make things right
With thoughts that she,
Whose tales range from broken hearts and wounded soldiers
To escapades of the inebriated and carnal nature
Whose seen a million specimen and women whisk to and from her grasp
Mostly of her choosing
Her largesses and grandiose measurements about her life before me
Fascinate me and bore me at once
Because while the journey is certainly of note
The destination is much more critical
With all the hapless souls
Hopping from Earth vessel to Earth vessel
Probing shapes and contours of every type
In all shades and lighting and fixtures and props
All for that connection we call love
Presently, with hands now around her waist
Close to her bottom
Her hands around my shoulder
We’re less concerned with these foregone tales
More so with the meeting of our torsos
I know who’s setting up her rendezvous now
I know who will assert their person for and within her
She will look only as far as we take this
And she will be loved …

{ 2 comments }

How To Heal A Broken Heart

How To Heal A Broken Heart

Before my days in college (man, I loved college), I really didn’t much success with the ladies. And by not that much, I mean there was a recession of immense proportions. I looked around and watch my friends talk about female orifices and their indexes feeling on the softest, roundest female bottoms ever. Me? Not quite. I had a chance encounter in Dominican Republic back when I was 10 (I’ve never forgetten it). From then ’till college, contrary to popular beliefs (even my own) I barely got any.

But the couple of things that I always had going for me were hope and optimism. Certainly being nice didn’t work too well nor did the other passive characteristics I took on as a result of my upbringing. I don’t wish to blame the parents (even if it is their fault), but it’s also because society taught me that I was fat, Black, and ugly. No, seriously. Thank G-d for goatees and age. Otherwise, I still would have been that frustrated chump who, in a rather quixotic moment, considered asexuality.

Back to the point, Valentine’s Day was where I laid all my hopes of finding someone to kiss (I had little space for much else). I wanted that romantic love, that movie love, that Corey and Topanga kind of love. And of course, it wasn’t to be. I mean, I went all out for Valentine’s Day, sometimes spending my weekly allowance … with zero returns. There were also the ones where something might have happened if I was less chicken-shit and more Neil Strauss about things. Or the nights when my single friend and I would just have a Lonely Person’s Day, eating fries and ice cream at McD’s. It ranged anywhere from “You’re nice, but can we be friends?” to “I’m your counselor. I may be hot, but I’m at least 3 times your age.” I even got “Ummm … no.”

Ouch.

Nevertheless, all those wasted Valentine’s Days taught me something later on that I probably wouldn’t have learned:

Valentine’s Day is expensive as a motherfucker.

Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.

If you don’t consider yourself an attractive and loveable person, how do you expect someone else to love you? If you don’t consider yourself worthy of someone, will you ever be? There are times when you do think you’re worthy and things fail, but the chances of reciprocity are much greater than we have a belief in an idea than when we don’t.

Fortunately, for this Valentine’s Day, I have one person who’s been my 3-peat Valentine (it’s the first time ever, I promise you). Yet, I also know there are those of you who are booing Cupid to no end, and I have to respect that (the grass is definitely greener on this side). Then again, I feel like after all that depravity, I’ve earned love.

Yes, I’ve earned love.

Jose, who assembled his first bed tonight …

{ 11 comments }

This is the third post on love, commemorating that yearly event that happens on the 14th. Today, I’ll get a little into my own background without saying too much. I’ll try not to get too deep into family, but I’ll give a little context for the ideas I’m laying out. I hope to represent these ideas accurately.

Black Father, Son, Shaving

Black Father, Son, Shaving

As a child, I often admired my father: a goateed, handsome Black man with a raspy voice, and a charisma unmatched by any man I’ve met since. It’s funny how so many people consider their fathers the most charming man they’ve ever met. Yet, I wasn’t alone. My father’s expeditions from Haiti to Florida to New York and back around again left many women longing for more than what he could offer. Even into his 50s, he still has that spark in his eye, a qualifier for the lifestyle he (used to) live. However, his wanton ways left reverberations for the many children he left to some of the women he impregnated and left with no promises.

In the book Why Beautiful People Have More Daughters? by Alan S. Miller and Satoshi Kanazawa, Kanazawa explains that men are supposed to have as many children as possible because, according to evolutionary theory, they benefit from having their genes spread as far and wide as possible. On the other hand, women usually won’t have too many children because there’s only so many children a woman can have (on average, 25) and, thus, they have more investment in the child they have as they get older because of that cap.

Of course, Kanazawa doesn’t go into what is or what should be. Because, while as an adult, I understand the biological reasons for what men (and women) do at times, I had a really hard time reconciling with the idea of not having a father. My mother, as could be expected, did her best to provide for me, but as I now see with my own students, I also see how a reliable male presence in my life may have in my own upbringing. Seeing all these other faces, whom all looked familiar, but nonetheless were born of other women, irritated me because, as the ghetto so environmentally pronounces, I was a reject even without having actually done anything to be rejected.

And of course, it only got worse when it came to how I learned about the opposite sex. Frankly, I wasn’t quite as versed in the ways of cavorting / flirting as I am now. He wasn’t there for that. I still haven’t learned how to drive a car. He wasn’t there for that. I spent most of my conscious life in fear of my life with a man who had no real investment in my life, and taught me that beating on anyone who angered me was appropriate, and I had the unprovoked welts and mental scars to prove it. My father wasn’t there for that. And I suspect that all my siblings in one form or another had similar hardships.

My mother always told me to love my father. And when I went to visit him when he was on his last breath, I felt the love emanate from all my siblings. From those who adored and looked up to him only to try and grab his attention in the most not-so-subtle ways to those of us who downgraded him to strands of human code, we felt love was the only thing to feel. Since then, those feelings of bitterness and resentment turned to a weird sympathy, respect, and love.

And it’s easy for me to sit here and discuss his failings, but if not for his absence, I may not have had the life I do now, where it’s precisely the lack of a male influence that’s kept me in the “industry” I’m in. It made me want to make my own family. It made me want better for myself. It made me. Plus, I can’t say what would have happened if he did stay. Part of me believes that many of his genes definitely carried through all of us, but another part of me believes I can rebell against that behavior. A huge part of me would like to see love last a long time, and unconditionally.

I’d like to follow that trend someday; I’ve never seen it before.

Jose, who is working on it …

{ 4 comments }

Heartless

by Jose on December 15, 2008 · 4 comments

in life

Heartbreak

Heartbreak

Kanye West recently got me to thinking about the callous facade men and women take on when not satisfied with matters of the heart. Along the lines of Jay-Z’s “They say you can’t turn a bad girl good, but once a good girl’s gone bad, she’s gone forever,” Kanye’s song “Heartless” is an honest musing on the deterioration of an honest and burgeoning relationship gone awfully sour. A few days ago on Twitter, Peter Santilli made a poignant observation about the relationships between human beings:

Horniness brings people together. What the world needs now is a sexual revolution. Put your depression calculators away for a bit.

- Peter Santilli

While Peter might be a little more, say, curt than I am, I will say I agree in one respect: the essential “end” to all this “means” is sex, and not just sex, but an intimate and loving relationship with a significant other. Whether that manifests itself in marriage, children, or just a life-long partnership of mutual love, most of us biologically crave that intimacy and, in many subtle and not-so-subtle ways, WANT to be vulnerable and WANT to feel protected on some level.

Isn’t it always funny for instance when you hear that a person broke up with their significant other and the next day you’ll read in their status or their blog, “That’s it; from now on, I’m gonna be cold hearted.” only to find out that in a couple of months, they find themselves in another relationship? How about those dudes who have a plethora of women they have sex with / randomly make out with / play with but when you ask them on a one-to-one level, all they ever talk about is how they want to settle down and to repeat the mistakes of their predecessors? You’ll also note that those who we generally characterize as sensitivity have sharp reactions to touch or emotion.

And from that first meeting of someone to actually making that real contact, there’s an almost infinite combination matrix we have to follow to get to those “ends:” the lies, the fibs, the guessing, the presentation, the representation, the setting, the spontaneity, the nuances of what he / she does and says, the reminders and reminiscing, the bad / good breath, the questions about their habits like “Does this make him a bad / good lover?”, the walking slowly and holding hands, the sweaty palms and wondering if the other person feels the same way you do, the successes and failures of getting some the first time around and maybe not, and wondering whether you’ll ever see them again, the drunken phone calls / texts, the yearnings in the late night, the confusion about why the person didn’t call if “it was good”, the subsequent postings or writings in the personal journals, the conversations with their “people” about that person they met the night before, the departure of the representative and the arrival of the real person, the repeat of this very cycle, and the anticipation that maybe it’ll have some happy ending.

Yet, before all this, we have people who seem to walk around with no heartbeats, their sense of touch relegated to the umpteenth most important sense rather than in their top 10. Too many people are heartless …

Jose, who finds this the longest story ever told …

{ 4 comments }

Lady In My Life

by Jose on October 22, 2008 · 7 comments

in life

Breakneck speeds of immense change
Imposing and important questions laid in the musty air
Dark wavy strands of black strewn across a librarian / teacher – prototype glasses
An Amazon with hips as wide as her influence
Curves in the form of encapsulated time
She’s the sugar container in my coffee
And the alcohol in my Vodka
Mature and appropriate in all situations
Ever-present her essence
My eyes confusingly fluctuate and dilate
Between shielding my eyes from your brilliance
And seduction to your image
Your visage you’ve graced me with so often
And your imperfect perfection is a synecdoche for our reality
Our relationship, our present, our now
Ours.

jose vilson © 2008

jose, who just needed to get that out of my system …

{ 7 comments }

Short Notes: By Any Means Human

by Jose on August 3, 2008 · 6 comments

in life

Frida Kahlo\'s \"Le Due Frida\"

Get your New York Yankees wallpaper here and here courtesy of yours truly. You’re welcome.

I’m not losing any fat, but I’m definitely gaining muscle. Thus, my weight is still the same, but I feel different.

It’s worth noting that the one group my blog is popular with is … teachers. And teachers of all colors. With people who I’m typically associated with at first sight, not so much. And that goes for the web and in real life.

With that said, if you’d like to nominate me for the Black Weblog Awards, feel free. Yes, it’s open to anyone.

I think it’s about time someone actually wrote something about forcing the change of the guard as far as community leadership is concerned. For example, Jesse, Bill, and Al have been the stalwarts of the old guard for decades now for decades. We need a change, and people don’t feel like they’re doing us right. And sometimes, I think the same thing about the blogosphere too.

The #1 quality I bring to the classroom is passion. Whether I’m animated or settled, it’s my drive and passion that keep me getting up every day and into that classroom to teach math. True indeed. Thanks for asking, Tracy. I’ll write more about this soon, but that’s my immediate answer.

I miss her. I really do. Hope she’s doing well.

Met up with 2 friends this week. Definitely exciting stuff to come from them.

One of my big non-negotiables is insulting women for being women. Basically, we can’t talk about educating or re-educating anyone if you speak of women in sexist terms. For example, in the Black in America special by CNN, the big trend that came up was the trend of successful Black men dating White women. I personally have no issue with interracial relationships; date who you please or who pleases you. Yet, some Black women who simply state that they want a Black man often get admonished (!) for it, as if 1) they’re undeserving of a successful Black man and 2) they complain so much that it’s no wonder why those men would never go out with them. “Well maybe you should stop complaining, and maybe you should be more like ____ or ____.” It’s bull, people. It’s implicitly bitter and misogynist, and anyone making those arguments ought to take a hard look at themselves in the mirror. (That was just an example, because it’s happening a lot in other arenas, too.)

Women have a right to preference just like men do. It’s not the difference between beggars and choosers. It’s about love. There’s a difference between limiting one’s options and having a preference for someone. Love. Love. Love.

jose, who believes in holding up a mirror to yourself, and not just for admiration …

p.s. – If you’re referring to a group of people that identify themselves as Latino, the plural form is Latinos not Latino’s. Once you use the latter, you instantly lose 1/2 of your credibility. The other 1/2 is just in case you make an honest effort to correct that. I know some of these people only care about Latinos as a voting bloc and not as a people, but please …

{ 6 comments }

One Love

by Jose on February 15, 2008 · 6 comments

in Uncategorized

Beatles’ Love Is All You Need

I never used to like Valentine’s Day, but now I love it. Then again, it’s probably because I had a date, and have had one for some time now. I haven’t always had the best of luck, especially as a child, but now, things have never looked brighter. I’m not just in love, but I love, and it’s cool.

So in the spirit of that love, I’d love to tell you about some of the things I love:

I love having my lessons ready for school.

I love my independence.

I love writing, and I love it so much, I schedule the topics in my mind, unless something else comes up that’s a little cooler than that … like a date with a hot girlfriend.

I love my kids. Despite how annoying, frustrating, self-centered, destructive, insane, off-kilter, entitled, sloppy, and often insulting some of them are, the majority of my kids are just that: kids, and you can’t do anything except love them for who they are. They have this energy that makes you want to vicariously live through them almost … I said almost. After all, I like this grown-up version of me.

I love teaching. That’s a whole ‘nother post.

I love orange soda, but it’s a long-lost love since I haven’t been drinking it that much. I’ve maybe that my kind on that citrus divinity once over the last year, and that’s serious.

I love seeing good writers, good bloggers, and good comments, ones that make me brim with ideas and responses throughout the day and keep me writing at night.

I love good sex, and when a quickie is considered 45 minutes.

I love my family and friends for all their support.

I love my creativity and empathy, as they are probably my strongest qualities, even greater than my humility (and sometimes lack thereof).

I love performing poems though I rarely get a chance due to lack of preparation or scheduling conflicts.

I love the Lower East Side, even if it’s become the bastion of gentrification.

I love Freecell, like geezus kristo! I play it during my free periods, on the train home, on the way back, on a trip, and at home when I’m bored.

I love travelling, and it looks like I’ll be doing a lot of that. I’m on an award tour, and I got Muhammad my man, going each and every place with a cam in my hand. Miami, DC, Salt Lake City, Las Vegas, and maybe Montreal, here I come.

I love getting angry over educational politics, and just talking as much crap as possible until I become professional again.

I love being an underdog, because it just makes me want to get revenge on the naysayers. I would actually prefer to be the perpetual underdog.

On that line, I love when my team wins championships. My homeroom lost to my advanced class in the first game of the tourney. After that first horrendous loss, and their only loss of the tournament, they acted like sore losers, and I dug into them a little, especially the leader of my team. He’s already got a bad temper, but then he was selfish, shooting something 1 for 8 with no assists. After that game, I practiced after school with them, and taught them a little bit of everything. I attended a couple of their games, coaching them on the sidelines, and they won game after game. Today, fatefully, they went and played the same team that beat them, not once but twice in the same day, so I was excited. I was more pleased that they, for the most part, played with class, and worked hard. They shared the ball and passed like I’ve begged them to.

I love teaching them more than just math.

I love seeing how they overcame the odds.

I would love to see them grow after everything they’ve learned …

jose, who’s got a million things to share, but frankly, i need a nap …

{ 6 comments }

In Love With Two Women

by Jose on January 7, 2008 · 9 comments

in Uncategorized

Mother and SonA few weekends ago, I went to AnnMary’s crib, where I got to see Ray and my godson, Josiah. He’s a little browner now (as in more brown, people), and has got the ill forehead. It’s adorable how he’s got a big head like his father and his godfather. I told AnnMary that we might make this baby tri-lingual: English, Cantonese, and Spanish. He’d also learn merengue by at least pre-kindergarten from his own godfather ::ahem::, making him a certifiable ladykiller by 6 years old. At first, we laughed it off, but then she said something peculiar: “No, he’s not leaving me. I’ll always love him, and he doesn’t need any other women. Right Jo-Jo? You only need your mommy, yes you do.”

I can’t blame AnnMary; she’s the mom and that’s what moms usually say. Innocent mothers avoid that Oedipal complex as much as their sons do in their youth, but it’s rather unavoidable in its many forms. Our mothers are the first women we fall in love with. As gross as it sounds, it’s the first womb we come out of, and the first sexual encounter we have. Hence, it’s only right that mothers think of themselves as their sons’ first love. Yet, that mentality also creates a false sense of loyalty that inevitably puts most men in a dichotomous relationship between the “main woman” and the “other woman,” even if that “other woman” is not necessarily a romantic relationship.

It usually starts well past the aunts, female cousins, and friends’ moms because they usually pose no threat. He may look towards them sometimes and fancy whether they might make a better parent for them. They may even inspire visions of fornication in his youth, but usually the boy runs right back to his mother. The treat to the relationship between mother and son is that first girl that the boy likes. The mother’s there with her eagle eye, smiling with her full grin, but also shaping how the boy should think about the girl. Usually, the mother’s there giving sound advice on being a gentleman and just asking about his whereabouts, but implicitly letting him know that she’s the first woman, even when she doesn’t recognize it at first.

But the boy gets comfortable, and sees more than one woman, and that’s when the mother tries to pull in the reigns, which causes an equal and opposite reaction from the boy who starts to see his romantic life as a chance to cheat on his first relationship with his mother. That’s why most guys don’t give details of their whereabouts to their mother. The uncanny part is, the mother can pretty much tell all along what’s happening with his son; after all, taking residence in one’s womb for 9 months lets mothers psychologically hook up to the dude’s mental computer.

Once the boy gains some footing, and the mother realizes that her son’s grown up and out of that first relationship, they enter a new relationship where the mother’s still an adviser, but no longer the first woman. He has a relationship, which of course adds to the old axiom “You can tell how he’s going to treat you by how he treats his mother.” Yet, it’s the mother who he runs to for relationship advice, which of course explains, for some of you ladies, why your ex would come back to you and tell you their relationship problems. Even in the relationship, both women (whoever those two happen to be at the point) always make the man choose, and usually at the expense of the other.

Then of course comes the issue of cheating. All these conjectures I’ve made make me wonder if the idea of always having two women to be beholden to may contribute to the idea of cheating. We can always reason it all out by saying that a mother’s love is different from a girlfriend’s love, but indeed we learned the second by the first. We also think about how, after that mother’s love has changed during the growing phases, who fills in the role of the second woman? While we’ve all speculated the many ways a man would cheat, we never really speculate the myriad of reasons it happens.

And really, as a man, the only way to distract yourself from this onerous act of human behavior is to

1) immerse yourself in a non-human love (i.e. your artwork, poetry, etc.)
2) reasoning that the one you’re with is really the best option and there’s no need for anyone else
or
3) starting a family, knowing that the person you’re with might bear fruit to a daughter who will permanently fill in the role of the second lady. Not so much in a perverted way, but love nonetheless. And so begins the cycle of the Electra complex.

I’ve personally observed this with other men too often (not so much me, though I can see hints of this in my own life), and it’s eerie how they treat their girlfriends, and then treat their mothers after having seen them with their mothers over the years. At least their main women. Many dudes who treat their women like crap tend to have a frustrating relationship with their moms, while dudes who never had a mother around shut down so quickly after they get their heart broken.

Then again, little Jo-Jo doesn’t have to worry about that just yet. He can revel in random women pinching his cheeks and wanting to hold him in their bosoms while the men in the family laugh or get jealous at all that attention. And if anything, he knows he’s always got his mother’s love.

jose, who is sure to get a million and one questions, but this is strictly not a conjecture and not based on scientific research … unless someone has scientific research, then I welcome it, thanks …

p.s. – criticisms are welcome, too. i wrote this post over only a few hours of sleep ;-) …

{ 9 comments }

For She (The Poem)

by Jose on February 14, 2007 · 5 comments

in Uncategorized

Today, I performed for my kids and they didn’t believe I wrote this myself. Surprise, surprise.

Some of you know me from other incarnations on the Internet. Today, I’m writing on a theme I’ve written before. Just check it.

“For She” © 2007 Jose Vilson

Her spells lay me captive
Her silhouette triggers memories
Of the places in my mind she touched
When she inserted her finger
Through my ears and softly scrapped my lobs
As if she was testing them before
She laid her tongue on it
Outlining my more masculine features
And complementing them with her own femininity
I was already spellbound by her intelligence
She made words I mastered seem brand new
Her deepest seduction came from when she never spoke of it
The activity we could sense between us
The thoughts I already had as she pressed her upper body To my own I tried resistance
But in time, even winter has to give way to summer’s irresistible heat
And ‘twas the season in my more secret areas
She’s now the image I remembered having back when I first thought of having a girl lie on my lap and tease me so
She’s now the goddess so many dreamers and rhapsodists dedicated their sonnets to
She’s now unbuttoning the top of the collar
I thought was too safely locked to begin with
She’s now reaching into another echelon of heaven
And she’s now climbing down my body
But she’s now reaching into my soul
Making peace with the major G_ds
My mind is unclear and totally in lock with hers
Our liquid forms become one through osmosis
Our synergy is focused
But something’s amiss
For such a woman has yet to exist …

peace,

jose

{ 5 comments }