Friday, December 28, 2012

My Son Is Mama's BABY...Poppa's MAYBE


   Every man dreams of that day when he produces a male heir to eventually assume his father's throne. That moment when he welcomes his young son into the world and holds him in his arms for the first time. I was excited beyond measure when my wife told me she was pregnant. I went to every OB-GYN appointment. I attended every class. I read every book that I could find on becoming a new father. I made ever effort to be prepared. Then the day arrived when my wife's water broke, my little man was on his way! I held his mother's hand as he passed through her birth canal. I smiled as they held him up for us to see. I shed tears when I heard his first cries. One of my greatest dreams had finally come true. I was the father of a healthy beautiful baby boy. But the glory of my dreams would be short lived. A few weeks later when my own father was visiting us he asked me something that would shake the foundations of my spirit. My father was never one to mince words or pull punches so when he spoke his question I knew he truly felt a strong cause for it. He leaned in close to me and said "Son are you sure that he is YOUR son?!"

   My first reaction was controlled rage. How could the man who had raised me even have the heart to ask me something like that. And if he was reading my mind he then says,  "I know that isn't what you were expecting. But I KNOW what you looked like when you were a baby and I my gut feelings are telling me that you are not your son's father." "You are not your son's father" The statement was so ridiculous that my rage turned to pure amusement. So I laughed off my father's opinion and question. It wasn't until years later that I would begin to question my son's parentage. The more he grew up the more my father's words begin to ring louder in my head. At ten years old it still bothered that my boy shared none of my dominate physical traits nor did he display any of my character traits. Eventually the suspicions that he may not be my son burned on mind on a daily basis. I figured asking my wife flat out would damage our marriage so I didn't because I would basically be accusing her of infidelity without proof, so instead I made the decision to secretly have a DNA test done on our son.

  The test took a couple of weeks to return which made the event even more excruciating. When I did finally go to retrieve the results I didn't even open the envelope. I was so fearful of what they would reveal. What they would mean for both my life and my son's life. If I was his father did that mean I had wasted precious time questioning our relation. If I wasn't his father would I be able to tell his mother that I know she was unfaithful and an habitual liar. I guess what prevented me from opening that envelope the most was that I loved my son. In my heart and soul I was his father and I truly believed the test results wouldn't change those feelings. So I sat in my car with my hands trembling as I held the envelope. I kept trying to summon the courage to open it and finally answer the questions that had plagued me for over a decade. As much as I wanted to know...I didn't want to know. But I owed it to myself. More importantly I owed it to the relationship I shared with my son and wife to put that dreaded thought to rest. The thought that my son is mama's baby but poppa's maybe.

Be BETTER TODAY, than you were yesterday
TWIL

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

GUNS Don't Kill People. PEOPLE...KILL PEOPLE

   I have protected police officers and soldiers. I have saved the lives of those that would have become victims of violent and brutal crimes. I have also ended as many wars as I have started. I have been used under the disguise of protection and also as a tool of intimidation. But the truth is that I was created with one purpose...to wound and to kill. I am the true definition of what a weapon of mass destruction is. I have watched grown men beg for their lives. I have seen women uncontrollably shed tears. I have destroyed families and stolen the lives of innocent people. Since my birth in the 12th century I have been at the center of many a gruesome scene. After being exposed to so much bloodshed one would think I would be use to this carnage. And I actually thought that I was...but time has a way of making you realize things aren't as good as they should or could be. Here I stand nine centuries later in the year 2045 witnessing something that finally makes me question the purpose of my creation.

   I am laying on a cold floor. My trigger is sore from the last round of shots that I just fired. As I survey my surroundings I first hear the eerie silence that always immediately follows after I have filled my appetite for destruction. After the sounds of nothingness penetrate my barrel I look around. I see the scene that I have become so accustomed to seeing...death. But on this day the images of death cannot be ignored. As far as I can see are bodies of men, women and children. Their clothing is littered with holes and permanently stained with blood. My current owner is slumped against the stairs of a pulpit. As I look up I see the image of a man wearing a crown of thrones on his head stretched across a large cross. I have seen this image many times before. I have seen it hanging on necklaces, seen it in the inside of cars and have also seen them tattooed on the bodies of both my shooters and their victims. As I look at the image towering over me I see the face of the man who represents eternal life staring out at all the death laid out before him.

   He appears as if he is crying. I can't blame him if he is. Perhaps he is sad because he has seen this scene too many times before too. As we stare at each other I begin to question why I don't do more to control my actions. I start to think that I have grown tired of this life. Sick of hearing the terrified screams and sorrowful cries. Weary of meeting people on their last days of life. I start to believe that I am finally disgusted with being the source of so much misery and pain. I yearn for a better purpose. I no longer want to be the bringer of death. As a wallow in my own self hate I remember I am just doing what my my creator designed me to do. I remember I am not the cause of all this madness. I am only a tool. How I am used is not my choice or request. I know that even though my handles are constantly stained with the blood of many I am not at fault. I am not the problem. I am a gun and I know the truth. Guns don't kill people. People...kill people.

*This chapter was inspired by the song "I Gave You Power" featured on the 1996 masterpiece album entitled "It Was Written" by Nas

Be BETTER TODAY, than you were yesterday
TWIL

Thursday, December 13, 2012

WHY Did YOU Say YES?!



   After all this time he finally asked you to be his wife! You were so caught up in the moment that you didn't even ponder the seriousness of his question and in turn the answer you gave him. That was Friday night. But as you stare in horror at the engagement ring snugly hugging your finger on this Monday morning you realize the magical event that you have dreamed about has given way to a harsh but true reality. You don't know if you want to marry him. As the years past without him popping the question you had grown accustomed to all the excuses he gave for why he was "not buying the cow, but getting the milk for free". You believed him when he told you he needed more time. You supported him when he said he wanted to wait for his career to blossom. You trusted him when he told you he would do right by you. And to his credit he did do everything he said he would but did it have to take damn near ten years.

   You waited patiently holding back your true feelings on the subject because you didn't want to pressure and scare him away because he was a good guy. He had treated you better than any other man had. He was always there when you needed him and most importantly when you didn't. You always thought he had the makings to be a good husband because he was such a great boyfriend. So why now after you have the ring on your hand are YOU the one having doubts about marriage. Had the time passed so far along that you had decided it was better to just remain where you were than to take a chance and go where neither of you had went before? Where you just scared of what being a wife, his wife meant? Was the idea of suddenly being fully committed to one man by law too much to take? Was it trust? Was it his finances? Was it the sex?

What is it now that is keeping you from being as excited now as were then when he got down on his bended knee, opened the little purple (your favorite color) ring box and asked you to make his life better by accepting his proposal of marriage? You do love him...don't you?! YES!!! OF COURSE YOU LOVE HIM!!! But is love enough to become his wife? You are actually thinking about telling him you need more time to re-think your answer. You want to tell him your first response was made with pure emotions devoid of practical thinking. But will he take your request for more time as a sign that you don't want to marry him? Will he rescind the proposal? Will he think you're ungrateful or worse think you don't love him? You are in a full state of confusion and panic as you weigh the pros and cons of becoming his "MRS". Your heart is telling you to marry him. Your mind is telling you to take the time to decide. As you stare at the ring on your finger you are mentally beating yourself up. Now you are the one asking yourself...why did you say yes?!


Be BETTER TODAY, than you were yesterday
TWIL

Thursday, November 29, 2012

YOUR Religious Beliefs Won't SAVE Or CONDEMN



   I grew up as a PK (preacher's kid) in a large church, so I was raised as a Southern Baptist Christian. I then went off to college and fell in love with a girl that attended Mass so I converted to Catholicism. After college, I found a career I loved and traveled the world, spending a considerable amount of time in the Middle East and befriended some Muslims so I converted to Islam. As I continued into my adulthood I experienced personal loses and questioned how "blessed" I truly was. So I abandoned the religious teachings I had been privy to for majority of my life and for a time I was also an avid atheist. I have had the rare opportunity to be exposed to some of the world's most dominate religions. Now as a young man well into in my early 50's I no longer claim a specified religion. I now consider myself to be spiritual.

   I refuse to label myself as completely dedicated to one particular religion. Because I have learned from different faiths and have been deeply affected by all of them. I realized that religion is a person's or culture's way of believing in something greater than themselves. And based on that principal I realized that all religions in my opinion share a common bond...faith. That faith reinforces their beliefs that if they live right and do right they will be rewarded in this life and in the next life that exists after the physical body passes away. Having had the pleasure to fellowship and worship with numerous people of vastly different religious beliefs it truly pains me to see some many other people being hateful toward each other all in the name of religious freedom.

   I have never understood how a person claims to have received the enlightenment of a higher power but behave in such a despicably low manner. I guess it's true that people fear what they don't understand and they hate what they can't conquer. After my experiences I am determined to continue learning about various beliefs. And with that knowledge I hope to gain a higher respect for the religious beliefs that others have but as for me I will remain forever spiritual. Like my father told me when I was a young boy "believe what you choose and make your own decisions because I don't have a heaven or a hell to put you in". So remember when you are pushing your beliefs on other people and/or disrespecting theirs... understand that your religious beliefs don't save or condemn.


Be BETTER TODAY, than you were yesterday.
TWIL

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

I Would Have DIED A RACIST


   When I was growing up I played with any kids that were willing to play with me. I knew we all looked different and that some of us were boys and girls for a reason but none of that mattered to me. Then one day everything changed. My mother told me that I couldn't go with one of my friends when he came over to play. She said that my father would not approve of me playing with someone who wasn't like me. I didn't understand at first but after being repeatedly told to only play with kids that looked like me I began to notice and pay attention to the differences that we all shared. One day I went to my father and told him that I liked playing with my friends even though they looked different from me. I remember my father coldly saying to me "listen we only mix with our own kind. If the color of their skin doesn't match yours you stay away from them you got it!' I remember being really hurt and crying a lot after he told me that because one of my very best friends in school had a different skin color than me. I liked her. She was always nice to me. But because her skin's color wasn't the same as mine I couldn't play with her anymore. As I got older I got over my disappointment and came to accept and believe my father's views. I accepted that people of different skin colors shouldn't mix. My father's words would always play in my mind whenever I met or was introduced to someone that didn't look like me. Because of how I was raised I went through my adult life with a certain mind set that some people would refer to as being racist. I ignored them because they just didn't understand the simple concept that people of the world had different skin colors for a reason and that reason was for us to identify and keep to our own kind. I admit I experienced some problems but for the majority I was able to live my life by only associating with people of my own kind and I actually preferred it that way. I stayed in the small town I grew up in eventually moving into my parent's home when they died. Being the only child I admit it was hard not having any surviving family members around me but I managed. Eventually my surroundings changed and so did the times. The town that I had spent my whole life in was so different now. The population was getting younger and more colorful. It had gotten so colorful over the last couple of years that my skin color which had been the majority for years was quickly becoming the minority. With so many new and different faces in town I actually became paranoid. Because I had not associated with anyone that wasn't my skin color since I was a young boy I didn't know what to expect of them. My father had always been there to give me wisdom on how to avoid and deal with them but he was gone. He left me alone in this new world. But I was a man, a little older but still a man no less. I would be comforted and keep myself protected by my values and beliefs.

   Even when the people moved in next door I avoided them. I ignored them when I saw them outside. I didn't speak to them when they said hi. Hell I never even bothered to make eye contact. The other neighbors embraced them like they were family but I didn't. I couldn't. Doing so would go against everything I was taught as boy. Against everything I had done as an adult. So I stuck to my guns...people of different skin colors didn't mix PERIOD. I did however secretly watch them. I kept track of their movements just to be sure they weren't plotting to get me. The family had been next door for about three years and for the past two Christmas holiday's they had given me a Christmas card. I never opened them but for some odd reason I never threw them away either. So this Christmas Eve would be no different. I heard a knock on my door and when I peered outside I saw the wife from next door who was very pregnant holding another Christmas card. I ignored her knocks and she eventually left leaving the card in the mailbox. I couldn't understand why after all these years of not even speaking to or even acknowledging that her and her family lived next door that they would continue to bring me a Christmas card. I guessed some folks just couldn't take a hint. That night I fell asleep on the couch covered in my favorite blanket. The fireplace was glowing brightly warming the room. The warmth and glow invited me into a deep slumber and I was eager to accept it after a long day. It was the sound of a dog barking that interrupted my sleep. As I tried to ignore the barking I recognized it's familiar sound. It was the neighbor's dog. I remember thinking to myself that it wasn't normal for them to let her out so late. Then suddenly I heard the breaking of glass and banging on the door accompanied by the sounds of a woman screaming and a man yelling. I tried to get off the couch but my body seemed to be paralyzed. Then in an instant I was heaved up off the couch and into the air by a strange man. I tried to resist but my limps just didn't have the strength to fight off my attacker. I couldn't gather my voice to scream for help either. My lungs felt as if they were clogged and the screams in my throat never made it out. My eyes were burning as if they had been doused in acid. I was in a complete panic and I was powerless to react. As quickly as I had been lifted off my couch I was suddenly thrust into the cold air of the night then laid gently on the cold pavement of the street. I tried to focus my old eyes preparing for the assault that I was sure to come from the strange man.

   As my vision finally began to clear up I see the face of my attacker. It belongs to the husband of the family next door and he is not alone. Standing beside him hovering over me is his wife. She is speaking to me but the sounds from her mouth don't reach my ears. They both have a look of sadness and worry on their faces. Suddenly I hear the blaring sounds of fire engines and ambulances. The words of the wife become audible. She is asking "Can you hear me?! Are you OK?! Are you hurt?!". Still disoriented and confused I become angry. How dare these people violate me by invading my home? How dare they disrespect me by touching me? Trying to make sense of the situation, I question why after almost three years did they become bold enough to mix with me. Then as quickly as my rage had built up it was torn down and replaced by despair. As various people arrived on the scene watching the spectacle that was taking place my line of sight takes me to the place that is the cause of all the commotion. When my eyes connect my heart breaks. The house I had grown up in was engulfed in a massive blaze. I try to stand to my feet but the husband gently restricts me saying "You're safe now but there is nothing you can do for the house. I'm sorry". I see firefighters in full gear attempting to douse the blaze with water but it is clear the flames have won. As the paramedics put me into the truck and tend to me I overhear them ask my neighbors "does he have any family we can contact?" The wife sadly responds "No. We are all he has now." I begin to cry because she is right. Every thing that I had was in that house. Every one that I had loved was dead. I began to weep uncontrollably. The wife leaves her husband's side and climbs into the truck. She sits down beside my gurney and speaks softly to me as she holds my hand "you can stay with us until you get back on your feet Mr. Wilson." At that moment I experienced the epitome of shame because she knew my name and I hadn't even cared after all these years to know hers. I look at my hand which is completely covered but securely held in between her own and at that moment I see that the color of the skin on my hand isn't visible. It was there in the back of that ambulance that I realized that the color of a person's skin didn't make them invisible. I remembered why I had questioned my father all those years past. There was a time when skin color wasn't an issue to me. It was then, that something deep inside me that had been long buried by discrimination and misunderstanding had finally been uncovered. I finally accepted that despite what I had been taught, despite how I had lived and treated people that the color of a person's skin didn't matter. In that moment of clarity I was thankful that I had been given a rare opportunity to unlearn what I had learned. I had received compassion from people that I had only given contempt to because of the color of their skin. As my childhood home burned to the ground so did my ideas of race relations. The cost of being a racist was to great to pay in this day and age. I was ashamed but grateful at the same time. Ashamed that it took something of this magnitude to awaken my understanding and acceptance. But I was grateful that other people didn't view life with the same bigotry that I had for countless years because had my neighbors did...I would have died a racist.


Be BETTER TODAY, than you were yesterday
TWIL

Friday, November 9, 2012

A GOOD Man WANTS A GOOD Woman


   Being a man is tough not only because we have so many expectations heaped upon us at birth or because of the numerous hurdles we have to clear before reaching adulthood. But being a man is exceedingly difficult because we have to deal with women. Even though a woman is man's ultimate measure of success, a woman is also man's greatest mystery and challenge. The truth is every man wants a good woman in his life becomes she brings a calm that he needs in a world filled with chaos. A good woman essentially represents the highest level of achievement that a man can have. A good woman automatically upgrades a man's status and gives him immediate credibility. In a good woman, he has a lady with an attractive face and figure that makes other men envious. She is a supportive partner that can help him build a home. And most importantly she becomes the sacred vessel that brings his offspring into the world thus continuing the rein of his lineage. She completes him by becoming the one person that when all is said and done he can rely on to remain in his corner and encourage him to be great despite overwhelming odds. But what makes a woman a GOOD WOMAN. Well I will tell you but only if you are willing to listen...you are?! That's great!!! There are 3 qualities that a good man looks for when he is searching for a GOOD woman.

She must have confidence. She must be loyal. And above all else she must be understanding. What?! Am I serious?! YES!!! Granted, men are ATTRACTED to a woman with a pretty face, a big ole booty and a pair of cushy boobies but that is not what keeps us CONNECTED to a woman. Confidence, Loyalty and the ability to be Understanding will keep a man WANTING to stay and not feeling that he is obligated to stay. Confidence in a woman is a very attractive trait. It tells a man that she doesn't need him to lead her to success but that she is comfortable enough in her own to allow him to lead as she walks beside him. Loyalty is a simple concept but one that is rarely expressed. A woman's loyalty to a man is something that he will ALWAYS respect. A man knows that eventually he will fuck up bad but it's the knowledge that she will support him and forgive him for the stupid shit he does that gives a man the sense of security that he will have someone that still believes in him even when he fails. A woman's loyalty is hard to acquire so he knows once he has it he will do whatever it takes to keep it. Understanding. A woman's ability to be understanding cannot be undervalued or taken for granted.

   Many women have the desire to nurture which can interfere with a man's ability to grow. A good woman has to be able to understand that he may not always vent about his problems, he may not always ask for help, he may hide his pain. But most important is that a woman HAS TO UNDERSTAND that she is not a man! So therefore she will never understand what it is like to be one and should not under any circumstance try to take his place as one. If a woman exhibits these three traits Confidence, Loyalty and Understanding she can put herself in a position to elevate herself to the status of a GOOD woman and therefore become attractive to and in a better position to remain connected to a GOOD man. Oh one more point a minor/major point...a good woman should constantly make her man's dick hard, not his life. A man that is happy with the life he shares with a woman will make every effort to make her life happy as well. No man wants to be constantly at odds with the woman he loves. He wants a woman that he can respect and appreciate. He wants to know that his lady respects AND accepts his role and the work he puts in. He wants and has to be the good man that protects and provides all the needs and wants that his good woman deserves. He needs to have that reassurance every now and again that his woman depends on him (even if we both know you don't). So can you be a GOOD woman? Cause if you can then just be patient in your search for love and companionship. You will find your equal because every good man wants a good woman.


Be BETTER TODAY, than you were yesterday...
TWIL

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

HAPPILY EVER AFTER Is For Losers


   Growing up I was always taught that riding off into a "happily ever after" can be achieved by settling down with a good woman, getting married and then raising kids. I have since grown up from a naive little boy into an experienced young man and I realize that yes having a loving wife and kids I adore running around the house would be awesome but I no longer believe a happily ever after can only be attained through marriage and kids. I have dated plenty of women with wife potential. I have even loved a couple enough that I thought I could spend the rest of my life with them. But sooner or later we grow apart and realize the things we desire in life aren't the same. So we move on, no love lost. As it stands right now, I am currently in a relationship with a young lady that I have been in love with for the best three years. We seem to be headed toward the altar but if we don't make it there I can't say that I would be disappointed. I know that sounds cold but it's as honest as I can be. I appreciate and respect her for the the good she has brought into my life. I am truly happiest when she is near me...BUT...I can't say that my complete happiness depends on her presence. Confusing?! Yeah, I know. I guess what I mean to say is that if she decides that I am not what she wants or needs anymore and she ends our relationship I will still be willing and able to find happiness without her.

   I look at my family and friends that are married and they all have different views of the picture that is marriage. Some swear by it and will defend the principal of marriage tooth and nail. Others find themselves after many years, questioning if the choice they made to marry was the best one for them. I get marriage is hard. I have watched my parents struggle and succeed in theirs for years. I have also seen marriages implode from the expectations and sacrifices. To tell you the truth it wasn't until I was babysitting my nephew and nieces that I realized the whole marriage thing doesn't have to be my defining goal. I was reading my youngest niece one of her princess books and in the end after the prince hooks up with the princess their lives were suddenly made better, you know the whole "And they lived happily ever after." scenario. My nephew who is the oldest at twelve said to his baby sister with the wisdom of a man that has lived for decades "happily ever after doesn't exist!". Of course being the adult I had to reassure my niece that he was just playing because she cried like she had been punched in the face with a brick after he said it. That night as I sat up thinking about my own relationship I started to ponder what my nephew said. As I re-played the words of his young wisdom I realized even though he was only a kid he was absolutely right...happily ever after DOESN'T EXIST. I started to think back on the serious relationships that I have been in and I remembered they were not cookie-cutter sweet. They were actually really hard to maintain. We were required to constantly work at keeping it fresh and healthy and even when we worked the hardest sometimes it still wasn't enough. I understood what he was trying to say. The notion of happily ever after makes folks believe that once they marry in a beautiful ceremony in front of their family and friends it's a cake walk from there and they can just ride off into their imaginary sunset without a care in the world.

Believing in happily ever after as an adult is a setup for failure. It was then that I realized that I despise the implied meaning of happily ever after. Marriage is probably the single most hardest endeavor a person can take on probably second only to raising kids. It should never be accepted lightly. One can't expect to meet a person, fall head over heels in love, then elevate them to the imaginary platform of a Prince Charming or a Cinderella and then think if I marry them everything in life from that point will be wonderfully perfect. Sure, I would like to get married and have kids but I know that when I finally do, happily ever after will not be a goal of mine. My grandfather always told me that "in order to make someone else happy, you have to first be happy yourself." I have always held onto his wisdom because it not only served him well in his near 60 year marriage but it was been the foundation that I have built my adult life on. If you are a six year old little girl then yes please believe in the power that a happily ever after awaits you. BUT if you are an adult, life should have taught you by now that happily ever after is a cruel joke played on naive dreamers and fools. For me, I will be prepared to work and sacrifice in my marriage because I know that is what it takes for it to be successful. I will choose to take a realistic approach when it comes to my happiness. Since I plan to keep winning in my life and eventually in my marriage I refuse to accept this falsely painted picture. Adults that have loved and tried to maintain real world relationships know that...happily ever after is for losers.


"Be BETTER TODAY, than you were yesterday."
TWIL

Friday, October 12, 2012

I Was RAPED...By MY WIFE



   Even before we were married my wife was always the aggressor in our relationship. She had that "I get what I want no matter what" mentality and in all honesty that is what attracted me to her. She pursued and wooed me when we were in college. When she was ready to get married she proposed to me. When she was ready to move into a house she found a home and was the first to sign the deed. I always respected my wife's approach in life. She would never let any one deter her from her goals so I never had a reason to question her tactics until the day she told me she was ready to be a mother. We had been married for three years, living in our new house for two years and we were both in the middle of busy yet fulling careers. She expressed to me that she was ready for us to be parents. Only problem was that I was not. I wasn't ready to be a father. I explained to her that we still had time for parenthood and that we should enjoy the freedoms we had as a young married couple. She became agitated almost angry that I didn't share her desire to have young kids running around our home. I reassured her that my decision wasn't based on some scheme to derail her plans. I simply wasn't ready to handle the responsibilities of becoming a father. She backed off the topic for the night but over the next few weeks would always find a way to incorporate having kids into our conversations. It got to the point that I was actually feeling pressured. So I told her directly that I didn't want to have kids in the next year and that she would have to accept my decision. I was expecting her to go off but she took it well. She even apologized for making me feel pressured. She stopped bringing up having kids and we went back to enjoying our carefree lifestyle.

   For the next few months I felt a relief that I wasn't being questioned every other day about having kids. I thought she had made peace with my decision. I thought she respected me enough as her husband and friend. Turns out she was quietly making plans to achieve her goals of being a mother. I found out that she was going days without taking her birth control. Then I realized that she was constantly try to have intercourse with me without a condom. I told her of my notices but she dismissed them as coincidence. The day quickly came when she eventually lost her composure and accused me of not loving her because I wouldn't make her a mother. I reassured her that it had nothing to do with a lack of love for her and that she had to trust me and my decision. She relaxed and seemed comforted by my truths. But appearances are most deceiving when looking at someone you love. Our anniversary came and the day was magical. She seemed genuinely happy which made me happy, little did I know that night would set in motion a series of events that would ultimately change the way I saw my wife. After dinner, dancing and experiencing the city we came home. My wife told me to get comfortable as the night now belonged to her. I eagerly prepared to engage in a night full of passionate love making as I waited in the bed my wife put her plan into action. She came out in a stunning sheer gown. She lit candles and poured two glasses of  our favorite red wine. After we drank a couple of glasses we began to kiss and arouse each other. Then for me everything became blurry and next think I remember is that I have a terrible hang-over the morning afterwards. I awake to find my wife in a greater than usual mood, cooking a phenomenal breakfast. I ask her what happened last night and she proceeds to tell me that the wine must've been too strong because I eventually passed out. I apologized hoping it didn't spoil our night, she said it didn't and accepted my apology with a warm smile. So I went about the day without ever questioning that night again...until later that week when I was looking for some documents in our bedroom. While searching I discovered some samples of Viagra and Cialis in one of her drawers. I thought it was odd for her to have them but figured they may have come in the mail and she just stashed them away. I didn't make the final connection until I found a small bottle of Ketamine a couple of months later.

   As I sat in my truck reading about the drug and it's purpose I learned that it can be used as a date rape drug. I was crushed. I couldn't remember our anniversary night because my own wife had slipped me a concoction to manipulate me into playing a vital role in her plans for the future. She had raped me. Why would my wife rape me?! Then the answer hit me like a brick to the face...she wants to be a mother. I tried to find another explanation. I tried to convince myself that she wouldn't do that to me...not to her husband. Eventually I couldn't contain my knowledge. I tried to be calm when I presented my evidence to her. Expecting her to deny me I was even more hurt when she confirmed my suspicions. She coldly told me that she wasn't going to wait another year for me to be ready to be a father. She wanted to be a mother now and that is what mattered most. She told me that she put the Ketamine into my drink that night and had unprotected sex with me in hopes that she would get pregnant. She wanted a baby and I would give her one whether I wanted to or not. I angrily left our home. I drove around the city for hours trying to calm my mind and suppress my anger. The woman had taken my choice away from me. She betrayed me. And what made the whole situation worst is that she intentionally disregarded my concerns as if they were not valid. I drove home with the intention to tell her that I would divorce her if she ever did that to me again. As I walked into our bedroom to deliver my ultimatum I see her sitting in a chair holding a white stick with a yellowish colored tip. She looks up at me and says "Congratulations, you are gonna be a daddy." Years later I still recall that night with such clarity. The chill of her cold malice still hurts my heart but I have learned to accept what is done cannot be undone. I choose to focus on the positives of that night. Months later I saw my boys come into this world, healthy and strong. I love my sons and am grateful the lord blessed me to be their father. The twins have brought a joy to my life that I never knew existed. I love them with all my heart but I secretly harbor a feeling of resentment towards them that is not their fault. I will never tell them that their conception was created with deceit. I will never tell them that a critical choice was taken away from me concerning their birth. I will never tell them what their mother did to me. I will never tell them I was raped...by my wife.



"Be BETTER TODAY, than you were yesterday."
TWIL

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

DIVORCE Your Spouse...NOT Your CHILDREN



   As the oldest child I remember the good times my parents shared during their marriage. I remember how they use to be. How they used to laugh and smile. Sneak off to the other room when they thought we wouldn't notice. I remember when they were happy. Around the time my younger sister started school my parents relationship changed right before my eyes. Their laughter and smiles turned to yelling and tears. They would leave the house in separate cars instead of sneaking off together. The joy of enjoying each others company had faded. The love wasn't there anymore. As a young child I believed that my parents were perfect and they had no ill issues between them. As I aged into my teenage years I began to see their imperfections and take notice of their struggles. I watched their marriage slowly deteriorate over the years. I watched them pretend that everything between them was good and repairable. But eventually they could no longer hide what was clearly becoming more visible...that my parents had grown distantly apart. Eventually my parents accepted that they would be better apart and made the decision to divorce after twenty years of marriage. I remember receiving my dad's phone call in my dorm room right before winter break. My father was never the emotional one of my parents so when he I heard the quivering in his voice that night, I knew something terrible had happened. For the first time in my life I heard my father cry. He chocked on his words sobbing as he told me that my mother had moved out, months before the divorce was to be finalized denying them the chance to try to fix what was broken. I asked him why hadn't he told me that mom had moved out, his response was that he wanted me to focus on my school work. I felt helpless. There were no words I could think of to comfort my father when he needed it most. There is something emotionally damaging for a son hearing his father cry, especially over his mother. Even though it was in the middle of the night I immediately called my mother. I didn't know what I would say to her but I knew I had to say something. Then as the operator told me "the number you are trying to reach is no longer in service" I realized why my father was crying. Why the desperation and fear in his voice was so strong. It wasn't the fact that the woman he had loved for most of his adult life no longer was in his life or the fact that the mother of his children would no longer be there to help him raise their kids it was the fact that my mother had severed all ties to her former life. She had made the decision to not only divorce her husband but the life they had made together. My father learned that when she left their home she did so with the mindset that she would never return. She cut off everyone and anything that my father could use to try to communicate with her. He cried to me that night because he realized that for the first time in over twenty years he would have to live and survive without the greatest love he had ever experienced. That was the only the beginning of what he would have to endure.

   He would have to witness the effects of their failed marriage on their children. My mother had not only divorced my father but she decided to divorce her children as well. I was in my junior year in college when my father confirmed to me what I had already suspected was going to occur. So I had been somewhat prepared for what would likely transpire. But to my younger sister it was a bomb that would confuse and disrupt her life forever. She was in her freshman year of high school. The adjustment to high school and puberty had already made things tough on her. So once she learned that her parents were divorcing and that her mother had basically abandoned her, when in her eyes she needed her guidance the most almost, it was a heavy weight for her to bear. With me being away in college and my father struggling to keep his emotions in check and still be a dual-full time working parent my sister lacked the motherly support that she desperately needed in such a pivotal point in her young life. To her credit, she did handle my mother's absence reasonably well up until her senior year. She had become a star student athlete and was fielding scholarships from top colleges across the nation. My sister had learned to bury the pain of our mom leaving under the weight of her academics and sports career. My father had struck a great balance of being her guiding rock and also being her sole provider and protector. I came home as often as I could between classes and work to give my father assistance and give my sister support but the painful impact of losing our mother had created a hidden void that didn't become noticeable until it was almost too late. My father and sister had adapted so well to my mother's absence and in such a quick time that they never took the time to grieve. But time always has a way of making things relevant and current. Everything came crashing down around senior prom time. The emotions that my father had cast away in order to be available and strong for us suddenly bubbled to the forefront. He had been so busy watching out for his children that he failed to make time to recognize that his baby girl had grown up. Suddenly he was faced with the fact that his precious daughter had became an intelligent and beautiful young woman right before his eyes. It didn't help that she was an almost exact physical clone of his estranged wife but he would also be forced to accept that very soon she would be leaving home starting her own adult life and that he would left alone...again. My sister had survived puberty, dating and even the bad girls in her high school all without our mother to provide her with vital advice and direction. But prom time reminded her of what she had truly lost when our parents split up. What she wouldn't have when our mother walked out on us without even leaving a letter or making a goodbye call. Her friends had their mothers to go dress and shoe shopping with them, she did not. Her friends had their mothers to do their hair and make-up, she did not. Her friends had their mothers to share stories and show them pictures of their own prom experiences, she did not. My sister had for the first time since my mother's untimely but voluntary departure from our lives, missed having a mother.

   I sadly watched from afar the near destruction of my father's life and my sister's future happening right in front of me. And just like that night I listened to my father cry telling me my mother had left I felt absolutely helpless. I wanted to comfort my family because I remembered the times when we were whole not fractured and somewhat divided. I remember my father being happy and my sister not having a care in the world. I longed for that feeling again but I knew things would never return to the way they were. Thankfully due to the intervention of my grandmother and aunts my sister was able to experience her senior prom with the kind of support that only a woman could provide for a young girl. My father eventually was able to cope with not having a wife or kids at home after my sister graduated from high school and left for college. My sister capped off her senior year graduating with high honors that also accompanied a full academic and athletic scholarship to the college of her first choice. I am proud to witness the happiness return to my family. Even though all the members are not present, those that remained have done well. When situations spiral beyond your control that is when a person learns the most about themselves. My father learned that he could live and be happy without the love of his life. My sister learned that she could still grow up to become a great young woman without a mother figure and I learned to accept that the people you love most will not always reciprocate that love. I won't lie those lessons we survived were very harsh on our lives but we successfully navigated through our stormy seas. As a son and sibling that has experienced the pain of his parent's separation I offer this one piece of advice to all couples with children that are considering divorce as the final solution to their issues...divorce your spouse, not your children.


Be Safe. Be Blessed.
TWIL

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Dress Like A Lady...Be TREATED LIKE A LADY




   People always say don't judge a book by it's cover because you might miss what's inside the book. And I agree that is a correct assumption...when judging a book that you want to read. But any author or publisher that is honest with themselves will tell you that it is the outside cover and title that they use to grab the attention of the target audience. Once the attention has been grabbed, then the readers decide if they like what they have read. Same application applies to how a woman dresses. A woman's attire grabs attention and the clothing that a woman chooses to wear creates a persona (one that is created beyond her control) that immediately labels her as either a Lady or Whore. Now before you ladies start rolling eyes and saying "I'm GROWN! I can dress any way I want! You ain't my daddy!!!"...hear me out. From a MAN'S PERSPECTIVE and from the lesser cared about, but equally important perspective (that of other women), the way a woman presents herself is supremely important. How she walks, talks, and looks all paint a picture of how she is viewed in the minds of the people she interacts with. As comedian Dave Chappelle famously said "Yes just because you (women) are dressed a certain way it doesn't make you a certain way. Fine lady! You are not a whore! But I'll tell you this...YOU ARE wearing a whore's uniform." He was referring to that old saying "perception is reality". It's not right but how a woman is dressed IS important. Not only for her own image but for the perceived image that others will have of her. Now I agree, it is not a fair truth to but it is a truth none the less. Unfortunately women aren't held in the same regard or to the same standards as their male counterparts. You ARE overly sexed and categorized and you are constantly and sometimes harshly judged on your appearance. It is because of that unfair assessment, that as a woman you must understand that how you dress ultimately influences the type of attention you will receive from other females and males alike. Still don't see how what you wear matters? How about we look at it from the OTHER WOMAN'S PERSPECTIVE.

   Let me start by acknowledging what everyone knows...that women hate other women. They don't need a reason to, it's just coded into their DNA. Some women have to find something, anything to dissect another woman down to her core and complain about it (nothing wrong with that, dudes secretly envy and hate on other dudes too). If a woman is skinny, other women say "she looks anorexic." If a woman has curves, other women say "she needs to stop eating cheeseburgers." If a woman has a husband, other women say "she thinks her man is all that." If a woman is single, other women say "she always so lonely". As much drama as other females can create on lies alone, why as a woman would you want to give them ammunition to take shots at you by dressing in what is viewed as trampish attire? I have listened to the sound of women bashing other women but the volume is loudest when a woman spots another women dressed in a provocative way. In the eyes of another female if you are wearing more make-up than she is, shake more when you walk than she does or if your clothes are showing more boob-age or buns than hers...LOOK OUT!!! Talk about a rain storm of insults! I have actually witnessed females go out of their way to confront another female because of her outfit and accuse her of eye-balling and flirting with their man simply because that girl's skirt was high hemmed and shirt was low cut. It's crazy (but also quite entertaining)! You would think women would have more confidence to just keep it moving. But it's not about confidence. It's about the opportunity to "correct" another woman and few woman I know pass on that chance privately or publicly. But as a woman that wears clothing deemed too skimpy to wear out in public you have to accept the attention that comes with it, whether you are seeking it or not. Granted not every woman that wears daisy dukes that reveal her bare bottom is a hoe-bag and not every woman that wears a halter top with her boobies popping out is a slut-bucket. But it's the assumption that makes the difference. The thinking becomes if a woman is that revealing with her clothing she cannot value herself and she is extremely hoe-ish in her behaviors. Again I don't believe it's right to label and judge a woman because she is showing more skin but again "perception is reality" and other women will nail you to the cross.

   Now lets flip that coin to the other side...the MALE PERSPECTIVE. This is perhaps the most damaging view point because of the direct and indirect impact a man can have on a woman's image and reputation. I know dudes that purposely target women with low self-esteem and "daddy issues" simply so the task of getting the draws is less of a challenge. In his mind, those traits are usually attributed to the women in the clubs, in the church and at the bars that are wearing...yes you guessed it...the whore's uniform. You know the variations of the perceived whore's uniform, the way-too-short sundresses with the low cut top that barely cover the nipples (YES!), the 15 inch stripper boots with the skin tight pants and the neon thong showing (BOOYAH!) or the club regulars that are always on the floor dancing pissy drunk, rubbing and kissing on their girlfriends wearing see-through lingerie and high heels (SCORE!!!). And unfortunately because of what society and past evidence has taught him he continues to pursue women that dress in this fashion. By going after women that constantly wear inappropriate and provocative clothing, he believes he gives himself a higher success rate of securing those "targets". He believes these type of women require minimal investments but yield an abundant return (sex, Sex, and MO SEX) and he will use her until he has had his fill and is ready to move on to the next target. But here is the part that is truly sad. ***SPOILER ALERT*** He WILL tell ALL his friends (male and female) about all these whore-uniform wearing chicks that he smashes, because he doesn't respect them (however he will never reveal such information about a woman he does respect).

   Then the assumptions, that a woman that dresses a certain IS a certain way continues to spread thus solidifying other people's beliefs that clothes determine personality. That man will now lump all women that dress too revealing into an unfair category. He will cease to respect any woman he meets dressed that way because he has learned from past experiences that women who dress like whores seem to have little impulse control, less regard for social rules, and are easily influenced. He will make the correlation that all women that dress like hoes are hoes and he will not respect any woman that does. See it all goes back to that concept of "perception is reality". Martin Lawrence once said in his TV Sitcom, "I like my women classy not showing all the assy" (man, I miss that show). He said that because of the perceived view of women that dress like whores, act like whores. I know it is not fair (what part of being a woman is?) But the bottom line is, if you act like a lady, talk like a lady and DRESS like a lady folks will have no choice but to treat AND respect you like a lady. Because there are few things more confusing for folks than trying to figure out if you are a lady who is a lady...but chooses to wear a whore's uniform. If a person has to guess they will almost always, NOT give you the benefit of the doubt and you will be labeled a whore (sorry, but it's true). People in particular are simple and if you want the proper attention from men and women keep it simple. Dress like a lady...be treated like a lady.


Be Safe. Be Blessed.
TWIL



Wednesday, September 12, 2012

She GAVE Me LOVE...And She Gave Me AIDS


   Milestone celebrations are supposed to be joyous and our 25th wedding anniversary was to be the most joyous celebration of our time spent together. We had scratched and clawed our way to twenty five years. Suffered through heartbreaks and stumbled through to victories. We had done well for ourselves and were more than financially stable. We had successfully gotten our two children into college. We both had our dream jobs and had built our dream home. We were happy. We were in love. Because we had managed to overcome so many of our struggles together over such a long period we decided that we would celebrate our 25th in a unique way. So we went all out. In the weeks leading up to our wedding anniversary we criss-crossed the globe. Went on safari in Kruger. Toured the sites in Paris. Ate fine cuisines in Madrid. We even snorkeled the coral reefs in Queensland. Then finally we embarked on a cruise around the Hawaiian Islands. We went everywhere and did all the things that we had always wanted to do. And we did them TOGETHER. Because after twenty-eight years of being together we had experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows one could imagine. The day of our 25th anniversary my marriage and my life would never be the same. Folks always say it's not how one starts but how one finishes that determines the outcome. We did start out grand, however our finish would change our lives forever. That morning we decided to wake up early to watch the sunrise over the ocean. We ate breakfast on the beach then went on a stroll. Walking hand-in-hand down the shop side-walks on our way to a popular boutique to find my wife an evening gown for our dinner date later that night. My phone rang and because I didn't want to interrupt the mood or my wife's conversation I sent the call to voice mail. As I waited while my wife tried on various dress and shoe combinations I checked the message that had been left for me. It was my doctor. I was expecting the message to report the now routine results of my semi-annual physical. However his voice was shaky telling me that he needed to speak with me urgently. Because of the alarm in his message I decided it would be best to contact him immediately. I told my wife I was stepping out to return an important phone call I had missed. She quietly nods me away as the shop attendant brings her more dresses and shoes to try on. My mind goes mad trying to figure out why my doctor for the first time in over ten years had so much nervousness in his voice. As a forty-three year old man he had always told me I was in great shape. I didn't smoke. I didn't drink. My diet was moderate and I exercised regularly. I didn't have issues with blood pressure or cholesterol. But for some reason something had spooked him. I patiently waited on hold for the nurse to locate him. When he comes on the line we exchange pleasantries but oddly he asks me am I near my wife. I anxiously reply no dreading his reason for asking. His next words will burn their way into the deepest regions of my mind "The test results have revealed that you have HIV..." My first reaction is sheer rage. My doctor has just indirectly accused me of cheating on my wife and told me I was going to die because of it. I mash the end button on the phone keypad, staring at as if it had just punched me in the face while calling my mother horrible names. It instantly rings again and I angrily answer. It takes a couple of minutes before I calm down enough to listen and my doctor gets through to me. He attempts to explain the only possible ways that I could have contracted the virus. He questions me about any recent blood transfusions and of course my sexual activities. Then the bomb shell, he asks me if my wife has had any other sexual partners. At this point the conversation is too heavy on me to continue. Before he allows me to end it, he tells me that I need to come in soon as possible to start treatment. I grudgingly agree to do so.

   I have felt many pains during my life ranging from physical to spiritual. But the pain felt in my chest after our conversation ends is the single most devastating feeling I have experienced. I sit down on one of the many benches lining the shop store walkways. My thoughts are rapid and I am trying to calm down long enough to process the monumental information I had just been given. I haven't had sexual relations with another person outside of my wife in over twenty five years. HOW COULD I get a sexual transmitted disease?! Then my denial kicks in. Those results had to have a major error I said to myself. Then a thought that I hadn't had in years slams into my mind like a sack of bricks. No sir! Don't do that! It was just a suspicion. A suspicion you laid to rest over seven years ago. I  try to ignore it but now unfortunately things that should not be adding up, suddenly are. I resist the thought long enough to force a smile as my wife steps out the boutique looking for me, asking me to re-enter. I bury the voice mail and the conversation deep down into the pit of my stomach. I say to myself I am celebrating my 25th wedding anniversary with the woman I have loved for more than half my life. Besides the test results could be wrong anyway. Why let a mistake some poor kid in a lab made ruin this day for us. Hell, mistakes are made all the time right?! It was one of those horrible mistakes that I prayed, I PRAYED! I had just become a victim of. As the night comes to an end I have done an excellent job focusing on enjoying the moments with my wife. I have almost successfully closed out another day of celebrations with her. As I lay in bed attempting to put the shocking news out of my mind, I look over at the clock it reads 11:03pm. I feel my wife's side of the bed is vacant so I sit up searching for her until my eyes spot her silhouette standing across the room in the dim light. My gorgeous bride of now 25 years opens the drapes spilling moonlight across the bed. She opens the private beach patio doors which engulf the room with a warm night breeze. She turns to me, smiling, confirming that she has woken me up and that she has my direct attention. I see that she is dressed in our favorite outfit. Her stunning sheer silk see-through nightgown. Her hair is up exposing her neck and shoulders. The gown snugs her curves as the moonlight casts an inviting shadow onto her. She motions for me to join her at the door. And for the first time in over twenty five years my first thought when I see her like this is DAMN! WHY TONIGHT?! I stare at her and after all these years I realize that she still excites me like no woman ever has. But I stay in the bed instead of going to her side. She takes my reluctance to join her as a game and eagerly moves to participate. She walks slowly and sensuously toward me. She stands in front of me close enough for me to see her naked body under the gown but far enough that I can't reach out and touch her. She slowly leans to kiss my lips but I regrettably turn my head. Continuing the game she pushes me down onto the bed and mounts me slowly rubbing her warm body against mine. She attempts twice more to kiss me but I avoid her twice more. DAMN! WHY TONIGHT?! I say to myself as I try to control my now visible erection. Determined to win she goes all out, reaching into my shorts. Enough is enough I can't resist her advances but I love her to much to keep the information in my mind away from her. I slip from underneath her and position myself away from her. The game is over. The moment has passed. She huffs and cuts her eyes at me as she moves to the other side of the bed. I brace myself for the questions I know are coming, the ones that I inevitably have to answer..."What the hell is the matter with you?! Don't you want me?!" YES! YES I DO! I scream in my mind. I desperately want you! I want to experience all that your body and spirit have for me on this perfect night as we celebrate our 25th anniversary. But it's her first question that prevents me from answering her second. The words are painful as they flow from my mind to my mouth. But I know she deserves to hear the truth from me first. After being together for over a quarter of a century I say to my wife "I don't know how got it. I have never cheated on you but the doctor told me that I have HIV..." Her response is not what I expect. She doesn't yell. She doesn't hit me. She doesn't even laugh. She just goes quiet. Turning away from, she pulls a pillow up to her face. I turn to face her. I reach to hold her. She quietly says "I'm so sorry...you were right."

   No. Correction. THIS is the single most devastating feeling I have experienced. I try not to ask her what I was right about because even though I know, in my soul I desperately want to be wrong. It is said that at your lowest moment, you try to find something anything to hold on to, to remain standing. Something to keep you steady and prevent you from falling farther down. It is true. I am trying to find something to hold onto, but on this night I continue to fall and it seems I will never recover to stand. Secrets have a way of destroying everything they are hidden from. I try to look into her eyes but she cannot make eye contact but I can see the pain in her face is genuine. I ask her what was I right about. And with that she gives me her long delayed confession. I think back to that thought. The thought, that just hours ago I convinced myself was a long forgotten fiction. We have suspicions for a reason, some call it that "feeling in your gut". Now everything that was questionable back then, is now made clear with a truth that is finally told. I allow my mind to travel back in time trying to make sense of what is happening presently before me. I recall the time about fifteen years ago when our marriage was on the verge of ending...very badly. It was my fault for how things had progressed. I knew I was a workaholic but I didn't change my habits until it was too late. I spent more time with my co-workers than with my family. But I justified my absence by convincing myself I was working so hard to provide for them. I didn't realize then that it was my hard work that was causing me to lose them. I came home late from the office one night and my wife and I engaged in one of our routine arguments about me working so much. Since I was to leave for business the next day as a token of appreciation and understanding I told her I had arranged for the kids to go away for the weekend. I thought my wife could benefit from the time alone, she had earned it being a full time mom AND having a full time career. She agreed and thanked me. It was one of the few times during this rocky period that I felt I had done something right by her. My trip was supposed to last from Thursday to Sunday, however the event was cut short due to threat of severe weather. So even though the site was about 13 hours from where we lived I was allowed to leave early Friday evening instead of staying. As I pull up in the driveway of our home I noticed a car parked a couple of doors down. Sitting in it was the same young man that I frequently seen driving around the neighborhood. I thought nothing of it and entered our house. I head upstairs to find my wife in the shower. Our bed is a mess and her clothes were tossed all over the floor. I naively assumed she was just enjoying her time to herself and wasn't in a rush to clean up like usual. I undress and quietly sneak into the bathroom to join her in the shower. I make enough noise so I didn't startle her. As I slide open the glass door to the shower, I expected her to be shocked to see me and she is. But not happy to see me but shocked as if she was expecting me to be someone else. I explain why I'm home early and try to enter the shower but she asks to continue showering alone which I find odd but I agree because I don't want to argue the matter. As I leave the bathroom to re-dress I look outside and the young man in the car is gone. That was the last time I saw him or the car in the neighborhood. I found it odd because I had seen him constantly in passing over the last eight months but then after that day he disappeared.

   It was on that day that I suspected my wife was having an affair and that I had just narrowly avoided walking in on one of their secret love sessions. I let the suspicions build up until it was consuming my thoughts. The night we picked up the kids after they had gone to bed I asked her directly was she having an affair. She laughed at my question. Saying it was such a ridiculous thing for her to even entertain giving me an answer. Even though I thought my suspicions were valid I laughed it off too. I convinced myself that I was being paranoid. We had been through worse times in our relationship and we had a family, so yeah WHY WOULD SHE CHEAT NOW?! I disregarded my instincts and let my unconditional love for her override my common sense thinking. Now it seems I am guaranteed to pay the ultimate price for my lack of fore-sight. As she sits softly crying into her pillow I feel the overwhelming need to comfort her, but I resist. The betrayal I feel doesn't allow me to be compassionate at this moment. Our marriage will ironically end on the same day it began. We never did make love that night. We would never smile and laugh in each other's company like we did before that night. We were torn, forever broken. Once we returned home we decided to keep up appearances and that worked until we learned that the results were not an error. My wife had contracted the disease from her secret lover and passed it to me. Now we would both have no choice but to deal with the ripple affects of her infidelities. We eventually told our children that we had HIV but kept the affair between us. We tried to manage but living a lie became to much for either of us to bear. We divorced within a year never making it to another anniversary. Even though we had separated we would still remain social friends. We frequently spoke and supported each other in our battles against the virus. We were wealthy enough to afford the latest medicines to keep the virus in check and hidden from the people in our lives but it wasn't enough. It's true money can't by you everything. It didn't buy us health or happiness. The virus progressed much rapidly in my wife's body than it did in mine. She was given three years to live after her HIV developed into AIDS. She eventually lost her fight seven years after being diagnosed. When she died I mourned her greatly. Despite how much I hated her at times I loved her many more. She was in a twisted way responsible for giving me life and causing my death. The doctors tell me that it is a miracle I have lived so long without experiencing the major complications caused by contracting HIV. Yes, I am grateful for my life. Yes I am grateful that my AIDS has been held in check. But I don't feel like I was the recipient of a miracle. I sometimes feel the exact opposite that I was cursed to endure alone and be forced to play back the tragedy that befell my life and our marriage. We were never wife and husband again but she was still the love of my love. I guess that is why I never asked her why she cheated. I felt that her reasons would drive the wedge already between us farther apart. The truths that were revealed that night proved that even though she still loved me and I loved her, we could never get back what we once had. It has been a number of years and I have tried to move on but I have learned that time always has a way of reminding you, of what you wish you could forget the most. Today would have been our 50th wedding anniversary. Even though we were divorced and my wife has passed on I can't even celebrate what could have been. I try but I am not even comforted by the happiest moments we shared because I always remember that after twenty-five years of marriage she gave me love...and she gave me AIDS.



Be Safe. Be Blessed.
TWIL

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

CIRCUMCISION: His PENIS, His CHOICE



In light of various articles and studies discussing this topic, I decided it was time for me to voice my opinion on Circumcision as well. Let me first state that this topic of discussion has always been VERY personal to me. Even though I am pro-choice when it comes to male infant circumcision my thoughts on this topic are not meant to persuade folks toward or away from Circumcision. Circumcision is an important topic to me for three main reasons. The first is that I am a MAN. The second is that I have a penis (a very large penis at that HAHAHAHAHA) that I use to have sex with an absolutely gorgeous woman most every night . And third which is perhaps the most important is that my wife just made me a father of a healthy baby boy which brings our total to three children, two daughters and a son. With those points made, I believe circumcision is a male's decision, more specifically the male whose penis is on the chopping block (play on words intended). Similar to the way that the choice of having an abortion should ultimately be made by a woman. I believe when a male is old enough to completely and fully comprehend what the act of Circumcision entails, he should then be left to choose if Circumcision is what's best for him and his penis. This issue has personal and deeply moral positions tied to it, so before we dive into the discussion of whether it is the boy or parents choice to make, let's look at the history and the procedures of Circumcision. Circumcision can be traced all the way back to ancient Africa, the cradle of civilization, more specifically the Egyptian culture. The ritual was performed commonly as a religious sacrifice. In various tribes it was done as a rite of passage from boy to manhood. In a more sinister act it was performed as a way to humiliate enemies and slaves. Back then it was believed that it was also performed to weaken the man's desires and ability to perform sexually or enjoy sexual pleasure, the equivalent to what is called genital mutilation in present times. But what is circumcision exactly?! I'm glad you asked but feel sorry to tell you that a Circumcision is the act of forcibly removing the natural intact foreskin that covers the glands and head of the male penis by painfully cutting it off. In adult males the process requires anesthetics to assist in pain management during the surgical removal. Four to six weeks is also required for the penis to fully heal for sexual intercourse and masturbation to resume. With infant baby boys the process is similar except the child is physically restrained to a table with straps preventing the movement of their arms and legs. Pacifiers are giving in an attempt to soothe them during the painful surgery. The process of removing the foreskin is extremely painful regardless if performed on the male in his infancy or in his adulthood. The healing time however for an infant is seven to ten days which is considerably shorter than the recovery time for an adult male. Now that we have briefly explored the history and saw the visual process involved with Circumcision, perhaps we have the proper information to now begin the debate on male infant circumcision. 









 Lets step out of the past and into the future now. As a parent if you decide to circumcise your baby boy for religious beliefs this topic is not for you. If you choose circumcision because of an emergent issue affecting your infant's immediate penis health, then this topic is also not for you. However if you are a parent that believes circumcision will make your son healthier or it will be more visually appealing then you should take a seat on the front row because THIS TOPIC IS SPECIFICALLY FOR YOU. Lets bring this topic down to it's most basic divide...choice. Infant circumcision is a decision solely made by the parents and guardians of the baby boy. Even though the baby cannot verbalize his thoughts about the matter HE is the one that will have to live with the effects of either remaining naturally intact or having his penis surgically altered. Infant male Circumcision is performed more in the United States than in other country in the world. Which is odd because the main religion is Christianity not Muslim or Jewish which practice Circumcision as a covenant corresponding to their religious beliefs. So if not for religious reasons why would circumcision need to be performed? Perhaps for medical reasons then. There was once a thought in the less-informed years that removing the foreskin made the penis cleaner and prevented diseases such as Syphilis from spreading. As recently as the present day some parents are told that circumcision reduces the risk of penile cancer and UTI's (Urinary Tract Infections) in their baby boys. Unfortunately that is a partial truth. The likely hood of developing penile cancer is so minute that if it does occur it doesn't end well for either the uncircumcised or circumcised male. How about UTI's then?! Even though UTI's are more common in children under the age of two. Baby girls are 8% more likely than baby boys 2% in developing a UTI. So based on those statistics parents should be circumcising, correction allowing their baby girls to have their genitals mutilated to keep them healthy. That's barbaric and disgusting you say?! But if girls have numerous folds and crevices shouldn't they also have their clitoris and labia's cut off in the same name of cleanliness?! HELL NO!!! You say?! So why are parents using that as an excuse to cut on their baby boy's penis?! Thankfully as medical knowledge has advanced there has not been a proven case in which circumcision (infant male or female) has prevented the person from contracting diseases or enjoying a healthier life. Oh what about that "study" in Africa about how circumcising adult males prevented the spread of HIV/AIDS to their partners?! Oh yeah about that...ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! How many baby boys are having sexual intercourse at 3 days old? How many infant males are spreading HIV/AIDS and other STD's to their "friends with benefits"?! Yeah that should be a great reference tool for you to use in deciding whether to go all "Freddy Krueger" on your newborn son. If male circumcision is such a revolutionary way to prevent the spread of SEXUALLY TRANSMITTED DISEASES how is it that in the United States of America, which has the HIGHEST RATE of circumcised males, one can also consistently find the HIGHEST NUMBERS OF HIV/AIDS and other STD's CASES among it's adult population in the WORLD?! Where as in Europe and other countries with relatively high numbers of uncircumcised adult males the HIV/AIDS and STD's numbers are extremely low...Riddle me that Dr. Dumbass?!

 So again what reasons would a parent have to cut their newborn baby boy's penis if not for parental religious beliefs or emergency medical necessity? Could it be cosmetic? Does a surgically altered penis look better than a natural penis? Does a cut penis perform better sexually than an uncut penis? If that is the only valid question that a parent is asking before deciding on a painful surgery inflicted on their infant son, a young boy that wont even be able to become sexually active for at least 12 years, then that baby boy is in for way worse from his parents. Shouldn't he be left to make that determination once he actually understands what his penis's purpose is?! My father showed me how to wash and groom myself as a young boy so having a dirty penis was never an issue. As I got older he explained to me the changes my body was feeling and what my penis was ultimately for. He showed me how to properly use condoms (which actually ARE proven to reduce the transmission of diseases as opposed to circumcision) once I became of sexual activity age and mindset. I asked him once why we looked different "down there". He told me "My parents made a choice for me when I was a baby, but God made you a certain way so it will be YOUR choice to remain that way or change it if you want." Honestly I didn't know what the hell he was talking about until I got older and started having sex. As with most lessons learned, I learned about my "visual difference" from a girl that I was having sexual relations with. But to her it wasn't a difference, we laughed when she told me "I don't care what it looks like as long as it doesn't burn me (give me an STD), get me pregnant and it stays up for the task. It's alright with me!" And the more encounters I shared with different women of different backgrounds, different beliefs the more I realized how absolutely correct she was. Grown men and women have preferences regarding the body types they prefer for sex. They have that right to choose what they like. As infants it doesn't matter because neither infant males nor females are remotely concerned with the design of what's in their diapers. Which begs the question why are adults so obsessed about it?! As a parent or guardian if you are NOT making the choice to circumcise your son based on proven medical evidence that will benefit him or due to the beliefs of your religion what other reason would you really have to subject your baby boy to an unnecessary surgically cosmetic procedure. Would you give your baby girl breast implants just because you think it may help her self-steam as she crawls around in her onesie? And even if it is religious based...is it really fair to force your beliefs on him in such a physically non-reversible way?! All I am suggesting is considering your son's feelings on the matter. Because as I watch my own son wiggle, squirm and sleep in his nursery bed I finally understand what my father meant about choice. I realize as his father there will be decisions I will make that can ultimately affect his life well after I am dead and gone. But circumcision isn't one of them. That is one decision that my son can make for himself when he is ready. And regardless of his decision whether he chooses to be natural or surgical I know it will be a decision that HE WILL HAVE MADE using his own information, based on his own beliefs and understandings. Cause in the end when it comes to my baby boy and circumcision, it's his penis, his choice.


Be Safe. Be Blessed.
TWIL

Thursday, June 21, 2012

I NEED Our DAUGTHER More Than She Needs ME




 I started to create another chapter using fictional characters to deliver a message, but as our young daughter sits in my lap mashing keys and telling me it's time to go play I had to stop and come back after she was asleep. And as I often do why she sleeps I admire her and thank God for trusting us to care for her. So I decided that this chapter should be a little more personal than my normal entries. So open your hearts and minds as I share my story with you. Current days are called the present because they bring gifts. On May 25th, 2008 a gift like no other was given to my wife and I. We learned that we would become parents. As you can imagine there was much to celebrate. We had been together for about seven years and had been married for almost two. We had spoken just days before about planning for parenthood. Our decided plan was that we would not be the couple that scheduled prime conception times or took fertility drugs we would leave it in God's hands. We would be a mother and father when he said so. Amazing thing about the way the good Lord works because I swear he must have standing by our bedside that day and said "Whelp now seems like a good time...POPULATE!" HAHAHAHAHA or something to that degree. Days later we were patiently waiting for lines to appear and the sheer joy of that confirmation of life was overwhelming. My wife suddenly became more attractive, brilliant, sexy and desirable to me. She was going to deliver our child into the world. She was going to birth my baby...yes MY BABY. More first reaction was youthful excitement. A feeling of happiness that I had never experienced before. But as I watched my beautiful wife sleep that night I felt fear creep into my mind, a fear of failure. For the first time in my young life I would be responsible for providing total care to another person. Even though I was married and committed to providing for my wife, she never depended on me for her total care. But in less than a year a little version of myself would be completely reliant on me to survive life. As those thoughts of doubts began to flood my mind I panicked. I began thinking that I didn't want the responsibility. I didn't want the burden. I didn't want to know that fear of failing. I began to think of all the ways I could destroy the baby's life. What would happen if I wasn't able to give the child the attention and love that they required. What happened if the stress of being a father become to much and I abandoned my child the same way my biological father did me. I was flipping out...playing out every bad scenario my worried mind could conceive.

  Then something marvelous occurred. I had a moment of clarity, a vision. A small preview of a future that had not yet occurred. I was looking down upon a small child wrapped in a blanket. I was cradling in my arms a tiny baby that shared my face. It was that vision that made me realize that even though I may not have been ready to accept the task of being a father I was already equipped to be one. I had trained for this position with every time I baby-sat my nieces, nephews and cousins. I had already attained the knowledge first hand to protect and provide. I may not have been ready to go to work but the tools I needed to complete the job were already in my grasp. Now the time had come for me to apply that knowledge and experience to raise up my own child. And just as quickly as I had been pulled down into despair I was raised up with encouragement. My worries rapidly faded. I no longer feared failing, I welcomed the responsibility. I took it as a challenge to be better than my father was to me. I made up my mind that despite the obstacles of parenthood that I would be a great father, because our child deserved nothing less. So with that mindset I began grooming myself to excel at the most important job I would ever have in my life...being a father. With God's grace we welcomed and celebrated our daughter's arrival into the world that following January. This time my vision of a future that had yet to come was a present moment captured forever in my heart and spirit. I held her as she slept in my arms. I looked down upon my face without looking into a mirror. Thankfully our daughter made it easy for us to adapt as parents. As an infant she wasn't a needy baby she only cried when she wanted food, needed a change or wanted to be held. We excitedly witnessed her development and were astonished early on by how intelligent she was. As she grew into a toddler, she exhibited great problem solving skills and a strong sense of stubbornness. Stubbornness in the manner that she would not be denied what she wanted. She knew how to positively manipulate us and others. She also had a fearless spirit. Even when she hurt herself trying something new, she would cry but minutes later actively find another way to do it again this time minus the pain. She conquered every obstacle and surpassed every goal from walking to talking.

 We graciously applaud her accomplishments and encourage her to apply her skills to make the world around her more suitable to her comforts. I will be honest because I am not ashamed to admit that I have learned more as person and as man being her father than I learned through many years of higher education and professional training. Our baby girl taught me the intangibles of living. She taught me how to truly enjoy every moment of life. She makes me want to better myself, because with every victory SHE has it focuses ME to achieve more personally. Even now as a bright three-year-old, she is so adamant about doing things for herself without us assisting her. She refuses to be helped because she wants to prove to us and herself that she can do anything she focuses on. That lesson among many others is why I enjoy her company and ultimately believe that she was chosen and custom created to be born through us. Her greatness continues to grow and it inspires us to be great too. She is very proud to be our "strong smart pretty princess" and we are proud to be her parents. I guess it probably will always be this way because that's the Circle Of Life, the child surpassing the parent. But even though I am decades her senior she still takes me to school daily. It's crazy because when she was born I thought she would always need me to do things and be there for her. But as it turns out, I had incorrectly assigned our roles. It is actually me that will always need her. I needed her then to focus my talents and restore my faith in my abilities. I needed her to re-teach me how to take advantage of the time I have to enjoy randomly moments by laughing and dancing. I needed her to have someone to watch over and be proud of. I needed someone to help me in my development as a man. She met all my needs in a way I never imagined was possible. Truth is, I need our daughter more than she needs me...and I'm alright with that.


Be Safe. Be Blessed.
TWIL