Diatribes by Joah

Clean is good

I don't have any STDs.

Or, for that matter, I don't have any major diseases or illnesses which would lead me to death before my 24th birthday (party).

That's not exactly what my doctor told me today, but the words "clean bill of health" and "tip-top shape" weren't nearly as eyebrow-raising.

Some of you may not be familiar with the history of the STD, blood and urine testing processes, but I first had one early in my college years. Back then, you could hike Mt. Everest quicker than you'd get those results. It was a pressure-packed couple of weeks.

Thanks to modern technology, it was only a three-day turnaround. The only problem is that you still have to climb Mt. Everest, only you do it in three days instead of 14. In other words: I was still thinking about all (insert uncomfortably high or unexpectedly low number here) times I've had sex since my last test.

But you see, my awesome friend Jen is right when she said, "you're like the healthiest person on the planet, you're extremely athletic, weigh like 100 lbs, don't do drugs or engage in any risky behavior." This is all true, well I actually weigh 155 pounds, but that's neither here nor there.

So highlighting the STDs, notably my lack thereof, is not to say I have made a habit of not making sound decisions with my sex life. It is simply to say that, at least for the first (nearly) 24 years of my life, I have not brought myself closer to death thanks to sex. What's that saying? Oh yeah, "close, but no cigar."

As for those other diseases and illnesses, one can never be sure beyond the date of the test. For example, my test were fine this time, but in a few weeks or months who knows. I could get a tumor tomorrow. And no matter how many 10-mile runs I go on, cancer is no less likely to attack me. So I'm almost always spending an extra few seconds in the shower checking the boys. Just in case Dr. T missed something, you know.

This may be way more information than you care to know, but dying young has been something I've feared for almost 20 years. I've believed two things since childhood: 1) I'd live to accomplish great things (I read about Thomas Jefferson and Ben Franklin as a six-year-old, mind you) and 2) I would die young (think MLK and Kennedy). That may sound all-too self-aggrandizing (or just plain foolish) to even think I'll be considered in the same breath as those aforementioned "greats", but I'm serious when I say I fear dying young.

All that I've worked for and everything I aspire to achieve - from informational and inspirational books to having a positive (lasting) impact in Austin, Texas and beyond - would be jeopardized, or at least cut short, if I were to die young. And I consider young to be anything before 50. After 50, I'll re-evaluate my definition.

So, in the pursuit of preventing as many of those diseases and illnesses as possible, I try to stay in great shape. I don't drink more than a few sodas a week. I eat plenty of fruit and drink juice. I don't avoid veggies. I've never been one to drink myself into oblivion and I've never tried a drug that you couldn't get in the Garden of Eden. I've even made it a point to drink eight cups of water a day. And I hate drinking water.

All this to experience the 2040s.

Obviously I could get hit by a Metro bus on my way to work in the morning - as happened to some poor guy outside of my building a few weeks ago. I could contract some rare disease from something I eat or a vacation I take this summer. Or I could slip in the shower and break my neck.

But I'm pretty sure, having made it through the "peak" years of my sexcapades, STDs won't be the death of me. At least that's what my doctor told me on February 27, 2007. I'll keep you posted if anything comes up. Or not.

Recognizing My Great Friends

It goes without saying that everyone needs friends. And not just any type of friends, we all need great ones. I, like most people, have friends that are fun to go drinking with, or shopping, or to sporting events, or to reminisce with, but great friends are all of the above. Similarly, I have had great relationships with women whom remain good friends of mine and I consider two of these among my best friends in the world.

I have been blessed with a great number of great friends and I wanted to take a few moments of your time to talk about a few of them and what they mean to me.

First of all, I must start by saying I have a very small, but loving family. My mother is the most phenomenal and awe-inspiring women I will ever know for her ability to raise three boys (into men) all by her lonesome. It took her 27 adult years, but she just bought her first house and I’m so proud of her.

Also, my two older brothers have both had their setbacks or difficulties at various points in their lives, but they continue to be the most talented, loyal people in my life. One of my brothers is the next Pete Rock (for all you hip-hop heads) and the other is the next Paul Haggis (Million Dollar Baby, Crash).

But even with a loving mother and two close brothers, I’ve depended on a set of friends to serve as members of my extended, and sometimes closer, family. To be blessed with such an amazing immediate family is something I thank God for everyday, but my friends - those I wasn’t forced to associate with through blood - have been the icing on my life’s cake.

I would have to say my first great friends were Timothy and Will. They were two  of my classmates in elementary school and they never cared that my clothes were from Goodwill and my family was on Welfare. All they cared about was how much fun we had together. I haven’t talked to Tim or Will in ten or more years.

In middle school, since Tim and Will went to different schools, I found new friends. Four of them stand out for various reasons. First, there’s James who was the first person to offer me a cigarette. I couldn’t inhale it and I haven’t touched a cigarette since that one day in 7th grade. Another friend, Brian came from a family much different than mine. He had both parents. His siblings went to college. They lived in a big house with horses and Siberian huskies. But he was also the first friend to consistently come to my neighborhood and hang out. I was never uncomfortable bringing friends over after that. I still run into James whenever I head back to South Carolina and Brian and I catch a movie or drink some beers whenever I’m in the area.

The other two, Doug and Whitney pretty much embodied what a great friend was in middle and early high school. Without saying so, those years were a tough time for me because I wasn’t quite clear on my “identity” and where I “fit in”. They made a place for me and I’m forever indebted to them. We’re not as close as we once were, but they’re always on my mind.

After I moved back to Texas, I just knew I was on an island. There I was in a high school of 2,000 students and zero friends, after being in a school nearly half that size and knowing just about all of them. But I wasn’t stuck on the island for long.

I met a fellow South Carolinian and runner named Colby. I showed up at 6 a.m. cross country practice and needed a ride back to school after. He offered and from that moment on, Colby has been one-half of my best friend duo and the bravest, smartest, most supportive friend in the world. Now, a 1st Lt. in the U.S. Army, Colby is readying for his second tour in Iraq. The first tour was gut-wrenching and whenever we went more than two weeks without talking I’d think the worst. But he came back just like I know he will again. He’s already promised to be my campaign hype man when I run for office one day.

The other half of my best friend duo is about to get on a plane to visit me. Stephanie, like Colby, is someone that was there for me when I was going through some tough times. I was single and hating it. But thanks to Stephanie, I had a female companion, a really attractive one at that!, who let me take her to nice restaurants and fraternity formals and every other kind of date you’d take a girlfriend on. Oddly enough, I never envisioned this kind of friendship with Stephanie when I first met her in Physical Science 201. I thought for sure she was a snob, but man was I wrong. My future wife has to get the OK from her before she gets a ring from me.

Lastly, there are two individuals I don’t see nearly enough, but are first-rate friends in my life. I met Peter after freshman orientation and I’m pretty sure we hung out at least four days a week for the next four years. He and I have starkly contrasting personalities and qualities, but we both have something to offer one another and he’s always willing and able to give me sound advice. On the other hand, Nadya is a former crush. She worked in the gym and I’d go to the gym at a specific time each day just to make sure I could see her. Thankfully, my advances never got anywhere but she took enough interest in me to let me be her friend. We’ve probably hung out a total of ten, if not fewer, times total, but she always ask the right questions about what’s going on in my life and I’m grateful for her caring nature. We just can’t talk politics, lol.

Now that I’m a “grown up” and living in D.C. I think about each and everyone of these people on a daily basis. At some point or another, they have each impacted my life and helped me become a better person. I can only hope I mean as much to them. There are a couple of individuals here in D.C. that I’m developing great friendships with. They know who they are. So every time I think I’m on an island up here, I give them a call or just drive over and shoot the shit.

I didn’t write this blog to brag and say “my friends are better than yours” or anything of the sort. Instead, I hope you’ll take this diatribe as a catalyst toward thinking about who has positively impacted your life and who your great friends are. Make sure you tell them how important they are to you. And make sure you’re always open to finding a new great friend.

I part with these words from the Brit Samuel Johnson, “If a man does not make new acquaintance as he advances though life, he will soon find himself left alone. A man, Sir, should keep his friendship in constant repair.”

I thank each and every one of the aforementioned people, and all of you for your friendship and look forward to the memories and years ahead of us.

Am I black enough?

On MLK day, I mentioned the importance of recognizing African-Americans whom we don’t normally see profiled. Along those lines, I’ve realized one reason this may be occurring. Simply put, these people aren’t “black” enough for mass consumption.

I struggled with being black enough for years, dating back to 3rd grade when I moved to my new elementary school in Greenville, South Carolina. Back then and continuing through high school, the fact that I was “smart” and “talked funny” were some of the primary reasons I wasn’t fully approved for the max limit on my “black card.” Other reasons were: “you dress like a white boy” - now all of a sudden it’s in to dress prep (again, I was an early adopter), “you like white people music” - now all of a sudden guys like Jay-Z and Kanye West can do songs with Chris Martin from Coldplay and Adam Levine from Maroon 5 and that’s “hot”, and “you don’t hang around enough black people” - never mind that every member my immediate and distant family are black.

Listen, I don’t bring this up because I’m bitter. Honestly. I mean, I’ve never really cared for the kinds of people that feel they can define my ethnic values or identity. And it’s not just black people that try to define someone’s blackness. It’s white people too. The very nature of being black in America - from slavery to Reconstruction to Civil Rights to Black Power to African-American - has rooted itself in a lot of internal criticism amongst black Americans. Black on black crime is just the offspring of black people being very judgmental of one another. From “house niggers” vs. “field niggas” to negro vs. colored to dark skin vs. light skin to black vs. African-American battles.

What I have trouble getting used to is white people who feel they have the ability to define blackness (as if there aren’t 35 million black people in America that can do that for themselves). Routinely, I hear some of my friends say ignorant things like “but you’re not like that…” And this is not to point a finger, but whenever I hear statements of that sort, I interpret it as “but you act more white, so it’s OK” or “Joah is my black friend because he doesn’t act like most black people.” I get very offended by this.

Still, I like to think I have tough skin, I don’t harp on these moments for long because I’ve grown accustomed to it. But there are plenty of talented, intelligent and capable black kids who never want to grow accustomed to it so they do one of three things: a) they waist their abilities and talents by slacking off in school (usually middle school or early high school), b) they maintain an “urban” look including baggy jeans, driving a Cadillac with 20-inch rims, etc. or c) they join a black fraternity or sorority or attend a Historically Black College or University (HBCU).

I think all of us know of at least one uber-talented black youth from our grade school years that didn’t want to fall into the category commonly referred to as Oreo (black on the outside, white on the inside). These kids didn’t have enough understanding of or confidence in their own blackness and the result will likely be an unfulfilled, unsuccessful professional life of “could’ve, should’ve”.

Some of us know some really smart black individuals - most likely from college or high school - who made great grades, went to a good college and are in position to have successful professional careers, yet they try to keep their African-American Express card by “dressing the part”. If you ever get the chance to visit the Georgetown shopping district in Washington on a Saturday, you will see plenty of this. In fact, there’s an entire section of Wisconsin Avenue dedicated to $150 baggy jeans, $250 special edition Air Force Ones, $300 NBA jackets and Sean John and other hip-hop fashion to be consumed by young African-American professionals with a lot of disposable income. Or drug dealers.

Then, there are those who shared my struggles in elementary, middle and high school. They too were called “Oreos” or “sell outs”. They gave in to the name-callers’ demands and made sure to go to Spellman or Morehouse or join the AKA sorority or become an Omega or whatnot. This, it is believed, can validate one’s blackness. Now this is not to say that these sororities and fraternities lack a true purpose. Or that their members are not fully justified in wanting to join these accomplished organizations. In fact, the Delta Sigma Theta sorority, Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity and the others are perhaps some of the most well-entrenched and historic organizations on America’s college campuses. Their members have gone on to achieve great things in the professional and social realms. But, back to my point, I believe some of my friends would agree there is a propensity amongst members of these organizations and universities to play the part even more than playing the part of a smart, talented or capable young person. I relate this to the desire of some church-goers to announce to the world that they went to church on Sunday.

But in all three instances - in the middle school ‘A’ student-turned-slacker, honors student-turned-gangsta rapper  or Oreo-turned-Omega - there is a failure by these young black individuals to come to terms with their own identity. More specifically, they fail to come to terms with their own definition of being black. Instead, they find the beaten paths to blackness, many of which lead to wasted talent, wilted ambition and what-ifs.

I say all this not to call anyone out or act like I have it all figured out. I don’t. Just as easily, I’m sure various individuals can say I became the first black  member of my fraternity or am a Republican because I like being a novelty. I’ve heard this more than once. Still, there are still times where I can’t play John Mayer when I’m driving up D.C.’s Georgia Avenue. However, I have stopped seeking validation of my blackness from external sources, not my friends, not my classmates, not my television. Instead, I have relied on the mirror to confirm to me that I am, in fact, black. That’s all you can really do. Embracing “being black” isn’t about listening to rap music or taking African-American studies classes or celebrating Kwanzaa. Eminem is still a “white” rapper, contrary to the Chappelle Show’s racial draft.

I bring all this up because The Untold and Overlooked: A Collection of African-American Success Stories and Life Lessons is intended not only as a way of highlighting successful African-Americans around the country, but also it’s a way to show those 3rd grade or 8th grade black kids, or even those college freshmen looking for a way to make friends, that being black is not about a persona or organization. Being black isn’t about running to an image nor is it about running away from the person you really are.

The person I am likes Dave Matthews Band more than Three 6 Mafia, likes wearing Brooks Brothers instead of Phat Farm, would rather meet Benjamin Franklin than Tupac Shakur, and prefers the word “dude” over “nigga”. So regardless of what you’re “used to” seeing from black people, I plan to follow in the footsteps of those profiled in Untold and Overlooked. They may not be on TV or playing in the NBA Finals or coaching the Super Bowl or winning Grammy’s, but there’s no questioning they are, in fact, all black. And damn proud.

Being an early adopter is awesome

I must start by reminding you that awhile back in my maiden diatribe, I mentioned my desire to make my official salutation, "Friends and Colleagues," the next "Ladies and Gentlemen". Well, of note, since that initial posting I have seen "Friends and Colleagues" used by several of my friends (and colleagues) in emails, blogs and messages. Told you I wasn't kidding about that early adopter stuff...ha!

Now...back to this week's diatribe. Obviously, I'm sure none of you want to read about my troubled - and by "troubled" I mean (self-)imposed, inconsistent and insufficient - love life...

That said, I'm going to talk about another topic of great interest to me (and hopefully you). Age. Specifically, growing up.

Just recently, I've been in situations where age or the nature of "growing up" have been discussed. You know, the typical situations in both my personal ("You're too young to date...") and professional life ("I'm too young for a promotion..."). For these people I simply want to give my grandmother's phone number. She always told me I was "beyond my years" and it's a label I've grown very fond of.

Age and those all-too-important qualities - maturity and wisdom, are too often confused as one and the same. If someone is younger than us, we assume things. If someone is older than us, we assume different things. If it's an older man, we assume different things than if it's an older woman. Likewise, if it's a younger guy, we assume things contrary to what we expect from a young lady. This crosses platforms from job salaries and romantic relationships to life lessons and knowledge of "old school" music. Just today one of my co-workers said he didn't think I was old enough to own some of the music I do.

I don't have the time, nor am I developed enough as a writer, to take a full view of the topic of age and growing up, but I can tell you how annoyed I get when someone - typically someone older than me - assumes I don't remember Phil Collins' "Take Me Home" when it came out or know anything about vinyl records or am "too young" to possibly have any idea of how to be in a long-term relationship or how to do my job.

Still, growing up isn't just about "acting your age" or being "beyond your years" or "becoming an adult" or anything like that. Even philosophers, sitcom writers and comedians have all discussed, in greater depth, the various milestones and merits associated with growing up and I'd need much more than a few paragraphs to discuss those viewpoints, but I think what we're missing is an apples-to-apples comparison of what it all means.

I've pulled the following quotes, which I have deemed most resourceful, in compiling supporting materials for this difficult comparison:

French writer Simone de Beauvoir once said, "What is an adult? A child blown up by age." I believe Madame de Beauvoir was trying to say that adults can maintain many of their child-like qualities (think imagination, immaturity, innocence). Then again, de Beauvoir was an existential feminist and colleague (and possibly more) of Jean Paul Sartre's so I'm not willing to make her words by personal guide for adulthood.

According to Ecclesiasticus (not to be confused with the Bible's Ecclesiastes): "If thou hast gathered nothing in thy youth, how canst thou find anything in thine age?" Though similar to Proverbs in that it represents a collection of ethical and life teachings, Ecclesiaticus is said to be written by a single Hebrew author. Ben Sira, the author's name, likely wrote these words to encourage the young to gain knowledge and wisdom in youth before becoming adults. In short, he encourages readers not to let tenure refrain you from life lessons.

A century before de Beavoir, Benjamin Disraeli said, "Youth is a blunder; manhood a struggle; old age a regret." Prime Minister Disraeli, who was born of Jewish parents, paved the way for WWII Prime Minister Winston Churchill when it comes to gaining regard in England for his political and literary endeavors. Having said that about Disraeli's career, I am certain he would relate "blunder" to the very fun-natured, pseudo-uncontrollable element of childhood and adolescence, while "struggle" and "regret" seem to reference those trials and tribulations associated with adulthood (i.e. professional and romantic pursuits).

American literary legend (meaning: you better know this guy) Norman Mailer found time - between winning a few Pulitzers and the National Book Award - to say this about growing up: "Growth is a greater mystery than death..." Mailer's impressive works include The Naked and the Dead a bio of Pablo Picasso and co-founding New York's The Village Voice. Mailer, who was a contemporary of Truman Capote, hinted at the awe-inspiring and pain-staking elements of growing up when he says "not even the successful man can begin to describe the impalbable elations and apprehensions of growth."

America's Marx (Groucho the vaudeville comic, not Karl the communist) "A man is only as old as the woman he feels." Groucho, who divorced all three of his wives, was said to always be "in character" meaning he most likely drove the women around him crazy (it is noted that all three wives were alcoholics). Simple enough, Groucho measured his age by this new love, or more specifically, new wife.

"At twenty years of age, the will reigns; at thirty, the wit; and at forty, the judgment." This is one of my favorite quotes by my main man (and idol) Benjamin Franklin. The guy knows what he's talking about. He has the most impressive Wikipedia bio of pretty much anyone I've seen. Printer, author, inventor, diplomat, philosopher, American originator of the term "overachiever".

Of all the quotes-turned-definitions I've provided, I believe this one most effectively captures what I believe growing up to be. That said, if will is "power of choosing one's own actions" and wit is "understanding, intelligence, or sagacity; astuteness" and judgment "the ability to judge, make a decision, or form an opinion objectively, authoritatively, and wisely" I wonder if this means Franklin has an unreasonably favorable viewpoint of life. I've been told I'm a bit of an eternal optimist or "big dreamer" and those, too, are labels I've grown very fond of.

Philosophers write books, comedians tell jokes, TV writers make us cry, but neither Sigmund Freud nor Chris Rock or Grey's Anatomy can best Mr. Hundred-Dollar-Bill when it comes to defining growing up, particularly these years I, and you all, currently live in.

I'm choosing my actions and living with my mistakes. Or perhaps none of this matters because, in the words of Abe Lincoln, "in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years."

Still, here's to making sure none of my mistakes are bad enough to wind up on Wikipedia someday. That is, unless it means my bio page is more noteworthy (i.e. 8th graders writing book reports, college students quoting me in essays) than Frankin's as a result. Maybe "Friends and Colleagues" will be attributed to me in the same section with the "two-tie look" and the "shirt-over-button-down".