BlockStandard.com

Afternoon, Man Among Boys readers.  Instead of giving you a blog today, I want to tell you about a new collaboration called Block Standard (www.blockstandard.com).

Block Standard is a collective of like-minded and like mission men who decided to pool their individual insights into one blog for the immediate dissemination of information that enables you to improve your money-making capabilities. You’re going to get a lot of different views from different people from a lot of different angles, each building on the other.

The goal is to empower you with knowledge.  What you do with it is completely up to you.

Block Standard…“Redefine Your Corner”

When You Leave Me With No Choice…

A man needs to know when to maintain his calm.  It is important not to jump to conclusion too quickly and keep cool in testy situations…

And there’s a time to act a fool.  Yes I said it.

Some people don’t understand rational behavior and logic.  There are some people you just can’t talk to, and they’re usually at the extreme ends of the spectrum:

• Incredibly stupid – They can’t process what you’re saying and it gets frustrating to talk to them
• Incredibly educated – They think they know everything everything and don’t have to listen (basically, they’re classing you as the former)

In these cases, if walking away isn’t an option, you may have to set social protocol aside and show your ass to make a point.

In a previous post, I told you that my son was in the hospital.  They were able to temporarly help with his pain, but aren’t able to find the source. We’ve been told several things from several different specialists, doctors, and nurses.  Instructions from the daytime covering physician are different from the night time physician.   And in the middle is my son, still in pain.

The doctors came into the room to discuss what type of testing we should do. One doctor would put one plan in motion while another would do some thing entirely different on the next shift.  What one nurse told my ex-wife differed from what they told me.

We tried to talk to the nurses and doctors rationally, asking all the appropriate questions and wanting explainations. What we received was the usual generic phrases followed by an air of “we’re the professionals, keep your simple asses out of the let us handle it.”  And for a while, we did.  I mean, they’re the experts, right?  They are supposed to help us.

Doctors would come in the room in huddles to poke and prod while they guessed at what the cause could be.  It seemed that no one had a clue as to what they were doing.  Finally…I had enough…

“THIS SOME BULLSH*T!  YOU MUTHAF*CKAZ BETTER GET IT RIGHT!  IT’S GONNA BE SOME PROBLEMS IF SH*T DON’T GET STRAIGHT!”

For those who know me, usually I’m a soft-spoken fellow who will try to reason with you.  I really do.  I’m an educated man.  A learned man.  But they didn’t respect that. I tried to be polite and no one wanted to listen.

Now there’s a 2000 pound gorilla in the room wishing a muthaf*cka would come out their mouth sideways.

I followed that with other things that I’d rather not say in polite company but my tirade got things moving.  The chief hospital administrator got involved and started to put things in motion.   It was explained how f*cked up our experience was and that he needed to get his people in gear. After that, he got things moving.

So I had to get “ish” and act like I had no home training.  But sh*t is getting done.

Feel free to comment.

Falling For The Okie Doke

When we’re going through a bad situation or seeking help, we often look for someone to analyze our problems.  This leaves vulnerable, and we’ll listen to just about anyone that lends an ear and seems to know what they’re talking about.

That’s very dangerous.  When you’re at your lowest is when you need to hear what people are saying the most.  There are millions of snake oil salesmen out there that lack substance, but because it sounds like relieving words at a time of need, we take it as gospel.

That’s when people fall for the “okie doke.”

For those of you who don’t know what that “okie doke” is, that’s when someone gets played for a fool.  Think of all those internet scams out there that promise $1000 a day for 15 minutes work…and all you have to do is make 3 payments of $39.95 for it.  That sounds like a godsend…but if it were that easy, there wouldn’t be a broke ass on the planet.   A lot of people fall for the “okie doke” on a regular basis.

The reason I bring this up is I was listening to an urban radio station today and heard a classic example of the “okie doke”.  A psychic was on and invited people to call in and discuss their problems.  A  young woman named Trina called in to ask the psychic if she should stay with her child’s father.  She said he comes around to spend time with her and the baby, but that they don’t see eye to eye.

A slick talker would be able to take a lot out of the italicized passage and use leading questions to guide someone in the direction they want the conversation to go in, luring them into the “okie doke”.  The psychic skillfully asked  series of questions that didn’t really say much, but had Trina thinking she was the second coming….

You probably feel overwhelmed with work and taking care of the baby, right?

Uh, no sh*t.  Basically, Trina’s a single mom, and there may be no tougher job in the world than that. Unless she’s on welfare, she’s working.  I know I talk a lot of sh*t about the ladies, but I acknowledge and appreciate the hard work a single mom puts in holding down a 40 hour a week job, and then coming home to cook dinner and help the kids with homework.  She must be tough in a tough situation.

The psychic made Trina feel appreciated, like someone out there understands what she’s going through.  Whether the psychic was single and had children or not is irrelevant; she made Trina feel like she could relate and played the sympathetic friend.

The first part of the “okie doke” is to make someone feel like they are safe and can trust you; a boa constrictor always hugs its prey before squeezing it to death.

(On a Side Note:  Some of you ladies brought this upon yourselves. A lot of times, you nagged a good man to death and drove him away.  The next time you want to blame someone, look in the mirror instead of calling your girlfriends and complaining that there are no good men out there.  He wanted to help with kids with homework and make family time, but you were steady b*tchin’ about the toilet seat being up.  The toilet seat is down now, but there’s no man in sight.  Dummy.)

There were probably money issues, right?

That’s not exactly a leap of faith since money is one of, if not the, top reason couples separate, whether it be one uses it to control the other, or just that the bills and necessities aren’t being taken care of.  And we the current economic state of the country, chances are money issues would apply to Trina too.

Even though he come by to see the baby and make family time, you’re still not happy, right?

All the psychic did here is repeat what Trina first told her but in the form of a question.  She didn’t really add anything, but the way she phrased the question makes it seem like she did, kind of like the “Great Repeater” at the office, who just repeats everything everyone else says with a few gestures and some big words thrown in.

xxxxxxxxx…RIGHT?

Notice how the psychic ended each question with the word right.  She’s TELLING Trina these are the reasons for her issues, even if they aren’t.  Right isn’t used to confirm, but to control.  For someone already having troubles, hearing that this is right is like finding the cause to your problems…even though they are something all together different.

After Trina hung up, I’m sure she felt like she had the source of all her problems…but she really didn’t get much help.

That’s the “okie doke” for you.  Feel free to comment.

Don’t Be Scared To Take An A** Whuppin…

Nobody likes to lose.  Thanks just how we were brought up.  To win.  To do our best…and if we do our best, we can call ourselves the victor and hoist the trophy high above our heads.

That isn’t always a good thing.

I remember reading an article in the December 14 edition of ESPN The Magazine by Jay Bilas (not usually a fan of his, but it make for good reading while in the sauna).  He was talking about the value of playing in early tournaments in college basketball, and made some very good points.  In those early tournaments, teams usually play out very good, out-of-conference teams instead of their usual in-conference cupcakes. A lot of times they’re in a tough matchup or even lose, but there can be some value in that.

In the article, Bilas quotes Michigan State coach Tom Izzo as saying “You’re fooling yourself if you think you can be ready without playing the best teams early.  But you can’t be fooled when you’re getting your butt kicked in a fistfight. You need that fistfight to get better, to evaluate your team and yourself.”

That got me to thinking about how we can apply that in life. A man shouldn’t be afraid to test himself against a tough challenge, whether that be interviewing for a new position or trying to step out on your own.  Whether you fail or succeed, you’ll learn a lot about yourself that you can build on.

Taking a loss will let you know what you have to work on.  It could expose the slightest detail that you’re lacking.  You might be good at initiating contact, but suck at “closing the deal.” You might be able to develop new ideas, but your ability to present them to the powers-that-be might be lacking.  Develop these and that will make you stronger.

However, if you take a greater challenge and succeed, that’s a great confidence boost and confirms that you’re ready to move on to bigger and better things.  Dunking on your 5 year old little brother says that you have a twisted view of family time.  Dunking on Lebron James says that you might be ready to don an NBA uniform yourself.

But the key to all of this is that…you can’t be scared to take an ass whuppin.  You can’t be scared to take a greater challenge because you might fail.  You can’t think about the fact that you might fail.  It you take the greater challenge, you just might surprise yourself.

I’ve missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I’ve been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed. – Michael Jordan, arguably the greatest player of all time

I think that says it all.  Feel free to comment.

A Bengal’s Tale

Picking a good woman is a tough thing to do.  There’s no exact method or way to go about it. It’s as much art as it is science, and no one seems to have gotten it right.

There have been some theories and a few proven testing methods.  I remember a particular scene from “A Bronx Tale” where local mob boss, Sonny, is trying to school his young protegé, “C”, in the fine art of finding a woman.

Sonny: Alright, listen to me. You pull up right where she lives, right? Before you get outta the car, you lock both doors. Then, get outta the car, you walk over to her. You bring her over to the car. Dig out the key, put it in the lock and open the door for her. Then you let her get in. Then you close the door. Then you walk around the back of the car and look through the rear window. If she doesn’t reach over and lift up that button so that you can get in: dump her.

Calogero ‘C’ Anello: Just like that?

Sonny: Listen to me, kid. If she doesn’t reach over and lift up that button so that you can get in, that means she’s a selfish broad and all you’re seeing is the tip of the iceberg. You dump her and you dump her fast.

I’d like to add one to this.  How about if a woman is willing to drive off while you are in the back of a speeding truck and she keeps going?

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m referring to the sad tale of Cincinnati Bengals’ wide receiver Chris Henry.  He went to his fiancée’s, Loleni Tonga, family’s house and was helping to plan their wedding when something happened that caused Tonga to leave in a hurry.  Henry jumped into the back of her truck as she sped down the street.  At some point Henry either jumped or fell from the back of the truck and died.

She says that she wasn’t driving fast in the 35 MPH zone because he was in the back standing up.  But here’s a thought…how about ya dumb ass stops the truck? How about you get out and see what it was he wanted to talk about?

Any woman who would keep driving when her fiancée is in the back, a man who would take her hand marriage, is a sorry piece of sh*t.  Chris Henry was not trying to remake the movie “Teenwolf” where Michael J. Fox was “car surfing.”  He was not “ghost ridin’ the whip” and asked Tonga to take the wheel (I don’t get the “ghost ridin’” thing, but that’s just me).  He was trying to get her attention. If the neighbor’s account was true, where he heard Henry say that if Tonga didn’t stop the truck that he would jump off and kill himself, she should have stopped the truck.

I don’t know what was said during the argument, but I know that if I’m driving away and someone who loves me and that I claim to love jumps in the back, I’m stopping.  I might be irate and angry but I”m stopping because they are standing in the back of a moving vehicle and they could get hurt.

But I have to put part of this on Chris Henry too. There had to be some signs that she was a sorry ass.  The booty couldn’t have been that good to make him overlook the signs and put a rock on her hand.  There must have been something that he overlooked.  There had to be some signs that this was a psycho b*tch and that she wasn’t wife material.  Henry ignored the signs.

I’m putting my money on the theory that Tonga never leaned over to open the car door.  And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Feel free to comment.

A Nice Surprise

I’m sorry for not posting the last few days.  I’m in Chicago on business and I haven’t been able to get to Man Among Boys as often as I’d like.

When two people have been in a relationship for a long time, sometimes the love gives way to hurt and pain, and that’s when the relationship ends.  Women become more emotional, and men shield themselves and become colder.   There’s a lot of hate, but eventually, even that gives way to understanding. I have an interesting story to tell.

My son has been sick for the last few days.  He’s been impacted  and has stomach cramping severe enough that he’s gone to the hospital the last two days.  My ex-wife and I have never been able to communicate, but when it comes to anything that has to do with our son, we make due.

I had to fly out to Chicago but I wanted to stop by and see him on my way to the airport to make sure he was alright.  I knocked on the door and my ex-wife greeted me with a warm “hello”.  I replied with my usual “hey” and walked in.

I walked into the living room and made my way to the stairs to go to our son’s room. My ex-wife stopped me short and asked me if I wanted something to drink.

“Is it poisoned?”

“No, it’s not poisoned.”

Hmmm.  So she was just interested in making sure that I wasn’t thirsty.  That was strange.  She was being…nice.

For those of you who know me personally know that our relationship and marriage was very rocky to a point that we hated…I mean HATED…each other.  We have designated places for when we pick up or drop off our son because we don’t feel comfortable alone with each other.  Our son has a cell phone so he can call either of us without having to involve the other.

I’ve laid down to sleep and had dreams of watching her take a bath and throwing an electric space heater in.  For Christmas, I thought about getting on some Kill Bill 2 sh*t and giving her a huge box of money wrapped with a big bow…and when she ripped open her present, have a black mamba with a Santa hat on spring out and bite her on the neck.

But this was different. So I decided to go with it for now.

I said thanks, took the drink and headed up to my son’s room.  I kissed him on the forehead, plopped down on the bed next to him, and we played a few Xbox games until I had to head to the airport.  My ex-wife stayed in the room a little while and watched.  All three of us laughed and joked a while, which was really weird because the conversations my ex-wife and I usually have revolve around the words “f*ck you”, “b*tch”, and “drop dead” .

You could see the joy on my son’s face and he looked back and forth at us.  It almost made him feel better.

For those of you saying “Awwww, that’s so nice. They’re made for each other. They’ll get back together”, uh….NO.  There is no reconciliation.  We’re ex’s for a reason.  Our time has run its course.  Maybe we’re realizing that although we’re not good together, that doesn’t mean that we have to hate each other.  I hope she finds someone that is crazy enough to love her.  Two crazy people can stay together forever.

As I got up and made my leave, she wished me a safe trip and told me to call her and my son when I got in to let them know I got there.  Hmm, another act of concern and kindness…gotta be a full moon somewhere.

Or maybe we just turned the corner.  Even after the hurt and pain, we still have a beautiful child to care for.

We’ll see what happens the next time we meet.

Feel free to comment.

Welcome To 2010…Ready or Not

Evening, all.  By the time you read this, I’ll have made my annual trek to Atlanta to celebrate New Years Eve.  I love Atlanta.  I have some good friends there and the party scene is just what I need to end a very trying 2009.  I’m going to go out tonight and pop a few bottles with some friends, and maybe even make some new ones.  You know, cut loose a little bit and act a fool…within reason, of course.

This year was troubling, but I did get a few things accomplished.  I was able to move on and put the past behind me, as you’ve read in some of my posts.  I started this blog to reach out to people and tell what men are all about.  I was able to refocus and get back to doing ME.  I guess those are a few good things.

We all talk about making New Year’s resolutions as if they are going to be the gateway to some magical new lifestyle.  Some people believe in them, some people don’t.  I’m not going to debate with you about whether they work or not.  As Henry Ford said, “If you think you can do a thing or think you can’t do a thing, you’re right.”

I’ve decided it’s time to make a change.  Not the type of hopeful, Obama change, but the type of real, soul-searching change what will decide my future and what I’ll do moving forward (Note:  Get it in gear, Mr. President.  We need to see more of the change you promised in 2010.)

That brings me to my New Year’s resolution that I’m going to make, my change.  I’m going to live by a quote I was taught by a supervisor I used to work under, Mr. Wingate.  When I was in college, I worked at the state’s central branch of the Post Office loading bulk containers onto trucks.  Whenever you told him you couldn’t be done, you got the same answer from him…

“I can’t accept can’t.”

Somehow, I’d forgotten that I.  I’d changed from the cocky, young SOB who wasn’t afraid to try anything to a guy who was more timid.  F*** that.  I can’t be that guy anymore.  I’m not that guy anymore.  So that’s my resolution for 2010, to live by ”I can’t accept can’t.”

(That and “That’s not puttin’ chips in my pocket, pat-naaaa!”  Shout out to Freeman.  If you haven’t checked out his site, take a look at Rise And Grind ( www.riseandgrind.com).  It’s a good read.)

I’d be interested to hear about your resolutions.  What changes are you making for the New Year?  And why aren’t you starting them now?

So go out tonight, party, dance, sip some champagne or grape juice for my 21 and under friends, and have a great time.  But get home safe.

Have a Happy New Year.  Feel free to comment.

Time To Take The Big Shovel

Pride is one of a man’s best and worst attributes.  Pride will make a man work as hard as he can and give his best effort.  Pride will also blind a man to the fact that there comes a time in life where it is time to move on and “pass the torch.”

This post is a bit more personal.  It has to do with someone I admire and look up to…my father.

For those of you who watch the national weather, you’ll know that we had a major snowstorm in the Northeast the weekend before Christmas. Some areas got anywhere from 18 – 24 inches of snow.  I live in the area that got the 24 inches.

Anyway, just as I’d dug myself out, I got a call from my mother asking if I could come by.  She sounded worried and asked could I come over as soon as possible.  I drove over as fast as I could, considering the weather, to find my father digging out the driveway.

I grew up here so I know how bad the snow can get, but this was the most snow we’d gotten in years. The plows had already come through so they pack heaps and snow in front of everyone’s house.  And there was dad, bent over and grunting considerably to dig himself out.

This bring me to my story of the Big Shovel. For was long as I can remember, there has always been the Big Shovel, about 4 feet long with a large metal end that looked like it could move mountains with one swipe.  When I was younger, it reminded me of a battle-axe with my father being the only black Viking in the neighborhood as he dealt the snow his wrath.

But I’m not so young anymore, and my dad not so mighty.  You can only expect so much from the old man.  He’s still pretty strong for his age and will probably outlive most of us, but you could tell that Father Time had finally gotten a hold of him. He seemed to struggle with the ice.  Instead of the superhero I’d looked up to for so many years…he looked…human…mortal.

I knew why my mom called me now.  It was time for me to take the Big Shovel.

It wasn’t like I didn’t try to take it before.  All through high school and college, my dad insisted and demanded that he take the big shovel and the brunt of the work.  Even after I had a family of my own and stopped by to check on them, dad was still outside shoveling away.  He’d always told me that’s what the man of the house does.  I was always given the smaller plastic shovel and was tasked with clearing the walkway and the steps.  From the car area down to the street was the “man work.”

I thought about how I’d approach him about it.  I really did.  My dad is a very proud man, who often tells of how he and his brothers had to go and chop trees for the wood stove to heat the house.  I remember him attending a football banquet at his old high school where he presented an award to an athlete that broke his all time rushing record, a record that stood for almost 40 years.  He was strong as an ox and took pride in taking care of his loved ones.

But this wasn’t the same man.  I wasn’t as concerned about his physical well-being as I was his pride.  As a man, we always take pride in taking care of our family and home.  And he couldn’t do that anymore…at least in this case.

I stepped out of my car and put on my gloves.  I approached my dad and gently tapped him on the shoulder.  He looked at me as if he knew it was time.

“Hey dad, let me take over for a while.”

He gave me his usual “I got it” and went back to work so I let him shovel a few more times until he was out of breath.  Then I tapped him on the shoulder again and smiled.  He gave me the shovel and went into the house.

It’s a hard thing, letting go of your pride and stepping aside.  Admitting that you’ve taken something as far as you can.  The mind is willing but the body is able.  But eventually, we all have to do that.  My father finally passed the Big Shovel onto me, and one day, I’ll pass it onto my son.

…or maybe I’ll just call him and tell him to take it.  That ice seems to get heavier and heavier.

Feel free to comment.

Act Your Age

I have to face facts…I’m getting older.  But that’s all a part of growing up.  A part of becoming a man among boys.

That’s why it always irks me to hear people say they’re “young at heart” and “you’re only as old as you feel.”  It’s every easy to take those statements out of context.

People often use those as excuses not to grow up.

On his  “Kingdom Come” album” (not his best work, but ok), Jay-Z even made song called “30 Something” where he talks about 30 being the new 20.

Sorry, bro…30 is 30.

When people say things like “young at heart”, they fool themselves into thinking they have more time than they do.  They think that they have time plan for retirement, time to solidify their career, time to start a family.  That’s very dangerous.

Life is just a series of decisions you make that are strung together.  Once you go down a path it, helps to determine your future choices.  Time is something you can’t get back once you lose it. There is an old quote that goes “each day brings 86,400 seconds, whatever isn’t used is gone forever”.  You can’t get that back, no matter how many miles you run, how many vitamins you take, or how much plastic surgery you get.  You can’t turn back the clock, no matter how much you try to fool yourself into thinking you can.

Instead of looking back and trying to recapture youth, why don’t we look forward and try to build a future?  You’ll be older much longer than you’ll be younger, so isn’t that what you should prepare for?

I think a lot of what drives us to want to go back is fear and responsibility.  15 years ago, my only responsibilities were to make sure I got to class on time and that I wore protection so I didn’t have any kids.  Now, I have a son of my own, bills to pay, strategic responsibilities at the office, and taxes to pay to Uncle Sam’s bum ass (get yo hands out my pockets!).  There’s a lot more at stake now.

There’s also a lot more opportunity. Sure things can and will go wrong, but what if things go right.  With the experience and resources, you can accomplish a lot.  Fear is just an opportunity to prove yourself.

Stop always looking to go back.  As Billy Joel sang, “the good ol’ days weren’t always good, and tomorrow ain’t as bad as it seems.”

Will you start acting your age?  Feel free to comment.

The Monster In My Closet

Part of being a man is admitting your fears and getting them out.  This post is as much for me as it is for you to read; call it a cleansing of the soul or facing my fears or whatever shi*t you want to call it.  It’s just something I have to get off my chest.

There’s a monster in my closet that I’m afraid of.  I’m scared to death of it.  It nearly killed me the last time; I barely got away.  I remember sitting in my living room with my head in my hands, wonder how I was going to go on…or even if I should.

Those who know me, who know the real me, know that the last few years have been really rough emotionally.  My life was turned upside down (you know there was a woman involved) and I got hit from the blind side.  Fifteen years…gone in an instant.

When it first happened, I went through a really deep depression.  I didn’t want to go out or see anyone.  My best friend was the bottle of vodka I’d nurse until I fell asleep.  I was fully functional to those who didn’t know; I was promoted twice at work and received several accolades.  But once I got home and closed the door, I was alone, and the monster would come out of the closet.

The monster was me.  A depressed, unmotivated, self-destructive me.  A me I didn’t recognize when I looked in the mirror. This monster looked timid and afraid.  I didn’t recognize it. I didn’t recognize me.

There would be days I wouldn’t shave, get dressed, or even bathe.  I didn’t care if I ate or slept.  I’d just stay in bed.  Days seemed passed without me even knowing sometimes.  I’d was a walking corpse; I was dead inside.

There were times when death seemed a reprieve.   I was dead anyway; I just happened to be breathing.

I’m telling you this because the monster nearly came out of the closet again.  It wasn’t because of a woman; it was just because of life.  Things are a little tough right now.  Stress is building and my motivation was sloping.  For the past few days, I hadn’t gone to the gym (those that know me are probably shocked; I’m a ritual 6 day per week guy).  I’d look at the phone and just let it ring; I didn’t want to talk to anyone.  This feeling seemed too familiar; the monster was coming out again..

Am I crazy?  A lil’ bit.

But something happened today.  I woke up early, 6 AM. I laid in bed with my eyes opened.  I rubbed my overgrown facial hair.  I looked around my messy room; clothes and papers were everywhere. But something changed today.

I told myself, “Get up.”  And I did.  The monster wasn’t going to get me.  Not this time.

I cleaned up my bedroom, changed into my workout clothes, and headed for the gym.  I showered and shaved.  I felt like a brand new man.  I went to a casino and played a poker tournament.  My pocket Kings got cracked by a set of 3′s.  I laughed it off.  I didn’t make the final table, but it didn’t matter.  I was just having fun.  I did some Christmas shopping.  I called an old friend I hadn’t spoken to in a year.  I wrote a few blogs you’ll see here in the future.  I started reading a book.

In short…I decided to live.

The monster’s not going to get me.  Not this time.

Feel free to comment.