Telegram

Had a conversation with one of my good friends recently. About being simulated versus being happy. I have used these concepts interchangeably for a while now. Having the mind being occupied versus the mind being in euphoria.

I can tell you I have no idea 'bout no psychology or sociology or blah-blah-ology. But I do have the mind of a semi-mid-high functioning 25 year-old, so here is my take on it being simulated versus happy:


I have been a teacher for 3 years, unfortunately having to end that career a couple of weeks ago. My mind was always occupied, so many things to do, so many words being spouted out, rippin' and runnin' like a Jon outta' hot yoga. There is no other job that has kept me on my toes at over 50 hours/week.

Jody was simulated.

I was with kids who I loved, got to teach science to kids I loved, got to work with people I loved, got to be around science, which I loved.

Jody was happy.

But I did all of this stuff in Norfolk, Virginia as I do (did) in Denver, Colorado.Same subject, kids are all the same, coworkers were good. I always remember the quote your problems will not go away when you move to Atlanta. 

That quote is a reference to me moving to Denver; same to my friend for moving here, same to me for moving. Only moving here fixed most of my problems. I needed to feel strong and confident and myself in an area that promoted people of similar background and I never felt that way after college. There was finely this piece of heaven that I never thought existed. And to see myself flourish has been so satisfying. Teaching yoga, running dogs, being a 7th grade science teacher, running wherever I wanted to at night, relaxing night life, good roommates, a more preferable climate. I never knew a place could exist.

Then there were the internal conflicts of figuring out my passion or a career or my sexuality or my purpose, blah-blah-blah. All of these things that I kept carrying and lunging around, looking to my clueless 20-something friends or social media to tell me everything. 

It's funny because after all of this, I have to keep referring to my "75-year plan". It's a book that ultimately tells me exactly what to do at every point in time in my life. It's essential and vital to the survival of Hotwada Cornbread, Gentrified Cornbread, Jody, and the bundles of Jon. Where I am supposed to be location-wise, who I should be dating, how to sustain my black wellness and black boy joy.

Unfortunately I have no idea where to find it, and I am not necessarily looking for it.

"Telegram" By Jay Rock is a smooth melody to remind oneself not to be caught up in grand valor of social media.

He Still Loves Me

"I've been runnin', runnin', runnin', gotta' take me bath"

Thanks for the intro YBN Nahmir, I'll take it from here.

I always feel as though my mind is like a hamster on a wheel, and my body follows suite. Constantly moving through exercise and thinking about new projects, ideas, learning and sh*t.

"He Still Loves Me" By The Fighting Temptations Soundtrack has been a go-to song to sing driving along 1-70

Energy

I think it's important to note that I feel almost everything.

My foot striking the pavement when I run, the saxophone melodies off of Jay-Z's American Gangster, my Papa's excitement when I pick up the phone, the gaze on the back of my neck when I enter specific stores, etc.

With that amount of feels, there comes an amount of cares. I know I am using that word incorrectly, give me a minute.

On average, the most average-ass person interacts with trillions or ka-billions of molecules every minute of every day. That's the most mayonnaise, basic, carbon copy Joe-Smoe just existing in any space on this planet. This person more than likely ignores most of these interactions between single and compound molecules because in all actuality, who is going to intentionally interact with a ka-billy-jilly-ion particles every single minute. Who would care?

Now does Jody interact with all the oxygens I breathe per minute or sodium chlorides I consume at every meal? Heck naw. What am I, a psychopath? Do I think about interacting with those molecules? Heckers nopers. Do I look like a 7th-year senior on a trust fund at Penn State? Do I feel every one of these groups of atoms?

I don't think so.

Sometimes I am drawn to a certain energy. But sometimes I am always drawn to certain energy. It is as though that energy immediately needs to be handled and maintained properly even if that energy has literally no connection or tie to me. And what happens when a battery is powering a flashlight and runs out of chemicals and molecules and such to power this source of illumination? What happens when you're supposed to be the light to guide souls to a beautiful-land but runneth out of wax? Where does the candle get its wax when the wax maker hasn't shown up to work, but the candle still has to light the way?

I don't know

And I don't know if wax maker is a word,

Big K.R.I.T. 's new single off of TDT gives me a "1up" and gets me pumped and strong for most days,

Great Day

Consider the following:

I am the Jon Of The Year.

J.O.D.Y.

It has been proven time and time again. The invincible, miraculous, immaculate, impenetrable, unbeaten Jon Whiting. It can be proven with science and data charts and pie graphs conjured up by Carl Sagan; Jon is the greatest Jon of all time. I wish someone would have persuaded Jon otherwise.

It is not completely unfathomable, your glasses are not smudged your ears or not full of wax. I think. You are in the presence of greatness, every time you receive a musty hug from Jonny Boy, every time catch a slight glance of my bloodshot eyes from Jonny Bravo, every time you hear a stuttered sentence leave the lips of Jon-Jon, you should really thank him.

The awkward dance moves, the hour-long phones calls when yelling in your earpiece, the endless memes that have been golden-showered through your eyes, the anal punctuality at rao concerts; most people pay for this experience.

That’s right; the broken, broke, anxiety-driven, ashy, dehydrated, overzealous, distraught Juvy Jon has arrived through on your doorstep. And where will you be?

Madvillain created "Great Day" produced with Madlib, normally belted out in the car as I am riding through I-70

Crew

Hey let's be honest. I miss the south. The-the-the family, the love, the soul food, the proximity. It is the place that birthed me and raised me into the Jody I am today. All of the racism, the sexism, the closed-mindedness, the humidity, the Willacoochee accents slathered with some Twiggs County slang. Oh lord,

It was not until I got to Denver and stayed for a few weeks that I realized how special below the Mason-Dixon line was to me. I have ran over 1,000 miles in the 303 in the past year, and have yet to be called a nigger or monkey or get heckled by my fellow people. In fact, I can't even remember how many times I was cheered on running down 16th Street Mall at 2am in the morning on a Saturday. But while in the south, where I have lived 94.8% of my life, I don't remember how many times I was verbally attacked by being called a nigger or monkey or get heckled by my fellow people.

Yes I count being called a nigger while running in Gloucester Point, Virginia at 8 am, a verbal attacked. I don't remember the kids face (most white people look the same to me and of course I call grown men kids when they act accordingly) even though I stared them down as they sped off in their '02 Ranger.

Couldn't even run in Portsmouth at 5am without black folk looking at me like I'm suspect. I remember not running in Portsmouth just because I thought someone might physically attacked me. Because I was warned while in the barber shop to not run near Norcom high school.

These things happen, right? I should be conditioned at this point to be tolerant of ignorance. It wouldn't dare happen to Denver, as I blare out "Crew" by Goldlink and Co., making strides along Welton Street. Maybe Denver did a better job at suppressing its ignorance by ignoring it? If you don't see ignorance or interact with it, those things just disappear through natural selection right? Right,

"Crew" by Goldlink ft. Brent Faiyaz & Shy Glizzy reminds me of the east coast and the nostalgia of the south.

Radio Ladio

I love my mom.
I love my dad.
I love my brother.
I love rap music.
I love gospel.
I love indie electronic-dance music.
I love running 5ks.
I love yoga.
I love video games.
I love my two dozen tattoos.
I love science.
I love teaching.
I love kissing people on the cheek.
I love dogs.
I love Jody.
I love my skin.
I love my receding hairline.
I Love Isaiah Rashad.
I love being from the south.
I love MF DOOM.
I love cosplaying.
I love races.
I love the name Virginia & Clementine.
I love chicken pad thai.
I love Terry Crews, The Rock, and Idris Elba.
I love pain.
I love soreness.
I love the 20 people who regularly read my blog.
I love progress.
I love cole slaw & baked beans on a sandwich.
I love when my roommate's friends leave alcohol leftover from a party.
I love my uncle.
I love my auntie.
I love Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World.
I love Radio Ladio by Metronomy.
I love white liquor.
I love gainz.
I love referencing strip clubs in Portsmouth.
I love Cousin Skeeter, Sandy, Beanie Baby, KAT, RisaLion, Jamal, and Renny.
I love plaid-collared shirts.
I love using nicknames for everybody in my contact list.
I love ugly sweaters.
I love rolling up the sleeves on my plaid-collared shirts.
I love doing Young Jeezy ab-lids.
I love cocoa butter kisses from old black ladies.
I love thick thighs and child-bearing hips.
I love NBA 2k.
I love Jon.
I love the security hard in high school who thought I was in a gang.
I love pizza.
I love dancing awkwardly on social media.
I love black superheroes.
I love christmas lights specifically when it is not Christmas.
I love apples.
I love black sitcoms from the '90s and early '00s.
I love trying my hardest.
I love Toro Y Moi.
I love when people pick-up the phone.
I love doing the Wakanda salute in Warrior 2.
I love Ben Wallace.
I love fried potatoes.
I love saying the n-word.
I love when people give me hugs without asking.
I love...

Radio Ladio by Metronomy was my first intro to indie EDM and needless to say, I completely lost my mind.

Been Ballin'

I thoroughly believe in the quarter-life crisis and all of its splendors.

The post-college limbo, the uncertainty of a profession, running rapid like a stray dog in heat (or a 46 year-old white man training for the Rock ‘n’ Roll marathon in Virginia Beach); this sometimes feign depression hits people in different ways. I decided to ignore most of these mid-20s dilemmas by completely submitting to everything.

Jody is the epitome of a quarter-life crisis; moving to Denver without any self-sufficient funds, leaving a job and partner with a tin of gin in one hand and a 40-pound kettlebell in the other. Staying in 7 cities in a year, mooching off of friends, going on dozens of Tinder dates, accumulating credit card debt are things that a 21 year-old Jody would not condone.

But Jody is also the epitome of a quarter-life euphoria; moving to Denver with blind optimism, starting 3 new jobs that will be hold dear, moving on from a relationship, dating people freely, doing yoga and mimosas on late Saturday mornings, experiencing almost every city in the Denver metro area.

From the age of 21 to 25, the soundtrack of my life going from “Angels” by Chance the Rapper to “Been Ballin’” by Ballout. One song inspiring hope and joy and optimism while the latter inspiring hope and joy and optimism with a side of a fickle and frivolous baller-ish lifestyle.

Every time my Newtons hit the pavement, every time my fingertips reach my toe tips, every time I toss a weight in the air is the only certainty I feel. It’s nice because most people do not even have that and it has chiseled off of the confusion of my 20s. I know exactly what my body will do and when and how it will do it. It won’t fail me because it can’t. Because I am not sure what I do without it.

"Been Ballin'" By Ballout ft. Chief Keef has been looped in my head from my favorite social media favorites King Vader and Lenar.