The Master

I started running one morning. It was a Tuesday, I think. So it was 5-mile intervals. Everything always hurts, and I am always tired or confused. My body, mind, and soul have continued to grow and expand, sometimes at an exponential rate at times. 1 foot down, 1 knee up my arm pumped, one arm straight. I recall the dramatic knee pains that left my left knee shattered and almost useless in sophomore year in high school. I still had yet to figure out what had left me almost severely crippled. I recalled my speech impediment that halted any cyphers I was to join in on during pep rallies for marching band. I hurdled over a dead cat, bloated on the side of the road. I've longed for the opportunity to show the full extent of my intellectual knowledge and physical prowess to own self but to no avail. There's so many external factors that people my age deal with: societal pressure through social media accounts and such. Using those sort of underlying themes from Myspace and Instagram and sometimes LinkedIn, I wanted to become the greatest person I could be. The real J.O.D.Y. I've always wanted to show myself off to the 1st grade version of me, so I can be like "look at me" to me Even getting my M.A.T. in Secondary Science or my RYT 500 won't mean much to me; will just be another notch on the belt. I want to be 'The Master" in everything, always, all time. I want to learn how to dance like Josephine Baker and fight without fear like Nawi. I want to be The Master . On my own plane of existence, of course This doesn't have anything to do with titles or ranks anymore. I was done with that years ago. If I were Sicily and I baked bread like my hands were crafted by Young Jeezy then that's just what I do. Forever. And always. I want to make great bread. I hit a stop temporarily, unsure if a car could see my reflectors as I peeked around a stop sign. They did not. They barely ever did. I want to become a great yoga teacher. I want to be a great science educator. I want to be run really really really fast. I want to entertain and bring joy to people's lives. I want to learn every single hobby and skill and trait and quirk of everything, ever. Why would someone not want to live their life to the fullest and make themselves full of joy and happiness by delivering top tier work? But what does that mean to someone like the boys who reminded me I was stupid and a faggot everyday in grade school. What reference boy point does an 11 year-old boy have to ensure the world doesn't hate him, his skin, his mind...what reference point does a 27 year-old man have to know the world doesn't hate him, his skin, his mind... But who I am kidding, there's always a reference point. There was Freddy Adu then there was Kyle Massey and now there's that one guy off of Instagram. There's always someone who seemingly exemplifies these traits then ultimately fails to impress the world. If only they ate more cornbread when they were a kid. I had continued running and shuffled to the next song,

A Bass Clarinet and Microwaved Totino’s

I rarely did I get in trouble growing up as a kid. It wasn’t really my tempo. I received a demerit once in 7th grade for forgetting my notebook and bawled my eyes out for 10 minutes until my teacher just told me to forget about it. The priority from 5th grade through the rest of grade school was to do the best I could but with minimal effort, so I had enough time to play video games. That’s it, cut, dried out, and laid out ready to sell on the market. That’s not have school works though apparently. Reminiscing on this past school year and my reentry to teaching had brought up my intentions and goals from when I was 13***. During in-person school I got pushed , shoved, insulted, teased, berated, cursed at, embarrassed, belittled. And I always wondered why? From 7th grade through high school I made my best efforts to not sit in the lunch room. The only time I met the principal (unless being acknowledged for being black and mild to win “student of the month”) was when the security guards thought my “FUBU” shirt was a gang-affiliated shirt. FYI it was the shirt Ludacris’ “Area Codes” video. But I had to consider, would Jon aka Nyles during during middle school and 1 year of high school fair well being online ? Consider the following: 1. Parents whooping me for the thought of failing a class (check) 2. Stable internet connection (well I used to use dial up for my Nintendo DS Lite so semicheck) 3. The intrinsic need to do well to do well and being able to read independently (check) 4. Shutting the frick up and getting my work done so I can go play Metroid Prime Hunters on my DS Lite until my godmother called, making me lose my connection? (Double check) I don’t think it’s fair to assume that it would go smoothly. Just a reminder of why the kiddos are even here in the first place. All the pain and tragedy that is going on isn’t fair. Some parents are right around my age and have been getting their butts handed to them. Some kids can’t even get food unless they get to school. I had all those resources growing up, so it is easy for me to sit and here and just flex because I just wanted to sit in the library and do homework before I got home. At the same time I have a lot of faith in kids, as I have to since I teach 7th grade. I want them to do well and succeed and no amount of takis or positive reinforcement or Tim Duncan school promos are going to help if they don’t have the right support system. And for now, I’ll be their Dollar Tree version of Ms. Frizzle

***The picture is showing me at the age of 13, celebrating my best friend’s 14th birthday party***

101 Ways They Call You The N-Word

They cheered when he won. Chanted too. Cried tears of joy. Laughed. You would have thought they had just won a Vince Lombardi trophy. Would have thought someone just got down on one knee and proposed in the middle of a skating ice rink. Everyone stopping to stare at the lovely couple. So much energy, so much constant energy, (Apologies, I didn't even somewhat re-read this for edits!) I mean I cried too. You would have thought I was a Squirtle on how hard I cried. And I am a beautiful crier, as elegant as Michael Jordan with the right-left switch back in '91. I had so much energy. So much energy I ran for 5 miles at 10pm on a Tuesday night. Can you imagine having your friends tell you how racist their parents are and then just not correcting them? These are people who may hire me or at least insult me before they fire me. Correct them every single time, like how I correct myself when prompted. That was a few years ago when I lived in racist couple's garage in Portsmouth. I remember they were racist because on how they cried when he won and how quickly they asked me to leave because I repeatedly insulted their president. I wasn't trying to be rude, it's just my coworker had told me "he would have killed me if I was Trayvon and he was Zimmerman" about two days after that election. I remember when he told me, it was so natural; like the same tone and confidence when you order a Zaxby's Club from Zaxby's. Almost effortless. I am fast forward two months later, a property manager sued me for $6,500 in rent, after I refused to be pay $650 in rent for two months. Not that I know much about housing discrimantory practices, but the tub above mine fell threw my own tub. I had to shower at planet fitness. I wished the roaches would chip in on rent, they were running up my electricity bill. My coworkers at the time ranged from a white guy who just graduated Tech to some other guy who graduated from UVA and I didn't like talking them. Like never ever. They spoke of all these political issues and such like it didn't directly affect minorities. It was, uh, disgusting. They spoke about Flint like it was a tissue filled with wadded-up gum. They spoke about the school "which I eventually ended up working at" as though it was discounted Skechers. Like those people who do mission trips to remote parts of the world to go do selfies but aren't allies for anyone who doesn't look like they shop at Target exclusively. Excuse me, I believe it's Tarjay, I am not sure of where politics began and but I do know that people talk with a little bass in their voice when they are wrong. Especially when they are super duper wrong. It's weird right? Some people be backpeddling like Aaron Glenn when they're wrong, straight off into a cliff. Some people will throw them a rope but they start digging a hole like they are diglett, wondering why everyone is "attacking them". If someone says you offended them, it is not up to you to decide if they're right. It is up to you to shut up and listen, Terry Crews. And sometimes it is too late Carolyn Bryant. I wonder if that is why I love horror films so much. It's almost satire on how I think I'm the protagonist of my own movie and that I will not be the first person to be killed in the first part of the movie. THe intro is all nice and go-lucky and heart-warming then everything gets taken away from me. Because someone and some curse, yadda-yadda and I'm that missing kid from the flier or taken from my family unexpectedly. I was minding my own business, now some demonic spirit has recarnated itself into my body and now I'm somehow the bag guy off of what someone else did. Funny, right? Right?

10 Things I Hate About Jo(h)n P.

I am one of those people from my childhood that secretly hope their bullies are slightly inconvienced for the rest of their lives. I am one of those people from their childhood that would be too afraid of thunder and lightning and go sleep in their brother's bed then went the bed. I am one of those people from their childhood that only believed in two main ideas: hate and fear. Everything else was secondary or tertiary. Love, faith, friends, family, hot pockets, education, bass clarinet, video games were the foundation of my life back then but the feelings . Well based off of my childhood journals, that is how I came to this conclusion. My childhood journals started when I was 7 and I wrote in different ones, on and off until now. It seemed liked I was afraid that people would not like me so I would bake them goodies, help them with classwork, play with the one kid no one cared about, etc. From my writings it seemed like I did not enjoy these tasks, at least as the intentional way I do them now. I also despised the way people seemed to hate one another, it seemed like a waste of energy. Hearing my family argue, hearing how much people do not like each other, hearing kids from my childhood call me any name they could think of. Reading through my journals I, like I do but not so much now, try to find a reason behind everything. "Why would they do something that I told them that makes me feel bad over and over again?" Jo(h)n P. wasn't the meanest person I encountered during my childhood but the most consistent. From 3rd grade to 9th grade, he found some way to make me, his 'friends', his teachers, and his own family feel bad. I remembered he would do these awful things and I would read everyone's reactions to his actions. They were just...disappointed. Like when he stole my bike and blamed it on his little brother and I had to go to his house and ask his mom for it back. When he would make my 8th grade World Studies teacher roast because he would not stop talking during tests. Being the first person to call me the 'n' word and being the only person I have attempted to punch outside my family. I am not in the energy to dwell on things and somehow also not the one to forgive people. Me and him had the almost identical titles and he was making me look bad. Whether it be running XCountry or living in the same neighborhood or being in the same classes or being in the same band, why would I ever accept mediocrity from someone Jo(h)n? So being the healthy adult human man I am at the age of 27, I take all of those childhood insecurities and negative energy and put it to a ball of rubberbands and put it as my foundation. All of the laughs and cries and police harrassment and miles ran and cocoa butter kisses and matchmaking on Halo 3, I through it into who I am, put some soil on it and use it to help me grow. Along with Jo(h)n P. Without him I wouldn't have learned how to manage energy or deal with growing emotions or interact with humans who are hollow casts. I am not going to be able to eliminate those terrible things that happen but I can remember how many wonderful things came out from being bullied and harrassed in my childhood. Maybe fear and hate do not motivate me quite as much but it still there. Without him or Thomas B. or Edward P. I would be this big mass role of cotton candy all fluffly and naive. Now I am just cornbread,

Life After Blackface Pt. 2 (Revised)

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, please give me a minute. On average, the most average 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 even one atom? I don't think so. When I meet people I tend to put them into 2 categories. A human or an empty vessel. I interact with numerous people so often, whether it be through teaching kiddos, teaching yoga, telling people not to touch me, Zoom sessions, graduate school cohort, etc. I think I do snap judgements and it's not fair of me. But also being fair is subjective. People doing pro-racist things whether it be disacknowledging BLM or doing blackface o supporting the orange or not udnerstanding sarcasm (I have a point, let me finish!) just throws me for a loop. I think I am a nice guy but why do people take their mask off to seize? That's brain neutral energy, Sometimes I am drawn to a certain energy. But sometimes I am always draw a 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,

Father of The Millennium

No one in the entire world could emulate the joy I had when my family moved from Hopewell, Virginia to Chester, Virginia. You would have thought 6 year-old Jonathan had won a lifetime supply of Tostitos. I was ecstatic, enthusiastic, energetic, ergh, and ebullient. I thought we were rich. I mean I had my own room and my own bike, who were you to tell me otherwise?

My dad was an intimidating man. 6'3, built like a UPS truck, and had a calm/demanding presence about him. Almost all of my friends were plain afraid him growing up. I don't think anyone ever gave me a valid reason. Maybe because he didn't smile much or act like the black version of Phil Hartman. But most of my friends didn't deserve a smile from him.

My pops had the task of being a husband, brother, son, game warden of 2 sons, and whatever the heck Denzel Washington did in Antoine Fisher. I was always in awe of him, as he worked in the medical field and had to navigate filling all of these roles while being a black man in the south from the 50s through 2000s. And of course had to figure out whatever I was doing. But that's a lot of technology, a lot of assassinations, a lot of hugs and kisses and people and moving. And not only did he roll with it but he modified himself every decade to at least try and understand what was coming at him next.

The connection between my dad and I was never clear to me. I knew he loved me a lot and whenever I called out "Dad!" he would say "Yes, son?" and he had back no matter what. Whether it be me quitting the basketball team senior year or me needing to bounce off ideas about relocating or coming out to him, he processed things and let go of ideals that were obsolete. 

But sometimes I did not know if he liked me very much. Maybe it was for the same reason my friends wanted to hide under the covers when he came around. I know to this day if my 60-something father who is a cancer survivor and I got into a fight, I will revert back to when I was 8 because I still have a fear that he can whoop my hind-parts. But it is vital to understand my father and I have these talks to work on our relationship and we have these check ins. This is essentially who I want to be and if we have an issue, we have known each other for, like, ever, so we are going to figure out something. The last thing I ever want from anyone is to feel like they are in the dark.

To my dad, I was always be Jonathan. To my dad, I will always be his son.

2.82

I graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree from Georgia College (formerly known as Georgia College & State University) on December 15th, 2015. I majored in Environmental Science with a concentration in geography/geology. My coursework includes hydrology, hydrogeology, ecology, agroecology, independent research on groundwater contamination, chemistry, blah, blah, science. 

Upon completion of my courses, I received a 2.82 GPA, about 80-82 average or a B- scale. Now, do I believe my intelligence over 4.5 years is a B- overall as an adult? No. Did I believe that during my undergrad program? Duh. Let's dive into it,

College is hard. It's probably the hardest thing I have done since pretending I care about Tyler Perry movies. To me, I was an intellectually sound Jonny and I could comprehend things at a high level when my interest was strong enough. And the strong interest in science was such a huge deal and it was overwhelming what one could do with a degree in environmental science. It seemed like the opportunities were limitless. 

All of the times I badgered my peers for study groups, worked in your underground geology lair, stood at my professor's door clutching my marked up tests, asking graduate students about how to fix our broken spectrometers that are always broken, taking mental breaks at permaculture farms, nothing can take away from how beautiful everything was during that time.

Freshmen year wasn't the greatest for me, as I navigated the regular party scene, sleeping in a tiny room across with some yt dude I never met before, and my low appetite to do either one of those things. I went out every once in a while and tried to be social but did not care much. I was most notably known for going to the library at 3pm on Fridays and renting out every DVD from the circulation desk.

My school was tiny, so minute that I knew who was going to be in my class and who to sit with for labs. In my junior and senior(s) year, my 3 professors for (all) my upper level courses knew of me and I felt they did not believe in me. For my senior capstone when putting "eradicating invasive plant species on federal land" was dulled down to "mowing lawns"and got rejected by my advisor, I was not in the best of modes. Sometimes I think they saw me as a custodian, my side job in school. Of course nothing wrong with being a custodian but there is something wrong with someone who doesn't want to be seen as a custodian who is trying to become a hydrologist.

 But during those formative years and post-formative years, it took intentional minutes to convince myself I am smart enough and that I am an extra-ordinary negro. Sometimes I wish my professors sat and talked with me but there was never time for them to get to know me over lunch. I knew all about them, I wanted to emulate them. Just a little. As I became older and (sort of) wiser, I realized that I have my own path and own intelligences that may not show up on the stat-sheet. That may be a reason teaching has come to fluid to me and why my graduate program has been so much smoother than undergrad and why I pride myself off of helping students reach their full potential. Even if they think they're only Drew Gooden. You may not be LeBron James but I would like them to carry themselves like they are. Ya' know?