Confidence Confidential

Whether I like it or not, writing is personal.  As hard as I try to keep it apart from my state of mind, there it is.  Me.  All up in that shit.  This post is going to be about me today.  Not gonna fight it y’all…

I had the good fortune recently of coming across some old photos of the Mustang in high school.  Wow.  What a pioneer!  Malcolm X hat, Cross Color pants, crop top, shell toed Adidas.  Mix in a shaved head with a septum ring and you have one hell of a beacon of strange.  And I wondered why I had no friends in my hick-a-dick township.  In all honesty it was a miracle I made it out alive.  I was perfectly sure that I was meant to be born black and in the band SWV, not white in a town that should have been sponsored by Keds and/or Wrangler.  After some rumination on the hows and whys of my colorful teenagerhood I came to this conclusion.  I have lived my life back to front.  I started out in a place that didn’t understand me and because of that I adapted into a unit of one.  I was the judge and jury of my life.  The more I got fucked with the more I knew that I was doing the right thing.  I was CONFIDENT!  In a time when my peers wouldn’t even buy a pair of socks without the approval of all the Heathers, I would spend my weekends hunting matching jumpsuits and mothy old fur coats.  I believed in what I was doing.  It made more sense than my family and school life.  It made me feel special that people stared at me, even if the stares were hard and unforgiving.  Any press, right?  The odd part is that at some undefined point I stopped.  I find myself buying socks and wondering if my friends will dig ’em.  The things that guided me to this glorious life have become funny historical anecdotes.  Confidence and conviction elude me like that mythical 1986 pure white with kelly green piping Adidas jumpsuit I coveted so fiercely in my formative years.  Most kids build themselves into powerhouses, not the other way around.  Can’t I do anything the normal way?  Now do not fear loyal readers!  I am excited by this realization.  I have been wondering what evil little goblin has been behind my gray state of mind as of late.  Now that I know what needs to be done, I can do it.  All I need to do is look back at the gangster me and be reminded that I can pop and lock the crap out of my life if I want to.  And so can you mon amour.  We are not just catering to our inner child, we are cultivating our outer child.  It is OK to cry in the grocery store because you don’t get to eat the candy bar before you pay.  Feel good.  Do what ever it takes.  Or just eat the thing and pay later.  I know I will. And if you are real good, one of these days I will post some old photos and you can have a hearty laugh on me.

Rock the boat bitches!