hurt.

"...(this is) the realest sh*t i ever wrote..." - the late Fatima Carter (in an instant message to the young man, circa 2008)

i have been stung by bees.
i destroyed my knee in 9th grade dancing like prince.
my favorite cousin died.
my grandparents died.
my best friend's mom died.
my "stepmom" died.
my creative friend died.

these are all examples of pain. people experience pains of all kinds all the time.

this week, i realized the difference between pain and hurt.

hurt is the extremely painful feeling of loss and confusion that you cant do anything about.

hurt is watching your mom die two steps behind you while walking in the hospital, when about a week before then she was out shopping.
hurt is listening to your 1-year-old moan "no" while he lays in the hospital after his second open heart surgery, and not being able to take his pain away.
hurt is investing your heart and soul and life into something (or someone) and having that thing or person  taken away from you for absolutely no reason; asking questions and getting no answers, or acknowledgement that a question was even asked.
hurt is feeling so lost and empty that you feel dead, but you dont get the benefit of actual death, you just get to feel it while walking around.
hurt is having everything you love and anticipate about your favorite time of year snatched away from you, but still having to experience that time of year.
crying when youre hurt is the most draining thing ever. when you cry from hurt, you have to stop yourself from crying because you feel you could cry forever.

the young man hurts. pray for him, please.

happy holidays, part 1

hello. happy belated thanksgiving and black friday. I am on no sleep, and I have to be at work in 7 hours. yet there i was, fighting the crowds for some blue rays and a tv for the mini-me's... the thangs i do for them... okay, pulp ficvtion and boondock saints were for me, and a new tv for me means a new tv for them... anyway...

• i love Christmas music. but listen to this, and tell me that around 2:15 it doesn't sound like some 60s psychedelic charles manson murder type sh*t... like , cant you imagine some drug addled woman with a bad perm and runny eye makeup screaming "RIIIIING! RIIIIING!" while stabbing someone with a butcher knife? no? maybe its just me... sh*t creeps me out...

Hi there!

yes, yes he is.

what's goin' on, folks? it has been such a long time since i talked to youse guys, so of course i have a ton of stuff all piled up to talk about (but not tonight - i shleepy). i just wanted to let you know the news, and remind you it is now www.wrfranklin.net. going to wrfranklin.com will get you nothing but sadness and anxiety. and who wants that?

anyhoo, good night. it's good to be here.

Y'know what sucks???? (part 1)

Being a romantic sap, watching When Harry met Sally, and being in a completely sh*tty real life relationship situation.

Thanks,

tym

A quick, on the fly post...

Back in the day when Whoopi Goldberg was still funny, she had a one woman show on Broadway. In this show, she made a comment about Anne Frank, and her quote "Despite everything, I believe people are really good at heart." Now this was like 1985, and that was the first time I had ever heard this quote, and it has stuck with me ever since.

I think I may have even mentioned my inner Anne Frank in an earlier post. Well, that silly broad is back in my subconscious, and I think it may be time to off her.

When someone is blatantly sh*tting on you, how can Anne even begin to say that crap? At some point, isn't it just plain stupidity/ignorance that would keep on believing that?

okay, so lemme 'splain...

wha' hhhhappen?

howdy folks. the young man is back, and he wants to explain whats going on. big ups to the homie merva for saying my blog is real. wow, i'm so urban. that didn't even sound right in my mind. thank you merva for your comments about the young man's blog.

my last post was pretty bleak and end of the world-ish. yes, its true, that paragraph i posted was not something i just happened to find. well, i did find it, but i found it in my cell phone under notes. i was in a horrible place, not so long ago. i mean really horrible, like that whole paragraph was the truth (ruth), and it was all off the top of my head. it was exactly what I was thinking - raw and uncut. i called the last post "disturbing..?" because reading that now was disturbing. it was disturbing to know that i was really at that point.

so now I am at a different place. not much got better, aside from my outlook and the drugs. yet now i'm low on meds and my outlook is dimming. i'm still struggling to get to where i can relax, breathe, or even smile for an extended period of time. it'll happen, I'm sure. There's a light somewhere in this tunnel, let's just hope its not another train. And I won't kill myself.

-tym

disturbing..?

if you found this in a friend's stuff, what would you do?

Question
If I killed myself, who would care?  If I walked outside into my back yard and Hung myself from the swingset, what would it matter in the grand scheme of things? One less 44 year old failure in the world. Nothing. ***** would finally be free of the anchor around her neck. My boys would maybe have the opportunity to be  taken under the wing of someone who could teach them something. My dad and brother are already living their lives, so I'm sure after the initial sting I would just become a memory. I have maybe 2 friends so nobody would have to arrange a funeral. Cremate me and flush my ashes. I know id go to hell, and that's the worst part. I am of no  importance. Square peg. I don't fit. I can't keep a job just because of who I am. I do excellent at my jobs, but I just don't fit. And now my shitty-ness is bringing down my wife and family with me. I fucking hate myself. I'm a scourge. A millstone. Too old and unimportant to matter anymore. I feel horrible for the boys, to have this as a dad. I feel bad for ****** too, havin g. This as a husband .here's some truth for ya: i don't matter anymore. So I should go. Forever. For good. Knives, drugs, rope, car wreck, any of the above. I hate what I have become.


-tym

one something in da morning...

so tym is in the sack, doing his samsung galaxy tab thing, and felt the need to blog.

its hard to be creative and do what you were put on the earth to do when you allow the issues and bullshit of others to distract you. i have tons of projects that are gathering moss right now, and i so want to dust them off and get to it, but as per usual im dealing with excess bs. le fucking sigh...

pray for the young man.

-tym

mister nice guy/mister motherf**ker

hi there. i'm the young man.

that picture up there is from eric roberson’s 2011 CD “mr. nice guy.” it is a great collection, and the young man suggests you check it out when you get a chance. however, i chose that picture because that is a picture of the young man. that has been me for (at least) 33 of the 43 years I have been here. and frankly, that shit has got to stop. 

dont get me wrong - i have always been nice. nice to a fault. so nice in fact that as a youth, i had to endure the “oh, tym is too nice... he’s more of a brother to me...” excuse me while i barf. and weep. being nice has gotten me (very limited) respect, and a reputation for being a nice guy. (and a doormat. more on that later.) i have been so nice for so long that i actually like to be nice to people. or should i say “liked.” i have been in the customer service industry for over 20 years, and when i started, i thrived because im nice. so done with that.

lets go back. waaaayyyyy back. picture it - cicily, 1942... wait... dayton ohio, when i was the younger man. i remember walking to the neighborhood store one day, when i witnessed 2 girls, not too much older than me at the time, standing next to a cadillac, going on and on about how nice it was, im like “whatever -who cares?” and i go in the store. as im leaving, the girls continue on about the guy driving, and how they’d do anything to get with him and ride in his car. confused, i went home.

fast forward about 5 years. im in middle school, geek, no girlfriend, but lots of girl-friends. dont get me wrong - i wanted a girlfriend, but i was always “a brother to them,” as i stated earlier. so they’d always complain about how their boyfriends “dog them out”, or don’t want to spend any time with them, blahblahblah. so i decided that if i ever got a girlfriend, i was going to be the ultimate boyfriend. i was going to be the antithesis of all of the basketball team/football team guys, and be what every woman wanted. (i distinctly remember making this statement to myself while walking through the streets of downtown dayton one day after school. i could swear that the theme from superman was playing and the american flag was flapping in the wind behind me as i put my hands on my hips like a superhero).
so i got a girlfriend (whom i later married, grew to despise and divorced) and i treated her portly ass like a teenage queen. bought her flowers, bought her candy, stayed on the phone with her til the wee fucking hours of the night, missed the PREMIERE of purple rain just so i could see her summer youth program put on their rendition of michael jackson’s thriller (my sister had sneak preview tickets, the night before the official opening...), lip-sync serenaded prince’s song international lover to her in the cafeteria at lunch one day (during which time i got a standing ovation from the crowd)... i did all of this to prove i was the man. and she played me. hard. i won’t go into it, but just read my earlier blog entry “the m factor” for more details.  

fast forward again. had several different girlfriends, all with the same results, more or less. a little further, married, 3 kids, marital problems, edge of a 2nd divorce... then, two years ago, i was going through it, stressed over my marriage, etc., and i got some sage wisdom from my boy nikondon. he said “first, get your balls out of her purse and put them back on, and second you have to be mr. motherfucker. i know you just want to be nice and live a nice life, but trust me - you become mr. motherfucker and she will completely tone down the way she treats you. mr. motherfucker says ‘i love you, but you will not talk to me like im your fuckin’ dog, your fuckin’ child, your  fuckin’ subordinate, anything but what i am - your husband’.” in my mind i said ‘yeah right - im the ultimate husband. the ultimate husband wouldn’t say that shit to his wife!” i blew off the advice, but it never left me. then, i posed a question to a few women i worked with, whose opinions i trusted. said question went like this:

“okay, say we’re a couple. you come home from working/shopping/10 year ninja reunion, and you are exhausted. i’m on the couch watching tv, and i’m hungry. which of these two scenarios would you rather have happen?

1. i look at you and say ‘hey babe, i know you’re tired, but i am really hungry, and you make the absolute best grilled cheese on the planet. why don’t you make me one of those? i’d really appreciate it. thanks.’ smack you on the ass and go back to watching tv. or...
2. i look at you, realize how tired you are  and get up from the couch and make myself a grilled cheese. then i ask if you’d like one too.”

I sat there with the most smug expression ever, because i knew the answer. of course it would be 2, because 2 is the nicest, non-sexist, non-objectifying choice. what woman would want to have to come home tired, cook for a perfectly functioning man and get slapped on the ass? i know what women want. i been to the movies. i watch law & order:svu... i watch OWN and lifetime on occasion...


the answer that stood out to me the most was basically all the answers that i got, wrapped up in a neat little package:

“well, it depends. it could be both.”

um... what? 

“it depends. it could be both.”

what the fuck do you mean ‘it could be both’? did you hear the question?

“i heard the question. i mean, sure i like it when my significant other does things for me, but i also like knowing im capable of being that chick who gets told what to do and smacked on the ass sometimes... its about balance.”

at that point, this woman got quiet because she could see the look of confusion, sadness, anger and utter dismay that was taking over my face. the rest of my dialogue was filled with stammering and stuttering.

so... women don’t want to be treated like the center of the earth? like nothing at all is more important than them? this is the shit you say you want! on movies, tv, reality shows, talk shows... you don’t really want that?

silence.

i was no good for the rest of the day. that day, i realized just how much time i spent trying to be that funny, attentive, generous dashing motherfucker they said they wanted. i wanted to be will smith in hitch, eddie murphy in boomerang and john cusack in say anything, all rolled into one short, sexy chocolate package.

then i realized how much

time

i

wasted.

over 28 years i did this. 

it became second fucking nature. i dated a bunch of the wrong people. i sacrificed a lot of shit. shit i will never have access to again. i was pissed to say the least. even though i wasn’t really speaking to mrs young man at the time, i went home and told her what i’d found out, and that i realize now that because i was so hell-bent on being what women wanted that it may have screwed up our relationship, and how blown away i was to find this out. you know what she did? put her hand on my shoulder and said:

“oh, sweetie.”

even she knew. where had i been, and why didn’t anybody ever set me stra--

nikondon. fuck. i didn’t listen. i hear you now, don.

to quote chicago, being mr. nice guy is a hard habit to break. fast forward to this morning. the mrs and i had a candid conversation that resulted in me being told (again) that i am too passive, and she is too aggressive and how she hates being that way. i told her about mr. motherfucker, and how it seems that’s what she wants. reluctantly, she agreed.

be careful what you wish for.

thank you for your time,
-the young man aka mr. mf

p.s. all of the anger and confusion and sadness i had over this had to come out in some kind of creative way, so i am going to put together a documentary called...

wait for it...

“no more mr. nice guy - what men want, what women want, what men think women want and what women think men want”
-tym/mmf

p.p.s. purple fu*king rain...

...another tribute

question: is it a sign that you are getting older when your favorite artists start dying? 2^nd question: does that count if they don’t die of natural causes?

it is 2:48AM, and I just found out about whitney houston about 20 minutes ago. my heart sank as I read it on twitter, after I realized it wasn’t a joke. idid like whitney when I was younger. "saving all my love for you" and "im your baby tonight" were my joints. …im not even sure what im feeling, aside from loss. phonte, from the groups little brother and the foreign exchange kind of said it best in this tweet:

Phonte@phontigallo

Worst Black History Month EVER.

Don Cornelius. David Peaston. Alori Joh. David Bompart. and now whitney.

i was supposed to do this blog/essay on amy winehouse when she passed away (huge loss for me), but i let everything else in my life get in the way of doing that. i just found the blog draft the other day and felt horrible for not posting it. i still may...

anyway... that's all i wanted.

Le sigh…

RIP, each and every one of you. gotta go kiss my wife and my mini-me’s.

-tym

a few words on great literature...

hello folks. just wanted to let you know about the latest thing to bring a smile to my furry face. urban contemporary, the greatest book since the Bible (#modest) is now available on kindle!

http://www.amazon.com/Urban-Contemporary-ebook/dp/B006QTUUPY/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&qid=1328161407&sr=1-1

-tym

#random, part 1

Hi there! (word to peter gabriel) What’s up? How’s yer ’12? Mine is so much better than my ’11. That year kicked my ass.

So here’s some randomness…

#I love music. Always have, always will. Recently, I have been actually paying more attention to the subject matter and words of the songs I used to rock out to. What can I say? I was a yewt. I got lost in the music – it made me high, word to Lost Boyz.

So here are the songs I was the most shocked to learn about (I know – go get a late pass…):

Relax by Frankie Goes To Hollywood – When I was a Junior in High School, I thought FGTH was the most important band on the planet. They dressed well, the beat to Relax was insane, and they were all so cool, even dude with the Freddie Mercury moustache. And I used to sing Relax at the top of my lungs. Then I got (way) older and realized what the lyrics were about. So to recant my statements from the mid 80s, DO NOT REST INSIDE ME, DO NOT HIT ME WITH THOSE LASER BEAMS, AND PLEASE DON’T COME. I do not play for your team. Thank you ever so much, the young man.

Raspberry Beret by Prince – someone told me a long time ago that this was about his first time having sex, and I didn’t see/believe it. Wow, naive me. Wait - so, when it was warm, this chick was running around in a hat and nothing else? Interesting.

Like A Prayer by Madonna – Never put the “I’m down on my knees/I wanna take you there” line together with anything but the fact that she was praying. Again, naïve me. Now I get why there was so much controversy about the video and the religious imagery. And the fact that leon is in the video just makes it that much more of an issue. I don’t like leon. He is 2 dimensional. He’s an African-American version of Keanu reeves (before he became neo. Neo=cool). #random

#This next bit of randomness was triggered by my research about the like a prayer song. I HATE the fact that people can comment on websites. Not everyone needs a voice. Not everyone needs fingers either. Stop typing.  I hate people sometimes. Here’s what I found in comments on one website about like a prayer:

“Oh this song is about the fact that you realize you are a whore one day and that your name is from the blessed virgin Mary and you have blasphemed throughout your crappy career. then you really realize you are screwed because you make a music video where there are burning crosses all over and you are making out with a priest. Then to make matters worse you name your only daughter after a beautiful site of an apparition of Mary, Lourdes, just to rub in the fact that you are a horrible human being. yep that's what it's about.”

“like a prayer listed in reverse or backwards she is referring to the devil calling out to satan. I bet you never knew that she is a freemason.”

“"Life is a mystery" part when played backwards says "Devil I worship you".

Ahem. Die. Twice. I don’t know you, yet I despise you, and that rusted out gremlin on blocks in your front yard with the family of badgers in the trunk. Put down the Pabst Blue Ribbon and turn off that crystal meth fire in your living room. Go away.

more to come.

-tym