7 posts tagged “me”

So, I thought I was being obsessive about this whole blogging thing and in some aspects I guess I still am a bit, in terms of not simply deciding on  a platform of choice to express my thoughts.  Yahoo360, Vox, Facebook, Wordpress, MSN Spaces, so many choices that have their benefits and downfalls.  But this is not so much about the tool, but the process of expressing one's inner most thoughts about whatever intrigues.

There is one thing that both issues have in common and that is the method in which we make our choices.  Choices in both tool and community.  I have grown rather disappointed in certain communities and I know that might be a bit selfish to say, however everyone out here has their own reasons for being here.  Some selfish, some down-right disgraceful.  For the most part however, the on-line space is a wilderness of people searching for themselves in ways that they can not explore in the real world.  Needless to say, there are some true characters out there.  

It is often said that friends come and go but true friends will always be there no matter what the duration of separation.  Not only does the art of Social networking bring people together in new and interesting ways, but it also presents the opportunity to walk away.  Fragmented relationships is how it could be termed.  Most sites have the concept of Friends, but what are friends truly?  Would real-world friends up and walk away for no reason or without any explanation?  Is that the appeal?  The ability to sever all ties and return to the existence that sent you out here to begin with?  

They have all been branded under the name "social networking" but how much is actually social?  What social benefits are there to some of these sites?  I still struggle to find meaning in it all.  There are some who have found that meaning although I would venture to say that this is the limited audience of individuals with no real hidden agenda.  Fate has somehow thrust upon them the missing links in their lives.  Almost like a crap game.  I have met individuals who have met their soul mates in cyber space.  Despite all odds and distance, they managed to find each other express their inner most hopes, dreams and desires and managed to join in more than some electronic exchange of passion or ramblings, they found love.  

In some ways this is the true meaning of the social connection.  Others are as valid in their claims of brining people together to either "connect" or "re-connect."  I for one have benefited from this.  People I knew across the journey of my life and drifted down their own paths have managed to re-surface back into my life.  Some as casual acquaintances again, others long lost friends who are true "friends" in every sense of the word.  Family, co-workers and classmates.  These are the real value of social networking in my opinion.  

In this day and age, we have all grown rather skeptical of many things in this cynical world.  We all somehow hearken back to a day when life was much simpler, friends were real, could be depended on and would not cut and run at the first site of drama, regardless of the source.  Friends were people who you could talk openly with regardless of topic.  The fear of being isolated were never an issue.  Hours spent on the phone, to this day I still don't know what was worth spending that time talking about.  There was happiness, the excitement of the next day and getting together do execute some unknown agenda.  What happened to these times?

As we get older, we tend to fall back into a cocoon of existence without realizing it.  We become jaded, guarded and suspect of everything around us that we don't control.  Long gone are the carefree days of our youth.  They say we are all searching for happiness, but are we?  Or are we looking for a comfortable existence accepting the events and people in our lives as they are, while keeping them at arms length?

So here I am struggling with these thoughts as I continue to figure out what it is that I want out of the whole on-line experience.  I have realized on thing, re-connecting with long lost friends will always keep me out here.  But there is still some other reason that draws me here.  I think I may have a grip on what that may be and it brings me back to my original reason for jumping into the fray.  It has to do with understanding who I am as a person.  During my time away back in the "real world," the daily grind and pressures slowly began to build again.  Not on my physical existence or even emotional one, but more, a mental one.

It is a fact that in our generation the amount of information from external sources is down right overwhelming.  The pace at which information is presented to us all is never ending.  I realize that this builds up.  So much so that if you do nothing with it, other areas of your life begin to suffer.  Getting it all out, releasing it, expressing your thoughts about it all helps.  Whether anyone out in the "social blog-o-sphere" consumes it or not is quite irrelevant.  It is nice to get the occasional comment or feedback regarding your thoughts, but in the end, I now know that I have to do this for me and not because I want to entertain or expose others to my random thoughts.  True friends I am sure are out there, but they are finite in nature.  The skepticism will not go away any time soon.  This should not deter me from continuing my search to understand my own being.  

Therefore, I will begin writing again.  My methods will remain the same as they always have, but I now understand that this is all for me.  Time to be selfish again.  If I entertain, offend or am able to extract some reflective thought in others fine, but understand, this is not my goal.  You want to read, fine.  I don't' expect anyone to agree or even like what I have to say, but this is my life, the only shot I get. I will evaluate the "friends" who, like characters in my own personal play of life, enter stage left and exit stage right.  For me it is the story-line itself that I intend on acting out.  

So, as my blast says, I have been spending a lot of time clip logging my video tape. What does that mean? Well it means that I have cataloged all of the various shots on my video tape laying around that I have collected over the years.

I used a handy little applciation for the Mac called iDive. It basically connects to your camera and when you play back the tape it captures the in point of every shot as well as a few images of the video so you know what it is.

You can then later, go back and export this EDL or Time Code (numbers) to another application for editing. In my case it is Final Cut Pro for the Mac. Anyhow, I got this iDive application this weekend for about $70 and it saved me SOOOOOOOO much time and stress getting my tapes all organized and ready for me to get back into editing video.

When I was finished I noticed another part of the application called "Mosaic" I fooled around for a bit and found that it generates cool video openings and animations from the sample clips in your library that you select. For me, I used the Gallery Animation to create the following from some of the clips that I captured over the weekend.

Enjoy! I am going to have so much fun with this application (p.s. I know it loops once).

Musashi's Travel Gallery

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Snow Walking

 

I am not sure if subconsciously I have waited until the end of Black History Month to write this or not. I think it has more to do with the fact that Black History month always makes me think deeply about myself.

Not because I am African American, because logically, having been born in the United Kingdom, how the hell can I claim to be an "African American?" "African British" maybe. LOL You see, I have always struggled with the African American wording as it relates to myself. Now, I just accept it to be the truth of living in the United States and looking the way I do. To understand where I am coming from you have to go back to how I was raised.

I was born in London during the '60s to a very rebellious white woman and a father who was in the U.S. Military and never knew. I do know that he had a family of his own to return to the U.S. to. That left me to be raised by my Mother who basically took me back to her home in Northern England where I spent much of my youth with my Grandparents.

All I ever recall is nothing but love from them. I never remember being treated differently even though they severely disapproved of my Mother's lifestyle at that time in her life. To me, there was no understanding of color. I was, as my former Blog title stated; "Simply Rik."

At some point my Mother met another U.S. Air Force member who she married and he became my step-father. For years I just thought I was a normal kid with two parents who appeared to love me. Sure they had their issues and I was not shielded from some pretty harsh battles, but it was all normal to me.

Culturally however, in retrospect, I look back and realize that I was raised in a predominantly African American environment. Home consisted of black light posters of very strong African American women. Music was Marvin Gay, the Temptations, Earth Wind and Fire and Richard Pryor records.

It wasn't until I was attending Elementary School in Alaska that I was confronted with the fact that I was not somehow "normal." It was at a PTA meeting which my Mother and I attended that after which, one of my classmates asked me if I was adopted. I didn’t know what that word meant so I did the only natural thing, I asked my mother if I was. To put it lightly, she lost her mind! Something to the effect of whether or not I wanted her to show me the scar from the stitches of getting my big assed head out. I graciously declined.

She did however explain to me at that point the difference between her and my father at that time. Why his skin was so much darker than ours. That was my first understanding that I was neither white, like her or black, like my father. It was a bit confusing but I just accepted it as nothing else really changed much.

Another reason nothing changed was that we were in the Air Force environment where mixed races were everywhere. People were people, race was never really mentioned much and school was always a rainbow of cultural flavors.

The shock occurred when it was time for my step father to retire. The decision was made to move to Norristown, PA outside of Philly. The neighborhood we moved into was a true African American neighborhood consisting of brownstones. My life had shifted to one color over a multi-colored environment. Maybe it was because I appear more black than white, but I was openly accepted into the culture surrounding me. I can say these were some of the best times of my life and everything I remember I can find all over again by watching those early Spike Lee movies. Football, Roller Skating or stick ball in the streets. Hanging out on the steps in front of the house with friends killing ice cream in the summer sun. All very fond memories to say the least.

I moved from one cross culture environment to a completely African American one. Not much of a leap in exposure to the issues surrounding race stresses. That is until one day at the cafeteria at school. A fight broke out between a white kid and a black kid. I just remember that someone was stabbed. That was when reality began to set in. Something was wrong, something was different and it was much bigger than me.

I think some how this affected me. Live on Cherry Street didn't change for me, but I was much more of a recluse at school. Kept to myself and didn’t really socialize much with anyone.

The summer of '82 found me going to Steubenville, OH to visit relatives on my own. I hung out and had a blast the entire summer. When it was time to return home, I walked into a war zone. I suppose my Mother had enough. She was tired of the abuse (Physical and mental) and the Alcoholism of my Step Father. Things escalated when I arrived and the end result was my Mother and I being put out.

With no where else to go we returned to Steubenville and that is where we settled down and I finished up my education. Steubenville was easy compared to Norristown. There everything was pretty segregated to begin with back in those days. Italian, Black and Irish. I guess you know where I ended up. LOL. I do remember that in my Senior Year there was the first real open relationship between a white cheerleader and a black football player. That sent some ripples through the halls of Steubenville High.

Because I was still figuring out where I fit in, I never dated anyone in High School really. So that whole scene was never an issue for me either. I finished up High School and went off to the Marine Corps where I assumed I would fit right in to that whole cross-cultural environment where color didn't matter much.

What I failed to realize was that as a kid in that environment you never were exposed to racism. Here at 18 years old I was confronted with it hard and fast. I had just reported to my first unit who lived in Open Squad Bays. Which is short for a big room with about 40 or so roommates. The only thing I had to do was pick a bed. As I looked across the squad bay to find an empty bed, I was amazed to see a form of subconscious segregation in action. Each culture had carved out its own area of the Squad Bay. African Americans, Latino, Asians and the whites were further segregated into basically north v.s. south. I was greeted and absorbed into the African American section. Mostly based on my looks.

With my background, I was definitely the odd man out. Couldn't dance, didn't have rhythm, loved the music. Talked white (thanks to arriving in the U.S. with a British accent) and looked Black. When Fridays came around we would all "posse up" and travel to the various black clubs in and around eastern North Carolina. After the first few of these adventures, I guess I got what could only be called a "mentor" to work with me on fitting into the African American culture more. In the end, I found my rhythm, learned to dance and was exposed to more types of African American culture and music.

The result of everything I have described above, I realize now, has given me a unique talent. A talent to morph into any situation and be what that situation dictates. I shamefully have found myself subconsciously adapting to whatever situation I find myself into feel as if I fit in where I am not that threatened by the environment. Is that wrong? I struggled with that for years.

Now that I am older, I have come to the firm realization that I am me. Simply Rik. I am tired of trying to be what society dictates I should be. I am tired of being absorbed into a culture simply based on my skin color. I am tired of being accepted by another because I am articulate. I am Rik, take me or leave me, because as 2Pac said, "Only God can judge me."

Having said that, and I know it sounded harsh, I can not claim one culture over another, I respect all of myself and my ancestors who have gone before me that passed on their traits and experiences which have given me the intelligence and strength to be who I am today.

In honor of that I WILL pay tribute to that part of me that has reaped the benefits of being exposed both genetically as well as environmentally to the African American culture.

I am blessed and fortunate to this African blood running through my veins.
I am blessed to have been raised in a culture rich in struggle that has resulted my sense of self and strength.
I am blessed to be part of a culture that has produced some of the greatest artists and minds this world has ever seen.

I will not deny my heritage. My grandmother was Italian. My Grandfather was Irish, my mother is British and my father was African American. To choose one negates the other. Often society forces you to choose one over the other and this has always been my struggle.

My responsibility in this life of mine is not to the various struggles that continue even in this day and age, but to my children who are further mixed with the Japanese culture. I look into their eyes and may find physical traits of myself, but not in skin tone, in bone structure, their hands, feet and hair.

It is these same eyes that as I gaze into them, makes me promise to myself that I can not let them ever forget about the heritage that is part of me and hence part of them. They are not weaker because they are not Black, White or Japanese, but stronger because of it. They need to learn about their varied histories and through that I hope learn about tolerance and acceptance of the person over the skin. They need to learn about the struggle, the domination and the atrocities of their cultures. This is the reality of being a mixed child. They will probably be stronger in one culture over another, but I can not allow them to be consumed by any one culture.

So, in closing, get this if you get nothing out of my writings; I am Simply Rik. There may be some cream in my coffee, but rest assured it is the best damn blend you may ever taste.

I apologize in advanced for this post, but I haven't done a "Sappy Daddy" blog in a while.

It seems like only a month or two ago that we had the newest member of our family enter our lives.  Tyler was born September 29th and as you can see, he is growing faster than I remember his sister growing.  I guess that is part of the difference of having gone through it once versus the second time around.

TylerCropped

I also realized that there is a constant subconscious comparison thing going on between my memories of his sister Mina (now 22 months old) at that age and what we experience with him.  With her, the 22 months have seemed to last an eternity. While with Tyler on the other hand time has flown by.

For me, I think while I find his sister adorable and a true Daddy's Girl, he is definitely the 'lil man in my mind.  I don't find myself "hovering" so much over him or worried about every sniffle or bump that he shows up with.  Is that right, or is that just one of those father/son things?  Doesn't matter much I guess.  He is fun and I am not as leery of being as rough with him when we play.

And what is it about nicknames?  Why must we always come up with the most ridiculous nick names?  One that has stuck with him with his mother and sister is "Bug-a-boo."  For me it is "Buddy-boo."  And lately since it gets a laugh out of him I have started calling him "Pork-n-beans"  Not sure why, but he always gets a kicking laugh out of it.

So there you have it.... the latest on the 18 pound, 5 month old monster a.k.a. "Pork-n-Beans"

Theater Playbill

I am not sure where this blog is going to go, but I have spent the past 12 hours of so going bonkers in my mind because of something that someone has decided for me.  I don’t want to get into details, but it is one of those situations that we all have been in at one point or another.

You know the one.  The situation that pisses you off, but yet you can’t get pissed at the person, it also comes with a small sense of relief even though you know you didn’t want it.  You know that in some ways it is the best thing, but yet on the other hand, the worst thing that you want or need.

I know all of this makes absolutely no sense to you all, but as I have said before, this is My Blog and as such, I tend to dump my thoughts out here so I can observe them as a 3^rd party to try and make sense of what is going on with in the walls of grey matter that make up my brain. 

So having just re-read through that babbling mess, I have realized that my anger or confusion stems from the loss of control.  We all, as humans like to think we are in control of every situation and know what we are doing.  We “think” we know what the right thing is for us and proceed down that road.  When everyone agrees and we get it right, all is dandy and everyone is happy.  When it goes wrong we suck it up and in most cases admit that we muffed it up.

But when someone else makes a decision on our behalf without us being part of that decision, it sets us all off.  In some strange way there is a sense of betrayal or a thought of a conspiracy theory simply because we were not part of the final decision.  I am not happy about this decision, but since I respect and care for this person I must allow the decision to stand despite what I want. 

I am coming to the raw realization that maybe, just maybe I am a bit of a control freak.  I have analyzed other events in my life or situations where I am irritated or down right pissed off and I am ashamed to say that I am Rik and maybe, just maybe I have a problem.  Well, many actually, whoever said I was perfect?

For the record though, I have loved and lost throughout my life and more than once I have heard women tell me that I am a complex person.  I however, do not think so.  There are a few of you out there who have known me for years (Mongo since 1985 and JustMeKP since something stooped like 1972 or 3).  And I would venture to say that you might agree that I am not that complex, hell I am quite simple, there are basic needs that we all have and I am not a fool to expect to much from this world other than to Live, Love and Laugh. 

• I am not a religious person, but I believe there is a higher purpose.
• I do believe in what is right or wrong as determined by how I wish to be treated.
• I do not maliciously set out to hurt or injure anyone (emotionally or physically)
• I do believe strongly in pleasing other people before me (hoping the favor is returned)
• I am not an overly social person.
• My true friends are ones who are willing to climb the wall I have placed around myself.  (The wall of trust).
• I am dedicated to those that make that climb.
• I place logic before emotion.
• I want to experience as much of MY life as I can.

Finally my favorite analogy is one that might seem egocentric or very self centered, but it is how I have viewed my life.  Since this is MY life and the only one I will ever get (assuming there is no such thing as reincarnation and not ruling that one out either), I am very much aware of ME in it.  Everything and everyone around me are characters in the play that is my life.  This sounds very egotistical, but allow me to explain, with this view, I hold myself accountable for the various directions that my life takes.  It is the screenplay that I write every day for myself.  If you were to sit down and write a play, you would have to obviously focus on the main character but also you have to focus on the interactions that character has on everyone and everything around him/her.  You have to develop a plot.  Some good and some bad, there is screen direction and other components that are going on around you that you have to be aware of.  But in the end it is that main character that you are responsible fore as the plot unfolds.  That is how I view my life.

I can’t be responsible for the actions of others, I have to be responsible for my own actions and be aware of how those actions affect the scene I am in.  I am out to make a Tony Award winning play so that when that final curtain comes down, I may be pleased with the play that I have written and can exit stage left knowing that I wrote and acted the best part I could have.

So, in closing, I have to let go sometimes and allow the scene to unfold before allowing my character to react in a way that could destroy the plot.  If this means that another person (character) is given the power to control the direction of the scene, so be it.  It is all part of the bigger production that is my life.

[aaaannnndddd…….. SCENE!]

Race.... Now that I have left Japan after 16 years, I have begun to do a lot of thinking around why I stayed there as long as I did.

One of the interesting things I have stumbled across is that of Race. The beautiful thing about Japan is the same thing that this culture used to promote its rage against the world in the 1940's. It's unique pride in being Japanese and all things that are culturally Japanese. There is an unspoken pride here. So much so, that for those of us who are not Japanese we realize that we all are just plain Foreigners. Black, White, Indian, Pakistani, British, South African, even Chinese, all foreigners... period. You are either Japanese or you aren't. It is that simple.

I was having a drink last night with a friend who 1. is white, 2, is british and 3, speaks Japanese fluently. We were discussing life her since he has been here almost 20 years as well. We began talking about the whole "Black" thing that exists in the U.S.. You know blacks taking care of fellow blacks, or more specifically an incident he was involved in when breaking up a fight between some white guy and a black guy. The all knew each other, but alcohol was involved and when tensions broke out and the black guy was pulled out by my friend to have him calm down and tried to rationalize with him. The black guy claimed "If I don't do anything then it will be all of your white fists reigning down on me later." I was amazed when he told me this. What the hell was that about?!? It was a gaijin on gaijin fight. No Japanese involved so there was not really the thought of a cultural conflict. But he brought his American mentality of racism into the mix. My friend (british guy) was so pissed when he was hit with the U.S. race card.

My friend started asking me what the deal with that was. That is when I got a bit frustrated because I really am not sure if I understand it. You see, being half white, born in the U.K., raised in the military and not really having grown up in the "hood" I don't think I will ever really understand. But I do know that because I look more black I have been lumped into a race category of black. That is o.k., I have always been in this position and have accepted it as my first race. I guess the thing is, growing up, I never realized I was black or anything else, I was just Rik. I had white friends, Korean friends, black friends and it was all good.

That all ended when we left the military and at the age of 14, I was enrolled into a public school outside of Philadelphia. That was when I saw the race gaps up close and personal. Blacks clinging to blacks, whites with money hanging with their own and that was the way it was. No one talked about it, or questioned it. I had to assimilate. I began to meld into the black crowd since visibly that was where I was more accepted.

It wasn't until I joined the military myself that I realized this type of thing also really existed in the military. Don't let anyone ever tell you that race is not an issue in the military, it is. Now when it comes to going to war or doing your job, it is not an issue at all. You are really the band of brothers and the job gets done. It is when there is down time or when there is no ware that it is the most evident. I remember when I reported to my first unit, they were living in an open squad-bay (big room lots of bunk beds and lockers) About 48 people living in one big room together. When I went in the first thing I noted was that there was no assigned racks like basic training. You basically grabbed the bed where you wanted to. But when I looked around something startled me. Everyone one was grouped. Latino, Black, Redneck, White were the larger groups. Again, I was assimilated into the black section based on looks.

I don't regret any of it, I am saying I didn't understand why society has to group based on physical appearance. Most of my best friends are black, I have rhythm now, and I continue to be a huge fan of black music and culture. In most outward situations, I am black. But I look at all people as humans with different cultures that have interesting bits and pieces that I want to know more about.

In the end one thing I have been able to develop because of all of this is the ability to meld into a situation and be whatever the moment calls from. I can go into a black club and be black, go into a fancy restaurant at a posh white country club and emerge unscathed. I have gone to Hawaii and with the change of a shirt become a pineapple eating local. Or been in the Philippines and been compared to the likes of Ricky Dabau a famous Philippine actor. Spanish, Puerto Rican, Philippine, Hawaiian, Black, I have been mistaken for them all. A regular Chameleon. But I guess that is why I have managed for so long and love traveling the world. I just love people and the more I can experience, even if that means melding in the moment's surroundings I have done so. In most cases not intentional, it just is how I have managed to fit in throughout my life. I assimilate the culture I am confronted with. Good, bad or ugly, it is me, and how I navigate through this life. Problem is, within the black community, I do run the risk of being labeled a sell-out. Hell, look how long it took for some to turn on Bill Cosby. Now that is confusion in a race.