T Diddy :: Your Friendly Black Dentist

It has been almost 1 weeks since I have returned. I really do not know how I feel. That is the first question that people ask me. How am I suppose to feel? Sad? Happy? Seriously, my bed feels the same and the NYC atmosphere seems to be the same. I also came back to the same rainy cold weather. I dont know what people want as an answer. Maybe the next time somebody asks me this question, I could say that the recent return has put a squeeze on my pancreas. They may look at me in bewilderment at first, but then they will shake their head in agreement as they have no real response besides, "That's cool!"

In all honesty it is pleasant to be back. It is like I have my own apartment. My roommate is never home. He studies all day everyday. He is in Law school and I guess it is a lot of work. Study on Michael T! This gives me free access to the TV to enjoy Madden 2004, which by the way the greatest thing since slice bread. I love it. The playability and graphics are second to none. I am currenty in Mini Camp honing my skills to challeng Los Kiper because the whole time when I was backpacking all he would say is, "Come home and get this Madden ass whooping!" I guess he has the same sour taste in his mouth as I left him defeated, down while I crowned myself the 2003 champion amoungst my Madden peers. This also allows me to handle my business without interuption. Play my music loud, navigate the web, and do some research. One thing that I do notice that is different now from the time I left is simply that I now enjoy waking up at 8. I no longer have to drag myself out of bed knowing have to go deal with the man. Before I never knew what the day had in store, but more than likely it included me pulling my pants down, grabing my ankles and have the "Man" broomstick me. Today, I am able to walk smile and laugh at all those other sucker corporate type-A freaks taking it with no vaseline.

Tonight I am going to Car Bomb's pad with 6 cold ones as we watch GP, Mailman, Shaqalicious, and Kobe "I am Innocent" Bryant for the first time. Oh the simple things in life are great!

Today I wanted to cry. If anybody cares as to why I wanted to cry, then you can check out the photos from my backpack trip. This is from Normandy to Octoberfest with all of my stops between. Somebody bring me a tissue.

Backpack Photos

I hate the DMV. It is the worst place on earth. Yesterday, I became motivated to transfer my expired CA license to New York. I would have done this when I first moved to New York, but they wanted $50 for a new license. I told them, "No thank you, just give me the $10 NYC ID card." Because of that decision, I find myself in my current situation. Yesterday, I stroll down to the office on 125th street to exchange. They tell me that I need proof of birth. Lady, can you not see that I am standing in front of you. She said I needed a birth certificate or passport. Fair enough, but I have an "Official" California drivers license and a NYC Identification card. Both of which, I had to present my "Proof of Birth" in order to receive them. With my new reenforced patience, I remained calm. I went home last night to complete the paperwork, retrieve my passport, and stowed it with my CA licenseset. I organized myself for today by setting aside all that was needed to get my NYC license.

I woke up early today ready to conquer the task. After waiting outside in a line that bended around the 'New York' block, battling the crowds and lines, it was finally my turn to say, "Cheese" for the camera. Next!!! Yes, it was me. I presented my completed form, my passport, and my CA license. He then asked me, "Do you have your Social Security Card?" My what. I told him, "No", I have my passport. He essentiall told me that I needed that, but I have everything else. Why do they need this little blue card? All it is going to tell them is my number and my name. What is the concern? I was born. I have my proof as I stand here and present to you my US passport. I even have a NYC ID. What is the problem? I suppose I really am not born. I do not exist. Suck BS. Now I have to go back down there otra vez para stand in line again, battle crowds. The next time, they will probably tell me that I need Report of Good Conduct from the NYPD. I now know that hell does exist on earth. Until next time, I am going to get baptized.

I know longer know what weekends are. Weekends used to be a weekly milestone where every Sunday night as I layed in my bed preparing my state of mind for work, I told myself, "I cannot wait until Friday." I knew that once Friday came I did not have work for the next two days or at least think about work until Sunday. The weekend was a time when I would go out on a date. Wait, who am I fooling. I maybe went on 4 dates in the last year prior to my departure to Spain. It is not that I had opportunity, I just did not feel like playing 20 questions. Hence, on the weekends, I would hook up with homeys and we would hit a bar and take down a few pints. We would talk to women, say jokes, and make the women shake there head at us. The weekend was a time where I could shomp on my ground and just have fun. It was 2 days that I learned to appreciate. However, those days are gone. My days run into each other. I do not know what it is. When Friday comes, it is not a big deal. I do not need rest from anything. I am not trying to escape a dreaded job. I must admit, I have no desire to go booze any more. I would prefer to sit at home, talk with my fool as a roommate, watch a movie or game, and make trades in Fantasy football. The only thing I look forward to Saturday Salsa Mambo classes. One I love Salsa dancing and two, I love my Latin loves shaking what their mamma gave them. I really do. Besides that, I have no weekends.

This is not to say that I sit on my hands all day and do nothing. I am seriously active the entire day researching and getting my hustle on (as Los would say). So what are weekends? I no longer know, but it maybe is just more advertising propaganda to promote Sales at stores and fuel an economy. It is just like Valentine's Day, which is by far the worst day on earth. This day has no significance and is all propaganda. Why do we need a day to help remind our women to remind us that we need to take them to dinner and buy them roses that will dry out in 2 days. I need a day like this like I need venereal disease. Anyway, if our women are acting right by staying in the kitchen to cook our meals and clean our dirty draws, then they would receive these on a regular basis not to mention the magic stick. Stop right there!!! That was just a joke. A joke, so stay cool. Until this day happens, I will continue to be lost somewhere in time cursing at the TV, while I am in the Madden Lab. Peace, I am out!

Last night I finally experience my last missing portion of riding on NYC transit. I navigated my way through Port Authority to find the correct bus that takes me to Willowbrook Mall in New Jersey. Now I can say I am an official New Yorker, but this is not my point. While riding on the bus to New Jersey, I found myself staring in the sky while bopping my head to P. Diddy's, "I need a girl". I do not know what I was thinking, but I do know that I was thinking or dreaming of something. You know this because you catch yourself thinking and say to yourself, "Hey, you are thinking, but what was I just thinking about?" I have to admit that this when you are doing your best thinking. When you don't know that your thinking. You are just doing it while looking at a cloud formation that is dramatized by the setting of the sun. After I caught myself thinking, I thought to myself that I like thinking while gazing out a window of a moving vehichle. I really do. Although, I do not care to have 20 hour train rides again, I do miss that aspect about traveling. Sitting back in the seat, looking at the fantastic scenery, and just thinking. The bus to NJ was cool, but my daily rides on the Subway just do not do it for me. For those people who call it dazing or daydreaming, I call it reflection. A nice reflection where nobody can bother me or annoy be because I am in my own little safe world. That is until somebody, says, "So Taj. Tell me what you are thinking."