College & Social Life: The Importance Of Networking

College & Social Life: The Importance Of Networking
M.D. Wright
8.30.09

I had it all laid out before me. I was a freshman at Long Island University out in Brooklyn. I had made quite a few new friends from all the boroughs, some from Jersey, a couple from Westchester and a few from Long Island. I had made in-rows with a couple of my professors and finally learned how to navigate the maze of BS at LIU's administrative office. What's more, after a tough first semester, I got a job at Kinney Shoes, which was to open the first four Champ's Shoes stores in New York City (this was 1998). I was excited and had assisted with set-up at the store at 23rd & 8th and the Dyckman St. store. I had my eyes set on breaking in with one of the sports teams, particularly the Knicks, who, at the time were STILL RELEVANT. I had the energy to put up with a lot more nonsense back then than I do now, so I would've persisted until I got my foot in the door; then worked up. Who knows where I would be now, 11+ years later?

Fast forward a bit, I am forced to withdraw from LIU against my will -- because everyone who knows me KNOWS I neither wanted to leave school NOR New York. Little did I know that the decision that was made FOR me was going to still be affecting me to this day, and possibly for the rest of my life.

There was a huge mess with the paperwork pertaining to withdrawal and then the school then royally screwed up my financial aid package. This guaranteed I would not be going to school anywhere ANYTIME soon. I went from having no debt to owing $11,000 to LIU. What made matters worse was the fact that I had been in the hospital about 18 months prior after nearly losing my life due to a cyst near my brain and blood poisoning. Duke Hospital had sent the bill to the address where my parents lived when I was brought home from the hospital after birth. Talk about a colossal mess. Given that my residency was in New York State at the time, the balance owed to LIU, and not having anything but a high school diploma (with no refined skills to speak of, obviously), I was not going to be getting anything decent with regards to jobs. I was sunk.

To make matters worse, I was not around people my age. Thankfully, God did bless me with a job. Albeit at $8 an hour. Definitely can't rent an apartment, buy a car (which is definitely necessary in North Carolina) and MUCH LESS repay those student loans and a hospital bill which was over a year and a half past due. Add to the fact that I hate Greensboro and never wanted to leave New York, I was tight for a good year and a half. I managed to save enough money within a year to buy a car. I was elated, because not only had I bought a car, but my skin had cleared up from the near-fatal case of psoriasis/blood poisoning that I had endured my entire four years of high school and the two subsequent years following.

Two months later, the car was totally smashed, did 15 grand. Some girl in one of those old '87 big body Thunderbirds tries to accelerate from 0 to beat me across the street as I'm doing 55 mph. DEAR GOD. I spent the entire summer of 1999 driving a putty piece of crap Toyota Corolla instead of my Honda Accord. I couldn't catch a break. At the job, I was 20 years old, surrounded by people 32, 34, 35 years old. No young women my age (except this one whore, who I will come back to later) and overall, no one who I could hang with after work. Given that I was not in school to socialize with people my age, how WAS I going to get to know more people. What did I have in common with these people who had spouses/significant others, children, second jobs and who could go to bars and lounges, when I had none of those things and was underage? I had every intention to come back to New York and resume my life, because save for the first 7 years that I lived there, Greensboro was not home to me and never has been. I just lived there because my parents did. I have no connection there and I hated being there. Home is where your heart is, and by now it is clear that Greensboro wasn't where my heart was ha.

Still, I tried to make the most of it. This is when I began getting in trouble, though. I had been very materialistic after being put onto armaniexchange, Iceberg, Coogi, etc. when hanging with some of my friends from school in Brooklyn. I was always hanging out in Morningside, up on the Hill and on the strip on 2-5 where my aunt worked at the State Office Bldg. I had always been fashionable and a trendsetter, but after spending so much time in Harlem World I really OD'ed with the name brands. So my means of expression and let's face it, having FUN, was to go shopping every week. I literally bought a new pair of kicks every week. Whether they were Air 1's, Jordans in a different colorway, Air Maxes, Timbos, dress shoes, what have you, I shopped every week. I owned every bottle of designer cologne, and bought all the name brands that I mentioned, plus those overpriced $150 Ralph Lauren sweaters. I did this for two years. Ran up $12,000 in credit card debt and repaid it all by 2002. I was miserable, because it took me 5 years to even make a respectable wage at that job. I had no privacy. I couldn't really travel, acquire real estate, go to school or anything, because what money I could've used to do that, I spent shopping, since I couldn't do ANYTHING ELSE in Greensboro. I hated hanging around some of those people at the church, because I never really felt at home there, either. I much preferred my other church in New Jersey, which I've been attending off and on for 13 years now.

I'd gotten myself in some serious trouble with debt, but managed to repay it all. Then, in a blink of an eye things changed. They began hiring younger people at the office. I was about 23 or 24, but by then, I had designs on leaving the job and, after spending all or part of every summer going back to NY and NJ (I had briefly lived with my aunt out in Newark in the late 90s), I was ready to go back. But then my wisdom tooth came in, and another tooth had to be removed on top of it. Because my then-car (a 1999 Mazda 626 with 130,000 miles and two blown transmissions -- working on a third at that time) was about to break down and I had spent most of 2001 and 2002 repaying credit card debt, I was wiped out savings-wise. I had to borrow money to pay the $1,100 for dental surgery dear god. I bought my first laptop that summer and, while speculating for real estate, had contemplated buying a house. I never seriously thought about buying because I was planning to return to New York that year. My dad was right in one regard: buying that house, even if I never really lived in it, would've yielded me about $40,000 in equity, because there were two phases built behind it. But I had a major concern and a huge decision to make: I had been accepted to Seton Hall for a second time that year (2003) and St. John's University out in Queens had recruited me to come and study with a full scholarship. At the time, St. John's didn't have dorms nor apartments, and I didn't have relatives in Queens at the time. Commuting from Harlem or Newark daily was not a good look. Or so I thought. (Little did I know the things I wasn't willing to do back then I HAVE to do now just to get to where I want to go sheesh). I passed on St. John's for petty reasons (I was against formal education at that point). I had been making close to $40K with bonuses and stock options every quarter. I was looking to invest in real estate and had other business endeavors in the works. "Who needs school?" I mused. All I did was delay my future by taking so long to return. Plus, I was only around people 10 years older than me, as I said.

This is where things began to crumble for real.

I had been messing with the office whore, who had been messing with half the guys at the office (this was an office of about 800, 700+ women, about 100 men, half of whom were gay, the other half who were married -- and some of them were DL gay -- the others were single and she was messing with most of THEM). Of course, being taken by her looks, I spent three years wasting my time on her. She was a year younger than me and we had been "hooked up" by her witchy friend who whined when she talked but had a deep guttural laugh like Fred Flintstone dear god. When they finally hired people close to my age, I was sick of that place. And it was the same old thing: the ones who didn't scare you by looking at them were hoes. I even had a couple of them who were married or on their way to being married throwing themselves at me. I was about to have a mid-life crisis at 25 ha.

My 626 blew its transmission for the last time. My dad had talked me into getting that car, because it was cheaper and I could learn how to work on cars. He was right on both counts. The car was DEFINITELY CHEAP (sarcasm) and I learned how to fix almost anything on a car. I wasn't totally upset. I drove that car into the ground in the four years I had it. 135,000 miles, three transmissions, several trips to NY and NJ, FL, DC, GA. It was time. But this time, (at the same time I was deciding about buying a house and going to St. John's) the transmission blew and I said "screw it", and said I was going to get the car I really wanted. At the time, the new Nissan Z car -- the 350 -- had just come out. I bought the 2nd one that had been sold at this particular dealer. They had to drive 100 miles to pick it up and custom detail it, with a free tank of gas for the inconvenience for me. I loved that car. I had it for 4 years and had about 90K on it. Did the same things: drove it to death in the same places, but it handled better and of course chicks saw that. I became even more suspicious and cynical. I began hating everything by the end of 2004.

Earlier in the summer of 2004, my friend Angelica gave me a prophetic word. It involved me going back to school. GOOD GRIEF. Hearing that now wouldn't be a big deal, since I'm still pursuing three more degrees, but at the time, I hated the idea. I prayed about it and I knew she wasn't drunk or something. It was God reminding me of what I had lost sight of because I had been forced to make a decision between choosing band and a tech prep program. I had also been told all my life growing up that I was going to be an engineer, even though I have abhorred math since middle school good heavens. I flunked math throughout high school. Only made things worse dealing with that skin/blood disorder. I really wish I had been allowed to LaGuardia (Performing Arts) or Julliard (and yes, my sister and I both have multiple talents in musical instruments). But, because I didn't get to play in the band, I became rusty in everything from drums, to guitar, keys, etc. Bad move.

Add to the fact that my sights had always been set up on front office/ownership work -- NOT playing professional sports (although I definitely could have played cornerback in the NFL or all three outfield positions/3B/SS or 2B in baseball -- had a cannon for an arm and could hit for days -- except a great uncle Charlie; but who really hits THOSE great anyway?). I had to ditch that because of my illness. I ran track and ran it well, because it was the least taxing physically dealing with all the 24/7 pain due to Erythrodermic Psoriasis, boils, cysts, open sores all over my body, bleeding all day, hair falling out in clumps and having no energy most of the day. I am amazed I didn't die. God had a plan for me.

And so I was reminded of that plan with Angelica's prophetic word.

Of course I wanted to work in sports as an agent/financial and legal adviser. And so it began. I didn't waste time. I applied to UNC Greensboro the Monday after. And I got accepted.

After beginning a non-profit organization with my cousin that fall, I saw it fit to leave that job finally; after 7+ years. They weren't accomodating me with regards to my class schedule and obviously finishing what I had started in Brooklyn was my goal at this point. So I screw "take your job and shove it" and left in August 2005. The non-profit was in place and we were all ready to get our 501c3 and funding. We struggled throughout 2006 trying to do this and I began to lose everything I had. With no real networking system in place (because I had returned to college shortly before my 26th birthday, I was around people 7, 8 years younger than me now), I had nothing to fall back on. I was dwarfed socially, dating back to being forced to leave LIU back in '98. I couldn't relate to my roommates at UNCG much. My last roommate was a cool dude and we had been friends (still are to this day), but he was 21 and I was 29 -- and he was getting married, and I, BECAUSE I WAS NOT AROUND WOMEN MY AGE for the past 10 years, was a fish out of water. It is a very numbing feeling. Makes you not really care. Even though I have always been about commitment and marriage, I never had a shot. I never had a shot in high school because of my condition. And even after that, because I was always 10+ years younger (at the job) or 7-10 years older (at UNCG) than all the women I was around -- it was forced lone wolfdom. I wasn't even a loner. It was the antithesis of my personality. My family will tell you that. I was always outgoing. But going out and getting hammered, using coke and weed, waking up next to some oinker who you don't even remember speaking to isn't my idea of fun at age 29, 30 -- nor had it ever been, really. I had only gone to the Tunnel down in Chelsea 3 or 4 times and didn't enjoy it. And I never saw the big deal with weed or getting drunk 3 times a week. My parents had broken that generational curse, so I couldn't really enjoy it.

I had said the last three years I was at UNCG that I was heading back to NY for good and not looking back. I had tried to transfer to NYU in 2006 but could not due to the non-profit not gaining funding. My cousin and I became even more engulfed in our studies and couldn't devote any extra time to the organization. We both nearly lost it all. I, in fact, LITERALLY DID. My credit, credit score, all my savings, my car, everything -- except my sanity. I was rock bottom. At age 27. All because of what happened when I had been forced to leave LIU.

2007 came and went. No job. I managed to get half the money UNCG owed me and when I came out to Staten Island for the summer, I had been working to transfer yet again. No dice. I had too many credits at UNCG by this point. It was senseless to give back 15 credits to get into NYU at $55K per. I came right back in 2008 and spent half the summer trying to get into City College in Harlem. Walked hundreds of blocks between Hunter, City and Baruch to get it done. I was accepted, all accept CUNY's LONG-STANDING TRADITION of screwing peoples' financial aid. To compound things, I had yet ANOTHER chance to get back on my track of sports. I had landed an internship with CBS Sports to work the football pre/post game show with Greg Gumbel, Dan Marino, Shannon Sharpe and Boomer; but I couldn't take it because I couldn't sign up for classes at City college BECAUSE of my financial aid situation DEAR. GOD.

I had to go back to Greensboro and finish at UNCG. I had hurt my back in September 2007 and spent the rest of that year and 2008 incapacitated. I had surgery on my back in September 2008 and am just getting back to where I had been physically in 2004 here in August 2009. I feel as though I have come full circle. I had struggled 100 times more in Greensboro than I ever would've if I had been consistently been in NY instead of here and there over the years and all the moving back and forth. It hurt me socially, it hurt me business-wise/networking and it hurt me academically. I am where I would've been in 1999 right now. TEN YEARS LATER. The little bit of struggle, going with eating one meal a day the last couple of weeks at LIU could not compare to not knowing if I would eat at ALL for three straight years. I had a good job with Champ's Shoes, would've had excellent camaraderie with my co-workers (many of whom were LIU students and other students from other universities) and would've been able to network with some really influential people. I don't blame EVERYTHING on the decision that was made without my input and against my will -- as I did run up debt, but none of that would have happened if I had not been usurped. I spent a decade trying to undo something that I had nothing to do with in the first place.

I feel as though I'm playing catch-up in every facet that I have mentioned. Some people remark, "Mike, you don't look 30. You look 21, 22". Maybe that's just God giving me a mulligan and a chance to do what I never had a chance to do when I really was that age.

Who knows, but God?

Daily Comedy On The MTA

Daily Comedy On The MTA
M.D. Wright
8.26.09

Okay, since I left SIDC, I've been hanging out in the city more often like I used to. So of course what comes with this is more run-ins with hobos, bad attitudes, WACKY TOURISTS who can't get out of the way and late-late night craziness on MTA buses.

As is the case every summer in Harlem, I see some cracked-out dude walking down the street, seemingly minding his business -- only to have him let out a primal scream and then babble to himself while startled outta towners look on in amazement and fear.

I can still remember a few summers ago when I had young Mike and young AJ with me and we were heading to Brooklyn. We were on the boat coming from Staten Island and this family of tourists are enjoying the sights from the Ferry. It was a mother, father and a son, and the son asks his mother: "mom, where are we heading?". Mom: "Brooklyn, son". Son: "really? So how do we get there from here?" (mind you they are standing on the rail while the three of us sit and watch the landmarks seemingly not move) Mother: "the subway". Son: "(GASPS LOUDLY) MOM!!! DO YOU KNOW WHO RIDES THE SUBWAY?!?!" (we all look at ourselves, knowing he has watched a bit too much TV and DIE laughing).

Later that same summer, we were down by MSG walking and this hobo sticks his legs out as we walk by. I never make eye contact or talk to these guys, but the youngest of my cousins did. So he begs for money. I still say nothing, and instructed them all to do the same. So we walk off, and the guy mutters "yall ain't nothin' but some GHETTO TRASH..." (but he's begging US for money ha). We laugh.

Just in the past couple of weeks I've seen some hilarious things.

I come back from Sunset Park out in Bklyn Thursday night and hung out in the city over at my chill spot (Bryant Park -- 42nd side facing 5th), after sweating my calories away from the previous WEEK, I finally make it back to Staten and once I'm on this side, I get on the bus. I'm minding my business, listening to my tunes. Three young ladies get on and sit in the back of the bus with me. Then this homeless guy gets on. I assume he was homeless because the B.O. on this guy reminded me other homeless dudes. The thing was, I didn't notice it immediately. Once we got up Victory Blvd. a bit more, I began to smell death. I looked up and the girls were laughing. They knew who it was, but I was slow because I was engulfed in my tunes. He nearly suffocated us and brought my eyes to bloodshot tears. He finally got up and moved when he realized the girls laughing. That smell is STILL stuck in my nostrils. It smelled like someone took a diarrhea dump, didn't wipe and chose to get on the bus naked after sweating all day. I never want to smell that again. NEVER. But I know I will tomorrow when I'm down in the East Village at Webster Hall (if I have the nerve to go over there HA).

I was with young Mike and young D'Ann on the boat a few weeks ago, along with young Jasmyn. We were heading back to SI after I had shown Jasmyn the city for the first time. This oinker, who appeared to have tied on a few before getting on board with her friends stands on the rail. There was a good breeze that night, and as she's yakkin' it up, her skirt flies up. I see nothing but paste and cottage cheese. I nearly threw up in my throat and got up making noises as if I was actually doing it. Mike and D'Ann DIE. The lady goes "stop laughing at me, you know you enjoyed it!". I go ................................... Asking her, "what are you doing, giving us a show here? We have underage kids here, dear god". She's like "yeah, you can say I was!". I die along with them ha.

I swear I hear the funniest things while standing on line at stores. Hearing gay guys break up with their lovers extremely loudly on the phone, or old dudes barking at their wives over the phone because they hadn't "taken the fish out" yet ha. I was standing on line waiting on the 1 down on Houston St. I was heading up to Christopher to meet Tara and her friends. I am exhausted after having been in midtown, Top of the Rock, CPK (both sides from Grand Army and 60 up to 72 and CPW), then went up to Harlem to see my family, came back down to Varick, walked 30 blocks and came to this station at Houston. This kid was on my left eating Chinese and I see a hobo digging in the ash can for food. He scores a leftover meal and sits down next to me. I don't even think anything of it. Alls I know at this point is I got two cats next to me who are eating and I hadn't eaten a THING at this point (7 pm -- had a cup of coffee and nothing more -- I have bad eating habits ha). So I was glad to get up to NYU and figure out where we would grab something to eat. We finally get some Halal and head back, after she gets terrified by this weird guy with spaced out eyes talking trash to the Halal guy as she ordered her gyro ha. I just looked at the guy and shook my head because he was just joshing around, but the Halal guy was ready to throw hot food at him ha.

Just yesterday, young Tara and I were coming back from walking around in the Village. I was on the prowl for my dirty hot dog stands after showing her a couple of my spots in the East Village (Buono Sera for one, over on University and 12th). So we avoid the subway and walk from 12th and 3rd all the way over to Canal to catch the 6. Not a walk you want to make after you had walked 150 blocks prior to that already. Anyway, we get to the ferry terminal on the Manhattan side and I'm wolfing down my dogs. I throw the paper away left-handed Michael Redd style, and this guy with 26 teeth missing goes "GOOD SHOT", but where's your rings? I roll my eyes. HERE WE GO. Mind you, this guy is from Brooklyn. You know me, I'll yak about sports with anyone in any borough if they're up to it. Young Tara's sitting there with an eyebrow raised at this guy. He looked like Delroy Lindo, just with 6 teeth ha. He's like, let me guess, you one of them Knick fans. I says YEAH I SUFFERED THIS ENTIRE DECADE LIKE THE TRUE KNICK FANS HAVE. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Meanwhile, his boy is beside him agreeing with me (fellow Knick fan). This guy is a BULLS fan and trying to give us the business because the Knicks haven't won in 36 years ha. Big deal. Tara knows her stuff and she calls him out (he was butchering the names of guys in the NBA worse than Dick Stockton does on TNT ha). He said the Celtics never won anything, and that noone (no one) could beat the Lakers in the 80s (Boston and Detroit did). The guy was a frontrunner. He claims he liked the Lakers in the 80s,t he Bulls in the 90s and the Lakers this decade. Along with these chicks I know who like Ray Allen and Boston, I do NOT understand why so many fellow New Yorkers love these teams (other than frontrunning ha). He yaks and yaks and yaks -- thinking I'm probably 21 or so, since I don't exactly look 30, and therefore thinking he could try to tell me stuff that I know better than HE does, having watched pro sports since 1985. The boat comes and we nearly miss it. I walked off, thinking Tara is with me and she's still entertaining this buster. I'm like "dios mio, COME ON before we miss the boat and have to sit here another half hour". That guy was weird, because he starts talking basketball just because I threw paper away ha. What on earth.

On that ride back on the boat, this guy from down south sits next to us. Tara asks me where I think they're from. I'm like "what am I, an etymologist? I dunno." But they have a 3 year old crying LOUDLY. She was piercing ears out there. I didn't mind her, though. I've been around that all my life. So after about 10 minutes, the father taps her on the arm and says "CALM DOWN HONEY, YOU'RE EMBARRASSING US HERE!!! LOOK AT THESE PEOPLE LOOKING AT YOU!!! (noone was paying her any mind, Tara and I were debating about Kobe Bryant ha -- she hates him BTW and that doesn't fly with me ha) I look up at the guy and he's red in the face. One thing he should know by now is that no one really cares about that stuff. Calm your kid down because she gets on your nerves, not because of what someone who will probably NEVER see you again may think ha.

August 13, 2009

August 13, 2009

The Love Of Rules

READ: Romans 13:1-10

Love is the fulfillment of the law. —Romans 13:10

When I teach writing, I explain that it’s generally better to use short words or phrases first in a series, as in “arts and letters” and “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” Early in my career, I explained to authors that it just sounds better this way, but then I discovered a “rule” about this. And I learned that authors are more likely to accept editorial changes when I can point them to a rule than when I just say, “Trust me.”

This is typical of human nature. We have a love/hate relationship with rules. We don’t like rules, but we’re unsure how to determine right from wrong without them.

God had a relationship with Adam and Eve that was based on loving trust. The only rule necessary was one that protected them from knowledge that would end in death. But when disobedience broke the trusting relationship, God added more rules to protect the wayward couple and their offspring.

In Christ, God proclaimed once more that the good life He wants for us is not about rules but a relationship. As Paul wrote, all the commandments can be summarized in one word: love. Because we are “in Christ,” we can enjoy peace with God and others—not because there’s a rule, but because there is love. — Julie Ackerman Link

Though freed from the law with its stern commands—
No longer ruled by its harsh demands—
I’m bound by Christ’s love and am only free
To live and to act responsibly. —D. De Haan

The greatest force on earth is not the compulsion of law but the compassion of love.