#tj: i always joke that he is one kiss - from a criminal - away from giving up his rank as captain but it also hurts that it isn't a joke--

[reallyrandomtj]

What if I said that my Gepard is ONE STEP away from a villain arc?

One more of his men 'dying' in front of him?

One of them DYING to protect their Captain in the Fragmentum?

The pressure to be the perfect citizen/role model?

Enduring another fight/falling out with Serval?

Pushing himself to be the best he can be in an attempt to protect his men and citizens of Belobog from those that wish to disturb the peace? Be it other people or MONSTERS.

The constant 'silent killer' fear of the citizens turning against him?

The best way I would describe my Gepard? THIS SONG!

Gepard is ALWAYS trying his best to benefit the safety/freedom of other people BUT in HIS reality... at the end of each day he is ALWAYS on the edge of breaking down into tears and mentally claiming that Belobog, and even his siblings, deserve better than what he has already given. Only he can't or else everything he has done would be undone and the innocent would suffer! By this I mean his lack of wanting to take time off from his duties ~

[calypsoff]

Twenty Three.

I always assume that if you go on a private jet then you don’t need to go through security but boy am I wrong, I just feel like they see I have a record and then they do extra searches, but it only happens sometimes, hopefully I can go through this smoothly. Staring at the paparazzi from afar, I don’t get how they know she was coming, was it set up or do they just wait around and then see if they can find someone famous, imagine if something kicks off now while I got searched, they will take all the pictures of it “Miss Rihanna, come here beautiful” the lady said to her, she seems so nice but I got a feeling I am going to have the white guy that looks like a dickhead “just walk through here for me please beautiful” how many times is she going to say beautiful “Robyn will have no issues, she breezes by” Mel said behind me “clearly” I mumbled “sir!” the white guy of course shouted me, taking in a deep breath “walking through here please” nodding my head “stand to the side of me, arms out” putting my arms out, they ain’t going to find anything on me anyways, I am not that stupid. I don’t even have cigarettes on me, I be scared like that. I just don’t want that headache for me or for Robyn “here” he waved me over, stepping out of the machine. Robyn is already done “step here sir” slowly walking over to him “arms out, do you have anything you shouldn’t” I mean he knows damn well I went in the machine “nope” lifting my arms “legs apart” this gives me war flashbacks to jail, this is just painful. He started to pat my leg “I ain’t got anything, you know that” I know he does “we need to do these checks, with your criminal background” rolling my eyes, I will need to accept this because it will always happen for me.

Walking back over to Robyn with my trey of stuff “was you enjoying the hand movements that much?” Mel chuckled “yeah, he enjoyed touching my balls” placing the tray at the side of Robyn “I could have gone back to Texas and not have this issue” I know Robyn is side eyeing me “I wish they locked you up now” I snorted laughing “I bet there is some real thug dudes, were there some real big niggas there? I need a thug” Mel is crazy “so you want a murderer?” putting my sneakers on “murder this pussy yes, did you ever you know? I mean men there are horny” I can’t believe we having the conversation in the middle of the airport “why does everyone like to ask that, no I didn’t and it didn’t happen to me either” shaking my head “you would make a pretty bitch too” Mel is stupid “no wonder he doesn’t want to come with us anywhere when you be asking him things like that” Robyn spoke up, took her time “well I am just asking, can’t help it” Robyn grabbed my other sneaker for me “awww look at wifey prepping your sneaker, why don’t you dress him?” I chuckled “when are you proposing Chris?” I groaned out “woman!” I spat “can we drop Mel off in the ocean or something, you want marriage already?” shaking my head.

Laid out on the bed that was made for me, this is dope though but I am tired “do you think I am wifey material?” Robyn asked, that was random of her, but this is coming from the fact I was telling Mel to shut up “why are you asking me this?” I would like to know why she is saying this now “because I am asking, do you think I am? Would you marry me” rubbing my chin smiling “I don’t think I can afford you yet, don’t play me like that stupid” I wish she wouldn’t “men don’t think I am, they find me sexually pleasing and want to fuck me but that is it. But wife material? You think that is me?” she is so difficult “I see you being in my life long time, see what issues you caused. Robyn ignore Mel, marriage is a big thing. It doesn’t mean I don’t want too, just that we need to just take time with things like that” I swear to god, now she wants me to start proposing “but one day?” nodding my head “one day, when I can afford you” I grinned, I can’t afford Rihanna. No way in hell I can afford her, she is out of my reach right now. I need to hold my own “when can you afford me? I am priceless” I groaned out “when I can go back to Texas and do some things, now please” women, I swear I wouldn’t accept this bullshit from anyone, she lucky. Robyn just gets a hold of one thing and then doesn’t let it go.

I was going to go to sleep but Barry and TJ both facetimed me, they are in the same apartment but on different phones on facetime “you look so annoyed, you not missing us?” shaking my head “y’all niggas are weird but yeah, I will be in New York for a while but then I will be back. I know my son’s miss me with their whole heart” TJ looks a mess “is Tina there?” shaking my head “no why?” TJ squinted his eyes “you’re lying show me! Tell Tina I miss her mouth” I snorted laughing “nigga shut the fuck up, Tina ain’t here and I am not saying that to anyone” I am glad I have my headphones in “show us!” he shouted, flipping the camera and then showing the jet, aiming the camera at Robyn and Mel “that is it” TJ looks disappointed “is Mel single?” Barry asked and I shook my head “I am not having you dating these women just to be dicks. I am not having it” I will refuse “what the fuck!? Help a nigga out, she fine as hell” I will not help Barry “I don’t care, I will refuse to help. Do it yourself” Barry groaned out “you dumb but get Rihanna to help us, get her to wear our clothing line? Do something for us, she can get Drake to wear it! Nigga” they on this again “I am not that type of guy, we can do it on our own can we not?” TJ chuckled “then post something! You got fanpages, yo. I showed Barry, there is a page called ChrisBreezy right, it’s a fanpage of you, and they have these random pictures of you, you need to post about it then! You so damn lazy” TJ got a point “I really do though?” that is interesting “yes, check it out. I follow it, you got pussy. If you and Robyn don’t be, then you will get others” I chuckled “that ain’t happening but I will check that shit out, I ain’t even notice it” girls really like me like that “they made your mugshot into some sexual shit, I died laughing” I snorted laughing.

I am impressed, Robyn has a apartment I never knew of until now and this shit is amazing “damn” I said to myself “holy shit, Chris. You made it through the tour and is still with my sister” Rorrey came over to me, dapping him “I was close, good seeing you. Are you staying here too?” I am amazed but this place “yes I am boss, good that you came out. You and I can go out. Spend some brother in law time together in the club, watch a little sport together, mingle” nodding my head “I am doing for that” Robyn came into my eye view “can I borrow my boyfriend, thank you” Rorrey laughed moving back “follow me to the bedroom, give you the tour” follow behind Robyn “I didn’t know you had this? You never mentioned it?” she could have said “I know, but I want to be close to you. So I got this and I got the home in California. So this is our bedroom, we. Well I have the biggest room here of course, own bathroom and all that but I do need to go. I think my baby is coming quicker then qw thought” looking around the room “cool, are you going to be ok? If you need me, to talk too then call me. I can’t believe you are actually doing this, like you are so strong” she shrugged “it’s nothing, I am here for Noella, it’s not about me. But thank you, for being here and don’t listen to my brother he is stupid” I chuckled “I got you, call me when the baby comes” wrapping my arms around Robyn “I love you Chris, thank you” rubbing her back “I love you more” pressing a kiss to the top of her head, she is so strong for doing this.

“We are free!” Rorrey shouted “Chris, come here. This is my cousin Teejay, Teejay this is Robyn’ boyfriend. He is a good man, he puts up with Robyn, so he is good” walking towards both Rorrey and TeeJay “hey” shaking his hand “good meeting you, auntie spoke on you. She say you a bad boy, all the tattoos” letting an oh “I mean, I wouldn’t say I am a bad boy but I get caught up in the wrong thing I guess” Rorrey held out a Corona bottle out to me “no thank you, I don’t like beer like that. Robyn and I can the rest of you, you all like beer a lot” they drink a lot of it I can see “you weak, you need to get into it, but how about we go out. I think we need to take you out, shall we cousin?” Robyn did state don’t listen to my brother he is stupid, but then if I don’t I will be sat here alone, that would be stupid “what you thinking?” I wonder where he wants to go, I mean I am not with Robyn so I can relax “forty forty club, I can get us some VIP space. Robyn name comes in handy then” I chuckled “I get what you mean, cool. I will get changed and then we can go” turning around “also don’t tell Robyn, she told me to keep you inside, she thinks you’re her pet. Women!” of course Robyn told him that I can’t.

I haven’t been to a club in a while, it’s weird in a good way. I mis this vibe actually and this nigga got us VIP, I am liking this. And I swear I saw Ja Rule here, I loved him. This shit is so surreal “I don’t get why my sister doesn’t want you out, like I would like you do anything? I am here with you” Rorrey said in my ear “and also none of these girls compare to your sister, I got the diamond, these are just cubic zirconia” Rorrey busted out laughing, bopping my head to the music “good, good. This is why I fucks with you; I know you a good guy” Rorrey got all his weight on me “I didn’t expect him to be here” Rorrey moved away from me “who?” I questioned, he pointed across from us. I can barely see actually “Rakim, aye! Nigga!” he started shouting, that nigga gripped Robyn’ butt. I ain’t forget and I don’t care who the hell he is and what entourage he got right now, putting my hand up “leave him there, he touched your sister like that bro” is he stupid “oh that was a joke? Robyn said it was” of course she is going to tell him that, he doesn’t even know that his sister went through a miscarriage “I don’t fuck with that” downing my drink seeing that pussy ass motherfucker, this nigga looks like a girl. He is small as fuck too, what the fuck was Robyn doing with him. I am pissed, he shouldn’t have touched my girl the way he did either.

I have been texting Robyn while in the club, I admitted to her where I am. I ain’t no liar either, but I think I am about ready to go since that female ass came. Looking down at Robyn’ text.

Twin: Poppa! What did I say about listening to my brother! Long as you are having fun and don’t come back late. Noella is still trying to give birth so it’s a long night! Send help

Robyn is strong as fuck, to be in that kind of environment knowing what you went through but she is there. I can only imagine how bored she is, she is a good woman.

Chris: I will but to be honest shit just turned wack!! I rather be with you

Pressing send on the message and locking my phone “I am going to the bathroom” I said to Rorrey, I think he heard what I said. He just nodded his head at me, not sure if that was to the song or me. Stuffing my phone in my pocket, pushing my way through the crowd. I mean I am not going to do anything to him because Robyn wouldn’t be happy if I did but just to walk by him annoys me, I want to punch him and wipe that smile from his face. Taking in a sharp breath, walking by him and his hooligan peers just doing the post, I know Robyn and I know he isn’t her type. That is me, I am her type. She loves a nigga like me, that is on period but let me just go to the toilet and do my thing “oh sorry” this girl just hugged me as we hit into each other, not sure if it was intentional because I wasn’t looking “it’s cool” I rather she didn’t touch me, she bit her bottom lip as I broke away from her. New York girls really don’t care at all “you not got a number!” she shouted, looking behind “I don’t do mobiles sorry but search for me on Rihanna’ Instagram” I winked at her, she gasped staring at me that I even said that.

It’s like Rakim is being in my face today, I stepped out of the bathroom and he is right that with that stupid smile “oh shit, you’re Rihanna’ new nigga” he pointed at me, this nigga is not funny “you’re the nigga she left” I pointed back “oh you got jokes” he said laughing “I do” I mumbled “Robyn mothering you huh, she got to hold your hand through this shit you get what I mean? She has to feed you? She your mother” licking my lips trying to not act out, that is not me now “say that without a bodyguard though” I said “you don’t want to fuck with a Harlem nigga country boy” I chuckled nodding my head “whatever, you a funny dude” holding my hand out to him “likewise to you, I am joking with you” Rakim said it was a joke but he bitter because I said Robyn left him, Rakim placed his hand in mine like a truce but I don’t do that type of shit over here. I was going to pull him toward me and headbutt him, but I stopped myself stepping back, he walked by me to go to the toilets. Walking off and looked behind me, he went into the bathroom without his bodyguard. Patting my pockets, acting like I forgot something. Turning back around and went into the toilets, there is that dumb nigga “you don’t know about these country niggas though” Rakim turned around as he zipped his pants up “you-” before he could even speak I punched him “you don’t touch my girl again” Rakim came at me and pushed me back but I gripped him back and shoved him back into the stall “it was a fucking joke, you don’t know who you fucking with! Dumb nigga” punching him again as he was on the floor. I turned away from him and made a quick break for it, I am not waiting around. I won’t be waiting for his people or any of that mob of his, turning off and making my way out of the club, all I know is that he should never touch my girl like that again.

It was a whole process to get back into Robyn’ apartment, I have no code or key for this place and I had to get the doorman to do it for me and he did eventually, which took him half hour “Chris!? What the fuck” oh Rorrey is back, looking behind me on the couch “you attacked Rocky, why!? He came at me” I can’t really say why “nigga he touched your sister like that, he touched my girl that way too, I don’t fuck with that” getting gup from the couch “Chris, I get it, but the police know. He gave your name in, I tried to calm it down, but you need to just give yourself in. He snitched because he knows you got a record” I should have known “fuck it, let them come and get me” I shrugged “it’s better if you just give yourself in, for my sister’ sake. He snitched, he is a fucking snitch we know that” I really couldn’t care less, walking off to the bedroom.

[joanelizebeth]

dreamers: don’t die

I know you think none of this matters anymore. You don’t even care so much to abide by sentence structure. The newest version of the new you could give two shits about what the Oxford comma even is. You don’t write to attain a grade anymore. You don’t write to get into college anymore. You write because……...

Dot. Dot. Dot ...still thinking, uploading, pending, synching. The world you once believed in, the audience still waiting on the last time you gave serious, genuine, interested, effort into your skill...

But something always causes the pen to stop writing before it actually intended on stopping. Suddenly the fingers stop typing at the keyboard...

You look up to kiss him goodnight (you realize he’s filling up his water bottle to head to bed), & so you shrug silently to yourself, “oh, this isn’t anything big I’m working on anyway right now, I can pause this and put it away.” NBD! Easy! 

Dot. Dot. Dot. 

The laptop closes and we don’t even recognize the severity of the moment. Such a subtle, little... moment, right?

My dad, born in 1953, believed in a lifelong dream of getting a Corvette. He got it when I was like 5. I’d sit in the back and stare up at the Wisconsin stars and think “I’m gonna chase my dreams like this one day, and never stop driving.” I’m 24, he hasn’t driven it regularly since I was 9. 

One day that garage door closed for the last time that he’d ever take that red corvette out, before giving up on remembering why he’d made it such a life goal in the first place...

And suddenly years and years later, so many pauses, so many put away ideas, brainstorming lists, and even frickin potential tweets and instagram captions fill up nothing but receipt space in your Notes app (a habit kept like my mom’s iconic giant black purse, all too familiar: like a landfill of thin crumpled papers, dollars, and big break ideas, always meant to go somewhere someday, right?).

Ideas are only dangerous if you feed them. House them. Watch them age, and help them develop into actions. As an artist, but really as an overthinker; it’s a game within your own creative intellect to balance the test of modern revolutions and trends & the analytical application of methods classically proven to work. We must not think we have to choose one or the other, but learn how to derive new opinions, ideas, and experiments by utilizing both thought-habits to new, peaceful third productive outcome to remain open minded to perspectives of people with much different life experiences and lives, different reality lenses than our own. 

Three dots that wait to continue the conversation, as eager as a new college grad awaits the dialog after sending a cover letter. The art of a cover letter? Is that really an art? I find well crafted writing with any purpose other than for the passion that letters themselves inspired one to pursue opportunity, to be a mockery of language itself. Do not exploit my talent, do not disrespect my education, for you have no idea what I’ve learned behind the closed doors of my personal life and interests, of things beyond what the ACT scans for. I might have read AP Chemistry in 5th grade, I might have read my father’s divorce journal during the military, you have no academic acclaim in my eye to judge the motivation behind why I type what I type. What I say and why I say so is something I’m still discovering myself, but I question the validity of my talent, of my career, every day that I realize I don’t have a stupid Bachelor’s Degree Paper saying that I majored in English and also sucked up to the professor’s particular philosophy. I’ve read more books in my lifetime than days I’ve spent in school. I’m not lying. I’m 24, one year out of college, one year a resident in the city of Angels: dying. Dying of Apathy. The same criminal that tried to take me when I tasted a life of comfort.

You need more than ambition now. Now, more than ever, you need to focus. To stop picking up your phone to see if he viewed your story, even if you’re alone in a foreign world and don’t know a single soul who understands your context. You can’t drop the mask now and visit Aunt Linda after church at Starbucks. You can’t force smiles anymore to strangers, trying to convince other people why you moved here with a dream. But why not? You can’t force strangers, you can’t force friends, you can’t force family to believe in you if you’ve chosen to stop believing in yourself. So cheesy, those words must have come from someone from Wisconsin. Regardless, reality.

The months fly by like EXPO tickets at a busy restaurant, once they’re gone they’re forgotten. 

So many months, so many days, so many interactions with strangers on the street. Things we don’t think about. It’s been a year, what the fuck have I accomplished? I haven’t even written a Goddamn thing on a computer since I worked at ESPN. When my voice felt validated. I could have stayed. How many nights do I wake up jerking, imagining the best case scenario of an unrealistic positive scenario of the other side of the crossroads we faced when we were only a little bit younger? But I chose to move from Wisconsin to California. I believed in myself when I bought that flight, when I wobbly-handed my debit card to the TJ Maxx cashier for that suitcase, the one suitcase I moved here with. Flyin’ solo sounds more glamorous in quote form. It was really lonely. But day by day things can really, really; really improve. 

Those restaurant tickets are forgotten. We take shots at the end of the night with both BOH and FOH together, completely forgetting about that side of chipotle ranch for that lemon lady that was never ran. We move on in life and don’t care about the little details that occur around us as we take in the information overload called being alive. 

But among those tickets, among those many little random tickets, big, small, we know the clock out feeling still leaves us smiling, wondering why even if work was hectic, it was worth it. It was and is always worth coming back again, even when we have slow nights. Just kinda like how, even if we haven’t gotten verified on Instagram or Twitter, we still kinda like life in LA.

Tickets fly by like days, weeks, months, even years lived in Los Angeles, and I don’t fast forward through those moments as I previously had. I used to guilt trip myself for not being “critically acclaimed” whatever the fuck that means, yet if I were to forever focus on that rubric as the sole way to define my sense of self, I’d land up where my brain of creative fire fears most: apathy. Not caring. Not having emotion. Make excuses to replace the thoughts of guilt, the thoughts that comfort me into affirmation that my negligence, my lack of work ethic, my dwindling inspiration that was once the sturdy backbone I had as my secret weapon during the fight.

Those tickets don’t matter. A side of ketchup you forgot to run a few days ago that you just remembered doesn’t matter. But the concept of tickets not mattering ever is just as common and dangerous a mistake to make as getting caught up in labels, titles, and details. 

The days I’ve been in Los Angeles, I haven’t acted in feature films, modeled free outfits on Melrose, made out with Halsey backstage, or had some magical unrealistic moment where someone wants to read my poetry or script ideas drunkenly on the patio at Berkshire House. At the end of the shift, the restaurant tickets don’t matter, right? Or do they?

At the end of the day, the time I spent in LA without getting a self affirming job doesn’t matter, right? All this time I have spent living in LA with strangers and paying rent that seems so expensive, is it a waste of my life? These days in LA that pass by without me making my “big break” are a fucking waste of time, right? Or are they? 

But,

Did you learn Street names? Freeway names? Did coffee shop faces begin to become recognizable by name? What about your favorite parking spot at work? What about when the Uber app recognizes your patterns and little favorite spots? Do you have a coworker you vent to about all the BS banter from certain regular customers? What about the checkout lady at the grocery store where you get your favorite coffee creamer? Has the weight of meaning of seeing a familiar friends’ handwriting on a postcard carried its weight a little differently? All these little things, all those little tickets at work, never seem to matter in the moment, but at the end of the day, at the end of our shift: they’re what makes us feel at home. Habits are what makes the difference between what feels like a house and what feels like a home. 

You’ve made what was just a house, now a home. Through habit. Through noticing.

Although Apathy is a real phase we all sometimes experience in life due to comfort and lack of change, apathy doesn’t have to corner us into self imposing a giant change upon our lives, forcing us to lose something we love. We can fight these fits of apathy, of self doubt, of questioning everything, by …

Dot Dot Dot...

Does anyone have an answer?

My answer to Apathy, to a dead soul, to feelings of  “why hasn't anyone noticed what I’m capable of yet?” is that the answer never mattered to a dumb self conceited question to begin with. 

Remember those tickets. Remember those days. Remember those that laughed at your jokes, asked to take pictures with you, invited you to parties, or smiled at you with a sense of familiar relief when you punched into work. People have been noticing you. Have you been noticing them?