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On April 18th 2006 I received what I would like to humbly call "the greatest responsibility ever". It came with sacrifice, it came with patience, it came understanding, but most importantly, it came with love. His name is Neven. Smart. Funny. Eccentric. Awkward. He gave me the chance to do something that I hadn't been able to do being the youngest child, he gave me the chance to tell him just how powerful he is. Not only as a man. Not only a being. Not only as a black man in America, but as a God. I'm able to tell him that the bible says that God made us in his own image and his own likeness, which to me means that we have the same features and qualities he does. We have the same potential. We have the ability to see something in our minds, imagine it, work for it, and make it a reality. We have the power to build cities. We have the power to build corporations that will flourish and create jobs and opportunities for others. We have the ability to change lives, and with a counterpart, we have the ability to make them. So I no longer anyone for not being in my life, because it made me determined to be his, and for that I am grateful...
Sometimes I wish she knew. Sometimes I wish she understood how hard it was to be a young black male living in a society that has done everything to lay down a foundation specifically made to make you fail. Sometimes I wish she knew how scared I am while I'm walking home. Not only of my own people, but the people who are meant to "protect" the community. How I pray to God every single day that I'm not at the wrong place at the wrong time. How I cried the other day because I realized how far I've come. But she doesn't. All she knows is that I'm not there. All she knows is that for 6 years we've been apart, and haven't been on good terms not one time during those years. I'm not perfect. Sometimes I don't know what I want, sometimes I battle between my logic and my emotion. Sometimes I ask myself if I'm wasting my time, not only with her, but with myself. So I don't ask for forgiveness. I don't ask for mercy. I don't ask for her to hold to my hand, or be there as I "do my thing". I just want her to see that there are people that I need to save, there are things I need to do, but most importantly, there's a purpose I need to fulfill. All I need right now...is time
Don't really feel like being here anymore. Not that I don't like my job, or that I don't like the job I do. What I'm beginning to have a disdain for, are the people that come along with the job. At first I payed them no mind, I came in happy, I left happy. I was grateful. For every breath I took, for every beat I was given, practically for the life I had, and I wanted to share that. Then... I met the pastry chef. If being obnoxious was an art, well she'd be Picasso. I use to like coming to work every day. Breaking new grounds, learning new sauces, reminding myself of the goal I was willing to do anything to accomplish. But now I come in and say nothing. Nada. Zilt. How do you say "diddly squat" in French? I have no words. I have no smile. I have no "hey how's it going". Quite frankly, because I have no care. I have a goal, and I don't need any minions to get in my way...
Ishmail The Artist
Ishmail is a 24 year old male from Philadelphia just making a way for my family and my people. He wouldn't say that he had the hardest life, but his life has taught him some of his hardest lessons. He is a musician, a cook and anything else that he decides to get involved in. Ishmail likes books, hanging with his family, and enjoying life. He can not speak for his work but, instead, he can let his work speak for him.