Time Machine: Communication, Relationships, and the American Dream

If communication was a fine art, I feel like I witness on a daily basis, a bunch of toddlers acting as if they were the next Van Gogh or Picasso. It is quite amusing when I read discussions or overhear conversations…people ranting and raving about a given topic, yet never actually addressing the issue up for discussion. As hard as I try not to bust a gut laughing, I find such exchanges quite disconcerting. How is that person A could make a statement, and person B respond in a way that neither addresses the statement but also takes a cheap shot at the character of person A? Or how is it that person C can share an opinion (not directed at anyone) and end up taking flack from person D? How is it that in the middle of trying to talk things out, these breakdowns simply continue until someone ends up hurt, damaged, or angry? Anyone ever notice that a person can repeat the same sentence several times in a row and people still hear exactly what they want to hear? I submit that one of the primary reasons for this is simply…a lack of real listening/reading comprehension skills.

Text based communication is a quite different than face to face communication, in that one cannot really infer the tone of voice used or any other nuances that would be quite apparent if one was to sit face to face with the person they were talking with. Our reactions or actions, are typically based off of what we perceive to have been said or done. We lump motives, attitudes, and outcomes all together in a split second judgment call. Said judgment is our reference point from which we engage the conversation. Having been a perpetrator of this, I do not mind sharing all of the dirty little realities about having selective hearing or reading skills…especially if pride is on the line. In the past I have used my communication abilities to twist things that people have said, so as to belittle them and beat them down for the sake of WINNING the argument. (You lose a lot of friends this way). More than that, I lost a lot of credibility that I would have to earn back. Communication is not a competitive sport to win, but a collaborative effort that empowers all those who participate.

The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place. –George Bernard Shaw

Communication in all its glory is one of the major tools that help foster excellent relationships. When it comes to romantic relationships as well as dealing with roles between males and females I have noticed that this is an area that is frightfully lacking in understanding. I have been privy to a few awesome conversations in the last week about gender roles (in the religious context), the differences between what men need vs. what women need, and what it means to be a Man/Woman in our culture. I am pretty sure you are now starting to understand where I am heading in today’s blog. I am convinced that relationships that fall apart do so because of a breakdown in communication.

Though I have much to say about gender roles and what it means to be a man/woman, I am going to take some time to flesh out the idea of what I as a man need and how I communicate. First, let me start off by saying…I AM HIGHLY EMOTIONAL!!!! I FEEL DEEPLY!!!! Second, I am a thinker (analytical and logical). Lastly, I am passionate and intense. Alright, with that said…My primary love languages include: Words of Affirmation, Physical Touch, and Quality Time. Let me redefine this…As a male I love to know that I am respected and what I have to say matters/do/offer matters. As a male I LOVE being touched. I loved being hugged, kissed, and when I get married…SEX will be AMAZING! As a male, when I am in a relationship, I want to know that I am needed/wanted by my significant other. That when she looks at me I am all that she sees. She is primary on my heart and mind to keep happy and spend time with. (Sounds a lot like my primary love languages huh?? Interesting!) I believe as a male I process things a lot differently than a female. Which is okay, we were made differently for a reason. I feel this is the reason that communication is SO IMPORTANT!

 To effectively communicate, we must realize that we are all different in the way we perceive the world and use this understanding as a guide to our communication with others. –Tony Robbins

In talking with a friend last night (THANKS SARAH R.) we both realized that in dealing with the opposite sex we must understand the importance of communicating in the way that they can best receive. Instead of trying to be stubborn and communicate in a selfish manner, we take the time to learn the language of our significant other. A friend and co-worker pointed out the value of communicating intentionally and the importance of taking the time to actually listen. It does no one any good if the bulk of the conversation is spent trying to prove the other person wrong.
So in response to the topic that was presented to me this morning about the issue of the needs of men vs. women, I simply have this to say…Both sides are right. There is no dispute. But you have to realize that you are coming from two different perspectives from which you are viewing things from. A woman will NEVER be able to see things through the male lens in its totality, but the reverse is also true. There are many nuances so generalizations do not work for everyone one. With that being said, with the way the subject was brought up…it would pay to simply stick with the question or thought that was being presented. Making an argument about something that was irrelevant to the topic as a whole serves to throw a wrench in the whole communication idea that I was talking about as the top of the blog. It puts people at odds when there is no need for it. Valid points were made across the board. However, where I draw the line is where subtle cheap shots are thrown to prove a point. Personal opinion…NOT OK! :)

All of this plays into the idea of The American dream for my generation. I am not sure that it has ever been communicated in this way so I will do my best to echo what I have heard over the years. My generation values relationships and great communication….WHY??? Because in a lot of ways our parents pursued an American dream that left really NO time for us. This is not a low blow directed at the previous generation in the least. However it is a wake up call so that many will begin to have eyes to see the things that we value.

A person isn’t who they are during the last conversation you had with them – they’re who they’ve been throughout your whole relationship. –Rainer Maria Rilke 

My Father, now retired, worked at his job for 30+ years. Talk about longevity. It paid the bills, gave my brother and I many opportunities, and a lifestyle he NEVER got to live. I am extremely grateful! I love how my Dad sacrificed for me. Though, now being a 27 year old…if I could go back in time to give my Dad some advice…it would go like this…, “Dad, thanks for all you are doing cause I know you are thinking of me. I know you are concerned about my future. Pops, I don’t need all the stuff. I don’t need you to spend countless hours at the job, only to go to the church right when you get off. I don’t need all of the trips. What I need is you! What I need is not the toys, the games, the greatest house….I need your presence. I need to know in an intimate way that I am loved by you. That I am valued and cherished. That the ideas I have make you proud.” I would say the same thing to my mother as well. It isn’t because I am ungrateful, but rather that I have learned something and know how to clearly articulate what I have needed all of these years.

In my generation there seems to be a push for the original American Dream…, “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.” I live in a generation of dreamers, that want more than the 9-5 rat race of cubicle living. We are caught in a sticky place of wanting to explore all of the uniqueness that makes us who we are but living in this world that our parents and forefathers created for us that say you have to follow the formula to actually be successful. I have a 4 year college degree, and a job…I AM IN NO WAYS HAPPY WITH HOW I AM LIVING…Why you ask??? Because it is void of adventure, creativity, passion, and excitement. You might ask…well what about your children??? Yes, I do think of them. I want to leave them a legacy that reminds them ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE. GO FOR IT AND TRUST THE FAITHFULNESS OF THE ULTIMATE FATHER.

See for my generation we crave relational intentionality. We are not catching these things by osmosis. We crave a raw realness from the generations around us as well as our peers. Cookie cutter answers and methods do not suit us. We are deep thinkers who ponder mysteries, whose minds and imaginations race among the stars. We are creators shaping the world around us. What we “lack” is meaningful worthwhile relationships with those who should be closest to us. If I could only share my deepest dreams and secrets with my family and have them really understand…it would do my heart good. But I know too many others who feel the same. Our generation cries out for the freedom to try! The freedom to make mistakes! The freedom to be bigger than the circumstances that often attempt to limit our potential. This is the generation that I am a part of. This is the generation I identify with. I don’t need a house with a lawn, a dog, and a white picket fence. Let me do what I love with out restriction…give me a healthy, supportive, community and I will be okay. Give me some wind so that I can learn to fly and you will see great things happen.

My parents dreams for me are just that. "Their" dreams for me. I love my parents SO MUCH. I just have a different vision for the life that I must live. My dreams are different. 9-5 isn’t my cup o tea. I am an artist…I need to spend my days creating. Otherwise…I will be 70 regretting the things I could have done, but never actually did. That is not the way to live.

A fun fact, a lot of you reading this blog probably have inferred that my tone has been rather harsh, sarcastic, and/or mean. However, from where I am sitting as the author I can assure you that I am actually coming from a lighthearted, jovial, yet contemplative place. As such, if you thought my tone was harsh, your defenses would have been up and you might not have actually taken the time to finish reading the whole blog. I know this is a generalization, but if one finds offense with something written…often times they will begin to skim through what is being said and look for red flags, or buzz words in which to argue with. So if that was you (I was like that quite a bit when I was younger), I would just ask that you take some time to re-read all of this. These are simply my thoughts on communication, relationships, and the American dream. They are all subject to change as my perspective of life changes. :) I cant wait.
Blessings!

Racism and Where I Have Come From

I posted a mini rant from a friend on Facebook today which garnered a lot of attention, which I was not expecting. It wasn’t long before I was smack dab I the middle of a white vs. black perspective debate on racism. From where I was sitting, I could see and understand both viewpoints. Though, at one point I became more interested in the disagreement than the perspectives. At one point this idea was shared:

“Racism = A systematized attempt to subjugate a people group that does not hold privilege.

Prejudice = A judgment of another people group, privileged or not.

Discrimination = Acting on prejudice.

If you are a WHITE male, you are privileged. That does not mean you are rich, it means that you hold certain privileges that black males don’t.”

This might be hard to swallow, but as a black man I find this to be very true. An example of this can be seen with this social experiment.

It sucks to see this in action, but for many black young men, this is the type of double standard that we face day in and day out. I for one have been on the receiving end of some pretty messed up things on account of my skin color.

I want to be very careful not to marginalize or even over emphasize the way in which these things happen, but I cannot speak for every single black male on the face of the planet. What I can say is that in my experience of 28 years, I have seen some things that absolutely blow my mind.

With the recent happenings in Ferguson, I find the media propaganda and certain remarks made by people as an exasperation of an already touchy subject. What’s more is that I find many white men and women ready to zero in and crucify the deceased to put the blame on him for LOOKING like a thug and for being the cause of why the officer felt threatened. People, I am 5’4 115lbs and could cause a cop to feel threatened just because I am black, and believe me it has happened before.

What is it about a black person that causes this suspicion, or the need to walk on eggshells? What causes people to feel like they have to become politically correct? I honestly do not understand? Are the roots of generational discrimination, prejudice, and racism still prevalent in the way that we see people? Are we still stuck in the era of slavery in which black people are less than a full person? Why is it that a black male cannot get the same treatment as a white male? Meaning in our high profile cases why is it that we have more white males making it into police cars to be apprehended than black males? Can someone answer me with this Ferguson case, why people were so quick to mistake Mike Brown and Joda Cain as if to pardon Officer Wilson and absolve him of the incident that occurred? Yet, if the situation had been reversed things would have had a drastically different outcome. I find these things to be quite troubling.

I’ll go so far as to say this though it might seem petty. Why is it that I had to work at 200% capacity as a high school baseball player, to get the same consideration as another athlete of equal skill who was only working at 70% capacity? He plays and starts the whole season, and I sit the bench. The only difference between the two of us, I was black he was white. Note we played international baseball together on the same team, both of us as starters. I had a better work ethic which was known by both the coaching staff and other players.

Before people start cheering or throwing stones at me let me talk about black people real quick as a black person. If the only think that can cause us to come together is unfair treatment and a murder, then we are doing it wrong.

I probably will not be liked for what I am about to say, but that’s nothing new for me. I was born African American, I definitely look the part, but for most of my 28 years of living, I have been referred to as an ‘Oreo’. This is something that I have become rather numb to as I spent so many years in agonizing pain dealing with a crisis of identity because of black people. Now before I continue, I am not saying this about all black people. I haven’t met all black people, however, the ones that I do know, many have at some point made this derogatory remark or something like it towards me.

I lived on the ‘wrong’ side of town, had the ‘wrong’ friends, didn’t talk ‘black’ enough, didn’t dress ‘black’ enough, and made to feel less than most of my peers. I was made fun of and demeaned almost every day. All of this coming not from white people, but from black people. It amazes me as I look back just how much I felt I did not belong to the culture that my phenotype displayed on a daily basis.

I don’t even want to get into the whole music industry and what is being communicated through the airwaves of our secular media, heck; even our TV programming leaves a lot to be desired. But, that is a topic that I will pick up at another time.

I am grateful for church mothers (Nana Walker, Willie Nunley, Mozelle Henderson, Mary Calip, and Mom Gooch) who honestly large reasons I was able to keep my head up while walking through much of the crap I went through at a young age. Mothers, who believed in my potential, and reminded me to keep going, I am also reminded of some of the church fathers that were around (Grover Walker, Bennie Calip, Marcus Johnson, and Willie Nunley) who took the time to establish that there was nothing that I couldn’t accomplish if I put my mind to it. These were men, who taught me not to settle for mediocre, and to go excel in every way. They taught me how to wear a suit, to tie a tie, to enunciate, and communicate with respect.

Most of that was undone by my peers, those I spent ample time with. No matter what great things I was taught, there was this looming reality that was more tangible than the dreams and hopes that an older generation could see in me.

This is where I first realized the deep well of frustration and resentment I carried towards the black community. I felt such a disconnection with being someone who was acceptable to the world around me. See more often than not even though I was black, I wasn’t good enough or black enough. I was talked to differently, belittled, at times to the point where my family as a whole was talked about. I heard things in secret that I was never meant to hear. I grew up eating collard greens, cornbread, ox-tails, chitterlings, black-eyed peas, sweet potato pie…just like my peers…but I was never good enough to be equal in their eyes. For a kid going through elementary school, junior high, and high school, it was rough feeling like I had no cultural identity to be proud of.

So from both sides I was the oreo, the white washed black guy, the guy who didn’t sound black, who didn’t act black, who wasn’t really black because of my eye color. After a while I became numb to it all. However, all that has changed recently. I am haunted by the poor choices of vocabulary that my peers use in reference to me. More so than being haunted…I find myself ANGRY!

I find myself in an interesting position. On the one hand I totally understand what it is like to be discriminated against by white people because of my skin tone. I know what it’s like to be watched like a hawk when going in to a store and having people follow you to make sure you don’t steal anything. I know what it’s like to be talked down to and mistreated because of my skin color. On the other hand, I know what it’s like to be treated as a privileged person. How nothing you can do is right, nothing you can say measures up. Your actions are typically always wrong, and the crap that you get for it. I know what it’s like to get an 80,000 dollar education while having to hear people talk about how you think you are better than them because of x, y, or z. I know what it’s like to have the privilege of being a musician that gets to play in Central Park and Carnegie Hall. I can see how where I was raised and the opportunities I was afforded allowed me to enjoy many privileges that others might not get.


I find that I am afforded an interesting position, a vantage point which allows to see things from two different perspectives. Let me say this blatantly, Racism sucks. Discrimination hurts. Prejudice is not okay. The conversation needs to be brought up. It needs to be addressed. As a friend of mine said it’s about time that we have a Human Rights Movement. People ALL PEOPLE, need to be treated with the same type of care and dignity. Not judged by the color of their skin, their sexual orientation, their height, weight, figure, sex...as Martin Luther King Jr. stated, "...but by the content of their character..."

Let's Talk Porn Pt. 2

After getting such great feedback from PART 1 of the blog, I decided to set out sometime to dive into Part 2, which really is just my own journey through dealing with porn and why I have such a vendetta against the industry.

It is always a bit unnerving sharing this part of my life with people because of the stigma that is attached to the whole idea of pornography, given by the church. See I got my start into pornography...rather viewing porn when I was 13 years old. Back in 1999. I remember it clearly. I walked into one of the bathrooms of my junior high and mistakenly caught a classmate masturbating to a dirty magazine. He thought I was going to rat him out so he gave me the magazine, so as to make me his accomplice. That one moment...changed my life...

In a time where internet filters were no where to be found, and 56k dial-up modems were the norm...I found myself on the computer at all hours of the day and or night depending on if my parents were at home or going to be home...searching all types of crazy shit. Most of the time I was too afraid to actually search porn, so I would search for adult like content that could achieve the same gratification that a hardcore porn site or magazine would offer me. See my descent into pornography was actually very gradual. Up until I was about 15 I wasn't very intrigued by naked women. The reason...one word...PUBERTY. At 15 a massive transformation dramatically occurred. I discovered my sex drive...unfortunately...it had an appetite that I could not control or manage.

Before I realized it. The girls around me started dressing differently. I saw more skin than I could handle. The dancing changed from being silly to being provocative and seductive. What's more DSL become available at home. We finally had an upgraded internet connection. Then throw on top that I was dealing with MAJOR DEPRESSION. All of these factors spelled my doom from my high school years. See for me, high school was the most miserable time of my life. I wasn't like my peers. I was a wanderer...the lone wolf...the outcast. Well, I was wanted around for certain purposes (being the kid that has a ton of rather odd skills pays off at times I guess). The cure for the hurt...you guessed it...porn. I wouldn't be made fun of for my height or other more personal things. Even as I write this...I feel a special seething hatred towards certain individuals on my 2004 high school baseball team for the nickname they gave me (...Nipples...). All year that is what I was called and how they addressed me at practice. Ya...what did I do...I would go home...and look at porn to relieve my hurting heart.

See for me the reality was I had something on my hands that would almost instantly take the pain of my heart away...or so I thought. High school was rough for another reason...CHURCH. Adults really do not know how much damage they do to teenagers without realizing it. See sometimes I think church folk are the worst. I got to hear how they dogged my peers who had sex outside of wedlock. I got to see how they were demonized. I got to hear how people were punished and taken out of the things that were bringing them out of a place of guilt and shame. It is about that time that I decided that I would NEVER EVER share what I was dealing with. I never wanted to be shamed and talked about like that. Yet, that is also when I got another label within my youth group...(Mr. Super Spiritual...).

My senior year of high school is when I started to notice how addictive porn was. I decided it was time that I stopped. OH HOW I TRIED. I was looking for solutions EVERYWHERE. I was out of options because I couldn't talk to my parents...they would freak out. I couldn't talk to people at the church I had already seen how they treated others...I knew what fate would befall me if I said anything. I couldn't talk to my teachers because they would get my parents involved. My friends were of no use...well because I didn't really have any. I never had felt despair like that...even after all of the years of depression...this was something unique. Couple that on the fact that I was lying while I was going through these purity classes that we had at our church...I felt dirty...I felt like the scum of the earth.

I would spend the next 8 years in a constant state of struggle and war with an addiction. Ultimately, I would lose my virginity because of this war.

 All of college was a pain in the ass. Why? Well...I went to a Christian institution. Porn was like the cardinal sin at the time. Mind you, I had no understanding of grace. I thought being a christian was all about performance. So you had to maintain an exterior of excellence and piety. Well, while trying to do that...I saw one of my favorite professors sent to jail because of porn. It was the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE I had ever seen anything like that. It shook me to the core. Again I made a silent vow to NEVER EVER share whats going on in the depths of my heart. Up to this point I had never seen anyone beat porn. I had seen it devastate lives and I thought mine was about to be totally broken.

I remember driving on my way back to the university with tears in my eyes..."God will I ever be free? Am I doomed to be trapped for the rest of my life...feeling this...this black spot of shame and guilt?" In a clear moment God responded as lightning and said, "NO!"

I have held on to that to this day. A promise from a loving Dad to a son who wants nothing more than to be the shining example of purity and redemption. I sit and I write. I reflect on where I have been. I meditate on where God has brought me from. Closer today than I was yesterday. More free than I have ever been in my life. At a place in my life where I can openly admit the struggle and the fight I have been in since I was 18 and decided I didn't want this for my life. I am now 27 wanting to settle down, and establish a family in the near future. I have heard it so many times said, that if you are dealing with porn, you are not fit to start a family. I have believed that for such a long time....

BUT....

I now am in a place to say...FUCK THAT!!!!

I will not let my past define me. I will not let the challenges set me back! I am who God says I am. I AM VICTORIOUS! I AM FORGIVEN! I AM HEALED!

As I spend time with God, I realize the issue is no longer about porn. It is simply about understanding the righteousness He has given me and learning how to operate in it. For so long I have been operating out of the wrong operating system and it has been screwing everything. He redefined my operating system and I see more victories than I do failures. I live in more freedom than I have even known in my life. For that I am extremely grateful.

Remember that vendetta I was talking about?

Yes I want to absolutely obliterate this thing from the face of the universe.

Why?

Men and women I love have been victims of this industry.
Those I love and care about have been kidnapped and forced into the industry.
Some I know personally have been rescued from the industry.

The scars that it has left these people with...can never really be accurately described.

Even more so...I never want my children to have to suffer the way I have suffered, and the way I have caused others to suffer because of this industry and its lure.

I don't want to have to see my nephews go through the pain, the shame, the disgrace, the guilt that I had to go through. They deserve better than that.

Yet, for those who are struggling...who feel trapped...who have no one to talk to...who want to be free...I will always have a soft spot for them. Because...I know as a young man what it feels like to have your hope, joy, passion, and freedom stripped from you.

I think of those who are my little brothers in the faith, who have confided in me. The weight of the pain they carry.

THIS MUST STOP!

And I say it STARTS with ME!

Warning: Raw with Colorful Language

So I know I have the porn series I am working on, I have not forgotten. Yet, I am quite pissed right now so I thought I would simply do an angry free write and see where it takes me.

It's about to go down!

People need to get there fucking heads out of there asses. My life and all of its contents are not subject to the bitch fits that are being thrown. It is starting to get more than just a bit annoying having to deal with all of the bull shit. If people would actually get that grimy waxy build up out of there ears and actually take the time to listen, they might be surprised at what they could learn.

I mean seriously. THE FUCK!!! Even now, I am finding that I am censoring all of what is going through my head to at least present something that is palatable. However, the more I do that, the more the pressure increases.

In a moment of sheer honesty...there are very FEW people I actually trust in this world or the next. Scratch that...there are FEW people I actually trust with the inner workings of my heart in this world. At the moment I am quite fine with that. I am finding that most people don't even deserve the privilege. I have had much practical experience in my life that sharing my heart ultimately leads to pain, misunderstanding, and a ton of abuse.

Yes, I have had more than my fair share of abuse. I have learned to simply keep my heart, my emotions, and feelings...the deep ones...to myself where no one else has access. It is no surprise that I was suicidal for years of my life. It isn't far fetched to believe how much I longed to die and how often I would pray never to wake up again. Death often was more of a place of comfort than of pain.

These are some of my more well...read them and you will get the gist of it.

Cutting Ties 

The Unseen Me

Self Medicate 

Ending It All 

Can You Feel Me Now

I am super irritated right now. More than irritated I am hurt. Because the cycle continues. I get that I am a bit backwards when it comes to finally feeling comfortable with people. I get that its odd that when I am actually comfortable with a person I don't talk with them as much. Yet, the depth of when we do talk always goes to a very deep place. What hurts me is when I get told bullshit like...you just don't care like I do. When people do that I honestly just want to say "FUCK YOU". Of course I don't care like you do...I am NOT YOU! I care like ME! A place that YOU will never understand cause news flash...YOU AREN'T ME!

My heart is deeper than the bottomless pit and holds all of eternity. What could you possibly know about the depth of the pain, the hurt, the frustration, the passion, the hope, the faith, the joy, the love that I carry within me? Yet, on more than one occasion I am judged...I am told painful, gut wrenching...spirit killing things. Makes it really hard to cherish anything that anyone else gives as a consolation.

Guys, I make so many mistakes, hurt so many people...I get it. I am sorry. No matter how good my intentions are people still get hurt. All I can do is apologize. I AM SORRY! I get that sorry doesn't take the pain away. I get that there are a lot of things that just are not fixed by an apology. Trust gets broken with reckless actions. I get it. Even so, where is the grace? Where is the compassion? I just don't get it...

I am so tired of being blamed for others bullshit. I have enough of my own bullshit that I have to deal with. I have enough condemnation, shame, and frustration I deal with on a daily basis. I don't need anyone else to pile their shit on top of me. I have a ton of my own issues that I have to deal with. I can't keep wiping bratty baby asses or clean up all of the vomit.

If grace and forbearance are what we are supposed to show one another...CAN I GET SOME? Can I get some of the type of grace that takes into consideration all that is going on? The type that asks me whats really going on? The type that doesn't get upset and frustrated when I fall short? The type that works with me? The type that encourages me to go beyond what I can see? The kind that will just sit with me while I feel miserable and frustrated? The type that says hey...I got your back...you don't have to tell me exactly is going on, just know I got you.

I feel like even that is too much to ask for.

I feel like that type of heart is expected of me, yet not something that I should receive.

No, not everyone treats me in the above manner. Its just the ones that do...fuck it up for everyone else. Its hard for me to trust any more. I am surprised I even trust that God is even good. With all the shit I have been seeing and experiencing. I am glad that is one thing that I am for sure on. I am glad through it all...at least that relationship is thriving. That He gets me. That He understands. That He cares. That He just sits with me when I feel like crap. Even though I never know how to really receive from Him...at least He is patient with me...He walks me through it all.

You Love Me

When its all said and done, I know how sensitive and emotional I am. I realize just how much I have stored up...how much of a beating I have taken. Taking in deep breaths I simply fight to hold back my own tears. For so many years I have not given myself permission to cry. To this day, it is very rare for my to cry on my own outside of God just doing something huge in our time together.

I will get over that one day...

BUT...

That day just isn't today.