Idle Thoughts of a Gentleman

2010-10-24T06:23:00.000-07:00

It's been some time since I Last wrote on this blog. Trust you me, it wasn't due to lack of inspiration, but instead lack of hours in my day.

So, let us delve into todays, thought. I labled this blog the idle thoughts of a Gentleman, but I know that I am simply striving to become a gentleman. Today, the thoughts that flood my mind are thoughts of the inner struggles we face in search of that peaceful place. I take photos, but rarely call myself a photographer, if I do, it's usually

Over-dressed or Under-dressed?

2009-04-06T03:50:00.000-07:00

Today someone asked why I tend to overdress. I looked him up and down and replied:
"I do not over-dress, the world is simply under-dressed. It is my responsibility to make the world a brighter place."

Curse at 30

2009-04-02T09:38:00.000-07:00

Maybe it was due to the restlessness in her belly, or maybe it was the lateness of the night, either way, all she could do was lay on her left side while still looking up at the ceiling staring into the darkness hoping to find the answers to the questions that burned within her. She rubbed her belly to soothe her soon to be born child and whispered in the dark “everything will be fine”. One can’t help but wonder if the words spoken were more of an attempt to convince herself then it was to reassure the unborn.

She was 29 and since 28 she started visualizing being a mother by 30. Being married seems to not have been a requirement for the picture painted in her mind… only a bonus. The fact that her biological clock was ticking seemed to justify having a baby… regardless to the fact that she didn’t have a real prospect in mind to build a future with. The pregnancy was an eye opener – she was alone.

Maybe he wasn’t what she had hoped he would be… maybe she lied to herself and convinced herself that he would be a good father just so she could have an excuse to have a baby. Truth be told, if she could have had a baby with no man, she would have… he was not a factor, he was simply a convenience.

I sat back and reflected on the curse of 30. How many women have allowed time to force their hand. How many have given up on romantic love and believe the only love that can exist is that between a mother and child. I started to believe that any man who was ‘decent’ would have a chance if he was around during the incubation of the curse at 30.

The Dangers of Restlessness

2008-08-29T18:08:00.000-07:00

In mans attempt to conquer restlessness, he will busy himself with matters of little to no importance. This is merely an attempt to escape the true nature and reason of his restlessness. He occupies himself with matters aimed at disguising his restlessness, and occupying space and time instead of dealing with the restlessness itself. It is precisely at these moments that man commits some of his greatest blunders. I am willing to stake a small fortune and say more babies have been conceived out of restlessness than out of love.

Entry 15 (Confessions of a Writer)

2008-08-18T00:02:00.000-07:00

I write because if I don't I'll Die. The average mind will assume that in making this comment I am referring to a physical death, however the mind that has acquired a bit of wisdom will understand that death comes in different forms. Physical death is quicker and final, however it is the death that lingers and robs men of their passions, their visions and all that matters in life that scares me.

I am a writer, the guardian of emotions; the time capsule that freezes tears, laughter, joy and pain. I am the pilot who can take you somewhere physically by directing you mentally all while controlling you emotionally. I am the voice of the voiceless; I see what most don't, make sense of the senseless and give shape to the shapeless.

it is currently 3:05 a.m. and while civilized world sleeps, I am fighting my demons all while reading passages from my peers wishing I penned those classic lines. I am living the contradiction, writing what should be while trying to live what could be, all while knowing that I could be all that I should be.

In my veins flow ink, every time I write I lose a part of myself, but artist are known to be self destructive. I soak in life hoping she will be my transfusion, she gives me topics she keeps me alive.

The meek shall inherit the earth ... but only after the strong die. we are all the same, then the doctor slaps our backside - we wake up and soon after, realizing - we are not all the same. Our voices don't sound the same, and our perceptions are different. There is a fine line that separates us, that line forms letters, those letters form words, and those words give texture to life and give her meaning.

I am a writer not because I write, my ego wont allow it to be that easy, at the same time it is not my ego that drives me to write ... she's not that shallow. I am a writer because my demons have forced me to be a warrior of sort and since the pen is mightier than the sword, I chose her to be my weapon of choice.

Entry 14 (In response to a few comments posted...)

2008-07-23T21:51:00.000-07:00

Today while randomly scanning my past entries I noticed that the one entitled “The preservative called America” (entry 12) had 9 comments … I hadn’t read the responses and looked forward to viewing them for the first time… but, 3 addresses no longer existed and the other 6 were removed because of 'malicious content'…. Kinda made me wonder what was written. Oh well, I’ll be sure to check my comments a lot sooner next time. Of course I reread the entry in question to see what could have inspired such vigorous and passionate responses …. and I wondered who could have written me with anything negative to say concerning that entry in particular.

I told myself maybe it was the title …. “Cheers to the preservative called America” … maybe they found America to be too wholesome and organic to be called a preservative.
Maybe they didn’t feel that hearing a fellow commuter’s ipod was annoying, or they may have felt that a 'made up' woman was truly a definition of a beautiful woman and I went to far to point out it was a sign of her insecurities …. Hmmm… I wondered if those people who wrote had ever had the opportunity to travel (and if so, not limit their stay on an all inclusive resort) or were they simply unfortunate souls whose outlook on life and reality was formed by what they saw via the media. I never said America wasn’t great, I just called it a preservative … hey, preservatives are great … maybe not totaly healthy, maybe not great “for you” but, still great nonetheless … well, maybe not GREAT, I won't overdo it, let's say good.

Entry 13 (Inspiration (Paris pt. 1))

2008-07-16T08:06:00.000-07:00

It’s been a minute since I last wrote, I decided to take a hiatus … or should I say my lack of creativity and inspiration forced me to take a prolonged hiatus. Although I have been known to find peace in local parks, on busy streets, in the comfort of a woman, this time it is Paris that was to be my source of inspiration. Not the city located on the west bank of the Kentucky lake in West Tennessee or the one located in Illinois but, the one that’s 6 hours away by Boeing 747 yet, 12 hours apart from the time one boards the plane to the time one exists CDG.

I had been feeling uninspired (which explains the absence of any post as of late) so, I decided to recharge my battery, revitalize my thinking. I figured a change of scenery would do both me and my writing some good, there’s just something about looking at all the depressed faces on the New York subway that eventually takes a toll on even the best spirits.

Paris was alive, the romanticism of the old city was alive and thriving (even Sarcozy can’t turn Paris into New York with is admiration for Bush,) even though a Few Parisians have told me that Paris is changing for the worse, I can still understand why jazz musicians, artists in general and writers flocked to Paris while escaping New York.

In Paris, the roads are narrower, there is no need for gas guzzling SUV’s, smart cars, mini coopers, scooters and bicycles do just fine. Excess in Paris is not yet synonymous with breathing as it is in New York. It stills seems that in Paris your manhood is not determined by the size of your car or jewelry but, instead by the substance and creativity between your ears.

The government has set up public bike stations and the bicycles can be used by any one for a few coins … call me simple, there is nothing more appealing than a woman in a summer dress on a bicycle with a baguette in hand….. back to the bicycles….. I went off on a tangent with the visual… you don’t even have to return them where you originally took it, you can return it to any of the countless depots throughout the city.

Interracial couples walked the streets of Paris without being harassed by menacing stares or watched by simple minds that couldn’t see past color…

Paris is certainly no heaven, but it certainly was refreshing…. Then again, isn’t anything refreshing heaven?!?

Entry 12 (Cheers to the preservative called America)

2008-02-18T20:58:00.000-08:00

Well today my day began as any usual day in New York…. Dreaded the alarm clock, and rushed to find an empty space on the train to call my own. I glanced over at the many miserable faces and despite the media, figured that this place could certainly not be heaven on earth. The juices I drank this morning was either concentrated and/or full of preservatives, the air was full of pollution, and the inhabitants are far from angels. From my perch I spotted a man reading his Bible while seated paying no attention to the pregnant woman who stood in front of him… the man listening to his ipod so loud that everyone next to him could hear the words… the lady with such low self esteem that she wore her makeup as a mask. The land of opportunity... hmm… I wonder what is opportunity if it is not realized?

A week ago I sat beneath the rays of the sun of the poorest country in the western hemisphere yet felt as if I was the wealthiest man in the world. I felt wealthy not because of money, but because I had found peace of mind. A week ago, I drank juice…real juice, fresh, natural and right off the tree.

A week ago I felt the sun and tasted the air around me, years of Americana was flushed out my system and replaced with temporary paradise.

A week ago, I wrote, I read, I lived, I smiled unlike I ever had in the richest country of the world.

Entry 11 (Conversation with woman #2)

2007-11-17T22:35:00.000-08:00

As promised, i will share with you another old conversation (Conversation #2)… Actually, this wasn’t much of a conversation. She (X) spoke her Peace, i listened, shook my head, then hung up the phone and thought to myself the following... ohh, and never called her again.

Just a brief history.
i met this lady (X), we went out once, X told me how busy she was, how hectic her life was. She said she enjoyed the one time we went out. i stopped calling her because she told me more than once she was always busy, i told her that she should call me when she was free and i’d make time.

A few weeks went by then a mutual friend informed me that X had told her she didn’t understand why i wasn’t reaching out. The mutual friend told me that a woman X’s age didn’t chase men…that they felt the man should pursue them with fervor. i decided to call X we talked and once again she explained her busy schedule telling me we could link up when she had a free day. Maybe she expected me to call every day until she had the free day, maybe she thought i'd enjoy hearing her tell me how busy she was every time we talked (she must have believed that i didn't have things to fill up my 24 hours as well.) She went as far as telling me that she felt that i should pursue her if i really was serious. In my head i was thinking “what’s wrong with this woman?!?” She’s in her late 30’s and still wants a man to chase her? i couldn’t help but think she was misguided. Chasing after a woman in her 20’s is one thing…but a woman in her late 30’s?... What are you running from? i would think that she was over the chasing stage and understood that life at this point was about making time for someone you felt was worthy. In your late 30’s i would think if you come across someone with potential, you would make an effort and let go of the fantasy cat and mouse games. i don't mean chase after him, but i do mean make time, drop a hint or two.

Now don’t get me wrong i’m big on romance…. But even bigger on laying a foundation for a long-term future. While some people may want to be chased, i’d rather be acknowledged, appreciated, and given a hint (i'll do the rest)…. i’m getting too old to run, my shoes are off…you ain’t gotta chase me!!!

Entry 10 (Conversation with woman #1)

2007-11-17T22:09:00.000-08:00

Well well well… for those who have been following this blog, you surely come to expect to read from this Gentleman nothing but candid, truthful and heartfelt thoughts. Well, I certainly have no intentions on changing course, I will continue to forge ahead along the lines that I’ve begun. Some may view me as aloof, cold, insensitive.... and although I’m sure those things do apply at times, what is constant with me are sincere thoughts, constant observation, and a low tolerance for nonsense.

Today I’m playing back in my mind two old conversations that I had (at different times) with two separate women in their late 30’s. the first conversation has to with being “old fashion” it went something like the following:

Me: so, do you expect anything from a man in particular?

Her: I do expect him to open the door, to be a gentleman, to pay for dinner, the usual… I guess I’m a bit old fashioned.

Me: old fashioned huh?

Her: ohh yes.

Me: and what do you do that makes you old fashioned? What you mentioned actually indicates that the guy you want is old fashioned…not you. If you like football, that doesn’t make you a football player… the fact that you like an old fashioned guy doesn’t make you old fashioned. Have you gone to finishing school? Do you know how to sew? Cook (not microwave a mean dish?) Do you keep quiet when men talk? Do you wake up earlier just to prepare yourself properly in the morning?

Her: well, not really?

Me: do you shake a man’s hand when you meet him?

Her: Yes

Me: you are not as old fashioned as you’d like me to believe…. You may be a woman but, you are not a lady… so when you ask for a gentleman, I wonder what makes you even think you are entitled to one with your lack of Ladylike qualities.

Her: I am a Lady.

Me: I bid you farewell my Lady… I’m sorry, I bid you farewell Lady.

Now, I’m sitting here thinking what makes a woman say she’s old fashioned? What makes her call herself a Lady? I can’t help but think there is a difference between a father and a daddy. Is every daddy a father? Is every woman a Lady?
I sat back at looked at this woman thinking to myself …how far we have fallen. She calls herself old fashion because she expects him to do XYZ, yet she hasn’t studied the ABC’s of being a Lady. Modern day Hollywood has created a monster.

now before feathers get ruffled, understand i strive to be a Gentleman.... i work at it every day in all facets of my daily routine. i take pride in knowing being a Gentleman is constant action i expect nothing less from a Lady. Perfection is not a requirement... but practice is.

Entry 9 (the greatest lover is...)

2007-10-07T21:24:00.001-07:00

The greatest lover is the person that paints pictures allowing the viewer to get a glimpse of heaven. The perfect picture is not simply a picture that makes you believe in heaven … it is the image that allows you to taste heaven. Imagine a love song by a great balladeer, listen to the words and feel love in your soul. Look at a painting by a great painter…it is life like, fruits looks edible, the sun feels warm.

The greatest lover is the person that allows you to imagine, but more importantly allows you to feel that your imagination is also a reality.

His strokes cover each and every empty space leaving an image of beauty. Each dip of the brush penetrates the wetness and inspiration becomes an image, a reality.

The greatest lover is the consummate chief that prepares his masterpiece and sits back and watches you reach ecstasy as you close your eyes and savor the meal. The greatest lover is the one who can hold your heart in their hand firmly without bruising it.
The greatest lover is the one that makes you smile even when they are miles away…makes you think without speaking… makes you weak in the knees with the slightest touch. The greatest lover is the one that can paint pictures on the inside of your eyelids so that you see them even when you sleep.

Entry 8 (Too busy to love means...)

2007-10-07T20:59:00.000-07:00

These two words have been used much too much…. Be it by others or by myself. Today I wondered what it really meant.

There are 24 hours in the day, which translates to1440 minutes or 86,400 seconds in a day. Regardless to how you view it, it means the same, and we all have the same amount of time in our day. We have all heard the excuse “ I am too busy for… love” some of us have been on the giving end while others the receiving end of this verbiage. I’ve come to believe what that simply means is that the person saying it does not see fit to incorporate the recipient (of the words) in their daily routine.

It takes but a minute to make a phone call and reach out … to say, “hello, you were on my mind.” It takes but a few seconds to brighten up a person’s day by letting them know you care. I am guilty of telling women that I was too busy to entertain possibilities of love yet within those 86,400 seconds, I’ve had plenty of down time… even on my busiest days, I have had idle moments. In all honesty, if I were open to possibilities of love, even while busy, I would find time to reach out to someone I wanted to… although we don’t make time, we make the time.

We all paint pictures, some paint a picture of being constantly busy … however not even the greatest painters could paint all 1440 minutes in a day.

I am too busy means … you are not worthy of my time… it means you haven’t crossed my mind or were not worth me stopping to reach out. I’m too busy means you don’t fit in the equation and all though 1 and 1 are 2 … it’s certainly not you and I.

Entry 7 (the boss said to call..... you know what i said.)

2007-09-20T20:31:00.000-07:00

The color for today is RED…POWER…STRENGTH… RED.

Today I made it into work at 11:45a.m., my immediate supervisor was sitting at my desk as he usually does when I come in late. He looked at me and said “good morning, or should I say good afternoon?” My response was the usual “yes it is a good one.” He followed by letting me know he’d be moving shortly to grant me access to my work station… and as usual I told him that he didn’t need to rush, I’d take the opportunity to go get my midday tea…. Just then, he looks at me and tells me that his supervisor (who is head of the department) wanted me to call her when I arrived… “Of course, without delay” I said…. I wonder if the fact that I didn’t make the call make me a liar. I mean I did not say “right away” nor did I delay… I just didn’t call. I figured what was the point, if they really needed to talk to me, they knew where I was… if they were waiting for me to call, it couldn’t be that important.

Today, I just didn’t feel like playing the game of excuses. Last time I told them the door couldn’t open and that I was stuck inside my flat… the time before that, I woke up thinking it was Saturday (it was Tuesday) … and the time before that, I fainted and didn’t get up until 1 pm. I never understood having to explain my lateness when I was penalized for it. I guess I just can’t help but feel management’s request for knowing is simply to flex their muscles… but with me, every reaction has a counter reaction.

Today I think I’ll go to the supervisor and ask what’s the procedure to see an in house psychiatrist. In war one must always know when to strike first and throw their opponent off the attack… plus, hey, I have to have issues spending almost one third of my life working for someone else. In my defense, I must say the other two thirds have trademark Guerre etched into the fabric. It is only a matter of time before I take complete control of the one-third… mark my words.

Entry 6 (Who cares About Tomorrow?!?!)

2007-09-16T21:30:00.000-07:00

It is currently 2:15a.m, my alarm will go off at 6 a.m. and instead of experiencing my third or forth dream, I am transferring my thoughts to paper. The alarm will go off at 6 a.m., whether or not I decide to get up will depend on how I feel, work is for the birds. Tonight, I am listening to some real soul music … the song that just finished was ‘Go on’ by Shirley Murdock … and Patty LaBelle is now serenading me with ‘If’ … life is beautiful!!!

Arturo Fuente is my other companion tonight, sometimes words not spoken from your companion are golden and A. Fuente tonight understands. Not one word spoken, yet the smoothness is undeniable… I smile, people could learn a lot from a good cigar… I watch as the smoke floats and feel a peace that seems like a foreshadowing of heaven. Time is slowly ticking yet quickly passing, although this minute is mine, I don’t own either the seconds or hours… who cares, life is good!!!

Everyone seems to live for the weekend … 2 out of 7 days… they live for less than a quarter of their lives. Right now, Rick James’ ‘Fire and Desire’ is keeping me company … I am a lucky man, tonight’s party is impeccable... And as of right now, I see no end to the party, who cares about tomorrow!!!

Tonight I refuse to worry about ‘work’, instead I’ll think of the sunset I watched just the other day from a good friend's Brooklyn rooftop… ‘Secret Garden’ by Quincy Jones is playing… my cigar is coming to an end. I am alive … I am REALLY ALIVE… I smile, who cares about tomorrow?!?!?

Entry 5 (The illness called 'Emotional')

2007-09-15T20:42:00.000-07:00

I recently had dinner at a friend's flat and as usual the table was adorned with the usual spoils – fine wine, cheeses, bread, meats and fruits. As the evening progressed the wine and festive mood made way for great conversation. The main topic of discussion that night was whether or not man can think and be emotional simultaneously. I infallibly said and still say no…. of course I am open to debate…what gentleman isn’t. Now anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I am a thinking man who has often been accused of not having any, or always containing my emotions. I am a firm believer that what you don’t control will control you and the last people to have control over me were my parents, and that ended somewhere around 1986. Of course I have emotions, however I am just not emotional. Being emotional is very similar to having a disease. Yes, yes, yes, I know there will be an uproar, but let the man or woman who can prove me wrong come forth, simply be forewarned that all those who have attempted to persuade me otherwise have all fallen short in their valiant and exuberant efforts.

What is disease if not simply an imbalance in the body, which allows for the body to act in a way that is contrary to its normal every day function? Happiness is the absence of sadness … sadness thus is the absence of happiness. Stay with me now, the simple law of physics states that energy cannot be either created or destroyed, it can only be transferred. When you are happy, it is simply because thoughts of sadness are absent and the direct opposite applies to sadness. Equilibrium is lost when extremes are present… balance is lost… if sadness is at 70 per cent equilibrium is lost.

Question…. Is not an insane person mentally instable? Is not insanity an illness? This argument leads me to ask … is being happy or sad much different than having a cold? Are not both happiness and sadness temporary? Are they not both not present only when something is lacking? (If the definition of happiness and sadness given above is correct, there is no second guessing and as far as the cold, it is present when you lack sufficient Vitamin C among other things) imbalance makes room for illness.

When emotional, one loses sense of reason; they tend to make ‘emotional’ decisions, which often prove to be the wrong decisions. Being too happy or too sad prevents you from maintaining true balance and seeing / thinking clearly.

I am a thinking man, as for being emotional…. well, let’s simply say, I strive to be healthy.

And as far as the original comment, can man be emotional and think at the same time well, we'll discuss that in the near future.... but in the meantime, I think you already know my position.

Entry 4 (women are like dress shirts)

2007-09-15T18:29:00.000-07:00

Today I awoke and stood by my shirts, a gentleman prides himself on always having the right shirt for the right occasion. Today’s occasion … life.

I decided to pick out the magenta English spread collar Brooks Brothers shirt. There’s something about this shirt that screams confidence in a whisper. It has a way of making a cloudy day sunny and a frown turn to a smile.

Women…. I smile…. I think …. I can’t help but love them, even when they make it hard.

I remember XXXXXX, beautiful, truly a product of the Gods. She came into my life in a package that seemed tailor made. I soon found out she may have been tailor made but, it was made either by an incompetent tailor for me, or it was made by an expert tailor but not for my build... she just didn’t fit. What looked good was only on the surface and did absolutely nothing to dress me, complement me. I realized soon thereafter that no flaws certainly does not mean perfection … if it is the wrong size, cut, even color, it will not be the perfect fit. even if it looks good on the rack.

YYYYYYY was like that old comfortably reliable shirt. She always knew what to do, and when to say it. She moved well with my every move, she was my second skin. Her flaws were what made her my favorite, her smell made her familiar. It is her warmth that made me reach for her, and her cool made her the perfect choice in sticky situations.

I Remember ZZZZZZZ, she was like the shirt that was a size too small and wouldn’t let me breath…. She certainly didn’t last long. WWWWW, was another that didn’t last long she enjoyed partying a little too much. Party shirts are usually good for one time use and mainly at night under dim lights. When you awake, you look at the shirt and say ….”what the hell was I thinking!”

Today, I decided on magenta. I am wearing her with a nice Seersucker Suit, no tie. Today she is free to attract all the attention she wants … today I want her to be the object of envy … topic of discussion … today it’s all about her. Me, I’ll enjoy being in her company and enjoy the perfect pairing.

Entry 3 (music)

2007-09-08T17:57:00.000-07:00

I just finished listening to one of my favorite albums – John Coltrane & Johnny Hartman. I’ve been told that was one of the greatest baby making albums of all time. Although I can’t attest to the baby making part, I must say, there certainly is something sexy to the album.

Tonight, I’m alternating between John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk, and Charlie Parker. I’m listening to them wondering what was going through their heads when they created the music that they did. I found myself trying to put words to the music, trying to imagine scenarios. I thought of the ‘cool’ behind these men … it seemed to be woven in the very fabric of their being… their walk…their style…. It is called class.

Tonight I listened to Billie Holiday, and Etta James, I drank French wine and smoked a Cuban cigar … tonight I am international – La vie est belle et douce quand vous etres homme du monde..

Tonight instead of the company of a beautiful woman, I decided to keep the company of angels … my restless spirit was soothed, my ever wondering mind although still free was tamed…

If the Creater of it all could speak, the languages spoken would be Jazz and Classical music. Tonight Jazz dances with me and I with her.... maybe tomoorow night, i'll call upon my other love.

Here’s to Jazz …
Cheers.

Entry 2 (tic toc)

2007-09-06T19:29:00.000-07:00

A week ago one of my many supervisors questioned me about what he considered my excessive tardiness. The day prior I walked into work at 11 a.m. and the day in question I strolled in at 9:18 a.m. I simply looked at him and told him that excessive is relative, I paused then continued by telling him that life was too short and that he himself should consider taking a few days off and get away from the chaos. He didn’t say a word … so I simply excused myself and proceeded to work.

Two days ago I found out that he was admitted to the hospital, rumor had it that it was stress related. I just shook my head … life is too short.

On average, I take one day off a week, be it by coming in late or calling in sick. I’ve been known to actually wake up on time, shower, look out the window and decide I would go back to bed. Some people would consider me irresponsible, I argue saying my first responsibility is to maintain my peace of mind. Therefore, not only am I responsible, I am master of my emotional well being.

Today I focused on the many rushing people. I watched those running for the train, running for the bus, running to catch the elevator, running to and for their bosses, I asked myself, what would happen if they savored life just a little bit more? I’ve been told that my life was enviable, I’ve always responded it’s not my life, it’s what I choose to do and the rules I choose to live by… I say “make it happen”. A dear friend of mine once said the key is to trade in career for lifestyle … not only have I adopted the philosophy, I have promised myself to live by it.

Minutes pass … I plan on enjoying every single one.

I was asked at work if I planned on coming to work tomorrow … I responded as I always do “tomorrow will tell, until then, live life.”

Entry 1 (6 a.m.)

2007-09-06T17:07:00.000-07:00

It is 6 a.m. and the alarm on my cell phone just went off as usual … and as usual, I simply turned it off and rolled over. 15 minutes later, the alarm across the room goes off filling every corner of the room with an annoying sound. I have become accustomed to the sound and to letting it ring for a few minutes before finally getting up and turning it off... and as I have done hundreds of times before, I simply went back to bed. I am a firm believer that man should only awake when his body tells him to and my body certainly didn’t speak those words to me. My body was not convinced that 6a.m. was the right wake up time after having stayed up until 3 a.m. the night before writing. 10 a.m. came and my body decided that the 4 extra hours were enough not only to charge my battery, but also infuse me with enough energy to attack the world.

I’m already late for work, 8 a.m. is the beginning of my tour of duty, it is now 10 a.m. and I have no intentions on being there before noon. I actually go about my daily preparations with no thoughts of work or the one too many bosses I may have to deal with. I’m not concerned in the least about my lateness … then again, I am never late, I always arrive when I choose to (be it due to planning or lack there of.) I proceed with my morning rituals, ending in front of the closest where I stand for no less than 15 minutes deciding what I will wear. Today I feel like wearing a bow tie, argyle socks and suspenders, everything else will be built around those 3 items. In an age of baggy pants and sloppy appearance, I pride myself on being a breath of fresh air. Right before I leave, tilt my straw fedora to the left. A gentleman without his stingy brim is like a super hero with no cape … he’s not official.

Good day world, my name is Karl-Edwin Guerre ... most know me by Guerre or Karl-Edwin. Although I may often be late for "work", you will soon realize my aim is to never be late in life. Cheers