There has been some force over the last week that has not wanted me to post anything here. For one reason or the next, a string of events occur that tell me "hey, I should put this one down." But everytime I want to, I fall asleep, and the next thing I know, something else happens. What is da Kat unda da Kangol Cap talking about?

Thursday @ Work
If you don't know, North Fork Bank has bought GreenPoint, and soon enough, we will be using the North Fork system.
And if you let these changes affect your work, strange things will happen.
Like last Thursday, where one of our tellers managed $890,000 worth of transactions, and it took 2 hours to find a $20,000 difference. Twenty thousand dollars. Two hours of searching. If this were a Wednesday, or a Friday, it would have been fine. But it was a Thursday, our late day, when the bank closes at 7PM. Imagine being held against your will until 9PM, because of $20k; and there was nothing that you could do about it. The poor teller had tears rolling down her eyes until 9PM, when the branch manager found the difference. Sighs of relief were released, and I finally, finally went home.
So, after such a excruciating experience, what does a kat do? He lays in bed and listen to 93.5FM until 3 in the morning, being swept away by the vibes of Bob Marley, as they celebrate his 60th birthday; fully realisng that I have to be at work 5 and a half hours from that time period. How does one sleep, realising that he'll be up in 3 more hours? My body and my mind have come to terms: from Sunday to Tuesday, the body can sleep as long as it wants. But from Wednesday to Saturday, when the mind says get up, and I get up, the body works accordingly. Crazy as it sounds, this is the case; at least until I find me a better job...

Friday: I Want My Sheila E!!!
After work Friday afternoon, I was invited by a couple of workers to the Christian Cultural Center [CCC] for a concert of sorts. The poor guys I assumed had found someone to bring to their church in the hopes I can be re-converted; and I assume this on the grounds that they never see so enthusiased about gospel music or church as they are. So when one agrees to go to such a function, it's usually to them a good sign of things to come. Those guys are in for a shock when they realise that I am one of them, I thought. When we got to the Church, there were a lot of shocks to go around. First up, when I started speaking of the Bible, and Jesus' usage of parables to relate to the people, their mouths widened when I replied yes to the question: you really follow your Bible? Second, as we began our private fellowship, I noticed a rather huge line was forming around us. And that line comprised of, at the time, a lot of middle-aged women. A LOT of middle aged women. Suddenly, we were little guys trapped around an ocean of ladies we could do nothing with. So in my quest for understanding, I asked who was playing. Names like Yolanda Adams, Kelly Price, Juanita Bynum, and Sheila E! came up, yet to me, it still couldn't account for the sea of women. So I looked at the ticket I paid my co-workers $40 for:

Sisters In The Spirit

At that time, my facial expression was clear: Thank God we're at Church, because I would have severely hurt them otherwise!!
And the fact I was in the house of the Lord was the only thing that kept me at peace and patience (and who said God doesn't give you patience!?)
All that aside, the concert was pretty uplifting. It may have been ladies night, but the guys got a little something out of it.
Third, it really became clear to me why my co-workers wanted to go. They didn't go to check out the ladies, though Jonathan, one of my co-workers, and a CCC regular, had no problem accomplishing that task. They didn't go for a concert's sake. They went specifically to hear Sheila E! play. Granted, that's the sacrifice they were willing to make, so I respected that, and got the most of the night. Fourth, and in my mind, the most wonderful shock, is that Kelly Price really cleaned up!!
I don't mean that in the sense that she went from junkie to fabulous in a matter of months. What I mean is that she went from a sultry, heavy-set R&B diva who has talent, to a slimmed down, beautifully voiced gospel singer with her mind in the right place! I mean, that is a huge turnaround!! It made me feel so good to know that she found a better life beyond the entertainment business that means something to her. It really inspired me.

In any event, after the concert, the guys and I rush to the front to see if we could acquire some autographs. Jonathan, the ring leader, took us on a mini-tour of his church, to the back area (where we looked, and felt, like producers) in the high hopes that we might catch Sheila E!. Some people told us that she left already, but that would not deter this bunch from fufilling our destiny. En route, I met and thanked a very pleasant Kelly Price, who wished us a great weekend. See guys? She's a very beautiful woman, I gloated.
In the interim, one of the kats thought they saw Yolanda Adams, and started to burst into tears. This is where we learn that this was the first time he saw Adams in concert, and thinks she is the most beautiful woman in the world. A lot work was undertaken to lift the dude's disheartened figure when we realised that it was a false alarm.
One in the morning, the pastor of the church comes out with his wife. As we sat chillin' in the chill, he passes us, asking if we had a great time. Upon answering him, we, at least I, come to the timely conclusion:
Sheila's gone.
This doesn't sit well with Jonathan, who for the next ten minutes, up until the next day at work, throws a fit over the fact that he's waited in vain. As for Yolanda's #1 fan, he fared out a little it better. But I will never forget the dude's face, as he sat in the car, looking like a sour-puss. This Christian dude who went through hell to get me to his Church, worked up over a woman he'll probably see during a drum clinic.
Ah, the company I keep.

Maureen
Sade
Promise

Happy Birthday, GreenPoint Old Timer: Why are women so weird?

Yep, last Saturday was the GP old timer's birthday. And some co-workers and I had planned for weeks what to do for her. Ultimately, we came to the idea to take her out to TGI Friday's, her favourite restaurant, and have a party of her, her closest friends, and upon her request, her twin sister. One huge problem put this idea on the rocks: her children.
Well, find a babysitter, right? If you have kids, you probably have went through babysitters like conducting job-interviews. We didn't have the time to go through all that.
What about their father? Well, this wouldn't be a problem if the fathers were around, right? And notice, fathers is in plural form...
What about her parents? Here's the thing. All day, her parents watch her kids, and in the evening is when those old-timers do what they have to do. Even though it's her birthday, she would have to be mindful of that fact, and avoid asking them for any more favors. This also means that anyone else asking would seem that they're asking on her behalf, which is worse than her asking, cuz it looks like she ran out of the courage to ask herself.

All-righty-then.

So, Saturday comes; what do we do? I get nominated to stake out her house to find out her parents' plans, so we can converge our plans to meet theirs. I arrive, and it seems they made plans to last until 7PM. Cool, I thought. We'll all link up at 7:30, and that'd be it.
I call the birthday girl back around 7PM. She's tired. Very tired. I-want-to-hit-the-sack-and-speak-to-no-one tired.
What'd you do?
She cleaned her house and tended to her kids.

This plan was falling apart of at the seams.

At her request, I call half an hour later. She wants to have a small get-together; with some cake, wine, and a movie. What a brilliant idea, I thought. If you can't bring her to the party, bring the party to her. Awesome!!!
I go to Junior's for some strawberry cheesecake, and then I headed to the liquor store, with no prior experience in buying wine. I give the counter guy $40, and told him that I leave his expertise to him, but make sure it's dry and not too sweet. I leave with decent-sized bottle, and from there, I headed to her crib with the movie, cake, and wine in hand. She calls me; she was apparently getting restless, and wanted to go to sleep. At this point, I felt defeated; like Seinfeld, who arrives at the party, just to drop off the good stuff and go home. I felt like all this planning was in vain, and like my mother was right; that someone in her shoes would rather appreciate a card with some cash than someone going through great lengths to throw a party for her. I did not want to be reminded of mom's wisdom. Again.
I get to her house, preparing my Seinfeld routine, hoping that a bus would get to the stop by the time I arrive. And as I went inside, placed the items on the counter, and wished her a happy birthday, she stood there, in her kitchen, with her daughters present, in total shock. An expensive looking wine. A Junior's strawberry cheesecake. Wimbledon, a love flick that involves tennis; two of her favorite matters of subject. This was not just some gathering of party material that would only address the fact that today was her birthday. This was a well-thought-out, planned birthday platter that truly shows what special friends she has.
She tells me to stick around and have some cake and wine with her.
Bewildered, I reminded this chick how I-want-to-hit-the-sack-and-speak-to-no-one tired she supposedly was.
In return, she cries:

"Look at this, Terrence. Look at it." (Mind you, I bought all of which she wants me to look at.) "This is Junior's cheesecake. This wine, these movies. How can I tell you to go home when you went out of your way for me? How can I not celebrate my birthday with you after all that you've done for me? I can't, okay?? I do not know about your friends, and the company that you keep, but I can't, okay!?? So just sit here, and enjoy my birthday with me, please!"

Tell Me [Unfinished Demo]
Lionel Richie
Can't Slow Down [Deluxe Edition]

Suddenly, I started to recall the many times the GreenPoint old-timer would annoy and piss me off. The time she charged in on another guy's behalf to talk to a SSF on my window; the very SSF I was trying to talk to. The time she poked me with her umbrella on the bus to work, while I was in the middle of a moment with another SSF. The time one of the other tellers, under the old-timer's "wisdom," attempted to screw my register $70. All of that, amongst the many other moments she tried my patience. And in the recollection, in the midst of her cry, as she started to call my name wondering if I was dozing off, I started to forgive her. As I type, it's recognisable that I won't forget what happened. But now, moreso than that point, I realise that I had yet to forgive her. And as I stepped back and realised what great lengths I went through to give her a decent birthday party, I was forgiving her for all that we went through; I was putting it all behind me now, as if I had yet to do so. Call it naive; call it weird; but that's what happened. And by the time I acknowledged her and sat to enjoy her birthday with her, I had forgiven her.
I picked up my cell phone, and started to tell everyone who was in on the party to head to her house. She learned of my plan, and stopped me in my tracks. She made me look at her; and while she looked fine to me, she insisted that no one see her the way she was. I started to wonder, why would you only expose me to this side to you, and not the friends that you've known longer. She of course did not want to give me a reason, just a request to respect her wishes and call everything off.

I sat there, in her house, in a real daze. Had I crept into her circle of friends, that she accepts me seeing her in this light? Was there more to this than I was seeing? Did I make a mistake in doing all this? With time passing, I called my co-workers, one by one, to inform them that the whole thing's been called off on the excuse that...
she, at the time in question, was sleeping.
And for the rest of that night, I sat next to her and her children, watching Wimbledon. Very nice movie, by the way.
The Old-timer and I wined and dined over our favorite cheesecake, and some of the best wine $40 could buy. I left her house at one, and called a friend to pick me up and drop me home. I told him everything, and even he was floored. Not by the fact I wasn't banging her in her own crib to be spending so much time there, but by the fact that after all that has transpired since me coming to GreenPoint/North Fork, the GreenPoint OldTimer & I had grown closer than either one of us had anticipated.
And though this does shit for my love-life, it has given me my good deed for the month of February.


Is it you? Or is it me?

En route to my regular trip to Costco today, I ran into someone I haven't seen in four years. Someone I knew in my high school days while I was working home delivery in Pathmark. For security purposes, I won't disclose his name, but I will use the tag name I gave him: the Boy Wonder. He was slightly bigger than I last saw him; perhaps his metabolism started wearing down. Relieved that I actually get to catch up on some old times, I ask him how life's treating him. From the little words he's mumbled, I could tell this wouldn't be a straightforward answer. He spoke very little and very low to avoid him thinking something was wrong with him. The mere fact a usually loud individual starts mumbling to himself made me feel something was wrong with him. So, in an indirect, unintentional form of reverse psychology, I said never mind.
To make a long story short, four years ago, a year after the time I started going to college, he ended up in a mental institution, thanks in part to some inward influences. He was taking anti-depressants while I knew him (goes to show that no matter how long you hang w. somebody, you still don't know that person), and apparently they were the wrong drugs for his condition. Somehow, he ends up in a mental-ward for four months. I had never known these turn-of-events transpired, and felt really bad for him than anything else. Nowadays, he's cleaned up, and starting life over again. I had to hand it to him; I felt more relieved than anything else that he's doing okay, amidst all he's been through.
Now, we're on the bus discussing what's been going on in all this time. And people are boarding this bus, going in and out. Mind you, the guy's been through a mental state. So, as people approach the back area, they see a big guy, and a out-of-place-looking white dude talking, and think they've entered the Twilight Zone (c'mon, katz. If you were there, you'd probably would've thought the same thing.) One lady in particular caught the eye of myself and the Boy Wonder. She scrambled to find another seat, and as I turned to BW, I automatically felt this guy's uneasiness of the situation. "I mean, I'm not a killer; I didn't kill anyone. Just had to, how you say it, get my mind right. Literally."
It's okay dude. There ain't enough room for her back here anyway. That's why she moved. She saw a mirage of an available seat.
"Thanks, man."

Lonliness
Sanchez
One In A Million: The Best Of Sanchez

I left the bus shortly thereafter, and during the entire Costco venture, I walked around speculating to myself: Was it the Boy Wonder, or was it me? That whole situation with the lady is a typical situation of what happens when I take any other seat but the one person chairs to one side of the bus. I mean, I have considered the possibility that I put too much thought into these things. But consider this: here's a dude who unbeknowingst to him admits in public that he was in a mental institution, and people will leerily avoid him. And here I am, with no such issues; in fact, with a much more plesant set of circumstances, yet I get the same treatment, as though I'd be the last dude anyone would want to be caught next to. Whasssupwidat?

I dunno. I just don't know.

Raggamuffin Love
Pinchers [w. Frankie Paul]

My Valentine's day went pretty much the same as all the other ones. And I hope yours was much better.
In fact, looking at my $109.84 Godiva receipt, mi mum, and the Old timer had a great Valentine's Day.
That's all I could muster for now.
I'll be back soon, perhaps with my Miami Vice Season 1 DVD review.