Power vs Influence?

The lasting effects of British colonization is crazy. Makes me reflect on a conversation I had with Malcolm. America might be the world's sole superpower by definition, but British culture is ingrained in more societies than America could ever dream of.

It's crazy how in all of my travels I see countries valuing the British way as the correct and best way to do things. I made a similar observation years back regarding Caribbeans I knew in America who'd always talk about their superior British education and other non-indigenous aspects of the culture (I understand this ideology more now; at the time I was just annoyed). But when you travel, particularly in the east, you really feel the extent to which Britain has a stranglehold on societies in seemingly half the world. This seems to be done mostly, and most effectively, through compulsory education.

America still gets love and American practices are still valued, but my impression travelling abroad is that the British way is the established, proper way and the American way is the exciting, trendy way. I guess this makes perfect sense considering America is Britain's younger, roided-up, rebellious younger sibling.

This is how it feels to me:

A foreigner is inviting Britain and America to his home. He sees Britain, politely smiles, looks around to makes sure everything is acceptable, gets on his best behavior, says "Welcome. I hope you like my home. I'm honored you've come to visit; I have so much respect for your country. May I offer you a beverage?" He sees the American, he smiles big, assumes a relaxed posture, tells him what kinda alcohol he has and says, "How are you? Good to see you! I love you crazy Americans; you guys are so much fun with your electing black presidents and giving important music awards to Macklemore - it's great!"

MRI, PTC, BL.A.M.s (The Week In Letters)

Last week was a bit crazy, in a good way. It provided the kind of stimulation I’ve been so used to the past few years, minus much of the stress that made me leave New York. A routine haircut become something a bit more as I sat in the barber’s chair and saw something odd reflected in the mirror (I was about to write “through the mirror,” but for the first time, I realized how incorrect and creepy that sounds).

This is what my family imagines
my barbershop looking like, I bet

Anytime a black dude comes into the barbershop I take notice, for obvious reasons. But this time was different – this guy had the markings of a blamerican (read back through the blog to my post on black American males to understand what those markings are, and how a bl.a.m. is distinguishable from an African). Once I heard him speak on his cell I was 99% sure that dude was American. Not wanting to let the opportunity to let him know that there are more of us here pass by (I know, it sounds like I’m making this out to be an alien planet, but sometimes that’s what it feels like), I decided I’d holla at him. Only, my barber then decided to do a long, drawn-out manscaping of my chin and ‘stace area, which is of course, ironic because I barely have facial hair. This made it uncomfortable to speak so I just waited until he was finished. The dude ended up sitting in the chair next to me, and at the first chance I got I said “You from the States?” He replied in a kind of disinterested, curt manner, which only let me know for sure that I was talking to a brother from America. “Yea” he said, not really looking up from his phone. That was exciting news to me – finally I can say I met my first confirmed black American male in Qatar after living here for 17 months. I asked him what part, and then we exchanged some info about each other before settling into convo about (what else?) sports. 7,000 miles from home and barbershop talk is still the same, I guess. He’s working at a military base. We exchanged cell numbers, ‘cause like he said, “You never know” (interesting what just a few words can mean when you’re talking to someone who speaks your language - "You never know" as in "You never know when having another black person's contact will work out for you somehow, some way, some day"). The barbers, mostly Sri Lankan as far as I can tell, seemed pretty interested in this impromptu bl.a.m. meeting. I was grateful to have a cool convo with a cool cat from back home (even if Florida is nowhere near NY, it’s damn near in the neighborhood compared to Qatar), and maybe we’ll chill someday.

I got my life-hack on and made one of these because transporting my dock to the bathroom to hear my iPod is a hassle (y'all don't even know the struggle of needing an adapter for half of your electronics). 

I also made it because it looked fun, easy and I got a crapload (ha, get it? "crapload?") of tissue rolls laying around.

Another first was me attending parent teacher conference for the first time since 2008 as something other than a teacher (well, and a big brother). The child I tutor hasn’t been doing so hot (thus, the need for me), so I attended his conference to see what kind of support he needs.

 It was your typical conference, if not a bit tangential as the dad decided to tell us about the pressures of building a new house (dad is mad cool though), but the best part was going back and talking to my old colleagues. That kind of thing is always a lot more fun when you’re not in the trenches stressed out with them. I was asked if I’m thinking of coming back, and that answer is the same as it always was – no, because it’s not the right fit for me. However, there’s another opportunity that’s arisen, an opportunity that would take up the next coupla paragraphs…if only I could talk about it at this time. Sorry to be so secretive, but at the moment I have way too much incentive to NOT talk about it, even though I really really want to.

So I took an MRI on my shoulder, which is something I should have done 20 years ago. It was my first MRI – why didn’t anyone tell me what an MRI was like?? Sonuvagun, that thing was not pleasant. I mean, I didn’t expect it to feel like a massage, and it wasn’t painful. But I think I’d almost prefer pain to the boredom of lying very still inside of an empty toothpaste tube for 30 minutes, with only elevator music in headphones to keep me entertained. I wanted to be like, "I'd like the option that doesn't make me feel like I'm being euthanized." It was all to the good though, even with that 30 minutes feeling like 30 hours. (I did find myself freestyling over the sounds of the scanner. Nothing else to do in there besides trying not to pop off boners here and there.) I’m one step closer to getting this shoulder repaired, at which point I will be the bionic, supersonic, ironic, ionic, iconic, slightly moronic StarPower. The Indian technician walked up to me and started a conversation about Barack Obama, which happens about as much as you’d expect. He said that he’d like Barry to take a crack at India in 2 years, and I was like, “Barack is having a devil of a time with 300 million people; 1.3 billion people trying to figure out Obamacare might be slightly problematic.” 

I’m talking about Obamacare like I know ANYTHING about how it works. Social networking provides the bulk of my “what’s going on back home” info, the delivery of which can be anything from surprisingly sophisticated to hilariously inept. Kinda like me.

I had my first conference call for my health coaching program, and it was nice and painless. I’m horrible over the phone but having 6 people to share the load made things much easier. I set a goal this week of incorporating a new, unfamiliar green into my diet and using a new recipe. I’ve been a rock star in the kitchen lately, if I may say so myself (and I do), and although the food will humble you, I’m anxious to see what I can do with these leeks I bought. My health coaching class has affected my life positively thus far, particularly in the way of what we call “primary foods,” things like spirituality, relationships, joy, finances, creativity and social life. It’s made me really focus on becoming balanced in all areas of my life. Living here has provided me the understated luxury of peace. I’ve been able to become more grounded and strip away ego in places I didn’t think I had any. But it’s also enabled me to accept that I’m exceptional and start to not shrink from the brightness I give off.

We’re going to Oman this week, because the lady has a conference. This will be the 7th country we’ve visited in the 17 months we’ve been here, which is dope. Honestly, I don’t reaaally feel like going (plus we’re taking separate planes, grrr), but I know that I’ll be excited once we arrive. My next blog post’ll probably happen sometime around then, but if something fresh happens beforehand, then I’ll jump right back in. Otherwise, y’all be cool like how y’all be cool, and if you feel the blog, share it with your human friends. Peace.

Qatari Aggression, Repression and Expression

All of the students know my wife since she is pretty much in each class every week supporting and guiding the teachers. So my tutoring kids get tickled when I call "Ms. Selina" and ask a question about their instruction during a session. It's like I can see them thinking, "You be holdin it down Mr. Roderick, but I see you gotta check in with the big dog." 

And I want to be like, "Word but I'm hittin' that though."

I'm sorry Qatar, but the representatives of your country that I usually come into contact with compel me to stereotype your people as extremely entitled, rude, and shockingly self-absorbed. I see so many examples of this each day that it could strictly be the theme of this blog if I wanted it to be. But Qatar is more than that, and there is no need to dedicate my blog to your ugly side. But...This lady honked me very loudly today after I had to slow down in the fast lane because the car in front of me suddenly put on hazards, had to change speed and switch lanes. Meaning I also had to change speed or hit the car from behind. Me being annoyed with the way she honked at me, not caring WHY I had to slow down (it was obvious even from her POV), I threw my hand up at her a couple of times. Nothing profane, just a few flicks of the forearm to show my displeasure. Maybe she took it as an aggressive gesture (I know, I know, different cultural norms and body language and yada yada), because she then proceeded to drive up very closely on me, deliberately get in front of me even though she didn't need to be in that lane, and press her breaks a few times as to mess up my driving rhythm. I simply decided to let her wear herself out since I wasn't in a rush, and that happened pretty quickly. They seem to express all of their emotions through their cars in this repressed-ass country. 

Later on as I drove out of the mall parking lot, two Qatari males walked right into my driving path and looked at me as if daring me to keep driving. I stared them down, drove very close to them and honked as I passed. This is the kind of behavior I often see Qatari males engage in as their way of showing some sort of dominance. I get it, I'm getting used to it, but I'm from a different culture and I probably won't fully adapt. One step out of my car and things change very quickly. But the society here is built on the person in my position not getting out of the car. I'm usually the wild card though, because my music and dress often reveal that when confronted with me they are dealing with an element they aren't used to. Usually I let them rock because we meet in a fleeting moment that doesn't have to become more than that, or they back down after realizing I'm not an underclass worker scared to engage them. One day though, this will all come to a head, and I hope I remain cool. Knowing that any confrontation between me and a Qatari will undoubtedly lead to the Qatari's story being believed over mine, I assure you that if I'm in line for a flogging, the other party would have told their version of events through a feng shui-ed face.

I'm pretty sure that black Qatari women are intrigued by me. Maybe I'm looking too much into it, but there have been multiple instances in which black Qatari women have done enough to at least make me feel nervous about being on the other end of their attentions. First there were the women who very clearly flirted with me, surprised to see a brother like me in their office, smiling, joking and asking me personal questions while they processed my drivers license pictures. (You'd be right to assume Ms. Selina wasn't into it.) Then there was the lady who took my paid parking ticket as I drove out of the mall, all the while not taking her eyes off of me and giving me an enthusiastic "You too" after I told her to enjoy her evening. (I know this doesn't read like much, but understand that this is a Muslim country, liberal by their standards, but way conservative by western standards, and interactions like this are not the norm. At all. Especially with a black dude.) And today we had the two women in the Benz who wouldn't break their stares and seemed to purposely drive alongside me while I knocked my music loudly, arm hanging out of the window. I mean, yeah, OF COURSE I'm full of myself. We all know this. But that doesn't mean I'm wrong about this. I just think black Qatari women (and let's be honest, probably the others as well) think I'm the ish. Nothing disrespectful or anything, just the expression of recognizing "top flight" when they see it, haha. 

Y'all be cool like how y'all be cool, and share the blog if ya dig it. Peace.

My student brought home very low scores on his report card today. Not just in the subjects I teach, but in Arabic, Islamic and Qatar History as well. I assume this means that his parents understand that he has bad habits in general, and he's not just sucking in the subjects I tutor him in. But assumptions are often useless. It's hard to explain to his parents that his struggles are due to a collection of bad habits acquired over a long period of time, and that there is no progress for him unless this changes. There is an interesting dichotomy within the culture. They baby the kids and give them free reign to do what they want (like sit in the front seat w/o a seatbelt or run wild in the restaurant), but they expect that their kids learn everything if they are taught everything. There isn't much room for understanding a child's particular needs, and what must specifically be done to meet them. In defense of the parents, the schools don't do a good job of this either. My intervention more than anything, is supposed to lead to direct improvement, and improvement strictly means "better grades." This is the pressure-filled downside of tutoring for a living...

The Qatar Open concluded recently. Rafael Nadal won. I lost, because I missed it for the second straight year. This year I was out of town, last years was just sleeping. Grrr. Plan on catching it next year. Hopefully Serena plays. She didn't like how empty the stadium was last year. Somebody tell her I'm coming next year and I'm bringing the hood.

I got some beats from the boyfriend of a teacher here that I know. I'm expecting them to be good. If so, I already know my rhymes are good, and some good music can go down out here, finally.

They're out here interviewing for the position that I told them they needed, that I would've stayed at the school to do (for no more money than they were paying me), that I'm the most qualified to do, and that they told me they didn't need and weren't creating.

-_-

I know that leaving the school was the first step to me doing something much better in my life, something I really NEED to do, but it still stings, I can't front. I feel lied to and unappreciated. Still, I know that it's not important to focus on what I perceive was "done to me." They had their plans, I had mine, and God is laughing at all of it. 

And I tend to be alright when it's all said and done. And I'm well into a much more lucrative next move, so, you know.

Weather is nice and cool hear, my wife says a cold front is coming through, 40 Fahrenheit at night-type of stuff. Beats that 4 degrees back in New York that I narrowly escaped.

What if you measured yourself by how well you kept your New Years resolutions?

Reading w/my godson was fun and tiring practice.

My wife is a superheroine - HNIC at work, planned this amazing 3 country holiday, doesn't sleep well and still gives me love that helps me be a confident king among kings. She's fragile though, bc she's exquisitely designed. And I have to take great care of her. Better care.

In about 4 months, my body will be a machine again for the first time since about a year and a half ago.

I'm gonna have some difficult conversations when I return to Doha.

I had one in America. 

I lost all ties to New York as home this holiday, although it remains my favorite place and I want to return under circumstances I haven't figured out yet. 

2013 was my unsexiest year in a long time. I got my sexy back over the last week or so. It was fun. Gonna shed it during the plane ride and acquire a new element over 2014.

I lied - I DO have the answers. All of them. That's what makes me StarPo. I gotta stop acting like I don't so that I can shirk responsibility.

I'm getting my shoulders fixed this year, possibly braces as well. At which point, I'll be bionic.

I don't even wanna imagine what a me at peak health, with a parent's perspective and 2 consecutive years of clarity will be like. 

I do fear that moment though, when The Comedian is gunning down his pregnant mistress and I'm so detached that I don't turn the gun into goddamn snowflakes. Bc my disenchantment with people is becoming detachment.

There will be new gold chains and tattoos on me, more likely in '15.

No idea is original, but that just speaks to IDEAS. There are still many things that haven't gone from idea to conception. I may find my ideal medium this year. The art I have inside of me is too powerful to keep locked in there, only to be glimpsed on the occasional rap song.

I'm intimidated by the challenge of starting my own business. And that intimidation, a rare emotion for me, is the stimulation that is driving me.

Looking forward to "Adventure Time" on my couch. 

Unpacking sucks everything.

'Everybody changes. As long as you change for the better, I don't see how anybody can be mad atcha.'

More deep breaths, don't let the illusion of time distort your efforts, small and big. You know the phrase "Take your time?" Yes. YOUR time. Let's learn to control it better. We can make 2014 feel like 30 days or 30 months, depending on what we need out of it. 

All articles with plans for Knicks improvement make no sense if they don't involve a change in ownership, or how ownership thinks. It's about CULTURE, not PERSONNEL, sheesh. That's probably my biggest professional lesson of 2013.

Happy New Year folks.

Oh, and AGAIN, you owe almost no one your energy, it's not your fault that someone is dumb, save room for you, physically turn and stop engaging people at the point that they start to drain you, no relationship (besides child/spouse) obligates you to put up with ANY nonsense, a straight line is the shortest distance between 2 points so be as direct as possible, the more you are the real you, the more you'll see who else is real and that number of people will be 99% fewer than any number you can imagine, as well as shocking and hard to handle when you initially see who no longer should be in your life, YOU determine what LOVE and POSITIVITY looks/feels like, don't be pressured to accept some meme-ified idea of it. If I die this year, I would have lived enough for a book that rivals the greatest biographies, but the stuff I don't have the courage to share is much more vast, and has the deeper lessons. We mirror the universe, and the universe consists of a majority dark matter. Is it a black man thing to wonder if this will be your final year, even though you're in good health, young and stable?

Ok, that's that. Enjoy your day.

Flashin'...Lights

So they have something here never I've seen before. It's a traffic light that pretty much means "everybody can go." As in, from all directions, all at the same damn time. It's a flashing yellow, something I wasn't familiar with before moving to Doha. There's green, which of course means go, red, which should mean stop and this flashing yellow thing which apparently means "you crazy kids get in there and mix it the fuck up." This light only exists at the roundabouts, which is better than the intersections, I guess. You can just imagine the free-for-all induced by this.  With an impatient "me-first" culture, more cars on the road then necessary, and the horrendous driving that is so common here, the flashing yellow, which was probably meant to be a courteous agreement between drivers when the country was a bit more quaint, now seems like an experiment in "let's confuse, anger and injure the ex-pat." The best strategy when approaching the flashing yellow? Fearlessness. Don't hesitate or overthink, just do as the Rom.., er, I mean the Qataris do, and eat that light the hell up. If you come out of the roundabout with you and your car intact, you've done a good job. Go have a sheesha and relax your nerves.

"Let It Rock" - How And When I Get Zen On That @ss

So, let me please share this with you. How my experience as a black male here is intertwined with aspects of my health journey. Health, right, is not just food, exercise, doctor visits, skin care, etc. It's also the relationships, time management, spiritual practices and such.

So, I notice that I never know how I'm going to be treated when it comes to customer service in the increasingly elitist Arab country I live in. I often see the person providing it (more often than not a Filipino, but sometimes African, south/southeast Asian or Arab) fall over themselves in submission to the white or Arab before me, then treat me with anything from curt indifference to terse politeness. Reasons can be many but this isn't about that. As a health practitioner, I look to stay in balance in all aspects of my life, so aside from eating and working out, I have to apply varying degrees of effort in dealing with social interactions. Unfortunately, as a black man, I have to expend much greater energy, than say, a white mom, when it comes to my everyday interactions. I may have to ask for service when they don't. I may have to hold back my anger or frustration and do something else with it so it doesn't become self-harming where a white man wouldn't have to ever worry about that. I may have to do more convincing and proving when explaining why I'm a good fit to tutor a kid, even in comparison to a way less experienced young white girl straight out of college. I may have to check on my maintenance request multiple times because building staff doesn't see my requests as pressing as they see the request that came from the Arab family.


Hopefully, like anything else in life, the energy I have to constantly devote to these things makes me stronger. This morning I made some requests that were answered, but not with the same attention to detail as the person before me (or the average person in my fancy schmancy building) received. Sometimes I think the staff wonders how I'm able to live here, particularly because I don't work during the day. I want to say "Hey, I live here, so obviously I'm living here under valid and legal circumstances. I'm not squatting."

I'm from New York, I'm used to customer device being a roll of the dice. It's different here though. The city runs on it, and many jobs depend on it because there is a seemingly inexhaustible supply of service workers who have the opportunity to make more money here, willing to step into another's position, even with the horrors that the jobs can entail. Is it right? Of course not. That's the society. The society is also rigidly stratified and I float somewhere on the outside. On any given day, my place depends on whether I'm perceived as American or African, professional or blue collar, young and single or a family man, can I be put into a neat stereotype or am I something unexpected.

So when I'm rushed along while being serviced, or given an attitude or not afforded the same level of service as one of the other groups I mentioned, I have to choose my reaction carefully. The angry and negative reactions I've chosen over time just build up negative energy within me. Instead, I have to go to a better place, spiritually. It's a work in progress. Trying to understand why a receptionist or store clerk thinks they can treat me like I'm at the bottom of the totem pole doesn't work all the time. I'm not always ok with having to "go in" or prove through my speech, credentials or extended interaction that I'm someone to be respected either. It's also not always enough to remember that "The black man is god, we are all powerful, they hate us because they love us, I have knowledge of self so nothing can phase me, yada yada."

Sometimes I want to lash out. But I don't. You can't let things in the world make you who you're not, force you to do something that isn't a good look for you. I'm a nice guy, I just am. I'm direct, clear and assertive, but I'm nice. Sometimes I'm a bit vengeful, admittedly. I don't want to intimidate and scare people into treating me correctly, even though doing so would be easy. That doesn't feel good. You can't let the world make you into a crappier version of yourself. If you're a good dude and the girls around you seem to want "bad boys," let it rock, it'll even out for you. But becoming a bad boy will be a bad look for your soul. If you're a reserved person, and it seems like the loud, obnoxious people are getting what they want, let them rock. You don't like those people, don't become one. Your way can work too.


When I'm faced with uneven treatment here, sometimes I just have to learn to let it rock. That's my zen statement. Letting it rock is not easily defined. It's not simply letting it go, overlooking it, or understanding what it is. It's more like "being like the water." Water is all-powerful and all-submissive at the same time. Water doesn't fight against, but it's also constantly imposing it's will and serving it's purpose in the most natural way it can. You may be able to manipulate and take advantage of it, but it reigns (rains) over you from the inside out. It's in control of itself, therefore in control of all around it. Those descriptions of water is what letting it rock feels like. It's not an easy thing, but it's a part of my health practice that is simultaneously unique to certain situations and applicable to any.

The 6'3", fit, blond white guy in the suit who checks all the "respectability" boxes doesn't have to ever be concerned with learning to let it rock within the same circumstances that I do. But he'll have his instances as well. It's just that, I have to devote myself to this spiritual practice in a different manner than most. No one said balancing a healthy body, mind and soul would be easy. If they did, they lie!