The WORST Valentines Day Ever

As I sit here prepping a hearty Valentines Day meal for my girlfriend, enjoying a nice cup of coffee and the sounds of carnage in my ear from the Walking Dead Marathon, I am reminded of a tale a few years ago when I was in college that culminated in the WORST Valentine's day ever.

At least for me. 

Let's make one thing clear: I HATE Valentine's Day. Probably unreasonably so, but I hate nonetheless. The idea that once every year we should shell out money for expensive flowers, fancy dinners and flaunt how "in love" you are with your "sweetheart" makes me so angry. Probably because I spent many a Valentine's Day alone. I would plan super extravagant ways to convince the "girl of my dreams" to fall in like with me only to be spend Valentine's Day with a nice steak dinner with my parents.

Admittedly, I enjoyed the idea of being a hopeless romantic who was constantly spurned by the girl he would one day marry. 

Then I grew up and realized that Valentine's Day is quite possibly the worst holiday ever. Don't get me wrong. I did drop a few bucks on some choice Fillet Mignons so that my lady could have a good Valentine's Day, but I openly let her know that I do it because I love HER and not this Hallmark created Valentine's Day.

Now that you have the prologue, let us return to our regularly scheduled blog post.

This particular one takes place during my Sophomore year. You may recall that I spent this year as an R.A. super cop. I loved my job and the people I worked with. Together we kept our home, Lawless Lawton, safe from those who would break the rules and ruin things for everyone.

You see, Anderson has a rule when it comes to visiting members of the opposite sex known as RSVP. Basically, this is a time when girls and guys can go into each others dorm rooms and socialize, within reason. Valentine's Day was, for obvious reasons, the most popular RSVP time and the day many would try and break the rules. 

I was scheduled to have RSVP duty that day, due to my lack of having a girlfriend. RSVP duty was hit or miss. On one hand, you could have a lot of fun! Friends would come sit with you as you checked people into other people's rooms and a small party could be had. This was not the case. For those who did not feel like going to their rooms because their roommates were with someone, they decided to stay in the lobby...with me....cuddling. 

I'm not a huge fan of PDA and for someone who hates V-Day like I do, this just made it even worse. Still, I played on my computer and chatted up a couple of my single friends while I made my usual rounds every hour and a half. This was a part of the job that was not so bad. It gave me a chance to socialize with people who were spending their time studying (like my roommate Sam) or to visit my friend Jonesy (who was in the middle of the Hawkins Watch Wars). 

When I left my suitemates, I made my way down to the rest of the first floor (which was my territory). 

Pause.

I should mention that my floor was made up of three distinct factions:

Faction #1- The Council

Faction #2- The B.O.A.R.D

Faction #3- Scary Larry and the Spooky Kids

You all know the first two, but this is your first taste of Scary Larry and the Spooky Kids. At Anderson, interracial dating meant one of two things: 1) The two couples REALLY liked each other and really wanted to date. 2) The white girls wanted to sleep with the black guys to make their dad's jealous. When option 2 came up, it was usually the basketball players who helped satisfy any mandingo fantasies the good, southern, white GRITS (Girls Raised In The South) wanted. Scary Larry was the name of the head of the Spooky Kids. His real name escapes me, but I had already vanquished him prior to this encounter and because of that, I was public enemy number 1 to the Spooky Kids (which was great, since it was my link to being considered, at the very least, a friend to The B.O.A.R.D). The Spooky Kids all lived in the same suite and were known to break rules ALL THE TIME. 

Sadly, I was unable to catch them in the act until that night.

I went into their suite trying my best not to linger. I was not afraid of them, but my annoyance with the day already had me riled up and I did NOT want to get into a physical fight like I had with Scary Larry (more on that another day). I was about to leave when I heard the sound of a girl laughing in the room of a Spooky Kid. 

Now, up until that point, I had only one bust under my belt and that was with assistance. This would be my first solo takedown. I quickly ran outside so they would not hear me call the RSVP worker (a part timer who simply wrote down who was in the dorms) and ask if there was anyone in that room. The worker responded on the walkie talkie: no.

I took a deep breath and proceeded back into the suite and knocked on the door. The door opened and what did I see, but some "gentlewoman" eating a bag of cheese-its. I walked across the threshold to find her, two Spooky Kids, and a girl named "Nikita" all sitting around listening to music. Spooky Kid #1 turned off the music and asked what was the problem. I told him that he was not allowed to have a girl in the room if she did not check in. Cheese-its girl rolled her eyes and proceeded to the lobby before I could tell her that it was too late: they had been busted and she was going to be ban from the dorms. I took down everyone's names, but when I got to "cheese-its", the young "gentleman" refused to tell me! 

He looked a little like this:

So I rolled my eyes as "cheese-it" walked back in. The conversation went a little like this:

"I need your name," I said. 

"Why you need my name?!" she said in the countriest accent you can think of.

"Because I am writing everyone up and I need your name to finish my report."

She looked me up and down as if she were plotting how to best attack me.

This was me:

"What's your name?" she asked. 

It took me a second to respond for you see, I actually have a very violent and nasty temper. Most people don't see it because it hurts me to ever give into that anger. I usually walk away or try to diffuse the situation before I get really angry. In my mind my response was not one that befits the type of person I am, but just know it looked something like this. 

I politely responded, "Marcus." Cheese-It gave me her name, I wrote it down, and she left saying something about grabbing her ID from the "white boy at the front." I proceeded to tell Spooky #1 what was going to happen next when Cheese-It returned.

"Who is your boss!?"

What the damn hell?! I thought to myself.

Who was THIS girl to ask me ANYTHING!? So I told her,

"You want to me my boss?" 

"Yeah, n**$#! Who is your boss!?"

I smiled,

And told her I would take her to him to which she refused. Knowing my way around Lawton better than her, I beat her to my "pseudo-boss" for the evening. My normal boss, B.G., was out on the town with his wife and so I had a replacement go-to boss. I met her at his apartment on the second floor and politely introduced them. I explained the situation and my P.B. told her the SAME THING I did. 

She looked at him.

Looked at me.

Looked back at him.

Looked at me.

Back to him and said:

Just kidding.

What she really said was: "Are you his boss?"

My P.B. felt like he was in groundhogs day when he replied, "Uhm...yeah?" 

That was all she needed to hear to go on a tirade about how Anderson was the worst college and that was why she left. She hated the school and the teachers and black guys who served white masters. How I had a Napoleon complex and how much of an asshole I was because she couldn't "get it in" tonight. I proceeded to gleefully write up my report since RSVP was, thankfully, over when Steven came strolling into Sam and I's room.

"Holy shi*t!" he exclaimed. "There's some girl out there who's really angry about some guy named Marcus! Is that you?!" 

As I've said: Steven's an idiot. 

I told Steven the same story I have just told you and it has become tradition to share that story with as many people as I can in order to warn them about the dangers of V-Day!

I hope all of you have a wonderful Valentine's Day, but don't get sucked into the hype.

If you ARE single during this Valentine's Day, consider yourself lucky that your day can spent at home watching Netflix instead of being called an "Assshole with a Napoleon Complex."

Sorry for Party Rocking!

Have you ever been in love? To have someone you truly cherish, care about and would do anything for? I certainly know what that is like. When I was in college, I was in love with a girl named Crystal. Now, when I say I was head over heels for this girl, I mean it! She could honestly do NO wrong in my eyes. Sure, she had plenty of flaws, but she was the love of my life! Hell, we were even going to get married. However, the beginning of the end happened while I was away on tour.

No, not the military. I mean a tour with an acting company known as the National Players: America's Longest Running touring company. Being a guy in Anderson University's theatre department meant one thing: you were almost always in a play. Just because you were a guy, however, didn't always mean you were guaranteed a lead role. Still, the faculty saw something in me and I was cast several times in either a lead role or supporting role. I thank God for those opportunities and all glory goes to him for those performances.

Unfortunately, Crystal never saw it like that. Crystal was always jealous because of my impressive resume which was only ever impressive because of my gender... NOT my talent onstage. This rubbed me the wrong way, but we worked through those fights. Me being on tour did not help in the slightest. Crystal grew jealous of my stories and as a result, we did not talk as much while I was away.

This forced me to turn my attention to achieving meaningful relationships with my cast-mates. Ironically, one other tour-mate was going through something similar. Chad wanted nothing to do with most of the people on tour, but soon Chad began to warm up to a few key members of the tour known as 306 (remember those factions I talked about in my last post? We're back!).

We spent most of our days making sure we all hung out together and had quite a number of adventures while we traveled the country. Chad and I had grown close when he accompanied me on my birthday to Chili's where I enjoyed a huge burger and an even bigger margarita in Boston. It was then that we realized how much we had in common. Like me, Chad had a younger girlfriend who was still in school. Just like me, Chad was constantly receiving word from his alma mater that his girlfriend was cheating on him. I sympathized heavily with Chad.

How could I not? To me, if Chad's girlfriend truly was cheating on him, who was to say Crystal was not doing the same? Especially when I noticed just how similar Chad and I truly were.

Well, around the second leg of tour, we learned that Chad had broken up with his girlfriend while in the car on our way to a new venue. He was devastated. Even though he never said it, you could see it on the poor guy's face. This girl had hurt him and broken his heart.

Chad had looked out for me when I was having a potentially bad birthday. It was my turn to return the favor. I approached Chad while he was telling us all about the rumors he had heard about her and proceeded to do what I do best: cheer up my friends by being as belligerent as hell.

"Oh hell naw, Chad!" I exclaimed. "We need to be beatin' their asses right now! Right NOW! She just gonna turn around and cheat on you after she tried to make you look like a fool and say she WASN'T!? Naw, son! I don't play that! I'll go to where she at right now and be like.... "'Ey Girl! Come here!..... Naw, naw, naw.... Shut up for a minute.... You disrespect my man's like that?....Buh, buh, buh....why you stutterin'?! You wasn't stutterin' when you tried to play him! Real talk...you 'bout to get superman punched, Roman Reigns style!....What's this?.....This yo new man?.....Come here playboy!....Naw, don't be scared, come here.... Dis ya man?.... Girl, did I stutter? I asked if dis yo new man!.... You 'bout to get drop kicked too, playa....BOTH OF YA'LL!"

This continued for a good twenty minutes. I think Chad appreciated it. Here was this guy who didn't really know him until a few months ago and yet I was ready to help Chad right this wrong. Of course, I would never get a chance to do so.... or would I?

Flash forward to a few months later after a crazy week in New Orleans. Chad and I had solidified our friendship and he had invited me with him to Macomb, Illinois. He assured me that this was going to be a boring trip, but it would at least give me my own bed for a few days. We were joined at the last minute by another friend of mine from tour, Mr. Pettey.

(Left to Right) Chad, Pettey, Me

Pettey was.... an interesting fellow to say the least. To be honest, I owe it to him for helping to craft my "Mr. Salley" persona for my students to a degree. We were all excited to go to Macomb since we all seemed to just click with one another. Pettey was so excited about being with us that, "This is a good group!" became one of our many battle cry's for the weekend.

We arrived in Macomb pretty late that evening, but still made it in time for Chad to participate in a cancer walk (the true reason for the trip). Pettey and I stayed together since we were the outsiders at this college, but we were soon introduced to many of Chad's friends...including Chad's ex (Who we'll name Olivia).

I could barely contain my happiness! She looked incredibly uncomfortable around Chad, his friends who clearly knew all about how she treated him and the grinning negro who laughed like a hyena as soon as she left. Pettey also seemed to relish in this as we began contemplating how we should confront her. Chad did not add to our plans, but he did not discourage them either.

We learned later that we were going to stay with some of Chad's theatre student friends in a house about a mile away from campus. It was a nice place and we were thankful for having a place to sleep that we did NOT have to share beds with someone. The next day was pretty uneventful. We went out to eat at a delicious restaurant that many college students frequented and then I spent most of the time in the hospital (New Orleans had not been kind to me...).

When we met up again, we returned to the house to see the most beautiful sight in the world: Beautiful Coeds! Sadly, I do not have a picture for you, but when we opened the door, it looked something like this:

There were about 10 or so Woo Girls in this house all drinking and getting ready to head out to a dance club.

Pettey, myself and Chad all stood in the doorway with our jaws on the floor. I should say that being on tour with 80% males is a lot like being out at sea. When you get to take shore leave, there are some things you are reminded of that you miss... A LOT! Now, don't get me wrong! I found them all extremely attractive, but I was not in the business of cheating!

In truth, I love to dance. Just getting the chance to dance with even one of them would have been enough for me. They, of course, invited us and we accepted.

Our night had gone from good to great, but it was far from over. You see, we returned from the club ready to continue the party. Everyone was drunk from the club except me and THAT  is where our story reaches its climax.

The girl's had all decided to spend the night and sit around to talk. We were joined by a few other theatre guys who had already picked which Woo Girl they were going to take home, but their night was about to take a drastic turn.

One gentleman in particular was "friends" with the guy (let's call him...Hank) who Chad's ex had been seeing and was currently dating. I say "friends" because no one seemed to like Hank for what he and Olivia had done to Chad.

Admittedly, I did egg the guy on to tell more stories about what happened than what was necessary. But I couldn't help it! Chad needed closure and I know (especially now) that the only way he was going to get it was by confronting the truth of what happened.

I won't tell you virbatum what the guy said, but here are the highlights:

• Hank and Olivia would laugh about Chad being clueless about their affair
• Hank would brag about all the things he and Olivia would do together. 
• Olivia stopped talking to several people in the theatre department and vice-versa AFTER the breakup
• Hank and Olivia spent most of their time together since no one liked them any more

As Chad listened, you could tell he was getting heated as he nursed his beer. I, being sober, MAY have antagonized the situation. Especially when I learned that Olivia stayed in an apartment about a block away!

"We need to be beatin' his @$$ right NOW, Chad!" I exclaimed. This continued for several minutes before Chad jumped out of his seat and ran out the backdoor. 

Everyone realized that, like Flo Rida, it was going down for real!


I followed behind chanting "Boots 2 Asses!" ala The Rock.

Behind me, the guy who provided the information jumped around yelling "Get some!" Behind HIM, were a bevvy of drunk college girls who giggled and yelled "OMG!" 

It was the most eclectic parade of misfits one would ever see. When we reached the apartment, Chad went right for the door, beer still in hand. The guy, who had moved passed me, exclaimed, "It's his car! He's here!" 

Great scott! Were we actually going to do this?

However, fate intervened and kept us from entering the apartment building since you needed to be buzzed in. Chad and the others contemplated calling her out and buzzing her apartment until we heard the door unlock as someone buzzed us in! 

Above us, a drunk bearded man had seen this strange menagerie of weirdos and let us in for justice. We entered the premises and before Chad could knock I stopped him.

I know what you're thinking. Surely, I could tell them I had caused a lot of this to spin out of control and that I needed to put a stop to it before we actually did layeth the smackdown on Hank's candy ass. 

You would be wrong.

"Chad, wait!" I whispered. "She doesn't know me! Let ME knock and she'll answer the door!" Chad's beer and rage addled brain saw wisdom in this and let me proceed. I knocked.

Knock, Knock!

No Answer.

Knock, Knock! 

No Answer.

I tried one more time and suddenly there was Olivia standing in a tank top and shorts, clearly just getting out of bed. Time seemed to freeze as this tiny white girl stared at this black guy who had been banging on her door at 2 AM. 

"Hi!" I said. "Uhm....soo...." But Chad made the save by pushing into the apartment. 

"We need to talk!" he slurred. He began to point at many items. "This is mine! This is mine! This is mine! And where is that b#%$&!?" I could see that he had made his way to Olivia's bedroom where Hank was apparently sleeping! 

The last I heard from Chad was him repeatedly saying, "Get up!" to Hank as Olivia closed the door. The girls were now surrounding me as we all pressed our ears to the door to at least HEAR the apocalypse happening within. 

Chad proved he was not as drunk as we thought as he coherently told her off for all the horrible things she had said to him and how much he cared for her. It was beautiful. Chad was getting to do something that not everyone in this world gets to do if they don't go on the Maury Povich show. 

He was getting closure. 

We listened as Chad warned Hank that she may do the same to him and how she told Chad that "Hank was weird and creepy and stalking" her! 

It was deadly quiet after that.

"Listen," said Chad. "You probably think I'm a drunk a-hole right now..." he took a drink. "And I am! But you need to listen to me...You wanna hit me tough guy?" Chad asked. "Go right ahead! Because I have twenty people out there ready to kick your a$$ and one of them doesn't even KNOW you!" My heart sank.

I was going to be locked up in a Macomb jail over this! Still, my boy needed my help and I am very much a ride or die friend. 

"Dude," said Hank. "Just...get out of here!"

Chad finished his beer. "Whatever!" he said as he slammed it on the counter. "Peace $^@#$&!" Chad tried to open the door, which had been unknowingly locked by Olivia. What was supposed to be a cool exit, ended up being a little anticlimactic, but it didn't matter to Chad... he had said his peace and now he could move on.

I was proud of Chad. And after that day, Chad and I's friendship had solidified. In a time when he really needed a friend, I was proud to step up and be that person. To this day, we are still friends/frenemies.

Part of me wished that I had a Chad to help me with closure when I learned that Crystal had been cheating on me (a story that I'm sure I will share with you...one day). Maybe I knew it would never come and so I was living vicariously through Chad. Either way, I am glad to have helped him. As Chad, myself and the others left the apartment and as we walked back to the theatre house we began to reflect on the events of the night and as one we proclaimed what would become the battle cry of the entire weekend and every future drunken night:

Sanctus Dominus....Hawkins Watch!

I take pride in the fact that I have been a member of many groups/factions/stables. Since I was a child, I helped form many "gangs" as we used to call them.

THE Gang
The Crew
The Boys
The Jobless Crew
The Four Horseman

Clearly you can figure out that these groups weren't SUPER intimidating. Most of us were nerds who just enjoyed talking about pop culture and video games. One of the last groups I was a member of was in college. There were several groups around the campus, but I helped establish a group known as The Council.

Pretty badass right? Well, once again it was made up of a very diverse group of people who one might classify as nerds. The group came together during my year as an R.A. (which I'm sure you'll hear war stories from those days as well). One of my best friends, Ryan, was an R.A. on the third floor of Lawless Lawton (the place we would call home for two years). I was the R.A. of the first floor with my suitemates: Jonesy, John and my roommate Sam (codename: Samwise). Samwise, Jonesy and Ryan made up the founding members of The Council. Steven would join later as a refugee from Stringer Commons (yet another tale that will no doubt need to be told). We formed as a means to help each other out during times of great distress. Whether it was women, school or life in general, when a Council member called for a meeting, you answered. Even today, if any one of my brothers in arms was in need, I would immediately stop what I was doing and make sure they were ok.

This story is one of those times....

Going to school in the South meant that you had to deal with certain harsh realities. As the philosopher Kanye West once said, "Racism's still alive, they just keep concealing it." Even at a Christian school. This was especially true when it came to interracial dating. It was pretty much unheard of at Anderson unless you were a basketball player and you were a basketball player's groupie trying to make her dad angry. However, this story includes one of the few exceptions to the rule...sort of.

Prior to Sophomore year, Ryan dated a girl who will be named "Becky" Hawkins for the duration of this story. Becky was a nice girl. I thought she was pretty cute due to her red hair (my kryptonite, admittedly) and I thought she was a cool since she dated my friend Ryan. However, after a year together, the two broke up for reasons I can't fully remember. Don't worry though! You only need to know Becky's existence and her connection to Ryan for this story!

Fast forward to a year later and Jonesy is in my dorm room, as he was want to do back then, and was telling us about his new girlfriend... Becky's sister, "Susan". Susan, Becky's twin sister, to me was the more attractive of the two (she also had a redder shade of hair...that might have played a factor). Susan seemed to make Jonesy happy, which was great since we had always wanted Jones to meet someone who could make him happy. I did not know much about Susan, though, since she lived at home about 30 or 40 minutes from campus. My first encounter with Susan was when Jones brought her over for what is known as RSVP on Anderson's campus.

What's RSVP, you may be asking? Well... RSVP is the designated time that girls could be in guy's rooms and vice versa from 6-10:30 or 11 (depending on your dorm) every Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. I was not working RSVP by checking girls into the dorms, but as an R.A. in the exclusive R.A. suite, I was alerted when Jones brought a girl into his room. The two sat around on his bed watching movies (Superbad!) and listening to Jonesy's music collection.

It was a pretty nice date and one that Sam and I talked about all night. There were a few times I had to tell Jones to leave his door open a little more, but he was very obliging which was strange because I knew what he wanted...

Now, you may remember that I mentioned the name of John who also stayed in our suite. Well, John worked at the local Gamestop and wouldn't be home until RSVP ended. I guess John must have gotten off early since he interrupted Jonesy's date. The two had a strange relationship. They seemed to like each other, but some days were a little too much for the other. John came to our room to vent about Jones being in their room with the girl. Apparently, Jones...requested that John come back later after his date was finished.

Sam and I found the whole situation hilarious, but we didn't John know. He needed a sympathetic ear and not one that was going to antagonize him. John decided he had enough so he left our room and approached Jones when Susan went to the bathroom which is where Sam and I heard the funniest conversation ever.

"Hey Jones. Are you almost done with this date of yours?" asked John.

"Yeah, man. We're almost done," said Jones. I could tell just from his voice that Jones was probably giving his patented glare over his glasses.

"Alright, well...how much longer are you going to be because RSVP is almost over and she's not going to be able to stay in here." said John.

"Look man... you know how it is. I just need about... 20 more minutes."

"20 minutes!?" asked John. "Look Jones, I'm going to give you five minutes. Just take her to the bathroom, do your thing and get her out!"

I imagined Jonesy standing dumbfounded.

"Five minutes?!" he asked. "What am I supposed to do in five minutes, John?! Get my **** hard!?"

THAT'S when I lost it. I laughed so hard that I winded up on the ground crying. Sam was lying in his bed, equally as in tears. Jones poked his head out.

"Ayo Marc!" he said. "You hear dis $%&#!?"

Sam and I closed the door shortly after that. The week had ended and we were beyond tired.

Now, you're probably wondering how does The Council play into this. Well, about two weeks later, Jones and Susan broke up for reasons unknown. The Council was assembled for an emergency meeting because rumors were beginning to spread that Susan was possibly cheating on Jones. Jones, wanting to get to the bottom of this, called in the Council and his other faction, The B.O.A.R.D. (meaning: classified). Both factions worked tirelessly to get to the bottom of these rumors, but every time we did...a new bit of information would come about:

"Susan was dating Jones to make her dad angry at her!"

"Susan hated Jones because he was black!"

"Susan was dating a B.O.A.R.D. member!"

Each new rumor was discussed at nightly meetings we code named: Hawkins Watch! Every night, Jones would open the door chanting a strange latin chant: "SANCTUS DOMINUS! DOMINUS SANCTUS! SANCTUS ROMY RUSE! ROMY NOOSE SANCTUS!.....HAWKINS WATCH!"

Ryan was especially invested in this since he, by that time, HATED Becky and HATED Susan even more. Ryan and Jones took point on the Hawkins Watch affair, but I would find myself brought deep into the mix when I was walking home from class with Steven. We were going over a lesson we had just sat in on for an education class when who should be leaning over to talk than Becky. Becky and I had never really spoken to one another even when Ryan dated her, but here she was leaning over, touching my arm and clearly flirting with me!
"Oh Marcus! You're so funny! I don't understand why we've never hung out before?"

"I mean, I'm pretty busy with theatre nowadays." I just became a Double Major.

"Really? Are you in any shows? I'd love to see you in one... Maybe we could hang out after you're done with rehearsal one night?"

I laughed and said maybe before. I made a bee line for our suite with Steven following behind me as I sent a text saying:

"Sanctus Dominus.... Hawkins Watch Update! Council Meeting after dinner!"

She almost got me. Had she not needed to redye her hair red, I might have fallen into the honey pot. As it was, I was loyal to a fault. Ryan would never forgive me if he thought I was flirting with a girl he considered his arch nemesis!

After dinner, we sat down in Sam and I's room and I told everyone about what happened just outside. The boys agreed that she was indeed hitting on me, but the true question was...to what end? We began to theorize as if we were all descendants of Sherlock Holmes. For what reason would Becky, who had no ties to Jonesy, be after me? The answer: she wasn't. My thought: Becky was using me as a way to get back not just at Ryan...but at the entire Council.

Jones had let it slip to Susan of the Council's existence and she was, until their breakup, very interested in it's inner workings. It was at this time, that Jones revealed that Susan was trying to hook up with a few of the single members of The B.O.A.R.D.

It was incredible. We never thought it was connected since The Council and B.O.A.R.D. were separate entities. Yet here we were... looking at two tricky dames who were trying to bring down two of the most dominant factions on Anderson's campus!

We theorized what their end game must have been, but in truth we did not care. Our pride had been hurt. We had been compromised by our largest enemy.

S.H.I.E.L.D found its HYDRA.

The Justice League met the Legion of Doom

We never had anymore issues with the Hawkins girls. They had moved on and found boyfriends who would soon get engaged with them. Perhaps they were bored and wanted a bit of excitement. Perhaps they wanted to see if they could tear our friendships apart. What the Hawkins Twins failed to realize was that we became stronger as a team. We worked together, sought out our enemy and defended ourselves.

The Battle with the Hawkins Twins will forever go down as one of our fiercest battles and while you may hear more stories of The Council, nothing will ever compare to....

SANCTUS DOMINUS...DOMINUS SANCTUS...HAWKINS WATCH!!!

How I Defeated Racism in a Year

You all can thank one of my students for this new blog post. It's been some time since I wrote something. I haven't been too sad since I have been keeping up with tons of different commitments, but when my student said that I should write a blog and keep up with it, I decided to take him up on that. My students really enjoy my stories and so for them I will try to keep this blog from becoming a dusty mess. I'll try to keep my friend's name's off of this if it's something embarrassing, but I do have to admit that some stories are just too good to keep off the page! So here goes my new and improved (and mostly uncensored) blog!

This story is called How I Defeated Racism in a Year. Now, truth be told the parties involved were not completely racist (though after I explain, you are free to draw your own conclusions). It all began my Junior year of college. I was a full time double major and I had been cast in the second musical of my college career: Little Women. Now, Little Women has it's own blog post that I certainly have no time to dig into now (But soon!), but this story actually starts at the end of Little Women. You see, at the time I was the only black MALE theatre student in the department. I helped complete a very diverse looking group of talented young men who I still consider to be my best friends today. Because I was a male, this meant that my chances of performing were substantially high. I don't put much stock in that since I feel anyone can be beaten out of part, but during auditions I had secured the role of Mr. Laurence, the crotchety old miser who lived next door. I enjoyed the role as it helped solidify my role as "Black Daddy of the Theatre Department." In this role, as with all subsequent roles,  I had a white grandson during the Civil War era.

I initially saw this as a bit of an issue, but my mentor soon taught me about color-blind casting. Color-blind casting is when you cast a role regardless of their race. It's a practice that is very common though you do have people who are split about whether or not it takes away from a story. It really depends on the director. My mentor saw nothing wrong with this and soon I adopted this philosophy as well. The show went great and though people were initially thrown off by my appearance, they soon forgot about race as the show's story and performance were spectacular.After the show, however, one of my castmates who I'll name "Cynthia", approached me.

Apparently, Cynthia's mother was concerned about me being the grandfather of a white boy. She didn't think it was right and that the part should have gone to someone a little more suited for the role (i.e.- a white man). Now, had I been born in the South I'm sure this would have effected me differently. However, in all honesty, I just sat back and laughed and was actually kind of excited. You always hear about people having racist attitudes and though I had seen it before, this was the first time it was directed towards me. How shall I right this wrong? Should I post something on Facebook? Twitter? Perhaps I should march right up to Cynthia's house and tell her mom off!

I did none of those things.

Instead, I just shrugged and said "Well, it's color blind casting. They're going to cast the best person for the job and I guess this time it was me."

I thought my career as a budding civil rights activist had ended, but the year had just begun and I was about to be catapulted into the year that would shape me into the actor I am today. You see, the next auditions came about a week or so after Little Women ended for a play known as The Rivals, a restoration comedy.

Now, at the beginning of the year, I had a friend named Dalton who had a habit of "holding my hand." I think he enjoyed how strange it was and my reaction to it, but I had to admit that I kind of thought it was pretty funny. In class, I sat next to my friend Rebekah who joined in this game. While Dalton held my right hand, Rebekah would hold my left hand. Dalton would eventually let my hand go, but Rebekah and I would continue. Not for any romantic reason, but I guess it was nice just to hold someone's hand.

How does that fit into the story? I'm getting there audience, chill!

Rebekah was also auditioning for a role in the Rivals and we were both called back for two characters who were supposed to play lovers. Naturally, we played our little game of holding hands. We were so comfortable with each other that it was clear, even to us, that there would be something special about our performance. The next day, we learned that we were cast as the lovers Faulkland and Julia. Cynthia was also cast in the show as the infamous Mrs. Malaprop (where Malapropism comes from!). Since Faulkland, Julia and Mrs. Malaprop were only in a handful of scenes, we were able to chit chat backstage. One day, the subject of Cynthia's mom came up.

"So Cynthia," I said. "What is your mom going to say about Rebekah and I?"

Cynthia laughed, "Oh! She will definitely have something to say!"

Rebekah laughed and looked at me. "We should hold hands right in front of her!"

I shook my head. "She would have to be sitting right behind us," I said. "The stage is in the round,  remember?"

Little did I know that Cynthia's mom WOULD be sitting exactly where Rebekah and I were supposed to stand. We didn't hold hands at the first performance due to opening night jitters, but when Cynthia's mom came the next night, I looked at Rebekah. In character, Rebekah stared back at me and I slightly nodded towards Cynthia's mom. Rebekah turned red as she quickly grabbed my hand. We both stared into each others longingly, while we watched Cynthia's mom shift in her seat at the sight. It took everything not to break into laughter onstage and we were so glad that it happened at the last moment before the blackout.

The report came from Cynthia the next week who asked why I had to play the part. "Couldn't they find a white guy to play it? I just don't think that's right!"

Again, Cynthia and I laughed it off thinking that we would never get another opportunity to shove the reality of interracial relationships in her mothers face.

That was until All My Sons.

I had been cast as Joe Keller, the patriarch and one of the leads. My friend Meghan, a white, had been cast as my lovely wife Kate. And finally, who should play my son? None other than Steven Bailey, my blonde haired, blue eyed white child who looked NOTHING like his alleged parents! In my mind, this was perfect set up since Cynthia was helping to student direct the show! Her mom would no doubt show up (She did) and would be so upset by this interracial family (She was).

On their way to IHOP, Cynthia's mother cried out, "I just don't think it's right for black people and white people to have sex, have babies and get married! Was Marcus even supposed to PLAY that role? I think that role was SUPPOSED to be for a white man."

Cynthia's dad turned around in the driver's seat. "No Jane! They did that to try and confuse you!"

Junior year has tons of stories, but this one was definitely one of the best! Mainly because it has an epilogue.

You would think that after a year like that and Cynthia graduating, I would never meet with Cynthia's mother, "Jane", again. Well, Cynthia and her (now) husband, Justin, were getting married in our black box theatre. It was a gorgeous, theatrical wedding! I was so excited to attend when I received a phone call from Cynthia.

"Hey Marcus! Were you planning on coming to the wedding?" she asked.

"Of course, Cynthia! You're like one of my best friends!"

"Aw! Good... do you have a black suit?"

"Am I not black?" (Yup...I honestly said that)

Cynthia laughed awkwardly, but said yes. Apparently, they were missing a groomsmen and needed one in a hurry! As they were both my friends, I agreed to help them in their hour of need! I went downstairs to join the festivities where another former student was....directing. He was going over who was walking whom in by the time I got there.

"So Steven, you're going to walk Grandma Lois in and....oh Marcus! You're going to walk Jane in!"

I stopped dead in my tracks. Could it be the same Jane? I had to make sure.

"OK great! Who's Jane?" I said as everyone snickered. Cynthia stood up and had the largest grin of all. We both looked at each other knowingly.

"That's my mom!"

Justice.

What could be more poetic than walking down the woman who did not want you loving white women onstage IN theatre!? The next day, we arrived at the theatre and as the music began to play I followed behind Steven and Grandma Lois. Jane looped her arm through mine and leaned in to whisper in my ear.

"Marcus," she said. "You are such a good friend to Cynthia and Justin. Thank you so much for doing this!" I looked at her with a smile.

"It is my pleasure," I said.

Later that night, as I danced with every white woman at the reception, I caught Jane clapping her hands and enjoying every happy moment she got to watch as I danced with these women who could care less what race I was. All that matter in that moment was her daughter's happiness and the friend who came in their time of need.

Popcorn Prattle Debut

Here is a link to my new podcast!

http://popcorn-prattle.podomatic.com/entry/2014-11-08T08_29_50-08_00

Steven's Door or the Dawn of the Black Daddy Era

Greetings you Poor Devils!!

I take pride in the fact that I have many friends. That being said, I didn't always have a ton of friends. Thanks to getting into theatre, however, I learned how to open up to people and in time developed friends so close that the only suitable name to call them now is family. I have a few friends that are closer than others and I believe that for them, our friendships were forged in flames.

What do I mean? I'm so glad you asked!

I think the strongest relationships I have had with my friends have gone through some storms. Not as many as you might think, but one good storm that would make someone question how the hell we remained friends. Perhaps, in time, I will share those other stories, but for now I want to share the story of the storm weathered by myself and my good friend, Steven.

I met Steven in college my Freshmen year. Right off the back, I thought he was the weirdest person in the world. However, being in theatre, I'm used to dealing with strange individuals. One thing I remember about Steven back then was that he was very opinionated. I always equated this to the fact that Steven was home schooled for most of his life. Now, Steven lived on the same floor as my roommate Sam and myself. Sam was the reason we even knew the other existed in the first place as he introduced us.

For the longest time during those first few months of college, you would always find Sam, Steven and myself walking around the campus or eating in the cafeteria together. You may have also seen a young boy and girl walking with us too, named Corey and Cami (respectively). I was still trying to find myself in college and figure out what type of friends I wanted to associate with. These four seemed to act the most like my old theatre friends so there was no question as to whether or not I should hang out with them. We were all very close with one another and, as most friends do, we learned much about each others private lives. No to go into too much detail, but Cami was having troubles with her boyfriend. We all thought she was making the wrong decision by not moving on, but I was going through a partial "let everyone handle their own affairs"-phase of my life.

Little did I know that the Black Daddy Era would soon take effect.

I've always been a bit of a protector to my female friends. I like to think that people know that if a female friend of mine is being harassed, I will most likely be there to:

"Boots 2 Asses"- Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson.

Never has that fact been more true than in this particular moment with Steven. I was not there when Steven was being an "ass." I was in my dorm room in what I affectionately call: "Lawless Lawton." It was Sam who informed me what happened. He came in from the cold shaking his head in disbelief. I was ironing clothes that I had just washed.

"What's wrong, Sam?" I asked.

"You would not believe the craziness that just happened!" he cried. "Steven made Cami cry!"

Immediately I was hooked. Steven made Cami cry? I knew that he openly disliked that Cami was still in love with her ex, but to make her cry? This seemed a little extreme, even for Steven. I needed more information to which Sam faithfully relayed to me. Steven, Cami, Sam and Corey were eating dinner in the cafeteria. Everything was going well when Cami started talking about her boyfriend (a habit she had developed at every meal). Steven, who apparently had enough of these talks, told Cami that she needed to get over her boyfriend and that she was too good for him. He tried explaining that she wasn't doing anyone any favors by continuing to talk about him and that she was driving everyone crazy with all her talk.

Like I said. Steven's very opinionated.

Well, needless to say that Cami didn't take too kindly to this talk and began to cry. Steven, not being used to this type of stuff, ran away from the table where Cami began to complain about Steven. How mean he was, how insensitive he was being and, most importantly, how weird he was.

When Sam finished his story I had a strong desire to right this wrong (regardless if I knew the FULL story or not).

Thus, the Black Daddy persona was created. I threw on my leather jacket, turned off my iron and darted out of the room to find Steven. Steven didn't leave his room often except at night when he would walk around the campus so I knew he would be home. Sam followed behind me, anxious to see what would happen to his two friends. I arrived in his hall and heard the soft clicking of computer keys.

I knew he was there.

I banged on the door, preparing myself for what would come next.

Would I fight him? What would I say to him? I needed confirmation first before I did anything drastic.

I knocked on the door again and this time, he answered. The door cracked open just a little bit so he could see who it was fully. When he realized it was Sam and I, he smiled and simply said "Evening, gents!"

In that moment all I could think about was how weird he was and how SOMEONE needed to shut him up. I felt like "The Bride" from Kill Bill seeing her first victim in Vol. 1.

And just like Uma Thurman, I pounced. In a blur, I lifted my leg and kicked his door in.

Yup. You read that correctly. I legitimately kicked his door in and sent him reeling backward. Steven was momentarily stunned, but laughed it off not realizing my annoyance with him.

"What did you say to Cami?!" I exclaimed.

Steven scoffed. "Don't talk to ME about Cami!" Now, in my defense, he should not have opened with that. To me, he seemed guilty as hell. If he was trying to help Cami, he could have told me exactly what he said and defused the situation. Instead, Steven unintentionally antagonized the situation and myself.

Steven, took a deep breath. "Now, care to sit down?"

"You sit down!" I exclaimed. He sat.

For the next ten minutes I laid into him about how he had no right to make Cami cry and how that for the duration of our time at Anderson, he was to have no words for Cami concerning her boyfriend. When I was done yelling at him, I took my leave and slammed the door behind me to let him think about what he had done.

I felt good and empowered. At the time, I didn't care if Steven liked me or not. I told him off and the honor of a young woman had been restored. In the following months, Cami later renewed her relationship with her ex and dropped out of school. My friendship with Corey slowly dissolved and Steven and I's relationship had become one of constant bickering and resentment towards one another. It wasn't until Sophomore year that Steven and I slowly became friends. REAL friends and not just acquaintances. We both were drafted by the theatre department that year and began our new journey as Double Majors. The year after that, we were cast as father and son in the drama All My Sons by Arthur Miller where we learned that when he and I are onstage with one another there is a certain level of theatrical magic that hypnotizes audiences and makes he and I both realize why we did theatre in the first place. He is truly my brother and through the years we have had each other's back even to this day. He even made me the Best Man at his wedding! I had never been prouder to stand by him as he committed his life to the girl of his dreams.

As I close, I want you to appreciate those days when you and your friends do not always get along. It is those times when you and your friends really decide if you are to remain together. If your friendship is worth it, you will make it through the storm and be stronger than ever. And when you do make it through, you'll realize that the person you call friend is not just your friend.

They are your brother. Your sister. Your family.

Black History Blues

Hello Poor Devils!

Thank you for returning to read my blog! I've gotten a lot of positive feedback as I continue and try to think of topics that will uplift and inspire. If you are new to my blog, welcome! Since we are now in the month of February, I see no reason that my blogs should consist of topics surrounding Black History or Love. Based on the title, you no doubt have already realized that you are now sitting in the metaphorical pulpit of a topic that is near and dear to my heart: Black History Month.

For those who don't know, I double majored in History Education and Theatre when I was in college. I love history. To me, it just comes natural to retain that information and history is quite exciting! I feel learning about history helps me with theatre (where I often due period pieces) as well as shape who I am as a human being. As a black man, I love learning about my own history. I look at my past with pride and a great deal of respect for the men and women who paved the way so that I may be seen not solely as a black man, but a man. In fact, it was black history which inspired me to even begin teaching in the first place!

It was February of 2001. I was in middle school at the time and just starting to discover who I was as a person. I was not the best in school. As a matter of fact, I was down right awful until my 8th grade year when I started to take my studies more seriously. I was in U.S. history at the time and, being February, my teacher, Mr. Fry, decided to dedicate the month to learning about black history. Mr. Fry was a white man, but he knew all there was about black history. I admired his knowledge and I knew that I wanted to show that I knew just as much as him. Mr. Fry began asking a few questions about black history based on the reading we had just done. I immediately raised my hand and promptly answered. Mr. Fry gave me a pat on the back and continued asking questions.

I was on fire. Every question he asked, I had the right answer as well as more insight in the situation. Malcolm X. Rosa Parks. Dr. King. Marcus Garvey. The Birmingham Campaign. The Freedom Riders. I knew it all!

As I answered the questions, I noticed that many of my peers who were, for the most part black, shot me dirty looks. Mr. Fry asked another question and before I could answer, he forbade me from answering anything else. The classroom was silent for a good two minutes before Mr. Fry spoke.

"This is YOUR history," he said. "Do you honestly mean to tell me that Marcus is the only one knows YOUR history?"

As you can see, I've never forgotten those words. In that moment, I too found it pathetic. Here was Mr. Fry, a WHITE man, who knew more about Black History than the future generation! It was on that day, that I decided that on top of acting, I wanted to become a teacher of history and be able to teach black kids our history. During an assignment, I told Mr. Fry what I decided and he was honestly proud. To him, he had reached one of his students and set them on a path that would be the driving force when people tried to bring them down. However, the class heard me. And from that day on, I was the black kid trying to act white.

That's right. You read that correctly. The BLACK kid who wanted to learn more about his history was acting WHITE. Folks, I have heard that phrase my entire life. Most of the time it's because of how I talk. I "talk" like a white guy. My apologies, but that is an insult to all blacks everywhere when you say that I "sound" like a white guy.

"Why", you may ask? Well, let's look at the facts. I don't say anything that is associated with being white because I'm NOT white. I speak properly, yes. I enunciate my words. I like to use more "advanced" words that I have learned to express myself. Is this really sounding white? Or merely speaking with intelligence? I like to think the latter. When I hear what "sounding" black is, it is a wonder that people have not caught on yet to the subtle racism laced in those words. Sounding black would mean that I have to use smaller words, barely understand what I'm saying and essentially have no desire to advance myself in society (oops! Sorry. Used another big word). Have we really done this to ourselves? Have we honestly decided to limit ourselves in the way of education and intelligence? I'm sorry, but I cannot allow myself to speak ignorantly just so I can even be accepted by my own race. I want to be seen as a MAN. Not by the color of my skin. That is not what my forefathers fought for. We claim we want equal rights and yet we want to reinforce the stereotype that we are not intelligent.

Now I know, some people may be getting mad at me for saying that while others may not truly understand where I am coming from. To me? It doesn't matter. I have to say these things, because I need to speak for those blacks who are proud of their heritage and want to see their people do well, but who are put down by both whites who will never see them as equals and blacks who feel they are trying to emulate white culture. The true question here is: what is BLACK CULTURE?

Is it BET?
Is it the Steve Harvey Morning Show?
Is it Black Churches?
Is it Rap Music?
Is it Tyler Perry?
Do we even know anymore?

My belief is that we knew what our culture was, but that has since passed away. We have embraced a culture that is not our own, but one that is commercialized and stereotypical. And the thing is (get ready readers), it is not the white man's fault! That's right! I said it!

Sure, racism played a big part in how we got to this point in our lives. And absolutely yes, racism is STILL a big part of our lives today. But when a child tells their parents that their teacher is a racist because they failed a test that they didn't study for, where is the racism then? Racism is being used as an excuse on why we can't achieve when, in actuality, we can't achieve because we are not choosing to. The sad part of it is this: our children are learning that racism is an excuse when they fail instead of accepting the possibility that maybe they failed that test because they didn't study or they were talking in class. Maybe my middle school peers would have known those questions too had they read the night before. Maybe I wouldn't be seen as an "Uncle Tom" had my peers simply done the assigned reading as I had.

Who knows?

What I do know is this: we, the black community, have got to stop making excuses. We need to accept that our fight for equality is not over yet, but it is a battle that can be won. In my time as an actor, I have played countless roles that were not supposed to be for black men. But I showed my directors that I am just as good if not better than a white actor and that by the time I was done you would not longer see my dark skin. You would see a man full of talent and hope. I have no doubt that I am first judged by the color of my skin, but I do not let me skin color define who I am as a human being. I am Marcus. Nothing more. Nothing less.

When you walk down the street....what do you think people see?