Everything I'm not made me everything I am.

It's a weird thought that the things that don't define you actually are the things that ultimately make you the person you are.

I'm not wealthy: I think most people would be crazy if they didn't want to have everything they could ever desire. However, I've had to work for absolutely everything I have now, and am content with a lot less than the norm.

I'm not non-judgmental: it's made me more humble when I've been wrong.

I'm not cautious with my words: it's taught me to think more about what I say.

I'm not incredibly open with my feelings: it's forced me to communicate better.

I'm not musically diverse: it's made me extremely specialized and well equipped to handle my urban clients and my work in the hip hop market.

I'm not overly competitive: it's saved me from a lot of disappointment from perceived failure.

I'm not perfect: it's made me rely on God, family, and friends.

I'm not a sell-out: it's helped me persevere through tough choices, difficult people, and life changes.

I'm not a kind, wise, or brave person: I've had to pray for all of these things, and it's made me realize just how much I'm not really the focus of this life, how it's not all about me, and how much I fall short from the type of person I would like to be.

I'm happy with how I've grown up and how I'm continuing to (hopefully) evolve, and I expect to keep learning more about myself. I'm finally feeling comfortable in my own skin, and I like it.

People are seasons.

Something quite simple has been on my mind the past couple of weeks and I don't really know what to do with it.

I hate that the people I love come and go in my life without any rhyme or reason, without prediction, without always leaving an imprint.

I've gone through knowing so many different people in my life that filled a need at one point in time that I don't really speak to anymore, people that are not physically present but always on my mind, and those that are ever-present that make life worth living.

In the past year I've lost friends that maybe didn't need to be in my life, that turned their back on me when I decided to make positive changes in my life--changes that made me a better person today. Professional, intimate, and almost family-like relationships that I don't really forsee being mended.

On the other hand, others have been brought into my life that have nurtured growth, provided kindness and overwhelming love that filled those old voids.

Then there's those that are always a phone call away, whether that's once a week or once every seven months. It's comforting to know that they're there.

Some are gone completely that I won't be able to see again--not in this lifetime at least. I miss them. I can't explain how much I've wanted to talk to my grandfather in past couple of years, to hang out with Lacie and Tommy, or to fist-bump James.

I feel comfort in knowing that while some may be gone, they're never forgotten, and maybe they taught me something along the way.

And to the ones that have stuck around--well, you should know that you're appreciated and I'll do anything I can for you.

The cycle of hurt, hanging out, family and friends, healing and growth, is so strange and baffling. It's difficult to see how people have affected you along the way. If you wanna know how you've affected me, you should probably ask. I'd love to tell you.

So maybe I don't hate not being able to predict who's going to be in my life at any particular time. Because people always show up when they're needed, and a new season begins.

I don't think I could rock an eye patch.

So, there are times in my life where I have done all the right things and still gotten hosed.

Tonight could have been one of those times.

I was sitting outside my house with my roommates and saw that Scott had a new tattoo. It was an anchor.

I asked him what it meant, he made me promise not to make fun of him.

While his story was a little corny, I bit my tongue and said, "Oh.... that's nice."

I turn around to look at my cats standing in front of the screen door and turn back towards Scott only to find a cigarette in my eye.

Almost burned it completely, but somehow I walked away without a burn on me. My eye was still intact.

It was an accident, but I almost lost an eye tonight--for keeping my word.

Isn't it funny how that works out sometimes? Just further proof that accidents happen that can change your life instantly. Glad mine didn't change too much because of a stupid joke and bad luck. I forgive you Scott... just don't get too close.

By the way, rent is $100 more this month.

I once sat on a mountain top.

There's a line from a Jay-Z song that I really like, and it goes:

They say a midget sitting on a giant's shoulder can see much further than a giant/That's why I got the whole rap world on my shoulder trying to see much further than I am

This line has always appealed to me. There's something about thinking that you have so much insight into the world that everyone else is always trying to piggy back onto you-- it's extremely flattering. Why shouldn't it be? I'm beginning to realize that I probably do not fall into this category, no matter how much I want it to be true.

I fight daily for stability, for insight, for knowledge and wisdom. I don't like feeling like I don't know something. It doesn't excite me. I like being comfortable. I want to be a giant.

I may never reach this kind of understanding of the world. I think God will keep me from it until I'm wise enough to handle the power.

It's still something I strive for.

I realized how small I was a week or so ago. I hiked up Stone Mountain with Aida at sunset. It was probably the most spontaneous thing I've done in a while. I really enjoyed the fresh air, the aerobic burn, the light, and the perspective it gave me.

After we raced the last couple hundred yards up the mountain, we both laid down at the top. I was astounded at the silence and yet the palpable rumble from the world around me. I could actually feel how small I was in the universe. It was like I was looking at myself from space. I felt so insignificant.

While it wasn't the first time I have felt like this, it definitely was the first time in a long time. And after being through everything since the beginning of the year, I felt relief. I forget that no matter how good or bad my life may actually be, I really don't matter in the greater existence of time, space, the universe---love, hate, war, peace... This world keeps turning, keeps rumbling, unaware of me. God keeps me going and takes care of me, and that's who I need to be focused on. I guess it's hard not to think about God when you're that far removed from the rest of the world.

And that realization felt really good. I don't have to figure anything out. Wow. I realize now that I've been limiting myself by trying to know what my future has in store for me. I set boundaries for myself that way. I want to live with no boundaries, with nothing holding me down. I don't wanna sit on a giant's shoulder, or even be the giant. Shit, I don't even know if this analogy really even makes sense anymore. It probably doesn't. As corny as it sounds, trying to be the giant, or the midget, or whoever, is still putting myself and my life in a box, and I can do better than that by just living life and letting it work out the way God wants it to. Scary, but intriguing.

I remember that Aida and I talked about whether or not we'd live on the mountain if we were homeless. We thought it'd be a good idea until it got really cold really quickly. I realized that being on top of the world, above the world, apart from the world, wasn't really ideal. So I decided to come back down and live my life. It felt very strange walking back down, like I was giving up on an ideal that I thought I wanted but realized I wasn't ready for. It was relieving to walk back down to the familiar and normal.

Maybe I sound like I'm reading waaaayyy too much into a walk up Stone Mountain. But it was a strange experience. It was a wonderful experience. I wasn't really planning on having such a profound hike. But I did, and I can now say I once sat on a mountain top, and realized that's not where I really belong.