Answers Honestly

So a friend sent this and asked if I could fill it out with out lying. So here we go...

1. What was the last thing you put in your mouth? A fig newton and blood pressure medicine.

2. Do you sleep naked? Sometimes

3. Worst physical pain in your life? Tearing my pectoral muscle.

4. Worst emotional pain of your life? My parents death

5. Favourite place you have ever been to? New Orleans, with Savannah, GA being a distant second.

6. How late did you stay up last night? Til 3 AM. I don’t sleep so well anymore.

7. If you could move somewhere else, where would it be? Not too many options these days. The 

world is so divided. But Brazil, Japan Canada and France are at the top of the list.

8. Which of your Facebook friend lives the closest? Arthur

9. When was the last time you cried? Watching the tribute to Chester Bennington

10. Who took your profile picture? Me

11. What's your favorite season? Winter. Fuck this heat

12. If you could have any career what would it be? Comic book artist or Storyboard designer.

13. What was the last book you read? Still reading The Dragon and the Unicorn

14. If you could talk to ANYONE who would it be? Bruce Lee

15. Are you a good influence? I like to think so, but it’s doubtful

16. Does pineapple belong on Pizza? I’m cool with it.

17. You have the remote, what will you be watching right now? Luke Cage

18. Last concert you went to? Sister Hazel 2009

19. Favorite type of food? All the crap they cook here, I’ve forgotten what real food is.

SUCCESS TO ME (Part I)

What are your goals?  How will you succeed? What do you plan to do once you’ve achieved it? 

I heard these questions so much in high school and by the time I had turned Nineteen I was flat out sick of it.  19.  The number, that age seems so foreign now.  All through my teens, and afterwards every college mock interview, the same thing: “So where do you see yourself 5 years from now?” in one some variation or another. When they finally stopped asking that told me two things:  1) I was finally “grown” and 2) No one cared.  I’m sitting here now, practically punching my keyboard because I’ve finally made a choice. What that choice is…I don’t know.  Not completely anyway. But it has been made.  Ironically, it started with the aforementioned dumb-ass question:

What would happen if you succeed?

Age 35 I realized I couldn’t answer that question.  I didn’t want to.  I don’t mind feeding bull-shit to the stuff-shirts, but I’m not about to kid myself.  Life is WAAAAY too random, and your mindset can change without you even knowing it sometimes.  Whenever I try to capitalize on an opportunity (and believe me I’ve had plenty), something comes along and kicks the chair out from under me;  Finances, family, some hang-up that I can’t deal with, or I just flat out got passed up.  Self-sabotage isn’t out of the question, a while back I wrote about being afraid of success.  I just expect to come up short now, ever since I moved to North Carolina it’s been one ‘L’ after another; after 13 years, the upshots of living here can be counted on one hand.

Success is a foreign tongue to me.  I don’t hunger for money the way much of the world tells us we should (financial stability yes, but money for money’s sake, never.)  That kind greed is a trait I despise and tends to breed cruelty along with the reptilian instinct to fuck over just about any and everyone in an unending, unwinnable contest for resources, money and any kind of fame.  People don’t have names anymore; they have brands and corporate identities. That’s not the success I see for myself.  Never have.  I’m not a ‘boss’ or ‘shot-caller’, I’m just a dude who wants to do what he’s always done.  I want to tell stories; JK Rowling, Jack Kirby, Stephen King, Jim Lee…any person reading this recognizes at least two of these names.  My goal is to be numbered among them.

A similar question proved to be fairly profound, probably because it was the first time I had asked it to myself and really REALLY thought on it:”How would you feel if you reached that success?” 

How would I feel? Proud maybe?  Dumbfounded?  Totally numb to it?  How did Superman feel when he learned he could fly?  How did T’Challa feel when he became King?  Anxious maybe…  As I said before, it’s not a taste that I’m used to.  I once wrote of the possibility that I may be afraid of success.  The kind of success everyone wants an educated black man to have, where you carry everyone until you break and when you finally do, there’s no one to pick you up.  No.  I’ve decided that my success would be the weird and nerdy self-indulgent success I knew as an athlete.  That taste of personal accomplishment, knowing that I can do it because I’ve done it.  That’s the success I want.  That’s the feeling I love, when someone asks me “Hey can you handle this project” and I can say, “Yeah, no problem…" with no problem.

I think I’m gonna stop here for now but I’ll definitely be writing more about it. 

Getting to Know Me

They used to do this on social media years back. I don't know why but I thought they were fun back then; maybe because I didn't know myself all that well.


• Favorite smell: Concrete after Rain
• Last time you cried: Watching Logan.
• Favorite pizza: Chicken, Spinach and Pineapple (yes I said Pineapple)
• Favorite Flower: Roses I guess
• Favorite dog breed: Catahoula (Leopard Dog)
• Favorite foot attire: Anything comfortable
• Roller Coaster: Yes.
• Hair color: Black
• Favorite ice cream: Cookies and Cream
• Pet peeve: Morons. All shapes, all forms, all colors.
• Shorts or jeans: Jeans
• What are you listening to right now: New Rules with Bill Maher
• Color of your car: Green
• Color of eyes: Dark Brown
• Favorite Holiday: Xmas.
• Night owl or morning: Night Owl
•Favorite day of the week: Any day I can sleep in.
• Nickname: Dean
• Favorite type of music: Hip hop, Raggae, Hard Rock, Jazz
• Tattoos: No
• Do you like to cook? Only when I have to.
• Beer or wine? Vodka
• Can you drive a manual shift? Yes
• Do you wear perfume? No
• Favorite color? Blue (formerly Red)
• Do you like vegetables? Yes
• Do you work out? As often as I can
• Do you wear glasses? Yes...
• Favorite season: Winter.
•Favorite Movie of All Time: TMNT ‘

First Hug (So Happy to See You)

Just a quick note: I haven't been blogging in good minute.  Starting to wonder why I do it anymore. There's no money in it for me and it's definitely not for readers (Though I am thankful for all two of you!! 😁).  I guess I just like writing.  I'm cool with that.  Anyway, this is my first offering in a good long while so if anyone reads this, try not to be too harsh.  Just because don't necessarily believe in romantic love anymore doesn't mean I don't get inspired by it.  Enjoy!

The First Hug

I hugged you. Boldly and Happily, I wrapped your soft frail frame in my arms and squeezed.

For the first time since meeting you, since you nearly cried you heart out over who-knows-what, I hugged you.

Still loving you from a distance, for a half an instant my walls eroded and I was so happy to see you I nearly crushed the life from you. You, a soft white rose who spoke with a voice of snowfall, and me, so tempted to hold fast and offer warmth in that cold, cold store.

These are the moments where I almost wish there was a god, a thing to whisper to in the hope of that look, that breath, that embrace lasting just a bit little longer, and longer still. You were the water for my parched heart and I drank in every inch of you-- all straw-colored hair and pale blue eyes, crow’s feet and laugh lines and thin pink lips.

Before I knew it the wall was back and I pulled my smiling mask back on, choking off my heart for my own damn good, like any good masochist.

I was so happy to see you I cried.

--Ryan Scales

REVISITING FOND MEMORIES

Graduation is rolling around at Wingate University.  I'm sure the buzz on campus is crazy; it always is.  I saw a tweet about this being the last week of classes and it brought back A LOT of memories of my last year there.  So much happened, so much fun was had and so much things accomplished.  Lately I've been traipsing down memory lane remembering how good life was before this whole adult thing happened.  Here's a look at senior week at the WU through the eyes of yours truly...

From the Journal of Ryan Scales April 28, 2009: 

Talk about creating memories…for the past four days I’ve been on a tear doing just that. It started off Friday with a party at JCSU. I was so proud of to see my Sigma sons party hop, even prouder to be alongside them.

Saturday was BIG. It was the party we planned 2009; post-pone because the deuce had a soccer game. Some of our bros. came down and we tore the house down. I sprained my foot party-hopping. Afterward we sat outside with frat joking and laughing and learning history. It was good.
Sunday was the apex, the crescendo of this weekend of awesomeness, a concert by this corny band called Sister Hazel. The fun started around six when after meeting up with Jen, Chauncey and Zeke in the Klondike, we all took it to the balcony on Jen’s floor and during the hours before the main show, we were cuttin’ fool along with the rest of Wingate.

There were a few guys who were nice and wasted and they were directly across from us. My neos and I party-hopped and battled with them from across the quad! That was pretty fun, but the topper was this dude in blue shorts who was straight clownin’! He was so gone (I’m not gonna call’im out!), I almost died laughing!!! I wonder if anyone got pictures.

When the concert started I didn’t have clue what these songs were, I just went with the vibe, which was damn good. Eventually members of international club joined us (Tes, Marlene, and Carina) and we wall jammed and spazzed out on the balcony for the first half of the show. Soon after we all made our way down into the crowd and continued with the good times! We watched people get crowd surfed including Tes, Jen, Willie and Cory (heard about the dive you took homie! Ouch!) A couple of girls got flipped completely (once again, no names!). We even did some crazy ass conga line with a few guys on the tennis team (I think). After we got through the crowd I found Chauncey and Zeke and we all got the party started again. We all got into a party-hop and even a Pi Kap jumped in (GREEK UNITY! WHOO-HOO!) I love that energy man, and I love being part of it!

After the show we went back to Jen’s room and spent the rest of the evening cracking up. My sons and their ‘number wars’ had me dying! Candie even came by. By the end of the night it was me Chauncey, Candie, Jen and her roommate Jyll (I think that’s how you spell it) all going out to Waffle House. Despite the horrible food it was great way to close out the night.


--Ryan Scales, April 28, 2009

A thing I wrote (Should've-Could've-Would've)

Every now and then I’ll have a moment; a breakdown, an outburst (getting triggered as some would call it) or I’ll just find myself in a funk.  When this happens I’m lucky enough to have one or two friends who care enough to say a little bit more than "Pray on it" and are willing to tell me in no uncertain terms “STOP LIVING IN THE PAST!”  I try, but I can’t always get a handle on my thoughts.  More often than not these walks down memory lane aren’t always pleasant, but once in a blue moon I find a few roses to smell along the way, experiences that often make for writing exercises such the one you are about to read.

(For the sake of privacy I’m changing the name of the few people involved)

Wingate University. Fall 2007:

I met Dina on campus a good week before class—that four or five days students have to move their shit in, make sure they’ve got their classes added, dropped, or at least have a portion of their tuition paid.  My friend Drew was giving her the 10 cent tour while I was hurrying along to do whatever was on my to-do list that day.  He introduced me to her as well as two other young women.  As most people tend to do we spent the first few seconds sizing each other up.  Safe to say she was pretty easy on the eyes:  A tall (5’7 to the best of my recollection), willowy, ebon-hued woman sporting deep brown eyes, a mini-fro and a rather dignified gait.  (I admit to having a fondness, hell a weakness for this particular look!)

Classes began soon enough and the first week ended with a movie night in the quad.  All the adjacent dorms were camped out on the lawn to watch a film on a theatre-sized screen, and I got an opportunity to become better acquainted with Dina and her suite mates, a happy-go-lucky Asian girl and a shy but cheerful white girl, both of whom haled from upstate Carolina.  Within a week she had given me a pet name (an inside joke based on a picture I took that same evening).  That should have been my first clue.  The rest of the semester plodded along; I would spend the day on campus, go home to sleep, get up and do the whole thing all over again.  Dina began to express further interest after discovering I lived off campus (albeit with my sister).  We spent a great deal f time picking one another’s brain and I found she was a Linkin Park fan much to my elation. She even let me borrow their most recent album at that time for one of my workouts.  I enjoyed passing the time with her and it showed plain as day.

Sometime later (coincidently after the death of a family member) she proved to be a source of comfort.  That same day she invited me to a movie; it was a student group activity but in hindsight I probably should have read it better:  She had taken the time to ask me, sit with me, and share the Oreo cookies she had snuck into the theatre with me.  I can’t remember who asked first but at some point we had dinner at Tokyo Bistro and came to find out one of her suite mates (whom I had as also began becoming more acquainted with) was a waitress there.  Throughout the meal and conversation I had been under the impression that we were on a date—WRONG!  As things wound down I was all set to pay her way (a blatant attempt to impress her further) and to my utter shock she pulls up right beside me with her card.  This earned her a SOLID 8 on the crush-o-meter.

By the end of the academic term she had made the decision to transfer to another university.  At some point she opened up about being as attracted to me as I was to her during our time together and all I could do was shrug and feel some pity her being fearful of the opportunity we both missed.  Anyone who knows me knows I’ve never been too keen on marriage, but if given the chance at that time, I’d have surely given this woman my last name.  This is hardly a lovelorn exaggeration, but a statement of sheer fact.

--Ryan, April 2017

So let's rant a little bit...

Journal/Short Story Intro:



When he woke up to the alarm he felt the overall stiffness that the cold always brought. Winter had finally come, he realized, rolling over in his bed with what can only be described as a potent mix of anger and elation; the elation of another day, the anger of knowing how it would be spent. By the time his feet touched the thinly carpeted floor the feeling managed to shrivel into flat-out annoyance. ‘My bones don’t love the cold the way they used to’, he thought to himself. He stretched to his full height, hearing the pop, pop, pop of each vertebra, the loudest in his neck. He grimaced at the sharp pain in his lower back, one of the many unfortunate conditions he attributed to life in the south.

He wasn’t born in this part of the world. He spent much of his early life in the north-east where the weather was fairly balanced along with his body. A bitter dispute with his father had driven him away to what at the time seemed like his only refuge. In the past he would say he was happy for a while, but when he started being honest with himself he realized he had gone from the proverbial frying pan to the shit pile. Many of the residents here, particularly those within and favored by his family were woefully uneducated, disingenuous and quite frankly, horrible people. At the risk of hubris, he began to see himself as better than them, above them, not necessarily in breeding or economics, but certainly in intellect. He was a scholar, the seed of a philosopher taking root and sprouting over time. Where they were content to sit on their hands and place their faith in hucksters, entertainers and well crafted long-enduring bedtime stories, he placed it in himself, his will, and his ability to persevere. Over time it left him angry and saddened but equally determined. No matter how broken was he wasn’t beaten to the point where he couldn’t pick himself up and try again, which was what he was doing now.

He made his way to the kitchen and began the sloppy but practiced ritual of breakfast, dressing, and checking social media before beginning his morning commute. He checked the clock…4:13 am…. As he scrolled down his timeline two things occurred to him. The first: Man wasn’t meant to rise before sun, and secondly, ‘I didn’t think I could feel this much hate before began seeing Donald Trump’s wrinkly cheeto face everywhere.’