Hello Mr. God,
I stay fly, no lie, and you know it…BAAAAAAALIN!!!. God, Take that, take that, take that, take that, take that. Just kidding. What’s up God? It’s your boy Robert again. I know you’re wondering what ballin is, right? I don’t truly know the exact definition, but I can give you some examples. A person is probably ballin if they have lots of money. I don’t mean your average rich guy, but the individual who has so much money that they don’t know what to do with it—these people are usually awarded the title of a “Baller.” Ballers include people like rappers, singers, doctors, lawyers, engineers, etc. These individuals make some serious cheese, God; they got it made. All my life I have been told that if I work hard and make lots of money, I can have the good life—a happy life.
The reason for me writing you today is because I don’t truly know that I am happy. God, I have a good job and I make a decent living, but I’m certainly not ballin. I own a house, drive a nice car, and I have a little extra money to spend but I’m not sure if I am happy. God, what the hell is happiness anyways? I actually decided to look the word up in the dictionary. Happiness is defined as a state of well-being or contentment. That definition really didn’t help me so I decided to look up the word contentment; contentment is defined as to limit oneself in requirements or actions. Wow, I thought that was very interesting so decided to look up the word limit. A limit is something that restrains or confines; a boundary. Now God, I could have looked up words indefinitely, but I got tired and didn’t feel like looking up any more words.
What do you think God? I guess those definitions must have some validity to them. God, am I limiting myself by settling for happiness? Am I putting boundaries in my life, which are preventing me from doing better things besides making money? I work very hard to make the amount of money I earn, but I have to put up with a lot of bullshit in order to do it. For example, my boss asked me if I wanted to go surfing with him and some coworkers the other day and I politely said no. He responded by saying “Come on Bob, be a team player and come surfing with us”. I wanted to say “For starters, my name aint Bob, its Robert bitch. And second, I don’t want to go surfing with you guys. What sane black man wants to put his ass on a board in the middle of the ocean so some shark can make a two-piece dinner out of him”? Instead, I went and damn near drowned. I had to go God. I didn’t attend four of the last events that I was invited to and this new “kiss ass” employee had become attached to my boss’ ass. I just didn’t want to lose my promotion, but unfortunately Mr. “Kiss Ass” got the promotion over me anyways.
God I was devastated; I didn’t get my promotion, I had succumbed to my boss’ demands, and I damn near lost a lung in the process. God, I want to do more with my life but I have to survive right? And I need money to do it. Survival is the name of the game down here —particularly for the misplaced natives of African. Blacks have been surviving since they boarded those infamous ships that landed on the coast of
Now God, I have never been a slave and I have not even been on a ship before, so I am not comparing my life to that of a slave, but I do think the black slave was a happier person than us blacks today. Is that crazy to say? God, do you think I lost it with that last statement? The reason I feel this way is because the black slave wanted something better than what he or she had at that time. I know there were slaves who were comfortable with their condition, but I truly think that most wanted something different. The proof is in the pudding. Slaves fought, killed, and died for their freedom. Some were even willing and some did leave
It seems to me that us blacks today are content with our present conditions. I think this started with the ending of segregation. During segregation, all blacks lived and functioned together. On one block, you would have a lawyer who lived next to a janitor, who lived next to a doctor, who lived next to a garbage man, who lived next to a thief, etc, etc, etc. The son of garbage man was able to see four black men all doing different jobs and was able to choose his future accordingly. When segregation ended, that same lawyer and doctor bounced like a bad check; they moved as close to the white man as possible and left the garbage man and the thief back in the neighborhood. As time went on, more and more lawyers and doctors moved out of the neighborhood and the number of thieves grew. Now, the son of the garbage man did not have too many choices to choose from and usually chose the life of a thief. He did this because he did not believe that he could live next to the white man working as a garbage man—I guess a garbage man wasn’t BAAAAAAALLLIN enough.
Now God, I know I’m just as guilty as the lawyer and the doctor. I went to a predominately black high school, but I graduated and attended a predominately white university. I just wanted to get a really good education and I didn’t feel that a black school could offer me that. In addition, as soon as I graduated, I moved up out of the hood to a predominately white suburban part of town. Shit, God, but I was tired of dodging bullets, having my shit stolen, and dealing with stupid ass niggas. Am I wrong for wanting better for myself? I worked hard to get where I am at and I was tired of niggas. Every time you try to have something nice, here come niggas to mess it up
How long are blacks going to use slavery as excuse for their behavior, God? Everyone has the ability to change his or her life for the better. I mean, how long will we continue to function in survival mode? God, I don’t know how blacks can settle for living in the hood. Don’t they want to be happy? Oh, my bad, that’s why I was writing you in the first place. I did everything that I was supposed to do and I’m not happy. Now I truly don’t know what being happy is. Is it striving for your best while suffering along the way, or is accepting life the way it is and being content with it?
Sincerely,
Robert Harwin
P.S. Please respond soon because my boss wants me to go to a Bar Mitzvah. God, what is a Bar Mitzvah?
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