Monthly Archives: June 2011

What will they say when I die?

I think about death.  Not often, but not infrequently.  I think most people are afraid of the subject, but it’s real, yo.  We are going to die. 

So when I think about my death, I think about what will be said at my funeral.  At every funeral they always say a bunch of nice things about the deceased.  They say how nice he was, how great of a family man he was, how he’s now walking in the presence of God, etc. etc. etc.

But how much of it is ACTUALLY true?  A lot of people have secrets, and sometimes those secrets never come to light.  I can’t help but think a lot of times things are being said at a funeral because they are supposed to be said.  Especially when they say stuff like “God’s watching over him now.”  Truth be told, most of the people I know do not live life in a way that exemplifies their faith (including myself).  So do we really believe the deceased is in God’s presence when God wasn’t present during life?

When I die, I want everything that is said at my funeral to be the ABSOLUTE TRUTH.  I want them to say I lived a good life, that I loved my family and friends and took care of them as much as I could, and that I influenced the world in a positive manner.  Most importantly, though, when they say I’m walking in God’s presence in the afterlife, I want the way I lived to leave no doubt that this is indeed true.  I want them to say I did God’s work.  I want people to say they saw the God in me.  I want to walk in His footsteps.

But let’s be real – if you know me you know this isn’t the case.  I admit I indulge in ungodly things.  I drink to excess, I have a foul mouth, I lust after women, I’m not necessarily humble (but it’s hard to be when you’re good looking and good at life).  At the end of the day, I seek to fulfill my wants and desires before fulfilling what God wants for me. 

This is something I’ve always struggled with and will continue to struggle with, because at this present moment in my heart of hearts I really do enjoy the ungodly things I indulge in.  But if I’m going to live the life I want to live and be remembered for what really counts, then I need to make some changes.  I need to put God first, not me.  Now, I’m not trying to be a Bible thumper and be like “You’re going to heeeellllll!!!!” to everyone who doesn’t share my Christian beliefs.  But if I can bless people’s lives just by living by example, then I think I’ve done His work.


Methodist Willowbrook Hospital – The best first job

My friend recently graduated nursing school and just landed a job working in the Labor and Delivery department at Methodist Willowbrook Hospital(congrats!).  Coincidentally, MWH is where I had my first job almost a decade ago. When I was a junior in high school one of my best friends got me a job working in the Materials Management department giving out supplies, and even after I graduated I would return during the summers to work.  Hearing news of my friend’s new job brought back all the great memories from that joint. 

Me and the fellas used to sit in the cafeteria/atrium and just watch all the cute women that walked by.  There were soooo many attractive females that would just pass through the hospital on a daily basis.  But there was one lady in particular that we all wish we could see everyday.  She was a doctor (dermatology) and she was FINE.  And she had a naked ring finger.  Wonder if that’s still the case.

I think Labor and Delivery and Post-Partum had the cutest nurses overall.  I remember I used to jock this one Vietnamese nurse that worked in Med/Surg though.  For the first 3 years I worked there, I had a legitimate crush on her.  Then one summer I ran into her at a club and she was getting kinda ratchet because she was going through a divorce.  I ended up pulling her number but I never made anything happen.  I think a big part of it was that when I saw her at the club, she couldn’t really dance, and it ruined it for me.  Looking back at it I should’ve made it happen anyways.  I think I was barely 20 at the time, and to hook up with an older chick with an actual career would’ve been a great story.  *Sigh*

I used to slap box my homeboy “E” in the warehouse (which was more of a supply room, really) and I got my ass kicked every time for the most part.  E was faster and a smarter fighter.  One time, though, ONE TIME I got his ass GOOD.  But then he got crunk and instead of slapping he kind of stabbed at me with an open hand, so when he caught me he stabbed me with his nail.  He even drew blood.

Our boss was rather tall for a female (5’9” ish) and had red hair, so we used to call her Big Red.  She didn’t like that for some reason.

In the warehouse we had rolling shelves, and one time I hid on top of them from our boss.  When she saw me up there she wasn’t too happy…we were laughing our asses off though.

We used to ride the pallet jack down the loading ramp.  That mug went pretty fast.

One time we turned off all the lights in the warehouse and played flashlight tag.

We invented a game called Bandy Ball.  It changed our lives….and killed our productivity.

There was this one physical therapist that was always wired and seemed like she was on something.  We called her Crazy Crack Lady, and every time she needed something she would tell you why she needed it.  “Hey can you bring some 4×4 gauze to PT, I looked and there’s none there, and we need some for this patient, yeah he just checked in yesterday, and today I have to re-dress his wound, he was in a motorcycle accident, and now I have to re-dress the wound on his arm, and I just checked and there’s no gauze in the cabinet, so if you could bring some to PT as soon as you could that’d be grreeeaat.  Thanks!”

One of the guys I worked with….you know what?  I’m not going to put that story out in the public forum.  But if he reads this he’ll know I’m talking about him hahahHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Man I could go on for days.  But I’ll stop now.

The Simple Things

Today we biked from my apartment to Fleming Park to say hello to friends playing tennis.  Then we biked to Bellaire/Holcombe to eat at Bernie’s Burger Bus.  Our burgers had bacon and were topped with a fried egg.  Our fries were sprinkled with parmesan cheese and truffle oil.  We ate while observing the sunset (no homo), discussed the philosophy of what is cool, and talked about how blessed we are and how we can help others.  My friend took a moment to call his girlfriend just to let her know how awesome things were at that exact moment.  We then rode through the city of Bellaire and admired all the nice homes.  We came across the Bellaire neighborhood pool aka neighborhood Splashtown.  We continued along through Rice Village aided by a cool breeze as dusk turned to night.  As we passed through the Rice University campus we got semi-lost, somehow ending up in the Medical Center, but you can’t really get lost if you have nowhere to be.  Eventually we ended up back at my apartment, more than happy with how the evening unfolded.


Some people are motivated by money.  Some by love.  Some people are motivated by their need for validation.  Some people aren’t motivated at all.  When I really think about it, my motivation for success boils down to two things: my friends and my ego.

I have an immense respect for so many of my friends, and there are a bunch of people I know doing amazing things with their lives.  I’m reminded of this every time I check Facebook and Twitter.  I have friends that own their own dance studio, another who travels around the world making videos for a living, another who’s probably one of the youngest energy traders in the industry, another who just moved to Australia for a great opportunity, another going to school at Columbia, friends living it up NYC/Chicago/LA, etc. etc.  I see pictures from all over the world of my friends’ travels – Hong Kong, Singapore, Japan, Hawaii, London, Rio, Chile, etc.  These are my peers, and I’m proud of what they’re doing for themselves.  It’s impossible to settle for mediocrity when you see all of these great things on a regular basis.

Which leads me to my ego.   Deep down, if I’m really being honest, I don’t want to be average.  When I leave this world, I want to have left my imprint.  This is one reason why I want to hop out the Matrix.  If I never existed, someone else would be doing this desk job, and the world would never notice.  In the Matrix, I am replaceable.  I want to do more, because I feel like I’m capable of more.  To use an exaggerated example to make my point, imagine how different the world would be if Diddy never existed.  Think about that statement for a second and let it sink in, because it is entirely true – the world would be different without Diddy.  No Sean Jean, no “take that take that remix”, no Bad Boy, no Biggie

How different would the world be without you?  Would it even matter?  I want to matter.  Maybe not to the extent Diddy or Elvis or MLK matters, but I still want to influence the world around me.  This is my motivation.  What’s yours?