Last summer, I was relaxing at home and watching some episodes of Daredevil. While I was watching Daredevil, I get a text message from my friend Brian. I take a look at it, and he asks me if I’m doing anything tomorrow. I have an answer, but I don’t respond yet because I’m in the middle of watching Daredevil. After I’m done watching Daredevil, I respond that I’m working, writing, doing homework, photographing, designing, drawing and editing some things tomorrow. So, I’m pretty much going to be busy tomorrow. Then, he texts me that it’s his birthday tomorrow, and he was trying to see if I could hang out with him. I kind of remember him telling me about his birthday, but I guess I technically forgot about it.

Before you prejudge me for not remembering my friend’s birthday, it’s important to note that he never told me when his birthday was and this was my first time hearing about it. He may have told me once or twice at a random time, but you honestly have to tell people more than once when your birthday is. Also, we were still in the early stages of our friendship and still rocking a solid six months together. How well do you really know someone in six months? It’s not like you can marry someone in six months, right? That’s just crazy, no offense to my mom and stepdad for getting married in six to nine months. I love them both will all my heart, but that’s just craziness to me. I don’t know how they could do that. I need at least a good year or so before marrying someone. I need to go through all the seasons with that person. I need to go through fall, spring, summer and especially the winter with them. I need to know that they can stand the rain and the snow with me. I need to know these things, and I need more than six months to find these things out.

Anyways, I tell my friend that I can definitely hang out with him on his birthday. I ask him where he’s trying to go, and he tells me that he was thinking about going to Burgatory at Waterfront at 6:00. We had our plans set, and I had hoped to meet some of my goals before hanging out with Brian.

It’s Friday, and I had to work from 6:00 a.m.-2:00 p.m. I went home and tried to reach my goals, but it was to no avail. When it was around 6:30 p.m., Brian was wondering where I was at because I had promised to pick him up. I ended up losing track of time, and I texted him that I was on my way. I was finishing up on a poster design that I was working on for a summer graphic design class. When I finished it, I headed out and went to pick up Brian. I picked Brian up, and I wished him a happy birthday. He was happy to hear this. He gets in the car and lets me know that we’re meeting one of his friends, Mike, at Burgatory. I tell him it’s cool, and I start driving us to Burgatory.

As we were driving to Burgatory, I noticed a certain smell coming from him. I looked over at Brian and noticed that he was chill and smiling a lot. So, I ask him, “Bro, are you high?”

He was like, “Yeah man, I had to hit this blunt before you picked me up. Man, I was smoking a lot today. I don’t know how much, for real, for real.”

He started laughing, and I couldn’t help but join him in laughter.

Then, he started talking about this girl that he’s been liking for months. I know her, and I’m good friends with her. He was telling me that she’s been working a lot and didn’t seem to want to talk to him. They still had a streak on Snapchat, but it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted more from her, but I could tell that she wasn’t trying to give him what he needed. So, I tell him that maybe he should consider just being friends with her or letting her go because it didn’t sound like she was interested. However, he’s hopeful that they can work things out and be together. He still talks about how they’re connected, and how he’s never met a girl like her before. I thought to myself that it was kind of sweet that he wanted to be somewhat patient for her. At the same time though, he’s been trying to talk to this girl for months, even before she was extremely busy with her life. Sadly, it was time for him to wake up and smell the roses because they just weren’t meant to be. Nevertheless, I don’t say this to him because it’s his birthday, and I don’t want to hit him with tough love. He would have to find out for himself the hard way.

When we make it to the Waterfront, I miraculously find an open parking spot near Burgatory. Brian and I head over to Burgatory, and I get to meet Mike.

Brian introduced me to Mike, and Mike tells us that it’s just going to be a 15-minute wait. As we’re waiting to be called, Mike immediately laughs because he notices that Brian is high. Brian tells Mike that he’s been smoking a lot today, and we all just burst out laughing. Then, w start talking about DC and Marvel comics. Also, we get into Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse, Titans coming on the DC streaming service, Avengers: Infinity War and so much more. It was refreshing to talk to someone about superheroes and debating about what’s going to happen in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) and DC Universe.

Twenty minutes later, we end up getting a table at Burgatory. As we’re all sitting down, Mike and I are still debating Marvel topics. Brian is just high and in his own little world. Mike had his back turned at me because he had to talk Brian about something, when this girl came from behind me and placed a folded piece of paper next to me. I turned around, and she had disappeared like she was the Flash or something. I was so perplexed and confused.

I turned back around to my table, and Mike was still trying to talk to Brian. I say trying because it didn’t look like he was all there. I looked at the folded piece of paper and opened it. It read, “My friend thinks you’re cute.”

The statement was followed by a phone number and x’s and o’s.

This is the end of “The Philadelphia Girl: Part One.”

Thank you for reading “The Philadelphia Girl: Part One.” Be sure to like, share and comment your thoughts on this story.

This will be a four-part story, and I will be sharing part two of “The Philadelphia Girl” on Thursday.

I can’t get you out of my head.

Sometimes I wish you were dead to me, but I need you stay alive.

I need you like a junkie needs drugs.

I lie to myself and say you’re harmless and pure like water.

I also say that you’re a necessity and nourishment like food.

I just can’t live without you.

I can’t be without you.

You’re everything to me, but I would never say that out loud.

I know my parents wouldn’t be proud of that, let alone God.

You’re a curse to me, but also a blessing.

It’s kind of depressing.

I often find myself suppressing any way out from you because I’m scared.

I’m scared of a life that I can control.

I’m scared of having full ownership of my soul.

I’m scared of no longer living in fear.

I’m scared of leaning on God’s understanding.

I’m scared of learning how to grow without you.

I’m scared of knowing where to go without you.

I’m scared of living without you.

You kept me strong when I was weak, but I know that you’re wrong for me.

I can’t keep holding on to you.

I have to let you go, so that I can be true again and no longer live in sin.

I have to believe that God will be there for me.

However, I can’t believe it because I can’t see it.

I’m blind to salvation because of you.

You cover me with your evilness and darkness.

I’ve sadly grown accustomed to you.

How did this happen?

I want to say you forced yourself on to me, but that would be a lie.

It was curiosity.

I turned a blind eye to your insanity and welcomed your vanity.

I should’ve known your generosity would come with a cost.

Now, I’m lost with you by my side.

I shouldn’t have let my flesh be my guide.

I should have trusted in my heart.

I should have trusted in my mind.

I should have trusted in Jesus.

I should have trusted in God.

Now, I’m stuck trusting in you and your wickedness.

Now, I can’t imagine living without you.

Thank you for reading “Living Without You,” a poem in the Nightmare series. Be sure to like, share and comment your thoughts on this poem.

Next week, I will be posting part one of a four-part series titled “The Philadelphia Girl” on Tuesday. Then, I will be posting part two on Thursday.

Antwon Rose.

You had such a beautiful name.

I can’t help but think about it.

I can’t help but wonder who you were meant to be in this world.

Were you meant to blossom like a rose?

Or were you meant to wither away in this world?

I don’t know.

You were stripped the opportunity to find out for yourself like our ancestors in Africa.

They were subjected to slavery in America.

What they could’ve been, just like what you could’ve been.

Antwon Rose

What were you thinking?

Why did you run away from the cop?

Who did you think you were?

Kunta Kinte?

Why couldn’t you just be Toby for the cop?

Why did you make that fatal mistake?

Then, I remember that you were a scared, 17 year old black kid.

You weren’t thinking.

You were just afraid and didn’t want to face the consequences.

You should have been apprehended appropriately like an armed mass shooter.

Instead, you were shot and killed like an unarmed slave running from his master.

Antwon Rose.

I used to think that Pittsburgh was stronger than hate, until I read and heard comments about you.

I couldn’t believe the hate you received and the love the cop received.

There was no regard for you or your family.

There was only support for the cop that shot you like a beloved member of the KKK.

I must say.

They have the Reconstruction mentality.

They have that lynch mentality.

They have that Jim Crow mentality.

That have that sit-in-the-back-of-the-bus mentality.

For them, if you don’t follow their rules, then you deserve the hose.

You deserve the persecution.

You deserve the abuse.

Antwon Rose, you didn’t follow the cop’s rules, so your death is on you.

It’s sadly not on the cop because for others he did everything right.

He shot you because he had no other choice.

You were just too dangerous as an unarmed black kid.

He protected life and served properly as a cop.

He was true to his job as a cop.

He’s a blue, and his life matters more to us than your life, Antwon Rose.

This is the sad, sick and twisted mindset people have about you, Antwon Rose.

I wish that it could be different.

Antwon Rose.

I have a dream that you were apprehended appropriately.

I have a dream that you were not at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I have a dream that more people would mourn your death.

I have a dream that your life mattered to everyone.

I have a dream that there was unity in Pittsburgh.

I have a dream that Pittsburgh was stronger than hate.

I have a dream that the cop faced justice for his fatal mistake.

I have a dream that you were still alive.

Antwon Rose, I wish I could be hopeful about my dreams.

Sadly, my dreams are meant to be only dreams and never a reality.

Antwon Rose.

I read your poem, and I must say that you had potential.

You were meant to be something special.

Why did you have to get shot and killed like Tamir Rice and Trayvon Martin?

I wish I knew.

I’m sorry that you ended up being a statistic.

It’s just not fair.

I think about my little brother Isaac.

He’s 17, the same age as you were.

He has so much potential just like you did.

I can’t imagine if his life ended just like yours did.

It would destroy me.

I can’t imagine what your family is going through.

I hope they have the strength to move forward.

I pray they do.

Antwon Rose.

I pray that you’re in a better place.

I pray that I can be hopeful for better days.

I pray for your family.

I pray that love will outweigh hate someday in America.

I pray all these things and more, Antwon Rose.

May you rest in peace, Antwon Rose.

I will always remember your name.

Last week, I came across an interesting post on Facebook that caught my eye. It reads, “Ur still an artist if u don’t release ur work. Ur still a writer if u don’t publish a piece. art is still art even in private.” I immediately liked the post because I genuinely agreed with this post. In fact, I recall a time where I had this mentality of keeping my art private.

I remember that it was middle school when I started getting into writing. When I say getting into writing, I mean writing for fun and for myself. In high school, I started getting into poetry and seeing the beauty that it can provide for me alone. In high school, I discovered that I could be more open, honest and free in my writing. I could be alone in my own little world, and this was paradise for me. At Indiana University of Pennsylvania (IUP), I started getting into short stories, and I just loved creating new characters, plots and themes that I thought would benefit no one else but me. I remember my family and friends always wanting to read my short stories and poetry, but I was always defensive and not willing to welcome them into my world. Writing is my baby, and I have to protect it from the world.

One day, I remember that I was writing a short story on my computer, and my parents wanted to read it. Of course, I objected to them reading it. Then, they decided that they wanted to talk to me about sharing my work. They were asking me why it was so hard for me to show others what I have written. One of the things that they primarily thought was that I didn’t want to receive criticism. They thought that I couldn’t take it, but this wasn’t the case. For a second, I thought that this was the case, but I later learned that it was entirely something else. It was something that I couldn’t deny.

The truth was I didn’t want people to see a different side of me. I wanted to keep that part of me hidden to others. I write every single day, and I have nothing but love for writing. How can I just expose that to the world? How can I let the world destroy the perfect union I have with my writing? I would be alone in my own little zone. It was perfect. I just had to keep my art private.

I later realized that I needed to start sharing my work. I learned that I’m completely honest in my writing, and I shouldn’t be ashamed of that. I should be proud of my work and want to share who I am with the world, but I’m hesitant to do this. The reason is because I don’t want to be an open book for people. I don’t want people to know me. However, I knew that I needed to make the necessary steps to be okay with people getting know me through my writings.

Last year, I started the blog “The Warfield Zone.” It would be a place where I would publish all of my short stories and poetry for people’s viewing pleasure. I didn’t make it emphatically known that I had a blog to others because I still wanted to keep it a secret. I was also trying not to post too much to much on my blog because that would just expose too much of me. Later, I found that it wasn’t so bad to post. It was almost relieving and therapeutic. Months passed, and I let close friends and family know more about my blog. This year, I decided that I wanted to post regularly and let it be known to many others that I have a blog.

Also, I decided to share more of my photographs regularly as well this year because it’s a part of who I am as a storyteller, and I’m not ashamed of it.

I have learned that sharing has helped me grow as a person. It has helped my family and friends understand me in ways they never conceived. I’m thankful that people have found my writings to be entertaining and enjoyable. I’m thankful to God for giving me talents that I finally have the courage to share with the world.

For artists/writers that keep their work private, I totally understand it. You have a right to keep your work private, but I also think it’s important to explore your reasoning behind keeping it private. When I was exploring the reason I kept my work private, I learned that it was holding me back as a writer. Sharing my work has helped me reach unimaginable heights that I never knew existed. It gave me the necessary relief I needed to be a comfortable writer now. That’s my reasoning. What’s your reasoning?

Thank you for reading “Keeping My Art Private.” Be sure to like, share and comment your thoughts on this piece.

Next week, I will be posting two poems, one on Tuesday and one Thursday.

Last week, I was hanging out with my friend, Rosa, and we had an interesting conversation on girls being friendly vs. flirty

It was Saturday, and we were planning on seeing an 8:30 showing of the movie Captain Marvel at the South Side of Pittsburgh. It was around 5:00 when we were hanging out, so we decided to go to the Cheesecake Factory for some food before the movie. It was pretty crowded in there, and the hostess told us that it would be an hour wait. I immediately wanted to leave and go some other place, but Rosa wanted to wait for whatever reason. I was telling her that it was foolish to wait because we were going to be waiting for hours, but she said that we could wait. I was hungry though, and I was dying for food. I had a small breakfast and a little snack before we hung out, so I was legitimately dying of starvation. Nevertheless, I listened to her, and we ended up walking around South Side and just going through different stores. I was slowly losing calories and losing my will to survive.

Surprisingly, it was only a 45-minute wait, and Rosa rubbed it in my face that she was right about the wait not being long. I congratulated her for being right, but 45 minutes is still a long time. I’m okay waiting 15-30 minutes to eat at a restaurant, but after that 30-minute mark, you start getting hungrier than usual and time just drags. However, you can’t dwell in the past, and I’m just glad I survived that 45-minute wait. I have to thank God for keeping me alive during that time period.

Anyways, we were seated in the middle of the room, and our waitress got us some drinks and a bread basket. I asked Rosa if she wanted some bread, but she said that she was fine. I immediately attacked the bread basket like a hungry hyena. I was laughing as I was finally able to nourish my starving body back to health.

Rosa laughed at me and called me so dramatic, and I replied and cried, “I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t want to wait. I was fighting for my life, and you were killing me out here. You were killing me. I gave you 30 minutes of my life. 30 minutes, and you made me wait 45 minutes for some food. So, I’m sorry that I’m being dramatic, but you made me this way.”

We were both laughing, and I was honestly proud of the performance I gave. It does take a lot of work to be dramatic.

A couple minutes later, we ended up placing our orders. I ordered a steak and some fries, while Rosa got some shrimp. We started talking and making conversation, but then she changed the subject. She asked me if I was still friends with Blake and Steve, and I told her that I kind of was. It had been months since I talked to Blake, and I barely talk to Steve. Then, she said that she’s not friends with either of them anymore, and she ended up telling me why.

She talked about how Steve was mad at her because she didn’t text him regularly, and he felt like she didn’t care about him as a friend. Rosa was telling me how she always initiated conversation with him, and it didn’t make sense that he felt like she wasn’t treating him like a friend. She told me how he went off on her in Snapchat, and it just made her not want to deal with him. I recall this. I was talking to Steve, and he ended up sending me a screenshot of what he said to her. I looked at it, and I told him that he went a little too far with his comments. He agreed with me, and he was telling me that he got carried away and was being too brutally honest with her. I told Rosa this, and she thought his “honesty” was ridiculous.

Then, she explained the situation with Blake to me. Rosa ended up telling him that she has a boyfriend, and this came as a shock to him. Blake asked her since when, and she told him for the past few weeks. This angered him because he said he had feelings for her, but Rosa wasn’t aware of these feelings. So, Blake decided that he wanted nothing to do with Rosa.

Rosa asked me if I knew that Blake liked her, and I said, “Yeah, I knew that he liked you, but I thought that you knew, too?”

She responded, “No, I knew that Steve liked me because Blake told me, but I didn’t know that he liked me too.”

I knew that Steve and Blake liked Rosa since last year, and it was just a shock to me that Rosa didn’t know.

Anyways, she continued to talk about Steve and Blake, and she told me something interesting that Blake said to her. Blake told her that she flirts too much, and she asked me if I agreed with him. I replied, “Well, I’ll admit that you do flirt a little. I’ve seen it, and you’ve even admitted to me that you like to flirt a little from time to time. However, I think that you’re more friendly to other guys than flirtatious. It’s just that some guys think that you’re just a total flirt, and they can’t distinguish your friendliness and flirtation.”

She agreed with me, and she was asking me if she did anything wrong. I said, “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. Based on what you’re telling me, you were the one that was just honest with them. They were the ones that wanted something more from you, and they were kind of dishonest about how they truly felt about you.”

I told her that I was sorry that she lost friendships that she held dear. I looked at her, smiled and said, “Just know that you got a friend in me.”

She smiled and thanked me for always being a good friend to her. A couple minutes later, we ended up getting our food and started having different, lighter conversations together. We later went and saw Captain Marvel. After the movie, we went our separate ways.

The conversation I had with Rosa about Blake and Steve really bothered me. I started thinking about this Facebook clip my little sister Shawna showed me of a high school boy hitting a girl because she wasn’t “friendly” enough to give him her phone number, while everyone watched and let it happen. That’s scary that females just can’t say “no” to some guys. They can’t say “no” to guys that are abusive and angry. They have to be polite, and they have to give those men what they want. Otherwise, there will be consequences. We’re a society that gets offended by a Gillette commercial that pushes all men to be better and held to a higher standard, “The Best Men Can Be.” How dare Gillette tackle “toxic masculinity”? They’re making it seem like it’s all guys, it’s just a few. Why do we have to address it? It’s disrespectful for Gillette to tell us how to be appropriate boys, let us be boys, Gillette. We’re fine just the way we are. All of us, or most of us are fine. It’s a shame that there’s no such thing as a female being friendly vs. flirty for some guys, they’re just the same thing.

Thank you for reading “Friendly vs. Flirty.” Be sure to like, share and comment your thoughts on this story.

On Thursday, I will be posting “Keeping My Art Private” on the Warfield Zone.

A couple of years ago, I was attending Indiana University of Pennsylvania (IUP), and I was having a typical lunch/hang out with my friends Sam and Obi in the Folger Dining Hall. It had just gotten built on campus, and I remember how excited we were about the dining hall. A couple of months would pass, and we would have nothing but disgust for Folger’s. That’s another story.

We’re sitting down in the new dining hall talking and enjoying ourselves, and we saw our friend Antoinette come walking towards us. She was Face Timing someone on the phone, and there was a lot of yelling and screaming from her. Everyone could tell that she was upset. When Antoinette got to our table, she sat down and hung up the phone. Obi asked her what was going on, and Antoinette replied, “It’s Young Vegan, he getting on my nerves.”

Young Vegan, who goes by other names like Captain Veggie or Veggie Man, was Antoinette’s boyfriend that lived in Philadelphia. He was about 27, 28-ish, while Antoinette was 21. He had a full-time job and everything. Antoinette would Face Time with him all the time whenever all four of us hung out, and we all called him Young Vegan because he had became a vegan. He couldn’t stand the nicknames we gave him, especially Veggie Man and Captain Veggie, but he had to suck it up and deal with it because we were all the way in Indiana, and he was all the way in Philadelphia.

Anyways, Sam asks her what happened and she explains, “Well, me and Young Vegan were talking, and he was talking about some conversation that he had with one of his female coworkers about Lebron James.”

Antoinette went on to say that Young Vegan and his coworker came to the conclusion that Lebron James wasn’t cute at all, however Antoinette said something to him that would enrage him. She said to him, “Well, I don’t agree with that. I think he’s alright, but there are probably some girls that think Lebron James is cute and popping.”

Antoinette told us that this infuriated him. Young Vegan was yelling at her and telling her that Lebron James wasn’t cute at all. He was ugly. They ended up having a whole argument. Antoinette argued to him multiple times that there were probably some girls that thought that Lebron was cute, but Young Vegan didn’t want to hear it. They were arguing about this for hours, and Young Vegan was still messaging her about conversations he had with other girls that agreed with him. We could all tell that Antoinette was annoyed because she at first thought that they were just arguing for fun, but she discovered that it was deep for Captain Veggie. Veggie Man was all in his feelings about the possibility of other females finding Lebron James cute.

I couldn’t understand this whole thing. I was asking myself how Lebron James being cute ended up being a deep thing for Young Vegan. Why make a simple disagreement a big deal? Does my friend Antoinette have to totally agree with you with everything you say, otherwise you’ll throw a fit? I couldn’t imagine dealing with someone that blew the simplest of things out of proportion. That was just so messed up to me, I thought to myself.

Antoinette told us that one of the things that Veggie Man argued was that girls only look at Lebron James because he’s an NBA star and got money.

Antoinette explained to us how she thought that even if Lebron James was just some regular guy on the streets, girls would still be checking for him. He still had some features on him that women found attractive, and Young Vegan wasn’t hearing it. He kept telling her that she was wrong, and he was getting so emotional with her.

Then, Antoinette asked us what we all thought about her situation. Sam said, “Girl, I agree with you. Have you seen Lebron’s wife? She’s gorgeous and clearly had a thing for Lebron James before he got that money.”

I added that beauty is subjective and that there were probably thousands, maybe even millions of girls that thought that Lebron James was cute.

Obi and I agreed with Sam and added that Lebron James’ wife was a baddie. We also agreed that Antoinette was right by saying that some girls probably thought that Lebron James was cute. I added, “Man, imagine if y’all had a serious argument.”

Antoinette agreed with me, and she was just in shock about how Veggie Man went off on her. She talked about how she was over this Lebron James conversation that she had with Young Vegan. All of sudden, she gets a Face Time call again from the man of the hour. She answers it, and already Veggie Man was still trying to argue with Antoinette. He was talking about he asked another female friend of his if Lebron James is cute, and his friend said that he wasn’t. Antoinette told him that we all agreed with her that some girls find Lebron James cute. He was arguing with, but Sam, Obi and I decided to back up Antoinette. We went in on Captain Veggie. We were throwing numbers, science and common sense at Young Vegan, and it was just getting him so upset. It was so hilarious to us, and it was just so serious with Young Vegan.

Young Vegan ended up bringing one of his friends into the conversation, and he wasn’t helping Veggie Man at all. If anything, he was just hurting him. I remember he was stuttering a lot, and he really wasn’t trying to help Young Vegan. There were times that he was actually agreeing with us, and Young Vegan told him to leave. He had the worst friend/homeboy backing him up, and it was funny and awesome.

Finally, Young Vegan told Antoinette that they would talk about this later when she wasn’t with us, and he hung up the phone. We all ended up laughing and couldn’t believe how Captain Veggie was an emotional wreck over Lebron James. After all that, we started talking about a movie we wanted to see and just hung out with each other.

Antoinette and Young Vegan argued about it for another day, but they were able to work out their differences and move on from it. It’s crazy how Lebron James could have ruined their relationship, but they didn’t allow something so deep to ruin it. The trials and tribulations are real in this world.

Thank you for taking the time to read “Is Lebron James Cute?” Be sure to like and comment your thoughts on this story.

Next week, I will be posting two opinionated pieces. The pieces include “Friendly vs. Flirty” on Tuesday and “Keeping my Art Private” on Thursday.

So, I have a very complicated relationship with the restaurant Wendy’s. Honestly, I hate the restaurant more than I love it. To be fair, I guess it’s more because of the employees of the Wendy’s than the restaurant itself, and I’m specifically talking the one on 51 for those familiar with Jefferson Hills. I remember one time that I went to Wendy’s, and my fries were extremely cold. Maybe not extremely cold, but I like to exaggerate. So, I told the lady at the window that I wanted some new fries, and she got irritated with me.

She said, “Can you just please take the fries that you were given? It’s gonna take ten minutes to make them, and we’re kind of busy.”

Now, I understand the struggle. I work at Sheetz, where it can get crazy and hectic at work, especially with making food. Nevertheless, I looked at her and said, “I’m sorry about that, I understand the struggle because I work at Sheetz, but I want to get my money’s worth, so I can definitely wait ten minutes for some hot fries.”

She groaned and told me to wait up front, and I had to wait 20 minutes for some hot fries.

I thought that it was a one-time thing with Wendy’s, but Wendy’s continued to disappoint me. Every time I went to Wendy’s on 51, my food was always cold, and the service was almost always terrible. Sadly, this one Wendy’s on 51 made me hate eating food at Wendy’s and have a certain level of distaste for the restaurant. However, one experience in high school helped make Wendy’s have a special place in my heart.

It was my junior year of high school, and I had to work on a Spanish project with this quiet kid named Khalid. He talked a little here and there in Spanish class, but he really didn’t talk that much. We actually hung out a few times with other people involved, but we never had any one-on-one interaction with each other until this Spanish project.
The Spanish project that we had to do consisted of us going to a restaurant or two and only speaking Spanish to the cashier. Then, we had to write a paper about our whole experience just speaking Spanish to a cashier. We decided to go with Wendy’s because we could easily knock it out, plus we were both in the mood for Wendy’s. Overall, a simple project.

Anyways, I ended up picking Khalid up at his place, and I drove us to Wendy’s. As we were driving to Wendy’s, we were talking and joking around a lot more than usual. There was plenty of laughter going on between us, and it was comfortable atmosphere that I wasn’t expecting with him.

It was around 6:00 p.m. when we made it to Wendy’s, and we were expecting to be there for 30-45 minutes. We went inside, and it was surprisingly not busy at all in Wendy’s. There was just one cashier on duty, and she was on her phone. The cashier was around the same age as us, and she was cute. Also, her name was Mary. Khalid and I got into Spanish mode, walked over to her and started speaking Spanish. She was so confused. Khalid and I had to point at items on the menu, and it was a struggle for her. After we were done ordering, we spoke English to her and explained that we were only speaking Spanish to her because of a project. Thankfully, she understood, and we all shared a good laugh about the whole thing.

Afterwards, Khalid and I found a table and started eating our food. We were also talking and joking around with each other. It was weird though because Khalid was doing most of the talking more than me, and it was interesting and refreshing because he was almost always quiet when we hung out in groups. I liked how insightful and unique he was when were talking about certain philosophical topics, God, movies, videogames, money and school. When we had our disagreements, it was so much fun. We would end up debating and arguing our points, and I would always end up winning our little debates. He might have gotten a few debates won here and there, but I was mostly winning all the debates that day. Khalid will tell you differently, but he knows the truth.

I looked outside and realized that it was dark outside. I looked at my phone and discovered that it was 9:00. It was crazy to me because we had just planned to be at Wendy’s for 30 minutes but almost a full three hours. I told Khalid the time, and he was shocked to see the time too. He asked me if I was ready to leave, but I was thinking that we were alright because it was a Friday night. Then, we changed the topic to girls. I was talking to him about girls that I liked in high school, but I noticed that he was a little distracted. I followed his eyes and noticed that he was looking at Mary, the cashier. This got me excited. So, I asked him, “Hey, what do you think of Mary, the cashier? Do you think she’s cute?”

He replied, “I don’t know, Isaiah. I guess.”

“You guess?” I exclaimed. I immediately told him to go over and talk to her because I knew that he thought she was cute, and he said no. I asked him why not, and he said that it wasn’t necessary. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The blasphemy was too much for me.

So, I said, “Khalid, that could be the one for you but because you’re afraid to make a move, you could be missing out on the best thing ever in your life.”

He started laughing and saying that I was being dramatic. I admitted that I was because I am dramatic, but I also speak the truth. Then, I give him an ultimatum. I said, “Look, if you don’t go over there and get that girl’s number, then you will leave me no choice but to do it myself for you. The worst she can say is no.”

Khalid started cracking up, but I was being dramatic and serious. Khalid motioned me to do it, and I got up and walked over to her. I looked back at Khalid and saw a little terror in his eyes. So, I changed my mind and simply asked Mary for a Frosty. When I went back to Khalid, I saw him feeling victorious because he thought I chickened out, but it was the opposite. I wanted to get him when he least expected it.

As we were heading out, I saw that Mary wasn’t busy at all at the register. Plus, there was no one in the restaurant. So, I said, “Excuse me, my friend Khalid thinks you’re cute. He was wondering if he could get your number.”

The look on Khalid’s face was priceless, he couldn’t believe that I actually did it. Then, without hesitation, Mary replied, “I have a girlfriend.”

I said okay, and Khalid and I ended up going back to the car. Once we got into the car, we just busted out laughing. We were asking ourselves if she was lying or telling the truth, and we were debating it in the car. He couldn’t believe that I did that, and he was asking me why I did it. I said, “I don’t know, it was just good sport.”

I had finished reading The Great Gatsby and “good sport” was my favorite phrase in the book.

Anyways, I told Khalid that he could return the favor on me anytime he wanted, but he has yet to do it. He probably forgot, but I guess this blog post will remind him of it now.
Nevertheless, our experience at Wendy’s ignited a six-year long friendship that consists of walking in malls, seeing movies, philosophical conversations, Denny’s, Applebee’s, Taco Bell, working out together, debates and so much more. Wendy’s is responsible for a friendship that I deeply value in my life, despite having cold food and bad service. All I can say is Wendy’s, I Love You.

This is the end of “Wendy’s, I Love You.” Be sure to like and comment your thoughts on this short story.

On Thursday, I will be posting the short story “Is Lebron James Cute?”

Just to recap, a couple of months ago I ended up working at Sheetz on a Saturday morning from 6:00 a.m.-2:00 p.m. An hour later, a pretty woman named Tatiana came into Sheetz turning heads. I ended up ringing her items up, and I discovered that she was actually a stripper. She had finished a shift and went to a boring party with a friend. Since it wasn’t busy at Sheetz, I ended up talking and having a conversation with her. All of sudden, she got close to me and said she could give me a private lap dance at her strip club. I got uncomfortable and told her that I didn’t think that was a good idea, then she suggested giving me a lap dance at her place. Now, let’s dive on in to “Checking Out a Stripper: Part Two.”

When Tatiana mentioned going to her place, I didn’t know what to say. I looked over at my coworker that was stationed with me, but she just turned away and acted like she didn’t hear anything. I turned back to Tatiana and realized that she was chuckling for some reason. When she saw me looking at her, she quickly stopped chuckling and put on her seductive face. I found it strange, but then I realized what was going on. I chuckled and said, “You were just messing with me, right?”

She smiled and laughed, “Of course. I’m a church girl, I don’t be doing stuff like that, I’m not a freak.”

We both laughed, and she couldn’t believe how uncomfortable I got with her. I replied,

“Well, I couldn’t help it. You were very convincing and looking fine, you had me feeling some type of way. You’re a really good actress.”

She thanked me for my comment, and we continued talking some more. Thankfully, it was still slow at Sheetz, so I could still talk to her. She talked to me about how she had to work late later in the day, and it bummed her out that she was going to miss church. I told her that I understood the feeling that she was going through. There were days that I had to work Sunday mornings and miss out on church too. The struggles of bills and college are real, I told her. She agreed with me. Then, she got a little quiet, and she wanted to ask me a very deep question. I told her that she could ask. Before she could ask it, a customer came up to me asking for some cigarettes. I got him the cigarettes he wanted and checked him out.

My attention went back to Tatiana. She looked at me and said, “As a Christian, do you think that it’s wrong of me to be a stripper?”

I was surprised by the question, and I looked at her and saw that she was being serious with me now. So, I asked her what she thought. She replied, “Well, I don’t know. I mean, dancing helps me pay for school and bills, and it’s fun. I don’t feel wrong about it, but I don’t know how God feels about it.”

Before I could answer, there were a couple of customers that I had to ring and check out.
After I was done with that, I went back to Tatiana and said, “I can’t judge you for being a stripper. That’s between you and God. I don’t know you like God knows you, but I do know that you’re a sweet, beautiful, confident woman that has God in your heart. I can see that in you.”

She smiled as I said those sweet things to her, then I continued, “Don’t let others, especially Christians, determine your relationship with God. I mean, it’s fine to have others help and guide you to the path to God because sometimes we do need help sometimes finding it, but you’re the one that has to walk that path.”

She smiled again and said, “You know, I wasn’t expecting a therapy talk at Sheetz, it’s usually at bars these things happen at right.”

I chuckled and said, “I have to agree with you, I wasn’t expecting to get my Dr. Phil on at work. This doesn’t usually happen.”

Tatiana laughed, looked at me and said, “Thank you for the encouragement, Isaiah, I really needed it.”

“You’re welcome, Tatiana. Keep chasing your dreams, keep being confident, keep praying and pursing God, keep being spiritual not religious and keep being you.”

She thanked me again and told me that she had to go. Her friend was waiting for her in the car. I looked at my clock and realized that it was almost 8:00. We had been talking for almost 30 minutes. I couldn’t believe it. I apologized for keeping her so long, but she assured me that it was fine and that she wanted to talk to me. She was glad that we talked for so long. I was relieved, and I thanked her for making my morning at Sheetz a little more interesting.

“No problem, and if you ever come to my strip club, just ask for me, and I got you,” Tatiana smiled and winked.

I chuckled and said, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Then, we said goodbye to each other, and she walked out the door. To this day, I can’t help but miss her just like Daniel Caesar missed Priscilla. I was intrigued and mesmerized by her beauty and confidence, and all I can do is hope that I see her again at Sheetz.

That is the end of “Checking Out a Stripper: Part Two.”

Thank you for following the two-part story “Checking Out a Stripper.” Be sure to like, comment and share your thoughts on this story.

Next week, I will be telling two short stories. On Tuesday, I will be posting an interesting experience at Wendy’s that I had with a friend. On Thursday, I will be posting the short story “Is Lebron James Cute?” on the Warfield Zone. I’m excited about these two stories and can’t wait to share them.

A couple of months ago, I found myself listening to “Who Hurt You?” by Daniel Caesar, and I really enjoyed it. In my opinion, it’s such a beautiful, soulful, R&B song that has Caesar mesmerized by a woman named Priscilla. She’s a stripper that really rocked Caesar’s world, and he’s in complete awe of her. After listening to the song, I was surprised to find out that the song was actually based off of a real person that he encountered. I’ve recently been listening to the song for the past few weeks because it reminded me of my own encounter with a stripper I encountered in November of last year. I can never forget the two times that we talked and interacted with each other. We had something special that one time that we were together at Sheetz. I thought we really had something special going on. I was so mesmerized by her. It’s funny how present turns past. The way she was moving, I could tell that she loved me. I couldn’t help but touch, and I was hoping that I wasn’t doing too much. It was strange new addictions, I changed up my opinions and changed my approach. What can I say? When it rains, it pours. She just made me feel so primal. That’s what I am, I’m just a man. Just kidding, it wasn’t like that at all when I met her. It was kind of sweet, kind of wholesome, kind of exhilarating and kind of a little, just a little sexual. Let me tell you all about it.

A couple of months ago, I had to work at Sheetz on a Saturday morning. I woke up at 5:00 a.m., and I didn’t feel like getting up till 5:30 a.m. I reluctantly brushed my teeth, washed my face, got dressed and drove into work. I got there at around 5:59 a.m. and clocked in at 6:00 a.m. My shift would be from 6:00 a.m.-2:00 p.m., my normal shift on the weekends. I looked around and saw that I was working with my normal coworkers, and I went to the front to man the register. I thought to myself that it was going to be a normal day.

It was around 7:00 a.m., and it was kind of slow at Sheetz. All of sudden, this pretty woman with little clothing on came into the store. She was around the same age as me, and she was looking so fine. My coworkers and I were curious about the woman in a leather jacket, mini skirt and boots coming into Sheetz on a cold morning. Some of my coworkers felt like it was unnecessary and inappropriate for her to dress the way she did, but I wasn’t judging her. Truthfully, I was mesmerized by her. The way she was moving and walking in Sheetz, she was comfortable in her own skin. Her confidence in herself was attractive to me.

Anyways, she had a couple of drinks and snacks in her hand and started walking towards me. We made eye contact, and she gave me a sweet smile. Then, she approached my counter, set everything she had on my counter, looked at me, smiled and said, “Hi.”

Before I could respond, one of my coworkers, Bria, came up and said, “Hi, can I say that I really love your outfit, where did you get it?”

I was busy scanning her stuff, but I saw the woman look at Bria. She said, “Oh thank you, these are actually my work clothes that I—

“Oh, where do you work?” Bria interrupted.

The pretty woman looked at me, and I was interested to find out the answer. She looked at Bria and responded, “I work at a church.”

Bria said, “Wait, your church let’s you wear that? That’s so awesome, what church do you go to?”

Bria was serious too, and I could not believe that Bria couldn’t see that the woman was kidding. The woman and I couldn’t help but look at each other and laugh. The woman saw that Bria was hurt, so she looked at Bria and said, “My name’s Tatiana, and I’m a stripper.”

Bria was stunned to hear this and didn’t know what to say. She was about to ask a question, but thankfully a customer came to her register. Tatiana turned her attention to me and asked how much I owed her. I told her the total, and she started searching through her purse. As she was searching, I joked about how I thought that she was a doctor based on her clothes. She laughed and said if only. Then, I awkwardly asked her how her night was stripping.

She chuckled and responded, “It was alright. It was a decent night, I ended up going to a party afterwards. It was kind of boring, and now I’m here with my friend. She’s waiting in the car for me, and we’re heading back into the city.”

Tatiana ended up telling me that she and her friend are roommates, and she goes to a school in Pittsburgh. She told me what school she went to and what she’s studying, and I ended up telling her the same thing about me.

Thankfully, it wasn’t busy or anything, so I was cool talking to her. We were laughing and joking around a lot, then she got close to me and asked me to come closer. I got close to her, and she whispered, “You know, maybe I could arrange a private lap dance for you at my strip club.”

I immediately got uncomfortable, and I told her that I didn’t know about that. Then, she giggled, caressed my face and seductively whispered, “Or maybe I could give you a private lap dance at my place if the strip club is too much for you.”

This is the end of part one of Checking Out a Stripper. Part Two will be coming out Thursday. Be sure to like, comment and share your thoughts on “Checking Out a Stripper: Part One.”

After posting my poem titled “See You Soon,” there were people that messaged and asked me who I was referring to in the poem. Some people felt like I was talking about someone specifically in my life, so they started throwing out names of females that I was potentially talking about. One of my friends thought that I was talking about someone that I had written about on my blog. I was surprised by these interpretations, and I gave most of them “I don’t know” answers and told them that I’ll possibly talk about it on Thursday. Today is Thursday, and I’m going to talk about the story behind the poem.

I was inspired to write this poem based off a conversation I had with a friend a week ago. We were hanging out, and he was talking about how he needed a girlfriend. He was talking about a potential girl that he was interested in and how she was “the one.” Now, I didn’t take it seriously because he has over ten girls in his mind that are “the one” to him. Pretty much, every new and pretty girl that he meets and has a connection with is “the one.” Anyways, he’s talking about this new girl to me for about an hour, and he asks me how he should approach her. I tell him what he should do, and he thanks me for the advice I gave him. Then, he asked me how my love life is going.

I said, “I don’t know, it’s going, I guess. I’m kind of talking to a few girls, but nothing serious.”

My friend proceeded with saying, “Really, bro? Isaiah, when are you gonna start caring and trying to get with someone? I worry about you man. You need a girl. Tellin you dawg, you gon be a 40-year-old virgin.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, and I was telling him that it wasn’t going to happen. I wouldn’t allow it. We laughed and cracked jokes with one another and started talking about other things.

After we were done hanging out, I got in my car and headed home. As I was heading home, I was thinking about the comments my friend made about me caring. I was thinking to myself, with the exception of my momma, grandmas and aunties, that I don’t need no woman. I’m a strong, black, independent man. I’m loving the single life and everything about it. I’m saving money, I got time for writing and photography and I’m living my best life. Life’s good. I don’t need some girl to ruin that for me.

However, my tune quickly changed when I was listening to some love songs on the radio. I don’t remember what the love songs were, but they had me in my feelings. I thought to myself that maybe my friend was right about me needing to care. I do want to meet the love of my life, I do want to fall in love with that person, get married, have kids with that person and share the rest of my life with her. I want and need love.

When I got home, I started having mixed feelings because I wondered if me caring was a good idea. The reason being is because I don’t want to obsess over finding someone in my life and allowing it to dictate my happiness in life. I have a couple of friends who are obsessed with having a girlfriend, and I feel like they just decide to settle for anyone that they have the littlest connection with because they’ve allowed their obsession to control their decisions.

For instance, last summer, one of my friends got in a three maybe four-month relationship with a girl at a party. He told me that they made out at the party, and he realized that she was the one because they made out and had a little connection at a party. He was telling me this story, and he was excited about his new relationship. I was being a good friend to him by expressing my excitement for his new relationship. In reality, I thought that he was making a mistake because I didn’t think that his new relationship was going to last. She didn’t sound like “the one” to me. She wasn’t someone that I envisioned my friend having a long-term relationship with. Of course, I didn’t tell him my doubts because I didn’t want to ruin his happiness in having his first girlfriend. It was a special moment for him, and I hoped that I was wrong with my thinking. Sadly, in October, she ended up breaking up with him and being with someone else. He was heartbroken, and I tried my best to comfort and assure him that it’s not the end of the world for him. He’ll find someone else who is perfect and right for him.

Anyways, I thought about the friends in my life that obsess over having a girlfriend, and it was kind of depressing to me because their happiness is dependent on someone else rather than with themselves. That’s kind of scary to me. So, I said to myself, “There are two points on the spectrum of finding ‘the one.’ One point is carelessness, while the other point is obsession. How do you put yourself in the middle?”

I didn’t find the answer that night. Instead, I went to bed curious about my own little question.

On Monday, I actually found the answer that I was seeking in the Bible. I was reading Proverbs, one of my favorite books in the Bible, and I found myself drawn to a specific scripture.

Proverbs 23:1-3. It reads,

1. When you sit down to dine with a ruler, Consider carefully what is [set] before you;
2. For you will put a knife to your throat, If you are a man of great appetite.
3. Do not desire his delicacies, For it is deceptive food [offered to you with questionable motives]

This scripture is about controlling your appetite and not allowing yourself to be tempted with the “delicacies” that are presented to you. It’s about questioning what you put in your body and determining if the “delicacies” are just a mere distraction that someone is offering to you. Your appetite is a weakness because it shows you to be a weak and susceptible person, and the individual that presented the “delicacies” to you can capitalize on your weakness. It’s important to be cautious and show restraint by not giving in and eating everything you see presented to you.

Relating this scripture to finding “the one,” I realize that it’s okay to occasionally care and be interested in someone that I meet. I won’t develop an obsession with finding “the one” because I’ll be careful who I choose to dine with. Also, it’s just a matter of making sure that I’m cautious to what a girl’s presenting to me and determining if a girl’s intentions with me are innocent and pure. I realize that I have to care a little to find “the one”, but I don’t need to obsess.

To conclude, I do care about the love of my life and the future mother of my kids. I don’t know who that person is, but I know that I’m not going to obsess over her because our time will come. In the end, my poem titled “See You Soon” is about my future wife that I will always pray for, care about and love unconditionally.

Thank you for taking the time to read “The Story Behind ‘See You Soon.’” Be sure to like, comment and share your thoughts on this story.

Next week, I will be posting part one of a two-part story called “Checking Out a Stripper” on Tuesday. Then, I will be posting part two on Thursday.