In Memory of Prince

        In two weeks it will be two months since the untimely passing of Prince. Today would’ve been his 58th birthday. This is the only celebrity death that has shook me up. I’m still bummed out about it because I thought we’d have him around for a longer time.

        I'll always remember getting picked up from school as my father drove us home blasting his Very Best of Prince CD. Mom got it for him as a Christmas gift when I was in the 4th grade. That was my first time being introduced to Prince and I hated him. It was hard for me to respect Prince because I knew nothing about him. He was mysterious and weird. I didn’t understand his obsession with the color purple, I didn’t get the whole name change to symbol thing and I found it hard to believe that he held a candle to Michael Jackson in his prime.

        Dad and I would often have debates about who's more talented between Prince and Kanye. All Dad did was rebuke Kanye for relying on sampling and then say "Prince plays instruments” before going on about how he makes all of his music from scratch. Mom would hop in and bring up the fact that Prince has performed at the Super Bowl, a feat which she believes Kanye will never achieve. Maybe one day… Dad wouldn’t even mention Prince’s dance moves. I honestly didn’t know he could dance until I saw Purple Rain. The “Let’s Go Crazy” scene was a big surprise. I’ve never seen any concert footage and because of his beef with YouTube, I didn’t think he had a lot of music videos. It was hard for me to see or hear his work, all I had was Dad’s CD and the radio. 

        As the years went on my hate turned into a respectful indifference. When I found out that Chris Rock is a huge Prince fan, I looked more into “The Purple One.” I said to myself “this guy has to be a big deal if Chris Rock and my father, two people whom I admire, are fans of his.” It took me 18 years to finally appreciate his greatness. Last year, I wrote a tribute to Prince and Purple Rain as part of a Black History Month series the school paper was doing. For that article I watched Purple Rain twice and I listened to nothing but the soundtrack for a whole weekend. Through all of this I was able to see that all the praise was more than warranted. I became a fan. That summer I got 1999, Dirty Mind and the Batman soundtrack. It was like I discovered a treasure that’s been around since before my time. Writing that article brought out a special moment between my father and I. It made him proud and my newfound admiration for the artist I once hated brought us closer. The way my father put me on to Prince is the same way I’ll put my kid(s) on to Kanye. I might play Late Registration in the delivery room so I can tell them what song played as they were brought into the world.  

What I like about Prince is his productivity and his realness. At the age of 18 Prince signed a record deal with Warner Bros. and his debut album, For You, was released when he was 19. Since then he went on to create 39 albums and he has an entire vault of unreleased work. This is a guy who released an album every year and then some. He wrote his first song at 7 and he played all 27 instruments on his debut album. He’s got a lot to say and he loves what he does. You can’t help but respect someone like that. Prince was also never afraid to be himself. He wasn’t weird because he was a pretentious artist, that’s just who he was. All of the flamboyancy, the hyper sexuality, the reclusiveness, all of that was Prince being Prince. It wasn’t a gimmick or a stage persona.  

        It’s become a life goal to experience something as epic as the climax of Purple Rain. It’s on my list of the most impactful things I’ve ever seen. The “Purple Rain” performance, the close ups of Billy and the crowd’s reaction, The Kid storming off stage and having the audience roaring for him to come back on stage... it’s all so powerful. And when he leaves his dressing room he locks eyes with Apollonia who looks at him as if to say “You did it, babe” Oh my goodness it’s all so triumphant!

        I always told myself that if I made it I would introduce Dad to Prince, but now that's not a possibility. I wanted to thank him. I wanted to thank him for bringing me and my father closer, for helping me better appreciate music and artistry and for using his God given gifts to change the world. 

Catching the Big Kahuna

During my senior year of high school I applied to the Film and Television program at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts. On March 28^th, 2014 I received the following email:

Last fall I applied to the Department of Dramatic Writing at NYU and on May 16^th, 2016 I received this email:

Getting into NYU is a dream come true. It’s been a long journey to get to this point, but unfortunately, the road ends here.

When I was 8 I traded in my hoop dreams for dreams of a career making movies. Before I even got to high school I did research on colleges with the best film programs. I looked up all the colleges that my heroes went to. I wanted to know where they went so I could follow in their footsteps. I wrote a list of the alma maters of George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, Matt Groening, Seth Macfarlane and Spike Lee to name a few. While doing my research I found one place in particular kept showing up. A school in the Northeast which taught the likes of Spike Lee, Woody Allen, Martin Scorsese and Neil Simon. That school was NYU.

NYU has always been a dream. There were other film schools I was looking at, but NYU was the Big Kahuna. I didn’t set my sights on the big name schools out West. Although for a brief period of time I did want to go to UCLA. But I felt that move would be too overwhelming and the LA culture wasn’t a good fit for me. There was something about New York that I found enchanting. It’s a city that boasts so much history and culture. It’s where the Harlem Renaissance took place. It’s the home of the Apollo Theater and Broadway. It’s where many writers and entertainers started their careers. I saw New York City as the ultimate hub of creativity. I thought that all the greats earn their stripes in the Big Apple. With that being said I knew I had to go to a school that was in the middle of it all.

When I first applied to NYU I knew the odds were stacked against me. I wasn’t a brainiac in high school and I had little serious film experience. The best I had to show for were my extracurricular activities and the stories I had written. Despite this I was still hopeful that would be more than enough to get in. Once I hit submit I started fantasizing about the day when I would wake up in the city that never sleeps. I often dreamt about walking around Washington Square Park and frequenting comedy clubs in Greenwich Village. I wanted to go to a Knick game on a school night. I wanted to hear authentic New York dialects and eat New York pizza. I listened to “New York, New York” by Frank Sinatra and it made me feel like I was already there. The day that I got the rejection, I was hurt but by that time I knew I wouldn’t be able to attend anyway because the cost of attendance was way out of budget.

I ended up going to a state university and I did my thing there. I wrote for the school paper and I excelled in class. All the while I still had my eyes on NYU. I knew I was going to re-apply; I just had to wait for the right moment. During my freshman year I applied to my school’s film school and I got rejected. It frustrated me but I took it as a sign that NYU was really meant to be. That summer I went back to the drawing board and looked up the deadlines to apply as a transfer student. Fall 2015 should’ve been called Redemption Time, because I spent all of my free time making sure I made the best comeback possible.

The deadline to apply as a transfer student was April 1^st. I had everything ready and submitted in November. For six months I anxiously waited, praying that I’d get an early response. I was disappointed to hear the decisions don’t come out until May. Not only was the wait too long, but it gave me barely enough time to make the proper adjustments if I were to go. I called NYU’s admissions office so many times that you would think they were on speed dial. I wanted to make sure that everything was handled on my end. I didn’t want any funny business happening when it came time to review my application. Sure enough, days before May and the start of Finals week, I call admissions and they tell me that I need to submit a new transcript and mid-term report or else my application won’t be reviewed. Once that happened, the school lost all of its majesty. I had to scramble all around campus to get signatures from my professors and get a transcript sent. I got everything done and submitted within 24 hours after receiving the news. This was rock bottom for me. I felt like all of my efforts to get things done early were a waste of time. My desire to go to NYU was at an all-time low and I grew disheartened. It didn’t help that it took about two weeks for my transcripts to be processed. At this time school was already over and we were in the beginning days of May.

I expected to be the first applicant to receive a decision. And since the decisions started rolling in May, I thought on May 2^nd I would know whether or not I got accepted. For two weeks I went about my days not knowing the results. I had people asking me if I heard anything since April so it became increasingly annoying to respond with “not yet.” There was nothing that could take my mind off the decision. It was one of the first things I thought of in the morning and one of my last thoughts before going to sleep.   

On the morning of May 16^th I was eating breakfast before heading to class. Something told me to check my email and when I did I saw that my admission decision was in. I immediately called Sunshine and told her the decision was finally in. When I read the letter I thought I got rejected because it didn’t start with the words “Congratulations.” Once I saw “it is my honor and privilege,” my heart started pounding and a smile grew across my face so wide that the corners of my lips could’ve touched.

I did it! I got in, I finally got in!!! After two years of hard work and dreaming I finally got in!

It was hard for me to sit in class that day. All I wanted to do was tell the world that I have been accepted into NYU and start apartment hunting. Mom said she cried tears of joy when I told her the news. We entertained the thought of me going for about three days. Mom reached out to my cousin in Brooklyn and asked about the best places to live. Manhattan was out of the question because an apartment there is usually around $1,200 a month. My current rent is $389 before utilities. My cousin suggested Crown Heights and Bed Stuy. We even considered me living in Jersey and taking a train to campus every day.

During that time I really believed I was going to NYU in the fall. Then reality hit. After the celebratory high wore off, it didn’t take long for the details and fine print to make us reconsider.  The cost of attendance was sky high so taking out a loan was inevitable. Yes, I had some scholarship money coming in, but it still wasn’t enough. The reality of the situation was if I went to NYU I’d graduate with a six figure debt looming over my head as opposed to finishing my two years where I’m at and getting out with a degree and no debt at all.

It was tough to come to terms with all of this. I still wanted to go, but the facts were hard to ignore. Also, I didn’t have any type of beckoning that told me NYU was the right move. There was no sign, no voice in my head aside from my own and that voice was a mere whisper. The choice was mine and I decided not to go. I was disappointed because I felt like I didn’t put up enough of a fight. If this is my dream school, I should be doing everything I can to be able to go. I should be applying for scholarships left and right. I should be looking at all the apartments in the boroughs and contacting everyone I know in New York. I wanted to fight for it, but I’ve been fighting since August and frankly, I was getting tired. The battle was over. I won, but it didn’t feel like I did.  

I wanted to go to NYU so bad because I believed that was the best place for me to be. The location was perfect and the networking opportunities were endless. It was the perfect career move and I’d be an idiot to turn that down. This whole experience has taught me a great lesson in patience. Ever since high school I wanted nothing more than to skip everything and go straight to my career. That feeling remains to this day. I saw NYU as a ticket out, a chance to start working on my goals. Well, there’s no rush. I have to enjoy the moment while I can and not worry about the future. After all, writer’s need to live life and gain experience. If something is meant to be, it will happen. Even if it’s not in a clear-cut way. NYU is a great opportunity, but it isn’t the only opportunity. I can make career moves anywhere I go and still get where I want to be. I need to stay where I’m at and work harder to make the most out of my situation. I guess all this work was put in for me to find out that I am good enough. I am good enough to get into a revered program at one of the most prominent universities in America. I am on the same level as these kids and knowing that is more than enough for me to keep going.

So for now, I’m enjoying my summer and relishing in the fact that I got in to NYU. Even though I won’t be going, it’s still an honor and a great achievement. I’d like to thank all of you who supported me through this journey and encouraged me to remain optimistic. A special shout out goes to my good friend Jordan and Sunshine for believing in me more than I believed in myself. I love you all. I can’t find my acceptance booklet, but when I do, I’m taking it to Tally with me and putting it on my desk. 

A Tribute to My Teens

So I’m 20 now and I don’t feel any different. I can’t say I feel older. I mean, not much has changed physically since I turned 18. I haven’t cut my hair since then. Sunshine, Mom and Granny Sainvil want me to cut it, but that’s not happening anytime soon. I tried rocking a mustache for a while but that was a disaster. I thought I looked smooth. Like Billy Dee Williams or Eddie Murphy in Boomerang. Instead I ended up looking like a creepy uncle stuck in the 70s. My friend Eddie told me I looked like Richard Pryor, so that was a plus.

Anyway, turning 20 is cool I guess. In the words of my dear friend, Franco “It’s like turning 19 twice.” It’s funny how birthdays aren’t the same as anniversaries. If that were the case, we’d be celebrating the 21st anniversary of mass media releases and historical events instead of the 20th. When I was 12 the only things I thought of when I heard the word “teenager” were high school, hormones and mood swings. I had high expectations for those years. I often raved about how I was gonna take high school by storm. I was gonna be The Man. I was gonna be a D1 bound basketball player who dated the head cheerleader (or whoever the finest girl in school was) and we were going to be named Prom King and Queen. I accomplished none of those things. That’s not to say that I haven’t achieved much. (I’d be a bitter, bitter man if that were so). In my teenage years, I won accolades for writing, started this blog, travelled, went to college and met the love of my life. And that’s barely scratching the surface. I also launched a successful rap career—that “Watch Out Freestyle” had the streets on smash in Norway—but that’s a story for another post.

Yesterday Mom asked me what my favorite age as a teenager was. I’d have to say it was when I was 16. My junior year of high school was definitely one for the books. Everything from the All-Star game, College Tour and my AP U.S. History class was a blast. 19 is a close second because last summer and this school year were legendary. Despite all that I’ve done, there are still a few things I’ll never get to experience as a teen. Here are some things I wish I did as a teenager but didn’t do and wouldn’t do even if I had the chance:

1.       Take my parent's car out without them knowing.

2.       Throw a house party when my parents are out of town.

3.       Take a date to a drive-in movie and not watch the movie (keep it PG-13, people).

4.       Get wasted.

5.       Go to a new school, fight the head jock and dethrone him, take his girl then teach the whole school a lesson about self-acceptance before breaking out into a big musical dance number in the cafeteria.

I guess I did #4, but not really. The closest thing I got to being wasted was drinking two tall boys of “Redd’s Strawberry Ale” way too fast while playing NBA 2K15. It wasn’t necessarily a bad time, but I ended up vomiting and singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” with my head in my neighbor’s toilet. Sorry, Mom.

There’s a lyric Andre 3000 rapped that stuck with me all year “I’m 19 with a Cadillac.” That line was said in the song “A Life in the Day of Benjamin Andre.” It tells the story of OutKast’s beginnings, 3000’s life change during the making of ATLiens, and his relationship with Erykah Badu. That lyric put things in perspective. It showed me that there are people my age and younger who are making moves. Right now there are guys younger than me entering the NBA draft. “I’m 19 with a Corolla” I thought to myself. “What moves am I going to make?” Tyler, the Creator bought a house at 22. Am I on track to do that? Here I go again, worrying myself before anything actually happens. I’m looking forward to seeing what my twenties will bring. The “Dirty Thirties” don’t seem too fun. Thank you all for the love and support you’ve given me through the years. There’s still more Mix to come and plenty of stories to tell.

This picture has nothing to do with the post. I just love this picture. I've been had the Dirty Sprite before Future. Been sipping on some sizzurp before Three 6 Mafia. Been had the drink in my cup before Kirko Bangz. All jokes, people. Just jokes..