DudeFresh looks back on Thirst Responsibly's Anniversary

Today marks the anniversary of “Thirst Responsibly: Finessing on Social Media in the21st Century with ThatDude” I still remember that night like it was yesterday.

I was in my apartment just waiting for the clock to strike midnight so that I could publish the post. I was on the phone with Eddie throughout the whole night. Minutes before it came out I called every friend I had who used Twitter and asked them for a favor. As part of a last second promotional idea I asked everyone to post a tweet with the following: a link to “Thirst Responsibly,” followed by a #HappyBirthdayTaleen, and finally a tag to Taleen herself. The plan was to get her followers to retweet this and do the same. Much to my surprise, it didn’t take long for Taleen to respond. She was confused at first as to why “an article was written about her” but I quickly clarified the situation so that Eddie and I didn’t look like creeps. The idea was a great success. She retweeted everyone but Eddie—much to his chagrin—and she tweeted about Thirst Responsibly telling everyone to read it. We got 300 views within the first hour and once I saw that I fell to the floor. “We did it!” That’s all I kept saying to Eddie over the phone. I felt like I won the NBA Finals, a Grammy and an Oscar all at once.

The inspiration for “Thirst Responsibly” came after I stumbled across a girl on Twitter. I’m sure most of you know the story by now, if not read the Dedication section. Anyway, what made Taleen the spark of all this was the fact that I was crushing on someone who didn’t know me and lived on the other side of the country and I wasn’t alone. She had a legion of fans whom she doesn’t follow back and we’re all okay with that. Some of them are grown men. The whole thing is sad and kind of funny. While is nothing necessarily wrong with following and admiring the Taleen’s of the world, there is a way one must conduct themselves in order to retain a sense of self-respect and respect for the one admired. That’s is the dogma of Thirst Responsibly. The title “Thirst Responsibly” came to us after days of conceptualizing. I wish I could tell you where and when it was first brought up but I honestly don’t remember.

I shouted out Andre’s blog post on Twitter in the beginning because I drew a lot of inspiration from it. To me, that is a perfect post. Not only does it get its point across eloquently its content is relevant to this day. That post is almost two years now and it still holds truth. After reading Andre’s blog numerous times I knew I wanted to create something that had a clear and elaborated message and can withstand the test of time.

Eddie and I put a lot of time into the making of “Thirst Responsibly.” We didn’t know how we were going to tackle the subject at first. We originally planned on doing a “Do’s and Don’ts” type article but what we had to say was too long for that kind of format. The Seven Deadly Sins of Thirsting was inspired by the movie, Se7en. I wanted to create something along the lines of the Ten Commandments for social media, but we couldn’t think of ten things. Plus, we figured doing a Ten Commandments was a bit sacrilegious. So Seven Sins it was!

We added all of those pictures to back up what we were saying. Otherwise you would’ve thought we were making it all up. It also wouldn’t make sense for us to have no evidence of something in which we actively participate in. I added my own follies to show you the realness of it all. We too have stumbled and committed these sins. Not all, but most. Eddie was behind editing most of the pictures. We accumulated a decent folder of screenshots and a week before the release I drove to Gainesville and we put the finishing touches on the post. It took nearly half the day to crop the pictures and add them to the post so that they complement the words and visually look appealing.

The day “Thirst Responsibly” came out was easily one of the greatest days of my life. There are few things I have done which I am as proud of as this. I wouldn’t hesitate to do it all over again despite the trouble it got me in with Sunshine (love you, babe!). On behalf of DudeFresh, we thank you all for being a part of something special and hope that “Thirst Responsibly” still makes you smile when you read it. Here’s to one year and the many more to come. Keep spreading the word and educating the masses.

Much love,

Deion   

      ThatDude here,

      The release of “Thirst Responsibly” is one of the proudest moments of my 20 year career and will probably continue to be so for years. Even the birth of my first born son would stand second behind the release of this ground breaking article. I remember the day it was released and the mix of emotions that came with it. 

      When we first released it, I was excited, overflowing with anticipation.  Like my good friend Deion, I was asking each of my friends to tweet the article link, with #HappyBirthdayTaleen and tagging her in the post. Then, Deion called me saying that Taleen had responded. I was so sure that it was something positive, saying “Thank you guys” or something along those lines. Nah. It was “so there’s an article written about me…” or something along those lines. My excitement had done a 180 and become dreading and nervousness. Was she thinking that we were creeps? Was the article not going to be received as well as Deion and I thought it was going to be. My uneasiness then turned into suspicion. Did she even read the article? 

      For all of you that have read it, you’ll agree that it’s long. This isn’t something you skim on the bus on the way to work. This is something you put a robe on for, light a candle and sit in a LazyBoy type of reading. There’s no way she read the article in such a short amount of time, she probably saw the tweets and was confused…fairly enough too. Fortunately, Deion was able to clarify the real point of the article and she responded. WE GOT RETWEETS OF THE ARTICLE…SHE GAVE ALMOST EVERYONE A RETWEET. You get a retweet! You get a retweet! Everyone gets a retweet!!!! Everyone except…the co-author of the post who got nothing. I was (and still am) salty about that. I bring it up to Deion randomly to this day. I get it, I don’t use Twitter that often, and my 30 something followers is less than impressive, but dammit I co-wrote that so where was my retweet?! (Note: I could have gone onto my twitter to see how many followers I do have, but this better shows how little I use it.) So Taleen, if you’re reading this, a long overdue shout out to @Imthatdude1218 would be well appreciated. The first day was crazy, we got 300 hits within no time. If any of my other blog posts even gets to 200 within a lifetime, I’ll double click my heels in midair while doing a fist pump. Never have I slept so soundly on a college dormitory mattress until that day. This was a much greater experience than I could have imagined.

      The creation was a long process. I don’t think I’ve spent more time on a project than I have for “Thirst Responsibly.” It didn’t take hours, it didn’t take days, it didn’t take weeks, it didn’t even take fortnights (2 weeks). It took months, ladies and gentlemen. But like any good project, being able to put my name on the final product was well worth it. Even gathering photos was a time consuming process. Finding comments to screenshot was the easy part. The hard part and time consuming part was that there was so much thirst going on in the page, it was hard to pick just one and the right one. If I wanted to, I could have done a 100 picture slideshow of some of the comments that goes down in Instagram, alone, let alone with Twitter. It was during this search of pictures that I really understood why we were doing this. It gets aggressive in the comments section. If some of these people’s mommas saw what they put, they would drag them by the ear, take them to the nearest church, and bathe them in holy water. It doesn’t just cross the line sometimes. It spits on the line, stomps it, and laughs at its face. “Thirst Responsibly” was written for these people.

      “Thirst Responsibly” will be a ride that I’ll one day tell my grand kids all about as I pull it from my bookshelf with a Pulitzer Prize Award right next to it. Within a year, we got 1,000 hits with very limited advertising. We got the product out, and now it’s time to get it published. The journey of “Thirst Responsibly” has just begun.

Dude out.

I Got a Story to Tell

      So Tuesday was my friend Khan’s birthday. I’m not always good with birthday wishes, but I try to send them whenever I can. I was thinking of sending him a birthday wish through Facebook but I decided to make it a little more personal and send a text. I looked through my contacts and sent him this:

      Minutes later his brother texts me from the same number. Turns out Khan’s number changed. No problem. I forward my message to the number that the brother gave me and this is the response I received:

      Now, if you know Khan, you would think that he’s just messing around and pulling my leg. No, my friends and I don’t play fight over text. We don’t play fight at all. But Khan has a unique sense of humor and something like that wouldn’t be unusual coming from him. So, being the good sport that I am, I decide to play along. 

      Once he ended it with that message I grew suspicious that I was given the wrong number. I message Khan on Snapchat telling him I wasn’t sure if he was pulling a prank on me or not but I wish him a happy birthday anyways. He responds that he wasn’t pranking me and gave me his real number. 

Uh oh..

      So I text the wrong number and threatened him thinking it was all a ruse. “Okay, welp, that’s the end of that” I thought to myself. But I was still confused as to why this person responded to me like that. Why was he so hostile? A simple, I think you have the wrong number would’ve sufficed. Maybe that’s how they do it over there (both he and Khan’s numbers start with 402 which is a Nebraska area code). I just shrugged it off and thought the guy was strange and went about my business. In case you were wondering, Khan had a great birthday. 

      Yesterday I was chilling at my cousin’s house when I got a call from a random number. The person was calling me about an ad I posted on Craigslist. I told the person that she must have the wrong number because I never posted an ad on Craigslist. Seconds later I got another call for the same reason. I told that person the same thing and hung up. Right after that the first person called asking me if I was Khan and told me about the ad. I told her that it wasn’t me and ask her to send me a picture of the ad posted. 

      I may not watch a lot of detective dramas, but it doesn’t take a sleuth to figure out who the culprit is here. So I called buddy from yesterday and he didn’t answer. Instead he hits me with this:

      So now he’s pulling the soccer mom/defenseless elderly woman card. Now he’s playing the victim. How are you going to talk about beating my ass and then put your tail in between your legs when I talk about murking you? That doesn’t make any sense. The more I’m thinking about it, the more I’m starting to wonder if this guy has severe multiple personality disorder. 

      When he finally answered my phone calls he sounded like a petrified white guy who’s been pissing himself since the other day. I told him how it was all a big misunderstanding and he said he didn’t believe me and that I am being “very soft spoken now.” He also denied having anything to do with the Craigslist ad which pissed me off. It’s one thing to call me names (which I don’t take well), but don’t insult my intelligence and DO NOT make me out to be something that I am not. Our conversation didn’t go anywhere. He ended it by saying “Alright, tough guy, this conversation is over.”

      I immediately called the cops and they directed me to the non-emergency line because I guess if you’re not in distress at the moment, 911 doesn’t have time for you. Ladies and gentlemen, the only reason why I contacted the police instead of Craigslist was because I wanted to beat buddy to it just in case he really did contact them. Yeah, I may have “done more than the situation called for” but the way I saw it I was the one who sent the incriminating text message. I mean, the text is plain as day. If someone read that “murked” line, they would think it’s a serious threat. I might as well plead my case now before anyone gets the wrong impression, feel me? And also, how many of you grew up knowing about a non-emergency number for 911? I DIDN’T FREAKING KNOW. Sure, what I was going through wasn’t an emergency but it’s not like I called the cops to vent my frustrations with a complete stranger. Give me a break. 

      Mind you, I was going through all of this B.S. on an empty stomach. It was like 10:38 when my cousin and I went to McDonald’s. I asked for a Southern Chicken Biscuit and I couldn’t get it. They told me they’re serving lunch now. Yo, McDonald’s, why is it that I can get a chicken breast with mayo and lettuce on that weird bread you use but I can’t get it plain on a biscuit? You serve Hot Cakes all day but a brother can’t get a McChicken on a biscuit?!

Anyways…

      After constant re-directions and being put on hold for people with real emergencies I was finally able to tell a cop my story. While this was taking place, I had the people texting me all day about the ad flag the post. 

Deion, that would’ve solved the problem right there. You could’ve done that all along without getting the police involved. I mean, did you REALLY think that guy was serious about calling the cops? You did too much. What did you think they were going to do about it? 

      I dunno, find out where the guy lives and burn him at the stake… maybe line him up in front of a firing squad, TP his house, break into his home in the middle of the night and put a plastic cover over his toilet seat so that when he takes a leak it bounces back in his face. I don’t freaking know! All I know is this guy ruined my morning and got off scot-free. It’s injustice, I tell ya!

      The officer called the guy and he said that he’s fine and he knows that no harm was meant to be done. He only wishes to be left alone. I asked the officer if anything was gonna happen to the guy for disturbing my peace and she said that they can’t do anything because there’s no real evidence of him being involved with the ad even though the dots line up perfectly. I asked her if I could at least write about this and she said I could but advised me not to. She told me that it’s over and I should just let it die. Sorry officer, but I don’t play that. 

      Maybe it’s all the Kodak I’ve been listening to lately but if that guy were local I would’ve pulled up to his address for a friendly hello. And I would’ve had some friendly chaps with me. We’d do a lot of talking and at the end of it all, we’d reach a good understanding. Then we can part ways and never speak to each other again. 

      But in all seriousness (because I don’t know if the Feds are reading this and I can’t afford to possibly incriminate myself for the second time), to the fellow I had the pleasure of texting and talking on the phone with, I wish you well. Maybe one day we’ll cross paths. I’ll be doing a book signing and you’ll be in the magazine section suspiciously taking pictures of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition spreads on your flip phone. I won’t know it’s you until we accidentally bump into each other and I say sorry and you’ll timidly say “Just leave me alone” at that point I’ll pause for a moment and ask you to say “you’re very soft spoken right now” after you say it I’ll light up and say “Shane? Craigslist, Playing the Victim Shane from Nebraska, is that you?!”

      Afterwards we’ll catch up and have lunch at Applebee’s. Sunshine would’ve come, but she thinks you’re creepy. I won’t pay for you, but at least we’ll enjoy the lemonade if not each other’s company. I’ll ask you what you’re doing for a living and you’ll tell me you’ve been unemployed for four years and have been trying to find work in marketing. Suits you best because that Craigslist ad sure had the people flocking! You might ask me for a job and I’ll pretend to consider. I might even go as far as to giving you a fake number before dropping you off at a street corner nearest to the local homeless shelter. Gotta beat that line! Early bird gets the worm, eh?   

But until then, Shane, I hope you stub your pinky toe today.  

Connor Towne on Durant's Departure

This week marks the six year anniversary of The Decision. It was a move that had the sports world going bonkers and the hate for LeBron James grew exponentially overnight. It’s been less than a week since Kevin Durant’s decision to join the Golden State Warriors and there isn't nearly half as much anarchy over this. I call bull.

I’m not seeing enough KD scorn and jerseys being burned. This guy is one of the best players on the planet and we just let him slide with everything he does. If he’s wrong he might get a slap on the wrist. Meanwhile, if LeBron James passed gas in an empty elevator people would lose their minds. People are so blind in their hate for LeBron that they have the nerve to compare KD’s move to LeBron going to Miami. Apples and oranges.

This guy has the mental toughness of a sea sponge and people wanna call out LeBron for not having a killer instinct? I always thought KD was soft. I knew he was the moment he cried on his mom’s shoulders after losing in the Finals. Since then every little hissy fit he had with the media reinforced my belief.

The bottom line is Kevin Durant always gets a pass. He always does and I guess he always will. July 4^th was a dark day for the NBA. I believe Jusuf Nurkic put it best:

But enough about what Jusuf and I think. Here’s what my good friend and loyal Thunder fan Connor Towne has to say about it:

      The thought really crossed my mind. This jersey that I cherished, the gift my girlfriend just recently purchased for me last Christmas, the symbol of my once favorite player lost its meaning. It's July 4th and I didn't hold back the thoughts of tying this jersey to a firework and setting it off. 

      The second I saw Kevin Durant post his Player's Tribune article to his Twitter, I yelled out a select few words my mother wouldn't be proud of. I didn't even have to open up the article. I actually didn't read it until several hours later. I knew KD's decision because of a tweet right above @KDTrey5's. It read "Ohh man! OKC fans are about to explode!" and that is all I needed to read. My girlfriend laid next to me in bed as I shuttered in disbelief. She asked me, "Did Kevin Durant leave?" She had known that his decision was consuming my every moment whenever there was a new update. I told her that he did, but then she asked, "Where to?" I didn't even have to respond. She just looked at me in the same disbelief knowing that he had left to go to Golden State.

      I have been an Oklahoma City fan since their move from Seattle. No, I was not a SuperSonics fan before the relocation, which is understandable (if you find a Seattle fan who stayed loyal to the Thunder then please let me know). I have been called a bandwagon fan many times before, but that's simply not true. I was a fan of this team when they were 23-59 in their first year in the Midwest and I am still a fan now, even after Kevin Durant ditched us. No, I am not from Oklahoma City or anywhere near. I am from Orlando and I grew up in Central Florida, but that does not mean I can't grow to love a franchise somewhere a thousand miles away. 

      The way Kevin Durant played with the Thunder reeled me in. Sure, he was in his second season by the time he played in the Orange and Blue, but the way he carried himself was special. He was not the typical superstar basketball player. He was the nice guy and he carried that persona around for many years, until recently. I feel as if my last great memory of Kevin Durant was when I watched the live stream on my phone of his 2014 MVP speech. 

      KD used to be the family friendly face of the NBA. I don't know what happened with that image, but it faded after that speech. Next thing I knew, KD was becoming offended by every meme of him that scrolled across the computer screen. Then he's replying to every Stephen A. critique and Skip Bayless insult. It was at this moment that I realized that KD really was as weak-minded as a 16 year old girl who just set up a new ask.fm account & that idea was only confirmed when I saw his Player's Tribune article posted on July 4th.

      I must have spent a good hour watching "expert" reaction videos right after the news broke. My personal favorite was Stephen A. Smith's reaction. Throw a solid handful of large vocabulary words in to my rants and all of the sudden Stephen A. & I are the same person. Other experts were trying to remain professional about the situation. They didn't want to take it too far. Stephen A. kept it real and he was right. It was the weakest move by an NBA Superstar that we have ever seen.

      KD supporters, what's your argument? How is it a "strong" move? Even you can't tell me that. You'll tell me, "He wanted a ring and he wasn't getting one in Oklahoma."... And right there you reinforce it being the weakest move by an NBA superstar. Kevin would have gotten that ring. If you disagree then you probably spend more time watching Soccer & the Premier League than you do watching the NBA. You're under the impression that only big market teams will win and that's how it will always be. With that, I'll send a belated "Thank You!" to Jamie Vardy and the rest of Leicester City. Any team can win at any given point and I can GUARANTEE that Oklahoma City had better odds to win the 2017 NBA Finals than Leicester did winning the 2016 Premier League.

      I'm not too angry that Kevin Durant left the Thunder. I have grown to become a bigger Russell Westbrook fan over the years so as long as he is on the team then I'm still content. But that's all that I am; content. The Thunder really would have won that championship and they still would have had a great opportunity to contend without KD, if Kevin chose to go to Boston, Miami, or even his hometown in the capital of this great country. Durant didn't even give the Wizards a look though. They weren't shiny enough for him. They didn't win a championship recently, but most importantly, they weren't the team that came back from a 3-1 deficit to defeat his team. Had the Wizards done that, they would have their hometown hero back in D.C. 

Durant gave good years to Oklahoma. It's understandable if he chose to leave because he almost spent a whole decade in OKC. That's not the issue here. He could have gone to Boston. Spent some good years with Al Horford, Isaiah Thomas, and upcoming coaching genius Brad Stevens. The constant Slim Reaper vs. King James headlines would have been great for the league. He could have gone to Miami. Dwyane Wade would have stayed put and we wouldn't have Miami fans whining as if it's 70 degrees outside and they can't find their jackets. There would have been an even better storyline asking if Pat Riley found LeBron's replacement. The NBA would have been in a state of euphoria and everything would have been hunky-dory. That won't happen though, unfortunately. Because he went to the Bay. Newsflash KD, the Warriors didn't need you. Even more so, they didn't need to give you a max deal either. That max deal wasn't spent to get you on their team. That max deal was spent to get you OFF the Thunder. Jerry West even told you that they didn't NEED you there. He just told you that it would be nice having you. What a sales pitch, huh? Good choice, Kevin. I can see how they really swooned you.

      KD has never been held to the high standard as he should, and I'll say the same about Steph Curry. These guys are league MVP's. I might be acting too harsh on this because for the foreseeable past, most MVP's have been given to LeBron. I like holding MVP's to that standard, but KD gets a pass by everyone. I gave him this pass too, until now. I was wrong for it, obviously just because I was a blinded fan of the Thunder but it's not okay. LeBron is consistently chastised about his every move even if they really aren't that bad. "The Decision"? Yeah, he raised a lot of money for the Boys and Girls Club of America at the same time. That argument is invalid. Stop vilifying LeBron if you're going to embrace Kevin Durant.

      To bring up another point that I find myself debating about too many times, many fans put too much value on winning championships or getting rings. Rings DO NOT define greatness. There's a long list of legendary sport figures who have never won a ring. For instance, Reggie Miller never won a championship. What he did do was spend his entire career with the Indiana Pacers building a legacy that Pacers fans and NBA fans alike will never forget. In my opinion, what Reggie did is greater than winning a single ring. He left behind a legacy and a whole lot of history, even some moments that made for a damn good 30-for-30 almost 2 decades later. 

      Kevin Durant could have done that. In fact, he could have still won that championship while doing what Reggie did in the 90's. He could have been the Kobe Bryant of Oklahoma City. These are all things he left behind. His legacy will never be the same and it won't ever be able to recover. The Thunder was his team. Oklahoma City was his kingdom, but he wanted to do his own thing. He isn't Reggie Miller and he will never be Kobe Bryant. So brace yourselves for the biggest team bust in NBA history. I thought I was happy seeing the Mavericks take down the 2011 Miami Heat, but I can guarantee you that I will be jumping off the walls when the Warriors aren't champions. I will love every moment seeing Kevin Durant reminisce on what could have been if he hadn't taken the easy road. I've been called a hater before. That's fine with me. I'm a passionate Oklahoma City Thunder fan and I will ride with my team till the end, unlike Kevin Durant.

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..

Deion's Got a Girlfriend

           Some of you might be wondering what’s been going in my life since my last post. Well, folks, your boy’s found himself some sunshine. That’s right, I’m off the market. Ladies, please try and contain yourselves. I’m in love now and have been living the happy life of a boyfriend.    

But Deion, you’re the international lover-man! This can’t be your first serious relationship! What about the east coast girl you left the Bentley to twirl and the west coast shorties who push the chrome 740s? What about those pictures of you and Halle Berry coming out of La Quinta Inn? What about the rumored baby mamas you have in Punta Cana? Didn’t I see you leaving the U.S. Open with Serena Williams?

Listen, those were meaningless flings. Some of those stories were slander anyways. The results came back negative in Punta Cana. Conchita is just mad that I wouldn’t help her get a green card.

Anyways, yeah, I’m happy and in a relationship now. I can’t reveal her name or show a picture of her because her family is under a Witness Protection Program. She won’t tell me why. All I know is my family and I are in no danger.

We met on January 30th at a lemonade tasting. That night the Cavs played the Spurs and LeBron dominated with an effortless 29 points. It was a classic performance if you ask me. I guess you can say it was love at first sight. We both reached for the pitcher of strawberry lemonade and when we locked eyes it was magic. I’d rather not talk about our first date. All I’ll admit is that Applebee’s and Kanye were involved. I might have made every mistake in the book during the drive there. I may have had her burning up in the car because I didn’t know how to work my A/C, but we’ve moved past that! At least I had my seat belt on… I know I said I wasn’t going to talk about it but let me just say that our waiter, Thomas, was a pretty bad waiter. Folks, I’m not a hard customer to please. I only have three requests when it comes to waiters and waitresses at restaurants:

1. Try to lighten the mood.

2. Regularly check for refills.

3. Give recommendations and help me when I’m undecided on what to order.

Thomas did none of those three things. Everyone who knows me knows I’m an Applebee’s Man. I don’t even have to see the menu. I know what I’m going to get, a strawberry lemonade and a Quesadilla Burger. When I told Thomas my order I specifically said “strawberry lemonade.” He replied “Lemonade? Alright, got it,” and he walked away. Minutes later a woman hands me a regular lemonade. I contemplated going to the back and causing a scene. The only reason why I didn’t was because this was our first date and I didn’t want to reveal Thug Life Deion just yet. So I gritted my teeth and sipped on my regular lemonade. I was going to give Thomas a bad tip but nobody told me that women look to see how much a man tips! I was ready to give this man a quarter but before the pen touched the paper I looked up and saw her eyes locked in on the check. Thomas, if you’re reading this, thank Sunshine for the 15% gratuity you didn’t deserve. 

Sunshine and I went through some reeeeally humble beginnings. Nothing was more humbling for me than the night of March 3^rd. That was the night of our second date and our first kiss. It was definitely a day that separated the boys from men. You see, not only am I a former international lover-man, but I’m also a gentleman. I let the women go first in everything, this includes kissing. Usually women are so overwhelmed by the rush of emotions I cause them to have and it makes them want to swallow me whole. This time around it was different. Remember that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark when the girl closed her eyes and the words “love you” were written on her eyelids? It was kind of like that. The signs were clear as day and I was just frozen.

Once she went back home I knew I made a huge mistake in not kissing her so I immediately scrambled to the drawing board to devise a plan. The plan was to tell her I forgot to give her something, show up to her place with some flowers and kiss her. The only problem was there was no place around that sold flowers after dark. Walgreens and CVS did not come through. I went around neighborhoods looking through lawns for anything slightly pretty. A frightened soccer mom called the police and her husband took it upon himself to wrestle me into a submission hold until the authorities came. After explaining my situation to the police and cursing out the husband in my head I decided to ditch the flowers and kiss her with no props.

The drive to her place was a long one. I didn’t listen to any music and I didn’t feel anything. There was no point in being nervous because this was something that I had to do. It took me a good twenty minutes to find her exact place because for some strange reason the building number and the apartment number aren’t correlated. In the process of finding her place I lost a shoe and got hit by someone backing out. When Sunshine and I finally met I looked like I had went through Hell. My clothes were wrinkled, I had one shoe and my hip was broken. I skipped the cliché banter and just went in. It was a peck, but a respectable one. I counted one and a half Mississippi’s in my head. I walked back to my car with a fist held in the air like Bender from The Breakfast Club. 

The kiss was a crucial moment because it was days before we parted ways for Spring Break. During that time we realized we really missed being around each other. She’s one of the few people in the world who I never get tired of being with.

So far I’ve learned that falling in love is a process. The first time I got bit by the love bug I didn’t know if it was real or just some rollover hormones from my early teens. But once I knew, I knew. I didn’t have the butterflies or anything you hear about in the movies. It wasn’t an epiphany. As a matter of fact, one text was all it took for me to know. I was about to go into work one morning when I received a text from her: “Hey, did you take my remote by accident?” I was smitten.

It took me a minute to tell her. I’m not gonna lie; I was nervous. I tried hinting at it with hopes that she’d pick up the signs and say it first so that I didn’t have to. But of course, that didn’t fly, so I finally declared it while we were watching Along Came Polly. There was a brief pause before she said it back and when she did I swear I heard a million trumpets sound. I couldn’t tell if it was from the movie or if it was the orchestra of angels playing in my head. Either way it was a magical moment.

Being with her has made me the happiest I’ve ever been. My peoples are telling me that I have a “glow” now. I haven’t noticed it, but I’m sure it’s true. Love songs are starting to make sense to me now. You know that song “For Once in My Life” by Stevie Wonder? That’s how she makes me feel every day. I love you, Sunshine. Here’s to a long relationship filled with happiness and stolen remotes.