One Word, Three Letters, and many meanings

As I've said before, I've come into numerous labels, designations, nicknames and descriptions over my 26-plus years of living. Most of have been hurtful, many disrespectful, and a few were on point. There is one word that often is associated with me that I'm still trying to figure out if it's a bad thing or something that just comes with the territory.

S is for Social Anxieties that keep me from clubs, movie theaters, bars and everything that doesn't have to do with my job.

H is for holding back from being completely happy with who I am and not giving a shit what anyone else thinks.

Y is for....Yearning for the opportunity to break free and be Chris without any fear of rejection, judgment or criticism.

Yep, friends and neighbors. They call me "shy"....early and often. One of my favorite instances was when I was attending breakfast at a mentor's house back in my earliest DSU days, and his lovely wife noticed the quiet chubby kid perusing his mentor's study in quiet awe of his varied library of novels and historical texts. She said "You haven't said more than two words since you got in the door, how are you going to be a journalist and you're shy?" I chuckled softly and said "I think I can do it." Which has come to pass, as I am currently following my dreams and hoping they take me further than where I am right now.

However, that same drive to be happy and successful professionally has YET to transfer over to my personal life. I'm working on it, but clearly this shy thing apparently has a hold over me that I have yet to fix when it comes to social endeavors.

Case in point, a friend (who's birthday is tomorrow, but she was celebrating at some restaurant/club in Bladensburg Friday night) pretty much was strong-arming me into attending. My excuse for not having my face in the place? I had to work that night. Which is true...but the game ended at 9, and I was calling the hogs by 10:45. Great, right? For some reason, I feel at home in a gym or a stadium with hundreds to thousands of noisy-ass people, yet a club is a no-go for me. Why?

Then there's my unbridled passion for the fairer sex, but my refusal to approach a woman in person clearly leads to too much time chatting online and....yeah. You get the picture. I don't think I'm lazy, it's just less chance of being rejected and it HURTING chatting than it is walking up to a woman and then having her break down your every shortcoming in front of a crowd of people. Stupid logic I'll admit, but check the S again; Social Anxieties.

No matter WHAT women say, they have it easiest of all. They are the ONLY species who gets to pick and choose who they want to be with. A man will come up with lame pickup lines, pop all sorts of fresh breath devices and generally pull out all the stops just for a MOMENT of a woman's time. And even after a man's best efforts, it all rides on a simple "yes" or "no." That is damn scary.

While I've never been one to use pickup lines, I still have game that is unique: None. For all my wit and sense of humor, I literally cannot find a good conversation starter with a woman. For example, the closest city that isn't DC is Waldorf, MD. I've been there several times, covering high school hockey and browsing the shelves at Borders. And damn if it ain't no better place to meet a woman of substance than a bookstore. However, my last trip there, I drew blanks yet again. One attractive girl looked up at me from her book and smiled. Not one of those curt, lips curled tightly, fake-as-Pam Anderson's-breast smiles. A genuinely warm, sweet, approachable one, with her pearly whites on display. The weak, inaudible "hi" that I put out there as I walked by was embarrassing.

Not to mention the hockey rink where I cover games has a gym upstairs. I sit in the lobby between periods and chill and just WATCH a parade of fine black women walking up the stairs with their gym bags ready to keep that amazing form for some cornball who isn't me. Blah.

So clearly, this being shy thing holds me back. It stopped me from potentially having a good time with my friend and her clique and it's stopping me from at least improving on my conversation habits with women so I can set about the task of meeting ones that I could potentially have dates or maybe even relationships with.

I know what I have to do to get over said shyness, but can I do it has always been the question for me. I've always been a "I'll do it when I get to it" type, hence me taking six years to get my degree from Del State. However, I know as I get older, I know that women aren't going to sit around and wait for a man to get over his anxieties to approach them. The guys that are the aggressors get the women, and I can respect that. But what can one do when being aggressive has never been their style, in any form of life? What can one do when they're pretty much crippled by a frame of mind that leaves them afraid to even look a woman in the eye, much less ask for her phone number?

I guess like Bill Bellamy said near the end of How to be a player (Bad movie reference, I know, but work with me) "You either reform or adapt." I've got to decide which one will improve my situation without taking away from the unique qualities that those close to me say I possess.

And then I can put that three letter word in my past permanently.

Ignorance is bliss...

Juashaunna Kelly's track season is over. And it's just a small sample of how bass ackwards this country's morals and priorities really are. Young Miss Kelly of Theodore Roosevelt high, and one of the top track & field stars in the metro Washington, D.C. area, was disqualified earlier this month because of her uniform, one that adheres to the Muslim faith of only a woman's face and hands being visible. What's mind boggling about it is...she's worn the same outfit (with her school colors in tact, mind you) for three years, and the bright minds at this particular Montgomery County, MD indoor meet saw fit to disqualify her from said meet, where college recruiters and coaches congregate. So this young lady's chance at a college scholarship may be gone. All because of some closed-minded Team America assclowns.

It just boggles the mind and boils the blood that a country allegedly founded on freedom to practice certain religions and lyrics in the Nation Anthem supposedly nod to this place being "the land of the free," can practice such ignorance on a regular basis. While the previous statement is absolutely nothing new, I just felt compelled to speak on it because we have to ask ourselves "where are we really living? Is this the way it's supposed to be? Why do we allow these types of things to happen?"

No one can convince me that none of the geniuses at that meet realized the young lady was Muslim and that her outfit was NOT something she was using to gain an unfair advantage over her competition or something she created for style and flavor; this is her belief, this is her religion, her spiritual and religious uniform and code, and she is wearing it as respect to her creator, nothing more, nothing less.

Yet, after 9-11, the entire Muslim/Islamic religion has come under fire because of a few loony-tune radicals that make a seriously peaceful and intriguing way of worship look like the sparkplug for the final Apocalyptic fire. And the ignorance that the majority in this country thrives off of is on full display whenever the subject is broached. And it's annoying as hell.

I wonder how many Native Americans feel threatened whenever a white person walks into a room. After all, the colonization of America wasn't exactly, "hey, white folk, come use our land, and we'll gladly move onto these small patches of the land and call 'em reservations." I know Jam has touched on how old white men make her nervous. But clearly, white folks reserve the inalienable right to be fearful and afraid of others who threaten their way of life, although they've been threatening the way of the world for a good 2000 years or so.

So while the solution for ignorance is clearly a long way away, I hope Juashaunna Kelly eventually becomes her time's Jackie Joyner Kersee or even a doctor, lawyer, teacher, or whatever she wants to be. However, if she is denied that opportunity because of the shakeout from this situation, then, to take a well-worn and still humorous comedic phrase, "the real terrorists have won."

The Childhood of a sports fiend

YouTube has to be the greatest internet development of the last 15 minutes. Almost anything you can hope to look for that doesn't include the lyrics "Bom chicka wah wah" can be found there. For me, my vice is finding old NBA games from the 80s and 90s and the network intros that went with them. See, for a sports nut like me, there are few things like a good TV intro to let you know it's time to get your ass in front of the TV for some great basketball action.

CBS had a dynamite one for the better part of the 1980s. The NBA on NBC intro was the best ever. This however? Was my favorite. The early days of cable in the Stevens household for me meant basketball on school nights, thanks to the NBA on TNT. I made sure I got my homework done and straightened up my room so I could park in front of the tube and see what Magic, Michael, Larry, Charles, Dominique, Scottie and other guys from the late 80s and early 90s were going to do on the court.

Wednesday nights, I only got to see the first half of the double header because thems was the rules laid down by moms. The Friday night doubleheaders? Hoo hoo hooooooo! Only thing she said was "keep the noise down and don't drink none of my Cokes." Simple instructions that were followed without an issue. Then Saturday, I would meet up with my friends at the basketball courts in Bancroft School's park or wherever telephone pole or tree we could nail up a milk crate and try the moves I saw the night before.

There was nothing like the NBA 18-20 years ago. It was just a different time, it was before Michael's dominance, when everybody felt like they had a shot to win the chip and players played and looked different. Like the official NBA hairstyle is braids or locs now? Man back in '89, '90, '91, cats were rocking the Gumby, the Christopher "Kid" Reid Flat top and an uptown fade without fail. Charles Barkley and Xavier McDaniel were the only bald cats in the league at the time and it suited their games very well.

Even the design of uniforms were different. The Sacramento Kings had my favorite jerseys because not only were they light blue, they had the player's last name UNDER the number instead of on top like regular jerseys. Like regular would be "Smith 12," but theirs were "12 Smith." Had to see to appreciate it, y'all.

Whoever invents the time machine will get much love for me before I take it for a spin and go back to find the old Sixers intro from WPHL 17 in Philly. Or even if the time machine doesn't come existence, I know that intro will be on YouTube soon. *le sigh* Memories.

C.J. Writer: King Of Random

While I can't predict the next time I'm going to focus on one particular subject and devote some lines to it, I can surely let you guys know what's on my mind, which is a lot. Maybe you guys can pick a subject out of these thoughts and let me know if you want me to speak on it at length. I think that would be fun, how about you?

I've seen more roadkill in three months in Southern Maryland than I did the first 26 years of my life in the state of Delaware. And Blog friends, it is making me sick. Literally. Like it takes an act of The Almighty Himself not to lose the Rice Krispies along with the OJ I have in the mornings every time I see some animal in not upright form. Haven't seen so much deer killing since the Bambi marathon, sheesh.

This brother? Puddykitten-whipped for life. Anytime you allow a woman to have her way to the point where that kinda thing is allegedly cute on your wedding day? Might as well slap that apron on and get on those dishes, bud.

I touched on this in the last random post but *in my best Juelz voice* I'm baaaaaaack! I've gotten back under 3 bills, and I'm very excited about it. Now that I've got my routine going, it'll be difficult for me to screw this up and inch back over 300. I'm proud of myself, lol

I also spoke on anchorwoman crushes last time, but that was before I saw CNN International. Two words: Isha. Sesay. My lord. There is NO conflict about that diamond from Sierra Leone; honey. is. FINE! And the British accent?! *church lady faint*

Once I leave this girls' hoops game tonight, I'll probably end up zipping back here to hopefully catch the Patriots losing. It's one thing to win, totally another to be an obnoxious bunch of jabronies while winning. I hope the Jags punch the Patsies in their mouths and take their lunch money. For one night only, PANHANDLE REPRESENT!

I also answered you guys in the comments that I did have company Wednesday afternoon and things went where I wanted them to go. I'm starting to see Eb the Celeb's point about being kinda unstable. As much as I wonder about what it would be like to date with no expectations, my only rebuttal is a strong one; sex is a helluva drug.

As much as I dug Bill Clinton as president, I'm starting to waver in my admiration of him. Sure, it's cool to back your wife in her attempt to win the presidency, even though you've been banging behind her back for decades, but the shade being thrown at Barack is kinda unnecessary, don'tcha think?

D.C. radio is bad for me. Why? Because not only am I caught up on Flo-Rida (them apple bottom jeans, the boots with the furrrrrrrrr!) and "Hel-lo, Hel-lo, they know, they know!" I am also starting to dig GoGo. I'm tempted to find where CCB is performing to see if KeKe really does have a Phatty. I need a dosage of State Property and Jill Scott to cure this nonsense.

I think it's downright unconstitutional that K.I.T.T. will be a motherloving Ford Mustang in the Knight Rider movie. What kinda bloodclot batty bwoy nonsense is that? So what Pontiac doesn't make Trans-Ams anymore. Ya think GM wouldn't have put together a special edition joint for the movie? Ugh. Reason Numero Uno why remakes suck. VIVA LA TRANS AM!

And finally, why are we killing kids? Someone please explain this to me. A month and some change back, I talked about how unstable brothers killing sistas that dumped them is bad for society, hell killing children apparently is the new black. God help us all. The babies deserve our love, not our rage. Throwing babies off of bridges and killing them and claiming they were possessed makes me think that all of us need to get right soon enough. Man.

I didn't mean to take all your sweet time...I'll get it back to you...one of these days...

*Struts in playing air guitar to the strains of "Voodoo Child" by Jimi Hendrix*

So while my workload is increasing, I still plan to blog often as I can, because I see some folks demand the hotness that is The Post Game Show (La would call me humble right about now, lol). In all seriousness, I realize that while I comment on folks' entries, I haven't given them a reason to comment on my blog because of my infrequent posting. I've never been a good multitasker, so some things get left on the side of the road, and TPGS has been one of them. That's one thing I plan to change in '08 along with a bunch of things, one of them highlighted in my last post. This one however is all about the random thoughts, so follow me through this journey, won't you?

Three months, 20 days, nine hours, 17 minutes and 48 seconds since I last *ahem* got lucky. I blame the new job for this. I had established a rapport with my boy's cousin who apparently enjoyed herself the two times we went there, but when I moved all the way on the other side of MD instead of staying in DE, that connection broke off, thus the drought. Lord help me.

I'm back on track, cats and kittens. My crib is full of Rice Krispies (no sugar added), cold cuts, fruit, and sweet merciful orange juice. I've been walking non stop for two months now, so I'm feeling like the weight I gained will be gone pretty soon and I'll set out about the business of reaching my ultimate goal, which is 215 pounds.

Alycia Lane was fired from CBS3 in Philly this week for allegedly slapping around a cop in NY and calling her a "f-ing dyke." Why should you care? I dunno, LOL. I've been a CBS3 head for a while because they have three sistas there who make the news worth watching for me (Mary Stoker Smith, Angela Russell and Anne Marie Green, or as I call them "The Holy Trinity"), and Alycia stood out for being the hottest newscaster (in the white standard of beauty, anyway) in Philly.

She also did odd things like go on Dr. Phil to talk about her failed marriages and e-mailed bikini pics to Rich Eisen of the NFL Network. That wouldn't be such a problem except for one thing. Rich is, uh, married. Yeah. Hopefully Ms. Lane gets her act together because she was pretty solid. In my opinion, the hottest non-black newswoman in Philly? Erin O'Hearn of Channel 6 Action News.

I still miss DE/PA/NJ immensely, but I'm not sure what to do about that, especially since my private time is being limited now. Don't ask. Go to Ten95 for the job update.

Barack Obama just might do it. That's all I can say. Don't want to jinx the man.

I'm still amazed that I have an apartment to come back to, and there's no one here but me. No roommates who I can't stand, no family drama, and no cable either *le sigh* but just ME. I'm definitely used to this "independent living" thing.

I finally got around to reading an Omar Tyree book I was always interested in, "A Do Right Man." It chronicles the story of a lifetime radio guy from when he hooked up with his dream girl his senior year of college, throughout his mishaps in radio and in love to falling in love with his good friend from college, who originally kept him at a distance because he slept with the other girl way back when.

Kinda reads like my life except plug in something else for radio and the fact that he banged over 30 women before settling down. My count is not THAT high. I get taken to a fantasy world when I read novels, especially ones filled with sex because that's always been on my mind, and sometimes I wonder "why can't I get that much action?" Then I go "oh yeah, it's a book, genius."

Three Year Anniversary and what's on my mind.

On January 3, 2005, a Delaware State University student started a sports-only blog that eventually evolved to another forum to express himself and showcase his personality. That blog now stands before your eyes as a paragon of humor, a beacon of truth, and a source of fighting boredom. Welcome to Year Three of the Post Game Show!

I know y'all diggin' the intro, I know. Anyway, today marks the 3rd birthday of my blogger project that has really turned into another forum to meet people and get my feelings about life and everything it out there. While I have only 130-something posts to my credit, everyone knows when I do post, 98 percent of the time it's got some substance to it, and this time is no different. My thoughts tonight? Tolerance.

Mine is LOW. Really, really low. As two double oh eight begins, I feel myself being less and less tolerant of things that do not benefit me as a person professionally or personally. As I've lost weight and gained a job, I really do not have the time or the patience to deal with things that aren't going to help me as time wears on.

What I've finally learned is that it's quite alright to be selfish. When God calls your number and you're standing before him on Judgment Day, ain't nann notha soul up there but YOU. YOU have to explain to God how you spent your life and why you should spend your afterlife up there instead *gulp* down there. For me, looking out for self has been something that I've long overlooked, and those days are over with. I realize now if I'm unhappy, then I'm really screwing myself because life is short.

For most of my life, I've been forced into less than desirable interactions with women, "friendships" they're called. Well, aside from aesthetic differences, what makes me any less deserving of more, be it relationships or sex, than any other dude who doesn't have as much going for him as I do? And even the aesthetics shouldn't matter.

I've long been tired of women who use me for conversation, rave about my sense of humor and then go off to their merry little lives with friends with benefits and boyfriends and the like. The only difference is in 2008, I plan to do something about it. I've learned that keeping my distance from women who want to be my "friend" has actually saved me a ton of heartache and stress because I no longer have to trouble myself with wondering if I'm being felt or being virtually slapped in the face with "I don't like you like that" or "you're like *insert family member of choice here* to me."

It's also true that women give dudes like me bad advice on purpose because it keeps them from having to deal with me on a level other than friendship. Took me a while to get hip to that game, but after the 23,450th time of hearing "good friends make good lovers" and me not even getting a date out of it, it finally sunk in. If women really wanted me, they'd let me know and not keep me around as "friend" or as I was once called behind my back "a girlfriend with a dick." So why be bothered with someone who doesn't want to be bothered with you? Makes sense to me.

So that's what my tolerance is low for. Being used as some sort of pastime or sounding board when all I get out of it is loneliness and a worse attitude about women than I had before. In 2008, to quote Hova, "either love me, or leave me alone." That way everybody wins and I get to keep my sanity.

What's left of it anyway.