#MNR: THE NERVE OF YOU
“My next-door neighbor’s having convos with undercovers. Put a surprise in her mailbox, hope she get it. Happy birthday, bitch, you know you shouldna did it.”
Makaveli the Don
“They label my vocabulary abusive. I pack more knowledge than Confucius. I’m deadly.”
Peace, blessings and prosperity to the entire #MNR Family. Come on in, y’all. I know it’s cold and wet outside. Hang your parkas up. Rest your shoes. There’s hot cocoa on the stove. Come find a seat by the fireplace. Get comfortable. Twirl your aromatics. Let’s get blown. We’ve got some shit to discuss.
Last week, ‘round 'bout Tuesday in the evening time, I immechiately took a dumpy as soon as I got in the crib. The bubble guts were on full disrespect mode. It wasn’t near breech mode, but still. Anyway, I was enjoying my evening dumpy when I got a notification. Someone contacted me and told me that they took exception to something I mentioned in my blog. It wasn’t a difference of opinion; I welcome those. The beef was with my mere mention of something...or someone. Don’t e’en matter. Let’s begin with the obvious. Asshole, this is my MF blog. I can talk about whatever/whoever the fuck I want to talk about. You didn’t put in on this, man! You’re wild for that one. Next...if you read my blog in an ardent manner, you know politics/civil rights are a cornerstone of my discourse. Freedom of speech, the most referenced part of 1A, is a damn civil right. Amendment I reinforces my initial point: I can talk about whatever/whoever the fuck I want to talk about. It’s an inalienable right as an American. It's MY inalienable right as an American. Perhaps you should brush up on the constitution, jerkface. Finally...the nerve of you. And me, of all people. Smmfh. You had a better chance of kissing a Yosemite gap-toothed grizzly in the mouth than you had of successfully checking this gap-toothed grizzly for any motherfucking thing I speak on. This is my shit. I play with no referee. You must’ve smoked a K-2 spliff and sniffed a crushed xany on your way to the liquor store to buy crackhead beer. You trout-mouth heathen. Having said what I’ve said (and I mean every word of that shit), ain’t no thang. I forgive you. Just don’t let it happen again. (Baby Joker voice) Fucker.
I’m in the process of answering this long ass work survey about the job in general and about the efficacy of the supervisorial staff. These things are always weird to me. Sure, they’re completely anonymous (allegedly). Still, it’s kind of awkward critiquing their performance. I don’t see what they do all hours of the day. I don’t quite know what to say. Irrespective of my sentiments toward my supervisors, I don’t believe in going scorched earth on any type of evaluation: supervisor, coworker, subordinate, whomever. That’s just not my style. Having said as much, I think they do their damn jobs. That’s all I expect of supervisors. My boss lady has been good to me from Day 0. We talk more than just job shit. No human is perfect, but I have no ill words towards her. My lone critique of the supervisors is that they hover. But it’s kind of hard not to when you work in an area as limited in space as ours. I’m the king of pragmatism; I understand. That’s all I have to say.
Y’all know me. I couldn’t speak on critiquing others without critiquing myself as well. It is a short, brief critique: I am flawless. No, all jokes aside, I really am. In fact, I’m so flawless that I’ll speak on my greatest quality as a coworker: my ability to “build” the team as well as individuals. What, exactly, do I mean? I’m always going to compliment and encourage. I regularly speak with my coworkers about what they specifically do well. I uplift as much as possible. When I feel it’s time to encourage, I encourage. At times it’s to reinforce their confidence. Other times it’s to motivate them when they’re a bit down. I pay attention to everything, so I can detect when my teammate isn’t herself/himself. My words are fastidious and poignant. The intended result is always the same: let’s win.
Uplifting and edifying those who matter to me comes naturally. I make it a habit to encourage my folk as much as possible. Most of the time a simple accolade or acknowledgement goes a long way for someone’s psyche. When I used to live inside my head, I constantly questioned my worth. Having someone validate my efforts was everything, to the point where I actively sought validation. I had a situation where a family member failed to mention me in a shout-out roll call at a big event. It hurt my feelings. It led me to believe I didn’t really matter to them at the end of the day. After I got over that letdown, I promised myself I’d never allow that type of thing to affect me again. It took some time, but that type of thing isn’t that important to me anymore. But I see that that very desire exists in others. It’s natural. I feel that I possess a great deal of sagacity, or at least enough to recognize when someone special to me needs a quick word of encouragement. I’ll shoot a coworker a text of encouragement on a random Sunday afternoon. Why? Because I consider others’ mental well-being. I know that a random word of encouragement can go a long way. I don’t gas anything, either. There’s no hyperbole in my encouragement. If I give you a positive word it’s because I truly feel that way in my heart and spirit. I say what I mean and mean what I say. It’s not that others don’t feel the same way, but sometimes they fail to express these feelings. In turn, people tend to think that they’re not a big deal. If I fuck with you, you are abso-fuckinglutely a big deal. And even if you aren’t a big deal to the rest of the world, you are to me. I’m thankful for you and I’m blessed to have you as my family/homie/friend/lover/coworker. You matter. You matter to me.
In case you wonder why validation means little to me [anymore], it’s because the two greatest people in my life told me [in their own words] I’m that MF: Shareon and Me. The Lord is always with me, so whom shall I fear?
CEO and I are considering releasing audio versions of #MNR. What y’all think about that? If it sounds like a thing to do, send a quick memo to your boy on the Twitter @tymonday. I don’t half-ass anything I put my name on, so I’ll definitely make sure the audio quality is to my liking before we release anything. Archie Warren Sr. taught me to never halfway do a job. I don’t.
Big ups to my girl Neek, an avid supporter of this blog and great individual altogether. Once upon a time she was the point goddess for the DMHS Lady Raiders. She could make water spill with the rock and had the flyest braids in the whole school. That was back when. These days, she’s one of the flyest with the dress code in the tri-state. She’s still funny AF. Still a real one. Salute.
Mobb niggas to the exit, we out (IYKYK).
tymonday.com: @tymonday on Twitter & IG
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