my life – Page 7 – Anthony Otero

Would You Like An Umbrella? #acui15

This past week I was in the city of San Antonio for this year’s ACUI Conference and right off the bat I can say that I had a great time. I was a part of two panel discussions (one about the retention of men of color in our field and the other was #blacklivesmatter in our college unions) that me feel like I’m really giving something back to our community. Of course, with all the hard work and learning comes a slew of social activities because most of us have to enjoy the host city. It’s times like these that I realize that liquor and I aren’t always the best of friends.

I’m not a fan of the margarita. Sure, I enjoy tequila in limited amounts, but huge Texas sized chalices of margarita goodness is not meant for me. First night, I had one I felt like I was drinking ocean water with some flavored alchol. I admit, I’m not a pro but I made the attempt while enjoying the sights of the Riverwalk. However, the next night I discovered a place that had frozen coconut margaritas that completely rocked me and reminded me so much of a pina colada (which honestly is more my speed). From this point, I figured if other places had THIS flavor with less salt then perhaps I can hang.

So the next night a group of us hang out late again (work hard, play hard) and we go to a place that along the Riverwalk. We sit down and l look at the drink menu and all I’m thinking about is how I have to be up at 6 am so I’m really not trying to overdo it. Of course, this place does not serve coconut margaritas. However, I will rock the pina colada because that is what they have! So I’m good.

Waiter shows up and takes all the orders and I just happen to be last one. Please understand my colleagues are pros, they order these colossal sized drinks so I expected to be ribbed about the size of my drink because it will most likely not be in a goblet of goodness. Waiter looks at me as I order the pina colada and replies, “Would you like an umbrella with that sir?”

So let’s pause here. I know the implications of what he’s saying. I understand the language of snark and sarcasm. I’m also that dude that can take a verbal beating as well as dish it So, I know that he’s telling me he thinks this is a girl drink, which by the way, am I not paying for this drink? Doesn’t my tip depend on your customer service? Also, what’s wrong with a woman’s drink?

So I reply, “Yup, I will take the umbrella and make sure it’s pink too” (there is laughter)

I think he was stunned by my response since I’m very confident in my masculinity. He responds, “Sir, that’s a bit of a girlie drink, are you sure you don’t want another drink?”

“Unless you have a coconut margarita…”

“I will put you down for a pina colada.”

By the way, the drink I ordered was exactly what I wanted. To my colleagues who felt the need to tell the waiter to just leave me alone and let me order whatever I want, you are awesome. While, I was not angry, I needed to make the point that I don’t have time for his awful gender bias. A woman drink? Really? Women are awesome. I could’ve gone into a whole explanation of how I work for an all woman college, but what would be the point? He needed to see that I’m perfectly fine drinking what he thinks is a girl drink. I could care less what he thinks of me.

Which ultimately brings me to my point. We spend too much time thinking about what other people may think about us. We spend to much time thinking about how we are viewed by society. We need to just do what feels right because at the end of the day we are the ones who have to look ourselves in the mirror.

Once you realize that, then you can imagine how our students feel when they live their lives outside of what society feels is normal.

By way, they were out of umbrellas…

my life, Novel, writing

Competing with Myself

I’m not sure what it is but I’ve been feeling different lately. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve finally become comfortable with my life. Maybe I can finally see the framework of all the hard work I’ve done. Perhaps it’s a sign that I’m just getting older and all the bullshit that I wasn’t used to in my thirties I’ve, now, finally gotten accustomed to. No matter what it is, I feel that I have gotten into a positive pattern in my life that is more that just a mood.

There was a time in my life where I used to talk about why are things happening to me. I would complain about it actually. I would make these wilds accusations about how life sucks because my luck was bad. Then I realized that my bad luck has to do with lack of preparation. I also realized that I was competing with people that I know. This is not something that I openly admitted and it wasn’t something born from jealousy. It was a bit of a barometer I had in the back of my mind. Sure, bad things happen but lack of confidence and lack of true life skills combine to kick anyone’s ass if they are not prepared for it.

In my younger days I felt like I was on the defensive too much. I let things happen instead of making them happen. That was one of many lessons I learned from my divorce. Generally most men will talk about their divorce as if shit just happened without realizing that a bad marriage is like dead plant…you let it die. That was me, while I made somethings happen in my life, I was more content on watching everything else.

At some point I just got tired of that. I got tired of talking and complaining instead of just doing. I realized that by making that adjustment from letting things happen to making things happen that the bad luck I was complaining about started to change. I found myself being more prepared to deal with life. With every misfortune I parried, came many openings of opportunity that involved risk.

Now, I find myself in a Superman 3 moment where I am battling myself. The version of me that is more responsible for his actions vs the callous and less responsible me I was just a few years ago. There are things I ‘m doing to correct past mistakes and to right some wrongs. I can’t fix everything but I can try to do things better.

I’m also competing with myself creatively and professionally. I was good at my job in Syracuse so it was an adjustment to start fresh at Barnard. I’m trying to be as good as I was and, in many ways, I am better because I’m doing things I’ve never done before. But then I think about book two and how I’m going to be able to surpass myself. Hanging Upside Down is an ambitious venture for me that I’m still working on from a marketing stand point. The thing about Book two will be how different it is from my first novel. I’m trying to out do myself and it’s a bit of a challenge.

With time I’ve grown to see my duality and be comfortable with it. The only way I can be a successful as I want to be is to be better than I was. No other competition matters.

my life, Novel, poetry, writing

Fear of the Mic

Busy is four letter word. Its almost vulgar when I use it because it describes so many things that are going on in one word. Saying “I’m busy” can sound rude but it will always explain why I don’t call or write. Yet, after awhile I hate using this phrase because I think that eventually it becomes a cop out. However, I have been able to do a few things here and there that has made me think about my role as writer/author.

It shouldn’t be too much of a secret that I do not really consider myself a poet. I believe that history will show that I’m more of a fiction novelist. Poems were something that I wrote to get through some tough times in my life and it turns out I wrote more than a hundred of them. I go back in forth, in my head, about want to do about this. Do I publish them or just keep them where they are (which is buried in various blog sites)?

I personally don’t believe they are very good. Well, maybe a small number of poems are decent, but I am certainly no Willie Perdomo. Yet, the way I feel about this did not stop me from reciting one of my poems during a open mic night a few weeks ago (I prefer the word recite instead perform because performance poetry is above my pay grade, but I digress). I can blame it on the energy of the other true poets doing their thing that night but the real reason is that, in my heart, I need to learn to love the mic.

Sure, I can speak publicly. I’ve done it enough times to be used to it. I’ve done enough trainings with hundreds of students in a room, I’ve been a keynote speaker twice, I’ve moderated many panel discussions, and yet the intimidation of reading something I’ve written is real. Even when I did the book signing/reading at La Cas Azul Bookstore of Hanging Upside Down last year I felt so anxious. What if I fumble my words? What if I sound like a complete idiot?

This is when I know the fear has gotten a hold of me. With my poetry it is two fold considering that I don’t consider myself a poet. But, I did go out there that night and recited Blacktino. The feedback was positive and while I messed up just a little, I think I can do this again. The real problem is that its way too easy to decline an invitation or to simply claim that I’m too busy to go to open mic nights. Even if being too busy is true (and most times it is) I know that I have to get behind that mic.

It does feel good to share my creation, particular in poetic form. If you read the right poem with the right inflections, the room becomes yours. Maybe the real fear isn’t just the mic itself nor the the audience. Perhaps the real fear is the ability to let myself go on the stage. Is the fear there because I don’t know how to let go or is it because of the possibility that if I do learn to let myself go I may love it way too much.

So, is this what Rakim was talking about about when he says, to me M.C. means move the crowd? That’s a question you should ask yourself, Megatron. 🙂

my life

Sometimes

You know, sometimes I need to stop and think about my life. I judge myself harshly because I know that I haven’t always made the best choices which means that sometimes I haven’t always been the best person.

Sometimes, I think about giving up because what’s the point of all this? What am I really doing? I have no real evidence that I’m making a difference in anyone’s life. Which is why I just try to do what I do for me.

Then sometimes, I think that I’m just being silly. Maybe there’s some unconscious feeling of male privilege that makes me think that the world owes me something. I have done good things, I am a mentor to many, a friend to a few, and companion to one.

But, sometimes, it’s just not enough. I continue to doubt myself. Maybe I just don’t know when to be satisfied. Perhaps I really haven’t reached the goals that I’ve been striving for. Maybe I’m still lying to myself.

Sometimes, I’m the happiest person in the world. I truly am fortunate to have a fantastic job, an awesome girlfriend, and family that supports me. I love the work that I do and I love to write and share my thoughts with the world. But, sometimes, I’m really not sure that’s enough.

So then what is it? What is my problem some of the time? I wish I knew. Most of the time I don’t even care because I know that feelings of inadequacies are a normal part of me being me. Most of the time I don’t care what people think but sometimes it makes me think twice about posting something on Facebook or ranting on Twitter.

Sometimes, I think the majority of people can give two shits about what I do, write, or say. Sometimes I think that my little quotes on Instagram about my novel mean absolutely nothing. Yet most of the time I take nothing personally when comes to support or lack of it, sometimes I take it very personal.

It comes down to this, sometimes I get too busy to write and when that happens it slowly drives me insane. These feelings come out sometimes and when that happens I need to express my myself in the only way I can.

Which is why I blog… sometimes.

harlem, moving, my life, Syracuse

The Move

I learned a long time ago that moving is a part of life. I’ve also come to the realization that when you reside in a apartment nothing is really permanent. Rents rise and neighborhoods change so the idea of moving like a nomad should not be new. Yet, there is something unsettling about packing up all your stuff and moving to another living situation.

I grew up living in a house in the Bronx and I never really thought about moving anywhere else. But life happens, parents split up and moving from apartment to apartment became normal. I returned to the very same house as a teenager and, again, never thought I would need to move until I was admitted to Syracuse. By the time I graduated, my stuff had been condensed to storage unit standards and being nomadic was a new way of life.

Eventually, I would go back to the BX where I would live in couple of places before I moved into my own apartment. It was my first true sign of adulthood and it was glorious. But that glory was short lived because after 9/11 I had to leave the city. I found a job back in SU and I was out. Once again, I had to move my life into a small apartment a few blocks away from the University.

When I finally bought a house in Syracuse I thought, this is it. This is the last place I will ever move to (I was lying to myself). All my comic books, video games, and things that you never want to move came with me. Not to mention that all my collection of junk tripled during my stay so imagine my joy in having to box all that shit up in a U-haul when I finally decided to come back home to NYC. But still, I spent a great deal of time living in one place that I grew comfortable in knowing that moving may not be a possibility.

However, when I moved to Washington Heights a few years ago, I knew that this wasn’t going to be my last residence. Perhaps it was the residential nomad that I’ve grown accustomed to being. Maybe there’s a sense that I can’t stay in one place too long. Perhaps there’s this nagging feeling in my heart after being through two divorces (my parents and my own) that nothing lasts forever.

After all, this is all just stuff. I cannot take this crap with me. There is no storage unit in the afterlife. This point was driven home to me last week when I was helping my mother sort through my late Aunt Clara’s stuff. It was nothing but bins and boxes. Is this the sum of our physical existence? At the end of it all when I’m gone someone will be looking through my comic book boxes?

Well, currently I find myself in Harlem. A new place of residence that will probably last for about a year and half depending on what happens with my better half. I’m excited about this area because it opens up some experiences. I can visit places I never been to and I recognize the opportunity to really embrace the culture that makes this place awesome.

Moving still sucks but I know that I will be doing it again soon.

my life, Novel

Bionic SIX! – My Blog is a Year Older.

If my blog was a person, she would be very upset with my that I forgot her birthday. The problem is that I’ve been a very busy person over the last several days. Although it is no excuse, I can say that people everyday celebrate a late birthday. In fact, you can count on me to write “Happy Belated Birthday” on you Facebook wall. However, the fact remains that my blog is now 6 years old.

I don’t want to go over the last six years but rather talk about the hope I have for the future. This blog has been my anchor. It’s been the place that I’ve expressed myself and offered space for others to do the same. It has also been a catalyst for my book, Hanging Upside Down. I’m no where close to being a marketing genius but I would like to think that I am working on being more that just a blogger.

That is the point of all of this right? To be honest, I’m no longer just a blogger. I can say that I’m an author. It’s like being promoted from Commander to Captain. I know, this isn’t Star Trek but if I were a Captain it would probably be of a small vessel no one has ever heard of on the edge of the neutral zone surveying plate-tectonics on a small M-Class world. Being an author is something to aspire to. I’m not sure what would really deem me a success but I do know that I am the master of my own destiny and in many ways that is what these past six years have meant, a gradual process that I was (sort of) in control of.

Now I’m posting book quotes every week and reminding people to buy my awesome book. This was far from what I saw myself doing last year and I’m ok with that. I think it will be really interesting to see what how this blog will evolve. Maybe it will become Bionic! (I had to connect the title to this blog. No one remembers Bionic 6?)

In any case, It is good to still be around and maybe I can provide a few surprises.

my life, Novel, writing

A Difficult Question

It’s hard to believe that my novel came out a little more than 3 months ago. In my mind it has been at least a year so I’m always glad when someone takes interest in my book, Hanging Upside Down. I have noticed that there is a common question that most people ask that I find interesting, “How’s the book going?”

This has been the ultimate FAQ. I can’t remember the first person who asked me but I know that I have been asked often since then. The real question for me is how do I answer this question? Sure, I have answered it already with, “it’s going well” because what other answer is there? Even if the book sales are crap (something I will not confirm or deny) is that something that I really want to share or, better yet, is that what the person who is asking wants to hear?

Just image that conversation:

Pregunta asks, “So, how’s the book coming?”

Latinegro looks at Preggy slyly and responds, “This shit sucks, my dude. No one is buying the book. Did you buy a copy?”

Pregunta backs away slightly, “Uh see, the way my bank account is set up…”

There is a cold look that comes across the face of the Latinegro. He is hurt but hides it by rubbing the black and white hairs of his beard then asks, “So that is a no?”

“I mean, I’ve been meaning to buy it.”

“Have you? What are you waiting for?”

“The Movie.”

I mean really, there is only one way to answer a question such as this: The book is going great. Even if it isn’t I would not tell anyone any different because no one wants to tell a potential customer that sales are terrible. Its best to make someone feel like they are missing something…and to be honest they are. At the same time people know that I haven’t sold like a 1000 copies because, come on, if I had it would be all over this blog like a money shot.

I don’t fault anyone for the question I just feel it’s difficult to be really honest about. This is just another example of things I learned as a self published author. I should have added it to this list. But you what? It is all good I am happy to even have the question posed to me.

But let me ask you a difficult question. What are you waiting for?

2015, Blogging, goals, my life

2015 Goals

I have to admit that I needed this year to end. While this was a great year for me personally, there was just too many tragedies that I cannot readily ignore. Thus, any Facebook celebratory “year in review” isn’t something I was going to do.

As stated last year, I don’t do New Year’s Resolutions but, rather, I set goals to accomplished by the end of the next year. Unfortunately, I only completed 50% of my goals this year but what I did accomplish, changed my life. 2015 will be interesting because of the nature of the 10 goals I’m setting.

I’ve always believed in doing the things that got me in the game. I love to write and the writer in me feels that I don’t do it enough. So, blogging more is something I have to do. I made that pledge last year and I wrote two less blogs this year than I did last year. At least, I’m not writing much less especially considering that I came out with my first novel this year. (Although, I DID write two Huffington Post articles…so technically I wrote the same amount…but whatever) However, it’s even more important that I finish book two. I’m already five chapters deep and once this holiday season is over, I plan on hitting the “pen to the pad” at full steam.

Hanging Upside Down is more of an accomplishment for me than I’m willing to admit. I’ve found it hard to celebrate with everything going on in my life and in the world. I need to be willing to put myself out there more and step up my hustle. I will not be satisfied until I sell 500+ copies next year. I know I have my work cut out for me because I’m doing this all on my own. However, I do have family who will always help and because of that I need to go to Georgia to visit some long lost familia.

Which also brings me to my next point, spending more time with family. The death of a family member makes things difficult all around and yet it seems to instill a sense mortality in all of us. This has made me realize that I need to cherish my time more with the people that I care about the most.

Outside of all the personal issues, I need to read more. Again, this is another goal from last year that I bailed on but I feel that it’s important to try again. This time I have a little bit more of a motivation. This year, I have either met some authors or come to the realization that I have many friends who are authors. Not matter what the case is, it is my job as a friend and fellow author that I support and read their works.

I also need to focus a little bit more on my health. I wont go into how I’m facing oral surgery in January, but I do need to get a check up so I can get back to running. I would like to do more than just one 5k this year. Of course, part of my problem over the last few years is that I can be a bit of an insomniac. Lack of sleep is a problem for me that may have been halting my productivity. So basically, I need more sleep.

Finally, I’ve made a big decision that will help me with debt reduction. I’m moving out of Washington Heights. I have a long term goal to get my credit score up by the time I’m 50 and part of that is being able to save money. The move is a financial one with me being able to have extra money to pay bills. I roll my eyes because it just seems that no matter what my goals are, I am paying bills at one point or another.

So that is pretty much it. I assume this will be my last entry for 2014. It has been an interesting year. I hope you all set goals rather than resolutions. Happy New Year.

my life

You Miss Me When I’ve Flown

Some one asked me what I wanted for Christmas and my response was, time. I don’t mean in the sense of getting a new watch (which would fabulous) but in the sense that I simply don’t care for material possessions as I once did. I guess as I look at the increasing number of grey hairs in my beard, I begin to think about things I’ve done and not done and things that I’ve said and not said.

Time can be our greatest asset and our worst enemy all rolled into one. It has allowed me to suffer with horrid decisions while healing the pain in the end. It has allowed me to cultivate a passion and love the people who mean the most to me. However, there are times that I feel that it isn’t enough. I feel, at times, that I do not have all the time I need.

When we buried my aunt last month, it was my mother that looked at everyone and said, “I thought I had more time.”

That the thing isn’t it? We all wish we had more time. There seems to be a universal trait with all humans that time is something that could be more valuable than money. There is certain amount of privilege that comes with being young if we measure time in units of value.

When were are young, we are frivolous with it. We waste it on meaningless things and yet we can be generous with it when it suits our needs. When we get older we start to clutch on to it. We want to save it and keep in safe. We watch and monitor our valuable units of time slowly whisk away until we have nothing left.

Until I am measured I am not known,Yet how you miss me when I have flown. This is the reason why I seem to watch television less and less. The reason why I feel the need to write as many books as I can. Time is a universal truth, a rule that cannot be broken by any science, magic, or religion. We will spend it one way or another but really the question is how much of it will we waste until its too late?

I submit to you all that its not just life that is precious, it’s also time. Wasted time is a crime in itself and that’s why it hurts so much when someone dies. Not only is their life gone but their units of time is gone as well. While we mourn an older person who has left us, there is a spirit of celebration due to the good times shared. But when a young person goes via murder, disease, or an accident…then the pain is compounded because future time is now lost.

We can say Black Lives Matter but what we really mean is Black Time Matters. Think about all the wasted time (as a people) in bondage, or battling racism, or dealing with poverty, or dealing with things that cannot be afforded. That is why genocide is so horrible because time is stolen from future generations.

Maybe I’m getting sentimental, after all I did turn forty this year. I’ve had an eye on just about everything that has been happening around me. It is hard to stop and smell the roses for fear of wasting time.

At the end of the day, I’m still reminded of an old discussion I wrote about in 2011 where someone told me, we all make time for what we want.

my life

Derailed

There is something about death that makes us think about our mortality. When a family member dies this feeling is compounded. The death of my Aunt Clara has put me in a situation where I had to really think about life, death, and the all this importance that we place on menial things. I have been a tad bit derailed by this.

We all knew that she wasn’t feeling well. We all know that the cancer in her body was taking it’s toll on her. I remember when I told her I was writing a book and how I wanted it to come out in the fall of this year but I wasn’t sure of when, she had a genuine look of joy because I was going to be the first author in the family. Clara was the aunt that would tell you exactly how she felt. So, not only did I know she wanted to read this book but she would also ask on several occasions when I’m going to marry my girlfriend and add new children to the family.

Not to say that these were requests of a dying woman because I knew she felt, as we all did, that she would beat this thing but I felt compelled to make sure that this book came out before she left us. I was indeed successful. It was around my book signing in October that she started getting worse. Titi Clara had all intentions on going to La Casa Azul but her body just would not let her. That fact was not lost on me and I said a silent prayer hoping she would be ok.

She made a turn for the worse a week before Halloween and I knew that we were going to lose her. I knew that this horrible thing called cancer was going to win but it did not take her spirit. When I saw in the hospital she recognized me and gave this smile. She asked me how the book signing went. I told her that is went well and she gave me a thumbs up. “You did good,” was something she would always tell me and I know that’s what she meant.

I was there for her last rites. A week later she let go. She is now pain free and with God.

It was a beautiful day when they buried her. I think it’s because this little feisty Puerto Rican woman with a big personality fought the heavens to give us one last day of warmth in November.

I am derailed because as much as I can write about the things in the book and this blog, death is something that is hard to articulate and deal with. The finality of it is such a smack in the face. The days are the same but yet different. Who am I to complain about such small things like television shows or NYC speed limits?

I almost stopped some of my book marketing. I felt posting another quote on my Facebook page was too much but something told me to keep going. I thought about where I am in the second novel and what direction I should take and something told me to keep writing.

Being derailed does not mean I should stop. It means I need to get back on track. I’m sure Titi Clara would agree.