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Volume 60: SEX WITH THE MODELS

2011-06-07T14:31:00.000-07:00

“Instruction in sex is as important as instruction in food; yet not only are our adolescents not taught the physiology of sex, but never warned that the strongest sexual attraction may exist between persons so incompatible in tastes and capacities, that they could not endure living together for a week, much less a lifetime.” ~George Bernard Shaw, 1944

I love my job. What’s not to love about being a photographer? Imagine being paid to be creative. Imagine meeting new and interesting people (most are) on a regular basis and doing what you love as a career- a career that began with aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. Road trips with my fraternity brothers and a used Nikon film camera became a catalyst for the present day career I enjoy. The public began to take notice of the images I took on road trips-mostly images of us goofing around, scenery, and the occasional attractive college girl. A demand soon arose from female college students wanting professional photos, and I happily obliged. The demand and financial compensation never stopped. I had the option of toiling away in obscurity, waiting to be discovered as a fashion designer …or the current opportunity in front of me to realize my artistic potential…and a fashion photographer had emerged. I’ve been adding to my brand ever since.

The life of a professional photographer is not the glitz and glamour that the typical consumer thinks it is. After all, it’s an industry overpopulated with people who already have overinflated egos, and you provide a specific service that further fuels their narcissism. When shooting weddings, one would think it’s the happiest day of a couple’s life. It’s also one of the most stressful. People are on edge because it’s running late, lots of guests didn’t shown up, the bride doesn’t like her makeup, the florist is stuck in traffic, she’s nervous…and it’s finally sinking in how much debt this new couple has gotten themselves in by putting on a fairytale wedding that no one is impressed by. This industry is extremely competitive and like any business, you’ve gotta be able to give them what they want, or they’ll spend their money elsewhere. That means that for the right money, I’ve shot glamour, fashion, weddings, corporate events, bad-ass children, creepy fetish stuff, maternity shoots with bitchy women, and even funerals.

Today a friend asked to use the Internet feature on my ipad to check email. After viewing it, he closed out the window, which took him back to the ipad’s home screen-a full-length fashion shot of one of my models. He ventured into the photo galleries of my ipad, categorized for the diverse clients that I provide services for: Glamour, Fashion, Special Events, Photojournalism, Travel, Commercial/Editorial, and Urban. Urban is really just a euphemism for Eye Candy photography…affectionately known by the fellas closest to me as “the titties and ass shots.”

His eyes widened with each image and he surveyed the photos. I knew what he was about to say and ask next. His head shook in disbelief as he continued to view.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he added. I knew what his next statement would be. Almost on cue with my thought, he exclaimed, “Yo…I couldn’t be a photographer. If I were you…I’d be bangin’ every one of these girls.”

I waited for the most asked question from my male friends. Then it came. “Yo…have you ever smashed one of the models? There’s no way you could be shooting them and not fuckin’ em.”

I told him that when you start to do that, your career is essentially over. After explaining that I’ve never indulged in sex with a client and never would, he still didn’t seem convinced. Since my friend was in real estate, I decided to answer his question in a manner in which it would be relevant to his career. I told him it’s a lot like owning property. Let’s say you’re the owner of a Duplex, and you rent one of the units to a single, attractive tenant. You fully understand that this is business and this woman pays you for a service-in this case it’s $800 a month for rent. Still your carnal instincts get the best of you and you find yourself laying more pipe than what’s found under the granite kitchen countertops. Now that you’ve mixed business with pleasure, your tenant is guaranteed to look at you like you’re crazy the next time you ask her why the rent is late or wasn’t paid that month. Women often sign contracts in invisible ink. Congratulations…your dick just signed a new 12-month lease for some free, or severely discounted and late rent. I’m a photographer. I shoot for the art and the money, and not for the women. Many people who don’t work in the field naively think that one can have both, but it will not work. People don’t want to pay. No one likes paying for services. They realize that they have to pay. Once you begin to cloud the lines of business, the pussy will become the unofficial payment, and you’ll find your business taking a huge financial hit. It’s also never a good look when you have the reputation as the photographer who fucks models-and models talk.

Besides the fact that you’ll be standing there looking dumb and not getting paid, banging the models is also a huge risk to your reputation and livelihood. Bad news travels much faster than good news-and lurks around a lot longer. Google popular New York Photographer Lloyd Parks and see what comes up. He was recently arrested on rape charges and was awaiting trial in the Bronx section of New York. On February 3^rd, he was arrested on 3 counts of 3^rd degree rape from a model-who claimed she had forced sex with him. Indulging with a model resulted in a brief stay at a Riker’s Island Jail. Do I think Lloyd raped that model? No. I’ve met him and know about his work in Black Men Digital Magazine. I highly doubt that a successful photographer would risk his empire over some model pussy. However, it’s likely that he did sleep with that model. Who likely initiated it? Doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, a photographer could attempt to bring things back to business as usual and the model will be staring at your invoice…and thinking, what the hell is this?

Contrary to how TV misleads the masses, most “models” aren’t making lots of money and some are in fact just opportunists with inconsistent income. If they see an opening to make a false or true allegation against a photographer who gives off the perception of immense financial success-be sure that they’ll take it. The model (whom I don’t know personally) alleged that Lloyd locked his 7-year-old son in one room, while he raped her in another. A harsh lesson learned? Or false allegation? Only God truly knows, but I strongly believe in avoiding opportunities for it. In addition to keeping model relations strictly business, I keep my female makeup artist present during shoots and my studio has video surveillance. I’ve worked too hard to have someone ruin it.

Many have made requests to get hooked up with a model, but my suggestion is to first appreciate the attractive, educated sistas with conventional jobs and stable futures. I always tell them that dating should be less about matching outward circumstances, and more about meeting your inner necessity. That’s not to say that looks don’t count-you just can’t have looks be the basis of your attraction to another. Looks, much like a model’s career, won’t last forever if you don’t have other things to bring to the table. When people ask why I’ve never secretly indulged, I remind them that the caliber of woman I date has so much more to offer…besides sex. And there’s no guarantee that sex with a model is better! (laughing) If you’re self-consumed in your everyday life, it likely transfers over to the bedroom as well. Selfish is selfish. We as photographers also see people for who they truly are. We see the model prior to the shoot-before the professional makeup artist gets to them, before the fashion designers and stylists drape them in exclusive garments and accessories. And we see them before the photoshopping, airbrushing, tanning and weaving. Such is life. You hafta channel that ability to weed through the bullshit and see people at their core. If you’re a male interested in a model, there are things that you must know…otherwise you will find that it’s not the fairytale fantasy that you think:

Although not applicable for everyone, Models can be arrogant and can brush off secret admirers quickly and often (I see it all the time). In many cases the best approach is no approach. You get more attention from them when you come off as uninterested and coy. Very attractive woman means lots of competition. Although it’s always best to be yourself, interest levels of highly sought-after women is best maintained by playing distant. That fact alone should tell you everything you need to know about what you may be in store for. All models are not the dumb entities stereotyped on television. Some are extremely intelligent, with advanced degrees. Be intelligent. An intelligent conversation can impress or expose a model, and give you a better feel of what you’re working with.

It’s also important to not just speak intelligently, but use common sense as well. High fashion models, as opposed to urban models must maintain a specific figure and weight. Planning dates around food can blow up in your face. A lavish date at an expensive Brazilian Steakhouse may leave you frustrated (and broke) when you’re sitting across from a model-who orders just an appetizer, or orders a full meal, but doesn’t eat it. It happens. If you don’t like to plan lavish dates or are unwilling, you may find yourself on the end of a reality check. Many models are used to a high standard; don’t think you’ll be getting away with Chili’s for long. Models are often in the company of people in the fashion industry. People in that industry tend to have money. That means designers, photographers, lawyers, execs, and businessmen. Dating a model is not for the insecure man.

At the end of the day, all people have good and bad traits. Dealing with someone exceptionally beautiful on the outside can come with it’s own unique drama, whether male or female. Make sure that whatever issues are there, are issues that you don’t have to convince yourself don’t exist. Every time you date someone-male or female-with an issue that you have to work to ignore, Guess What? You are settling. I read a facebook status from someone the other day that pretty much summed it all up. It said:

An attractive dude (or female) who lacks fundamental insight and/or ambition might as well be physically unattractive…’Cuz there ain’t shit sexy about a clueless muthafucka who has no intention on getting a clue. Thank you, Holta for that great quote…

…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…

www.thegrayareas.com

“You can gain more friends by being yourself than you can by putting up a front. You can gain more friends by building people up than you can by tearing them down. And you can gain more friends by taking a few minutes from each day to do something kind for someone, whether it be a friend or a complete stranger. What a difference one person can make!” -Sasha Azevedo

Volume 59: SOME GOOD ADVICE

2011-04-26T09:50:00.000-07:00

“The difference between school and life? In school, you’re taught a lesson and then given a test. In life, you’re given a test that teaches you a lesson.”

-Tom Bodett

Totally Random, but I hate Philly’s radio stations. The same ten songs are always in rotation, no matter the station, no matter the time of day. Every R&B song on the radio has some New York or Southern rapper on it-their rap lyrics often having nothing to do with the song. Every other track played has Drake, Nicki Minaj, Lil Wayne or all damn three on it. The radio personalities-many employed here after being released from New York stations-seem more concerned with hearing themselves talk than actually discussing things of substance and playing the music that people tune it to hear. I can’t prove it, but I swear I lose a brain cell or two every time a Waka Flocka track gets played. Today, calls were taken and the topic of the day was: The appropriate time for a person infected with herpes to tell their mate. I cringed at the thought of things getting hot and heavy with a female, only to hear her say, “Ron…there’s something I gotta tell you before we do this.” She then goes on to tell you that she has herpes. Your eyes survey her face for a hint of a smile or laugh, hoping… wishing… praying that this is all just a bad joke. The blood rapidly flowing from your penis, back to the rest of your body as you search for your boxers and car keys. Although I’m sure people living with herpes don’t think it’s an appropriate topic for a first date, it’s information that I would want to know ASAP. The calls came in and personal stories of infidelity, scandal and failed relationships poured in- reminding me why my weapon of choice while driving is my ipod plugged into the auxiliary port and not the radio.

The radio personalities gave relationship advice to the callers-each of their stories appearing crazier than the last. Plato once said, Wise men speak because they have something to say; Fools because they have to say something. Wearing a slight grin, I wondered how many of the callers would actually heed the advice given to them. After all, I was taught that the greatest discovery of all time is that a person can always change his/her future by changing his/her attitude. Will they? Likely not. Countless female friends call complaining about the latest bum hailing from Loserville, who made his way into their bed and heart. Recently, a female reader of my blog requested that I write about why men take so long to commit to relationships and why we take so long to marry women. Great topic, but I’m not sure if ladies are ready for those honest answers from me….yet. But, in an effort to bring you one step closer to the answers you seek, today I’ll discuss some of the ADVICE that Men and Women get, yet FAIL TO APPLY to their relationships.

WE READ THE WORLD WRONG AND SAY THAT IT DECEIVES US-This a direct quote from Rabindranth Tagore. Yeah, many of you are thinking Who the hell is that?!? But it’s something that both men and women can apply to relationships…especially those who are still looking for that special someone. How many brothas out there love to date gold-diggers? none, right? But ask yourself if you know a man right now that consistently gives the false illusion of wealth, yet complains about the kind of women he attracts? They say we spend money we don’t have…to buy things we don’t need…to ultimately impress people we don’t like. Some of us do everything in our power to impress women with our money, and then when we meet the women who are impressed with our money…we complain. You’re reading the world wrong, and then claiming that it’s deceiving you.

IT IS FAR BETTER TO BE ALONE, THAN TO BE IN BAD COMPANY- This has woman written all over it. Most of them admit that they hate to be alone. So they spend the best years of their lives, in failed relationship after failed relationship-tallying unnecessary sexual partners, experiences of infidelity and taking on more drama than needed. Time alone helps us to evaluate what went wrong in a previous relationship and will usually give us the opportunities to appreciate something new and different when it comes along. Sad thing is…the most beautiful women you meet often fall into this category. They date the same idiot over and over and can’t understand that the pattern has not only to do with them, but the bad company they keep. There’s a common psychological test given to small children, in which they have the option of receiving a shiny nickel on the same day, or a shiny new dime if they wait until the following day to get it. In every study at almost every school, the children choose the nickel. The nickel is larger in size than the dime, but worth less in value. Perception and immediate gratification-as opposed to waiting out for greater reward, equal in value of twice the time. Hold out for the larger reward and save your self the mess of lesser-valued men. The next time you come to the store to pay for some food, think about how a clerk would feel if you pour $10 worth of nickels on the counter and want them to count it. Now you’re one step closer to understanding the plight of good men who meet women who are afraid to be alone…recovering from a lifetime of dating lesser-valued men.

YOU SNOOZE YOU LOSE- Confucius once said only the wisest and stupidest of men never change. I have plenty of male friends who have had the great fortune of meeting good women, but they say they aren’t ready to settle down. That stated from a man in his 30’s loses validity unless used when you’re fresh out of a lengthy relationship. The good thing is many good women out there will be patient with a man they feel is worth the wait. The problem is that there are still many good men who make a woman wait too long, and the next thing you know...she’s gone. With every good sista, there will always be a line forming for her time. Although good brothas are said to be rare, we’re not the endangered species many of us believe we are. That woman you’re taking your sweet time to lock down will be long gone before you know it and you’ll be old news faster than you think.

PAIN IS INEVITABLE, BUT MISERY IS OPTIONAL- every scorned woman should know that for every minute you are angry you lose sixty seconds of happiness. So why do women harbor old pain and carry them from relationship to relationship like a badge of honor? Perhaps many realize that the “moving on” part is actually easy; the hard part is what moving on leaves behind. I was always told that the one who loves the least controls the relationship. For years I was always the one who loved the most, and the one hurt in the end. Things changed when I learned that the pain from relationships was inevitable…but the misery was an option. Women saw me transition from the man who was once viewed as “too nice” to someone well seasoned and aware of the kind of woman he deserved. Robert Anthony once said, you can have anything you want if you are willing to give up the belief that you can’t have it. Are women truly ready to become butterflies? They must first be willing to give up the life of being the caterpillar in order to do so.

MARRIAGE IS NOT ALWAYS THE ANSWER-IT CAN SOMETIMES BE A REALLY BAD IDEA- I watched the relationship of one of my male friends and his girlfriend since they met during our college years; the relationship a continuous cat and mouse game of infidelity and secrecy. Men always have the stigma of being the cheaters in a relationship, while women are often viewed as the innocent victims of our carnal addictions. The truth is that women are just much better at cheating. Men will cheat with coworkers, next-door neighbors and close friends of our counter-part, using reckless abandon…wondering How The Hell did she find out?!? When a woman fucks another man, he lives across town and is someone that doesn’t run in the same circles. The male ego will often fool us into thinking that our woman doesn’t or won’t creep. Tired of fucking the same pussy for the last 5 years? Guess what…she’s tired of looking at the same dick too.

I watched this couple in college continue year after year of their tumultuous relationship. Somehow they thought it would be a good idea to actually get married. Problem is, when a couple has problems-specifically cheating-marriage can further exacerbate things. Now your significant other transitions from someone living with you, cheating under the same roof-to someone living with you, married to you, cheating under the same roof…and can take half your shit.

Sometimes they say desperate situations require desperate measures. Well this isn’t one of them. Marriage is not always the answer.

SOMETIMES QUESTIONS ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN ANSWERS-

I’m suddenly reminded of this story…

10^th grade:

As I sat there in English class, I stared at the girl next to me. She was my so called "best friend". I stared at her long, silky hair, and wished she was mine. But she didn't notice me like that, and I knew it. After class, she walked up to me and asked me for the notes she had missed the day before and handed them to her. She said "thanks" and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I wanted to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

11th grade:

The phone rang. On the other end, it was her. She was in tears, mumbling on and on about how her love had broke her heart. She asked me to come over because she didn't want to be alone, so I did. As I sat next to her on the sofa, I stared at her soft eyes, wishing she was mine. After 2 hours, one Drew Barrymore movie, and three bags of chips, she decided to go to sleep. She looked at me, said "thanks" and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

Senior year:

The day before prom she walked to my locker. My date is sick" she said; he's not going to go well, I didn't have a date, and in 7th grade, we made a promise that if neither of us had dates, we would go together just as "best friends". So we did. Prom night, after everything was over, I was standing at her front door step. I stared at her as she smiled at me and stared at me with her crystal eyes. I want her to be mine, but she isn't think of me like that, and I know it. Then she said "I had the best time, thanks!" and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

Graduation Day:

A day passed, then a week, then a month. Before I could blink, it was graduation day. I watched as her perfect body floated like an angel up on stage to get her diploma. I wanted her to be mine, but she didn't notice me like that, and I knew it. Before everyone went home, she came to me in her smock and hat, and cried as I hugged her. Then she lifted her head from my shoulder and said, "you're my best friend, thanks" and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

A Few Years Later:

Now I sit in the pews of the church. That girl is getting married now. I watched her say "I do" and drive off to her new life, married to another man. I wanted her to be mine, but she didn't see me like that, and I knew it. But before she drove away, she came to me and said "you came!". She said "thanks" and kissed me on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

Funeral:

Years passed, I looked down at the coffin of a girl who used to be my "best friend". At the service, they read a diary entry she had wrote in her high school years. This is what it read: I stare at him wishing he was mine, but he doesn't notice me like that, and I know it. I want to tell him, I want him to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love him but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why. I wish he would tell me he loved me! `I wish I did too...` I thought to my self, and I cried.

…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…

www.thegrayareas.com

Volume 58: A Lesson In Being Selfish

2011-03-18T10:09:00.000-07:00

“By nice women…you probably mean selfish women, who have no more thought for an underprivileged, overworked woman than a pussycat in a sunny window for the starving kitten in the street. Now in that sense I am not a nice woman, for I do care.”

-Nelly McClung

Georges Courteline once said that a woman never sees what we do for her; she only sees what we don’t do. Today’s Random thought-my first of 2011-is inspired by recent events that have led me to reevaluate the mindset of some women around me, and also to question the brainwashed masses who abide by and support their thinking. Today I’m gonna write about being SELFISH. When I first began recording my random thoughts, some of my female readers found my writing style to be biased. They felt as though my entries-although fun to read-targeted women. Sistas already enjoy countless magazine articles, talks shows, tell-all books, websites and scorned video vixens-who show little mercy towards us with their man-bashing technique of choice. But to please not the masses, but my female readers-many whom I consider friends, I made adjustments in my writing-discussing diverse topics and taking the focus off them. This one however…will be different…

Now selfishness is commonly regarded as the concern with one’s own welfare and one’s own advantages with the exclusion of regard for others. A man or woman isn’t called selfish for pursuing their own good, they’re called selfish because they neglect the good of their fellow neighbor. Here’s how the story unfolds…

During an uneventful evening, my close friend and frat brother called me up to see if I was busy. Retouching photography images on Photoshop wasn’t exactly my idea of a thrilling adventure, so any plan sounded good. He knew some ladies in grad school at UPenn- also suffering from a similar night of boredom, and wanted company. Those words from my frat brothers have produced some legendary stories, and have also produced nights that I wish I could forget. We figured that hanging out with some ivy-league women couldn’t be bad. Could it?

We arrived at a modest 3-bedroom apartment shared by 3 women-all enrolled at the same school- graduates of Cornell University in NY and were all pursuing master’s degrees at the prestigious University of Pennsylvania. They were all from the suburbs of New York (Long Island) and had just moved to Philadelphia about 5 months ago. The night began with drinks and typical conversations of the educated Negro: (school, careers, sex, and the lack of money) and then a game of spades began. Now I may be the only black man who feels this way, but playing spades all night just isn’t my twist. Our people take spades way too seriously; seeing everyone complain about their shitty hand and yell at their partner is about as boring as women’s golf. After a few games, the night ended and we drove home to prepare for the next day- my initial impression of them being positive, even though I had reservations when I discovered their ages (the trio of ladies were all 22, whereas my frat brother is 28, and I’m 31). I’ve always avoided hanging around young-bucks (anyone under 25), because that age group tends to be concerned only with them selves and partying-their presence over a sustained period leaves you mentally annoyed, rather than stimulated.

It didn’t surprise me when they contacted us to hang out again-this time inviting us to join them and some of their friends at Dave & Buster’s. Again the options were weighed, and on what had been a boring ass Friday night, we agreed to meet up. I’m not a big fan of video games, but I am a fan of people and alcohol and D&B’s has lots of both! The vibe tonight was different-they had a friend in tow. Every female clique has several roles that members portray, though most never realize it. Almost every clique has a socialite, a good girl, a designated slut, and a bitchy prude. Tonight, the new addition was the bitchy prude. She was anything but social and spent most of the night muttering to her friends and wearing her patented agitated expression. I attempted to introduce myself and initiate conversation, but I guess the thrill of being a bitch seemed more fun. I was suddenly reminded why I don’t care for and don’t hang with twenty-two year olds.

It’s always awkward to be invited somewhere and then be treated as though you’re imposing by someone you don’t know. Still, my frat brother attempted to make the best of the night, graciously paying for everyone’s overpriced video games and maintaining his rare friendly disposition. After some time, they decided to call it a night and mentioned that they were going to go home to play spades. Uh-Oh. We drove home. Twenty minutes later and almost at our destination, my frat brother gets a text asking if we could turn back around and come over. My frat brother…never one to hold his tongue, began to text a response to the invitation. I had no doubt that it would be something funny, or controversial, given his inebriated condition. A drunk man’s words are indeed a sober man’s thoughts. Being true to form, he told me while texting that his response would read: Which one of y’all are fuckin?

I leaned over to view his phone, doubting that he’d really send that to someone. My eyes widened and I unleashed a drunken laugh. He did send it. (shaking my head) I knew the response to his text wasn’t gonna be good.

The female’s response to his text read: No one’s fucking anyone. There are no whores here. I shook my head in disbelief and knew that my frat brother would now make things interesting.

He responded with: No one called y’all whores. I just asked a question.

She went on to call him a slew of names and remind him of how rude he was and how his misogynistic texts had offended them. I just laughed. If sex were ever the goal of that night, the accumulation of the bitchy prude, mixed with cyber arguments via text, would have given any educated brotha a huge “soft-off”… the term given to a situation that produces the total opposite of a hard-on. I took a moment to reflect on the text in question. What he said would have offended most women, but is the universal thinking of most men-educated or not. Nothing in this world is ever free-even good company. To me…it was simply a night of good conversation and a break from the monotony. I expected no more or less. I went home and slept soundly…

Most girls familiar with my friend would have blown that text off. We’re often stereotyped as the dogs that our fraternity embraces as its mascot. Most inner city women would have ignored his response. Shit, some would have found it amusing. These girls didn’t. They were pissed. To be honest, I found the shit hilarious. He was just being himself. He was just being honest. We had no reason or motive to turn around and drive 30 more minutes over to their apartment to play spades.

I spent the next two weeks attempting to quell the tension between this group of females and my frat brother. I knew he wasn’t gonna apologize, so they could forget that shit, but I did acknowledge to them that I understood their position on being offended and apologized for him several times. They had no issues with me; after all, I didn’t send that text, and I never wanted anything. They seemed like nice girls, but I found it strange that they were so angry with someone known for speaking his mind.

I received a rare call from one of the Ivy League ladies one evening shortly after. She informed me that her girlfriend from Cornell, who also happened to be a Delta (member of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority), would be in town Friday-Sunday and wanted to meet some Ques while visiting. Yeah right. My fraternity is very closely associated with her sorority, so she wanted to know if I had some time to take them all out to one of our spots for some drinks. Due to a busy weekend of photography assignments, I was left with very limited time to hang out, but offered to contact some of my frat brothers who would feel like hanging out. Tensions were still running high between them and my frat brother who introduced me to them, so I switched gears and sent one of my other frat brothers to meet up and show the visiting Delta a good time. It’s very common for greeks to send frat brothers/sorority sisters to show visiting greeks a good time. My frat brother…let’s call him… “Steve”(not his real name)…met up with them at one of our favorite local spots-cheap strong drinks, good food and a social atmosphere. I had no doubt that they would enjoy his company.

Apparently, everything went well, because I received several texts of thanks. Several of my frat brothers came out and showed the ladies a great time. Drinks were paid for and everyone enjoyed the random crazy conversations. Afterwards everyone went back to the ladies’ apartment. I called “Steve” the next morning to ensure everything went well. He was still at the apartment. (laughing) Nice…

The following evening was more of the same: Steve once again taking the trio of ladies out…paying for their drinks and food and showing why they call Philly The City Of Brotherly Love. During the night, I received texts requesting me to join them at a South Street bar. A late night of shooting models in the studio and time spent with my lady caused me to politely decline their invitation. It’s good that they were enjoying themselves and I was glad that my frat brothers could show a visitor a great time, but my gut had reservations about the message that it could send to the others. It seems as though many sistas will quickly get a false sense of entitlement and believe that our “job” as men is to provide a good time. The next day was Sunday and would be my only free day that week to get out and have some fun. I decided it was time for a night out with the fellas.

My frat brother who sent the infamous text and I came across two familiar faces- friends from another school and also members of the same frat. We were all seated and engulfed in a conversation about our crazy lives and the people in it. A few drinks and a large food order later, I received a text from who else, but the Ivy League trio. They were in the process of leaving a nearby undergrad party and asked about our whereabouts. I simply stated that I was out with my frat brothers getting some food. Mistaking that for an open invitation to join, they showed up at the spot we were at and eventually made their way over to our table. This was quite the awkward situation, because my frat brother who had offended them weeks before was seated right there, scowl on his face. Straight Comedy. I said my hellos to everyone and had a chance to finally meet this visiting Delta. Even though we were seated an eating, I asked if the ladies wanted a seat. Initially no one responded, but when I asked again the Delta accepted my seat and I moved to another empty spot while another muttered: “You offered the Delta a seat first.”

Unimpressed by her latest witticism, I questioned the validity of her statement. When I offered a seat, I simply looked in the direction of the ladies. The Delta happened to be standing closest to me, and was ironically the 1^st to accept. I stood once again and offered yet another seat, but the female refused it. Now I’m a brotha with manners-a throwback to the days of the Southern Gentleman-with the chivalrous ways that today’s women claim are long gone with no trace of resurfacing. But when my kind disposition is challenged, I’m about as uninterested as a Republican Tea Party member at the BET Awards. So now tension was not only in the air with my frat brother, but now I was becoming annoyed with the attention-seeking antics. I ignored the bullshit and continued my meal and rare night off from work and had fun-the women eventually moved to a table across from us, further igniting the flames of attention-seeking behavior. We conversed for the next half hour as if they weren’t there and left.

I received a phone call from one of them a few days later while I was in the studio wrapping up a shoot. She tells me they’re upset because none of us offered to buy them any drinks while we were there, and none of us even offered to pay for their food. Imagine that. I asked why she thought it was our job to pay for it, and she says “That’s what a real man does.”

I asked her if she thought it was odd that strange men will buy women they don’t know alcoholic drinks upon first meeting them. They don’t meet you in the club and say, Hey…need twenty bucks for gas? They buy drinks-which lowers a person’s inhibitions. Drinks-which can lower a person’s wall enough to invite strangers back over to their place. Drinks-which increase a man’s chance of getting what he wants from them. You see… an advanced degree from an overpriced university doesn’t compare to every day common sense. And judging by her thinking, common sense wasn’t as common as I thought. Sensing that her pampered, ivy-league judgment was in question, she got into defense mode. With tension rising in her voice, she told me that real men should buy women drinks when they’re out…every time…no exceptions.

I asked her if she thought that the vast majority of brothas that she knows were chivalrous. She stated that they weren’t. She said exactly what I’ve grown accustomed to women saying: Chivalry is Dead. So I asked, “Do most men pay for your drinks when you go out?” She said: Always.

Then I asked a question that many may wonder but few ever ask: “Now why is it that these brothas…whom you say have no manners and aren’t chivalrous-the same brothas who you say won’t open a car door, or hold a bar door open for you-will pay for multiple drinks for you and your friends at a bar?

Suddenly she had no answer. See, there’s a difference between a gentleman and an opportunist. There’s a difference between someone who’s an asshole and someone who refuses to be someone’s sucker. Every brotha that doesn’t break the bank to impress you isn’t cheap or broke. There’s a difference between a misogynistic brotha and someone who simply has an opinion and tells it like it is. The Baton of blame is often passed around when the subject arises as to why there are so many single women out there. How many women out there have looked inward at the bullshit that they value? Kurt Vonnegut once said, educating a beautiful woman is like pouring honey into a fine swiss watch: everything stops. To my successful educated sistas out there…do not parade around your city of choice with a false sense on entitlement. Our sole purpose in life isn’t to entertain you, like some buffoon in a minstrel show. Most gentlemen are nothing more than patient wolves. Some will say only chicken heads feel that way, but these women were clearly professional women with great jobs and highly educated-the alleged cream of the crop by society’s standards. Those who equate “manners” with how much money a man shells out in your direction, regardless of how well or how long he’s known you will quickly find the roles reversing once he gets what he wants. An educated man or woman is no wiser than the person with the I.Q of a pickle jar if they embrace such selfish views. So my message to those with the same mentality of those ladies is: You can continue to live selfishly and attempt to use brothas for their company and resources. Just don’t become offended or surprised when you contact a brotha to come over for spades one night and his response asks: Which one of y’all are fuckin?

…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…

www.thegrayareas.com

“Money is neither my God nor my devil. It is a form of energy that tends to make us more of who we already are, whether it is greedy or loving.” -Dan Millman

Volume 57: The Miseducation Of The Platinum Pussy

2010-10-04T17:35:00.000-07:00

“Women have a wonderful instinct about things. They can discover everything except the obvious.” –Oscar Wilde

Mary B. Morrison once said that Pussy is sweeter than honey and more valuable than money. To some, the word pussy is simply an English Word meaning cat. To others, it’s also a slang word that refers to the female genitalia. Pussy is also a pejorative term that implies cowardice or weakness-a disparaging and dismissive term that sometimes describes a woman regarded only as a sex partner. What most don’t know is that the word pussy is actually a shortened version of the word “pusillanimous”, which comes from Latin words meaning “tiny spirit” and is defined by the Oxford Dictionary as “showing a lack of courage and determination” or cowardly. Today, women find themselves in positions that fifty years ago, no one would have thought they’d be in. Women have evolved from stigmas of being restricted to cooking, cleaning, tending to children or utilizing sex to ultimately get what they want. Today, women are CEO’s of major companies, business and fashion moguls, and are also politicians. The average black woman in America has a higher credit score than the average black man; they represent the much larger population enrolled in college, and are buying property faster than we are. It’s actually beautiful to see. Divorces are up because frankly women don’t have to put up with our shit and remain in unhappy marriages due to financial dependency the way that perhaps our Mothers and Grandmothers had done. Radio airwaves play tracks from female R&B and hip hop artists-many of them boasting of their independence, ownership of assets, as well as other materialistic bullshit. A first date with the modern-day sista may consist of them dropping their verbal resume of accolades over dinner, reminding us for the hundredth time that they’ve got their own this, and they’ve got their own that and they don’t need no man. Yes…the modern-day woman is definitely doin’ it big.

But despite all the wonderful things that I see my sistas doing and the new plateaus of independence and respect they continually attain, it’s always sad when you see the population of sistas who believe that they contain some sort of mythological Pussy. The women who believe in the myth of the Platinum Pussy are the ones who feel as though they can change a man and his current state of thinking, based on how good the pussy is, or whether or not she chooses to in fact have sex with him.

Now, many of the educated female movers and shakers of the world may think that proclamations of the “Platinum Puss” are reserved for the ghetto, oversexed and undereducated women…but as many men will confirm…there are large amounts of overachieving women-wasting away their best years-trying to change the mind of a man through sex.

I meet women who consistently bash brothers for their child-like antics; many of those women ironically are in fact themselves card-carrying members of the platinum puss club. They’re romantically involved with their polar opposite-naively believing that they can change him into their dream man. It’ll never work. But in life, you’ll always have those who prefer to ice-skate uphill.

I stated before that women sign contracts in invisible ink. Men are far less complex than we’re made out to be. Most of us show you exactly who we are from the jump, but women who believe in the platinum puss hear what they wanna hear. We tell them we don’t want a relationship. They hear “I don’t want a relationship right now…but give me a little time and I’ll likely change my mind.”

They believe that they can change our mindset even though we’ve told them exactly what we want and what we don’t want. Then after months and sometimes even years of avoiding the inevitable, reality sinks in that a man will not change who he is. And that’s when they go crying to Women’s Magazines, talk radio and legions of single girlfriends…to tell the tale of how men are all dogs.

“Women marry men hoping they will change. Men marry women hoping they will not. So each is inevitably disappointed.” -Albert Einstein

THE MISEDUCATION OF THE PLATINUM PUSS: MOST COMMONLY MADE MISTAKES ARE:

Believing that you can withhold sex to force us into an ultimatum for a relationship-I knew a young lady who was interested in a relationship with me. At the time I wasn’t looking to get involved. I was fresh out of a long relationship, and unlike many, I give myself time between relationships to assess what went wrong, what could have been done better, and how to avoid history from repeating itself by dating the exact same person I just broke up with. I met a successful, attractive, educated woman who was a great catch…on paper. When I first met her, my spidey-sense told me that she would be a case similar to what I had a history of running into: a woman who had a man already, but selfishly wanted to still play the market. The signs were there. She always wanted to come to my place and never wanted to chill in the area she lived in. Of course she swore up and down and she was single, had been so for some time, and had great difficulty finding a man in America’s 5^th largest city. Ladies…none of us believe that shit anymore. In today’s society, even a man can find a man! Do you honestly want us to believe that attractive women can walk the streets and not be relentlessly harassed and approached by men?

But anyway, she wanted a relationship, and the bottom line is…she wasn’t gonna get one. I was very open about my intentions and she was adamant on changing my mind. When the subject of sex arose she proceeded to tell one of the most common lies that women tell: “I don’t have casual sex. I only have sex with the man I’m in a relationship with.”

Bullshit.

I’m sure she thought I’d change my stance, just to please my carnal appetites. She was wrong. Women hafta realize that they cannot withhold the pussy, in exchange for promises of a relationship. Some foolishly try to dangle the shit over our heads like an 8-ounce sirloin steak, hoping that we will jump their hoops like a trained golden retriever. They still fail to realize that sex relieves tension…love causes it. You can’t “trick” us into falling for you. You’ll wind up looking very stupid every time.

Believing that you can use the pussy to change your current relationship status/Take someone else’s man- Everyone knows someone who is the “other woman” aka the mistress, aka the side-jawn. The biggest myth about the Platinum Puss is when the side jawn believes that a married man will leave his wife (and many times his family) in order to be with her. Ladies…it doesn’t matter how well you give head. It doesn’t matter how pretty your face is or how fat your ass is. You can ride a dick so good that it comes off and screams “No Mas” during sex. The end result will always be the same. The wife will be the wife…and you will be the side jawn. He can make promises. He can buy you things. He can even give you money in exchange for discretion. Ultimately your position will not change, so if you’re gonna play a mistress role…play it well. It’s like the spoiled professional athlete who complains about the contract he agreed to and now wants to renegotiate it for a better deal. That married brotha will be as unfazed to your bullshit as the team owner is to the athlete who naively thinks he is bigger than the sport itself. At the end of the day, you’ll never get what you want. Two years later, you’re still the other woman…arguing with girlfriends who care about you and tell you the truth-he’s not leaving. There’s a reason-other than sex-that she’s the wife and everyone else isn’t. If it were solely based on mindless sex, we’d all marry the town whore…but we don’t.

Last but certainly not least…

Believing that you can use the pussy to change the inevitable-it’s one of the dumbest and most commonly observed things that I see women do. Shit, that’s why I stopped hooking people up. Female friends would meet and take interest in certain male friends of mine. They’d ask, “Wassup with _____?” and I’d tell em’ straight up, “listen…based on your personalities…it’s a technical mismatch. I wouldn’t hook you guys up. You’re looking for two different things.” (It was the nicest way that I could explain that my male friend wasn’t shit…and wasn’t gonna change)

They’d nod their head in agreement, tell me they understand, and often thank me for my honesty. A week later, I’d get a phone call saying that they went out on a date, and things went horribly wrong. Wow…now…he ended up being everything I told them he’d be, and with having had that information beforehand, they still insisted on doing the same thing I urged them not to do. The difference between a wise man and a fool is that the wise man does in the beginning what the fool doesn’t do until the end. A quick word of advice ladies: Sometimes meeting new people in our lives can be similar to Black Friday shopping with your last bit of money left. Every now and then, you go to that store that has a No Refund policy. You have that outfit that is looking right at you and the price is right. Shit, the price is so right…you’d feel like quite the fool to not buy. But you wanna try it on to make sure it fits-remember you can’t take it back- and you’re running short on time. You got places to go and you need to get there fast. Though the price looks good, you don’t wanna invest the little bit of money you have left on this outfit that cannot be returned if you don’t like it.

We sometimes meet these sale item people in life and our patience with dating is running short like our bank accounts. No refund policies are like mistakes…we can’t take them back! We made some costly purchases in the past that weren’t worth the investment. Seemingly too good for MACY’s, we got people that chase Sak’s Fifth Avenue relationships-only to find out that overpriced shirt wasn’t shit after the 1^st time it got washed and now it’ll never fit the same. Sometime we invest in expensive shit to floss for others and they don’t even notice.

Some folk we meet have a No Refund policy. If you decide to invest in em, you better be sure they’re what you want because you may find yourself stuck with them or stuck in the situations that a night of passion can bring. Be sure they fit within the parameters of your life and how you choose to live it, because there is no such thing as Platinum Pussy that can change a man’s way of thinking. We all see the current situation with the newly-married Alicia Keys and how she transitioned from mistress to wife…let’s see how long she stays there… I’m sure we all know the outcome.

“The woman who appeals to a man’s vanity may stimulate him, the woman who appeals to his heart may attract him, but it is the woman who appeals to his imagination that gets him.” -Helen Rowland

…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…

www.thegrayareas.com

Volume 56: Everyone Thinks They're A Model

2010-09-13T21:26:00.000-07:00

“The camera can be lenient; it is also expert at being cruel. But its cruelty only produces another kind of beauty, according to the surrealist preferences which rule photographic taste.” –Susan Sontag, On Photography by Susan Sontag

I love my job. I’ll tell anyone who’ll listen that there’s no occupation greater than that of a professional photographer. Imagine having a job where you’re paid to be creative, meet new and interesting people every day, and have fun. Sometimes I still wonder how the hell I ended up doing the very thing I grew up disliking. When I’m not losing my mind during the routine workweek in the Philadelphia Public Schools, I’m in the Aperture Studio- chasing the dream of becoming a very successful fashion and glamour photographer. It’s almost as if I’m Clark Kent at one job, and Superman at another. In the Philadelphia Schools I’m Clark…mild mannered, friendly, yet far from the social butterfly. I’m very good at my job, but there’s an absence of passion. I’m just following the routine…waiting for 3:00pm. Once I leave these walls and head on over to my newly acquired studio space, I become someone else. As I enter the industrial building-turned photography studio, my mind is on everything, yet also on nothing but my passion. I’m thinking about what poses I wanna try, the concept of the shoot, what time the model is arriving…all while reciting a silent prayer for a successful shoot. Here in my comfort zone, I no longer share the burdens and concerns of my alter ego. There’s nothing corporate about what I do. I’m an Artist. My mission? Create some fly shit that people wanna see…and I love every minute of it. Well…almost every minute of it. Photography…like any other occupation…isn’t perfect. Many of my friends have an occupation where they make a difference in the lives of others. Some work in medicine and law enforcement and save lives. Others work in the legal system and save lives by sending the guilty to lengthy prison terms, or save the innocent from incarceration. Some feel a sense of accomplishment by providing certain services to the unfortunate who can’t afford it. As much as I love to shoot, I can’t see where my job enhances the lives of others. If anything, I feel as though I often cater to the over-inflated egos and narcissism of people-many who need a reality check and a clue…not a photo shoot.

To be a photographer, one must have tough skin. This was very difficult for me, because I am extremely sensitive. Well-I used to be. Eryka Badu hit the nail on the head when she said, “Now keep in mind that I’m an artist…and I’m sensitive about my shit!” The arts require a certain type of perseverance, because you hear “no” a thousand times before you get your first “yes.” Some will be unimpressed by your work; some will sing your praises. As talented as some think I am, I get rejected. A lot. I’ve emailed my resume to countless popular magazines in New York-one of them an astonishing eight different times-without reply. Not even an email telling me to fuck off. I’ve even offered to contribute as an intern, opting to travel as far as New York for free with still no response-that shit hurt. But I’ve found some success with rare opportunities to shoot for smaller publications and now my own individual company’s newfound success. Imagine having 16 years of experience and being rejected over and over like you’re some random idiot with a Polaroid camera and a GED. Today things are finally going very well, which is the reason I haven’t been blogging in a while. Well I’m back, and I figured an appropriate topic would be the things that I encounter in my endeavors for a successful career…

“Along with people who pretty themselves for the camera, the unattractive and the disaffected have been assigned their beauty.” –Susan Sontag, On Photography by Susan Sontag

The thing that attracted me most to fashion and glamour photography was the challenge of capturing the model. A model, also sometimes called a mannequin, is a male or female employed for displaying and promoting the line of clothing or for advertising or art purposes. Shooting models becomes immensely interesting because there are so many types: fashion, fitness, body-part, glamour, fine art, etc.

Although models can come in all shapes and sizes, the most successful models follow strict diets and exercise plans to maintain a specific scale. Female models should be around 34-24-34 and at least 5’8. Male models are preferred to be 5’10-6’2 with a waist of 26-33 inches. The most annoying thing about modeling is that large cities like my own are overpopulated with larger-than-life egos. After the digital revolution, it seemed as though everyone who owned a digital camera thought they were a photographer. It was no coincidence that every female with above average looks suddenly felt the insatiable need to consider herself a model. Just because you stand in front of some guys iphone camera and smile childishly, or some nude shots of you end up on the net…doesn’t make you a model! I’m no Shemar Moore or Tyson Beckford. I’ve never appeared in the pages of Essence Magazine for being one of the Most Eligible Bachelors. I’m not a heartthrob. But unlike many in this industry, I know my worth as well as my limitations. Part of being truly good at something is also realizing what you’re not good at. The deadly combination of vanity and borderline delusion has lined my pockets and the pockets of countless talented photographers all throughout the nation with clientele who desired our services. ModelMayhem.com has further ignited the flames of delusion for legions of people-male and female, old and young, attractive and…some not so much-to pursue careers as professional models. I receive profile information on some who-how can I put this-pretty much don’t stand a chance in hell of becoming professional models. Some do it just for fun, and some are experienced models, simply looking to network with others in the field. Other times I get requests from profiles like these:

http://www.modelmayhem.com/762688 http://www.modelmayhem.com/portfolio/762688/0

http://www.modelmayhem.com/1330247

http://www.modelmayhem.com/821232

http://www.modelmayhem.com/portfolio/690844/0

http://www.modelmayhem.com/portfolio/19095/0

http://www.modelmayhem.com/291402

“No matter how sophisticated the camera, the photographer is still the one that makes the picture.” -Doug Bartio

There is nothing that gets under my skin quite like the client with the over-inflated ego. I’ve dealt with it all in this industry: from Bridezillas, to the ghetto bridal party. I’ve shot baby showers where the ex-girlfriend of the child’s father was outside with her goons in an attempt to confront the mother-to-be. I’ve photographed weddings where fights have erupted at the wedding receptions. I’ve witnessed grooms who were so intoxicated that 9-1-1 had to be called because they had passed out. There was a wedding party that had 21 bridesmaids and 21 groomsmen, with 3 stretched limousines and an insane bride who felt the need to tell me, and the videographer how to do our job. I’ve had no-shows for photo shoots and I’ve had a deadbeat who wrote me a check for $230 that bounced for photography services. I’ve waited impatiently for 3 hours for some shoots to start. I’ve been at outdoor shoots for rappers in the hood with police investigating an outdoor homicide scene across the street. In the end, I’ve always been able to maintain a stoic exterior and conduct myself with calm professionalism. But dammit…some of these aspiring models are really getting on my nerves…

Recently I was contacted via facebook from an aspiring model who I had spoken with before on modelmayhem. Sometimes photographers will agree to something called a “TF” shoot, which means Time For. “Time For” is a means of one artist exchanging their time, in exchange for another service. For example, when a photographer is starting out and doesn’t have a large clientele. He/she may seek the services of models, who offer their services in exchange for the images from the shoot or a CD of the images. A Makeup artist may offer their makeup services for your shoot in exchange for a CD containing the images. Sounds like a good deal, right? Problem is that the delusional model will oftentimes request FREE photography services, while still attempting to give you THEIR rates for their services! Normally I’d immediately tell them to kiss my talented, unapologetic, Jamaican-American ass, but one must always maintain professionalism despite adversity. The bottom line is this: A real photographer does NOT pay for models. WE are paid to shoot. Oftentimes the model will pay us, or the agency that represents him/her will pay us. Sometimes if a shoot is for a magazine, someone from the magazine staff or someone who represents an artist will pay. I used to be opposed to TFCD (time in exchange for CD) shoots, but I realized the potential for future business through smart marketing. There are many times when it plays to your advantage. I’ve done TFCD shoots, and turned them into 3-4 paid assignments through the right people seeing the end results. An artist’s work speaks for itself. But…every now and then someone contacts you for your help and the ensuing conversation makes you wanna choke the shit outta them and swear off helping your people altogether.

Here’s a perfect example of the kinds of things that a photographer can go through when attempting to help out a BROKE-ASS aspiring model with an over-inflated ego. If y’all know how I can get down (as most of you know), you’d know that 2 years ago, her ass woulda been TOAST! But…I do my best to constantly be the bigger person now and handle business. Here was our conversation after she contacted me in reference to a TFCD shoot. Tell me if I’M crazy:

Ronald Gray September 2 at 11:41pm

You need a photographer? Ok. Sounds good. I’m ready when you are. I'm making appts in the studio fri-sun between the hours of 12-7. what's your vision? http://www.ronaldgray.com/ -Ron

www.ronaldgray.com

(delusional model, who’s name and identity has been withheld) September 2 at 11:43pm

I'm in LA at the moment but will be back in PHL within the next week or 2. I'm open to concepts. Please check out www.nymmg.com. That is the agency that I am signed to. If you are confident that you can produce photos of that quality then I'd be glad to work with you.

-delusional

Model Management Group

www.nymmg.com

Every model on MMG has been hand picked and thoroughly evaluated by MMG professionals that have a track record of finding industry superstars. MMG provides agencies with this service at no cost and has been designed to fulfill every need of an agency's booker.

Ronald Gray September 2 at 11:48pm

outstanding. here is my contact info. feel free to let me know what day works best as soon as possible. schedule fills quickly.

ronaldgraythephotographer@gmail.com (blackberry)

215-834-****

www.ronaldgray.com

Here is my Studio: Aperture Studio-3417 Melvale Street Phila PA (in the port richmond section of the city)

appts Fri-Sun between the hours of 12-7

talk 2 ya soon!

www.ronaldgray.com

(Model) September 2 at 11:49pm

Are you confident that you can produce such images?

-delusional

Ronald Gray September 2 at 11:54pm

sure. i can do anything.

(Model) September 2 at 11:56pm

Did you take a good look at the images on the website? You responded rather quickly. The photographers who took those pictures are very talented. Not to say that you aren't, I just want you to fully understand the kinds of images that I hope to receive. I no longer work for free unless it's going to benefit me and that is why I'm looking for an amazing photographer for photos similar to the ones on the website. I just don't want to waste my time. So please review the photos once more and be sure.

-delusional

Ronald Gray September 2 at 11:59pm

OK *****(model’s name). I took a very good look at several of the models on the site. I myself do not work for free EITHER unless it is something that benefits ME. Photography is a business for me and not a trendy way to meet females or a hobby. If I accept an assignment or utilize my talents, studio, and time for a project, then I stand by my talent and company's brand. I choose to respond quickly because quite frankly, that's how I operate when it comes to business. My website and work speaks for itself.

(Model) September 3 at 12:02am

Okay. Just making sure. I appreciate a quick response, I just want to make sure that you took adequate time to see what I expect. I will contact you when I know for sure when I will be back in town.

-delusional

Ronald Gray September 3 at 12:03am

yup.

(Model) September 8 at 12:15am

I am back in town but booked until the 14th. Did you plan on providing makeup/hair/wardrobe for the shoot?

-delusional

Ronald Gray September 8 at 12:18am

wow *****!(model’s name)...I'm just a photographer. LOL I take the pictures. (smiles) I have a great makeup artist who can likely volunteer her services as a favor for ME. As far as hair...i NEVER provide that service for clients. I can't spend my own $ to not make any. Wardrobe is the same thing. I know plenty of designers from shooting fashion shows. I can ask them and see if they are available and willing to donate for a shoot, but I can never promise that they will do so.

(Model) September 8 at 12:20am

I know that you are a photographer lol. But when working with TF* projects, often times photographers will have a team. I also can not afford to spend my own money when I am not making any off of the shoot. Talk to your people and see what you can come up with. Also, if they agree to doing so, please send me a link to their work. After that is situated we can begin discussing a date.

-delusional

So…someone’s been watching too many episodes of America’s Next Top Model. Who the fuck does she think she is?!? Now…I’ve worked with all kinds of people, both well known and virtually unknown, but I’d say that she was probably the most arrogant. It’s ironic that the ones that no one’s ever heard of…who can’t even afford a $350 shoot with me…have the nerve to make outlandish demands. (shaking my head) Another Delusional Diva. Another misguided soul who’s heard, “yo…you should model” by one too many men who don’t know the industry. Did I mention that she’s not even 21 yet?!? Two years ago, I would have reminded her that “Ron the Photographer” is also Ron from Philadelphia and showed no tolerance for her prima donna bullshit. But this is a new day and I’m 31 years young as of today (9-12). Life is good, business is good and I’m doing what I love. I’m a changed man….chasing the dream and hopefully opening doors for others to do the same. I hate some of these idiots, but I love this photography thing and hopefully I’ll continue to make you all proud. I’ve been gone for a while, but I’m back now. I’ll keep you guys posted on my progress! http://www.ronaldgray.com/

“When the novice photographer starts taking pictures, he carries his camera about and shoots everything that interests him. There comes a time when he must crystallize his ideas and set off in a particular direction. He must learn that shooting for the sake of shooting is dull and unprofitable.” –Alexey Brodovitch-Photography, February 1964

…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…

www.thegrayareas.com

Volume 55: THE WORLD'S BIGGEST IDIOT

2010-05-26T21:34:00.001-07:00

“Money is only loaned to a man. He comes into the world with nothing and he leaves with nothing.” -William Crapo Durant, Founder of General Motors & Chevrolet

As I sat inside Atlantic City’s Showboat Casino, I peered over my seated friend’s shoulder to observe the game of Blackjack taking place in front of me. I watched his style of betting-he’d wager the minimum amount allowed on a hand…ten dollars (though many casinos have a $20 minimum on blackjack) and he’d never deviate from the plan. He’d win a few hands, then he’d start to lose; then he’d begin to get hot and win again, only to begin to lose some more-before finally quitting and deciding it were time to head back to Philadelphia. Make no mistake…my girl friend was good at blackjack. He’d sometimes call to tell me that he’d won over a thousand dollars. Sure, it would take him sometimes four…five…six hours to pull it off, but the pride of entering a casino equipped with $200, and leaving out with $1,200 would be quite the conquest for anyone. As a reward for winning big, the Casino would offer him a complimentary room, but he knew that there was something beneath the surface of the Casino’s newfound generosity. You see, the Casino was designed for one thing and one thing only: To take people’s money! Kin Hubbard once said, “The safest way to double your money is to fold it over and put it in your pocket.”

I wholeheartedly agree.

A Casino, like many other legal hustles and scams, doesn’t come forthright and explain its intentions. Instead, its hustle is based and predicated on Chance. They make you believe that you have a chance…to win. They prey on human appetites. When you begin to win in a casino, you desire to win more. If you’ve won their money, the Casino wants it back, so they’ll offer the winner a complimentary room for the night. Why? Because chances are…most people will wake up the next day to spend more money in the Casino again…and the Casino will ultimately win. It’s set up for you to fail. Ever notice there are no clocks in the Casino…no windows…they take away your ability to be aware of time. They offer you “complimentary” drinks-lowering your inhibitions. They’re always air-conditioned, keeping you wide awake. They make you feel right at home…while they take your money. When someone has a hot hand and is consistently beating the dealer and winning, a manager comes over, relieves the dealer and a new one replaces him/her. The Casino sells you the false hope of chance.

The first time I accompanied my friend to a Casino I was fascinated by the lights from afar. We entered its vast structure and walked along a seemingly endless Persian-styled rug, past the marble floors and pillars. I saw a lobby, where in it stood and sat nearly thirty people-their faces bore expressions of sadness, panic, calamity and fatigue. I could tell these were the Casino’s victims…they came there because the Casino sold them the chance of winning…but it was designed for them to lose. I looked over each one, and imagined what their stories were. Perhaps some had a serious addiction and this was a typical Friday night; some may have blown bi-weekly paychecks or even children’s college savings. Some could have squandered large quantities stolen from loved ones. They sat and paced the lobby in a trance and it brought back thoughts of seeing drug-addicted people in Philadelphia, as I felt immense pity, and yet shook my head in contempt. My gambling friend was way too cautious to get caught up in this kind of a situation. He played blackjack the same way he conducted his own life. He played it safe (bet the minimum) and was very cerebral. He never took chances, so when he won, he won little by little; and when he lost… he only lost a little. The greatest thing that set him apart was his uncanny ability to walk away. He’d sometimes bring me along just to hold his wallet…with specific instructions-to under no circumstances ever give him any additional money. I’m not a gambler (though I’ve played and won a few times), and as much as it bored me to tears to watch him in the Casino, I respected the way he played the game. Now…lemme get to the random thought:

“No one can earn a million dollars honestly.” -William Jennings Bryan

There’s another profession that is based on chance, even though it’s designed to fail. The employees of that enterprise are called drug dealers. In my opinion, a drug dealer is no more intelligent than the addict he sells to. Everyone knows that it only takes one incident of contact with a drug to be hooked-yet countless people get hooked on drugs with the vain notion, It won’t happen to me. Everyone knows that drug dealers never retire from their occupation of choice with a pension and a retirement villa. The Drug Dealers who refuse to quit wind up dead or in jail. There are no exceptions and have never been any exceptions to the rule…yet lo and behold…there’s never a shortage of morons to stand outside on a corner, foolishly thinking It won’t happen to me. The Idiot who sells drugs and the fool who can’t stop gambling are both lured in by the prize… quick money. Both know the risks; a gambler realizes that he could potentially lose everything he came with, but he insists that his skill will overcome the Casino’s money structure-which is designed for him to fail. The drug dealer believes that he can acquire large amounts of money quickly, and that his pension for police evasion will keep him in business. The Drug Dealer is in denial that he’s too lazy to get a real job. Why’s that? His mantra is that he “Ain’t got time to be workin’ no 9-5 for minimum wage.”

It’s laughable when the man who refuses to work for $10 an hour for one year of his life with an honest job gaining experience, gets arrested and works for 35 cents an hour for the next five years of his life with a menial prison job. He fails to see or fails to care about the design. The same design that sold him chance-each successful sale, each materialistic purchase a victory for him-but ultimately the design is the only winner. What’s the best job available for prisoners? Suicide Watch. Lil Wayne, who made $42 million last year, is now making 50 cents an hour with his suicide watch position. Contrary to the meager salary, it’s actually the highest paying job for a prisoner-mostly entailing mingling with prisoners and is much better than working the kitchen or sanitation duty. You usually have to be recommended by a correctional officer or you must volunteer. Prisoners take course on how to deal with at-risk counterparts. Spike Milligan famously said, Money couldn’t buy friends, but you do get a better class of enemy. Throughout the ebb and flow of his dealings, the drug dealer makes enemies with law enforcement, rival drug dealers, and even the honest hardworking citizen…who’s detest can range from both jealousy of someone making three times their salary in half the time, to natural animosity towards those who make their children’s streets dangerous and those who feel exempt from the laws of the land and taxes that the law abiding citizens must endure.

So why would anyone get into a labyrinth of circumstances when the only exits are prison or death? Simple. People are stupid. Truth be told, selling drugs has likely crossed almost every inner city black man’s mind at some point in his life. Unless you were the product of a wealthy family, you know what it’s like to have a bank account with a negative balance. You know what it felt like to be B-R-O-K-E. We all attempted to place a phone call on the cell one day and were redirected to a customer service rep for payment by our wireless providers. We’ve had the experience of screening blocked phone calls with the bill collector on the other end, looking to make arrangements for a delinquent payment. We all know the struggle. The reason why we all didn’t run to the corner, stripper pole or worse is because we chose to make better choices. They thoughta were just that: THOUGHTS. We recognized that it’s all planned to fail. We knew the ending before the entire saga played out. A Sucker is born every day and yet every day someone wakes up with dreams of being the next Scarface ...forgetting that Scarface dies at the end. Who will be the next idiot?

I know how it feel to wake up fucked up/Pockets broke as hell, another rock to sell/ People look at you like you’re the user/Sellin’ drugs to all the losers, mad Buddha abuser/But they don’t know about ya stress-filled day/ Baby on the way, mad bills to pay/That’s why you drink Tanqueray, so you can reminisce/ And wish…you wasn’t livin’ so devilish…shit/ I remember I was just like you/ Smokin’ blunts with my crew, flippin’ old 62’s/ Cause G-E-D was it B-I-G/ I got P-A-I-D, that’s why my Mom hates me/ She was forced to kick me out, no doubt/ Then I figured out, nicks went for twenty down south/ Packed up my tools for my raw power moves/ Glock nineteen for casket and flower moves/For punks tryna stop my flow/ and what they don’t know will show on the autopsy/ Went to see Papi, to cop me a brick/ Ask for some consignment, he wasn’t tryna hear it/ Smokin’ mad Newports cause I’m doin’ court for an assault that I caught in Bridgeport New York/ Catch me if you can, like the gingerbread man/ You better have ya gat in hand, cause Maaaaan/ -Notorious B.I.G “Everyday Struggle”

…Damn he was nice….

…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray….

http://www.thegrayareas.com/

Volume 54: THE GOOD MAN: Why They Don't Want Your Ass

2010-05-18T16:36:00.000-07:00

"Women might be able to fake orgasms. But men can fake a whole relationship."

- Sharon Stone

I had a female friend who once said, “The first time you buy a house, you see how pretty the paint is and buy it. The second time you look to see if the basement has termites. It’s the same with men.” Nowadays, man-bashing seems to be the sport of choice; shows stereotyping us as oversexed, indecisive fools who avoid commitment have higher ratings than the NBA Playoffs-as we grow sick and tired of the All Men are Dogs jargon that permeates talk radio shows, R&B songs, movies and Women’s Magazine articles. The only thing worse than reading about a scorned woman’s recollection of her past indiscretions is listening to her and her single friends spout off about the lack of good men, as if they themselves are anywhere near being marriage material. Because many of the brothas out there who speak up for the fellas are concerned with ratings, reputation, and book sales-which mostly come from the African American female population-their words are often watered down for their women readers; implicitly packaged instructions on how to find the one, and not simply the next one. Women went out and bought the Steve Harvey book Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man, which let sistas into the mindset of a man and both answered questions and gave relationship advice; Advice that can ultimately lead you to the man of your dreams. But did the buyers know that Steve Harvey has been married three times? That’s like buying a book on Maintaining Wealth that was written by Mike Tyson.

Strangely…naively…people far too often listen to what celebrities and semi-celebrities have to say, without even realizing that celebrity relationships don’t function the same way an Average Joe’s relationship does. They say the number one cause of divorce between couples has to do with money. Money isn’t the primary concern with rich people. It is with the rest of us. It’s hard to be in the mood, when you have an eviction notice taped to your door. There aren’t many romantic evenings on the town with the Mrs. when there’s a boot on the car. There won’t be too many champagne bubble baths when you can’t afford champagne! And time alone with your lady becomes just wishful thinking when you don’t have the $300 weekly daycare fee for the children.

The bottom line is…sound relationship advice doesn’t come from people with PHD’s or celebrities with overpaid editors. Sound advice doesn’t come from the bitter girlfriend that can’t hold onto a man of her own, or the Momma’s boy who spends his Saturday night dateless and in the basement with a Playstation 3. It is not found in the pages of Cosmo or in the misogynistic lyrics of some mind-numbing Gucci Mane or Lil Wayne track played over and over on BET. It comes from good ol’ fashioned experience and common sense. As a single man (single meaning Not Married), I couldn’t and wouldn’t write a piece on How To Maintain a Healthy Marriage. But for the fellas (and I mean the good fellas) I will respond the attacks on us. I will let the naysayers know that good looking, well groomed, God fearing, ambitious, compassionate, humble, and single men exist in adequate numbers-and there are many of us without kids! As I explained in a previous entry, I no longer had issues finding the right woman, once I looked inward and instead focused on becoming the right man. So…for the sistas that continually bash us, let’s explore some of the top two reasons your ass is still on the market, despite your claims to be the ideal woman:

All men are not slimy warthogs. Some men are silly giraffes. Some woebegone puppies, some insecure frogs. But if one is not careful, those slimy warthogs can ruin it for all the others. –Cynthia Heimel

THAT FALSE SENSE OF ENTITLEMENT- you know, some of the greatest debates take place on facebook and the ensuing comments to user’s statuses. There seems to be an infinite amount of women who have a false sense of entitlement, where they feel as though being a successful woman guarantees them a husband. Companionship is a gift; a gift that even all of God’s people in biblical times weren’t promised. The same way that everyone who owns a degree isn’t promised a great job or a job at all, every good woman who has something to offer (if you let her tell it) will not always be promised a mate. Besides, if everyone were destined to have a marriage partner…there would be an equal amount of men and women on the earth-which is far from the case. Women outnumber us, and with overflowing prisons, black on black crime, and men who’d rather be with another man, finding a husband can be harder than a 500lb woman finding something in the Gucci Store that fits. But sistas…don’t be fooled. The average single man out here doesn’t care about your personal accolades and Ivy League education. Your $300,000 beach-front condo with 800 credit score is great, but the woman who makes $35,000 a year, drives a KIA, treats us like a King and can cook the shit out of a steak has a better chance of receiving a proposal than someone who can multitask corporate deals on her blackberry and do her own taxes. You are not-I repeat-ARE NOT entitled to become someone’s wife because you are successful!

The other woman who kills me is the one who continually passes on all of the good men in her life- from the final week of 7^th grade when the straight A student gathered up the heart to tell her how he felt, to her senior year of college, when the smartest guy in her class offered to take her out in an effort to help her cope with the recent heartbreak of yet another Athlete or Frat

Boy boyfriend. You continually passed on them and chased the bad boy until that one day when you realized you were in your late twenties and everyone else around you traded in a life of club hopping for a life of monogamy as someone’s wife. It was then that you decided that you were tired of the games and wanted something and someone serious.

Fanny Brice once said, I never liked the men I loved and never loved the men I liked. So now we have the woman who spent close to fifteen years of her life chasing the wrong man, in and out of relationships with counterproductive people…now she wants to settle down. But just as fifteen years of eating nothing but junk food leaves the body changed from what it once was, fifteen years of dating trash leaves anyone a shell of what they once were. So here you are. You still have your looks, but emotionally fragile and emotionally damaged. But she has a false sense of entitlement and feels as though all men should be honored to accept her. Shit, how many fellas out there recently ran into the former love of your life, just to find out that she’s put on 50 lbs, allowed losers to ruin her life, and now has five bad ass kids to show for it? Why would someone “good” be willing to sacrifice what they’ve built to be with you…simply because now you’re single and available and say you’re ready for a relationship? As John Lott so eloquently put it, that’s like buying spoiled milk just because it’s on Sale! (laughing) Whether you’re a highly successful woman, or you were the brain-dead dime-piece of your high school or college class, holding on to faded glory and having a false sense of entitlement will do very little for you, other than give you a front row seat to someone else’s wedding! Take it from a man who sees it all the time.

“Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I’m not sure about the universe.” -Albert Einstein (1879-1955)

ACCOUNTABILITY- How long will sistas blame men for their inability to find a husband? We hear them say that the white women are taking all the good men. We hear that men are afraid to marry…even though weddings are at an all time high-recession and all. It’s not uncommon to know sistas who relocate from major city to major city, to down south and to the west coast; with every major city comes a variety of new excuses as to why you can’t find someone. First comes the theory that men is New York were dogs, then the men in Philadelphia were too aggressive and didn’t treat you right. Then you moved to D.C and you said that everyone was gay or taken. In North Carolina, you called them nice but said they were “too country” for you. In California, you made fun of how they dressed and called them “corny.”

When does one realize that the common denominator is you?!? Women (and men) must have accountability for their successes as well as failures at love. I’m not gonna front, it is harder for young professionals to find shit to do in some cities, much less find love…but there’s a reason why you are the successful person you are. Use some ingenuity! We can attend HBCU’s with limited resources and come out gainfully educated and employed, but sit back and wait for a miracle lover to drop from the sky. Want a God-fearing man? Take ya ass to church! Why would you spend weekends at club Smack-a-Bitch and then complain about the perspective suitors who attend it? Tired of men only calling when they want sex? Stop being a hoe! (laughing) Do gold-diggers frequent Unemployment Offices in search of their Men/Sponsors? No. Once you accept accountability for your actions, you know what kind of adjustments you need to make in order to stop the pattern of failed relationships. Before you do that, you’re no different than the person who refuses to look for employment or gain education to compete in an evolving world, yet complains about a lack of jobs, inadequate resources, or a racist America where the white man is trying to keep you down. Some people we meet are like the almighty penny…two-faced and worthless…but there are some gems out there. As George Bernard Shaw once said, “If you can’t get rid of the skeleton in your closet, you’d best teach it to dance.”

Knowledge speaks. Wisdom Listens.

“Behind every good man is a good woman and behind that another man

looking at her ass.” -Unknown

…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…

www.thegrayareas.com

Volume 53: Are You In An abusive Relationship?

2010-05-03T09:43:00.000-07:00

When I am asked why a man/woman doesn’t leave the abuser I say: “They stay because the fear of leaving is greater than the fear of staying. They will leave once the fear of staying is greater than the fear of leaving,” –Rebecca J. Burns, The Last Straw

Note: Most of us have a religious foundation, whether our beliefs follow the teachings of Christians, Catholics, Muslims, Jews or Buddhists. Some do not directly identify with a particular religious group, however still believe that a Heaven and Hell exists for us once our physical lives have ended. But I believe Hell has a special place reserved for rapists, child molesters, and men who repeatedly abuse and murder women and children. Three weeks ago, Philadelphia Police arrested Ronald Moon, a 28-year old window installer and father of two, and charged him with murdering his live-in girlfriend. Residents in the North Philly neighborhood, Diamond Street near Palenthorpe, complained of a foul odor in an alley that they assumed were dead rats. Henry Riviera, a handyman, had a feeling that the stench was something worse…something much worse.

Danielle Winston was the girlfriend of Ronald Moon and had been reported missing since December. Police swarmed on the area and found a rotting corpse slumped in a sheet under a garbage bag in the alley next to their house. Her body is believed to have been there since sometime around Christmas. Moon was charged with stabbing his live-in girlfriend to death in their bed shortly after an argument, then busting a hole in the wall and dumping her body into the cold alley. In a sick twist, he then slept in the same bloody bed every night for nearly four months, inches away from her body. Moon then lit incense every day to cover up the smell. Of course with the changing weather, the smells grew stronger and people feared the worse. The medical examiner’s office determined that the rotting corpse belonged to 32-year-old Danielle Winston, who had been missing since December.

A neighbor confirmed that Moon had a history of attacking Winston. Winston wisely had filed a Protection Order against him after he attacked her last November, but unwisely must have reneged on her decision and continued the turbulent relationship. Moon had once bashed her head in with a crowbar, and left her with a gash requiring 22 stitches. During November’s incident, which led to the protection from abuse order, Moon had choked her repeatedly until she passed out. When she awoke, Moon stood over her yelling, “Get up bitch! You ain’t dead yet!”

Winston was a certified nursing assistant, who was described as someone caught up with the wrong man. Ironically, after her murder, Moon had been dating a new woman for the past month from the same neighborhood. Yes…I truly believe that hell has a special place for people like Ronald Moon.

The tragic tale of Danielle Winston is a common conclusion to the abuse that women suffer at the hands of an insecure, controlling and unstable man. I spoke to a female friend of mine about this loss of a promising life and wondered if there was something that could have been done to prevent such a thing. I’ve never been in an abusive relationship, nor have I ever raised my hand to a woman. So is there a foolproof way for women to avoid becoming victims of abuse? Likely not. However, as it is such with most of life’s perilous situations, one can often avoid problems if one can recognize the warning signs. Recognizing warning signs in relationships can be much more complex for some than others…especially when it comes to abuse. Why? Well…because a man with a propensity for violence doesn’t enlighten you to his past during the first date over filet minion. They will often practice restraint on their past urges early on and appear quite normal-if not downright charming. I mean, no woman would continue to date the man who punched her in the face at The Olive Garden on the first date. Abusers are oftentimes subtle and their actions gradually increase in intensity and frequency.

“The truth will set you free. But first, it will piss you off.” –Gloria Steinmen

I’m no doctor, but I believe that the intuitive person can recognize many of the signs early on. Most abuse comes from the insatiable need to control. People use physical, mental and emotional abuse to control a particular person…or sometimes a family of people. Abusers prey on the fear of others. Without fear, a menacing person who intimidates through force is simply reduced to some idiot aimlessly bitching and screaming about something. People have attained power and maintained control through fear for as long as anyone can remember. Republicans used fear to get a mindless president in office and keep him reelected. They used America’s fear of the unknown (terrorists) to allow them to put faith in a man who had his own selfish agenda. The abusive man follows the same blueprint. Abusers aren’t only selfish; deep within exists a great wall of insecurity. Warning signs? Phase One of Operation: Abuse That Ass is that he will often attempt to eliminate your friends. It will not come in the form of him saying to you, “Baby…I think you should get rid of all ya friends and only confide in me.”

No. Remember it’s subtle. The abusive male will plant seeds of doubt. He’ll claim that he doesn’t trust your male friends; He’ll tell you that your girlfriends talk about you and are jealous of you. (Many women are one argument away from severing ties with most friends anyway) He will tell you that your family is meddling in your relationship too much and are destroying what you two are trying to build. Profound love/lust/delusion can often cause people to believe the bullshit. The abused will now think, Everyone’s tryna break me and (insert ghetto name here) up. They’re just jealous because they’re still single! They aren’t my real friends! Then it becomes easier to sever ties with everyone-which is exactly what the abusive man wants. Once he breaks that support system…it becomes very difficult to ever leave.

Every type of person has something that they do early on to raise an eyebrow and let us know that it’s a prerequisite of what to expect from their ass. He spends 4 hours guessing passwords to hack into your facebook account and reads all 400 messages in your inbox?!? Run for the hills! If someone can do that…they can go through your phone. If they will go through your phone…they can possible follow you or show up somewhere unannounced. If someone can show up unannounced…they can likely make a scene and embarrass the shit out of you! If someone can willingly and frequently embarrass the shit out of you (and themselves) publicly, there are no boundaries to what their crazy ass will do! If someone doesn’t mind public humiliation, then what goes on behind closed doors can be much worse.

Abuse starts will arguments, humiliation and insecurity. It progresses to a shove and mental degradation. Then it graduates to a left jab, followed by a right hook! A man who puts his hands on a female-any female-is a weak individual, attempting to role reverse the hand he’s dealt. He doesn’t deserve the gift of companionship and certainly not the rare jewel of a good woman. Fuck each and every one of them… Just my two cents (shrugs)

A Nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at the gates is less formidable, for he is known and carries his banner openly. But the traitor moves amongst those within the gate freely, his sly whispers rustling through all the alleys, heard in the very halls of government itself. For the traitor appears not a traitor; he speaks in accents familiar to his victims, and he wears their face and their arguments, he appeals to the baseness that lies deep in the hearts of all men. He rots the soul of a nation, he works secretly and unknown in the night to undermine the pillars of the city, he infects the body politic so that it can no longer resist. A murderer is less to fear. The traitor is the plague.”

-Sunday

…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…

http://www.thegrayareas.com/

formspring.me

2010-04-28T18:06:00.001-07:00

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/RONALDGRAY

Volume 52: Summer Predictions

2010-04-14T09:54:00.001-07:00

“The only thing that could spoil a day was people. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as the spring itself.”

-Ernest Hemmingway

Note: My mind is all over the place today. It was only two months ago when newscasters were still reporting on major snowstorms brewing for the weekend. Residents of my hometown grew frustrated with mounds of snow well over two feet high. Philadelphia experienced its worst snow clean-up efforts ever from the city-streets where most minorities reside resembled an ice-skating ring from inadequate plowing, while the suburban streets and Center City blocks that attract tourists were neat and drivable. The streets of ice resulting from a lazy, biased clean up effort resulted in many slip-and-falls from residents- many who were

poor and without adequate health insurance to cover their injuries. Tickets were given out left-and-right from the Philadelphia Parking Authority-due to cars parked in odd locations and at odd angles due to scarce space. Fights broke out between residents over parking spaces that were shoveled, and then saved with personal items, ranging from folding chairs and parking cones…to old lamps shades and even a baby stroller. Not a day went by where you didn’t hear a resident complain about the winter, anxiously awaiting spring. Anne Brads once said, “If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant. If we did not sometimes taste adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.”

Last week, the signs of spring were evident. There were several days with temperatures in the high 60’s and 70’s. A Philadelphia favorite-Rita’s Water Ice-had reopened for business. Hundreds stood in lines a block long, awaiting the annual Free Water Ice on opening day. Due to my 65-hour a week work-schedule, I rarely got a chance to appreciate the good weather, but on Sunday I took a drive in the warm sun and thought about the beautiful days that spring 2010 will have in store. But in a city like Philadelphia, the good weather can bring out the worst on some people. Random acts of idiocy associated with winter will temporarily go away-seemingly in a state of hibernation-while other problems and issues will awaken this spring to wreak havoc on America’s 5^th largest city. Here’s what to expect for the summer of 2010:

1) Ahhh…The Philadelphia Fashion! I never knew that a city so large could be so small-minded fashion wise. At one time, Philly was a fashion-forward and the residents dressed how they wanted to dress, not because some magazine in Paris or some rapper/singer said so. Long gone are the days where people here dressed to make a statement and expressed their individuality. The only statements observed now are that the vast majority would rather play it safe and look just like the next man…from head to toe.

White tees, oversized baseball caps, blue jeans and sneakers…typical Philadelphia resident. Some wear solid or multi-colored polo shirts and some wear Dickies, but everyone is a sad mirror image of the next goon. The next thing that is evident? BEARDS! Lots and lots of big ass beards!!! It’s like waking up in Iraq! (sigh) Many women don’t wear their real hair here. Weaves everywhere! Bodies heavily inked with various tattoos-from ghetto names and nicknames to various sayings and quotes that the owner oftentimes can’t even live up to. I know what you’re thinking, Ladies. You’re thinking there’s nothing wrong with a little weave every now and then. But no man wants to see women with fake hair every day. Weaves were designed to convince the public that your hair was longer than it actually was, and as a man…I like to be convinced every now and then. Long silky Asian hair does not grow from the scalp of African American women. C’mon Philly! I actually happen to like the way the sistas from here dress (although I hate grown ass women in Timberland boots) but I’ve had my fill of fake hair on 9 out of 10 women. When you see a sista in Philly with a natural do or some well-kept locks… it’s like Christmas. We’ve seen some dreadful trends here- we’ll see what surfaces in the months to come.

2) The Combination of Good Weather and Black People- It’s a well-known fact that crime in Philadelphia-specifically homicide-increases with the warmer weather. It is also a well-known fact that more teens here find themselves involved in trouble during warmer months likely due to their inability to find constructive things to do. Is it a lack of resources? Many of their parents, unwilling to accept their part in their children’s likelihood for eventual incarceration, will tell you that there aren’t enough resources for their little bastards to thrive. But when given information to the nearest Boy Scout Troop, Summer Camp, Karate School, Church Camp or Summer School Continuing Education program…they simply respond with mocking laughter or complain about the cost…moments before grabbing their $1,300 Gucci bag and strut off muttering in their $400 Louis Vuitton shoes towards their tricked out cars.

As if teens here weren’t bad enough; now you hafta be prepared for FLASH MOB incidents in Philadelphia. Now many of my out-of-state friends are probably asking, what the hell is a flash mob? Well, I’m glad you asked. A flash mob is a large group of people who assemble suddenly in a public place, perform an unusual or pointless act for a brief time; they then quickly disperse. The term is generally applied only to gatherings organized via telecommunications, social media or emails. Leave it up to Philadelphia to turn a harmless flash mob prank, into a frenzied crazy event-one as recently as a few weeks ago-in which teens assembled somewhere because of a circulating twitter message, and destroyed property, beat innocent people up, and displayed various forms of Niggatry for the salivating media to write about.

http://www.philly.com/philly/gallery/88747387.html

I’m starting to notice the trends of kids jumping adults. Some view it as a new thing that kids are doing, but youth actually have been doing things like this for a long time. I remember hearing about games that suburban kids would play, where they beat up bums in the park. What’s fun about that? Damned if I know. To many, it’s considered a new development because you have black teens jumping random innocent adults. It could be an old man, a woman, the Pizza Delivery Man, or the Corporate douche-bag catching a cab from a 3:00 meeting. There have been a few fatal incidents where older assailants have had been beaten, suffered heart attacks and died. I’m not a fan of guns, but I’m strongly considering the options of walking the streets locked and loaded. These little bastards are armed and dangerous. Perhaps it’s time we are too.

3) Excessive Loitering- what is it that magically draws black men to stand outside of stores? It can be 12 degrees in February or 90 degrees in July. There will never be a shortage of unemployed fools to stand outside of a random store and do nothing. It’s the weirdest shit in the world, but that’s what one can look forward to with the increasing temperature. I realized that the Mount Airy section of Philadelphia was starting to change some years ago. We started to get new businesses coming in that only the fucked up parts of Philadelphia get. We got a Crown Fried Chicken, a Metro PCS, a Sneaker Villa and a multitude of Chinese Stores! People started shooting dice at the basketball courts out in the open, and of course we had the inevitable homicides. The influxes of businesses that cater to the ignorant (Cell-phone Stores, Sneaker Stores, Pizza Shops, etc.) provide a utopia for the loitering Negro. I’ve never seen a crowd of black people stand outside a Library or stand outside of a Karate Dojo, a Starbucks or Pet Store. When was the last time you saw a group of ignorant bastards stand outside of Staples or Kinko’s?

I took a ride down to the Philadelphia Museum of Art with my camera to relax and take in some of the city’s sights while clearing my mind. I took notice to the legion of tourists who were fascinated with the Rocky Statue and I watched morons run up and down the art museum’s steps and raise their hands in victory at the top, like Stallone did in the movie, Rocky. I smiled at the vendors selling Rocky Water Ice and T-shirts and forgot about Philadelphia’s crimes. I watched people of all ethnicities in the same space; their races, religious beliefs and economic statuses weren’t a factor. This is the Philadelphia that I love. I’ve said for a long time that I have a serious Love/Hate relationship with Philly; I love the city…hate the people. But today felt different. Instead of continuing on a rant of things that I do not look forward to seeing this summer, I took a few moments to remember why I’m here and why Philadelphia can one day be one of the best cities in the nation to live in (actually it was ranked #10 in The Ten Greatest Cities for African Americans to Live In a few years ago).

My city is more than a bunch of Professional Sports teams and random violence. Philly is more than Allen Iverson, Bernard Hopkins and a fictional Rocky character. We’re more than the Liberty Bell and cheese steaks. We are a hard-nose city with stories and experiences that can prepare anyone for anything. They say if you can make it in New York, you can make it anywhere…but if one can take all of what Philadelphia has to offer you are guaranteed to make it. Our struggles make our tales of success legendary. We are Philadelphia. Buckle your seatbelts…it’s gonna be a long summer…

…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…

http://www.thegrayareas.com/

Volume 51: Joseph The Dreamer & The Modern Day HATER

2010-03-17T10:45:00.000-07:00

They said one to another, “Behold, here cometh the dreamer…Let us slay him…and we shall see what will become of his dreams.” –Genesis 37:19-20

Note: There are times when a stranger flashes a familiar smile. Their eyes survey my right forearm moments before pointing and asking “Did that hurt?”

Those are the days when I almost forget it’s there. I almost forget about the raised skin on my right forearm, which is very visible to everyone else-My fraternity brand.

The fact is…I’m branded in four places: The right forearm, the left bicep, on the back over the right shoulder and over the heart. Some see the brands and want to know all about the crazy things they’ve heard one must do to be initiated into a fraternity. Some ask why a man of African American decent would be willing to let others brand him-primarily because our ancestors were branded by Slave masters and similarly marked as property.

Some profess their fascination with Greek life and ask me questions in a state of awe. They hear about this renowned society of collegiate men, who do great things in their respective communities, network and create opportunities for one another. They hear about the massive amounts of fun that we have and the brotherhood that results. They hear of an unbreakable bond that we share- a bond in which one brother would actually be willing to sacrifice his life for another. But no one speaks on the ones who are selfish. What about those who choose to lie and attempt to ruin the name and reputation of another brother? What about those who attempt to hurt their brother or are fueled by jealousy? What about those who witness wrongdoings and instead of speaking out against them, choose instead to go with whatever the majority does, simply because of their insatiable need to fit in at any cost? We as Greeks never talk about them. We just act as though they don’t exist. The fraternity member, much like the used car salesman, sells the public the façade of unconditional love and unbreakable bonds, when the reality is true friends are chosen…frat brothers are forced upon you. In a fraternity, one can be surrounded by just as many parasites as he is great men. I look at it like the biblical verse in St. Matthew 7:18-20 stating: “A Good tree cannot bear worthless fruit, neither can a rotten tree produce fine fruit. Every tree not producing fine fruit gets cut down and thrown down into the fire. Really then, by their fruits you will recognize those men.”

When speaking on the subject of my fraternity, I speak with unbiased honesty and tell all who listen that sometimes I feel like a modern day Joseph The Dreamer (who’s story is my favorite of all documented in the Bible- the book of Genesis).

No one knows more about hardships than the biblical character Joseph, who was one of the twelve sons of Jacob. Joseph was the 11^th of the twelve sons, but Joseph was the favored child. He stood out because he obeyed his father. He also had a close walk with God and he was in turn blessed to interpret the dreams of others. One day Joseph was in the fields with his brothers Dan and Naphtali, Gad and Asher, when he sees them doing something they shouldn’t have been and decides to tell his father about it. As a younger brother who’s already viewed as the favorite, this was bound to not go over well with his brothers. Jacob the father, loved Joseph more than the rest of his sons, because he had been born while he was old, and Jacob made a richly ornamented robe of many colors for Joseph. When his brothers saw that the father loved him more…they hated him. Not only did Jacob love him more, but choose to give him a robe-which advertised it. In greekdom, I’ve seen people often endure the same thing, whether in positions earned, line-names individual talents or just overall status or lack of status. Some become envious of others because of their appearance or their perceived disposition. I’ve seen jealousy arise from mutual attraction to a female and the female’s interest in one, leaving the other with the unrequited heart. But anyway…

One day Joseph tells his brothers about a dream he has, where they were all binding sheaves of grain in the field and suddenly Joseph’s sheaf rose and stood upright, while his brother’s sheaf’s bowed to his. His brothers asked, “Do you intend to reign over us? Will you actually rule us?” And now they hated him even more because of a dream that he had. Joseph has another dream and tells his brothers of it. “Listen,” he says, “I had another dream, and this time the sun and moon and eleven starts were bowing down to me.” When he told his father, as well as his brothers, his father rebuked him and said, “What is this dream you had? Will your Mother and I and your brothers actually come and bow down to the ground before you?” He had brothers who hated him and were jealous but his father kept it in mind, though he found it offensive. Joseph was a dreamer. He was simply using the gift that God had given him. He was being blessed with the ability to interpret dreams, but his gift aroused the jealousy of others. Joseph made the mistake of telling his dreams to the only brothers he had-the same brothers who were already jealous of him and the brothers who further hated him because of his favoritism in the family. The brothers had gone to graze near their father’s flocks near Shechem, and Jacob sent Joseph to check on his brothers and bring word back to him. Joseph travels from the Valley of Hebron 30 miles north to find his brothers. The last time Joseph was sent to check on his brothers, he came back with a bad report. The bad report, mixed with two dreams of superiority, didn’t exactly make Joseph a favorite with his brothers.

Joseph went after his brothers and found them near Dothan. Before Joseph reached them, they saw him in the distance and plotted to kill him. Their tones were now mocking and sarcastic: They said one to another, “Behold, here cometh the dreamer…Let us slay him…and we shall see what will become of his dreams.”

One suggested killing him, throwing his body in one of the cisterns and saying that a wild animal devoured him. One brother heard this and tried to show some mercy. He suggested not to take his life, but instead to throw him in the cistern in the desert. When Joseph arrived, they stripped him of his colorful robe and threw him into the cistern. Then they left to eat. Damn. While they’re eating, a huge caravan of Ishmaelites passes by and one brother gets the idea to sell Joseph to them for twenty shekels of silver, which was the price for a handicapped slave in that day.

The brother returns to the cistern and notices that Joseph isn’t there. They needed an explanation for their father, so they tore a piece from Joseph’s robe, killed a goat and dipped the robe in goat’s blood so they could show it to their father. Jacob recognized the robe and cried because he thought his favorite son was dead. Meanwhile, Joseph had been sold by the Midianites-to a government official in Egypt named Potiphar. But God never stopped watching over Joseph. He still prospered as he lived in the house of his Egyptian Master. Joseph found favor in his master and became his attendant. Because God was with Joseph, he blessed that house and in turn the blessing was on everything that the Egyptian Potiphar had. Joseph was abandoned by his family, abused and left for dead by his brothers, sold into slavery and winded up in foreign land and was still prospering.

But the hating didn’t end there. Joseph was also described in the Bible as well built and handsome, and it didn’t take long for the master’s wife to take notice of Joseph. She came to him one day and said, “Come to bed with me” but Joseph refused. Joseph said, “With me in charge, my master does not concern himself with anything in the house; everything he owns he has entrusted to my care. No one is greater in this house than I am. My master has withheld nothing from me except you, because you are his wife. How then could I do such a thing and sin against God?” And even though she approached Joseph day after day, he refused to sleep with her or be with her.

Joseph was a man who prolly had every reason to do it. He was a single man, who was away from his family and away from his friends, nobody would know, nobody would even care, and did I mention…he’s a slave?!? I can’t lie. I likely would have been knocking her off! (laughing) Joseph continued to avoid the whorish wife because of the immerse respect that he had for his master and his fear and belief in God. One day, while Joseph attended to his daily duties, she approached him once more. None of the household servants were inside the home. She grabbed him by the cloak and said, “Come to bed with me!” Joseph left his cloak in her hand and ran off.

I guess she felt pretty stupid after she was refused once again and in typical refuted female fashion, she decided to create a lie to save face. When she saw Joseph had left his cloak behind, she grabbed it and held onto it until the master came back home. She then told her story: She told him that the Hebrew slave that he brought came to make sport of her. She said that she screamed for help and Joseph ran off, leaving his cloak behind. Joseph does everything right and shit still goes wrong for him. Potiphar is angry with Joseph, but is more angered by the fact that his wife tried to seduce him. He has to do something, so he throws his most trusted slave in prison. Even in prison, the Lord was still looking out for him. Joseph received favor in the eyes of the prison warden. Joseph winded up in charge of all that was done there. But Joseph had to face more hardship. The Pharoah had became upset with two of his officers, the chief of the butlers and the chief of the bakers-and those two ended up in the same prison as Joseph. Both were given a spiritual dream they didn’t understand, whereas Joseph had the power to understand their dreams. The interpretations both came true. Soon after, the Pharaoh called for those two men. He gave the chief butler his position back, but executed the chief baker-just as Joseph had predicted accorded to the dream they had.

The Pharaoh had two dreams himself. He called magicians and the wisest men in Egypt, but no one could make sense of the dreams. Pharaoh desperately wanted to know what these dreams meant, and the chief butler (who’s life was spared because of Joseph) told Pharaoh of a Hebrew who was able to interpret dreams. Joseph interpreted the dreams. He predicted 7 years of plenty in Egypt followed by 7 years of great famine. Joseph said that someone should be appointed overseer in Egypt to ensure that all the grain & food would be stored over the next 7 years and managed carefully to prepare for the famine. Pharaoh was pleased and made Joseph the overseer over the land. Somehow this Hebrew came up from the depths of slavery and became second in command over all of Egypt.

When the land of Canaan began to experience the great drought, Jacob, Joseph’s father, sent his sons (Joseph’s brothers) to Egypt to buy grain because they were going to eventually die of starvation. Joseph, being second in command now…eventually came face to face with his brothers, the same ones who plotted his downfall and left him for dead-though he did not reveal who he was to them right away. The brothers had no idea this great ruler of Egypt was the same brother that they sold into slavery years ago.

The brothers returned home eventually with the grain, but after a while, found themselves once again in need of grain. Joseph told them that they must return with their brother, Benjamin, or else he’s be pissed, and would not allow them to get any more food again. Benjamin was Joseph’s full brother (remember…there were 12 brothers) so Benjamin was also very special to Jacob. Joseph also wanted to see his brother again. Jacob eventually allowed Benjamin to go with his brothers to Egypt to buy grain, although he knew in his heart, if anything were to happen to his special son (like he was informed happened to Joseph many years ago) he’s be devastated.

When the brothers returned, Joseph finally told everyone who he really was. Everyone was scared out of their minds because of what they had done to him, and the lie that they had been living for so long. Crazy thing is, Joseph wasn’t angry. He was full of forgiveness in his heart. Joseph embraced his brothers and wept; he sent them to Canaan and they brought back their father, their families and everything they owned back to Egypt in a place that Joseph set up for all of them to live. Pharaoh was happy because Joseph was reunited with his family; Jacob was beside himself that his long lost son was alive! After a while, Jacob eventually died, and Joseph’s brothers were afraid that Joseph would want to do them harm, but Joseph still wasn’t bitter or angry. The children of Israel were preserved as an entire nation in Egypt until much later as they went forth in search of a promised land.

Sometimes in life, we have those who are close to us (some just like brothers) who don’t exhibit the ideals of friendship or brotherhood, but instead do harm. I was someone who grew up with family thousands of miles away in Jamaica. The family that I had in America could give a shit less about bonding and getting to know each other. I had a sister who was eight years older, and growing up it appeared as though we shared very little in common. I created a rock-solid bond with friends from the neighborhood. They were my brothers. Some of them I am still extremely close with to this day. Aaron, whom I’ve been close with since I was 5, and Lee-who’s been one of my closest confidants since I was 7. I had childhood friends-many whom I’ve reconnected with recently via facebook or various journeys in life. I searched for a bond and I sought the family structure that I lacked in things like college friends and fraternity membership. In many cases, I was exposed to brothers that were like Joseph’s. I was blessed to have met some in my fraternity who have altered my life and truly personified friendship. Some…not so much. (laughing)

My father wasn’t a well-educated man by society’s standards, but like many older adults, every now and then…from time to time…my father would say some profound shit. He used to say something about friends since I was a youth that never made any sense to me until now. He used to observe how close I was to my friends, and I think he secretly knew how badly I envied not having a good family structure. He’d say, “Ron…I know you love ya friends…I know you guys have fun, like to hang out and they’re always been around, but you gotta understand…they’re just…friends.”

Even as a teen, when he would say that, I’d stand there with a perplexed look and think, What…the hell…is he talkin’ bout?!?

But at thirty years old, it makes so much sense to me now. Friends come and go. Many friends will continually disappoint you. Many friends will not have the profound appreciation for the bond you share or once shared the same way you do. I remember how dumb I felt reuniting with several child-hood friends recently, even on facebook. In many cases, I was overjoyed to have been reunited with a person who played such an intricate part in shaping who I am today. To some of them, it was like Cool…good to see you’re doing well and you’re alive...on to the next one.

We put our faith in fratbrothers and we put our faith in friends, but no amount of years known can ensure that a person truly gives a shit. Some people are parasites. They feed off of you, until they’ve used their resources or find another host who they can feed off of. Many people go about their relationships the same way. No fraternity of sorority process guarantees a genuine bond between strangers. Anyone who dares to argue that point is brainwashed. Period. I don’t care if you were on line for 1,911 weeks and you share every detail of your life. I was told as a youth In order to make friends, one must first himself be friendly. I’ve had friends and fratbrothers accuse me unjustly of things-like Joseph. I myself am a dreamer who interprets life’s situations and dares to dream. I’ve never been a slave, but I know what’s it’s like to attract the jealousy of others around me. I know how it feels to be spoken bad about and to endure hardship. I know how it feels to be forsaken by family. I’ve refused the advances of women who belonged to another and had false things said about me. Shit, I’ve even had females who felt as though they were rejected, and afterwards question my sexual orientation! (laughing)

But there has always been one consistent. God has always been blessing me. He’s blessed me with intelligence, strength, health and undeniable talents. Life’s hardships don’t last forever and God has a funny way of raising us from prisons in foreign lands to a place of prominence and blessings. I’ve been motivated to chase Dreams and chase history…not to chase the concept of making friends. The people who you are intended to know and interact with will be placed in your life. There is no about of pledging that can bond you with someone who naturally doesn’t give a fuck. Some will read this and wear that blank expression of a dullard because they don’t get it. Some will become enraged that the words of a dreamer strike deep in their hearts, but who cares? I walk with God…and he keeps blessing me…despite what happens. And I’ll continue to dream…until I receive my kingdom. Keep Dreaming, y’all.

“Behold, I sent you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, be ye therefore wise as serpents and harmless as doves.” –Matthew 10:16

…These Are The Random Thoughts Of Ronald Gray…(for all those that get it)

http://www.thegrayareas.com/