Who is Michael Deonn Wright?


Who is Michael Deonn Wright?

M.D. Wright

9.29.2011

 

I know of a lot of people who have shared the same space with me at various junctures over the past 5, 10, 20, even 32 years, but outside of my parents, sister, godbrothers and godsisters and a couple of other relatives, only a FEW of my friends truly know me and what makes me tick.

 

Yet, the ones who have seemingly known me for the least amount of time make the most suppositions.

 

So if there was ever a time to set some things straight about who I am, what I am about, what I am NOT about, what I do and don’t do.

 

You know, it doesn’t pay to be cocky or brash, because people begin to immediately feel uncomfortable around you. Along with that discomfort come assumptions that they deem to be fitting, but personally belie who I am.

 

I’ve literally given people the shirt off my back and my last dollar when they needed it.

I’m not selfish, and would (and often have) given someone the last bite of my food, the last glass of my drink and driven my last 50 miles of gas to help a relative or friend in need (many times when I used to own cars, and did not once mention gas money).

 

I don’t act brand new around my friends when I experience a bit of comeuppance, and my friends will tell you that I will go to bat for them, even blindly, because that’s what friends do.

 

You won’t catch me whispering behind the backs of my friends, besides, with friends like that, who needs enemies? Whenever I’ve been in a relationship, I realized (early on in life, actually, after growing distasteful of some of my then-friends for doing this) that I needed to maintain my socializing with my friends, instead of acting like two different people, suddenly — regular style when it’s just my friends and me, and a brand new, false-airs Mr. Hyde if I’m around them with “her”. God KNOWS we all have or have had at least one “friend” who has done that.

 

I don’t loan money. If I don’t have it to give, I don’t have it to loan. I come from the Charles Barkley school of thinking, not the Michael Jordan school of “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU’RE GONNA END UP WORKING FOR MCDONALD’S IF YOU KEEP THAT UP!” On the same taken, I HATE borrowing money and feel more uncomfortable than Chris Christie trying to race Usain Bolt for even asking to borrow money or be in the position to need anyone’s help.

 

I mastered self-sufficiency very early in my adulthood, yet long for my help meet so that we can develop a formidable team. Balance.

 

I am a walking contradiction of sorts at times. I’m a Harlem dude to the core, but maintain my southern sensibilities. And it readily shows even in people who just met me and remark, “There’s just something different about you, but I can’t quite explain what it is.”

 

I drink Pepsi AND Coke.

 

I’m fiercely loyal to my family and friends, but even the closest relative (parents and siblings off-limits) can set me up for failure (or worse, which has happened both here in New York AND in North Carolina) and I’ll never speak to them again.

 

When I catch a supposed friend bad-mouthing me, or attempting to get over on me, I don’t seek vengeance, as it begins a cycle of judgment that comes back onto me. I am certainly not at impunity status, nor will I ever be. Besides, Genesis 12 says that God would bless those who blessed me (as inherited child in Abraham’s lineage!) and curse those who cursed me. Therefore, I don’t need to seek vengeance, nor misquote Matthew 7:1 to rationalize and justify the things I do. I’m the first to admit when I sin, and rather than duck admonition and reproof, I readily accept it (albeit difficult at times). If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. No need to pull the cop-out, “Only God can judge me”. I wish I met ONE woman who could do that, she might be worth marrying on that alone, because that’s rare.

 

I digress.

 

Actually, I’m somewhat progressive, but at times, a chauvinist. And proud of it. Men should be MEN, and not made effeminate, which the Pussification of America is seeking to do. I’m all for equal rights for women, and will go to bat for equal treatment. My mother is from strong cloth, I never felt the need to belittle women to make myself seem “more of a man”.

 

I’m a man’s man. I go to bars, I work hard, I live, eat, play, watch and breathe sports, I sometimes do not shave. Hell, there are 24-hour periods where I don’t shower or brush my teeth, if I’m home and not handling business outside. I scratch myself like Al Bundy. I like to fix things, a trait I got from my father and my uncle Wayne, who both taught me how to fix just about everything on cars. I hold doors for women, pull out chairs for my date, cook, clean, play with kids, give A+ massages, lay the pipe, avid listener, excellent planner and often times one of the few men that other men can confide in and shed a tear about something that is overwhelming them, while not needing to say “no homo”. My compassion is evident to people who just met me, and my true blue spirit is one of the things that makes toddlers who know I am a perfect stranger just flock to me magnetically.

 

I’m no angel, I’m not perfect, I curse when I know I shouldn’t. I drink frequently, challenging most V12 engines for the rapidity of consumption of gas on their part. I smoke when I know that it increases the likelihood that I can develop cancer and diabetes (notice I didn’t parrot the imbecilic phrase, “IT’S GOING TO CAUSE CANCER”, but rather that it CAN POTENTIALLY INCREASE THE LIKELIHOOD THEREIN).

 

Side Note: There are enough carcinogens and PCBs in our air, food and water to give everyone cancer 100 times over. Realize that anti-smoking campaigns are nothing more than propaganda, much like the propaganda that spawned tobacco product usage in the early 20th century. People who repeat baseless nonsense get the Michael Jordan press conference glare from me — the one that he used when people asked questions that he didn’t like.

 

I could go on and on, but being a blood relative doesn’t mean you know me, especially if we’ve never breathed the same air for more than 3 hours in our lives, and you only know me BY-PROXY via my parents. Likewise with any non-relatives who think because they sat in a class with me 18 years ago, and not a moment since — think they can now offer a chronology and pen my autobiography, when my life is littered with trials, tribulations, successes, failures, moving from city to city, state to state, college to college, relationship to relationship, church congregation to church congregation (currently NONE).

 

But if you don’t know, now you STILL don’t know… unless you’re around me.

 

THEN I’M TRUE BLUE LIKE PUFF’S BENTLEY AND MADONNA’S 3RD LP.

 

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