BY KEITH EVANS
(Composed: 10/04/10)
“I’ve got pride in the way I walk
I’ve got pride in the way I talk
I’ve got pride in the way I act
I’ve got pride, and that’s a fact”
-Lyrics to some alleged motivational song we were forced to sing at my 6th grade graduation.
Funny how I remember that song so vividly. So vividly that if I were to return to the now abandoned Banneker Elementary School, and stroll into its “cafetorium” (I love ill-advised, cross-bred words), I could point out the exact spot in which I stood as I sang it. Ever so vividly, that after my 3rd day of solitary confinement in “the hole”, (A result of more snitching and falsehoods aimed at myself by a group of 20 year old fuckbags, who, no doubt, harbor severe jealousy towards me for my intelligence, sarcastically humorous tones, and ability to manipulate the system to my liking while they fail horribly using their “gangland” approach), I find myself singing it loudly, as not to go crazy, ironically enough.
When a person is forced into solitude for a long period of time, it has a strange affect. It forces the person into a sort of odd journey of discovery about themselves. Some crack under the pressure, resulting in extreme deviant behavior like fling their own feces at the guards or using it as paint for their own graffiti. They scream a lot. They begin to conversate with themselves. The negative outlets are endless. Some simply shut down any and all social skills, ultimately retreating to the safe confines of reading material, some writing, artwork, or the like. All, however, are forced to do a lot of thinking and self evaluation. Though necessary in life, these acts of self reflection can be as damaging to your present as they are helpful to your future. I, personally, love this type of shit. Walk with me as I share my thoughts, theories, and half assed solutions with you.
Let’s go back to those care-free GINKru days. Specifically to the moment when we adopted the 7 Deadly Sin philosophy. For those unaware, GINKru was an extracurricular, after school group/hip hip group/crew of friends/wonderful clusterfuck founded back in 1992 by junior high class mates Emas Bennet, Mark Harris, Morry Davis, Larry Dowell, and myself. Like any group of schoolmates during their pubescent years, there evolved plenty of “Gossip Girl” or “90210” moments. New members acquired, others lost, the brand itself continues. During our high school years, our then 7 man squad latched on to the 7 Deadly Sins concept. It was an almost automatic fit (for at least 5 of us.) and to be quite honest, very Wu-Tang at the time. I, obviously, was dubbed Pride, unaware how much this would escalate my already proud nature. If I were to write a press junket today, it’d be “boy band laughable” at best. Mark (Lust) loved the ladies. Larry (Angry/Wrath), the menacing emcee. Morry (Greed) the money loving, self proclaimed “Jew” (go figure), so on and so forth. As for myself: shit talking, ego-centric, bradadocious, loud and proud was my demeanor. This all stemmed from a childhood that rollercoastered from intense grammar school popularity to eye awaking unpopularity in middle school. Stir it all together, and by the time high school came, I was begging to be not liked just for the opportunity to response “Fuck You”. The eventually became my ultimate basis for being, till this day.
Despite me not necessarily fitting the physical mode of success and luxury, pride has gotten me in a lot of grand situations. Pride allows me to take the things I AM good at (wit, humor, intellect, social skills, debate, and musicality), amplify them, and present it with a confidence that most have no choice but to submit to. If I believed in the world “swagger”, I might have to say I had a healthy amount. It is pride however, not swagger, that has gotten me jobs I not normally should have had, women that normally should have been “out of my league”, entrance into places and social circles I should normally not be in, and escapes from ass whippings that normally should have been administered without question. It is pride that fuels my music, my acting, my cunalingus, and this blog. It is pride that has allotted me certain opportunities. It is pride that’s sprinkled small tastes of the “Fame Monster” lifestyle on my taste buds, causing my appetite for a more consistent and bountiful diet.
It is also pride that has destroyed certain opportunities. Price has, often enough made it impossible for me to reciprocate love, the way society dictates that one should. Price has cut short many a blossoming and healthy relationship, both romantic and platonic. Pride has put me in the center of volatile situations, only allowing me to fight, bite, claw, and kick my way out. It’s because of pride that I have hurt the loved ones around me and alienated myself. Pride has made me an asshole and it’s because of that pride that I am strangely proud to be one.
“A proud man is always looking down on things and people: and of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you.”
-C.S. Lewis
From the book “Mere Christianity”
All of my life I’ve heard contradicting “sayings” from the same God-fearing people. “Damn boy, have some pride about yourself!” “You need to let that pride go.” “Be proud of who you are.” “Pride is the worst of all sins”. They tell you to have pride, then they say it’s no good. Does that make it a case of quantity? Is it a matter of how much or how little pride one should have? They, meaning the wise adults, don’t quite make that clear when they drench you with all these sayings. When looking at it this way, it reminds me of baking and dealing with flavorings like cinnamon or vanilla extract. Too little that you can’t even taste it, and you might as well not put in any at all. If the recipe requires said ingredient, it could ruin any chance of you winning the blue ribbon at your church’s baking contest. Too much and it’s like flavor overkill, which is sure to ruin your chances of making into Gordon Ramsay’s bathroom, let along his Kitchen. So, in essence, is the problem that I sometimes have too much flavor?
I read somewhere that “…pride leads to every other vice: it is the complete anti-God state of mind”. Now, most will probably assume that I lead some sort of Godless life, or hold onto anti-religion/pro-science theories. On the contrary. I was raised in “da church”. I even was the “minister of music” for about 4 years total at my former place of praise and worship. I was more because of the opportunity to play life sets every week than it was some spiritual duty. The good experiences I got from my inadvertent spirituality far outweighed the bad experiences I suffered from “organized religion”. I must admit I believe in a broader scene of God than any of the denominations of sects can convince. For the longest time I believed God was out to get me, you know, on some kind of personal level. Certain circumstantial incidents had me convince God and I had a Tom & Jerry type of relationship. Some episodes portrayed the cat and mouse duo as bffs, hanging out at the beach (these being the worse of any and all Tom & Jerry episodes, besides the movies of course). Other episodes where more traditional and far more entertaining. Though I’m not anti-God, how much pride does one have to possess, I wonder, to require him to assume God sits in heaven, studying blueprints of snares and traps He built just to “get the best” of one single human being?
And this is the complexity that is Keith Evans. Or is it pretty simple? One friend says I suffer from “delusions of grandeur”. He also says that’s what he loves about me. Others find my solipsism (my new favorite word) disgusting and distracting to any possible growth in a relationship. Then there’s the subject of my daughter. I sometimes think that if she inherits all of my qualities and all of her mother’s qualities she could quite possibly be the most feared, most powerful, and most dominating woman in whatever field she chooses. Scary right? And no matter what her future holds, be I the next Mother Theresa/Oprah or the next Bill Gates/Sadam Hussein, daddy will be proud of her every sinister step of the way. She is the only person I love more than myself, and if pride truly is “…a spiritual cancer that eats up the very possibility of love, contentment, or even common sense” I will pray every waking moment that she was not cursed (or blesses) with that part of my DNA. Unfortunately, there are times, when I look deep into her eyes, not too long after she’s pulled out the “cutest, most beautiful, guilt ridden sad face” ever her arsenal, that I think to myself “the force is truly strong in this one”.
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