I’m Focused

My vision is poor, but that won’t stop me from focusing on my goals. I want to be a legend. Not only a legend, I want to be a living legend. I want to appreciate others appreciating my marvelous work. As men, we are bred to work. We are told a man defines himself by his caliber of work. The ultimate level of appreciation is to be considered legendary for your body of work. So, I’m chasing the crown. I have been floundering around for the last 30 years searching for something that moves me spiritually, mentally, and physically. Well, maybe not physically. But, you get the picture.

Now, I’ve found that art. I have found something that can make me legendary. It is like running into a prophet that points you down an unknown path. You know the path is for you, but you have to remain focused on the goal and not allow the things around you to distract you from the path. You have to not only envision the goal, but focus on the plan to get you to the goal. It is not enough to focus on the goal. The goal is only part of the achievement. The full achievement is reached when you leave an imprint on all those along the journey. Thus, the journey transforms into the goal. The so-called goal becomes a launching point for the next goal. As a result, your legend births the circle of life. On this circle of starting and achieving goals, the goal becomes making an imprint on the lives of those you encounter on your path.

You become more focused on leaving an imprint in the hearts of people; therefore, your goal evolves into something less tangible than your mental, spiritual, and physical. Your goal becomes relationships, experiences, knowledge, wisdom, and a slew of other virtues. The focus falls from goals and becomes those things our heart truly seeks. Legendary status follows focused energy on that reaches beyond our tangible and intangible existence and into the existence of others.

Permanent imprints make a man legendary.

I’m focused, man.

--- Jay-Z

Traveling at Mach 5.

Yes, I have this preoccupation with battling with God. We have been in this deathmatch for the last 12 years. It was my maturation that led us to our first dispute. See, God, gods, Godesses, or whatever you attribute your success to has been consistent on delivering achievement to me. God, the Force is what I like to call her, guaranteed my success in all that I chase. I thank her for not allowing failure to crush my ambition. This makes me reflect on Speed Racer. See, Speed was obsessed with speed. He believes winning will allow him to change the world. The reality of it all is that winning will change his world. I’m one of those schmucks that follow the path that Speed has raced through to garner success.

I believe my final endeavors will change the world. If I consistently win, then I will change the world. I believe this can be achieved by myself. I know achievements in life are usually a team effort. And, there is no “i” in team. But, there is an “i” in “win” and an “i” in “champion.” I would consider myself a champion. I know that I’m a winner. I’m obsessed with being a mogul. Like my associate Mr. West, I want to incorporate all my ideas and dreams into my overdrafted reality.

It isn’t my preoccupation with narcissistic egotism. It is my preoccupation with delivering a knockout punch to god and leaving her or him on the world’s canvas. I believe if I move fast enough, act smart enough, and achieve great enough that my knockout punch will be inevitable. Thus far, the Force is teasing me with my minor success and causing me to suffer in silence for not reaching great success.

I know my great success will come to pass. I’m just ready for it to come sooner than later.

A Charmed Life

I come from a privilege background. My parents provided all the things to raise healthy, intelligent, and self-determined children. They didn’t spare their love nor the rod when it came to handing out reward and punishment. My parents scrambled and scraped up all the money possible to make sure my brother and I went without needing or wanting things. When most families were trying to keep up with Joneses, we had the Joneses keeping up with the Babbs. We were a powerhouse family. The Babb family were considered noble in little Lexington, Kentucky.

From my roots, I have been able to grow and branch off into directions that only a few people could understand. My hunger for life forces me into peculiar situations and even better adventures. Growing up in a predominately Anglo-American town, I wanted to have the official Black college experience. At Morehouse College, I met some like-minded brothers and many with different mind sets. I met many brothers from the African-American bourgeoisie. It was a different world. Morehouse College was the first of many experiences that opened my eyes to social, economic, political differences between people of the same racial identity. I wanted more than just the usual “Black” experience; I wanted a grand life experience. As my branches continued to grow toward the heavens, I captured more invigorating experiences. I was able to become part of the “cool” kids, travel to Japan, and enjoy my collegiate matriculation. But, that was still not enough for a young man growing into a giant.

Fast forward to the present day, I’ve traveled and lived throughout Asia. I also lived in the Pacific and lived in many metropolitan cities throughout the United States. I am continuing my education in the industry of my dreams. I’m living a charmed life.

All the virtues that have made my journey pleasant, come from the people in my past. I thank them all for contributing to my life. I know there will be more people added to this list of beautiful and ugly people. I know there are lessons from all encounters, and I have only begun to learn. Let’s see how much more charming this life can be?!?

Need A Time Machine

Life is too important to be taken seriously.

--- Oscar Wilde

I woke up this morning wondering why do we take our lives so seriously. Seriously, we analyze and criticize all aspects of our lives to the point that we don’t live anymore. Fear becomes our shackle. Fear becomes our vice. The fear of failure or not living up to the expectations dictated to us by others. We take life way too serious. We carry the scars from past mistakes with us in all our activities. We create plans to avoid pitfalls that “may” exist in the future.

The past and the future truly do not exist. They are only faulty memories and figments of our imaginations. We only have the present. So, I say learn from the past, live in the future, and plan for the future. But, the past may not contain any lessons and the future may never come. But, the present is always living. So, focus on the present.

See you tomorrow. I have a time machine to catch.

Reflection of Manhood

As I watched the local “dough” boys parade through the club in all their “hood” fashion, I giggled about how absurd African-Americans have bastardized a once proud culture. We were from a culture of not having much, but being able to work alchemy of making the little we had into something elegant and classy. It may not have been the best clothing, books, cars, furniture, or any other material possession, but we sported it with dignity. African-Americans maintained an air of class. We did not sloppily saunter in public view. Our swagger was that of the most high.

Yesterday, I watched many young men project the image of young ragamuffins with their hollow bravado trying to court young ladies, which are ignorant to the definitive of manhood. These young ladies believe African-American men must hold the values of the glorified street soldiers created by self-hating entertainment images. Even worse, we have the audacity to exploit these negative images for financial gain. I’m from the generation of stereocasting (stereotyping and typecasting) whores. It pains me to watch perpetual ignorance prevail among African-Americans. In the club, I watched ignorant men enchant ignorant women under the guise of manhood.

Have African-Americans succumbed to such a pitiful existence. When is criminal activity ever a good thing. I know there are many African-Americans elevating beyond the negative racial stereotypes, but the vast majority seem to condone the behavior. I just want to know when will grown African-American men transform back into the charismatic aristocrats that littered our history and took center stage during the Harlem Renaissance?

Games, Dames, and Lames: Does a Tie come with that T-Shirt?

Allow me to enter into my virtual confession booth. I apologize if my words offend some of those in my field, but I have to get these thoughts off my chest. Umm Hmm. I’m going to talk about art and money. Yeah, I’m the kid with the motto, “In a world of CREAM, I’m FLOM’d out.” Don’t run to Urban Dictionary for an explanation of what was just stated because the suburban kiddies that write dictionary entries have no idea on how to properly define FLOM. I will define CREAM before defining FLOM. CREAM is cash rules everything around me. That is the backbone of our nation. You can receive all your inalienable rights and earn a few extra if your dough is longer than Pilsbury or Betty Crocker. FLOM means for love of money.

In one of our classes, we opened up a can of snakes by debating which is better creating niche games or mainstream games. The class was totally split on the issue of why highly successful, large publishers won’t publish more niche ‘arthouse’ games? My question is why would they publish more niche ‘arthouse’ games? Another Charles Babb saying is that all businesses are in the same business no matter what industry. That business is making money. It actually bothers me that people believe that businesses are always working in the interests of elevating the consumer. Should businesses produce products at the expense of their existence to increase the cultural intellect of society or satisfy the appetites of a niche audience? I would think not. The smallest mouse scares the biggest elephant. In business terms, the smallest flaw or mistake made by a successful big business can irreconcilably tarnish its image. So, successful video game publishers shy away from taking ‘unnecessary’ risks on producing video games designed for a specific niche with no possibility of breaking into the mainstream. Yes, there are niche games that find some legs and become runaway hits. Usually, publishers release ‘niche’ games that are low-risk and have high probability of being accepted by the mainstream, i.e. Guitar Hero. Sure Guitar Hero is made for a niche audience that loves rhythm games, but come on, who doesn’t want to be a guitarist? Better yet, who doesn’t want to be a guitar hero?

I know, I know niche and artsy games are not synonymous. There are games that are artsy such as Okami that play toward the mainstream. Yes, Okami is one the most artsy action adventure games of all-time. Even with critical acclaim, it did not penetrate homes like God of War. It is arguably a better game, but the art got in the way of the game. Your average action adventure game player did not know how Okami. Not all masterpieces fall short of reaching their audience. For example, Bioshock dominates the game scene. It is a first-person shooter that doesn’t introduce a new over-the-top saleable game mechanic. But, this game is graphically an uber masterpiece. It abandons the clichéd military, standard horror, space alien, and urban environments for a more industrial, dark, 1940’s deco gothic environment. The game’s artsy visuals paint a world that is eerie and frightening. The world of Rapture makes the gamer want to explore it, but more importantly want to escape it. Don’t get me wrong making wonderful art to raise the art intellect of the masses does not trump making money off the masses. Yes, I’m thinking like a suit.

Honestly, what businessperson wants to sacrifice time and money for an endeavor that has no tangible returns? Businesses measure success by profits like athletics measure success by championships. No one praises the team that played well together and never received a championship. When we do talk about such teams, we immortalize their stories as tragedies. The story usually starts with this line, “Do you remember the such-and-such team that played well together, but didn’t pull it together in the final hours?”However, we do praise the team that hates one another and plays in an unorthodox manner, but pulls off the unthinkable, nearly impossible clench of the championship. With that said, let me lunge into another example of “suits” versus “artists.”

My favorite television show, Entourage has an enraged movie director under the moniker of Billy Walsh. Billy is one of those arthouse geniuses that create so-called arthouse films that are mainstream accessible. He is what we call true genius in the entertainment industry. The Industry crowns people, who have the ability to maintain their creative integrity and slightly push the bar while making the masses easily relate to final product, as geniuses. What this scenario usually creates in the minds of our pious artist that is counterculture for counterculture sake think that artistic identity prevails over product understanding. They believe Billy is an artist that sticks to his guns and always comes out on top. They don’t realize that Billy sacrifices artistic identity while holding onto his artistic integrity to produce critically acclaimed work that would sell to the masses. For example, Billy created a film called “Queens Boulevard.,” which was a black and white film that maintained the authenticity of Queens, was colorized by an overzealous studio. The studio ruined the film’s emotion, which made the film authentic. “Queens Boulevard.” was colorized, thus distracting the viewer from the real focus of the movie. The studio thought it brightened a movie that was meant to be gritty and dark. Billy stuck by his creative integrity and not the artistic look of the movie and had the movie sanctioned. Billy mentions in the episode, “If the movie would have been better in color, then I would have made it in color. *Stupid* suits.” Your savvy artist would have understood the power of Billy’s statement. Billy chose to shoot the movie in black and white because it gave him a better chance to win the coveted Sundance Award. The general public could digest the film. Critics and judges could rave about how different it is to other films. On the other hand, the studio believed people like color, so they want to give people only color films. Billy would have been willing to compromise if it would have made the film better, but it didn’t. High-strung artist interpret Billy’s line as suits are vile people that are money grubbing and willing to destroy great art for the sake of profit. That is a slanted perspective of Billy Walsh’s statement and Billy. In the series, Billy loves money, he wants his art digested and he is willing to compromise for acceptance as long as it doesn’t destroy his artistic vision. Billy detests and opposes suits because they want to denounce his understanding of high concept art that is easy to relate to by the general public and dumb it down based on their statistical marketing research that does not explore people's acceptance of art. See, Billy’s integrity is based on knowing how to produce high concept films that the general public will love.

Most pious artists believe the general public doesn’t understand their “great” art because they are dumb individuals waiting to be led like sheep. These artists never reflect on themselves. Most never realize that the reason the public doesn’t like your art is because it just sucks. Many artists believe the starving artist should martyr himself for the sake of art. I believe if an artist loves his craft, then he should create it in a manner that the general public can relate to the conveyed emotion. I’m not saying suits know what’s best, but good suits know business. And, business has one purpose and that is to make money. Artists believe suits don’t have an artistic bone in their body, but they do. Suits know the art of making money. Now, that is something everyone can relate to. Word to the wise: Artists learn how to sell your art to the masses. If you don’t some suit will. Now, where is my tie that matches my new hipster t-shirt?

In the Midst of Real Tragedy (free flow of thought)

Peace Good People,

Peace Evil People,

This entry is really for everyone. I know that I was leaving myspace for good, but this needs to be said. I've been holding this entry captive in my heart for a long time. I think it is ready to be freed. I know that most of my blogs are a mixture of philosophy, science, theory, memories, and aspirations. Well, this one will be no different. As I sit in my quad at FIEA (www.fiea.ucf.edu), I complain about the amount of work slammed down on us from our professors. I'm held hostage by Rapid Prototypes, Production Papers, Programming Pop Quizzes, 3D Artistic Endeavors, Life Art, and Underground Live Development. My life is jam-packed like early 80s fashion. I love every minute of it, too. Now, I overstand how a woman or man loves their abusive significant other. I'm in heaven by surviving video game development hell. Yes, I'm getting my arse handed to me on a daily basis. But, I love the abuse. Even in my complaints, I'm happy. I'm doing good work. I'm busting my arse. I'm being the best damn producer possible. It my work is reflective of great effort and product. But, school lets me know that it isn't enough to be the best. She keeps telling me to be better. School is the perfect girlfriend pushing me to the limits and beyond. She is making me a better boyfriend. I love her for it. After her, I'll be a better man. Yes, most relationships are based around grooming. It just so happens that school is grooming me. However, as I wallow in my painful grooming, real tragedy is taking place around the world.

Tragedy seems to hover over the heads of my loved ones. This year, I've had friends lose their parents, significant others, grandparents, and children. To think, I have the audacity to complain about not making an "A!" How superficial and shallow have I become this year? Real tragedy is happening around me, yet I worry about school. How dare I complain about my lavish grad school life, while death lurks in the lives of my loved ones? How dare I spew words of dissatisfaction about people in my cohort when my family and friends are facing hardships- financially, socially, physically, mentally, and spiritually. While two-double-oh-seven is a good year for me, it has been an awful year for others. Well, I got into grad school to study a desired career wet dream. I'm surrounded by creative people. (Day 2 writing) Every day, I wake up ecstatic about my daily grind. I am also developing Underground Live with my PNC (partner-in-creativity), Bobby Craft. I'm learning what it really takes to be a successful producer by using my business prowess and creative juices in a single concerto. Moreover, I'm in grad school soaking up raw uncut game in a booming entertainment industry, video games. Both, Underground Live and FIEA, run hand and hand in learning business vernacular. Yet, I have the nerve to complain about not having enough time or energy to dedicate to both ventures. However, I have the time to write these words on paper. Isn't life crazy.

(Day 3 writing)

I have the ability to write in a world where the poor majority cannot read or write. Now, that is tragic! I can openly express my distress about my homeland and my life in a world where the poor majority cannot openly express themselves. Now, that's tragic! I woke up this morning to a nutritious breakfast. I allow food spoil in my refrigerator. Yet, the world's majority does not wake up to a breakfast and plush living. Tragedy surrounds me in micro and macro proportions, yet I complain about my plush lifestyle. For my complaints, I have committed the great sin of taking what I have for granted. I should know better because I grew up in a household that provided everything by the skin on their teeth. I didn't have much growing up, yet my parents made sure my brother and I had everything that a child and teenager needed and wanted. It was more than love. It was more than discipline. It was more than life lessons. It was more than sacrifice. My parents gave themselves to me and my brother. They committed to our growth more than their own growth. I received more from my family than ninety percent of the world's population receives from life. Beyond family life, I've experienced things that the world's majority have not or cannot dream. I'm always surrounded by beautiful people. I'm supported on all sides by the people in my life. As my time passes like Joe Montana, I'm able to receive more great experiences than Jerry Rice and score big on all my receptions. Yet, I complain while real tragedy plagues the world like a dark fog looming overhead. On that note, I apologize to you the reader, the have-nots, the appreciative haves, the gods and goddess, and most of all the ones that are suffering in tragedy. I'm sorry for not respecting your tragedy more than my pseudo-tragic life of luxury. Life has a way of humbling people. Life has humbled me in my good year by causing tragedy in the lives of my loved ones. For each of them, I shed a tear of sorrow. For their tragedy, this year has not been good to me.

Love and Peace Good People