bigcam knowsnada

I have something to confess. I am a fiend. And I am proud of it. I’ve finally had my come to Jesus moment per se and have arrived at the terms of my existence and you know what? I am perfectly fine with it. Some people like to live in denial. They thrive in it. Creating this false sense of self that externally appears strong but in reality, can be internally damaging. But not I, not me, not anymore. You see, ‘cause I have a bond with something. That Is not to be broken. Ever. And that is with a delicious triangular cheddar covered piece of heaven, labeled, DORITOS. And I am tired of people giving me shit for it.

Now there’s nothing wrong with liking what you like… Okay, that’s a little far fetched, there are some qualms with certain things like maybe smoking crack or having a perfect goatee; those are never acceptable. Well, unless your back is against the wall and your family’s well being is in danger, then do what you have to do. Smoke that crack. Line that goatee up like a piece of shit.  But let me not digress, when it comes to something material like food, a delicious delectable desirable food at that like Doritos, I have learned to set aside the self doubt and succumb to my inner desires that will in the long run, make you feel like you are living rather than existing. The goal as we get older is to make YOU happy. As stated by my big homie Ernest Hemingway “You can’t get away from a delightful bag of Doritos by moving from one place to another”, or something like that. And god damnit Ernest, I have finally stopped running.

Moderation is extremely key though. That’s an essential I would preach day in and day out. Like what’s the point of eating until your belly aches? Why shoot down the possibility of having more Doritos at a later date because you enjoy feeling like you hate yourself. Lindsay Lohan once said, just to balance out my credible quote references, “My motto is: Live every day to the fullest- in moderation.”…(Alright, I probably could have not been that lazy for a quote but let’s move on)There have been many suns and moons where I catch myself stuck in the trance of a mystical bodacious bag of Nacho Cheddar and I have to curse. Loudly. It helps though, because this is a daily struggle we all deal with when it comes to over indulging. In the long run gluttony never works out in the end. Even the saying of the word “gluttony” is fucking nasty.

Wrote this awhile back...

My name is Cameron. 23, Big , and Black. And Twitter almost made me go blind one day.

Not blind in the sense of being unaware of what’s happening around me, neglecting the various people who genuinely care about my well being in REAL LIFE, brushing off my true inner self to appease a few hundred followers who don’t really give a shit about you, ignoring the tasks that I know I should be doing in favor of reading the same fifty fucking tweets in a row about Jay-Z’s legs at that Met Gala shit, of course not that kind of “blind”. That’s too easy, too simple, too obvious. Everyone should be aware of that. I mean literally, physically blind dude. Like Stevie Wonder on the cover of his Characters album blind. (I’ve heard Stevie may be faking the funk and I don’t want to believe it but eh…)

Let me provide some background to the root of that fateful day when I thought my eyesight was a goner. I embarked on the Twitter ship destined for nowhere in the year of 2009, a precocious high school senior on the cusp of pseudo-adulthood ready to embrace this brand new realm of Internet land accompanied by my damn near perfect pair of 20/20s (possibly 20/10s but I won’t gloat). Ok, I’ll gloat a little. If I had to compare my eyesight to something more “grounded in reality”, imagine a wild hawk parading the skies before spotting a ladybug on the back of an earthworm. It was pristine, It was *Kisses fingers like a douche* magnificent. I mean, I did have prior experience with Myspace and Facebook so my first thoughts were, shit, Twitter should be no thang at all. Just another social media gauntlet to survive with my heart, and at the least of my worries, my eyesight intact. Man, the little I knew about one particular doomful day to come…

It was a Tuesday. I remember it vividly. Another normal afternoon in this era of police misconduct where my thumbs and eyes found solace in the aimless scrolling through of profound opinions and slightly comical memes. After maybe an hour or three had passed of my vision being held captive by this 5 ½ inch screen of white light, I heard a familiar angelic voice call out to me. My moms. She asked, “You want something from El Pollo Loco?” Of course I did, that shit is fire, I don’t know why she even had to ask. I took a few moments to respond not only because I was perturbed she seriously had to ask me if I wanted El Pollo Loco, but also because I had to finish reading a tweet that read “My grind has been different since the age of nine” (makes no sense but let me not digress). When I finally did look up, doom settled in. My head arose knowing my mother’s beautiful butter scotch face would bless me, but I saw nothing. NOTHING. Nada. I scanned the room, still nothing. Just a white light, a familiar white light. I panicked, and then I screamed in anguish, “WHY!? WHY ME!?”. My mom probably just walked away, if I had to guess, thinking I am an idiot. I then looked down at the highly technologically advanced piece of plastic in my hands.  I found comfort in knowing that I wasn’t going fully blind because I could still see tweets. However, after realizing that I could only see my twitter feed and nothing else, I cursed the app with all my might. Like a rabid dog. The vision I had held in such high regard had betrayed me, and it was now time to take back the reigns. There was only one decision to make, for the sake of seeing my grandchildren one day, and that was to delete Twitter off my phone. For good. Well kinda.