sometimes when you're hurting

it's not good to talk... i'm going to try to not talk abt this for a few days. i need some time to quell the emotions in my stomach and to rationally think about why i'm upset. i'm not receptive in these times either. i'm too busy concentrating on my hurt. so yeah... i'll lick the wounds and get it together so my brain can process and think clearly.

even hours spent in the car

have slowly become the bane of my existence. after weeks of fighting and arguing over the radio, the man and i came to a compromise. at even hours of the day, the radio belongs to him. odd hours are mine. since that time, he's revolutionized the way we listen to audio in the car. initially my car was equipped with a crappy radio with no tape deck or cd player to speak of. after several devices, we've evolved into using a wireless contraption that plugs into his ipod and uses the radio to transmit the output. in addition to that, he now has capabilities to put sound bites from movies on the ipod. my god... i dread his hours. in the last two days, i've been subjected to monologues and scene excerpts from "A Time to Kill", "The Ususal Suspects", "The Way of the Gun", "Made"... the list goes on. because we have this arrangement, i've vowed not to complain. instead, i'm trying to figure out how i can structure my only time in the car to be during my radio hours. this will involve way more planning and preparedness than i'm willing to give so i'll just settle for waiting another week until i'm unemployed and driving as little as possible during the off time.

mothers day was yesterday. i spoke to my mother, my sister and one auntie. today i'm still feeling the guilt of not talking to my paternal grandmother. truthfully, i haven't talked to her in at least a year and i don't really want to. my grandmother is the christian who originally converted my mom 25 years ago. i think i still have issues with her stemming from my freshman year of college. that was the year my father screwed me for the very last time. in hs we'd finally won a child support case against him. he was to pay me abt $350/mo until i was 18 or until i graduated from college. he called my dorm room and asked if he could send the money to me directly each month to assist with paying for my education. he even asked, what would be the most convenient time for me to receive it. i was confident that with a court order and his seemingly helpful disposition, i would have some help in the coming 4 years. so i bought books and things with the money that would be forthcoming any day now. and the check arrived as planned. after depositing the check, i received a very rude awakening... there was no money in the account from which the check was written. my bank charged my $30 for bouncing it. on top of that, i had other checks that would be cashed soon and no funds to cover it. i called my mom to ask for assistance covering my checks... i called randy, convinced that it was a mere error on his part. he seemed very upset about the mishap and resolved to simply western union the money to me the coming thursday. thursday came and went without a word form him. he didn't return my calls and soon, i couldn't get through to the number at all. i learned another lesson about trusting a person like my father. in the following months, i would relay this story to my sister who was living with our paternal grandmother in virginia. she would tell me how he repeatedly promised to help her get into school etc and renneged each time. i told my story... all of a sudden, my grandmother's voice booms over the phone to chastise us of speaking ill of him. huh? you've been eavesdropping on our call and have the NERVE to defend your shitty excuse of an offspring? yeah, she never sat right with me after that. i cannot understand how you can condone that behavior from you adult son. a son that has never been there for his own offspring a day in his life. i son that had to be taken to court to help support those offspring. i son who at 40 was still as selfish as a coddled little boy. i cannot get down. couple my feelings about that with her consistent record of silence when he does wrong and her christian zealotry, and you'll understand how difficult it is for me to call. i fear that one day she'll be dead and i'll regret never having spent the time to get to know her or to forgive her...

romanticizing anything is dangerous

it's our minds version of denial. this weekend i felt as if i've romanticized my city to the point of being let down. it could be b/c i stayed in harlem... and harlem isnt' really my favorite neighborhood. it could be that i was running around on other people's schedule and didn't have time to cultivate that old loving feeling with my city.... but mostly i got the overwhelming idea that i'd glossed over my city's flaws like a spurned lover who refuses to let go. truth number one: harlem is dirty as shit. truth number two: while it's easier to get around- it takes a long fucking time. traffic in a city equipped with the best transportation system in the world still sucks. truth number three: my friends aren't pefect. i've romanticized them too. in my mind, they'd become flawless. they sit on a pedestal looking down their noses at californians...

home. when i left, i got the feeling that this isn't it. i haven't really found home yet. there are things i adore about nyc (finding a street vendor with natural shea butter, oil for my locs, and my favorite soap) ... but it's not where i'm going to spend the rest of my life. walking through fort greene, i contemplated it... but i didn't feel it. i still can't fathom paying $250K for a 2 bedroom condo in brooklyn. it always comes back to one simple truth. i haven't found home yet. although i'm from utica, ny... that's not home either. maybe my mind has adopted a unrealistic idea of what home is... maybe that's why i don't mind uprooting myself and trying a new city. sometimes i feel like a lost soul just wandering waiting to feel more. to feel connected to a place by more than a job.... i need to build a foundation that i feel rooted to.

besides those musings, the trip home was great. i spent the bulk of the time with my sorors. my line sisters and i celebrated our fourth delta anniversary.... a saw some folks i haven't seen in a few years... and more importantly, i got to see my best friend. he's got a dope apartment in fort greene and since i've left, has gotten to be a rather trendy dresser. i'm crediting his girlfriend. they've shacked up and he's happier than i've ever seen him. did i mention he just got a job at the illustrious NYT?

so i left on an afternoon flight.... i missed the first one but still made my atlanta connection which made me thankful for long layovers. as the plane approached georgia, i contemplated how varied the terrain of this country is and how that may affect the people. georgia was so incredibly green that it appeared as if atlanta was a small hideaway city snuggled within a vast forest. the land was so lush loking that it seemed impossible to be miserable within it's confines. colorado was all snow capped mountain while arizona was barren mountains surrounded by canyons. i wondered why people would want to live in a state where nothing seemed to grow naturally. new york was all lights. they were so mesmerizuing i wondered how anyone could live anywhere else. weren't they drawn to the light? the mysticism of the city? i certainly had been...and still am to a great extent, yet it still isn't quite home.