I just woke up and I have an urge to write. I’m just going to let this flow, so hopefully this post is coherent enough for people to understand.
Last night, I was fuming so much that I just started to type and pretty much ended up getting all of my feelings out. I guess you could really say that I am my father’s child.
But usually, I’m more like my mother. I’m not the type of person that gets upset fairly easily or fairly often for that matter. But as far as this situation with my sister goes, something gets under my skin about it. Idk what it is, but this situation just does not sit right with me.
My mother gave birth to my sister and brother when she was 17 and 18 respectively. I came along when she was 36. As long as I have been alive, I could only think of one word to describe my mother, and that word is: Selfless. She has always done what she felt she needed to provide for my brother and sister, and then almost 20 years later, for me and my neices and nephews. Hell, she raised ALL of us.
I’ll be the first person to admit that we were sheltered kids. We weren’t exposed to too much of anything growing up. My mother made sure that we kept our heads in the books and she did what she had to so that we could have a roof over our heads. Some people that I have come across have told me that they would have never guessed that I came where I came from. I may be from the hood, but that’s not an image that I project to others.
Side Bar: One memory sticks out in my head that I want to share: About 2 years ago, I was at the hospital one day working. A few of the guys and I were there conversing about something and the conversation lead to the guys talking about dead bodies. After I explained to them that I had never seen a dead body in person before, I got the “WTF? Face”. I had to explain to them that, although I grew up in what most people would consider to be the hood, I was never around any of that stuff because my mother kept our asses in the house. They assumed that all black people in Baltimore had at least seen a dead body once before in life…They were wrong.
Another time, another guy was working in my old dept. at the hospital, was talking and was like “Yea I know everybody from Park Heights.” After I explained to him that I didn’t know him, and that he damn sure didn’t know me, he then proceeded to tell me “If I don’t know you, then you ain’t from Park Heights.” I gave dude the screwface, said whatever and walked off. Baltimore is a city with over half a million people in it. Park Heights has at least 40,000 people living in it. There is no way in hell that you could know every single person that lives in every single house on every single block of the neighborhood. GTFOHWTBS. I didn’t wanna ruin dude’s thought of him knowing 40,000 people personally. smh
I just personally don’t understand why, coming from the background that we grew up in, why the hell would you want to get mixed up in drugs and crime and all that nonsense? Why would you procreate knowing you can’t provide for your children? I can’t ask these questions because I was raised to not question adults and their motives.
Oh well. That’s life I guess.
Last Night we had a birthday party for Best Friend Q. I kinda sorta feel as if I owe her an apology because the lights were on, but no one was home so to speak.
Random Thought of the Moment: “Time to make that crosstown drive so I can start working on this speech for tomorrow.”
The Song of the Moment: “(Untitled) How Does It Feel” by D’Angelo.