10 years later and he’s back in my life. my feelings are somehow convoluted. I know what my long-term goals are. I’m just not sure if they include him. The odds are stacked high against us. But yet I find myself acting like some crazed teenager again. He’s had a hard life. The likes of which, i’ve never had the misfortune to experience.
So it makes it hard for us to relate. You know when you are missing certain things in life it tends to incite hunger inside you. You tend to want to strive harder to obtain those things. I think that’s what he does. And because I don’t strive for the same things he does, it drives a rift between us. I want that American Pie dream (well not exactly “Americah Pie”). He wants money. Maybe as the Alpha Male it defines his worth. But I want something simpler. Friendship, Loyalty and reliability. He is downright Amoral and the things I find horrific he finds mundane. We often clash on those points alone. Yet I can’t leave him alone.
Do you ever get the feeling that happiness & contentment magnifies beauty tenfold?
“One morning, at about two o’clock my friend was at a dance in the community. He was enjoying himself and dancing when suddenly there was a gunshot and a bullet hit my friend in the back of his head. He turned around – and they shoot him in his face three more times. He fell and they shoot him as he lay on the ground. They then announced that I was next. Hearing that, I run from the community and have been moving from house to house trying to avoid homelessness…”
It makes it hard to embrace a culture whose first resolution to societal differences is violence. Folks always took Caribbean Homophobia for an old wives tale. But I kid you not, this shyt is real. I can almost understand why my brother left his gay cousin to the mercy of his attackers. To even associate with gay men or women is in and of itself an unofficial crime. often times those perceived in the company of homosexuals fall victim to the same fates. If you aren’t clear on the fate of a gay man or lesbian living in present-day Jamaica, then you should read the following : http://www.asylumlaw.org/docs/sexualminorities/worldpolicyinstitute_americas_LGBTrights.pdf
What’s so ironic is that the above graphic was originally intended to depict the diversity of this Island I once called home. But after doing some keyword searches on my old high school and neighboring schools I found that the lesbian traits I so staunchly exhibit are not exactly welcomed in my hometown or even my old high school. It is almost a paradox that a culture known for it’s racial diversity would be such a huge proponent for anti-gay violence. I’d call it homophobia but that wouldn’t be doing it justice. So now here I sit with conflicting emotions. Self hate swirling around in my mind because as a Jamaican I should definitely not be engaging in sexual intercourse with individuals of the same sex. Am I supposed to hate who I am? Hate my own sexuality? Or am I supposed to renounce my own culture and background? The place I called home for 13 years is no longer a haven for me and being so blatantly gay, It would be remiss for me to make any attempts at moving back there.
Sweethearts you have not known hardship until you’ve experienced what it’s like to grow up Gay in Jamaica. I was gay before I even knew such a term existed and this smirk spreads across my face as I read the article on on homosexuality in High School (High school Girls Gone Gay!!). I was a practicing Lesbian in Queens High School before the word or subject was ever broached in the Gleaner. They talk about us like we’re infestations like we’re the bane of mankind. How can a country so “diverse” uphold such a brazen disregard for human rights? “Out of many one people” does not actually guarantee equal rights to the many does it? Are we actually One People? or does the fine print exclude gays and lesbians?
So I won’t be going back unless it’s for a death in the family. I’m boycotting Jamaica.
I’m reading Alix’s Blog about the fear of old age and it really just dawned on me that: It’s not old age that I fear but missed opportunities. While she’s dreading old age, I’m hoping that I will live to a ripe old age. That I’ll have stories to tell my grand kids and great grand kids. I live in an ever-changing, relative world. It seems as if I’ve seen so many things happen over the course of time that I have to wonder how long will I live? Will I be able to to live my days out regaling my progeny with stories and key historic moments. See there isn’t much of a family tree in either side of my family so I’d like to be the first to start the tradition. The first one to sit her offspring down and tell them about they’re progenitors and those who came before them. Because no one has a stronger impact on you and how you shape your life than family. These are the things that I’ve come to realize. So I’d like to live a long and illustrious life. Maybe society’s problem is that we no longer show much reverence to our elderly. Young folks are so much more headstrong and set in their ways that they couldn’t possibly believe that there’s anything to be learned from older folks. But I believe that in some cases the contrary holds true. I think that we have individuals in our lives for a reason and who better to learn from than the individual who’s been on this earth longer .
I am honestly trying to steer clear of posts about my professional life. Except I’m not finding that easy because I spend most of my waking hours here at the lab. I’m at the lab right now waiting for a recovery to be completed and hoping that once it’s done, I won’t have to hear any bitching and moaning from my client. I know I’m supposed to enjoy this coz it’s what I signed up for in college but sometimes it’s just a little frustrating. Sometimes I think people forget they’re dealing with human beings when they inquire about our services. You know while he’s laid up in his plush comfortable bed. I’m here in this lab freezing my ass off under the A.C. trying to push thru his critical data. And I’m pretty sure he’ll be one to have a complaint in the morning or even maybe 2 months down the line. When he complains that’ll be my queue to exit the building permanently.
Shit who am I fooling in this economy? Like Mica says “I’m gonna ride it till the wheels fall off” (kinda think she was talkin about sex) but my tone is pure innocence. I spoke to her last night and it felt great. We really have good conversations but I’m also stricken with A.D.H.D. So despite the great convo she offers, my mind tends to stray as does my attention. We’ll talk for 2 days only to end up arguing because I won’t answer some of her phone calls and I’ll probably stop calling. I lack focus.
But most of the time when I stop calling, it’s usually because I’m stressing about certain things in my life and I’m trying to get my ducks in a row. I’m always one to put things off until I can’t complete the task at hand. Then complications arise with the task at hand and it seems as if my entire existence is consumed with that particular mediocre iota of life.
My ex of 8 years seems to gain confidence every time she has a new girlfriend. Confidence being an understatement. Whenever she’s with someone she thinks the whole entire world is on her dick and is worried about her dick and its actions. It’s just one of those random observations I made just recently. Every time a bitch cheats on her or dumps her, I’m the coolest, realest female she’s ever known. Then when she finds a new chick who will fuck her she gets hype and it’s “FUCK THE WORLD. ALL THESE HOES ON MY DICK”. Come on now Morgen? Is it really that serious? The whole world is losing sleep over your minuscule rubber ding-a-ling? Is this a fact? And in what book of bullshit did you read this?
I posted a twitter comment saying that it was odd that her and my bf are dating because they used to be sworn enemies. I made the post out of sheer amusement not jealousy or for the need to check up on morgen (I’ll keep that lower-cased) and her so-called dick actions which I wasn’t aware she had. She in her deep rooted resentment responds with the following:
“@kissmeshia lmao! nah what you find odd is you dont want nobody that knows you with me its been mad long get over it meesh really b…”
APB: If anyone sees a fat rusty black-lipped chick driving a Dodge Caravan Virginia License Plate# E644 008 please set her and that car on fire. This chick decides to cut us off on I-85 yesterday somewhere between NC & VA. We ignored it and kept moving. Later on I notice the aforementioned pulls up next to my side of the car ( the passenger side) and starts mouthing obscenities. So I rolled my window down and cussed her fat ass out. There were four people in my car. My Mom was driving. My bro and my nephew were in the backseat. This bitch decides to take it a step further and proceeds to cut my Mom off again. Only, this time we anticipated that move and slowed down so as not to run into her. My Mom switches Lanes. She switches Lanes. Mom switches back behind another car. Black-lips decides she wants to share lanes with us and pulls into the left lane pushing us over the side beyond the sleeper lane and almost into the grassy part of the highway. Luckily there wasn’t a ditch there or a barrier. If you see the following Dodge Caravan with the aforementioned LICENSE plate. Please feel free to stab the driver if indeed it’s a female;
My old life was a far cry from what it is now. I’ve undergone a sort of metamorphosis. I was looking at an old photo montage I made back when grandpa died. Then I started looking up my aunt’s name on the Internet. I found out that she was quite brilliant as is her husband and son. She’s into computers also. So I guess the whole computer geek thing is a genetic thing. I never knew until the age of 28 that my aunt was an inventor or a scholar. Part of me wishes I’d stayed with my dad when I was younger because I probably would’ve attained my goals much faster. The dynamic between the two sides of my family is unusual. My mom comes from dirt poor surroundings. She’s the eldest of 6 children. Granny (God rest her soul), felt it was prudent to have all these kids to keep the men around. It just never panned out that way. So instead, my mom’s been raising kids since she first hit puberty. Not her kids but my Grannies kids. She was pulled out of school to raise these kids and being the oldest sibling she’s always felt responsible for her younger siblings. See my mom’s family may not come from much but the one thing they have that I don’t see in a lot of other families is that loyalty and that kinship. She represents the side of me that stays grounded. My dad on the other hand comes from a well-to-do family with very old fashioned values. I would almost say they were snobs. But snobs or not I still love them. They raised me with standards and created this melting pot of unique traits and attributes that you’ll never find. I get my elitist mentality from that side of the family and at times I find I’m in a mental conflict. I tend to date women who would be considered beneath my stature by my family as a sign of rebellion. I think a lot of who I am now as a person can be attributed to the way dad is and the rest of the Francis’s are. Nobody says “I love you” on that side of the family. Nobody is overtly emotional. They all maintain a certain kind of stone-faced decorum which makes it really hard to relate to them. I know that I am everything they despise. The black sheep. The child with no (for a lack of better words) “Broughtupsy” (consult the West Indian Dictionary). I’m the one child that goes against the grain. The one who hung with the bad chicks in high school and would skip class. The one who wore miniskirts to the mall and thought she was grown even though she knew pops hated it. I strive to be everything he is not.