Legacy

June 15th, 2018

I should be sleeping but I’m annoyed.

My mother. I don’t talk about her much here. She’s still living in New York and we just recently became friendly. She’s of the type and age that to be friends with, you either have to say nothing to her or keep your conversations brief.

In the past, we’ve been contentious with each other. Never agreed on anything and she never really believed I was adult enough on decisions or the ability to do things. Seemed it shocked her that I wrote a book.

Lately, as long as it’s hi and goodbye from texting, we’ve been good. When I started school, I didn’t tell her. I revealed my ambitions only after I started getting awards. You see, if I told her I was going back to school I wasn’t going to get anything encouraging. She’s the type that encourages only after evidence of success. Now, if you waited only for your child to succeed at things before you believed in them, well, that would be a problem.

She would bring up things in the past that I gave up on. True … I started and stopped things in her mind, like, when I was between 5 years old and age 16. I don’t think my track record with finishing projects is any worse than anyone else. I know I had trouble executing things…but always tried. Honestly, I have a lot more successfully finished things than I tell her because she just doesn’t deserve to know. If you weren’t with me when I started…

Anyway, she’s selling the family house. A place in Jamaica Queens that was first bought by my grandparents, her parents, back in the 40′s. She grew up in that house. When my grandmother died, she took over and it rotted from the inside. She sent m,e pictures recently and I couldn’t believe the way she let it fall apart. I’ll post pictures later. It was horrible.

So, she’s selling it as is. The last I spoke to her about the whole selling process was she was going to sell it, living in a small apartment and then move to Vermont to retire. I don’t even think that plan is happening because I don’t think she got the money she wanted for the place. She’s not telling me but there are holes in what she tells me that make me feel her plans aren’t happening as she would like and now she’s out of what was the family house. The place that was supposed to be passed down.

I didn’t agree to her plan of selling the place but I didn’t tell her that. With my mother, you can’t discuss things with her because she only listens to whom she deems ‘smart’. In her mind, I’m not one of them.

Her only son, by the way.

She’s the originator of those in my life that don’t listen to my advice, but more than willing to hear the SAME advise from someone else who either has money or whomever she believes in. I’m very sensitive to people like that in my life. Very resentful of people that do that to me. Discounting what I have to say in favor of same or BAD advice from others. My ex did that a lot.

So, I had to watch the sale of this place happen before my eyes. And it gets worse. She only moved five houses down to someone basement apartment and she’s giving away a lot of the furniture and paintings that were in our family …well, since the 40′s. Stuff that was legacy of our family. Things that mattered to me. In that house, I wrote my greatest stories. Had many of my first experiences.

All gone. Without even asking me what I thought or should do.

So, I should be sleeping but I want to cry. I want to yell. I want to blow up on my mother for, yet again, not listening.

The question is: did I speak?

The answer is no.

I did not.

I did not question her judgment. I did not ask her questions to challenge her decisions. I did not ask her to save anything for me because I love and miss my grandparents. Why?

Because I sacrificed the legacy for the comfortable relationship with my mother we’ve had this past year. We were not fighting. We were not angry. She genuinely cared about my academic success and I finally got my mother to love me for my accomplishments.

That’s no way to live. To only speak to your family ‘in a certain way’ in order to have a relationship with them. When it’s time to speak to them openly, you can’t. I missed an opportunity to salvage my grandparent’s things. I regret that.

You see what this journal is all about. It isn’t just about me making a highly probable shot at going to law school. It’s the regeneration of a once deflated, depressed man making global changes in his life by being aware of his failings and what needs to be changed. In order to get there, the raw unfiltered ‘who I am’ needs to be revealed, addressed and reshaped. Most of all, documented.

The documentation is for me to purge my thoughts. A therapeutic move.

But mostly for you. Someone who might be trying to dig your way out of a hole of depression and your life needs changes. Maybe even suicidal as I have been, and want to see if I can make it, so can you. Change is possible.

I am not the same man that started this journal last year. Lord knows I am not the same man from years ago. With academia and learning the guitar (by the way, I also started ‘Fender Play’ to practice with intentions of getting ‘in class’ tutorials in a few weeks. The guitar is going to arrive next Tuesday), archery coming back again and joining this tech frat, “who am I” is a fair question. Certainly not last years guy.

That said, what did I learn from this experience with my mother?

I need to save my family home. I’m told it’s sold already. Right now is a good time to win the lottery. I’m playing first thing I can today.

Aside from that, I keep doing what I always have been doing with my life and my children. For me, making greater strives to be a better man. For them, talking to them honestly and letting them speak to me openly. No judgments. I save everything they make or give me. I have stuff they made for me since they were babies. A form of legacy items. I’m saving things of my own I will pass down to them.

The guitar will be one of many guitars I think I’m going to buy. The bow is another. Then there are the comic books, figurines, collectibles, etc, etc. LOL.

Working on actual ‘money’.

I need a family home of my own.

Some place they can come to and know they can get a fresh start, or recharge. A place they can always go to as comfort.

As of right now, I do not have that. My family home safety net is gone.

I will have a home that will be our family legacy.

You can guarantee that.

Job Loss

December 29th 2017

On December 28th, 2017, I went into work to find out that they terminated me.

No warnings. No conversations.

Just released.

First, I have to say, I will never work for Walmart again. Ever. Under no circumstances or dire needs. Ever.

I want to say the same about any retail, but we shall see.

The reason: Attendance. I called out three times since July, but the reality is this management and I have crossed swords too many times, so I had no safety net.

On one hand, it’s the same old story for me. Gotta look for another job. The tired, endless rejections and begging to work somewhere. It’s exhausting and belittling.

On the other hand, I’m free.

I hated this place. I hated the customers that frequented that place. I hated the management for not letting me ‘manage’ my department. I dreaded every time I went into work and weaved every chance I could to work a schedule that did not include seeing anyone. It’s all documented in this journal my disgust for this company. Nothing new.

So what now?

School is doing well, but it was independent of working. What job I have (or don’t have) doesn’t affect my achievement at school. It’s all covered by financial aid. Regarding the process to change degree programs, it will occur after this current term (around late January).

The loss of the job is heavy though: a regular paycheck, medical insurance (again), child support payments, discounts. That sort of thing.

I’m content with the loss of Walmart, but maybe not how it went down and knowing I tried to offer much more than what they let me do.

My kids are here with me for the holidays. They go back next week around the second or third of January. I received my second to last paycheck. The last one will be for about a day or two.

Sigh.

The next job I want needs to be in harmony with my career choice.

But even that is imbalanced. Criminal justice? Information Technology? Lawyer? Right at this moment, I am feeling I don’t have direction when I thought I did. Walmart should not have been the catalyst to my direction. It wasn’t. It was just a paycheck.

Truth is, I feel a little lost at the moment. I think it will pass. Like this annoying cough I have had for a few weeks now. Odd how it started clearing up the moment I was let go from the job.

So what now?

I can’t spend my days mad. The kids are here. Let’s regroup and consider options after I take them home. Right now, brooding with them here won’t make things good.

I will say this: I think I’m getting sick and tired of my eldest daughter (16) coming to see me. She’s constantly in this angry, silent teen thing and, since I don’t suffer anyone, there is conflict from time to time. I find I conflict mostly with women anyway. Like women have this idea that they can say, do and give shit … and as a man, I’m supposed to ‘take it’ without saying anything.

Oh, no. I do say something, which seems to keep women at arms length from me. I’ve noticed that. Calling a spade a spade is necessary to prevent being a punk bitch. Everyone is always looking to make someone a punk bitch. But my daughter … she’s not within my influence. Not like my youngest daughter, from a different marriage. I see her often because she lives closer. I have equal amount of influence on her personality. She might not come out as surly as the eldest.

I hate that. Most of all, I hate her mother. Fucking whore. She drove the wedge between my daughter and I. Long, long story …but it helped me understand I know how to find missing persons when I went searching for them.

I’m angry right now. It will pass. I’ll try not to think of Walmart, old relationship dramas and wallow in unemployment sorrow AT LEAST till the kids go home.

For not even that long. Pity party quick and just find another job.

Anti-Social

The thing to know about a person who is introverted and antisocial is some of us ‘fake’ our daily existence to get by. The smile. The ‘how are you?’. The ‘How was your weekend?’. All pre-programmed triggers to make others think you give a damn.

It’s like at Walmart or any other retailer. We’re trained to ask the customer ‘How can I help you?’. Do we REALLY want to help you? There are some who are genuinely interested in helping that customer find that right blouse or cake mix. The rest of us would rather get through the day without talking to the scum.

We’re doing it because we have to.

The thing with me is, after a full day of ‘how can I help’, yes ma’am this and yes sir that … when I come home, the last thing I want around me is another human being. Wife, son, daughter … No ONE.

The argument can be had that I never want anyone around me but that’s not true. I actually love spending time with my wife and my children.

It’s actually a sensory overload for me that I’m willing to compress for eight hours of the day. After that, at home, shut the fuck up. Leave me the fuck alone.

I know. It’s terrible. In the past, I didn’t quite understand that feeling. Why I was so much hateful when family and friends tried to reach out. I recognize it now and it’s my DNA make up. Typically, I can’t stand crowds and gatherings. But for a pay check, I can suck it up for a few hours.

At home, the family may not understand that and want to bond, talk about their day, complain about something, need help with something.

The need to keep a reserve of ‘give-a-damn’ is important after giving a damn at work all day.

Maybe I can figure out how to package ‘give-a-damn’ so I can pop a pill or two when I get home to continue smiling and caring for another hour.

In some cultures, I think it’s called ‘Cocaine’.

Suddenly, I miss my adderall.