embarking
it's disgusting how much time goes by between my entires these days but man I just can't write on a regular basis past notes here and there...I'm just totally blocked...feel like there's something wrong with me mentally. I can't concentrate long enough to write...and when I do I'm easily distracted. I can't even proofread what I write anymore...I lose focus in mid-sentences and something else catches my attention. I know I should write but everyday that goes by I feel farther and farther behind...which makes me need to write more but want to write less. the fuckin joy is just gone.
I have a lot of reoccuring themes in my dreams...a major one is being unprepared for something...I dream that I'm about to go on stage and I don't know my lines...or that I have a huge final and I haven't been to class the entire semester. I wake up confused and dazed...trying to clear the mental cobwebs and assess whether that shit was real or not. these dreams scare me ten times more then any of your standard "nightmare" fare. so you can only imagine how freaked I get when my writing falls behind...so now I'm basically forcing myself to write and the shit is gonna be long and unorganized, my transitions won't have any creativity and I'll probably spell every other word wrong and fuck up punctuation and cuss too much but fuck it...I'll proofread it later.
I would say it was relaxing to be home in denver but it really wasn't...don't get me wrong, I always enjoy my nieces and nephews...my step-sister and brother, my dad...but it was very difficult for me to get work done between keeping an eye on the kids, eating when my dad said eat, and planning my schedule around my step-sister's in order to even use the computer. eventually I moved the entire system down to my dad's office where I could close the door and hopefully get in at least three, four hours of work per day before someone insisted I pay attention to them...kids are exhausting in an ultimately satisfying way.
being home always replinishes me if that's the appropriate word. every night when I'd go to bed the whole house would already be asleep just like it was when I'd get home from a night out with my girlfriends on college summer vacations...I walked up the stairs to the guestroom instead of my bedroom which now belongs to jessica, skipping the stairs that creak...opened the blinds so I could get a breeze through the screen...it'd be late; like 2am...but I woke up every morning at the crack of dawn feeling adequately rested...the morning beam of sun would start heating up my skin like an alarm clock and my eyes would just pop open...I don't think I slept past 9am any day I was there. for me, a chronic morning-hater, thats rare.
a few days after I was there and my father was able to observe my hectic, unwavering work schedule, he said he saw himself in me especially my dedication to my business...it meant a lot considering the man is big negro almighty of the insane work ethic...of course that peaceful shit couldn't last; a few days later we got into an argument and I hit him with a roll of paper towels. now...okay...I've never hit my dad before...it's not like a pimp slapped him or anything...I've never cussed at him or slammed a door in his face or hung up on him either...I am all about respect (plus I'm a little scared of him...what a temper, yo)...but he was out of fuckin line...and there were paper towels right there...so I hit him with them, yes I did. I'd do that shit again too...he just has to learn, old or not, that he will never "earn the right" to be negative to us, especially as the patriarch, the rock. he should learn that he cannot change everyone...he can't dictate the lives of everyone in his life just because he's lived the longest. his favorite line is "I'm the oldest and the smartest in the room"...thats his way of saying "I'm right, now shut up so I can get the last word". I love my father...he's the man...sometimse he just has the tendency to push heads away from him with that mean old man role, namely his kids.
now the entire reason we were all in denver was for my niece mekia's quinceanera, which I really reveled in...I always did dig being around mekia's maternal family...they're like the mexican version of the youngs. my brother and the kids drove up early the morning of the party for the church service, but me, my dad, my step-sister, and my stepmom left the house just before noon to put us in greely before 2pm which is when everything was supposed to kick off. I felt crazy getting dressed semi-formal first thing in the morning...only time I've ever done that was when my mama used to make me go to church on easter. in any case, I'd gone shopping with tasha the day before...yes we're friends again...she actually picked out my outfit...it'd been so long since I'd been able to convince that chick to go shopping with me. losing fifty pounds makes a girl want to replenish her wardrobe, though, I suppose, cause she was more enthusiastic about going from store to store than I was.
once we got to the party hall in greely and ate it was a bit of sitting around for quite awhile...the dance part wasn't set to start until 6pm...I felt a little sorry for mekia having to sport that wedding-ish dress all day even though she did look frighteningly gorgeous...a little too grown for 15 but hey what can ya do. after two hours in my debutante dress a few years ago I was ready to rip that shit off...so of course, me being me, I made fun of her. to help pass the time I offered to do her make-up and she was game...mostly because she was bored though, I'm sure. she didn't used to like me doing her hair when she was younger either...she's one of those "lemme do it" kids. anyway, I'd brought my make-up bag with me so I had everything I needed to hook her up. after I was done it didn't take five minutes for her friends and cousins to ooh and ahh and promptly come rushing up to me to timidly request the same treatement. I spent the next hour and change being the quinceanera's personal make-up artist...little brown face after little brown face turned its way up to my blush brush and face after face I obliged and turned their eyelids into explosions of sparkly pink and purple...cheeks became rosy canvases...shiny sheer lips. it had to have been about 12 of them in all...then jessica, my sister-in-law tina, and my two youngest nieces wanted to be down too. I had them looking lovely although it took asya awhile to warm up to it. I think pilar took to it the most...she kept looking at herself in my mirror and talking to herself like little 4 year olds do when they start playing pretend and forget anybody is paying attention to them. the rest of the time in denver pilar would periodically inform me that her lips were chapped and she needed lipstick...I'd give her some cherry chapstick (that was as lipsticky as she was gonna to get) and she'd go run to the mirror and look herself over from all angles. little girls, yo...they're so cute the way they dream of being a woman one day...if I look hard enough sometimes I can see the woman my nieces are going to be.
they actually got to sleep in a tent in the backyard every night while chad, tina, and the twins were at a hotel about fifteen minutes away. it would've been a damn mess if we were all in the same house. I wish I would've though to sleep in there with them one of those nights...it looked mad fun...like a childhood sleepover. when I was like 8 or 9, though, my parents would let me and my friends sleep in my tent on the front porch...but eric marsh, the kid that lived next door, would always sneak around the front yard and scare us. or he'd tell us the news said aliens were on the loose...typical bully shit. so yea...my three nieces would snuggle up with each other every night like they were camping out...quality time between sisters is mad important especially if one of them lives in another state.
on the flip side, sometimes when I look at my step-sister I wonder who she is...full of all that teenage angst, anger, and confusion. I want to know her, but it's like I can't be me when I'm around her. I become like this quieter being...very untouchable...I can feel myself doing it, I just can't drop it. I guess a part of it has to do with how I was growing up...halfway resenting her and my stepmom...feeling like any love I showed to them would be traitorous to my mama. jessica made the transition from whiney little girl with barbies to a young woman with a car and a job virtually overnight...between school and moving to new york I wasn't there for most of it. I don't know shit about her past the posters on her wall and the CDs stacked in her room and the occasionally conversations we do have. so when my father asks me to talk to her about her behavioral problems it's like what the fuck I'ma say to her...I still have behavioral problems my damn self. this wise "sibling" shit ain't my bag. I love her though...maybe when she goes to college next year we can have more in common to talk about...I know my father would really like that.
so I do treasure spending time with my dad even when he's so annoying I hit him with paper towels or have a huge falling out about the past like he, chad, and myself did a couple nights before I left. mostly about him being discouraging. I'm glad we had an opportunity to fight and to bond as well because every day he wakes up could be the last...but I guess that's anyone really...more on that later. the day the falling out chad and his basketball team (thats what I call him, his wife, and the kids) were set to go back to DC so before they left he, dad, and myself took a drive around the neighborhood to talk about what had gone down and what had been said, away from the kids...we basically had it out. me and chad tried to explain to him how his mean-spirited side is becoming more paramount the older he gets and we don't deserve the shit he puts on us...we explained to him what motivated us to say what we said...how we didn't want to see him try to devalue the dreams of the kids...but our father is stubborn as a bull and it takes awhile for shit to permeate...at one point my brother got so pissed he just got out of the car. they're relationship really angers me...much like the relationship between dad and jessica...because I'm the one that has to be an even better kid to offset how frustrated they make him. yea okay its not all about me...but I know I'm my dad's favorite...don't freak out I didn't say he loves me more, he just likes me the best. I have to be the good one so my dad can know he did his job as a parent because he's the dramatic type that takes criticism to mean "you were a shitty father".
as far as every day not being promised goes, traj called me last week to tell me his father had died. it took a few minutes for the progress what he had said...I didn't think I was going to cry but after the initial shock passed, and I thought about the phone conversation me and his father had a week and a half prior about him wanting me to give him "a grandson to bounce on [his] knee", I of course started sobbing. I pulled it together mad quick though because traj sounded calm and I didn't wanna get him started again...he had that "done cried all day already" sound to his voice. I think he was able to take it easier because he'd been preparing himself for it since the beginning of the year...he kept telling me he didn't think his pops was going to make it to 2004...I just kept telling him to shut up. but he knew...and his pops knew too...they'd had a long talk a few days before...his father said he was proud of him for moving down to georgia to pursue his music thing...told him he had faith in him and he'd live his own dreams through traj. his father was a musician too, an antiguan steel drum player, so I could only imagine what a jewel that was to his only son. people die constantly...all the time, everyday...not many of them, I imagine, get the opportunity to say what they want to say to those they love. so in that way traj is fortunate.
when I called my dad to let him know what had happened he practically read my mind and said "babygirl your dad isn't going anywhere for a long while, I promise"...but how couldn't I compare the two situations...traj's father was the same age as mine...had similar health problems...also smoked much of his life as well as drank. I'm glad my dad quit smoking but he's gotta chill with those rum and cokes too. that reminds me...when we were driving up to the 15era my father had a big glass of water in the car with him...he said "ya know what? this water shit is pretty good...I need to drink this shit more often", haha...I just hope he meant that.
so I'm leaving my house in about an hour to get on a plane yet again to fly to ft. pierce florida for this funeral. my father questioned my judgement in staying down there the entire six days with traj...but he doesn't overstand our relationship. "this man wasn't your father"...no he wasn't, but I loved him anyway because he gave the world my best friend. and that best friend needs me, so I'm there. it's a no-brainer really. I can't deny him anything after everything we've been through with each other. I don't even want to think about the day I have to do this for my dad...so until that day comes I'll continue to be "the good one". what pressure.