About My World

ABOUT ME:

I’m the woman trying to figure out some things:

Why am I the bitch?

Why do the men in my life hurt me?

Why do my children adore me?

Why am I the “shyt” at work and just shit at home?

Why am I always bankrupted by the men in my life?

Why do I fit into everyone’s idea of who I am when I am so not what is expected?

I know that I tend to be untraditional in many respects.  I was always a highly untraditional mom but hey, overall, my kids came out pretty damn good and I can say without equivocation a helluva lot better than me at their age. So to hell with tradition.

I am untraditional in my tastes – I prefer Hip-Hop to Pop, Reggae to Ballads – but what the hell.  Some may think I am holding on desperately to my youth but they couldn’t be more wrong – in my youth (and subsequently in my marriage) that kind of music was frowned upon (although ever since first hearing it I fell in love with the energy and beat).  If anything, this quirk of mine holds me up to ridicule to my peers at times – but screw them since they don’t pay my bills now do they?

I am untraditional in those I choose as friends – I don’t adhere to a type of person although it may seem so – what draws me into friendship is quality of character – not taste, status, money, age, nationality, religion – viva le difference.

I am untraditional in whom I’ve chosen to share my home, and my life with, but again – it’s who they are not what they do, have, will have, or anything physical that keeps you with someone – it boils down to how you feel about them, and with them – so again, what people think will never affect me.

So I look at the years past as addiing these little niches to my armor – the years of living, and doing, and seeing, and being has created upon the canvas that is me a very abstract kind of art (NOT Warhol though cuz I hate that shyt).  I appreciate what depth it’s given – a depth I am quite certain I THOUGHT I had at 20, which I now realize was nothing more than an aspiration. 

———————-

Controlled/Chaos – my favorite kind of music.  I think it represents what my thoughts are like.  Layers over layers of instrumentals, beats and lyrics. 

My desk is a reflection of me.  I’m looking at it, and at its best it is highly functional, but at its worst - friggin disaster area.  Regardless of what it is, it is always well structured to get the job done.

I used to paint when I could lean back and appreciate the overall without caring I made this mistake or that – somehow though, as I look at what I did before all I see are the mistakes I made.  I miss that whole blurred vision thing.

I cannot, for the life of me, think of a TV show, movie, etc. that I could say are my favorites.  I really cannot come up with anything that I can definitively call my favorites.

I love people too quietly and within myself – I keep my emotions in check.  Still, I love people too much and containing it can be rather painful.  I love people because of the under the surface thing they possess - and – at times – they may never know I felt anything at all.

———————

HISTORY:

I’ve live in Brooklyn for what seems like forever; however, I spent my childhood years (through 13) in New Jersey.  People from other parts of the country might imagine given their close proximity that these are two similar places … they are not … they are worlds apart.

I have two children, both grown, both in the military.  I don’t exactly know if that means I’ve done something right, or something wrong.  Neither of my children (a boy and a girl) have a single bone in their body that wants to kill anyone; however, they believe in their country, tradition, and in general that this path they’ve chosen fits their needs and desired lifestyle.  I wish it weren’t so but I accept their self knowledge and admire and respect their strength.  Both respect and fear God and, although not overly so, are more religious than I.  Honestly, on Earth, they are the two people I most respect and admire.

As for me, I lived in an insanely bad and abusive relationship for 25 years.  I was not the only one to celebrate its end, my children did as well.  I have, since leaving, tried to be understanding and a friend to my ex, but only because I don’t dwell on our years together but rather the results of our union.

My brothers, sister and I were given up when very small for adoption and/or foster care – which were stories that may appear here sometime down the road.  The experiences were horrible, contributing to my youngest brother’s (actually youngest full brother’s) suicide.  That too is a story upon itself.  I am no longer close to my siblings and that is self imposed, but I feel I come with too much baggage, too many unspoken feelings, and the relationships are unhealthy.  But, regardless, I love them very much.

I live with my boyfriend (for now) who is younger and very very bipolar.  He goes for months barely leaving the bedroom and then goes months on violent, drug induced, self absorbed free for alls.  He really needs help badly but, sadly, it appears he will never get it.

Otherwise, I’m just like you – yeah my head’s full of some messed up shyt but I think God, or whatever entity exists above our plane, decided I could handle it and I seem to have – usually.

You have wandered into my world, and on these pages I plan to vent, describe in order to understand, and just kind of kick around.

Hello, I’m MaM