GONE

Riding into the eye of the storm, we chatted about our negative energy in life; things that bring us down. So, “what bad news you got on your headlines”? People, I replied.

Then the rains came…

Adam and I headed to the nearest pub for a few tall boys and some grub. Plus we needed to duck from the rain and check the score of the Heat game. We ended up at Primanti’s since they had the deal of the century for beer – 50 cent Corona’s! Thanks Helena for hooking us up. It was very funny to run into you last night. It’s been awhile, maybe in highschool – I’m glad things got better for you and your moms. Anyways, we got our beers (plus shots and food that Helena hooked up for us), I lit a cig and we continued our discussion before the rain started. “So, tell me about this drama that made your frontpage”.

I wonder why I’m empathetic with situations beyond my control. For example, I found out that my neighbor has cancer. It’s rapidly spreading through his body; he’s starting another round of chemo, more intense than his previous. Alonzo was diesel – big black 6’2 inch motherfucker that made “the terminator” look like a beeatch. I used to mess around with his daughter back in the day. Both of our families lived in the PJ’s (that’s Projects for you folk who don’t know) and moved to the same neighborhood once financial problems corrected themselves, respectively. Monica and I were tight, but, as time grew we grew, and we grew apart. I saw Monica on Saturday when I visited my moms. We started chatting, talking about our lives after high school and our current lives. It was a good conversation, not one I’d ever regret. Honestly, I like talking to people I share a past history with, growing up the same area, similar life experiences and such. Somehow, we got on the subject of her dad, Alonzo. She almost broke a tear as she proceeded to tell me that her dad wasn’t doing well. She detailed his cancer situation with dismay. “He didn’t smoke or drink his whole adult life, now look at him!” Looking at ‘Zo, I could see a change that wasn’t wanted or anticipated. He looked horrible, scared… Fuck… I kept thinking about his feelings; looking in the mirror for years seeing a great body, healthy body. Now, ‘Zo is down to a mere 185, no muscle and at a climatic point in this life – climatic where he doesn’t know he’s going to see his first grandchild. That my friends, is DRAMA!

Another dramatic event…

You know I “entertain and educate” a 3 year old. To be specific (you know I like keeping shit vague), she lives with me and my family. When I moved back, she became my surrogate daughter and sister. We spent soo much time together that she was the first thing I looked for when my eyes opened. She’d come down to my room, climb on my bed and wake me up demanding I put cartoons (Sponge Bob, specifically) on for her. She checks for my car when it starts to get dark or after my family eats dinner; eagerly anticipating my arrival and calling “JJ, come see me, JJ I miss you” when I pull into the driveway. She’s a sweetie… It’s good to feel wanted, even if it’s a 3 year old who has yet to learn the meaning of love. Seeing the smile we put on each others faces is priceless. Sometimes, when I’m feeling down, she manages to make me laugh and put me in a better mood. The joy of children…. So, last night she gave me the lines… I went upstairs to hold and talk to her. She’s at the age where she can carry out conversations; she has sentence structure and all that. She’s a mess, covered in some sort of foam, funny! I’m talking to her, asking about her day and I notice she’s not calling me JJ. She’s calling me Daddy, but, she’s catching herself. She knows I’m not her Dad. The name swapping goes on for 30 minutes until I put SpongeBob on the tele (the distraction). This isn’t the first time she’s called me this… It’s sad, I almost cried. I don’t know why I was overly emotional with her yesterday. Maybe it was the damn rain and the lack of serotonin. Actually, I think it was the conversation I had with the ‘rents about the kids biological mom and dad that really put me in a slump. The ‘rents told me her mom is ‘crackin’ again (cracking in ebonic/hood terminology means one is smoking rocks, smoking crack). She’s a mess… What happened to you Tosha! Why am I asking the internet, it won’t respond. Choices! Her dad isn’t AS bad, but he’s no role model or father figure. He’s just a name associated with a face. Sad! How the two of them made a beautiful, smart and creative child is beyond me; maybe that’s how it works. 2 wrongs make a right, who fucking knows, I surely don’t! Point is, Kay has DRAMA. What do you tell a 3 year old says, “Where’s my mommy and daddy” – what the fuck do you tell them? How many times should I keep quite or use the candid response of “They’re busy, they’ll see you soon.” Or “I’ll play with you, what do you want to do Kay?” I know it’s going to be difficult for her growing up. She has my grandparents, me and my moms to help her, but, is that enough? I grew up without a father and it’s taken a long time for me to be ok with it. Imagine not having your mother OR your father… Does she feel these things already? Does she realize what it means to call someone mommy and/or daddy? Fuck… This is a situation I don’t control. This is a situation I can contribute to! I make an effort to spend QT with the kid, take her to the park, take her on nature hikes, take her to science museums, watch and talk about the tv programs she enjoys. Hell, I even talked to her about Star Wars – she loves the little ewoks. Anyways, since I don’t control the situation, contributing to it is the only thing I feel I can do. It's the only thing that feels right to me, but, is that enough? DRAMA i say, DRAMA!

Later in the evening, after all the shenanigans were over I got a phone call. I had a 20 minute thought in 5 seconds, why? This is, in my terms, a over analytical process of trying to digest and understand what someone tells you – think about your words and feelings, be cautious of your actions and re-actions – think about the other person, what and why they are saying these things. I know it’s me being cautious of my feelings, more than I have in the past! Yes, I'm being protective, I'm questioning, I'm scared. I wont let it get the best of me if it's minor or major, trust me.

The way our phone conversation went wasn’t in my playbook; I wanted to talk about the future of things, not the scary future either. What’s enjoyable to me may be scary for another. I want to speak freely and not worry others. I want the same in return, mabye that is what happened.

Why must I question and think about shit deeply? I know it’s in my nature but is it a bad thing - ahh paralysis by analysis! Maybe I’m looking for the answers in the wrong places. Maybe I’ll find my answers in Canada or some other location, maybe another time. I know I can avoid what’s going on; funny thing is, I’m choosing this! I see something that others dont see, it attracts me, makes me happy and gives me hope. Plus, I’m not about avoiding my problems; I want to deal with them, head on! Is this the only way we’ll learn? Being hurt and being happy have taught me a lot – trust me (as I'm sure you do too), I know what I want from the 2! I want to be happy, I want others to be happy as well. Please people, don’t read or interpret this improperly, I’m not jaded, pissed off or vexed – whatever the word of the day may be! I’m trying to understand my situations and work towards something positive, enjoyable and (fill in the blanks) - I’m sorry if that is scary. I'm sorry if this is intense. Am I sorry for being myself.....

I’m trying to understand; I’m here to help, but, who helps me?

Maybe the rain will dissipate today; are brighter days on the horizon, I think so.