Ya’ll may think I’m manic depressive, but I’m not. It’s just you know, there is not getting easier. Things just pause slightly, recede, ebb and then rush back, flow back. I understand it as fluidity, and as such I am feeling things in a fluid way. A child of the water I am.
A conversation with my father last night, revealed that my EVIL AUNT is trying to put my father out of the house he’s lived in for the last sixty years.
I don’t know what to do with myself. Saying my father is sick and she should have pity on him means nothing, she’d see it as an opportunity to stress him out until he dies sooner than later.
For all my father’s (mis)adventures and whatnot, he’s a relatively gentle person… he can’t take stress right now either. He’s too sick to move anywhere, and damnit, he shouldn’t have to… it’s a family house.
Between the illness, the CD misappropriation and this new worry… my father has me on tenterhooks at the moment.
This is complicated by an abject sense of loneliness… not in terms of friends, but you know strong male energy to balance my own female energy. I feel like I am carrying so much of this myself… basically alone in a foreign land. I am missing something I have never really had… maybe I
My interview is tomorrow. I got a blue suit yesterday. It’s a really nice blue linen, a real nice jacket. I have decided to forgo a new pair of shoes and just buy some shoe polish and do up the one’s I have here. They hurt my feet, but it’ll be for a handful of hours only and I’ve got those toe protector thingies, I’ll just grit my teeth when it gets bad.
I’m feeling like I want a bush bath… it’s been almost a year since I had a full one… I feel the need to be embraced by river water. I am going to ask around to see if anyone knows someone up here who can do that kind of work.
My frustration is gone, I am still numbed slightly by all this stuff with Mansa. I’ve been engaging in retail therapy and although I feel slightly guilty about it, and the pleasure is passing at least I don’t feel deprived for anything at the moment. My rent is paid, I have electricity, I have more shoes and makeup than I wear… clothes… well, I look respectable at least, but that party vibe is yet to rage through my wardrobe.
My laptop is maxed out for memory, although I need a backup drive and a more utilitarian carrying case (my last one was ‘appropriated’ by unknown parties, but that’s my fault and another story) and am considering a DVD drive. I think when I start working again, I’ll sell this lap top and buy a G5, move to a cheaper, bigger flat.
Right now my roots are wild. I wanted Monilove23 to tighten them for me so I look groomed for this interview. I need help because my hair is not only so long (some of my locks are in the small of my back now) since I broke my elbow–shit since I started web developing and case of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome–I’ve been unable to keep my elbow raised above my shoulder for longer than 15 minutes at a time. Moni begged off last night because she wanted to watch Big Brother and Desperate Houswives. Tonight she says she has to do her laundry because she bounce up a nice, nice bo… errr… man over the weekend, and she’s a little sprung on it and going up to Coventry to get some more of that nice stuff. She ain’t have no problem doing it for me, but to fit in with her schedule it will require me to: do all of my own laundry now weeks behind, tidy my flat, go to the grocery, write an essay for the interview, ride the Tube to her office, then ride the Tube, change once, get a bus then walk for seven minutes to get to her house, sit for two, three hours and watch endless television and then trek back, seven minutes walk, fifteen minute bus ride, Jubilee line for 20 minutes, change at Baker Street, Bakerloo for ten minutes….. me ain’t know if I able to do all of that in five hours, oui?
Me thinks I shall Alice-band it for the interview and just do what I can with the front.
My thoughts are constantly with Papi and my brothers. I am worried…. I know I shouldn’t worry. I know because we are strong and united as a family in how we are going to deal with all these things, but hear what, this is pressure no ass…. and you know, I’ve been under it for so long I am getting to the point where my life needs some lubricant.
I need some kind of animation inside myself, my fire thins, the air is poisonous and I am slipping into a kind of stupor. I need some Ace of Wands…. or a Knight of Cups…. to reveal the next clue in the discovery of that inside myself that I depend on to keep fighting. I am doing what I must, putting one foot in front of the other, but this is not a narrative; this is fucking reporting. I have faith. I have been saying my prayers and it is enough for me to know that I am capable of doing what I have to do to keep going.
I just wish I wasn’t such a determined bitch. I wish I was like the people who give in out of cowardice and complacency. If I didn’t have so much fight, maybe it would be easier for me. I can’t change who I am, I can’t change the things I have done, but I am a bitch when it comes to certain things. Always been that way. One of the first things I remember my mother telling me as a four or five year old girl, “You are such a determined little bitch.” Maybe that made me into one, because it wasn’t once or twice she said it.
However, it is true now in my thirty second year of life. So I choose the hardest road. My father did it, but I observed his path well, he son of Ogun… CLEARER OF THE PATH, and see the mistakes. I am not my father, I am not my mother….
So don’t mind a feeling bad this morning. I don’t think I would be human if I didn’t…. my Daddy… my Daddy… he’s an old man now. My old man. I have to take care of him. Ya’ll know how I feel about Elders and Ancestors… in every sense, everything my Papi couldn’t do for me as a man, he will do for me as an Ancestor deserving of honour. So this is all so painful for me…. the only way I could deal with it is to distract myself with shit and focus on precisely what I have to do to get what I need done, done.
Pray for me. Pray with me. Pray for us.