the world is big…and i am all alone.
today we aren’t going outside much because nick has this horrible cough caused by allergies and air and etc.
my friend was supposed to fix and install some things in my apartment today, but i don’t think he’ll make it.

so instead, today, me and nick will continue scrubbing the dirt grime and hood off the walls that lead up to the place where we live. for now.

on “Good Friday” i received news that one of my first cousins in kansas city had been found in a building in the hood.  murdered.  beaten to death and shot.  i found this out in an overwhelming situation, to say the least…

as i walked through my front door after coming home from church, i noticed that something felt….different.  i see a man that i have never seen before, sitting in my living room, and my dad stumbling around.  i quickly scope the place out and realize that they have been drinking.  i am angry, feeling guilty that i left barbancourt where it could be found, angry that this man, my dad, has violated my space, angry that there is a man that i don’t know chillin’ like he lives here.  all at once.  before i can even get on this stranger in my apartment, my dad stumbles in front of me to tell me, “nina, robert is dead.  your cousin they found him in a building.  ann called me and told me.  i am taking this really hard.”

my response to him: “you’ve been drinking, daddy?”

he is wasted, barely coherent in speech, pitiful.  the stories that he is retelling about how he got there are riddled with lies and facts that don’t make any sense.  my nephew is next to me to watch and see all of this.  although i am upset and saddened by the news of my cousin, i am even more upset at the fact that the first thing my dad resorted to in his time of pain….was some sort of drug (alcohol).  i am repulsed by it and i can’t hide my disappointment as i watch him slosh around my apartment babbling like a fool. 

he keeps saying, “i might relapse because of this….i haven’t broken down yet, but i know that i will.  i might relapse from this…i am taking this really hard.”  i look at him, wondering if he expects me to beg him not to.  at this point, i am 26 years old and i have maybe known my dad for about 9 of those years.  up until 8, and then since last april.  i have been chasing after him, in my thoughts, in my emotions, for all the time in between.  and once i caught up with him, i realized that i didn’t need him so much…i was chasing the ideal of a man that was my father.  what i got in reality, though, was different…more stressful than endearing and comforting.  but i love him.  and in that moment, i was no longer chasing him.  in that moment, i made it up in my mind that if he was going to ruin himself, I CANNOT SAVE HIM.

as he repeated the imposing possibility to relapse, i could not take it anymore and i lashed out at him.  told him the truth of the matter.  told him that he was a weak man, always running from things that hurt.  which is why he left his family 20 years ago…told him that drugs and alcohol will not bring robert back.  you go to his funeral and all that will be there is a shell of a person…his spirit is gone!  so what is the use of destroying your life all over again daddy?  you will have nothing-no job, nowhere to stay, and you won’t have me.  i told him that if he went and did drugs or something else stupid, don’t ever call me again.  i don’t wanna ever see your face again.  don’t come for me.  you’re an old man and still so weak!  you have nothing, daddy.  and you about to have nothing again.

he babbled some more and then left my house.  yes, i let him go, drunk, stumbling, back into the world.  my dad is a grown man that needs to learn how to stand on his own two feet without the crutches of someone else’s wisdom and common sense.  i let him go, saying a prayer in my mind…crying on the outside.  frustrated, hurt, confused.

i didn’t feel sorry for him.  i couldn’t feel sorry for him.  and i wondered where my heart was.  how could i be saying this to him at a time like this?  i was more distraught at this man’s weakness than my cousin’s death…

i went on fb in the middle of the night after all of this had passed and saw another cousin paying his respects by getting high.  i started to post a comment on the picture of weed he had on facebook, for the world to see, but decided against it.  my family, oh my family, what are we?

track called Revelation 12

check it out yall. 

something i worked on this summer.

I used to idolize Michael Jordan. For many reasons. I have LOVED basketball all of my life. Like, loved it to the point of pain at times. And when I was growing up, MJ was the best. He was perfect on the court. To me. He was inspirational. He was a role model. I remember buying his book with the little money I made from one of my jobs as a teen. I eagerly soaked in every page of that book. He was the man. And when he retired, I cried like a baby.

I had every pair of Air Jordans that came out for the first time. Not the retros. Of course, I couldn’t afford them on my own. But I made straight As in school for as long a I can remember, so my cousin, a fellow Jordan lover, and my mama’s man friend rewarded me by buying them for me. All the time! Wearing them on my feet meant something to me that I can’t explain. Gave me confidence, made me work harder on the court (although I rarely wore my Air Jordans in games. Maybe some team Js…). I waited in the long lines praying that my size wouldn’t be taken by the time i got help. I was addicted to Js…so much so that as I got older it made me uncomfortable. So I made myself give em up. When i needed money in college, i sold some of them on ebay. Made 100s. One day while I was in college at Lehigh, I laid out all of my Js in pristine condition and admired them. For one last time. I could name each pair by number easily. I gathered them up in a black trash bag and walked them to the shelter at the bottom of the hill and gave them all away. The lady worker looked in the bag, looked up at me, looked back in the bag and asked, “You want to give all of these away? These are all brand new.” I smiled and said, “I know. But people here need them more than I do. Take em.”

I moved to New York to teach and was floored by the accessibility of getting Js. EVERYONE had Jordans…including people that never stepped foot on a basketball court. People that never knew the legacy of the man behind the brand. In a sense, I was turned off by it. These people…this big apple…these people couldn’t possibly appreciate or understand what they had.

I’ve seen more homeless people begging for change in subways with Jordans on than I care to recall. To me, Air Jordan has gotten lost. The meaning has been lost. Today i see more riff raff wearing Js, more students who couldn’t calculate the tax on the price of the shoes on their feet…with Js, more kids that talk about other kids’ clothes and shoes because they don’t have Js, with Js. Now.unfortunately…Jordan on the ground is…complicated. And I’m sorry to say this, but as a parent I would never buy my nephew another pair of Jordans. I can do better.

my very first boyfriend was my mom’s good friend’s son from her job.  i was 12, maybe he was thirteen.  he was so sweet…you could tell that his mom/stepdad had taught him all the moves you needed to sweep a girl off her feet.  he was an artist even at that young age; i would ask him all the time to play his keyboard over the phone so that i could hear.  i would call my friends and then call him on 3-way so that he could play for them too.  i was in love, puppy love perhaps, but love nonetheless.  and after a while, our little good thing that was going on ended just like that: his mama told him to.  my young world was shattered.  for real.  i was devastated.  i guess it made it all the more difficult for me because when i was a kid, i thought the least of my appearance.  i was lonely because i felt abandoned by my dad.  all of my time i spent trying to help my mama not be so overwhelmed with 4 kids by herself.  so i put my nose as deep into my books as i could.  and when someone finally gave me the time of day, well it was great.  and then it was over.

it goes without saying that we kept in mild touch throughout the rest of middle school and high school.  and then we became better, closer friends once we went to college.  he continued to have his girlfriends, continued to grow as a musician.  i continued to have my resentment of the fact of ending when we were kids.  but i cared for him, so i encouraged him.  eventually i put the past in the back of my mind.  i allowed my care as a friend.  that is what we became.  very good friends.  partly by default (knowing each other for so long and seeing each other grow up), partly (mostly i thought) because we connected.

to make a long story short, our history runs deep…he holds many firsts in my heart book.  first boyfriend.  first kiss.  my first.  my first songs.  etc.  but i can’t say that is the case with me for him.  we have made really good music together.  i have supported him in his business.  i am one of his biggest cheerleaders.  and in return, i get…..(i’m still waiting)

confused sometimes?

delayed information?

haven’t heard from you in a while.  oh, you have a girlfriend now.  oh, and yall moved IN together?  how nice.  when were you going to tell me the great news?  hating secrets right now.

it has almost been two months since my nephew has been living with me.  i guess it is a decision that i am still getting used to more and more each day.  as i become his stand-in parent for the time being, as i have made the choice to be a single parent, it becomes more and more “real” to me.  real in ways like my apartment transforming from a neat, put together educator’s space, to a “kid-friendly” one…toys strewn all over, a hamster named munchkin, books everywhere, 1000 pencils in hiding places, educational tools etc.  real in the sense that i have to make breakfast every morning, when i go to the bathroom to brush my teeth i must now make sure that the little one has pearly whites just like me.  i iron his uniform every morning.  i take pride in that.  real like i’m constantly thinking of how my kid measures up in this american “race”.  it is not easy.  when i look around the kumon waiting area to see affluent parents discussing the exorbitant amounts of money they spend on their child’s education, private lessons, or sleepovers (and i’m the only brown face in the lobby).  the stuff i studied in college is real life now!  happening right before my eyes!  and it is amazing to witness.  but this…is hard.  to be a good parent at least.  in fact, it is extremely challenging.  parenting is sacrifice, if you do it right.  i only am afraid that i was unaware of what those sacrifices actually were before january 5, 2012.  thankfully, though, the good LORD has been on my side, allowing me to acknowledge and accept the sacrifices in stride.  i am grateful to have a few helpful friends that have lightened my load when they had the time; to be in a profession that’s provided me with enough experience to know what it takes to help a child grow academically; and many other things.  but most of all, i am grateful for my nephew.  he’s great company.

i am working on a book.

i am trying to remove people from my life that are no good for me.

my dad has resurfaced and is doing alright, it seems.

just when i thought that i was going to start taking steps in the “right” direction, whatever that means, i get bad news in the mail.  i guess i should have known that what some people can get away with, i never fall into that category.  as soon as i decide to be rid of my last person, recent events now make me have to reconsider.

frustrated though i may be, it is my fault for being so gullible and foolish.  i want to get mad, but at what?  at who?  fortunately, for my sanity i have become the individual that accepts the facts and tries to figure out how to come out of things instead of blaming and hiding from reality.  at the end of the day, it all falls back to me.  i have learned the lesson.  it is this:

*unless i am absolutely sure, i will not take financial risks on my partner.  it isn’t worth it.

*i will not sacrifice my sanity for the sake of another.  i will not allow the insecurities of others to make me feel guilty…and then DO something that i wouldn’t normally do just to appease.

*i will not feel sorry for people that have nothing when they could have something.  i am no longer captain save-a-hoe.  

THE END

Cheater: 2+2 will always equal the same thing.

Me: not if you’re dealing with a liar. In that case the result is extraneous.