Motivational Quote of the Day
"Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
Monday, December 7, 2009
Quote of the day
Isayahism for today 12.7.09
Isayah: Hey Ma, guess what I got for my birthday this weekend?
Me: hmmm...I dunno, what?
Isayah: GUESS!!
Me: Um, new clothes?
Isayah: Nope.
Me: Uh, a new bike?
Isayah: Nope.
Me: okaaay...ummm...*staring at his fresh shape up*....a hair...cut?
Isayah: *gas face*
Me: oh. ok. um, did you get some money?
Isayah: Nope. C'mon, you get 17 more guesses!
Me: Wait, wha? *super gas face* I give up.
Isayah: I got new shoes, Nike of course. I got Call of Duty, which is so vicious I wanna break out my xbox and play it right now IN THE CAR! I also got a fresh new Sidekick, with a new number, from my dad but he didn't give me the charger because the charger is in his car and his girlfriend K******* has the keys to his car at her house, but his car was left at his girlfriend J*****'s house...and he can't get to it right now...
Me: *Blink* *Blink* *super gas face with flared nostrils*
Happy Birthday, son.
Me: hmmm...I dunno, what?
Isayah: GUESS!!
Me: Um, new clothes?
Isayah: Nope.
Me: Uh, a new bike?
Isayah: Nope.
Me: okaaay...ummm...*staring at his fresh shape up*....a hair...cut?
Isayah: *gas face*
Me: oh. ok. um, did you get some money?
Isayah: Nope. C'mon, you get 17 more guesses!
Me: Wait, wha? *super gas face* I give up.
Isayah: I got new shoes, Nike of course. I got Call of Duty, which is so vicious I wanna break out my xbox and play it right now IN THE CAR! I also got a fresh new Sidekick, with a new number, from my dad but he didn't give me the charger because the charger is in his car and his girlfriend K******* has the keys to his car at her house, but his car was left at his girlfriend J*****'s house...and he can't get to it right now...
Me: *Blink* *Blink* *super gas face with flared nostrils*
Happy Birthday, son.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Word for the Day
Always Take The High Road
Pray for them which despitefully use you.
Luke 6:28 KJV
Don Shula, head coach of the Miami Dolphins American Football team, always held his players to 'the 24-hour rule.' He gave them 24 hours to celebrate victory or sulk over defeat, then put it behind them. What a great rule to live by!
When you're criticised it's human to want to retaliate, but when you take the time to try and understand people it's easier to forgive them. Many of the negative people in our lives just lack intimate relationships, so they keep others at arm's length, rarely share their feelings and are uncomfortable with those who do. It's easier for them to condemn than accept. Their hard and fast views make them inflexible. Often these people can't handle freedom; they need rules that limit their choices, and only feel secure within their own boundaries. Abraham Lincoln said, "If I tried to answer all the attacks made against me, this shop might as well be closed for any other business. I do the best I know how. If the end brings me out right, then what is said won't matter. If the end brings me out wrong, then ten angels declaring I was right would make no difference."
In dealing with others, always take the high road laid out by Jesus: "Pray for those who spitefully use you. To him who strikes you on the one cheek, offer the other also. And from him who takes away your cloak, do not withhold your tunic either… just as you want men to do to you, you also do to them likewise" (Luke 6:28-31 NKJV). Is that always easy to do? No, but it is always right!
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Wait...what Jesus?
When you're criticised it's human to want to retaliate, but when you take the time to try and understand people it's easier to forgive them. Many of the negative people in our lives just lack intimate relationships, so they keep others at arm's length, rarely share their feelings and are uncomfortable with those who do. It's easier for them to condemn than accept. Their hard and fast views make them inflexible. Often these people can't handle freedom; they need rules that limit their choices, and only feel secure within their own boundaries. Abraham Lincoln said, "If I tried to answer all the attacks made against me, this shop might as well be closed for any other business. I do the best I know how. If the end brings me out right, then what is said won't matter. If the end brings me out wrong, then ten angels declaring I was right would make no difference."
In dealing with others, always take the high road laid out by Jesus: "Pray for those who spitefully use you. To him who strikes you on the one cheek, offer the other also. And from him who takes away your cloak, do not withhold your tunic either… just as you want men to do to you, you also do to them likewise" (Luke 6:28-31 NKJV). Is that always easy to do? No, but it is always right!
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Wait...what Jesus?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Hustling is hard work
Dude. I have no idea how illegal hustlers do it. I consider myself pretty normal, yet I do work alot. I have a very clear idea of what I want my life to look at and the moment I decided to work towards that, i took on a multitude of issues that I wasn't even aware of at the time. I don't think I've ever worked so hard in my life! Imagine what I'd feel like if I had this same drive and ambition but had decided to sell drugs or something else illegal?? Most days, I live in a fog of perpetual exhaustion, lol. Constantly tired and needing rest. What if I hustled this hard and on TOP of all this work, had to always keep looking over my shoulders making sure no one's trying to rob me, kill me, or snitch on me to the cops??? Dead.And.Gone. I wouldn't see nothing coming, lmao! I'd be so damn sleepy and paranoid, I'd make a horrible drug dealer/crime committer (is that a word?).
It is a constant shuffle of day job, makeup gigs, Isayah's activities, administrative tasks, squeezing in a meal every now and then, managing relationships and friendships, driving here and there, managing money and a home life, and making time for family. Oh, and time for myself.
Arrrrrrrgh!!
Thank goodness I got my dad's work ethic so I know how to work. And because I'm always hungry to fulfill my dreams, I'm willing do to almost anything to make sure that happens. Y'all know how I feel about choosing between career and family, lol...I refuse to do it. Therefore, I must do it all, and at the same time. Make no mistake about it, I'm over here looking REAL crazy some days...but it's just like anything else: once you start doing it, it becomes part of your lifestyle so you get used to it.
One of my childhood friends came to visit me for my birthday earlier this year, in February. She hadn't visited me before (we'd only spoken on the phone prior to) so she didn't really have a clear idea of what it meant for me when I told her that my life is "busy". Autumn is definitely my busiest time of year, for sure, but even in February, it's still pretty hectic. And I don't think she was prepared for it all, lol. I'm not laughing at her, just at the situation. I was very glad that she came, but it felt like maybe she wasn't able to keep up. She is one of those ppl who are used to everything being average or slowly paced, doesn't have a very wide margin for errors, hates to be late or for things to go not-as-planned. Now, most of you who know me know that I plan my life in advance; I'm already scheduled up to December 1st. Not just for makeup, but for my life. But, with a life so full, there's bound to be things that go awry: missed appointments, traffic, things being misplaced causing delays, whatever. Being that I'm used to it, I take those hits and I keep right on going; sometimes, I've already moved on from them so fast that I don't even notice they've happened. It's so easy to forget that everyone's not like that.
I'd almost forgotten what it was like for those who live a less than hectic life. I'm sorry. I just don't have the time (literally) to let things shut my whole day down. eeeeeevery now and then, maybe. when I'm so exhausted that I'm running on fumes, it happens. But, for the most part, when a mishap occurs, I have maybe a half hour to rebound before it's time to move on to something else.
My birthday party this year was very carefully planned out. The day of the party, also, was planned perfectly. the execution, however, left alot to be desired.
It began on a HORRIBLE note which created a hair problem...which eventually led to a "now there's no time for makeup" problem. I'd ordered my dress and it was to be delivered early that afternoon. it arrived at 12:02. Check. After that, the only thing left to do was spend the day searching for the perfect shoes. Now, i told her this well in advance. My exact words were "all I have to do is find some shoes for the dress, but it may take a while". We left my apt at 1. We went to every shoe store and mall between my house and DC. By 4pm, we were still empty handed, lol...but she was getting tired and irritable and wanted a nap. I was still going strong because, again, I'm used to long days and running until the job is done. The problem was my shoe size. I wear a size 10W which is very difficult to find; yes, i'd spent hours looking online but to no avail, so store shopping was my only option left. Finally, on the way home around 5:15 we swung by TJ Maxx and struck gold. JACKPOT! We found the perfect shoe, in my size! Dinner was to start at 8pm but it would take us at least 30 minutes to get there and get settled so the leave time was 7:30 of course.
Racing home from Potomac Yards at 5:30, she began to get very quiet. I think she was running out of steam and because it was so late, it was clear to her that there wouldn't be time for a nap. *it's important to note that i don't really remember what, exactly, a nap is. I VAGUELY remember the concept of a nap, but i definitely don't remember having taken one in a very very long time.*
(chuckling) I think it's hilarious how single people with no children still take naps, LOL. It's almost so delirious that it's hilarious.
Anyway, arriving at home at 6:00, I (not her but I) had to then tackle the mess of how to sew my own tracks in, get both my makeup and her makeup done, take a shower, get into the undergarments required for the dress, get into the damn dress itself, make sure all my stuff fit into the backup purse I had to pick out since the clutch I BOUGHT for the party turned up missing on the day of, get the cab here, get there, and get seated all by 8pm...no later than 8:15, or risk losing the reservation. Oh, and don't forget the camera.
Wait......*looking around*.....what?
Now, suffice it to say that I completely understand why any of you non-aquarians whose lives are not as chaotic as mine can say "you know what, alandria, you doin a lil too much right now". I do. Trust, i get it.
however, this is my life. it is always like this, packed to capacity, sometimes running late, but even when its on time, it's still crazy and hectic most days. I'm used to it. Her? Not so much.
The cab was almost 40 minutes late, she used Vaseline to moisturize (don't ask me cuz I have no clue) and (surprise surprise) vaseline bled thru her green dress so there was a huge grease stain on her shoulder and she wanted to wear a black blazer over it. It looked atrocious with the blazer so I asked that she skip it...but she was none to happy about it. lol. Finally, we left at about 8:20 after the cab finally arrived and i'd called ahead to change the reserv time to 9 instead. Oh, and yes, I remembered the camera...but the batteries died. (LMAO!!) So, in the car, we took pictures with her camera and my camera phone. When we arrived, impossibly enough, some of the party guests still weren't there so we had to wait to be seated. A few of them cancelled, or just didn't show up, so the guest list went from about 10...to 5. We got seated, ordered drinks and appetizers, and let the fun begin. At this point, she was only speaking maybe every 15 minutes but I was so thrilled that the night had finally started, I hardly had time to address it. Besides, it was my birthday party!
When the drinks came, the waiter placed her drink down first and, upon leaning over to place my drink, knocked her drink over....into her lap.
Sigh.then...PAUSE.
I know that had it been me, i would have been pissed. I probably would've laughed, then complained about how I have the worst luck in Creation. And probably not 10 minutes later, I'd have been over it and talkin about something else. But, AGAIN, that is just me because I'm used to "shit happens, move on". For her, bless her heart, her night was done. After quietly threatening to smack the hell outta the waiter--all his profuse apologies aside--and having her drink replaced for free, she shut down completely. Not another peep for the rest of the night. *Sad face.*
I felt bad because someone I cared about wasn't having a good time. But I also felt bad because she was making the choice to not have a good time, and for that reason, there was nothing I could do about it. She'd driven hours to come this party, the dress was already stained with both vaseline and alcohol, and we were incredibly late...all true. But, we're here now. The vaseline stain is virtually invisible because it's so dark in the restaurant, the alcohol will be dry by the time dinner is done and dancing starts, and you've already spent money on gas and food to be here to celebrate me turning 29 this year. You can't get any of it back so why not make the best of it? You can either choose to sit and stew, or choose to have a good time regardless because in about an hour, what happened an hour earlier won't even matter, lol.
But, she chose to sit and stew. Not a smile, not a word to anyone at the table, no dancing, nothing for the rest of the night. PPl were starting to give me weird questioning looks, but I chose to ignore them, lol. It had already been a not so great day, but I was choosing not to let anything else ruin it, even someone else's sour mood.
By the time the night ended around 2, I'd forgotten all about the activities of the previous day. all i knew was that I'd chosen to make beautiful an otherwise rotten day, and i'd done that. I had FUN!! It was hard work trying to squeeze everything in, and we missed a deadline or two, but i still had fun. And I was grateful to all my friends just for showing up in my honor, even those who probably preferred to be elsewhere doing something else, lol.
All my days are crazy like that, filled with unexpected twists and turns, sometimes working to the last minute of the day, stretching myself down to the wire. I get why others don't understand it, but I know that they don't have to. it makes perfect sense to me. Karen Alston, a fellow DC Sistagirl, said "good things come to those who hustle while they wait"...and i believe it's true. I'm just like anyone else, I'm waiting for my day to come...but while I'm waiting, I'ma squeeze in every single minute of work, love, laughter, camera time, vaseline and spilled drinks as is humanly possible without killing myself. :-)
There's always a chance to make today a beautiful day,
Beautiful Dae
It is a constant shuffle of day job, makeup gigs, Isayah's activities, administrative tasks, squeezing in a meal every now and then, managing relationships and friendships, driving here and there, managing money and a home life, and making time for family. Oh, and time for myself.
Arrrrrrrgh!!
Thank goodness I got my dad's work ethic so I know how to work. And because I'm always hungry to fulfill my dreams, I'm willing do to almost anything to make sure that happens. Y'all know how I feel about choosing between career and family, lol...I refuse to do it. Therefore, I must do it all, and at the same time. Make no mistake about it, I'm over here looking REAL crazy some days...but it's just like anything else: once you start doing it, it becomes part of your lifestyle so you get used to it.
One of my childhood friends came to visit me for my birthday earlier this year, in February. She hadn't visited me before (we'd only spoken on the phone prior to) so she didn't really have a clear idea of what it meant for me when I told her that my life is "busy". Autumn is definitely my busiest time of year, for sure, but even in February, it's still pretty hectic. And I don't think she was prepared for it all, lol. I'm not laughing at her, just at the situation. I was very glad that she came, but it felt like maybe she wasn't able to keep up. She is one of those ppl who are used to everything being average or slowly paced, doesn't have a very wide margin for errors, hates to be late or for things to go not-as-planned. Now, most of you who know me know that I plan my life in advance; I'm already scheduled up to December 1st. Not just for makeup, but for my life. But, with a life so full, there's bound to be things that go awry: missed appointments, traffic, things being misplaced causing delays, whatever. Being that I'm used to it, I take those hits and I keep right on going; sometimes, I've already moved on from them so fast that I don't even notice they've happened. It's so easy to forget that everyone's not like that.
I'd almost forgotten what it was like for those who live a less than hectic life. I'm sorry. I just don't have the time (literally) to let things shut my whole day down. eeeeeevery now and then, maybe. when I'm so exhausted that I'm running on fumes, it happens. But, for the most part, when a mishap occurs, I have maybe a half hour to rebound before it's time to move on to something else.
My birthday party this year was very carefully planned out. The day of the party, also, was planned perfectly. the execution, however, left alot to be desired.
It began on a HORRIBLE note which created a hair problem...which eventually led to a "now there's no time for makeup" problem. I'd ordered my dress and it was to be delivered early that afternoon. it arrived at 12:02. Check. After that, the only thing left to do was spend the day searching for the perfect shoes. Now, i told her this well in advance. My exact words were "all I have to do is find some shoes for the dress, but it may take a while". We left my apt at 1. We went to every shoe store and mall between my house and DC. By 4pm, we were still empty handed, lol...but she was getting tired and irritable and wanted a nap. I was still going strong because, again, I'm used to long days and running until the job is done. The problem was my shoe size. I wear a size 10W which is very difficult to find; yes, i'd spent hours looking online but to no avail, so store shopping was my only option left. Finally, on the way home around 5:15 we swung by TJ Maxx and struck gold. JACKPOT! We found the perfect shoe, in my size! Dinner was to start at 8pm but it would take us at least 30 minutes to get there and get settled so the leave time was 7:30 of course.
Racing home from Potomac Yards at 5:30, she began to get very quiet. I think she was running out of steam and because it was so late, it was clear to her that there wouldn't be time for a nap. *it's important to note that i don't really remember what, exactly, a nap is. I VAGUELY remember the concept of a nap, but i definitely don't remember having taken one in a very very long time.*
(chuckling) I think it's hilarious how single people with no children still take naps, LOL. It's almost so delirious that it's hilarious.
Anyway, arriving at home at 6:00, I (not her but I) had to then tackle the mess of how to sew my own tracks in, get both my makeup and her makeup done, take a shower, get into the undergarments required for the dress, get into the damn dress itself, make sure all my stuff fit into the backup purse I had to pick out since the clutch I BOUGHT for the party turned up missing on the day of, get the cab here, get there, and get seated all by 8pm...no later than 8:15, or risk losing the reservation. Oh, and don't forget the camera.
Wait......*looking around*.....what?
Now, suffice it to say that I completely understand why any of you non-aquarians whose lives are not as chaotic as mine can say "you know what, alandria, you doin a lil too much right now". I do. Trust, i get it.
however, this is my life. it is always like this, packed to capacity, sometimes running late, but even when its on time, it's still crazy and hectic most days. I'm used to it. Her? Not so much.
The cab was almost 40 minutes late, she used Vaseline to moisturize (don't ask me cuz I have no clue) and (surprise surprise) vaseline bled thru her green dress so there was a huge grease stain on her shoulder and she wanted to wear a black blazer over it. It looked atrocious with the blazer so I asked that she skip it...but she was none to happy about it. lol. Finally, we left at about 8:20 after the cab finally arrived and i'd called ahead to change the reserv time to 9 instead. Oh, and yes, I remembered the camera...but the batteries died. (LMAO!!) So, in the car, we took pictures with her camera and my camera phone. When we arrived, impossibly enough, some of the party guests still weren't there so we had to wait to be seated. A few of them cancelled, or just didn't show up, so the guest list went from about 10...to 5. We got seated, ordered drinks and appetizers, and let the fun begin. At this point, she was only speaking maybe every 15 minutes but I was so thrilled that the night had finally started, I hardly had time to address it. Besides, it was my birthday party!
When the drinks came, the waiter placed her drink down first and, upon leaning over to place my drink, knocked her drink over....into her lap.
Sigh.then...PAUSE.
I know that had it been me, i would have been pissed. I probably would've laughed, then complained about how I have the worst luck in Creation. And probably not 10 minutes later, I'd have been over it and talkin about something else. But, AGAIN, that is just me because I'm used to "shit happens, move on". For her, bless her heart, her night was done. After quietly threatening to smack the hell outta the waiter--all his profuse apologies aside--and having her drink replaced for free, she shut down completely. Not another peep for the rest of the night. *Sad face.*
I felt bad because someone I cared about wasn't having a good time. But I also felt bad because she was making the choice to not have a good time, and for that reason, there was nothing I could do about it. She'd driven hours to come this party, the dress was already stained with both vaseline and alcohol, and we were incredibly late...all true. But, we're here now. The vaseline stain is virtually invisible because it's so dark in the restaurant, the alcohol will be dry by the time dinner is done and dancing starts, and you've already spent money on gas and food to be here to celebrate me turning 29 this year. You can't get any of it back so why not make the best of it? You can either choose to sit and stew, or choose to have a good time regardless because in about an hour, what happened an hour earlier won't even matter, lol.
But, she chose to sit and stew. Not a smile, not a word to anyone at the table, no dancing, nothing for the rest of the night. PPl were starting to give me weird questioning looks, but I chose to ignore them, lol. It had already been a not so great day, but I was choosing not to let anything else ruin it, even someone else's sour mood.
By the time the night ended around 2, I'd forgotten all about the activities of the previous day. all i knew was that I'd chosen to make beautiful an otherwise rotten day, and i'd done that. I had FUN!! It was hard work trying to squeeze everything in, and we missed a deadline or two, but i still had fun. And I was grateful to all my friends just for showing up in my honor, even those who probably preferred to be elsewhere doing something else, lol.
All my days are crazy like that, filled with unexpected twists and turns, sometimes working to the last minute of the day, stretching myself down to the wire. I get why others don't understand it, but I know that they don't have to. it makes perfect sense to me. Karen Alston, a fellow DC Sistagirl, said "good things come to those who hustle while they wait"...and i believe it's true. I'm just like anyone else, I'm waiting for my day to come...but while I'm waiting, I'ma squeeze in every single minute of work, love, laughter, camera time, vaseline and spilled drinks as is humanly possible without killing myself. :-)
There's always a chance to make today a beautiful day,
Beautiful Dae
Confession: I'm a little confused about child support
When Isayah's father came back into his life after being gone for 3 years, I was a nervous wreck. I was TERRIFIED how Isayah would receive him, and if it came down to it, how he would handle his father's rejection. As most little boys do, he worships and adores his father. I didn't (and don't) want to be one of those bitter single mothers who intentionally (or subconsciously) downs or tries to otherwise ruin his image of his father because of bad blood between us. Understanding that the two relationships are completely and TOTALLY separate and unrelated, I WANT him to love his father unconditionally and have a great relationship with him. Isayah deserves that. Lord knows he will have ample opportunity to despise his father on his own merit in the years to come, so I'm trying to--in my own way--help to preserve the last bit of untainted innocence and love that's left.
Initially, I only wanted to establish custody for my own parental protection. In the past, his father has done some incredibly shady and grimy things so I wanted to be sure that this time around, most of them wouldn't be possible. I needed the Fairfax County law on my side. Custody is now in place and I sleep much easier at night knowing that Isayah is safely asleep in his room just down the hall, where he should be. So, when it came time to discuss the issue of child support, I can admit that I trusted him based SOLELY on my old relationship with him...not the lying selfish person that he is now. Yup. I went for the old bait and switch.
A little bit of background info....
A few years ago, I moved back home to Richmond after a failed attempt to move to New York to began an acting career. His father insisted that isayah stay with him or face dire consequences. So, he stayed. I visited him every weekend and, after a year, Isayah came to visit for the summer. When his father showed no interest in coming back for him, I settled him into our home in Richmond. Months later, he came down to visit under the guise of a "back-to-school" visit...and left with him. Just disappeared, changed his number, everything. Once I finally caught up with them around Thanksgiving, I learned that his father had had other children, and I finally got to see Isayah around Christmas time. Shortly thereafter, i decided to move to Los Angeles for acting, and Isayah stayed with his father because, at the time, it seemed more stable. He was incarcerated soon after but instead of contacting me to come home, he left isayah with his grandmother. I didn't find out until almost a year later, at which point I moved back home of course. Isayah stayed with his grandmother for about another year while I got on my feet; I visited with him every weekend during that year. He never saw his father, didn't even know where he was, and had been told that his father was on "vacation".
Our son was still living with his grandmother, so naturally, I assumed that he was giving money to her. I mean, his grandmother, a 70-something retired woman on a fixed income, was basically raising our child. Why wouldn't he if he could? There were times during his incarceration when we talked and he would complain to me about how much money he was having to spend on his then-girlfriend and their daughter's expenses. Once I spoke to his grandmother and discovered that he wasn't in fact giving her a DIME, I went ballistic!! Wait....WHAT? Of course she didn't know that he was paying any money to anyone because she thought he had no money (i know). And he fully expected it to be okay that he complain about giving money to others when he wasnt giving anything for OUR SON???
hahahaha! NOT.
i hopped my lil happy ass right on over to the dept of social services to get THAT paperwork started. Even if he WAS incarcerated at the time, if he could pay for one, he can pay for the other. Ain't nobody tell him to spread his baby-making around all over the country and make so many kids he couldn't take care of. I would have been more understanding if he just COULDN'T do it at the time. But he somehow found a way to get money to his girlfriend for their daughter...and a few (yes, i said a few) of his other kids...yet not for our son who lived with his grandmother on a fixed income? I'm sorry...has the title "BooBoo the Fool" been stamped on our foreheads without my knowing it? Psssht.I felt completely horrible for his grandmother, who had become like family to me. How dare he??
Fast forward to post-custody hearings and the end of the summer. It appears that differences have been settled and we're co-parenting just fine. When we discussed child support, he asked that I not file anything official but just ask him for whatever I needed and he would provide it. Again, yes, I went for it (laughs). Eventually, the letter for him to show up for a court appearance for child support came and he called me incensed that I hadn't cancelled it from earlier. I called all around to get the case dismissed--according to our agreement--and a social worker practically begged me to not to close it for him. She advised that he would go back on his word and not pay...but i didn't listen and had it closed.
I swear it wasn't even 2 days later when I asked him for money for something and not only did I not get it, but I didn't hear from him for days. Apparently, i DO have BooBoo the Fool stamped around here somewhere. So, I re-apply for child support but *ahem* basically what they say is "we told you not to but you did...so now you owe us $25 for being stupid and re-opening the case." At the time I didn't even have $25 so I had to wait. Meanwhile, I'm still fighting with him about this and that until one day, during a conversation he proceeds to tell me that he doesn't appreciate the way our son is "acting like a faggot" and that i "need to check lil shawty". Wait...did you just call my son a faggot? I'm sorry...i didn't even hear the rest of what you said cuz I'm still stuck on the word "FAGGOT". Unfortunately, Isayah was with me at the time and I didnt' want to repeat what his father had said aloud so I really couldn't address it...which was good because there really wasn't a need to address it. I was done with him. Forever.
*BLINK, BLINK*
Click. Dial tone. That was the very last conversation, the very last words I've ever spoken to him, and the last that I ever plan to speak to him without a lawyer and a judge present. I know that he's spoken to his father since then but I have not. Not for any reason, even to ask for money.
Now, my confession is this: I have no idea whether or not I should reapply for child support, for several reasons:
1. I'm prideful and refuse to ask him for anything, especially knowing that I won't get it.
2. I don't even want Isayah to be around him, knowing how he feels about him.
3. I'm basically raising him alone anyway so why even bother if I know he won't pay?
4. Is a guy who doesn't have a legal job required to pay child support since he has no traceable income?
The strong independent woman in me wants to ignore it and just do it alone. But, that woman also knows that I didn't make this child alone and that there are laws that help to make it so that I don't have to. I can admit that it burns me up that he apparently gets to choose which of his children he supports...but then again, I'm not in his pockets or his business so I don't know what he does for the rest of them. I just know that he doesn't do SH*T for this one, not even visit with him, and something about that is patently NOT RIGHT.
I'm even thinking about cancelling Isayah's cell phone, but only because I don't think his father should get to call him whenever he wants laughing and joking like shit is cool when it's not. He's not helping to pay the phone bill, why should he get to call and talk for hours? My maturity level can't get past how petty that is, though, so I know i won't do it.
This past weekend, Isayah had a big football game that I invited everyone to. Initially, his father was slated not to come but he came at the last minute anyway. At the end, after his team won, his father stood posing with Isayah for pictures, smiling and whatnot. I was happy for Isayah because I knew what it meant for him to spend those moments with his father, basking in the afterglow of a big football win. But on the inside, I wanted to crack those cameras into pieces. What was he even doing here? And wtf was he posing and smilign for, like he had anything to do with that glory of that moment? Did he take him to practice each night? Was he there to see the disappointment of the games that were lost? Was he standing out in the heat watching scrimmages, or in the rain during the first game, or was he the one there to see the season opener that they eventually lost? I don't believe so. I WAS there--even with the damn flu--and I didn't see him so I think it's safe to say that he wasn't there. However, I realized that the moment wasn't about me, it was about Isayah. And he was happy, lol. He was ROLLING around in happy and I wouldn't have snatched that from him for anything, not even my issues with his father. But I couldn't help thinking "wow, is that you over there posing with the boy you called a faggot? Really? Is that you?"
Just to be clear: I don't personally need the money. Not for ME. I work 3 jobs to take care of my family and even when I come up short, I always find a way to get what I need. My concern is that if he's not gonna do for him, then he should just leave him the f alone. period. why do you get to choose not to help take care of him when sh*t is rough, but still get to enjoy the good times, like winning football games and laughing and joking about x-box games? Why? Why should I do all the work, and you come in and snatch all the credit when the work is done? It is impossible to see the fairness in that. Not the fairness just to me, but to Isayah too. We work HARD to keep this family afloat. I'm not the only one to take credit for that. Isayah and I work together; we are a team. NO ONE should get to take credit for that except us. P.E.R.I.O.D. Sure, its fine and good to invite others to celebrate with us because as a family, it is a team effort. Even his grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, EVERYONE...they all help in their own way, the ways that we ask them to. But those that don't help, shouldn't be able to come in when it's party time and partake of the riches made off the backs of those who put in. They just shouldn't.
I didn't ask his father for anything Isayah doesn't deserve and I expect him to get all that he needs. His father has made it impossible for that to happen, clearly. So, even if it doesn't work, I'm going to apply for the child support. Even if I don't get a dollar, I'm going to apply. I'm not asking for back child support for any time before this year. That's only fair. And that's all I want, what's fair. We tried doing it his way, and it didn't work. So, now it's time to do things the Virginia Department of Social Services Division of Child Support Enforcement way.
Hmph.
Initially, I only wanted to establish custody for my own parental protection. In the past, his father has done some incredibly shady and grimy things so I wanted to be sure that this time around, most of them wouldn't be possible. I needed the Fairfax County law on my side. Custody is now in place and I sleep much easier at night knowing that Isayah is safely asleep in his room just down the hall, where he should be. So, when it came time to discuss the issue of child support, I can admit that I trusted him based SOLELY on my old relationship with him...not the lying selfish person that he is now. Yup. I went for the old bait and switch.
A little bit of background info....
A few years ago, I moved back home to Richmond after a failed attempt to move to New York to began an acting career. His father insisted that isayah stay with him or face dire consequences. So, he stayed. I visited him every weekend and, after a year, Isayah came to visit for the summer. When his father showed no interest in coming back for him, I settled him into our home in Richmond. Months later, he came down to visit under the guise of a "back-to-school" visit...and left with him. Just disappeared, changed his number, everything. Once I finally caught up with them around Thanksgiving, I learned that his father had had other children, and I finally got to see Isayah around Christmas time. Shortly thereafter, i decided to move to Los Angeles for acting, and Isayah stayed with his father because, at the time, it seemed more stable. He was incarcerated soon after but instead of contacting me to come home, he left isayah with his grandmother. I didn't find out until almost a year later, at which point I moved back home of course. Isayah stayed with his grandmother for about another year while I got on my feet; I visited with him every weekend during that year. He never saw his father, didn't even know where he was, and had been told that his father was on "vacation".
Our son was still living with his grandmother, so naturally, I assumed that he was giving money to her. I mean, his grandmother, a 70-something retired woman on a fixed income, was basically raising our child. Why wouldn't he if he could? There were times during his incarceration when we talked and he would complain to me about how much money he was having to spend on his then-girlfriend and their daughter's expenses. Once I spoke to his grandmother and discovered that he wasn't in fact giving her a DIME, I went ballistic!! Wait....WHAT? Of course she didn't know that he was paying any money to anyone because she thought he had no money (i know). And he fully expected it to be okay that he complain about giving money to others when he wasnt giving anything for OUR SON???
hahahaha! NOT.
i hopped my lil happy ass right on over to the dept of social services to get THAT paperwork started. Even if he WAS incarcerated at the time, if he could pay for one, he can pay for the other. Ain't nobody tell him to spread his baby-making around all over the country and make so many kids he couldn't take care of. I would have been more understanding if he just COULDN'T do it at the time. But he somehow found a way to get money to his girlfriend for their daughter...and a few (yes, i said a few) of his other kids...yet not for our son who lived with his grandmother on a fixed income? I'm sorry...has the title "BooBoo the Fool" been stamped on our foreheads without my knowing it? Psssht.I felt completely horrible for his grandmother, who had become like family to me. How dare he??
Fast forward to post-custody hearings and the end of the summer. It appears that differences have been settled and we're co-parenting just fine. When we discussed child support, he asked that I not file anything official but just ask him for whatever I needed and he would provide it. Again, yes, I went for it (laughs). Eventually, the letter for him to show up for a court appearance for child support came and he called me incensed that I hadn't cancelled it from earlier. I called all around to get the case dismissed--according to our agreement--and a social worker practically begged me to not to close it for him. She advised that he would go back on his word and not pay...but i didn't listen and had it closed.
I swear it wasn't even 2 days later when I asked him for money for something and not only did I not get it, but I didn't hear from him for days. Apparently, i DO have BooBoo the Fool stamped around here somewhere. So, I re-apply for child support but *ahem* basically what they say is "we told you not to but you did...so now you owe us $25 for being stupid and re-opening the case." At the time I didn't even have $25 so I had to wait. Meanwhile, I'm still fighting with him about this and that until one day, during a conversation he proceeds to tell me that he doesn't appreciate the way our son is "acting like a faggot" and that i "need to check lil shawty". Wait...did you just call my son a faggot? I'm sorry...i didn't even hear the rest of what you said cuz I'm still stuck on the word "FAGGOT". Unfortunately, Isayah was with me at the time and I didnt' want to repeat what his father had said aloud so I really couldn't address it...which was good because there really wasn't a need to address it. I was done with him. Forever.
*BLINK, BLINK*
Click. Dial tone. That was the very last conversation, the very last words I've ever spoken to him, and the last that I ever plan to speak to him without a lawyer and a judge present. I know that he's spoken to his father since then but I have not. Not for any reason, even to ask for money.
Now, my confession is this: I have no idea whether or not I should reapply for child support, for several reasons:
1. I'm prideful and refuse to ask him for anything, especially knowing that I won't get it.
2. I don't even want Isayah to be around him, knowing how he feels about him.
3. I'm basically raising him alone anyway so why even bother if I know he won't pay?
4. Is a guy who doesn't have a legal job required to pay child support since he has no traceable income?
The strong independent woman in me wants to ignore it and just do it alone. But, that woman also knows that I didn't make this child alone and that there are laws that help to make it so that I don't have to. I can admit that it burns me up that he apparently gets to choose which of his children he supports...but then again, I'm not in his pockets or his business so I don't know what he does for the rest of them. I just know that he doesn't do SH*T for this one, not even visit with him, and something about that is patently NOT RIGHT.
I'm even thinking about cancelling Isayah's cell phone, but only because I don't think his father should get to call him whenever he wants laughing and joking like shit is cool when it's not. He's not helping to pay the phone bill, why should he get to call and talk for hours? My maturity level can't get past how petty that is, though, so I know i won't do it.
This past weekend, Isayah had a big football game that I invited everyone to. Initially, his father was slated not to come but he came at the last minute anyway. At the end, after his team won, his father stood posing with Isayah for pictures, smiling and whatnot. I was happy for Isayah because I knew what it meant for him to spend those moments with his father, basking in the afterglow of a big football win. But on the inside, I wanted to crack those cameras into pieces. What was he even doing here? And wtf was he posing and smilign for, like he had anything to do with that glory of that moment? Did he take him to practice each night? Was he there to see the disappointment of the games that were lost? Was he standing out in the heat watching scrimmages, or in the rain during the first game, or was he the one there to see the season opener that they eventually lost? I don't believe so. I WAS there--even with the damn flu--and I didn't see him so I think it's safe to say that he wasn't there. However, I realized that the moment wasn't about me, it was about Isayah. And he was happy, lol. He was ROLLING around in happy and I wouldn't have snatched that from him for anything, not even my issues with his father. But I couldn't help thinking "wow, is that you over there posing with the boy you called a faggot? Really? Is that you?"
Just to be clear: I don't personally need the money. Not for ME. I work 3 jobs to take care of my family and even when I come up short, I always find a way to get what I need. My concern is that if he's not gonna do for him, then he should just leave him the f alone. period. why do you get to choose not to help take care of him when sh*t is rough, but still get to enjoy the good times, like winning football games and laughing and joking about x-box games? Why? Why should I do all the work, and you come in and snatch all the credit when the work is done? It is impossible to see the fairness in that. Not the fairness just to me, but to Isayah too. We work HARD to keep this family afloat. I'm not the only one to take credit for that. Isayah and I work together; we are a team. NO ONE should get to take credit for that except us. P.E.R.I.O.D. Sure, its fine and good to invite others to celebrate with us because as a family, it is a team effort. Even his grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, EVERYONE...they all help in their own way, the ways that we ask them to. But those that don't help, shouldn't be able to come in when it's party time and partake of the riches made off the backs of those who put in. They just shouldn't.
I didn't ask his father for anything Isayah doesn't deserve and I expect him to get all that he needs. His father has made it impossible for that to happen, clearly. So, even if it doesn't work, I'm going to apply for the child support. Even if I don't get a dollar, I'm going to apply. I'm not asking for back child support for any time before this year. That's only fair. And that's all I want, what's fair. We tried doing it his way, and it didn't work. So, now it's time to do things the Virginia Department of Social Services Division of Child Support Enforcement way.
Hmph.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Quote of the Day
Perseverance is a great element of success. If you only knock long
enough at the gate, you are sure to wake up somebody. -- Longfellow
enough at the gate, you are sure to wake up somebody. -- Longfellow
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Confession: Maybe fame isn't all its cracked up to be. Pun intended.
"I love you! Have a good day, Ma."
Every morning when I send Isayah off to school, those are his last words to me. I have no idea what the day holds so, theoretically, on any given day, those could be his last words to me, PERIOD. Before two days ago, I took that for granted. Two years ago, being the kind of person/parent that enjoys that sort of thing gushy, maternal, Leave It to Beaver send-off..well, it annoyed me, to say the least. That mom who gets up and gets her child ready for school, "sees him off" with a kiss and a hug as she hands him his lunch bag and scoots him out to the busstop. Me? Never. No way. Lol. But once I became that person/parent who does it, it annoyed me. I secretly felt I wasn't cut out to be a good parent such as that. I aspired to be more, do more, see more than a domesticated life has to offer. Simply put, it was a chore that I much rather would've had someone else get up at the crack of dawn to do. I had WORK to do and did not have time to be Keisha Homemaker. Hmph. SOMEBODY had to work and get up these funds cuz it sure wasn't his other parent. And for 2 long years, someone did: his great grandmother. Her house was his place of residence, she was his primary caregiver. I visited him often, but I left to come home to my own empty apt at the end of the day.
Two days ago, after watching Whitney Houston's "revealing" interview on The Oprah Winfrey Show, I discovered a secret about myself. 1. I used to be INCREDIBLY selfish, and I actually don't like that idea like I thought I did. 2. I'm not half as grateful for my life as I should be. There's something about hearing someone else's testimony that has a way of helping u put ur life into better perspective. It also has a way of expanding ur sense of awareness about the world, and how u fit into it.
I've been a Whitney Houston fan since I was 5 years old. Hers ("Greatest Love of All") was the very FIRST favorite song I ever had. It was the song that made me aware of music and its power to invoke strong emotion in its listeners. Yes, I too was one of those little girls in cornrows tipped with colorful beads who wandered thru my mama's house, arms outstretched, feet twirling, eyes closed, screaming the lyrics into an old hairbrush, trying desperately to hold that last long ass note on "looooooooooooooooooo*voice fading*QUICK DEEP BREATH*ooooooooooooove" as Whitney (in the video) walked off stage to hug her mom in the wings. That song made me feel like if I could hold that last note like her, I could do anything. Shit, I WAS Whitney Houston when I was 5, and nobody "bet not" try to tell me differently. Hmph. Her voice and that song alone made me feel I could do ANYTHING, it moved me so much. Everywhere I went, I sang it. When people came over to the house, my dad let me sing it for his friends and relatives and they threw money at my feet. I LUUUBBED me some Whitney Houston and to me, she was IT.
Over the years, of course, I followed her music and her life, bought each and every album/cassette/CD, saw all her movies (true story. Waiting to Exhale was the very first movie My high school sweetheart and I went to see.I was 15. Bad move, but great movie.)I even bought her 2001 greatest hits double CD--the one with her on a ladder pulling all her gold records off the wall-- knowing full well it was just a collection of songs I already had. Bought it anyway, paid full price for it at the K-MART in Oxon Hill. And when someone stole it, I went and bought another one. Okay, u get it: I'm a fan.
I didn't see her Barbara Walters Interview where she proclaimed the wackness of crack. I conveniently forgot it was coming on. Ppl talked about it for MONTHS,but to this day I've still not seen it. And don't plan to. I think I was in denial about how rough her life may have been at the time, and was secretly terrified that she might become one of the world's great fallen music idols, gone too soon...lost to a life of hard drugs, hard love, and hard living. Not WHITNEY! Not MY WHITNEY!! I couldn't deal with it. It was just easier to ignore the writing on the walls.
During the interview, Whitney spoke of a time years ago when she wanted out. Out of the business, out of the lights, out of the life. She wanted to be able to get up in the morning, make Bobbi Christina breakfast, get her ready for school, kiss her cheek, hand her her backpack and lunch box, and scoot her outta the door with the words "I love you, have a good day, Ma" ringing in her ear. But, because she's Whitney, she wasn't able to do that. Something that the average woman on the grind trying to make it to the top--like myself--once took for granted as a trivial chore, Whitney--WHITNEY HOUSTON-- was dying to be able to do. But couldn't. It is astounding to think, in hindsight, of all things I take for granted, the peace I can indulge in on any given day based simply on my anonymity. And Ironically, I once envied celebrities their fame...not so much their fortunes because I don't hunger for money...but I do hunger for that limelight, I cannot lie, lol. I definitely like to get recognition. But the more and more I listen to celebrity stories, stories told by the real talents...not "fauxcialites" (Paris, Kim, any reality tv star)...the more I'm convinced that fame is not for me. Not Rihanna/Beyonce/Lindsay/MJJ, paparazzi hounding, can't walk into Target and buy panties kinda fame. I kinda like that I can hang out in Starbucks and blog while enjoying a strawberries and cream frappacino. I love that when I'm between paychecks and can't afford to buy new hair, I can just throw on a cap and tuck my hair up into it without it being blasted all over the blogosphere within minutes of my departure from my apt. Two summers ago, I lost someone very special to me. I heard that I was that ignorant black person at her funeral, but I don't recall because I blacked it out. And I love that I was able to do that in peace; to grieve the loss of a loved one in complete and total solitude without worrying about having to wear dark shades and keep it together gracefully when I really wanted to scream at God for taking away what felt like my lifeblood. Can you imagine? I truly took those things for granted. Hmmmm....Maybe I should be more careful what I ask for. Perhaps I havent' become famous yet for a reason. Am I really willing to subject myself and Isayah to that type of scrutiny? Live under such a microscope? Hmmm...it's definitely worth rethinking.
This morning, Isayah tried to hit me with the "Aight Ma, I'm gone. See ya later..." My head whipped around like Medusa and I said "Uhhh, I'm sorry, WHAT??" Mumbling a quick "oh, sorry, lol" he darted over to tell me he loved me, to have a great thursday, and kiss my freshly washed cheek. Hmph! I don't know who he thought we were for a second, but he better know that since we CAN do that, we will.
Beautiful and Loved,
Beautiful Day
Every morning when I send Isayah off to school, those are his last words to me. I have no idea what the day holds so, theoretically, on any given day, those could be his last words to me, PERIOD. Before two days ago, I took that for granted. Two years ago, being the kind of person/parent that enjoys that sort of thing gushy, maternal, Leave It to Beaver send-off..well, it annoyed me, to say the least. That mom who gets up and gets her child ready for school, "sees him off" with a kiss and a hug as she hands him his lunch bag and scoots him out to the busstop. Me? Never. No way. Lol. But once I became that person/parent who does it, it annoyed me. I secretly felt I wasn't cut out to be a good parent such as that. I aspired to be more, do more, see more than a domesticated life has to offer. Simply put, it was a chore that I much rather would've had someone else get up at the crack of dawn to do. I had WORK to do and did not have time to be Keisha Homemaker. Hmph. SOMEBODY had to work and get up these funds cuz it sure wasn't his other parent. And for 2 long years, someone did: his great grandmother. Her house was his place of residence, she was his primary caregiver. I visited him often, but I left to come home to my own empty apt at the end of the day.
Two days ago, after watching Whitney Houston's "revealing" interview on The Oprah Winfrey Show, I discovered a secret about myself. 1. I used to be INCREDIBLY selfish, and I actually don't like that idea like I thought I did. 2. I'm not half as grateful for my life as I should be. There's something about hearing someone else's testimony that has a way of helping u put ur life into better perspective. It also has a way of expanding ur sense of awareness about the world, and how u fit into it.
I've been a Whitney Houston fan since I was 5 years old. Hers ("Greatest Love of All") was the very FIRST favorite song I ever had. It was the song that made me aware of music and its power to invoke strong emotion in its listeners. Yes, I too was one of those little girls in cornrows tipped with colorful beads who wandered thru my mama's house, arms outstretched, feet twirling, eyes closed, screaming the lyrics into an old hairbrush, trying desperately to hold that last long ass note on "looooooooooooooooooo*voice fading*QUICK DEEP BREATH*ooooooooooooove" as Whitney (in the video) walked off stage to hug her mom in the wings. That song made me feel like if I could hold that last note like her, I could do anything. Shit, I WAS Whitney Houston when I was 5, and nobody "bet not" try to tell me differently. Hmph. Her voice and that song alone made me feel I could do ANYTHING, it moved me so much. Everywhere I went, I sang it. When people came over to the house, my dad let me sing it for his friends and relatives and they threw money at my feet. I LUUUBBED me some Whitney Houston and to me, she was IT.
Over the years, of course, I followed her music and her life, bought each and every album/cassette/CD, saw all her movies (true story. Waiting to Exhale was the very first movie My high school sweetheart and I went to see.I was 15. Bad move, but great movie.)I even bought her 2001 greatest hits double CD--the one with her on a ladder pulling all her gold records off the wall-- knowing full well it was just a collection of songs I already had. Bought it anyway, paid full price for it at the K-MART in Oxon Hill. And when someone stole it, I went and bought another one. Okay, u get it: I'm a fan.
I didn't see her Barbara Walters Interview where she proclaimed the wackness of crack. I conveniently forgot it was coming on. Ppl talked about it for MONTHS,but to this day I've still not seen it. And don't plan to. I think I was in denial about how rough her life may have been at the time, and was secretly terrified that she might become one of the world's great fallen music idols, gone too soon...lost to a life of hard drugs, hard love, and hard living. Not WHITNEY! Not MY WHITNEY!! I couldn't deal with it. It was just easier to ignore the writing on the walls.
During the interview, Whitney spoke of a time years ago when she wanted out. Out of the business, out of the lights, out of the life. She wanted to be able to get up in the morning, make Bobbi Christina breakfast, get her ready for school, kiss her cheek, hand her her backpack and lunch box, and scoot her outta the door with the words "I love you, have a good day, Ma" ringing in her ear. But, because she's Whitney, she wasn't able to do that. Something that the average woman on the grind trying to make it to the top--like myself--once took for granted as a trivial chore, Whitney--WHITNEY HOUSTON-- was dying to be able to do. But couldn't. It is astounding to think, in hindsight, of all things I take for granted, the peace I can indulge in on any given day based simply on my anonymity. And Ironically, I once envied celebrities their fame...not so much their fortunes because I don't hunger for money...but I do hunger for that limelight, I cannot lie, lol. I definitely like to get recognition. But the more and more I listen to celebrity stories, stories told by the real talents...not "fauxcialites" (Paris, Kim, any reality tv star)...the more I'm convinced that fame is not for me. Not Rihanna/Beyonce/Lindsay/MJJ, paparazzi hounding, can't walk into Target and buy panties kinda fame. I kinda like that I can hang out in Starbucks and blog while enjoying a strawberries and cream frappacino. I love that when I'm between paychecks and can't afford to buy new hair, I can just throw on a cap and tuck my hair up into it without it being blasted all over the blogosphere within minutes of my departure from my apt. Two summers ago, I lost someone very special to me. I heard that I was that ignorant black person at her funeral, but I don't recall because I blacked it out. And I love that I was able to do that in peace; to grieve the loss of a loved one in complete and total solitude without worrying about having to wear dark shades and keep it together gracefully when I really wanted to scream at God for taking away what felt like my lifeblood. Can you imagine? I truly took those things for granted. Hmmmm....Maybe I should be more careful what I ask for. Perhaps I havent' become famous yet for a reason. Am I really willing to subject myself and Isayah to that type of scrutiny? Live under such a microscope? Hmmm...it's definitely worth rethinking.
This morning, Isayah tried to hit me with the "Aight Ma, I'm gone. See ya later..." My head whipped around like Medusa and I said "Uhhh, I'm sorry, WHAT??" Mumbling a quick "oh, sorry, lol" he darted over to tell me he loved me, to have a great thursday, and kiss my freshly washed cheek. Hmph! I don't know who he thought we were for a second, but he better know that since we CAN do that, we will.
Beautiful and Loved,
Beautiful Day
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