Sunday, May 25, 2008

(diary)hhea of growingpains


does it seem (seem, as in SEEM)
that some people really got it all together
like they're supposed to?
like, it SEEMS most people
know what they want to be from way back in the day;
wanted to be a lawyer, went to law school
wanted to be an occupational therapist, studied that, doing that
wanted to be film producer, working for a production company
studied engineering, doing whatever it is engineers do
(i know lots of folk who studied the various areas of engineering
and they work at lots of different companies and agencies
from hughes-when they were around- to morgan stanley to raytheon)
studied nursing to become a nurse
studying nursing to become a midwife
i even met a kind person
who got a bachelor's in psychology
a master's in neuroscience
and owns a longterm home health care company....
folx be like twennyfour, twennyfive
and coming out the gate HARD in a legitimate career path...

((...excuse me...... i got sidetracked, found some new music. took me away for about 45mins, but i'm back. now it's 12:33. what was i talkin' about??? ...ah yes...))

what the hell did i want to be when i was a child? when i was in college? last week?

(i can't remember.)

you know what i do remember?
what i've always been good at.
what i've done well.
what's come naturally.
what i've always done.
what's eeeeeaaasssssyyyy like sunday morning.

the pen is my friend.
i inherited the written and spoken word.
i inherited a love of all things musical.
i inherited comfort on the stage
all things born of artistic integrity
all things aesthetically pleasing.
my passion is like still water
it runs deeeeeeeep.
i'm a walking nerve ending.
i dance with urgency. i dream in chorus.
i feel everything a'hunnid times over.
i [apparently] did not inherit the drive
or compass to make it happen as a profession though.

and so what does that mean?

(i can't remember where i was going with this....)

i think when i started rambling i was thinking about these people that know what they've wanted to do and they've diligently been able to exist in either doing it or working towards it and they, like, get married in their twennies and have, like, one or two or three babies, and if/when it does't work they get married again, and buy a house in the cul-de-sac in carson or condo in atlanta (or at least rent a really nice apartment in fort greene), and go on to work and they get bonuses and they take vacations and meet their deadlines and have clients that pay them (or their companies) lots of money, and they kinda are (at least a lil bit) enslaved to the client's demands, but it's okay cause they make it work since they have to pay off the nice things they have, and they buy gas and insurance, but when they need a check up or a prescription or have to get a biopsy or jr needs braces or whatever it is you inevitably need to do, these folk can go handle that. and it's totally normal. thats the normal way to exist. EVERYBODY does it.

then here i go
in my infinite state of ABnormality
(was i an abnormal child? i can't remember...)
comfortable being a bizarre bird linguaphile.
uncomfortable in the 16th floor executive suite
more content to daydream in the boardmeeting about
delusions of grandeur
continent-hopping or modeling or becoming a storybook author or whatever it is i seem to have come very close to doing in the past eight years (or longer).

okay, so i mean, technically i am doing
sum'n. (fill in the _SOMEthingblank_ with
all kinds of things that some people find interesting, i suppose,
but love to ask "so how do you make money?",
that are supposedly integral steps to a career in something.)
but forreal. like FORREAL.
this. is. not. what. i was. expecting.

((for the record, let's attribute this scatterbrained confession to hormones that are currently raging against the machine.))

i left security to jump. i called it my proverbial leap'o'faith. i jumped.
now grant it, every day that i was up on that 16th floor, i dreamed of jumping out the window. not jumping and hitting the ground in a big wil-e-coyote cartoonage splat. but moreso leaping from that ledge and, like, totally soaring. (shout out to my favorite mos def lyric-- i stretch my arms towards the sky like blades of tall grass. the sun beat between my shoulders like carnival drums. i sat still, in hopes that it would help my wings to grow, so then i could really be fly... --i'll never forget it.) i thought my wings have been growing for the past eight years. eff that. for the past twennynine years. haven't my wings been grooooooowwwwing. do you know how much time i spend in the sun, in hopes that my wings have been growing? and grant it, i'm fly. but am i flying right now!?

i'll be doggone if i'm still taxiing on this runway though. or even standing on the ledge, yo. looking out over the land that i so want to be in. waving at all the folx i know. and i don't know what they see when they look up and see me standing there, on the ledge ("oh there go Mai... she so crazy!") not that it really matters; whether it's good bad or indifferent only has so much bearing on what it is i'm doing out there on the ledge.

so. i DO have one major client. and a couple of smaller folk i work with, to help them with whatever they need at the moment. stuff i do naturally well and they wanna pay me for. or act like they wanna pay me for. (there's one or two folk i need to track down to get my money. but that's a story for another day.) but i mean, like that vision of a career with a capital C is becoming hard for me to come by at this particular juncture. ya'mean. like the way folk's are getting law degrees to go be lawyers, or finance degrees to go be accountants, and stuff. retire from a teaching career, or from AT&T. or law enforcement, the post office even...

the thing is. i'm realizing.
can't nobody help me figure this out.
suggestions, thank you, they're great.
but, you know... (do i even need to finish this particular thought?
you know what, i'll take it in a different direction...)
if you have any great suggestions
letta sista know. selah.

i feel like i'm in junior high school
and i need to go back to career day
or leadership or young black scholars
or SOMETHING. did i want to be a journalist?
cause i don't now. but isn't that what writers do?
and i've been encouraged to join NABJ.
so i guess, at some point, i will.

i tried to join the Peace Corps at one point. go see the world. THAT'S what i freakin remember. wanting to see the world. and don't you know i've tried three times to get and/or develop a career in the airline industry and that joint WILL NOT have me! like are you serious???? i can't be a flight attendant? just like that? i had an internship at an airline in '05, with promise of a fulltime position once i completed the internship, and don't you know those fools straight reneged! (i'm supposed to be over this already... i thought i had let it go. but FURREAL?) i've since applied to said airline for the past three years for various positions, in a shameless attempt to have free worldwide flight privileges, and do you think i've been called to even interview? wtf? you know what would make this quagmire more acceptable? if i knew what i did to a) piss them off, and b) write me off as a valuable employee entitled to free airfare. but you know what? this is the last time i'm mentioning that. august will mark three years that that internship ended, so like ray j. and toni braxton said, i need to LET IT GO.

but yo. furreal. it's embarrassing, yo.
if, in twelve months, i'm in the same precarious state of existing,
that will be.... (i'm not going to finish that thought either.)

and please, lets not bring men into this equation.
outside of being a nice girl, with a silly sense of humor, from a stable family i don't know what it takes to have a wholesome relationship with a significant other. like, that !sht used to be SIM-PLE. at least the way i understand it.
now? not so much. instead, guys tell you how pretty or funny or sexy or smart or interesting or different or deep or necessary you are, and ask you why you still single, and, it's just for the sake of conversation (cause whatever issues they've got won't allow for anything past good conversation or the physical to develop?) and then you look up and you're twennynine or thirtyone or thirtysix or fourtytwo, and you are expected to be okay with not having a significant other in a meaningful relationship. YO! that's bogus. let me tell you. men and women were meant to be together. to coexist in a loving, nurturing, fulfilling environment. relationships being easy or not easy shouldn't even be a topic of conversation. it's NATURAL order. it's the way God meant for it to be. it's healthy for you to unconditionally have someone's back and for them to have you. hook or crook, take me as i am and i'll take you, fonky, bizarre and all. and like..... you have people broken, longing to be with someone, wondering if every dude they meet is THE ONE. got fifteen ex's and still in love with ex#9. or got a lot of infatuated maybe's and no bonafide definite. and wondering, is there something wrong with me or every dude i meet? (thank GOD for romantic comedies and the classics! or i wouldn't know WHAT to believe about love...)

when does it all get better, yo?
Daddy always be on some Adam Clayton Powell, "Keep the faith...." type vibe, and I can dig it.
Cause doggon'it. If i didn't have no faith, then whatever i've been rambling about for the past three hours (it's 2:40pm now) would really keep a sista dePRESSED.
but things i know for sure:
God is good.
His mercy is everlasting. It endures. forever.
He's faithful. His grace abounds.
Jehovah provides.
Trouble does not last always... and even if it does
isn't it my job to count it all joy.
Things surely could be worse.
and nobody said this joint would be easy.

i'm not no glass/half/empty type of chick though.
the sun is out. it's like 74 degrees...
so. i should go make some lemonade out of this lemon.

hallelujah, hollaback.


Anonymous said...

but how willing ru2 leave where you are to find it_

Mai~Goodness said...

leave? ha! i ain't no punk..... nyc is my home. it's where i'll stay. i'll find a career and make a life of it, hook or crook.