I was told I was a mistake. My mother was 15 and my father was 21. I was told by a parent that extended family members wanted me aborted. I grew up hearing, from a parent, that my birth and existence ruined their life. I was sent to school dirty with holes in my clothes. I was locked in a basement because I was told that I made too much noise coming upstairs to get breakfast. My bedroom was in the basement below 2 empty bedrooms. My sisters' bedroom was in the basement below 2 empty bedrooms. For years, I believed everything I was told and everything that was done to me, was deserved.
I got to 18 by trying to appease everyone I lived with so that I did not have to hear that I was a burden. I had a disease to please and I later coined the term, approval junkie. Being told that I was the best made me happy. Being #1 made me happy. At jobs, I took supervisory abuse. In relationships, I put up with nonchalance and neglect. Nothing made me happy. I contemplated suicide. Fully immersed in the guilt put on me by a few 'religious' Christians, I decided I didn't want to leave this hell, to burn in another hell. I figured if I could just hold on until my heart gave out, my family has a history of heart attacks, then heaven would be my reward. I knew logically 50 years, or less if lucky, wasn't a large price to pay for an eternity in heaven. I waited for death. A bus. A car accident. An innocent bystander of a drive-by. I hoped anything would happen. I envied those who died on the news. I lived my life as if it was something I was cursed with.
I got so deep in my misery; I cursed the day that I was born. I wanted to know why my egg couldn't have been the one dispelled the month before mine was penatrated. Out of millions of eggs, why mine? I would've rather had been a non-entity than live.
Then 30 happened.
Tyler Perry has said a light comes on at that age and I will admit my light flickered at first, kind of like an old flourescent bulb over a dingy kitchen. I looked at my life and realized that I was stuck. (I will talk about addiction in a later entry.) A good friend (Lori), who had at a time or another felt as the same as me, suggested that I look at one of my friends who was always happy (Tan.) Lori said the reason Tan was always happy was because she was grateful for EVERYTHING! I countered that by sticking to my mantra: We all have pain which is horribly unfair because we never ask for life in the first place. Our existence is a result of two people who never check with us (a non-entity) to see if we want it and yet we are supposed to make it the best way we know how??? Life is BS.
Instead of trying to challenge my viewpoint, Lori gave me a task. She asked me to keep a gratitude journal. Each day I had to find 5 things I was grateful for. I started out the first day with all the things that could've gone wrong that day that didn't. My car didn't break down. I didn't lose my job. I arrived at home safely. There was no power or cable outtage. My phone wasn't lost or stolen. The next day I started looking at people at restaurants, at work and on the street and found things about them that I am glad I didn't struggle with. I wasn't in a wheelchair. I wasn't under arrest. I wasn't obese. I wasn't on a bus stop. I didn't have a substance abuse problem. A month later I was looking at my life and all the things I had. I had a Master's degree. I had a job in a struggling economy. I was healthy. I was handsome. Then Lori and I put together a thesis about life.
Happiness is not a destination or a place you arrive to when your ideal life comes into fruition. It is a daily effort on your behalf to realize all of the things in your life that you have. These things are so easily taken away and others who don't have them are envious of you. Your life is someone else's goal. Happiness also involves an effort on your part to know and believe during a struggle that the struggle is temporary. The proof is that half the things you're sad about won't matter in 6 months or 6 years or 6 decades!
I think about every struggle in terms of how worse that situation could be. For example, I am vain and in my 20s a pimple on my nose would've sent me straight into hiding and a depression because I never asked to be alive and therefore a pimple was an unfair affliction. Last week I had a pimple on my nose. I rejoiced it was not on my lip, sending the wrong message. And haven't I had a pimple before and didn't it go away? Temporary struggle. I'm not trying to be trivial but that's the most recent example of a sadness I can muster.
If you are depressed because you don't have a job, think about the fact that you will definitely get a job one day. Unemployment is temporary. Rejoice you are able-bodied to work. Be grateful that you have experience working and someone will one day see you as an asset.
If you are depressed because you don't have a boyfriend, think about the fact that you know what it's like to have been in love before. If you haven't, rejoice that you have qualities that someone will one day love and that you are attractive. If you think you are unattractive and you've never been in love, rejoice that you at least know what it's like to have been touched. If you are a virgin and don't think you're attractive and have not been in love, be grateful that you at least know what you want and it will happen one day. Loneliness is temporary.
If you are depressed because you are broke, be happy you have a roof over your head. Be grateful you ate today. Be grateful you have clothes on your back. Know that you will have a sufficient amount of money one day. Being broke is temporary. Very temporary if you are working and planning to change that.
Rejoice: Every struggle is temporary.
And if after reading this you still think life is awful,
Rejoice: Life is temporary.
P.S. I have to thank God for deliverance (in the MATCHLESS name of Jesus) and for listening to me whine and providing human ears: Lori, Tan, Mal, Tineka, Chuck, Franklin, Jon, Damian Tiara & Keisha.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Randy on Poetry Workshops
I don’t like poetry workshops. I don’t have the right to tell a poet to take out a word or to change a line. I can suggest but what if the poet’s ego is smaller than mine? They may change a word that makes the poem for other readers based on my five second review. I also tend to not like having to write by a deadline. I like to write whenever I have free time or something must be addressed. I am an emotional person so I can create easily but I’d rather let it be natural. I have learned this semester to really work with tension in a poem. What two things are fighting each other? What is at stake for the speaker? However, I know that the criticism in this class started making me write for the writers in this class and not for the audience I wish to have. So these poems will probably never see a future collection of mine.
Randy on the Simplicity of Poetry
As a writer, the most important goal for me is to make sure that everyone can read, enjoy and relate to my work. I want those who do not read poetry and who are not aware of common conventions among modern artist or any poetry movement or style of writing to understand my work. Often, poets are concerned with what their contemporaries or other scholars think of their writing. I could care less. I want to be able to share my work with the guy behind the deli counter who hasn’t read a poem since grade school and he say: I know how you feel, that happened to me. The more abstract or intelligent a poem, the smaller the audience. It may be a symptom of a society with lowering standards of education. It may be a problem with the small attention spans of Americans who love their television. Whatever the case, the people that are in my family and that I work with don’t care about literature in the slightest. They read the latest trashy novel by Omar Tyree or Zane and consider that art. Everything else is considered boring. I chalk it up to them not being able to follow a Toni Morrison because she never tells a story completely from beginning to end. They can’t handle the classical references made in a Countee Cullen poem. Since it seems I am criticizing the educational system and the intellect of the people I know, I know naturally it begs the question: Why would I want to write poems that are concrete that don’t lend themselves to higher orders of thinking?
I believe poetry has a voice that opens up many secrets others are hiding. It can change your beliefs by providing a different viewpoint. Through imagery and stakes a story can be told or a message delivered that people are frightened of. Change in this world can only happen when the masses stop existing and start observing. If only poets and scholars can understand your message, who are you leaving revolution up to? Most poets and scholars I know have no intention of joining the army, but the young man who read below grade level in school might feel that’s his best option. Think of the urgency of the message an accessible poet could sent to him. Most artists I know have no intention of joining politics, but think of what message an energetic, young interesting poet could send to the lawyer or accountant running for mayor. Poetry has the ability to sell just as many units and be widely received as any John Grisham, Dean Koontz or Zane novel, but there is a stigma attached to poetry. It’s considered by many to be intentionally dense and difficult. Take the following four lines for example:
Persephone walks down the hill
Casting a shadow upon the earth
We must wait 6 lunar days
For the fields to again show mirth
The common response I would get from a non-poetry reader for that poem is Oh, That’s Pretty. This response is because lines 2 and 4 rhyme. The scholar or artist may enjoy it, only because they know what Persephone’s story is and what I meant by 6 lunar days and they know what the word mirth means. However, I could have been clearer:
The snows of winter last six months
Love is frozen in one’s vein
Hearts can’t feel any warmth
Until the spring thaws it again
Most scholars would say that the above poem belongs in a third grade text book. Artists may say it’s full of clichés. However for someone who doesn’t read poetry will be able to appreciate it more. And know what is being said.
I believe poetry has a voice that opens up many secrets others are hiding. It can change your beliefs by providing a different viewpoint. Through imagery and stakes a story can be told or a message delivered that people are frightened of. Change in this world can only happen when the masses stop existing and start observing. If only poets and scholars can understand your message, who are you leaving revolution up to? Most poets and scholars I know have no intention of joining the army, but the young man who read below grade level in school might feel that’s his best option. Think of the urgency of the message an accessible poet could sent to him. Most artists I know have no intention of joining politics, but think of what message an energetic, young interesting poet could send to the lawyer or accountant running for mayor. Poetry has the ability to sell just as many units and be widely received as any John Grisham, Dean Koontz or Zane novel, but there is a stigma attached to poetry. It’s considered by many to be intentionally dense and difficult. Take the following four lines for example:
Persephone walks down the hill
Casting a shadow upon the earth
We must wait 6 lunar days
For the fields to again show mirth
The common response I would get from a non-poetry reader for that poem is Oh, That’s Pretty. This response is because lines 2 and 4 rhyme. The scholar or artist may enjoy it, only because they know what Persephone’s story is and what I meant by 6 lunar days and they know what the word mirth means. However, I could have been clearer:
The snows of winter last six months
Love is frozen in one’s vein
Hearts can’t feel any warmth
Until the spring thaws it again
Most scholars would say that the above poem belongs in a third grade text book. Artists may say it’s full of clichés. However for someone who doesn’t read poetry will be able to appreciate it more. And know what is being said.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Family
An accident of birth? a burden? a blessing? what is it? I wonder. On this Easter Sunday I sit here with my Aunt who hosts every holiday when only half the family shows and less than that show gratitude. But she still does it. She teaches me a lesson in forgiveness. If we have an argument, you're not welcome in my home. She always invites anyone over, who wants to be here. I want to be here. But i can't be here sober. For one my mother fusses for how my sister disciplines her children. For another, my aunt fusses about things on the floor after she spent the weekend cleaning. I can tune this out with a pint of BACARDI. They say I shouldn't drink before 12 noon. Why not? Does anyone know what time of the day Jesus turned water into wine? If you deal with my family, you will call on Jesus. You will ask him for patience. You will ask him for understanding. You will ask him for restraint. You will ask him for energy. You will ask him for peace. You will thank him you have people around you.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Entertainment Education
I wonder about American urban education. We’re lagging behind. People say this is because we are using outdated curriculums and outdated methods. This is partially true. To me the fact that is being ignored is that students are not motivated. My generation, the ever famous generation X, did our work questioning why we had to learn certain things. But we knew there were consequences when we didn’t learn. We didn’t want to fail because we didn’t want to bring that report card to mama whom knew when it was coming and cared what it said. So regardless of not knowing why we had to learn about The Aztecs, Pythagorean Theorem and Predicate Nominatives, we felt we had to. Yeah we got disciplined at home. Belts, shoes and open hands were my mother’s weapon of choice. I feared my mother and I feared God so therefore I didn’t want to upset either so I sat through boring lessons and did my work.
As a middle school urban teacher, there is not a lesson that I plan that I write without thinking: will my students be bored? This is important because if they’re not entertained, they will tear my room apart. They will write on the books, throw paper, eat sunflower seeds, curse at each other, and instigate fights out of boredom. If I want to have a smooth lesson; it better be engaging. In our day, teachers were allowed to be boring and students would still be required to behave and learn.
As an adult, think about the amount of tedious, boring nonsense we have to go through. Interviews, pre-job testing, lectures by elderly professors, waiting in doctor’s offices, boring meetings and trainings on sexual harassment, are all cases where we have to sit down, listen, behave and feign interest. Are our students ready for the real world. The answer is no. They have no consequences at home, thanks to most Americans believing spanking is passé. They do not have to exhibit self control and therefore when they become adults, the job market will have to change for them in order to accept their rowdiness.
It’s changing already. Think about the last few times you went to a fast food restaurant. Did you notice the employees behind the counter cursing and playing? In my day you would’ve been fired if you said darn around a customer. I miss those days. I miss obedient children. I will miss America when it can no longer compete with the children turned adults in other countries and it collapses.
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