Disowning Those Old Arguments

Weird how family always get stuck in the same rut. I got in an argument with my dad yesterday over nothing. Again.

 With people you've known for so long, it's obvious there will be ups and downs. To have a real relationship with anyone you have to forgive. But what is the mature thing to do when somebody says something that is clearly untrue.... I always did this... I never did that... that never happened...?

 Like on that Christmas dinner, when my dad was showing off to the guests that he never beat his children (a rare thing in Jamaica). Was it wrong of me to correct him?

 "Actually you never beat your son. You beat me all the time."

 "That's because you were bad." He replied.

 An answer like that says that he didn't misremember; he was trying to reinvent and whitewash the past. That, for some reason, gets deep under my skin. And clearly, me correcting him gets under his skin.

This would be easier if I didn't remember. But one of the bad things about journaling your entire life is that you never forget.

 Yesterday's argument wasn't about the beating. It was him asking about if he ever sent me to school without lunch money when I was young. He did. Many times. Once with the advice that I should, "consider it a day of prayer and fasting." But when I said that, the conversation quickly devolved into him accusing me of being ungrateful - him having paid so much for me to go to college and all that - and unappreciative of my privilege. Later, I heard him loudly talking to my mother, saying that I was resentful, psychotic, and needed counseling. That he was never going to give me anything again; he was going to keep his money for himself.

 I know I am privileged. Very much so.

 I also think I just got disowned.

Baby

My friend, whom I visited in Malaysia last summer... just had a beautiful baby girl. She had been been about 2 weeks pregnant when I was there. It's so great, because, she has a back injury and wondered even back when we were in high school together, whether she could ever carry a child to term without permanently paralysing herself... or worse.

Blessing.

New Business

There is this article about our generation... "Generation sell" they say. That the essence our generation is the essence of the saleman. Our generation thinks about owning our own business more than any other. Maybe that's because that is the only way to really ensure a future... working for someone else is no longer all it's cracked up to be.

So it is that I am returning to Jamaica for Thanksgiving to start a business with my brother. I will be grad student by day; greentech entrepreneur by night. Sounds implausible? So's a Jamaican girl studying math in Nebraska.

Cheerio

In Honour of My Grandpa

Is this grief I feel?

Or confirmation I've

not been sad before

Sometimes I don't even know what to do with myself. It was good that it ended, but that logic cannot fill me back up.

Lessons from "The Fountainhead", part one

I read the Fountainhead (Ayn Rand) recently. I must say, that I loved most of it. The end got a bit preachy, but either way the book has a lot to offer, philosophically and otherwise. So now that there is some distance between it and me - having read some other books - I will return to some of my favourite quotes/lessons. I hope you enjoy...

"He wondered whether he really liked his mother. But she was his mother and this fact was recognized by everybody as meaning automatically that he loved her, and so he took for granted that whatever he felt for her was love. He did not know whether there was any reason why he should respect her judgement. She was his mother; this was supposed to take the place of reasons." page 35

Replace "mother" with any relative you like and it still applies. Even better, if you can, replace "mother" with some relative you don't really know or particulaly like but you are expected to respect. What is this odd combination of dependence, admiration, guilt, debt, trust, obligation ...whatever, that we feel for them? Is this love? Is it that special brand of love that we can only feel for family - blood being thicker than water and all that? Or do we just assume it is because we don't want to be that crass bastard who doesn't love his mother? Is it taboo to even think that your father, your brother, your ageing homely grandmother has to -God forbid! - earn your love? When these same relatives mistreat you, is it petty and premature to just say, "Wow, that person just doesn't love me."

Can we accept this? Is this too hard to bear?

The Professor's Daughter - Emily Raboteau

I guess I have a lot to say tonight. So for your reading ease, I present the subsections:

Liteature:
...reading this book I found on my grandma's bed-side table. While I was riding the Q one line really stuck with me.

"That's a bullshit word. 'Shy.' That just a pretty word for selfish."

Interesting. Is that true? I always thought that the a shy person was just secretly wracked with fear. What if they are just secretly hoarding all the beautiful insightful things they could be giving us. Everything going in, nothing coming out.

Friends:
A guy friend of mine just admitted something he has been struggling with alone. I don't want to write about him, but I just wanted to say that if he had told us, we would have taken care of him. Some people would say he was dumb for letting it go so long, when it was an easy fix. But he's not dumb, he's proud. I would have done the same in his situation. I wouldn't have liked him any less for caving. I like him all the more for not.

Family:
Anyway, It turns out that my cousin in actually going to have her wedding at my house in Jamaica. Imagine that.

Here in NYC, my grandma is having her operation on Wednesday. She is removing her gallstones. Somehow, it's not going to be an invasive procedure. We prepare for the Hospital stay tomorrow.

Next time I'll try and write a little about The Fountainhead. Today I went to a dance class at the New Dance Group place on 38th and 8th. I love getting sweaty, don't you? I really don't care how unattractive it is. Those endorphines do crazy things to me.

Church Bells

I think my dad and grandma are trying to get my cousin to get married in a church.

Today I retire this confession: "I am restless. I am looking for something I cannot name. It this unhappiness?"

Getting married in the morning

My cousin is getting married and moving back to Jamaica ( in that order). Congratulations my darling!

At one point she told him (she was telling me) that he was not going to find a better woman than her - prettier maybe, younger possibly, but as a whole woman, not a chance! This was at the mild hinting from grandma that she should tell the man that if he wasn't going to marry her he should go about his business so she could go about hers. I didn't know these kinds of ultimatums worked in real life.

She is 28 and my grandmother had a good talk with me yesterday about how worried she had been about her grandniece. Grandma then had a good talk with the husband-to-be and when she passed off the phone the first thing out of her mouth was, "So, when are you getting married?" I believe, she was talking to me.

My dad had a talk at me along the same theme the day before my graduation.

Is it that time of my life or is my family just bat-shit-crazy? I do not hear the premonitory ticking of any biological clock.

Anyway, if "Fomerly Known As" would aswer his damn phone I could tell him the good news...

Family and Kingston

My brother recently reminded me that the last time I saw him was last december. Imagine that. A whole year. I wonder if he or I am the same persons we used to be...

He comforts me. he tells me that my grades no longer matter now that I have a job. But it's not that simple. Now that I am the only one looking, they are all of a sudden very important to me. How very odd.

Anyway, I'm off to Kingston. For those of you who don't know, that's the capital of Jamaica. Buy a damn map! There we will reunite with some family friends and catch the Welcome to Jamrock show by the (Bob) Marley Family.

See you soon.

To Youth and Womanhood

My bro said that he no longer enjoys the party scene. I think he may be getting a little older. Today, my next door neighbour told me the same. But I think its just because the parties here suck. But we'll see what a young woman can find on a Saturday night. There are a few private parties going on. Not least of which is the initiation party for one of my dance groups. We let about 8 people in, and today, we drink!

My attempts to buy a cell phone have failed becuase I forgot to bring my passport to the mall with me. Damn you Verizon!! We shall meet again!

In the meawhile, I must continue to prove the fundamental theorem of algebra, fix my resume and write a cover letter. Wish me luck.