I remember the day that I left home for good. My high school graduation was months behind me, most of my friends were off at college or boot camp. I lived with my older sister in Maryland for a few months before my time to go to Air Force basic training. My mother had made my favorite dinner the night before: collard greens, fried chicken and her homemade apple turnovers. The next day, she was angry and sad at the same time. I kissed her goodbye and shook hands with my dad before my sister drove me away from the home I had known for five years. My sister asked me what was wrong with our mother. I told her that I did not know. And it did not hit me until I was done with basic training and flying into Denver for tech school that my mother was reacting to one of her birds leaving the nest for good.
Yes. I was on my way to my first plane trip. I was on my way to adventure. I was on my way to manhood. And the world was waiting for me. Big, wide open, scary, exciting and hopeful. I did not shed a tear when I left Bladenboro, North Carolina. I'm not saying that to be vicious towards the place, but I was ready for an adventure; I was ready for experience.
I try to think back to my mother's generation and how the United States (and maybe the world) was still developing, or, rather, how time continued to move and process. I think of stories I'd hear of people falling into extraordinary jobs and situations. I think of how, yes, some people had to work a bit harder than others to stay in the game and how much more sweat they had to give in order to get ahead. I've always thought that the next generation being a bit smarter than the one before it. Maybe because of discovery or maybe because of technology. Maybe a bit of both.
My parents generation grew up on hard work and a smart mind with a society that told them there was only so much they could do; only so far they could go. This was reflected in the perspective of one of my aunts who held that notion in some of her attitudes. The way she would react when - this is true - a news story depicted some violence at a beach celebration and the group of guys that caused the violence was a group of young African American youths. "You know you can't have a good time anywhere when a bunch of niggers show up," was what she had spat at the television set. On the other hand, my mother was a simple woman who loved the South and planting and growing things. She knew how to make homemade jellies and grow and freeze vegatables and could skin and clean a pig from nose to tail. I don't think my mother had any aspirations except to live comfortable in a house with her family on a farm. I don't think she felt herself limited, I just think she cherished her roots.
My generation grew up with television and portable radios and pornography. We grew up with civil unrest, the fight for equal rights and the lessons of hard work in a world that was becoming more and more competitive. We felt the world was at our fingertips. Some of us were told we could have whatever we wanted. Some of us were warned to beware of the asshole. Some even tried to limit us as best they could. There was a freedom with sex, a world of drugs to explore and a promise that in our youth we would see and experience what could only have been imagined by our parents and grandparents.
I dove into the world - this perception - of total exploration and duplicity. There were times when I was told I was stupid. There were times when I was told that I was intelligent. There were times when I was told I was beautiful, ugly, fabulous, hateful, fun or boring. I worked in tobacco fields and blueberry patches, I worked as a mail sorter, a cook, a soldier, a metal cleaner, a cashier, a receptionist, a loan processor, a producer, a writer, a file clerk, a secretary, an assistant, a bouncer, a barback, a waiter, a host, a personal assistant, a theatre usher and manager, a bartender and, now, a project manager. I have worn many hats. I used to have a [sort-of] dream where I would be visiting my family. I would have graduated and ready to start my own architectual design firm. I'd be jogging through the morning drizzle with my German shepherd Apollo running beside me. Apollo and I would be returning to Los Angeles after a big family dinner that evening. (that's more or less where the dream ended: me returning to l.a.)
The generation after me has been born and grown up after man walked on the moon and where computers were a part of their high school curriculum. A new way of moving across the world and communicating with one another has taken on a perspective that can only explain the world as coming together yet being so far apart. Sex is now not only something that is automatically achieved, but we share it and our bodies as freely as the 70s porn star's attitude. Competition is more standard than it has ever been, and it's pretty much expected when there is a job that we feel we are perfect for. It's kill or be killed. We are living in a time when people find that a relationship is much too hard to maintain and a sexual companionship fits perfectly into an otherwise broad and busy life of other interests.
I remember for each job or college interview I've ever had, I have been asked where do I see myself in 5 years. I've always hated that part of the interview - well, with the exception of one time. Anyway, I never could see that far into the future. With the exception of two times, I guess I never really had a plan. There was the one time I decided to go to school to become an architect. I knew the amount of time and energy and years I would have to put into my studies, and I was pretty much passionate about it. Until I fell in love. There was the time that I wanted to work through a production company and build my own company to produce films and shows for not only the gay community but the black gay community. Yet, I tripped and fell into the legal profession and have put so much of my life into it that it seemed that it trapped me.
The other day, I celebrated my 50th birthday and by no means do I feel old or constricted. Well, not anymore. I got a wonderful job offer from a great guy whom I have a great rapport. In the months before this, I was in a depression. I don't want to go into details about why or how. I no longer care. Before then, I was scraping up jobs where ever I could get them in order to eat and make rent. I would go out drinking but could only go where I no longer felt comfortable. In a desperate act to try to save myself I asked someone I used to work with for a reference. He slightly panicked before he took charge, at great consequence I'm sure. And, because of him, I have been given a great opportunity. And it seems overnight, that my mind and my ambition and my focus are coming together. When I went to bed last night, my first dream was violent. I was attacked and, like a cornered tiger, I mauled my attacker with a sharp butcher knife. I was vicious, merciless and determined. I woke up out of the dream scared of a violent nature deep within me. When I slowly went back to sleep, my dreams had more of a positive energy. When I awoke this morning, I thought of reading more on project management, of watching videos on cinematography before taking another class, I thought of repairing my MacBook and purchasing new camcorders. I thought of my reason for returning to Seattle: to write and spend time with my friends. And after all of those thoughts and plans, I thought of a house with me in it somewhere up north from Seattle with my dog and a smile on my face.
I have focus. I have a vision of where I could be in 5 years.
We all know that life does not turn out the way we want or expect. Sometimes we are strong and sometimes we are weak. Sometimes we can see and sometimes we choose not to. I was a heartbeat away from calling my family and asking for a rescue. And one man took it upon himself to show me that there are good people in the world and it's okay if someone doesn't believe in you, because somewhere out in this big and crazy and cold world: someone does. And that can make a big difference.
So, what was the meaning to writing all of this? Life. You are here and there. There are unexpected turns. There are rules forced on you. There are times when you want to give up or cry and times when you want to scream "I'm king of the world!"
Life moves on.
Yes. I was on my way to my first plane trip. I was on my way to adventure. I was on my way to manhood. And the world was waiting for me. Big, wide open, scary, exciting and hopeful. I did not shed a tear when I left Bladenboro, North Carolina. I'm not saying that to be vicious towards the place, but I was ready for an adventure; I was ready for experience.
I try to think back to my mother's generation and how the United States (and maybe the world) was still developing, or, rather, how time continued to move and process. I think of stories I'd hear of people falling into extraordinary jobs and situations. I think of how, yes, some people had to work a bit harder than others to stay in the game and how much more sweat they had to give in order to get ahead. I've always thought that the next generation being a bit smarter than the one before it. Maybe because of discovery or maybe because of technology. Maybe a bit of both.
My parents generation grew up on hard work and a smart mind with a society that told them there was only so much they could do; only so far they could go. This was reflected in the perspective of one of my aunts who held that notion in some of her attitudes. The way she would react when - this is true - a news story depicted some violence at a beach celebration and the group of guys that caused the violence was a group of young African American youths. "You know you can't have a good time anywhere when a bunch of niggers show up," was what she had spat at the television set. On the other hand, my mother was a simple woman who loved the South and planting and growing things. She knew how to make homemade jellies and grow and freeze vegatables and could skin and clean a pig from nose to tail. I don't think my mother had any aspirations except to live comfortable in a house with her family on a farm. I don't think she felt herself limited, I just think she cherished her roots.
My generation grew up with television and portable radios and pornography. We grew up with civil unrest, the fight for equal rights and the lessons of hard work in a world that was becoming more and more competitive. We felt the world was at our fingertips. Some of us were told we could have whatever we wanted. Some of us were warned to beware of the asshole. Some even tried to limit us as best they could. There was a freedom with sex, a world of drugs to explore and a promise that in our youth we would see and experience what could only have been imagined by our parents and grandparents.
I dove into the world - this perception - of total exploration and duplicity. There were times when I was told I was stupid. There were times when I was told that I was intelligent. There were times when I was told I was beautiful, ugly, fabulous, hateful, fun or boring. I worked in tobacco fields and blueberry patches, I worked as a mail sorter, a cook, a soldier, a metal cleaner, a cashier, a receptionist, a loan processor, a producer, a writer, a file clerk, a secretary, an assistant, a bouncer, a barback, a waiter, a host, a personal assistant, a theatre usher and manager, a bartender and, now, a project manager. I have worn many hats. I used to have a [sort-of] dream where I would be visiting my family. I would have graduated and ready to start my own architectual design firm. I'd be jogging through the morning drizzle with my German shepherd Apollo running beside me. Apollo and I would be returning to Los Angeles after a big family dinner that evening. (that's more or less where the dream ended: me returning to l.a.)
The generation after me has been born and grown up after man walked on the moon and where computers were a part of their high school curriculum. A new way of moving across the world and communicating with one another has taken on a perspective that can only explain the world as coming together yet being so far apart. Sex is now not only something that is automatically achieved, but we share it and our bodies as freely as the 70s porn star's attitude. Competition is more standard than it has ever been, and it's pretty much expected when there is a job that we feel we are perfect for. It's kill or be killed. We are living in a time when people find that a relationship is much too hard to maintain and a sexual companionship fits perfectly into an otherwise broad and busy life of other interests.
I remember for each job or college interview I've ever had, I have been asked where do I see myself in 5 years. I've always hated that part of the interview - well, with the exception of one time. Anyway, I never could see that far into the future. With the exception of two times, I guess I never really had a plan. There was the one time I decided to go to school to become an architect. I knew the amount of time and energy and years I would have to put into my studies, and I was pretty much passionate about it. Until I fell in love. There was the time that I wanted to work through a production company and build my own company to produce films and shows for not only the gay community but the black gay community. Yet, I tripped and fell into the legal profession and have put so much of my life into it that it seemed that it trapped me.
The other day, I celebrated my 50th birthday and by no means do I feel old or constricted. Well, not anymore. I got a wonderful job offer from a great guy whom I have a great rapport. In the months before this, I was in a depression. I don't want to go into details about why or how. I no longer care. Before then, I was scraping up jobs where ever I could get them in order to eat and make rent. I would go out drinking but could only go where I no longer felt comfortable. In a desperate act to try to save myself I asked someone I used to work with for a reference. He slightly panicked before he took charge, at great consequence I'm sure. And, because of him, I have been given a great opportunity. And it seems overnight, that my mind and my ambition and my focus are coming together. When I went to bed last night, my first dream was violent. I was attacked and, like a cornered tiger, I mauled my attacker with a sharp butcher knife. I was vicious, merciless and determined. I woke up out of the dream scared of a violent nature deep within me. When I slowly went back to sleep, my dreams had more of a positive energy. When I awoke this morning, I thought of reading more on project management, of watching videos on cinematography before taking another class, I thought of repairing my MacBook and purchasing new camcorders. I thought of my reason for returning to Seattle: to write and spend time with my friends. And after all of those thoughts and plans, I thought of a house with me in it somewhere up north from Seattle with my dog and a smile on my face.
I have focus. I have a vision of where I could be in 5 years.
We all know that life does not turn out the way we want or expect. Sometimes we are strong and sometimes we are weak. Sometimes we can see and sometimes we choose not to. I was a heartbeat away from calling my family and asking for a rescue. And one man took it upon himself to show me that there are good people in the world and it's okay if someone doesn't believe in you, because somewhere out in this big and crazy and cold world: someone does. And that can make a big difference.
So, what was the meaning to writing all of this? Life. You are here and there. There are unexpected turns. There are rules forced on you. There are times when you want to give up or cry and times when you want to scream "I'm king of the world!"
Life moves on.
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