good afternoon. its rough today. head cold like a motherfucker. stuffy, nose runny, sluggish. took some alka-seltzer cold last night, about to take some more. make some tea, instead of coffee. try to loosen this up. i have to do something physical today, but i'm not sure what just yet.
stress with Syd this morning. i know old habits die hard. i need to be more attentive to her because she's not really able to find consistency by herself. very few of us are,and i have to remember that as i'm struggling for consistency at 47 years old. still, no blaming me for you fucking around until its time to go. going to work on finding the medium and being more attentive. goal for the week.
breakfast, two boiled eggs and toast, no jam. milk. i didn't hit the gym, aforementioned cold. its taken me forever to start this today because i really feel like shit. but i got a book to finish, which i did write in, and i've got some other projects demanding my attention.
starting with, mailed re-assessment papers to HEAP today. had to go to the post office to do it. i find that dead or dying post offices are the saddest indicators of the condition of a city. because, houses crumble in the most progressive towns, and streets always need some kind of repair no matter where you go. but when you see a post office that is doing nothing, that has no vehicles in the parking lot or their vehicle area, you know that things have gone downhill all around you. it was sad, but i got it done. i visited my mom, made her a breakfast sandwich. talked with her for a bit. i am working on better a day at a time.
i am going to break shortly, because i have to eat some lunch and i have to have a nap if i'm going to be any good for the rest of the day. but i know i have to log some stuff in the systems check. if i don't stay consistent with this it will get away from me. and i can't teach consistency by being inconsistent, can i?
so, did the parents, and the oldest brother. the rest of my sibs, i don't think they contributed to the food fiending that i tend towards. the grandparents, they also were not diet oriented, were not harping on my weight or the need to lose said weight. they in fact mostly took it as me being stronger than i was, and with the intelligence i displayed they often treated me much older than i really was. i was witty, and i was conversant, and i loved using the new words that i used. it was something of an anomaly, i'm certain. so i ate because i wanted to fit in. it doesn't happen much anymore, i'm sure, because society has deliberately erased the lines between being grown and being a child in order to make grown people more susceptible to childish purchases. like grown ass men sitting around video games. or, so as not to shine a light that doesn't illuminate self as well, grown ass men watching cartoons or staying on the internet all day. BAM. we are not maturity oriented in this society. but back in my childhood, you had the kid's table. it was a smaller table. it was shorter, and it was tiny and it had little chairs. sometimes it was just a series of folding tables that you set off in another room for the massive amount of nieces and nephews at a holiday gathering. but under any circumstances, it was the little table. and the big table is where all the grown-ups sat. all the BIG people sat at the BIG table and all the little people sat at the little table. i'm sure you can imagine that i strove for the big table. i wanted it so bad. it was like being big enough for a big mac, having two hands large enough to hold a whopper. it was like, in my child's mind, being equal to. i remember an episode of Sesame Street where Big Bird strove to be treated like an adult and he put on a mustache and a hat to speak to the grown ups. that was what it was like for me. and when i made it, i had increased in mass, in intelligence and in shame as well. so it was a bittersweet victory. so my grandparents...just mostly misleading. nothing malicious, nothing purposefully hurtful. just not aware of my reasoning and therefore feeding into my -isms unknowingly.
uncles, different story.
uncles were brutal. not abusive, just brutal. you had to be strong, you had to learn to hold your own. some of what they put me (and my brothers, i know Jerry went through it at least) was because the world was against us as black people, and they wanted us to be able to defend ourselves. i was, though, a very timid child. i wasn't into violence, but we'd often be forced to wrestle and fight against my uncles and their friends, to make us tough. it left us banged up a lot, and bruised and once left me with a twisted knee that i couldn't walk on for a period and had to be helped into the house. but it wasn't abusive in the truer meaning of INTENT, rather than just event. they weren't really all that bad on weight either. no one ever called me fat anything except my school peers. but my uncles would push us all, that was their thing. we played street football at an organized football level because my uncles were relentless. but...they let me play receiver. organized team didn't.
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