Generations

I come from a line of fatherless women. My mothers father left my grandmother and her three children when the youngest, my mother, was ony two. My mom has often wondered if she was a last ditch attempt to keep a failing marriage together - especially considering the fact that her older siblings were only 2 years apart, but 9 years older than her.
My grandmothers father left my great-grandmother when my grandmother was 7. He lived in the same city for the rest of his life, and they never got an official divorce. The only thing I remember of him was that he was black as coal with bright eyes and a constant smell of pipe tobacco. We lived in his house for a few years after he died.
My father & mother were never married, and she kicked him out when I was under a year old. He didn't have a good grasp on fidelity or responsibility, and my mom thought it best to cut her losses (and heartache) sooner rather than later. I vaguely remember meeting a few aunts and cousins - but I couldn't have been any older than three, and I'm not sure if the memories I have are true ones or if they are hopes that somehow turned into memories.

My mothers best friend from college (A.) is married to my father best friend (D.), thus he kept track of what I was doing - but he never contacted me. The first time he contacted me, it was the first semester of college, within the first few days I was on campus. He sent me a brand new computer with printer and all the software - a letter inside told me that it was a gift from my father provided with D.'s help. I've always been a rather cynically pragmatic type, and I remember telling my mother that if he wanted to buy his way into my good graces, he was making a fabulous start.

I heard nothing else from him for 2 years. I finally broke the silence next and sent him a letter. He replied, and in our following conversations we made arrangements to meet the next time he was in Atlanta. It was the saddest, strangest encoutner I could have ever imagined. He looks like me, a little - or more accurtely I look like him. He's very tall - close to 6'7 I believe, and totally dwarfed me. We talked about innane things - what I was doing in school, his job, my half sister, the small talk that all strangers make. We never got into the real stuff...I never really wanted to hear that he didn't care enough to even pretend to care.

Since then, I've gotten one birthday card (on my 21st), two emails (both of which I've iniated) and nothing else. I invited him to my graduation, and never recieved a response. We made plans - actually I made plans to meet up here at some point - he never showed. That was the straw that broke the already weak camel's back. I gave up at that point. I ranted and raved to Corey that I was tired of being the adult - I was tired of trying to get him to do what he should have done years ago and make him a prt of my life. So I stopped. That meeting was supposed to happen in April of 2000, I believe. I haven't heard a single thing from him since. I actually think more about what Imani - my now 17 y/o half sister is doing than I think of him.

I'm about to start a new generation (no, I'm not pregnant), and I fear having my children grow up without a father. It's not that I think it's a bad thing - it's a fact of life for many children - but I think it's a much, much, much better thing for a father to be there. It's rather like formula - if you HAVE to use it, well - it's okay - but breastmilk is always better. I know that Corey would never willingly abandon our children - but my subconsious often shows me life as a single mother.

I'm disconected from my own blood in a way that can never be repaired. I don't know the names of anyone on my fathers side, only know a few people on my grandfathers side (and that's only because they still live in the same city as my grandmother does) and I know absolutely no one on my great-grandfathers side of the family. I often wonder if they think of the offshoots that have been cut away, and wish that history could me changed to bring this family back together. I could do a geneological search and piece my family together - but it simply would not be the same as growing up with a horde of cousins and aunt's and uncles and - family. All I would have is a sheet of paper with the names of all those who share my blood that I'll never know.

Corey's family isn't coming to the wedding. They've never flown, and have no plans to start flying now. He doesn't really get along with most of his family anyhow - mostly because of their comfort and satisfaction with having narrow minds and living in even narrower locales. We know that we are moving away from here, and in both our hearts we know that we are breaking away from his family - and lately that has weighed very heavily on me. I want my children to be a part of a FAMILY - and while I will settle for one that is made of hearts rather than of blood - I truly wish (for our sake and theirs) that it could be different.

Blood

I'm an only child - but I still felt the ned to write an entry about my siblings.
I am the only child of my mother. My father (who I've seen three times in my life that I can remember - two of those because I initiated it) has (last I heard) one daughter who is about ten years younger than me. Thankfully, my mother and my stepfather never had children - which I'm sure saved us from a life of misery tied to that man.
But - I have brothers, and I have a sister. My best female friend from the previous entry - she is my sister. And I have two males friends who without a doubt I would classify as my brothers. So - how have they changed my life?

I've been spoiled by them. I see what real strong friendship and love is all about in my relationship with them - and because of them I have much higher standards about who I associate with. They taught me how to interact with people my own age, and they helped me learn that mature doesn't always mean dull. They are my rocks of stability - and while I don't expect them to drop everything and come running to my rescue (though they would if I lived closer) I know that no matter what we may disagree on, on what me may clash about, and no matter how far away we live from each other they will always be my friends.

I'm often jealous of those with siblings - whether they are close to them or whether they can't stand each other. I'm jealous of families as a whole - because a large family is something that I crave. I'm learning to settle for having a community around me that feels like family.

It's amazing how conscious caring and respect can almost always trump mere blood.

Those XY People

Ummm… I enjoy re-reading my diary. I went back about a year to re-read what was going through my head when I came up here the first time, and didn’t really find much except for my joy about my lovely new apartment…the same one that I am madly trying to escape from now. :) ah well…I was also talking about the relationship between me & chris…during that amazingly sweet honeymoon period of time. ah. well.
*shrugs* Then I read my entry for Father’s Day last year… *sighs* and I can’t even imagine pretending to try to write one this year. *shrugs* I’m…dismissive of my step-father, and I have given up all hope as far as my biological father is concerned… but re-reading that actually gave me some insights into who I am, and some of the issues and assumptions that I tend to have about my relationships.


What was the most important thing I learned from my father(s)? I learned that I have to be ready & able & willing to stand on my own two feet at all times, because trusting someone else to be able to stand on theirs can be a losing proposition. I learned that actions speak so much louder than words, and that words don’t mean shit. I learned that if I want to be somebody, and do something, I have to do it on my own, and be ready to pull others along. I learned that promises & disappointments go together, and that one lie found out may mean five more still in hiding. I learned a lot from my father(s). Most of it I wished I hadn’t learned. I wished I had learned how to be a daddy’s girl, how to know that there was always a man in my life who was strong & stable as a rock. I wished that I had learned what a daddy was, rather than what a father is.


I translate this same…ideals I guess to most (if not all) of the men in my life. Actually, I view most men that I am in a relationship with like this… *Shrugs* It’s what I have learned, and I have yet to run into a man who has proven me just totally wrong. *shrugs* I’m not even going to go through how every relationship that I have been in has failed me in some way. And I’m not saying that that failure was all that person’s fault. In fact, in a few cases, I know quite well that it was OUR fault…but at the same time… if I did not have those…learned responses to some stimuli, *laughs* I would be better able to get PAST my past and deal with men strictly on their own terms.

How do you break out of a learned and repeatedly re-enforced cycle of behavior and expectations? I was trying to explain to Cheffy one day how I feel that I had started off wrong in our relationship…how I had started off as a doormat and how I was trying to roll the mat back up. His response was that I was becoming cold and unfeeling and focusing solely on me and my needs. And it was true…because I can’t see the point of equilibrium, where you are taking care of yourself totally, and still have energy left for someone else. And in order for that kind of equilibrium to be established (esp. between two adults) I have the expectation that if I am going to be focusing on me and my needs AND you and your needs… then YOU need to be focusing on your needs and my needs as well…rather than just thinking about you and what you want and what you can do. *Shrugs* I’m slowly trying to work my way to a point where I can put my finger on it and say ‘Yes! This is what went wrong, this is what needs to change to make things right’. *rolls eyes* And then I really don’t feel like I should have to be dealing with these kind of issues when I am NOT married… but then somehow he makes me feels guilty about being all for me. *shrugs* I HAVE to focus on and me sure that Jazzy is making sure her shit is straight, cuz Cheffy is not making sure my shit is straight. And if making sure that my shit is straight means not being as…compliant and available to him as I have been… *shrugs* that’s life. Is that a cold and cruel way to look at it, or am I just finally being realistic?

Well. That was a nice little purging. I wish that I could look at our relationship ‘on paper’. Just look at what it REALLY is with my own mind… and blank of any past residue or expectations…and compare that to what I want. Write down what happens that makes me mad or that makes me happy… and try to figure out what the problem is.

Stay Jazzed.

With Arms Wide Open - Porn, Money and Men

Well… it’s been an interesting day in the world of OD. I have been drifting through my favorites (which have most likely swelled to close to 80 now) and BOYYY are there some… true and uniquely *clears throat* shall we say interesting people out there. I found a couple of entries on racism, a lovely diatribe about Republicans, and a collection of diaries who seem to get some kind of perverse 5th grade pleasure out of bitching about another diarist.

*shakes head* Humans are demented sometimes…but hm. I have been reading Dune again, and one of the things that the Bene Gesserit tested for was whether or not people were humans or if they were just people. Humans had an awareness of themselves and others, levels of understanding of themselves and respect for themselves and the world around them. At the same time…they were able to live and let live. So I want to change that and say that people are demented sometimes. Humans are what we should all strive to be. Okay… now that I have delicately skirted the edge of eugenics… let’s move in my life shall we?

Talked to ThatGuy again last night. It was an interesting conversation. I felt like I was talking to some guy I gave my number to and we were trying to feel each other out. It really wasn’t to bad.. but as I am totally keeping my emotions about on the surface, I refuse to dwell on it for too long. We are supposed to hook up on March 14, between me being in ATL and him being in New Orleans…but it seems like it will be interesting.
*sighs* I made bread yesterday… it’s came out okay, but no where NEAR how good I remember bread being. Maybe I am rushing it and not letting it rise enough… I don’t know. It just smells so dang wonderful. *shrugs* and James Beard, as wonderful as his cookbooks can be, simply SUCKS when it comes to giving you the whys and what-for’s of stuff.
Cheffy went to his apartment last night and it was sooo odd not having him there. *shrugs* I guess I will get used to it eventually.
I watched some movie that was subtitled, and was all about three families. Jewish, Muslim and Sicilian that lived in La Goulette…which I think was in South Italy. I THINK…. It was really good and funny though. Because of that I didn’t get half way near enough sleep… but I’m okay for today.
Also last night I watched some really really soft porn called ‘Black Hot Bodies’ which was mainly a bunch of artificially augmented black women dancing badly to god knows what music and dubbed over by bad 70’s porn music. Why oh why does porn always come with the cheeeseist of soundtracks? Why couldn’t it be the REAL music that strippers dance to and folx smurf to? I KNOW that yucky stuff is not what they are listening to while they do it…so why do we have to listen to them while we watch them do it? *shrugs*
Anyhow… I made an interesting discovery while watching them… I reallllly don’t wanna be THAT skinny. I mean god… these sistas had NO flesh on their bones. I like my hips and my ass and my tig ole bitties…in fact there are only a couple of spots on my body that I wish were smaller. Hm….tummy tuck maybe? I think that is one of the reasons why I have such a hard time sticking to a diet… I actually like MOST of my body…I wanna keep my curves and the swoops and the soft spots that make me feel feminine. Another thing I noticed was that most of the time, fake tits are the MOST unnatural looking things in the world. I’m not sure if they just went to bad surgeons.. or if that is how they actually WANTED to look.. but yyeeechhh… and I am not even going to START talking about the fake ass weaves… *rolls eyes* I know there is a certain ‘standard’ that folx in the sex industry have to live up to… but UGH…. don’t men really want to see REAL women and not pinched, plastic and just ugghhy imitations of women? Another thing I wondered (though a while ago) was that how can I woman get into a porno (men never seem to have this problem) and get paid for having sex… and NOT look like they are enjoying it? I mean to me.. it seems like in order to get into porn in the first place, you REALLLLY have to enjoy sex. I mean to take a job that requires you to fuck varied numbers, sizes and types of men on a regular basis should mean that you at least DIG having sex…and even if it starts to be old hat you still remember how to fake it. But noo….I have seen some women in pornos who look like they are taking Queen Elizabeth’s advice – “ Just lay there and think of the country”. *sighs* Maybe I need to get… um I mean watch *laughs* (I refuse to buy porn unless it is Pay per View...never found anything worth spending money on) some of the porn that is directed and written by women. I know I have a different out look on sex than.. actually… sometimes I tend to have a different outlook on sex than most women that I know… so that theory might have just gone down the drain. There is this video store around the corner from me that rent’s porn….maybe I will go and try some out.
And on a totally unrelated topic (seriously) I got some druggggss from my doctor last night. For some reason I’m having a hard time swallowing pills.. *shrugs* my gag reflex seems to have returned. Then again that just might be because I am trying to take them dry.
I talked to girly with the furniture and I am going to get my stuff tonight tonight tonight. I don’t know how long it will be before I can actually get it, but at least they have it available. I’m not sure if I want to get the whole set (couch, loveseat, chair and ottoman) or if I will not get the loveseat. *smiles* I’m excited cuz I can easily afford to get the whole set if I wanted to.. I just don’t know if it will all fit into my house. : ) It has most certainly taken me long enough. I’m going home to pick up my floor chart, change my shoes, find my scarf and gloves, and maybe grab a book, and then I am off for the hour ride to the furniture store. *sighs* I still have way too much time left here. But at least it is THURSDAY…. Which means that tomorrow is my favoritest day of the week… : ) and we ALLLL know what day THAT is. : ) And on Saturday the people are coming to hopefully fix my TV. If they can’t fix it perfectly I am just gonna take it back. *sighs* and drop the other 150 that it would take for me to get a brand new TV of the same size. Hmmm…. I’ll have to think about it. I am off. Maybe I will go to emode.com and find some new personality test that I have not taken….

Stay Jazze

Father (?) of mine..

Well...isn't this just fascinating. Not sure how I feel about it. Hm.

Dear Jazzy, I want to thank you for your card and consideration. Life is such an incredible series of seemingly random events that I thank God for the opportunity to see what each new day brings. With that in mind, I read your card and smiled. I feel your uncertainty because I too have felt the deep bewilderment of our situation. My history with you is like a book with several chapters of blank pages but undeniably a book to be created, read, and experienced. Yes, I am your father and you are my child and I am very interested in learning about you as Jazzy the person .I want to start filling in those blank pages. I must confess that my distance and subsequent silence has been a mixture of fear, denial, and hope. Fear that I would hurt you or get hurt by my own longstanding ignorance of what I have missed in not knowing you. I have experienced what I would call a classic case of the denial- of my shortcomings, failures, and unrealized success- in dealing with how great a person you have become. My hope-the source of my smile while reading your card-was realized in the sense of knowing what your feeling and how I am so willing to reciprocate. I am so proud of you and the things I've heard from various sources over the years. I also want to thank you and your mother for the invitation to your graduation. I showed up on pure adrenaline with the purpose of seeing you walk across the stage. It didn't dawn on me that I needed a ticket to get in so I watched the proceedings from the overflow room on a monitor. I didn't stay for the entire ceremony because I wasn't prepared to see you, your family, and friends on one of the happiest days of your life and be a potential embarrassment to the entire affair. So I slipped back into the darkness of my silence and prayed for the next opportunity to come. So you're right the third time is a charm and I would love to see you. I am scheduled to come to Indianapolis March 14th-17th for a conference and would like to schedule time to meet with you. As far as the business card is concerned-nicely done! With your credentials they are lucky to have you. I look forward to hearing from you and I pray that we can create great future together.

Peace and Love,

That Guy

First Thought

I’m not quite sure that I have a right to request any attention from you. I suppose that after I hunted you down the first time, I had hoped that there would be something more between us than the silence that existed through the period between my 2nd birthday and my 21st. After three more years of silence, I am starting to wonder if I was wrong. I wonder if I make you uncomfortable, when I pop up like an old friend who doesn’t quite understand that your life can no longer include her, and your silence tells me nothing at all. So, I am speaking up again…for the last time. They say the third times a charm, but I can’t keep throwing myself at you. It leaves too much of a big mud-hole in my spirit when I bounce away. So, I’m leaving you with this. I am your child. What you are to me, I’m not quite sure. If you ever decide that you would like to know your child…or even that you DON’T want to know your child…feel free to let me know. My email address is XXXXXXXXX@hotmail.com. I am enclosing a business card…though I’m not sure why. Perhaps to say without words that I made it this far without you…and that I am someone that you could easily be proud of.

Jazzy.


*sighs* This is a first draft of what I am considering. I think I sound a little too bitter… but hell… I am. *sighs* I hate Monday.


Stay Jazzed.

Family Life

inhale exhale inhale exhale inhale exhale inhale exhale inhale exhale inhale exhale

Breathing is such a simple act. Air in, air out. Such a simple act that insures life…gives you the chance to do it again. *shrugs* I have been weirded out for the past few days…feeling like I’m working on borrowed time. I haven’t felt this…aware of death since that terrifying car accident I was in shortly after LittleOne’s senior prom. *shrugs* I don’t know why I’m so…eerie, but I just have a weird ass feeling. Either I will get over it, or I won’t. I am assuming it is stemming from the fact that I am just, as I told my momma, feeling ‘off-kilter’. I feel fragile…like a mote in God’s eye….

Anyhow…over the weekend I straightened up my file box, and as I was going through it, I found the letter from the sperm donor. *sighs* I need to think of a better name for him…maybe I’ll just call him Ray. Anyhow…this was the letter that he wrote back to me after I broke the ice the first time and sent a letter to him. It’s odd…because I had been thinking off him on and off for the past few weeks, feeling like I should get in touch with him.

You’d suppose after 24 years I would have gotten used to the silence, but I still can’t…can’t just walk away from the silence and accept it. I have accepted that as far as true family goes, I am a child of my mother, and my mother’s mother, and of my mother’s mother’s mother. Yeah…I can count three generations of women, and not a single generation of men. My father… gone. My mother father…gone…I don’t even know if he is still alive. I doubt that my mother knows. My mother’s mother’s father…gone. I have half of a family tree…half of a history.

I vaguely remember my great grandfather…a coal black man who always smelled of pipe smoke. I had to be about 4…no older. I’m not sure what happened to him…maybe he died. My great grand mother…I remember her well. My grandfather…I met once. When I was about 15…it was a birthday for one of our ‘cousins’, and along with him I met a lot of his family…strangers all. As for my father…I met him once as well. I have aunt’s and cousins and uncles and all the like…that I will never be family to. I have a 14 year old half sister, who could slap me in the face and I wouldn’t know who she was. It’s a…interesting state to be in. Well… what all that rambling boils down to is that I am going to write Ray again…well… just a card. I…I think I am still… no..

I am still a little….ouched by the fact that he didn’t…acknowledge my graduation announcement…but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and say he didn’t get it. I am…bitter about the fact that after many…words of sincerity and concern, I haven’t heard from him since…my 21st birthday. A little over three years ago. And I’m trying to figure out how to put it all into one card that I am hurt and angry and sad and bitter…and that I want something from him… but I have no clue what that would make a damn bit of difference at this point in my life…and how to say all this in a way that doesn’t sound childish and doesn’t sound ragingly mad and doesn’t sound like mushed mealymouth either. Hallmark doesn’t make cards for fathers who aren’t. And then I further wonder if I even have any right…any reason to be acknowledged. I am…a 24 year old memory that has been ignored for 24 years…hell I’ll give him 21 years of forgetfulness…is there a statue of limitations on blood? Is there a time after which you should just give up and say fuck it…I don’t HAVE a paternal side? Is there a time after which a child can no longer claim anything from a … sperm donor that she never knew anyway?

Am I being a fool for even trying…and a bigger fool for even caring? Should I just suck it up, and start to believe in parthenogenesis and accept that the only closest ancestor that I have is my mother… and will always be her? *sighs* I don’t know…I feel like I am too old to be this conflicted over this. I feel like I should be ‘old’ enough to let it go…to let him go…like he did me. *sighs* And how the hell do I even try to fit all these conflicting feelings and emotions into a itty bitty hallmark card?

Stay Jazzed.