AGE

Age is nothing more than a state of mind. Is that really true? Looking back on time, this past week, I suddenly needed to find out if age was really just a state of mind. On Tuesday, August 15, I turned 26 years old, enter into a new age bracket.

Friday, August 18, I pretended to be 21 years old again. I shook off everything that had happened during the week and decided to just enjoy myself, no matter what. (I know the next section may upset some of you, but I have to tell my story, be honest, upfront and truthful to everyone). The night started with a dinner with my closest friends. I had arranged a dinner with the guys in my life that I consider to be my closest friends, the people I go to in my time of need. So Lyndon and his boyfriend, Mike, Greg and Tony joined ‘A’ and I for dinner at Applebee’s. Dinner actually started earlier than scheduled, so Tony, who showed up 2 minutes late, had to run in the restaurant to catch the waitress so he could order his food. During dinner I tried to engage everyone in conversation, but Mike was mad at me and Tony really didn’t know anyone, so it was a little difficult, but it was cool. Before we ate I expressed my appreciation for them. This group of men have been there through some tough times, put up with my mood swings, dealt with my vices and gave me space when I needed it. We tried to remain serious while I thanked them, but since this is rare for me, we had jokes (lol). After dinner the party started.

It was almost 1 o’clock in the morning and we were sitting in front of the Armory, a hole in the wall bar in Newark, about to relive my early twenties. While waiting for Greg, Mike and Tony to get to the bar, Lyndon’s boyfriend and I decided to get our drink on. I mixed a vitamin water and everclear together and we got ready to party. It took us all of 2 minutes to finish the drink and it was time to party. We walked through the door and immediately I saw a handful of people I knew plus a group of friends I had asked to meet me there. I remember dancing (I can’t dance I will admit) but mostly I remember taking care of 6 shots and 1 double shot of my boy Jose. In less than two hours I had 8 drinks, something I hadn’t done since I was 23. I had a blast and wasn’t completely drunk (that’s my story and I’m sticking to it), I felt like I had felt when I was 23.

Saturday morning I realized I was not 23 anymore. I woke up still feeling drunk (don’t understand it because I wasn’t drunk the night before. Once again, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it), head hurting and sick to my stomach. My body did not snap back like it did during my heavy club and drinking days. I used to drink 4 drinks before I got to the club and another 4 or 5 drinks at the club and be able to repeat the next day with no problem. Now my body was telling me when to stop. I tried to lay down and enjoy a movie with ‘A’ but my lungs wouldn’t let that happen. Now after a night of drinking, my lungs feel like they are filled with fluids and laying down is not an option. Friday I was in the mindset of an early twenty year old college student, but Saturday was my wake up call. I can no longer do the things I did when I was younger.

But with age comes maturity and new talents. After leaving Fuzzy’s underwear party earlier than maybe he liked we went back to our hotel room. To be honest my body was still a little weak and I really didn’t want to stay long at the party, but ‘A’ wasn’t in a rush to leave so we stayed a half hour longer than I had planned. ‘A’ and I had planned on spending some quality time alone, but once we got into the room we both collapsed. We were beat. The early twenties Jay would have fallen asleep, but the mid twenties Jay had just enough in the tank to enjoy himself. I was in the mood to eat and that’s what I did. I will not go into details but we definitely went to sleep after everything was said and done.

So age is not a state of mind but a stated fact. One thing we all are blessed with is the ability to adapt. Our bodies can adapt so we can continue to pretend to be in our early twenties. Yes, I’m 26 years old, I’m going to try to continue to mature, but my youth is not lost. I can still do the things I did when I was young, just differently now.

words kill

“Don’t you know I’m dying? Do you even care?” His words were cold and hurtful but filled with a lot of truth. For the first time I think he admitted to himself that his disease would kill him, that he would not be getting better, but he did it to try to hurt me. Unmoved by his cold words and unwilling to be upstaged in this battle of hate and wit, I fired back with cold and hurtful words that would make the devil himself bow before me. With confidence and hate I fired back.

“Yea I know. You have been dying for five years now.” I saw the hurt and shock in his eyes as they began to beam with hatred. His illness had zapped him of his strength and he was unable to hold back his emotions and express his anger at the same time. I turned feeling victorious, but not yet finished. I mumbled, loud enough for him to hear, “stop talking about it and do it, because I’m tired of the empty promises.” I realize that was a bit too much, a little uncalled for, but I needed him to feel all the pain I felt growing up. Wanted him to feel what it felt like to have someone that is supposed to be supportive tare you down. I didn’t regret my words as I walked out. I could hear his tears rolling down his cheek louder than I heard his shout for me to leave HIS house. It was odd, even though my back was turned to him, I knew he was crying. And from these tears I felt satisfied. I had finally made him feel like I had so many nights growing up.

No bad deed goes unpunished. I got confirmation of my victory sooner than I thought. Apparently my mother had called the house shortly after I left and my father was still upset by our exchange. She called me disappointed by my words and told me there was no excuse for what I had said. Normally, any other day, this speech would have made me feel terrible, made me want to turn back the hands of time and take back whatever it was I had done. Not this time. Remoras did not live here. I had won and no one was going to make me feel bad about it. The beast had met his match, bit off more than he could chew. I didn’t respond to my mother, so she hung up. I went to work as if nothing had happened.

A week went by and we didn’t say anything to one another. I was not going to apologize and admit I had done something wrong. The day is clear to me as if it was yesterday when we finally spoke. It was March 20, 2006, my mother’s birthday. This day was her day and it was like we both agreed to put aside our differences for her. “Doesn’t your mother look beautiful?” He asked me but it felt more like he was proclaiming it to everyone that could hear his frail voice. My mother had just returned from shopping and getting her hair done, my father’s gift to her. She only wanted to see him happy for her birthday and he wanted to see her do the things she had been missing since he got sick. “She does,” I stated as I continued passed their room. My father, mother, brother and I left together to drop my father off to dialysis. I didn’t say much on the long drive (15 minute drive, but when you are in a car with someone you really don’t want to speak to it feels like an eternity) to the dialysis center, just enjoyed the ride and chatted with friends online with my sidekick. Once we got to the dialysis center something odd happened.

I tried to help my father out of the car, but of course I didn’t do it right, so I got to hear the familiar tone in his voice. “God dammitt are you trying to hurt me on purpose,” he yelled. I smiled, not because I was trying to hurt him, but because I wasn’t going to let him get to me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” I was stunned. He apologized for an outburst right after he lashed out. What happened next shocked everyone including myself.

“I know, it’s ok,” the words flew out of my mouth without any thought on my part. I couldn’t believe I just let him get away with that. This was the first time since I was 19 years old I had expected that he couldn’t help what came out of his mouth. Once he got inside and seated at his station we discussed what was going on the news. This was the last conversation I had with my father. He died that night while at dialysis’.

I guess the old man got the last laugh and followed through. Maybe I should have felt bad about our conversation the week prior, but I didn’t. I felt no guilt at what I had said, the harsh unforgiven words that were uttered from my mouth did not cause me pain when my father had passed away.

I can’t tell you why I wrote this and what led me to post this, but it felt good getting it out and almost bought me to tears. My father is gone, reminders of him are all around me and I remember him just as he was when he was alive. Unlike others who hold onto just the goods, I held on to all the memories of my father.

I haven't posted the way I would have liked, but thats primarily because things have gone so well. 'A' and I are doing well, we have had a couple of good weekends now. He is a great guy and we click. I'm not saying either of us are without our flaws or we haven't had disagreements recently, but who hasn't? The important thing is we are able to communicate and are learning to trust each other more. but with everything good we get the opposite. Some of my friends think I have been ignoring them for 'A,' not giving them the same time i used to. partly this is true. but at the same time, why should i be expected to organize everything or wait around for an invite? with the exception of friday, i normally don't make plans for my weekend, just wait around for the first offer that comes around. is it my fault that when 'A' calls me at 6pm wanting to go out i accept because no one else has made plans?

TIME TO VENT
ok friday we planned to go out bowling. the plan was to meet at the bowling lanes on rt. 10 at 10pm. 1st, 'A' gets to my house late. then i get a call around 10 after 10 informing me that the other group of people were just leaving out (ok, am i the only person that learned you are supposed to call ahead when you were going to be late and this didn't mean call when you are already late. really, we have cell phones.) so we sit and wait for everyone else to get there. greg, knowing how i feel about being on time, was at the bowling alley at 10. apparently, the other group got lost and couldn't find their way. ok now i'm pissed, its almost 11 now. i had two issues...1. if u didn't know how to get somewhere and you have internet access at home, why leave without searching for directions? 2. most phones have internet access, why not check directions on your phone once you get lost. 3. (guess i really have 3) common sense, if lost and near a gas station, pull the fuck over. 9 times out of 10 they can direct you. so we finally meet up with everyone at another bowling alley, but by this point i was done. i had the mother of all attitudes. i get in my moods from time to time when things don't go my way. but this time i was really pissed, i have an issue with people being late and everyone knows this, yet every time we go out everyone is late. when i get an attitude its like i'm wrong, like i have no reason to be upset. like its ok for everyone to be late, despite them knowing how i feel and i always have to be ok with it. so i was not my normal self, i wanted to stay in my own world. and pretty much thats what i did. i did get over it but the whole thing continues to sit badly with me. does time only matter to me? i don't know, i know everyone from that night will blame getting lost, but they were late when they left the house. i was once told i have to learn to deal with the fact that most people aren't ontime (which really meant, black people were rarely ontime) but why should i? i hate being late and i hate when people are late, but i guess i'm the only one.

the weekend still turned out pretty good, spent most of saturday laying around with 'A', simple but it worked. now i'm home washing clothes and just relaxing, just another sunday. i plan on writing a better post one day but for right now i wrote what was on my mind, just as it came to me. i didn't care how it sounded or if it would move anyone to a thoughtful comment, just expressing whats on my mind.