Why is it that time passes so quickly? I remember when I was 5 and time seemed to last forever. An hour felt like a year, a minute like an hour and a year felt infinite. When did time start to speed up?
My life is not what I pictured it to be. According to my plans I would be at a 9 to 5 job working my life away not enjoying true life until I retired. But just to show you life threw me a bone. Instead of my life falling into place it did everything but... I followed a major that I thought would add prestige and money to my life. But instead it has offered me an ever present excuse for not getting a job. If I haven't made it clear before, I live with my mom and visit my dad. Both have fought over me and I have usually been the go-between. So perhaps it was guilt that let them not say anything or maybe they just didn't want to let go of me.
Thanks to my dad I've had an education of being a travel agent. So far I have planned family trips to Florida, Italy, Japan, and China. So I have gotten to know a good chunk of the world and it's addicting.
Thanks to my mom I have learned how to manage a household. It's hard and sometimes you want to escape which is why the world is so addicting. But thanks to both of them I have learned the true power of cash. Cold hard cash can bring happiness and satisfaction and I crave it... but I haven't gotten it.
It's scary to admit that two years have passed since I left college. And I have nothing to show for it. At first my excuse was that I needed time off since I've been in the educational system for over 19 years. I started school at 4 and didn't have a proper vacation since I entered college meaning every summer I took summer classes.
So for a year I was suppose to get my life together. I was suppose to get a real vacation then go back to the corporate world like I didn't taste freedom. But I was better at being home and people needed me and I got into the habit of being helpful. It was good and I felt like I had a purpose until I got injured and I was out of everyone's lives for three weeks. In those 3 weeks my life changed without my knowing and now it's like I have to either sink or swim.
Time has finally caught up with me and I know that it's a possessing demon but I have to learn to live with it or it will torment me forever. But in it's evil way it has made my days shorter. Things I want to accomplish I can't because time slips between my fingers like sand and I can't hold on so everything is pushed to the next day and the next until finally all I can do is watch it forward itself without me being able to do anything.
Why is it at this time that everyone feels they must push me in the right direction but then let go and say okay I gave you a shove now the rest is up to you. But the thing is I still next their invisible hand guiding me because I feel lost without it.
Case in point I want to go back to school but don't have the finances. My mother says she will support me but yet fails to give me the paper work so I can get financial aid. My father tells me to go after the job my brother is applying for without first considering whether I am capable of such labor.
In other words everyone is throwing me a bone and I can't catch all of them. This is the beginning of stress and the edge of reason. I have to get my priorities together but when I try, something gets in my way like saying I know you have to do something but I'm gonna try my best to stop you.
When will life give me a chance? Haven't I been troubled enough in life that I need to continually suffer? When will time slow down a bit so I can catch up with it and use it to my advantage... when?
Monday, June 25, 2007
Quickly falling sand
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Testing your American Accent
Since my parents immigrated here a thousand years ago. I've always wondered what kind of American accent I have. Unlike other people my accent has been influenced by my surroundings and TV in general. It's not like I snubbed my parents or anything but as far back as I can remember they have always encouraged me to speak proper English without an accent. Well here's the proof of it all... their hard work finally paid off:
| What American accent do you have? (Best version so far) Northern You have a Northern accent. That could either be the Chicago/Detroit/Cleveland/Buffalo accent (easily recognizable) or the Western New England accent that news networks go for.
|
| Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests. |
Okay, now you have to understand this really is an accomplishment because I have been exposed to a lot of the wrong kinds of accents so it's a miracle that none of them stuck. For example, I grew up in East Brooklyn, borough of crack whores, shootings, and gang wars; where every other sentence in a conversation ended or started with yo yo! And the sentence "she didn't do nothing" was considered proper English.
I guess you would have to blame it on the nuns for griding grammar into my head. But in all honesty their old Italian-American accents weren't that great either. However, they weren't the only Italians I was exposed to. Around when I was 10 we moved to the then totally racist community known as Howard Beach.
Howard Beach got a bad rap because of an incident involving some white Italian guys beating a black guy so bad that in desperation he tried to escape them by running across the Belt Parkway, thus ending his life. So it was no secret that in Howard Beach they like white and nothing but white. So you can imagine the surprise when my Spanish dad bought a house there and I was thrown into the situation of being the only Spanish kid on the block. Surprisingly I survived without any scraps and even managed to get along with the neighborhood kids without getting on the bad side of the mafia families.
So there you go I went from an old Italian Brooklyn accent to a new Italian-American accent. I guess you can say I was going in the right direction. But the biggest impact of the accent I have today were the girls at TMLA. Yup, I went to an all girls Catholic high school. And just to let you know, all the rumors about Catholic School Girls are pretty accurate.
Anyway this was a whole new world. I was among the middle and upper middle class. Some of these girls had connections for concerts, outings in the Hampton's and even knew a couple of A-list Hollywood movie stars. So you can imagine how I fit right in. Of course that's where the whole life lesson of blending in came in handy. I studied my friends habits I'd pick up there mannerisms and in the end according to my brother I was talking like I was from those fancy places in Connecticut.
But of course all things must come to and end and I was thrown into the college environment. This time I did not try to blend in so my accent became my accent a combination of good English and TV. So Ma and Pa I achieved the American dream... I sound like a freakin Yank!
Friday, June 15, 2007
What is it about the number Three?
Today I seem to be plagued with the curse of Three. It took me three tries to get my banner the way I like it and it took me three tries to get the collapsing post working. But finally my first blog is looking a little more personal. I know it might not mean anything but I am very grateful to Hackosphere for the great code and ~Paws of Strength~ for the Beautiful picture on my banner. I did not get a chance to ask their permission to use it because I couldn't figure out who the moderator was but as soon as I do I will be begging my ass off for it. Oh and since I am plagued by three I better call it a night and shake off this jinx so that I can add Hackosphere's promo and do it justice.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
That which is new is scarier than what is old.
After many months of debating with my internal cat I've decided to try blogging. Why? Well if anyone cares I guess the most basic reason is that I need a therapeutic output. Now I'm not bitching about a troubled life or anything but come on who doesn't need to get their thoughts out especially when there is no one to listen? I'm not a loner but I have trust issues you can say... plus, does anyone really like hearing the problems of their friends? I mean honestly?
Okay... well I am one of those people who genuinely care about other's problems so that makes me a listener. But the problem is that I'm always listening, always caring, always supporting, but who the hell is my listener? No one... well that's not entirely true I do have friends who listen but I mean because of the trust issues I hide a lot of crap from them. This is not fair to them and not helpful to my mental health so now we've come full circle on why I'm starting this thing.
Now I guess you have to wonder why my mom isn't my listener since that's her biological duty as a mother to be my listener. Well... she has her own issues and being a mother is one of those issues. To sum it up she is a selfish creature who treats strangers with more caring than her own daughter. A normal person might have reported her for neglect a long time ago but let's face it I'm not normal I've never been normal and I think people who want to be normal are just lying to themselves.
I guess I painted a bad picture of my mom so let me clear it up. She's not a bad person but she's not a typical mother. For example, when I was 15 I stayed out all night till about 3am. The next day you'd think I'd get it but instead she didn't realize I was out. Plus when I asked if I did it again would she care, she simply said that she trusted me and knew I was street smart enough to not do anything stupid.
Maybe someone will understand when I say her profession is a Nurse. I thought her behavior was unique until at a yearly hospital x-mas party I asked peers about their mothers. Turns out this neglectful nature is not uncommon among nurses. They all trust us and know we won't do anything stupid.
So perhaps someone might be saying I had the ideal teen years going out when I wanted without ever having a curfew. (I'll leave that answer to another post) But the truth is that because of this independence I was forced to grow up quicker. It was like since no one was saying they are responsible for me I have to be responsible for myself. And I wasn't entirely unprepared thanks to my mother's blunt nature I knew the facts of life at age 6 all about STDs at age 9 and I could dress a wound better than a school nurse since the age of 3.
I was set for life but that only made me realize that my mom wasn't set for life. Even though now she is more independent in those early years she always needed support. Impulsively she would latch onto the wrong kind of support until our emancipation when she latched onto me.
Now I think she's alright and even though I still can't trust her it's not that bad anymore but she still doesn't know anything about me.
In order to understand me you have to understand the duality of my relationship with people. There's the real me then there's the me with just my mom, just my dad, just my family in general, just with friends, just with lovers, and just with school people. I'm never the real me and that's a defense mechanism I picked up since I can remember.
Well there you have it I'm a weird cat on an earthbound moon waiting to be called home.
