I'm going to have to ask you to leave

you see that and the other ticker on here reads "Hooray, I've arrived"-yeah that's a lie because I have a nine pound (plus) baby in my uterus who seems to have no desire to evacuate the premises. Now, I've had different talks with him:

Encouraging: "Hey baby, it's not so bad out here. There's alot of people who want to see you and spoil you and buy you stuff-plus you might be the future president or something"
Humorous: "Please come now because the new season of Grey's starts tomorrow and I don't want to miss it".
Combative: "Give me my body back...right now or i'm going to leave you in there forever..."
Pleading: "Please get out, you'll like me and daddy, I promise"

None work-he's stubborn like his parents (who knew???). And granted most first babies are late, but everyone said I was so active there was no way I would make it to my due date let alone afterwards, but alas they were wrong. An truthfully it wouldn't be so bad if he weren't so f*cking huge lol I was expecting an 8 pound baby plus some ounces-i was 8 and some ounces, my boyfriend was almost 9-but yesterday he was 9 pounds and 3 ounces and i'm not supposed to be induced until Monday night. He could gain half a pound in that time-9.9 gadzooks, no vagina could/should be able to do that. Yet, I don't want a C-section because I'm scared of it, the post-surgical pain, the horror stories. On the plus side, no pain of pushing big ass babies out of my cooch, buttttttttt still scary as are most major surgeries. I've read up on C-sections so that I'm not caught off guard in case that is the option presented to me, but it's hard because my mom had one C-section and 4 natural births and she says the C-section was by far her worst birthing experience. I try to tell myself that everyone's body is different and her recuperation could have just been worse. I also say that her C-section was 15 years ago and that's got to make a difference in procedure, but people seem to love to tell you all the horrible things that could happen...right before it might happen to you. Humans are soooo nice to each other aren't they?

So, here are my fears mixed in with a couple of tears and I wish I had a better last post before giving birth, but I doubt I'll be on this again until my baby makes an appearance. Wish me luck people

or send me money

or both

just kidding

kind of ;-)

Peace and God's blessings to all.

Always,
Anacaona

Guilty pleasures and not so pleasurable guilt

okay, I don't know how to say this
it's kind of embarrassing
I should not be so excited
and I won't really be able to explain it

BUT--

JLo *cough cough* I mean Jennifer Lopez (Anthony?) is preggers!!!!

now I really hope this is not a rumor and I don't necessarily consider InTouch Weekly the most credible source, but let's entertain the possibilities here for a very pregnant woman's sake :-)

As I've told Jrnywmn, I don't know what it is about JLo-she's not everything I've always wanted to be, but she's everything that it might have been cool to be. Come on, let's put the possible criticisms on the shelf, and delve into the guilty pleasures of it all--

She's Puerto Rican

• So we've got a major player in Hollywood-score one point for me

She's from the Bronx

• I grew up in Brooklyn and I live in the Bronx now

She wasn't from a really dangerous part and had a house

• I eventually moved to CT at 12-people tease me about that, but I'm from Do or Die Bed-Stuy so shut up lol

She can't sing, but obviously loves to and refuses to let it go

• Same here, it's just that no one cares about me hehe

She can act...if the character is Latina

• Who's to say that this isn't true for a white actor? Can Julia Roberts be Puerto Rican? I mean not the stereotype, but be a believable Puerto Rican in general? Remember Marisa Tomei as a Cuban woman in that The Perez Family *this is me puking* Why should JLo have to learn to play the universal white so convincingly? Think about it...just think about it.

She can dance her ass off

• ...I'm just jealous...

Her husband is Marc Anthony

• Not a cute man at all in my book, but he can sing so f*cking beautifully that I would be willing to sleep with him with the lights off so long as he sings "Se me sigue olvidando" the whole time...any pauses and it's over though...
  

Okay-anyway moving on, so the article says that she's about 12 weeks pregnant and it might be twins because she'd been in treatment trying to have children for a few years. If this is true, I'm uberexcited for her because it brings reality to the fact that procreation is not so f*cking automatic for many women. For a person who is struggling to have a family, the stress and anxiety can weigh heavy on a woman and her partner. I have friends who've tried everything to have a child and were crushed by miscarriages, failed treatments, and false alarms and with my own pregnancy I've learned that little in life can be taken for granted.

Some parts of me wish that Jennifer had discussed her attempts to have children because I think it could be uplifting and empowering for many women who feel less than because of their struggles. At the same time, I know how private these matters can be so I definitely don't fault her for not feeling the need to be the fertility spokesperson on this. I wonder though just how many women of color struggle with fertility issues and whether we have any place to really discuss these things. In between the negative stereotypes of our 'fruitful' procreation and the (sometimes more disastrous) "positive" stereotypes as natural mothers and matriarchs, where do woc discuss the anxiety, the stress, the pain, and frustration related to family planning in every sense of the word? Do we stay secluded throughout the struggle until we are 'successful' in whatever we were striving for? Do we continue to whisper our concerns and fears only when we know the other person is experiencing the same things?

I find that even though my pregnancy has not been a high risk one and did not come after years of fertility issues, I do remember testing positive for Group B Strep not understanding what it was, being afraid of what it meant, and more importantly being embarrassed because I thought I had done something wrong. Group B strep is not like strep throat, it can be found in the intestine, vagina, and/or rectum and can harm the baby if it passes along to the child during labor. How could I share something like that? My bacteria was in my vagina-did it mean I was dirty? (NO-there's no correlation between cleanliness and this bacteria) Was I a bad pregnant woman? (NO) Could I have avoided this? (NO-I was probably a carrier of the bacteria for years, but it won't make me sick, just a baby in the birthing process) Was my baby going to be okay? (Well, the bugger is still in my uterus, but according to all accounts he should be fine if i receive antibiotic treatments during labor and he gets them directly shortly after) Either way, I realize there are people that I consider close friends who I still didn't reveal this information to even when I was taking three amoxicillins a day. Even armed with information and first hand accounts from women who'd experienced the same thing, I remained embarrassed.

But why whisper? Who are we hiding from? What are we hiding from?

Whether it's about fertility issues, birth control, STD's, sexuality, abusive relationships (physical and non-physical), funky things like Group B strep-I'm tired of whispering. Tired of looking for the others in the dark who are probably tired of looking for others in the dark. I want to find them. I want them to find each other. I hope they want to find me.

I want to stop whispering...

Can't capture this in a pic

Reposting a poem you can find here on BlackAmazon because I've never read this poem before and I wish so much that I had and for the few (the proud-oh wait that's the Marines I think lol) who read me:

AND WHEN YOU LEAVE, TAKE YOUR PICTURES WITH YOU
Jo Carrillo

Our white sisters
radical friends
love to own pictures of us
sitting at a factory machine
wielding a machete
in our bright bandannas
holding brown yellow black red children
reading books from literacy campaigns
holding machine guns bayonets bombs knives
Our white sisters
radical friends
should think
again.

Our white sisters
radical friends
love to own pictures of us
walking to the fields in hot sun
with straw hat on head if brown
bandanna if black
in bright embroidered shirts
holding brown yellow black red children
reading books from literacy campaigns
smiling.
Our white sisters radical friends
should think again.

No one smiles
at the beginning of a day spent
digging for souvenir chunks of uranium
of cleaning up after
our white sisters
radical friends

And when our white sisters
radical friends see us
in the flesh
not as a picture they own,
they are not quite as sure if
they like us as much.
We're not as happy as we look
on their wall.

When it's almost time to deliver...

you think about a whole heck of a lot.

I've been home for almost 8 days and the truth is that most times it blows. I have a baby due in less than 6 days and frankly there's no way to prepare for that. Sure, the bassinet is up and the room is painted (though I still can't find any f*cking borders grrrr!) and he's got enough onesies to wear to high school, but otherwise, you're just stuck. Wondering if the next moment amniotic fluid will come gushing out of your private parts or when some kind of pain you've never felt in your life will make you want to deliver the baby yourself...with your bare hands. So, in the meantime, I'm stuck at home watching TV and

I don't know what I was expecting from daytime TV, but it sure as hell doesn't deliver. In fact, I think I've forgotten just how horrendous it is between court tv shows and daytime soaps and Dr. Phil et al and their pre-packaged brand of counseling-it can be too much. I try to focus my time on three channels, TLC, HGTV, and the Food Network, but really how much Baby Story, cook-offs, and house makeovers can one watch before you're left singing along to Stacie Orrico's "There's Gotta Be More (To Life)"...

What would I like to watch though? That's the interesting question because I think we're so used to watching garbage that if someone asked us what we would want in a TV show daytime or 'prime time' I'm not sure we could answer. I like comedy. But I also like documentaries. I like to learn new things, but sometimes I just want to laugh. I want to see my life on television because that shit is funny, depressing, thought provoking, and anything but wholesome. Okay, so maybe not my life exactly, but something like it.

Even that is a post unto itself-the absence of Latina(o)s in the media-you know real ones with multidimensional personalities who struggle with more than just what to do when you're making rice and beans and realize you have no Sazon-THE HORROR!!! What about a show that focuses on a Latina trying to balance family and a career--with the Latina as the central character-not the supportive co-star who shines as the flawless matriarch who in the end knows how to 'put family first' or the spitfire who decides family and career are incapable of being intertwined and forgoes the former or the funny girl who's everyone's friend and secretly waits for the responsible, yet seductive man to make her feel whole (even if it means putting up with his infidelities). I guess realistically I know women like that, but I know a HELL of a lot more who aren't. Women who want to discuss sexuality with their daughters so that they're not duped into thinking sex is for men by women. Women who want to question policies in their workplace that obviously favor whites or men in general for that matter. Women who want to make noise and have their voices heard and be called bitches because after all, in our world, that seems to be the ultimate compliment.

BITCH= A woman who is assertive, strong, and unrelenting
BITCH= Woman unwilling to compromise on her principles
BITCH= Woman willing to call a spade a spade, an asshole an asshole, and a racist a racist
BITCH= Woman dedicated to defining-not being defined

I say all this after watching the season premiere of America's Next Top Model, re runs of Top Chef, and the new Kitchen Nightmares (on Fox with the guy from Hell's Kitchen). I say this after realizing that I probably lost very important brain cells in the process. I say this as I'm about to head back towards the TV because in the final days of labor-there's just not a whole heck of a lot to do. I say this as I hope (pray, plead, you pick) that in the LEAST, there's something funny on the tube that doesn't necessarily insult whole groups of people for the sake of cheap laughs--talk about setting low standards...

*sigh*

Facing the boogeyman

Today is my first day of unemployment-in some ways a blessing, in other ways a soon to be burden. I'm going to enjoy daytime TV again (because I've missed a whole lot these past few years), but in what I'll call two and a half paychecks a.k.a. a month or so, I will wonder whether it is worth it to keep my cable on.

It wouldn't feel so bad if I were on maternity leave
It wouldn't feel so bad if I were coming back to my old position in December
or a new one
that pays more
and garners slightly (just slightly) more respect ;-)
It wouldn't feel so bad if my old Exec. Director didn't create a new job for a white, male colleague of mine
who's been at my job...maybe 4 months...
whose day to day responsibilities are less than mine...
who has no proven experience in the area he will now enter...

THE BOSS says that my friend,
"seems to get along with everyone, is a schmoozer, reminds me of myself as a young man, and is basically charming as fuck". He was disappointed that he hadn't gotten to know him better in his time here (4 whole months maaaaaaaybe)-I guess my boss forgot that he doesn't know me either.

After all, I've only been there for over a year (15 months to be exact). I'm only one of two Latino(a) people in the organization. I only have breasts and a vagina (nice breasts too, but even that doesn't count). I can count the amount of times I've talked to the Head Honcho and the majority of them were during pregnancy and about? You guessed it-pregnancy. Because otherwise what would we talk about? The work that I do? What I want from my career? What I could provide our organization? Nonsense-I'm a pregnant Puerto Rican female...

with a master's degree at 23
who has worked since twelve (unofficially) and officially since 15
and was the first in her family to graduate from high school let alone graduate from undergrad and graduate school

*Tooot fucking Toooot* Yeah that's my horn-I toot it myself for all the white men who'll never toot it

who won't know I have a horn
let alone how nice it really is
who won't ask
and won't care
but will promote men "just like them" who are factually less qualified than I am for positions

I spoke to Jrnywmn and TS about this and initially didn't blame my friend for taking a more lucrative position he KNEW he wasn't qualified for (how do I know he knew? because he came in to talk to me to discuss why this promotion made no sense and how he didn't understand where it was coming from). Now, I do blame him. Because being complacent in unjust actions is wrong-Deep down inside one has to know there is something fishy going on when of all people, the one young white male who just started working in an organization (his first office job ever mind you) gets the promotion of a lifetime over any other woman (young and old), any other male (minority), and older staff. One might argue he would provide a fresh perspective-I would argue bullshit. What makes a perspective fresh? Under 6 months of experience? White male existence-because we know that's universal...

Hell, I also blame myself for not being more direct with my 'friend', but the truth is I've never stared white male privilege in the face like that before. It's like the boogey man, el Cuco, the thing you swear you can hear while you're sleeping in the dark, but can't honestly say you've ever seen.

and I'm angry
I'm disappointed
I'm hurt
I'm embarrassed

Because I don't want his job, it's not my interest per se-yet there is no way the Head Honcho would have known that. So he just didn't ask, didn't offer, didn't care and instead possibly set off a new current-a new trajectory for a young man who is nice enough, but doesn't deserve the big break yet.

I guess at least I won't miss the hypocritical emails about how "our organization" is dedicated to diversity and finding ways to increase it. I think we can continue to promote the 4/5 minorities we have (less than 10% of staff) into various positions after yearssssssss of stellar performance of course (much more than 4 months). We can create research groups to analyze, research, and study how race, ethnicity, and gender impact "our work" (this currently exists). And we can track the demographics of our applicants to make sure we're being 'fair' when we hire the white guy or the white woman instead of the ethnic other. But we'll continue to miss analyzing ourselves
our staff
our hierarchy
our leadership
those with the most power
who create the most harm
and don't even notice it in the process

Some call it reality
I say
You can keep that shit...

I swear I'm not trying to bite...

I know that some people in the blog world have been updating their blogs and cleaning house *cough cough* TS...I JUST wanted to change the color of my last post, but instead it kept changing the size, going invisible, everything but what I wanted, so the only way I could save the posts...at least to the computer doofus over here *cough cough* ME-was to change the template before I break my computer at work...

so yeah


but it does feel nice to have a new background :-)

He's pushing too hard

my father...not my baby's father-he's doing very well and getting obviously nervous day by day lol-

but my biological father-the sperm donor who's never been a part of my life-is just so damn confusing. I mean it's hard for us to have phone conversations longer than 10 minutes, he's canceled plans on me more times than I care to remember, and he just really blows in the father category. I'm trying to understand in my head that he will probably be a solid acquaintance at best, but it's hard because I want him to be better than that. I want him to be more. Yet for my sanity I realize that I can't even pay too much attention to the whole thing.

Now the weird/uncomfortable/frustrating part is that he is trying so hard to connect me with his children. Like make us all a big, happy family-even sent me a letter saying as much (mind you-he sent me a letter from one borough of New York to the next, but hasn't even been able to make time or use the energy to physically see me-yeah that sh*t pisses me off). He gave my number to my younger "brothers and sisters" and gave me their number and he sent me some of their pics and a letter saying how he wants us to be close.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Now, i need, no scratch that, would like people to understand that this is not about my so called siblings. I don't have anything against them-they're all younger than me and I suppose one day it would be nice to talk to them and maybe be friends or something. But, right now, I'm trying to establish a relationship with a man who is my so-called father. I never called him and said I want to get to know your other children...I want to get to know YOU...eventually that will mean your children, but it doesn't mean NOW. He doesn't even live with them-what the fuck are we supposed to talk about? What it's like to not have him in our lives-he's been definitely more involved with them than me, but he's still missing from their lives right now, so I guess that could be a bonding option. Except that I don't want to bond over that.

Sometimes, it's so hard because he'll say something like, "Do you have your brother's number?" or "Has your sister called you?" and I want to yell at him, "Yes, all my brothers and sisters, who I grew up with have my number and call me, I call them, and we see each other, now who are you talking about?" And sometimes I think that's cold or selfish and other times I really don't care. If they call me, I definitely talk to them (it's only been once, but it was cute and awkward because the youngest called me, she's 10 or 11, i'm 23, it would have been weird no matter what lol), but I'm not making an effort and it's not personal. It's just not my life and not what i'm looking for right now.

Then to make the experience that much more frustrating is that the fact that he feels the need to give me advice-unsolicited and borderline useless-but it pisses me off nonetheless. For example, so people can see that I'm not crazy (or that I am whatever)-here's a sample, real convo we had recently:

Sperm Donor(SD): So, where's your boyfriend?
Me: He's not home right now.
SD: He's never home.
Me: He's home alot, but for some reason when you call, he isn't usually home.
SD: And you don't get mad or anything.
Me: No, what do I need to get mad about. I talk to him on the phone. He knows when I'm home and I know when he's coming home.
SD: That's good, I guess. Your mom was like that with me too. She never bothered me when I'd get home late. She would even ask me if I wanted something to eat or wanted her to turn on the shower.
Me: (Stifling the urge to tell him everything I know about that-how mom knew he was a cheating dog, how he was older than her and so she didn't really know how to approach him about his behavior, how she felt like she bent over backwards to gain his love which proved fruitless, how she believes he took advantage of her eagerness to please him-but I stifle it and say instead...) Yeah, I don't fight about things like that. If I didn't trust him I wouldn't be with him. I don't feel the need to spend time with someone I don't trust and also have to fit time into my life to argue with that person.
SD: That's good...but you gotta be smart too. Let him know that some things aren't acceptable and that he has to be a grown man-he's got a baby coming.

PAUSE

Now-I was able to wrap up the convo very quickly before I went through the phone and choked him, BUT

who the fuck gave him the indication that I wasn't smart enough to know when a man was pulling the wool over my eyes-who said that my boyfriend and I hadn't established what is and is not acceptable in our relationship-who said my boyfriend was not a grown man or that anyone else could insult him except for me...

See? why is this man worrying his little head over giving me unsolicited, irrelevant advice instead of worrying about what a bad father he's been and how he is scoring no points right now either? Or does he think that this is what a father should do? Because I guess the problem is that he's not my father and he isn't going to be. No matter how many times he leaves me a voicemail and says, "Hi __, this is F, your father" or writes a letter signed, F, your father-he is not my father and will not be my father. I guess the truth is that it is becoming more and more evident, that my FATHER, my DAD, with all his flaws and challenges, lives in Connecticut, is married to my mom, and is the father of the siblings that I grew up with. And I could post a long rambling post about his flaws too, but at the end of the day-I love him, he loves me, he sucks, and sometimes I'm a bitch-and I'm okay with that.

Because this can't be stressed nearly enough...

Yeah...5 weeks...not like i'm freaking out or anything or experiencing all sorts of weird and uncomfortable end of pregnancy symptoms...or extremely tired all the time yet trying to work crazy hard to horde (sp?) as much money as possible to survive during my unpaid maternity leave months...yeah unpaid because I only work 'part time' even when i work full time...because no one cares about young mothers...or old mothers...or mothers in general for that matter. Toss a dog a bone here-can't I get a subsidy? Promise to come back and sell you my soul for x amount of months/years in order to get a little money beforehand and if I don't do it you can nail my ass to the wall or my vagina for that matter, because I really wonder if it will ever work the same again...hope, but still wonder...

boy do i need to go to sleep, I think I know what TS was talking about when she decided against post midnight blogging, but that kind of felt good and I see why people do it...Later bloggers!

Just when I thought

I was on a roll with consistent blogging...life goes right ahead and interferes. I've been missing (though I'm sure many have not noticed lol): working alot, moving to a new, bigger apartment (that doubles my work commute) and having a beautiful baby shower with cool people like Jrny_wmn and TS . It's been an overwhelming time though and as my due date steadily approaches and my doctor warns me to slow down before I give birth early, I really have just one question for the mommy's in the blogworld:

HOW THE HELL DO YOU MENTALLY PREPARE TO PASS A CHILD THROUGH YOUR VAGINAL CANAL?!?!?!?!

that's my only question and all responses are warmily received :-)

Sooooo pregnant, but far from giving up

So being pregnant ain't as easy as some people might think, on the other hand, I've found that my experience has not been as bad as many horror stories I've heard. I'm quite thankful for that believe me. So in light of these two sentiments, I decided to focus on some pluses and deltas in my life right now:

Pluses

1. I went to the NYInternationalLatinoFilmFestival today (my first film festival) and saw two documentaries and a movie-one was decent, one was pretty good, and one was very good, not bad for a first timer.
2. I went to said festival with TS and that was the best part, we got to catch up on our lives, good and bad in real time (as opposed to IM or email), and we even took a trip to City Island (another first for me) for seafood between films.
3. Though just about 8 months pregnant, I managed to survive a long ass day of walking, subway riding, more walking, and film watching in temperatures and humidity that made me change my clothes once and contemplate gouging my eyes out :-) I believe I drank about 4 bottles of water.
4. I will be signing a lease for a new apartment tomorrow!!! A 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom, with dining room, and balcony on a 2nd floor of a private house--best parts??? Same price as my current one bedroom apartment and NO BROKER'S FEE.
5. My baby shower is in exactly two weeks and my confirmed guest list is full of many people I love and many I'm not able to see often---including none other than my best friend and my son's godmother, Jrny_wmn
6. And finally, my baby is almost here! My son, who has no name because my fiance and I can't agree on one, will be called Baby Boy _______ for a few days. But either way, he is almost in the world and I can't wait. I'm still nervous, but honestly more excited than anxious these days.

Deltas

1. Instead of being fired from my job (not because of incompetence, but because of maternity leave), I decided to resign on Friday. Therefore, I technically don't have a job to go back to after I give birth--that is a separate post that I hope to complete in the next few days.
2. After being stood up again by my real father, I confronted him a little angrily over the phone...that was last Sunday and I've yet to hear from him since. There goes that attempt at reunification. That is also a separate post that I hope to complete in the next few days.
   
3. I owe my graduate school almost $2000 and until I pay it, my diploma is being held hostage. I don't have that much money and I can't get a loan to pay for it because my credit isn't "good enough" nor do I know anyone who can "co-sign". My credit is better than most of my family and friends', but still nooooooot good enough I guess.
4. It's getting a little harder to get up and down subway stairs with this big ass belly and a baby pushing up on my diaphragm (sp?). It makes me feel a little old and helpless, especially when you pair that with not being able to bend over to tie my shoes (or do anything for that matter), peeing millions of times a day, not being able to see my nether regions or bottom of belly and shirts (thereby missing stains or spills that others love to point out) and not being able to find a good position to sleep in...so while 2 months is a short time for baby arrival, it is also very, very f*cking long.

So yeah, that's my life--not all of it but the important parts--right now more pluses than deltas, thank you Jesus lol...thanks for listening/reading...or not lol, either is okay :-)

I am afraid of you

afraid of what i don't know
and what i might find out
afraid of continuing to tread lightly over questions of the past
afraid to go any deeper and learn the truth

i'm afraid to acknowledge the traces of an addicted past
your voice quite telling in the secrets it holds
the phrasings and questions of a person who's hustled for far too long
having hustled and been hustled, you're obviously a pro
afraid you're hustling me right now
hustling a connection
hustling caring
hustling love

afraid to look at you
and see me
afraid to look at you
and not see me
feel lost still with an unknown past
ancestors, heritage, stories, and anecdotes that explain a real part of me
currently on hiatus

i'm afraid of getting comfortable with a stranger
so inextricably a part of my life
afraid of the blood that runs through my veins
with it's love, hate, rage, and pain
afraid to discuss what's better left unsaid
addiction
abandonment
rehab
jail
sickness
death
of you, by you
of others close to you
What pain do you carry?
Do we have any common threads?
Can we see each other's scars?
Do we ever really want to?

i'm afraid of you
can't call it the unknown
because i have an idea
can't call it fear
as i push harder towards it
anxiety is not the word
doesn't fully explain

i'm afraid of you
and all that that may mean
i'm afraid of you
and what disappointment may come
i'm afraid of you
and finding your place in my puzzle
i'm afraid of you

the secret being...
i'm afraid i want to love you and be loved by you

And in case nothing else could make me nervous about getting closer to that due date...

So that's why I always get those looks...

You Are 24% Lady

You tend to make up your rules of etiquette, throwing all conventions aside. And while you try to be a lady (sometimes), your behavior is often quite shocking.

Are You A Lady?

I remember one of my younger sisters saying to me a few months ago, "That is not lady like, you don't act like a lady" (mind you, she's 18, what the hell does she know about...anything lol) and I said why not? She responds, "You curse too much, that's not lady like". What do I say? "Well, fuck that then, fuck being a lady, i'm a woman and I'm damn good at it".

But, alas, I see she's partially right-i'm only 24% lady. Feels mighty good to me though...

Corners

There's something about Harlem that drives me absolutely crazy

Not the cool air that moves through you if you step outside after sunset
Not the soul music that reminds you of an older generation unwilling to leave
Not the laughter from teenagers negotiating sex, love, and hip hop(or is it just sex?)
Not the bouncing of basketballs by young men just trying to survive and forget life's realities

Probably instead, it's a gentrification that just won't quit
Doesn't give a shit
Can't be bothered at all

Poverty just a corner away from comfortable wealth
Tree lined streets of brownstones
A hop, skip, and a jump from disabled homeless men sleeping on the street
Cute little trees and 'true diversity'
Professionals in various skin colors with the deep pockets to rent or buy
Old timers and natives need not apply

Garbage that flies around in the wind
Sticks to your ankles when you wear a dress
But never, never, never
Makes it around the corner
Somehow knows it's not wanted
Just like the homeless, disabled, drug addicted, and/or prostitutes
Who never, never, never
Make it around the corner
Somehow knowing where they're not wanted

Sometimes I think I'll scream
Tantrum and Fling
The nearest garbage can through a nice shiny window
Knock on the door of a renovated brownstone
And tell the occupants they're doing no one any favors
Reveal the secret inadvertently of course
That I am one of them
"Blessing" Harlem with my presence

A middle class social worker
Who's Latina at least, does that not count for something?
As I pay a rent that eliminates the possibility of that 'other' Latina living here
The one walking into the projects
Around the corner
With two kids, maybe one kid too many
Who isn't allowed to dream she can live in my apartment

We can both walk down the main street
Avoiding garbage
That never, never, never turns the corner
We can hold our breath as we pass the homeless men who have been lying in the sweltering heat
We can avoid the gaze of the police officer who's doing his best to keep 'us' safe from our own
We can pray for a neighborhood that makes sense
Instead of what exists
We can do and say as we please for as long as we want

But then we'll turn our respective corners
And realize that we live in two different Harlems
And the cool air
The soul music
The laughter
The basketballs
Can't make it around every corner

Last blog of the night promise

I couldn't help it, as Sonnets mentioned and Jrny_wmn proves blog quizzes can be addicting. Funny enough this one is quite accurate and I think I needed a light post after the last two.

You Are a Life Blogger!

Your blog is the story of your life - a living diary. If it happens, you blog it. And make it as entertaining as possible.

What Kind of Blogger Are You?

"You can't disappoint me because I don't love you"

Such a simple, direct pronouncement by one of the main characters in We Were the Mulvaneys (Joyce Carol Oates, 1996) and the character, Marianne, meant it with everything she had. There was no love lost, no hard feelings, nothing, just a matter of fact. So true that she didn't even say it to the other character, Marianne simply thought it to herself and externally laughed softly. When I read it, I thought it was perfect, another good line in a good book.

Unfortunately, I can say now from experience that it's not true. People that you don't love can disappoint you and I don't know that it will always hurt less than disappointment from someone you love. Perhaps there's more patience when someone you love does it, yes maybe the initial anger and sadness is stronger, but eventually you let it go because you love them. Not so much for someone you don't love. In my last post, I talked about trying to create a relationship with my real father (aka the sperm donor). I've promised myself that I wouldn't push too hard, I would let it ebb and flow any way it wants. So i've called a couple of times and he's called a couple of times. Not too shabby I'd say. Anyway, my birthday was this past Friday (yes I'm officially 23 and hotter than ever as one guy said to me today, "You are a beautiful pregnant woman, you sure are." I knew that already but random reassurance is nice sometimes lol)...ANYWAY, getting back to the point, my "F" called the Thursday before and said, "I know your birthday is tomorrow and I was thinking maybe we can get together on Sunday before I go to work". I was not expecting the call or the invitation, but I received both happily. We agreed to meet Sunday around 6 or 7 in Manhattan for dinner. He told me to call on Saturday to finalize plans, location, exact time, etc. So I did, got the voicemail left a message...and did it again around 4:30 or so today. And, well I got stood up--

And more than stood up, i got disappointed and I don't love him. I got disappointed and not in a way that happens when your friend cancels plans at the last minute, but disappointed in the way that happens when you tried to pretend that you didn't care about said 'date', yet went to do your eyebrows and got your hair done, and even put on a new outfit, why??? Because it did mean that much, because part of you was willing to take all anxiety and suck it up to face your 'maker' (not to be confused with your Maker-spiritual being who created you lol), because no matter what would have been said on that date, you wanted him to walk away thinking "she is amazing and I suck for having missed out on her life all these years". Because you can pretend that you don't care that he was around, but you did, even if it was just a little, because it left confusion in your heart and mind that you didn't even talk to anyone about for YEARS. Because you wonder...every so once in a while...what life would have been like with him-good, bad, ugly or indifferent.

In his defense, he finally called around 8pm, but I refused to answer the call and instead made plans with a friend (who also knew about the 'date') to go out for an appetizer and some ice cream. He rambled for a minute and a half and for those of you who have ever left and/or received a voicemail, a minute and a half is a loooong message. He explained that he worked later than usual, fell asleep, so on and so forth, apologized profusely and asked to reschedule with another day. It made me feel better to know that I hadn't been totally blown off, but at the same time I"m still disappointed. Part of me wants to call him and say, "You don't have many opportunities to screw up, you're 0 for 23 already", part of me wants to say, "Go to hell cuz I can't add emotional instability to my life, I'm fucking pregnant and imbalanced already!" and part of me wants to honestly say, "Dude, there may not be much you can do that will not disappoint me, so you might as well start now". There's truth in all of them and illogical thought processes too. I know that I will give him another chance, but I can't bring myself to call him, not tonight, maybe not tomorrow and if he asks if I was upset, I will say yes, because I'm not the lying or pretending type. But I will give him another chance and I'll know that it's possible that he will disappoint me...

and I don't even love him.

P.S. *shouts to UNO's and Cold Stone Creamery for eventually making it a good Sunday night for me :-)*

My Two Dads

So it's been a long time in the making, this post I mean, trying to figure out how to write it, when to write, why I should bother. And yet, I wrote it already-in the shower, on the toilet, in bed, cooking dinner, I've written this many, many times, but now I share it with you.

I don't remember what My Two Dads was about, at least not specifically. I know there were two White guys who were taking care of a nice, typical TV white teenager. I looked it up to try to remember the show and it came back a little. The two fathers had gained custody of the girl after her mother died-both had tried to gain the affection of her mother and when she passed were granted custody together. They fought because they had different personalities, they fought because raising a teenager will make you do that, they fought because it was in the script to do so, duh :-) Anyway, it was cute, innocent, & canceled in 3 years-Nothing like my two dads.

In this corner, hailing from Southside Brooklyn, New York, we have soon to be 42 year old Nuyorican "M". M is my step father who raised me since I was two years old, give or take a few months. Millions of miles from perfect, this is who I call Dad. He didn't graduate from high school, he's struggled with substance abuse for as long as I've known him, he's been violent and/or abusive to everyone in my home, from mom to grandma to every child and he's passive-aggressive in a textbook kind of way. He's also funny, generous, and downright vulnerable in a child like way. As a social worker, I think he has poor coping skills stemming from multiple childhood traumas. As a daughter, a sister, and a soon to be mother, I think he might be crazy. I think I would like to say that our relationship is like a roller coaster ride, but the truth is that roller coaster rides have beautiful, exhilarating highs and our relationship does not. I feel blessed when we're cruising along, able to laugh together and maybe only focus on superficial topics of conversation in ten minute intervals. I feel cursed, when all the rage I have in my heart comes rushing to the surface because of one look, one comment, one misstep, and all I can think is that if he disappeared off the face of the earth, I would be fine, fine, fine. But he's my Dad, and though technically he's not the only one I got, he is-because

in this corner, born and raised in Puerto Rico (where I don't really know) but in the United States since his late teen years, we have 40 something year old "F". Can you tell how much I know about him already? While "M" battled with substance abuse mostly in the form of alcoholism (with some dabbling in coke use over the years), "F" found heroin to be his drug of choice and an ugly mistake if I've ever seen one. Therefore, "F" has been in and out of jail and/or rehab over the years and not even a small part of my life. I know I saw him sometimes as a child, but can't remember. My mom just told me they both lived together with me for almost a year of my life, I didn't know that before. And the one time I saw him that I could remember, I was 17 years old and couldn't speak to him because I didn't have the words and apparently neither did he-it was very awkward. That was about 6 years ago. I'd like to tell you the positives about him, but I don't know them. Maybe he's funny too. Maybe he's generous. Maybe he's kind and maybe he's smart. No idea. But ever since, I got pregnant I decided I needed to know him. I need to know the good, the bad, and the downright ugly because for better or for worse, his blood runs through my veins and his essence is part of my unborn son's. So one day, maybe a month ago I got his number from his mother, found out we were both in New York City, and called him. Over the course of this past month, we've talked a few times, trying to stitch together a broken past, a distinct present, and an unsure future as father and daughter. So many questions that need to be answered, so many answers that I'll wish were left unsaid, so many sighs of exasperation for a relationship that may never be what it could have been.

See because the truth is, I technically have two dads, neither of which is perfect, but both of which are mine. And I don't know what this ever meant, what it means now, nor what it will mean later. I only know that for most of my life I believed I had a "Dad" and a "sperm donor", pardon the crudeness, but that's what I thought. And now, I'm trying to accept that I may have two dads, may because my real father may end up disappearing from my life at any moment, may because my stepfather may be completely hurt if he finds out I am talking to my real father and then we'll have to deal with that, may because I might come to the conclusion that this young woman here can only handle one flawed, painfully human Dad at a time. I guess only time will tell.

Should I just call this the Pregnancy Chronicles???

Partially kidding there, but I really wanted to get another post in before June was over, but noooo can't stick to that deadline can I? nope, well i have a pending post that I promise to do sometime this week on *$#@(#!%--haha, it's a secret lol...forgive the rambling, but

PLUS+ EQUALS=

THIRD TRIMESTER (yeah, my belly is growing faster than a cockroach infestation and my hair looks a little like that, but darker and much longer-thanks hormones!)

anyway, so i'm a little frazzled, but i'm trying to maintain the "i am so cute, you almost don't notice i'm pregnant, except that i'm getting huge" look, you know skip maternity clothes and use normal clothes in an extra large and lots of dresses and cotton capris...until later, may the peace be with you all--


and me, especially at night when I have to pee for the 335th time :-)

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOW

I'm officially done with grad school...that's right, last month was a fluke seeing as how I still had to complete a summer class. But, alas, that summer class is over as of 5 and a half hours ago. Final paper handed in-CHECK! Final presentation done-CHECK!! No more pencils, no more books, no more security guards dirty looks (i went to a white washed Ivy League, it happens lol)-CHECK!!!

Anyway, so yeah probably sometime this weekend I will freak out as I realize that I am that much closer to adulthood, am expecting a baby, and may or may not have a new job, apartment, wardrobe ;-), but that will be then and this is

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW

Apartment Hunting

I'm trying to find a new apartment that's bigger and cheaper than my current one. I know, in New York City, nearly impossible, but only nearly and that's the hope I hold on to. But apartment hunting in New York is like being selected as a juror for a high profile case. What do you do? How much do you make? Who will live there? When was the last time you called your grandmother? Do you have allergies? How do you feel about strawberries? Can you make a deposit of one of your kidneys? Now, it makes sense to a certain degree, there are people who move into apartments knowing they can't pay rent and eviction is a long process. But as social worker, I also know this is such a small minority that such presumptions in an application process are actually quite unnecessary.

Then again as a recent graduate, I also know that such presumptions can be the difference between moving into a new place by August 1st or continuing to pay an arm and a leg in an apartment that didn't ask so many questions (it is really nice, pretty big, close to transportation and stores, BUT immensely expensive). I'm a recent graduate, you want to see my W-2 forms you say-that's fine, they say I made $13, 000 last year. Why? Oh, because I was in school dickwad, I could only work but so much in addition to classes and a 21 hour internship. Do you make over 40k? Not yet. Why not? Oh, because I was in school dickwad, and since I just graduated I'm in the process of transitioning from a decent paying part time job to a more decent paying full time job. Do you have a co-signor that makes over 80k? No way-*Chuckle, chuckle* Why not? Oh, because I was in school dickwad, but most of my family has not. Nor were they in school much in high school and therefore they have lived most of their lives busting their asses for wages that really don't match all the work, sweat, and tears they put into the system. Any more questions???

Last pet peeve in apartment hunting-looking at ads that are listed as "by owner only" (therefore intimating no brokers and no brokers fee) and having to talk through a 'middle man or woman' who somehow needs to be paid a month of rent in order to help you. Is this not similar to a broker? Is this not a dishonest practice? Should I not curse them out and send them to hell when I feel that I have been deceived? Just some questions I would like answers to.

But, alas, thus is the struggle of the New York City apartment hunter and I'll keep you posted on my progress, but if anyone has any suggestions or leads as to where I should be looking, I'm open to hearing them...