Monday, January 4, 2016

Daddy's girl

I know who my father is. My middle name is the female version of his first name, followed by his unusual last name. I inherited my love for basketball from him. The rows of wrinkles that form on my forehead when raising my brows is from him. No doubt, I am his child.

A daddy's girl?

My father isn't a prominent figure in my life. He isn't someone I will call when I'm in need. He's been very prominent in my sister's and niece's life, though. And I've accepted this. A couple of years ago, I had a discussion with him in regards to my relationship with my sister. I told him that there is no way my relationship with my sister, who is 13 years younger than me, should be better than my relationship with my sister who is 5 years younger than me. He placed blame on this strained relationship on her mother.

But, you're OUR father!

Then, hearing your father admit to letting that same woman keep him way from you, his first-born...

Makes me feel like I wasn't worth the fight.

So like I said, I've accepted our relationship for what it is. Am I shocked about this past weekend, when he didn't call me like he said he would to confirm a breakfast date he wanted to have?

No.

My relationship with my father is one of the reasons why I don't have kids, right now. I want my kids to have a better relationship with their father than I do with mine. I want to procreate with someone who is willing to fight for our babies harder than my father fought for me. If that means I'm not "fortunate enough"* to have someone come into my life, with whom I'd like to make that move, until I'm pushing 40...oh well!

Anything to keep my offspring from writing this same blogpost in 20+ years.

K to the...

*In quotations since society can make one feel as if having no kids means your life has no meaning at all.

Friday, January 1, 2016

"...maybe we can start again."

My time in Hammond, IN is coming to an end. I can’t believe I have been laying my head in Indiana for what will be 5 years when the lease ends. Though I’ve worked in the city the entire time, I still felt so far away from my family and friends. It wasn’t until my best friend, her husband and baby/my g-baby moved back to the states earlier this year that I had someone who stayed near me. For once, I could go visit someone on the regular and it wouldn’t take me 30 minutes to get to and from their house.

What prompted this change was spending a week at my grandmother’s while my car was being serviced. I got spoiled by the convenience of public transportation, a shorter commute to work, and being 20 minutes or less from everything. It was after that week, I knew I had to “come home.”

The time I've lived in Hammond was what I needed. I needed to step out of my comfort zone (it took months for me to get used to the quiet). I needed to go through the pain I experienced after moving to Indy to learn from it. I needed that time by myself to work on myself. Please believe, people don’t look at driving to Hammond like they look at driving to Orland from the city (though Orland is further). So I had plenty of time to myself. As an introvert, being alone wasn’t an issue. I did learn that people will go where they want to go. Once I accepted that, hearing “you live too far” stung less.

With the move, I have to recondition myself to city life. Some things I could get away with in Indy just won’t fly in Chicago. The block I’ll be staying on (shoutout to family owning property) is pretty quiet. However, no more leaving my radio faceplate on while in the crib. Look, I love my city. But I’m not na├»ve. I have to find another gym to join, meaning I will have even more “Basketball Chronicles” as I’ll have to gain respect from a new group of regular hoopers. I’m also looking to teach yoga in the city, in addition to continuing to teach in Highland.

A lot of changes on the horizon, but I’m not worried. Like my homie Alvin always say, “I’m alright, because God’s got me.”



Happy New Year!

K to the…