This post is going to be more like word vomit than a neat post (as if I've done any of those, who am I kidding?) so be forgiving.
Last night, my mother decided it was high time to give me an hour an a half long lecture. You see, my mum has always done this: never corrects the situation when it's in the moment, she waits for things to pile up inside of her and then lets you have it when she can't hold any more and you get her emotional guts spewed all over you.
I was blown away by things she said and I have done nothing but think over what she said. I have honestly pondered the things she said and evaluated myself with out bias. The thoughts I am going to write out are just that, thoughts. Not answers. Not my replies. So, let's look at the allegations brought against me, but first, how it happened.
Yesterday started out fine. Good even. But the poem I turned in for class is still very wanting...In the morning as I was packing up for school, I felt The Twinge. The one I get when God's trying to tell me something. Something little that I need to do for the day. It was this: take what's left of your dance tip. Take the cash. But I say, "No, I'll just end up spending it on junk food." Thinking I am doing good, I leave the wad of ones in my room and head to school.
As I got up to leave my poetry class, my UH I.D. and Metro Q-Card fell out of my back pocket. I have them there cause I use the I.D. to get into the Language Lab, which I study in after poetry class every day, and my Metro card because I take so many buses to and from school. I've always had these cards in my back pocket. I get to the bathroom and realize it's missing, run back to the class only to have someone tell me that someone from my class picked it up. I text my mum knowing she may have to come and pick me up then head to the Lab to use the computer and send out an SOS over emails and facebook stalk my class mates to try to get it back. Halfway through French class and no replies. Mum has to pick me up.
This infuriates her to no end. She sends me a text telling me to think of others lives and how I interrupt them when I screw up. I understand and I'm sorry.
The ride home is silent and just before I leave to teach, mum tells me she's going to have a talk with me and "you're not going to like it." I leave teaching early to have the talk that night rather than wait until today.
Now, to address what was said.
Apparently, I lost my cards because I'm not "conforming" and using a wallet. I don't carry a wallet cause I have 2 (3 now because of the Metro card) cards. They would fall out of a wallet because they wouldn't be snug with a million other cards. Also, the wallets these days are HUGE. At least 7" lone and 4" wide. That's insane. To please my mother, I will look into a wallet. A cheap one that I can afford. If it bothered her, why didn't she say so earlier or just get me one? A cheap one from somewhere so she doesn't have to suffer for it. No, she'd rather wait to burst as I mentioned.
So..."conforming" is the problem, I see. From here, the tirade is launched. I'm a rebel. I try too hard to stand out and now I'm out of control.
Really...? We're gunna talk about my clothes now? Yes. Apparently I wear black because...wait for it....I'm insecure. I know this may be true for some people. People say guys with loud motorcycles are compensating. Insecurity. But me? No. I thought over this long and hard last night. I wear black because (God forbid!) I like it. Why do people wear the clothes they wear? Maybe they like them? No, that can't be the reason!
Next, I'm insecure and think I'm fat, stupid, and ugly. Uh....no. I quite like my hot body, thanks. I WORK HARD to stay in shape, eat healthy and be active. And I like how my body looks now. Yes, I am a bit more poofy than what is considered desirable today, but I do not have a problem with that. I have a nice stomach, firm legs and great assets. To put it nicely.
Do I think I'm ugly. Maybe when I was 16 and didn't know how to handle my long, frizzy hair. Now, I quite like my dark eyes, long, elegant hair, and tan skin. I'm rather exotic looking. I know how to make myself up to enhance that too.
Do I think I'm stupid? No, I just think I struggle with Science, Math , and French, which is evident in my Cs and Bs in the subjects. And I do beat myself up about it. I won't deny that. I only do that though because dad only wants A-student kids. And I let him down. Even though I do extra homework, go in for tutoring and work hard, I'm still just a C and B. In reality, I'm happy with that. I wish I could do better, but I need to devote time to the things I'm good at too. I hate getting Cs and Bs mostly. I'm not stupid. I'm rather clever actually. I'm a kick-booty writer when I have a goal (this blog is not a showcase, get over it), I'm super creative, I have a massive imagination...I'm pretty smart. I really am.
But no. Mum insists that I'm insecure and hate myself and that's why I dress in black. No....that doesn't even make sense. I like Edgar Allen Poe, Tim Burton, Shakespeare, and other things considered dark, strange, and unusual. That's just the way I am. Why do you like designer/name-brand clothes, have 50 purses, 60 pairs of shoes? I don't think I'm the one who's insecure.
I won't hide everything and say I am without sin. I know I get over emotional sometimes, I know I have a hard time learning and get too upset about it (would you be pleased if I just shrugged it off? You wouldn't think me lazy?) but I have made great strides recently. I used to not have this self-respect you deny me having and what was said last night really brought it down.
I saw that you hate me. You don't like me. You don't like who I am. You don't appreciate the work I have put in to growing up. Because you don't see it. You won't get to know me and see me. I was kind of given up on when I was 16. That's when mum stopped raising me and expected me to be perfect all on my own. Trust me, I'm going to try.
So here's my plan. Mum gave me a choice: (basically)stop wearing black, drop belly dance (I'm not even going to go there in this post), and then I can be back in her good graces. Mum, do you know that I'm a good, Godly girl? You can only say things "you're insecure" because you don't know me. You don't know that I try (and, yes, fail but we all do) and work hard and keep trying. My room and car and ferret get cleaned out on a regular basis (I am sad to say that this took me a long time to manage because my schedules have been ever changing and crazy), I keep my body clean, neat and exercised, I study, do homework and am bringing up my grades. I pray, go to church, read my bible, study with other Christian-written books, don't swear, don't drink, don't smoke, don't do drugs, don't stay out late (past midnight usually) every other day...I mean, honestly (and I am open to suggestions!) what more do you want? I drive kids around on my gas money, run errands for you, do house chores when I'm here and one of the other kids are gone.
So, what's my plan? Do more. Show you respect (ESPECIALLY when your on my last nerve). Be cleaner. Study harder. I have to be as close to perfect as I possibly can. Why? Because I love the dance and I won't drop it. I make good money with it. Second, because there is nothing wrong with me wearing black just like there is nothing wrong with you wearing pink and brown (though, in all humor, that is bordering on a sin!). Mum is attacking the wrong things in me. I'm not insecure, I'm just growing up on my own because she won't be part of my life until she gets scared of me.
I want her to be part of my life. Nothing sucks more than a mother who is afraid of you. I think she'd like me if she knew me. A bit any way.