Odd allergic reactions. Acne so bad, I refuse to go out in public. A hip so painful that I have trouble getting out of bed or off a chair. This isn't how life is supposed to be at forty-three. Looking for jobs to accommodate my "disabilities" and all I find is listing requiring long periods of standing for pennies per minute. I'm not looking for a million, but maybe a handful of change. Pain has been part of my life since 1997, but this isn't what I'm used to. Headaches, acne, limping, wince inducing pain caused by daily chores. Taking my right sneaker off to tie it, because I can't bear the agony from reaching for it. All that I envisioned is gone, not lost, but gone. Yesterday I watched little league on TV, remembering a time when I coached, when I was looked up to. Remembering when there was a skill level that was more than the others. I miss those days, diving for balls, laughter from kids, drinks after they went home. Rinse and repeat. I used to open the trunk of my car, sift through the bats and balls, the gloves and racquets, the nets, the uniforms, all to find the windshield wiper fluid. A veritable sports authority has turned into an authority on sports. Playing days have ended and the only joy I get is discussing the past. Old men do this, not overgrown boys in their forties. At twenty I never thought I'd get greater pleasure out of a plate of cheese and crackers than I did from the crack of a bat or the sound the ball makes against the net from a perfect shot. Internet friends have replaced real ones. We speak of movies and politics and religion and then I try with those who know and I'm called confrontational, but these are my views. There is no god, no governing body and no religion I choose to blind me. I choose obtaining knowledge in a world that finds the process to tiring. Last night I read about studies on intelligence, the honey badger and a recipe for pernil. The night before it was Frittatas, Ip Man and Salvador Dali. My mind wanders into places I can't explain. I woke once, a dream, yes that dream, with someone I've never met, whom I'm friends with. A different setting, a different time, but an understanding. I woke, clogged sinuses, aching bones, head pounding. I staggered to the dresser, swallowed pills with giant gulps of water. Crawling into bed, used to be a saying, now it's an actual physical act. Pulling sheets and blankets above me, trying not to twist my leg. Pain. I awake to the sound of birds and crickets, limping towards the coffee pot, sun is shining, 80 degrees, soft eggs on a crispy bagel. Pain, financial woes and the embarrassing facial situation gone for but an instance. Is today the day that everything changes? Doubtful, but I will look to make myself better. Even if it's simply knowing more about some insignificant topic that I will be able to express knowledge in ten years down the line. Times up...(should probably go back to five minute limits, haha)
This was a post I wrote on Facebook after surprisingly not seeing any moaning about the Documentary by Jose Antonio Vargas, titled White People Dayyum! I just scrolled my timeline and not a single white person got their feelings hurt by White People. I unfortunately haven't seen it, but the number of fake accounts that popped up on twitter, tells me it was a damn good show. Here's the thing. If someone of color aka non-white says "White Privilege," are you offended? If you said yes, then you are exhibiting white privilege. It has nothing to do with how hard you work or study, how you stayed out of trouble, because here's the thing, that is entirely the point. Somewhere out there, there are 100 Black, Spanish, Native American, Arab, Asian, who worked and studied as hard as you and never got in trouble, but they don't have what you "earned" or achieved. Stop looking at the one person you know who isn't white that achieved as your benchmark. Loo
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