Desires and Delusions

Before I begin, my apologies for being gone for so long, life got ahead of me and I just caught back up. That being said...

In this 21st century life, one is often met with desires and delusions. The biggest problem is not what to do about them, but how to sort one from the other, especially when the line between them is so thin. I've found myself thinking about this lately, and I must say, its a pain in the ass to deal with. One the one had you have a desire, something, or someone, you want so terribly for what ever reason it may be. Thinking about it makes you happy, maybe even a little annoyed at times, but you still want it. It could be flawed, it could be perfect, but it's still what you want because even the bad things make it everything you want. Or does it?

Is it really what you want? Or just what you THINK you want? Here comes the delusion part...are you over thinking it? Is it just something that seems perfect because you don't have it at this moment? It's so hard to differentiate between these two things. I've been taking this for granted until recently. I thought I knew what I wanted to do with my life. When I finally got the chance to do it, I realized that, while I could do it every so often, making it a career was just not going to work for me. So now, I'm a senior in college and have no idea what on earth I'm going to do when I graduate. 

I love my degree of study, and I have plenty of opportunities because of it, but I had this plan for my life. I was going to go to college, study something I love, find a guy to love and who would love me, know where I wanted to go after school, have plans with said guy for life in the future, get a great job and a fantastic apartment.... But now, I have only truly accomplished one of those things. The rest of my desires, or maybe my delusions, still haven't come to me. And normally, I would worry, but with every one under my little sun starting to get all of these things, I feel a bit behind in the race. I'm even at the point where I wonder if it's even worth the desire anymore...

But it is. The desire to one day have these things, even if I want them now, keeps me driven. I know that I will be successful in whatever life throws at me in terms of a job, and that, with all the crap I've been through in my short little love life on life-support, I'm going to find a good guy to love me and care about me the way that I desire and deserve. I just keep reminding myself each day that I'm getting a little bit closer to getting it all. It's frustrating, and more often then not I'm not as positive as I should be, but I'll be damned if my delusional ass doesn't get what I want, and that is the fuel of my desires.

Bawlmerese for Dummies

In this 21st century life, traveling to new and exciting places can be more exciting than ever.When traveling to any new location, you can be certain that you will be met with some new and different cultural changes. One of the biggest changes you will encounter is dialect. Each place has its own dialect, ranging from the inflection placed on certain parts of the word, to the pronunciation. In Baltimore, this was the case for me. Baltimoreans tend to have an, for lack of a better world, quirky way of pronouncing their words. Thanks to the people at Café Hon, however, a wonder list has been provided for those of us who just don’t get what they’re saying. Their list includes:

AO’s: O’s
baffrum: bathroom
Bawlmer: Baltimore
cafflick: Catholic
de: the
dere: there
fahr: fire
flare: flower
liberry: library
murca: America
murlin: Maryland
poeleece: police
Sairdee: Saturday
spensive: expensive
tar: tire
torst: tourist
turlet: toilet
zink: sink

A few others that warrant mention, taken from diclaudio.org are:

Arnjuice: not a trendy new drink, this is actually orange juice

Croddy: a self defense technique, or karate

Curlin book and crowns: entertainment for children, or a coloring book and crayons

Ignert: mean ignorant

Lobble: if you hit someone else’s car, you’re lobble or liable for damages

Werjagidat: this word is actually a question, Where did you get that?

There are so many more that could be added to the list, but these are the ones that are heard most often as you make your travels through Bawlmer, Murlin. So, study up and prepare yourself for your next trip!

Reconstruction

In this 21st century life, one thing I notice a lot is people and their desire to fit in. Everyone goes through it. Hell, I went through it big time. I went through a bit of a reconstruction phase in middle school. It started with words. White girl. Oreo. Sell-out. These were the words that rolled off of the tongues of my classmates for most of 7^th grade and right into my head. Once they got there, they took up a permanent residency. No matter what I did, they just wouldn’t go away. At first I didn’t mind. Their words even confused me. Why would someone be calling me white when I clearly had dark skin? I certainly hadn’t sold anyone out. I never told anyone that David Krantz skipped school with Jeff Myers to smoke a cigarette behind the water tower. No one heard a word from me when they questioned the entire class about who set off the cherry bombs in the girls’ bathroom in the 6^th grade hall, even though we all knew it was Mike Owens. I was definitely not a sell-out. Oreo….hmmm? That one started to make sense. Chocolate on the outside, but white on the inside. Was that me? Is that really what everyone thought I was? 

My entire life, up until this point, I was perfectly convinced that I was just Tamika. I’ve lived at the same address since I was five, my parents are from South America, but everyone thinks they’re Jamaican because of the accents, and my little brother is blind. I had a tight group of friends and did well in my classes, made honor roll and played the flute. These were the basic building blocks of my foundation. But this new information, it was jarring! I was apparently more than what I thought. I was…white? I stood in the mirror at home, assessing myself; when I couldn’t find the answer, I turned to the all-knowing power in my life – Mom.

“Tamika,” she said. “Those kids are just saying it because you’re different. You don’t fit a mold, that’s why. They’re not used to someone like you. It’ll pass.”

Someone like me meaning what? I wore t-shirts and jeans, like everyone else. I went to school on the bus, like everyone else. I had a family, like everyone else. I listened to…oh. There was clue number one. While most of the other black kids listened to Tupac and Jay-z, I was content listening to Good Charlotte and The All-American Rejects. So, my music makes me white? Was that really it? Johnny Skelecksky answered that for me. 

“Are you racist or something?”

I still remember that day as clear as a bell. My math work had been halted for it.

“What?”

“I mean, you only have pictures of white guys (my Good Charlotte poster was taped on one side of my binder, a Breaking Benjamin poster on the other) and you don’t listening to any rap. You must not like black people.”

I don’t remember what I said, but it must have been good enough for Johnny because he left me alone after that. But my mind didn’t leave me alone, not for a second. For the first time, I realized that I wasn’t being defined by where I came from or who my family was anymore. Now, it was all about who I hung out with, what music I listened to. And apparently I was doing it wrong. The only solution was to start doing it right, right? Commence operation correct me.

I started to listen to a little r&b at first, starting off slow. Some Brandy, Mariah Carey. I liked it; their smooth voices gave me some comfort. I ditched my Chuck Taylors and got a pair of Adidas, which all the girls were wearing. These changes weren’t so bad, minor details in the grand scheme of my new persona. My parents didn’t even notice, minus the 50 bucks my dad shelled out on my new shoes. I asked my mom to braid my hair instead of straightening it. All these changes were cosmetic, but they seemed to work. Suddenly, I was starting to get more attention from people, the same people who had been teasing me. This time, there was no name calling. They asked me to sit with them at lunch. I said yes, but I should have said no. 

I became consumed by the new me. I quit band, telling my teacher I wanted to concentrate on my grades, even though it was a lie. My old group of friends got pushed aside for the new ones. They asked me to move to the back of the class and I did. Instead of paying attention, I listened to them talk about how their brother had just gotten them new shoes, or that they thought the teacher was stupid and didn’t know anything. I laughed with them, even though I didn’t find them funny. I was late to class because I hung out with them in the halls until the last possible second. I even had to walk home a few times because they wanted to skip taking the bus and hang out by the gas station across the street, trying to get someone to buy them cigarettes and candy. Even though I didn’t want to be there, they thought I did. My reconstruction seemed to be working. I hadn’t been called by my nicknames for a while. Instead, I was called to the principal’s office. Twice. 

The first time it was because Storm Winters threw a paper ball at my friend Malissa and then blamed me. It wasn’t my fault, but I got in trouble for it anyway. Why? It was because my new group of friends went along with it. My other friends would have stuck up for me…oh, right, I didn’t have them anymore. They were a part of the old me. The one who didn’t get sent to the principal twice in three days; he so kindly pointed this out to my parents and myself the second time I found myself there. I was called in for being late to class four times. My mother didn’t understand. She swore that I was a good kid and I didn’t act this way. It just wasn’t me.  I just sat there quietly, watching a laughing group of kids walk by the window. I realized that it was my friends, my new friends, and that they didn’t care that I was in here because of them. They still didn’t care, whether I was “like them” or not. After being sent home for the day and being grounded for two weeks, I decided another reconstruction was in order. The new Tamika was just not someone I wanted to be anymore. To put it plainly, she kind of sucked.

My first step in this was to say sorry. I apologized to my parents first, for acting up at school and quitting band without telling them. They forgave, but did not forget. I was still grounded. I accepted my fate as long as I could keep my stereo. I put my new CDs back in their cases and placed the old ones in my disc changer, playing them until it was time for bed. I could already feel myself returning to normal just from humming along to the songs. My Adidas lay in my closet in their box and my braids and been pulled out of my hair. My disguise, the mask I had put on to try and be someone I most certainly was not, was finally gone.

The next day at school was the hard part. My teachers all looked at me with disappointment. Apparently my new behavior had caused a stir in the faculty lounge. They couldn’t believe that I was behaving so differently, and to be honest, I’m surprised I was too. I worked so hard to make myself into someone new, thinking it would make me happy, but I ended up sacrificing all of my happiness to do so. I moved back to the front of the classroom, paying attention and doing my worksheets. When lunch came around, I met my biggest challenge. My friends. The old ones, the ones that I belonged with. 

I walked up to their table at lunch and they all stopped talking. I told them that I was sorry. I apologized to Malissa and told her that it was really Storm that threw the paper. I apologized to Dani, Kim, Amanda, Mandy, Emily, Bryan, Wayne, all of them. My sorrys were met with silence. Dropping my shoulders in defeat, I went to walk away when they did something I didn’t expect. They moved over. Made room for me to sit down. Me and all of my imperfections, my quirks, the things that made me, well, me. They didn’t care what I listened to or what shoes I wore, whether I got good grades or played in the band. They didn’t even hate me after I had ditched them. I may have been young, but I still remember that being one of the most incredible feelings in the world. The feeling of acceptance. It was there all along; I just never took the time to see that. Being preoccupied with stereotypes will do that to a person. I was blinded by all of the negative things that other people saw in me, when they were really the positive things my friends and family saw and loved. I’ll take that feeling and that insight over fitting in any day. Being myself, my true self, is the only thing that anyone should ask for, and the only thing that I’ll ever give to them.

Five Ways to Relax and Unwind

In this 21st century life, pretty much everyone is moving at a million miles a minute. With all the hustle and bustle people get swept into each day, its a wonder that anyone can find the time to relax. And more often than not, I know that I can't. Until recently. I realized that when 5 days out of the week I'm out until 9:30 or 10 at night working or at school, relaxation just isn't something I can put off. Finding the time, and money, to do so was the only thing stopping me. In order to get around this, I managed to find five ways I could work relaxing into my schedule without wasting time or needing money.

Number one: Read before bed. Now this might seem a little simple and not everyone likes to read for pleasure, but it really works. It doesn't have to be for more than ten minutes and it doesn't even have to be a book. Pick up an old magazine laying around, or the newspaper and scan the pages while you're settled in bed. Doing this will give you a chance to let your brain shut itself down and gets you relaxed, allowing you to fall asleep faster and with more ease.

Number two: Take a bath or a shower. You have to do it anyways, so make the most of it. Even if you're a morning shower person, taking a shower before bed is a great way to unwind from your day. If you have the time, take a bath. Allow the water to get hot enough for you to stand, that way it stays warm longer. This will give your muscles a chance to loosen and for your mind to calm down. You can switch from work mode to relaxation mode. Plus, you'll get a nice clean feeling!


Number three: Moisturize yourself! Some people might be staring at the screen asking if I really just said that. Yes, yes, I did. Take the time to rub your lotion or, if you have it handy, lavender or aloe baby oil, into your skin after your shower. The fragrances will calm down your senses while you work out small kinks your body may have gained from the day. Plus, it will leave your skin feeling silky smooth. Your sheets will feel wonderful against the softness and allow you to be more comfortable quickly.

Number four: Light a candle. If you don't have one, the dollar store is a great place to get small ones cheap. Light a few while you're cleaning or doing work. The flicker from the flame will create a relaxing ambiance and the scent will give the atmosphere a change of pace. You could even kill two birds with one stone and light some in the bathroom while you soak in a bath. Double the relaxation, double the calm!

And finally...Number five: Sleep! Sleeping is the best way to relax. Whether it's a short nap when you get home or going to bed a bit earlier, having that rest will help relieve a lot of stress. Now, don't over do it. Sleeping too much can be just as bad as not sleeping enough. Six or seven hours of sleep should do the trick. In the morning, you'll wake up feeling fresh without that dragging "I wish I had more sleep" syndrome most people find themselves having each day.

Now, these are just the things that I've done to help me relieve stress. There may be something else that relaxes you more. If so, then do it! Find ways to incorporate it into and soon, you'll be feeling calm and ready to face the world.

Wedding Bells and Graduation Caps

*Names have been changed for the privacy of the parties involved

In this 21st century life, everything is moving faster than ever. From the internet to cell phones, it seems like everyone is always in a rush. But people are also beginning to take their time in settling down. They would rather spend more time on education and careers than anything else. This isn't a bad thing by any means - you can focus on making a name for yourself and gaining the proper foundations you need before starting a family. One thing that is striking me as odd is that, with all of this being true, everyone I know is getting married! I sat back one day and really took a good look at the central hub of my social connections - Facebook. My new feed was filled with pictures of my friends from home, statuses about how in love they were and even pictures of their babies. This was nothing new to me, but then I realized something. I'm not even 21 yet and half of the people on my news feed celebrating their marriages, engagements or boasting about how adorable their child is. These people graduated with me!

Determined to find someone NOT basking in the happiness of young wedded bliss, I scrolled down my Facebook page scanning for a sign of single-dom amongst the couples. When I finally did find someone, they were complaining that love could not come to them fast enough. Is this really what entering your twenties is supposed to be about? Marriage and children? I spent most of September working on papers and projects while several of my friends spent it working on wedding plans and nurseries. At first I determined that it was because I'm from a military town and everyone is ready to tie the knot by graduation. However, this spans across to my friends in Maryland as well. What’s going on with the world today?

I decided to ask a few of my friends just why they were married so young. Tara*, one of my closest friends, gave me an interesting response. "We were in love with each other, why wait when we could do it now?" Can you know true love at this age? With the way society is today, love to most is a dreamy concept reserved for sappy silver screen tearjerkers and fairytales. Studies on divorcerate.org even show that couples who marry before the age of 25 have a 36% divorce rate for women and a 38% rate for men. Yet everyone I know is still taking the matrimonial nose dive into life. By the time I had closed my Facebook that day, I had realized that I am one of only 2 of my close friends who is still single. My next question became : Am I in the wrong by waiting?

I came to the conclusion that there really is no right or wrong to this. Everything is a matter of circumstance. People are doing everything at a younger age: getting cell phones, laptops, and even the more "taboo" thing I won't care to mention. Maybe I was missing out on something. My curiosity got me to spend some time with my friends James* and Monica*, who were married in September. When I first arrived, everything seemed wonderful. I would soon find out that the picture perfection did not go much past a social media haven. 

 
I was in the house no more than ten minutes before they started a hushed argument over a bill James had forgotten to pay. He told her he’d take care of it and left the house. A smile graced Monica's lips as she returned to the living room. We chatted for a while as she recounted their honeymoon in Florida and talked to me about nursing school. A few hours later, James returned, but instead of joining us, went straight into the bedroom. That was where he remained until it was time for dinner. I inquired if all was well between them, just out of concern. “Things are okay, just stressful,” Monica responded. “It’s the whole first year thing, still trying to get our finances and whatnot straightened out.” I nodded and changed the subject, not wanting to pry.

After dinner, James was in the living room playing video games while Monica and I did the dishes. There was tension in the house, beyond the level of a forgotten bill. Deciding to take a walk together, the dishes were quickly finished and Monica and I left the house without as much as a nod goodbye from James. Halfway down the block, the tears began to flow. She started to let everything out. James was still going out with his friends every other night instead of spending time with her, he wasn’t budgeting his finances well so that they could pay the rent on their house, he constantly blamed her being in school for why they never see each other when he gets home from work. All this conflict in just two months of marriage! Then Monica uttered what I had been thinking the whole time: maybe they should have waited. 

 
James and Monica are just one example.  Another couple I know, Ryan* and Amy*, get along fabulously. They have a great dynamic about them and seem to have everything worked out. Ryan works at night and Amy during the day, so they only get to see each other for a few hours, but they make it work in their favor. They hit a few snags now and again, but always manage to work through it in the end. They even have a bills chart to show what needs to be paid and what's already been taken care of for the month. A system was devised and it works for them. Not all relationships between young married couples turn out the way James and Monica's did. However, they show exactly what could happen and does happen quite often. They were not as financially or emotionally ready to handle the strains of matrimony as they originally thought.

The lesson I took from this ss simple - there is no way to ever truly be ready for marriage. My parents have been married for 24 years and still haven't figured everything out. They still bicker and fuss at each other over little things, much to my entertainment usually. Younger couples in a rush just have a lot more in store for them. I may not be on the "I Do" path just yet, but I'm okay with that. I shouldn't feel rushed just because everyone else is doing it, or because the "end of the world" is coming on December 21st of this year. It may get me down sometimes being the "single friend", especially when the couples try to set me up (disastrous things always happen!), but I just remind myself of this. When the time is right for my matrimonial nose dive, I'll know. And hopefully, I won't be balancing my nuptials between spring break and finals week. 

Supermom

A crash can be heard from the upstairs portion of the Hope residence, even over the phone. When asked if things were alright, a Caribbean-accented “Yeah” is the reply. Then there is singing and the sounds of a piano for a few minutes before another crash. The crashing, singing and musical sounds are normal in the home of Raylene Hope, their source being her sixteen year old son, Winston. The phone scuffles for a moment as Winston pulls the phone from his mother’s ear, eagerly pushing the buttons to hear the beeps. A sharp “Winston!” is heard before a breathless Raylene is back on the phone, apologizing as she puts away the laundry. She never seemed to stop moving for a second, the clashing of plastic toys and folding of clothes becoming the background music as her story begins.

May 12^th, 1964 marked a special day in the lives of the Williams family. In the Memorial Hospital of New Amsterdam, located in Berbice, Guyana, Raylene Emily was brought into the world. Being the youngest of her many siblings, she was surrounded by a loving, healthy and strong family. Though her life was content growing up, Raylene knew that even better opportunities lay ahead for her, especially in America. She couldn’t wait until she was in a new country and starting a family of her own. After marrying her husband, Valmond, who was in the United States military, in April of 1988, they both moved to Plattsburg, New York. Life, however, wasn’t as easy as she had anticipated.  

Things were much different living in America, even more so than Raylene expected. “If I had to choose, I’d pick Guyana because that’s what I know. When you come over as a child, it’s easier because you’re young and you get to go to school and stuff, but when you’re an adult because you have to find work.” Before being able to find work, Raylene and her husband welcomed a baby girl into their family, three years after they had moved to the States. The welcoming, however, was not an exciting one. Tamika, their daughter, was born through an emergency cesarean operation one month before her due date. Her umbilical cord was wrapped around her throat, causing some health problems for both the new born and her mother. After a short stay in the hospital, both were sent home and soon, the small family was relocated to Germany.

With a new baby, and in yet another new country, Raylene was able to find work on the military base at the child development center working with small children. Life was good for the next few years, raising Tamika, who was developing well and being a healthy little girl and, in the middle of 1994, Raylene and Valmond began to prepare for the addition of a new baby. All of the excitement was short lived, however. On December 20^th, 1994, Winston Patrick Hope made his way into the world, four months before he was due. Even with being a natural birth, Winston was born so early that everything in his body was underdeveloped, both mentally and physically, and his retinas detached from his eyes, leaving him blind after only three days of life.

Raylene and her husband were extremely surprised that their son had been born so early. They barely had any time to get used to her being pregnant.  “By the time I started enjoying the pregnancy with Winston, there he is!” They weren’t even aware of any complications, though the risk was a great one. The doctors in Germany may have even been partially to blame. “After I had Tamika, the doctor told me that, when I go overseas, if I get pregnant to tell them that I’m high risk, but they didn’t listen.” Because of this, Raylene and her family would spend the next year and a half in and out of hospitals both in Germany and the United States, wondering if their newest addition would ever be able to come home.

A few months after his birth, Winston was transported to Alfred I. Dupont hospital in Wilmington, Delaware, the rest of the family relocating as well. For the next six months, Raylene lived with Tamika in a Ronald McDonald House located within walking distance from the hospital in which Winston now held residency. Valmond had been given orders to the Air Force Base in Dover, Delaware, so he lived on the base in the dorms and visited every weekend.

Raylene and Tamika fell into a daily routine while in Wilmington, walking from the Ronald McDonald House to the hospital singing hymns and nursery rhymes, clapping and dancing as they walked through the gates of the property. Once they got into the hospital, their spirits would either be lifted or dropped. Winston’s health was very touch a go, his prognosis constantly changing. They were never certain if he was going to live or if this would be their last day with him. “Every time you go, you don’t know what news you’re going to get,” Raylene explained. Throughout it all, she remained as strong as she could for her family and prayed every single day for her son to make it and be strong enough to take home soon.

Eighteen months after his birth, Raylene’s prayers were answered and Winston was finally released to go home. His homecoming would not be without some hefty responsibilities. Due to Winston’s condition, he had to have a tracheotomy performed when he was born, leaving him with a tube in his throat in order for him to breathe. He was constantly on a heart monitor and had a feeding tube in his stomach for him to receive formula in. Raylene’s relief that her son was okay soon became overpowered by life and the long hours she now had to invest in each day for the next sixteen years.

Presently, a typical day for Raylene starts at six in the morning, waking up to feed and bathe Winston and get him ready for school. He leaves for school with a nurse while she goes to work at the Child Development Center on base. Once she gets off from work around six, she comes back home and relieves the nurse just in time to feed Winston. She then takes care of him until 10:30 at night before going to sleep and starting all over. It’s a tedious and redundant life, making one wonder if she ever wishes things were different. “Yeah, sometimes. Come on, I’m a human being. Who’s not gonna wish they had a normal life, you know what I mean.”

Life has become easier, with Winston now strong and as healthy as he could be. The tube is no longer in his throat and he can drink his formula by mouth when he’s awake. However, things are not perfect.

“I don’t wish it on my worst enemy,” Raylene insists about her life, even now. “No matter what someone did to me, I wouldn’t wish them to go through what I went through with Winston.”

It’s become smoother of a life for Raylene, but raising a special needs child will never be an ideal task for her. The love she has for Winston and the strength she has for life just makes this supermom's days go by with more ease.

The weight that she carries is a heavy one, many of her responsibilities being underrated by those around her. I should know; I’m her daughter. She honestly makes it look so simple. I mean, I know how hard it is because I’ve helped her, but I couldn’t do even half of what she does every day. My mom is the strongest person I have ever known. I share this story because people like her are often overlooked, even by those around them, for their strength, dedication and patience in dealing with a lifestyle most could not imagine living.

Watching without Cable

While February 5th marked an excitement filled day for the masses, I was one of the few who was not interested in the hooplah of the Superbowl. While I was excited that my dad's favorite team, the Giants, were playing, the desire to watch the game just was not there for me. But I did have a few questions. What were the commercials like, how was the half-time show, and who won? My answers could have come from simply leaving the game on and only paying attention every so often, but as a struggling college student, I don't have cable in my apartment, only a DVD player and a Wii to play NetFlix through. So, I took advantage of the 21st century and went to the most powerful entity in the knowledge-seeking world - the Internet.

Within ten minutes, I had my answers. What were the commercials like? According to Facebook, mediocre with a few pleasantries, David Beckham in his underwear being the most popular in my news-feed. How was the half-time show? Tumblr dazzled me with pictures of Madonna attempting acrobatics in complicated garb. Cee-Lo brought me back to my days in the marching band. A text message from my best friend stated "Half-time was amazing!", which I accepted as my answer. And last but not least, who the hell won?

With an incredible, and in Tom Brady's case life-shattering, interception by Mario Manningham, which I viewed thanks to YouTube, the Patriots were unable to complete their final play and the Giants won 21 - 17. I could practically hear my dad rejoicing from 97 miles away as I closed my computer and went back to my Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathon on NetFlix.