It's All In The Stars

Our shift was blessed with a lazy Sunday due to the hangover from Thanksgiving visits. Time was so unoccupied that my co-worker had time to look up the profile of her zodiac sign. Bored myself and mildly curious of the astrology thing myself I shared what I had found on my own time and we found more together.

Due to an ill-advised late energy drink,Posh was treated to a soliloquy about relationships fueld partially by the profile pages I had viewed earlier. She merely asked if I was envious of the married couples that seem to be proliferating amongst our peer group. Instead I bullrushed with a stream of consciousness. And ot some degree I am envious, but I'm also aware I'm not ready to even consider the step they all are taking.

This was just one more in a series of conversations we have been having as Posh is just getting a minor existential crisis in her rearview mirror. The birthday celebrations actually touched off a series of unfortunate events that Limony Snicket would have been proud to claim authorship. At its worst, she commiserated with fictional courtesans and went out to party mere hours before work. Logic and sanity have returned, but still at the heart of the whole matter are th difficulties in obtaining the companionship we both seek.

Chalk it up as one more incendiary device in the war field of Adulthood. We're raised to desire certain things and be able to handle certain responsibilities. but truly understanding the stressors can only come with experience. And so far t he experience is like a huge dose of Castor oil.

We know that eventually we need to pay our own way, but finding the job you desire, if you have even settled on a career path, is a hassle. And look at you with your job, but surrounded by inept idiots. So that's why mom and dad were muttering under their breaths at the dinner table. Finally the love you were taught to want so badly, that love you innately crave, well that example in your home was built on questionable circumstances and was threatened by third parties who may or may not have provided your parents carnal pleasure you thought was solely the domain of soap operas and epic movies. If you manage to not be completely disillusioned and still strive for some tolerable facsimile of a loving relationship, there are a bunch of obstacles you never could have imagined. Plus career, money, and love all seem to be interrelated and influence each other.

Somebody let me off this ride!

I personally thought it would be a bit simpler. I grew up hearing that my mom first noticed my dad cause he was actually wearing dress socks at church. naively I have been looking for that special anecdote to unlock that amazing relationship but have come up short. Parents love to tell the stories of how they met, but they omit every false hope that was crushed and all the wrong paths they took before they made that connection. And they totally de-emphasize the fact that it was totally random.

Jeremiah 29:11 says God has a plan, better than anything we mortals can imagine. I'm a try to just look up and let Him lead. We'll see how that works.

World Outside My Window

Central Massachusetts is currently in the midst of its first snow. And once again I am faced with another winter in this section of the country. It is hard to believe that this will be my seventh winter in the state of Massachusetts. It is almost more familiar than New York at this point. But finally a season is changing and I feel that I am as well, and finally in a forward direction.

A couple of Sabbaths ago as Posh slept off the first of two crazy evenings, I tryed coax her to a computer with texts during an enlightening sermon. His sermon was titled "Where Are The Men?" but it was readily apparent that he was truly questioning the dearth of respectable black men in the community. He went through a smattering of discouraging statistics like the overrepresentation in the prison population, the functional illiteracy of the vast majority of black men, and the meager matriculation numbers. For every 100 black women, there are only 30 marriageable black men. There I was nodding along, when it hit me that I was one of the 30. But then I asked was I truly marriage material.

Here I am, only a month away from 26, yet still living paycheck to paycheck. And finally this year, I have given myself a true direction for the first time, but I have failed to consistently follow through. But in the past couple of weeks, I have finally begun to shed that last vestige of childhood that kept me planted. For my life, I have played like an actor and just worked off the script. Sometimes I improvised; sometimes I gave notes. But really I have just followed directions and waited for the next one. But I don't want to be actor as audience. And thank God I'm coming to the conclusion that I can write the script.

So this is fair warning that this will not be a winter of discontent, but joy. I might struggle. I might be discouraged or ready to sloth about and hope that some direction comes forth. But I have to keep moving. I'm in a hole that I don't want to get any deeper. I started a potentially lucrative job that actually mentally stimulates. I still enjoy my original position. And I have some clarity in my professional pursuits.

It's time to keep moving

These Men

....were integral figures in Posh's birthday festivities.


I'm sure a tale for the ages will see the light of day eventually