I’d be lying if I said I hardly ever remember the small insignificant little aspects of my life. I’d be lying if I said those insignificant little aspects didn’t still have some sort of affect on me mentally as well as emotionally. I have issues with remembering shit and people at the most inconvenient of times. I have issues trusting and believing in the simplest of concepts.
My life is comprised of people who both inspire me to be the best I can be and those who I have yet to understand their purpose in my life. My heart yearns for the connections that could possibly be severed for life. I indulge in the what ifs and coulda woulda shoulda waaaaaay more than I really should. Not only is it unhealthy but these thoughts of inadequacy, insecurity and uselessness carried over to how I treat people. Which is unfair and unwarranted.
On a day I should be and part of me is happy, I’m reminded of the many opportunities I’m missing out on. On a day when I have a million fucking thangs to do at work, I’m sitting at the dealer protesting the necessity to leave right this second. On a day when I am obviously blessed to see the sun shining and the air against my face, I want nothing more than to be in bed with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s coffee Heath crunch, a slice of genuine New York cheesecake and some mega stuffed Oreos. don’t judge me!
I promise I’m not going through one of my bouts of depression.
yeah I know I sound that way tho I just often have waaaaaay too much time to think. Random asinine thoughts flood my brain as if I ain’t got shit else to think about. the randomness of other people’s actions, opinions, personalities, style of dress, etc trigger a multitude of memories and emotions that I really don’t wanna deal with.
As I get older, the more I realize I want more outta life. I want the simple aspects of life. I want the “that would be the least of my problems” aspects of life instead of the “fuck! Not this bullshit again!” Is that asking too much outta life?
Perhaps I am. Perhaps the cliché “good things come to those that wait” is true but as my sis says “I’m getting too old for this shit!”
Thas for reading…
the southern yankee
It’s been weighing heavy on my heart for some time now.
I try to remember what her voice and laugh sound like. I feverishly ruffle through my Photobucket and the pictures she left me before she died just to retrieve a memory I might have filed away for safe keeping. Her birthday was a few weeks ago and I’ve been irritable ever since. What gets me even more is that her niece, who a couple of my cousins called Aunt Cynthia, recently passed away which was another painful blow to my emotional heart.
I’m one of eight grandchildren. My paternal grandmother was the glue that kept the family somewhat together. I say somewhat because not all the grandchildren were close to her. My oldest brother doesn’t really “recognize” her as his grandmother. We see differently when it comes to our paternal grandparents. He had Red (our grandfather) and I had Granny. I never really knew Red even though my initials are his initials as well. Granny and her second husband, Emmitt, were my number #1 fans. They were the parents I wished my own to be. They, along with my maternal grandfather, were my everything and I dearly miss the relationship I had with them; which makes me yearn for some sort of relationship with my brothers and cousins.
I think I’ve mentioned in previous posts that I am the only grandchild who grew up in Texas. I’ve missed everything! Graduations. Births. Coming of age parties. Weddings. Funerals. EVERYTHING! Yes I could travel back and forth to California for all of those things but who has that kind of money. We ain’t the Kardashians or the Trumps that can make it rain like a damn hurricane.
so did not mean for that to rhyme! If we could, I certainly wouldn’t be sitting where I am now.
I’m not complaining by any means about my current state of living because I’m grateful as all get out but I do want more. I do want to be able to mini reunions between the cousins or spend the holidays with them. It would just be nice to know my family. I just don’t know how to make that happen or even which one of the other seven grandchildren to go to first. Sigh perhaps one of them will read this.
Thanks for reading…
The Southern Yankee
My co workers and I entered the building wide 4th Annual Chili Cook Off that was held this past Thursday. If I remember right my department had had the most entries by a single department with six. We had five individuals and our boss entered a chili for the department. We were in it to win it all! Six entries mayne! Six! It was the first time we had participated in anything this big in almost a decade. Yeah you read that right a decade.
Why do long?! Well we always get the shaft and the chili cook off proved that theory entirely. But I’m not gonna go into a post long rant about how we shoulda won and how all of our chilis were the shizzle ma nizzle. Seriously yo! We broke our feet off in each batch of chili. And what do we have to show for it?!?!?! A whole lotta compliments but not the grand prize or 1st, 2nd or 3rd place. I’m not overly bitter but I am because even though we were competing against each other and worked our asses off making our chilis, we had fun as a department which doesn’t always happen and hasn’t happened in a long while.
Here’s me and my other co worker’s entry for the chili cook off. We were called the Red Hot Chili Cookers. Hopefully, you see the reference to one of the best alternative punk bands EVER! She was red and I was hot and that was our chili and cornbread entry.
Lemme talk to you guys something about our entry. This. Was. The. SHIT!! The co’nbred was made from scratch. The chili was made fresh that morning. We just knew we had that shit in the bag. In the effn bag Gina!! I haven’t made a batch of chili that damn good in a long time and lemme tell you since each batch seems to come out different, ima be so mad if I can recreate this at a later time. It had texture. Spice. Flavor. It had ground beef and sausage. It was GON before lunch was done being served those who wanted food. My co workers (both in the dept and outside) and friends loved it and sent other folks to get some. Yep utter hit. Boosted my ego a bit. Okay a lot!
But it was fun. It was the first time I actually wanted to enter my cooking into a contest. I typically don’t go out on a limb like that because like with everything I do, I get too much into my head about the outcome. I over analyze my position and second guess everything. I lose sight of the fact that I know what I’m doing and have proven that on several occasions. But I’m human and it’s normal to have some doubt.
I can’t say that I or my department will enter a competition like this again. I secretly hope we do but at the same time no because it costs quite a chunk of change to make our chilis. I can’t speak for my co workers but I usually spend approximately $35 on all the ingredients for my chili recipe. I can only imagine what the others spent because they used bigger and more expensive meats. One guy, who I call the Hacker, made two maybe three batches before deciding on the final entry. All of which were amazing. And the cornbread he made… Jesus lawd have murcy on us all! Lawd that cornbread! It. Had. BACON!!! I ain’t saying nothing else about it. You’re just gonna have to use your imagination cuz my tummy is already feenin for it.
I should prolly end this before I get hongry again!
Thanks for reading…
The Southern Yankee