It’s all good either way is the motto that has been adopted
these days. Much has changed since my last autobiographical entries, and this quick sketch of the last
year will hopefully get you up to speed..
Despite my apologies for my absence, efforts will be made to
check in more regularly for those of you who have composed my loyal readership. (On that note, I’m happy to report that each entry has been getting about 30
hits on average with readers as far away as Germany
and Russia .
(It may not sound like much, but for word of mouth’s sake, it is to me.
Furthermore, as my friend Chris says, "A lil' something, is better than a whole lot o' nothin'.). That’s a good sign that the work here is positively impacting
someone out there, so consider me happy on that end.) Anyhow, please allow me to
continue with the narrative.
So much has changed over the past year in general, and the
past four months, have been especially instructive .In the following
paragraphs, I’ll do my best to give you the highly abridged version of the
goings on.
After hearing that my mother was having an unexpected
surgery (unbeknownst to me at the time it was very minor and routine), the heaven
carved out for myself in the A, was left at the drop of a hat to fulfill my
filial duties as they were perceived.
When I left to Atlanta in late 2011, I was 225 lbs, slept
14-16 hours a day, wasn’t working, (unless of course you call bumming
cigarettes compulsively from my mother a job), and instead of continuing upon
this dead end trajectory, I moved in with one my closest friends to attempt
rectify both of our situations.
It was a reintroduction to adulthood and the
responsibilities it entails, a veritable crash course if you will, seeing as
how he was in jeopardy of losing “it” in the proverbial mental way that was all too familiar to me and losing his
apartment in a very real, “get yo’ black ass on the streets, way”. My little
sister, Nicole, in her sage wisdom, advised that me going down there was like
jumping on the titanic. At the time I remember thinking doing so was better
than doing the dead man’s float in the middle of the ocean.
Thankfully, within a
matter of months in Atlanta many a stride were made to end the catatonia that had seized me in Boston . I started working at a grocery store
as well as writing papers as a side hustle. On the weight front, I got back in
the gym to regain my once, svelte figure. Somewhere the inspiration struck, to
give grad school the old college try, as I soon got the ball rolling on a
January 2012 entrance (more on this coming up in the post).
Back against the wall pressure to create that diamond had
been applied. But wait, there’s more…
Despite our best efforts to keep the titanic (i.e. our
living situation afloat) my friend had to return to LA to tend to his own
family obligations. That left the kid with a once friendly leasing agent
threatening eviction on a basis that was more regularly and routine that was
pleasant.
I was solo in the A, making moves to salvage a situation
that I knew was leaps and bounds ahead of what I left in Boston . Finally, the leasing agent had had
enough, and once legal action was pursued, I moved what was left of my friends belongings
as well as my stuff across the hall to a friend’s apartment across the way.
Around the same time, in addition to working and dealing
with stressors of piss-poor management, I attempted to try grad school for the
final time after already having left my MA in African Diaspora Studies on the
back burner at Cal. This time around I chose to look into social services,
specifically, mental health counseling at Mercer
University , a small school in Atlanta .
Due to everything that was going on at the time, and the
repressed trauma that the program invoked, I was forced to bail, but not before
I collected an 11K student loan that gave me the means to secure a two bedroom apartment
as I awaited my roommates return from Cali .
Long story short, it bought us time, but despite our best efforts to come up
with what should have been, under less trying circumstance, wholly doable rent,
we were unceremoniously given the boot from that apartment, too.
It sounds worse than it is folks, and if you’ll kindly refer
back to the aforementioned introductory quote, it led me to many a lesson and
to my current station, for which I couldn’t be more grateful. (Sidenote,
understandably this is, as stated, the glossed over, extremely abridged version.
Apologies again, if it comes off with a who dunnit and what for vibe, but read
along, and we’ll get there.)
After losing the second apartment, and being exhausted by
what would by my final move in the A, I found myself sharing a two-bedroom
apartment with the big homie Donald at the grocery store. The rent was
agreeable to my budget, and due to my diligence at the grocery store, I was
promoted from greeter (I was the, “Ask Me” guy/director during an intensive and
massive remodel who directed bewildered customers to their desired product
during the nearly year long overhaul) to natural foods specialist for those few
shoppers in the A, who were on the healthy eating bandwagon.
In less than a year, I had lost 40lbs, put on a good deal of
muscle mass (set a new personal record and finally broke the 225ish one rep max on
the bench), put the cigarettes down (perhaps the most wondrous of all of my
accomplishments in my book, seeing as how smoking had become damn near a job of
mine on its own), and gotten my focus back. It was the best of times.
During my time in the A in general and the grocery store in
particular, much was learned. The benefits of going hard at a fixed income,
menial, salaried position became clear. You can actually move up and be
compensated accordingly for your efforts, even if you don't think they are noticed. Aside from meeting dear friends who
are on speed dial to this day in the mental rolodex it was a transformative
period. It was a rehab of sorts, and despite it costing me nearly 20K in
student loans to be repaid, it was worth every penny.
To bring the story full circle back to the my current
station, despite having a foothold on the fast(er) track at the grocery store,
I decided to throw caution to the wind (as had been my MO to that point) and
gave my notice at the job. The free spirit in me, wanted with two weeks left on
month to month rent, wanted to get on his Thoreau-Emerson, transcendental tip,
go live and Stone Mountain while focusing on
writing full-time. The transient, nomad, vagabond, wanderer (Metallic Fans,
note the reference to these seeming pejoratives) in me has become quite
accustomed to moving, and being where I want to be at any given time. Though
several options were considered, I decided to use my last paycheck from the
grocery to store to make one last move, before I got down to writing
passionately and purposefully.
Again, as is typical with much that I have done, it sounds
more rash than it is. One of the phone calls I had made in the A, was to a
former friend and business mentor who does brand management for celebrities,
and has quite the resume to back up his exploits. I figured that with my mojo
back, and him behind me, this was the time to seize the day, go for the gusto
and all of that good stuff. I was amped as they say.
In my excitement, before delving into my dream, I decided I
wanted to come home, visit the fam, and show them the new me while leaving me
just enough money to get back to the A and continue upon the aforementioned plan.
As I was the library during my morning visit there, my
cousin, Nina called me and in atypical and very troubled tone told me, “Chris,
your mother is going in for surgery, what’s going on?!”
. . .
. . .
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