Ex Mente Mea

I’m thinking and thinking about how fit I used to be, mind and body. I was at work late yesterday and I decided to look through some old folders. I stumbled on some pictures and notes from 10 years ago. 22 year old ARod.

When I look at these pictures, I see my face, leaner, my body smaller, always clean shaven, perfectly groomed hair, eyebrows plucked and trimmed, and just an overall more vibrant image of myself. Clearly I cared about my appearance back then, more than I have of late.

Every thursday was grooming day, I’d not only do my eyebrows, but my chest, legs, toes, balls, I mean I groomed to the T! I didn’t mess around. I was a clear and through metrosexual, if I didn’t bang and like girls, along with everyone else I too would have questioned my sexual preference back then.

In contrast I look at pictures of myself now, and I look drained, heavier, unshaven for the most part, and just overall worn out and tired looking. Bummily dressed, just not caring as much as I used to.

The tasks that were a part of my life, I find them so tiring and annoying to do lately. I still do them, don’t get it twisted, but I do them with much less frequency. Though on grooming days I feel great! I see a fat shadow of my past greatness, but still it feels good.

Can 10 years do so much damage to us? My mind I am certain has gotten more mature, and I believe I am a better person. Yet time has not spared my mind along with my body, I struggle to remember things, more often than not I find myself forgetting simple things.

More and more I am becoming ever dependent on my handheld smart phone to assist me in remembering things, in this case my blackberry, and sometimes Christine or Aneil remind me of stuff. Basically if you need or want something from me, remind me, or make sure I put it on my calendar.

A few days ago, I was doing some simple math to calculate a tip after having dinner at a restaurant with Christine, and I saw the numbers, I knew the process required, but I could not add them, I just blanked out.. It took me a few seconds to make sense of what I was trying to do and figure out the simple objective of adding a series of simple numbers.

This scares me to no end. I’m 32 years old. Barely at the middle of my life cycle, I hope, and I’m forgetting basic mathematics? That’s scary. Not to mention simple things like “why did I walk into the kitchen”.

My body is stiff and tighter than most people my age and even people much older, I’ve lost range of motion on my wrists, I have high blood pressure, I get headaches often, and God forbid I miss a meal, my body goes berserk.

I hope something clicks in my head and that I can get a glimpse at what I used to be. For my own sake, and for the sake of the ones I love.

A toast to long life and health for myself, and for all of you!
————————
Angel Rodriguez
www.arod.org
aim: arodomus

Hurt and confusion, romance lacks love
Indecisive, yet full of resolve
Nights blend with days, hot blends with cold
Evil seeks good, young becomes old
Hurtful desires have now gone soft
stormy beginnings have suddenly gone calm
confusion so deep for what’s it all mean
can I be happy, can I love free
Staying together through the thick and the thin
it has to be real, to survive where we’ve been
————————
Angel Rodriguez
www.arod.org
aim: arodomus

So like every single day, I catch the train this morning 1 stop over to Jackson Heights. I head down towards the express train which I take to WTC. And as happens every so often, there is a row of people 5 lines deep waiting. Barely any room to even walk.

First thought? Oh man, I’m screwed! 2nd thought, no, screw this. I realize that there is no way I’m getting on this train this a.m. 2 trains come, packed as it is and the line barely gets dented, now its 4 1/2 people deep and still regenerating and growing.
I decide to cross over and catch the local train towards work. It takes me all the way downtown to where I can walk to wall street. However it is a local train, and makes for a long painful ride. But at least I’m moving towards my goal, it is what it is.

I always wonder what happens to cause these types of days. Last night we had a little bit of snow, its the only elemental variant that has occurred. It appears that a little itsy bitsy bit of snow can mess up the trains to no end. So annoying.

So I figure to distract my mind and keep myself entertained I would write a blog about the subway and how much I hate commuting.

I’m considering getting a job much closer to where-ever I end up buying a place. I’ll scout the area and see what’s available work wise. As long as I can afford my mortgage, have money for my family and my other expenses, then I’m not to afraid of a small pay cut. SMALL.

I’d rather a much happier start to the day. Days like today make me miserable from the start, parts of my body start to twitch, and my feet ache more than usual from the extra long ride. No fun. And the kicker is that I haven’t even arrived at work yet, already miserable. Not good.

Truth be told though, I doubt I could make anywhere near what I earn now in Queens or any of the boroughs, not in my current job. Not too likely. But it doesn’t hurt to look around. Even working in midtown would make my commute much shorter and pleasant.

I like my team, and the job I have now is a good job. I earn on the high end for what I do. I believe as a tech, you can’t make more money providing support than in the financial industry. Now this is not to say we make as much as the traders, or other people on the trading floor, not by a long shot, but compared to techs in other areas, law firms, hospitals, etc, we earn a “higher” salary, by comparison.

That being said, unless its something very good, good pay, that has long term promise, I’m not going anywhere. I could always work at the courts as a court officer, but I’d be taking a massive pay cut, so that’s not going to happen anytime soon.

I was looking at fbi jobs, cia, and other government type jobs. I can do my 20 yrs of service and still retire earlier than I would otherwise. I should of taken that fbi job 13 years ago, I’d be 7 years from a life long government pension. Instead I’m nowhere near retirement. Depressing.

What do you guys think? Would you (do you) deal with the crazy commute for higher pay, or would you (do you) stay local for a better quality of life? Both have their pros and cons, unless you are really lucky and land a gig that is close to home and pays high, or you can afford living in the city close to your job which I can’t afford.

Thoughts?

As I hoped, I am almost at work, writing distracted me. Oh wait. Just several stops before, literally right now, they announce my train is bypassing all its manhattan stops and going express to dekalb, brooklyn. Great.

(I get off and start walking)

As I know the subway rather well, I jumped off, I’m walking to a nearby station where I can catch another train to my objective, and there it goes, I just missed the train.

(Several moments pass)

I’m on the train now. So I wonder, has this a.m’s commute experience helped in making my case? I hate the mta. Increased fares, more cuts, less trains, less service. What a business model huh! I hate it.

I’m done writing for now, I’m tired.
————————
Angel Rodriguez
www.arod.org
aim: arodomus

Growing up most of us don’t know about all the cultural taboos and societal rules in place. We learn them as we go.

Enter 10 year old Angel and the dreaded “n” word. For those of you that don’t know, I will provide a brief description of the word, the rather many variations of use, and specifically the 2 times I was called out for using the “n” word, all in an entertaining story format.

I recall when I was a younger boy, probably about my son’s age, I was at an arcade, and one of my friends was playing “punch out”, remember “Mac”, little green striped guy. At one point an opponent comes out, and its a big black dude.

So in all my 10 year old ignorant innocence I call out loud something to effect of “Man that scary big black nigger is gonna beat you up”!

Little did I know at the time that a proud soul sista was standing right behind me, Oops! She taps me on the shoulder and proceeds to lay into me.

“Little boy, do you know what ‘nigger’ means?”. Sure, its a word that means big black person. “WHAT! Don’t they teach you kids anything in school, at home?” Not about that word, and mom doesn’t really speak english, dad never mentioned the word either. ” It means BLACK AFRICAN SLAVE, and its very offensive to black people”. Oh, I know about slaves, Harriet Tubman, and stuff, but they never said anything about that word. “Now you know!”

Once again, oops.

She then proceeds screaming and lecturing me at on the history of the “n” word, and why I shouldn’t say it, and she says she’s gonna tell my mother and father! I told her I didn’t know anything about the “n” word being offensive, but that I wouldn’t say it again. She seems satisfied and left me and my friends alone.

I was scared cause mom was next door, and she probably would not have liked it very much to find Queen Latifah screaming at her little boy over a mistake he had little fault in. And she’d probably blame my mom, and that would of been ugly.

So I think this lady could of been nicer, and less of a C*NT WH*RE B*TCH about the whole thing, but I do confess, the experience got through to me, since that day at the arcade, I’ve been very careful with my use of said word, and only use it for educational purposes, if at all.

That is except for a period in high school. The word, “my nigga” takes on a different meaning there. Its not about offending, its about how we referred to ourselves, our friends and men in general. In high school no one ever said “that’s my friend”, or “that guy”. Everyone said “that’s my nigga”, or “that nigga is crazy man”. Notice the spelling? Other variations are nikkha, nukkha, and probably new ones I don’t know.

I know people that use it to this day in that very same context, and every once in a while it slips out of my mouth as well in the same context. Particularly when I’m talking street, or going to that level when I’m trying to communicate with hood folk.

Which leads us to experience number two. I was on the train with a few of my good buddies, we were joking around, snapping on each other, dissing each other and talking smack.

We were all in high school and these conversations included plenty of the “n” word. Now another sista sitting around us says “I find your line of conversation about sex with women and the use of the “n” word so frequently highly offensive.”

Now I wasn’t the scared little 10 year old anymore, I was immature, and I was hanging out with some of the craziest comedian mofo’s you could ever meet. And so they began.

“Hey Angel, I FIND YOUR FACE OFFENSIVE”, “don’t talk angel, you are offensive”, “ohh, I’m highly offended”, I feigned crying and on and on we mocked her and giggled all the way till she got off. Then we continued to make fun of her, even after she was gone. Yes we were being little pests, hell I think we were probably high on the mary jane if you catch my drift, or drunk. Who knows?.

Now as a grown man, my social setting, friends, etc, seldom expose me to the “n” word, so it hardly ever comes out, I just don’t feel comfortable using it, it is a derogatory term as far as I’m concerned.

I do wonder if either of those two women listen to modern rap or hip hop, and if so, do they b*tch when a rapper uses the “n” word. Anyway that’s my little story on the “n” word.
————————
Angel Rodriguez
www.arod.org
aim: arodomus

To me there is nothing sadder in the world than a child fighting cancer. I am sorry J succumbed to this dreaded disease. My mother survived a tough battle with cancer, but you never completely lose the fear and hatred for said disease. You always feel you are on “borrowed” time.

I never met J, but I feel a deep deep sadness in my heart for her loss. My sincerest condolences go out to the family and friends of J.

I hope there is a God, and that she is within the God’s grace. Its the least a God could do after allowing a child to suffer in such a way as cancer makes people suffer.