Myself

The Ride

 

by Jemal Yarbrough

 

I know how that bird feels.  Sometimes. all we can manage to do is keep ourselves dangling on a small branch just so we don’t drown.  Much like that bird, I felt alone and surrounded by weak branches that looked like they could not hold my weight but they can as the bird proves.  We do not see the deep roots or the strength these branches have under the water, and perhaps we are  not meant to.  We just have to have faith that they will help us survive.

If you have read my blog, you know I have struggled often with my conflicting thoughts about friends and family.   From wanting No! demanding love and attention to anger and sorrow at seeming indifference.  I cannot read minds, so I used the actions or lack of actions to speak to me.  But then it hit me that I made this about others when it should be about me, us, what we need now and going forward.  The ones that care will be there, and the ones that don’t either fake it or just pretend all is well.  Either way is fine, but I know I need to put some things to bed, that some friendships have run their course while some are just beginnings and others getting stronger.  I cannot pick which is which, the reality being that whatever is meant to be, is.

That’s the tough part knowing that what perhaps what I did either contributed to the demise of the friendship or made it better.  Either way it keeps coming back to the same idea: you cannot force what’s not there, and whatever is meant to be will happen, and it will happen exactly the way it’s going to happen.  The what if’s, the would’ve, could’ve lay by the wayside.  The hurt will be there for now, but I forgive myself first and then others for causing it.  The only thing I am sure of now is that I have to keep moving.  The ones that want to be along for the ride will climb on board, the ones that do not will either say they meant to come or pass.  Whatever they decide is by me.  I cannot no! will not force them.

I have a new life starting soon as husband and wife, as brother-in-law, and a son-in-law.  My main goals are to make my family stronger, spend more time with loved ones, and to keep writing.  The rest will sort itself out.  I have faith in this ride called Life.

Brownness, My Past, Myself, Writing

Swirling Thoughts

i hope they serve beer in hell
Image by kangarootone via Flickr

1) Remember grabbing KFC in Iran as a weekly ritual and going to the park (5ys)
2) first day in boarding school in India, I had peed the bed and was ashamed (8yrs old)
3) arriving in london to stay with relatives with my oldest sister (10 years old)
4) driving from the airport towards my parents after not seeing them (12 years old)
5) Being humiliated in my 7th grade english class because the teacher felt my English speaking skills werent up to par, and her being unsure if I would pass the class.
6) Getting on the volleyball team and realizing I was a bench player, getting subbed in and my only shot was tipping the ball in and scoring for the team (14 years old)
7) remembering that I followed Sumita (my middle sister) into almost everything she signed up for writing class, student congress, human relations camp, india boarding school
8) Returning to india after receiving green card, and seeing my grandfather for the last time before he passed away (18 years)
9) my first published story “Rain Fire” edited by a dear family friend who recently passed
10) Winning the National Conference of Teachers of English award (included a recommendation from the English teacher who didn’t think I would pass.

I remember being empty. Time ticking away, coffee getting cold and me just empty. It’s as if I had no memories, no past. And then I remembered the no. Mrs. Maruna didn’t think I would ever pass 8th grade English class. I looked up into her unsmiling face, looking for understanding. Nothing. The redness of my shame circled around my cheeks but hidden by the browness of my skin, it just squeezed my heart and soul.

I was single, young, and horny. We chatted online for a few minutes, and after a few sexual innuendos, decided to take our activities offline and meet up. I am ashamed now at my sluttiness, and willingness to meet a complete stranger just to satisfy myself but really not that ashamed to be zooming down on the freeway to meet her at 3am. She had left the door open as we had discussed. In hindsight, it made sense why she did. I shoved the door open, immediately banged my leg on the bed, and to hide the pain told her I needed to take a shower. Perhaps my only concern for safety was to be hygienic. She was already in bed when I walked out. I climbed right in, but couldn’t quite get comfortable. I kept moving around until she asked if her leg was bothering me? Huh? “I said, is my leg bothering you?” removing the blanket to reveal a steel leg. Holy shit, I was about to fuck the terminator. My penis tried to hide inside of me. The meanness in me proved my immaturity and explained why I never again tried to hook up online.

I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell by Tucker Max

That was the inspiration for my post about my online adventure gone wrong, and while I wasnt as bad as Tucker is in his many “misadventures” with women in college, I think I came quite close to being Tucker with my comment that I was about to fuck the terminator. The sad part is that I had done a much longer graphic post mocking the girl and myself, and really made it my “Zinger” story. I usually told it to a group of new people, and usually it would draw huge laughter, but then I realized it didn’t make me look very good to my girlfriend to be. In fact, she was disgusted not at the fact that the girl had 1 leg, but the fact that others laughed so hard. That was probably the first time I realized what an asshole I came off to be. Sure, once people got to know me, they knew different. However, my choice to share this story as a starting off point really just made me another Max Tucker. And that’s not something I wished my legacy to be standing on. Especially on one leg. Yea, I havent matured much.