For an odd reason I was not feeling to productive. I sat every day at my computer to write and it was like trying to squeeze that last bit of toothpaste from the tube. I got some things down but nothing met my new standards. I wrote the book review and even tried to write an inspirational blog entry. The result was nothing new.
So I thought that I would try to figure out why this new lack of inspiration. To be quite honest I could attribute a lot of this to my mother. She is without a doubt reason to blame for many of the things that went wrong in my life. I would not be so inclined to pass the blame on here if it were not for the fact that I asked her for help in certain areas that I needed and while she refused to help me, she forced her help on my sister.
Two weekends ago, I was talking with MeTo, we were listening to Beethoven and I mentioned that I could have been a violin prodigy. When I was in 6th grade, my aunt lent me her violin and I taught myself all the basics and could play a few child songs. At the point when I could not teach myself anything else, I went to my music teacher who was quite impressed. He then told me I knew all he could teach me, he gave me a tape and I went over it a few times but as it was mostly what I had already learned, which he told me was the case I was still where I started. I finally broke down and explained my situation to Mother, she was not very sympathetic and told me to go to the church, when I came back and told her how much they charged for a lesson that was the end of that.
I had always wanted to play the saxophone, alto. When it comes to instruments there are few that impress me, saxophone, guitar, if played a certain way, and the violin. I desperately wanted to play the sax but as you need, an instrument to learn on that was a no go and my aunt lent me her violin. I was not too broken about no learning the violin; after all, it was not the instrument I wanted to play.
In high school, I was friends with many kids who were in the band; to be honest this was the first time in my life I was able to socialize with people who were not ghetto. I learned not only that there was a band and a club but also music classes and private lessons. I felt renewed except there was one issue; I had to buy a sax. I was in school and my mother hated the idea of me working. Therefore, for Christmas I begged, pleaded, and swore all I wanted was an alto sax. She sent me to the net and I found on, a silver alto sax that they were selling on eBay and I sent her the link.
I was excited but the closer we got to Christmas the more she implied that my dream was not going to happen. Before I knew it, she told me it was just not going to happen and I needed to make a proper Christmas list. It hurt but it hurt more when my sister asked for a guitar almost two years later after never showing any interest in music and got one. There are few things that cripple me and that was one. I do not blame my sister but my parents definitely never saw how that electric guitar set ruined high school.
After awhile I just figured, my parents did not care so I did whatever I could to take my mind off my home life. To this day if you ask anyone from SJP class of 2005, they will tell you I was known as angry black man. I did my best to keep why I felt the way I did a secret, it was not the violin or sax but because my home life was just one sax and violin incident after the other. My stepfather did not like me and mother did little to correct the situation.
Later in the week, I was talking to my sister and my homophobic Mother came up in conversation. I guess my sister figured she would make this call about bad news. She had gotten a nose piercing in addition to her tong ring and navel ring and her third and final tattoos, so she told me. I hate tattoos, on other people its fine but on my sister, they just look cheap and tacky.
The conversation continued and she told that my mother knew I was getting married. My Mother and she had argued previously but my sister finally told me it started over my engagement.
After I assured my sister of my undying love for her, we proceeded to talk about other things that make us happy. Mostly what campus life was like?
After getting off the phone, I went and decided to clean the bookcase. I found many of my college notebooks and three journals. One may find it hard to believe but I was never good with keeping a journal. Each journal only had about two or three entries. One journal only had one entry and that is because my mother bought it for me around the time we stopped talking for an extended period. The first page was instructions for me to keep track of all my prayers so I could see how G-d was working in my life. She gave me the journal in addition to a book by T.D. Jakes; I believe it is called, so you think you are a Man? I started reading the book and the one prayer I had was not to be gay any more.
The other journal, which was my first journal, had entries about how I wished to be a better person and that my father was not sick any more. I talked in a few entries how much I hated life and my family.
The last journal has some folded pages, which turned out to be confessions about my sexuality and some things that I admitted to on here in “No More.” I was also stunned to see how badly my self-esteem was back then. It became apparent to me that I was really good at hiding my emotions when I was younger. It was something I did out of necessity. My mother and father tended to punish me If I disagreed with their methods even if I was simply explaining how I was feeling.
With this trip down memory lane It gave me lots to think about. At present I have shut off all communication to my mother. She refuses to except me for who I am despite the suffering I did to figure out if this life was for me. if I want to communicate with my mother I cannot talk about anything or one in my life who approves of anything gay. This is hard to do when you are marring a man who everyone but your mother likes.
This week I talked to my future father-in-law who went through a similar situation when he and his wife decided to marry outside their religions. There were two outcomes, one for either side and while I hope for my mother to come around I have a feeling that she rather never see me again then to accept the fact I am married to a man who makes me happy in ways the she could only wish my step father would do for her.
