On November 19th, I woke up as usual. I took a shower and put on my towel when I was done. I remember walking from the bathroom to the living room. Whatever happened after that is a blank. The next thing I know, I’m completely naked outside at my car, trying to get in. Once I came back to my senses, it took me a while to realize where I was and that it wasn’t a very realistic dream. I panicked and quickly ran back into my apartment and close the door. I'm not sure if anyone saw me or not, since it was at around 6:00am. But for some reason, I left my basement apartment completely naked and tried to get into my car even though my keys were at home.
Don’t get me wrong, my mind has been slipping for a while now. Ever since the sheriff’s office incident, I’ve noticed the little mistakes here and there. But nothing has been as severe as this. Fucking hell, man. It’s one thing to say that I’m gonna be a mumbling mess when I’m older. It’s quite another to actually experience something like this occurring now. I had a feeling something like this may happen, so I was really hoping that this winter was gonna be cold. The cold air, I presumed, would snap me out of whatever trance I’m in and I wouldn’t make it too far out the door. But this winter has been friggin’ beautiful, with consistent 50-60 degree days. Ugh. I really didn’t think I’d reach this stage of whatever kind of dementia I have for a couple years. For that day and the rest of the week, I was extremely miserable. I started thinking about crazy scenarios. What happens when I’m driving and suddenly space out, thinking that I’m driving in a straight line when I’m really driving off a cliff? And it’s funny. Now that I finally figured out how to play the real estate game, I may not be in the right state of mind to enjoy the fruits of my labor. How fucked up is that?!
Look, this isn’t a post where I bitch and complain about the fairness of life because I don’t do that. Life has been very fair to me. I’ve known since I was a kid that I wasn’t gonna be around for long and I’ve prepared. However, it would be nice if I had some control over how I go out. I don’t wanna go out like an Alzheimer’s patient at some medical facility, where all my hard work and money will go to strangers that feed me and help me take a shit. My dad is blind with no money. He sits in a room with a portable toilet and a maid paid for by his social security. My grandmother was blind and was taken care of my mother Anita, and they fought almost every day. I’d rather die by my own hand than to live my last days being a burden or pawn for anyone. How can I avoid that when I know my mind is slowly deteriorating?
After remission, I made a promise that I wouldn’t go for any kind of treatments for any ailments, no matter what. If there’s some force that says I have to go, then I’m getting the hell out of here. So if my mind gets too bad, I’ll do what needs to be done. Hopefully it won’t come to that until I finish what I started, but I really don’t know what to think anymore. With Brooklyn Mike, Sam, Helena, and now Nino out of the post-death property management picture, it’ll most likely be my brother Alex who will take over my business when I’m gone. I asked him the other day about it and he said he could do it, especially since his wife Pam is already in real estate. He seemed suspicious about why I'd ask a question like that, but I assured him it was just a thought.
These posts have also become much harder to write, which is why I only wrote 7 last month. As I write, I lose focus very quickly and just stare into space thinking about random stuff. By the time I get back to reality, it’s time to go to the gym or do a round at work or get sleep or cook some food. And even after I finish writing one, I end up with a ton of grammatical errors. I correct them, only to discover minutes later that I never corrected them and only thought I did. Ugh!
It should be clear why I’m deciding to write this now. Whether it’s 2011 or 2015, posts like this are reminders that I have to focus on what’s ahead of me. I have to pick correctly. I have to get on Alfonso every day to make sure he finishes the project on time. I have to make sure that things go the way they’re supposed to, because I really don’t think I have a lot of time left. I want to succeed on time with the mental capacity to actually enjoy paycheck retirement. Hmm. You know, I thought this post was gonna be tough to write, but it feels okay.
P.S.: Not to make too much fun of this, but it is a bit interesting to leave the house now, not knowing where I’ll end up. And, if anyone in my neighborhood was ever thinking about talking to me, I'm pretty sure they'll think twice now. Not many people would want to make friends with the strange naked black man who tries to break into his own car.
Don’t get me wrong, my mind has been slipping for a while now. Ever since the sheriff’s office incident, I’ve noticed the little mistakes here and there. But nothing has been as severe as this. Fucking hell, man. It’s one thing to say that I’m gonna be a mumbling mess when I’m older. It’s quite another to actually experience something like this occurring now. I had a feeling something like this may happen, so I was really hoping that this winter was gonna be cold. The cold air, I presumed, would snap me out of whatever trance I’m in and I wouldn’t make it too far out the door. But this winter has been friggin’ beautiful, with consistent 50-60 degree days. Ugh. I really didn’t think I’d reach this stage of whatever kind of dementia I have for a couple years. For that day and the rest of the week, I was extremely miserable. I started thinking about crazy scenarios. What happens when I’m driving and suddenly space out, thinking that I’m driving in a straight line when I’m really driving off a cliff? And it’s funny. Now that I finally figured out how to play the real estate game, I may not be in the right state of mind to enjoy the fruits of my labor. How fucked up is that?!
Look, this isn’t a post where I bitch and complain about the fairness of life because I don’t do that. Life has been very fair to me. I’ve known since I was a kid that I wasn’t gonna be around for long and I’ve prepared. However, it would be nice if I had some control over how I go out. I don’t wanna go out like an Alzheimer’s patient at some medical facility, where all my hard work and money will go to strangers that feed me and help me take a shit. My dad is blind with no money. He sits in a room with a portable toilet and a maid paid for by his social security. My grandmother was blind and was taken care of my mother Anita, and they fought almost every day. I’d rather die by my own hand than to live my last days being a burden or pawn for anyone. How can I avoid that when I know my mind is slowly deteriorating?
After remission, I made a promise that I wouldn’t go for any kind of treatments for any ailments, no matter what. If there’s some force that says I have to go, then I’m getting the hell out of here. So if my mind gets too bad, I’ll do what needs to be done. Hopefully it won’t come to that until I finish what I started, but I really don’t know what to think anymore. With Brooklyn Mike, Sam, Helena, and now Nino out of the post-death property management picture, it’ll most likely be my brother Alex who will take over my business when I’m gone. I asked him the other day about it and he said he could do it, especially since his wife Pam is already in real estate. He seemed suspicious about why I'd ask a question like that, but I assured him it was just a thought.
These posts have also become much harder to write, which is why I only wrote 7 last month. As I write, I lose focus very quickly and just stare into space thinking about random stuff. By the time I get back to reality, it’s time to go to the gym or do a round at work or get sleep or cook some food. And even after I finish writing one, I end up with a ton of grammatical errors. I correct them, only to discover minutes later that I never corrected them and only thought I did. Ugh!
It should be clear why I’m deciding to write this now. Whether it’s 2011 or 2015, posts like this are reminders that I have to focus on what’s ahead of me. I have to pick correctly. I have to get on Alfonso every day to make sure he finishes the project on time. I have to make sure that things go the way they’re supposed to, because I really don’t think I have a lot of time left. I want to succeed on time with the mental capacity to actually enjoy paycheck retirement. Hmm. You know, I thought this post was gonna be tough to write, but it feels okay.
P.S.: Not to make too much fun of this, but it is a bit interesting to leave the house now, not knowing where I’ll end up. And, if anyone in my neighborhood was ever thinking about talking to me, I'm pretty sure they'll think twice now. Not many people would want to make friends with the strange naked black man who tries to break into his own car.
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