So I… um… I’ve realized that it’s hard for me to write a post when I’m in a bad mood. I’ve been waiting for a good morning but it’s just been difficult. With the beginning of a new month finally and 29 days after my last post, I guess I’m forcing myself to write one or two before my self-imposed deadline. Next week I’ll get to the reports, but I want to write about something a bit different…
I read through the last 4 months of this blog the other day, and realized that I haven’t written a family update in a while. I don’t usually like to read (or write) posts about family, but this blog wouldn’t feel complete without an update... the mother of them all.
Alex
My brother Alex is currently at home, recovery from his second bout with cancer. He’s also dealing with the dissolution of his marriage, as he and Pam got a divorce. I kinda figured something was off, as she went on vacation while he was getting treated. Hmm. While that certainly sucks, there are 3 good things that come out of this:
2016 was pretty shitty for him, but he said something in one of our email correspondences that made me think that he’s gonna be just fine:
“Let me tell you, my life is changing drastically. No fear in anything anymore. I’m going all out, full tilt.”
Hehehe. Sound familiar? I love it. That lack of fear focused me and I’m about 12 months away from retirement now. I’ve always believed that life-threatening experiences turn a person into what they were supposed to be. We had a very good conversation the other day where we talked about all this, and he seems to have re-focused thanks to his newfound belief in stoicism. I wonder what Alex will do, and where this new sense of fearlessness will lead him?
You know it's funny. I get along with him more than anyone else in my family, and I now think I know why. It’s because I have no idea who the fuck Alex is. Seriously. I mean, I lived with the guy from birth until adulthood, slept on the top bunk from him, and we never actually knew about each other. Even though the three of us lived in that one bedroom, we never really shared anything with each other about our lives… or at least they never did with me. And I think I like it this way. In my history, I like people lesser the more I get to know them. I’m not taking that risk with Alex.
Ana
Ana appears to be doing great, thanks to her stable accounting job. She’s even started paying off her debts to get her credit rating back up. She’s been calling my dad, even going over to his house on a regular basis to see how he’s doing. She called me one day to find out if I’d be willing to help pay for special therapy sessions to help him recover from his strokes faster. Unbelievable! If she keeps this up, there’s a very good chance that I can finally take my rightful place as family fuck-up. I mean seriously, this is not the same Ana that was going from temp job to temp job racking up debt and getting evicted from apartments.
She used to be cool this, you know. She used to be responsible and genuinely caring. Then something happened, something that sent her running to the church for sanctuary. From that point, it was downhill. Buying cars she can’t afford, unstable jobs, begging for money from friends and family to take unnecessary trips. But things seemed to have changed, and I’m glad for her. For the first time in a long time, it actually feels like I have an older sister. For my birthday, she got me a couple of gifts. I don’t normally accept gifts but I did, and not because they were useful or anything. I accepted the gifts because I knew how good it must have felt for her to finally be able to afford getting a couple gifts for her little brother. That’s good stuff, man.
Alan
A couple years ago Alan put together a family conference. There was a list of topics he wrote down (presumably with help from his church friends) that he used to conduct the meeting. He wanted to discuss matters in the family, but the main subject was his care. We agreed that he should sell the house instead of passing it along to one of us, and that he should eventually move back to Nigeria for round-the-clock care. Then Alan did something completely out of character. He put his magnifying glass down, clasped his hands together, and said:
“What I’m saying is that… I need help.”
I waited for someone to say something, but it was silence… the loudest and longest silence I’ve ever heard. I remember looking at his shaking hands as his head hung low… I’ve never seen him look so weak. I think he knew that he wasn’t going to get us rallying around him to take care of him like he wanted. Eventually we decided to just keep in contact with him and make sure he’s okay, while his church friends take care of him.
His entire life, Alan would always trust outsiders more than family. His family life was mostly about being a provider and strict disciplinarian than anything else. The few times it was okay to be around my dad in my younger years was when his friends were around. When I went to Nigeria, I learned a lot about him, like how he doesn’t trust family. He relied on outsiders to manage his properties instead of family members. Those properties are now dilapidated and abandoned. When my mom kicked him out, he tried to start a new family with another woman but it didn’t work out. Now he’s being taken care of by the strangers he’s always trusted, and the family is on the outside. We all do our little parts, like me paying his cell phone bill. It’s something.
Anita
And finally Anita. I swear, there aren’t enough pages in a book or memory on a hard drive to describe my mom Anita… but I’ll try anyway. Anita is… fucking awesome. And overbearing. And hard working. And caring. And successful. And a massive pain in the ass. Of all my family members, I feel the most connection with her. I also feel the most amount of respect for her. I mean, you come to this country working as a home health aide while going to school, getting a degree while dealing with 3 kids and an abusive husband. She beats his ass, throws him out, raises her kids into adulthood and is now very close to retirement with a pension, social security, and rental properties in two countries. She’s so fucking good that she built properties for each of her children JUST IN CASE we want to live in Nigeria. If this were a competition (like they tried to make it), Anita wiped the floor with Alan… and she did it mostly on her own.
Now, let’s be honest here. In my old blog, I said that dealing with family gave me massive headaches. That’s still true. Alan can still piss me off with his one-sided way of thinking. Anita can piss me off by just being Anita. I mean, it’s no coincidence that all of their children are above the age of 35 and never have kids. Ana can still annoy me with her long shot business ideas. And Alex… I haven’t found anything that pisses me off about him now, but in my younger years he was a real “Wayne Arnold” kind of jerk. I’m pretty sure that some of my social issues can be traced back to how I was raised. And yet, none of that really matters when one considers the pros side of it.
I could have been born or raised in Nigeria if it wasn’t for my father Alan’s ambitions. And he passed his ambitions onto me in neat little ways. I remember when I was a kid, Alan used to send birthday cards with checks inside. Mine was for $50, and the name written on it was "Master Ahkenaten Kor". Seeing the name “master” in front of my name from a guy like Alan stoked my ego like nothing else. He made sure to surround us around good people that kept us out of trouble… for the most part. I adopted my views on feminism from Anita, but was also inspired by her tenacity. Anita was the first person to show me the true art of the deal. I mean, there wasn’t a price someone gave her that she couldn’t renegotiate. Sometimes I underestimate just how big an influence my parents are on the philosophies of my real estate business. My brother Alex’s taste in music saved me many times over. I mean, I still remember how great it felt when my brother would leave his Use Your Illusions albums at home in the morning. I’d take it to school, put it in my CD player, and feel like I’m invincible. In college, Korn, Metallica, and Sublime got me through some really shitty times. And before she had her issues, Ana was like the coolest person to me when I was a kid. I loved how she’s take me out with her and her hot friends as they’d walk to the store. At every curb, they’d hold my hands and lift me up real quick. I fucking loved that. And I still remember us hanging out on the downstairs steps with all the other kids in the building.
I started this post to give an objective description of my family… the family post to end them all. But it’s turned into a couple things. Firstly, a description of my family doesn’t need this many words. We’re just good people who had to deal with special circumstances. My mom and dad raised us the best way they knew how, and they did everything because they gave a fuck. In the end, the only requirement one should have about family is that all their actions be built on the foundation of giving a fuck. Lastly, this post will keep me from losing my mind. The next time a family member pisses me off I can go online, turn to this post, and remember who they are... and that the good far outweighs the bad.
P.S.: I usually never talk to my mom or dad on the phone unless I’m playing a video game to balance out the stress. Now I have something else to help. Oh how I love this blog...
I read through the last 4 months of this blog the other day, and realized that I haven’t written a family update in a while. I don’t usually like to read (or write) posts about family, but this blog wouldn’t feel complete without an update... the mother of them all.
Alex
My brother Alex is currently at home, recovery from his second bout with cancer. He’s also dealing with the dissolution of his marriage, as he and Pam got a divorce. I kinda figured something was off, as she went on vacation while he was getting treated. Hmm. While that certainly sucks, there are 3 good things that come out of this:
- He’s out of what turned out to be a bad situation.
- I no longer have to study Mandarin. I got up to Rosetta Stone’s Chapter 2 before I turned that shit off and never turned it on again. Talking was okay but writing it was fucking torture.
- I can watch Chinese porn again... but I’ve never been a fan to be honest. The girls always look and sound like they’re getting raped or something when having sex.
2016 was pretty shitty for him, but he said something in one of our email correspondences that made me think that he’s gonna be just fine:
“Let me tell you, my life is changing drastically. No fear in anything anymore. I’m going all out, full tilt.”
Hehehe. Sound familiar? I love it. That lack of fear focused me and I’m about 12 months away from retirement now. I’ve always believed that life-threatening experiences turn a person into what they were supposed to be. We had a very good conversation the other day where we talked about all this, and he seems to have re-focused thanks to his newfound belief in stoicism. I wonder what Alex will do, and where this new sense of fearlessness will lead him?
You know it's funny. I get along with him more than anyone else in my family, and I now think I know why. It’s because I have no idea who the fuck Alex is. Seriously. I mean, I lived with the guy from birth until adulthood, slept on the top bunk from him, and we never actually knew about each other. Even though the three of us lived in that one bedroom, we never really shared anything with each other about our lives… or at least they never did with me. And I think I like it this way. In my history, I like people lesser the more I get to know them. I’m not taking that risk with Alex.
Ana
Ana appears to be doing great, thanks to her stable accounting job. She’s even started paying off her debts to get her credit rating back up. She’s been calling my dad, even going over to his house on a regular basis to see how he’s doing. She called me one day to find out if I’d be willing to help pay for special therapy sessions to help him recover from his strokes faster. Unbelievable! If she keeps this up, there’s a very good chance that I can finally take my rightful place as family fuck-up. I mean seriously, this is not the same Ana that was going from temp job to temp job racking up debt and getting evicted from apartments.
She used to be cool this, you know. She used to be responsible and genuinely caring. Then something happened, something that sent her running to the church for sanctuary. From that point, it was downhill. Buying cars she can’t afford, unstable jobs, begging for money from friends and family to take unnecessary trips. But things seemed to have changed, and I’m glad for her. For the first time in a long time, it actually feels like I have an older sister. For my birthday, she got me a couple of gifts. I don’t normally accept gifts but I did, and not because they were useful or anything. I accepted the gifts because I knew how good it must have felt for her to finally be able to afford getting a couple gifts for her little brother. That’s good stuff, man.
Alan
A couple years ago Alan put together a family conference. There was a list of topics he wrote down (presumably with help from his church friends) that he used to conduct the meeting. He wanted to discuss matters in the family, but the main subject was his care. We agreed that he should sell the house instead of passing it along to one of us, and that he should eventually move back to Nigeria for round-the-clock care. Then Alan did something completely out of character. He put his magnifying glass down, clasped his hands together, and said:
“What I’m saying is that… I need help.”
I waited for someone to say something, but it was silence… the loudest and longest silence I’ve ever heard. I remember looking at his shaking hands as his head hung low… I’ve never seen him look so weak. I think he knew that he wasn’t going to get us rallying around him to take care of him like he wanted. Eventually we decided to just keep in contact with him and make sure he’s okay, while his church friends take care of him.
His entire life, Alan would always trust outsiders more than family. His family life was mostly about being a provider and strict disciplinarian than anything else. The few times it was okay to be around my dad in my younger years was when his friends were around. When I went to Nigeria, I learned a lot about him, like how he doesn’t trust family. He relied on outsiders to manage his properties instead of family members. Those properties are now dilapidated and abandoned. When my mom kicked him out, he tried to start a new family with another woman but it didn’t work out. Now he’s being taken care of by the strangers he’s always trusted, and the family is on the outside. We all do our little parts, like me paying his cell phone bill. It’s something.
Anita
And finally Anita. I swear, there aren’t enough pages in a book or memory on a hard drive to describe my mom Anita… but I’ll try anyway. Anita is… fucking awesome. And overbearing. And hard working. And caring. And successful. And a massive pain in the ass. Of all my family members, I feel the most connection with her. I also feel the most amount of respect for her. I mean, you come to this country working as a home health aide while going to school, getting a degree while dealing with 3 kids and an abusive husband. She beats his ass, throws him out, raises her kids into adulthood and is now very close to retirement with a pension, social security, and rental properties in two countries. She’s so fucking good that she built properties for each of her children JUST IN CASE we want to live in Nigeria. If this were a competition (like they tried to make it), Anita wiped the floor with Alan… and she did it mostly on her own.
Now, let’s be honest here. In my old blog, I said that dealing with family gave me massive headaches. That’s still true. Alan can still piss me off with his one-sided way of thinking. Anita can piss me off by just being Anita. I mean, it’s no coincidence that all of their children are above the age of 35 and never have kids. Ana can still annoy me with her long shot business ideas. And Alex… I haven’t found anything that pisses me off about him now, but in my younger years he was a real “Wayne Arnold” kind of jerk. I’m pretty sure that some of my social issues can be traced back to how I was raised. And yet, none of that really matters when one considers the pros side of it.
I could have been born or raised in Nigeria if it wasn’t for my father Alan’s ambitions. And he passed his ambitions onto me in neat little ways. I remember when I was a kid, Alan used to send birthday cards with checks inside. Mine was for $50, and the name written on it was "Master Ahkenaten Kor". Seeing the name “master” in front of my name from a guy like Alan stoked my ego like nothing else. He made sure to surround us around good people that kept us out of trouble… for the most part. I adopted my views on feminism from Anita, but was also inspired by her tenacity. Anita was the first person to show me the true art of the deal. I mean, there wasn’t a price someone gave her that she couldn’t renegotiate. Sometimes I underestimate just how big an influence my parents are on the philosophies of my real estate business. My brother Alex’s taste in music saved me many times over. I mean, I still remember how great it felt when my brother would leave his Use Your Illusions albums at home in the morning. I’d take it to school, put it in my CD player, and feel like I’m invincible. In college, Korn, Metallica, and Sublime got me through some really shitty times. And before she had her issues, Ana was like the coolest person to me when I was a kid. I loved how she’s take me out with her and her hot friends as they’d walk to the store. At every curb, they’d hold my hands and lift me up real quick. I fucking loved that. And I still remember us hanging out on the downstairs steps with all the other kids in the building.
I started this post to give an objective description of my family… the family post to end them all. But it’s turned into a couple things. Firstly, a description of my family doesn’t need this many words. We’re just good people who had to deal with special circumstances. My mom and dad raised us the best way they knew how, and they did everything because they gave a fuck. In the end, the only requirement one should have about family is that all their actions be built on the foundation of giving a fuck. Lastly, this post will keep me from losing my mind. The next time a family member pisses me off I can go online, turn to this post, and remember who they are... and that the good far outweighs the bad.
P.S.: I usually never talk to my mom or dad on the phone unless I’m playing a video game to balance out the stress. Now I have something else to help. Oh how I love this blog...
No comments:
Post a Comment