it's halloween. traditionally, this is my favorite holiday, but over the last couple of years it's been less than spectacular.
last year, i was pregnant and upset; this year, i don't have my son to celebrate with due to some absurd family feud.
even though we've only just begun, i'm already trying to plan what i want to do after my P.A. term is over. i'm not used to working on a salary; it's kind of upsetting because it feels like no matter what, you're going to be putting in more than your fair share of hours (even if it's only out of guilt.) averaging it out, if we get paid hourly and do exactly the minimum of required hours, we're making about $8.83. keep in mind, we are working overtime some weeks, doing things on weekends, and in my case, often working evenings.
this isn't to say i'm complaining. i'm just checking the facts against the reality of being a functional adult. as a waitress with a steady schedule of approximately 35 hours a week, monday through friday, i was making exactly the same amount of money in addition to having a more flexible schedule. why does it cost to help people? how much time can we give without giving up all of our lives, and to what end are we expected to do so? i love to be a part of the community, but how do i do that while maintaining a sense of self, of family?
i guess the point i'm getting at is more personal. it's been difficult to get used to this desk job thing that takes me away from being able to control my own schedule. i volunteered before, and worked because i had to. it was enjoyable and i felt like i was supplementing my life rather than temporarily abandoning it. how do people live "normal" lives, how do they find jobs that they can work without compromising their moral integrity?
i spoke to an army recruiter yesterday for about an hour and a half. she came over to my house and we talked about options. an ominous word, isn't it? i hate that a large portion of my even allowing her in had to do with money. after this whole instance with my mother, i don't ever want anyone to question my ability to provide for my son, nor do i want them to be able to question my intentions for myself.
it's unfortunate that my experience in the P.A. program is shrouded in insecurity; it's got to be factoring into the way i'm filtering the whole thing. it's a defeatist sort of approach, so much in question that i feel as if i can't process the good things adequately.
if anything, i know i really appreciate the training sessions. my desire to be mostly left to soak up the information alone is the only part of the experience i struggle with. i don't even think my disdain for some of the allies' behavior has so much to do with the fact that i have come to distrust people and the recent past has affected me very traumatically, whether anyone acknowledges or realizes it. rape, car accident, being kicked out, a solitary pregnancy, and now this custody battle... so much to absorb with merely human skin. at least when i am listening to the knowledge someone else has to offer, i can find logic in their ration, comfort in their encouragement.
i've been reading a lot while riding public transit. it's easier to focus on being sandwiched between the covers of a good book than being sandwiched between a vapid college freshman and some guy who smells like the culmination of dirty diapers, cheap malt liquor and stale knockoff cologne. currently, it's stacy patton's that mean old yesterday. the book is great, paralleling patton's experience as an abused black foster child to american slavery.
mostly i like that the book holds black culture up to the light as far as some of the asinine practices so many of us liken to being black. the practice of harsh violence used as a means of discipline, faith in a religious institution that is not made for the downtrodden of any color but to control, and of course the perpetuation of self oppression by means of a broken system.
nobody said the book was pleasant.
and so my first halloween as a mother begins, without my little king of the cemetery. in haitian voudoo, bawon samedi is the name of one particularly well-known spirit who controls a group of dead known as the ghede. when i chose samadhi's name (which means "one with god" or "enlightenment" in sanskrit), his father disapproved. he was born in the louisiana bayou, in pre-katrina new orleans. he grew up in that strange culture that celebrates the dead in top hats and sunglasses. now, we have our little prince, king of the cemetery. one with god.
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