lessons learned from Queens...

Dear World:

Cuckoo log:
Meds: 25 mg. Seroquel
Phys. Activity: Minimal
Food intake: Too much… thanks to Mr. JS had some home made chili. As often as I said woe… this tastes exactly like “Wendy’s chili”. I meant it in a good way. So often the words you mean, and the words that are understood are misunderstood. Comments like those and the thoughts that ensued are fun and interesting regardless.

Today, I am addressing the thought #2 of my personal background/history:

2. I was born and grew up in Queens, New York.

This is my time to get vulnerable: Enjoy it… you’re not going to see this side of ymjk too often… Remember this… sucks to be me… but I want most people to realize through my thoughts… please live and learn with a grateful heart…

So I was born in Queens, New York… for most people that means nothing. To those who are from New York, it means, that I am a straight shooter… I have very little tolerance for B.S. I have very little capacity to lie, and to keep the lies fresh, and viable. So what did I learn in Queens. Let me tell you a brief story… It’s a story of when I was in about 2nd or 3rd grade. It’s a classic story of misunderstanding and violence. This story takes me back about 2 dozen and a half years plus 2… (32 years). So I was 4 glorious years old. I thought I was going to be the next “Captain America”.

Have I mentioned to you that I wanted to be Captain America as a young boy… My dream was to be Captain America because I wanted to correct the evils and the misdoings of those without a moral compass. The ironic thing about life is that when you’re most helpful and learn the most, is when you are completely useless… So let’s take this to one of the most vivid memories of my childhood. Let’s get the background correct. My old man is a very smiley energetic sort. He in the best of words is the A type doer. My mother, is the B type. A little bit more verbal than my father, but she is the classic B type, thinker/worry-wart… Like most couples they had their challenges. A very average, dual working bust their knuckles hard working new immigrant arrivals to this wonderful space, USA… More specifically, Flushing, Queens.

So I hope you sort of understand where I am from, and what I am trying to convey is this thought that my upbringing/formative years are very average… Notions of being a super hero. Idea and fantasies abound. There is a book called, “Everything I need to know, I knew in Kindergarten”. That is such a great title for my world, and life. I totally embrace 87.9 % of this notion. At 4 years of age, by the way, I was in Kindergarten. My mom just shoved me into school, and the school system as early as possible, in order to save money with regards to baby sitting. Without getting into too much detail… I was a super smiley little boy who loved to be the center of attention. I think at this time of life I already had the… “baby brother, or little monster” complex down pat.

So this is not about being a little monster… This is about growing up normal, and enjoying all that life had to offer… WRONG! The direction of this story is not so much about being or wanting things in Kindergarten. It’s more about this story that I have tried to push back into the deepest darkest parts of my memory. So it wouldn’t come out. This is a personal history of a space and a childhood I cherish… Yet often times try to forget… We all try to remember the good and forget the past. Most of you know that I have this uncanny memory for trivia. I do pretty well with trivia thank you… Sometimes the nickname “Cliff” gets thrown around, paying homage to “Cliff Klavin, from Cheers fame”.

So how does this flashback go? Well, it’s like this… one night my father, and brother were out late. We might have been watching a movie. I truly don’t recall what our activities of the night were. At any rate… we were returning to our apartment, and my risk averse / “bad people fearing” mother had changed the entrance door. So let’s try to imagine this. My father is tired. My older brother is being annoying… and I am being more than annoying… (I’ve always been quite competitive, and attention seeking, even at 4). We are all tired, and trying to go to sleep… because it’s late.

My dad is looking at this door, sort of open, yet chained securely to the wall. He’s not happy, and he tries forcing the door open. Figure this one out… Trying to break into our own space… I think this was a great life lesson.

1. Sometimes, even if you belong… even if you have the key… Circumstance will not let you have your way…

So that all being said… Frustration levels are super high… My mother is fast asleep… I think all the commotion that we are making, and trying to force the door open; wakes my mom. What I remember of the details are a unclear… but somehow some way… I slip through the chained door. I must have been all of 30 lbs. wet back then… I get on a chair, and open the chain, and let my other male members of my family into the apartment. Lesson learned:

2. The smallest member is not the weakest one. The smallest person is often the only one, who can get life’s critical missions done.

But this lesson goes on… Some how or other… We go into our kitchen. We see our mother holding up a kitchen knife, (like the biggest friggin’ knife in the space) in a ominous way. I wish I remembered better… but to me now… it’s like… Is this a joke? My dad is like… “hey you locked us out, and now you’re wielding a knife”… For one reason or another, my folks get into a pretty heated argument. I’m going to fill in the details here. For I know probably what the lesson is… My mom most likely told my father not to go out. My dad probably ignored her and went out to ‘have fun with his 4 year old little monster, and his 7 year old big monster’. Lesson learned:

3. ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS listen carefully to your wife, to your mom… and at bare minimum RESPOND… ignoring your female partner / caregiver can be super dangerous, and quite frankly is stupid.

In response to this conflict, and thanks to it, whenever I see somebody with a knife, I think of my mother. There is a great stereotype that, most Puerto Rican men carry some sort of blade. I say to myself, under my breath… No Puerto Rican man can challenge my mom, when she’s startled awake, and scared, defending herself and in her kitchen… Lesson learned:

4. You’d be foolish to wake up a sleeping female. Especially your mom, or your wife, without a damn good reason.

The best thing about this story is that I have tried to get the participants of the story to remember it. My mom and dad are now 70+… NO chance. My brother, is not that good with random life trivia after all his partying and parenting… Lesson learned:

5. Make sure that if you are telling a lie… Nobody is able/willing/desires to call you out on it. Remember my truth is my perception. If nobody perceives the way I do. Then I am right by default. (IN AND ONLY IN MY OWN LITTLE WORLD). Top line message: Creative freedom is awesome.

I love the thought of all this material being fiction. Quite frankly... I sometimes think it is... but have I mentioned this notion to you... "My reality is much better, than 90% of your fantasies".

peace to all, and go to your peaceful place...
as Sunday goes... it traditionally is a family day, a day of rest, and a day to be 'basic'...

hug yourself, and others closest to you,
ymjk