Thankfully my eyes are already brown
Save for the time I hit Lauren Narkeweiz on the head with a rolled up poster, I have never once hit anyone not related to me. I used to punch G* and try to brutally maim him on a regular basis, but then one day I called home and some man answered. A man, with very manly voice who sounded like he could kick my ass. G hit puberty and gone were the days when I could shove him to the ground and jump on his back. I swear that only happened once. Now that he’s well over six feet and 250 lbs, I tend to run like a little bitch when he comes after me. It’s sad really. I’ve never gotten into a fight. Like a real, drop down, I’m going to beat the shit out of you if you fuck with me again, fight. I use the term “I’m going to drop kick your ass” very liberally. Truth is, that’s quite doubtful. Though I look like I could kill you, I’m more likely to use profanity, scream and cry. I’m a pussy ass little bitch, who talks a lot of shit. There, I said it. I think what gives people that misconception is that I’m tall (for a girl), the complete opposite of small and well I’m black. And we all know that black women are really fucking scary (Peg pissed, not pleasant). Over the years though, while I’m been saying that I’m going to “fuck that motherfucker up”, G and the rest of my brothers have been getting into knock-down-drag-out–dad- is- going- to- have –to- post bail, kind of fights.
I can’t help it, I’m just really exceptional at telling bold faced lies about what I’m going to do and then when the time comes, I never do it. I’m chicken shit and I don’t take risks. I like to know that something will definitely happen. Don’t leave shit up to chance, I say, as I wear my raincoat and carry a golf umbrella, just incase the rain coat doesn’t live up to it’s uber-North Face standards. I make promises, and can never keep them (dude! Law and Order was on); I make resolutions and by January 5th they’re long forgotten (dude! Five Guys is so tasty). That’s just the way it is and after 22 years, I’ve come to accept that I am full of a whole lotta shit. Ok fine, I was ok with it. WAS. Now all the shit I’ve been so gung-ho about doing (let’s run down the list right quick: Peace Corps, Teach for America, Grad School…that’s just the beginning), feels like it might come back to bite me in the ass. It’s that decision to not spread my knowledge to all of the underprivileged kids in South Bronx. Payback I tell ya. I’ve been told that I’ve done a lot, like mastering the art of getting two separate calls to conference, without hanging up on some Senator. Yup, that’s a whole lot right there. I feel so fulfilled, I can die happy now, knowing that I can use a fax machine properly. Go me.
I feel like if I don’t do what I really would like to do; something that makes me so fucking warm and fuzzy inside that I’ll start thinking puppies and babies are cute again; then I might never do it. And I don’t want that. I can’t play the ‘I wish I would/could’ game any longer. But like I said, I’m really good at changing my mind and at being 22 and fickle; but never prone to ‘just do it’ tactics. That’s what I need more of, I mean when else in my life will I be able to pick up everything and do something exciting or that I’ve always wanted to do. I suppose part of it is fear of failing horribly and not getting what I really want. I may very well just never be good enough or extraordinary and that scares the shit out of me.
But like I said, I’m fickle. I might very well wake up tomorrow and say, “gee that was a great idea, but I’m perfectly content where I am.” Yeah, then again hell might freeze over tomorrow and I’ll win $2 million dollars and Simon and Schuster will call. You never know.
*the boy's name really is G, like my parents obviously couldn't think of anything better, so they picked a random letter out of the alphabet. I think they may have asked my opinion, and I said X, but I'm over it. (He may be bigger, but I'll always have this lovely sense of humor and wit. God, I'm so witty**)
**did you just roll your eyes at that too?