Saturday, September 5, 2015

Bitter Chocolate and being Different as a Writer


In my early days, I knew I was different. It was during my younger days, I learned that not only was life difficult, but that those who were diverse in personality or character, would have to deal with things differently. I grew up in a bi-racial neighborhood back in the sixties. We knew that there was a black and white world and that there was tension every time we mixed the two colors because of our friendships and relationships as kids on the same block.
We wanted to play with each other, regardless of society’s rules, we wanted to play together. I wanted to play basketball, throw the football, run the track and hit the balls with my black or colored friends as society tagged them to be; they were my friends and color didn’t matter.
I didn’t like playing alone like some kids did. I was outgoing but never an extrovert. I was mild mannered and reserved but unafraid to do what I thought was the cool thing to do. I like roller skating, the movies, the snow forts and the guns a blazing as we played cowboys and Indians back then.
There were no stereotypes, no stigmas of bias and discrimination. We all enjoyed each other’s company and that was the end to that. It was that simple. We did all the things normal boys did when they were young like us. I wanted to do something different as it was different how I felt about life and the things going on around me.
I learned I was different. I learned my mind was not the same as others who say I was hanging with the wrong crowd. We were poor and we lived in a poor neighborhood and that made us all the same – poor. Our equality was we all suffered the same and we all felt the same about our ways of living. It was after all was said, all we had back then.
It was not something I wanted to be but poor we were and poor we stayed. It was not until decades later that we pulled ourselves out of our own created cesspool of a neighborhood and saw a different side of life where the sun shined and the doors opened wider than ever before. For the first time in years of cold winters, our pipes didn’t freeze and the roof didn’t let the snow in on those windy blizzard like Midwestern days.
The older I got, the more recluse I became. I would sit under a tree in the park, alone, eating a sandwich or just staring at the sky. I had friends; I had many friends but whether or not they were my real friends was soon to be determined as adversity struck and I was all alone again.
We lived in a few run-down houses before we moved into those who were put together better and stronger. It was a sign of the times things were getting better. I was heartbroken when we moved out of our old neighborhood but soon saw the difference it made in our lives. The schools were better, the streets were safer and the neighbors didn’t put their noses into your business quite as often. Not so much different from the old neighborhood but cleaner and nontoxic in culture.
My friends and I were inseparable until we moved away. Moving from Ohio to New Mexico, we had to adjust all over again and it was bitter sweet to say the least. Done with school, it was more about working and getting a job steady so we could enjoy the better things in life.
I hadn’t forgotten about my friends and slowly began making new friends in this land of enchantment. I valued friendship and knew from the beginning, friendship was never up for sale or manipulation. It had to be real to be worth existing. I was never cool, popular or ever absurdly outspoken. I remained quiet and I dressed kind of weird as I hadn’t adjusted to the new culture of the southwest and didn’t quite get into the swing of things like the others who came with me. I didn’t seem interested in making a social life out of this change, I was more focused into working.
With the exception of a few, I made my path or journey in many positive ways and found the secret to life was to mind your own business and work harder than most. I chose law enforcement because I felt the need to be fair and consistent with people and treated them the same way I wanted to be treated if I was in their shoes.
Still, I didn’t seem interested in the social life so my life was focused on working. I was smart, but not too smart for my own good. I was harassed because I was an outsider but I overcame that stigma when I developed my own roots as I remained strong throughout this time.
I knew I was different, I knew I was never going to be somebody important but I also knew that I could be successful no matter how bitter people treated me or how much they resented my efforts to prosper and be successful in trying. You need to really understand my background in order to figure me out. You have to use your own wisdom to see what I saw and what I wanted. I rarely spoke out loud but when I did I spoke with confidence and knowledge attained by learning from others and reading what needed to be read.
I was quickly figuring out to say only what needed to be said and not much more. I knew that in this world, you weren’t supposed to just say exactly what you’re where thinking but somehow, that’s how my words always came out of my mouth. Sometimes caustic, sometimes sarcastic and sometimes in a hurtful tone.
I sought out my own kind to converse with. No fake people for me as I didn’t need them in my life like some others did. I let my own brain do the thinking; I was diplomatic yet resourceful enough to be flexible in my mannerism to deal with others and avoid conflict in politics and other topics often brought into the game.
I executed my life the way I wanted. I liked it as it was and such I began to thrive as a person owned by nobody and owing no favors. Lonely as it was at times, I chose my own paths in life; I walked the walk I talked and talked how I wanted my life to be. Most of the time, that worked well for me and if it didn’t, oh well, tomorrow bring another day to make it right.
So today I write books, I employ my own brain to do my thinking. I stir the mind into a controversy to provoke my own thinking. It was the path I had chosen for my life and most of the time, it was okay for me and with me to do so and be who I was and am. I didn’t mind it.
But sometimes I wonder, what it would have been like to be a celebrity, a famous person or someone of importance. How different would my life be and how would I be living. Did I become a writer because I was different or was I different because I felt the need to be a writer?
Did I know who I was going to be so early in life that my mind shaped sooner than others and created a bypass to the social things in life that you are now missing? Was I right in doing so and what did I accomplish for being different. All is well as I am happy being who I am and never once did it dawn on me, I wished to be different.

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