Emotions are a funny thing. The definition of the word means "A mental state that arises spontaneously rather than through conscious effort and is often accompanied by physiological changes; a feeling: A state of mental agitation or disturbance: The part of the consciousness that involves feeling;" And emotions sometimes comes so randomly that it'll make your head spin. One moment you can be silently listening to music and taking a ride on a bus. Suddenly someone plops themselves so forcefully in the seat next to you without any care or regard, that your mental state is abruptly jarred. This is accompanied by a feeling of agitation. The kind of agitation that requires bail and a restraining order.
So I was washing my clothes today. And heaven knows that as much as I'm used to taking my clothes to the Laundromat, it's not something I look forward to. It's kinda like having to wash rice when you're hungry. It's seems to take longer than it does, but it's something that must be done if you want to eat. I had to do the laundry because I hate the thought of moving into a new place with bags of dirty clothes. The laundry needed to be done. I pushed my ol' lady cart filled with my dirty drawers down the street and prepared my mind for the battle ahead. Little did I know, the battle would not be between me and the washer/dryer.
The laundromats and availability of machines in my neighborhood are like waiting at the bus stop in Hawaii. If you don't leave your house at the right time, you are going to have to wait. The buses can come anytime and are sort of unpredictable. What are you gonna do--walk back home then come back? Of course, not! So you end up sitting there--having to look at all the other 'poor things' who have to catch the bus too. Waiting at the laundromat, timing is everything. If you get there and all the washers are taken, it's gonna be a long wash day. Because those washes need to be dried. Bring a book, an ipod and your phone and get ready for the next couple of hours--if you're lucky.
I get to the Place of Dread and realize that there was a meeting going on. Apparently a memo was sent out to all the ghetto-ass women in my neighborhood. I'm glad I wasn't on the distribution list. I stepped into the fray...mid-fray, as two horrid-wait, scratch that--two WHORE-ed anatomical females (describing them as 'ladies' would be offensive to real women) were cussing and yelling at each other. It took 10 minutes in total (while I was there) for them to stop, but in the middle of the commotion I pieced together that GG1 (Ghetto girl 1) and GG2 were both angry at the other. From what I could piece together, GG1 and GG2 were seconds from coming to blows over, get this, ....
...a laundry cart.
People, I'm telling you right now--managing emotions is key to staying out of prison. Trust me, I'm hoping that our Prison systems are teaching a class on it. Knowledge is power. And the ruckus that was going on at Fowler Laundromat was the opposite of power. Ignorance was running wild up in that place.
The funny thing about the entire situation, is that it seems like I was the only person in that entire business that seemed to notice the argument. I marveled, as I sat across the room from the shouting match, how little old ladies and mothers with their children, gently gathered their offspring and was able to give them orders and load/unload clothes from the machines without so much as a glance towards the death-match going on 4 feet away. No one tried to dial 911. No one attempted to quell the skirmish. No one even stopped to take a picture of it from their cell phone. If anything, I expected someone to do that at the least. I was somewhat taken aback. There was more denial in that room then Clay Aiken, circa 5 months ago. Then it hit me--I need to get out of this neighborhood.
If I am going to choose to live in an area where this is normal behavior from adults in public, something is wrong with me. I can't live in a place like this. If seeing that type of situation doesn't give pause to people in the vicinity to at least show some sign of disapproval, albeit passive-aggressive as it may seem, I can't live there. I can't consciously live in a place where two grown, anatomically born females with young children in their presence, are allowed to tell each other how the other needs Jenny Craig and Antibiotics, all the while cussing so much that it would make Popeye stutter---more than usual. Ugh, gugh, gugh, gugh, gugh. I can't live there. I can't live HERE anymore.
It was at that point I thought how their emotions got the best of them, and in the midst of reacting to whatever triggered the first comment made, these two failed to control themselves and gave into the gutter side of their emotions. They lost it. They completely blew it. Now, I couldn't tell what kind of professions they were in. Although, in judgement, it appeared that one of them was employed in the oldest profession in the book. If ya know what I mean. But for the sake of a blog, IF both of these individuals were true professional, college-educated, 'career women', what a sad thing that this argument was their introduction to everyone in that room that didn't know them, of how bad they could be. If first impressions are everything, these two blew it. I wanted to yell at them, 'Manage your emotions!' I processed all of this, and realized how many times I've completely 'lost it' and did the same, although, maybe not so public.
Well--scratch that. There was a time in my younger (and immature) days when my sister and I was involved in a 'skirmish' with my sister-in-law and her sister. Police was involved and it was a public spectacle that even today I get embarrassed thinking about it. I also failed to manage my emotions. Thank God for Forgiveness, but there was years of bad feelings. All because our emotions were not managed well. At times I still struggle, like I said in the beginning, in very small circumstances. A lot of times, immaturity is still housed in youth. Sometimes though, it takes vacations in seemingly normal, "mature" adults. I'm learning how to tell myself, 'Relax, Brah. It's not that serious.' Some days, I speak to myself more than a normal person should. But it helps me. Thank God I have learned enough sense to realize after years of both winning my battles against my emotions and falling prey to its enticing voice, to take the higher road. And thank God, that in this instance, the higher road is leading me a few miles away, into a better neighborhood.
Perhaps I should plan on putting in a washer/dryer in my unit, just in case.
I'll keep you posted.
So I was washing my clothes today. And heaven knows that as much as I'm used to taking my clothes to the Laundromat, it's not something I look forward to. It's kinda like having to wash rice when you're hungry. It's seems to take longer than it does, but it's something that must be done if you want to eat. I had to do the laundry because I hate the thought of moving into a new place with bags of dirty clothes. The laundry needed to be done. I pushed my ol' lady cart filled with my dirty drawers down the street and prepared my mind for the battle ahead. Little did I know, the battle would not be between me and the washer/dryer.
The laundromats and availability of machines in my neighborhood are like waiting at the bus stop in Hawaii. If you don't leave your house at the right time, you are going to have to wait. The buses can come anytime and are sort of unpredictable. What are you gonna do--walk back home then come back? Of course, not! So you end up sitting there--having to look at all the other 'poor things' who have to catch the bus too. Waiting at the laundromat, timing is everything. If you get there and all the washers are taken, it's gonna be a long wash day. Because those washes need to be dried. Bring a book, an ipod and your phone and get ready for the next couple of hours--if you're lucky.
I get to the Place of Dread and realize that there was a meeting going on. Apparently a memo was sent out to all the ghetto-ass women in my neighborhood. I'm glad I wasn't on the distribution list. I stepped into the fray...mid-fray, as two horrid-wait, scratch that--two WHORE-ed anatomical females (describing them as 'ladies' would be offensive to real women) were cussing and yelling at each other. It took 10 minutes in total (while I was there) for them to stop, but in the middle of the commotion I pieced together that GG1 (Ghetto girl 1) and GG2 were both angry at the other. From what I could piece together, GG1 and GG2 were seconds from coming to blows over, get this, ....
...a laundry cart.
People, I'm telling you right now--managing emotions is key to staying out of prison. Trust me, I'm hoping that our Prison systems are teaching a class on it. Knowledge is power. And the ruckus that was going on at Fowler Laundromat was the opposite of power. Ignorance was running wild up in that place.
The funny thing about the entire situation, is that it seems like I was the only person in that entire business that seemed to notice the argument. I marveled, as I sat across the room from the shouting match, how little old ladies and mothers with their children, gently gathered their offspring and was able to give them orders and load/unload clothes from the machines without so much as a glance towards the death-match going on 4 feet away. No one tried to dial 911. No one attempted to quell the skirmish. No one even stopped to take a picture of it from their cell phone. If anything, I expected someone to do that at the least. I was somewhat taken aback. There was more denial in that room then Clay Aiken, circa 5 months ago. Then it hit me--I need to get out of this neighborhood.
If I am going to choose to live in an area where this is normal behavior from adults in public, something is wrong with me. I can't live in a place like this. If seeing that type of situation doesn't give pause to people in the vicinity to at least show some sign of disapproval, albeit passive-aggressive as it may seem, I can't live there. I can't consciously live in a place where two grown, anatomically born females with young children in their presence, are allowed to tell each other how the other needs Jenny Craig and Antibiotics, all the while cussing so much that it would make Popeye stutter---more than usual. Ugh, gugh, gugh, gugh, gugh. I can't live there. I can't live HERE anymore.
It was at that point I thought how their emotions got the best of them, and in the midst of reacting to whatever triggered the first comment made, these two failed to control themselves and gave into the gutter side of their emotions. They lost it. They completely blew it. Now, I couldn't tell what kind of professions they were in. Although, in judgement, it appeared that one of them was employed in the oldest profession in the book. If ya know what I mean. But for the sake of a blog, IF both of these individuals were true professional, college-educated, 'career women', what a sad thing that this argument was their introduction to everyone in that room that didn't know them, of how bad they could be. If first impressions are everything, these two blew it. I wanted to yell at them, 'Manage your emotions!' I processed all of this, and realized how many times I've completely 'lost it' and did the same, although, maybe not so public.
Well--scratch that. There was a time in my younger (and immature) days when my sister and I was involved in a 'skirmish' with my sister-in-law and her sister. Police was involved and it was a public spectacle that even today I get embarrassed thinking about it. I also failed to manage my emotions. Thank God for Forgiveness, but there was years of bad feelings. All because our emotions were not managed well. At times I still struggle, like I said in the beginning, in very small circumstances. A lot of times, immaturity is still housed in youth. Sometimes though, it takes vacations in seemingly normal, "mature" adults. I'm learning how to tell myself, 'Relax, Brah. It's not that serious.' Some days, I speak to myself more than a normal person should. But it helps me. Thank God I have learned enough sense to realize after years of both winning my battles against my emotions and falling prey to its enticing voice, to take the higher road. And thank God, that in this instance, the higher road is leading me a few miles away, into a better neighborhood.
Perhaps I should plan on putting in a washer/dryer in my unit, just in case.
I'll keep you posted.
1 comment:
Your forgot to explain that "managing your emotions" entails .............. looking at the person and then leaving ... so you can later tell your friends, "Yeah, so den I wen look at him ... and DEN I LEFT." :P
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