My life was never a pleasant one. Whatever it was supposed to be, in some other universe, I know I secretly resent that it didn’t turn out that way in this one. Anger powers me, for my life tells me there is not enough love or fair play in the world.
I don’t remember a time when she didn’t sell crack. That made her the ultimate hustling mom: CNA by day to make money that wouldn’t get us in trouble; crack cook and connect by night. At least one day a month, I would come into the house after school. “Hi, Ma,” I would say. I would turn the corner and find her breaking down a six tray cookie. Later, we’d be on the block: she’d serve ‘em; I’d count the cash.
Most of the things I’ve seen I consider normal, but many other people see my life as disconnected and chaotic. For example, the first time I ever held a gun or smoked weed I was five years old. I also had family jobs: sneak drugs into the Carl Robinson penitentiary for my …show more content…
Before people tell me I’m wrong, I ask them to consider the choice of being a garbage collector or an entry level professional. The garbage collector makes more and his job is more secure. During the daily grind, he works on his own terms, is responsible for what he can control, can make his work build his body, and doesn’t have to worry about someone else’s interpretation of “whether or not he did his job,” “whether or not he did his job well enough,” or whatever the flavor of the week is this week—and next week, and the week after that, and on and on. Anybody who would be the garbage collector thinks like I think, and that person would definitely use the same logic to pick dealing drugs over accepting minimum wage and eating frozen peas in the dark. And if you think that’s a joke, you haven’t seen enough to know it’s
I don’t remember a time when she didn’t sell crack. That made her the ultimate hustling mom: CNA by day to make money that wouldn’t get us in trouble; crack cook and connect by night. At least one day a month, I would come into the house after school. “Hi, Ma,” I would say. I would turn the corner and find her breaking down a six tray cookie. Later, we’d be on the block: she’d serve ‘em; I’d count the cash.
Most of the things I’ve seen I consider normal, but many other people see my life as disconnected and chaotic. For example, the first time I ever held a gun or smoked weed I was five years old. I also had family jobs: sneak drugs into the Carl Robinson penitentiary for my …show more content…
Before people tell me I’m wrong, I ask them to consider the choice of being a garbage collector or an entry level professional. The garbage collector makes more and his job is more secure. During the daily grind, he works on his own terms, is responsible for what he can control, can make his work build his body, and doesn’t have to worry about someone else’s interpretation of “whether or not he did his job,” “whether or not he did his job well enough,” or whatever the flavor of the week is this week—and next week, and the week after that, and on and on. Anybody who would be the garbage collector thinks like I think, and that person would definitely use the same logic to pick dealing drugs over accepting minimum wage and eating frozen peas in the dark. And if you think that’s a joke, you haven’t seen enough to know it’s