endless nameless

For the forth time in about 6 months I'll be living in yet another place. It's kind of a sad thing when you can fit everything our own into your car. In less than an hour I can be moved and all traces of me and my shit are gone.

Why I'm moving again is a bit personal and I don't feel it's appropriate to get into it right now. But things are ok as far as I can tell.

My oldest and best friend Ryan has now not only introduced me to a woman whom I love with all my heart and hooked me up with a job at the night club I currently work at but he has now also hooked me up with a place to live with a couple friends of his who needed a roommate. I owe him a lot...

With every change in my life that is thrown at me my blogging being very sporadic. Fourty blocks has been around for over two years now and for the last several months Iv been a stranger to my own work, my own art. My camera and this blog have collected dust but my mind has been thrown into overdrive. Thoughts come to me more than ever now, thoughts of things that cant really be written or described in any way. Thoughts that cant be described using any senses. trying to write about them wouldn't do any justice. Even when I try explaining them to others, the words fall short and are lost to confusion.

Am I too old for my age? for my own good? Have I grown up too fast? Am I really a product of my own wasted youth?

I kicked a girl out of the club the other night for hitting another pregnant girl in both the face and stomach (I didn't know she was pregnant, but she was). Both are only 18 and the one who did the hitting has a little son of her own... at 18. You'd be surprised to know how many people at or under the age of 18 have kids and still with out fail come out to the club. It lead me to wonder "Where the fuck are these babies when they are out here slutting it up on the dance floor?" I got my answer the other week when two young girls (both 18) who were both regulars came in about 30 minutes before close. I was working the door and they wanted to go in for free just for 5 minutes to dance. I denied them of course, not cause I was trying to be an asshole but to make a point that I wont bend the rules for these two deviants who think they can get away with what ever they want. After telling them no for the third or fourth time one said "Come on! we just wanna go up for 5 minutes then well go, my kid is out in the car we'll be right out." Your kid is out in the car!? It's fucking 1:30 in the morning and your kid is out in the car! Sure enough her little son who could be more than a year old was out in the car with two of the girls young friends. She even brought the kid in to show me and to throw away a dirty diaper. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I should have called social services on her ass. This teenage mommy is the same one who hit the pregnant girl the other night, obviously I was more than happy to kick her out of the club (for life). Not that this will really change her behavior, now she'll just have to drive around elsewhere with her baby at 1:30 in the morning looking for somewhere else to get her drama.

There are others ranging from 16 through 20 who come in who have little children of there own, more than I would have guess. They are all still kids themselves. Some where there is a whole generation of children being raised by kids and the thought makes me feel ill.

I got a call from my brother Jake a while back (he lives in Arizona now... lucky bastard) and we discussed, among many things, the fact that we both don't seem to relate to others our own age, or maybe we just don't see the right people. Our peers, those we grew up with and those we observe in day to day life, see to behave in a far different manner. We based most of it on how we were raised, but that can only be a part of it. A lot of the people we grew up with had parents who raised them like friends, who gave them things they wanted but not things they needed. When I was 15 and Jake 17 our mom was diagnosed with cancer and immediately underwent chemotherapy. We fell into rough times, lived on welfare while our mom laid sick. Our dad, as he as always done, worked his ass off for us, but at the times things were slow. Rough times indeed. It was just as summer started and I had just got my temp drivers license. I drove my mom to therapy 30 minutes away, I worked around the house, Jake worked at a local golf course and Clay I believe was attending summer school during the day. The times matured us a lot. I got sick feelings in my gut when I found out the people at our church had collected food for our family, I don't know why, but I did none the less.

The first month of my mom's cancer I didn't say a word to anyone. I never mentioned it to people at school, even my best friends didn't know about what was happening in my house and in my head. Looking back on it I can't say why I kept everyone in the dark about my home life, I suppose I didn't want anyone's pity for our situation... same reason I didn't like accepting other's charity.

My mother is the strongest woman I've ever know. She didn't tell me about the cancer for about a week, but she didn't need to. I knew something was wrong and I knew what it was, I don't know how, but I did. She cried as she told me, I cried as she told me. "I'm not afraid of dieing, but I don't feel like I'm done raising you and your brothers and I can't leave you let." she said to me with tears in her eyes. Those of you who read this have no idea how hard it is for me to write about and recall this moment in my life. From that day on Iv felt grown up, I didn't find much joy in the things others my age did, it all seemed very small (thats the best way I can describe it). My mother recovered and bounced back with so much strength it was incredible. She looks younger now than she did before her body became invaded with the illness, she has to this day never let me or my brothers down.

We were raised in situations, like most are, that were our control. My brothers and I were raised not by pop culture, or tv, or our peer, but by two of the most supportive and strong people we will ever know.

Jake and I discussed, in our several hour long talk, how we now fear that we couldn't raise children the way our parents did. Could we really offer to our own children the strength and support that our parents gave us?

This post has become a novel. I'm waiting to go to a job interview on campus. I filled out and turned in an application to work on campus several months ago and never thought about it again until I got a call last week to come in for an interview. I figure that it couldn't hurt to have a second part time job on top of the club.

There is a lot in this post to digest. Enjoy