Everyday, I think to myself what my mother said out loud. She said, “Whatever you do, don’t grow up like me. You need to be different from me to succeed.” In some accounts I succeeded. On some accounts I did not. Intelligence, hence Education has always been a priority in my family. I have family member of all ages in college at any given time. I’m waiting for a degree to save me. It’s the difference between me and them isn’t it? “They” have degree’s.
I found out that my literary idol lived a career that is only imaginary too me. I did a little research. Dorothy Parker is actually Dorothy Rothschild. That isn’t such a big deal unless you knew that the Rothschild family is an elite family of Ashkenazi Jews, who are entrenched in conspiracy and unrealistic amounts of wealth and world power. That would explain how a 17 years old Jew, who was a Catholic school drop-out, got a syndicated column at Vanity Fair, and could be published in the New Yorker by 19. You would have to have some truly sick connections. I can see why she changed her name for good. Yet another reason to lower my personal expectations. Lord knows, I always am trying to escape my own identity. I digress…
How can I say that I am a good person, living a good life, if I am also teaching my children to be better than me? Here is my answer to that. I am programming them with … THE FORMULA
THE FORMULA =
DO THESE THINGS,
ONLY DO THESE THINGS IF YOU CAN DO THEM IN THIS ORDER
SKIPPING STEPS MAKES THE OTHER STEPS TAKE TEN YEARS LONGER
- Finish High School
- Go to College
- Do not marry until after college
- Do not live together until after married
- DO NOT HAVE BABIES BEFORE MARRIAGE!!!!
We are teaching them the consequences of bad decision-making. Why do girls get pregnant before their married? Usually because of our daddy complex.We keep trying to replace our daddy’s affection. When we realize that their penis’ aren’t ever going to fill that hole, we set our sites for something higher. We know the baby can’t love us, but imagine how much that man would love us if we were the mother of his child. But they don’t fall in Love. They fall in Scared. And they go away. Just like Dear ol’ Dad’s do.
When men see their ex’s keep their kids from them and get paid to do it, they feel no obligation to parent. Most women are too busy being pissed at a lousy boyfriend, and men don’t get the chance to be dad’s. It’s not even expected of them. If a man is going out of his normal routine to provide for his off-spring, they throw him a parade. But too many mom’s hold onto kids they know that can’t support, in order to avoid social stigma.
Our generation is different isn’t it folks? I see mom’s & dad’s working apart but together. I see student’s who are mom’s of student’s, who are not stripper’s or career waitresses, because of Public Assistance. I see more Bridge cards being accepted at more places. I see me… trying. My kids are different, I swear.
And I still hear the story of a lady I met through the Welfare Detention Office. She said she was in line paying for groceries, and she had her two small children with her. She used her Bridge Card, and the lady standing behind her said, “You know, the more kids they have the more money they give them.” She was humiliated. This is a 34-year-old woman who had been employed full-time since she was 14. This was the first time she had ever had to use public assistance to get by. It was because she had to divorce her abusive husband. Every job she had since they were separated, he stalked her until she was fired. So she needed help until she could get back on her feet. She just cried right there in the store. This guy was so awful to her. Her oldest son was severely autistic, so daycare was almost impossible. The baby was well, a baby. It’s hard enough. Times are obviously bad enough. No matter how nicely she may have been dressed that day, unless you knew her you wouldn’t know that she couldn’t afford to have the heat over 60 degrees in the house in the middle of winter.
Go for a walk, before you talk. That’s my lesson of the day. What cha’ think?