Tag Archives: family

Weird and unfortunate: my Nexus tablet, a holiday gift from Connie Beasley from last December, was supposed to come back from repair for broken glass on 12 November.

Connie had ordered for the mailing label back in June, but I lost the label, reapplied under her name for the label, and finally sent the broken tablet off in early November. I was really looking forward to getting it back that day, but then “everything” happened that evening.

I realized only after getting back to the house at around 10 pm that the Nexus had likely came while we were at the hospital. Brandon Conway showed it to me, and I opened the box while watching “Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Dog Days” with RJ. It worked and looked almost like new.

Connie’s last holiday gift to me is this Nexus tablet that I’m typing this message on.

All for which I can wish, right now, is stability for my mother and my two nephews. The nephews have lived in a wide variety of houses their whole lives, including two just this year. Brandon is leaving for basic in January and needs us to help him prepare, but RJ needs his teachers. He needs the daycare. He needs his friends. He needs this house. He needs my sister’s coworkers and bosses from Martin Army Hospital. He needs us, one and all, now more than ever. He’s only 11. #family

To My Sister’s Coworkers at Martin Army Hospital

Uncategorized,

I want to take the time to jot down my gratitude to the active duty and civilian coworkers from Martin Army Hospital who have stood by my sister, mother, myself and my nephews us through all this and have chipped in through a variety of means to help maintain our household’s stability.

They helped me and Brandon clean up and unbox the new house on post which we moved into in August (which we hadn’t done due to both health and time constraints), they made school lunch easier for RJ, they have kept my mother fed while she has waited alongside my sister for over a month at Columbus Regional, they have helped me and Connie keep up with her online schoolwork, they have pulled strings to ensure that there is a sense of continuity in this household (wherever it may manifest), despite my own shortcomings as a “de facto” caretaker.

They are all amazing people, and I appreciate their involvement in our lives.

Before heading home in the wee hours of the morning, I dropped off my other sister Wanda at the hospital. I went into the ICU with her and her younger daughter, Cedrica, and I talked to Connie for 10 minutes, at least to try communicating with her. I talked about how her coworkers helped us clean and arrange the house yesterday, how things were paid off, how stuff simply, finally, got done. I encouraged her to keep fighting the disease, keep holding on, stay on to come back home. When talking to Cedrica on the way to post about the experience, she said that Connie’s EKG was beating faster while I was talking to her.

Last 30 minutes: Connie, my sister, just told us that her recent MRI revealed abnormalities in her back and head. We’re taking her to Columbus Regional tonight, where she will stay for at least three days.

If it’s what we’re fearing, her hysterectomy will be called off and she will continue chemo. If confirmed and left untreated, prognosis is four weeks. She found this out by phone this morning.

Meanwhile, it’s rained for three whole days. She prayed with her younger son and my mother in the living room just now, at his request. I walked out and waited in my room instead; Brandon sat in his. I refuse all expectations, and accept all futures. #4thOfJuly #ComeWhatMay

Privatization of the family: a furry example

Uncategorized, , , , ,

Among many libertarians and a few progressivists, the concept of marriage privatization – where the state does not involve itself in the definition of marriage – has gained increasing worth as the debate over LGBT rights continues to intensify in the United States. Of course, a main fear over the concept is the possibility that religious groups could run amok with their own definitions and performances of family relationships which would clash with other religious groups’ definitions and performances, particularly as those who advocate for marriage privatization have not as forcefully argued for a secularization of the institution (in which religious groups’ performances are not recognized by the state, which only recognizes privately-composed contracts).

More on furries, marriage privatization, and the Internet…

Heading back to Albuquerque; or, Third time’s a charm

Uncategorized, , ,

My oldest sister (Wanda), her ex-husband and her youngest daughter have just moved out of Warner Robins back to Albuquerque as of 1:00 am this morning; her older daughter had already left some three weeks prior on a jet, as they had planned a few months ago. I teared up a bit after they pulled out of our driveway for the last time. From the onset, I kinda figured when they first moved here that my sister would move out of the area after a short stay (yes, for her, two years is for her a short stay compared to previous residences in Macon, Columbus, Great Falls, etc.), but I thought long and hard about what – or who – I would be missing now that they’re gone back to her ex-husband’s hometown. She did her washing at our house, she (and her kids) used our desktop when her Internet was out, she came to my college graduation, she moved stuff in and out of our shed, she brought food from Wal-Mart, she dropped me off or picked me up from school when our car was out, etc.; we gave her and her kids shelter when they moved down here, we shuttled her (and an acquaintance from church) to and from work in or near Centerville at night and in the early morning, we hosted two of her other three biological daughters (adopted by a couple in Montana in the 90s) when they came to visit in 2007, we often let her use our car until she was able to get her own used Saturn sedan, we rolled our eyes at every man she dated every week or two, and so on.

But we talked, and we talked often; we got in each others’ faces as well, but we made sure to air quite a bit of laundry when she and I were at our mother’s home. Depending on the subject, I talked more honestly and openly with her than with Mom, and vice-versa; I was more open with Wanda on sexuality (in which she has more experience), religion (in which she is more laissez-faire), and drugs (in which she’s a bit more divided, but not as utterly disdainful to the topic as Mom), while she talked to me most about my future (including whether I’d ever get a job, and in which field or industry). Ultimately, I don’t know how I’ll handle the fact that she and her family are no longer living within walking distance of the house, or that I’ll never be able to ask Wanda about Mom’s whereabouts, or that I’ll have to look outside Mom’s church and our family for….friendship and openness.

Of course, I’m trying, but I know that any further cultivation of ties with the outside world (and any effort on my part to make myself look less "using" of other acquaintances) would require me to reduce my time in Mom’s house, learn programming (and/or graphic design), find a job, get a car, get a phone, and plan to get on the highway to who-knows-where. But at 22, I’m stuck in school, and I fear moving to another area without first getting what I need out of college; programming is what I want to get under my belt before I entertain any serious thought of transferring my credits to another college or university out of state (yes, maybe UNM in Albuquerque).

So right now, I’m depressed about both what will be missing now that Wanda’s gone back and that we’ll be the only close familial kin in this part of Georgia (other than Connie and her two sons in Columbus), but I’m more depressed about not having the get-up-and-go that Wanda manages to assume when she sets her mind to moving to a completely-detached part of the continent. I’m depressed about not having taken earlier initiatives to prop myself up interdependently (if not independently) of Mom. I’m depressed about not getting to my most immediate goals earlier. I’m depressed about my own lack of maturity and my own overbearing sense of settledness.

But now, my mother is sick of her own condition, and of how she’s being treated by the various powers who govern her disability payments, and now I can no longer pine for domestic and financial stability and tranquility as a result. Things must be sold or given away, things must go up in smoke, things must be repaired, things must be paid off, things must be bought, things must be rearranged or moved.

I, or we, must be restless.