Working the Grind

It's Saturday and I am at work and I'm trying to make money. Sometimes those two statements do not correlate. I work in The Wall Street area of NYC and have worked there for eight years. Many equate working on Wall Street with money. For many of the peons that work there (I am a master peon, thank you very much) that reputation of Wall Street as money-making does not translate for those who work in the The Wall Street area to money earning.

For those who work at the firm that employs me, money has been tight as they have not received a raise in 3 years. I have not received a raise in three years. There were many promises of one throughout the three years, but ultimately none came about. And we are all concerned as rumor has it that there will be a raise of 4% this September. That calculates into 1% for every year of service for the last 4 years. This current course of events causes all to retrace how and why they ended at a job that would so overlook its employees fiscally. Also, in making the decision to keep a job that refutes the importance of its worker by offering 4% raise after 3 years, does one stay long after the disrespect has risen, plateaued, and risen again?

My work duties consists of mind-numbing repetitious work. It is not work that allows creativity. I tell myself that I choose to be at my job because it fits my children-saturated schedule. The job, and for that matter any job, never defines you. I believe you define the job and what it means to you. You are to make it what you want it to be. My job provides a paycheck that helps my family to subsist. It is a job that provides me with a schedule that allows my days to be free and my nights of working the job to be over at 11:30 PM. Because of my free days I am able to be a parent that can go to teachers conferences, take children to doctors appointments, etc. These are all the things that my job are to me.

The money is not the best, but the schedule suits me. It is not the most creative, but allows me free time in which I can create. As such, the job is ideal for me in that I define the job and do not allow the job to define me.

I take the positives and make them the reasons for keeping the job. Acknowledging and defining the positives in a somewhat difficult position makes the job acceptable.

Formidable

I so want to be a formidable presence. I have been told that I am, and at times I believe that I am. But I want to believe it inherently. I want to be seen as an entity that garners respect. Sometimes, it is difficult to believe in my abilities, but I will fight the good fight to carry on in being a presence.

Life is difficult at times. Life is a challenge. I believe I am up for the challenge.

I want to be a formidable presence. I believe I am up for that challenge.

Children

I am the mother of three. I have a girl and 2 boys. I am proud of them all. They are an extension of me and in their being so independent and resilient, I believe I am the same: resilient and independent.

My daughter called me today, and it seems she did so to just talk. She is 13 and sweet. She called me after she got home from school to ask what does it meant when someone, particularly a boy, calls you a "Ten". I told her that means that they admire your beauty and think of it as the epitome. She asked if I had been called that ever. I said no because none of the guys I hung out with would utter such a corny statement. Now a dime piece is more like what I have been called, and often. My daughter said she thought I was a nine. I thought that was so sweet. I hold that conversation precious, and I think it was a bonding moment.

My boys are as verbose as my daughter, and often provide me with moments that allow for us to bond. They are not afraid to speak their minds and have timeless wisdom. I am proud of them.

I wish to have all these types of moments with my children as they allow me to be closer to them, and understand them.

When all is wrong in my life I can look at them and understand I have created something that is beautiful.

My children are beautiful.

Dilemmas

So often I am doubtful of what I am capable of. I am doubtful that I can reach my full potential, and that truly scares me. Often in my life I have been told I am nothing and that I will never be anything. I have doubts about myself because of these hateful statements. I have also been given subliminal messages that people are surprised at my abilities. An example of that is someone saying I'm so well spoken. To that I often state to them the question: What did you expect. When some find out the college I've attended, I get raised eyebrows, and questioned as to how I got in. Often I reply that I held a gun to the head of the admissions officer. I can't fathom how else they believed I got in other than taking an admittance test as all others do to get into a school. I mean, it is an idiotic question, but none the less a question that states that the one posing the question does not believe in your abilities.

I am planning a trip that covers the path that Hannibal The Conqueror, a Carthaginian, traveled in his exploits of war. In the planning of this trip I am realizing a dream I have had for quit some time. It, this trip, is a dream come true. It helps to reinforce all that I know about myself. It helps, this trip, to reinforce that I am a person who can pursue my dreams, and not the listen to the voices of others who think I am less than what I actually am.

First Time

I'm posting for the first time.

I hope that I have worthy experiences while posting. I have many thoughts that are bottled up and wish to set them free.

Saturday a friend and I went to a French Diner in The Meatpacking District of NYC and while waiting on line to be shown to a table, we were ignored and overlooked by the Maitre'D. I felt invisible. I corrected her and said she passed us over. She apologized and asked the pertinent questions like how many were in our party, etc. But I found it puzzling that she looked at me and my companion at the head of the line, and then looked beyond us to the next couple behind us. I can only assume that because I am an African-American that she did not believe I was with my friend who is a White Male, and that he must have been with the couple behind us. I, in her vision, was invisible, and therefore she looked through me. It was perturbing to say the least. I was really calm when I told her she skipped over Chacos and I, and she apologized for her faux pas, but it still bothered me. Once again racism reared its ugly head in a very subliminal way.