Who Is This Plant, Really?

I do not have a green thumb. That's what I tried to explain to my mom years ago when she offered me leaves from her plant to grow in my apartment. A plant, I should mention, she's had since forever. A plant that survived countless moves, moods, environments, and bouts of neglect. Surely, this plant would not live to tell its tale should it come live with me.

But Mami insisted, and I find it hard to say no to her, so I took the plant. Besides, I was up for the challenge.

I placed it in a bowl of water to encourage root growth with the intention of planting it. That 'plant' was in that bowl of water for the better part of three years. I mean, perfectly green and countless roots, but just in a bowl of water; stubborn little thing! I can't remember when exactly I planted it, but I finally got off my ass, bought some soil and put it in a cute little green pot. And then proceeded to barely remember to take care of it ever since.

This plant has been in my care for, I don't know, 10 years, easy! It's still in the cute little green pot, grown a bit, died a bit, but there it sits. Surviving. Sometimes, even thriving.

When I moved during the pandemic, I had the audacity to purchase two additional plants for my new apartment. One, a peace lily, proceeded to peace out thanks to a gnat infestation and lack of care (basically I gave up on it). The other, a snake plant, grew like a beanstalk, and is still here, but is surely dead or dying due to the same infestation and neglect. Last summer, my niece and nephew gifted me a new pothos we call Ariel Mermaid, and she teeters in between life and death DAILY.

But the plant my mom gave me? Surviving. Sometimes, even thriving.

Now listen, I'm stuck in this house, a victim of my own anxiety and low-balance bank account, and that does things to your mind, right? Like, you start to wonder, what kind of plant is this, that survives me being gone for two weeks and perks the fuck back up after just a little water? What is it made of? Who really sent it here? Is it watching over me, or just watching me.

Or is it just a really low maintenance, resilient, living thing, here to remind me that, if there's a will, there's a way. That there will be periods where you will want to shrivel up and die, but that, unless it's your time, The Universe will send something or someone to water your roots and set you straight. Maybe, that thing or person will even see fit to replant you somewhere new, roomier, where you can stop choking on your own misery day in and day out. That you can stand up after a fall. That you can weather anything. That the thing you think is breaking you, really is giving you a chance to be reborn-

in life, with life.

Maybe if I replant that plant... maybe...

The conspiracy theories abound.

Meanwhile, I saw soil for $5 and planters for $3 at The Dollar Tree; anything is possible.

Love & Balls,

Jaded

-----

but can it be

when we can see so vividly a memory?

and yes, you say so must the day

too fade away, and leave a ray of sun

so gold

Exit Where?

I'm on a reading kick, or maybe it's a frenzy, now that I've found I can tolerate audiobooks. Mostly I devour a thriller or crime because it feels like I'm listening to a podcast, or a fun romance because even this Jaded NYer needs a palate cleanser from all that murder, you know?

But recently I tried a quickie, a piece of literary fiction, to see if I can branch out and up my book count (why are there so many books to read but only this one life with this one brain and this one set of eyeballs?). I chose Exit West by Mohsin Hamid and let me tell you why this book fucked me up.

We are currently living in the middle of the fall of 'democracy' in these so-called United States. When the history books refer to this period, IF we have history books in the future, they'll point out all the obvious shit a lot of voters chose to ignore or overlook in order to keep being the oppressor and not allowing the oppressed to what all are supposedly entitled to according to the Declaration of Independence: Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. 

Side Note: If I were you I'd purchase printed copies of the Declaration and the Constitution while they're still intact, if for no other reason than to remember them fondly.

We can all sit here and think, "No, someone will stop it, this won't be Nazi Germany, we'll all be fine," but every day it gets harder and harder to believe that. So instead, my mind goes to, "where can I go to escape it, and how do I get there?" Which is so unbelievably depressing I can barely sleep. Y'all know I've never wanted to live anywhere, really, other than my hometown of Brooklyn, NY, and the thought of not only leaving BK, but the U.S. altogether, and be a refugee in a new place that might treat me like our government treated them? I want to throw up right now after having typed that. Like, will I be somewhere in Greece, on my deathbed, trying to remember what it felt like to stroll through Prospect Park after work? Or what a real bagel tastes like? Or the thrill of the start of the summer season of the American Ballet Theatre?

This is what ran through my head during and long after the five hours of Exit West played in my ears. It's about a couple who escape their country during a military occupation, and what they had to endure in all of the new places they had to squat in because they could not go back home. It was awful. The fear, the violence, sleeping outside, not having food, not being able to cleanse yourself, having to depend on the kindness of others in a world that's not very kind to brown people at all.

Like, can I honestly hoof it to Canada, when Toronto, as I understand it, is already pretty full? Should I chance it in Mexico? Peru? Antigua? Should I hope for a soft place to land with my family in the Dominican Republic? Maybe take a chance in an African country and leave the West altogether? Where could I go, with my whole family, and be a safe distance from the demise of this world that I know? And when I get there, will I be able to land on my feet, or will I have to pitch a tent in a shanty and pray an angry mob of nationalists don't set us on fire?

And sure, there are more serious things to worry about under the second go-round of this bullshit administration, but what is prevelant in my head is where am I supposed to go? They clearly don't want us here, so where do we go if THIS IS OUR HOME? I mean, I'm watching all this shit go down in Gaza, with the Israeli army bullying their way through Palestinian land, the destruction of life, property, standards of living, BASIC. FUCKING. HUMAN. NECESSITIES. Am I built for all that?

I don't know... where y'all going? Got room for about 15 more?

Love & Balls,
Jaded
----- 
father, father
we don't need to escalate
you see, war is not the answer
only love can conquer hate