Bad Influence

So apparently I'm a bad influence--grown as hell (27) yet I'm still influencing folks to do shit

I fucking guess

I can only laugh and shake my head.

I'm always amused by how I'm a bad influence- yet I turn out better than the person I've influenced to do "bad" shit.

Catching up with an old friend via Facebook (AKA The Devil's Playpen--the playground is reserved for that mess named Twitter) she had to the nerve to say that she think I was a bad influence on her.

And was dead ass serious.

I had to side-eye the shit out of my monitor--I mean this isn't the 1st time someone has called me a bad influence (and actually meant it).

Yeah in High School I cut class- boy I was glad our phone got cut off my junior year of high school because my mother would have been pissed to find out how many times I've actually cut school.

I didn't cut school to go over some guy's house (ok ok maybe once or twice- DJM), to smoke weed, to drink (again maybe once or twice- stop judging) but because, shit, I just didn't feel like going to school. It got to the point that school was boring. Apathetic teachers. Students who came to school based on what was on TV or to show off the latest Jordans. Random fist fights and security sweeps. I was just over it by Sophomore year. And it's not like I cut alone- I always had my partners in crime with me. And if anything I was peer pressured to leave school.

(That's my story and I'm sticking to it).

Yet these broads were never accused of being a bad influence.

We'd spend our day at some one's house with absentee parents and zone out in front of the TV or stereo until it was time to go home. Rarely did we take advantage of no parents in the house- our most daring thing was probably eating in some one's "off limits" living.

Yes I take pride in being, for the most part, a good kid.

Yet I still graduated #1 in my class AND went to a four year university AND graduated in four years with a degree.

However I was the "bad" influence---um your child didn't even graduate!

If anything sticking with me would have at least gotten you in the top 50 and admission into a community college of your choice.

I wasn't even fucking when your child was fucking yet it's my fault your daughter had 5 kids by 6 different men. It's my fault your son doesn't take care of his children.

...but I'm childless though.

Can't keep a job more than six months- definitely got to be my fault.

Yet I've kept the same job for pretty much 5 years- never late and have glowing recommendation (as long as no one peers too hard in my file in HR). I've never quit a job just because I couldn't get Friday off so I can get my hair and nails done. I've never been fired for arriving to work at noon...when my start time was 8 am. I've never been escorted off property for stealing (notice I said stealing lol).

Oh you still live at home with your moms yet can't lift a finger to pay the light bill. My fault too.

I've been out of my mother's house really since my high school diploma was in my hands- hell my room was turned into the "guest" room the week after I graduated.

As if a two bed room apartment required a guest room but Moms was on that fake bougie shit at the time.

I've never crawled back home with my tail tucked between my legs- and I have no intentions on ever being that person. One thing I love about my mother is she taught me the true meaning of independence.

Although, truth be told, watching my mother go through common pitfalls made me really not want to be like her too much-my mother has the worst money management skills I've ever seen in my life.

But that's my mother though- she knows she has bad money management skills yet made sure that I did not.

I had a friend who flunked out of school- bitch really thought she did not have to attend class- talking about she's going to "teach herself"

*side eye*

Yet when her parents caught wind and all but demanded she move her high yellow ass back home--whose fault was her lack of dedicated schooling?

MINE!

I had to let her mother know a few things (I know this now ex-friend lied through her teeth to her moms- made it seem like I had her out on the stroll instead of class) namely- I'm still in fucking school!

Yes we drank all the time, wild parties almost every weekend- that's true.

However hungover or not- I made my way to the bus stop to go on campus for all my classes. Given my colossal flop of a freshman year, I jumped through extra hoops to get my weak ass off of academic probation. I held down a job AND went to school full time. I got tutors. I actually cracked open the books I spend 2 hours waiting in line for. I stalked my instructors via email and office hours.

In other words, yeah I played hard...but I worked even harder.

Don't blame your child's failures on me.

I remember when my ex boyfriend's father basically called me trash and stated I wasn't good enough for his son.

Basically- hell the man called me trash to my face.

Grown ass man bullying a 16 year old girl- how big of you.

Again, honor roll student, respectful, well groomed (OK well my hair was/is still a mess but anyway...)--sure we lived in the projects. I'm not ashamed to admit it anymore- we were poor. Often very poor growing up- although I didn't realize it until later. Yeah my mother received food stamps (well a Link card- same thing). She wasn't out selling her food stamps- she was making sure her children had food on the table since working 2 jobs could barely cover rent, living expenses, toys, clothing, shoes, etc. Yeah the projects were rough but trust my mother shielded my brother and I from project living (although my brother later embraced ghetto living as if that something to brag about). We were actually the "stuck up" kids on the block because my mother didn't allow us to do half the things other kids parents would allow them to do. Yeah our neighbor's homes often looked like crap but my mother made sure our apartment was always neat and clean. No trash in our bushes and in front of our porch. No roaches. No mice. No one had to walk up pissy staircases and wait for shitty elevators. No drug dealing in front of our house- hell our entire block- the drug dealers had enough respect (and sense) not to slag that shit in front of their own homes. My moms wasn't a crackhead- she get tipsy from a sip of a wine cooler. My mother doesn't even smoke- she gets ill from the smell of cigarette smoke.

All in all, just because I grew up in the projects doesn't mean I was black trash.

I remember his father HATED for his son to come over my house (we had a long standing WWF Thursday Night Smack Down date night) convinced that he was going to robbed, raped, or murdered in the three steps from the curb to our house. I couldn't stay out that late on school nights (although I pressed my luck plenty of times) and his parents worked late on Thursdays so we couldn't stay at his home unchaperoned (for *gasp* we might have had sex or something). Wasn't allowed to drive the car over because someone might "break" in the car or "car jack" him for the car (as if car jacking existed in Chicago after 1993).

And now that I'm older I look at it as it's reasonable to have stereotypes about the projects- Hell I have stereotypes about the projects. I can't tell you the last time my black ass have even darkened the West Side of Chicago. I don't even like driving through the Ickies in Chicago. I haven't viewed my childhood neighborhood in years. I claim the '9 (79th & Ashland) and not 131st street, where I lived from age 5-17. I lock the car doors if I even see "SE" on a street name in DC. I assume that I can't rock the Coach bag when in a "rough" neighborhood in DC. Hell in Chicago, I take my wedding ring off when walking down certain streets in Chicago.

*end repressed bitterness rant*

But his father was soooooo extra- like it was his mission to break up us. And his father was a deacon.

Since I was a bad influence on his son.

Now look at me- happily married, stable job, live in a nice neighborhood, has a Bachelor's degree with a Master to follow. Married a great man who's well on his way to a PH.D before he's 30. No children (with the exception of my 4 year old tabby cat), no extended jail stints, no diseases--nothing.

Maybe people are right- I am a bad influence.

I guess when others look at my life and where I'm going, it's just a sign to give up hope and resort to fuckery.