Dreaming of Words to Say If You Were Here

The other night something happened to me. The other night I lied awake in my bed thinking about my father. Ever since his birthday, which was September 4th, I’ve been dreaming, thinking, and wanting to talk to him. And when I hear friends talk about their dads or go to weddings and see friends being walked down aisles by their dads, it makes me wonder what kind of relationship I would have with my father if he were still alive.

Sometimes I consider my ways and seldom moods swings and wonder would he even like me? Would we talk on the phone everyday? Would we still go clothing shopping in his rushed-kind-of-way? Would we be the way I sometimes pictures us being in hazy dreams running down some unknown street to Long John Silver’s, running so we’re out of breath but laughing so hard because we’re happy. Would we hug the way we did in this dream just before entering the restaurant through glass doors? Even as I write these questions it seems like a piece of me is missing because I will never know these answers. The other night I wondered did my father know how much I loved him, even though sometimes I didn’t know how to show it—could he feel it? Those twelve years ago in April when he closed his eyes in death did he get a glimpse of my face and think to himself, I know she loves me?

The other night I cried when I couldn’t remember the last thing my father said to me or what he looked like the last time I saw him and he said goodbye. These things may seem so insignificant to some people, but the other night I needed to know these things. I said I would only keep these feelings between Jesus and me, but since I’m still dealing the guilt of not being there for my father, for not spending more weekends at his apartment, for not saying “I love you” loud enough so he can hear it—I’ll share this because it might help someone else (just maybe).

It’s silly to say that sometimes I pray to dream of you so I can do and say the things I should of when you were hear. Things like: I’m sorry for being embarrassed by you—I was young and dumb and didn’t know the clock on your life was ticking away. I was happy that day you showed up to my pre-school with a pair of blue, red, and yellow 1,2,3 skates. I was sad that day on report card pick up and you had a seizure (I was six and didn’t want you to die). I was scared the day you sat me on the lap of a white Santa Claus at the mall. I was happy every time you said ‘yes’ to my Air Jordan sneakers requests. I was scared that night you were drunk and I ran down the street and away from you. I was foolish the Sunday I skipped church because I knew you would be there, and I was lost the day I sat on the pew hearing you be eulogized.

Love Be Making Me Blue

This is me trying to be a girl in love. This is me wanting some attention from a man who’s not afraid to give it to me. When I say it—I mean all of it without one drop left in the bottom of his heart’s cup. In a way I think I deserve it. In a way, I think love has done me wrong for so long and for why? I’ve done nothing wrong to cupid or his rosy cheeks. I’m not the one who cursed the day the color red was made, and to be honest I practically worship this color and all it stands for.

This is me being too flaky and perhaps too picky. Is it my fault that I haven’t met a guy yet that can hold my attention longer than two blinks? (Well, there is this guy who I sometimes spy with my brown little eyes from time to time. And grant it, he may look better going than coming but there’s still something there that keeps me watching). Anyway, is it my fault that I want men to worship me? Is it my fault that men are sometimes intimidated by me? Is it my fault that these men don’t have the balls to approach me?

This is me trying to figure something out. Why is it that homeless-lower Wacker drive type guys be trying to woo me? (“Seriously,” I want to sometimes say, “you live on the street.” Is it something written on my face that says, “Ooh you dirty, dirty man, I want your love?” Is it the way I switch my hips that makes men old enough to be my dead grand papa want me? I guess I’ll never understand why these men are offended when I walk away. I guess I’ll never understand why love be making me blue. I guess I won’t figure it out until my next lunch break when I’m eating pasta and needing something to do.

At Last

Well folks, I got the job.

My prayers were answered.

And now my real life starts.

Yea!

Okay, Exhale Now

After the interview I was really excited and satisfied. It actually went better than I expected, and the managers genuinely seemed as though they liked me and working for HIMSS (the company). And Ande, yes I did ask questions. At first I was a bit intimidated when I arrived at the conference room and saw the setup of the table and chairs. Basically, it was like they were going to tag team me, but it turned out to be the complete opposite. I arrived early so I was able to breathe and center myself (giggle), but seriously I did do some breathing exercises I picked up in Tai Chi to relax myself and it worked. When the managers were seated around me everything seemed very natural and I wasn't tense. After the interview, one of the managers took me upstairs to her desk to show me the software I would be using. During this demonstration, the Senior Director came by and gave me her card before offering me a cookie, which I took. So yeah, this was a good experience and I can't really compliant.

Here are some questions from the interview:

1. How are with keeping deadlines?

2. What type of decisions are most difficult for you?

3. In what type of environment will you be most successful?

4. Where do you see yourself in 10 years?

5.What three things do you think makes for a successful call center? (When I answered this I actually gave four things).

6. What was the best/least thing I like about school?

7. Why shift from film to fiction?

8. What is your greatest strength?

This is what I wrote on the bus after leaving the company. Overall, I felt very confident and assured of myself. Thank you, Jehovah. I believe I made a lasting impression on the managers. Despite the outcome I'm glad I had this experience. Favorite part: asking managers questions. Least favorite part: looking up at the ceiling twice during the interview.

So now I wait. The director told me that they were going to do a background check and let me know within two weeks.

Listening to: House Music

"Ms. Cole, The Managers Will See You Now"

Is there any right way to prepare for a job interview? Should I read all I can about the company on their .org website? Should I practice facial expressions/the proper handshake/my posture in the mirror? Should I get a voice recorder and say "My name is Antoinette Cole, and I am ready to work!" over and over until I'm sure it's the right blend of honesty and professionalism? Should I put on my World Flutes CD and center myself and meditate on getting the job? Should I agonize on what to wear buying going back and forth on the lively color of salmon or New York black? Or should I ...

Okay, tomorrow I'm going on a job interview at a company that contracts IT work for health care facilities, and I'm trying to creatively visualize what will be the outcome. On Saturday at about 1:30p, I was feeling very confident about going and wowing the three managers I have to meet with out of their seats until I spoke with my godfather at 1:31p and he basically laid out the facts for me very bluntly. (Sidebar, this is a guy who always gives it to anybody (and especially me) straight). At 1:33p on Saturday, he told me how I had to live up to the high recommendations that his wife gave to her boss on my behalf, he told me that I have to impress these managers with my charm so they'll like me, he told me that I have to go the extra mile because I don't have any experience in the field I'm applying for so it's important for them to like me enough to want to hire me, he told me that I have to concentrate on being concise and answering the question, that I should bring a writing pad and pen so I can jot down names, that I should not be weird, that I should REALLY sell myself, that I should walk in the door confident, and finally that I should just be me.

After speaking with my GF on Saturday I started thinking differently about the interview and a little worry begin to set in. Yes, I know that I have to sell myself and make these people understand that even though this is a marketing position I can do the job. Sometimes ... well, a lot of times my godfather tells me that I'm not as confident in myself as others are in me. There was a time when I would say that he was on to something with this statement, but now I'm different and know that I have potential and abilities that I haven't even tapped into yet. In a way, I'm glad my GF pointed out some of the things he did on Saturday because in a way I know that I needed to hear (maybe two) of those things.

So in closing, please pray for me. Those of you who know me can attest to the fact that I can go off on tangents when answering a question. Tonight when you all lay down to sleep say, "God, please let Antoinette not fumble and mumble, and Savior please let her just be concise."

Listening to: The hum of library lights

After Four Rejections a Final Yea!

Dear Antoinette K. Cole,

I wanted to let you know your entry "Water Mommies" made it to the final three entries in consideration for this year's Jack Dyer Fiction Prize competition (out of three hundred and eighty-nine entries). Since you were one of our finalists, we would like to offer to publish your entry (if the work is still available for first publication) in CRAB ORCHARD REVIEW, Volume 14, Number 1, which is scheduled to appear in Winter/Spring 2009.

--Hey all, I still can't believe I'm going to be published in this magazine. When I received the call from Mr. Tribble the other day I was very surprised because I had forgotten all about the Jack Dyer submission. Anyway, he made my day when he told me how much Carolyn Alessio (the fiction judge and prose editor for COR) loved the story. This one acceptance makes all the rejections that much sweeter.

The Next Time You Say Those Things Think About Me

Isn’t being racially ignorant something of the past? Isn’t it 2008, and time for the American man to take a stand and live a life of purity minus the need to throw around offensively charged language without a clear justification of such behavior? Or maybe it’s me just wanting to be free and shit. At any rate, I’m kind of over white artists, writers, filmmakers or other likes thinking it cool, hip and straight dope to dip in and out of black culture for a) comedic effect, b) comedic effect, and c) comedic effect at my expense. When is it okay to make comments like one that a good friend and I heard in an indie film (that is much about nothing) how a little white baby couldn’t be considered a monkey (even though he sort of resembled one) because he wasn’t black? What the hell is that?

Okay let me give a bit of backstory on the happenings surrounding this WTF moment. There’s this film (that is much about nothing) that played tonight at the Gene Siskel film center and my friend asked me to tag along, and I complied. So we get to the theater and are watching this film (that is mediocre at best) when there’s a scene where a white couple is chatting away with their friends, fun stuff right? Okay, one of the friends asks to hold the couple’s kid and they of course oblige and laugh when the boy starts to crawl down the holder’s leg like what—right, a MONKEY! So then one of the actors says, “He looks just like a monkey.” And at that moment, the director of the film who also played the kid’s father said the statement of the freakin’ century that there’s no way he could be mistaken as such because his skin wasn’t black. (But aren’t monkeys hair brown?)

What is so frustrating about situations like this when artists take certain liberties without adding some cushion around these ethnic sensitivities so readers or viewers are clear that these aren’t views of the creator, but a statement that he or she is trying to make about what’s still wrong in the world today. And it’s doubly offensive to viewers like me and my friend when artists like the one tonight try to switch the focus from him being an ass and not working to develop his character to the point that when I heard this remark that it would be clear to me that ‘of course this guy would talk like this,’ but instead after being confronted by my friend the director informed her that there’s racist remarks in all of his films because he hates ‘that stuff so much.’ Bullshit. It’s so surprising that he wants take up the cross of racial stereotypes and bear them for all black people, but my reaction to this scene would have been totally different if the other characters in the scene would have showed some inkling of disagreement that would have revealed something about this guy’s character (which I told him).

It’s always a fun time when you’re like two black girls encased in a circle of white people and they’re all looking at you like you have the problem. A simple question of my friend asking the filmmaker his reasoning for dropping such a statement in his film without making it clear that this is showing how politically incorrect this guy was, turned into him trying to beseech us—his brethren on how this statement was really included for our benefit and not detriment. Again, WTF! What this filmmaker (and others) doesn’t understand is that blacks and other ethnic groups take offensive when there isn’t a clear reason why racially charged language is used. As a writer, I’m all for self-expression, but I also believe that as an artist I too must be accountable for the work I produce for the world to hold in its hand and critique, like, love and hate. So after this whole fiasco maybe the director will take into consideration that maybe there’ll be someone like me in the audience and maybe be more responsible in bringing these things to light that ‘millionaires still say’. I can’t hope for any miracles, but just maybe.

Listening to: Adele “Daydreamer”