That Damn Thing Called Pride

I woke up to a text message that didn't sit well with me... so much so that I immediately got up to blog. When was the last time that happened?

I couldn't even tell you. Either way, today has just thrown a bunch of curve balls at me and something else took priority to that post. However, that something else lead to another necessary post. Still, remind me to later write about "Bowing Out Gracefully". That will be the title of the future post.

Back on topic, I've already established that I'm going abroad next semester. What I may or may not have established is the drastic expense involved in this endeavor... along with the paper work, preparation, etc.

Needless to say, I'm stressed. Life is definitely trying to win right now, but I can't have that.

"Even in defeat, there's a valuable lesson learned, so it evens it out for me".

That's the thought for the day, by the way. Legit though. I'm trying to be short about this, but I should probably give some details. In my shortest yet elaborate explanation I'll say that my dad put money in my account to pay for a summer course I need in order to go abroad in the fall and still be able to gradate upon my return in the spring.

However, I (with my irresponsible self) had over drafted the account so the $2200+ he deposited was being chomped at with charges for former insufficient funds. Now the chomping didn't extend $100, but it still occurred.

More so, that was not my first time over drafting :deep sigh: Me admitting this to the world, shamefully (might I add), is just another part of growth though. I have another account on campus, because my bank back home is only local. That account is fine and in order, but for some reason I let the one that my dad monitors get messy.

Not to say that if was going to messy'fy an account, it should be the one he couldn't see-but geesh luis. C'mon self. Anywho, I realized that I habitually log online and check my bank statement. More so, I check the balance before making any purchases. So, the over drafting had me completely baffled. Not to mention, my dad isn't the person you speak to without having all yours ducks in a row-so I didn't mention it until I figured out what went wrong.

... well, I never figured out what went wrong. However, what was brought to my attention today though is that I only check the balance. I don't check to see from where the withdrawals are occurring. Thus, I never really know if it's up to date. How foolish.

So, I'm defending [insert:pleading] my case with my mother and honestly thinking it was valid til' she pointed out that one little tid bit. I can be so absent minded. Why would it never occur to me to check for something other than the balance? Yes, I'm still a tad green behind the ears.

Now reaching this realization with my mother wasn't the big wig. I had been through the tears portion of our convo, the frustration, the shutting up and just agreeing with everything she says.. all of it. The big deal was calling my father to admit fault. Burrrrr!

Now my mother will hold a grudge, but my father will claim forgiveness then repeatedly remind you of past actions. I've come to realize that I prefer the former. Least it's real. More so, my dad can get under my skin in a way that no body else can, and I'm already sensitive. Double fail.

So, I hang up with her.. call him.. he doesn't answer.. and I secretly have a party in my head. I called. He didn't answer. Not my fault.

But of course, with God's sense of humor and my dad's knowledge that I'd have to admit fault in order for him to put the money back into my account in order for me to confirm my class (did I mention he withdrew the money for my summer classes after seeing my account wasn't in order? Yeah. Add that to the story.) -he called back.

Woosah. So I apologized and admitted to being careless. It was a little winded and roundabout, but I did it. It wasn't as painful as I thought it would be, but it surely wasn't painless. He downplayed it at first, changed the topic and shared some laughs, then came back to rehash his point at the end of the convo. What a man. Love that guy.

Seriously though. It's one thing to acknowledge fault to yourself. It's something else to admit it to someone esle. It's a part of growing up though. Pride aint got many folks much places, I'm just sayin'. And in turn, I learned something about banks. That's what mistakes are for right? Lessons.

I actually wrote a WHOLE poem two nights ago. I emphasize whole because I haven't completed a poem for some time now. Part of it says, "I'm making a point of not making the same mistake twice from this point forward, so at the least I'll be less redundant." Let's see how that goes.

A Work in Progress,

B