The hardest thing to say…

So I’m sitting at work right now. I’m sitting and work and I’m listening to Pink. I’m sitting at work, listening to Pink and on the verge of tears. There’s a song on her new album called “Beam Me Up”, chorus below.

Could you beam me up,
Give me a minute, I don’t know what I’d say in it
I’d Probably just stare, happy just to be there, holding your face
Beam me up,
Let me be lighter, tired of being a fighter,
I think, a minutes enough,
Just beam me up.

Alecia. Girl. Listen, I do not have time for you to be writing things to get me all in my feelings while I’m on the clock, okay?! I’m already all tenderhearted, I just do not have the time right now. HA! That’s not what I opened WordPress to talk about on this dreary Monday afternoon, so moving on…

I have difficulty saying few things in this life. In fact, those who know me best would probably say that I tend to say a lot of things that are better left unsaid. I’m a wordy person. I spend the majority of my day dealing with words and trying to cobble them together in ways that make sense to appeal to consumers for my job’s web property. I tweet all the live long day. I blog sparingly. I’m always reading. So words are my world, basically.

There is one phrase, however, that I have the most difficulty saying no matter how dire the circumstance. That phrase? “I need help.” These last few years since I movef from FP to OP have been kinda hard. After working at my company for three years, I’ve only most recently gotten a performance review and the raise was a smooth 3%. I’m trying to be a good person and clean up my debt so I’m living worse than paycheck to paycheck. I’m literally at the point where I am stealthily monitoring my checking account daily to ensure that a) there are actually funds in it and 2) said funds are enough to help me survive for an indetermined amount of time. It’s so hard, really. I get times when I’ve finally paid off one thing and have some breathing room only for another thing to come out of the woodwork.

There have been weeks when I’m sitting in the house drinking the finest of tap water to abate my hunger. And it’s all a pride thing really because I have a strong foundation of people I can call to say ” I’m hurting, I need help” and they’d be there right away. I, however, am of the mind that I am more than old enough to provide for myself. I shouldn’t have to call a parent or a family member to ask for help because it’s only me. It isn’t like I’m struggling to provide for a family or anything. Plus all of my bad financial choices are MY problem. Cleaning up the mess I made should not be anyone’s responsibility BUT mine.

I’m working on being better to ask for help when I truly need it though because in the end I’m only hurting myself more.


I still miss her…

Free write. Meandering through my thoughts & I’m emotional. Don’t know where this is going or where I’ll end up so just bear wimmeh, k? Typing this on my phone so there may be typos or words that don’t make sense. Charge it to my autocorrect not my hands.

Time is supposed to heal all wounds right? Isn’t that how the adage goes? So why in the hell am I sitting here crying right now like they just told me my grandmother passed? It’s been…shit 18 years now, but it truly feels like yesterday. I was sittin here tryna put myself to sleep by browsing FB when I see that my cousin had posted up a pic of her I’d never seen. My heart felt like it was in a vise.

My maternal grandmother was one of the single most important figures in my life growing up. It was from her that I learned patience (though I struggle with exhibiting it on a daily basis). It was from her that u learned kindness. And respect. And dignity. And gracefulness. And humility. And the true meaning of unconditional love. I think about her often and even though she has been gone for so long I just…I don’t like the thought of living in a world where she is no longer. But seeing as how I’m not here for zombies, I just have to deal.

I don’t have a strong relationship with my Father’s mother. She is my last living grandparent and I hate that fact. It’s hard though because she has her obvious favorites and I don’t feel as I I should have to jump through hoops to curry favor. I can’t help but compare her with my maternal grandma who had probably double the amount of grandchildren but still managed to make them all feel special. There were no favorites or special treatment. We ALL knew that we were loved by her equally.

That’s so irritating to me, really. The choosing of favorite children and singling them out. Some of my family members do this w/ our kids & I do my best to pump up the ones who may feel left out. No child should ever have to feel like they’re chopped liver in comparison to their siblings/cousins/whoever. That’s a whole ‘nother post for another day tho.

All in all I’ve rambled to say that I miss my grandma. I miss her so much that sometimes it feels like I’m reliving that late summer day that I walked into the house after school to see both of my parents home (&awake). I knew something wasn’t right immediately, but I never expected to be that. And I cry for my cousin who was only six and was the one who found her. And the profound impact that this must have had on his life but he never ever talked to anyone about it so who knows how he ever dealt with it. And I cry for my family who has been fragmented and jagged ever since.

The Idea of Perfection

per·fect   [adj., n. pur-fikt; v. per-fekt]

  1. conforming absolutely to the description or definition of an ideal type
  2. excellent or complete beyond practical or theoretical improvement
  3. exactly fitting the need in a certain situation or for a certain purpose.
  4. entirely without any flaws, defects, or shortcomings
  5. accurate, exact, or correct in every detail

This morning I was on Tumblr and I saw a couple that I admire listed as one of some person’s “Top 10 Perfect Couples”. Later, while complimenting a musical duo whose new album I recently listened to, I called a couple of the songs perfect. It was then that I began to wonder whether or not perfect was becoming one of those words that is so overused that it loses its imprint. (See: epic, legend, icon, love, friend) So I sat here at my desk chewing on this idea for a while until something hit me. And this is just my personal opinion (obvi), so don’t take this for more than that.

Perfection is subjective based on one’s perception of what is ideal..

That’s it, really.


I remember…

I dream of you all through the night
Holding you tenderly
Right here wrapped in my arms so tight
But when I start to tell you how I feel
You tell me ’bout someone new who’s right for you
If you only knew my love’s for real
Baby, ooooh I keep it to myself
Baby, ooooh fallin’ in love with you
The harder it gets
But you don’t know the pain I’m feelin’
Ooooh I keep it to myself
Baby, ooooh fallin’ in love with you
Ooooh I don’t wanna push you away
‘Cause no one makes me feel like you do
I wonder if you feel the same way I do
Then we both could be together forever
So why do I hide all my feelings inside?
If I know you’re the only one for me
The deeper that it gets
The harder that I fall

– Monica, “Keep It to Myself”

The first time I heard this song I was in high school harboring a major crush on one of my closest guy friends. At this point, I was fully aware that he did not feel the same way about me, but that didn’t stop me from still holding out hope. Young and foolish, J. Queen of the Unrequited. Today I was sitting at work and this song shuffled on. Immediately I regressed to my 16 year old self.

Music has a way of doing that to me. It’s such an integral part of my life, that just hearing the beginning chords of any particular song can send me down memory lane. I hear old school Janet and I am reminded of childhood & hours wasted tryna learn choreography. I hear Tamia’s A Nu Day album and I’m in freshman year of undergrad w/ my first heartbreak. I hear Destiny’s Child and I’m back in high school; hanging with the homies. Solo DIL Bey shuffles on and I’m reminded of that one guy. Sasha Fierce Bey shuffles on and I’m reminded of another.

I’d venture to say that nearly every year of my life has a certain song that is the theme for that year.

“a man a plan a canal panama…”

I live my life half cocked. I have all these grand ideas of what I *want* to do, but my execution of said plans are lacking. I need to get my life together and change this. Like…now. I was recently introduced to someone who has inspired me immensely. She was motivated to do something and spent an extraordinary amount of time greasing the cogs of the wheel to set them in motion. Now she’s living a life of her dreams and I couldn’t help but be swept into the whirlwind of her happiness. It’s infectious.

I’ve been talking to a lot of different people in a lot of different career paths. Some senior level, some entry level but all have one things in common. They have a passion for what they do and are driven to succeed. It is this combination that allows them to get to a point in their lives where they are happy in their professional life.

Having passion and drive are two completely different animals, imo. I am passionate about so many things, but lack the drive to go about aligning my life to things that will allow me to pursue my passions. I’m lacking focus and it is driving me insane, tbh. It’s so easy to keep saying that I want to do as well as complain about  the lack of to do in my current position without making a concerted effort to actually change my circumstances.

I’m so over myself right now and finally ready for change. So I’m working on a plan. The first step in said plan is to hunker down and decide what the hell it is that I really want to do. Should be simple enough, right? Clearly not as I am writing this blog post, hehe. When thinking about all of the things that (if I were doing work with them on a daily basis) would excite me these stand out: writing, literacy, learning, imparting knowledge, and helping others. So immediately one would say I should think about going into education.

I’m here for it, right. Love teaching. Surprisingly have patience with children when they’re trying to pick things up. Would definitely prefer to work with adults (maybe in an ESL capacity or literacy training role), but that’s not exactly something I can jump right into. In all things that I have interest, I’d have to go back to school and get more knowledge. No biggie, right? Right.

That’s what I have to keep telling myself because at the hint of any sense of hardship, I crumble. I backpedal. I give the damn hell up and then am back to where I started. Can’t allow it this time. So I’m working on a Plan. Then I’m working on executing said Plan. Then I’m looking forward to being within the parameters of The Plan and seeing myself succeed. Then it’s time for addendum and expansion of The Plan. And living a life in accordance to The Plan.

Wish me luck y’all–I’m going to need it.