I have the anxiety of 1000 possums.
Let me keep it real with y’all —
If you know me [like really know me], you know that I am a writer. I write for solace, for love, for healing, for fun, for God, for friends, for everything. But to be perfectly honest, I don’t remember the last time I wrote anything.
I made it my duty to buy a new journal in every country (7) I’ve visited, but converted those jounrals into planners.
I guess that was me trying to gain some kind of control over my confusion.
I’ve battled the nuances of happiness and feeling accomplished, simultaneously realizing that I cannot let my success stress me bare. You’re not supposed to kill yourself while you’re attempting to build yourself.
I didn’t realize that my disengagement with writing was a sign that something was and is wrong. I thought I was growing out of an old hobby on this “new” journey.
Note to self: Bull Sh*t! You were just trying to hide your feelings from yourself, but you ain’t low, Na!
I almost thought about giving up on the blog because of my inconsistency, but that would just be me giving up on me! But I decided against it – I matter to me and my voice and presence is necessary.
trying to make making time for myself— diving into what makes me happy, and still on the grind without putting myself through the grinder. Finding time and space for me is so important!
Counting my wins. Glorifying my losses. Loving God always. And always leaving haters on read.
Note to self: I love you, Na! Remember that!
I travel often and I don’t usually get homesick. I like to think that I am so adaptable in the ways I can make any space home. But in between whispers about cranes and magic and Master P’s words of black wisdom, I found my mind somewhere in Harlem surrounded by black people.
I heard loud robust laughter in the distance accompanied by some trap music. I smelled oxtails and coconut oil. And then there was me standing in the intersection waiting for the light to change, smiling. It was weird. All of it…
Solange made me miss being surrounded by blackness. Yes, Greece is an amazing place with welcoming people, but there’s no home like black mother’s hug.
I’m sure the feeling will pass, but I am hoping it won’t. I never want to lose the craving for my people.
Let me be honest, getting to Greece was a bit of a pain. First, American Airlines tried to charge me $200 for my fly, four-wheel-drive luggage. I was like….
Then, my flight from Philly to Greece was a nightmare. This was the first time I have thought that baby muzzles may be a good idea after all. I was walking through the plane like…
But when I arrived, I was greeted by the warmth of Greece. Hahaha!!! I’m not talking about that metaphoric warmth of home, but like sweat dripping down the back of my white long sleeved Gap shirt. Had me like…
Nevertheless, I love this place! The food is great, the bars are festive and the people smile and stare and laughed at my poorly articulated Greek, but somehow still make me feel welcomed!
Look out for my weekly post about my journey in Greek and travels. Talk to you soon!
So life has been hectic… well maybe I am just getting lazy.
Drama has definitely made its way into my life but I am so focused on sustaining my personal happiness that nothing really matters.
They said that your 20’s are supposed to be the selfish years, right?
I am not super psyched about getting up for work everyday. Some days I feel like life is timer and I am just waiting until 5 o’clock! Don’t get me wrong, I like the work that I am doing this summer and the people I work with. It’s just that I am still grappling with the idea of doing the same thing every day.
Do adults not get bored? When does the switch up happen?
There’s no element of surprise when every day is the same… Well besides the idea of finding money on my way the subway or meeting a cutie at the Chipotle by work.
I would like to underscore how much fun I am having! Despite the routine, everyday has been an opportunity to be extra fly, extra fit and extra fabulous. I am treating my body better and taking it day by day. I am buying my self nice tingz and moisturizing.
I am going to Harlem Happy Hours, but realizing that every hour is an hour to be happy. *Clinks glass!
I am so focused, man! And I am off to Greece in less that 50 days. What more can I ask for?
*I mean there’s more to ask for but I can’t have all of my blessings at once! Spread em’ out!
Partying is different in the real world!
In college, I could walk into a party and know nearly everyone in the room…
if it was a predominantly POC party –
I also knew I probably wouldn’t dance with anyone and I definitely wasn’t getting any numbers. But in 21+ clubs…
Oh how the game has changed!
It’s not just the age requirement that alters things; the atmosphere is different. There’s lived energy that floats through the place and wraps itself around you like a grown wo/man/human with a full time job!
When I went the Katra Lounge with my girls to celebrate their beautiful black girl birthdays, I got out of the cab suddenly realizing that I had gotten dress for not [the usual] one but 2 reasons.
- To look like an overly embellished black queen
- To maybe find some one else who is too royal
I knew it was gonna be a good night!
I enjoyed how moderate the energy was and how everyone was finessing is a more elegant way. I appreciated how people asked me my name and invited me to chill.
Ultimately, I felt as if that was my final initiation into adult club (as I’ve already been working and paying bills and meal prepping you know).
May every weekend be this lit!
Until next week!
It’s getting better!
Moving back to New York was such a hassle.
- I cracked my phone
- My luggage tore
- I was broke!
If you want to keep your sanity, I advise you all to catch a flight. For a double the price of a bus ticket, you get the luxury of knowing that you be where you need to be shortly and in [slight] comfort.… Post Grad Life: Week 2