Day 21

Day 20, lost.

Confessional:

I feel uncertain. About who I am, who I'm supposed to be, who I want to be. I wish there was more overlap in those 3 identities.

I am selfish. Marriage means a life of shared forevers. Can I ever be ready for that? Children mean I will rarely put my needs first. I actually don't want that. What else could my adult life be, left out of baby showers, attending KD birthday parties alone, never having a family-influenced curfew or a unit to vacation with. Are those deficits?

Sometimes I feel my face hurt because I'm frowning. So I force smiles. It makes me feel better. Then I think, maybe this smile will make someone else feel better.

I feel guilty for wanting nice things, so much that I often don't acquire them.

"Don't be afraid to go out on a limb, that's where the fruit is." Yeah but there's a lot of empty space to fall, and... Well, let's stick to the positive. I like fruit.

I deserve it, right? Is that selfish and entitled too?

#31writenow

Day 18 (ok Day 19)

I fell asleep on Day 18.

I asked for a topic suggestion. Here's what I got.

"What was your favorite childhood toy?"

I wasn't much of a toy person. I was a smarty pants. I liked my books and educational TV shows. I read adult reading like newspapers, encyclopedias, and manuals. But as a youth, I did enjoy:

It was like a carnival in your living room! Hours of dizzy fun. I got too big for it fast, so that I couldn't criss cross applesauce it out and the ride was over. Sads.

I got older and smarter and I started wanting electronics for Christmas. Not really video games but cool gadgets. I have to give mom props, I typically had the new new shit before it blew up. Couldn't I have been normal and wanted the latest sneakers?

My favorite toy was this Vtech laptop that featured educational games an kept me occupied for hours! It was as lifelike as you could get for 1996 but not nearly as the models kids have now, all web-enabled with a mouse. Whatevs. The readable screen was probably as big as my phone screen, had no mouse but reiteration: educational fun for hours. And I thought I looked like a tech-savvy non-dork adult.

This pic doesn't do it justice. One, that's not even it (this one is way older and mine had everything loaded on it, no cartridges) and two...there's no two. It was my fave. The joy probably lasted all of a year as I'd played all the games.



Senior year, I'd gotten a digital camera. Polaroid Fun Flash 640. No zoom at all. It had .3 megapixels. Not even a typo. It was like the Fisher-Price of digital cameras but I was that chick when yearbook photos came around. Totally redefined the selfie and I'm sure prepubescent nudes happened on here. 

Wait. I was 17. Just boobs. No nudes. 

Day 17

I found my senior thesis today, at home for the weekend:

60+ pages of stuff that hasn't changed in 7 years: the only people that have black women's back is black women. In identifying self, in accurately telling our story, etc etc etc. 

On another note I'm reading a paper by Shaun Harper (one of my reasons for being strongly interested in UPenn for its faculty) titled "The effects of sorority and fraternity membership on class participation and African American student engagement in predominantly White classroom environments" on my Nook (yes my dork is completely showing). You can download it for yourself (link below) but the gist of it is summarized in page 43 of my thesis:

Yeah, that. All of that. Link, as promised: http://works.bepress.com/sharper/20/

#31writenow

Sent from my iPhone

Day

Sent from my iPhone

Day 16

Written a while ago. I dont remember who or what I was responding to. The time stamp on the draft hasn't revealed any clues.

A response, which inspired me to write. You're down to fuck, and so am I. We can't take our eyes off each other. My body warms with each glance. I'm already there, wanting. I stand before you, silent, waiting. You, in a tshirt. Soft, damp from shower. Basketball shorts worn at 3pm. I'm ready for their dismissal. Take them off. I mentally tug at your waistband. I visually outline your greatness, your love below. I want it. Take them off. I'm rigid with anticipation. You will make me wait. Closer, still, no sound. I take a seat. You knock lightly at my door. Just a minute. I will let you in. Lower your lips close to my ears and whisper those things that make me wanna. Your eyes shutter like an f-stop. Capture these images: 1. of your hands gripping my thighs. 2. me, rising and falling like a cosine 3. turning me over, bending me further, me wanting you deeper. Punctuate me with exclamation marks as my thighs serve as a parenthetical to this erotic tale you tell between my legs. I hit return. My lips hang open mid-sentence, an ellipsis resting on the fullest parts. You taste. You want more. The aftershocks of

I wish I remembered who I was writing this to, and that I had the courage to send said response. #31writenow

Day 15

Today I ran outside at the track near work. It felt nice to have the ground underneath my feet. In retrospect, it was nice to run. I know I shouldnt focus on the distance but rather the effort, but 28 minutes to run/walk almost 2 miles?

Never mind. I'll take it. The alternative is 0 miles in 0 minutes. :)

I really just want #serenathighs. Not that people tend to laud her thighs, but I weirdly chant "Serena thighs" sometimes when I gotta push through while running. 

From ESPN Magazine's 2009 Body Issue:

Rather, any set of these will do:

Track thighs (might be) > Serena thighs.

Day 14

"The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

I read this in the agenda of a meeting I attended today regarding professional development. I've been thinking about it ever since. How will I know who I'm supposed to be if I haven't claimed it?

Innovation and inquiry inspire me. It's why I ask questions which are probably more interesting than the answer, or which have no answer at all. I have ideas and tend to just put them out there, just in case they stick. The execution isn't as important.

Potential inspires me. A box of unassembled furniture, a fresh set of crayons on the first day of school, the first page in a notebook. I like the idea of a fresh start and a blank canvas. It's equally scary because there's room for awesomeness and suckage. 

Happy endings inspire me. Especially the ones I know are coming in movies I've seen or are predictable. It just means I have to wait for it.

I'm inspired by intellect. The brain is amazing. The talent it produces. Re malfunction it experiences. Who made all that up? Science or spirit? The fact that it just is, inspires me. There's all of this stuff, everywhere and I get to be a part of it.

#31writenow

Day 13

I want to be in a place where I am not bitter about men, love, and relationships. I have no faith in any of them.

A lot of women chalk up their misfortune with love to a laundry list of "men are jerks" and "I always choose the wrong ones" or complete blaming: "it's my fault because of my issues." It's both. Men suck but so do we. Men are men because they are men. Women are women because of men. Our movement, our voice, our existence, however meek or mighty, is born from how men operate this world. Does this make me a bad feminist?

I'm scared of being alone and single. Currently and having been single all this time has become normal. Sure I want love in #him but even the tiny proof of its existence is unconvincing. All good things come to an end and for sure love is no exception. Men treat women the way they're taught and how we allow them to. Unfortunately, many of us don't advocate for what we truly want and need. So we get what's offered and gratefully accept. Then bitch because we didn't get better. Yes you deserve better, but you're the only person who believes that. Fix that. But if you only knew how.

If we believe the idea that there is someone for everyone, just one (keeping this argument simple), doesnt it mean that everyone we date is likely to be an ex? What kinda sickness do we commit ourselves to hoping that everyone we get emotionally attached to, from the first innocent hello to the last tumultuous, hard-to-say goodbye, is going to be our forever?

Love just feels like a stupid choice. Rather, a risky one. Why gamble your heart? What's most insulting is being met with "you just haven't found the right one yet to change your mind." Shouldn't I be the one to change my own mind?

I think the questions are more interesting than the answers.

Day 12

Day 10-11 is just lost.

I'm really struggling with my personal statement, again. I go through phases:

Phase 1: let me sit down and write a draft of my essay. I'm full of energy and enthusiasm for why Id be an awesome candidate.
Phase 2: *scans essay questions* simple enough. *opens fresh document*
Phase 3: spend time bulleting ideas, hit a wall where I've either repeated the same things or rewritten my résumé
Phase 4: begin perusing program website for inspiration
Phase 5: hit save and whine about nothing I've written is good enough or makes sense
Phase 6: mentally debate if its just writers block or really not knowing if I should be in graduate school if a simple statement is crippling me
Phase 7: wise up, realizing that I'm smarter, more talented and totally capable of being in graduate school, usually prompted by some interaction with either other awesome people or really not-so-awesome people, thus returning to Phase 1.

I'm between phase 5-6 right now. Sigh.

#31writenow

Day 8

25 things I like about me:

1. My soft curly fro
2. My ability to write well
3. Being older
4. Being smart (fave)
5. My lips
6. My thighs
7. My soft skin
8. Breasts
9. Generosity
10. Being able to understand math
11. Being creative (fave)
12. Being open-minded
13. Ability to tell funny stories
14. Ability to enjoy good company without alcohol
15. My feet, in a weird way
16. My ability to teach
17. Ability to remain calm in most situations
18. I can enjoy my own company
19. Having a sense of direction in unfamiliar areas
20. Desire to learn more in most situations (fave)
21. Valuing myself to be loved
22. Classic sense of style and taste
23. Being able to admit fault
24. Passion for my work
25. Being fortunate enough to be a resource to others


#31writenow

Day 7

A short letter to my future husband.

I've become more curious about you. I wonder about the days, weeks, months, maybe years leading to our union. The little details, like when your birthday is and your best features. I hope they are your eyes so I can see our future in them.

In our vows, I'd admit my fears in being married, that forever sounds wonderful but it's a long LONG time. I'd thank you for trusting me with your life and heart. That's a huge responsibility to take on and I would be ready and able to commit that to you.

I can't wait to meet the lifelong friend in you. We'd share secrets and French fries at the beach, even if you hate the beach. You'd tolerate it for me, but id rethink our next visit. I want to surprise you at work and talk shit about your coworkers in the cafeteria. We'd have ridiculous fights where one of us, probably me, would say something over the line and we wouldn't talk for hours. It would kill us because who really wants to go without talking to their best friend?

I want the man in you to bring perspective that I never could. Lets make decisions based on our collective experiences. I want to trust you with money, time, patience. I want us to respect each other's choices even if we completely disagree.

Sometimes I dream of our lives being totally mundane. The most exciting parts of our weekends would be trying a new laundry detergent or the takeout we order for dinner.

Oh, by the way, please don't expect me to be the world's best cook. I didn't always pay attention to my mother when she was in the kitchen. I haven't mastered cooking a turkey but I'm willing to learn. You won't starve though, if you enjoy omelettes, baked chicken, stirfry and soup. My mac and cheese game is being worked on. But you'll already know this.

I dream of missing you. Desperately when you are away on business, or out with your boys. I will show you how much I miss you with over the top affection that even makes me laugh. I want us to run home to each other, to the house we've made home and into each others arms. I want that everyday.

A girl can dream right? See you soon, lover.




Sent from my iPhone

Day 6

I have 55 minutes left before day 6 is over! Talk about commitment.

Ok: quick list of 5 things I want in the near future I could easily have but just...don't. Actually, lets make it 6 because it's the 6th. 

1. Paper towels. They're not environmentally-friendly, but I don't think my existence is either. Life is so much easier with paper towels. They feel like a luxury to me. 

2. Curtains. My mother has always loved curtains. They've never been drapes, or window treatments. Like most non-well-off folk, we always stuck sheets in the windows for curtains. As an adult, I have two really shitty panels in my windows and my third window has a pink sheet hung with binder clips. Classy. Like paper towels, luxury. Walk through the hood and count the number of windows treated with 250-count Spongebob-printed fabrics. 

3. Gym membership. I've had so many of these. Lucille Roberts. Bally's. Crunch. NYSC. Now I'm ready for Planet Fitness. It's a bit further than my NYSC but surely cheaper per month. I just don't wanna commit again and then quit again. 

4. A massage. My body hurts SO MUCH. A scalp massage would be awesome too. I took a scalding shower this am (not intentionally) and it felt amazing. I'm going to try to recreate that in the am. 

5. A new purse and wallet. Im a total cheapskate on both items. I think the purse I currently own is the most expensive at $30. My current wallet is one of those plastic ID holders which is falling apart. Lady wallets are so bulky and decompartmentalized. You have to flip, snap, tuck, zip and/or slide something to pull out a card or something. I also have a bad "holding on to receipts" problem. I went wallet shopping a couple days ago and I wasn't ever impressed with the offerings. Last thing I need is a man's wallet. 

6. A cool birthday party. I don't want to do an over the top 30 celebration. But 29? Why not? I just don't want a super taco fest. Actually, I'd love an over the top Sweet 16 MTV trash-ass type party.  Ridiculous custom-made dress and beaten-to-death themes like being a princess or some Arabian nights shit. Yup. 

Day 5

Day 5 is somewhat uninspired. I'm a mixed bag of emotions. This evening will go one of two ways:

--drinking into oblivion and passed out
--not drinking into oblivion and passing out in tears

Ill let you know tomorrow and maybe ill tell you why.

#31writenow

Day 4

"It's her birthday! Lets get my friend a shot!" I won't turn down hard liquor at 12:30pm. The bartender, newly transplanted from some boring ass town, gives us back our IDs. 

"Well...I would, had y'all came in a couple days ago. Today's the 20th. But happy belated chica! Ill make you something festive. And for you?"

Jason hands her his credit card. "Gin and tonic. And make hers strong enough she forgets how much of a horrible friend I am."

We all laugh corny laughs. I drink a glorified rum punch and Jason and I catch up. He leaves and insists I order another on him. 

Text: hey sis-still getting hair done. Wont see you til later. Drinks on me tonight? 🎉🍸

Good. I make small talk with Kentucky (later, Im corrected with Tennessee) and she closes out her shift. I'm ready for this nap. 

"Ayo shawty. Miss."

I'm counting down the crosswalk timer. 12, 11, 10... dudes still using shawty? I step into the street as he keeps yelling for my attention. 

"Ma, don't do me like that, lemme talk to you." I don't walk any faster but my shoulders tense as I do. Two more blocks to the subway. I hear his voice closer, now in step with me. I slow down, considering what I want to say versus what ill actually say.

"You too good to speak? You got a fat ass." He reached for my arm. I step backwards. 

"What's your name?" I look past him, as if I'm waiting for someone, something.

"...why? I don't have anything to say." I cross my arms, nervously flicking my metrocard between my fingers, wishing it was something sharper and filled with the courage I desperately wanted. 

He sizes me up, his eyes fitting me snugly through this purple, boxy-tshirt, the closest thing to clean in my closet and not at all attractive. I feel traces of perversion around the bends in my thighs as he licks lust off his lips. 

"Just tell me your name. I wanna know you."

"I-I have to go. Umm, have a good day. Bye." 

It's not that I've never been in this situation before. More than I should, actually. I can't even say I brought it on myself. I wasn't dressed like the slut he wanted. Could he tell I was not exactly sober? Did I put myself in this position?

I'm at the turnstile. He's behind me. He's not there, he's not there. 

His hand is where it shouldn't be. Caressing the sojourn from the small of my back up to the folds in my sides.

"The fuck off me!" Turning around to face my harasser. 

"You a big one too..." His hand is still at my side.

"Im. Not. Interes--" the screeching 6 train mutes the next 6 seconds of my life. 

"Ayo fuck you fat bitch. Didn't want your ugly tranny man lookin ass either." I see the key words underlined with his index fingers centimeters to my nose and feel a venomous conglomerate of saliva amalgamated on my right cheeks. The tears soon catch up with his rejection down my face and chin. He doesn't stick around long enough to enjoy his victory. 

I clean myself with yesterday's sports section and wait for the next train. When that cheek started to bleed from the daily scrubbing, I decided if we ever crossed paths again, I needed a plan. 

Day 3

The last bites of my blueberry pancakes isn't nearly as satisfying as the payback that was coming. A bitch, indeed.

"So, you still don't remember me?" My mouth watering from the salty butter and saccharine syrup as I considered breaking to him just how aint-shit he was. He looked up from his equally aint-shit well-done burger, searching my face for familiarity. Blank.

"Ah mean...outside uh here...nah. Wait. You go to church with my mama, over on 7th. Right? Yeah! I knew I seen you before! Woo! Why you didn't say any..." I laugh, a little too maniacal.

"No mothafucker. I don't know your bitch-ass mother from nowhere. Imma tell you where you know me from." I look around, just for good measure. "Remember Teresa?" His expression hardened with wonder, sipping tepid tap from the yellowing tumbler.

"The fuck? Who? Oh, ol girl in the mail room with the fat ass? I been tryna holla for a minute! I mean, before you, you know?"

These were the dumbasses I attracted.
--

Bugs were everywhere. I stumbled my way through the park in a sleepy haze as my body was not ready to run on Dunkin. My phone alarm blared at 8:57, a reminder that I should be where I planned on being for 9am. Early is on time, my mother reminds me as I pick up the pace.

The red and yellow balloons welcomed me to what was supposed to be a park. Right now it was piles of dirt, mulch and unassembled playground equipment. The flyer at work said "beautification projects" but I was not prepared for heavy-duty gardening and construction. The young girl at registration met my unreadiness with a tshirt and gloves.

"Yeah...we'll need to do a better job on communicating what 'beautification' means on eServe. We're giving out double hours for this project to make up for it...I apologize. But welcome! Name please?"

I pull my fro back into the raggedy elastic band on my wrist and stammer out my name. The sweat was winning the war on my minimal makeup and all the other adornments which now seemed out of place. I awkwardly wrestle my tank top off from under the company-issue tshirt, which was quite difficult under a medium tshirt.

The girl hands me my name tag and apologizes about the shirt. Something about running out and all the larges being done by 8:30. My mother's having a hearty laugh in my head.

I see many of my employees hard at work. Two of my interns eagerly chat me up to impress me. They were both extra regular but together they produced solid work. I only had room to hire one at the end of the summer and honestly, neither of them were worth it. I smiled, gave them some encouragement an reminded them about our meeting next week. I catch up with some other managers and jump right in to shoveling mulch into the space which would be a landing pit for a swing set.

A couple hours later, we move into assembling a see-saw. Rather, I put my interns on assembling a see-saw. One day they would laugh at my recounting this instance as their real interview. I liked employees who worked on their feet, who could improvise, who could figure out playground equipment without directions before lunchtime. At 94 degrees, I decide to retrieve water for them and my team. A man in the same yellow shirt as me is passing out bottles of cool, but not cold water.

"How many, miss." A declaration, rather than a question, with his back towards me.

"Five, thanks," I scroll through my emails and messages. My sister - "hey! Drinks after your volunteer day? Soooo much to tell you!" - and my bestie - "Yo." - make me chuckle. I hear 5 repetitive thuds on the table which turn my chuckle into light choking.

I never forgot his face. The snarl in his lip, the arrogance in his eyes, the scruff in his haphazard beard. Of all the places he could work, here? Fuck.

At that moment, I knew I had something for that ass. I lingered for a second, seeing if he'd remember me.

"How many, sir." I turn to the guy behind me. It was Randy, the office fuckface, for reasons. I pick up my bottles and locked eyes with him once more. Nothing, still.

Actually, it was better that way. I'd be introducing myself soon enough, and maybe a friend too.

Day 2

I like making lists. This one is inspired by a blog by @feministajones on femininity.

1. i don't think I'm completely embraced my femininity. I can only consider whether I like being a woman in relation to being a man, which is never been or will ever be. There's so many reasons why being a man would be great (those extra 23 cents, peeing standing up) but there's some fun in being a woman. Now only if men would stop taking said joy away.

2. I have a weird relationship with the color pink. We're socially conditioned to think of pink as a girl's color, from the first swaddle to the last flower placed on our caskets (I don't even recall my grandmother - RIP - liking pink). I didn't wear it a lot growing up and if I ever had an option to choose toys or clothing in different colors I did. About a few years ago, I decided that I will choose pink solely in attempt to appear more girly. Stupid, right? I own a lot of stuff in pink now-one could think it's my favorite color. It's not.

3. For women to be such a lesser sex, there sure are a lot of male entertainers who like (making their money from) pretending to be women. I guess being a woman is great for the sum of her parts. I maybe in the minority in that the "work" it takes to look like a woman, superficially, is work. I just wonder why men would take the time to try to look, sound and act like me, all to take it off and voila, be a man again! On a larger scale, I don't understand men feeling like they're born in the wrong body. I'm all for being your true self, but I can't see how a man just feels like they're supposed to be a woman. Is there a void where their ovaries would be? Do they feel like they're missing out on nurturing loved ones in their bosom?

4. Can a woman live completely fearless? I love the idea of a strong, independent, can-do-all woman. But even the strongest and most amazing is in danger of being taken advantage of, being reduced to diminutive descriptors, shamed for what she cannot control and controlled for what she could never have access to. She still worries when she walks down the street on a warm summer night. She'll always wonder if she'll fall short of being the best mother, auntie, daughter and wife ever.

5. I really want to get boudoir photos taken. Not as a bigger woman. I want flat stomach, or smaller stomach. Strategic lighting and dramatic poses in the best lingerie money can buy. I don't consider myself photogenic but it would be cool to be portrayed as sexy. I'm aware that I can be sexy anytime and everyday. I just...don't.

6. Who came up the phrase "feminine hygiene"? A whole aisle dedicated to me NOT smelling unsavory at any point in the month. What? It's up there with "ethnic hair preparation" at CVS. Also, thanks for putting condoms, lube and pregnancy tests, and Monistat in the same aisle. I need that perspective.

7. I've never bought condoms before. Won't get into why or how but a woman should know how to do it, right? If I had to run out to the drugstore right now I'd be so lost. I'd totally be the girl who just sputters "...uh, what's better, the yellow box or the black box? I don't need 12, do I?... Just give me both. Shit, $18? Really?"

8. I don't watch the Simpsons often but Lisa Simpson is really awesome. I wish she could grow up in real-time. According to Wikipedia, she was born in 84 and popularized the phrase "meh." I actually think about this a lot for fictional women characters: the Baby Sitters Club, Daria, Patti Mayonnaise, Ramona Quimby... Why can't I think of any black women fictional characters? The two which come to mind are Lauren Olamina and Addy from the American Girl series. Surely you can draw your own parallels between these girls as to the kinda woman I am.

9. There have been a rash of stories about girls, as always, doing the damn thing, particularly in STEM and overall academic excellence. The one girl who completed her bachelors at 14? And another girl in the UK who passed the bar at 18? (Links below) I just saw some video about a girl in Canada who invented a flashlight powered by energy emitted from your hands when holding it.

Then there's some more unfortunate stories, like a girl who was arrested, or suspended (I can't remember) for speaking up about a literature assignment, another for a science experiment... I'm having a hard time finding these stories online but my point: i really hope these arent becoming "look, a girl can do it too" novelty stories. First, duh, of course she can and second (and probably contrary to my first point), it cannot be easy to reconcile femininity with scholarship. Edit: it ISN'T easy to reconcile femininity with scholarship. To do it at 14? 18? 11? To grapple being taken seriously as a woman, as a professional when you're "just a girl," then be "not a real girl" because those accolades aren't socially accepted as womanly?

Thinking as a woman is overwhelming. #31writenow

Day 1

I've woken up more days last month in tears or on the verge of them. I kinda know why, and I kinda don't want to talk about it.

I tried smiling today. A friend told me I don't smile enough. Maybe that's true. I tried smiling today and it ...hurt. Not real pain, but it felt fake, so inauthentic that no matter which way I smiled, how hard I tried to evoke memories of happiness, none of those smiles fit.

So I stopped smiling. Maybe I've stopped smiling for years.

I decided going for a walk would make me feel better. It did. Still not smiling.

Here's to a better day 2. #31writenow