Monah and BK

February 14, 2013

Dear Daddy!

First and foremost, I love you. I do not say this to you enough and I know if I am dating around and connecting with different men, I  first have to say with a genuine heart “I love you” to my father before I say it to the man I choose to give my heart to.

I want to say thank you for teaching me about men. Real men. Men who give nothing but their whole selves but only in few words; Because of you I have learned to watch the silent movies around me. You can tell so much about a man by the way he moves. You can understand his heart’s intention by the way the bass in his voice can be stable or quiver.

Thank you for showing me how a man dresses. A man who exudes confidence does not have to do too much. He does not prance around his masculinity in his clothes and he never has to hear from people how cool he is. He knows it. He owns it. He leaves people in awe.

Thank you for showing me I am of worth. You have always gone above and beyond for me even if I did not like your execution. You have exposed me to the finer things in life while showing me to carry humility in my purse. You taught me not to base my agency on the pockets of a man or the lip service he may usher into my ears. I will never forget when you told me at thirteen to always let a man, be a man. Go with the natural order of things and most importantly, never nag. Nagging is a sin in the Bible of Man.

I have learned from you, forgiveness is key and keeping score is not. Men make mistakes; they will want to wander only to find home again. I have observed you and the uncles- men want to play. Men want to pack light. Men want to be kept safe while thinking they are the protectors, because they are but sometimes it would be nice if they can just let down their guard. Men will do things in their own time. A man will think before he acts, when he cares. A man will order his steps before the world orders it for him.

Thank you for your lectures about risk management. Thank you for being you and crafting my healthy perception of a real man and not the one Disney wants me to believe in. It has been a riveting 23 ½ years being your daughter. You have ultimately prepared me to go deeper with men and never stay on their surface. I will never apologize for not accepting the novels they push because we both know the truth is what moves us from one step to the next. Thank you for allowing me to understand you as a man before I understood your role as a father or husband. I will be sure to do the same for my significant other, when the time comes.

Love,

Lauren Roiann Daniella

There is no stopping them- women can be found climbing corporate ladders as though they are the latest Olympic sport. As they stack titles and achieve awards, it can be noted there is a lack of support among women. Author Valerie Young of The Secret Thoughts of Successful Women believes “Women are being judged more, even by other women” in the career arena. In that same sector, men are observed to have privilege when exhibiting certain personality traits. Women unfortunately to do not have the same access and are often pigeon-holed into negative stereotypes.

 According to psychologist Richard Sternberg- creator of the triangular theory of love, hate is the negation of intimacy, passion and commitment. It is usually driven by the stories people create about the target. Because hate is a combination of emotions, the “hater” involves personal past experiences to further evolve their hatred. These emotions can be noted as: disgust, fear, anger and despair. Eran Halperin, a student at the Lauder School of Government reviewed Sternberg’s theory as: “The unique aspect of hate is that it targets a concrete object or group and is driven by the judgment that the hated person or group is evil by nature and will never change its negative ways”. The questions that flirts with the devil’s advocate are: what if the hated group never exhibited signs of negativity? Is it possible to hate without a cause? Halperin believes the hated group is perceived by their haters as those who take away resources. If haters feel their lack is caused by the hated individual/group, they are driven to increase their own appearance of doing well while using propaganda to cause the hated group’s downfall.

Oprah’s Lifeclass with Iyanla Vanzant, The Terrible Things Women do to Each Other noted women hurt one another through unhealthy competition. For example, if there was a blessing box and a woman receives something from it, other women may believe there will not be enough left in the box for them. This type of conditioning has hindered women in their thinking and relationships with those of their gender. 

When asked: Why do women hate each other? A group of 20-something female professionals responded: “A woman who hates on others hates herself” and “To be hated on means to be great”. Fashion Columnist/Stylist, Mathe Kamsutchom stated: “Men create a competitive space for women. We are trained to see one another as targets because of the context of the world we live in (which is widely shaped by men). There are not enough of us in positions of power, so we compete for them, men don’t see one another as a threat to success.  Men have spaces and avenues to connect with one another that are specifically designed to network where as women don’t. Women have style guides and Pinterest-spaces in which we are constant comparing are selves to the lives of other women and longing for something we don’t have. That longing is sadly what bonds women together a lot of the time. Men don’t have that; they think they have it all.”

The male respondents believe: “I think the hate cycle for men is what is different. If I’m going to hate a man I have to get to at least have a conversation with him. I think women can start off not liking a woman at first sight. They can observe that woman without talking to her and build their case for hate. They can hear a story about that woman from another party that is consistent with their hate.”; “I think we have a respect for one another, whether it is accomplishments or merely getting something done, it is a mutual respect I believe.”

For women, the journey of understanding hate is neither black nor white; it is the gray they must dive into. The gray consists of maturity, measuring sticks and if women are willing to break the glass ceiling’s ceiling.

This summer was like a hit and quit. It slowly came in, engulfed me in all its glory and quickly left before I could roll over and kiss it good morning. It taught me how human I can be or how far removed I wanted to be from myself. It taught me to undress myself in honesty.

Instead of writing endless details of what done-did-happen this summer, I think it would be better to start of Monah and BK’s Falling for Fall Series with some thankful insight.

Enjoy!

I am so thankful for my sister from another, Mathe. We have come a long way in our friendship. It amazes me to know it only took a Coach bag, pepperoni/pineapple pizza and ice tea to create such a solid friendship. I appreciate how real we can be with one another; I am thankful our friendship is a safe place because Lord knows I can unload all the nonsense that bothers me. I am sensitive like no other (I blame my zodiac sign) but Mathe really handles me with care. This summer was tough- I was aware, blind, over and under involved with life. But Mathe was there to show me a lot of things ain’t ish and will always end up better than you expect.

I am thankful for coming to the point in my life where I am able to see my friends for who they are. I am thankful I am developing compassion- I can be so hard on people and their decisions but I am realizing their mind, body and life is not my own and like anyone else I do things that make people go “Where they do that at”- I call it risk taking, others call it wild, inappropriate, etc. I am learning to live a full life on my own terms and let others do the same. I am learning I just need to shut up. Ha!

I am thankful for the stillness of God. I am thankful for reaching a point in my journey where I do not have to over extend myself or prove anything to anyone. Justifying anything (especially who you are) can be so taxing. I am glad to believe in a higher being that lets it be known, he is God alone and he does not need my help.

I am thankful for my cousin Kerese and all the Hot Peppa Sauce Memes she tags me in on Facebook. She can always manage to put a smile on my face. I am happy we are not only cousins but friends.

I am thankful for my Khadija. I am so proud of her; although we are the same age I look up to her. She is so self-sufficient and confident. Besides Jewel, she is my other life coach. I am thankful to know all her aspirations will come into fruition. I am blessed to cheer her on from the sidelines.

I am thankful for reconnecting with my childhood friend Crystal. Besides being my very own Halle Berry (Lol), I am glad to know she is more than a pretty face. While talking about dating, she was very real about her experiences and let it be known her choices matter to her. There a lot of women who rely on what’s in between their legs to carry them through big decisions. Let’s be real, your clitoris cannot be the reason why you stay stuck on stupid. All in all I am happy to have a friend who knows what you are in between your mind, is what you will be in between your legs. #AndinthatORDER

I am thankful for love. Thankful to know it is circulating all around. Thankful to know I do not have to search high or low for it. Thankful to know it is near.

I am thankful for the quiet, loud, brilliant, intimate, hilarious, questioning moments.

I am thankful for it all.

I am thankful to know we all will be reaping plenty this fall.

Hey Girl,

  This is your 22 (about to be 23) self writing to you. You will be turning 25 soon, what have you learned? Who have you gained as a lifeline? Are your fears still the same? As you know, change is constant and works like clockwork. Here are some of my thoughts as to where you should be, with yourself.

Life- I hope you are living life on your own terms. You may listen to what is being said to you but with all due respect pay attention to details. Pay attention to what people are doing with their own lives and then assess if you need their words. Remember what Daddy taught you about risk management! It is all about what how much you want to gain or what you are willing to lose. All in all, do not lose you. You already comfortable in the skin you are in but sometimes people shake you up. Remember, you are not Orange Juice. Ha!

Career- DO IT ALL. End of story. Retire when you are eighty! Let the grind be your joy. You were created versatile for a reason. I hope at this age you will be finishing up some type of graduate school program that correlates with one of your passions.

Love- I hope you are taking your time. Be selective and conscious with your decisions. I hope whoever you are investing in at this age is funny as hell. You love that ish!  Hopefully he is multifaceted so he can balance you out.  Let patience be your guide; let it allow you to see him as clearly as you see God. That is how you will know, he is the real deal. Forgive, forgive and forgive some more. Don’t play stupid and get involved with anyone who does victim narratives. Again, PAY ATTENTION. If you have found the one, ride it out till the wheels break off (no pun intended)…whatever man you end up with, let him be a man. Do not place any timelines on your relationship. If he is the one, then there it is. If not, you know someone will be around the corner ready to say hello. You have the gift of discernment. Do not take it for granted.

God- Remember blessings come from brokenness. When you are at your lowest, that is when God is preparing you for a BIG shift. Be in a constant state of preparedness. You have not come this far for all your dreams to not come to fruition. If you do not remember a million and one biblical verses, just remember he has set aside your lot. God keeps all promises.

I would ask you more questions or give more advice but I am still trying to figure out life for myself.  Leave room for surprises. Leave room for life to do its thing. Do not plan as much. Take risks. Be open. Be UNDERSTANDING. Give people second, third, fourth, fifth chances because you are not Little Miss Perfect!

Do me proud,

You

Like a semaphore your culture was birthed through a triangular movement, precise yet abstract. Ships flowed across the Atlantic Ocean from Europe, Africa and the Americas. Your ancestors unwillingly came and had their religion, tongues and bodies tied to colonialism. They were allowed, however, to have some sense of freedom- a liberty to expose the skin on their backs and brown hues. Carnival is defined as the emancipation from one’s flesh. This cultural celebration allows one to become in tune with their sensuous side. Ask no questions and you will hear no lies. For we know Caribbean culture likes to appear noble and its women, gracious. Caribbean women and their sexuality have had an on and off relationship—no one wants to appear as a Jezebel. They keep their “wukkin’ up” to themselves and pray the dancehall walls keep their secrets as they ‘brace and wine’. You can relate to this. You do not want yourself to be misinterpreted or your sexuality translated wrong.

As you examine your pedicure toes you realize your feet still hurt and back, a little sore. Your skin now has a golden hue; you smile to yourself, remembering the cutie who complimented you on it. Oh gosh! Tomorrow is Monday, the start to your busy work-filled week. Your bags are still not unpacked and all you can think of is: “an’ every fete geh de numba to me cell phone”. Yes, di vibes cyan done for you and neither is procrastination. Instead of unpacking and preparing for the week ahead, you go to the kitchen to warm up some leftover Saltfish and Bake from your Aunty. Carrying the food into your living room you decide to upload your Carnival pictures unto Facebook. But then you pause. You do not want any foolishness on the comments. Yuh nuh want no one asking if your mother knows if you “get on bad” or better yet, your nosy co-worker giving you the “side eye”. You realize American society does not understand what you and your people are made of or even stand for. They often believe Soca and Calypso to be misogynistic. Caribbean women are given the labels of weakness due to how power is constructed within their society. It is said by academics and politicians:

 “Caribbean women are vulnerable because gender inequality makes them economically dependent on men.  Because they are subjected to domestic violence that reduces their ability to negotiate safer sex, and even in matriarchal societies where women head the house and provide the income—as is widely the case in Caribbean society—it is still accepted that the man will sleep around, because masculine norms of aggression, control, and risk taking allow him to”. (playingwithink.wordpress.com)

Besides the label of vulnerability it is often assumed by those outside of West Indian culture that, Caribbean women are hyper-sexualized by their own culture. American feminists who are not Caribbean often wonder if a bag has been slipped over the heads of West Indian women. Who in their right mind would be subjected to such raunchy behavior on a regular basis?

The question is: Who is allowed to deem what is of substance or not? As this question rolls around in your mind, you remember how people responded to pictures of Rihanna from last year’s Crop Over. She was labeled as a “slut”, “whore” and some even chuckled at the idea of her crying over rape alluding to her “Man Down” song. Although her traditional Mas costume was barely there, yours was too. Other commentary came from those of African-American and African descendants who used the necessary language that conveyed an “Us versus Them” thematic. It was made to believe, West Indian women were the only ones within the Black race to behave in a “lewd” nature. It was even stated that, we as women were confused. “How can one celebrate the cultural holiday of Carnival and yet not support homosexual or reproductive rights of others?” (Clutch Magazine August 2011- ‘After Carnival, Are People Too Hard on Rihanna’) Others proclaimed Rihanna’s participation in Carnival (Crop Over) was not a good marketing decision because she is a role model and companies would not allow her to be the “face” of their products. And last but never least, there were those who believed Caribbean women should not participate in playing Mas because it was not viewed as celebrating culture but celebrating sex.

As you continue to edit your photos, making the sun beam brighter and occasionally turning your photos vintage, you wonder if it is best to keep who you really are to yourself. Or should you only give those who went on the trip permission to see the album? Though you may not be Bajan, you and Rihanna’s cultures align under the Caribbean umbrella. She could have been your sister, aunt, niece, cousin or even, you. Those insensitive comments were directed to you, whether you care or not. What does a girl do with the ethnocentric views of others?

You upload your one thousand plus pictures, carefully dividing up the albums. You do not make your albums private; you have plans for your allyuh Facebook friends to see that it was what it was. You played mas, jump and waved, celebrated your roots…half–naked. You “wined up” on complete strangers and enjoyed it. Why? Because your favorite Nadia Batson song played, drinks were flowing and “chippin’ down de road” never felt better. The icing on the cake: you felt at complete peace with your sexuality. Your curves, yuh bumpa and waist line wrote sentences and mesmerized eyes. And besides, it is about cultural control. Who is going to define you, your sexuality and culture? You should, because you help create and evolve it.

My best friend says it is the “feeling that you can’t describe but strive to hold just one more time” and Jill Scott says it is the “feeling you cannot wash away with soap”.

There are so many words to describe it but there are not enough languages to fully articulate its significance. It can be so annoying or have you grinning like a fool. It makes others fill you up with doubt to the point of no escape. Sometimes sadness embroiders it; nothing can make you forget why and how you ended up with it. But as New Years is ready to slip into a pair of bad red stilettos and have the old, precarious and exhausted kiss her at midnight let us pause…

We all can push pass that repetitive stage of nostalgia. You know, the stage where you always find yourself before something BIG happens. The “good” kind of big that you want to cuddle with…the type of goodness that makes you fear no more. We usually do not make it to this haven because we let negativity and second-guessing pollute us like the Hudson River. Who wants to travel to that dump on the regular? “Not I and I!” said the Rasta on Flatbush and Ditmas.

As December rings your door bell, be prepared to have your mind blown. That is the only thing I want to hold onto just one more time -a mind blowing effect that changes up the game, my perception and even my aura.

 The people who surround me constantly remind me of what is inside me. With this being said, I am proud to showcase (as well as show off) my cousin’s new business, Paper Le Chic.

Whether you are glamorous, fly or eccentric, she has the stationary for you.

Check out her growing business  and be sure to support! www.paperlechic.com

Sample work:

My best friend of eleven years is my mentor. Although we are the same age, I feel she may have been my older sister in a past life. She always tells me what I do not want to hear but manages to give my ears what they need regardless of how my heart is feeling. A real friend will do that. Recently she told me: Do not run to heartbreak. When she said that, I found it to be a hard and rather large pill for me to swallow. I had finished telling her about my plans to visit my current beau in his city. This decision was made after he blatantly told me he would not visit me in my own because he always seemed to get a headache whenever he did find himself in my neck of the woods. Obviously complete BS, but somewhere deep inside of me I did not want to “lose” him. Maybe because his resume and education screamed: Barack Obama Junior or because his voice made me blush without him even being in the room. Who knows? All I knew was, I wanted to make it work for reasons unknown to me.  

I have come to the conclusion though that I was running away from…him. No, not the homie who did not want to visit me…the other Him, the one I always seem to return to. He makes me feel safe. He feeds my cultural appetite. He is the subway stop I get off on, so I can take a less crowded bus home. Shit! He is home. I returned to him when all else failed; I used to believe he was the only ‘good’ I could ever receive.

We have gone back, back, back and forth- Aaliyah style. We have “guh down”- Soca style. We have broke each other off (figuratively)- Roots style.

I thought I got rid of him until I found myself unable to sleep one night.  I had one of those “I am going to slap somebody” days. So instead of Jesus, I called unto him. No answer. In my city girl attitude voice, I said: “It’s whatever”.  I rolled over in bed and put the covers over my head. Four hours later, Frank Ocean’s ‘Thinking of You’ blasted from my phone. It was him. We exchanged pleasantries with ease and then I asked him for guy advice. Throughout our questionable friendship I never did that because I did not want to let go of my cushion, so I always played it safe. As usual, he came through, told me what I needed to hear and left me with this: “Be your own woman”.

No, I did not fall in love with him that night.

Why?

Because…

He was never mine to have or vice versa. He did help me run to where I needed to be: not to heartbreak but to a place for me to come into my own, without him.

Maybe, just maybe we will “be” but currently, I would not want to change a thing.

“You have no depth” He said.

 His statement snapped me out of my daydream. Here I was at 9:30 p.m. on a date of closure with the first man I gave my heart to. The evening was all types of awkward and his statement did not make things better. For those who know me know, I have a fresh mouth. I am the Queen of Smart-Ass comments, especially when running on 4 hours of sleep, PMS and a hangover that is still holding on strong. So I gracefully responded with the sweetest smile: “Of course not. You need to stay on my surface”.

As usual he made up his face—it could have turned a pot of milk (Guyanese accent)—and started to tell me about my attitude and the many “walls” I have…with him. I say with him because years later I understand myself and men better. Scratch that, I understand how my body reacts to men better. We all know the saying: You are what you eat. So let’s mix this bad boy up…You are what you create and you are who you date, court, sleep with or whatever adjectives you like to use to describe how you “mack” it.

With Mr. “You-have-no-depth”, I was emotional, guarded, and delusional. Yes, quite pitiful. No blame game here. It is just how my body reacted when I was with him. I did not trust myself and should have won the “Second-guess- yourself-one-more-time” award during the course of “us”.

EVERY

SINGLE

DAY…

I became like him. I liked what he liked, thought what he thought and did what he did. Where was Lauren? Did she suddenly turn into the little reptile we know as—GASP!—the chameleon?

I would try to justify to friends, myself and even to him our situation. What it was, is, could be but honestly we became like a YouTube remix song with the sample playing loudly over some whack rhyme (and we all know remixes are suppose to be better than the original track). Before we got played out, I finally realized I was not happy with our production. I was becoming linear, a flat, cardboard copy of my true self. This did not please me and I learned no matter how much we talked it out or worked it out, our 10 month relationship had an expiration date of yogurt. We were over before we ever started.

Now, four years later, I can tell a very different story. Besides being wiser, I have noticed there are some who I have crazy physical chemistry with and others who will forever be my Souuuuuul (Don Cornelius Voice) mate in terms of being on the same emotional wavelength. People like Mr. “You-have-no-depth” never reach my core because our connection only has one theme. We are repetitive in what we do and we maintain the basics as though life depended on it.

On the other hand I have meet men who are too fly for words but their ish still stinks. And I dig this because it is real. Dependable but moody, talkative yet mysterious and sweet with a backbone- I’LL TAKE IT (Derek Weng Voice). Realness will always offer you duality, nothing less. It comes with no hidden fees taxing on your heart or mind.

Even when you cannot fathom what direction you are headed to in life, everyone real will be there. They will be willing to travel from the bodega to Saks Fifth Avenue with you; hoping the Metro card, dress and Malta you purchased, defines and screams: YOU!

“Carrie: I’d like to think that people have more than one soulmate.
Samantha: I agree! I’ve had hundreds.
Carrie: Yeah! And you know what, if you miss one, along comes another one. Like cabs.” ~SATC

 It was summertime, my season and the year was 2009. It was my last day being nineteen and I told the man of my dreams I liked him. He was everything I ever wanted in a guy. Let’s call him Mark. Mark completed my “What I want in a Man at age 20” checklist: Same ethnicity and culture (two for one special)—check. Loves Jesus—check. He dressed well and was smart—double check. However, we did not have much one-on-one time; occasions were spent around his friends who made me feel uncomfortable and as though I was always walking on eggshells with them.

In terms of conversation, it was painful—always strained—but he was “summertime fine” so I went forth and conquered my own fear of being shy and told him I was feeling him. It was well received, he hugged me and said thank you (perhaps for my adoration? Maybe, because he didn’t feel the same way? Maybe I was too forward?) The questions decided to move inside of me and were noisy as hell.

The next day I turned twenty and moved with my best friend to a new city for a summer internship. I guarantee you, everyday for a month whether we were in the office or interacting with our students I asked my best friend questions about my situation, hoping she had the answers. She did not.

As for me and Mark, the staccato communication killed me. I felt as though I was living in the Stone Ages although we had everything from cell phones to Facebook. You see, I show I am interested but I never chase. However, for summer ’09, I was beginning to think I needed to purchase track sneakers. As I explored my new city, all I could think about was what I was not doing enough of or what was wrong in this scenario.

My internship ended and I moved back home, only to gain another internship in another city. I commuted this time and sure enough things remained the same between Mark and I. There were spurts of progress but nothing to rave about until the night of his friend’s party. Of course I went to the party fashionably late in new heels and Mark left early. I tried to mingle with his friends but it was late August and your girl felt exhausted. I grinded like a mother-effing monster (Nicki Minaj voice) the whole summer, from work to play I thought I exhausted all possibilities…until it came time to go home.

My friend who came to the party with me suggested we take a cab home. The cab came but of course in BK, the cab was a car and the driver was a man but no Grandpa. His look was a mixture of things, mature but boyish, clean-cut yet authentically hood. He had a light aura and even though it was my first time meeting him, I felt safe. He offered a different chemistry – our conversation flowed and we both schooled one another about life, careers, women and men. It was as though we talked about it all. Sometimes I wonder if that night was real because he aligned me and made me realize my heels were fine, no sneakers needed.

Two years and many men later, I still think of that night and him. We have not seen each other since but occasionally keep in touch. Yes, there was a time I wanted to see him, badly so I can soak in his aura. Yes, there is attraction on my part (He is a great guy; who wouldn’t like him?). On his end, who knows? I used to care but nearly two years later I am beginning not to. He played his part in my life exceptionally well but let us be reminded he audition for a supporting role not leading. Either way, he is Oscar worthy. 

As I transition into being twenty-two years old, I understand more and more I am such a different woman from when I was twenty. My check-list only requires proper hygiene and intelligence. My new motto has become: like them all, date them all. No, I am not that horny but the fact of the matter is: I am young, inquisitive, and funny. I have a smile that can floor you! Who knows who I can end with? All I do know for sure is, Summer ’09 showed me: Let beautiful surprises be beautiful surprises. Enjoy them but do not exhaust them. Do not run, chase or flag down anything. Instead get a tan, drink good sangria, develop your career path and become like time, which waits on nothing but is in sync with its tick tock.

P.S. As for Mark, we’re friends and that is enough for me.

Today was the first day in a long time where I felt down to earth. Do not get me wrong, being a down to earth person and feeling down to earth are two different things. A down to earth person is wise and grounded. To feel down to earth, you have to acknowledge how you became who you are and how you function as a person.

 I learned who I am today.

As any other person I am multi-layered. I am assertive, moody, fabulous and rude. I am selective because I am always discerning. There are few people besides my family who I let into my heart; trust me, I am not the “I have a wall, climb over it and while you are at it run on hot coals” type – You should do that for God and since I am not God therefore, I am not that serious…I am only human. I am blind and sometimes lie to myself. I can be my own hype-man. I cannot stand who I am at times but holistically I love me. I am constantly moving and fighting to be forward, to be a…better Lauren Roiann Daniella.

  In the past six months, life began to change. I came back from Peru after living there for two months and had to get adjusted to life in the United States again. Then suddenly I found myself back on a college campus for my senior year. Too much was happening too fast. As the days started to roll into one another I figured out: I was not in sync with anyone or anything at the moment. I went MIA on certain people in my life because if I do not know what is going on with me, then I do not want to be in the lives of those who could not carry my baggage. I needed space. I needed time. I needed me to grow up. I know I am an adult. I know I am a woman and I know for sure, no matter the age a person must learn not everyone should be there for the “growing up” stages.

As the months began to stack upon one another, Thanksgiving unrolled itself along with the turkey. I ate dinner with my godfather’s family and for the first time in that month of November, I laughed. There was actual feeling that came with my laugh. The next day it was girl’s night out with my besties. I was silent for most of the night because I began to understand I was not dealing with how I felt but only with how I wanted people to perceive me…together, solid, in control though I was not. I learned during that weekend, I had grown accustom to my own norm.

   My norm was a bundle of things that needed to be sorted out and the aura of it all was: stagnancy. You see, the patterns we slip into are sometimes beyond our own control. It is as though you wake up in a foreign place and ask yourself, “How the hell did I get here”? The catch is: we bought the plane ticket to get there but we are mad we invested the money (time/energy) to be there in the first place.

 We like these endless cycles, they become our comfort. We know what to do and expect. It is our very own formula but there comes a turning point where growth is ready to occur. Sometimes growth is fun: a classroom, a dance floor or a good night kiss is all you need for a lesson learned. The flip side is: understanding how to deal with a learned lesson (now, that hurts like mother-shut-your mouth). A learned lesson comes with history (that is played out like an eight-track) and yet you are still listening but not upgrading to the possible CD or even giving yourself a chance to download the tracks you love.

As the month of December began to knock on doors with holidays and college finals, possibilities began to fall in my lap. After months of not wanting to deal with anything but myself I decided to give what I found a chance. While dancing with opportunities, I gently made my way back to where I belonged. Where I belong now is not the same as where I belonged in July and it is suppose to be like that. Mastering me can be a thriller but I am thrilled with who I am becoming, down to earth.