My life. My thoughts. And I'm probably crazy for letting random people in. Wouldn't be the craziest thing I've done though. Watch this!

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

The girls lookin' right for 2010!

For as long as I can remember I've hated bra shopping. Even when I didn't have boobs. Which was when I was like 4 or 5.

Nah, I'm jivin'...unlike most girls from the South, I wasn't wearing bras in elementary school. I didn't really sprout until high school. I went from a training bra to a DD. No lie. I swear it happened over night.

Yesterday I went bra shopping at Macy's. I spent $90 on bras and sexy lady 'makes you look smaller' camisoles. I have never felt sexier. What a way to bring in the new year.

My boobs look good.

I'm just sayin'....

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Family Dys...and function.

I'm guilty of playing myself every now and then. And I HATE when I do that. For example, I downplay how much my family means to me.

Sometimes I pride myself on being a nomad. For living far away from the fam and working on my own and paying my own bills and having done so for many years now. I pop my collar every time I do some "grown up" shit like buy a car or go to some meeting. Or dive into business ventures.

But the truth family's approval means a lot. And when I don't get the love I feel like I hurts. It's hard to admit this. My family, like many others, is dysfunctional. I don't really know my position in the family circle either. Am I the black sheep? The daughter who ran away? The silent force? The 'We don't don't know what she's up to' kid? I mean...I know I'm loved. And I know my parents are proud of me. But something is missing and I'm not sure what it is.

The holidays seem to make everything okay though. I stuck with my "I ain't buyin' gifts for people who have enough...not to mention I spent all of my money on business ventures anyway" attitude. I spent very little money and yet everyone was happy. I received gifts I so didn't need but was grateful anyway.

I am really going to try to give my family more credit. I have to let go of the "You weren't there when I needed you" feelings I have for some of them. I can't act my sisters' admiration for me doesn't affect me. It does. I have to forgive my family and move on. I don't want to take them for granted and I don't want to have that hardness on my heart.

*woo-sah* It's tough. But through prayer and constant reminders of how important family is, I can get through it.

I feel so vulnerable even blogging about this but...*sigh*...change has to come with my attitude towards my family.

I am loved, appreciated, respected and admired. What more can I ask for?

Monday, December 21, 2009

Mentorin' breezes...

I have mentors. A lot of them, actually. Some of them I've never even met in person. Some of them don't even know that they are my mentors. All of them are older than me. I love being able to "LOOK UP" to someone. I've been this way for as long as I can remember. I was the oldest of 4 girls but was always desirous having someone to look up to.

My mentors mean the world to me. They are such inspirations. They are motivators and fighters. I see what they do and instead of becoming jealous or envious, I stare in amazement. And I think to myself,

"If they can do can I."

My mentors make me forget that I'm "only 24".

Back in the day I could throw one hell of a pity party. I'd invite my best friends too; Diana Depression and Flow McTears. A Defeatist Attitude always catered these parties. Can't have a pity party without this joka. But something happened and the parties stopped. A Defeatist Attitude would come knocking on my door but I wouldn't answer.

I thank my mentors for this. When you surround yourself around movers and shakers, it's hard to stay down. When the people to your left and right are not only successful, but happy and giving, it makes you strive to do and be the same. I can't even imagine trying to tackle this thing called "life" without the advice of someone who has done it. Seen it. Tried it. Failed. Succeeded.

Why are people my age so proud? Why are we so quick to call ourselves "grown"? Like we know what the hell we're doing. Grown? Are you kidding me? I don't even know if I'm grown yet. I still feel lost. Like I'm roaming in a forest. The sun is shinning and despite being completely lost, I'm enjoying the view. I don't know where the next turn will take me. It could be a bubbling brook of cool water up ahead. Or it could be a pit full of snakes. I never really know. And this is where my mentors come in. They are that cool breeze when the sun is beaming on my neck. I'm so grateful for it. It prevents me from passing out. It gives me that extra boost of energy I need to keep moving.

Mentors are great. Get you one. Or two. Or ten.

(photo source)

Sunday, December 20, 2009

What I can't do wrong is write...

Okay, let's try this "personal blog" thing again.




Crap. This basic blog template looks like how I feel when I see people who put their kids on leashes. No bueno at all. But for right now it will have to do.

I'm not good at a lot of things. You know how some kids in high school were like..triathletes. Like how in the world can you run like hell, throw a ball AND hit a home run at every baseball game? WTFrack? WHO does that? And then there were the chicks who were on the cheerleading squad, star gymnast, pageant winner 4 years in a row AND taught 3rd graders how to read while baking double fudge brownies...with sprinkles.


I wasn't that kid. All I did was write. One time in 10th grade I tried out for the volleyball team. Actually, I didn't even get to the try-outs. There were 2 weeks worth of conditioning. By Day 4 I was like, "Eff this bull crap. My boobs are too big for all of this running." That was back before I discovered I would ALWAYS have to wear two full support bras when I work out. And now you can't even stop me from working out. Ain't that somethin'?

So yeah...

All I do is write.

Writing is the only thing I don't do wrong. That's why I get pissed off to hell when grown people misspell words. Especially in the age of red lines under words that are spelled incorrectly. It's like, "Helloooo dofus! That damn red line is not decoration." Words are my friends. And I hate when people disrespect them and use them any kind of way. Words are my therapy. My comfort. I'm addicted to them. I can't remember the last time I didn't write. Or didn't make up a story in my head. Or have an idea for a poem. Or a prose. Or an article. Writing is like breathing.

And you have to breath to survive.

I shall return....