We're growing up...

My friends and I.

3 weeks ago my best friend had a baby.
Yesterday I went to the wedding of one of my closest college friends.
At the reception, one of my other closest college friends told me she was preggers.
My cousin and best friend just started up a new business.
My other best friend is graduating from law school in May.

My friends are amazing. They are supportive wives, dynamite business owners, wonderful Mothers and women who are actively leaving footsteps all over. I feel so honored to have such a strong group of women in my circle.

This morning I sat in the sanctuary of my college-town church. It brought back so many memories. I hadn't been to that church since right before I graduated. I saw that same mean-faced usher. And the same lady always gets the Holy Ghost 3 seconds after a song starts. As I opened my Bible to turn to the day's scripture, two church bulletins fell out. One from my church back home and one from the church I attend in Orlando. I smiled. No matter how much I travel, I always find a way to attend a church.

Yesterday at the wedding reception I shared a table with the wedding planner. She was the fiercest 62-year old that I had ever seen. I talked to her for an hour. About everything...my future, relationships, my business ventures, etc. She provided so much insight. She inspired me. Motivated me. She congratulated me. "On being a bad ass young Black woman". She said I've done so much in life already. And that she can't wait to see me on some red carpet. Or in Black Enterprise. Or on the Oprah show. She says I exude such positivity. And that's why she came and sat next to me in the first place.

I mean, wow.

I feel myself changing. It's amazing. I feel like I am in such a good place in life. My relationship with God is better. My self-awareness is more on point. My organization and planning for Clumps is better. Of course there's my health...which for whatever reason is declining. Never mind that I have to have two in-hospital procedures. I'm not afraid. Never mind that in a month I have to make some serious moves/plans. I'm trying to separate my wants/desires to what God wants for me. That's tough. But I'm working on it.

And then there's my being celibate. I'm not looking at it as a bad thing anymore. I feel "pure". I feel better knowing that I'm not giving it up to someone who is not my future husband. The longer I go without gettin' "some", the better I feel. The desires are less and the focus increases. It's a good GOOD feeling.

I'm growing up.

Am I alone?

 Two things send me to hell on Earth.

Cramps
Migraines

Both have the tendency to remove all kind of positivity I have floating in my veins. They depress me and make me unproductive. And being unproductive makes me feel like a worthless loser. Dramatic, I know but hey...my parents always made sure that I was doing "something" so when I'm not I feel inadequate.

Yeah, thats' right...blame character flaws on the parentals. Never mind that I haven't been parented in like...years.

Anyway,

...yesterday's migraine almost killed me. It was so bad. These pains also remind me of how alone I am. If something happened to me, I'd be on my own. If I'm too sick to drive home, I'd have to call a cab. No one will make soup or run to get my homeopathic meds. No one will sit by my side and rub my back or pray with me while I cry away the pain. It's very sad. I never think about this until I'm sick though.

Yesterday my migraine was so bad that I swear I kept blacking out at the wheel while I was driving home. I kept wondering what would happen if I completely blacked out and got into a car accident. Who would come to my rescue? Who would know? I wanted to cry at the thought but crying would only intensify my pain.

That's another reason why I stopped crying. It only brings about more pain. I now associate crying with pain which is funny since it's usually pain that causes crying in the first place. It's like:

Pain=crying + pain causd by crying therefore=crying=pain

or

C=A+B therefore A=C

My f-ing 10th grade Algebra teacher would be proud. Only took 8 years for me to understand that equation crap. So now I'm up at 3am because I've slept for so many freaking hours. No one called to check to see how I was doing because no one knew that I was on death's door. And so I tweet. Damn shame that I have to reach out to the almost 3 thousand people I follow to let me them know that I'm okay. HA!

I don't like living like this. I hate admitting it but I need more people here. I love the church that I attend but I never thought about joining it. Maybe I need to. I have a few girlfriends here but not enough. Maybe I need to join the running group after all.

Haha, you thought I was going to mention something about a man, right? NOT The good Lord don't want me to be dating/boo-ed up/in love/sprung/married, etc. I just know it. Not that I care anymore. It's almost funny.

Almost

The 25 year old kid

Sometimes I hate being young.
And the thing is, I'm not THAT young.

I'm 25.
That's pretty grown-up.
I've been on my own for years.

It's kind of scary when I think about it.
Like, if my car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, I can't call Mom, Dad or a cousin to come pick me up. I'm on my own.

That sucks.

Sometimes I hate being young...
The 30+ crowd get all the good jobs. All the experience. They hog the spotlight. It's not fair, I say! I'm starting to feel like the "real world" ain't for me. Maybe I should go back to school and get more degrees until I turn 30.

Or maybe I should continue crafting my arts and sneak my way to the top. I'm sure the "old" people won't notice. They're too busy talking about their husband and kids. They're too busy doggin' out this new generation. They won't even notice me.

And before they know it, I'll be on the top. And they'll be like, "How dare that 25 year old be there! She didn't pay her dues. She doesn't know anything."

Yeah, that's what I'll do.

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Monday Blues

The high that is weekend relaxation, entertainment and joy collides with the low that is working an un-fulfilling 8-5. It's almost depressing and I wonder how I've managed to do it for so long.

I spent the weekend on cloud 9. I met my goddaughter and fell in love with her. I watched my friend's eyes sparkle as she held her newborn. I had a girl's night in with one of my greatest friends. We had an amazing Valentine's Day (or Black Love Day as she calls it). I received the best hug from a stranger. I was on my knees for quite some time last night. Just thanking God. For everything. I slid into bed with happiness.

I don't even feel like that person anymore. I'm irritable and annoyed. I'm sure a hellish migraine will accompany me later. I just feel like I'm due for one. The sun is shining through my office blinds and as much as I love the sun, it is pissing me off. It's a reminder of how I can't enjoy the beautiful weather. Every time the work phone rings, I want to ignore it or slam it on the ground.

I feel like I need a permanent vacay. From working. But I guess the other end of that is unemployment. And Lord knows I've been there before. Can my life hurry up and cooperate with me so I can work for myself full time now?

The Monday Blues are so real.
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My Funny Valentine

Detoxing always brings about a sense of renewal for me. Last week I detoxed physically and this week it was from Twitter and Facebook. I needed to do it. And because of it, I was able to apply to more jobs, do my budget and really spend some time thinking.

Not that I don't think enough anyway but...

I thought about celibacy. And how much it means to me. Even though people laugh. Even though I laugh at it myself sometimes. It's a struggle. But one that I need. I have a completely different view about sex than most. Very few understand.

But that's another blog post for another day.

I love Valentine's Day. Even as a single woman. It has never bothered me. Maybe because no matter what city I'm in my Mom still mails me a box of goodies. And my Dad sends me flowers. I was the only 5th grader getting balloons and candy delivered to me on Valentine's Day. I know I'm supposed to hate love. I'm supposed to be bitter and annoyed. I'm supposed to be depressed and feel lonely and desirous. I'm supposed to wonder when I'll meet that dream man.

But I'm not. And I don't. America's attack on "Why Black women aren't getting married" thing doesn't scare me anymore. I'm glad I don't have children right now. I don't want children right now. My friends who are parents get offended when I say it but I won't my children to be planned. Of course nothing goes as planned but I at least want to be in a financially and emotionally sound position before I crank out kids.

And I don't want to have kids out of wedlock. Some people say things just "happen". I don't want that to happen to me. I. Me. I would never judge others but I know what Brittany wants and doesn't want. In fact if you asked me what my biggest nightmare is, that would be it. Actually that and messing up my credit score.

Ah well...I'm just learning and growing. I don't worry as much about where I'm supposed to be and what I'm suppposed to do. All I can do is keep being BFFs with God and finding purpose in all I do.
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Writing is magical like that.

When I was in middle school, I spent a lot of my time in a fantasy world. I was aware of reality, but my fantasy world was a lot more exciting. And comforting. This world consisted of my characters. The characters that I created through the stories I wrote.

I still remember them. There was Lauren, the protagonist of the story "Those Were the Days". Lauren was everything I wasn't. She was popular and outgoing. She always had a boyfriend but not because she was kind of whore. She was just cool like that. Lauren was also intelligent, a good kid to her awful parents and was responsible and positive.

I created Lauren during a rough time of my life. My parents had just gotten divorced. My way of coping with that was by writing. I didn't talk. I didn't argue. No one could get through to me. Court ordered counseling did nothing. I had completely blocked out reality during that time.

I have sense emerged from that fantasy world (somewhat, lol). I feel myself becoming more and more like Lauren every day. Lauren's first love was this guy named Brandon. Guess the name of my first love's first name? I wrote this story in middle school and never knew my ex's name but thought it was craaaaazy how the names match up. After a crazy break-out with Brandon (he cheated on her with her best friend, that loser!) Lauren eventually became great friends with the new guy in town. His name was Kenneth. Guess what guyBFF's name is?

Writing is magical like that. While it may be unbeknown to the writer, the past, present and future can all somehow intertwine and create lessons for the writer. Most of my stories are about teenagers who are desperate for love. I wrote these stories because I too was always yearning for male attention. Writings these stories seemed to pacify me. They made me forget that in the real world my life was falling apart. Making Lauren and Brandon fall in love was like placing a band-aid over the wound of my heart that my parents left when they divorced. Their story was the medication for the pain that I endured every day in middle school. The name calling, the jokes, the teasing...all healed by a swig of my fantasy syrup.

In the end of that story after a dramatic suicide attempt, Lauren realized that she had love the entire time. What she was seeking for, she had the whole time. You see, Lauren never really wanted to die. She  didn't have the perfect life, but she had love. Her suicide attempt was a cry for help.

Her suicide attempt saved me.

How is it possible that the character I created could turn around and save me?

Writing is magical like that.

Mr. Perfect in Disguise...

This weekend I met a guy. He had locs. He was "my type" all the way. Delicious skin. I wanted to lick his cheek to see if he tasted like chocolate...that's how flawless his skin was. He stopped me while I was taking a break from jogging. We walked and talked for 20 minutes and I found out that this man was SO much like me. We laughed and he gave me so much motivation regarding my training. He told me I was beautiful even though I looked a hot and sweaty mess. Which I'm sure was a lie but at least he knew how to make a girl feel nice.

We hit a grassy spot by a retention pond. I love that spot. Every time I run outside, I make sure to stop there. I meditate and enjoy nature. He told me he loved living in Orlando. But he still wants to move around. Um, me too! He loves his parents. He loves sports. He enjoys hanging out with his friends but spends a lot of time alone.

He looked at his watch and jumped up suddenly.

"Opps," he says. "I have to go. Although I'd love to sit here with you all day."

I swoon. But only slightly. No need to get all geeked up over a man I just met.

"Besides," he says as he brushes grass off of his shirt. "My wife is probably wondering where I am."

I chuckle. Not out of shock though.

"So you're married," I say. "Why even spend your time talking with me if you have a wife at home?"

"Would you have talked to me had you known I was married?" he said.

-3 second pause-

"Exactly," he said. "Sometimes it's good to be in the company of another woman that's not your wife...while engaging in normal conversation. I would never cheat on my wife but I miss talking with beautiful women such as yourself."

He winked at me and jogged off.

Eff my life. This always happens. Moments like this make my heart grow colder. It's like some sick joke that love plays on me. This has been the case most of my life and frankly, I'm annoyed by it.

So I asked God to take away that desire until I can use it. Seriously. I want to admire men from afar but be completely unattached physically and emotionally. I don't want to turn away from love in general because I love love. I love my family and my friends. I love supporting others. I love making people happy. So not being able to love would be the death of me.

But loving a man at this point in my life ain't meant for me. Nor do I want it to be.

Oh well...