Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Anyway, it's 11:28am and I'm sitting in my bed with a candle lit typing this to you. My weekly obsession enables me to do that: the night shift. For my new job, new people always have to start of with the night shift. I am actually the worst morning person you'll ever meet, because mornings are the worst. I work from 4pm-1am most of the week (Sunday I work from 1-10pm) and hit the jackpot with having Friday and Saturday off. With this schedule I don't wake up until 11am, 12 at the latest, hang around the house by catching up on my shows or go for a walk or go to the grocery store or run some other errands, then get ready and head to work after a great (or not) breakfast. When I get home, between 1:30 and 2am; I still got some fight left in me so I do something else. Last night I got home from work and swept and mopped the living room and kitchen, then showered, then watched some Youtube videos. At 3am, I decided to call it a night and slept soundly.
I've been loving this schedule, the only part is I can't spend time with people after work because everyone's already asleep by the time I get off. But I still get to spend time with friends on Fridays and Saturdays, and I'd even be willing to grab some coffee during the day on days I work.
Anyway, I'm loving the night shift and wake up feeling grateful that I don't have to wake up and be pried from my comfort so early in the morning and then get thrust into rush hour traffic BOTH WAYS. Have a great rest of your day, mine has just begun.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
My house! A few weeks ago I moved into a new place in a different part of town with a new roommate. My former roommate of just a handful of months made a big move to Colorado, so I had to find a new place and new roomie.
My new digs are great! It's another duplex with a great kitchen, gorgeous floors, plenty of natural light, and it's in a fantastically quiet-tree filled-neighborhood!
For the most part we're pretty settled into our home, but there have been a few hiccups and some kinks that still need to be ironed out. Every time I walk into my home or just move from one room to another, I just let out a little sigh because it feels so much like home to me and I am so grateful to be living here. I basically love this place so much that I always want people to be here. I want it to be a great gathering spot where people play games, eat, and have a good time!
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
I don't even know how I found this blog, likely through some other one I follow, but it has quickly risen to the top as a favorite. Its description/bio reads: "This is a safe space for PoC to talk about our everyday experiences on racism in the many forms from blatant offenses to micro-aggressions. This is a space only for PoC. Not white people. Do not send in anything if you are white, this space is dedicated to us and only us." At first I wasn't sure how much I liked the honesty of this blog (I kinda thought 'Oooh, you can't say that'), because it isn't common (at least in my life) to openly discuss what it means to be a PoC (Person of Color) in the USA (and other places), but the more I read from this blog, the more I felt safe and a kinship with the people submitting and creating these posts. In the past week, they (the admins of the blog) have been calling for people to submit a 'side-eye selfie' with things people (likely white people) have said in regards to their race. I can't even try to pick a favorite, but check out this page and all the other pages. Just follow the damn blog; it's enlightening whether you're a PoC or not. Some of the comments people have encountered and posted sound identical to ones I have grown up hearing, these comments have become so familiar to me I have ignored the ignorant, racist undertones and just become accustomed to always being asked and insulted with: "where are you from, no like WHERE are you from?; what are you?; why don't you sound black?; you're like an Oreo; is there some white in your family?...I knew there was some white in your family; I could tell there was some white in your family because your skin is so light (people who say this clearly have ZERO understanding of genetics); can I touch your hair?; which parent is white?; but your hair isn't nappy; *just straight up touches my hair with no permission*; you have a black girl ass, congrats; you're pretty, for a black girl; I forgot you were black until you started singing Beyoncé/any artist that's black; you listen to bluegrass (people who say this have no grasp on where bluegrass music comes from); you don't listen to [insert name of misogynistic rapper]? I'm blacker than you!; how do you feel about the word nigga/nigger?; is negro a bad word?; you sunburn?; you're a vegetarian, but you're black; do you date just black men?; you have an accent, where are you from?; you could pass as Latina (people who say this don't understand that's Latinos are not a race); you don't talk ghetto (not a language, but no I don't speak AAVE); ooo, you got good hair, you must be mixed; you're smarter than I thought you'd be; can you swim? I heard black people can't swim; you're such an angry black woman; you know you love being the token/only black person in the group; you're way more polite than your people; you don't wash your hair everyday?! Gross!; black people are dirty, but not you, you're different, you love dogs? I thought black people were scared of dogs." I could literally go on for days.
I'm willing to put money (but not really because I don't gamble) on this, that you have said some of this stuff to any brown person you've felt comfortable enough with. And I'm here to tell you to shut the hell up. Please and Thank you. I know some of these above questions really aren't that bad and that the only way people will learn is by honest inquiry, but being constantly reminded of one's brownness is something white people will likely never understand. White people have the privilege of not constantly being made aware of their race, but PoC (in the US, at least) don't have that privilege, not yet at least. I earnestly invite you to check out this blog, it can bring a lot of insight into what it's like for PoC to live in a world in which 'white is right.'
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Thursday, May 8, 2014
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Something I have always felt deeply, is that I'm unique. Not in the good way in which we're all special, in the 'Oh my God, there's something wrong with me, I'm all alone in this world' kind of way. So when I come across someone who shares something (principle, idea, belief, trait) I thought I was alone in, I rejoice. This last week, there was much rejoicing in my heart and mind.
I meet with a mentor (not the actual term we use, but mentor is easier to understand) monthly and she's been a haven for me. Every time we meet she (perhaps inadvertently) reminds me that I'm not so unique. Her and my personality types are very similar and her balance and poise is something I aspire to be and have. This past week we discussed the part of me that often feels most out of control, my emotions. There are times when I literally feel like I'm losing it, like existential crisis level, and there are times when I feel nothing, just neutral. And, of course, there are times of heart exploding joy. But what I don't experience is simple happiness, or simple sadness; my emotions, when I allow myself to let them out of the dungeon of my heart, always put on a huge production. They can't just walk through the door, they want a light show, fog machine, and all of my energy and attention. And up until this week, I've thought this was purely unique of me, but it's not and I am glad. I'm relieved to know others feel emotions as intensely as I do. But most of all I'm relieved to know that I don't have to feel the imbalance of these emotions, that I can feel these big crashing waves of emotions and turn them into something lovely and productive.
I can live through the ebb and flow of emotions, refocus my eyes and realize I'm in the same ocean as everyone else; I'm just riding the waves more.
Sticking with the ocean/sea metaphor: today's message at church was such a comfort because pastor said that we're fighting the same storms (like the kind Paul from the Bible was fighting while on the sea), just in different ways. So when I'm clumsily trying not to die in the ocean, I can look, really look, and see others in the same storm on a different raft. I'm often asking myself "Am I doing this (different things within life) right?" I try so hard to produce the right answers, but today I learned that God isn't interested in the right answers from me, He's interested in me becoming the right person! PHEW! That's great, because I failed that test a long time ago, but 'becoming' is something I can do. I've got my whole life for that.
Here's a quote that resonated deeply with me from church this morning:
"I would like to beg you, dear sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything that is unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to LIVE EVERYTHING. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer." Rainer Maria Rilke (emphasis mine)
We don't have to worry if we've got all the answers right, we can focus on, at times surviving and at times thriving, living life and being the person we're meant to be.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Something I'm understanding about myself and trying to change is the way I receive help and love. It's painfully difficult for me to ask for and receive help and love, even from people who I know would (do) gladly and generously give it to me. This is especially strange because I try my damnedest to give it to people, yet I don't let myself receive it. I suspect my struggle comes from not thinking I deserve such basic human mechanisms.
Take this past Saturday for instance, I was in a hole. It was a familiar hole, but still a hole nonetheless. I felt myself slipping into the hole a couple days before, but knew it was going to happen no matter what. Like when I feel menstrual cramps coming and I know there's nothing I can do to stop this month's period, so I reluctantly go with it. I felt myself slipping into the same pit of feeling unloved, not liked, and unknown as I've been in before. It was an all day affair and it was exhausting and it was heart wrenching. Yet I wasn't completely disconnected from people and I actually got some important shit done; I was texting one best friend and emailing another and it never came up (because I was too beaten to bring it up) that I was struggling with my very existence. I thought 'I don't wanna burden her', 'it'll pass so why involve anyone else?', 'I don't want to sound needy', etc. I talk myself of asking for help. Why? Perhaps I don't think I'm loved enough by some people for them to care enough to help me. I don't know, but it needs to change. I can't go through life pretending like I need nothing from anyone, because that's a freaking lie that I tell myself and let myself believe.
It's okay for me to need it's okay for me to lean it's okay for me to ask it's okay for me to accept.