Update to the New Date

After years, months and Sundays of procrastinating, I finally went to get a passport. No, I don’t have an international flight on deck (yet), but it will be nice to be ready when the time comes. I never knew how sexist and/or racist the process could be. My passport photos that I politely paid $15 at Walgreen’s were rejected because my shoulders were showing. Really, America? So, I had to pay an additional $10 for new photos and listen to the agents debate about my hair in the pic. (It’s wild, big and natural.) Later, she explained to me that they (America) have been rejecting some natural hair girlies because “their hair was blocking their face”. Luckily, she gave me the green light and proceeded with my application.

Right now, I am home for Christmas break and it feels glorious to read, watch TV, watch endless episodes of Law and Order: SVU. My house is clean, the laundry is almost complete and my shopping list is finished. Dinner is cooked and the dishes are washed. God is good.





Mental Gymnastics

School has started and I am exhausted.

I wish I would have kept up with my walking and practicing my sign language.

I was up to 9 miles a week and I was teaching my hubbie sign.

Now I collapse on the couch with my eyes rolled backwards and today I practiced the alphabet.

Two steps forward and one step back.

Still waiting for my husband to go back to work. The spirit of unemployment is alive and well in this house. The savings account dwindles by the week. I’ve already decided which bills I’m not going to pay.

I’m having visions about exploring a new career field, but don’t feel secure about it because of my husband’s instability? Logic tells me to shut the fuck up and be grateful I have a job with benefits. Ethos tell me to spread my wings and to shoot for the stars.

Staying positive while broke is turning into some type of mental gymnastics. I throw myself at work while ignoring the countless bill calls and account alerts. In the back of my mind, I feel the thoughts creeping forward. I crush those thoughts and try to be optimistic, but it is hard. Right now, my gas tank is on E and my spiritual tank is 3/4 full.

I am alive and healthy. I have a loving husband who adores me. A family who supports me and likes having me around. A couple of kooky friends. A job that provides me with benefits and time off during holidays. Life could be worse. But it could be better.

Gratefulness. Patience. Understanding. I repeat these words to myself because I need to remind myself what I am lacking.

32 and Grateful

Today is my birthday and I decided to do a no complaint challenge for 5 days. (BTW, I haven’t been on instagram since last month.) It’s funny because how we have a picture in our heads about how life is supposed to be. I remember in high school how I swore I would have a great job, luxurious apartment and a rolodex full of friends to conquer the world with by 25. Ha fucking ha.

32 sounds official when you say it out loud, but deep inside I feel like a 19 year old trying to figure it out without Mom’s help. I am blessed to see today especially in a world where a lot of people don’t make it out their twenties. Sometimes, I get angry for myself for letting me getting to me. I have a lot and I still beg for more. I pray for strength and patience and get angry at the obstacles that come my way.

Yesterday, I cried because I felt so defeated because my husband hasn’t found a job yet. It’s been a month and I see him trying so hard. Calls, interviews and connections haven’t panned out. It’s frustrating seeing your husband try so hard and gets rejected over and over. Plus, I worry about the bills. But, we have been through this in the past and things always worked out.

I am 32 and grateful.


Fucking Fibroids

I have to be at the hospital at 5am to remove two fibroids from my uterus.

Cost: $1400 out of pocket and that’s with insurance. My district’s insurance plan blows elephant dick. I am hoping that this will relieve some of my heavy bleeding, fatigue and give me the opportunity to wear white jeans before Labor Day.

Yesterday was a bad day. I am worried about money and my husband has been laid off for a couple weeks already. I know that he is trying the best that he can, but my anxiety is rising by the day. I am super nervous about being on anesthesia and I am on my period, so life sucks at the moment.

Usually, I am a ball of sunshine and nonchalance, but I feel like there is a storm cloud over my head. Hopefully, the storm will pass soon so I can have a picnic.

Without Child

As a teacher, I instruct students how to read and analyze texts while challenging their thoughts, ideas and beliefs through discussion, projects and media. Shaping a young mind is important. As the school year passes, I wonder if I did a good job. Was I fair to everybody? Was I good role model?  Should I revise a lesson?

Good teachers care and constantly want to grow. But there is one feeling that cannot be described: hearing that piercing bell on the last day of school and watching students run down the hallway. This year, I raised my hands to God and gave Him thanks because it is stressful, exhausting and draining to be a hand in someone’s education while juggling conferences, overdue bathroom breaks and the endless of fuckery of the state.

As I watched the children run to their fabulous cruises, adventurous road trips and late night facetime conversations, I visualized my childfree summer of book reading, wine sipping and bingewatching Criminal Minds. I always knew I would be childless and I am okay with it. I truly enjoy my life as it is now. I don’t feel ’empty’ or ‘incomplete’. My husband and I are a family because I can choose my definition of a family.

As an intersectional feminist, I support all women’s decisions for their own lives. After all, you are the one taking residency in your body. I wish society can understand that children aren’t a requirement for a woman especially if she’s black, married and young. Children are a blessing to those who treat them as such. But I believe blessings can be in many forms like coming home to a quiet house after a long day’s work, being able to travel at a moment’s notice and not having to live up to the impossible standards of being a supermom.


Instagram is the devil (for me)

On Sunday, I uninstalled the ‘gram from my phone. The pastor preached about fasting and how if something consumes all your time and energy that it becomes your god. I agreed with that 100% and knew what I had to do as soon as I got to my car. Like most people, I have a love-hate relationship with social media. I love the makeup tutorials, but hate the arguments in the comments. Had a MySpace, but I completely refuse to get a Facebook profile. Last summer, I decided to get on Instagram.

I waste a lot of time on Insta. I’ve noticed that I haven’t been reading, studying, completing my house projects or working on my charity work, but I had plenty of time to scroll my timeline. Now, I am not bashing Instagram or social media. I learned how to color correct my undereye bags and found some bad-ass restaurants because of the ‘gram.  I just noticed it was becoming a black hole of time for me. In a way, it was my god.

Today is Day 3 for me and I admit that I pick up my phone and look for that icon, but then I remember why I uninstalled it. So, here’s to finished novels, blessing bags for the homeless, organized bathroom shelves and learning sign language. Here’s to freedom.


The world is not enough…

My neighbor is a habitual violator. He parks his cars all over the cul-de-sac and even in other people’s driveways. On Saturday, I took the trash out to the curb for pickup. We keep our trash in a can on the side of the house. I noticed a garbage bag with Domino’s pizza boxes and Aquafina bottle. Hubbie and I are not a consumer of either brand. So, Mr. Neighbor must have decided to throw his trash in our can. What the actual fuck?

The world is not enough…

Summer vacation is in full swing. I only want to go to Destin, Dallas, Santo Domingo, Las Vegas and Bora Bora before I have to toil and work my life away in August. I just came back from Miami and here I am trying to go somewhere else even though my bank account is screaming at me to sit the fuck down. But I am hardheaded and I like to pretend I am socialite, I want to go already.

The world is not enough…

The Need to Go

Back from Miami and it was great. It was relaxing, fun and exciting. Next year, we are going to LA. I enjoyed lots of Cuban food and drinks, met lots of Uber drivers and spent countless hours at the beach. The thing about vacation is not necessarily where you go (although it is important), but how you are so far away from home so you can’t do anything about it. The biggest concerns we had was dinner and how long we were going to lounge on the beach.

Now, I’ve been home and I am ready to go somewhere else. Destin, Florida or Wimberly, Texas. (I am a Texas girl.) I have this innate need to book a flight or a hotel or just get in my car and see something I’ve never seen before. Having a vacay to look forward to makes life a little more exciting. It’s easier to sacrifice a weekend at home when you have a flight to catch soon. Even saving money becomes fun as you watch your fun account increase every week.

My husband doesn’t want to go anywhere. I have to remember that I am off for the summer, not everybody else. Although, I wish he was off (paid, preferably) for 2 weeks, so we can travel. I do miss traveling with him.

Update on Spring Break

Hey, I am still broke as fuck! But I am sticking to my goal on paper and have been saving wonderfully. It is slow process and it takes responsibility (which is something I lack in life). I am happy to say that I am on track with saving for Miami and my savings account. I hope to keep up the good work. Now, if only someone gave me a gold star….

End of the Year

South Beach will be my life in ten days.

I have 4 1/2 days until school is out for summer.

I spend my work days making lists of shit I want to do, make, buy or visit. My students pretend to read the book that I have no interest in teaching or discussing. Today, I bought ash gray platform heels to go with my black jumpsuit. The price was phenomenal: $11.90. I couldn’t pass it up. So, I just wait and wait and wait…

Isn’t that what life is made of? Waiting for the good days to come while wishing the bad ones go away…