I know it’s been awhile.
And after hearing a thousand people tell me I need to write something again, I sat down determined to come up with something so profound I’d want to slap myself. And then, came nothing but words.
Things like… effort. happiness. understanding. us. Other phrases like.. Fuck you. fuck that. imperfect selves. perfect expectations. And even sentences like… I know it’s real. It’s worth it. I’m leaving. I’m always here. What am I doing? I know what I want.
I’ve always prided myself on being able to express how I’m feeling, sometimes even eloquently. I usually don’t even brainstorm like that. I just sit down and let my fingers type. Staring at this jumbled soup of words, I got stuck.
Because I can’t quiiiite put my finger on it. And I don’t actually know how this changes things. So I can’t reaallly speak on it. I don’t know the logic of it all. All I know, is that I feel it.
I woke up yesterday and for a split second, I was perfectly content. I wanted to stop time and live in that moment, revel in it, thrive in it. My heart was happy and I felt… connected to everything I want, my heart’s passion, my happiness. And then, in the blink of an eye and the kiss of the shoulder, it was gone.
I fear I now have become imprisoned by that same feeling, because although fleeting, I won’t rest until I get it back.
I had a feeling.
And frankly, it was just so nice to feel something again.
I’ve posted this before, but just came across it again. And damn.
I love you the same way I learned how to ride a bike.
With no training wheels or elbow pads so my scars can tell the story of how I fell for you.
I want to be your ex boyfriend’s stunt man. I want to do everything that he never had the courage to do.
For those of you who know me, know I work for a tech startup in San Francisco. The startup world has changed in this city, and companies like mine are quickly changing, free spirited, and fun. If you really know me, you know I am also heavily involved in my own project, a start-up on its own, if you will. In the infancy stage of having a huge idea, and a small team.
What I’ve learned, having spent a lot of time and energy in both companies, is that not a single thing is stagnant. That the smart, the rich, the funny, and the pretty don’t always get chosen. I’ve learned everyone is a jack of all trades, and I need to continue hoarding skills until I find a set that fits. I’ve learned to be flexible.
I came across a term called “Generation Flux”. Attributing the success of this generation to their ability to be flexible. In a world where last minute decisions are turn key, and nothing is set in stone, it reaffirmed that chaos is not necessarily a bad thing, and reignited my drive.
Our institutions are out of date; the long career is dead; any quest for solid rules is pointless, since we will be constantly rethinking them; you can’t rely on an established business model or a corporate ladder to point your way; silos between industries are breaking down; anything settled is vulnerable.
Put this way, the chaos ahead sounds pretty grim. But its corollary is profound: This is the moment for an explosion of opportunity, there for the taking by those prepared to embrace the change. We have been through a version of this before. At the turn of the 20th century, as cities grew to be the center of American culture, those accustomed to the agrarian clock of sunrise-sunset and the pace of the growing season were forced to learn the faster ways of the urban-manufacturing world. There was widespread uneasiness about the future, about what a job would be, about what a community would be. Fringe political groups and popular movements gave expression to that anxiety. Yet from those days of ambiguity emerged a century of tremendous progress.
Today we face a similar transition, this time born of technology and globalization–an unhinging of the expected, from employment to markets to corporate leadership. “There are all kinds of reasons to be afraid of this economy,” says Microsoft Research’s boyd. “Technology forces disruption, and not all of the change will be good. Optimists look to all the excitement. Pessimists look to all that gets lost. They’re both right. How you react depends on what you have to gain versus what you have to lose.”
Yet while pessimists may be emotionally calmed by their fretting, it will not aid them practically. The pragmatic course is not to hide from the change, but to approach it head-on. Thurston offers this vision: “Imagine a future where people are resistant to stasis, where they’re used to speed. A world that slows down if there are fewer options–that’s old thinking and frustrating. Stimulus becomes the new normal.”
To flourish requires a new kind of openness. More than 150 years ago, Charles Darwin foreshadowed this era in his description of natural selection: “It is not the strongest of the species that survives; nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is most adaptable to change.” As we traverse this treacherous, exciting bridge to tomorrow, there is no clearer message than that.
I wrote this in May of 2011, but never published it. Funny how this still fits. lol.
At a Starbucks study session, over a cup of coffee and Talib Kweli, me and three of my boys had a heated debate on what exactly makes one woman more attractive than the next. We each had different answers, but the one thing we all agreed on is that doin’ too much is an unattractive quality.
The older I get, the less makeup I wear on a regular basis. The less I do with my hair. The less ‘over-the-top’ clothes I own. To put it simply, I’m a simple gal. On most days, you’ll catch me with my hair down, naked face, in yoga pants and a beater. And I’m fine with that, because I really believe it’s not what u wear but how u wear it.
I’m not sayin’ I don’t know how to put on a full face of makeup, a dress, heels, and fix my hair (ok, I really DON’T know how to fix my hair) because I can do all of that. I’m a woman, I love getting pretty. But unlike myself at 22, I no longer feel the need to do too much when going to the grocery store.
There is a difference between being simple, and being plain and being the former is better. Plain is a slice of white toast. Simple is a slice of 7 grain with peanut butter on it. Plain is pajamas and uggs to a baseball game. Simple is a little black dress on a fancy night out.
I really don’t know how to better explain it other than posting pictures of some women I know. And since I’m not a cold hearted bitch like that, I’m just gonna leave it at that.
Have you met my best friend Abi yet? Allow me to re-introduce you to GirlsAreTheNewBoys.com. Can someone please tell her to stop writing about me? Thanks.
“I never wanted to be your whole life. Just your favorite part”.
The part of your Sunday morning right when you wake up. When you stretch, the sun kisses your face, you roll over, and see me. And think I’m just as beautiful as the night before when I got lipstick all over you.
The part when you come home from a long day of work, and dinner is waiting. The part where you lay your head in my lap, forget about the past eight hours, and everything just makes sense again. I want to be that sense of relief, knowing that you will always find sanctuary in my skin.
I want to be your go-to. Your mo’betta. The key that will lock all your insecurities.
The part where I walk into a room, and everyone is staring. Heels and head high, but still grounded. Everyone’s staring. Wondering, who I came with, who I’m meeting, who I’ll be leaving with. Then, I walk straight to you and everyone gets it. Especially us.
I want to be your inspiration. Motivation. Even the cause for a little perspiration. Hey, now.
The part where your mother grabs me to help her in the kitchen, your little brother wants to show me his new video game, and your best friend looks at the look on your face when you look at me and JUST KNOWS.
The part where your favorite team wins the World Series and you hug strangers nearby. When your favorite artist comes out with a new album after being on hiatus for five years and you can listen to it without skipping any tracks. That first sip of coffee, that good night kiss. The part of you that is vulnerable, and pure. The part of you you like the most, and the reason you are a better version of you.
See, I never wanted to be your whole life. Just your favorite part. The part you can’t live without.
Where do I even begin?
There isn’t a day that passes that I have to remind myself to count my blessings. I am in a place in my life where, although my life situations may not be ideal, they are exponentially greater and more fulfilling than they were.
Not too long ago, I was in a shitty situation. I was in an un-happy relationship, worked at a job that I loathed, kept negative people in my life, but yet, I found happiness in the smallest of things. The laughter of my son, the vacation with my girlfriends, the song on the radio. Yoga and writing saved my life, I absolutely believe that with a fervent passion. They gave me the strength to change, the courage to believe it was going to be alright, and the blind determination to never look back. It gave me the mindset to pursue my happiness.
Well, happiness is relative. My journey here has been a turbulent one, not without bouts of complete bliss and rock bottom lows. I have since fallen in love again, involved myself with a venture I am passionate about, and work for a startup in SF that is probably the funnest office I’ve ever been in.
So why am I still not content?
At times I feel ungrateful, selfish, and a little shitty about the way I under-appreciate the clear blessings in my life. I have a beautiful, healthy baby boy who is frighteningly not a baby anymore. He is smart, has an outrageous personality, and doubles as spiderman at any given moment. I have amazing people. I mean, absolutely amazing. My friends, my family, my person all support me in ways I didn’t even know I needed. I’ve learned a lot about being loved from them.
But something is missing.
There is something out there, something more, something different. I am unsure what it is, and cannot pinpoint any one definite thing, but I can finitely say this: I am still unfulfilled.
I never make the same mistake twice. I instead, make them a few times, because I am a stubborn asshole. I also have to re-learn the same lessons, in different situations. I am still learning that happiness, fleeting and futile as it may be, is not a destination but a state of mind.
I gave up a miserable life in the pursuit of happiness. I didn’t realize I had also let down my ability to find the joy in all the things I already have. I can do both concurrently, and I will.
Yoga and writing saved my life once, and I am counting on them again now.
Raaachem.com. Hello again, old friend. Namaste.