Category: My thoughts on paper.

What’s in your toolbox? 10.5.15

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I am a proud member of the slash society. You know those of us who wear more hats than is probably medically safe; DJ’s mother/ Nurse/ Writer/ Blogger/ Journalism Student/ Social Media Manager/ AB’s fiancee/ Oral Fixation co-host/ Organo coffee distributor/ I am probably out of my flipping mind.

How can I possibly do all of these things? Is it possible? If it is am I doing them all well? Did my kid wear clean underwear to school? Did I remember to tell AB about that important thing?

You’re probably thinking one of two things either I am

1: on a cocaine diet

or

2: horribly failing at half of those things…

I’M NOT!

  • According to my boss and the provider of my main stream of income I am an exemplary employee.
  •  Like most moms I know I am the best mom I can be. I’m not perfect but I try really hard to provide for all of DJ’s needs. 
  • The blog is growing. 
  • My social media marketing clients are happy and experiencing measurable growth related to my hard work.
  •  And so on and so forth. In a nutshell; I am doing this shit. And doing a pretty good job of it.

Envision a woman wearing high heels standing in the center of a bunch of balls that are revolving around her head. The key is to touch every ball at least once a day in order to keep them in circulation. Even if you just touch it to schedule something for a later date, to prioritize one thing over the other, or to decline an invitation to do something else. Sometimes one of them will require more attention and when that happens you need to be able to quickly shift focus without dropping one of your balls. Especially if all of your balls are important to you. Also you need a really good toolbox. 

   

What’s in mine?

Prayer and meditation. I need to realign myself before I get out of bed every morning. I’m doing a lot and if my mental faculties are skewered everything else will be too.

An amazing support system. I’m surrounded by people who do everything from babysit, to remind me to go pee.

My Apple Watch. It’s my computerized secretary. I use it to schedule, plan, write notes, remember to stand up, measure my heart rate while I exercise, and to manage my clients social media accounts.

Organo coffee. I was skeptical about a coffee that didn’t give you jitters if you drank too much, could help you create a stream of income, and help you lose weight. So far it’s been a much welcomed addition to my toolbox. Oh and the cafe latte flavor is muy delicioso.

Tieks. I’m not getting paid to say that these shoes are worth every cent. I’m too busy to wear heels. I don’t have time for them. I’m not one of these women who can walk in them as if they were in their bare feet, and running which I do frequently, would be impossible. But I have a professional job where I’m expected to either wear scrubs (which I hate) or dress professionally. Tieks can be worn in any situation from business environments, to karate schools, to late night journalism classes and beyond. They’re comfortable, look great, and they don’t hurt my feet after wearing them from 6 am to midnight on most days.

Oh and if AB needs me to accompany her to a formal event they’re still appropriate!!!

I won’t say that I don’t get tired or that I am not counting the days until my SM, Blog, and writing; officially pay the bills. Or that I’m not so ready to be done with school but with my toolbox I’m able to complete all of my daily tasks and still enjoy my life.

So are you a slasher and if so what’s in your toolbox?

6 Reasons My Husband and I Probably Won’t Make Your Event, and Why We Don’t Want You to Take it Personal…

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DjNDevin's avatarShe Speaks

MomNDad

I was trying to figure out which blog this topic should go under, and decided that it fell more so into the “parental/family” category, so here goes!

Over the past weekend, we unfortunately missed at least two pretty important celebrations of life events for some of our closest friends (and Thankfully they are the type of people who understood the reasoning for our absence, and they’re ok…Everybody isn’t though). These were occasions that we were actually invited to, RSVPd for, and expected to attend. Then a little thing called LIFE happened, and our fun-filled weekend was replaced with a killer sinus headache, an exhausted Mommy, a sneezing/stuffy Daddy, trying to get a car battery replaced, a coloring book marathon with my 4-year old, and a massive poop explosion from the 11-month old tyrant! So…in all things typical of a writer, I decided to turn this experience into a special…

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Adrien’s Musings

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Norman

Norman

Calvin

Calvin

When my brother Calvin died he left me a voicemail on my cellphone. For the life of me I can’t remember what he said. I’ve changed cellphone carriers at least three times and sometime during the change I lost the message. I’d give my right middle toe to hear it just once more. At the time of his death I wasn’t talking to him and we hadn’t spoken in a while. I was angry with him for something so important that I can not remember exactly what it was. I was probably unhappy with some life decision that he made. I swear I wish he could meet the new me. I’ve changed for the better, live and let live and all that jazz.

A while ago I wrote a poem where I tell another one of my brothers, Norman, that he’s dead to me. Harsh words  I know…but in the poem I tell him how I’m preparing my heart for the phone call that I don’t want to ever come. So basically I kill him off figuratively now so as to not have to deal with the pain of the day that I pray never comes.
Today I got a call from my sister in NJ’s phone number and I let it go to voicemail. I’m not ready for that phone call. Thankfully this wasn’t that phone call but as black mothers, sisters, aunties, and cousins when do we ever get the luxury of not having to worry about that god forsaken phone call? Just in case; my brother did say “Hello” on my voicemail and I’ve saved it to my Dropbox. A girl can never be too prepared for those days we wish never come to past.
Originally Posted as a page on 9/22/14

Don’t Let Other People Give You THEIR case of the Mondays.

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If you are a person who enjoys being miserable especially on Mondays then this post is probably not for you. Unless you want some insight into how your negativity impacts everyone around you.

It happens like clockwork every week. You get off of work on Friday, have an amazing weekend doing all of the things you want to do, and then before you know it the festivities aren’t quite over yet but you’re already getting anxious about Monday.

You’re not ready for the weekend to end and you’re definitely not ready for the people with The Case of The Mondays. After all you probably work with some of these Monday hating people. It’s easy to avoid the social networking Monday haters but if you’re like me you’re probably getting ready to spend at least an hour stuck in a meeting with these unhappy people.

For me my weekend was everything. I partied with six year olds one day, eighty something year olds the next, and the entire time I got to spend with my fiancee. Like most people we’re very busy so whole weekends together are quite rare. Last night while sitting in a tight space talking (one of my favorite things to do) I asked her if she ever has to deal with Monday hating people. I told her how I hate going in to work on Mondays and that usually I probably seem like an antisocial asshole because I put both headphones in and only respond to people who address me about work.

I don’t want to hear about all of the people who were forced to spend time with their children and families, I don’t want to hear the narrative of the person who actually had a pretty good weekend but only knows how to explain this in a negative manner, and I don’t want to hear the people who come into my office and wax on about how they hate MONDAY.

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I want to ask them what Monday ever really did to them. Is it Monday they hate or do they hate their jobs that they have to return to on Mondays? Mostly I want to tell them that as usual my weekend was amazing and to please not Kill My Vibe.

I’ve realized that I don’t hate Mondays, I don’t even hate Monday Haters. I just don’t want to hear it so I listen to an extra motivational video on my way to work and the second someone begins to spread their Case of The Mondays I put both of my headphones in and listen to a book. What their talking about is not my reality. It’s theirs and I don’t want it.

Whatever you do to avoid it realize that you probably don’t hate Monday. She’s a pretty sexy day and she doesn’t deserve all of the disdain. Reflect on your awesome weekend, look forward to the greatness you have planned for next weekend, meditate, or breath just don’t  let other people give you their case of the Mondays!

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I Have Something To Say

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I have something to say. This isn’t something new. If you’ve known me long enough you know that I rarely if ever am at a lack of words.

I haven’t really been talking though. Of course I’ve been commenting on certain subjects occasionally. I’ve been watching what’s happening in the world and talking to myself about how I feel about them. I’ve been talking AB’s ears off and venting to my friends. I’ve even been filling up journals…Yet, I have this amazing open platform, all of the technology one could ever need to access it and I haven’t really been saying anything on here.

I felt like I didn’t have anything to add to the conversations.

Like I wasn’t intelligent enough to string my sentences in a way that would make people feel things. In a way that would foster some sort of change. Even if the change were small.

Most embarrassingly; I have been holding my tongue so as to not offend my friends and family members with my view points on certain issues.

The greatest gift that I received from Roxane Gay’s talks during the Decatur Book Festival was the confirmation that “I have something to say.”  and that people need to hear it.

So on Authentically Adrien’s first birthday I’m revamping the blog. It’s going to be more organized, more direct, and I am going to be saying some things. If you’ve stuck with me this long I am so thankful for you.

I appreciate every single person who has ever even glanced at this blog. I hope that you stick around to listen to what I have to say.

How Many Times Can One Soul Cry? My Reaction to the Sam Dubose Video.

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I said I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t watch one more video of a black person being murdered by the police, but today while I was reading an article the video was embedded in the article and of course I clicked on it. I watched it to the end and then I cried from my soul.

Sam Dubose's Mother being consoled.

Sam Dubose’s Mother being consoled.

Soul cries are reserved for the very best and the absolute worst of situations. Lately I’ve had more of the worst kind than I’ve ever had in life. I didn’t live during slavery, or segregation. Didn’t have to worry about protecting myself during the civil war. The worst racial experience I ever had to witness up until these last couple of years, was when Rodney King was brutally beaten in Los Angeles in 1992. I was born in 1984 so when that happened I was eight years old. How badly did that really effect me? Honestly not much I was a kid, I didn’t really comprehend what happened. Or maybe it was when Amadou Diallo was murdered in cold blood in 1999. Again if you subtract 1984 from 1999 you will find out that I was fifteen years old. I remember feeling that his death was horrible but I didn’t soul cry I seriously doubt that I cried at all.

As with most millennials if you’d asked me a few years ago I would have told you that while we were nowhere near a post racial society we were doing much better than we’d ever done before, hell our President is black. His election had to count for something. Right? Wrong. Everyday when I turn on my television or log onto the Internet I have a hard time figuring out if we are in 1958 or 2015. It’s 2015 and white men hiding behind badges are still using fear as a justification for shooting black people in broad daylight. Wouldn’t it seem that if you were too fearful of a population that you were not properly suited to protect and or to serve that population?

Being forced to witness or hear about these deaths on a daily basis  is absolutely horrible. I’ve suffered every stage of grief in what seems like a consistent pattern for the last couple of months. I can’t catch a break. Black people can’t catch a break. It doesn’t matter if we speak properly, face the officer, address him with respect, or pull our pants up and skirts down. It doesn’t matter if we know our rights, demand that the officer tell us why we’re being pulled over, nor if we question their judgement or knowledge of the laws. Whether  you are a respectability politic preacher or a militant minded, fuck the police they’re going to respect me, advocate there are enough videos online of black people doing both and ending up dead faster than you can blink. And most of the time the murderous officers are walking away acquitted. They’re murders justified in one way or another. Even if they do lose their jobs they’re getting book deals and being paid millions of dollars.

So what then? What must happen in order to stop this massive onslaught of police brutality? Every idea I have on this topic doesn’t seem good enough or quick enough. Legislation takes years and has to be decided upon by a system that has shown time after time that black people are not its favored people. Trying to humanize ourselves to people who don’t understand why we pay so much attention to the murders of “thugs” and “angry black women” isn’t the answer. I’ve stated more times than I can count recently that I’m not here for educating people who don’t want to be educated about how #BlackLivesMatter when #AllLivesMatter. In my humble opinion those people will never get it. I don’t know what to do but I’m tired of protesting, and blacking out my profile, and stating their names. I’m tired of crying, of being on edge, of praying that this doesn’t happen to me. Of hoping that I don’t get pulled over so strongly that I’ve slowed down significantly and placed all of my proper legal car papers in a place where reaching for them won’t seem hostile. I’m a black woman and I need to make it home to my child so I’ll continue to do these things and more but I’m really starting to wonder if America will ever get to the point where black people and other people of color won’t need to do these things.

On Being Kind For Kindness Sake

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You can say what you will about my Resting Bitch Face, you can say how you were scared to talk to me initially because I always look so serious, you can talk about how I’m not fake and can be blunt. You can even discuss how in instances where you have given me a real reason to not like you I simply don’t deal with you outside of common courtesy. What you probably also know is that I’m one of the kindest people you will ever meet.

If you do you’ve probably heard it from someone who really knows me, more than likely it would be one of my patients. I don’t push my kindness in your face. I don’t do it for show. And every so often I am reminded of why I am glad that I am so kind, because we are all going through serious shit. This life that we live is not an easy one.

There’s a young girl at my job who is not doing well healthwise. There are people at my job who treat her badly because she’s young, not a professional at her new job, and is overweight. Initially I was going to steer very clear of her because she had a crush on me and she’s so young and I just don’t need those problems. After talking to her I figured out that the crush is harmless and because of the way that other people treat her I have been extra nice to try to make up for the BS. I’ve taken her under my wings and tried to both teach her the aspects of her job that she needs help on and ensure that she provides the staff the simple things that they need.

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Now that she’s sick I’m sure people are going to flood her hospital room, the same people who spread rumors that she was on drugs on Friday, the same people who show so much disdain for her on every other day, the same fake people who do things to be lauded by others. I however am not going to visit, at least until she can verbally tell me that visiting her is ok.

If she leaves this earth today I will feel good knowing that I made her laugh, that we had a relationship built out of genuineness, that I took the time to listen to her problems and dreams, and that one of the last things she yelled to me while I was walking down the hall was that she loved me, and  even though I have been telling her to watch her volume in the halls, I yelled it back, and I meant it.

On Why You Should Think Twice Before You Share That Meme

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There’s a MEME floating around the internet of a baby who looks like she may have on makeup, at least that’s how people are describing her. For the past couple of days it has been being shared from people all over the world including celebrities getting it pretty good exposure. Recently someone unearthed another child who is suffering from leukemia and on the brink of homelessness and began stating that people should stop sharing the meme immediately. They misidentified the child in the meme as the sick child.

Apparently that’s where people draw the line. You want to make fun of a baby? Fine. You want to make fun of  a homeless baby with leukemia? You will burn in the fiery pits of hell with all of the rest of the evil people in the world. This way of thinking is problematic. The sharing, commenting, laughing, etc of the meme are all forms of internet bullying. Before this child’s fifth birthday it’s image has been widely used as a form of entertainment. Why is this ok? We sit behind these computer screens and become desensitized to people and their feelings. A “simple” joke becomes a widespread phenomenon that everyone is ok with supporting until people think that the child is sick.

Whether the child is sick or not has no bearings on whether it is wrong to share their image all over the internet. Can you imagine growing up and finding out that when you were a baby you were the butt of one of the internet’s jokes? Would it be ok to take the same sorts of photos and share them at a public function such as church or a community picnic? Would this meme be ok if the child were yours, or someone in your family, or you?

Sharing these memes is the equivalent of joaning, hiking, ragging, mocking, ridiculing, whoever is so lucky to be the subject of the current memes. Sharing memes such as this is cyberbullying whether that is your intention or not and cyberbullying can have deadly consequences. It can lead to depression, anxiety, or suicide. I’m sure you may think that’s a far reach for this meme but I’ve seen children and adults of all ages turned into these funny memes and if you decide to share them you may want to think of the potential effects.

Adrien’s Adventures in Denseville

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So, A lot of men come on to me, I should say a lot of people come on to me, and I’m not always aware. I love everybody, I hug everybody, I’m actually a very friendly person once you get pass my resting bitch face. Because of this I often miss the flaming trash cans throwing up I heart Adrien smoke signals until their thrust in to my face forcing me to notice them.

There’s an older gentleman employee at my job who has apparently been giving me the eye since I returned from my eleven month hiatus. Of course, I don’t notice it. He’s married and everyone likes the sassy black girl especially when she smiles.

Today he says as I’m hugging him back turning my body because this hug just got a little too friendly, “Let’s go somewhere and have fun.” To which I reply a little unnerved “Ummm where do you wanna go… an amusement park? I don’t really know what you’re asking.” Of course his coworker is loving this. He’s smiling with his whole face, the longer I look at him the more sure I become that I have to stop hugging people! “Ummm I don’t swing that way plus I don’t want anyone’s wife to be waiting for me in the parking lot. I say as I disengage from this now incredibly awkward half hug. “Only if you tell her.” He remarks and walks away.  

 Why am I so dense?

Love is Enough

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On May 11th I turned 31 years old. It’s a weird age. An age where you are definitely an adult but where you still haven’t figured this thing called life all the way out. It also started out as my saddest birthday in a very long time. I went through a very unexpected loss and I had been going through my days in a fugue state. On a roller coaster of self induced highs and lows. As a result of those highs and lows I didn’t have anything planned for my birthday.

I should’ve probably started with a bit of background. As an adult I have enjoyed every single one of my birthdays to their absolute fullest. From week long vacations in beach houses to trips out of the country. Spa days in Atlanta to club nights in New York City. No matter what I do for the rest of the year, for my birthday I LIVE. I don’t just celebrate on the days surrounding my birthday, no, not me. I am the Princess of Everything so of course, I celebrate the entire month. It is a well documented fact and most of the people closest to me sit back and wait to watch the fireworks happen.

So this year, my thirty first sun journey starts to approach and people begin to ask. “Hey, What are you doing for Princess’s dirty 31st?” “When should I expect to be penciled in for dinner?” “Which country are you visiting this year birthday girl?” My answer each time is a big fat nothing. I had planned to lay in my backyard in a hammock and drink the weekend away.

Thankfully my best friend planned  me a birthday dinner with some of my closest friends at my favorite restaurant. The night was all love and though I didn’t end my night dancing until my knees hurt I went to bed with a heart full of love. Honestly this year that full heart was worth more than all the fancy drinks in all of the exotic places.

Monday was my actual birthday and in typical internet fashion my social media sites exploded with well wishes. On Mic.com there is an article discussing etiquette for the birthday wishes people receive on Facebook. There was one suggestion that people should take their birthday dates off of Facebook. Your true friends will remember and you won’t have to worry about all of the other people who only wish you a happy birthday because the site reminds them that it’s your birthday. I call bull shit on that. People wish you a Happy Birthday because they want you to have one not just because Facebook reminds them that it’s your birthday.

There was another user who stated “I take the literal 3 minutes to “like” them and THEN I write back to people who went beyond the generic “HBD” I care about these people.” Like this person I deeply care about those people. Especially because this year I didn’t just get wishes to have an awesome birthday. I recieved paragraphs about the effects that I have on people’s lives.

You go through life trying to do the right thing, trying to be  a good person, and you don’t even realize that people are noticing. Or that they not only notice, they respect you for who you are. They love you more for it. This year my friends and family said things about me that spoke to my soul. I took pictures of all of the comments that they left to look at when I’m having a bad day or when I feel unloved. This year on my birthday I received the gift of love and it is enough. It is more than enough.

I’ve included some of the messages that I received. Some were too personal for public sharing but I will cherish them just as much:

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Sheree L Greer and I at Fantastic Ekphrastic

Sheree L Greer and I at Fantastic Ekphrastic

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