days like this when i am completely drained i force myself to remember that it’s all for a purpose. it’s so easy to feel like a hamster in a wheel in today’s world. constantly working. very little sleep. hustlin’ hustlin’ hustlin’. the light at the end of my tunnel is that i have a plan in place and i am working it. when it needs tweaking, i reassess. i know it needs tweaking when i stop smiling.

when is the last time you asked yourself whether or not you’re merely going in circles with no exit, no conclusion? every now and again it is of the utmost importance to step back and reanalyze your life. revisit your game plan. decide if you are truly happy.

sometime it calls for a complete scrapping of your current map. crumbling it up, tossing it over your shoulder and hitting the drawing board again. whatever map you have, make sure that happiness and peace of mind are not only your ultimate destination but the road you travel to get there. you’ll know when you’re on the right path when you wake up in the morning and you’re excited about the day ahead of you. That’s when you’re on to something.

how’d you feel this morning?

i never would have thought as a child that i would have to relearn the art of being comfortable in my own skin.

as children humans are free. we wiggle our toes and smile big without care of our wayward teeth. we dance dances that have no names, just movement. we poke out our bellies and dress however we feel that day. we embrace silliness. we own ourselves. we own our happiness.

as we age and become more and more exposed to what is “socially acceptable” we learn fear. we become strangers in our skin. unfamiliar with ourselves. detached from the essence of what makes us who we are. unaware of how to truly be happy, searching for it everywhere else.

some of us remain this way, sadly, right up to the end. and some of us begin to journey back. struggling every day to relearn what it means to be free. to be ourselves. trying to remember why we thought we were so cool when we were young. it’s a taking off that brings us back. a peeling of layers.

i picked up a journal i had when i was eight the other day. i am so happy i thought to keep one at that age. it brought me back to a much simpler time. yes, as adults we have so much more responsibility. yes, we are more aware of the evils and ugliness of the world. yes, we are less ignorant to reality.

but, shouldn’t that make us hug ourselves that much tighter?

approaching 30, i am beginning to remember. i have a fuzzy recollection of why i used to think i was awesome. i remember walking out of the house in a bow tie, one shoe and one sneaker, a t-shirt and some ripped jeans the first day my mom let me dress myself at the age of about 4. i rocked. i was free. and didn’t care what anyone thought. because i was genuinely happy with myself.

today, try not to think about what others think. let them do that. think about what used to make you happiest. whether it be a certain cereal or a cartoon or a silly dance. then think about something about yourself that makes you the coolest person you know.

then wiggle your toes.

you’re awesome. have the best day ever.

been doing some thinking about growth and art. i come from a huge family of opinionated individuals. i’ve been told that i am much like them. it dawned on me recently that i am accustomed to feedback. i am used to commentary, whether requested or not. due to my upbringing i now crave critique, a return of energy, reciprocity. if i don’t receive it, i sometimes let that stop me from creating. i let it stunt progress or productivity. i let it steal away my moments of inspiration. i’m learning over time that even if you don’t hear it, see it, know it, everything we do affects someone, somewhere. we just have to keep giving. keep creating. keep loving. keep shining. keep knowing that what we are doing, if it is done in love, is being well-received and appreciated. so, keep creating in love blindly.

soon you won’t need to see it, you’ll feel it.

“what you don’t have, you don’t need it now. what you don’t know, you can feel it somehow.” — U2, “It’s A Beautiful Day”

i have an addiction. well, i have several. but the main one is strong enough to make me itch around the neck area.

it is also strong enough that my wallet feels its weight.

at the houses where it’s dealt, they know me by name and order. they know that my order depends on the day and mood. they determine said mood by my facial expression.

monday ~ iced chai. dirty.

tuesday ~ iced coffee.

wednesday ~ me: ”hmmm I need to relax. I’ll have a green tea.” them: “so a grande iced coffee w/ milk and sugar, right?” me: “…yes”.

and so on and so forth. it’s real.

thank you gq for showing me how to feed my addiction without makin’ the mermaid chicks pouches fat with my hard-earned dough. their  Suck it Starbucks Tutorial has been printed and will be tested asap.

here’s to caffiends all over the world.

**raises coffee mug**

l’chai…dirty

it’s Ramadan. and while i have been observing this holy month of fasting since the age of 8, i have never mastered preparing for it. don’t get me wrong; it’s not that i am bad at the not-eating aspect. i’ve gone 5 days without eating and been just fine. it’s that i can never prepare myself fully for what Ramadan will unearth. there’s something about not eating and studying and praying and meditating and refraining-from that extracts poison like a mouth to a snakebite wound. physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually there is a cleansing. you begin to notice things about yourself and others that the muddle of our day-to-day tends to camouflage. lets slip by. there is entropy. a falling away and apart of the superficial. a chance to reaffirm your pillars and rewrap your core in what matters. this is day 2. the weeks prior to the beginning of Ramadan found me in an already transitional phase. i am very much in the cocoon. uncomfortable. not where i was. not yet where i will be. it’s ugly in here, guys. so this Ramadan should be quite special indeed. stay tuned.

my knees meet the earth

blessings drench my back, arch my spine

my soaked head kowtows

laden with humility

my finger attests

my worry dissipates in His brilliance

i had several epiphanies heading to work on the train today. 1. what in the moment seems like a loss, can afterward serve as a gain, in ways that we don’t understand until then. 2. left-handed people are brilliant without even trying. 3. the proper perspective is a crucial ingredient when it comes to success.

i’ll expound on these respectively in the posts to follow. here’s the first.

after returning to my mom’s home in atlanta, georgia from my dear sister-friend’s wedding in greenville, south carolina i noticed my makeup bag was not in my bag. i tore through my luggage searching, first hope-filled then hopeless. it was nowhere to be found. i called my girl i drove to SC with to see if i’d left it in her car or mistakenly placed it in her luggage. no. it HAS to be in the hotel, i thought to myself. and it was. but by the time i got in touch with someone who got in touch with someone who found the cleaning lady who cleaned the hotel room we stayed in, i’d given maria (that was the cleaning lady’s name) the chance to get her story together.

“oh no miss. um. i seen it. i seen de bag miss but it was half empty so i thought garbage and i throw away.”

maria sounds a lot like the mexican housekeeper on family guy.

maria is also a liar.

for one, my bag was BRIMMING with product ($548.98 worth to be exact). secondly, even if it were half-empty (and it most certainly was not) the bag all the products were in was brand-spanking new. no way it could have been mistaken for trash. oh maria.

“no ma’am.” i said. “it was not half-empty. it was packed. packed with goodies. that i just bought maria.”

“oh. no. sorry. no i thought garbage. so… i throw.. away.”

“okay maria. you know what.. okay.”

maria of course, kept all of my products and beautiful makeup bag. my loss. her gain. i was pissed for quite some time. i bitched to anyone who would listen and even those who obviously were not. i felt offended. cheated. insulted. but more than anything i was a bit lost.

i had gotten my mornings down to a science. they were ritualistic if you will. the perfect mascara, the best eyeliner (it was oh-so smooth), the best bronzer for my complexion (the mac lady with the neon blue eyeshadow told me so) and so on and so forth for about another couple hundred bucks.

the morning after i spoke to maria i woke up and walked to the bathroom. i showered, dried off and stood staring in the mirror. what was i to do? i had nothing. nothing to put on my face. nothing to make me pretty. just my boring light lashes and brows. no shimmery glow to my cheeks. nothing.

i almost cried. and lately whenever i begin to cry i hear my dad’s voice. and this is what he said to me:

“look at my child. (he laughed a little) what are you going to do? all you have is the beautiful face Allah gave you. how will you ever survive.”

then he stared at me. and i stared back. and suddenly i was laughing hysterically in the mirror. he was laughing, too.

i wiped my eyes and shook my head and grinned. then i began to examine my face. little by little since that day i’ve remembered different things about my face that i love. and it seems that little by little my features begin to shine all over again.

don’t get me wrong. i’ve never worn loads of makeup. and i am still a huge fan of a lil mascara and a swipe of bronzer. but the point is, after the turmoil, after feeling like i’d lost an arm, i was brought back to me. i remembered what it was like before my life of morning rituals. when my smile was my makeup. when i thought it was enough. i was brought back to that and now, i may or may not add a little something extra. because i remember that it’s “extra”. an enhancement. not a necessity. and that makes all the difference.

there’s something about brisk air that makes you want to do better. a gust of it is an instant kick in the ass. it can be better than a cup of joe. to me, it’s truly the best part of waking up … outside of actually waking up. an easy breeze of air–relatively fresh according to the standards of the five boroughs–drifted into my apartment window and tapped me on the shoulder about an hour ago. it didn’t shake me. just a subtle tap and a low lovers-tone “hey”. as i woke up to it, it reminded me: “you’re missing so much already.” when my mind considered what i was missing, it didn’t mull over the nature of the great outdoors or the going-ons of others. it went directly to my window of opportunity for undisturbed sharply expressed creativity. there’s something about the morning that promotes an outpour of the best type of stuff you got in ya. for that reason as well as being completely present for my morning prayers, i’m slowly working my way back toward a 5am rise&shine. the earlier the start, the brighter the shine, the higher the rise. would you agree? have a blessed weekend y’all.

it

never fail

s how deeply

the weather affe

cts me. it’s pouring

out. and while there are

only a few things nicer than

an afternoon under cozy blankets

with just the right amount of breeze from

the rain outside, rain in the evening blows. rai

n at night, well that’s a different story. all types of ro

mance and mystery can be injected into a night where th

e downpour acts as the soundtrack. rain in the evening, how

ever… well it’s just plain inconvenient. it brings out an uncertainty

in me. it plays on my indecisiveness and highlights my laziness. it tur

ns me into a lump on any given piece of furniture. and this lump is nothi

ng similar to the elegant nature in which my cat poses on said furniture

creating graceful silhouettes. no. no. i am just a lump. like a piece of so

ggy bread that’s absorbed all the rain to the point of obscurity. i’ll ge

t my shape back at 8. but for now, i sit. lumpy. obscure.