#AugustWritingChallenge [Week 1]

This month, I will be joining along on a challenge to push myself as a writer. Hopefully at the end of the month after writing everyday and reading other people's work, I'll see some growth in me. To not flood my page, I'll update the posts with my weekly topics. Here we go!

#AugustWritingChallenge - Day 5 - Faith

I’m proud of myself for getting to where I am in life. I’m proud of the work I’ve done and all the applications for the lessons I’ve learned. I’m proud of me for trusting the God will lead me to my success.

But I’m the most proud of my friends for having more faith in me than I have in me.

It’s crazy how you can get so wrapped up in trying to measure up to some omnipresent standards of excellence that you get lost in the sauce trying to meet them. I’ve had so many “I’m a failure” breakdowns. It was my friends who shook me out of my funk by reminding me of all the good I’ve had and all the great that’s yet to come.

So this post is a short and sweet acknowledgement of appreciation for those of you who read everything I write, constantly speak my success into the atmosphere, and faithfully remind me that my best IS good enough.

For this, I am indeed thankful. 


#AugustWritingChallenge - Day 4 - Physical

This is my current obsession.

Every day, I place myself in front of the mirror and prepare for my routine critical analysis.

Skin’s clearing up. My smile is still winning. I still hate my chin. I need to fix my posture. Boobs way too big. Way. Too. Big. The sight of my stomach is annoying. I need to start the Insanity workout yesterday. Which means I need a salad for lunch. But hmm, did my butt grow? Maybe a little? No? Okay. Was I always this bowlegged? Is that going to cause a health issue later in life? F**K I hate my feet.

These are my thoughts every single day. Because no matter how much someone tells you otherwise, IT MATTERS. Don’t lie to me and tell me it doesn’t.

Because it does.

You and I both know that we give someone the once over before determining if they’re worth a minute more of your time. We know we want to turn heads in a good way when we come back for Homecoming. Well at least I do. The last thing I want to do is be the butt of anyone’s jokes. People are mean these days and my ass is too sensitive for all that “keeping it real” nonsense.

The physical is the #1 most important thing in the world to people in terms of attraction solely because it is the segue to any and everything else that matters. And I have to be amply prepared.

Now I’m not saying all this is a good thing or a bad thing. But it’s a real thing.

The more you know….


#AugustWritingChallenge - Day 3 - Connection


I feel like half of the people writing about this word have no idea what it even means. Not anymore at least.

I’m no exception.

We’ve lost touch of the most basic forms of communicating: connecting through real-time, real life interaction. I hate talking on the phone. Texting makes my fingers hurt. My bravado increases when I’m in front of a screen but I appear to be a mute when placed in a random group setting.

More people have read my blog than talked to me in public. We think about proper ways to phrase a text message and position our LOLs in hopes that they’ll get the right message. Instead of learning to hand write letters, we’ve become experts in shrinking our most intimate thoughts into 140 characters or less. Siri seems like a more valuable companion than a boyfriend or girlfriend. When we get face to face or voice to voice with another human being, we choke.

Face it, our generation is ASS BACKWARDS.

And we have the nerve to talk anything about connection.


#AugustWritingChallenge - Day 2 - Stereotype

I wore my Howard Alum t-shirt to work today. When I tell you I felt like a million bucks walking down a busy Hudson Street in that basic tee. I was in my own world, parading down the street, not looking at anyone as I went along. I just knew I was it. A very fabulously dressed man strutted past me and I could hear a faint “Yaaaaaaasssss Howard” come from his mouth. Ya damn skippy, I thought to myself. Though I was flattered, I didn’t turn my head. It’s that Howard effect.

I’m pretty sure in the 43 seconds of that moment that had elapsed, I was giving the whole stereotypical Howard package. I’m not sure that’s so much a bad thing.

According to the oh-so-godly opinions at large, Howard kin are bougie, semi-cocky, extremely privileged individuals who don’t walk with their heads held low and won’t accept the word “no” as a suitable answer.

I see no issue here.

Of course you have some extremes tossed into the bunch, but I love belonging to such a confident group of go-getters. Four years ago, I wouldn’t have been carrying on in such a certain fashion. I would have blended in with the sidewalk scenario like a sick chameleon. Howard changed the SH*T out of me, and I’m so glad.

If you go to Howard, it’s true, you have to deal with people who feel like the Big Guy upstairs hand delivered their sky-high-ego asses onto the Earth just to bless it.

And then you hit ‘em with the stale face: -________-.

After side-eyeing them, you do some internal assessments and realize that you’re equally (if not more) hot sh*t than they are. And if they don’t agree, then they can have several uncushioned seats. And so the bougie train continues.

All that constant competition and sense of uneasiness I experienced amongst my peers prompted me to step up my game and actually BE about it, that way I could  soon (humbly) boast about it.

I’d much rather fall into the Howard stereotypes over those that natural haired gals like me are pegged with on the daily. NO, I don’t sit in the grass. NO, I don’t like incense. NO, I have no idea what all the Adinkra symbols mean. NO, I’m not always your ‘sistah.’

Sorry, rant over. Point is: we don’t always have to run from the stereotypes that follow us. Instead, use it to realize something deeper about yourself, pull from it and use it to your benefit.

Now back to my bougie Bison swag. *shades back on. Aaaaaand strut*


#AugustWritingChallenge - Day 1 - Money

Money, man. 

That green shit people kill each other over. Ain't nothing but a color really. Or some stinky singles that left a rapper's hands and were probably nestled in a stripper's ass crack at some point. 

What we kill each other over. What we glorify. The Almighty Dollar. How we define our success at ALL stages of our being. The currency of our lives. 

Correction, of YOUR lives. 

While I'm young, I'm not dwelling on that stuff. Money does't mean anything unless you've got joy first. And man, let me tell you how much joy I have. 

Translation: both the inside of my wallet and bank account could be the subject of a comedy show. There just isn't anything in there. 

Must suck huh? Nah, I'm good. I'm still richer than a lot of people, and that's sad. Right now, I'm basking in the richness of my fresh-out-of-college-let's-find-free-stuff experiences, and learning to find more joy in the absence of finances. Without a little bit of poverty-like fun, you won't appreciate the moolah when it come's rolling your way.

And for you all that strongly disagree, who are living your life JUST to get the dollar, busting your ass in jobs that are of no interest to you, I bet you don't have a receipt for that "happiness" you got over there...


  1. That Bison swag is something money cannot buy...metaphorically (you do need to pay to be a Bison, right? lol)


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