If The Shoe Fits…

As a writer, having writer’s block is a regular occurring thing for me. To the public, it looks like I just push out these blog posts every week with grace. But behind the scenes, my ass is going through a constant rollercoaster of anxiety and stress. I work on a piece throughout the week on top of my 8-5 job, and once it hits the weekend I feel a sense of relief because the work week is over. But then I have that sense of panic because I know it’s grind time to put the finishing touches on my blog post. Sundays are when my procrastinating ass starts to feel more pressure. But once it hits Monday after 5 PM, it is straight to the laptop I go. That’s when I know it’s time to put in work because it’s blog post day. The adrenaline kicks in, Will I post it on time? What should be my pull quote? Do I have a visual? How will this post perform?

Once I press that “Publish” button and share it across all my socials, I feel a sense of relief and peace. I made it through another week. All that hard work was not for nothing. Good shit. Once everything is posted and up, I finally chill out. But that brief bliss is short lived, as I know that the next day, the same cycle will continue. However, Tuesdays are a different kind of stress because Tuesdays are the days I have to start from scratch and figure out what I’m going to write about for the upcoming week. If I’m being completely honest, I’m almost 3 years deep into posting consistently every week, and I’m surprised that I haven’t ran out of shit to write about. Each time I hit writer’s block and think that I have written about every fucking topic already, I somehow push through with a new post. Don’t get me wrong – I love writing and everything that comes with it, but when you’re trying to juggle your day job and passion at the same time, it can get stressful.

When I hit writer’s block, it’s usually when I’m overthinking a topic to write about. When I literally can’t be writing because I’m at work, doing something else, or trying to sleep – that’s when my mind runs wild. I get all my best ideas when I’m not sitting in front of my computer thinking, “What am I going to write?” It’s so annoying, but that’s what I have found to be true. I have tried to make it a habit to document my idea on my notes on my phone so I can at least revisit it later. This has helped greatly because it allows me to dig deeper into that topic at another time.

I have a list of topics on my phone to write about, but when Tuesdays come around and I have to make an executive decision to pick a topic and roll with it, suddenly I think everything on the list sucks. And if I’m being real, some writing topics have remained on the list for over 2 years because when the time comes, I just don’t have the desire to write about it anymore. It obviously interested me at some point since I wrote it down, but when it’s time to pick a topic, I tend to over think what I’m going to post next really hard. Ironically, 9 times out of 10, I end up writing about a thought or idea that came out of the blue and wasn’t even on my list. It’s not uncommon for me to be working on a piece throughout the week, and on Sunday, scrap it all and start from scratch on another story. It all depends on what I’m feeling. If I’m not pleased with it, I’m not publishing it.

And I bet you’re wondering – Is what she’s writing about relevant to her personal life at the moment? And the answer is yes and no. It all depends. Most of the time, if I’m feeling something very intensely that doesn’t really involve anyone else, I’ll try to write about it in the moment. It’s a great way for me to sort out my thoughts and emotions because a lot of the time I don’t know where to begin to process what I’m feeling. However, if it’s a topic that involves specific people, sometimes I’m on the fence about posting or sharing my take on a situation or story because I don’t want anyone to feel bad when reading my posts. Especially if I’m writing about someone’s present situation that is still unfolding. It screams “too obvious” and shady.

But like most artists, I can’t help but pull inspiration from my personal life. Usually conversations with close friends and family will inspire me to write a piece. But unlike Carrie from “Sex and the City,” you won’t find me putting my close friends and family’s business out there so blatantly on the table. I respect people’s privacy, but also know that these are topics that so many people can relate to. If I’m drawing inspiration from those around me and what they and I are going through in our personal lives, I try to write my post as tastefully as possible without having anyone feel like I’m secretly at-ing them.

Recently, conversations with family and friends have drastically changed throughout the years. As it should, as we are all experiencing different and new stages in our lives. A lot of the conversations I’m having with those around me focuses on our past, how we were brought up and how that affects us as adults, how we process feelings and emotions, how we express our love language and our communication styles, cultural differences, dreams, goals, healing, and bettering ourselves overall. The emphasis these last couple of years have been being more self-aware with how we react to things, handle stress, and what we can do to heal our inner child and be good people for ourselves and to others.

That all sounds nice, but it isn’t all smiles and rainbows. Realizing a lot of these actions and patterns can be a very disappointing journey. Especially when you are aware of these unwanted traits, but can’t seem to progress as fast as you’d like. It’s that constant back and forth that gets people down sometimes. In the age of social media, there is this belief that everyone needs to project and present their best selves at all times. But that’s not how life works. Nobody is perfect. And it only seems right to document those small hiccups in my life, and the experiences of others in a tasteful way.

When I draw inspiration from the situations of those around me, I make it a point to let whoever know that I’ll be referencing the conversation / their scenario without giving too much detail as to who they are. Though I am a writer and creative, I first and foremost want to make sure that my friends and family feel comfortable talking about things with me without fearing that I’ll write about it without their knowledge. Trust is so important to me. And as a writer, especially as a journalist, I don’t want to lose sight of the relationships and trust I have with people for the sake of a blog post.

However, those around me are very supportive with my blog. When I suggest that I may write about someone’s current situation, feelings, or predicament, I am almost always met with support and encouragement. The people closest to me know that I will never throw them under the bus or make their business so public to the world, especially if it involves other people besides themselves. These are heavy topics. But I think it’s important to keep the conversations going because so many people can relate to it.

Since I talk about really raw and real situations, a lot of the time as a reader, you can’t help but make correlations and mental notes from your own life. I have had people tell me that my posts made them reflect on their own actions or how they perceive and go about certain situations. There have also been a handful of times where people have asked me if my post was about them. The times people have asked if it was in reference to them, the answer was genuinely a no. But when confronted with the question of whether or not a post was about them or not, I think in my head:

Well…. if the shoe fits….

It’s therapeutic to continue talking about subjects that keep coming up in conversation in your different circles. Recently, I’ve noticed that my writing has heavily focused on personal growth, healing, and tons of self-realizations. And that’s because I’m continuing the conversations I have with those close to me, by publicly posting my thoughts through my blogs. I think it’s important to keep the conversation going because it gets people digging deeper. When people relate, they are consciously made aware of their own actions and behavior.

I know I write about the good, the bad, the ugly, and everything in between. A lot of the time I share my own personal downfalls and short comings just to show a different side of social media. Not everything is perfect all the time, not everything about you has to be a fake curated version of what you think you should be. This is real life. So if the shoe fits, and a topic I write about resonates with you, just buy the damn shoe and own it! People can be reading the same exact story, but interpret it in completely different ways, leaving with different meanings. Please take what you need from it.

I feel like my posts are going to get more personable and realer real quick. I used to somewhat hold back on what I wrote about because I didn’t want people to think I’m referring to them or sneak dissing anyone. That’s not my intentions at all. There may have been an inspiration to some posts, but a lot of the time I try to point out the bigger picture. So chances are, my posts aren’t about you. But again… if the shoe fits…

Dreamer

What’s the one thing you’d never do and why?

This prompt had me stuck for the longest. But to answer it plain and simple, the one thing I’d never do is give up on my dreams to be a published writer. It seems like a very reasonable thing to uphold, but as I navigate through my young adult life, I have come to realize that this is not the case. Not everything has a clear cut answer or obvious road to follow. However, what has always been important to me is being true to myself – even if my life choices don’t make any sense to anyone else.

When I came across this prompt, I discussed it with my partner back and forth for about 30 minutes. To him, this question was easy to answer. He started listing all the things he would never do, but it was more so things he’d never do in the literal sense. For example, I could easily say I would never do hard drugs, be a basketball player, spend $50,000 on a collectible item, I’d never kill anyone, and the list goes on. Those are definitely things I know I could never do, but I wanted to dig deeper. My partner laughed and was like, “oh what, you’re gonna say something like: I’ll never give up” ? We laughed briefly about how clichΓ© that phrase is, but I paused in reflection. I sat on the prompt for over an hour, while he played his game on the phone with his friends in the kitchen. When he plays, I usually try to write some paragraphs on my upcoming blog post. However, he came back in almost 2 hours later, and I had my laptop open with basically nothing typed out except the prompt you see quoted at the top.

“You’re going to make fun of me but… I think I am gonna write about not giving up,” I said exhausted with the writer’s block I faced that night.

That phrase, “I’ll never give up,” is so broad. That’s part of the reason why we mocked the answer originally because it’s so clichΓ© and opened ended. That phrase is so overplayed, and usually whoever is saying it is bullshitting, not being honest, and just saying it for fake motivation, to have people view them in a certain light, or I don’t know what. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that that statement is entirely true when it comes to my writing career. Don’t get it twisted – I give up on a lot of things – people, projects, some ways of thinking, etc. That’s why I was so hesitant to write about “not giving up.”

But when I narrowed it down to not giving up on my writing career, I knew that this is something I’m already living by in my every day life. Growing up, my parents never tried to push me into any field of their choice. They gave me the ultimate freedom to pick what I wanted to go to school for and find my passion on my own. I was taught that at the end of the day, I have to live with my choices, so I should pick the career I want. So since I never had that pressure from my parents, thinking of all the “what if’s” I could be when I grew up was forever changing. I definitely have the dreamer mentality.

Sometimes though, I will admit, I feel like my dreamer mentality can be a little naΓ―ve and too hopeful. But I feel like those feelings are present because I don’t know the end result yet – will I achieve what I want to do as a writer, or am I all talk? The post-grad blues hit me really hard in 2019 because I had no idea what route I wanted to take after graduation. I knew I wanted to write, but all the places I applied to just didn’t spark passion in me. I felt like I was settling. And getting rejection email after rejection email for jobs I wasn’t even crazy about was even more depressing. I felt so lost and confused, but 2020 really showed me what path I should take. I wasn’t ready to retire my passion projects and write under a company. And even though it didn’t make sense to others, my decision made sense to me. In the midst of a pandemic, I set my mind to a writing plan. And I refuse to give up on it. At this point in my life where I don’t have a family of my own, and I have the time to put myself and my dreams first, I’m going to do it.

One thing I will say – I’m for sure a procrastinator, but this is a writing promise I made to myself that I intend on keeping. The thing that I’ve noticed about myself and my habits is that I suffer from really motivated highs, to lazy uninspired lows. Because of this, I can lag on passion projects and the things I have in mind. Given that information, I don’t want to put pressure on myself to produce because it will take the fun, enjoyment, and therapeutic aspect away from writing. Instead, I have been more forgiving with myself, knowing that I have set goals, but keeping in mind that I will have better weeks than others. Keeping consistent motivation without getting burnt out is still something that I struggle with. But I’ve come to terms that my writing dream to be a published author is something that I am only doing entirely for myself. I’ve always said that in my lifetime, I will write a book and be published, and I know that is something I have to do for myself. That is my biggest life goal right now. Not even saying that I have to be a successful or well-known author, which would be nice, but my goal is to just produce from the heart. I don’t care if I sell 5 copies, I just want to prove to my damn self that I put my mind to something and did it, that I wasn’t all talk, and I wasn’t too scared to do follow through.

This kind of reminds me of my college days. I was motivated to graduate and get my degree, but I also took my time. I was still a full-time student, but I refused to take 5-6 classes at a 4 year college just to finish faster. I had my eyes on the prize, and knew I would get there, but did it on my time. Not lagging, but not drowning myself in responsibilities. And I see myself taking that same approach with my writing career. I know the end goal, I want it, I’ll get it, but on my time. I set goals for myself – like posting blog posts every Monday, but I know that if I want to get ahead, I need to start writing more. I’m giving myself time limits, but at the same time know that if I don’t get it done when I want to, it’s okay, because I know I will still make it happen.

The dreamer mentality is a huge reason why I idolize J.Cole so much. Hearing his story through his music, though our journeys and dreams are different, the passion and want is the same. I relate with his journey, especially feeling like you’re in the sidelines trying to get known and make a name for yourself, feeling like you have shit to say that’s worth listening to. I hope I never lose sight of my inner dreamer, and I continue to go for my writing goal for myself. “I’ll never give up,” is so clichΓ©, but I know I’ll never give up on my dream to be a published author.

Love Your Choices

I snapped this photo when I was walking to the grocery store a few weeks back. Everytime I see artwork, a sign, a quote, or anything on the street that speaks to me, I take a picture of it. I always know that somehow, it’ll be used one day for one of my blog posts. This sign was no different, except this time it was very relevant to my current situation. I’ve been meaning to write about this topic for a while, but never found the words for it.

A great theme for 2020 in my personal life has been change, growth, and being “confident in my choices.” I put that in quotes because sometimes I wasn’t even close to being confident in my choices, but I had to front like I was because the slightest inclination of doubt would turn into others, or even myself, talking me out of a decision. That was probably the hardest part about deciding to move – being so doubtful and scared, but not being able to talk to certain people about my doubts because I knew they’d just try to sway me in their favor. All out of love, of course, but not really taking into mind the opportunity to grow and learn.

Growing up, I was taught that whatever I do is a reflection of my parents. How I act and what my life choices are is because of how my parents raised me. And that always annoyed me. I didn’t understand the root of its importance. “Who cares,” was my response to everything. I’ve had the rebel mindset since a young age. When I was growing up, I didn’t care what people thought, I didn’t care if I was looked at as the “bad” kid, I didn’t care that I had the mouth of a sailor. That’s probably also because as a kid, there’s not much I could fuck up and make my parents / family look bad. I mean, I got good grades, made the honor roll, and I wasn’t doing anything illegal.

It wasn’t until I reached young adulthood that this took on a whole new meaning. Who I dated, what crowd I hung around with, whether I went to college or not, if I was married or not, what I posted online, all reflected back on my family and parents. This is something that I have talked extensively with close family members and friends – how the Filipino culture really values how others see them. To an extent, I get it – the need to look like everyone in your family has it together and is successful. I mean, who doesn’t want to be seen as successful and always making the right moves? But these fears of worrying about what others will think is really detrimental to young adults who are trying to get the gears turning for their own life.

“What will your _______ (insert the name of a prominent family member / or whole family as a whole) think?!”

“What will people think of you?!”

“How does that make us look?!”

These are phrases that so many Filipinos have heard from their elders.

This is something that I still struggle with. Because at the end of the day, I don’t care what other people say about how I live my life, but I do care that my parents care. And that’s where it gets conflicting. I find myself trying to do what I want to do in my life, but do it the “right way.” I find myself trying to find loopholes and justify my actions like, “well it’s okay if I move in with my boyfriend who I’ve been with for over 5 years because eventually we’ll get married, so it’s okay. And others should understand that.” But why do others have to understand that? They don’t need to understand anything. Especially choices that don’t concern them or put anyone in harm’s way.

“What will people think and say?” It’s so generalized. Who are these people I should be concerned about? And why should I care what they think about me? It’s ironic, because I was taught to not care what people think about me, in terms of classmates and peers. Oh, you’re embarrassed that you have on Payless shoes? Who cares, you shouldn’t care what people think about your material things. Oh, you’re insecure about going out in your pajamas? Who cares, nobody’s going to see you, and if they do, so what? Oh, you want to drop out of college and pursue music? What will your aunties think?! Of course, the last is a fake scenario, but you get the jist.

And even if it is not generalized and there’s a specific family member, or family friend that your elders are trippin’ about, why does it matter? I feel like there’s such a generational gap, where our elders feel the need to uphold an image of the family, or themselves. And I get it. But at the same time I think it’s so dumb and pointless. Especially if you have to tiptoe around certain people with your life choices – life choices that aren’t even bad, but that some people don’t agree with. All the while, people should just mind their business and not really care what others are choosing to do with their lives. If you don’t agree with a choice, just don’t make that choice for yourself and move along.

Choose your love. Love your choices.

This came to me at a time where I was very conflicted and needed that reminder. Sometimes in life it feels like you have to choose between pleasing those around you or choosing yourself. And is it worth keeping the peace while you are in conflict with yourself? Sometimes you have to remind yourself that you are in control of your life. And people – whether that be family members, peers, friends – will talk regardless. So what is the point of changing the route of your life to please others? I’m glad that I have taken the road less traveled by, in terms of being traditional and abiding by standards. But sometimes it’s really hard.

I find this quote relevant to other parts in my life – like who I choose to be around, hangout with, and give access to the “real me.” And I shouldn’t be apologetic for distancing myself from people or situations that disturb my inner peace just to keep the outer peace and external noise at bay. This year has been the year in realizing that I don’t have to react to some situations anymore. I can just remove myself, keep a mental note, and keep it moving. It sounds very detached, but that’s life. Can’t stop the show for nobody, the show must go on. Especially being at the age I’m at now, I got more important things to worry about, like how I’m almost 26 and getting the boot on health insurance soon. I don’t have time for petty drama, hear say, gossip, or things that don’t concern me.

I choose me. Even if sometimes it’s hard to do. I try to front like choosing me is an easy decision, but it does stir some feelings inside of me sometimes. At the end of the day, I want to please my parents, their opinion of how I live my life matters to me, but they also understand that I have my own life and need to make decisions for myself. I don’t care about the extra noise of others who haven’t raised me. As long as my parents are content with my choices and trust me to make the right choices, that’s all that matters. Luckily, my parents know that at the end of the day, it’s my life and I have to live with the decisions I choose to make. So they’ll give their 2 cents, but will support me in what I choose. I think that’s a beautiful thing. To know that they still come from the generation that “cares” about what others may say, but still give their silent blessing for me to do as I please.

Choose your love. Love your choices.

So much easier to read than to live by. Choosing my peace is more important that upholding an image of myself for the sake of family or for family image. Being confident in my life choices and what direction I choose to take in this life is something I still need to work on. I need to love my choices and know that I chose it for a reason.

Past Lives

I’ve walked passed this quote a couple of times before finally snapping a photo. Everytime I walked passed it and read it in my head, my mind would wonder. What does this mean? What is this for? All I knew was that it made me think for interpretations, and it sounded deep. You know me, always trying to find meaning and the bigger picture in things. I told myself that I would take a picture of it when I finally came to a conclusion on what I thought it meant. After walking past it many times, and still not really knowing, I snapped a picture anyways.

I started thinking of the quote in its literal sense. “Past lives.” That has always been something I’ve wondered about. I grew up Catholic, raised to believe in a Heaven and a Hell. But I feel like I believe in a mix of different beliefs from different cultures and religions. The thought of having “past lives” has always been intriguing to me. And I believe it to an extent, but simultaneously believing in an afterlife. Which I don’t know how both could be achieved at the same time but I still believe in both. Not necessarily a “Heaven,” like I was taught to believe, but an afterlife in some shape or form.

I grew up on the Montel Williams show – don’t even ask why I was in 2nd grade watching that grown up shit when I should’ve been watching cartoons – I guess I’m an old soul. Anyways, a guest he would have once a week on his show was psychic, Sylvia Browne. She claimed to have psychic abilities that helped her talk to people that have passed, could tell the future, was super into astrology, and all this stuff that I’m totally into. You know, the stuff that’s highly debated, and it’s either a hard yes you believe in it, or no, that’s a load of garbage. I believed, and I was such a fan of her readings. There was one time where Sylvia read a person in the audience, and said in a past life, they were shot and killed in war. Sylvia told the audience member that their birthmark is where they got shot. I thought that was amazing – how a detail from a past life could be reborn into the next lifetime.

If past lives really exist, I find myself thinking of what my past lives were like. On some Avatar the Last Airbender shit, I think about what burdens and downfalls my past selves have been through, and how I’m trying to redeem myself in this lifetime. If pastlives are a thing, I wonder what I was like. What are the similarities? What are the differences? What were my stories? Watching Avatar the Last Airbender, and seeing Aang connect with his past lives made me want to learn more on the subject. I know it’s a cartoon, but Aang had to understand his past and their past struggles to understand how to go about things in this lifetime. It explained his grief, guilt, and motivation to save the world. I wonder what I’m trying to achieve in this lifetime.

Sometimes I believe that reincarnation is another way of finding peace, and until you reach that peace, you will keep being reborn into the next life. I don’t know, I have a lot of theories. And I am content and cool with knowing that I don’t know everything. The goal of being at peace and coming to terms with oneself is a theme that I don’t take lightly. People carry around so much emotional baggage, whether that be guilt, trauma, anger, pride, the list goes on. A huge part of me believes that whatever you don’t come to terms with or make peace with in this lifetime, you’ll repeat in the next life until you deal with those emotions and resolve whatever it is that is keeping you earthbound.

Another theory I have is that there is no Heaven or Hell. Those that have passed on are still “around,” and roam as they please. But those that did not make peace with their demons are earthbound and repeating either their death, or whatever it is that they can’t move on from, until they can let go and come to terms. I’ve watched a lot of ghost stories on TV, and it seems like the people that have passed on and are “haunting” an area or person and don’t mean harm, are just really lost souls who need help getting to the “other side.” It’s crazy to think of that scenario – that unfinished business in your lifetime can follow you and restrict you from an afterlife.

If I’m being totally honest, I don’t really know what I believe more than the other. If people can really find each other through multiple lifetimes, that’s a beautiful thing. You know when you just click with someone and feel like you’ve known them for a while but you just met? But who can really know. All I know is that if past lives really exist, I hope I’m lucky enough to find people I love and connect with in this lifetime in the next lifetime. All this pastlife talk was the first thing that came to mind when I was trying to find the meaning of this quote. But then I thought harder.

Past lives doesn’t always have to be dying. It can be the life you used to live, but now don’t. We go through different stages in life, and some characteristics remain the same, but other times we leave completely different people. Like people who have had addiction problems but now live a completely clean life, people who used to be players but suddenly settled down, people that thought negatively but switched their inner voice to only speak peace, etc. “Last night was the last night of my past life.” That speaks volumes.

It reminds me of the story I posted about my weight gain and body positivity journey. There was a breaking point in my journalism night class where I told myself, “Enough. I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t go my whole life hating the body I’m in.” That night was the last night of my past life. I left behind a part of my life that was dark, negative, and self-loathing. A lot of people feel this way during nasty break ups and toxic relationships. I’ve had my fair share of trash people enter my life. But the moment I said enough and closed that chapter, I knew that life wasn’t for me anymore.

I’ve been the listening ears to so many friends that let people from their past mess up the current life they have worked hard to build. I’ve also been there and done that – with friendships, relationships, sometimes even with family. I’ve learned that it’s okay to let some people stay in your past. And no, them hitting you up doesn’t mean it’s a sign haha. But for real, when you see patterns in people, situations, and attitudes – and you finally realize you don’t want to be a part of that – let it go gracefully and carry on. Letting stuff go and letting things stay in the past can be very emotional and sometimes even traumatic. But I feel like there’s so much inner peace that comes with deciding to move forward and let the past become the past.

Sometimes our past can haunt us. I know I felt that way for certain situations – where I felt like what I went through defined who I was as a person. I felt as if my past would drag me down, and the negative I’ve experienced was my story. But fuck that. My story is forever changing. Your past doesn’t define you. It helped shape you into who you are, but what you were doesn’t have to follow you into the new life you want to live. Sometimes I even refer to the past me as “me in another life” because sometimes it really does feel like a whole lifetime ago. You step back and you see how far you’ve grown. Sometimes for the better, sometimes not, but that’s when you need to take accountability and self-reflect on what parts of you needs healing.

What Will Make My 2020 Meaningful

“What do you need to do by the end of the year to make this year meaningful?” -Wordsmith Deck

When 2019 was ending, my goal for 2020 was to get a job in the writing/ journalism industry. I wanted to finally put my degree to use. That was one of my biggest fears – graduating and not using my degree. I know that’s not uncommon, a lot of people graduate with a certain degree and end up in completely different fields. And that is completely fine. But for me, I wanted to make sure that I gave it my all in the industry, and I know that meant starting from the bottom.

The running joke of journalists is that the money just ain’t there, even though the field takes a lot of dedication and passion. When I was still in school, it seemed like a lot of the professors and professionals that came in to talk about their experience as journalists had to put work above personal life to be successful. This was always something that worried me because I always knew I wanted a family, but I also wanted to be successful in writing. It seemed ironic that the girl who is so set on staying in the Bay Area got into a field that literally calls for travel and possibly living in different places in the world to be successful.

When 2020 started, I was motivated. I started getting my resume together and applying to journalism jobs. When COVID-19 hit, I used that time to apply to many entry level positions. I was applying and applying, but getting nothing but rejection email after rejection email. It was disheartening. It sucked because the positions I was applying for weren’t even what I was passionate about. It seemed like starting from the bottom to get experience just meant being a corporate sellout for a while until I have some experience under my belt. Not only was I getting rejected, but I was getting rejected from jobs I wasn’t even excited about. Finally, during the shutdown, I got my first follow up email that wasn’t denying me. In fact, they wanted to move forward with me and sent me some more information to reply back to where they would see if I was a fit.

It felt so good. My first non-reject email. May I remind you, I didn’t even get the job. But not getting denied after what seemed like 50 rejection emails was a fresh of breath air. This job could be a 1 hr drive with traffic from where I lived. But with public transportation, it was almost 1.5 hrs one way. It wasn’t even worth it. And it wasn’t even something that I was passionate about. I want to write with purpose and tell stories, but this job would’ve had me writing replies to people on social media under the company’s handles. There was nothing wrong with the job, but I felt like my passion was on the line for the price of getting my foot in the journalism door. And that wasn’t worth it to me. But, it still felt good to know that atleast a company was interested in me. Before this point, I was feeling super incompetent and pathetic. I had the degree, some experience, but nobody wanted me.

I felt a lot better knowing that I could’ve had a “journalism” entry level job if I wanted to. That email gave me hope and encouraged me to keep trying. By this time, COVID was all over the news. We’ve been shutdown for a couple of weeks. 2020 was not looking like how I planned it would be. If I thought it was hard to find a journalism job before COVID, how much more with everything shutdown? People were losing their jobs, businesses were closing down, unemployment was at an all time high – this didn’t seem like the right time to get a new job. The shutdown time kept getting extended. By this time, more than a quarter of the year had passed. My goal was for me to get a journalism writing job in 2020. I felt like my time was running out.

Then, my current job proposed an opportunity that I just couldn’t pass up. The new living situation would be at least a 2 year commitment to my current job. I felt like if I took the offer, I’d be taking the “easy way” out, and I’d be prolonging my writing career. I didn’t want to put my dreams on hold. But like I said in my previous post, I decided to pivot. Applying to all those entry level journalism jobs discouraged me because it seemed like they had nothing to do with what I wanted to do with my writing. I know everyone starts from the bottom and has to work their way up, but at the rate I was going, I felt like the journey was going to take a long time, and the experience I would be getting didn’t even seem relevant to my end goal.

I took the offer and decided to commit to atleast 2 more years at my current job. But in doing so, I promised myself that I wouldn’t let writing fall through the cracks. Since I graduated at the end of 2018, I used 2019 to just take a breather. I also felt like I was stalling, because I feared rejection and also didn’t know what steps to take to get to where I wanted to be. I didn’t see it at the time, but all those entry level irrelevant jobs made me realize that maybe the traditional path isn’t my path. And maybe it was supposed to be this way… Or shit, maybe I’m just telling myself all this to make me feel better. But all I know is, with how America is handling COVID-19, with no luck in landing an entry level position, feeling some type of way about how I’d feel unfulfilled at most of these entry level jobs even if I did get it, and then having the once in a lifetime opportunity living situation on the table, I knew it was all thrown at me for a reason.

I decided to pivot. I changed my whole plan when I took that offer. But I feel like it was a better plan than my original. I came up with a solution where I can still be the manager at the preschool 8-5 and feel fulfilled as a writer. Like I said, this situation opened my eyes and made me think – Maybe the traditional route isn’t for me. I decided that I’m going to use these next 2 years (or more) to spit out all the passion projects I haven’t pursued yet. If not now, then when? That’s the phrase that kept popping up in my head. It’s the same feeling I felt when I decided to post on this blog consistently over a year ago.

If I do all the passion projects that I have up my sleeve and they’re unsuccessful – 1. Atleast I know I did them and tried. 2. I did it all the while being a responsible adult and working a whole ass full-time job. 3. At least I’ll never have that “what if” in my head. 4. I’ll be proud of myself regardless if they’re successful or not because I know I did it for me as a personal goal and 5. I’m content with the fact that I followed my heart and took the unfamiliar path. And if I try all these things that I’m passionate about and nothing comes out of it, that’s okay too. Then I’ll just pivot again and consider the traditional route. But until then, my passion projects are my goal – and honestly, they always have been.

Just starting those passion projects will make my 2020 more meaningful. It sounds like a small step, but starting is always the hardest part. There is so much more I want to do in writing, this blog is just 1 passion project out of many. I really thought my 2020 was going to be a flop year. But it has really proven to be a year that has challenged me and forced me to grow. Because of the events that transpired this year, I had to re-evaluate a lot of my plans. And now I’m excited to follow through with those plans and finally get started on all the ideas I’ve had since college.

It’s one of those things where you have every detail thought out in your head, and the only thing you have to do is start. You already have the idea, how you’re going to execute it, you did your research, and now it’s just on you to get the ball rolling. I sat on the idea of me posting consistently on this blog for years before I actually went through with it. And now, here I am over a year later, and I don’t remember what it’s like to not post every Monday. I know I am capable, and I know the time to make moves is now.

Getting started by the end of the year on my other passion projects will set the tone for the next 2+ years. After such a rocky and stressful 2020, I’m happy I’m finally settling down and starting to make moves in the right direction again. I was so confused and stressed about what path I would take for almost half of the year. I’m excited to take those baby steps to start. And hopefully, I can stop and smell the roses with this journey because I feel like I always forget to do that. I’m always overthinking, stressed, or worrying about something. It’s nice to finally be in a spot in life where I can take a step back and realize life is pretty great right now.

At the start of 2020, I had completely different goals. Now, towards the end of 2020 (holy shit, I can’t believ it’s almost the end of 2020) I have a completely different vision of what I want to do. I feel so much more content with my decisions, when not too long ago I would’ve reacted the exact opposite and stress. I’ve said time and time again that I believe what’s meant for me will happen in due time. For once, I’m excited to start my passion projects, not scared. I’ve been talking about them for so long, it’s time I stop talking and start doing. I will really look back and see 2020 as the year I got the ball rolling. I’m content in knowing I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be right now.

1 Year Blog-versary

On Monday, July 1, 2019 I finally made the decision to consistently post on this blog. I didn’t know how long I’d roll with it, I didn’t have tons of content lined up, I didn’t care if I had 1 viewer. I just knew that writing consistently was something I’ve been wanting to do, but kept putting off. Here we are, a little over a year later. A few weeks ago was my 1 year blog-versary! πŸŽ‰

I originally made this blog for a journalism class when I was still in Skyline Community College, 4 years ago. I had to make X amount of posts for the semester, and after that, I didn’t really keep up. I would post here and there, usually articles I wrote for Xpress Magazine or a project I did for a class while I was at SFSU. I was kind’ve just keeping everything I wrote in one place. Every now and then I’d get inspiration to post a blog post that wasn’t an article I wrote for something else. But I was never consistent. It was one of those things where you say you want to do “XYZ” but never have the time or courage to follow through with it.

A year ago when I decided to revive my blog, I was in the thick of my post-grad blues. I graduated in December 2018, and July 2019 I decided to take that leap and start up this blog again. But it wasn’t that easy. That was 7 months of me just debating on whether or not to make this happen. 7 months of making myself feel like shit. Feeling lost. Feeling like I’ve lost all sense of self since I was no longer a student. Feeling stuck and confused on what path to take next.

The hardest part was starting. As clichΓ© as it sounds, it’s the truth. Making the decision to start was the biggest hump I had to get over. Posting consistently on this blog was something I wanted to do since the class ended (the class that made me start this blog). That was in 2016. So it took all of THREE YEARS to actually follow through with it. It was that last 7 months, the hard-core post-grad blues, that gave me that push. I walked the stage in May 2019, and before that I felt the post-grad blues creeping. But after I walked the stage in May, I knew I was in for a sea of emotions. I knew I’d come down from the high eventually, but I didn’t think I’d crash that hard. The last month and a half after my graduation ceremony is what made me start. That antsy feeling of “wtf am I doing with my life?” set in. This blog was hope I gave myself in my darkest times.

And for the record, I’m still somewhat in my post-grad funk, 1.5 years later. This blog helped me pull myself out of the gutter, but I still have my days… Shit, weeks is more accurate. In no way am I saying that I was depressed after graduation so I started writing and now I’m all good. Nope. In fact, if you keep up with my blog, you’d know that that is far from the truth. But, this blog did turn into my outlet.

I’ve poured my heart out online to people I know and people I don’t know. For everyone to see. For anyone that knows me personally, that is totally against how I am as a person. With close friends and those I trust, I can vent my heart out, complain, cry, be angry, all the above. But only a select few people know me. The real me. Only a handful of people know what I really feel and how I really think. It’s not like me to put all my business out there for the world to see. I mean, stalk my Facebook circa 2009 and that’s a different story… But over the years I have evolved from wanting to share every stupid “who even cares” opinion and cringe selfie, to barely posting, to only posting pictures, transitioning to Instagram, being pretty active on the ‘gram, but slowly posting less and less. Yeah, I would still post, but never in depth into my life. I realized I wanted to be more private. The less people knew about me, my family, my relationship, and my life in general was better.

When I decided to start my blog again, I wasn’t posting much. I debated on if I even wanted people to know my business like that. I weighed out my pros and cons of making my experiences public. Was I ready to be vulnerable? At the time I wasn’t sure. I just knew that writing and actually keeping up a blog was something I had to do for myself. I’ve always admired how some public figures I follow on social media could be so transparent with their struggles. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone in what I was feeling. I was tired of seeing the same filtered “always smiling,” “always good,” “no problems over here,” “I’m livin’ my best life,” type of content.

I wanted to bring attention to topics and issues that aren’t talked about often. And I knew in order to reach out / get people to care, I would have to get very personal. Starting with myself. And by doing that, a lot of people have reached out to me with their stories, their struggles, their truth. Whether that be in private, or featured as one of my blog posts.

A response I get a lot is people telling me, “your story made me cry.” And that’s one of the best compliments I could get as a writer. Not because I’m a bitch and I want people to be depressed, but because I know that it made my readers feel something. It touched my readers in a way where there were no words, just emotions. If you’re feeling it that hard, it’s probably because you can relate to the story you just read. And it warms my heart when people tell me they go back to reread certain blog posts when they’re feeling down or need a reminder that they’re not alone. Sometimes you need to read someone else’s story to realize the similarities in your life. It brings healing.

And that’s part of the reason why I write for myself. It brings healing. I can express exactly how I feel in writing. Sometimes I really can’t express my emotions verbally. It’s either I hold it in, or I say how I feel very bluntly and then feelings are hurt. Starting up this blog again and writing my very personal stories forced me to deal with some of my inner turmoil. What am I afraid of? What gets me emotional? Why is XYZ important to me? Sorting out my feelings and writing out my train of thought really helped me within this past year.

When I decided to finally post consistently, I had no idea where this blog would take me. I had no end goal. I didn’t know how long I would continue it, and honestly expected myself to fall off after about 5 posts. But I held myself accountable as if this blog were paying me. It’s something I had to prove to myself, that I could do it. That what I’m doing matters, and no matter what anyone else thinks, I believe in what I’m doing.

In July 2019 I started off with 6 followers on WordPress. 1 year later, I’m at 97. To some, that ain’t shit. But to me, someone who was happy if 1 person viewed my story, this is an accomplishment. I mostly get all my views from sharing on Instagram and Facebook, but it’s nice to know that I have followers on WordPress who don’t even know me in real life.

A few months ago TrapxArt reached out to me to be featured on their website. It felt so good to be recognized as a writer and as a creative. So, I just want to say thank you. To all those who have supported me, who have cheered me on, who have read my content, those who promote my content, have been the subject of one of my stories, thank you. Thank you for sharing your stories, reading my stories, and keeping it real with me. I still have no idea where this blog is headed. I don’t know how long I’m going to keep this up, or where this blog will take me. But I do know that in just 1 year of posting consistently, I have 50 blog posts to show for it (this post will be #51), and a small following of people that read my content consistently.

Thank you for reading, for keeping up, supporting me, crying with me, laughing with me, and taking this journey with me!

Cheers to 1 year πŸ₯‚! *hot cheeto toast*

One Year Later

One year later,

It’s my anniversary.

One year later,

I’m still working at the nursery.

This same time last year, I was finishing up school for good,

I was happy and excited, feeling as I should.

It was crazy that I could finally say, “Hell yeah, I’m graduated,”

Feeling all the emotions but mostly relieved and elated.

It’s my one year anniversary, please don’t congratulate me.

Please don’t remind me I’m not where I want to be.

To this day, graduating has been the highest of my highs,

But let me tell you something, and let me know if it applies.

Nobody tells you how low you can feel when your highest high is all done,

You worked so hard to reach the finish line, but the journey has just begun.

And I know there’s a couple of you done reading about my emo post-grad shit,

But some people reached out and said they can relate, so let me ramble on a bit.

If you’re feeling like me, this poem is dedicated to you.

You’re stuck in post-grad limbo, and you don’t know what to do.

Rejection email after rejection email, you tell yourself to keep applying.

People ask how the job search is going, and you give a half ass smile and say, “I’m still trying.”

High key embarrassed to admit that I’m not used to all of this,

I’m so used to achieving my goals, not shooting and then miss.

I don’t mean to sound cocky or over confident,

It’s just so different from what I’m used to – I’m feeling mad incompetent.

How ironic is it that the girl that planned her future step by step,

Is falling apart even with the “mise en place,” in prep?

A year ago, I thought I had it all figured out.

But now I’m so lost, and I ain’t faking this for writing clout.

So many emotions that constantly run through my head,

To be real I deal with this post-grad funk by staying in my bed.

It’s so hard to prove that you have what it takes when there’s so much competition,

I fantasize about my successful career, while I struggle to find an entry-level position.

But at the same time, I’m picky and I won’t just write for anything,

Keeping my writing voice and being real still means everything.

I refuse to sell out for a high paying job that doesn’t align with my beliefs,

I know that I got to start from the bottom and that’s what adds to my grief.

A year ago, I felt on top of the world and was ready to take on this new beginning,

Now a year later, I want to remember what it feels like to be winning.

Cole told me, “things change, rearrange, and so do I,”

He said it ain’t always for the better and he ain’t lie.

But I know this is a path I must walk with patience and my head up to the sky,

I’m a firm believer that what’s mine is mine, and if it’s meant for me it won’t pass me by.

I can’t wait for the day where I can look back and say,

“Damn, look how far we’ve come, you just took it day by day.”

But for now I walk through the valley of confusion,

Planning out your future to the T is really an illusion.

I’ve forced myself to just try to go with the flow,

Because when the timing is right my heart will truly know.

So I’m at that point in my life where I don’t know what to do,

And I realized it’s okay to be a little lost and not have a single clue.

But she’s resilient, and she’ll take this day by day,

She’s a writer, she won’t give up, she got so much more to say.

If It Fits, It Fits.

For the longest time, I not only valued the numbers I saw on the scale, but also the size I saw on the back of my tag. At whatever stage of my life, I was always at the bigger end.

Shopping in stores was always a tough battle for me. I dreaded trying on clothes, or seeing if they even carried my size. And the dressing room was a whole other issue. There has been countless times where I tried something on and I’m just like “πŸ₯΄πŸ₯΄πŸ₯΄ why.” When I was going through it the worst, there would be times where I would be on the verge of tears because I hated what I saw. Sidenote- it seems like the lighting in dressing rooms are always so bright that it brings attention to every flaw on your body. Or maybe that’s just me!

I used to try to shop in the “in” stores growing up, but that usually meant that they didn’t go beyond a L. If I was lucky I could find an XL, but even the sizing was way off. Some stores’ XL’s would fit like a M and then I’m stuck there thinking, “omg not even the biggest size fits me 😭😭.” So I would just give up. I hated going shopping for that reason. I’d think, “not like I’m gonna find anything that fits anyways…”

And for so long I wanted to get out of the L/ XL, and beyond club. I hated when sizes randomly came up in converation. Usually growing up that would be around Christmas time and my birthday. And what was more of a FML feeling, was when they got you something hella bigger than what you wear and you’re like omgggg thanks for thinking of me but also wtf.

Forever 21, Charlotte Russe, and a couple other stores just got their official plus size sections not too long ago. I appreciated the size inclusivity, but I always wondered why they had to be a whole ass different section. Why couldn’t plus sized clothing be on the same rack as “normal” sizes? Why did it have to be labeled “plus size”- in it’s own section away from everything else? Why did “plus size” start at 0x, which by the way, is a L. I was happy that there were finally clothes that could fit my body type. Big boobs, broad shoulders, thick thighs, some booty, Cabillo-calves for days, and not to mention a fuckin’ gut.

But why was I feeling happy that I had clothes that were tailored for a girl like me, but at the same time felt some type of way that people with my body type were being alienated? Like thanks for including us but 1. Your shit should go beyond a L anyway, 2. Why I gotta shop in a whole ass different section of the store, with different clothing choices instead of just expanding the sizes of the clothes you already have, and 3. What took so long?

I appreciate stores that have size range. But also clothing companies that advocate for real unedited bodies. I love online shopping and seeing the girls that I’ve followed on Instagram way before they made a name for themselves in the modeling industry. The size inclusivity that I see online, in the media, and on other platforms give me hope for a more diverse representation.

Last week I was looking around at the clothes section and saw a really cute jacket. I switch up my style on a daily. I can literally be dressed like a man one day, and a total girly girl the next. It really depends on my mood. The switch up is real. I’m talking timbs, ripped jeans, and baggy jackets to boots, long cardigans, and skinny jeans. So when I saw this jacket, I was like oooo I need.

I grabbed for a 2x since I would prefer that style of jacket to be baggy. I looked in the mirror and was digging it. But being little miss goldy locks herself, I wanted to try a size up, a size down, just to make sure I was getting the right fit and look. The original one I tried on, the hanger said 2x, but the jacket was actually a 3x! I tried on a 2x and zipped it up. It was kinda tight when zipped. My boobs are huge and my gut ain’t no different.

You see, if this was a few years back, I’d probably go for the 2x, maybe even the 1x if I was really tryna show face. Because I was taught that smaller is better. Who cares about comfort, just as long as the size on the back of your tag gives you peace of mind, go for it. I seesawed between the 2x and 3x, knowing that I liked it baggy and going for the comfortable feels, I went with the 3x – the one I liked from the get.

But don’t get me wrong, I was thinking about going for the 2x because the size was easier to digest. And this is what I mean by my body positive journey is forever ongoing. I’m not body positive all the time. I do have my moment where I cower back to my old ways to prove God knows what, but then I have to snap myself out of it. Like in this instance. Why was I going to buy a size down, when I liked the size up more? Why am I going to spend my hard earned money on something that makes me feel tight and restricted? Why am I trippin off of a size? And like that I remembered who tf I was.

4-5 ish years ago I probably wouldn’t even have bought the jacket if I didn’t fit the XL. Yo, I got a 3x. That’s XXXL my friends. I’m a big girl, but there are a lot of people that are way bigger than me. And I really feel like that jacket fit like an XL honestly. But what I’m saying is : who gives a shit about size. If it fits, it fits. And if you like the way it fits, who cares what size it is.

Don’t make yourself try to fit a certain size. A size M in one store can fit like a XL in another. Size ain’t shit!!! My shirt sizes literally range from S – probably 3X. I kid you not. I fit some small sizes, but most of the time ya girl rocking an XL if not bigger depending on what brand! And that used to bother me. To my core. I wanted to be a uniform size. I wanted to be smaller. I wanted to feel comfortable in my clothes.

……and all jokes aside, that’s probably why I wasn’t comfortable in my clothes- because I was getting sizes too small to prove a point to who? Myself? Who knows I should probably get a bigger size because my gut and titties are yelling, “Sis, we can’t breathe….”

Clothes are clothes. And honestly if somone’s knocking you for what the size on the back of your tag says, they’re probably going through their own thing. Size tags really ain’t shit. Let go of all the toxic ideals that come with size shaming and feel yourself flourish with new found confidence. If it fits, it fits.

The Podcast Pitch

I just want to say thank you to everyone that took the time to read / share / comment/ support my last post. Like I said a billion times, it was a story I’ve been wanting to share for a long time. My Body Positive journey has definitely been one of the most difficult things I’ve had to force myself to do. In the beginning, every day was like a new challenge. Was I going to keep pushing and unlearn everything I’ve ever known up until that point and truly accept my body at any size? Or was I going to give up and fall victim to the same ideals that have held me back for so long? When I say it was a mental battle – Me vs. Me – every day, I mean it in every aspect. It was exhausting.

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks” is what it would feel like sometimes. Was it too late for me? Am I already set in my ways and I’m in too deep? How long will this take before I throw in the towel? It was truly a metamorphic experience. It took a really long time to get to where I’m at. Not saying I don’t feel shitty time to time – I definitely do. But for the most part I am can truly say I live a body positive lifestyle and it really brought me inner peace.

Especially studying in the Women Gender Studies program, I felt more enlightened. I was taking classes in this field while concurrently working on my mental health and body dysmorphia problems. And it seemed like everything was all meant to be. I was meant to make the conscious decision to accept my body and go down the self-love journey, all the while learning about women empowerment and feminist ideals. I love that my program really stressed the importance of intersectional feminism. It made me realize that just me as a person alone is a rebellious act. I’m a woman, a person of color, plus-sized, and in the terms of living in San Francisco – a broke bitch.

When I started progressing in my mental health journey, I realized that I was acting and thinking exactly how corporations wanted me to. They’d rather have people be insecure and unhappy so they can sell products to their insecure consumers. And I refused to be another statistic.

Self-love really does not happen over night. It’s a journey forreal. And when I say journey, I mean a whole life long journey. You’re constantly changing, growing, adapting, making new experiences. Nothing remains the same, circumstances are always different. And you’ll feel those same highs and lows in your journey as well. It takes time. A lot of people reached out to me after I posted my last post saying they don’t know if they can ever start/ get to the point of accepting their bodies. But it’s really never too late to work on yourself. Best believe I’m gonna be an old ass grandma still struggling with my inner demons and trying to resolve my shit. I feel like as long as you’re conscious and aware that you want to change up your way of thinking/ make steps to becoming a better you, that’s all that really matters. Because there’s nothing more lame than a person who gives the excuse “Well, that’s just how I am.”

Working on my body dysmorphia and discovering the Body Positive Community made me realize that self-love is so much more than just liking and accepting what you see in the mirror. It’s internal as well. It made me realize – looks and appearance aside, am I a beautiful person inside? Am I good human being? I could be the baddest bitch out there, but if internally I’m rotten and toxic, what’s the point? And this journey really opened up so many other doors and layers of myself that I didn’t even know existed. You start discovering yourself. Is this really me, or the me I want people to know?

Anyways, that whole ordeal of me in class unfollowing everyone on social media that made me feel bad about myself happened towards the end of 2016.

Fast forward to last year, Fall 2018, my last semester of college. It was close to the 2 year anniversary of when I decided to accept my body and fall in love with the body positive attitudes and beliefs. And in those 2 years, I’ve tried to brand myself and advocate for bigger bodies and size diversity. I’ve decided “that’s my niche, that’s what I’m going to be known for” -in the writing world and in general. I’m out here putting it on my bio, occassionally writing about it here and there, and doing things that – at the time- I believed made it “obvious” what I stood for and believed.

Since my last post was so heavy and somewhat triggering, I’ve decided to share one of the most embarrassing moments in my life.

To all my friends and family that I’ve told… Yes, it’s the story of when I cried infront of my whole class πŸ˜­πŸ€¦πŸ»β€β™€οΈπŸ˜«

Listen, this was my last semester of college and then I was done.

I was in the Online Journalism class with Sachi as my professor. I’ve had her in the past, and she’s cool as hell. Every assignment she ever assigned to me – either in the Online Journalism or Multimedia Journalism class – it seemed like she knew that’s what I’ve been wanting to do/ start but didn’t have the balls to do it on my own. Of course, how would she know… but that’s really what it felt like to me! As if the Universe herself was like, “Listen, I’m tired of you dreaming up these ideas and never following through with your lazy ass… so0o0 I’m just going to make your professor assign it to you so you have to do it.”

I’ve always wanted to start a podcast. Of course one that focused on body positivity or anything along those lines. So when Sachi told us our assignment was to come up with 3 podcast ideas, I was all for it. She explained that a good friend of hers who is well-known in the podcast industry would be coming to our class to hear our pitches. We would have to give our reason, why it’s important, why would anyone care, who its geared towards, who we would interview, and basically do our best to try to sell our idea.

And then, the nerves started to get the best of me. When I was planning out my 3 pitches, I even considered not adding the body positive one at all. I’ve never given my “why” infront of people. I felt dumb for parading all through social media that I’m a body positive advocate, yet I’m scared to give my back story. In fact, very few knew why it was so important to me and why it pulled at my heart strings.

“Podcast on ghost stories” I wrote down. The amount of done that I had with myself πŸ€¦πŸ»β€β™€οΈ ….. I ended up writing out the body positive podcast pitch, explaining that I’ve been insecure my whole life, how I was in a verbally abusive relationship in the past, my eating disorder, and all the above. Basically, my last blog post summarized into a paragraph.

I had my pitches printed out and ready to share that night (it was a night class). Originally, Sachi said we’d be sharing all 3 ideas. But with the amount of time we had and the number of students that were in the class, we’d be there 5 ever. So she said pitch our #1 idea, and you know what else? Fuck it, don’t read from your paper, make it conversational and sell it to her!

πŸ˜«πŸ¦‹πŸ˜«πŸ¦‹πŸ˜«πŸ¦‹πŸ˜«πŸ¦‹πŸ˜«πŸ¦‹πŸ˜« went my tummy.

What’s crazy is I usually don’t really care about presenting. Yeah, it kinda sucks and I get a little nervous, but for the most part I’m like, whatever let’s just get this over with. NOT. DISSSS. TIMEEE. πŸ’€πŸ’€πŸ’€πŸ’€.

Each classmate went up in front of the whole class and pitched their idea to our guest – Sachi’s friend who is well known for her podcasts. Sachi was standing at her desk behind her friend. My classmates were killin it! They were mad chill and sellin it! Nobody read from their paper, shit they didn’t even bring it up with them when they got up. The passion in some of their voices was inspiring. You just knew it was something they were passionate about. Some you could tell it’s their niche in a podcast pitch. I envied how relaxed everyone was.

Because from my seat, I was a mess express. My heart was beating as if I took 2 shots of preworkout. When the person in front of me went up to pitch, I was freaking out. Holy fucking shit. I’m next. I don’t want to do this anymore. Maybe I’ll just pitch the ghost story one. But I knew I’d be annoyed of myself if I took the easy way out and didn’t pitch what I’ve always wanted to start a podcast on.

The classmate in front of me was done. Everyone clapped. Fuuuuckkkk meeeeeeeee. I screamed in my head. My hands began to sweat, I turned red, my heart was racing so fast that I thought I was going to throw up and pass out all at the same time. I decided that I had to read from my paper no matter what Sachi said. I was way too nervous. It was either read from my paper or pretend like I didn’t do the assignment.

I walked up. “So I’m just going to read from my paper….” I said. Sachi looked at me like, bruh… really…. 🀣 I started reading my pitch, and I could hear my voice trembling and cracking. Literally so embarrassing. When I got to the part explaining how I was in a toxic relationship and how I developed an eating disorder, I knew I was going to cry. It built up inside me, I could feel my eyes watering. This was the first time I ever presented to people my why. Yeah, I’ve told those closest to me, but here I was, intimidated as hell because I was pitching to a well known podcaster infront of my professor and peers. My voice got deeper (if that’s even possible) and cracked some more.

Wellllllll if you’re gonna cry you might as well cry now because everyone knows you’re gonna cry anyways. I told myself. …..K! And then bust out crying. Not even talking about like a tear or something, but legit the ugly cry where you’re trying to talk but you’re uh-uh-huh-ing trying to catch your breath. I put the paper down, no longer reading or hiding behind it. I started freestyling on why the topic is important and why women need to hear this kind’ve stuff. It all just came out like word vommit – with a mix of ugly crying of course.

Towards the end of my speech, the girl towards the front of the room where I was standing handed me tissue. Y’all, she got up out of her seat to go to the bathroom to get my paper towels πŸ˜­πŸ’˜ I thanked and her continued on. By now, Sachi was crying and the well-known podcaster was wiping away a tear or 2. I ended my rant with, “Sorry! I’m embarrassed. This is embarrassing.” Sachi and her friend quickly tried to snap me out of it saying it’s not embarrassing and that it just shows how passionate I am about the topic.

Still, I was so embarrassed. Seriously, probably one of the top 5 most embarrassing moments in my life. Everyone clapped as I sat back down and I was even more embarrassed. The insecure in me thought “Y’all are only clapping for me cuz you feel bad 😭.”

But what was even more of a FML moment was when I sat down back in my seat. The classroom is basically a lab room, so every chair had a computer infront of it. YOOOOOO, WHEN I TELL YOU I SAT DOWN AFTER MY PRESENTATION AND SAW MY DAMN REFLECTION ON THE BLACK IDLE COMPUTER SCREEN πŸ˜­πŸ’€πŸ˜­πŸ’€πŸ˜­πŸ’€πŸ˜­πŸ€£πŸ€£πŸ€£πŸ€£ THAT WAS THE MF CHERRY ON TOP OF MY EMBARRASSMENT SUNDAE πŸ˜­πŸ˜­πŸ’”. I literally look in the computer, staring at my reflection, internally Selena Gomez-ing it with the smile cry thinking “… literally why?! I hate you hahahahaahhahah why are you like this! 😫🀣” Forreal “when you look in the mirror and realize you played yourself.” My post cry computer reflection could seriously be a meme.

Anyways, I was so embarrassed that I really thought of dropping the class and taking it the next semester hahahah. But I was graduating and already applied for graduation. Dramatic. But that was really the first time I told my why. My reason. My back story.

Every single person that I’ve told that story to has literally laughed their ass off while I told it 🀣 To the point where my girls will be like “send pictures of you crying so we know its real,” “but did you cry tho πŸ‘€.” At the moment it was so embarrassing, like I truly believed there was no coming up from that 🀣🀣🀣. But now I think its hilarious.

I told Sachi I’m going to return in X amount of years as a guest speaker and tell the story of how I cried in her class to her class. By then I hope I’m doing something great in the journalism world. It’ll truly be an epic moment, and I’ll probably cry then too. 😫✌🏽

Change$

Last picture of me and Goldie πŸ’”

I never realized how much I hate change until…

“…Stay tuned for next week, I’ll be sharing a story I’ve been wanting to share for years…” I wrote on my Instagram post last week. I reread my caption, added my hashtags, and clicked the “Share” button.

Within minutes of posting that post, my phone froze and acted like it was restarting. It stayed on the “Samsung” black background for hours until the phone ran out of juice and died. I thought I’d just charge it and I’d be fine.

“Its just a glitch,” I was trying to tell myself so I wouldn’t freak out that there’s a pretty good chance I’d be phoneless for a couple days.

I charged my phone and no luck. I tried to reboot, restart, all the above that Google suggested. Nothing.

This was the last thing I needed. Like I had shared before, I’m on a 2 week vacation break from work. It’s the preschool’s “summer break” before school starts up again. I planned to use this time to give myself a break- after the Portland trip I planned to sleep in as long as I wanted to, hangout with my boo and friends, workout if I felt like it, start my graduation scrapbook, but most importantly, write.

I’ve long anticipated this break. I couldn’t wait until the Portland trip, and then doing all the things I listed above. My phone is so crucial to my writing. When I decided I was going to be posting every week, I whipped out my laptop, covered in a thin layer of dust since it’s been tucked away in my bed stand since I used it last. And that was in April for my Women Gender Studies Conference prep. Before that, I haven’t used my laptop since I turned in that last final in the middle of December. Let’s just say once I graduated I kicked my laptop to the curb. But when I decided in July that I HAVE to make my blog a consistent thing, I took out that dusty lil thang and expected to start writing right away.

BUT. OF. FUCKING. COURSE… there’s something wrong with it. It was dead, so I plugged it in, and noticed after about 30 minutes that its plugged in but not even charging. The moment I unplugged the chord from the laptop, it died. After many tests and theories, I concluded that the only way to use my laptop is to have it be plugged into the wall the whole time and have it be on “0% not charging.” The moment I unplug the laptop, it’s dead. Given I’ve had the laptop for 6 years, I knew it was probably time to replace it. I planned on taking it somewhere to get it fixed, but didn’t really get around to it since I had the WordPress app on my phone. I figured until I save up money to get a new laptop, I’d just be writing my blog posts from my phone. Which was going well, until Goldie the Galaxy died on me.

The next day, I went with my cousin, my Ate Nina, to get my phone looked at. I told her that I’ve had the phone for basically 3.5 years, and I was so sad it was dead. She hit me with the “duh” it’s dead, it’s old as hell. But that’s the thing with me. I use my shit until it dies, literally. Same goes for my laptop, my shoes, my makeup, whatever it may be, I use that shit until I know it’s time to be retired. And even then I will fuss about how I need to replace it/ try to save it.

We went to the mall, and the guy in the stand didn’t even bother to look at good ‘ol faithful, Goldie. How rude. I explained to him that she’s not dead dead, for she stays on the “system rebooting” blue screen / galaxy black screen until she dies. So to me, there was still hope to revive my beloved. He looked at me, “Yeah. Its fried. There’s no fixing it, you just need a new phone. Sorry.” How he dare? In my head I was thinking, “Put some respect on her name, and give her a chance! At least try!”

So we went into the AT&T store in the mall, and I asked if they would take a look at her. The lady said they couldn’t do anything about it, and the only way I can maybe save it is if I call customer service, preferably “from that phone.” Me and Ate Nina looked at her like…. bruh… how?! Its fucking dead! I called customer service from the AT&T store, overwhelmed that ma baby girl of 3.5 years is probably dead dead and I had to go through the grieving process. I hung up the phone with customer service frustrated, “fuck it I’m just gonna get a new phone,” I said.

I planned to buy a new phone right then and there since I needed a phone so bad. It died on Tuesday, and here we were Wednesday trying to get a replacement. “Well if I’m gonna get a new phone, I might as well get the newest one so I can use it for over 3 years until it dies again,” I sadly joked. I usually stalk a product I want online until I decide to buy it. I need to do a thorough research, consisting of rating online, product reviews, but most importantly unboxings and comparisons on YouTube for days on end. All of which, I didn’t do. And honestly, it didn’t matter because the lady said I would need my mom to be there with me to make a purchase since she’s the main person on the account. So that meant I would have to live phoneless until Saturday. Honestly, first world problems. But the fact that I didn’t have a working phone wasn’t the only reason why I was trippin’.

It was because for months I planned out how I would use this 2 week break. Not having a phone ruined all of those plans. I could only get in contact with people through Instagram, and only if I had WiFi, because I was using my old phone before Goldie. I planned to use this 2 week break to write multiple posts to archive for later, since I would have so much free time. And I couldn’t do that laptopless and phoneless. The old phone I was using with WiFi was so old that it only let me have 3 updated apps. Hahahaha. When I tried to update Facebook Messenger it told me to delete 1 of the 3 apps I had. 🀣 Its funny now, but at the moment I was like bruh, whyyyyyyyyyyyy. And on top of that it took about 3.5 hours to fully charge, but lasted less than 4 hrs off of the charger.

“I hate change,” I told Ate Nina.

“Yeah, bitch, I could tell just from today with your phone!” She laughed. The rest of the day I just kept making phone references and how sad I was that Goldie was done for.

That opened up the topic of “change.” Ate Nina told me that she struggled with change, but quickly had to adjust because of her job. She said something along the lines of, “Bitch, I’m 35 and I’m just now getting used to change. If anything, get used to it now.”

That’s one thing I always noticed about myself. I do not do well with change. On the outside, it probably seems like I deal with change well, but internally it brings me turmoil. I like structure. I like planning things out. I like things done a certain way. I’m not saying I’m hella nitpicky and annoyingly controlling, but it’s more so just having to do with me, myself. Things that I know I can control in my life.

For example, something that just happened this morning. Me and Justine planned to workout everyday this week at 5:30 am. I mentally prepared myself for this the night before, making my preworkout so I could just grab and go the next morning. This morning I woke up at 5 am and got ready for the gym. “I’m awake.” I texted Justine. No answer. We used to gym early mornings back in the day, so I knew I had to call her until she woke up because she probably snoozed her alarm. I think I called 4 times. No answer. By 5:20 am I gave up and went back to sleep. But I was feeling antsy because I had already planned to go to the gym. And it’s all I could think about. I drifted off to sleep, and woke up around 9 am. I was so stuck on the fact that I planned to go to the gym but didn’t go. So I walked to the gym from my house, worked out for about an hour and 45 minutes, and walked back home. In this sense, I guess my stubbornness was a good thing, because I got a workout in. But a lot of the times it’s not in my favor.

In this specific instance with Goldie the Galaxy dying, changing my plans after planning it out months in advance is what got me like FML. I’ve noticed that I resist change, but once I get a hang of the change, I’m totally fine with it! I feel like it’s all mental. Like the thought of something new is scary because I don’t know what to expect. But I always end up chillin’ at the end of it all, and adjusting well. This is probably something about myself that most people don’t notice. I told Ate Nina in terms of my job, I don’t think I show that change bothers me. I wouldn’t even say “bother” is the right word for it either. More like an “ohhhh I was expecting this to happen today, but instead, change of plans, this is happening.” When it comes to work and there’s change, of course I have no choice but to go along with it and be a team player. If I have no choice but to go with the change, that’s when I accept it. But if its within my own life and my own personal changes that I have to do, that’s when I get annoying as hell and I resist.

I don’t know why I’m like this. I think I’ve always been like this to an extent, but I really started to notice it when I graduated college. The fact that there is no right or wrong path to take now, it’s like I’m at a crossroads. In terms of career, location, growth, it all scares me. I’m at the point in my life where I have to make moves, but the moves scare me and I’m so afraid to disrupt my routine that I stay stagnant. I come from a long line of worriers. But all this worrying really isn’t benefiting me in any way, its just really adding unnecessary stress to myself. I really struggle with where I should start my career.

Don’t even get me started with location! I’ve never moved before. All I know is Daly City/ San Francisco, Bay Area! But I know for a fact that my ass can’t afford it here if I were to branch out on my own and leave the nest. Yo, that’s a whole ass other thing too. In Filipino culture, we value the whole family dynamic. Usually, if you’re moving out, its because your ass got married and you’re starting your own life. And even then, you don’t stray too far from home. I’m talkin’ the same city or a few cities over from where you grew up. And in some instances, if you’re married, staying at home isn’t that frowned upon. In western culture, staying home with your parents as an adult is looked at negatively. In Filipino culture, it’s what you do, it’s not unusual. If anything, it’s preferred so someone is there to take care of the parents. We don’t put our elders in nursing homes. We stay with them and live with them, and cater to them as they get older. So thinking of a life outside of the Bay Area terrifies me more than I can even imagine. But I know for a fact I need to branch out and should experience living in different places before I have a whole ass family of my own.

It’s like I know what needs to be done to be successful, but the resistance to change is what will be my set back. I can play with the big dogs, I can speak with my chest, I can work hard for the things I want, but my fear of change is what will forever hold me back.

It’s really hard for me to think in terms of things changing. Like if I were to move away, the thought of us not living together as a family would make me super sad. Even though I know it’s going to happen eventually, it just makes me sad. Probably the fact that I know that it means we’re getting older. And that means living your own life. And that everything won’t be as family oriented as it once was. And that makes me sad as hell! I’m a very sentimental person, thinking of the future makes me excited but at the same time sad. The fact that I can’t rewind and have these moments again makes me want to cling on to what I “know” more.

But like I said, once the change happens I’m like haaaaaaa, yaaaaa, it was for the better. But of course it’s always after the fact. Change is scary as fuck. But its inevitable. Things never stay as they are. Everything is constantly changing and evolving. I resist change as if I can do something to stop it. But let’s be real, change is gonna happen with or without me. The death of Goldie the Galaxy made realize that I need to work on accepting change. Even though I knew that all along, this situation amplified the need for me to get it together.

Something as small (but not really small lol) as the death of my phone made me realize a big flaw in myself that needs workin’ on. So here’s to change, may we not resist it. Hahaha.

Omg, this whole fucking post just kept reminding me of that song by First Lady when she’s like “you say you’re not okay with chaaaaaangeeee,” and it’s so annoying because I know nobody will get that fucking reference because it was such an underground song in like 2002 🀣🀣🀣