No Cover Charge.

We live in a world were a woman must be independent, yet appear needy. Strong, yet compliant. Sexy with a six-pack, yet work a 9 -10p. We are conditioned to accept these anomalies not necessarily because we're in competition with each other, but because these check list of characteristics are important in attracting the opposite sex, important so that we don't seem bitter or bitchy. 

Honest moment. The general consensus about me unless someone has read my writing or knows me personally is that I am cold, stuck-up and bougie - but of course this is the opinion of those who haven't even uttered a word to me. Of course the other consensus is that my mouth is too big because instead of letting other dictate how I feel about ANYTHING I ALWAYS give my opinion. 

It's not that I don't give a warm smile or a personable handshake. I extend these pleasantries because I was raised to do so. I am rather quiet and reserved unless I'm networking for career reasons because that is genuinely my personality. I'm not hype, I chill. Not that bubbly. I am mercurial and pensive. I wait to show my inner workings until a certain level of familiarity is established. The snobby, cold assessment hurts my feelings on occasion, especially when I've tried so hard to appear otherwise. But now we get to the crux of my reason for writing this.

If I was a man, my "snobby silence" would be interpreted as stoic. If I were a man my "bougie" would mean that I am preferential. If I were a man, my emotionless ambition would be just that, but instead of the "bitch at work" connotation that I am given, a man's would be just that, simple ambition. 

Same thing goes for our leaders who are women. Hilary Clinton is manly because she's strong and opinionated, stayed with Bill through the scandal. The New Yorker couldn't wait to portray first lady Michelle Obama as a fatigue wearing, gun-toting, fist pumping militant. How this dichotomy still exists in 2013 is baffling. But I'll tell you this.

I will continue to have a big mouth, even if it means I'm labeled with the "strong Black woman" stereotype. I will continue to be preferential because I've worked damn hard for everything I have, no help from a man, husband, boyfriend in sight. I will continue to be silent until I have something meaningful to say, or you do too. 

I'll give this thing a chance I will.

I won't run away, I won't. 

I'll sit on this thrown of lofty possibility.

I'll be vulnerable, I'll defrost.

I'll float untethered in this space, until this love grounds me.

I'll make you my muse.

I will write you. 

Sometimes, achieving your dreams and realizing your destiny means you have to forgo the opinions of others, give up the feelings of guilt you have when you progress and those around you don't, step into that uncomfortable space that might mean instability in some places in your life. Because - don't we all get tired of mediocrity? Don't we feel weary because we're a part of helping someone realize their dream, to the detriment of our own?

I say in 2014 it's time to be a little selfish. Take care of those we love, but give a little more time to ourselves, cultivate a healthier relationship with YOU. Make your career aspirations come to fruition because there's literally one life.

Stop feeling bad about succeeding.

My beautiful woodland sabbatical and subsequent quarantine weekend because of this yucky ass cold gave me lots of time to think. I'm ousting people steeped in negativity, letting go of unsupportive friends, fully immersing myself in journalistic success, and finally embracing a "him" without running for the non-commitment hills. That's 2014.

Longing to get back to this peace and solitude as soon as possible. It's like, once you escape back to nature, get in touch with the surroundings as organic as our bodies, to come back to the bleak smog and overdevelopment of the city is an instant downer. Makes me want to get my Chris McCandless (sans absurd lack of gear) on and escape to the wild for a couple months. 

Took a little woodsy sabbatical to Shenandoah Valley... It was like a peaceful catharsis. Can't wait to go back. 

The older you get, the more profound and honest your realizations about yourself become. Like today, I realized I just may not be a nice person. Generally nice. Why? Those words don't come to mind when I'd describe the genesis of who I am. Yes, I am kind, loyal, and sacrificing for those I love; once I've enveloped you in my bosom of affection it's damn difficult to get out. But most generally nice, I am not. 

I reserve being nice as a rule for children. I am respectful to those who've come before me, because I value their wisdom. I will not snarl at you when we meet. I will be kind, not nice.

I know what you'll say, isn't kind a synonym for nice? So, what the fuck are you talking about? Well I disagree with Webster's. To me, nice signifies passive melancholy, un-toasted bread, tepid water, weather in April. All things that are cool, they're ok, but they don't stir any type of fire or passion in you. Being kind seems like a willing act of congeniality, or caring. Requires thought as oppose to "nice," which just runs in the background. When's the last time you could say someone was kind to you? But how many times do you call a person "nice"? And what kind of taste does it leave in your mouth? None, right?

Maybe I'm just making a case for a flaw that I've realized may be perceived as a shortcoming of mine. And let me be clear, just because I've realized I'm not nice, doesn't mean, I'm mean. My "run in the background" baseline exists somewhere in the nether-verse between nice and mean, cool and mercurial, the thin line where pleasant meets puzzling. And, I'm cool with that.

Dark, imaginative, rebellious, empathetic, creative, mercurial, present.