#the2020

Should we try this again??

It’s pretty simple. Here’s how it goes:

Send me a message with your phone number that you want in on the exchange. Phone number will help me get a hold of you easier if need be. 

On the evening of February 18th, I will throw the names in a random generator and match people up. (so you will buy for the same person you are getting one from)

March will be hoody month. I want to see ALL the posts of hoodies in March. Get ‘em bought and shipped out before the end of March. 

IF YOUR PERSON CAN NOT GET A HOLD OF YOU BY THE END OF THE DAY ON February 20TH, YOU WILL BE DROPPED FROM THE EXCHANGE. I WILL REMATCH ANYONE NEEDED THE FOLLOWING MORNING. LET ME KNOW IF YOU CAN’T GET A HOLD OF YOUR PERSON. 

Additional notes:

Zip up or pullover. Talk with your person and see what they like.

Price. Use your best judgment. Don’t be cheap, but don’t go crazy. Or you can figure it out between the two of you if you like. (I’m thinking $40-50 range) 

If you DO NOT want to ship internationally, let me know. If you use USPS, it really isn’t bad $, but I understand if you want to avoid that. Just let me know what country you want to stay in and we will try and make sure there is someone to exchange with. 

Get creative!! Get to know your person a bit and see what floats their boat.

Make sure to tell your person what you do NOT like.

Follow @hoodyexchange if you aren’t already so you can see all the hoody posts.

AFTER YOU GET YOUR HOODY:

POST A PICTURE. Please do this. It is part of the fun. 

TAG me in the post @hoodyexchange so I can confirm you got your hoody.

And in the tags put #THE2020.

heyyyyy yalllll! 

don’t give me a side-eye like I just walked into a family event with my 3rd man this year. have some manners and say “hi” back to your bae. :)

so a common joke amongst people in my life is that I don’t actually have conversations, but I rant instead. this is probably 100% true. I DO rant. why? because I’ve thought long and hard on anything I decide to speak about and don’t just talk out of my ass to fill space. I take my portion of any conversation a little too seriously. (note: I am very certain that this is a direct result of my desire to be smarter than everyone.)

ANYWAYDOE.

I’ve decided to start discussing multiple topics on each post. more like my thoughts on several things, as opposed to everything being super centralized. I feel like this may spark some type of consistency. (note: I care much more about being consistent with you guys than anyone else in my life. see how much I fuck with yal?)

Baltimore

I spoke before about my disgust with the mistreatment of Blacks by police (& everyone else but let’s keep some focus) and this is no different. I am so fucking tired of these hashtags. the videos. the t-shirts. more importantly, I’m tired of having to prove to other people why I deserve the rights promised to me in the constitution, or why I deserve respect. they call us animals but really, when you try to rationalize the murdering of teenage boys for stolen cigars or cases of mistaken identity; who’s the real animal?

Don Lemon & Stacey Dash

Fuck you. (you too, Fox News.)

Single Girl Shamers

For those of you who feel the need to drill single girls I have a few words for you. First off: bitch, shut up. Relationships are dope (when they’re actually worth something but I won’t shade you and Tone/Mike/Ty/Sean/WhateverAintShitDudeYouHaveLyingToYou today) but don’t you go trying to tell us how to live now that God finally got annoyed with your prayers and sent you someone to lay with. SILENCIO. 

Any man starting a sentence off with “Ladies,”

Have you ever had to bleed for 3+ days and still be expected to function like a normal person? Have you ever had to deal with random tenderness in your breasts? Just because it’s Tuesday? Have you EVUH had to do the same job as someone else and be paid significantly less because your genitalia splits and doesn’t swing? No? Wait, NO? You mean to tell me that you’ve never ever had the world tell you one day that you’re too small, then too large, then too Black and lastly have too much of an attitude? Can’t say you have, can you? Alright, then shut the fuck up. 

Fellow Brown Girl Bloggers

Thank you. Our stories, so precious and valuable, are being told now more than ever. There’s a place for us in this all-boys club they call writing. We can be powerful, sometimes we can be playful, we can even be a little ratchet but that is up to no one but us. I am so inspired by the creativity of all of you and I want you to know that our heroes aren't just the ones on TV. Because of you all, I am greater. 

That’s actually all I have for now. I really want to know what you guys think of this new thing I’m trying so yeah, holla at a hoe. 

This past weekend I had the luxury *sarcasm* of being called young, dumb, and misinformed by twitter extremists when I said that men could support equal rights and not necessarily identify as "feminists." 

...I guess. 

I wasn't exactly annoyed by the drones of tweeters with "sex positive, feminist, womanist, everything-that-can-possibly-end-with-ist" labels in their bios. I was actually enjoying a pretty tasty chicken burrito bowl from chipotle so I was amused, to say the very least. Their commentary didn't do much more than get me to thinking about why I reject labels completely and always have. I've never liked being thrown into a group of countless others for the sake of having a name. This is probably why I didn't fair very well with the sorority I tried to join in undergrad but that's neither here nor there. 

More recently, I've been fighting this "writer" label like two strippers who accidentally danced in the same area and can't seem to separate the proceeds like civil human beings...idk why, I've just never really felt much like a writer, or anything else for that matter. I talked to a few of my writer friends and aside from them being seemingly annoyed with what can be perceived as fake modesty, they offered some pretty decent insight and unlike the twitter-ists from this weekend, informed me that I didn't have to study and train my entire life just to be considered something...which in this case, is a writer. 

For me, like many others, I think it's much easier to tell yourself what you aren't instead of giving props for what you are. I can tell you that I almost always ruin "simultaneously" without spellcheck. (swear on everything I fucked that up before spellcheck dissed me with the red squiggly line). I can also tell you how I am completely off balance almost 100% of the time. One of my friends once likened me to the Gumby-looking blow up things outside of hood car wash places and now that I think of it, that's a pretty accurate description...of every single day of my life. I could also tell you that at 23 I am still not completely sure if I can ride a bike without any assistance and this may or may not be the exact reason why I don't have a driver's license. Or maybe talk about how I have absolutely no rhythm so at a young age I learned that if you know all the songs and rap them as if you were in the booth when they were produced, no one will ever notice the fact that you can't actually dance and just big up your faux rapping skills. 

But since I'm on this whole "everything is awesome! let's all be super positive!" kick I'll try not to harp on my flaws too much and tell you the things I can do: 

I have an impeccable ear for production...music production that is. It's like my hidden talent. I even went as far as emailing the good folks at DONDA to tell that I'm nice enough serve as an apprentice of some sort to Kanye...I'm not exactly sure why they couldn't find it in their hearts to give me a shot but I'm sure he'll regret that shit when I'm on TV.

I may or may not be as great of a pop-locker as Omarion when I'm drunk. In my mind I look like the dance part of the "touch" video, but in reality I'm certain that I look like Leo DiCap dancing in the wedding scene of The Wolf On Wall Street.

Lastly, (believe me, this list was so fucking hard to shorten because I'm pretty much amazing at everything...don't laugh. that's what whiskey tells me & whiskey does NOT lie.) I'm pretty good at seeing the beauty and good in others. For some reason I have this whole Negrodamus thing going on where I can see the future or at least be so arrogant to try to make someone believe that they should listen to my drunken predictions...idk. The Negrodamus thing sounds cooler.

The point of this is to get you to consider what's great about you. It's easy to talk about your cellulite or how you should probably get better at being a person at some point but that shit kinda gets you nowhere. If you train your eyes to always see a glass half empty, you'll never celebrate the coolness of having it half full. 

Don't start clapping, I just made that shit up...like literally two seconds ago.  Does this mean I'm like a freestyle rapper...only of blogging? AM I A FREESTYLE BLOGGER?!

see, just discovered another reason to call myself amazing. start jotting down a list for yourself! 

hey you, right now you’re probably in lulu guinness working on stock orders or rearranging lip clutches. you’re only making $13 an hour at this point but you are happy. cherish this time because in a few short months you will acquire everything that you are wishing for but it will come with a price. before that price is paid, you will take a bus from philly to dc for an interview. of course, you will get drunk in philly and pass out on the bus until you get to DC but you will CRUSH this interview. you had the job before you walked through the door, but today you just feel especially successful. you’ll fill out all of the necessary paperwork and get a start date. June 3, 2013. remember that price I said you’d have to pay? well you will pay in tears, in waking up at 4:30am to commute from Northern VA to NW DC for a job that you aren’t always too sure about but you’re grateful for the security clearance and the connections you’ve made. you will soon gain everything while simultaneously losing everything. as I said, you will cry. A LOT. you’ll cry once you blow through the only $600 you have to your name. you’ll cry when you get off at the wrong metro station and end up having to walk in the scorching heat to the next one because you don’t have enough money to take the metro again. you’ll cry in that starbucks in l’enfant plaza as you wait for the commuter bus. you’ll cry a little more as you enjoy the hour long ride back to your home in your little cousin’s bedroom. you’ll make a decision, a hasty one, to move in with a friend and it will be a  mistake…the first of many. be prepared because there is some shit to come along with this situation. you’ll bury Hidah and it is going to kill you inside. I know that she really pissed you off but please don’t continue to not speak to her. there will come a day, Christmas 2013 to be exact, that you will regret every single day you allowed a petty beef to keep you from someone you love so dearly. this will truly be one of the saddest days of your life. a day that you will probably feel guilty for forever. you’ll break up with your boyfriend who you stopped trusting in 2012. I wish you would’ve had the balls to do this while you were writing that letter in lulu to him about how you just aren’t as forgiving as you thought you were. you weren’t ready yet and I can’t completely fault you for that…I wasn’t ready either. you will foolishly take your rent money and go to LA for 4/20…this is a mistake that you WILL pay for when you get back, but it will be the greatest mistake ever. you’ll go to Vegas too, via megabus (from LA), and it will be the most beautiful road trip you’ve ever taken. so beautiful that you will believe that you’ve found God within the mountains. maybe you did, maybe it was the weed. idk. you’ll move into what can only be described as a trap house in NE DC. you’ll talk to an ex again and he’ll tease you for being working poor…fuck him. I’m not sure why you ever spent anytime wondering about “what was” but your longing for him caused me 2 months of good sex & stress. I really, really wish you would’ve let that go. you will leave the trap house and be damn near homeless for a week or two and then a rich white guy is gonna change the course of your life in a major way. you’ll move to the place  you always dreamed of but this, of course, is not before you’re sued for breaking the lease you signed for the bando. you’ll cry some more. I’m almost certain that you have no idea of the amount of tears that will come in the next two years but you’ll start reading for leisure again. escaping life’s woes by taking fictional journeys every week or so. I’m so glad we’re doing this. so glad. you will lose a few friends and it’s ok, I don’t really think you need them anymore to be quite honest.

I know you’re probably reading this wondering what the fuck I did to make such a mess of the happy go lucky life you thought you had…look, I don’t know. at least I kept your body in shape. oh yeah, we’ll start writing again. not just scribbles in your notebook writing either, you’re blogging. can you fuckin believe it? I grew the balls you never could to share my stories…your stories…OUR stories. I hope that I’m making you proud.

With Love,

                            "I [over]think; therefore I am."

I party a lot. Am I too much?

I drink more than most. Am I an alcoholic?

I blog sometimes. Am I even any good?

I think all day...and I can't escape it.

I didn't realize I had severe anxiety issues until after I experienced my first panic attack. I was 17. My remedial algebra teacher asked me, in front a lecture hall full of freshman college students, whether or not I had considered the possibility of me having a developmental delay of some sort. I started feeling my throat close up. My palms began sweating profusely and my body temperature easily reached about 104 degrees. At 17, I didn't know how to handle conflict so naturally, I flipped the fuck out. She embarrassed me publicly without knowing that I was in the class because I've struggled with math & displayed symptoms of mild dyslexia my entire life. Her ignorance and my reaction to it is what let me know that I needed to figure out what exactly it was that I experienced before calling her every "bitch" under the sun. I went to the on campus counseling center and found out that I had serious anxiety issues that are often worsened by a lingering fear of complacency. The woman couldn't understand why a 17yr old freshman felt so pressured to be great at everything but she assured me that it would be ok. She wasn't the first mental professional I had to meet with and she certainly wasn't the last but she made the most sense. Thank you. 

I'll have an idea and love it. I usually love my ideas but then 2 hours later here comes hating ass anxiety telling me that my idea sucks...just like the rest of them. My feelings of incompetence almost kept me from starting the20-20. Then those same feelings almost had me stop after "The Fender Bender That is Tinder." In addition to the normal day to day drama, I have to constantly remind myself to breathe. To be ok. To trust my thoughts, opinions, and actions. I can't count how many times I've been called "rude" or "standoffish" because I'm looking off into space trying to draw up a treaty to end the civil war going on inside of my head.

Example: I'm a chronic texter who actually despises texting. To be quite honest, I despise any form of communication that isn't done in person because it leaves so much left open to interpretation. I'll have a text conversation and analyze every single detail (emoji use, punctuation, capitalization) to find out exactly what the other person is thinking...things that are all considerably harder than the obvious means to find out the answer to any of life's questions: asking the source. I know that this impedes my ability to successfully build relationships of any kind. When it comes to work, I am a flawless communicator. I am articulate, I manage my tone and diction with the best of them but in personal conversations? I'm like Boomhauer. I avoid eye contact & have a bad habit of speaking in a shy, kid-like tone. It all just fucking sucks.

I haven't figured this out yet so I'll offer you the advice that I try and often fail miserably to apply to my own life:

1. Overthinking is annoying but not thinking at all isn't a healthy alternative. THINK before you speak so that you'll never have to go back and "clarify" anything. Only speak things that you actually mean. (This is also how I avoid apologies. If I ever randomly apologize, I'm nervous as fuck and anxiety is starting to take over.)

2. Try to trust yourself. I could easily take out the "try" but then I'd be misleading you. I'd be pretending as if trusting myself isn't the scariest thing in the world on most days, so just try. Even if it means actually writing/talking yourself through it, do whatever is necessary to maintain your sanity. 

3. Fuck the naysayers. I, like everyone else, love to pretend like the opinions of others don't matter to me at all. However, something about realizing that you are the only person whose job it always is to make sure you're good brings about decreasing levels of fucks to give. You develop the third eye to decipher between the opinions that matter, the ones that never mattered, and the ones that should've been kept in the ass they were pulled out of. They don't usually make bunk bed coffins and I highly doubt that anyone will volunteer to squeeze into yours with you, so concentrate on focusing on the only person there's space for in your pine box...you.