The End of an Era- Of Sorts

A good friend of mine is going through a divorce, and I've been tagged as her wing-woman whenever we hit the streets. My joke is that I'm considered the "back outside friend." Whenever a friend is newly single, or if she needs a night away from the kids, I get a call like the Bat Signal. I magically appear with mimosas and me and my homegirls appear in night clubs, drinking and living it up. The issue is that I'm old and I can't do it like I used to could!

I went with my friend, I'll call her Monica, for one of my last nights at the old MJQ location. There were about a week of shenanigans there. I hadn't gotten the chance to check out the new location, unfortunately. With the last location, whenever I got a hankering, I could throw on some clothes and run out the door, and in 15 minutes, I was greeting my guy bestie, Sky.

The new location is settled in the middle of  Underground downtown Atlanta. So while before, I could park in a neighborhood and walk on up, now I have to circle several blocks, until I get a spot or be willing to pay $20 to park, neither of which, I'm partial to. I went last night, and thankfully, we landed a parking spot, not too far from the action. It was pretty cool walking in, as I've walked in Underground several times before. It always brings kind of a familiar vibe.

We followed signs until we landed in front of it. And the line was far longer than I've probably ever seen at MJQ. Like all other times, I stopped and greeted my bestie. I remarked that he was right, this crowd ain't like the rowdy bunch that existed on Ponce de Leon Ave. The people somehow lacked the- I dunno, the diversity, the hipster edge that we all loved about the area. We bypassed the line, naturally, and walked on in. And it was- I can't describe it. It wasn't as exciting. It was far more urban, which only makes sense, as it is literally in the middle of downtown. Even the men in the area just all seemed so young. I pretty much sat down and played with my phone the whole time we were there.

I finally grew exhausted, around 2am, and suggested we leave. I didn't dance, nor did I really want to. I went in, looking for that old familiar vibe. MJQ Concourse was previously like an old friend. A warm, familiar hug, whenever I needed it. And much like Buddhism teaches me, nothing is forever. Impermanence. I just didn't expect to lose the love of my 20s, 30s, and early-to-mid-40s. Monica suggested we go back, but I told her that my days of running the streets at my big old age is mostly behind me. She suggested we do some day-drinking activities, which I'm far more comfortable with.

The next morning/afternoon, when I finally stirred, I recalled that a girlfriend had given me a pass to the Atlanta Black Expo. I got dressed and headed down, deciding to see what kind of networking opportunities existed there. My girlfriend, who is also my coworker, has a journal she's releasing soon. She's also a wellness coach, and into branding. It was pretty dope to be among my element, with so many business owners. As I went back through my blog recently, I discovered that I've been talking about my books for a pretty long time time. I try to be more of a woman who is about doing than talking, but this book has tested that strategy. This book refuses to rest, until I get her in the hands of the public. She stands tall, waiting for me to finish with my distractions, no matter what.

Initially, I tried to have 30k words, and I'd considered myself completely done at the time. But somewhere, I read that the book should have 40k words, which meant that I had to get back to the drawing board. It took a while, but just the other day, I finally hit my word count. I'd even added another chapter, during my recent visit. And as my book deals largely with womanhood, there's much more content to add, being that the political climate has shifted. I'm thankful for that, at the very least, it gave me far more cushioning. I've read and reread the first chapters so much, my eyes practically cross whenever I look at them, but now I need to look at the last chapters as well. This takes me back so much to graduate school, where I had to write a whole book for my conceptual paper. And during that process, I learned how difficult it can be to read and reread the same words over and over again. It's like its only form of torture. And my dumbass decided to sign up for it again smh.

Nevertheless, I'm so thankful that my homegirl had me pull up. I volunteered to sit at her table, while she walked around. A young lady visited us at some point, asking about social work. I gave her my opinion of why I feel it is an amazing field, and she asked me for a business card. I really hate that I did not have one to hand to her. I was in the room with so many authors, coaches, and even a person who prints tshirts and other supplies, like cups, keychains, and pens. Things I'd like, in order to expand my brand.

So while it seems that my leisure time at MJQ is slowly closing out, I'm thankful that I'm rejuvenated and intending to get started on my books yet again. I'm ready to crank up my Instagram posts, and to read and reread until my wires in my brain explodes. At least the word count is ready this time. Saying goodbye to one old friend, ain't so bad when you have an amazing new friend to curate and share with the world. Time to spend some moments at home and make it happen.

Bring it on!

Spite- The Ultimate Motivator

This time of year is among my least favorite. How the days get longer and sunnier, calling for me to strip out of my winter duds, and into some sun dresses in bright, floral prints. And I'll shower, get ready to get my day started, only to be betrayed by the sunshine and walk out into ignorantly cold weather. I've spent most of my time in my new house in my bedroom, but as the sun beckons to me more, I've migrated to my living room, where I can fling open the drapes and watch this deceptively bright star light up the area. I almost got rid of the ottoman chair I originally purchased a few years back, but my freakishly tall child admitted to a fondness for it, so I draped throw over it and committed to keeping it with us, where I now work, next to my massive living room window.

One of the good things about this time of year is that being inside gives us more opportunity to look around and learn more about ourselves. I know that some people are uncomfortable with the thought of looking inward, but I credit most of the progress I've made in life to my ability to look backward and forward and assess my role in it all. Anyhoo, I saw something online recently, during my winter hibernation, about spite. And it made me think back a bit on my own life.

Ya see, I've never been much of a competitive person. Yes, I've had my moments in life, but I'm not one to wake up and sleep spite (except for the one or two people who truly had it coming- they know who they are), but nothing drives me like hearing that I can't do something. 

During high school, I had a boyfriend named Armond. He was the traditional all-American boy. He was a running back for his football team, at the private school where he attended. He made good grades and looking back, he was one of the boys who all the girls would have tried to sink their claws into. He was going places. And I liked him, and I even loved him as much as I could. Looking back, I believe he was drawn to my free spirit. He didn't exist in the same world that I did. No rules, just do what feels right. I wasn't super religious and I abhorred social norms, even back then. He was the church boy. He was straight out of the Cosby Show. I was the poet/creative between the two of us, and he'd occasionally express a talent for poetry or singing. He was clearly on his way to a good life, and he eventually landed at a well-respected southern college, where he played football.

And while I brought out his poetic side, I couldn't fathom knowing he was making honor roll the whole time we were together, while I was barely getting by with C's and D's. I was absolutely not going to let that man come out looking smarter than me, especially since I knew I could do the work. So I did. Granted, I never did quite get up to honor roll, by then the damage had been done. But I give Armond many props, because my competition with him was ultimately what led me to getting my head out of the clouds and back into the school books. And had I not been competing with him, I honestly do not think I would have graduated on time. Because I was not going to lose to that man.

Working a crisis line, when people indicate current or past thoughts of suicide, our protocol is to help the individual create a safety plan. And one day as I navigated wrapping up a call and asking the person about their safety plan, they said to me simply "spite." That was it. No calling loved ones, no prayer or meditation, no breathing exercises. Nope. SPITE. This person's whole motivation for staying alive was to spite others. I'll be honest and admit that I got quite a chuckle out of it. But hey, if that's what keeps you from downing a bottle of pills when we got off this of phone, in the words of the great philosopher, Andrew Caldwell, "who are me to judge?"

There was also another great achievement of mine that was motivated by spite- my master's degree. That's right. The thing that made it all possible happened because a couple of shitty exes routinely questioned and berated my intelligence, as a part of regular emotional abuse. Every time I read a book or said something remotely intelligent, I was met with rolled eye and exasperated sighs, as if I'd asked why the sun and the moon hate one another. I'll show you who the really the idiot really is.

Looking back into my young years, sometimes I get frustrated, thinking how much further I could have gone in life had I not allowed myself to be surrounded by people who seemed to derive joy from making my doubt my own capabilities, rather than pouring into me, lovingly. But I guess it doesn't matter as much now. I'm a loud and proud late bloomer. The fact is that I was in my early 40's before I felt like an actual adult. While some of my friends were buying houses 10+ years ago, I was struggling as a part-time cashier at Petsmart. And while I'm sick to my stomach thinking how much cheaper my lil old house would have been 10 years ago, I'm thankful that I made it, though.

I took all of that negative energy, all of the name-calling, the drama, the blame, the energy zapping, and I let it fuel me to getting my master's degree and get a job that pays me enough to comfortably support myself and my son. My grass is mowed, my cats are fat and happy. My refrigerator is full, as is my closet, and and my bedroom is painted. And I've reached the necessary word count on my first book, and I'm finally entering the editing portion.

Spite moved me forward to get my master's degree and live a life I absolute love! Not bad for a dummy, right?