Mentally. I’m Already in 2019


I’m already in the year 2019.

It’s been that way for the last two years.

Every time the sun circles roun’ the earth in late summer-early fall.

I feel a combustible need to get my shit together. No scraps left behind.

Not sure what happens astrologically during this time of year (Instagram says it’s something called “retrograde”). But I somehow consistently have the urge to realign my navigation system.

Like, I’m cool with the person I’m becoming, but let me refine some shit a lil bit – sharpen my aim.

This is the time where I pinpoint the things that haven’t worked for me and replace them with new strategies.

This is where I celebrate what did work and exchange them for new more challenging goals- until BAM!

Before ya know it, we’re in the year 2054 – 71 years old and I’m that bitch, walkin’ through the mall with my 6 lb shake weight. Why? Because the goals I set for myself this galactic year were to maintain a 120 over 80 blood pressure rate. “Now move outta my way ya jive turkey” — I’m still on en route to becoming the old eccentric woman I always dreamed of. You don’t like it? Fight me! Fight me in the food court sonny!

For now, let’s get back to the year 2018-

And you’ll find that this revolving list of ‘destiny-do-better’ is speckled with cerebral shit like, ‘read one book a month”, introspective tasks such as, “trace your roots” and adult endeavors that read, “straighten your credit”.

But lately, I’ve had a few goals that are a little less momentous. One’s a tad less ambitious but still, hold the propensity to tweak who I am for the better.

Basically. Things I can change, right the fuck now without having to wait for the new year, without having to wait for a lump sum of money; plain & simple – plans that don’t involve anybody except my capable black ass.


1. Stop Calling Other Women Bitches

I did this the other day and it felt weird; felt rude almost. Like, I can call myself bitch all day.

In fact, it is how I begin some of my most profound self-talk.“Bitch. Get yo ass up! Bitch. Is that a fork in the microwave? Bitch. A sew-in with a middle part again?! Damn bitch. Is that shirt even clean?” Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. All in different tones and inflections depending on the severity of the self-talk. To me, I just am that bitch. But that’s me. I don’t know how other people feel about being called a historically derogatory term. I don’t know what experiences I trigger by overstepping my linguistic boundaries in conversation with women who appear to be in their most empowered era ever.

Now I ain’t goin’ so far as to call’em “Queen”but at 35 a verbal tune-up can’t hurt.

Besides. I love cussin’. The A-word, the D-word, the H-word – I use’em all. Curse words are a part of me and if you’re a hotep lookin’ to rain on my expletive parade with the age-old, “Swearing is a sign of low intelligence” – I’ll cuss you out. I plan to swear the rest of my life, but the B-word? The B-word stops here. Unless of course, I’m talkin’ to myself.

2. Keep My Gas Tank on Full

I should’ve had this under control by now. This is something your overprotective dad instills in you before going away to college. But ah-ha jokes on you – ‘I ain’t have a daddy!’ So for the last 15 years, I’ve been puttin’ an assortment of “7 on 7, 10 on 2” and one time I got real fancy and told the cashier, I said, “Lemme get a cigarillo”, (they’re $1.07, for all you non-smokers). then I handed him $3 and like a real nigga whispered, “…and put the balance on pump 4”.

I realize that this comes from a place of lack.

Like I could very well have the $40 to fill my tank.

But because I am afraid of being without, I hoard all the money I can.

I live in an ever-changing, hinging-on the-apocalypse, society where I constantly feel like we are one step away from either having flying cars or fighting for food; all which, in my mind, will take place before I run outta gas tomorrow. But, it’s 2018 and the only thing that appears to be looming is a civil war, which is even more of a reason that I keep my tank full, because “The Yankees are coming!” Or was that the Revolutionary War? I don’t know. I ‘be gettin’ my wars mixed up. Either way, “Lemme get a White Owl and 40 on 10 my brother”.


3. Stop Dressing Like a Person Who Runs to the Store for a Living

I became a mom 15 yrs ago and I haven’t stopped dressin’ like one since.

But not like a regular mom with an office job, an array of silk-chiffon blouses and nice pearl earrings.

Nuh-uh. I dress like a mom that works from ‘hole, who runs to the QuikTrip to get a pack of Marlboro Lites for a living.

This has gotta stop. I mean –  I shower every day, most times twice a day, morning and night.

But you’d never be able to tell because immediately afterward I habitually throw on the same shit.

Stretch Pants, sports bra, shirt, and my signature slides, formerly known as shower shoes.

This is my comfort zone. I flourish in clothes riddled with tiny bleach spots.

But now that I’m in the business of attracting good shit, I don’t wanna look like shit.

I want to dress like I have more to do than make a grocery run, maybe exercise then go to bed.

When picking out clothes in the morning my litmus test used to be, “Can I workout in it? Can I wear it to bed? Put it on.” Now I’m changing that to “Where are your pumps, fitted jeans, pricey white tee, and monochromatic blazer? You’ve got places to go and people to see…you fall down in these heels”.

4. Reply to Texts, Emails, DMs and Phone Calls within 1 Billion Hours

I’m a trash person. Please don’t hate me” is how I how follow-up with three-day-old texts.

My close friends probably roll their eyes and wait for a subsequent witty reply that makes everything better but folks not so close to me probably look at their phone, turn up their nose and delete my number.

I can like you, I can love you, I can hate you, but you’ll never know the difference because I won’t answer either of you in a timely manner. I am hereby sorry if you are or have ever been one of those folks. I will reply to you as soooon ezzzzz…”Look a firefly in November. It’s a sign!” See, the world is distracting.

Bow down to the Queen of Mentally Replying to Texts. I’ll look at it, formulate a reply and keep it to myself – moving on with whatever chore I was doing before my phone chimed. I gotta do better. And this probably starts with taking my phone off perpetual silent mode. I keep telling myself, “We’re all busy Destiny. We make time for things that are important and when you don’t reply in a timely manner, the other person thinks they aren’t important. Furthermore, acknowledging you’re not good at this doesn’t make it better, changing the habit does”. Which I will. After I get off the explorer page. Did I mention I was a trash person?

5. Eat Stupid Breakfast

I hate breakfast. I’on’t like eggs. Hot bread turns cold the second it pops out the toaster. And the taste of toothpaste lingers in my mouth well after I’ve brushed my buck teeth, so orange juice, no thank you. Can someone just tell me when lunch starts? Or better yet, let’s heat up last night’s hot wings which sound 100x’s more appetizing than anybody’s fruit and grain oatmeal. Ew.

But I’m gonna swallow my poached pride. By now, I’ve read far too many “How to Be Successful” articles that purport,  “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day”. It fuels activities and energizes folks for hours on end. I’m convinced.

Perhaps if I had breakfast this morning I’dda called ol’ whats-her-name back. If I had breakfast this morning I might have more on than a tattered shirt and flip-flops. If I had breakfast this morning, bitch, I could fill up yo tank, my tank and…(gasp). Did I just call you a bitch?

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