I’ve done a great deal of work on myself over the past year or two – changed a few bad habits, adopted a creative routine, started talking nicer to myself and loosened up my grip on fear. When I read my goals, I get really psyched. I am more optimistic about my future than I’ve ever been and I’d like to keep it that way. So I wrote a trusty list of the things I’ve noticed that make me happy. What are some things that make you happy? Go! Grab a piece of paper. You’ll need it in the new year.
- At Least One Person Who “Gets” Me – I’m an INFJ. And if you don’t know what that is then it’s ok because if we’re together I’ll likely lather you with how discovering my Myers-Briggs personality type changed my life — how all I saw as confusing before suddenly was illuminated by a freakishly accurate description of myself. For now I’ll spare you, just know that my conversation will probably start a lil’ something like this, “INFJS are the rarest personality type around, accounting for only 2% of the world’s population….” So now? Do you see? Why I need just one nigga, any nigga, that understands a nigga?!
- Beauty – “Man. Listen” -Ancient African command. I see a sun and swoon. Butterflies in any capacity are bomb. And the miracle that is my 4 yr olds 10 wittle toes, reminds me how awesome life is. How is it that 23 punk ass chromosomes basically customized me a best friend to watch Nickelodeon with? I wonder bout this daily while obsessively, kissing her big brown cheeks. Ask my family or anybody willing to accompany me on a road trip, I “oh and ahh“ over the simplest of stuff. In fact, I venture so far to say, I see beauty in everything except yalls president.
- An Outlet for My Creativity – Mmk. So. I went to an event over the summer. At sed event, I recorded a moment and someone noticed — someone who follows me. They saw this as an invitation to tell me, “Ya know. Every time I see your stories I swipe thru…too many dots”. At this time I had no idea that dots indicated the length of your story in a 24 hour period. So. I responded by doing what any awesomely, decisive and astutely-assertive person would’ve done – I giggled nervously, shrugged, walked away — THEN came up with three really scathing things I should’ve said while walking to my car. I thought about what he said for weeks. Forgot about all the good reviews I’d gotten on my stories and focused on that one bad one. In fact, every time I pressed the record button I wondered if this shot was necessary; wondered whether it would annoy someone and I’d ultimately delete after rustling with my amateur artistry. After about a week and a half of ‘debatin n erasin’ I stopped shooting all together; convinced that he was right and I should probably find another hobby. Then I realized that Instagram stories was my creative outlet! I’ve spent my life in love with tv, film and media and now here was a platform where I could practice! What better way to explore this field than with MY camera?! Had to ask myself, where will you be in 10 yrs if you listen to this cat?! Who are you if you do not use the creative outlets you’ve been given dawg!? I do try to be more conservative with my shots now, only recording after asking myself, would you wanna watch this on my your deathbed Des? Is this a scene you wanna remember? As for the guy, did I mention he asked me for a ride home after that?
- An Outlet for My Insights – Yoyodestiny started because there was no better way to explore my curiosity about life. My interests yanked at me like a yoyo and did not seem to fit in the “Find a Niche” approach prescribed in the “How to Start a Blog” section of the internet. I just wanted to write whatever I felt, making it hard to identify what kind of writer I was. “What’s your blog about?” still makes me stutter when asked but I’ve learned while it’s great to have people visit your site and read your work, it’s not the goal. The goal, at least in my case, was to one, have a space where I could inspect my thoughts. And two, hope that when shared my vulnerability will touch someone. (Real talk, I wanted @yodestiny but it was taken by somebody’s who’s real name prolly aint e’an Destiny).
- An Orderly Environment – If you got in my car you’d be like, “You lyin”, because stale french fries and empty water bottles line the floor of my car like a goat farm. But, I don’t work in my car so, yuh momma. I do work in my house, but only can I do so if my area is tidy, well-lit and organized. What is an organized indicator you ask? The smell of bleach! The smell of bleach combined with freshly polished surfaces makes me wanna….(leaves and returns 12 minutes later with disheveled hair and shirt on backwards). Now where was I? Oh yes – picked up, put away and clutter free.
- Alone Time – IG thots and club promoters, professions we love to hate. Not me though. I commend all you extroverted extraterrestrials for your ability do be surrounded by people. All. The. Damn. Time. While I’m sure a hefty paycheck to party is a great incentive, for me, it would get to the point where I no longer knew myself. I require time to decompress and being alone gives me the space I need to process all I’ve been feeling, observing and accumulating. I am no good to anyone else, almost a robotic figment of what Im posed to be, given inadequate alone time. Basically, you will never find booking info in my bio unless you are about to book me to test out a cutting edge, soundproof, library-type, nap-pod thing.
- Human Contact, Not Social Contact – I feel like some splainin is necessary here, because to natural socializers they’re like, “What? What’s the difference. Now you’re just being weird and anal”. First of all, the word anal makes me laugh so excuse me while I giggle. Now. Let me explain. I am an extroverted, introvert. A common characteristic in INFJ’s. So while I don’t mind being in social settings and have often even been noted as the life of the party a time or two (raises roof) the small talk that circulates social scenes drains me. So for example. And also warning. If you approach me and ask an assortment of “So how’s it going? Whatcha been up to? Or, how the kids?” you’re going to think I’ve gotta speech impediment because I’mma be like, Duh. Dar. Um. Eh (Sigh). It’s not you. It’s me. You see my brain is struggling to fit the series of events that have occurred since last seeing one another, into one, little, tiny, clear, perfect sentence crafted especially for you! I think you deserve it but I also don’t wanna bore you. So yeah, meaningful conversation from people who aren’t interested in judging the things that come out of my mouth. Things like anal. (Giggles)
- Structure – Ever heard of a creature of habit? Well I’m the bitch. Like a meerkat making a hole, or whatever the fuck they do, (Looked it up. Found nothing). I am a mammal on a mission. I am at my best when a routine is in place. On the other hand, my life is guided on intuition so I like to be flexible with my time, keeping a lot of room open for when the mood strikes moments. No specific time that they must be completed but crossing those hoes off the dry erase board that’s nailed to my bathroom wall fills me with great delight and accomplishment. Kinda like a meerkat when he… I dunno. I give up.
- A Deep Understanding of Myself – I just came up with my next blog post, it’s called, “Tell Me I’m Not Self Aware & I’ll Cut You”. “If Im one thang” as my black grandmother begins all her sentences, it’s self aware. Good luck tryna tell me something about myself that I don’t know. Still not convinced. Just look around. At this blog. It’s all about me. I am fascinated with myself and the world around me. (Sharpens blade).
- A Sense of Purpose – “I can’t just be doin ANY job” is what I wanted to tell my old boss every time she dropped a stack of spreadsheets on my desk. “What is this for?” I wondered as I entered numbers 1 by 1 in a computer. What I should have asked her is, who am i helping as i now know that as the core of my purpose. Anyway, I’m still not sure what I did there, but from what I can gather my last role had nothing to do with me helping anyone directly thus making me disinterested. And getting me to do a job that ain’t intrinsically interesting, is like getting me to find a good way to end a blog post. It’s a little hard for me.