I breathe, calmly.
Heart rate, I assume is normal. I forgot to bring my Fit-bit. You know, it tells you your heart rate. Not that I need that data on a minute-by-minute basis, although it’s nice to be AWARE of it. In case I have a heart attack, right?
Aside from a mild case of misty eyed-ness experienced when my amazing-beyond-belief partner dropped me off at O’Hare and gave me his last warm, “I believe in your dopeness, be great my brown grasshopper”, kiss－oh, and when the plane started doing whatever the term is for advancing forward slowly just before ascending－umm… and when I expressed my eternal love and appreciation for my dear (English for grandmother) －oh yeah, and when my loving, gentle father called me to make sure I heard his last, “ why the fuck are you doing this?!” Translation: I am worried, want you to be safe and I must crush your tiny soul all in one blow, then jump up and down on it just to ensure that any pieces left intact also become dislodged －All of which, well accept the first sign of my potential contraction of misty eyed-ness, happened several minutes after the beautiful Latina flight attendant, with Herbal Essences-scented tresses and a beautifully slayed face serving the Sephora God’s, her physique sculpted and wrapped in a tailored navy get-up that helped to further affirm my thought that her body was amazing (She fortunately doesn’t have a deflated, spare tire sized ring of FAT, PURE FAT lodged beneath the surface of skin surrounding her waist region－mind you I make these observations as I sip my coffee and eat my chocolate filled croissant with ZERO shame, gripping MY warm spare tire), had announced the “turn your junk off until we give you permission to do otherwise” warning, I’m doing swell I’d say.
Inhaling as I take a breath after delivering the arguably longest, most dramatic run on sentence ever (somebody call Shonda Rhimes, tell her you’ve found her a co-writer)!
Was it a run on though? No really, I honestly sat and tried to make sure it captured my intensity and I even inserted punctuation marks that I thought would help with the look I was going for.
I say I am swell and I think I mean it.
I wish I could say I was excited, I’m not.
I want to say that I am confident and sure.
Not so much.
Those words don’t appropriately articulate my current emotional state without being condescending, well a flat-out lie.
I feel, slightly unprepared (cue the violin because this is the story of mi vida), content and free. Mostly unprepared and free. Well… if I had to put my emotions in chronological order I would say:
PSA INTERRUPTION : Let me tell you now, I write, in the manner of which I process information in this beautifully crafted mind of mines (𝅘𝅥𝅮 if I do say so myself 𝅘𝅥𝅮)－
the most random stuff, just pops into my thought process (which happens while I’m speaking, never before)
with no invitation!
in the middle of a clear coherent thought
and I say it
in this situation write it (stay with me here people)
literally－ out loud
then think about it, later
and then think about it, really sit with it
then I ponder on who heard me say it aloud the FIRST go ‘round
and sigh－ Yes this is how it works in my beautifully crafted mind
Now back to this emotion ranking thing (clearing my throat).
I didn’t put this in my ranking, well because it just floated into my frontal lobe (is that where you process stuff, with the way my beautiful brain works, maybe!)
I feel open.
Open, as in ready to experience, receive, and internalize what is intended for me. Open to figuring out who I am underneath these thick blankets of doubt, insecurity and pain. Pain from not dealing with issues that began in my youth, clung to me and shaped my late teens and early twenties, drowned and darkened my mid twenties, and is hanging out somewhere in my muscle memory, pleading for permission to be a reoccurring guest in my late twenties-knockin’ on the do’ (translation: door) of early thirties (FYI－my thirties are going to be so prosperous, you just don’t know).
On my journey of shamelessness I am open to walking into my dopeness, flaunting my genius, confidently articulating my thoughts & ideas and LIVING.
I referenced LIVING in my last blog post, so you know it’s real! LIVING in the sense of doing what makes me happy, keeps me motivated and fosters a positive experience for those I encounter. While of course I will have to do things I don’t necessarily want to do, step into spaces I do not feel supported in, sit at tables with people who could care less about my “dopeness” (I envision them doing that thing with their fingers to mimic quotation marks), and be uncomfortable advocating for myself (because I continue struggling to do this); These are all steps in the process to un-peeling who I am and unveiling the stinkin’ gem inside (did you catch that, peeling like an onion, stinkin’ like an onion, well kind of －they don’t smell amazing, but I don’t know that onions have gems in the center. Best two out of three, eh…eh?).
I feel like my blogs while traveling abroad will be reminiscent of a journal, where I’m sharing my thoughts and sprinkling them into the universe. Primarily for me (this is MY journey), but for you to enjoy (because OF COURSE you’re reading them) as well.
Mission DOPENESS in full effect!
Well let me first get myself together on this Spanish thing! I WAS bilingual and I assume I still am. 48 hours of consistent exposure, and 20 million incorrectly conjugated sentences later, I will be! I hope it all comes back to me, quickly. Lord open the floodgates of bilingualism and restore it within me!
Join me on my mission to be dope, whatever that means to you, and share your dopeness with me by commenting. I wanna know about the poppin’ -ish you’re doing too (eyebrows rising together－but with space in between, I don’t have a uni-brow at this moment. Smile forming across these dry lips. Translation = visual signs of excitement).
Hasta Luego! (Two words came to my recollection, come through!) Oh Gosh, the misty eye-ism is returning－what are they putting in this recycled oxygen).