ACT 4| TOO PROUD TO SAY IM SLIPPIN

I won’t be answering, anything. I’ll  be so busy, with my knees on the ground, and hands up towards the clouds, confessing out loud. ~Pause-Interlude: Jill Scott  

It’s not just me. I’ve come to understand that everyone has a hard time being a human in someway or another.  And thats putting it politely. Most people are winging it!  

I’m not sure where I would be without the high hopes and assumptions of family and friends; the people who see the good in me that I have yet to discover. If I could be honest, I would profess that I’ve been running off those expectations for years. But there have been times where those thoughts couldn't help put the pieces of me back together. Those fond motives seem distant when my career still resembles an internship and my personal life is filled with empty promises. Shit, maybe I'm not that great.

During those moments the dichotomy of me (strong, free spirited, and confident) interjects to yield my purpose.

I’ve diagnosed this habitual addiction of self-doubt as mental dysmorphic disorder. Like body dysmorphic disorder (BDD), you can not control the negative thoughts and don’t believe people who recognize your talent and remind you of your accolades. The side effects to this condition are uncomfortable as you can imagine, whispering rapidly in your ear like an late night Viagra ad as you try to fall asleep.

The disclaimer reads: These thoughts may cause emotional distress and interfere with fundamental growth. Any mention of negativity or setback is not dismissed but internalized as confirmation that one is not good enough. 

The cure you ask? 
Fuck if I know!
Life is full of circumstances, and with that comes the responsibility to move forward the best way you can. Warning! This accountability thing is much easier said than done.

Peace,

Alex 

ACT 3| Unapologetically Unprepared

This post is dedicated to a dear friend, who pushes me to look at my natural idiosyncrasies and develop them into thought provoking prose to honestly describe the texture of my life. Thanks C

I guess nobody ever told you. All you must hold on to. Is you, is you, is you~ Bag Lady: Erykah Badu

So I began this journey out of sheer vanity. Being a new member of the non-purse carrying variety came about because my taste in bags are considerable and my income is not. I’ve matured, I prefer to spend my hard earned money on booze and shelter (not necessarily in that order).

Carrying a purse has not cramped my masculine style and my boyish charm what so ever. I’m a real lady, peppering my sentences with curse words that would make any mother proud; queen of the 5 second rule. But when asked how I feel without my purse, the reply accompanied no hesitation. Unprepared. Without my trusted junk keeping spine re-aligning accessory, one is faithfully rendering the expectation for the day with only what can be held in pocket or in a puffy coat. No room for makeup reapplications, once it’s off it’s off.

Sweater and Jacket Madewell / Skirt - Uniqulo /Shoes-Vagabond

Photo's by Stacey Belko

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Shoulders and forearm unoccupied, ready to embrace the world with complete access to its purse free capabilities. After this experience I'm feeling more enlightened to a new perspective. Walking around sans purse for a while has left me more confident that like men, I can unapologetically flounce through life, open and unbound.

With that being said, this year I plan to collect less stuff and go on more adventures.