Let me start by saying, today was supposed to be a good day. I didn’t sleep through my alarm, I sung in the shower as though I were auditioning for The Voice, I had time to make my usual breakfast of sausage, egg whites and toast, and I finished getting ready just in time to make it a few minutes early to work.
Walked out the door with a song in my head and purse in my hand, only to find that my car was not where I parked it the night before.Yep, it had definitely been towed! Thank you, anonymous neighbor for taking the time out of your, obviously, busy schedule to decide that even though the car wasn’t in your way or affecting you in any way possible, that where it was parked just didn’t sit right with you and deciding the only thing left for you to do is call the tow company. And thanks to my lovely apartment complex that has very limited free, uncovered parking in hopes that the frustration of never finding a park would finally make us penny-pinching, free parkers give in and cough up the extra dough for either covered parking or a garage. This day couldn’t have happened without you so I thought you deserved a quick shout out!
Yet and still, I realized my part in this unfortunate situation. Perhaps, I should have sucked it up and parked, what feels like, a mile away from my apartment building. After being told it would cost me $293.30 to get the car back, I realized that missing the first 10 minutes of my Thursday night shows really wasn’t as life-or-death-critical as it seemed a night and $293.30 ago.
I fought the tears of frustration, at first, telling myself all of the cliches: “Everything happens for a reason,” “Somebody, somewhere has it worse,” “There’s a silver lining,” “This too shall pass,” “At least you have your health” “Somebody wishes they had your problems as opposed to their own” “Villages in Africa don’t have clean water,” “Jesus loves you.” You know,the usual. Needless to say, mission NOT accomplished, the water works came anyways.
But then, I really did start counting my blessings and focusing on all of the good things that happened (I got a bonus from my internship the night before that was just enough to cover the cost, my mom was scheduled to go in to work late that morning so was able to send my sister to come get me, I have a flexible job and understanding boss who cleared my schedule until 1:00pm so I could take care of the issue, and I got to see my sister (who’s like my other half) after being too busy to see her before), as opposed to the two bad things (car being towed and money being taken) and I realized that the world wasn’t coming to a catastrophic ending and I’d rather continue humming the song in my head and laughing instead of pouting over something I couldn’t change.
I came to the conclusion that, eh, it could have been worse.
So, I guess I can end by saying that today was supposed to be a good day…and it was. : )
The first poem I ever wrote was when I was 12 years old and crying and it was entitled “When My Eyes Start to Burn.” From then on, I began writing poetry to release the emotion bottled up inside me but when I started college, I sort of put poetry on the back burner. Recently, I was inspired to reunite with the old pen and pad. So here’s something I wrote this morning..Hope it inspires somebody or at least ignites a smile…
Something You Can’t Take (original work by Ashle’ G. (me))
There was a knock at the door.
A knock and I knew exactly what for.
There stood a lady, far from poor
to tell me to pack my things,
for in this house, I can’t dwell anymore.
Nowhere to go, yet still I wore a smile.
A smile that cause her to pause for awhile.
She cleared her throat, repeating herself,
as though I were a child.
She said, “Did you hear me;
have I made myself clear?
You must immediately pack your things
because you can’t stay here!”
She said this rather indignant,
hoping my smile would disappear.
Expecting to look in my eyes
and somewhere find fear.
Yet I retained my smile
and shook her hand.
I told her, “I heard you the first time,
and yes, I understand.”
I told her, “I’m prepared to take flight,
Not knowing where I’ll land.”
Just as I tried to pass her
with a single bag in my hand,
She grabbed my shoulder,
bewildered and confused.
She screamed, “What is wrong with you?
What drugs have your used?
You have nowhere to go,
yet you walk around with a smile!
Are you putting on some sort of a show?
“You have nothing but the clothes on your back
and a single bag to your name!
You’re losing all that you’ve earned;
you should be going insane!”
I turned and told her, “I’ve already cried the tears
you’re expecting to see!
I’ve had my moment of weakness,
Now what you see is the fight in me.
“I’ve cried and I’ve prayed,
I’ve prayed and I’ve cried!
I refused to give up,
I tried and I tried!
I screamed, ‘Lord, why?!
‘Why are you letting them take all I’ve got?’”
But in the mist of my crying,
in the mist of being weak and distraught,
I was reminded, everything I’m losing
would’ve someday rot.
But my smile,
My smile, you can’t erase.
And my dreams,
My dreams are still mine to chase.
My joy and my happiness,
is mine to keep.
My goals and my aspirations,
only I can reach.
My laughter, though loud and obnoxious,
my laughter is still mine to utter.
My joy, my smile, my laughter, all I’ll have
despite being thrown in the gutter.
So here’s my keys;
you can keep these tangible things.
You can sell my home,
you can sell my clothes,
for the majority, I’ve outgrown.
You can have it all;
from every skillet, pan and pot.
You can take it all,
but this smile you will not!
For it’s not what’s packed in this single bag
that keeps the smile on my face.
I need you to know,
that I’m smiling for all those things you will never take!
So it’s been awhile since I’ve checked in on tumblr and rambled on about random things that I see, experience and/or hear but I’ve recently entered a new stage in my life and I’m slowly adjusting to it so bare with me. I’ve graduated and now I’m going through the whole backpack to briefcase, student to young professional transition. I recently started an internship at a boutique public relations firm and presentation is everything! In the agency world there are times where professional attire is required for client meetings and etc. but it’s also a bit more laid back so it’s more of a trendy, casual Friday vibe. So, as I celebrate the new me, or better yet, the growth/evolution of the previous edition of myself, my wardrobe and personal style must mature as well. I’ve searched some fashion blogs and pinterest for inspiration on looks for young professionals that are mature but still fun and young! Here’s a few things that I found:
I find myself twiddling my thumbs, trying to remain patient. After graduation, I wanted to hit the ground running but it’s feeling more like a brisk walk as I send out resume after resume and religiously check my email only to see it filled with the latest event promos and other crap that somehow got pass the spam filter.
Once I crossed the stage, a mixture of excitement and fear began coagulating inside of me as I realized that this signified the ending of one chapter and the beginning of a new one. The excitement was birth from the feeling of accomplishment and pride. As a first generation college student, this graduation meant more to me than you’ll ever know. This graduation was me breaking the cycle of this pattern of limited education and opportunities in my family. It was a bulldozer through the ceiling of limitations placed on the members of a low income, poorly-educated family.
Although this new chapter has begun with an anti-climatic start, I know this is only the beginning…the calm before the storm. I didn’t practice this hard and this long to be sat on the bench. After my dad had a stroke and became disabled, it left my mom as the sole provider for our family of 4. As a 12-yr old girl watching her mom work multiple jobs, struggling to make it from one paycheck to another, a fire was lit inside of me. This fire was fueled by determination, perseverance, big dreams and the desire to turn my family’s circumstances around. I thank God for this experience because it saved me from the entitlement syndrome that most of the young adults that surrounded me in those big, college classrooms. My experiences growing up birth a fighter in me that’s ready for every jab life throws at me.
So, even as I sit twiddling my thumbs, the fire inside me is still burning…Oh and that fear I mentioned…That fear of failure…fear of complacency…fear of settling…fear of being confined by a poverty mentality…this fear is my lighter fluid…this fear is the logs being tossed in to fuel my fire.
None of my grandparents went to college.
Likewise, my parents never went.
Likewise, my sister didn’t go.
I went. I learned.
I studied. I crammed.
I laughed. I cried.
I broke the cycle.