Brain on Drugs #4

I lied about not smoking weed.

Sorry not sorry.

2017 is out this bitch. Not officially, but honestly, the last four months of every year generally fly by in a gust of classes, stress, bills, and credit card debt. So in my mind, this shit is basically over.

That’s not to say shit still can’t go down in the next four months, but I’m not holding my breath.

One of my biggest goals at this juncture is to have at least three pairs of matching socks… Among getting my shit together to apply to grad school and slowly trying to pry myself from the jaws of debt.

Not to downplay all that but the socks thing would just be really personally satisfying.

I’m really thinking NYC is the move.

The application opens any day now and a bitch is ready.

My life finally feels like it’s moving, like it might actually be worth staying alive just so I can see what’s about to happen.

That was dark but I’m a dark bitch so…

Reclaiming My Time

I think I’m going to stop smoking weed.

Not indefinitely, but for the foreseeable future. Classes have started, business is picking up at work, and I have one semester of college left. It’s crunch time and  since I’ve been on probation, I’ve seen how productive I can actually be when I’m not taking weed naps. 

This growing up shit is a trip.

*trick

I advise you steer clear of it if you can help it. 

It hasn’t been easy hitting the ground running as far as adulthood. I’ve taken more than my share of L’s since I’ve been out in these streets. 

And y’know, all things considered, I’m alright. 

Life isn’t about getting it right all the time. Sometimes it’s about lessons and I’m happy I’m learning them now rather than later.

A bitch has priorities and plans. 

Im really making Proper Preparation Prevents Poor Performance my personal mantra. 

Every new year for the past few years, I always tell myself “This year will be better than the last.” Well, 2017’s almost over. And though this year has been somewhat of a shit show,  I suppose it wasn’t as much of a shit show as 2016. 

To be victorious, we must find glory in the little things. And my little victories thus far are enough to keep me going. 

New York, New York

I fucked up and answered the waitress at the coffee shop with a “yes ma’am” and immediately blew my cover. Nobody says “ma’am” here. What killed me was the almost uncomfortable look that came over her face when I said it – a look that said, “You must be from out of town.”

Observation: When Wyclef said he liked his chicken wings fried hard, I honestly thought it was a joke. 

But nah, I ordered some chicken wings yesterday and they were fried hard as shit. Is that a New York thing?

They were good though.

There is no order in Manhattan. You’d think folks would walk on the right side of the sidewalk, the way we drive but no, it’s just an anxiety inducing free-for-all. 

Yet everyone manages to get where they’re going unscathed, for the most part. After a while, I could see the chaotic harmony in which people move here. 

Culture shock. 

I’ve always thought it’d be cool to live in New York but my first visit tells me that it’s going to be more of an adjustment than I thought. 

But with time, I think I could do it. 

The things that I find strange still have a certain charm that I can’t put my finger on. Even the smells. 

Arbitrary Bullshit

Another year down and the general feeling of being ill-equipped to deal with life still lingers even though I’m almost 21. When you’re younger 21 seemed so adult but must of us just out here ruining our credit and making bad decisions. The more shit becomes real to me, the more I ask myself what the fuck is really going on. I mean, this shit is cute to y’all? Here I am taking life seriously and y’all out here playing.

A lunatic is the leader of the free world. Evidently, bigotry┬áis still cute to some of y’all.

Somebody lied and said college was the move, for sure, but I’m three years deep in loan debt and unneeded stress over arbitrary dumb shit like GPAs and word counts. FYI, no one gives a fuck about a GPA or a word count after you graduate, girl. All this shit is made up.

And here I am. Broke(n), blazed, and out of fucks to give about shit that will surely not matter a year from now.

Happy New Year