So I'm gonna be taking you back to April. Back to the infamous bed bug infested, sticky floor, couldn't change the channel because the remote was somewhere in the couch-- (rule one of our house: NEVER stick your hand between the couch cushions unless you like the look of a major allergic reaction going up your arm) No insulation, walls of hollow cardboard, lady bugs for pets, sat on the heater to warm my buttocks up-- era. My second semester... of the final year of college. The semester I would never go back and change-- nope, not even when they quarantined my scratchy bitten.to.death bod in the student health center. Good times mate, good times.

So my deal is simple but strange. I'm not scared of the things most people would be scared of i.e: big crowds in small spaces, being alone in the pitch dark,bunging jumping, speed boats, fast cars, snakes yada yoda. I grew up with brothers who made me their running target in paintball practice. They toughened my sissy girly girl act real fast.  I'm scared of the simple things i.e. Don't like elevators, airplanes or just the feeling of being stuck. Sure, I'm strange whatever-- we all got somethan that's makes it fun for other people. (A not-so-hilar family, who have a giddy time jumping on elevators) So when I tell you that one of the best weekends of my life was when I hopped my first flight, Sweated it out jamming to Adele, (who kept my expectations nice and depressing incase the whole might-go-down airplane thing happened-to-happen) and went to the big apple most would think that wasn't a big deal. Leyme tell ya, my no judgement readers- that flight had me drinking dry martinis pre take-off. Holy. Hot. Mess. 

About 40 long minutes later, I switched up my low- expectancy to survive the flight-- over to my new zest for life, to none other: my mayne, Jay-Z and Alicia for complimentary landing tunes. I Kissed the cement, got my swag on, hopped in my first New York cabbie alone and headed to heaven: West 57th and some other numba. (Details...details)

I landed and my smokin' aunt had sush and some red wine waiting for my dehydrated, sweaty tooshie, 'Adeled' flight of doom.

So here is another simple but super cray (crazy) thing about my family: no one cares to notice or act their age. My grandparents actually might believe.... in their mind.... they're still fresh... out of the oven.... college grads. Grandpa says he's going to the office....... .. ... Found out a few years ago the  "office" is a classier noun for bar. Grandma loves to dangle herself on his arm, so you can find those two dancing and drankin' down at their local hot-spot yacht club. Hey raising five kids (one being my mother) couldn't have been a walk in the park. So you go and get it. These 70 year-old children, who single handedly can outdrink my brohas and I combined... well my little boozers.... GOD love ya,Cheers.

Give my mother a good compliment and a cocktail and she never fails to utter: "Tay, momma's stillll got-it." This is pre--dancin like a long haired version of limp biskit. Meow momma 
me-ow. Moving on, My favorite man, give him a shot of tequila and the man forgets he hasn't played football since touch in college, and all of a sudden he morphs into Brian Urlacher. macho man. So, to make sure the judgments are being true to form: here's the thing about my super-fly New York aunt. The thing is so pretty it's hard to look at her when she talks...because you just stare...and that can be a little strange. She's a hot digitty dang. But on top of that she feels closer to my age than she does hers.  When I went through my first real difficult breakup, she and my 'mon petite cheri' (my little darling) uncle would call me at 4AM and we would stay up shyt-talk and bonding until 6AM.  

So here's the thing. She has always showed me the possibility of what's possible if you just try to work for the means of what you deserve and work for. The girl kills it for her job and therefore she has a killer life. But when she showed me New York. I mean, really did me good aka: hot-spot clubs, super chic restaurants, hitting my credit limit in SoHo.  She showed me a new beginning of a life I never knew I needed or wanted soooo bad. 

So here's where it gets personal. My soul sisters, whom I don't know how I got so frackkin lucky that they found me. We're all are in places in our lives that is so disconnected. We worked hard in school because we had a good idea of what we wanted. But let's face it, I'm not blaming everything on the economy, even though it is an issue in this love and hate post- college breakeup. (which has been my most difficult breakup to date) But I heard the infamous "live in the present" quote again. And OK, I understand it, I mean I get it; but I never really fully ate it up, swallowed and digested it. Until now. I know I have this section of my soul that has the 'wonderlust' characteristic, No, I don't mean to travel to the ends of the earth or do something like couch surf (just hard about that, if you don't know google that hipster-hotness) But I know for myself I have to divide to conquer. I know I can always go home. Home to me isn't my house, or the Chi-town. It is really where family is. But to get where I want to be, I must do it my own way. When I say that to my favorite man-- I think he holds his breath and counts backwards from 10. (confession: I use to say it just to get my love for the jib-jab) But now.... it's so true. So here's the 1-2- punch.

I get it, the economy sucks, we miss college, we miss living with our people we made into our own little families. But to get where you worked so hard for-- you gotta prepare now. No, I'm not quitting my job, hopping on another Adele-DOOMED United. I'm not gonna eat.pray.love this journey out. YES...I want to do those things, but I don't need them RIGHT THIS VERY INSTANCE. Our generation has the here, now, NEXT BEST '5G-'ness' mentality. But what we have to remember is to slow-it-down my little rabbit. Be the hare for a little, you'll win the race. 

I'll do the dance and be the little rookie-------that I am. I'll work to be the boss that I want to be. Here's the deal. Love is ALWAYS in the details. There is nothing better than the love of the struggle, and then the promise that comes from the motivation of the struggle. So work hard-- work so hard that sometimes you feel like you're your boss's boss. Walk the tight rope for the dream. Be the hare. One thing I know... ya gotta Keep your moralities, work-to-work- hard, work for quality, work for the practice to get to the win. Let inspiration fill your steps, and I truly believe this: that eventually those steps will lead you home.


  1. your honesty is really touching and all the little typographical things you do (fonts, colors, bold, italics, etc) go far towards re-creating your speaking voice on the page. which i personally think is necessary for an autobiographical writer.

    "But I heard the infamous "live in the present" quote again. And OK, I understand it, I mean I get it; but I never really fully ate it up, swallowed and digested it." -- glad that food processing book has profoundly impacted your life, haha. digestion symbolism is sweet. keep it up. throw some more wild images, metaphors, etc out there; i like where you're headed. "my scratchy bitten.to.death bod in the student health center." yeah, that part, especially.

    (i hope someone's by you to read this comment aloud. i just remembered you said you couldn't read. aw, shucks.)

  2. This is amazing-- relates to everyone-- hot damn do you have a way with words

  3. really nice post :) great!
    and you have lovely blog, dear!



  4. I love this post :)
    those photos are amazing!!



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