Inside the mind of a kind of quirky, pretty stubborn, way too opinionated, twenty-something, heteroflexible Black female newly employed up-and-moved-to-DC Princeton GRADUATE who's just trying to sort out her life. An uninhibited celebration of all that is me, this blog is an exercise in self-discovery and live-with-your-heart-wide-open-ness. Though I make respect a habit, I will not always be politically correct, and I believe in the power of making audiences uncomfortable to inspire change.
I thought about this earlier this evening, as I was loading all of my stuff into my mom's sedan in preparation for my trip back to campus for Year 4/4. Freshman and sophomore years, this required some additional space in my grandma's car; I arguably had different stuff when I had a living room, but I think the mini fridge is harder to make space for than the lamp... Regardless, a mouse couldn't worm its way into my mom's trunk right now, and there is actually a little bit of space left in the backseat [that will soon be filled with the stuff I found in the closet during my last once-through of the house, but whatever]. I put what I thought was the last of the stuff in the car, stepped back to survey my handiwork, and wondered why this loading up the car thing used to be so damn difficult. And my brain answered, "Practice makes perfect. We've done this how many times?" So even tasks that seem monumental or impassable when you meet them for the first time, or even the first few times...some day you'll be able to just keep it moving. Life keeps on getting harder--*regrets not getting that when I was a kid*--but I think you get better at dealing with it as you live through more and more.
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