Marie Kondo that Vision Board!

You’re likely stuck in the house. Time is melting away, and you’re clinging like hell to the remnants of your sanity. Order has gone, and the police are trapped in the sewers. A charismatic villain is occupying your living room.

Nope, that’s Batman!

If you’re not in a Christian Bale film, you’re likely social distancing, and spending way more time at home. This means you have the opportunity to update (or create ) your very own vision board.

Whether you’re using this time to learn a second language, start a new business, or just rest and connect with yourself , you can do with a bit of DIY, mindfulness, and spring cleaning!

Goals change. They should. They will. Your vision board(s) should change along with them. My old vision board was littered with lists and quotes that no longer applied. Offer letters for positions I left, and remnants of opportunities I once wanted. I even left space for new goals and unexplored terrain. Roze: The Final Frontier!

I was younger then. I’m wiser now. Now I’m looking down a path toward professional academia, my goals are changing, and the map will need match my destination. I’m currently “funemployed” (a term I made up to reclaim my time and denounce my ties to capitalism-driven productivity and burnout) and working to one day be FUNemployed!

In other words I’ve been social distancing since January; less by choice, than force. More safety and frugality for me, yay!

So, while our nation seems to be on the edge of a real-life purge, careening dangerously towards the themes of the 2006 comedic sci-fi film Idiocracy, we can still work to refine our goals, and update your vision board. What goals have you achieved? Revamped? Reassessed? Have our priorities changed? How has the Corona Virus made you rethink your future!? a vision board is an opportunity to Get creative and post your plan where you can see it. Probably on your fridge!

We can get through this together, and come out better.

2019: Year of Compatibility

Today marks two weeks of travel into the new year. Exactly fourteen days of reflection, goal-setting, and a lot of backsliding. I’m digging in: committing to making my one and only life work. In the last few weeks I kept hearing a word come up in conversations, in books, on screens. My new theme.

Last year…

2018, for me, was defined by a particular word. A running theme that spanned 365 days of challenging, irritating, and patience-building circumstances.

That word was resilience.

From relationship woes to impending unemployment. From seeking to securing to adjusting to a new and more exciting job.

From stress-induced fender-bender to a car accident that totaled my baby Harriet (Tubman because she freed me). Crying for months on the phone with – and in the offices of – unaccommodating car catastrophe-related personnel.

I had to tough it out. Find stores of resilience in myself because no matter how inconvenient and painful, ultimately not one in that series of unfortunate events, would kill me.

There’s something both empowering and disheartening in knowing that you can survive more. In knowing that you can -and one day will have to- be even stronger still. To my genuine dismay I’d have to make it, and keep making it until I encounter something that actually could… kill me.

2018 brought me my first major loan/credit debt-builder while simultaneously rewarding me for my fastidious and measured money management. That gave me the chance to buy a new newish new-to-me car without a co-sign.

2018 brought me a new apartment and a supportive and enjoyable new roomate. Desperation forced our hands, and leases loomed, but a great new friendship formed with each passing month.

Finally, 2018 brought me a new job and plenty of opportunities to learn more about coworker relationships, leadership, and the bureaucratic entities that govern worky-desky-sitty jobs. I’m learning to detect and define my red flags: in romance, in myself, and in my past.

This Year…

In all that I experienced last year, the greatest lesson, and this year’s word, is compatibility. Too many times I’ve forced interactions, and ignored red flags. I’ve wanted things and people more than I’ve wanted peace and flow. I’ve sacrificed compatibility thinking it would yield results in the long run while suffering daily. Living in-authentically. Incompatibly.

I’m committing myself to effortlessness. No matter how contradictory that sounds. 🤦🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️ I’m working everyday to create a free-flowing life. Disciplining my time and my life to allow in the types of opportunities that I want to experience and take advantage of. If I can nail down my habits, I will have the discernment necessary to adjudicate over delicious new experiences with the time and preparation to appreciate them. What I’ll need is discipline.

Plot twist: Discipline is this cool new form of self-care where you follow a schedule, prompt yourself, and do things that benefit your life. Get this, if you push through your reluctance, and fatigue and keep to your word, you actually see your life improve! Crazy, right!?

My new Mantra. It gets me out of bed. Out of the car for work. Into the gym despite this unusual cold snap. I mumble it to myself in traffic, and as I set my alarms. “Discipline is love. Discipline is love. Discipline is love.” In the shower when my mental to-do list at work gets disparagingly long, “Discipline is love.”

Discipline is the new hygge. Discipline is the new pilates, hot yoga, and cycling combined. For the last two weeks I have set a schedule for myself and begun sleeping at a certain time, setting particular days to work out or study for class. I’ve taken specific steps to make myself ready and remove excuses.


Shoutout to @Amaa_Official on Twitter for Inception inseminating my mind!

Ways that I’ve been utilizing discipline to increase compatibility in 2019:

  • I speak immediately on the things causing me anxiety and don’t murder myself by over thinking the outcomes and avoiding difficult conversations
  • I put my clothes out the night before AND check the weather
  • I schedule my workouts and don’t stress if I miss one. I just resume immediately at the next scheduled opportunity
  • I meal prep to save money, keep on diet, and feel like a grown up
  • I try to do things at the same times each day to create routine and run on muscle memory
  • I can spend time with friends and family more often if I make them shorter outings. (for instance, I can say yes to a party without anxiety because I know be there for no more than 120 minutes)
  • I let my phone die on Saturday mornings, and don’t power up again until the evening. A whole day off the grid to work on my blog, homework, connect to loved ones, work out, get domestic, or just relax
  • I refuse to be inhabited by guilt so I leave work at a reasonable time and wake up early to recap before I sit at my desk. No more unfocused late nights churning out half-assed results from a foggy anxious brain drain

I want to be calling things, relationships, experiences, and opportunities toward me. I want to create a space where growth, love, and contentment are welcomed. I want to have room for change, and be the person with the mindset to make use of that change. Discipline is love. Love for me, for my friends and family, love for my readers, and the individuals I serve. I want to love my life more, so I need to discipline it.

Discipline is love.

#Throwback Thursday Deliberate Action

I’m learning bit by bit to be more aggressive in the pursuit of my wants. They are important. To communicate quickly in self-advocacy. My adversities are valid. To be wholly present in the moments that I dedicate to myself. My me-time is crucial.

Most of all, I’m realizing that my advice is for me too. It’s actually mostly for me. I need it.

lftu

Life is a generous teacher; giving you multiple opportunities to to learn lessons and retake tests.

Read more at the link above!

Continue reading “#Throwback Thursday Deliberate Action”

#TBT Happy Half-Birthday, 2019*!

… well, belated, at least.

Allow me to read you this poem I wrote!        {stands Wonder Woman-ly in bathroom mirror, sort of shouting }

More than half way there, and your feet are so tired, but trust me, you’ll know when you know. Half of 2017 gone, oh the places you can still go! With more than 180 days left, there’s pounds to shed and seeds to sow. You can get a summer body DURING the summer, to the gym you must go! With the finish line ever closer, now the staples in your calendar show, you can reassess your goals, perhaps a-traveling you’ll go! You’ve been dissatisfied all around, and your zeal is running so low, maybe you’ll quit your job to seek entrepreneurship. To the unemployment line you’ll go! Maybe you’ve had a bug in your ear, and you want your thinker to grow. Maybe you’ll just work up the nerve and saddle that debt, maybe back to school you’ll go! More than half way there, and your feet are so tired, but trust me, you’ll know when you know. Half of 2017 gone, oh the places you can still go!




HAPPY HALF BIRTHDAY, 2017 2020!! Everything is possible!




Find YOUR Half-Birthday!

Mine is May 1st. I will be celebrating it from now on. Also, it carries all the weight of a full birthday! I expect gifts 🎁!

Roze Goes,

{says to self and readers} I love you. There’s still plenty time left. Don’t go rounding up!

Happy Valentimes Day!

Let me first start off by stating that I absolutely HATE when people pronounce it “Valentimes Day”. When is Valentime? Point to it on a clock! When in the calendar year is it Valentime!? If you pronounce it this way, you don’t deserve any chalky heart-shaped antacid candies.  deserve to eat ONLY chalky heart-shaped antacid candies! FOREVER!!!

Moving on…

Pal-entine’s Day, Gal-entine’s Day, Single’s Awareness Day… For semi-Bitter Bettys and Barrys such as myself, this past February 14th took on a slightly different tone than the mainstream. For many of us it was a silent massacre. Millions of eligible bachelor’s and bachelorette’s unwanted bodies strewn about highways and workplaces; their faces twisted in agony with cold eyes glossed over. Tortured mercilessly, some for days, with your stories of how “Bae surprised me. He/She/It/They are sooo thoughtful!” We lept like lemmings to our deaths.

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As if you didn’t know you were single on the 13th !

For me, it consisted of staring at my phone, rolling/thrashing on the couch, and sort of mumble-sobbing. Mind you, I’m usually that emotional on every other day, it just FELT more poignant on that day… you know, on account of the nationwide peer pressure. (Note to whomever: DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT get onto any social media on any holiday ever! Just don’t. Even Leif Ericsson Day.)

Moving on…

I’m gonna talk with (not TO, because I’m not your mom) you about what I, and perhaps you, SHOULD have done if you were V and/or D-less on Alentine’s Ay.

What you should have done was look yourself in the eye (with the aid of a mirror, I guess) and realized where love in your life MUST originate. It has to start with you. And its going to take work.

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This is what I want you to say in the mirror!

“The fact that someone else loves you doesn’t rescue you from the work of loving yourself.”  – Sahaj Kohli 

I know how it sounds, but without self love you will search for someone to love you, and you WILL be disappointed. In truth, you’re looking for someone to give you everything you need, and that person already exists. [clears throat and prepares for how lame this will sound:] YOU ARE YOUR SOUL MATE!  [rolls eyes aggressively] Other people can only compliment you, they will not be a balm for every wound, address every fear or concern, and they will not/ cannot be your source of happiness. That well must spring from within. Otherwise, when theirs dries up you will be back at square one again, and the hunt for wholeness will continue. If/when they leave, you will be the worst kind of alone.

Moving on…

What does loving yourself look like? To know that, you’ll have to dig deep. Really examine many of your current and past relationships. Relationships of all kinds: friends, lovers, co-workers, and even enemies. They’re all vital in the shaping of your self-love. If you think about the way they made you feel, and the actions that yielded  those feelings, you’ll put together a sort of make-shift recipe for self love. How can you replicate that satisfaction for and in yourself? This same process of personal-inventory will reveal to you what you can do in relationships with others to yield more satisfaction.

My Self Love Recipe

3 tbs. of regular physical activity               1/2 tsp. reaffirming motivation

1 cup of positive self-talk                             1 lb. of workplace fulfillment

1 tbs. hanging out with friends                  1/2 cup music and dancing

1/2 cup working on a passion/hobby         1/2 cup alone time (not TOO much)

1/2 tsp. getting cute and going out              1 cap-full of Moscato

1 pinch of new experiences

*1 handful of sexy chocolate man (can substitute caramel or macadamia)

* for experienced bakers ready to involve a partner

77300-treat-yo-self-meme-bc7hMoving on…

Finally, for my Bitter Bettys and Barrys, my sisters and brothers, don’t forget that Valentine’s Day is just a capitalistic ploy by  THE MAN to shift from what’s really going on… BLACK HISTORY MONTH!!! [raises fist emphatically]

In parting I leave you with this,

Love your self. Black, white, alone, in a relationship, sorta short, freckly or what have you.

Remember to follow and join the mailing list. Love you! Kiss your mom for me!

Roze Goes

TIRED of Being Broke: No Money, Mo Problems!

Image courtesy of skiptothis.com

[sings Al Green-ly at top of lungs]

“I’m so tired of being broke,

I can’t pay this on my own,

Won’t you help me Mom,

Just as soon as you can!?”

I’m sitting on another curb tearfully waiting for a tow truck; the second one this week.

Lyfting across Miami costs me about a month’s worth of gas, and my lil red hooptie Harriet is no closer to being fixed.

I try to hide my face from the residents of the overpass under which I overheated. We are now essentially in the same water-free boat.

Update: Bought a new car in August. Still broke though 🤦🏾‍♀️ Car buying is an emotional 🎢

I get it. I’m a quasi-recent grad. I’m young. I “should” be broke. It’s expected. I devoted my first few years after graduation to service, and the non profit sector is so named for a reason. Got it.

Big booty BUT though … now I’m settled in another full time, fully benefited, office based, salaried job with all the assurances and insurances that I previously coveted, and I’m still broke. Still proportionately the same amount of broke.

Brick. Brack. Broke. 💆🏾‍♀️😒🙃

I don’t have to bread you in the many work, income, and finance woes that face the average millennial. You know then well.

1. We’re living at home longer which means we buy homes later.

2. We are SADDLED with unprecedented educational debt.

3. We inherited an awesome economy.

4. Will invariably end up working deep into our golden years.

Ultimately it all just feels like…

A memoir.

Chapter 1.

Where’s my mom now with her threats to take me out of this world she so lustfully brought me into!?

I’m tired, boss.

Plus insurance still costs you money and I don’t understand why I’m paying twice to not be sick!

Every-flipping-thing! Bills, insurance, loans, water, the waves that travel through Al Gore’s Internet, breathing, eating animals, not eating animals, education, avocados, air, everything.

Do these headliner tidbits sound familiar?

1. “You should have three months of bills (not just rent) saved up!”

3. How many emergencies can you fund?

Cake cannot be both eaten and possessed simultaneously. The same quantity of money cannot be both saved and spent. It’s not a question of how much I spend, or how aggressively I budget.

I don’t make enough. Thats it.

The rent at my new apartment is $75 less expensive. Our utilities are lower. I eat out less often than ever. And just as I might see addendums to my pockets, I have had 3 emergencies since August. There goes my profit margin.

Credit card balance hovers like a David Blane stunt: inscrutable and racially ambiguous.

{enters stage left} … the side hustle. Which thus far feels more like an internship.

But…

How are y’all escaping the clutches of poverty? Glucose guardians?

Email me!

Lessons in Adulting: Imposter Syndrome

When you’re a baby, no one shames you for not speaking English. Or any language besides cooing and burbling. {Actually no one should shame anyone for not speaking English, but that’s neither here not there! Heck you, xenophobes!🤚🏾🚫} So why is it that once you you pass through the invisible doorway to presumed adulthood, are we suddenly expected to know everything!?

It’s like I’m reviewing a book in a genre I’ve never read. Like I’m writing an instruction manual for a device I’ve never used, seen, built or even heard of. I’m a first-time adult.🤷🏾‍♀️🙃

[Rod Serling, writer and host of Twilight Zone voice] Enter into evidence the phenomenon know as ✌🏾imposter syndrome✌🏾

According the great and reputable peer-reviewed source know as Wikipedia, imposter syndrome is defined as:

Not to be confused with Capgras delusion which seems far more prohibitive and problematic.

I’ve been battling with I.S. in waves for the last 8ish years. Here’s my theory!

Roze’s I.S. theory:

1. Well meaning parents haphazardly program their children with fixed mindset ideals (ie. “Look how well you did. It’s so easy for you. You barely study. You’re naturally bright!”) and reward innate talent disproportionately 👩🏾🧔🏾👩🏾‍🎓

2. External value is attributed to success (ie. Honor roll, deans list, trophies and certificates) and intrinsic value is not deliberately cultivated 🏅🏆📓🔖

3. Difficult to navigate workforce rewards inflated resumes and applications (ie. Entry level pay and position requiring years of experience and certifications)

4. Supervisory practices support less dynamic and diverse workplace of antiquity (ie. supervision doesn’t survey strengths or accommodate learning styles)

5. No immediate access to HR, EAP, or mental health resources within workplace structure (ie. report/address supervisor, mitigate stresses influencing productivity, feel comfortable taking time away) 👩🏾‍⚕️ 🛋✍🏾

I’ve theorized that a wealth of factors contribute to the phenomenon of I.S. For me, I find that my I.S. is triggered in comprehensive projects with deadlines, multiple changing factors, and no clear rubric; also known as wicked problems.

In the nonprofit and academia spheres, we are inundated with wicked problems: poverty, healthcare, education etc. The stress from attempting to address these problems can reek havoc on the rest of our lives.

In an I.S. spiral I tend to think back to the many mistakes I’ve made in my burgeoning professionalism and forget to count the many more wins I’ve been privileged to have.

I’m stricken with a pain in my stomach and my thoughts race while Im possessed with the idea that I’ll be found out. I am a dummy, I have performed as promised, and I don’t deserve this job.

At any moment my director will come flying through the door; simultaneously ripping it off its hinges and banshee-screaming that I’m fired. 🚪🏇🏾🤺🐉 That’s insane. My director is a nice lady who can hardly run much less fly.

Why do I feel this way? What can I do? When should I quit?

I feel this way because it’s my first. My immediate family’s first college grad. One of my first full time quasi-traditional jobs. I’m being asked questions about retirement, paying for my own benefits, and considering, for the first time, to pinpoint what I’ll be doing in five years. I feel this way because there’s a lot riding on this and on me. Because I’m officially in charge of my life, but I want nothing more than to step down and politely decline.

Check out Cendino’s photography here!

What I can do is my best. I can pick out each day and it’s 1000 objectives and truly (not fakely) give each one whatever “my best” looks like for that day. That way I can watch Netflix, and work out, and spend the rest of my time authentically engaged without the lingering guilt and self-applied pressure that is my spiraling workweek HELL!🔥👹 I deserve to be genuinely present and invested in this one life I get.

More tangibly, I’ve recently started an achievement journal. Today’s Shine Text calls it a “brag book”, where I periodically list all the things I’ve accomplished in a day and marvel at how gifted and Beyoncé-like I am!

When should I quit? Tomorrow. I can quit tomorrow. It’s always an option. Always on the table. But today I’ll try. I’ll stay late if I have to. I will rack my brain, ask for help, go for a walk if I have to. It may be tough today, but I can always quit tomorrow.

Check out this quick read from a helpful source.

I love a good mantra 🙏🏾🕯📿🧘🏾‍♀️. Try this on for size if you’re battling some serious Imposter Syndrome! Repeat to yourself in the midst of a panic, or use it to start your day.

“I am not an imposter. I am more than qualified. I will work to prove it to myself. I deserve the rewards I have been blessed with!”

Go forth into your workweek and prosper 🖖🏾, even when your to-do list has been fruitful and multiplying. You’re not an imposter. Do your job. LIVE YOUR LIFE.

Let’s #MarchInto This Month!

Today is the 74th day of this year. We’ve got more than 80% left to laugh, live, travel and  try!

day 74

Everyday is a chance to #marchinto your goals, dreams, passion-projects, new jobs, savings accounts, blogs/vlogs, relationships and whatever else we want to do! Last month was #febYOUary What can you achieve this chapter?

Use the hashtag #marchinto and tell me in the comments below what YOU want to achieve in days 75 – 365!

I want to #MarchInto more fulfilling and consistent engagement with readers through purposeful content curation!

Love you,

Roze

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FebYOUary Lesson #2: Don’t Hide!

It has been many moons since the last time I was in front of a camera. It’s also been many moons since I really felt creative. I’ve been carefully squirrelling my light away under a bushel. I’ve been calling that bushel “adulting”. This immovable obstruction pressed so firmly against the base of my skull that I can hardly get oxygen to my creative cortex.

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I miss my bald head! #goodknocking #usf 

I’m lying. I’m a liar. I lied. I’m hiding.

Out here in the “real world” (a saying that WISH teachers and well-meaning advisors would stop using IMMEDIATELY! It minimizes the experiences of adolescents and students that haven’t yet been thwarted by the pressures of life! #rant) the support of your student organizations and friends just ain’t what it used to be. Bills need paying and passion-projects don’t contribute to your 401k (don’t even get me started on how horrifying a concept saving for your retirement is!). I so often wish I was still her, lil’ Roze, as I affectionately call my former selves. Before the newest updates. The new fears. The grownup challenges. So I hid(e) in old memories relishing. “In undergrad I used to…”

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Look at my smug lil’ no bills havin ass face! 

Sure, I kept up with the blog, but I haven’t been taking chances. Haven’t had as many firsts in the years since matriculation. But I don’t want those parts of me to rust. Spoil. Die.

Somehow conversely, I think I’d been idealizing a potential 24/7 non-stop musing life. Some dopamine-fueled Issa Rae ecstasy dream where I only ever do what I want. Make what I want. Live how and where I want.

Hiding. Hoping. Not crafting or creating.

I want to be more Issa and less cubicle drone worker-bee, sure. But I also don’t wanna have to find individual health insurance on an open market. *gag*

So this is the middle road. Invest just a little more over time. Churn out better quality work more consistently. Collaborating. Saying loudly and proudly what I’m passionate about, and sharing/connecting with others. Taking MYSELF seriously. My talents seriously. Because I don’t want those parts of me to rust. Spoil. Die. Considering my day job, as just that; a temporary gig. I’m not trapped if always have creating as an out.

So here goes something new. I’ll admit I was a little uncomfortable reacquainting myself with a camera. Knowing it would capture my new adult body a little less forgivingly. Knowing that I’m still writing and rewriting my definition of sexy on a thrift store etch-a-sketch.

Heck it!

SaFALLri

Wise Kouture and Roze Goes meet up to create a lookbook to help you work furs, camouflage, (p)leather, camel, and olive green into your wardrobe. Might just be the inspiration you need to put together your Black Panther opening weekend outfit!

safallri photoset

Camo Pants OOTD from Rozeena Taylor on Vimeo. Check out my boo Wise Kouture!

Some faves!

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This one I call “The Wakangregation”!

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Here I’m definitely dubious about the occupants of this sabal palm.

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The Sun is my best friend!

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I am just an icon living! 

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“Don’t make me come down to that school!”

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Perhaps you should speak to me more softly then. Monsters are dangerous and, just now, kings are dying like flies!

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Fin.

I’m also considering improv! Took a drop-in course at the Villain Theater. It put a lump on my throat and a race in my heart. It felt uncomfortable, new, perfect! I’ll be back for more.

Check Wise Kouture out in a previous post! Art Basel 2015! Friends support friends.

When was the last time you did something for the first time? What was it? What’s keeping your light under a bushel? Finances, lack of opportunity, time? Share below, because I need more new. More firsts. I can’t be done already!

I don’t want those parts of YOU to rust. Spoil. Die. Eat the world! If even in tiny bites!  Love you,

Roze

Roze Goes Footer

20-Something: Young Adults Seem Stuck

FebYOUary Lesson1

I am the same age now that my mother was when she had me. Conversely, I think a cactus is too much responsibility. She keeps rounding my age up to 30. My throat tightens when people ask me “So what’s your plan, Roze!?” I shudder to think that one day a person could come out of my vajayjay, and drink juice from my boobies. Gag!

If you Google (yes, it is a verb) the phrases “twenty-something” or “millennials” you’ll find an endless cache of books, think-pieces, click-bait, and BuzzFeed-esque articles.

Everyone born after 1980, and subsequently everyone who birthed or came before us, is trying madly to explain what we are. How we came to be, and what ails us.

The Internets are frantically trying to WebMD our symptoms and rationalize the largest and most unprecedented generation the world has ever seen.

Fail.

We were born of web, and wiki, and wire. Our encrypted spirits travel weightlessly through code across the stars. We are the unsullied.

But some us have moved back home. We have insurmountable debt. We marry later. We are the smartest and ironically most inexperienced. We ruined everything.

Or so they might have us believe.

_Baby boOmers be like

Robin Marantz Henig, and her millennial daughter Samantha, co-authored “Twenty Something: Why Do Young Adults Seem Stuck!” as a means to flesh out the tens of theories about the romantic, academic, career-related, and socio-economic phenomena surrounding young adults.

*Disclaimer: Not sure if taking pictures of book pages is illegal. Please VHS bootleg 🚔👮🏾‍♀️👮🏾 police, don’t take me to copyright infringement jail!

The book opens with an excerpt from “The Bell Jar”, by Sylvia Plath. The colorful depiction of a young woman caught in indecision. The breadth and width of the tree and its many fruit surpassing the undetermined length of her conflicted life. Pursue her passions at the cost of a more comfortable or socially acceptable life? Or travel and eat of the world as the possibilities of marital bliss and motherhood slip away?

Same.

All the feels. Pick the wrong path, and all the others are impossible to harvest. Deliberate too long, and none are possible. Now more than ever, I’m pressingly aware of the passage of time. The length of time between posts, between graduation 👩🏾‍🎓 and the present day, between when I thought I knew what 27 would look like, and now…

Structure

The book is split up into nine chapters that cover a series of equally complicated young adult benchmarks. Robin and Samantha tag team each chapter with their perspectives from different generations and experiences.

Demographic studies, marriage/birth rates, and economic trends are all featured as the Henig duo dissect each societal stage and step and compare stats between baby boomers (Robin) and young adults (Samantha). Each chapter ends in a sort of scoreboard that determines which generations notions are more relevant or withstanding, dependent on the topic: “Now is New” and “Same as it Ever Was.”

Settling the score_ The Henigs concluded that although millennials have a more publicized young adulthood that previous generations, and face an admittedly more uphill battle than their parents, but our concerns are and were very much the same. We are pressured by similar yet shifting benchmarks like marriage and home-ownership. As the great life-liver Maya Angelou said, “… we are more alike my friends, than we are unalike!” “Same as it Ever Was” takes the W by their tally, and the old people win again. Typical.

Feels

The whole thing reads like…

Adulting is just a big ass Catch-22!

BUT!

I’m sssoooo 🙄 pleased to feel like my anxiety is such a common experience. I’m not weird or self-indulgent for looking into this; seeking answers. Feeling so stymied by inhibition and decision-making fatigue. What I’m experiencing is uniform the world over. I’m not in a funk, and  you’re not either! We’re just 27, and there is no cure but to celebrate another birthday. Get one day closer, better, wiser. Save more, learn more, and not give up.

What I feel the book fails to do, is to address the development of young adults from different educational, cultural, and socio-economic backgrounds. The eldest Henig highlights this briefly, but the disclaimer is nonetheless unsatisfying. What are the gripes of millennials in Mumbai vs. Miami?

Choice is a luxury that so many of us cannot afford. Even those of us fraught with indecision get to be caught between a diamond-encrusted rock a haute couture hard place (shout out to Guapdad 4000!).

We dream of lives with fewer decisions to make; to live simply while both here and abroad choices aren’t so numerous, and are often at higher stakes. #firstworldproblems I’ll find a career, I’ll go back to school, I’ll eventually marry. I don’t have to choose a bath over food. I don’t have to decide between my life or my child’s. I pick movies on Netflix.

In reading this I also acknowledge my privilege. I was brought up with certain expectations, and for the most part was given the support necessary to fulfill them. I was able to obtain a degree, I’ve been advancing in careers ever since graduation. I live in the United States (whatever that means now anyway), I speak English, and I’m a citizen. This book reminds me. It;s a good reminder, and a reality check! It wasn’t on Oprah’s 16 Must-Read Books for November 2012 for nothing!

twenty something oprah   Score: 🌹🌹/🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Read Time Rate (1 night = 30 mins): 16 nights

Why should you read it? I’ve never read a book so “OMG same!”  in my entire life. It sparked a great conversation between my mother and I. I appreciate her so much more with my deepened understanding. We are, and were, twenty-something, and fifty-something just doing our best; figuring it out, stumbling along, and trying like hell not to HECK up too bad. You are too. There’s nothing wrong with you. You have some time.

What’s your most recent adulting triumph? Figuring out how credit works, saving for retirement, or perhaps you’ve had enough to help your parents? Maybe you’ve finally figured out what you wanna be when you grow up. Tell me in the comments below! 

Roze Goes,

You’re right, it’s not comparing, it’s market research. Just don’t overindulge. I love you.

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TV Bae: Shonda Rhimes/Year of No

Have you ever been alive on a Thursday? If so, you’ve heard of Shonda Rhimes! A creator and innovator of modern television drama, this MAGICAL BLACK WOMAN is a perpetual motion machine for quotable pop-culture tidbits.

She’s the reason you say vajayjay!

She works every day to bring black, queer, female, gender nonbinary, differently-abled, and all other  of non-mainstreams to the forefront.

Madam Rhimes is a paragon of gained wisdom and earned experiences. Thusly, she felt it fit to leave us a manual. A guide to using “yes” as tool to make better happen. It’s an insightful look into the makings of a literal literary monster, but it’s also a vulnerable examination of a regular person just trying to do and be better.

She is goals. Black excellence. College-educated. Award-winning. Making single motherhood look almost Beyoncé effortless. She makes her ideas, imaginings, mumbles and scribbles real. She’s what I want to be when I grow up. She wants to be Toni Morrison. Irony.

Sorta Summary

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Through a thought experiment straight from the tomes of The Actor Formerly Known as Jim Carrey, she has crafted a richer and more fulfilling life. She simply said yes more often than not and was privy to a slew of new experiences and perspectives.

In realizing [through the insistence of her older sister] that she was on a long-lasting no-fueled funk, she set out to examine and undo all the negativity that had led her that point.


The book is full of so many simple and humorous realizations that can be scaled and adjusted to fit the user.


You may not be a mother or parent, but you know what it’s like to compare yourself to the ever-pressing and present YOU that you think you SHOULD be. You know what it feels like to fall short of the expectations you have for yourself; knowingly or not. Sister Shonda does too.


She tackles the guilt we often feel in contemplating our situations. In critiquing ourselves for accomplishments or lack thereof.

Do I even have the right to complain and feel so dissatisfied? I have two working legs and a freezer full of Ben & Jerry’s! 


She cheers us on and reminds us that women, a particular focus in this book, are endlessly capable if we view ourselves through the lease that we make for ourselves.

My Thoughts

Her voice is so familiar. She sounds like Olivia Pope and Anneliese Keating. Like your favorite characters and friends. Like someone you know.


She exudes a feminine self-deprecating multilayered humor that hints at what she has suffered, acknowledges her progress, and reminds you that she has chosen to make her own way.

In her carefree neuroticism she addresses her weight gain and eventual weight loss, parenting and its struggles, romantic and platonic relationships, workplace woes, and self-care/image. A cookbook for light laughs and life changing. Get into Shonda’s kitchen!


The Takeaway 

Shonda teaches us the framework to ask ourselves the important questions.

1. How did I get here?

2. What am I avoiding or running from by choosing to say no to this?

3. How would saying yes affect my life? Those around me?

4. What do I stand to gain or lose?

Ms. Rhimes’ year of self-investigation has inspired me to look more intentionally into mine and resulted in Roze’s “Year of No”.


I’m a little bit less Lulu Lemon. I find inspiration in sources that are little more Eric Thomas than Iyanla Vanzant. My list needs to work for me.

 


This is my playlist. I’ll be keeping it on repeat till I see the results I want. My calendar year begins on my birthday. I’m three days into my 27th year, and the finish line is fastly approaching.  I’m sharing in the hopes of gaining more accountability partners. Hold me to my word.

I’m really too young to be feeling this old.

I love you,

Roze