Crazy way to start a verse, right?
I’m not living up to my full potential. I’ve been aware of this for a minute, probably since a couple months after I got the current job I have.
I’ve had this tumblr for four years. The few followers I have, you’ve gathered what I love most - writing.
I’m a writer - mind, body, and spirit. I never aspired to be anything when I was a kid. Didn’t want to be a nurse or a librarian. Not a doctor or a lawyer. I literally never voiced what I wanted to be throughout my childhood. I wasn’t encouraged to do so, so I didn’t.
Eventually, I learned I had this talent for putting words together and creating something that a person my age wouldn’t even think of. I never aspired to a specific career as a child, but I learned about writers that wrote for magazines. Magazines I read often.
I figured, okay that’s what I want to do then: I can write what I want and get paid to do it, great.
Fast forward a good amount of years later: I’ve been an ice cream server, a cashier, a shipping and receiving supervisor, store manager, and a bunch of other shit including personal assistant.
That was a damn doozy.
There’s always been a pattern with me and the jobs I’ve had, the types of relationships I’ve had with people - I’m the nurturer. I’m the caretaker. I put everyone’s needs before my own and while I normally get fed up and end that for a period of time, normally I jump right back into that lane.
Like now - I’m a receptionist, meaning I’m the office mother to about 30-40 messy adolescents. They’re adults, really, I’m just going with the analogy - float with me.
I SHOULD be a content editor for some publication, be it online or print. I SHOULD be writing about the things I want to write about and getting paid to do so.
Instead, I settle for the position of taking care of others and my pockets are fine but I’M not being taken care of. I don’t have the time to write about what I care about because I’m running dishwashers and carrying heavy ass boxes around the office like I’m not a 105lb woman with the muscle of a five year old.
How am I am going to get myself out of this “predicament”? I don’t know. I’m not posing any questions to seem deep or anything. This is just shit I need to see in words for me to finally get that I’m not where I want to be in my life.
The beauty of all this is I have an opportunity to turn all this around and get somewhere near where I want to go. Now the question is, why haven’t I done that yet?
Again, I don’t know. I do know that my love for writing will always keep me wanting to figure out a way to get that. I just have to learn to not let certain things box me out from my goals.
I WILL be a content editor for some publication, be it online or print.
I WILL be writing about the things I want to write about and getting paid to do so.
Mission: Full Potential - accepted.
The only kind of white boys I’ll date are the ones who can do this
white boys always killin the jig
Dear God, all of this 😒
He is adorable.
Leave it to Khadiijah
One of the best one-two punches in that series 😂
And Not a Single Fuck Was Given
Don’t give Pac any ideas
that’s it, that’s all 😞
So much wonderfulness!
I miss her! 😩
Black moms at their finest
Every time lol
Ruining ALL of the fun. Way to go, Mom 😒