Let’s allow the song (incredible) and its lyrics (poignantly on the mark) to speak for themselves. And to speak for me.
Specifically: A watched pot never boils. Time moves slowly when you’re waiting or watching for something to happen. I’ve been thinking about those words this week, specifically because my mother said them to me on the phone. During our conversation a few days ago, I hinted at one of the major Worries for a Singleton, which is #1,089,556 on the list: hesitating about making a major life decision because you wonder if something or, rather someone, waits for you around the corner. (And a part of you wants to wait to make that major life decision until you’re 1 of 2.) Her response: “Oh, Adjoa, don’t worry about those things. A watched pot never boils. I don’t want those thoughts to consume you. It’s easier said than done, I know, but don’t overthink it.” I let her words marinate before replying that I wasn’t necessarily obsessing, but merely thinking aloud.
My initial, knee-jerk reaction? 1. Pure irritation. Couldn’t I just express myself without the assumption that I was engaging in overthinking? Couldn’t I just say I was thinking about the future and what will be without being reminded of a slowly boiling pot? My next reaction: 2. I’m never not going to think about my future and whether I’ll share it with someone. It’s always going to be a thought. It pays rent, that thought. It shares a room in my brain and it ain’t going away. Next reaction: 3. Grateful for the acknowledgement that it’s all easier said than done. As I get older and those desires to have my own family grow, it’s certainly harder to just be carefree and let it go and don’t think about it and la la la. It just is. Final reaction: 4. She’s right, don’t overthink it. And as much as I have a Master’s Degree in Overthinking, my mother was absolutely correct in knowing that I do overthink, I do over-worry, I do over-consume in endless ruminations about life and the future and love and all that. And she, my biggest fan and cheerleader, didn’t want me to drive myself crazy.
Y’all. It’s hard wrapping your brain around needing something and going through life not seeing that thing manifest itself. It’s just hard. No amount of well-meaning advice…
- Don’t think about it!
- Are you even ready? It’s really hard!
- Are you putting it out there?
- Just move on!
…will remove the fact that in life, when we need something and we’re not seeing it, it’s just difficult to la la la and keep calm and carry on. Overthinking will happen. Mental over-consumption will happen. Emotional merry-go-rounds will occur. But it’s important to extract what you need–the acknowledgement of things being easier said than done, for example, or the reminder that people who love you don’t want you to stress yourself out–and try, very hard, to keep it moving. It doesn’t mean you stop thinking or praying or wondering, but it means you fight (fight hard) to not be consumed.
So the pot is there and I take comfort in knowing that it will boil. Until then, I’ll be peeking in the kitchen every now and again.
She’s gone blonde.
Yes, dear reader, after years and years on the darker side of the color wheel, I decided to make a big Year of 40 change and go blonde. My hair is now a honey blonde hue and I love it something awful. Initially after the coloring, as you can see in some of the pics above, it had more of a reddish-blonde shade as a result of my red color before and the repeated lifts to get all the red out. These days, it’s definitely more honey and closer to the shade I was looking for. And I plan on going lighter! Now that I’ve learned that going blonde won’t make me look like a dancer of some sort of cheesy Vegas revue, the blonde is my oyster.
And let’s chat about that for a moment. Upon seeing my hair, my sister said the following: “Why haven’t you done this your whole life?!” Other friends also asked why I had never experimented with a lighter color before. You know me: hair experimentation has never been an issue for me. But sporting dark hair as a woman of color was most definitely a safe choice. I couldn’t imagine my brown skin against an even lighter color. (Even bright red was far more safer in my mind than anything lighter.) Now I’ve been reminded that my brown skin is beautiful against any backdrop. We hold ourselves back, even in tiny, seemingly insignificant ways, don’t we? But none of that anymore. Embrace change, embrace newness, embrace the blonde. Because…
So a good friend of mine threw a beautiful get-together yesterday with a lovely theme: Bloom Where You Are Planted. It was a company of women sharing their favorite quotes or scriptures, dressed or accessorized in a floral theme, ready to swap $3 gifts, and overall gathering together to encourage, uplift, and upbuild. So moving and beautiful. I decided to wear something casually floral and went with a floral blouse, duster, jeans, and booties. Below.
Deets: Duster and blouse from my boyfriend Ross (the store, not um, an actual person); jeggings from Walmart (don’t sleep; I like paying $9-$12 for pants and I’m not ashamed to admit it); booties from Old Navy.
Can I say that I loved my ‘fit? For me, it was the right mix of fun and feminine; chic and casual. I was quite happy with it.
So makeup: I’ve been really focusing on my eyes lately. Eyeliner has become my bestie, basically. I like playing with the natural shape and clearly I like a dark, smoky look.
Eyes: Revlon Liner; Clapback lipstick by Fenty Beauty used as a shadow
Foundation: Lancôme Teint Idole Ultra Longwear Foundation (loving this new find); I believe my Lupita is one of their brand ambassadors
Cheeks: Black Radiance blush; Mariah Carey highlighter
Lippie: Smashbox Matte Lipstick, shade: Girl Gang
That’s the lewk. It was a lovely event and a beautiful day.
Oh: here is the quote I chose for the event.
How was your Saturday?
That’s how I describe the air in a museum. It’s just a wholly amazing atmosphere and I’m always here for it. Yesterday, my girls and I headed downtown into Dallas and I finally, finally visited the Dallas Museum of Art. I’ve lived here for two years and have been aiming to go ever since I arrived in this town, and life happened, but I’m happy to say that it all came to pass. It was exhilarating. Yes, I’m one of those people that stands in front of artwork and wildly gesticulates as she describes brush strokes and archetypes and symbols and rococo and so on and so forth. A slideshow of my pics from the artistic afternoon await you below (look for the Ghanaian artifacts, as well).
Bon Monday. Do you love museums and galleries and art, oh my? Let me know in the comments below…
Another new year, another exercise in writing “2018” on everything until mid-April.
Here’s to weird year typos and just making it through this new 365, one moment at a time.
Faves, like to hear it, here it go (in no particular order):
Top Five Singers/Musicians/Artists I’ve Loved For All Time
- Michael Jackson
- Whitney Houston
- Stevie Wonder
- Diana Ross
- James Taylor
Top Five Actresses I Love and Adore and Just Love and Adore
- Cate Blanchett
- Viola Davis
- Diane Lane
- Tracee Ellis Ross (purely coincidental that
my momher mom is #4 above)
- Natalie Portman
Top Five Actors I Stan For Always and Forever
- Brad Pitt
- Idris Elba (far too many posts to link him; search away, my love)
- Denzel Washington
- Tom Cruise
- Paul Newman/Robert Redford (they are one entity; don’t come for me)
Top Five of My Favorite Films Of All Time
- The Princess Bride
- It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World
- The Philadelphia Story
- The Sting
- Inception (yeah, it’s that good)
Top Five of My Favorite Authors
- Alice Walker
- Flannery O’ Connor
- Harper Lee
- Lois Lowry
- This Square Peg (look: you gotta love yourself)
This was by no means an exhaustive list, so we shall do it again with a brand new list. Happy Wednesday, dear reader.
I’ve never actually believed in retail therapy. If you’re not into shopping anyway (hello, me), the idea of massaging a bad day or a sad mood by walking around a store or even engaging in window shopping wouldn’t be the first thing on the list. But the comedy of life is that retail therapy is almost always what I do when I need to massage a bad day or sad mood. (Barring a hunkering down in my apartment with a week’s worth of carbs.) I drive right to the store, park, grab a cart, and traverse the aisles moodily until I either leave with nothing or buy something I don’t really need. And that was me yesterday.
Yesterday, I was sad and blue and glum and humdrum and needed to do something. Something. Whatever that something was, it translated into leaving work and driving to my favorite Ross, where I parked, grabbed a cart, and traversed the aisles moodily, looking for things I didn’t need. In the shoe aisle, I tried on a bunch of shoes, of which neither ended up in my cart. I ventured over to the accessories, where I touched a lot of scarves and pulled them off the rack to examine them for whatever one looks for when you’re scarf shopping. One scarf ended up in my cart. I then sauntered over to the hats. I tried a few on (see above), which was interesting in light of the faux locs (I have faux locs! More in another post) on my head, but there was one hat that incited a high level of like and also, more importantly, fit over the locs. Perhaps because the color matched my mood?
It ended up in my cart, as well. So did a pair of pants. The End.
I didn’t analyze my sadness and blue too deeply though. Mostly because 1) winter; 2) Monday; 3) single. You know what I mean by #3. The grays of this seasons and its accompanying doldrums seem to be heightened when one is going through it by their lonesome. And although, to repeat, this is a year-round desire, the fall/end of the year finds it all very pronounced. It comes and goes and it is what it is. I’ve long given myself permission to call a thing a thing (praise Queen Iyanla) and feel exactly what I feel. And I felt it all yesterday. It’s interesting how the mind finds a way, any way, to cope.
Nevertheless: here’s to distractions by way of hats and scarves, and other such things. Onwards…
The current state of things. Winter is weird.
Happy Monday, dear reader.