Today, I made Breakfast

Olive oil. Eggs. Chicken. Toast. Green Tea. Frying Pan. Salt. Pepper.

I made the toast first, in the frying pan, using olive oil.

Once that was complete, I put more olive oil into the frying pan, and cracked three eggs into the frying pan, waited for it to fry into one cohevsive giant egg, flipped the other side, and cooked it too.

Then, I put the chicken falette into the pan, and waited until they browned, and placed them on the plate.

I also made myself a cup of green tea while I waited for it to cook, in between eggs and toast.

I feel so loved right now, and here’s why:


I made myself breakfast, the first time I made myself something to eat in the morning when I was hungry in at least six months.

This kind of makes me feel emotional, because I feel like I am taking caring of myself when I do this. I love cooking breakfast for others, when we were kids, as a family we would stay up until the wee hours of the morning, and I would be in the kitchen making tea and hot choclate, and eggs, and toast for everyone. We would sit around and joyfully consume the breakfast, and making others happy, overwhelming, brought joy to me.

I feel like, love is an action that you do today, instead of it being something you magically put on the back burner, for a time somewhere in the future

Eventually, I’ll get my life together. Eventually, I’ll begin to love myself. Eventually…


Until, eventually never comes, and you look at your life, wondering what happened? What happened to the possiblities of you realizing your dreams? Do I really want to be stuck in emotional limbo, waiting for me to be happy? OR can I start right now?


With making myself, some breakfast. I was hungry, and I ate. Taking care of my needs like that, creating something for myself, and remembering the joy of cooking, all were better than laying in bed hungry.

I do that. Which is part of my eating disorder: eat when I am hungry, instead of give myself healthy three meals daily. When you’re younger, you hear it all the time, you need to eat three meals a day! Snack in between! But I never do that. I always hold off until the very end, until I am able to get maybe a sandwhich in.


I wonder how my body would change, if I fed myself breakfast, lunch, and dinner, everyday? How does that effect my productivity?


Let’s explore!

Gifted, Talented, Female, Black

For the last thirteen years, I have struggled with coming to terms with myself. I had to learn to understand, many of my problems and issues, stem from a basic insecurity within myself, and reactions to being abandoned by my father.

My family, had the potential to be great, when they immigrated here. My parents really loved each other, but they had too many poor skills, that affected the way they communicate. I believe, sexism entered the picture when my father lost his job. When my mother was forced to raise the family on her own, to suffer abuse

For the first five years, my parents really tried to acomplish their goals. Both my parents are hardworking, dynamic, forward thinking people. They are good people, even with their bigotry.

The point is, I am a gifted, talented, beautiful, extremley good woman and person. I always have been. I have made self-damaging choices, which fueled my depression, and has shifted my relationship with Cannibas

Consuming cannibas has only dimmed my light, and I suppose, I did this damage to myself as a way to deal with the overwhelming feeling of wasting my life and fullest potential.

But, the truth is, I need to pursue my passion vigrously. I am a master communicator, I love ideas- Iam just gifted and talented, and it is now my mission to develop that, the best I can , and not get upset with myself

I have an oppurtinity here and now, to really transform myself, to become the Anneshirley I am. I am tired of trying to kill myself, I am tired for apologizing for my existence. I am going to be fully me, in all my capacity.


Copper IUD safes my life

I’m twenty three years old, and somewhat sexually active. I’ve had three partners, one long term boyfriend, a guy I met, and a guy I had gone to school with. During my two year relationship, often we would have sex, unprotected. I thought I was smarter than nature when I tracked my cycles, and avoided sex during the fertile window and the day I ovulate. I knew that the egg lasted in my body for twenty four hours, and if she isn’t fertilized by then, then there would be no baby.

But that didn’t stop the one hundred pregnancy scares I had. I frequently took emergency birth control provided by my university. I explained my method to the doctors, and they always warned me against my practice. They urged me to g t on birth control, but I remained stubborn. I didn’t like the idea of needing to put horomones into my body for a long period of time.

I learned later, that if you’re a woman who chooses to be sexually active, do not leave your protection up to your partner or circumstances. Decide when you’re going to a mom.

I flirted with th idea of getting an IUD implanted, a T shaped device that can last up to ten years, and prevent pregnancy with higher accuracy than getting your tubes tied, but I chickened out.

I ended up getting pregnant.

Freaking out over what I was going to do, I cried every day at the idea of aborting this innocent life. I thought, maybe this was the right time to have a child. This was a gift. But, my partner was so against being young parents, and I knew we weren’t ready, I decided to have an abortion.

But before I could get the abortion, I ended up miscarrying our child at seven weeks, after flipping back and forth between keeping her or not.

Shortly after, we broke up.

But then, one night, I had a casual encounter with an old classmate, and he ended up ejaculating inside of me, five times. Without protection. Needless to say, I was worried. I thought I was pregnant and wanted to get my hands on Plan B, emergency contraception as soon as possible.

But, after I purchased the emergency contraception, turns out, the only way it works is for women who have a BMI lower than thirty percent. With over half of American women being overweight, the emergency contraception doesn’t work for women who are overweight. Like at all.

When I learned about this, I panicked. I’m overweight and in day two past having unprotected sex, I need a solution or risk getting an abortion, which I wouldn’t be able to afford.

I did some research and discovered that the copper IUD can be used as an effective emergency birth contraception within five days.

I went to my emergency clinic, and I told them I needed an IUD inserted. They originally thought it was an elective procedure. But, I explained it wasn’t. The copper IUD is used for a emergency situations, which is what I am.

They called the on call OBGYN, did some std checks, and confirmed the pcedure.

The insertion process was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. It felt like someone stabbing you from the inside, and penetrating you deeply to get through your belly button. It was pretty quick.

But I fainted afterwards.

However, I’m happy to report I’m not pregnant and won’t be for the next ten years. It was worth it.

It’s very important to take responsibility for your life and understand how your body works. As women, we need to protect ourselves. There’s something empowering about being able to choose when to be a mother, and I want very woman to have that choice.

The Invisible Barriers

I sat inside a Starbucks Coffee shop, with my Afro, skirt and heels. Inside the coffee shop were seven men. All Asian and one white guy.

I just came back from the County’s Sherrif office. Government buildings are different from private buildings. Private businesses invest in aesthic and ambiance. Government buildings are dreadful, dirty, and monolithic. The superior court down the street with giant a American and Californian flags waved, demanding respect. It’s incredible to see how such an official building, could command such authority. The government building serves poor and rich alike, and it is here where I see my privilege.

The government is designed to serve everyone equally. And it reminds you of how little access people have. People who come in are poor, and downtrodden. They don’t care about style or makeup, their grievances and concerns are to meet their most basic animalistic needs: food, water, and shelter. It’s obviously those people with access to education and money, who wear makeup and heels, suits and tied, with their cellphones tied to their ears.

In the Starbucks, you’re removed from the reality of poverty. You’re in a place with comfortable chairs and flattering lightening. People pay to sit here. They give their hard earned cash, and in exchange ¬†Starbucks offers an oasis away from reality. Starbucks pays rent, and all its supplies, and products with its customers funds. And through serving their market, they’ve been able to create an institute of high class, where a cup of coffee can cost 7 dollars.

Paying for a service, is your golden ticket into the new world. Inside the Starbucks Coffee you see the new white girls,Asians, decked out in everything midle class. From the sandals, to the Lululemon athletic gear, and Iphones they present the archetypal white middle class upbringing, and didn’t even have to work for it.

I always thinking about how against all odds, my mom was able to provide a community where race and class don’t matter to those in the ingroup, but obviously provide barriers to those in the outgroup.

People who want to move to silicon valley and get a job here and survive are pretty much the one per centers of  the world. They have access to clean water, they purchase goods they have education, they are the middle class and upper middle class people who run the first world.

However, if you’re not born into this, it’s really hard to get established. You have to be a person of strong will and character to be able to get in.

But not just get in, but have a high quality of life.

My mom was able to get in, and secure a house and car and education for my two siblings and I. And I see how difficult it is to do that. Especially in today’s world.

9 months ago

Nine months ago, I broke up with the love of my life and miscarried our daughter. This week would have been the day she would have been born. It’s amazing to think about how different life would have been for me if things stayed on course. I’d be a mother. At 23. Probably engaged.

But I’m not. I feel like this is one of those things that show you that you have a second chance at life. A chance to do things over again.

While I still miss my ex-boyfriend literally everyday, I’m thinking that these next few years, two to fiverify are really important for me to get my shot together. To make my mark on the world.

Sometimes its you

Here is my problem.

I work for a very good company. I’m an administrative assistant to a very hard working hard working woman. As I’ve been working here I’ve realized I have a lot of personal issues that I need to work on as a person. And here is where they are in order number one all work that I do is a reflection and representation of me my character and Who I am. I cannot and refuse to as a woman who’s an adult to depend on other people to take care of me. Because I understand that I cannot be dependent on other peoples work, & I only have myself to rely on, it’s really frustrating when I use my time on wisely. I’ve been doing this behavior since I was in 6th grade. I am eagerly to start school but then I won’t turn in my work, or I know I should be doing something but I don’t do it right. I’m a dark skinned African American woman. And there are lots of stereotypes in the world that say we don’t work hard or lazy and blah blah blah. However I’m really being a stereotype when my boss asked me to Preduce work and I don’t do my work. The thing is nobody owns me I own me I am my own business and everybody is their own business no matter what organisation their part off every single person is the owner and producer of their own work their own mini co of their lives and I am a CEO of my own life and so when I have customers or clients which I consider my boss of my clients I have to produce work and it frustrates me when I don’t meet her needs because I’m completely capable of meeting her needs and I am absolutely choosing not to you. I make poor choices. And it has nothing to do with me being black. Has nothing to do with me being poor. Has nothing to do with me being a woman. It has everything to do with me locking personal responsibility is showing up and doing my work when I’m supposed to it is my own personal choice and I have my own personal autonomy I cannot use race as a reason of why I’m not working to my capacity it and I guess the frustrating part because I know I can produce good work. It all it takes is effort it takes me sitting down to dinner G it takes me not trying to find the easy way out but I actually do the right thing so I learn how to do it correctly why is that so hard??

You’re not a victim, no one is attacking you, you are human, you are wrong too

People are great mirrors. Our interactions with people, often allow us to see the blind spots in ourselves.Being able to communicate with others, we discover that the world isn’t like the way we were coddled at home: people will not like us, people will criticize us, and people will tell us we’re wrong.

I had a friend who likes to be in my opinion: an online asshole, by leaving sarcastic remarks on the things I fully believe in. To me, I thought he was puropsefully being malicious, so I came at him in a very aggressive way. Although, I called him passive aggressive, in many ways I was too. We engaged in a conversation, which lead to me saying I didn’t want to be his friend because the argument we had made me feel like he wasn’t respectful. He said I had poor character and I behaved like a victim.

I entered another conversation online, and I (still feeling hurt) said some things that I believed were right, and someone called me out on it. After going back, and re-reading, and understanding her perspective: ! ~_~

I was reminded of a valuable lesson today: that I am not a victim and, I am not always right! Sometimes when I communicate with people, I have too much arrogance in my opinion. My assumptions get me in trouble, I try to defend my ego, and I am appreciative of people being able to constructively criticize me.

I admitted I was wrong, and apologized. That is a lot for me, because I take a lot of pride in arguing, and arguing to be right. However, these times I made a mistake. I am a human being. Although they probably see my apology as not sincere, a mulitpive tool to play the victim again, or seek attention, or whatever- it really isn’t about what other people think.

I know I am a sincere person. I know that my intentions are good. Today, was the first time I apologized to someone for being wrong in a long time. I need to stop assuming my way is the right way, and be like an empty bowl, looking to understand and learn. One thing, that I realize is that, I behave (probably because I am the first born) that my opinion is correct. Often it goes unchallenged, and in the past I’ve used it to bully my siblings. This is a little irrelevant.

When you’re in the adult world, you must take the effort to check your biases and assumptions, and come in open minded. I will really make an effort on being empty. On not assuming I am right, and having clear and open communication. In the words of Kanye West, I don’t have all the aners. And I’m glad.

Come correct, or be ready to be corrected.