Let’s Catch Up

Abort Mission

I got a dog. And two days later, I took him back.

I named him Pony and wanted to fall in love with him. And I did—but not with the situation. It didn’t take long to realize my schedule just doesn’t accommodate a pet. The first day I left him alone to go to work, my mind was consumed with anxiety, picturing him in a cage for nine hours, confused and lonely.

People tried to make me feel bad about taking him back, saying I should’ve given it more time for us to bond. But bonding wasn’t the problem—Pony was the sweetest lil baby. The issue was time. I simply don’t have enough of it to give him the attention he deserves.

I cried when I realized taking him back was the right decision. I cried when I skinned my knee chasing after him. I cried when I dropped him off.

He’s been adopted now. I wonder if they kept his name, Abe—which never really suited a sweet baby like him—or if they gave him something new. I wish I could see where he ended up, maybe visit him sometime, but full-time pet ownership just wasn’t for me.

People asked if I’d try a cat instead, because they’re more independent. Absolutely not. At least with a dog, I had the option of a cage. A cat would be all over my place, tearing up my stuff. I can’t have it. So no.

That was another issue—I had to keep the baby on a blanket because all I could think about was my couch eventually smelling like dog. I can’t have that. In the end, I chose a swank apartment over a cuddly companion.

The Severed Floor

In the weeks leading up to my trip, I felt like I’d rather not exist during work hours—like if I could just be gone while I’m at work and come back to life when it’s over. I totally understand Severance.

I had been feeling tapped out. Someone at work told me they depend on me at work to keep the energy and vibes up. I know that and that’s overwhelming. Where my friends allow me to take up as much or as little space as I want, work requires me to be on ten, all the time. It’s exhausting.

I recognize the power I have in being able to move the energy of the room, but it’s overwhelming. I don’t want everybody to have a bad day because I’m having a bad day; I feel like I’m not allowed to sit in my emotions. So I borrow from tomorrow for energy for today, until I crash and hit my lows, and I do be having lows.

In Severance, employees’ consciousness are split in two—one version of themselves exists only at work, with no memory of their personal life, and another only outside of work, with no knowledge of their job. The person you are at work is called your “innie.”

I often wonder what kind of person my innie would be. Would she feel the same pressure to keep the energy up in a room, or would she keep to herself? Would she share my interests, my habits, my anxieties? Would she feel free in a way I don’t?

It makes me wonder: if I could separate my work self from my personal self, would I feel less burdened? Would I be able to show up more fully in both worlds, instead of constantly barely balancing them? It’s something to think about.

European Tay’s Solo Adventure

Carleesha was a blast, but being here by myself gives me a different perspective on this city. With her, I was in Amsterdam. Solo, I am of Amsterdam.

I’m sitting in a coffeeshop in fucking Amsterdam right now, writing this. Afrobeats blasting, a group of friends at the table across from me, chatting in French. I only knew because I caught the word “manger”—shoutout Duolingo.

I’m about to go to a cheese tasting, a song with the chorus “it’s a beautiful life” is playing and overwhelmed me to tears. Because despite everything, I am living a beautiful life. Even though I’ve been through some tough times, I choose not to be defined by them.

My inner child thinks I’m pretty cool. I like to think teenage me would want to be just like me, and for now, that feels like enough.

Un Momento, Por Favor

I tend to believe that some people come into our lives just to connect us to others. Looking back, I realize that one person in particular served that purpose for me. Through them, I met incredible people—people who fit with me in ways they never did. People that I feel blessed to be acquainted with.

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It’s wild to me how almost every service worker I’ve encountered in Amsterdam speaks English—on top of Dutch and whatever their mother tongue is if they’re not Dutch. Meanwhile, I’m over here feeling like you dummy American. Knowing a few words in Spanish, French, and German is cute, but it’s time to level up. International mamí, fr.

That would also solve my least favorite thing about being in Europe: hesitating to talk to strangers because I don’t know if they speak English. I want to tell the stylish woman on the street that I love her coat, but what if I say it and she doesn’t understand me? I’ve moved past being embarrassed about things I can’t control, but I’m not healed enough to willingly put myself through avoidable embarrassment. Failing is one thing, but failing when I could’ve sidestepped it is a no go.

If I knew another language, oh, you ain’t understand that? Let me kick it to you like this. Seems like everyone outside America is multilingual, so the second one’s gotta hit.

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I left the States with a pain in my shoulder that spread through my arm and neck for weeks—a literal pain in my neck. I had a terrible time trying to sleep on my 8-hour flight. Then, while sitting on the tram, I hit my shoulder pretty badly. It hurt, but as the initial pain faded, I realized my shoulder actually hurt less than it had been. Two days later, the pain was completely gone, and I had the best sleep I’d had in weeks.

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Being here made me realize a new why: to live anywhere, do anything. The luxury of freedom, where I don’t have to stress about making money while living in a foreign country. I gotta get my shit in order so I have exorbitant amounts of money and have residences in all my favorite places: Atlanta (because it’s home, FILA), San Francisco, and Amsterdam… and that’s just the start. More to come.