anoldmillennial-blog

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Children At Chick-fil-A

Sitting near the door to the play area in Chick-fil-A is stressful. I just wanted to sit near the window and enjoy my food while listening to the My Favorite Murder podcast.

The door to this most likely contaminated play area seems heavy, but there are mini humans running in and out with no problem. I cringe at the thought of someone’s little hands getting caught and the accompanying skriek.

A little girl found food on the floor and it looks like a waffle fry. She tried to get her mom’s attention, but of course mom was busy, so she happily ate her discovery and went on with her day.

Another child is just not here for his mom. She’s trying to give him The Look and The I’m-Not-Playing-With-You-Tone, but neither are working. God bless her.

Children will really humble the fuck out of you.

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why none of them got into The Good Place

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Beyoncé Giselle Knowles-Carter was born 37 years ago today. She’s attained a level of global super-stardom many gifted artists will never get to experience, but it feels good to know she absolutely deserves all the hysteria around her art, occasional Instagram posts, and existing.

I was born at just the right time to experience the growth and evolution of arguably one of the most celebrated artists of my lifetime. No matter how you, you, or even you feel about her celebrity-ness, talent, or ever-present presence in pop culture, she’s here and will be here. 

We will forever stan. Happy Birthday, Beyoncé.

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Friday Nights At Thirty

Throughout my twenties, I forced myself through many, many nights at the club. The night would go something like this:

Around Thursday or so I’d get a text from a friend or one of my cousins simply saying, "weekend plans?”. Despite not having any, I’d usually say something like, "I’ll get back to you” or if I was in a good mood my response would be a prompt, “what’s the move?”. 

Once the plans were settled, I’d think about what to wear. I did the heels thing several times in my early twenties and quickly realized - I am not that person. Fuck that. I cannot do heels at the club. To all the femmes who wear heels at the club for hours.

I decided the club was no longer something I was interested in so I stopped going. 

Last week my sister and I set up a Friday date where we’d tear the town up by enjoying a night out partner free. We met for food and drinks, went to a nameless furniture store, walked slowly through IKEA, and visited a Dollar Tree where I spent too $10 too much on “crafts”. 

I arrived home around 10:45pm just in time to watch my favorite genre of TV, Going Back To My Creepy Hometown To Solve Murders. 

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Lee Friedlander, Aretha Franklin, 1968

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Revisiting Kelly Price’s ‘Soul Of A Woman’ At Thirty

1998 was a defining year for me. 

The small, christian private school I attended built a new wing specifically for grades sixth through eighth just in time for my class to inherit. This elevation also came with new lockers, uniforms, and wraparound desks (these desks were a big fucking deal!!). That very same year on August 11, Kelly Cherelle Price from Queens, New York, debuted her first album, ‘Soul Of A Woman’. 

As a not-yet-so-moody preteen, I was very much attached to 'Soul Of A Woman’. It could’ve been the magnetism of the Stevie J produced single, “Friend Of Mine”, which spent five weeks at number one on the Adult R&B Songs chart and number twelve on the Hot 100 chart, neither a small feat. It also could’ve been the iconic video featured Ron Isley as her overly protective “godfather” who consoled Kelly over a cheating boyfriend played by [redacted]. 

I think I was mostly drawn to Kelly Price because of her churchy sounding voice. Her use of melisma and vocal acrobatics were familiar to me though she sang about the ups and downs of romantic love, something I wouldn’t experience until years later. 

There’s no way I could possibly do one of those 2000 word, featured length pieces so many of my favorite writers do because my attention span is short. It took me damn near two weeks to finish this! I just wanted to share my love and appreciation for an album that still holds up today and debuted at a time when I was starting to recognize when music was just enjoyable (cool beat, fun lyrics, etc.) versus great, well constructed music.

Happy 20th Anniversary, ‘Soul Of A Woman’. Thank you, Kelly Price. 

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Snapchat Bios

I’ve lived on the internet for over half of my life. Short biographies became a small, but important piece of online life to me. I found an iPhone note with some bios I was trying out for my now abandoned Snapchat.

I enjoy long walks to the liquor store.

I write things.

Your silence will not protect you. -Audre Lourde

Mia X’s verse on ‘All Because Of You’ is my life roadmap. No hoteps please.

I often walk through life’ situations asking, “What Would Mia X Do?”

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Making Plans At Thirty

I never had a huge social circle, but I’ve always known how to make friends. Was my approach clunky? Probably. Awkward? Maybe. But I got the job done. Meeting people is not the hard part, but it’s the maintenance of keeping new people in my life that’s hard. There are so many empty promises of staying in touch and the constant brunch/lunch/happy hour plans, which never follow through. Do you know how many “we should hang out” text conversations are in my phone right now? Too many.

I don’t even know where to start with breaking this cycle. Every year I say to myself, “self, hang out with more people this year!” and it never happens. Right after an interaction with someone where plans are attempted to be made, I feel bad because I know and they know it’s never going to happen. Then about three minutes will pass by and I’m already choosing the next show I’m going home to binge.

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I was a month shy of my 10th birthday when my period started. I was in the fourth grade and had no prior knowledge of what it meant to menstruate or ovulate. I just remember thinking, how will this interrupt my double dutch games?

Fast forward to my 20s, my cycle was like clockwork. I never missed a month and I always knew when my period would start and end thanks to several savvy phone applications. I did get cramps which were absolutely wretched, but manageable. I was in tune with my body, mastering the dreaded Aunt Flow with ease seamlessly going from month to month without complications.

Shortly after my 28th birthday, I noticed something different about my time of the month. The regularity of my cycle started to spiral into chaos versus the usual schedule of one or two heavy days followed by two or three light days. Heavy days were now lasting almost a week. I was now going through two or three boxes of overnight sized pads. I’ve always had heavy days during my period, but something was different. I reached out to my gynecologist who prescribed birth control pills to regulate my periods which was a Godsend – but for only a short while.

Tempted to visit the ER, I opted to schedule an actual appointment with my gynecologist. The bleeding slowed but started back up with a vengeance the day before my visit. I was now changing pads every 30 to 45 minutes. It got so insane that I bought Always Discreet a brand by Always, which are adult diapers for urinary incontinence. (I had no shame walking into CVS and purchasing them either.) It was the only solution to prevent trips to the bathroom twice an hour.

After finally visiting the gynecologist in tears, she prescribed something to stop the bleeding and ordered to have my blood work done. Once my results came back, my doctor called me to let me know my red cell blood count was too low. She told me to modify my diet, take iron pills, and schedule an appointment to get an ultrasound of my uterus ASAP.

I went to my scheduled ultrasound with assuredness that I was fine and maybe this was one big fluke. I sat in the waiting area petrified. I ended up sitting across from a family of three, but soon to be four. I sat there wondering if they felt sorry for me, mistakenly thinking I was pregnant and attending an ultrasound alone. I so badly wanted to smile and say, J_ust getting my uterus checked! I’m not alone and pregnant!_

After the procedure was done, I went about my day cautiously hopeful about what was going on in my lady parts.

I didn’t even have to wait a full 24 hours when my gynecologist called me that afternoon with my results. I missed first her call but she left a message, and from the sound of her voice I knew it wasn’t a fluke. Something was wrong. I called back only to leave a message with a front desk administrator. I was nervous. Did I break something? Did an ovary fall out? Am I dying? She called back starting the conversation by treading lightly, dancing around what she needed to tell me for about 15 seconds. Then she said it,

“You have two large fibroids at the top of your uterus”.

My uterus had finally turned on me.

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Living With Your Partner At Thirty

This year I decided to move in with my partner. The weekend after we moved all of our belongings in, I sat at work in my office for days silently processing my decision. I was confident in my choice, but every now and then I’d think, “did I really just do that?”

A few days into our new lease, he called me asking if we had a pot to boil water in to complete the second step of unclogging a slow drain. It was weird because of two things: 

1. I know it’s the first of many calls with questions he’ll think I know the answer to. 

2. I could’ve sworn I showed him where everything was last night despite him also living there.

Immediately after that call, I thought again, “did I really just fucking do this?”

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Hi.

One of my earliest memories of searching the world wide web was at my mother’s job on a Macintosh computer. (I feel like in the early to mid 90s, they said the full name of Macintosh instead of Macs.) My mom’s coworker logged into a conference room computer and guided me to click on the Netscape icon. The first website visit? Intercot.com. It was a go-to website or everything Disney related. Since middle school, I’ve been part of very iteration of online social interaction. Chat rooms, online diaries, blogging, everything. I did it all. 

Back in 2009 I was taking a writing course and professor said, “if you want to be a writer, you need to be blogging.” So I got a Wordpress account, valheartsmusic.wordpress.com, and got writing. I wasn’t as nearly as prolific as I thought myself to be. Despite my beginner writing skills, I churned out my blog posts with my professor’s voice ringing in my head, “I don’t care if only your mother and your best friend is reading it”, so I continued to write and post. 

I ended up turning my beginner blog into a novice blog buy purchasing a real domain to house my ramblings. I wrote about everything from relationships to ‘Sex and the City’ to being a single, non-cooking woman. I even wrote something titled like, ‘Rihanna and I Hate Broke Bitches’, which was my first attempt at satirical writing after one of the singer’s infamous Twitter beefs. 

I let go of my little corner on the interwebs a while ago, but I missed writing regularly on any and everything. I thought I’d get another Official Website, but I opted for something with a bit of anonymity and more of a theme of what it is to be thirty. (Also, I’m cheap and I already own too many domains I don’t use.) I know, I know, writing about your thirties is so overdone and there are plenty of “coming of age” memoirs and plenty “voices of a generation” to go around, but this is neither of those things. This is just a love letter to how terrible and wonderful and frightening it can be to enter your thirties with very few answers and so many questions.