At the age of thirty-five, I arrived in Virginia with 1985 four door Toyota LE Corolla with sunroof; it had been a moment of chaos and uncertainty. Also, it had been a moment when my life seemed to be out of balance with universe. Although, I had just been through a horrific ordeal, I couldn’t stop living. Six years later, I’m still in the VA trying to put the pieces of my life back together. And now on the eve of my last day and nite of being thirty-something, I am experiencing an overwhelming weeping spirit that I refuse to let take over my entire being (person). But before I expound on my thoughts of turning forty, first I want to look at my last day&nite of thirty-something, more specifically, thirty-nine.
Thirty-something morning:
My morning began @ 700am shortly after mom walks out the door and heads to her job of ten years plus. My thirty-something morning does not began as a typical thirty-something morning of a high paid high power full figure confident private sector employee living on a mall mangers salary who stays in a one bedroom apartment,condo, or townhouse. Instead, it begin with a single black female, self employed, in debt, without a car or drivers license waking up to a room that I rent from my mom which isn’t so bad because I get first dibs on all the family business__you know the stuff that’s not to be repeated outside the four walls or anywhere else including the grocery store. Anyway, my thirty-something morning began with Sparkle (my cat) [who once belong to my sisters best friend whom I somehow got designated as the care giver of Sparkle] scratching the carpet in my room. Strangely, every now and then, out of the blue, when my mom is having a conversation with both my sister and me right in mid stream of a conversation they both stop to refer to Sparkle as my cat, so__now I’m the official mysterious owner of Sparkle but for the sake of time, I’ll have to talk about Sparkle and me in a blog on word press. At any rate, at the age of thirty -nine on the day of my last morning of being thirty-something, I woke up to Sparkle scratching at the carpet in my room and my mom’s dog barking at 700 am in the morning waiting to be fed. Miraculously, on the last of my being thirty-something, I woke up to a good hair day [an extremely low maintenance hair cut] no curling iron required and manicured nails.
Resuming my thirty-something morning:
The morning got off to a really great start not because I masturbated all night, no___it got off to a great start because I bought and hid two boxes of hot chocolate in my room, one box of Swiss Miss Classic hot chocolate and the second box of Swiss Miss Dark Chocolate Sensation. After, I performed my daily regimen[wash my face, brush my teeth, make my bed, put on makeup, find a pink shirt] fed the cat who happen to barf food on the kitchen floor on the last morning of my being thirty-something and lastly feed the dog, I began to nurture my inner begin as well as my whole person. Admittedly, nurturing my wounds and the salt in my face had been a task I begin during my arrival to the VA and in all honestly, I had a lot of work to do before turning forty, such as, working on big toe, my bunion, mastering the dildo and masturbation. Unfortunately, I had some other things at the top of my list other than giving my vagina a work out i.e. (male prostitute. Seriously, all kidding aside my thirty something day had been going well until I decided to fry some chicken wings and for some reason the flour didn’t want to stick to the chicken ultimately making this big smoke screen because the generic grease immediately began to burn fast . WTF, so___I’m in the kitchen trying to fry chicken wings before my mom gets home, and the damn grease is burning, the house is smoking as in a scene from my nervous breakdown in 2001. At the same time I’m thinking, it’s a wonder that mom even let me back into her home but I guess she suspected the nervous breakdown I had in 2001 ended and I could be trusted this time, it’s not my fault ,it’s the damn generic grease or the frying pan but don’t worry I’m the world’s greatest clean up women, damage control is my specialty, with that affirmation taking hold in my spirit__ the chicken and the grease got thrown out the door before Dick Clark’s New Year Eves Rocking the Big Apple party!@!. In 2001, veritably, I had been well on my way to a home, financial success, the car of my dreams [Jeep Wrangler} my own business and a male prostitute. Sadly, dolefully, and out of my control, I got sick with a debilitating brain disease. Now, I’m here the last night of being thirty-nine tomorrow I’ll be Forty. And today, I want to Thank God for Elmo!! & Hot chocolate—-cacjohnson
365 days of shopping on one of those days, at the age of thirty-something, I…
Read more
Meditated more
Learned to blog
Made new friends
Joined several social networking sites
Began a scrap book
Initiated credit repair
Obtained my free credit report
Began a pink life style
Experimented with wigs
Researched different causes
I got roasted (nothing nice)
Found my place in the world @ csaccac
My thirty-something book list:
Permission Slips
True You
The Measure of A Man
The Legs Are The Last To Go
Girl Get Your Money Straight
Girl Get Your Credit Straight
Shoo,Jimmy Choo
What Would Susie Say?
Men Are Stupid And They Like Big Boobs
Men Are from Mars ,Women Are from Venus
Close Relations
What’s UpDown There(Questions You’d Only Ask Your Gynecologist If She Was Your Bestfriend)
A Lesson Before Dying
I Say A Little Prayer
Life Lesson for My Sisters
Yesterday I Cried
What Mama Couldn’t Tell Us About Love ( Healing the Emotional Legacy of Racism by Celebrating Our Light)
God Don’t Like Ugly
