I have finally put in the paperwork, in the final throes of my junior year of college, to pursue a double major.

English and Journalism. Ying and Yang. Good and Evil. Oil and Vinegar. Jesus and Beelzebub.

Which definitely means that I will be in college for a while longer than the rest of my peers.

Which means that financial aid will continue to be an uphill battle.

Which means that I must watch, fight and pray.

Which means that I have made a dedication to English, the subject of my youth and the object of my undying infatuation.

I love going against the status quo.

Education is a companion which no future can depress, no crime can destroy, no enemy can alienate it and no nepotism can enslave.
Ropo Oguntimehin

The past few weeks have been a complete whirlwind of education concerning what I was brought into this world to be: a writer, a feminist, a lover of God, a lover of myself and a champion for the weak.
Whenever you're ready for me, God, I'm ready as well.
I'm in the last leg of the most amazing book; I just recently finished one weeks earlier, and it is equally amazing. The already finished book, entitled Cunt: A Declaration of Independence, has got to be one of the most freeing books I have ever read. I now approach myself, and my womanhood, with such respect and awe that I feel like ignoring the precious prize of being a woman would be a sin against God Him(Her?)self. It's strange to say, but I now look at life almost completely through my own personal "cunt lens," approaching each and every occurrence in its relationship to womanhood and cunt power.
My entire life has been a dress rehearsal for reading that book.
And what makes me believe destiny's call is my accidental traipse into another feminist literary triumph, assigned to me in one of my classes. The book, called Living Water, gives literary life to the biblical story of Jesus and the woman at the well, and simultaneously gives life to my burgeoning feminist whims. If I had only read Cunt alone, without the added oomph of the other book, I might have assumed that I just had the fortune to come across a great work of womanly literature. However, falling into the second book without warning is what has convinced me that this, being strong and resilient and unyielding and positive and negative and a great writer and a loving daughter and a trusted ally and a FEMINIST, is what God put me on this soil for.

It's time to get to work.

When I was young I was sure of everything; in a few years, having been mistaken a thousand times, I was not half so sure of most things as I was before; at present, I am hardly sure of anything but what God has revealed to me.

John Wesley

A Work In Progress...

The past week...
Well, let's just say I'm glad it's over.
It was truly one of those experiences truly ordained by God himself to buff and refine one into a better version of himself/herself. And I am better for it.
I learned:

• People need to handled with a level of detachment.
• Love is not black-and-white.
• Exercise and/or a good walk with blasting headphones is a great stress buster.
• I need to do more with my life.
• I am the one I need to be unconditionally in love with--not anyone else.
• ALL MEN ARE DOGS!
• I was meant to help others.
• Although I must learn to love myself, the world does not revolve around me.
• My world does not revolve around a man.
• God loves me.
• I must cling to Him, and never forget.
• Writing, after God, is my saving grace.
• I am a burgeoning feminist.
  
• I love my hair.
• I can do this.
• I will survive.

If you're going through hell, keep going.
Winston Churchill

Alert!

As of this moment, I have decided that the "romantic" musings uttered in this blog will not be in reference to any interaction with anyone of the opposite sex, but my slowly unfolding romance with myself. After one of the most painful/mind-reeling/enlightening weeks of my young life, I have learned that I truly need to fall in love with Altamese...and that is just what I intend to do.

That will be all.

Give Me a Side of Beef With That...Beef

I've been trying to "go veg" since my junior year of high school.

I'm a junior in college now.

And in the midst of my vegetarian aspirations, I've allowed 20 pounds to creep onto my 5'3'' frame.

Not cute.

I've always had a curvy figure, and it has always been the admiration of many. However, my figure has slowly warped, changing it from curvy--to just plain curved. And while my shape still looks decent, even with the added baggage, and while some may still admire it, I'm not happy with it.

I. Myself. Me.

I know what my body has the potential to be, therefore I am dissatisfied with the added packaging that has become the recent makeup of me.

And, if I become truly honest with myself, I have been in denial about the weight gain, avoiding mirrors and such, until church members back home pointed out what I had tried to ignore for so long.

"You got fat," one old lady smiled and pointed out, obviously clueless to the fact that she was a big mass herself.

"What size do you wear now? I got some clothes to give to you," another said, also oblivious to her gargantuan frame.

"I thought you would've lost weight by now," said yet another, while at the same time her ankles were actively melding permanently into her feet.

Hence my distress.

I always live in denial while away at school, ignoring any kind of health and fitness regime, and instead ordering Pizza Hut, Chinese food, Burger King, Philly cheesesteaks, and more!

I'm growing more dissatisfied with my sedentary and soda-heavy lifestyle even as I write this! (I just got finished polishing off the dessert portion left over from a hearty feast at Pappasitos.)

This is where vegetarianism comes in.

As part of my "wanna-be" healthier lifestyle, I have continued to log vegetarianism in as a mainstay in my regimen. Not only do I feel living a plant-based existence will allow me to shed excess pounds, I feel it will do my body good healthwise. I come from a long line of heart disease, high blood pressure, hypertension, diabetes, and many other ailments that creep in as a result of unhealthy living.

I don't want to be unhealthy when I get older. I don't want to rely on prescription medication. I don't want to lose the use of my legs. I don't want to be forced into dialysis three times a week.

I don't want to die before my time.

However, while my spirit is willing, my flesh is so constantly weak.

I actually succeeded in becoming a vegetarian for a full month after a year of on-again, off-again, plant savvy living. Then I fell off the wagon.

And now, as I write this, as I mentioned earlier, my stomach cries out in protest of the torture put upon it, and in agreement to the words I place here. It's as if my stomach and my mind are working together to push me back into a state of healthy living.

I'm so stuffed from dinner. And it hurts.

Now I make my claim. Now I decide to take the reins of my health. Now is when I choose to live.

I will become a vegetarian! I will lose this weight! I will be healthy! I will live!

Let's see how this goes.

The only way to keep your health is to eat what you don't want, drink what you don't like, and do what you'd rather not.
Mark Twain

Fed Up!

Sometimes I feel like I'm talking and talking, but no one is listening.

Maybe I'll just shut up, and let everyone figure it out on their own.

Much silence makes a powerful noise.
African Proverb

Last Night, Yoga Saved My Life

As a college student, I'm currently on Spring Break, and naturally, when I have nothing to do, I tend to wreak havoc. My most current havoc-wreaking endeavors have been directed at a young man with whom I accidentally fell into an online "non-relationship" last year. (He says he doesn't want a relationship, but wants me. Go figure.) Let's call him "Bill." Anyway, Bill and I constantly have the same back-and-forth argument about the lack of effort he puts forth in our "relationship." Every month or so, around the same couple of days, (you get where I'm going) I turn into the antithesis of my usual sweet self, and make a dedicated effort to destroy my relationships with all the important people in my life. (friends, mom, guys, etc.) Thus, Bill and I have recently had our appointed argument, where I whine and cry, and threaten to walk out of the "relationship," and he sits back nonchalantly and calls my bluff. To be honest, this time around, he was so arrogant and insensitive about such topics as his refusal to commit, his refusal to stop flirting with other girls, and his insistence on pointing out how needy I am that I actually considered putting weight behind my words and leaving the entire circumstance. (I'm still considering that option as I type this.)

And then yoga comes along.

Safe and sweet, with the subtle ability to sweat and contort my shape into a soothing mass of inner peace. I just finished my yoga practice, and I feel a high that cannot be brought down. I feel...peaceful. I feel...empowered. And I feel that I'm going to have to do this everyday.

What's even funnier is how a centuries old practice rooted in the Hindu tradition has become the missing fragment to link me back with the one Guy I never should have left, be it for Bill or any other man...God. While lying on my hot pink mat, I can actually hear Him speaking to me, teaching me the lessons that I cannot learn while screaming into a phone at 2,3,4,5, and 6 in the morning. God speaks to me through my yoga mat.

What did he tell me just a few minutes ago?

Let go.

I think I just might listen.

And I think I just might enter into a relationship with someone who really deserves my attention...myself.

When I was young I was sure of everything; in a few years, having been mistaken a thousand times, I was not half so sure of most things as I was before; at present, I am hardly sure of anything but what God has revealed to me.
John Wesley