"Man, these kids wear crowns over here"

bust it.

let me just take a moment to give drizzy drake some love. i  heard an old record of his that came out before i left detroit and it  sent me to a warm place (it also sent me into a pre 2013 drake listening session). i may or may not have a drake quote on deck for every emotion, event, instagram caption, tweet, status, blog post ever in life. no one gets me like drake does.

ok, not really, but really. don't judge me.

ah, the trials and tribulations of being a twenty something. a kid in search of self. a person on a pursuit of happiness. and all the superficial and all consuming distractions/setbacks that you meet along the way. 

im closing in on year 27 of my life. 
27 was special. 27 was scary. 27 was everything.

i spent a great deal of this year being an angsty little twat stuck in her second pathetic teenagehood- complaining about first world problems one minute and trying to think of a way to change the society the next. seriously. i also often found myself straddling a thin line between feeling super accomplished and feeling like an utter failure. but ultimately i learned that thats pretty fucking normal for andrita, so yeah. such is life.

i got in my own way a lot this year. put my foot in my mouth a bit this year. i chose to do shit my way (aka the hard way)a lot at 27, too, always finding comfort and refuge in the fact that I'm 'an artist', so its fine.

bullshit.

at 28, i hope to take heed to everything my old heads, mentors, oracles, stars and crystal balls tell me. I'm gonna put my own stank on it, of course, but I WILL OBEY in this next chapter. Doing shit your own way is fun and fulfilling and all that but being a broke ass with no IRA or passport fucking SUCKS. Im abandoning Team Starving Artist.

ha. I'm only half serious about that one. 27 was an unstable mindfuck that required me to call on every life lesson I've ever learned but I honestly had a good time, a great time. And I'm closing out on a good note, optimistic and grateful for what I've experienced and whats in store next.

Death is at the tip of her tongue

I'm in a real Lupe kinda mood these days.

I don't mean to sound like a Debbie Downer, and perhaps this is just some unofficial seasonal depression trying to kick in, but I really feel like the world as we know it is coming to a close.  

With all of the horrible injustices and inhumane things going on around the world in an era where we undoubtedly have the capacity to eliminate them all I find it difficult NOT to think like this.

I passed a homeless couple sitting outside on a bench in the cold today.  I dont know what pissed me off more- the fact that they had found no other solution but to just huddle and freeze, the fact that I had absolutely nothing to give them or the fact that, even if I did have something, I wouldve been afraid to offer it for fear that they'd stab me or something. 

Then, when I got home I tried to finally get a better understanding of, and enroll in, the new healthcare stuff.  I found out that my being a single young non-child bearing mother would cost me about $180 a month for coverage- which I obviously can not afford at this point.  So that means continued knocks on wood, overpriced out-of-pocket fees for doctors visits and jank ass medical attention from the low-cost facilities for my impending sinus infection.  

Simultaneously, I was perusing Craigslist in contemplation of picking up a side gig only to find that employers have lost their absolute motherfucking minds in 2013.  Retail stores were requiring cover letters, bachelors degrees and recent photos of applicants. 

Retail.

Are you fucking kidding me? To fold clothes for minimum wage?

And most of them have the audacity to require open availability/flexibility.  How can you ask someone to be free at your beck and call when your pay rate barely even covers the cost of the transportation to get them to you?

You want me to be a college educated professional to WORK in your store? Lets not even talk about what qualifications I need to SHOP in it...

There are LEVELS to the layers of disrespect that these major companies/corporations are dishing out to the everyday Joe Schmo.

Everything that I see in the world nowadays just makes me want to unplug. Not on some suicidal shit but just, like, fuck off from media of all sorts.  I know Im sounding really angst-y teen-y right now but everything looks like a bowl of bullshit as far as Im concerned.  

Im starting to feel like life in this era is just one big ass hologram. Most of us are constantly chasing these intangible ideas of happiness and freedom in a society whose main goal seems to be to convince you that that doesn't exist.  Or worse, they DO exist, you just have to play by these rules and follow these steps to just get closer to it.

I dont get it.  

And the really shitty part about it is that we have become so numb, complacent, accepting, selfish, lazy, or whatever you want to call it, that theres nothing left of this world but to self destruct and fast.

Hopefully whatever comes after us will retain the technological advances of ours but have the heart of the people before us.

Young, Fresh and New

I think we all get a bit uncertain about where we are, what we're doing and where we're going in life from time to time.

That is space I often find myself in and Im praying to the highest that this is something exclusive to my twenties and not a lifelong battle.

BUT

Everysinglefuckingtime I get to that point I usually immediately get a signal from the universe telling me whats up.

I did a gig for a major sneaker brand commercial campaign that I knew would be intense, as those kinds of gigs tend to be, but I didn't know what type of team I'd be spending the few days with- which makes the utmost difference.  

Much to my surprise, one of my favorite young stylists (Marcelo Gaia) was on board for the project and so was one of my favorite cool kids (Joey Labeija). And I was working with two awesome girls (Kira and Christy) on the H/MU team that I just met at a runway show I worked.

Trust, you do not understand how amazing it is to show up for a job that youre not yet sure about to find people that you already know and like in real life are going to be working beside you. You dont know how it feels to show up to a job full of fancy folks as an assistant and hear someone shout your name in excitement (or confused familiarity). Its like an affirmation that you, the technicolor haired black girl from Detroit, do in fact belong right where you are.

And to meet new people(people who are far more advanced in their careers than you/ people who are far more cooler and in demand than you) and they're receptive and warm to you without you doing a motherfucking thing but being your genuine natural born self- is quite amazing as well.

To simply be in the company of a few very talented young professionals who you KNOW are gonna make it to the top and have a mutual admiration/appreciation and belief in one another is all the verification I need to know that, even if I cant yet work out the details, Im certainly moving in the right direction.

Brown Girl, Turn Your Shit Down

Such an interesting social climate we're living in.

Such an interesting social landscape I'm living in.

I just went to see MIA live at Terminal 5 and, consequently, I've been functioning on a different wavelength ever since. 

At one point in my life, I was quite serious about the idea of being a social activist...as a career.  

And now I'm a hair stylist.  

Funny, no?

Well, as much as there are a shitload of injustices going on in this nation and beyond, I haven't quite figured out my own personal avenue in making an impact on a single fucking thing.  

The point is, at the time that I wanted to be the next Angela Davis, I thought I had to give up on every creative aspiration I had.  And now, now that I've been progressing in an industry that is completely operated by appearances, relationships and oft-superficial bullshit, I've grown overtly cautious of causing too much of a stir- which means I've kind of given up reincarnating poor Ang. 

But getting reacquainted with MIA has reminded me that the concept of artist and activist don't have to exist on seperate planes. Its not an easy path to tread but its not impossible either. And, some chicks, like MIA, manage to make it look dope as well.

Go figure.

http://www.youtube.com/v/K1Bdw4HJ7Z0?version=3&autohide=1&autohide=1&showinfo=1&feature=share&autoplay=1&attribution_tag=HOQBHoBLmHs5BKiZjq_VpA

Marquee

Back in August (2013), I found out there was a traveling documentary centered around the legendary House of Field premiering at Marquee. 

And it was open to the public.

Naturally, I brushed off my hologram platform sneakers and carried my ass to Chelsea that night. Full 'fro, flannel, stacked bangles and absolutely no fucks.

I can remember practically stomping the pavement as if it were a catwalk and my name were Naomi. I was totally consumed with the spirit of Carrie Bradshaw.  Even when my evil mind was whispering to me 'What if there's a list that Im not on?' and 'Oh, fuck look at all these dope ass people here', not ONCE did I feel out of place or not cool enough to be there- which is pretty maj for me.

As I walked up to the line, there were a few people already there but one woman in particular stood out. 

Her. Hair. Was. Everything.

It was past her shoulders and the orangest orange that ever did orange. And the color was PERFECTLY evened out. No streaks, no bands, no missed spots. Nothing less than perfection.

She told me I could go on ahead of her, as she had every intention of finishing her cigg first. I happily obliged. Eventually, she and her clique and about a hundred other people who looked like the original and authentic version of Sex and the City characters and tumblr inspirations filed in line behind moi.  

I listened to the lady tell stories about Patricia Field and working in the store for a good 45 minutes and I enjoyed every second of it. 

Seeing as I was the only weirdo who had come solo, when the doors to the venue opened, I was able to tunnel vision my way to the best seating area in the house. After everyone got they're kiki on they eventually all stuffed into my seating zipcode. 

The film came on and I immediately noticed this shindig was something like a family affair.  After the filmmaker said his peace and apologized for Pat not being present (which I had found out from Big Orange earlier) the movie opened with applause. Not necessarily out of excitement, but out of familiarity for sure. Apparently many of the people in the flick, were in the crowd, as well as friends and family of the 'house'. 

And sure enough, she was too.  Best Hair 2013 was actually HoF legend Codie Ravioli. And she had taken a spot directly across from me, which meant

1)I was surrounded by the coolest people of the House
2)I got to hear side stories/comments throughout

Score.

This night turned out to be pretty meaningful to me.  The film was obviously amazingly inspiring for any creative ambitious fighting young outsider. But it was also probably the first time, in the whole three years that I've lived here, in the whole time that I've been working in the fashion industry that I actually felt comfortable with my not-in-the-cool-clubness.  Like, I enjoyed the night, the scenery, the crowd, the vibes, everything WITHOUT feeling awkward at all. I did not feel like I wore the wrong shit. I didnt feel like anyone was looking at me disapprovingly. I didnt experience any of my normal oddball shit. I was just me. Amongst a bunch of cool ass folks. Thats it. 

Freedom from baggage and hang ups. Confidence in every move. Creative passion pulsating through my bod. It was the very feeling that I had always imagined Id have once I moved to New York. 

Flash forward to today. I dont know exactly how/why but I found out that Codie passed away- which prompted me to relive this night. May she sleep amongst the angels.

Violet

Patty Schemel of Hole's documentary of being a bad bitch and living (happily) to tell about it

There's always going to be someone else.

Someone who's better, more talented, more interesting, more disciplined, more confident, more connected, more inspiring, more popular........you get the point.

Knowing that and STILL being totally secure in your OWN shit isn't always the easiest thing.  Knowing that sometimes the bad guy wins and the evil person prospers is unsettling and can throw you off your game a bit.

I've been in this headspace on and off. Especially in regards to my career and overall quality of life.

Whereas before, years ago, this would get me down, I now give it a more positive spin. I try to keep my mind focused on my life and what I want to accomplish with it.  Simple shit.....  except I wasn't able to do this for a very long time.

I'd see someone who I knew was full of shit get a break and I'd feel like a loser for not having one of my own.  Or I'd see someone doing the very thing that I want to do and feel like since they've already gotten to it, theres absolutely no way I can do it too.

And then there's always that person who's just simply the shit. And you just have to eat it, because even YOU'RE a fan. Fucking asshole.

Now, it doesn't get to me like it used to.  Now, I've matured a bit and I've learned a little more about my own strengths and weaknesses as well as my goals and dreams.  And those things are so exclusive to me that it makes it pretty fuckin impossible for me to be discouraged or intimidated by the next bitch.

The thing is, everyone has a journey.  And everyone's journey has the potential to be epic in its own way. Value and trust it and everything else will just fall in line.

Goin to the ceremony

“...I dont know where Im going
But Im goin
Its...all...happening...”

My entire twenties have been a clusterfuck of questions, obviously. I’ve already gone through the cliches of who is it that I am and what is it that I want.  I’ve now tapped into the momentum of getting myself to that place in life.

And then I realized that I’m again uncertain of absolutely everything.

But at least Im progressing. 

"And I feel like I just got home..."

I really wish I had wrote about this as soon as I saw it for the first time.  I don't think I've ever been so excited about anything in my entire life.  EVER.  

Me. ME. FUCKING ME! In Vogue.  Vogue Thailand, to be exact.

I grew up obsessing over magazines and dreaming of somehow working within the realms of those pages. I'm just a black girl from Detroit with tunnel vision dreams of pursuing any and every thing that will warrant a life of happiness and fulfillment. Thats it.

I wasn't blessed with connects or silver spoons.  Just a loving family and friends who believe in me. I've spent a great deal of time testing a shitload of different avenues to get me towards the life that I want and while most of them inevitably led to dead ends, they also ALL contributed to this exact point in my life.

Don't get me wrong, I certainly have a long road ahead of me but I dont want to glaze over this moment.  I want to stop, enjoy and appreciate this milestone moment.  I said I wouldn't allow myself to NOT celebrate the things in my life that make me happy or proud of my journey. 'Cuz if *I* don't, surely no one else will.

And thats all.

Faster than the speeding light she's flying
Trying to remember where it all began
Shes got herself a little piece of heaven
Waiting for the time when earth shall be as one

All Apologies

...On What I Learned This Year

The end of the year, right? So I 'm supposed to reminisce on all of the good and bad of this year and make plans for the next, huh?

I guess...

Ive grown out of New Years resolutions a long time ago and I 'd rather forget about 2012 than sit and dwell on it.  

It is a widely held truth that we should take from the current year lessons that will make us better in the new year. But I 'm kinda in an interesting position.  The most significant lesson - the most affluent theme- of my year has been "Use it".  

As in, "You already know (knew) that, now just use it."  

Like the hardheaded sonofabitch that I am, I have repeatedly found myself in situations this year where I 've gone against my better judgement (JUST FOR THE SAKE OF GOING AGAINST MY BETTER JUDGEMENT-might I add) only to have things blow up in my face.  And then the little devil that lives on my right shoulder laughs at me hysterically and does the Grace Adler "Told Ya So" dance.  

So, in short, this year was NOT about learning anything new. It was about taking heed to the shit I already knew.  

If I sit and think of all the things that I could have done differently or improved upon or blah, blah, blah they would all share the common denominator of me just scaling back and abiding by my already established/tested/tried-and-true set of guidelines to life.  

Trapped In My Mind

So I complain about being a "grown up" far more than I praise it(I used quotations because I like to think I'm only an adult in the literal sense).  One major perk of being a grown up is that by now, you have had enough one-on-one experiences with your damn self to differentiate between when you are legitimately going through something worth examining further and when you're just going through some cyclical shit that you always go through at particular times of year or in particular types of situations. 

That self-knowledge has been saving my ass lately.  I'll get on this kick and obsess over something for days on end and wonder what the hell is wrong with me.  Then I remember, oh, shit. Its *insert month here*.  I always get like this around *insert event/holiday here*.  Then I'm back to normal.

I'm usually knocked off my axis the most during the following times: June/July, August/Sept and December/January.   That five month stretch between February and June is pretty anti-climatic. I'm on mental and emotional autopilot.  Alls my feels and thoughts are in hibernation during this time.

Those other blips are the polar opposite.  I'm a clusterfuck of emotions, anxiety attacks and nervous wrecks.  Of course, I am exaggerating but you get the point.  

December/January is the fucking worst.  The end and beginning.  Its holiday time and I'm alone in the greatest city in the world.  Any other time of year, that is the illest factor in my very existence.  I love being uncommitted in New York. I can't really put it into understandable words but understand that its nirvana for me.   But then holiday and birthday time roll up on me and I'm done.  I'm either a cry baby or a scrooge. Or I'm a fake Plymouth-Rock-landed-on-me atheist-sounding poo-poo head.  Whatever I can do to shit on the holiday season, I do. Dispicable me. 

Do not even speaketh of my born day.  I.Don't.Want.To.Do.Shit.Wit.Cho.Ass.
Horrible, I know. I KNOW. But this is exactly what I'm talking about.  I've experienced myself enough to know that, basically, I'm on one.  No need to worry.  A few weeks of wallowing about and I'll be good. That simple.

Funny enough, its this time of year plus June/July that I psyche myself into thinking I want a boyfriend.  Here is where I should probably note that I happen to be the biggest commitment phobe I've ever encountered in my life.  But during these two times of year, I pretend that I've been miraculously cured of my lethal illness.  I don't know.  Something about being cold and bored or hot and bothered?... I haven't the slightest.

Last are my August/September episodes aka What Am I Doing?  I self-assess my life.  I'm mortified by what I see. I reconfigure my life plan. I obsess over the unlikliness of it actually happening.  I consider a life as a gypsy, political activist, professional criminal or housewife.  I sulk and then its over.

I hate that one.

Again, the glory is in knowing me. If I didn't know the girl that lives in this body, I'd be on drugs, legal and otherwise.

Suspended

Don't you just love it when shit makes sense?  Isn't it grand when you're not suspended in a state of confusion? 

Maybe it's just me.  

The more I advance into (and through) my twenties I'm seeing that life is really about experience, reflection and impact.  On most days, those three simple ideas leave me with a case of the crazies wondering whether or not I'm doing it right.

But today is not one of those days.

I'm Baccarat. Or at least I'm as clear as I should be right now. Life has a really interesting way of bringing things to light for us. Folks say you should check yourself if you keep ending up in the same type of situations, and while I believe that to be true in many cases, its bullshit a lot of the time too. You are who you are and where you are for a reason.  Your mortal ass attempts at changing that are counterproductive to your purpose. Don't waste your time.  

Don't Even Ask Me

"I wouldn't know what to do with another chance 

If you gave it to me 

I couldn't take the embrace of a real romance 

It'd race right through me 

I'm much better off the way things are 

Much much better off, better by far, by far 

I wouldn't know what to say to a gentle voice 

It'd roll right past me 

And if you chalk it up you'll see I don't really have a choice 

So don't even ask me 

I'm much better off, the way things are 

Much much better off, better by far 

So keep on calling me names, keep on, keep on 

And I'll keep kicking the crap till it's gone 

If you keep on killing, you could get me to settle 

And as soon as I settle, I bet I'll be 

Able to move on 

How can I fight, when we're on the same side 

How can I fight beside you"- Fiona Apple, The Way Things Are

    On one hand its weird to reject the lovely nuances of romance and the state of being in love.  On the other hand, its not like God himself descended from the heavens and required that you do. And just because you are born with a certain genitalia doesn't mean that you have to lean one way more than the other.

I'on know, man.

Forget it.

Over My Dead Body

*Le Sigh*

Who needs a shrink when you have a pen and paper? Or the internet? 

I stopped writing this way for a while.  And it showed. But I've picked it up again and I'd like to think I'm at my best with it now.

So yeah, into the mind of a creative, a Capricorn, a twenty-five year old, a dreamer, a girl......

It gets pretty complex up there sometimes.  So much so that shit just fades to black sometimes and theres nothing going on up there at all. Then it comes pouring back tenfold.

Writing should be mandatory. If not for everyone, at least for me.  Shit could sit on my mind for months with no closure but once I transfer it to paper (or computer) I'm instantly relieved.  

I could hate myself for being so in my head all the time.  I could let it drive me crazy. I could drown myself in drugs and psychologist bills. Or I could just hide from it.

But really, what would be the point? 

Even though it rarely seems so, I think your thoughts are all related/connected. And if you work through just one, you end up uncovering some shit about another. I guess thats the scary part. 

The exposure.

Exposure> Vulnerability> Pain> Some kind of death.

I'm not built for any of those things.  No one is. But the fear isn't worth the sacrifice. Or at least thats the lesson I'm trying to get through to myself. I don't think any of those things are escapable. And if thats the case, why be afraid to understand them?

So when that one that you finally want is no longer an option, when you're dead wrong about something you really wanted to be right about, and no one will ever understand...just write

I'm a Braveheart

"I drove an old school Beamer
You drove an eighteen wheeler
With nuclear bombs
Slowly dropping them down for fun
But I didn't run..." Brave, Kelis


No one wants to be fucking rejected. 

Like, ever, bro.

But the shit happens. Everyday. All day. 
To people who deserve it just as well as those who don't.

What are you gonna do?

I had a paralytic fear of rejection. I'm talking some unnormal-type shit.  I'da sooner died than put myself in a position to be played so brutally.  The thought of someone being able to look at me with the word "Loser" written across my forehead, and THEY'RE the one who put it there?? And I actually like THEIR ass? The HORROR!

Fuck. Outta. Here.
Not the kid.

...Until it actually happened. 
Twice.

Its hilarious.  I mean, my feelings were absolutely demolished at the time but that shits only fleeting.  Thank God.

What I'm trying to unload is that it wasn't that damn bad, now that I look back on it. So what? Bitches weren't feeling me, fine. It cost them nothing to pay me no mind. 

No matter how vile it may seem that someone isn't interested in your awesome ass; no matter how malicious their efforts in getting that message to you may actually be- it doesn't fucking matter.

In the end, you get a thicker skin out of the experience and know what to stay the hell away from in the future.

Miles

You ever forget who you are sometimes?

And no, I'm not on my usual emo shit today.  This isn't some in-my-head shit.  

I mean, like, do you ever find yourself thinking or acting some kind of way that is totally not YOU?

Like, normally I'm a lover of all things unconventional.  I love learning shit.  I like getting to understand  things that are outside of my comfort zone.  And I'm usually pretty unapologetic about it. I will FIEND OUT for you to help me understand something.  You will want to slap me.

...Normally.

So why then, am I being a little scary bitch about asking someone this one thing that I REALLY WANT TO FUCKING KNOW THE ANSWER TO? 
1) Because its about myself
2) I'm afraid.
3) The answer has no real function in life other than to irritate my soul.

Walk with me through this one.  The music of Miles Davis and a 10-second reality check from my best friends boyfriend gave me the courage to get this far.  I can't stop now.

My normal self is courageous.  I'm a pretty brave girl, in theory. Sort of. My normal self doesn't care too much what people think about me personally. Don't get me wrong- I'm VERY interested in peoples perception of me but not in the sense that it affects what the hell I do.

So if the above statements are true, I should NOT be afraid to hear what this person has to say about me, right? 

Where the fuck is my 'normal self' right now?

...ok, so maybe I am being in-my-head again.

BUT

If we move past the fear factor of it all, to the next point...

3)It doesn't even matter. At All.

I'm fiending to know something that, even if I had the answer to, wouldn't do or change anything.  So whats really the point?

There is no point.

I'm just neurotic.

I Was Here

I want to be inspiring.

I want to be brave.

I want to be unafraid.

I want to encourage.

I want to motivate.

I want to be secure spiritually, emotionally, financially.

I want to be an activist.

I want to make an impact on people.

I want to make an impact on the world.

I want to be full of wisdom and knowledge.

I want to be free to make changes in my life on a whim.

I want to be creative.

I want to be an entrepreneur.

I want to be a writer.

I want to travel.

I want to live my life to its fullest capacity and potential.

I want to do what I was put on earth to do.

I want to be who I was put on earth to be.

Some things never seem to f*cking work

"I've seen you with the lights off

I've seen you and you'd think you loved me

I've seen you with your hat off

I'm dreaming of a time when you knew me

So baby, is it all you've got?

Tell me if you got some more

I'm thinking of some time off

I'm dreaming of a time when you knew me"- Solange, Some Things Never Seem to F*cking Work

My dad once told me that hindsight is 20/20.  I thought he was nuts then but I get it now.  Most of us come from under that cloud of smoke eventually.