Be Kind and Rewind.

As you get older, you tend to do a lot of contemplating. As for myself? Shit, I’m pretty sure I started overthinking out the womb. When in deep discussions with friends, I’ll sometimes ask them if they would take advantage of the opportunity to go back in time and start over. To no avail, the response is an astounding “No” followed by some variation of, “Everything happens for a reason”.

Good *clap* for *clap* you *clap* boo. No regrets right? 

That’s probably what you’re supposed to say, because any deviation from that insinuates that you are unhappy or ungrateful. Unfortunately, I ask myself the same question, and can’t decide which time I want to revisit because there’s just too many. Taking 3 shots and 4 beers just last Friday would definitely be on the list.

In all seriousness, I genuinely admire those of you who would do it all over again – the same way. For me, the first thing  I would change is college. I would’ve found some way to attend college outside of California, specifically New York. If not then, I would’ve moved to NY right after graduating college. If not then, I wouldn’t have moved back when I actually did move (there’s a theme here in case you couldn’t tell).

Asides from that, I would’ve said “No” when accepting that free t-shirt in exchange for signing up for a credit card. I would’ve NEVER gotten off the pill when I did, causing me catapult into a downward spiral of CRAZY. I would’ve never posted that one FB status. I would’ve never slept with him – again. I would’ve never cut my hair that short, or wore those shoes with that outfit. I would’ve called Steve Harvey’s producer back ASAP. I would’ve submitted that highlight reel. I would’ve quit sooner. I WOULD’VE TRIED HARDER TRIED BE A PROFESSIONAL WRITER. I could’ve would’ve and absolutely should’ve. 

But I didn’t. 

I know you aren’t supposed to think about the past, but the reality for me is it’s hard not to. I just know there were so many better decisions I could’ve made. I can’t rewind time, which I suppose is a good thing. I’m an emotional cutter, and would end up reliving moments I wish I could forget. But the good thing is I can’t fast forward time either. What I can do is not beat myself up over the past, appreciate and LIVE in the present, and not make the same mistakes moving forward. Like take that one, last shot …




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Time keeps on tickin’.

It really trips me out when people ask me for advice on how to let go of/get over someone. Not too long ago, I was in the same predicament – probably worse off. And back then I didn’t even bother asking, because I felt like a lost cause. 

I still have a long way to go on this journey to self-love, but today I can honestly say that I am proud of how far I’ve come (HOLY SHIT. Did I just say something nice about myself?). I wish I could tell you the process didn’t seem long. In actuality, it felt longer. 

Time seems to stand still at the most inconvenient of times. It streams tears down your cheek in slow-motion, and holds onto moments of resentment with an unwavering fist. The clock beats moments of anxiety like a dead horse, and presses pause when you’re in the darkest of places. Yet, it’s as if happiness is fleeting and joy is only seconds away from turning into turmoil.

Next to myself, I’d have to say time was my only other adversary. I know it doesn’t have to be, but when you’re up to your soul in a pool full of depression and nothing but time, it’s your worst enemy. 

It’s true: time heals.  Unfortunately, it can also wound. I’m not going to be one of those people that say you need the saddest of sads to make you appreciate the happiest of happy’s. Because really, who knows? And who the fuck am I to tell you if you are or aren’t happy? However, I will admit that everytime something good happens to me, I think about the bad things that have happened to me and it seems to make that moment of happiness last longer. 

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Woman to Woman.

After impatiently waiting for all my favorites shows to come back into rotation, I gave in and started watching Power. It’s not great, but I can’t stop watching. Maybe it’s because I could look at J.R. Ramirez any day of the week and twice on Sundays. Whatever it is, I’m currently almost done with Season 2. 

The manfriend came over the other day just in time to catch me finishing an episode. In an attempt to summarize the show, I broke it down like this:

  • It’s a show about drug dealers in NY
  • Tommy is crazy
  • Ghost is cheating on his wife with this chick Angela
  • Angela works for the Feds and is investigating a case involving Ghost and Tommy

“What does that make Ghost then?” Mr. Manfriend asked. “Oh, he’s a piece of shit,” I replied.

Ultimately, he was at fault. He was the one who made a commitment of fidelity to another person, then willingly made the decision to break it. Yet, there I was yelling “Pinche puta!” at the TV everytime Angela’s face showed up. Why was I so pissed at her? Asides from the fact that she continued to see him even after finding out he was married, I realized it was a “woman thing”.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I would cheat on my partner before I ever became the other woman. For ethical and selfish reasons. There is not one excuse* you could ever give me to justify being a homewrecker, so be gone with your “You can’t steal someone’s man unless they want to be taken” and “But it’s different, we’re in love” reasoning. Not today Satan, NOT TO.DAY. 

The worst part? I bet she doesn’t even think she’s a whore. 


That’s probably what annoyed me the most about Angela’s character on the show. Minus the homewrecking, it gave me PTSD about the horrible decisions I’ve made in the past. It was her lying to herself about the relationship, her lame attempts to end it, and her self-inflicted fits that made me want to throw something at the TV. WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S JUST A SHOW??!!

It reminded me of all the times I said, “I’m done” when I knew I still had a little lot more dignity left to lose. And all the times I told myself we were just going to “talk” even though I knew what it would lead to. I would’ve saved myself a lot of pain if I had just accepted things for what they were instead of lying to myself about it. Similarly, Angela would’ve been less annoying if she had just owned her whoredom. 


Bitch please, you knew what you were getting into.

Again, I’m very aware of the role Ghost plays in this whole love triangle. I am not any less pissed at him for his adulterous act, I’m just unfortunately less surprised. Whereas, I expected more from a self-proclaimed independent woman trying to prove herself in the “Boys Club” at work so I was disappointed and disgusted with Angela throughout the entire season. Obviously, this is deeper than some fictional television series. In general, it’s hard being a woman to begin with. What more the other one. 


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Hella Relatable.

::Season 2, Episode 1 SPOILER ALERT::

I watched the entire season premiere of Insecure on my tiny ass iPhone y’all. I planned on watching it the following morning on TV like a normal person, but since you chucklefucks on social media got trigger fingers, I didn’t want to risk a spoiler. It was that serious. Thankfully, the episode did not disappoint and the blurry vision from staring at a 5″x3″ screen in the dark was worth it. I’m usually left with the feels after watching Insecure and this time was no different. 

It got me wondering what exactly about the show got me waving my hand in the air and praying to the ‘chuch of Issa. Not since 2:45 of this Sex and the City scene has a television series had me clutching my chest and saying, “Gworrrrrrl” so much. I’ve watched plenty of shows about heartache, friendship and infidelity, so what made this one any different?

The likely culprit would be “White people problems”. Meaning this show is more relatable to people of color like myself. However, I eliminated that notion early on. While it’s definitely true, it wasn’t true for me. I don’t care if you’re white, black, Puerto Rican or Haitian … getting cheated on makes you feel the same way regardless of what color your skin is. For me, the homie Jeyel hit the nail on the head when he said it’s the specificity of the topics that make the show stand out. 


Insecure is able to take a topic and break it up into tiny pieces that make up all of us. Sure, “Becky” would’ve had a yacht party where some rich douchebags came and crashed it instead of a bunch of bloods starting a trash fire, but almost every Becky and Issa and Sundeep and Consuela has tried to impress an ex and failed. The show talks about common issues like being a ho, which is nothing new round these parts. But what makes it resonate to the point of me writing a blog about it are the details. Because I am absolutely positive I’ve asked someone to “Teach me how to ho” before. 

Editors Note:: There was one scene in the last episode I couldn’t relate to.  You know the part where Lawrence finally picks up his mail and they bang it out really quick? Not that part. If you’ve read my blog for a while then you’ll know I can absolutely relate to bad decisions. It’s the part after that when he gives her the homie kiss and leaves her on the couch by herself. She smiles afterwards. DAFUQ? Blasphemy! I for sure thought she would break down into tears. At least that’s what I did when I was in that situation. 





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Abi cares if don’t nobody else care.

Everyday I think about the struggles that people are going through – both big and small, and am so proud of how they continue to slay at life. So much that I was inspired to write a post about it. So shout out to …

All  my folks out there just killing shit and slaying life. Balancing babies and brunch.  Business and bachelor parties. I want to be like y’all when I grow up. 

Shout out to my females who’ve been publicly humiliated by their partner, yet kept their clap back in private. The ones who didn’t post blatant memes, or fire shots via social media updates. I see y’all doing your thang, moving forward, and letting karma do the dirty work for you. 

Shout out to all the fellas who don’t get into relationships unless they know they can be faithful. Shout out to all the fellas who were in relationships and broke up with their girlfriends instead of cheating on themLook at you caring about other people’s feelings and shit.

Shout out to everyone who “Envisioned. Executed. and Enforced”. The go-gettas who had an idea, and made it a reality. Creating social media business pages, and applying for EID’s.  Who’s a big boy/girl now?!

Shout out to those who aren’t where they want to be right now, but aren’t letting it define them. Those who haven’t given up on the dream although they have a hard time sleeping. 

Shout out to my bitches that are all put together commuting and at the airport. And shout out to my bitches looking flawless in sweats. Special shout out to my pregnant bitches in heels – y’all the real MVP. 

Shout out to the folks who remain loyal even if it’s from a distance. Shout out to those who do the right thing even when no one’s watching, and even if no one will ever know. Shout out to my soldiers who kicked cancer’s ass. Shout out to everyone who still care even though we live in a world where giving zero fucks is highly encouraged and glamorized.Shout out to those who have no problem saying sorry, and to those who have no problem accepting apologies. Shout out to those who still think LOVE > Everything, y’all are a dying breed. 

Shout out to my people who have no idea how the fuck you’re going to get up everyday to face life, but do it anyway. You are a motherfucking BAWSE. 

And shout out to YOU. For still clicking on my links. Still reading my posts. Still reposting the ones that hit home And still believing in me. 


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Don’t Go Breaking Your Heart.

I am forever in my head. Telling myself things I need to hear, and especially telling myself things I don’t need to hear. Telling myself the wrong truths, and especially telling myself the harshest lies. I have this game I like to play. One where I want to win, yet sabotage myself any and every chance I get. 

The rules: Two teams: you and the opponent. He can have other teammates, but he doesn’t need to tell you. You can have other teammates, but you don’t want to.

How to Play: Your opponent should show minimal effort. You know, just enough to stay in the game. Not enough to make a commitment to play until the end, but just enough to give a dog a bone (my bad, forgot to mention you’re the dog). Just enough for you to blame yourself whenever a bad play is called, or they cheat. Just enough for you to think there’s a chance. Just enough for you to turn the inch into a mile. 

Do not pass GO – but you will go everytime you know you shouldn’t. Do not collect $200 – only excuses. The game ends … when you have a broken heart. I played this game with the last guy I was seeing. He won. Extra bonus point for him, because he didn’t even know he was in the game. 

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I got a random dm the other day asking how I was. It was from an old colleague of mine that I worked with straight out of college. When I figured out who it was the first thing I thought was, “Oh, it’s your triflin’ ass”.  

Long story short – and I’m sure it’s a story you’re all familiar with one way or another: He had a crush on me. We hung out a few times (platonic in my eyes). He got no play from me. “Ex” who I was acquaintances with caught on to what was happening. He manipulated the story. “Ex” played passive-aggressive with me until I put her on blast and called her out. Then, she tried to play dumb like she had no idea what I was talking about. 

This story ended about a decade ago, but it’s still one of many stories that I haven’t forgotten. I don’t hold grudges, I remember thingsBut most of all, I remember how people made me feel. This is a blessing and a curse, because I also remember the people who made me feel like I was worth waking up in the morning when I was convinced that I wasn’t enough. 

I remember the people who let me sleep on their couch just so I wouldn’t have to listen to the destructive thoughts in my head alone at night, just like I remember the people who put me there. I remember those who always replied to my texts even when they were tired of reading them just as much as I remember those who only texted when they wanted something.

Point blank, I remember every single person that was there for me during my darkest hours just as much as I remember those who I allowed to dim my light.  This is why I still make an attempt to keep in touch with people or text to see how they’re doing when it’s very apparent they feel indifferent about having me in their life. I’m like the kid in middle school vying for friends. It’s a little pathetic, but I remember. I remember what you’ve done for me even if you don’t do it anymore. 

This is also why my old co-worker will probably get a generic response from me – if one at all. It’s a little petty, but I remember. It’s not that it’s been bothering me all this time, I just don’t care to be bothered.

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