I've already trolled around on FaceBook (my daily allotment squeezed out like the last bit of toothpaste from the tube). I've read the celeb rags and mommy-blogs, as well as HuffPost, MadameNoire, et. al. while I was at the gym. I've thought about what we'll have for dinner, but haven't really done anything about it beyond think, think, think.
|(just a little light summer reading)|
My day gets eaten up, Pac-Man style, and with it go all the wonderful tidbits, factoids, and discussion points that I want to share. For instance, I watched this video on the Huffington Post where Tracee Ellis Ross talks about her hair and how as flattering as it is, she doesn't want you to want her hair. Basically, she's emphasisiing self-love. Sure, you can admire her hair, but love what you've got. The whole video was really sweet and she encouraged viewers to submit their own videos talking about why they love their hair in five words or less. Of course, I was like "Oh, yeah, I will totally do that." But I was slogging it out on the Stairmaster when I was watching it, and well, here we are. . .still no video. The article itself was a springboard that lead me to think about natural hair, and about this video that I had made where I show you how to do two-strands twists, and then I thought about that demonstration where Black women were encouraging people to touch their hair (oh, no thank you!), and then I thought about this photo project that I want to do about Black women and their hair, and then I thought about the storyboards I have for that project, but I don't really have a story, I just have some doodles and words and then I thought about how I need to make an appointmen for myself to have a haircut, or a trim rather and wouldn't it look cute if I got my hair pressed, but then I wouldn't be able to swim for a while and I really do like swimming and didn't Mo do awesome in her first swim meet on Monday and really? It's only Wednesday? I'm tired.
Really, really tired.
And my throat is starting to hurt.
I've got a lot of balls in the air, I'm spinning plates, and someone just added a chainsaw and a live chicken. So, I count my blessings (fun fact: I celebrated by 12th wedding anniversary yesterday!). I relax-relate-release. I pour myself a cup of coffee and dig a box of Belgian Almond thins out of the pantry. I've got 7 minutes left.