Category: Growing Up

On Learning When To Shut Up

I write this on my iPhone as I careen down the subway tracks in a Q express train. My brow has been furrowed since yesterday morning and my forehead hurts. I shared something personal that made my heart swell (Grinch-style) and the reaction I was given was less than desirable.

I couldn’t figure out where things took a turn. A conversation strictly about love became (in my opinion) an ugly exchange of words, which shocked me because I love love. In discussing it with my mother (my rock) she inferred that perhaps most things (all things) are better left unsaid…

“No one even knows your name at my job, and your father is strictly Mr. Johnson.” When I started to ask why she simply said: “I don’t want them to Google you,” with what sounded like a smile.

The morning after our chat, I still can’t help but wonder: when it comes to matters of the heart, is any sharing over-sharing?

The thing is – I love to share. Sharing adds an incredibly personal touch to an interaction and that’s important to me. This is both a good and bad quality: things I may share in confidence are often telephoned far more than I am aware.

And in no way am I meaning to sound self-important, trust me on that. But as I grow older (and part my hair in a way that glorifies my single gray strand), I’ve begun to learn that spreading gossip is exciting at any age, no matter how boring the subject is. That’s why my mother bites her tongue at work. I’ve also learned that it’s not easy for everyone to enjoy your happiness. And that’s okay too because we never know what someone is going through.

So, as I continue to better myself in 2013, I’m going to learn how to button it up, to reel it in, and to better cherish my moments in a personal way.

What about you? Do you share or is mum the word on personal things in and out of the workplace?

A Short List Of Things I Want To Accomplish In My Twenty-Seventh Year

On September 11th, 2012, I turned 27.

Several things came as a shock to me on this birthday:

  • The fact that it’s been one more year since this happened.
  • The fact that I have a real job that took me away from my friends, family, and My Honey for 16 full days.
  • The fact that I am a true adult (gross).
  • The fact that my friends are true adults (some of them even have BABIES! What!)
  • The fact that I am not perfect – the horror!

While traveling for the aforementioned 16 days, a colleague asked me my yearly goals. I suppose this is like a resolution, but for birthdays (have you heard of this?). I must admit that I like the concept. Resolutions are for chumps – birthday goals? Those are for winners.

In an effort to stay accountable, I am going to write a list of birthday goals to share with you, dear reader (whom I have missed so).

Without further ado: A Short List Of Things I Want To Accomplish In My Twenty-Seventh Year

Stay Connected
I want to make sure I return every love note (or piece of hate mail) that comes my way. For me, it’s just far too easy to forget to reply to a text, an email, a phone call (even a singing telegram). I also plan on bringing back the handwritten note. Vintage is the new black.

Spend on Experiences
There are people who spend money on frivolous things like shoes and purses (Me) and those who spend it on experiences (not Me). While I love the material things lining my closet, there was nothing more amazing than the way My Honey’s face lit up when I surprised him with a day at the Intrepid Air & Space Museum. Worth every single penny not spent on my accessories.

Mind Your Beeswax
It’s my favorite phrase to say to my parents. And also easily something I need to do myself. For lack of a better way to say it, I want to care less. Seems like a quick way to release some burdens I don’t need to carry.

Reboot, Relax, & Read
Aside from being the daughter of a librarian, I’ve learned that the one thing I cannot do when I am stressed about work is read. I can’t even focus on a trashy magazine. So, it’s a new goal to breathe, reboot, and relax, and read… especially when it feels impossible.

Stay Happy, Stay Whole, Stay True
I don’t think you really need me to explain this one, do you?

Xx

Did you know I’m an adult? Because I sure didn’t.

It’s come to my attention that I am allegedly an adult.

I say allegedly because I’m still not convinced this is true. However,  all signs point to yes as the evidence continues to creep up on me. First, there’s the job I go to 5 days a week and worry about on the weekends (in fact, I just got off the phone with a client. It’s 9:30pm). Second, there’s the apartment I live in, not with parents but a roommate. Third, there is actual rent to pay, and utility bills (I mean, what?). Fourth, I cook my own meals! Sometimes, I even cook for boys (but I also consider that just “playing house” so perhaps that points back towards being a kid again – phew!).

But what has really drove this alleged adulthood home is the daily phone conversations I have with my mother. Those talks are no longer about me or about my day. About the mundane facts that fill a twenty-something’s head that she feels the need to tell her another. No longer about what I had for lunch or the cost of the boots I bought on sale but shouldn’t have bought at all. No longer about how long my day felt or the crazy person on the subway.

Our conversations have become equal parts her day and mine. Or sometimes, just her day. Her hardships. Her ups and her downs. They have turned into conversations where she takes as much as she gives. And I’m embarrassed to say that once I inquired why, and she said simply “because sometimes it’s helpful to talk through things like you do.”

What a thought… That parents need to talk things through like I do.

And that’s when I realized that I am allegedly an adult: when my mother confided in me. When my mother asked for my advice, when she was honest and open about issues that matter.

Me. An adult (allegedly). Who knew!

The Generational Shift

It was a Tuesday night when I met up with a girl friend with every intention to go to a party thrown by my idol, Demetria Lucas. However, her recent (and well deserved) rise in popularity resulted in an over-capacity event and a overwhelmed bouncer.

We walked along the Lower East Side, looking for a nice place to grab a drink, letting the lights from the Empire State Building guide our footsteps. Our conversation bounced back and forth between topics: career, men, family, friends, and that wild Saturday night that left us all in shambles. We settled in at La Linea, a dark little dive that plays great music, enjoyed $4 Blue Moons and great conversation.

It was in La Linea that I realized how much priorities shift as each generation goes through the motions of life. My grandmother left her southern home and boarded a bus to Boston for a man who promised he would be her husband. Her focus was him (and eventually their children), and she did everything she could to ensure her safe arrival in Boston. Nanny was no fool, she had back-up accommodations at the Y and a job waiting to ensure her own funds, but she moved for him.

My mother learned independence from my grandmother. She spent her years after college with a focus on higher education and job success. When she met my father, her intentions were not to find her husband. She met him randomly and was open to the idea of a date. When he took her to the movies, my mother insisted they use her free movie vouchers – nothing standard about her.

What I’ve learned from them is to always have a back up plan, and to always strive for success; the rest will fall into place. As a result, I am clearly my grandmother’s grandchild. I am obviously my mother’s daughter. I am not your “normal” twenty-something woman (whatever that may be).

So for me, the fact that I am 26 and single is not “awkward” or “unfortunate” and I certainly don’t find it “unusual” as generations before me might. My focus is on keeping a job, keeping a home (read: rented apartment in NY), and keeping my friends near. My focus isn’t on creating a home… my focus is on creating my financial legacy (and apparently listening to Independent Women pt. 1 by Destiny’s Child).

Does that make me more like my male counterparts in some ways? To spend more time building a steady cushion while enjoying being a twenty-something prior to redirecting my attention to the rest? As my girl and I discussed this, I couldn’t help but wonder, where does it level out? Where do we, the Generation Y kids, submit to the same urge the generations before us have?

Xx, Maiah

I’m Waiting to Exhale

Oprah Winfrey can get it.

I mean it. I find her honesty, her history (herstory) to be a complete excitement.

I’ve been glued to to the television for the past two Sunday nights at 9pm listening to her story with a box of tissues and a look of shock and awe on my face. She has graciously offered up her life within a series titled, Master Class. Previous interviewees included Maya Angelou (for whom I am named after), Diane Sawyer, Jay-Z and others. While I resonated with the stories, especially Maya’s, I found myself head over heels for Oprah’s because she gets it. She can get it.

When things “aren’t going right”… whatever that’s supposed to mean, my mother always says “Maiah, it never looks like what you want it to”. This applies to my career, my relationships, my dreams coming to fruition. Nothing. Ever. Looks like you want it to. But the key is accepting that something out there (be it whatever you do or do not believe in) is prepping you.

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A “failed” love is a lesson in love.

A “failed” endeavor is a lesson in the next.

A “bad” day teaches you how to make the next greater.

These things create turmoil in our lives… those “failures” and “upsets” when things aren’t going as you imagined. The hardest part for me, a controlling Virgo who over-analyzes things to the death, is letting go.

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Oprah (and Mommy) has reminded me to have faith that this journey I’m on is leading somewhere positive.

So with this, I make an affirmation:

I will let go.

I will give it up to the greater power.

I will exhale.

See Ya, 2010. Oh hey, 2011.

It’s been a hell of a year, hasn’t it?

The ups and the downs.
The smiles and the frowns.
The happy faces and the side eyes.

I’m thrilled for the new year. 2010 ain’t got nothin’ on what 2011 is about to be.

I’ve got a good feeling.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WM1RChZk1EU?fs=1]

See you in the new year!
xoxo,
MJ

You Can’t Have It All

It’s Saturday morning, I’m on the train platform, waiting for the N, listening to Zeyi’s Working for Bill*, and hoping for inspiration so I can dust the blog off with some fresh writing when it hits me. Hard:

You can’t have it all.

Now, this is a shock. And a bit concerning. And totally disheartening to me. I whip out my notebook and scribble down the idea before I head out on my errands for the day, all revolving around work.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMpXAknykeg?fs=1]

You can’t have it all? Really? I suppose it’s hard to accept, or grasp because it’s the opposite of everything I’ve ever been told. As an only child and single woman, I grew up thinking I could have whatever I set my mind to. Wanna move to NYC? Done. Wanna get a new job? Done. Wanna get that boy at the bar? Done. Wanna get those shoes? Charged.

But then I got online and did a little research, and the results were so depressing.

Uh, what’s that?

You can’t have it all.

Oh. Okay.

At the beginning of 2010, I did not have it all. I was incredibly single and incredibly sad. I was grateful for one thing: a job that kept me so busy I had no time for thoughts or friends. My days circled around events and industry parties; and it was exactly what I needed to get by.

The summer changed everything. I was making time for friends, making new friends, and trying my hardest to enjoy my 20′s. At the same time, I was working harder than I’d worked before. The most epic day was my birthday, where I clocked at least 12 hours at work before heading off to Fashion’s Night Out (an important evening for my industry), and then celebrating my 25th. I was on top of the world. Did I have it all? I considered it a possibility but they say hindsight is 20/20 and I now know that’s not the case.

Flash forward to December and things have reversed from where they were almost a year ago. I have almost everything I’ve ever wanted in a solid group of friends who preoccupy the majority of my time when I’m not working. Yet, I feel unfulfilled in other areas.

So wait, you can’t have it all?

Hm. Do you think that’s the case? I mean, what does “all” really entail when it comes to your life? Love, happiness, a great career, wonderful friends to lean on? Does one always suffer to allow you to achieve the rest?

I suppose I’m on a blind journey to see what’s true; throughout which I’ve been keeping this gift from my mother on my wrist (in the form of a bracelet with the following inscribed)

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding, In all your ways, acknowledge Him, and he will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:5-6

I’ll let you know where I net out. Where did you?

*Note, Working for Bill did not inspire such a sad little post. It inspired me to be creative because it’s a work of art. If you’re not listening, you should be.

Scary Age No More

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I used to be terrified of the age 25. Seriously, 25 was my extra scary age. I used to think, “ohmygah*, 25?!!”

Every birthday celebrated felt like a minor death sentence. It was all very dramatic – like, Elle Woods breaking up with her boyfriend dramatic.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=37qYkE76jcw?fs=1]

I didn’t even celebrate 24. I worked and went to bed instead (ahem, the 25 year old me thinks the 24 year old me is super-lame).

But to be clear, I cemented 25 as my Armageddon back when I turned 18. I had the coolest girlfriends, I was in a super hot a cappella group, and I basically thought I was the shit. What could get better than being 18 and extra hot*? Clearly, I was blinded.

If I could give my 18 year old self a side eye* I would. Now, that’s not to say I don’t have the occasional “eep! I’m 25!” moment. The most clear being the time I wouldn’t buy candy for some boy’s “basketball team” on the street and he called me an “uptight old head*” ………. iCant.

That said, being 25 (I celebrated my birthday in September) is so rich and ripe.

  • It’s like being a teenager, except you’re 5 years from 30.
  • It’s like being in college except you live in the city, pay rent and big girl bills, and have lots of sex.
  • It’s like being a foolish hot mess, except for when you’re at the office, because then you’re buttoned up and super fly.
  • It’s like being version 2.5 or 3GS (but not quite 4G because I’m not quite 30).
  • It’s like being “MJ Fadeaway” + “Maiah on Fiyah” + “Ms. Johnson (if you’re nasty)” all the time.

…and I love it.

What was your scary turned favorite age?

*”ohmygah” – copyright 2003 – 2010
*I was actually fat with a pretty face. But still. Confidence is a hell of a drug.
*What’s a side eye? Click here.
*What’s an old head? Click here.

11:11

A tweet by dear friend, Carolina, of United States of Mascara

While catching up on old issues of Glamour Magazine, I came across an article in the October 2010 issue entitled 8 Things You Need to Know About… You by Wendy Shanker. The article, which doesn’t depart very far from the fluffiness I love about Glamour Magazine, touches on 8 great points. They vary from health issues, to personal well being, to money management; but my favorite was #8:

A go-to wish for anytime you’re near a fountain, about to blow out candles or see 11:11 on a clock. 

It’s true. 11:11 rolls around and everyone closes their eyes to prep for a wish. I’ve been participating in this routine for as long as I can remember. Slumber parties with girl friends meant we had to stay up until 11:11pm to make a wish! Then (despite the fact that if you tell someone your wish, it will never come true) we would tell our wishes to each other before finally going to sleep.

Back then, the wishes were silly. My favorite memories include the following standard wishes:

  • A pair of Adidas Sambas
  • A new L.L. Bean backpack with my initials embroidered on it
  • My first kiss
  • A slow dance at the school dance with the school heart throb
  • A later curfew
Clearly, these are all life changing wishes for someone in middle and high school. When I grew up, so did my wishes. They seem to align more with the author’s, who notes the following:

My wish list? The continued stability of my health, for which I am so grateful; the possibility of starting a family on my own; another Madonna tour; a constant flow of funny things to write about (and people to pay me to do it); and most of all, an appreciation of what life serves up every day.

I love the cheeky addition of the Madonna tour wish, but stay aligned with the rest. 
My go-to wish? Since about my sophomore year in college, it’s been the same thing: “happiness.” Because you really can’t go wrong with that, can you?