Category Archives: Reflections

Clutter, Clutter, Clutter: my eventual adventure

Clutter, Clutter, Clutter: my eventual adventure

For the past few months, I’ve noticed myself get increasingly distraught by clutter. It’s not mild annoyances either; I’ve found myself cleaning after every single donut that I make at work, getting rid of any spilled fondant or sprinkles…even if there wasn’t any to begin with. Even on the games I play, the amount of crap that I have in my character’s inventory is overwhelming.

I’ll just throw this out here right now: I am a pack-rat. I feel that I can’t throw certain things away right away1 because there must be some use to it, right? After looking through my PC’s clutter, I’ve decided that some of it has to go.

my clutter

(Yes, that was just a piece of my clutter back when I was living in New York. Most of this I left back only because I was already packing heavy when I moved to California)

Cleaning out my PC

My dorky half upgraded his computer last year to something exceedingly monstrous (he does a lot of video editing and streaming) and gave me his old rig. His old computer is pretty powerful still for what I do on it. However, because of the year it was built, the hard drive only had 250 gigs. For a typical blogger who maybe surfs the net and maybe some light photo editing for their blogs, this is more than enough. However, for me, all of this space was gone even after deleting all of the stuff that was his (after backing it up, that is!), and now I’ve resorted to using external hard drives to install games on. Not really an ideal situation.

So what I decided to do was invest in another internal hard drive. This one is 1 terabyte (about 4 times as large as the old one), and this is going to be my gaming hard drive. All of my games would exclusively go on this one. For non-gamers, you may think that these games can’t possibly be this large. Oh, but they are. Final Fantasy 14 alone is about 20 gigs. Another game I play is over 30 gigs. All of my Sims 2/3/4 expansions, custom content, and other goodies? Let’s not go there, especially since the more custom content you add, the bigger that monster is.

Once that’s done, I should have about 100 gigs on that main hard drive, and I would keep my programs on there for photo editing and the like. Everything else would go on an external. Then there are the things that are outdated. I’ve thought about keeping them around for a bit, but these things are ancient. What I might do is have them on an external drive that I don’t plan on using much because of sentimental value.

De-clutter my apartment

I did a mass purge last year before Thanksgiving. Despite this mass purge, it’s still a work in progress. We have a lot of clothes. Rydia outgrew a lot of them, so I have them in plastic bags and we’re going to get them washed and donated out. I have clothes in that batch that my mom said to keep around in case I lost weight. There is no way in hell I foresee myself losing enough weight to get into a size 12 again, so those gotta go too. Basically, if it doesn’t fit, it’s gone.

We also have a lot of appliances. Don’t ask why we keep them around, but we have a coffee maker that had nothing wrong with it, but I got a Keurig instead. I’m not sure what to do with the old coffee maker since there’s nothing wrong with it, so if anyone have any ideas, let me know!

As someone who likes to keep things, this is going to be a long process. But I did admit that I have a problem, so there’s that, right?

  1. Other than the daily trash, that is

…But not in love: fighting the slump

…But not in love: fighting the slump

Just think about your typical day. You’re sitting in a situation where you like who you’re with, the money is great, and/or it’s just around the corner from your home. But…despite all of this, you’re not in love with it. Your mind wanders off your task, yearning for something more. You want to do what you truly love, your one true pairing.

Then you’re snapped back to reality as you get yelled at to “snap back to reality”. It sucks.

I am part of a web class and in my introduction, I said that while the people who I encounter on a daily basis are possibly the most awesome people I’ve met in the past year, I don’t love what I do. It struck a chord in me to actually admit this. I simply am doing this to stay afloat, but do I want to do it? Nope, not really.

Being not in love with what you do is a physically and mentally draining situation.

Being that I work in food service in a pretty high volume store, it gets busy. Like really busy. I’m mainly in the back of the house producing goodies for everyone to buy and enjoy, but there are days, even during this not-so-busy time of the year, where I simply can’t keep up. When I run out of things, people get mad. When people get mad, I stress and feel like I am not enough. Then couple that with the fact that I can’t move too fast because of widespread pain, and it makes me feel even worse. At the end of the day, the last thing I want to do is cook at home. I do it anyways, but some days it’s an order-out day. I simply just don’t have the energy.

This year, one of my goals is to not be as stressed. That was one of my goals last year, and it was going well for a time. I want to be able to come home and have energy to move around. I want to be able to say “hey, I had fun today”.

Thus why I decided to take this 6-week course on monetizing my blog.

Find your happy, do what you love

The one thing that has always been a constant for me: my ideal job. I’ve always been the creative type, always trying to make things. I doodle a lot, play with fonts and colors, and I write. That is my ideal. My ideal is wanting to make money to be self-sufficient while doing what I love: being creative.

Sometimes you have to look into finding your happy. Find what you love and do it.

Sometimes you have to take a leap. Would you make less? Maybe. Would you be miserable? Most likely not. Life is way too short to be not in love with what you do, so go ahead. Find your happy.

Abuse is never okay

I found this article that I wrote for an e-zine last year, and was contemplating posting it here since the zine didn’t pick it up. The reason for it is because of the nature of the post–it goes deeper into what I experienced in school, which I have mentioned was no walk in the park. I don’t know how many will read it, but it is something that I feel should be addressed, as Rydia is going into school age. There may be triggers, so please be aware of this as you read. It still chills me some 20 years later.

abuse is not okay

When I was in the first grade, I had a teacher who was breaking the rules and I didn’t even know it. She was a Special Education teacher1, and she was very harsh to us 7 children in her care. She thought it would be a good idea to make us stand for the whole 8 hours that we’re there while writing “I will not…” spanned through 10 pages. This is the same woman who also thought that using physical means to “discipline” a child was okay.

This teacher used to attempt to choke me by stuffing paper towels and scarves in my mouth.

Let’s skip to the fourth grade. I had another teacher who was raised in the West Indies and as someone who is half-Jamaican, I know all too well of how rough West Indian parents can be. I’ve seen this teacher slam a student’s head into the chalkboard, deny another student bathroom privileges (which resulted in the student having an accident in class), and kicking someone else out of class because he talked too much (he was banned from coming back in our class for the rest of the year).

This teacher also threw me down on the floor, took my sneaker off, and beat me with it. In front of an already-brutal class of peers who bullied me. Not to mention, she even threw a few verbal remarks about my appearance, namely my hair.

Let’s skip to when I was just about to graduate high school. I was talking with my mother and looking through certificates that me and my sisters got through the years and we were excited to add my diploma to the mix. That’s when I told all. I told her about the teacher who could’ve killed me when I was 6, and I told her about the teacher who beat me in class with my sneaker. She was shocked and angry.

She wasn’t necessarily angry at me; she wanted to know why I waited so long to tell her this. If I had told her while it was happening, she would’ve been able to do more. She knew about my peers bullying me (and the schools did nothing in that instance, and transferring to another school wasn’t an option), but why didn’t I tell her about the teachers?

Simply put: I thought it was okay.

Especially when I was 6, I didn’t think that what this teacher was doing was a bad thing and it was because she wanted me to learn about consequences. Looking back, I learned that she could’ve potentially caused physical damage, along with the emotional damage. But at the time, I didn’t know this. I didn’t know it was not okay. I didn’t know it was not okay until I was practically an adult.

Now as a mom of a preschooler, I am wary. What if there are caregivers like the teachers I had? What if one day, my little girl comes home and says “Mommy, the teacher shoved me on the floor and beat me”? It’s earth-shattering, and now I understand it when some moms say that the person who did it would be dead. Not that I would kill them, but I would want to see them never being able to teach again one way or another.

One of the life lessons I’ve learned was that abuse is not okay. No kind of abuse, from anyone is okay. Sometimes just taking a deep breath and walking away is all that is needed to gain your bearings and deal with children. If all else fails, there’s caffeine. While I have never forgotten, I’ve learned from it and it’s gonna make me a better mom at the end of it all.

  1. I was in Special Ed for the first few years of my school life due to speech problems

Less bitching, more writing

I’ve had this thing drafted up for almost a month, and never got around to actually posting it. Every time I would stop gaming1, I would sit down, look at a blank page, and say “what that hell do I talk about? I’m not interesting enough (anymore) to blog. But in actuality, it was more like “where do I find the drive to blog?” I come home from work, and there are a million excuses as to why I don’t want to sit down and write an entry. Well, considering that I pay for this space, I think it deserves more care–even if it’s not as much as I would like to.


Like I said, it’s not as much what as it is more like where. Some days I’m just tired and words don’t come. Other days, I just don’t feel like it. Both excuses are legit, but when does it start to become more of a habit? Writing is one of the ways that I can keep my sanity. I’ve faced a 3-year writer’s block where I couldn’t write anything. This was a little before I made blogging a big deal for me. Ronnie even asks me these days when was the last time I’ve blogged, and I can’t answer that question with “yesterday”.

And that kinda breaks my heart.

Yes, things are more hectic in the past few months. I endured working two jobs for nearly 3 months before my body said “enough”. Then, even after focusing on just one thing, I still couldn’t make time to sit down and even say “hey, I’m still alive!” This space deserves a little more than that.

So I’m here, after 1 month since my last post and I’m making a vow to write more and not make as many excuses. I want this to be a money maker for me again2. Heaven knows I need something that won’t kill my back further.3 I can’t guarantee posting every day; unless you want to hear my bitching about incompetent people and why I should be a hermit. But I do want to go back to expressing myself the way I truly know how–through written sarcasm.

  1. Or doing other adult things, like working
  2. That is, where I make money writing stuff I like to write, not because I’m told to throw a completely unrelated link in there
  3. That’s for another post

Whatever happened to home-cooked meals?

Here’s a small story about how I was raised. My mom, whenever she didn’t work, she would cook a home-cooked meal every day, except for Fridays, where we had one day to pick any fast food that we wanted, or eat leftovers from the night before. On Sundays it was a big deal. Ranging from chicken, to goat1 to stew peas and rice, there wasn’t a Sunday where she didn’t cook. Or if she couldn’t start it because of work, my dad did.

What has changed?

home-cooked meal

As a food service/retail worker and gamer2, I can understand the term “instant gratification”. Long day at work, and the last thing you want to do is add another chore to your list. I, myself, have been guilty of this. But sometimes I will say “maybe I’ll actually cook something tonight”. It can be cheaper, and in most cases, healthier. There’s also the whole togetherness thing. But my thing is when it becomes consistent. You see regulars at work stocking up on their breakfast, lunch and dinner on the same day. That amount of fast food can’t possibly be good. Instant gratification, I know.

  1. Something that I won’t eat under any circumstances