If We Were Having Coffee…

“Welcome back Marge!”, said one coworker to another on the shuttle bus this morning. She must’ve been on vacation. It briefly reminded me of the coworker at my last job that would say “Welcome to work” every time someone started a shift. 

I started that job 3 years ago. 

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that things-life circumstances, jobs, attitudes towards life-do change. 

I started my previous job this month in 2014. I left that job about a year-and-a-half later to pursue a career as a flight attendant. My life hasn’t been the same since then. 

Things that have changed:

  • I navigate airports at an insanely fast rate. 
  • I’ve become far more patient, and even compassionate. 
  • I own a car after not having had one for 2 years before getting this job. 
  • Even though I have hard days, I have a job that I actually love. Before this job, the other ones were just a paycheck. 
  • Possibly because of the above (and some other circumstances), I’ve become the healthiest that I’ve ever been mentally. 

My life has also changed outwardly because my job was better. My salary nearly doubled, I bought a car a year ago, and now I’m about to embark on one of the most exciting life events yet:

I’m moving into my very own apartment. 

After years of wanting to move, I can finally afford it and I’m ready. I sign the lease the first of next month. 

Now here I am in a new year, sitting on an aircraft before sunrise, watching passengers board as I sip on an iced red eye. I start work in Charlotte, NC today. 

So, to wrap up our early coffee date this morning, I’d say this:

If you find yourself in a stuck or unfavorable situation, be encouraged and don’t give up. Also, don’t make yourself miserable by comparing your life with someone else’s. You’ll get to where you want to be; I’m certain of it. 

I’ll be living my life in anticipation of what will happen next… and I’ll be cheering you on, waiting to see what wonderful things shall happen for you. 

Because it will happen for you. I know it. 


The Hardest Goodbye

If we were having coffee, I’d apologize for missing last week. I was out working this weekend, and had possibly the most emotional weekend ever. 

I had only a 2-day trip this weekend, and was particularly anxious and excited about this layover. A young gentleman that I had spent some time with resides in the area. 

So I text him… only to find out that he is now dating someone. 

Maybe I shouldn’t have taken it as hard as I did, but it turns out that I liked him more than I cared to believe. In any event, I drank far too much wine that night because I didn’t want to deal with my feelings, and ended up crying over a children’s book early the next morning.

 I also took the liberty of texting him (while inebriated, mind you) that I was in the area. He felt badly about it, so he said, and I ended things with “Well good luck, and goodbye.”

The next morning, I see a text saying “Don’t say that.” I cried all over again. After asking him why, it started some more texting. I asked him not to contact me while he was dating someone, and he agreed to it. I couldn’t read the good bye message he left me because the tears pooled up. 

To say I was hysterical is an understatement. I think I cried harder and louder than when my grandfather died. I feel bad for anyone in other rooms that heard, but I was beyond caring. 

Of course, this happens right before I have to get ready to work, so I had to get out of bed, and pack while crying. Listening to “Survivor” by Destiny’s Child helped. 

That was my weekend, and actually, that was the short version. A workout will be much needed to lift my morale. I hope your week and weekend was much better than mine. 


If we were having coffee

As I drink this spiced cider, I’m glad to have you to talk to. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, but there were cool things that happened too.

My emotions were on a roller coaster the past week or so because in addition to feenin, I received some pretty rough news. It affected my family and the home situation. We were told we would have to leave our home.

If you’ve ever been in that situation, now I know how that feels. I especially had a rough time because I’ve been in this house since I was 5 or 6. On Thursday, I was so in my feelings that I laid in bed, unable to get it together. It felt like I was the only one that cared about us moving so suddenly. I didn’t realize I cared so much about that house until I realized I was being forced out of it. It’s not that I never want to move out one day and be on my own, but I wanted to choose to leave when I felt ready.

Mom got me to go out to the mall with her.

This was one of those cool moments I mentioned earlier. My mom is the greatest; when you put us together, it creates an interesting dynamic that spills over onto other people. You should see what it’s like when ALL of us (mom, sister, nephew and I) are all together. People can’t stop laughing!

We walked into a higher end store, and started talking to one of the saleswomen. She showed us leather passport cases. This led to an in-depth conversation about the current political race and climate, which led to a discussion about history. What I loved most about this is that we were 3 women having an intelligent conversation, which steamrolls over the backwards thinking of those misogynist types. Yes, we discuss more than shopping, clothes, boys and kids (if we have them). Hate to break it to you boys, but I can have a conversation that airs my well-formed opinions AND do my shopping! Can YOU handle that kind of multitasking?

It’s amazing how things can change in just one day. In this same day, we went from not knowing where we’d live to receiving a call that will allow mom to reinstate her mortgage. If I didn’t know that the Lord was good, I sure do now!

Now my love life… I don’t feel as confident about that, but at least I know I’ll have a roof over my head, and a home to come back to. I hope your weekend has been wonderful, filled with brunches and shopping. And, hopefully, a stimulating conversation with a retail worker. They’re people too… sometimes highly intelligent people.


If We Were Having Coffee

I’d be telling you that I’m glad to be sitting with you today. It’s the first time I’ve left the house since Wednesday. My period hit and I was in debilitating pain for 3 days. I took pain relievers, but the ones I take cause drowsiness. So when I wasn’t writhing from pain, I was knocked out from the pain relievers.

On the plus side, I’ve never felt more rested.

A well-meaning friend sent me an email because I told her that I was feeling unattractive. It was a very long email that, once again, had me facing the idea of wearing makeup and fake hair.

I’ve long resisted the notion of doing any of these things because I liked the way I was. I felt like a rare species: a woman that doesn’t wear makeup or anything false. It was a badge of honor for a while to be like a tough girl.

The truth of the matter is that an insecurity that had been roosting under the surface for a while was unearthed, and I had to square with it.

“I’m not good enough.”

It doesn’t help to feel like at my age, I should be wearing makeup regularly, and because I’m a black woman, I should know all about the world of weaves, wigs and extensions. Honestly, the only thing I know about any of it is what I’ve been told because I don’t wear false hair. I have big hair and like it that way; sadly, there are those that don’t share this opinion.

Persecution outside of my race is one thing, and is almost expected. However, when it comes to hair, I’ve experienced the opposite: nonblack peers seem to like my hair, and black people just kind of look at me funny, but say nothing. I know they think I should straighten it. Admittedly, it has a special sting when your own race doesn’t accept and celebrate you. Other days, I don’t care though.

Anyway, back to my complicated relationship with makeup. I wasn’t raised to wear it; in fact, mom forced me to wear it for junior and senior prom. She, herself, doesn’t wear makeup. To me, it was strange for girls my age to be obsessed with wearing it. Now though, I’m not a girl anymore. The idea stuck, though. The girls that were doing their makeup and wearing weave (or that naturally have longer hair) have been snatched up left and right by great men.

Me? I’m still here. Wondering why I must change. Wondering why I’m not pretty enough as I am. Is “being yourself” a lie?

These are the questions I asked myself after reading my friend’s email. She didn’t send it intending to stir a soul search, but that’s exactly what happened.

Don’t get me wrong, I actually do like wearing makeup. Sometimes. I hate the way it makes me feel… because I like the way it makes me feel. My fear is relying heavily on the add-ons to feel like I’m beautiful. I should already feel that I am. But I don’t.

So I have to ask… why am I not good enough in the raw state?

There’s something else, too. I don’t like a lot of attention. Gussying up garners attention, and that’s always bothered me. I guess because whenever I received compliments, there was always someone giving me the evil eye in the background. What’s bad is the person giving that look was supposed to be a friend. I hated that. I also wonder how bad I must’ve looked before for someone to be giving me compliments now.

I’m also super shy around men when they aren’t seeing me as just someone to hang out with. It’s all fun and games when I’m chilling with the guys, but once that “Holy crap! She’s a girl!” thing kicks in, I’m a goner.

It’s a lot, I know. I’ll leave the life revelation there, sip my tea and see how your week is going on.


Au ciel

“My head’s stuck in the clouds, she begs me to come down, says ‘Boy, quit fooling around’. I told her, I love the view from up here…” 


I still remember my first flight. I was 13 years old, and going to Walt Disney World for the first time. Childlike fascination overtook me, and I was in awe of the fact that we were high enough to be amongst clouds. Although I knew I couldn’t technically walk on clouds, I imagined being like Superman, getting to fly through and around them. From that moment, I knew I would always love flying.

Almost 20 years later, I still enjoy flying; in fact, flying is now my bread and butter. I learned in a very short space of time that there’s much more to it than simply punching a hole in the sky. There are many hands that help people go from one place to another, long checklists, and a lot of communications that must go back and forth. And paperwork. LOTS of paperwork. My office might be in the sky, but we still kill trees just as much as any corporation does. Trust me on that one.

The days are long and trying, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. It’s a pleasure when I don’t have to work a flight, and can catch a ride from one place to another. If I’m lucky, I’m assigned a window seat. I settle myself, fasten that seatbelt, and look eagerly out. When the “crosswalk” appears on the ground, the engines rev up and that aircraft barrels down the runway until it lifts off into the sky, I’m suddenly 13 again. That same excitement is there, and I hope it will never be lost on me.

I was always a sky girl, and now I have the job to prove it.


If We Were Having Coffee

I’d be shifting uncomfortably in my chair because my back hurts. Sitting straight without slouching has been the best way to sit for the past 3 days. I’d also be sipping herbal tea since I can’t have caffeine on my period; the cramps thereafter usher in death, and I’d like to keep that at bay.

I’ll be all right; the pain medication should kick in soon.

Work has been slow and money has been slim. It’s bringing me to a place where I need to make some decisions. I have my concerns, though. I just wish I had someone to think it all through with, which is why I’m glad that you’re here.

Will I have to sacrifice what I love and where I want to go for the present needs? Will I ever come back around to the things that I truly love? And, most importantly, will I have to consider being… landlocked??

I was talking to either a pilot or another flight attendant, and said that I would have to have a stay-at-home husband. Not in the sense that he stayed at home exclusively to care for children (not unless he could work from home, making that a possibility). I followed this up with “Well one of us has to stay at home, and it’s not going to be me.” Thinking back on how miserable it was to be landlocked, I cannot allow that to happen again; I love to be mobile, but I like having a home base.

Part of me always worried that this job would kill any chance of finding a mate. I took the job because it’s not like I had any luck with that before. My rationale for keeping it was that I can at least have a job that I love since being alone is the deal right now. Who knows how long that “now” will last.

Maybe I should wander even further out. Broaden my horizons in a literal sense. These are the things that are on my mind as I sip my tea. Amongst these concerns lies the niggling to keep up with bills if any big changes are to be made.

I’m not sure what to do, but something must be done.

Just a few thoughts as I sip my tea, and hope that you are in better spirits than I am. Not to say that that my disposition is foul; I’m just contemplative, which sobers the emotions and subdues any radical moods.

How’s life going for you?