grav-i-ty

grav-i-ty

(n): The force that attracts a body toward the center of the earth.

(n): Extreme or alarming importance, seriousness.

(n): Serious behavior; seriousness; solemnity and seriousness in somebody’s altitude or behavior, the seriousness of something considered in terms of its unfavorable consequences.

Center. Importance. Serious.

Pretty dressed up, fancy words to describe the action that was taking place—like a waterfall, like the rain from the dark clouds—how else would my tears  fall?

I was finally watching the critically acclaimed movie “Gravity” starring one of my most beloved actresses, Sandra Bullock. My clock on my bed stand mocked me about the “forgotten hour” my tears were falling but I couldn’t help it. I am an erratic sleeper and a DVR comes in handy for an insomniac like myself.

“3:34 am”, it whispered in the dark

I paid no attention because I was too busy taking inventory of the raw emotion that occupied my being at that moment. I wondered if my fear of space was actually a lifesaver from me watching it in theaters. 

There was no way I could explain away my wet face to those accompanying me. The runny mascara and smudged blush would have given me away.

“There’s something in my eye,” would have been professed so much, they would have thought to take me to the ER I’m sure. Thank God my tears could give way to gravity without the presence of judgmental eyes.

Not only was I happy to watch this movie by myself, curled up in the middle of my bed—tissue lying over the sheets; I was so grateful for the pause button—to pause the action while I took the time to weep. The emotions were so real and so strong. I was so completely unprepared for it.

“What Do I Do? What Do I Do?”

Now before you start thinking I am just another typical woman who gets overly emotional, let me assure you that I am not. I was taken off guard myself.

Why was I crying?

I was weeping because of how much this movie resonated with me, at this moment, at this time, this place, this phase in my life.

Feeling so close but so far, feeling helpless and weak when your inner strength is the only thing accessible for you to carry on; being thrust into unforeseen situations where there is no time to assume—just time to do. Hearing only your own voice, struggling to stay in good company and good spirits with and within yourself despite how contradicting the current situations are displayed.

I feel as though I too, am floating through space of endless possibilities, not knowing what is or what will be but hoping and praying for the best with each turn, with each jerk—focusing myself so I won’t become victim to the silence.

“You’ve Got to Learn to Let Go”

The part where Matt (George Clooney) unhooked himself from Ryan (Sandra Bullock) was by far one of the most emotional movie moments ever.

Why?

The complexity of it; there was a clear battle of mentalities. She was so afraid but unconcerned about herself; he was at peace and he too was unconcerned about himself.

The contrast of reactions to the same situation.

I envied Matt, his acceptance of his unforeseen fate and the discipline to choose to have the perspective he did towards it.  He was able to counter act the fear by not being bitter or resentful.

As she struggled to stay conscious, he still stayed true to his rank, instructing and advising her in a relaxed non-judgmental way; all while floating into imminent space that silently welcomed him.

“I’m coming to get you!” she alleged through heaving breaths, her face losing its luminous glow.   “Ryan, you have to learn to let things go”, his parting words as he became one with the universe only to known as a memory.

Finally having a feeling of safety, she looked down to Earth, to find a revolving hurricane in progress yet she still had a want and desire to return—even in the face of destruction in her sight.

“I Remember This”

Déjà Vu is something that has become an embedded fixture in my life. Ever since I was a child I can remember that “out of body” experience of “remembering the present”.

The paradox is that I expect it.

There is fear with the sensation. The fear of the possibility that there is more at play than the human eye can observe but your heart and spirit do.

In my 26 years of life, I am certain of one thing: the heart and spirit are keener and more in tune than our minds will ever be. They are wiser, more equipped and more experienced than the years we accumulate on earth.

How is that possible?

Once again I refer to the movie; think of the dramatic change in courage and strength of Ryan. She went from feeling terrified to being at peace; hopeless to hopeful—all in the matter of a short and critical time.

There was no remote to change her from this to that mode, it all came from inside her from places she never knew existed but yet there it was at her disposal, hidden deep within her heart and spirit.

So I couldn’t help but self-reflect on my own and what was hidden yet to be exposed and tapped into.

How much am I truly capable of?

“Launch to Land”

“Get your head out the clouds!”

“You need to plant your feet on solid ground.”

“You can find yourself at the bottom, on the floor.”

I remember overhearing this during “grown-up conversations” as a child and being perplexed by these conversed contradicting oxymorons.

“Grown-ups are stupid,” I would say under my breath.

So imagine my surprise when it was put to action before me, in this movie. I now understood the riddle, one of the many riddles to life that is.

One would think that planting feet on the ground is so simple that even the most incompetent can accomplish it.

If only it were that easy.

One of the most frustrating things I’ve encountered on numerous times in my adult life is the difficulty in not only doing but realizing the small necessities in life; like crawling before you walk and walking before you run.

“How and why did it take me so long?”

After wasting precious and valuable time wrestling with this conundrum, I realized how irrelevant the question was to begin with.

Why should it matter how and why it took so long? It wouldn’t change the fact that I reached my “destination” for that current season.

I realized I could both sit in shame and ignore the fact of my personal internal achievement or I could hold nostalgia and lessons of the journey and be grateful.

 The amount and variation of gravity to give it, is in my hands and in my control and I choose to pick the positive perspective.

“Either way, it’s going to be one hell of a ride.”

-Dr. Ryan Stone, Sandra Bullock

“Gravity”

@BMynroe

(RaChelle-Denise)

Nerdy By Nature

Nerdy By Nature

“This number, one of the first 20, uses only one vowel—4 times.”

“Seventeen.”

“A porch adjoining a building, like where Mummy often served tea.”

“Terrance.”

“Hard times, “indeed! A giant quake struck New Madrid, on Feb. 7, 1812, the day this author struck England.”

….

“Edgar Allen Poe?” I said aloud with hesitation and uncertainty.

*Beep*Beep*

“Charles Dickens.” 

Alex read off the index card to the fellow stumped contestants.

 “Ugh! I KNEW that!” I said followed by a face palm.

My older cousin sat across the living room with an expression that I had deciphered long ago when we were younger.

“What?” I asked with a shrug.

“How the hell do you know this stuff?” she asked blinking her eyes as if what she had just witnessed weren’t possible.

“I don’t know. I just do.” I said as I sipped my “red Kool-Aid” through my decorative crazy straw.

“Makes no damn sense how smart you are.”

                                                                                                    

“Such a Smart Girl!”

I had heard this from numerous family members in my lifetime, mostly in elementary when I delivered my Honor’s Roll report card to be examined. Of course it made me happy to hear such things but I never held much merit to it or labeled it as the gospel because they were my family and families are suppose to praise your good grades.

It wasn’t until I got older and evolved in my college career that I realized how my intellect truly takes people off guard. My friends like to talk aloud, same as me; asking questions not really for the sake of answering.

We all have friends like that.

Although I knew and were used to these habits, I still found myself answering such random questions—the ones I could at least. And once they Goggled it to test my answer which would be proven accurate, that awed stare and familiar question would arise:

“How the hell did you know that?”

                           

 I Just Do

I was sitting in the back of class trying to fight off the exhaustion giving to the way of night. I had just spent the hours of 8am-3pm in Cosmetology school and was now in my night class of English Comp at my local community college. I took a sip of my Mountain Dew in anticipation of its highly promoted promise.

I needed to do the Dew!

I am sure my lifeless trance was apparent to my professor; such a unique man he was! He was in his early sixties at the time. He loved classical music and could be seen riding his custom made mountain bike in the early mornings, attire made of complete spandex.

“I like to train for marathons.” He confessed to me.

As if that weren’t enough to stand out from the crowd, his cultural literacy and intellect was beyond bananas. He was a walking, talking, in the flesh Encyclopedia. He had tried unsuccessfully for years to be accepted into MENSA.

“It’s at the top of my bucket list.” He said with a giant smile. I always had hope in my heart that it would be achieved. (Wonder if he's been accepted)

But no amount of intelligence could overpower the weight of my eyelids that evening.

Damn Mountain Dew lies!

“Here’s a question for you. Do you know what the blue, red and white stripes stand for on a barber’s pole?” He loved to incorporate trivia in his lectures.

“The flag!” I heard someone respond with enthusiasm.

Wrong!

And like Rainman, I automatically injected myself: 

“Blue represented the veins; red the blood and white for the bandages because barbers were once concerned doctors.”

I didn’t realize I had said all this aloud with my eyes closed until I opened them to find the whole class looking back at me. My professors face frozen. “Correct.” He shuffled in his seat behind the podium. “How did you know that?” he asked trying not to seem stunned and shocked. “I read it somewhere.” I responded while covering a very unflattering yawn.

                         

Never Judge a Book by Its Cover

How narrow-minded I deciphered this message as a child! I thought it literally meant a book’s cover. I lived by this as I would take peaceful strolls around the library, in search of another world on paper. The more plain, the better.

As I developed life experiences, I realized how complex and universal the statement was. It wasn’t until I began living it, applying it to my own reality and self-realization. It wasn’t until I was assumed a “bimbo” by a friend of a friend. “But you’re so smart!” he recanted.

Gee, Thanks.

                         

The Student Becomes the Teacher

Having the experience as an educator has taught me so much about my own interests and passions. I give lectures according to my lesson plans but I always try to incorporate resonating tad bits of information. I am sure that any educator would agree that getting a student’s attention is one thing but keeping it is a whole other uphill battle.

When my college classes end, I still stay true to my education background; I sub on the side.  I was carrying out a 3 day job in a high school English class; many of the students I already knew. I was helping them review “The Odyssey”, in hopes of them giving their best effort on an upcoming project their teacher had assigned. I could tell how of little importance it was to them by how many times their fingers glided across their phone screens.

Such Zombies!

As much as it annoys me, I don’t allow the habits of the younger generation to deter me; instead I use their love and fascination of media.

“Who in here has ever seen one of the most AWESOME movies of all time, ‘300’?” The responses began with glances to the front of the classroom.

AHA!

And then hands went up with grand gestures and determination.

“I love that movie!”

 “That’s my ish!” 

“Hell yeah!”

The “Ms. Kin Disapproves Look” displayed with a jerk of my neck.

“My bad Ms. Kin.”, he said with a shamed looked. A familiar apology I was used to. I smiled at the “modern respect” I am given.

“Ok, so picture ‘Odysseus’s Revenge’ as the ‘300’ movie! Blood is gushing everywhere. People are running for safety! War calls and gore are all around. He shows no mercy!”

The finger gliding was no more.

After the lecture, one of my students labeled “The Heartbreaker” of his class asked: 

“Ms. Kin, when I go to college will there be girls like you?” I stopped highlighting to meet his gaze.

 “Like me?”

“Yeah. You know, pretty, swagged out and smart? Will there be girls who—‘know things’ but still be super cool?” he asked with pure genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Um….”

Am I really that rare?

                         

Miss Understood

I can hold a conversation with just about anyone about anything. The trick is actually getting the dialogue started because apparently my legendary “Bitchface”, statue and appearance don’t coincide with the knowledge and interest within me.

“You’re fucking intimidating!” a long term friend blurted out during my over the phone quest to understand why I was so “misunderstood”. I laughed at his bluntness and was grateful for his natural talent to bring humor into a serious situation. He is one of the few who too holds and balances out my dry humor.

I’ve spent most of my life being misunderstood than understood. It’s something I struggled to see and deal with but am now accepting of.

I actually relish it.

Being misunderstood has its cons and pros. Cons are common sense and pretty much self-explanatory: people think you’re someone who you’re not; they assume and make judgment before getting to know you. You know the petty senseless things. Pros need more definition.

What are the benefits of being misunderstood?

The number one advantage, in my world, is being a constant surprise to those who foolishly summed me up; seeing the confused, shocked and awed expressions is something I will never tire from. That awkward silence of them being at a loss for words is equivalent to me yanking off the label they slapped on me and throwing it back in their faces.

Take That Back!

                         

Transformer

I now understand my obsession and love of the “Transformers” franchise: highly advanced beings from another world, looked over and passed by; holding secrets and power unbeknownst to the general public, selecting only a choice few to be privy to.

They only expose and flaunt their elite in times it’s needed; camouflaging  themselves not out of fear within themselves but because they are aware of their intimidation and know the history of mankind: fearing what they don’t understand.

I too, am more than meets the eye.

XO,

BMynroe

(RaChelle-Denise)

Pretense Opposed

Pretense Opposed

I was in awe and trying my best to fight off the shame of waiting so long.

She is AMAZING!

I have always considered myself a devoted Beyoncé fan. I knew she was going to be a legend when she released her first solo single “Work It Out”; that I still to this day will sway and sing along to.

I was in the midst of creating “BMynroe Trends”: a way of self-promotion and self-exposure; opening doors and creating connections for when I start my YouTube channel: “Faced by BMynroe”. It has become a 9 to 5 job, which I am willing and happy to do; playing Beyoncé’s “Flawless” contributed to the enthusiasm.

I smiled at the video concept and was so delighted to see her claim her throne in that certified “Virgo Woman” way: Nice Nasty.

 I am a Virgo Woman!

  

As I continued to stare at the screen that had finished playing the video if not 30 seconds earlier, I was brought back to reality when I read the name featured on the song: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

Who?

I had envisioned the speaking voice on the song; she was just as constant in my ear as Beyoncé. Her accent. Her presentation. Her point.  It was just as embedded as the chorus of “Flawless” and then…second nature kicked in. The journalist in me had become curious as to why Beyoncé had picked this particular woman, with this particular point. The Virgo in me had resonated with her message. I had to find out more.

Who was Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie?

∞         

“I often make the mistake that something that’s so obvious to me is just as obvious to everyone else.”

-Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

I had come across the video “We Should All Be Feminists” on the TedxEuston Channel. It was the actual lecture/speech that Beyoncé had sampled for the song and I wanted to watch it from beginning to end. Why was she saying those things in the first place and how could EVERYONE be a feminist? Questions reserved to be answered as the video played on.

She is so gorgeous!

 I couldn’t help but laugh at the dry humor she incorporated in this captivating lecture. I couldn’t help but resonate and apply what she was saying to my own mentality. She had welcomed so many of my thoughts, beliefs and emotions out of that comfort zone, that wasn’t so comfortable to begin with.

I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t demented. I wasn’t delusional. There was nothing wrong with the fact that as a woman, I had never aspired to be married, have children or start a family.

Not planning for it anytime soon.

∞         

“Because I am female I am expected to aspire to marriage. I’m expected to keep my life choices always keeping in mind that marriage is most important.”

-Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

I have been single for a while now. I haven’t dated in some time and I haven’t been looking to change it. I didn’t understand how rare that was until having a conversation with my bestie. I adore her so and accredit so much of me becoming the woman I am today, to her.  We have that “Virgo/Aquarius” friendship; like Beyoncé and Kelly. We balance each other out. We may have different contents but we are manufactured the same.

 She wants the marriage, 2.5 kids and white picket fence. And just because I am not in that frame of mind doesn’t mean I look down on her any less. She is going to be an awesome Mother and ideal Wife when the time is right but I just couldn’t shake the conflict within me.

Is there something wrong with me?

I have definitely had moments where I question the woman within me. Why did I not aspire to be what we as women, had been programmed to be since the beginning of time? Why did I not want what seemed the routine of my gender? Not wanting it at the present moment was understandable; I am focused on making a name for myself and developing BMynroe as a brand but I had never even considered any of it, ever.

What color, for what wedding?

∞         

It’s time for me to come clean and put something into the universe that I’ve only allowed a total of 3 people to be privy to: I’ve always dreamed of being famous…

Don’t judge me!

It’s true and I am pretty sure that it has been clearly obvious to some but it’s a whole different story for me to admit. Now that I know it’s on file, I feel rather “exposed” and almost “transparent”. But in order for me to make my point, I must first state its founding truth.

I believe I have never admitted it because I never wanted to be labeled as “one of those girls”. You know “those” I am referring to: the ones who are so superficial it’s frightening. The ones with piss poor morals, full of themselves and having zero contribution to anything of worth and value.

A Kim Kardashian wanna-be! *I am huge #Kimye Fan BY THE WAY!*

This “dream” has been in my heart since I was able to mentally take note and form the memory; that little girls dream morphing into a woman’s vision over time.

So many times I’ve tried to silence this desire. So many times I’ve tried to assimilate my heart to the set reality. So many times I’ve tried to discredit the dream—because I was wanting what seemed impossible according to my current circumstances and situations but it’s always been so much stronger than I.

As if it had already been in existence before me.

Another reason for the secrecy was to avoid “the looks”. The looks of confusion and almost pity to my aspirations; their eyes said it loudly:

 “Poor thing. She’s so out of touch with reality; a child trapped in a woman’s body.”

How I HATE “the looks”!

“We teach girls shame. Girls grow up to be women who cannot see they have desire. They grow up to be women who silence themselves. They grow up to be women who cannot say what they truly think. The worst thing of all is that these girls grow up to be women who have turned pretense into an art form.”

-Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

∞         

To Hell with It!

I have already become more dedicated and focused on “the dream”. I have taken time to self-reflect, mediate and pray about what to do with this “dream”; what I wanted to accomplish; what I could do to get things rolling but most importantly I mediated on how much I truly wanted it. This is so much more than an artificial desire; this is part of who I am.

The writing, the make-up, the modeling, the fashion, the promotion, the networking…this is what I am good at. These are all talents and passions of mine. This is what comes naturally to me; so much so that I had subconsciously majored in Journalism to further my education and skill.

I thought it was just because I loved words.

When I tell people my major, a condescending expression arises; as if Journalism is the end all, a dead end career. And I must admit that I had a stint after graduation where I questioned all that I did because there were not ample opportunities for a recent graduate to showcase her talent. I questioned if I had signed myself in debt for nothing more than a piece of paper. Journalism is a very cut-throat nice nasty industry, in front and behind the camera—but I’ll save that tea for another day.

*hint*hint*

But had I never had ventured into this industry, I would have never found my voice, my identity. I would have never discovered my likes and dislikes; my pros and cons; and for those purposes I will forever stand by my major. I can’t fathom anything else closer to my passion.

“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and that. Because what the world needs are people who have come alive.”

-Harold Whitman

∞         

Be careful what you wish for…

The question I am sure you are asking for me to answer in this post is: “How do you want to be famous?” GREAT QUESTION! I asked myself the same thing while in deep mediation. Like both of my Grandmothers would always advise me when I would drift into my childhood past time of wishing and hoping:

“Be careful what you wish for because it just may come true.”

What’s the point in wishing then?

But as I’ve gotten older and become more observant of the things and people of my generation, I understand the subliminal message within the forewarning of the women before me. There are different levels to different things. There is no black and white. There is no set guideline that applies and fits to all. The same goes for fame.

There are people famous for providing great insight that has lasted hundreds of years. There are people famous for serving mankind and creating breakthroughs for future generations. There are also people who are famous for their lack of remorse and morals. And some are famous for the most horrendous acts ever accounted for.

What level am I on?

∞         

“Don’t expect people to understand your grind, when God didn’t give them your vision.”

-Anonymous

 I want fame for my words, my messages, and my mind. I want to fame for my individuality and creativity that gives credit to those before me. I want to be known as someone who thought outside the box, not for attention but for a wider perception that spoke to those who felt unheard. I want to provide happiness and confidence to women of all shapes, colors and sizes. I want to be the voice of a generation that has been in search for one. I want to take all that I have encountered: the pain, the tears, the triumphs, the lessons and apply them in to my writing—lasting forever and being the standing truth in a swirl of assumption and misunderstanding that has forever surrounded me.

BMynroe is not just another “fancy” name. No simulator suggested this name. I created BMynroe.  It isn’t someone I “wish” I was or that I “pretend” to be. BMynroe is who I am. There is only one and I have worked, crafted and fought for this name; I will continue to fight until it becomes a brand. And once it does become one, I will continue to fight, strive and uphold the authenticity, integrity and transparency of BMynroe because it won’t and isn’t just be about me, it will be and is about those who believed in me when everyone else said it couldn’t be done.

That’s what I want to be famous for.

∞         

As I write this, I am so grateful for Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s courage, strength and voice. Getting through to Beyoncé is one thing but to spark my interest that blossomed into pure empowerment is something I will forever be grateful for. Her intellectual and eloquent lecture gave such confirmation and volume to the quiet voice in my heart.

I am no more or no less of a woman because I don’t aspire to marriage, motherhood or family. I am not to be looked down upon because my heart is set on higher aspirations then my own vision can comprehend. Who am I, better yet who are “they”, to say that by reaching for the stars, obtaining the impossible will not lead to marriage, motherhood and a family? Who says I can’t have and do it all?

Maybe… I’ll be famous for that too!

XO,

@BMynroe

(RaChelle-Denise)

"We Should All Be Feminists" Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie