Day 5: Your Dreams

Dear Dreams,

As I the days go by and my graduation date gets closer, I've realized that it's time for me to start working to get closer to you.

My biggest dream is to be successful and happy.

Successful could mean some big editor in New York or a happy house wife in the country (although that is highly unlikely).

Happy could be just about anything.

Either way, I'm ready to start working so I can get to you and I am shocked that this letter is going to be so short since I'm a chronic daydreamer. Oh well.

Ashleigh Atwell

Day 4: Letter to My Siblings

Brothers and sisters are as close as hands and feet.  ~Vietnamese Proverb

There are so many of y'all....and frankly, I just don't feel like writing a letter to only one of y'all.

So...just for housekeeping....

Happy Founders Day to my two eldest sisters.

As for the rest of y'all....stay outta trouble.

I love you all.

Ashleigh

Day 3: Letter to My Parents

Dear Mommy and Daddy,

I have no idea what to write and I'm not in a mushy mood so I'll just...write.

I'm happy...I guess. My grades are decent, my relationship is going well, my extracurriculars are fine too. I just feel like I need to plan out my next move. My mentor helped me realize that grad school probably isn't my best choice right now and frankly, I'm fine with that. I think I'll just try my hand in the field for a year and if it don't work out, to grad school I go. Maybe I'll travel. Who knows. I just hope I have your support in whatever I choose to do. I just want y'all to be proud of me. That's all. Nothing more. My worst fear is disappointing either of you, even if one of you is deceased and the other one is probably in the next room. That's all. And ma, I'm taking that random advice you gave me yesterday, I'm gonna let go some of that control. I want to find my passion. I plan to apply that to every part of my life. I'm sick of choosing not to attempt something because I'm scared I'll get told no. Hell, that's the worse they can do to me. Tell me no. I'm gonna try a different approach. I'm gonna loosen the reins and try. That's the least I can do. I just want your support and I just want you to be proud. That's all. Okay, I'm done.

Love,
Ashleigh

(And yes, I realized I used a bad word.)

Day 2: Letter To My Crush

Dear (former) Crush,

It's me. That tall skinny girl with the wired rimmed glasses. The one that you joke around and played with back in middle school. I was crazy about you. To my 12 year old mind, the sun rose and set with you. I imagined what it would be like for us to walk the halls with each other, hand in hand.

Me as your girlfriend. You as my boyfriend.

You were one of the few guys that were taller than me back then. Your teeth were kinda bucked but that was alright. You made up for it with that personality. That warming buck-toothed smile. My two close friends knew I liked you. One of them remembers that little crush as fondly as I do. One of them even had a song for it. Ah...those were good times.

Then we grew up.

High school happened. Eventually, you out grew me and got muscles. I didn't become some blossoming example of womanhood but I finally took off those wired rimmed glasses and let my hair down. You became an athlete. I joined yearbook. You got your pretty dancer girlfriend. I got my emo nerdy but sweet boyfriend. We were still friendly but the connection wasn't there anymore. You stopped interesting me. I never interested you.

Alls well that ends well. We're adults now. You're still the athlete. I'm still the nerd. Difference is, I actually don't mind being the nerd but that's another post for another day.

Day 1: Letter to My Bestfriend

This is what happens when I'm around this negro...

Hey all! This is the first letter of the 30 Day Challenge. Hope you enjoy!
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Dear Sweet Piz,

Aye guh! You get the first letter.

I've never been one to throw the "best friend" label around willy nilly. The way I see it, it's suppose to be reserved for someone special. Someone awesome. Someone long-term.

I had no idea when I met you wearing that granny robe that I was meeting my sister. I don't see you as often as I would like to but when I do see you, it's like we see each other everyday. Every time I'm around you, we end up going on adventure. A walk to Atlantic Station. Our ill-fated trip to the liquor store and getting left by MARTA buses. Resident Evil park. Girl, we've had some good times together.

We've also brought each other through bad situations. I've seen you take hits with a smile on your face that would have broken other people. You always try to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I admire you. On top of it all, you are always there as a listening ear. I tell you EVERYTHING. And you know I'm not good at expressing my feelings.

 Any man that wants your heart will have to come through me first! I have my cat launcher ready and I know your piranha gun is loaded if midget man steps out of line.

I said all of that sappy shit to say I love yo crazy ass.

Love,

Jack, Pixi Stix, Ratchet Ass Hoe From Zone 6 and every other name you've ever given me.

30 Day Letter Writing Challenge

Inspired by my friend Courtney and blogger Bassey Ikpi, I've decided to participate in a 30 Day letter writing challenge. Should be interesting. Look out for the first one tomorrow. I will also post unrelated articles here and there. To see the full list of letters to be written, head over to my Tumblr.

Hotwheels or Barbie? The Princess Boy

As a non-parent, I don't like to write about children because I don't want overstep my boundaries. I'm just speaking on what I think I would do if presented with a situation.

I'm sure that most have heard of the "Princess Boy". If not, watch the following video. For those that don't have patience, the Princess Boy is a 5 year old boy with a liking for dress-up and dolls. The child's parents completely support him and allow him to play how he chooses, whether it's with a doll or a Hot wheel.

There has been a lot of controversy over this. Some seem to think that the boy's parents are indulging him too much and they shouldn't allow him to play with things that are commonly attributed to little girls. In my opinion, I think the parents are great people for allowing their child to be himself. A lot children don't get that luxury. I've been around people that see a boy just pick up a doll and they almost panic and snatch the toy away from the child. I'll admit, I'm not sure if I'd buy my boy a dress because my main concern would be him being taunted by his peers rather than his sexuality or "manhood". That might be ignorant, especially coming from a admitted feminist, but that's just how I feel. Would I buy my son a doll? Sure. I don't think it's any different from a little girl playing with a car. And guess what? The toys a child plays with are not indicative of their sexuality. Playing with a truck isn't going to make a little girl lesbian and playing with a Barbie isn't going to ensure that a little girl will grow up heterosexual. Same can be said of little boys. People just need to calm down and realize that having a gay child isn't the end of the world and having a traditionally masculine boy or feminine daughter should not be the only source of pride. The world will not come to an end because a little boy likes to play with a Barbie.

What Do Real Women Have?

"Real women have curves!"

So what do I have?

I am fully aware that people may call me ignorant and privileged after the following statement but I hate when people suggest that slimmer women are not "real" women.

I am sick of being denied my femininity because of my size. I'm aware that thicker women catch a lot of strife from the media. They are being constantly told that they are too big or not as good as the emaciated models plastered all over magazines. I get it. However, I don't think launching a campaign against the "size 2" is the answer.

Monique, I'm glad you're proud of your curves but I'm not evil.

Curvy girls, I understand that you've caught crap for your figures but I am not the enemy.

Thin is in? Maybe for white girls.

I say all of that to say this, it hurts when people try to convince you that you have flaws because you don't have the features they perceive to be perfect. I maybe small, but I have brown skin and nappy hair so I am no where close to being the ideal.

I am not to far removed from my teenaged years. I remember the self-esteem hits I took because people poked and prodded at me. I remember wearing jackets in 80-90 degree weather so no one would see how small my arms were. I remember the questions about my weight and if I had an eating disorder. It hurt and I'm sure it would have hurt just as much if I was larger.

But, I'm not posting this to tell a sob story. I just want people to start trying to celebrate every type of beauty. No woman should be made to feel less than because of her size. If anything, the media and society needs to stop placing so much emphasis on a woman's looks. We need to figure out why our daughters go from being happy well adjusted children to depressed adolescents with low self esteem. We need to tackle the sexist standards that's behind all of this trouble. I guess that's all for another post.

The Honeymoon Phase

I've seen it time and time again.

Girl gets boyfriend. Girl gushes about boyfriend endlessly and is in pure bliss for a period of time.

I call it the honeymoon phase.

During the honeymoon phase, the new significant other is brought into every random conversation. Every other tweet/Facebook status is about them while friends "ooh" and "ahh".

There is something about a new relationship that can give someone a sense of euphoria that makes them want to share their love with the world.

Well, I've never been that girl.

You see, I've never been good at expressing my feelings. I've been in a relationship for almost two years and I love that man with all my heart. However, the thought of talking about my relationship incessantly over the internet or anywhere else freaks me out.

When I get the urge, the embarrassment takes over. I don't know what it is. I just know it scares the shit out of me. To tell the truth, I've edited the crap out of this ramble to keep myself from getting embarrassed. I don't know what it is. I guess I just have to figure it out.

Here We Go Again...

This is the fourth time I've started a blog.

WYP was fake.

The New Lady was fake. 

I don't even know what Elle Aye Confidential was. 

I do know that I want to write and for the past few months, I've been losing the motivation to do so. I was too worried about being a popular blogger. I wanted the thousands of readers without the thousands of readers work. My writing suffered because of my behavior. Now, I just want to work on my craft. 

No more over-promotion.

No more nitpicking.

Just words.

Stay tuned.