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Road trips are a fun pass time and if you are a traveler like me you look forward to all things a road trip includes. The laughter, the fun, the random ferret that runs across the road in front of the car. However, not all road trips are created equal. Shocker. I know. I've taken enough road trips with many different types of people to know a few golden tips that could help you avoid a road trip disaster (some could seem obvious), but here they are:
1) Relax, not everything will go as planned 2) Be mindful of others. Of others time, of others space, of others pet peeves. 3) Don't overpack!! You'll regret taking every shoe you own when you're squeezed in the back with a overloaded car. 4) Keep a open-mind, you don't want to miss out on great food because you refused to try something new 5) Accept help. You take others with you so you won't experience new things alone. 6) If you don't get along with em', don't road trip with em'. You don't want to be stuck for hours with someone you can't stand and have your trip be a disaster. 7) Don't be the Debbie downer (Sorry Deb, whoever you are) 6) Most importantly, have fun!! I've road horses in Iowa, seen the capital, brought a hot dog in times square, ran with dogs on a Texan farm, road rollercoasters in a mall, etc. the possibilities are endless. Now this certainly isn't everything, but it is my golden list of how I survived. What are your golden road trip tips? The Power of Self-TalkNot everyday is easy. In fact most days are a battle of the mental. My mind becomes the place I battle most. With chants and positive talk. "I can" "I love you" "You're awesome" "You're beautiful" "I am strong" "I am smart"
In a world where words fly everywhere and often carelessly, we forget that what they are matter. I don't even like jokes at times that seem too reckless. Those words stick even in a joking manner. But they can also be a trigger for those that are listening. Things like: "Stupid" "Idiot" "I hate you" "You're clumsy!" I had someone who constantly called me stupid in a relationship. It didn't appear to affect me except I stopped giving my opinion in social settings, I second guessed myself constantly unable to fully express a idea, and I appeared unsure of my own intelligence. It took reprogramming of my own words to find confidence in my own power of thought. People always called me clumsy. Being half blind I was insecure of my sight so I tended to bump into things and knock things over. But if someone always calls you clumsy you'll start thinking more and more. "I'm clumsy" Then it manifest and you'll start saying it, "Oh, I'm so clumsy." I was one! I'd knock everything over, break s***, and brush it off to my clumsy nature. And then one day I got tired of breaking stuff. I was living alone. There wasn't money to replace broken things or energy to clean up after myself for EVERY little spill. And there wasn't anyone in the apt to call me clumsy anymore except for me. And I was tired of my clumsiness. So I decided I was going to stop being clumsy. I paid more attention to my surroundings and was careful. And guess what? It worked, not overnight. And sometimes I did forget, but eventually I got it. Around others that called me clumsy I'd proclaim, "I'm not clumsy anymore!" Joke if then I dropped something, but remind myself, "I'm not clumsy though." That was just a clumsy moment. From then on I realized we create our own reality. We have the power to change it too. This was confirmed by my Pastor who preached, "What you think, you act on." Then Maya Angelou who spoke of how words stick on walls. We often become our negative thoughts. They become a part of us and then we act on that negativity. What ever you say about yourself is true. But you can change your truth. It's not absolute. I was clumsy, I'm not now. I do have clumsy tendencies. I was acting stupid, I'm not stupid. I do have times I could think more. I battle my mind daily with healthy and positive self talk. Especially because the things I hear are not always healthy or positive. Be careful of your words. They could hurt you or others around you. There is blood seeping from the gravel in the Volunteer state
A misdemeanor that will never be noticed Yet I've walked on that stone covered black earth That is hollow ground of all the buried black women Of deaths that go unreported Labeled as suicide Their depression just another excuse to complain Keep men’s clasped over their mouths and their genitals synced tight Made my way to the old state line where chalk outlines Become a faded story Just taking out the trash, Throwing these women away like this weeks garbage All you should do is stay indoors, girl Hope they don’t find you home, girl Cept outside can always be tracked in the house between the soles of your shoes Caked in between the rubber leaving bits of the problem on your floor And after all you gotta take the trash out Made my way to the dumpster Saw a woman walking with a bit of a shake She looked like my mother, thin frame humming to herself a sane tune Black pavement skin, plaits all over her head Skidish eyes as if the dice thrown by fate had left her here in this alley Looking over her shoulder for the next bad break Not quite dark, children laughing in the courtyard Gossiping neighbors leaning out of bent blind covered windows Men tossing those same dice trying to up the anty Ticking fans on this late summer day I couldn't take my eyes off of her Of her fiending body, of the glaze in her eyes Covering the pain Of a woman who may not have a place to call home Because she never possessed a real one You see a junkie, but highs often cover the emptiness Fill in the spaces left by neglect We never made eye contact She looked too much like my momma My momma was a junkie too had those shakes of too much weight No one to take the burden Can't complain black woman Let it kill you Her eyes never really made contact either Just shifting eyeballs rolling with all the weight Of being alone yet surrounded by people I can still hear the woman's cracking bones As what she was looking for pounced from his 10 speed bike Catching his prey in the alley Children went indoors Gossip halted Dice lay on unlucky numbers I threw out my trash Kept my eyes on the defeated woman that would be crumpled into the earth Closed the door Things just got good here We were safe inside Cept bits of the issue were tracked into the house Laying on the floor resembling dead flakes of black skin Suspended in chance Here in Section 8 housing With food stamps on the table A hole punched Therapy card next to it Momma sucking on a cigarette closing the blinds Tuning it out The sounds of the ghetto What could we change without losing our place Being nothing but faded outlines and covered in stone All grown up now, sick of hollow ground seeped in blood Sick of watching cracking bodies left to be crumpled earth Show me state has too many named victims to not see this is a problem now I'm here at 11AM, air whirring in the corner and I'm curious if I am focused enough to create change. Like you kinda feel like being a activist, but kinda feel like sleeping. You kinda feel like being in love, but kinda like being single. See! No focus. Change and love are not the same thing. Or are they?
Trust, the actions you make toward creating change are the same moves you'll make with the heart. How radical are you? Do you put everything out there on the line for what you believe in? For what or who you love? It's all this same thing that hangs in precarious balance that truly depends on your drive. Your focus. Are you paying attention? Are you taking risk? My bare toes are gripping the floor. (Sorry people who don't like feet) I used to be indecisive couldn't answer a question straight out of fear that I'd make the wrong choice. But now... I'm 25 and don't like the oppressive conditions that exist for black people. The structural racism that still afflicts us and I choose to DO something. I create art. With poetry, plays, paintings, and song I can control our narrative. Be the one leaving a record of our story so no one can do it for us. No worries of it being left out of history book. This didn't just happen, I didn't accidentally find myself here. Every move made even out of my indecisiveness has been leading me to this path. I want to push more. Step out of the box even more. I don't want people to ask what it means, I want them to see our story up close and personal causing them to either do something or admit they are part of the problem. Sure. This started out with me just sitting here at 11AM wondering if I am focused only to realize that in order to even consider it I had to be paying attention in the first place. I'm not sleep. I am single. But I'm so freaking radical. It's not about me though. It's about change and love. It's about being free. |
Sista SOLSFitness. Life. Art. Travel. 
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