Wouldn’t this be a better fit for one of the Lifestyle writers? Or even Celeb Gossip?” “You know I don’t do these types of pieces.

But he doesn’t hear much outside of his own voice and his own self-indulgent bullshit. He tries to throw me a bone here and there. Don’t get me wrong Bari is a decent boss. “What clarification do you need? I’m certain the assignment details were clear.” I hear the squeak of his worn leather desk chair in the background, and I can almost envision him reclining back in it, imagining that he’s the king of the fucking world and not a prematurely balding dude caught in the hamster wheel of a mid-life crisis. Surely Bari’s email was riddled with typos,and I don’t want anything else to be lost in translation.įrost is not Bari’s last name. I turn down the music pumping through my MacBook’s speakers,and I pick up my cell to scroll to his number.

And even though I traded in my ride for public transportation and a good pair of kicks, I can’t damn well survive off of rice and beans for much longer. While it was shallowly related to my passion, it didn’t nourish my spirit and sing to my soul.Īnd the third time? Well, that’s come back to slap me in the face hard enough to make me taste a decade worth of regret.Īs I sit here staring at my laptop, rereading the email my editor just sent, I have to remind myself that rent is due on the 1 st. And since they had made good on their promise and stopped funding my apartment, car, and expenses, I had to swallow my pride and get a real job. And neither will we if you don’t finish your education.”Īnd while I’ll only admit it to myself, on days when I’m feeling particularly self-deprecating, they were right. “But it’s what I love…what I’m passionate about,” I countered, feeling even smaller than my already pint-sized five-foot-one stature. My very traditional Korean father and West Indian mother, both highly respected MDs in their chosen specialties, were not trying to hear that shit. The second time was the day I had to break down and tell my parents I wanted to put the kibosh on my plans for med school and pursue music.

Hazel looked as if she had been caught in a waterfall instead of chasing one. T.” I spent the remainder of the school year and most of the summer reassuring her that it wasn’t that bad as it grew out.

Somehow, the hairdresser selectively heard, “Make me look like Mr. The first was when Hazel Figaro, my best friend since grade school, butchered her hair to look like T-Boz from TLC. Before two minutes ago, there were three definitive times in my life when I felt more conflicted than I do right now.

Beautiful Me by Natasha Jennings