Why I can’t be a super-spy.

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Spring break is nigh, which means I’m tired and procrastinating with work. So, naturally I spent all Sunday watching Netflix (judge me not). After a full day of watching my favorite action-packed thrillers, I realized that my fantasies of being a super spy wouldn’t quite work out for me. And I’ve come up with a list of reasons:

  1. My memory sucks.
     In almost every super spy movie, they can look at an address or a photo of someone and be able to track them down off memory alone. I take frequent looks at numbers and addresses and can’t remember shit. Much less people’s names and faces. I’d walk right past my mark and stop in my tracks like “was that him?” Then I’d look at the screen shot in my phone and end up killing someone else by mistake. This fact also makes me horrible at my job as a counselor. I often resort to “hey hun!” or “hi people!” when greeting my students because I am in charge of 300 of them and can’t remember who’s who most of the time.
  2. I’m physically unfit. In Taken, dude had a particular set of skills and even at his ripe old age by the time Taken 3 came out, he was still able to leap buildings and run for days after people and jump onto moving busses and whatnot. At this point at 34, my body just ain’t having all that activity. I mean…I can hustle to a train or run from danger, but chasing someone down? Nope, noppity, nope. Which leads me to my third point…
  3. I hate guns.
    This is a given in super spy 101. Mr. and Mrs. Smith had an arsenal and can work with the girl guns and bazookas just the same. I don’t like them, plus I have the aim of a member of the A-team, so knives also are out. Which means I would have to be skilled in hand to hand combat. Which in this case, see point #2.
  4. I rarely do anything unless I absolutely want to.
    In Kill Bill, Black Mamba took orders without question. Just hopped on a plane and killed folk because she was asked to. She didn’t detour in Bali and sip a mai tai until she felt like taking someone out. Besides, nobody would die the day House of Cards or OITNB drops. And Sundays would be off limits as soon as Game of Thrones comes back. I’d also probably procrastinate until the last possible moment that someone needed me to kill them. My rationale being I work better under pressure anyway.
  5. I ask too many questions.
    Much like point #4, this is another reason I’d struggle with in just doing things because people tell me to. I’d piss off the people hiring me because I’d be all “So, why do you want them dead?”, “Did they sleep with your girlfriend or something?”,”Did you ever consider you have anger management issues?”, “Does he have any allergies I could capitalize on? I’m kinda pressed for time, seeing as it’s Sunday and all”, “Why can’t we all just get along?” There would be no end to it. This is also why I’d never be a “ride or die chick”, but that’s a story for another day.


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This was me in 2010. In Peru. I was entering into my internship after that summer. I remember working while I was over there, securing CPR dates for when I got back and even sending PayPal requests while I was over there. Hustling while learning Spanish. I was doing so much back then. I was content.

At some point in my life, I lost my stride. I used to run a business. I used to attend graduate school. I used to work full-time. I used to raise an infant. I used to (attempt to) sustain a relationship. I used to clean my house regularly. All at the same damn time. Like all of these things, by themselves, would easily tire one human. But for some reason, I don’t do so much anymore. Maybe because I don’t have to. Maybe because I’ve been worn down from pushing to prove that I can do more than what was expected of me for so long. Maybe I’m just tired and feel like I deserve to be lazy.

But the person that’s really inside there knows that that’s all bullshit. That there is so much more that I should be and will be doing. That I really miss going to grad school AND running a business all while hustling my way through full-time employment for the benefits that were not-so-good but better than Medicaid. I miss having multiple forms of income so that I didn’t worry about how to pay for daycare or when surprise bills would show up.

I miss that invigorating feeling of loving what I do and feeling rewarded for it. Not just monetarily, but the pride in doing something and making people laugh or just say “I own this”. Even if it was temporary. Even if no one really knew it was me who owned it. I was okay with that. I knew, and that was enough.

I need that stride. That consistency of putting something out there for the world. I miss creating and being creative. I need that again. I’m happy, but I’m becoming impatient with this stagnation. I’m not growing or learning anymore and I need to be. Time for a change. A new project. Something.

I think part of it is, despite the numerous supportive and encouraging friends I have, I tend to attract one person with low self-esteem. And eventually that shit rubs off on you. And then you begin to question yourself – your motives and talents included. You end up criticizing not only your abilities but your body, your happiness, even the love others have for you.

This move has taught me one thing: Those who love and support you will love and support you. Period. Without making you feel bad for your life choices. Without making your decisions about them. Without being jealous of the things you choose to do for yourself.

With that being said, I’m getting back to the hustle. Back to being fulfilled and living the life I’ve worked so hard to do. Back to being consistent. Back to moving forward.