Songs for Summer

It’s felt like it for weeks now, but today summer has finally arrived today. Summer makes you feel free and playful, and nothing takes those feelings to another level more than music. Here’s a random list of songs that have always reminded me of summer. No, there are no new songs or rap songs on my list, but that new Jeezy does go hard though.

Total-Kissing You Remix

Amerie-Why Don’t We Fall in Love

Beyonce-Crazy in Love

Erykah Badu-Honey

Maze-Golden Time of Day-Maze

Tearri Marie-Make Her Feel Good

Lauryn Hill-Sweetest Thing


What’d I miss?


Paying Your Respects… To-Go: When Convenience Goes Too Far

If you’re a comedy junkie like me, you’ve seen all of Rickey Smiley’s comedy specials atleast a million times. There’s one stand-up special, in particular, from BET’s Comic View 2004 (known for the “We Miss Robert” joke), where he makes a joke about a drive-thru funeral home.

At the time, it was hilarious and outrageous. In fact, it’s still hilarious and outrageous, but it’s also a very real thing. Yesterday, the Los Angeles Times reported that  a funeral home in Compton has set up a drive-thru to view the body of the deceased in Paying Their Respects Outside Funeral Home. Yeah, you read it right. Now, in L.A. and even Chicago and Louisiana (news reports date back to 1989), you can pull up to see your deceased friend/colleague and say your goodbyes  right from your car.  I didn’t know how to feel about it at all until I read the response from Scott Adams of Adams Mortuary.

The story reports, “You can come by after work, you don’t need to deal with parking, you can sign the book outside and the family knows that you paid your respects,” said Scott Adams. “It’s a convenience thing.”

Convenience? Like a Michelina’s pasta dinner or instant grits? Like fast food or a drive-thru daiquiri shop in New Orleans?  I think that’s the most tasteless thing I’ve ever heard of. No disrespect to families who have authorized the “drive-thru feature” for their deceased loved ones, but though slightly logical, it strikes me as a bit insensitive. Maybe I’m over thinking though.

Sure, the story makes decent selling points about the service, such as making it easier for seniors who can’t get in and out of cars, for families who don’t want to or have the means to have a formal service for their loved ones and it allows the deceased get more “exposure.” I don’t know if it’s specific to the African-American culture or not, but we love to “see ’em.”  You do remember Yolanda King, daughter Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., don’t you?

All that said, I’m still at a loss here.

We live in a “microwave” society where we’ve become used to getting whatever we want at the drop of a dime (Ex: You mean I have to go inside of the bank?). No one wants to be inconvenienced, but there are some situations in which you should put forth some effort. I’m not sure a funeral-on-the-run is enough. If it’s too much to park at a funeral home, drop a card or sign a guestbook and take a quick glance at someone you deemed important enough to pay respects to, what’s the point of going? To add insult to injury, their bodies are put on view in a drive-thru? I don’t know how I’d feel rolling up on a dead body, then having to drive off. There are still times when I think about my grandmother while driving, and I get choked up. Is that safe, or do you have someone drive you, in case you get too emotional? If there’s a line, is there a time limit on the viewing time?

So many questions, so little time. I’m not saying it doesn’t work (it really has no choice but to work), but that would never be an option for any of my loved ones. Even if someone I knew had a drive-thru funeral, I’d still inquire about going in. They deserve atleast that much.

*Photo courtesy of

Questions I’ll Probably Never Know the Answers To

Why does LisaRaye wear all white?

I know it’s her signature, but why white? I’m sure she’s explained this at some point, but of course, I wasn’t paying attention.

Why is it so hard to perfectly fold a  fitted sheet?

For the life of me, I can’t figure this one out. The gathers and elastic on the corners won’t let me be great. It might as well be a Rubix Cube.

Why do people think it’s okay to pull up to the Express/10 Items or less with a basket full of food?

Um, I know you can read. Yeah, I know there’s probably only two lanes open on a holiday weekend, but you still have to follow the rules. When I was a cashier at Target, I was constantly giving customers the side-eye and telling them, “Ma’am, you have more than 10 items….” Hate me now.

Why does Derek J insist on wearing his legs out?

Let it be known that I’m still not okay with a grown-ass man wearing a mustache and goatee with a chiffon blouse, but whatever works for you. No matter who or what you are, the rules are the same. Find your best body parts and accentuate them. Who in the hell told him his short stubby legs were it? I just can’t. I bet he doesn’t shave them either.

Why do couples, twins and best friends have joint accounts on social networks?

How many times have I seen “James and Lenora Williams” as a Facebook page or “SheenaandTeena” on Twitter. I don’t get it. Unless you run a business together or are  just plain crazy and insecure, you should have your own identity. Just my thoughts.

Why are weather reports are so long?

Unless there’s a storm or natural disaster on the way, I’ve never understood why it takes hours to tell me there’s a high of 84, with a 20 percent chance of rain.

Why do people take the elevator to the second floor?

It never fails. I’m on my way to the sixth floor of my work building, usually in a rush, some fool saunters on to the elevator and press the second floor button. That kills me! You couldn’t take the steps on the side? That’s our problem now: we don’t exercise.

Why did Public Enemy have a drill team?

I bet you I can look at Wikipedia right now and find out. Was it a tribute to the Black Panthers? It just all seemed to be too much, though it worked. You have a real rapper, a DJ who could double as a Wrestlemania act, two to four guys doing drills in army attire and Flavor Flav’s crazy ass. I see why white folks were scared. Fight the power!

Why is there an app for the Royal Wedding?

I love Kate Middleton’s style, and I know we stepchildren in the States are prone to become obsessed with any and everything. The fascination was to be expected, as the media ogled over the First Family once upon a time. An app though? I guess we have to feel needed in some kind of way, and a smart phone app will fill the void. Oh, America.

Who authorized this foolishness?

No explanation needed, but LMAO!!

Five Songs for the Other Woman

So the good people on “Black Twitter” tell me today is “National Side Chick Day.” I assume you know what a side chick is, but I’ll let Urban Dictionary define it in all its glorious rachetness:

A woman that is one level above a jump off but always a step below the wife, wifey, girlfriend. A side b*tch must know her part. She does not get holiday’s, birthday’s (other than her own). While he may meet your family. You will never meet his. A side b*tch is a woman who will have sex on Feb. 1-13 and spend Valentines day alone.


Evidently National Side Chick Day is the “other woman’s” Valentine’s Day. Since the man’s with his “main” woman on Love Day, the side chick gets February 15th, when everything is 50 percent off. I usually wouldn’t make light of this because it’s indeed, sad, but it happens daily. How do I know? Because songs have been written and recorded about it for years. I present to you the top five songs by women who were knowingly the side chick:

Saving All My Love For You ~ Whitney Houston

“….You’ve got your family, and they need you there. Though I try to resist being last on your list, but no other man’s gonna do…”

Uh huh, Whitney was creeping way back in the day before Bobby.

I’m So Into You ~ SWV

“Friends ask how could I give myself to someone who belongs to someone else. They just don’t know, your love’s so good that they would want it for themselves.”

He’s Mine ~ Mokenstef

“He might be doing you, but he’s thinking about me…”  *Slow blink* (I never got that one.)

As We Lay ~ Shirley Murdock

“I would never want to hurt her, no, no. She would never understand. You belong to me for just one night as we slept the night away…”

I’ll Be the Other Woman ~ The Soul Children featuring Betty Wright

“I’ll be the other woman all your life just as long as I’m the only one besides your wife.” (Well damn. *Gucci voice*)

To the women who are content being second, gold star for you. We all make choices, and we all have to live with them. If you think you’re the side chick, you probably are. Women’s intuition never lies. Lastly, people don’t like to admit it, but sometimes, side chicks become the #1 woman. Either way, it’s stressful at the least. You might as well enjoy some good music while you’re at it. Somebody out there feels your pain.

Four Hidden Revelations From Watching Dr. Phil

Since the launch of Oprah’s OWN Network, I’ve been watching a lot of television. Scratch that–a lot of Dr. Phil. Pair my new obsession with all of these snow days we’ve been having, and you’ve got me sitting on my couch, eating Chewy Lemonheads & Friends, glued to the television watching “the big guy.” I’ve never been much of a fan, but lately, his shows have been on point and tons more interesting than Oprah’s. I’m always at work when these talk shows air, so I’m out of the loop on all the craziness that goes on in the world. In just two weeks, my eyes have been opened to the way some people live. That isn’t a judgemental statement; it simply means that in some way we confine ourselves, our lives and our children’s lives by the choices we make or situations we choose to stay in. Here’s what I know for sure:

I’m not a gold-digger, but I can spot one who isn’t on her job. (Gold-digging Secrets Revealed)

In an episode about gold diggers, a 24-year-old African-American woman, Baje’ defended her lifestyle, saying she saw nothing wrong with having men provide lavish gifts, vacations and even a down payment on her new home. After being on her own since 17, putting herself through school and modeling full-time, she was getting her just do by getting men for all they have. She was tired of men asking for sex in exchange for photo shoots and runway shows, so her new motto was, “Get them before they get me.”

Okay, that’s cool.  I wont’ knock her because I know somewhere in her story lies some hurt and in turn, some sacrifices, be they physical or moral have to be made. If there’s foolery going on, believe that Karma will make her way back around. My problem was with her friend, who sent her to Dr. Phil. However, she’s like her wack protege’. After being hurt in a relationship, she decided to adopt Baje’ gold digging ways. The first step in Gold Digging 101 is to look the part. The friend’s weave was less than impressive. Let’s be honest, it was bad. Her attire wasn’t as sexy as Queen Gold-Digger and she sounded desperate to hang on to Baje’s coattail. To add insult to injury, she told Dr. Phil that she was in a relationship. **Slow blink** She sees nothing wrong with getting a guy’s number and going out to dinner to get things from him. It’s not like she’s sleeping with him. Um, ma’am, if you had a boyfriend, you won’t have one when you get home. And if your boyfriend approves of your behavior, he’s not your boyfriend. He’s your pimp. Good luck with that.

There’s no way I could be with a controlling man–and both of us make it out alive. (Bossy Husbands)

First, this should have been named, “So Controlling, You Need Your A$$ Beat Husbands,” but I digress. An African-American couple was on for a brief moment. Because of this other lunatic on the panel, Dr. Phil had to take time away from them to handle him. Bottom line: The husband completely runs his wife’s life: From the tracking system installed on her cell to picking out her clothes and even selecting her hair color. What in THEE hell? Making decisions about my hair is where I draw the line. I’m sure he picks her “drawz” and bras out, too. What kind of man needs to do that? Better yet, what kind of woman allows it to happen for years? She looks so low and beat down. Down-trodden as the old hymns would say. Give me a schedule of whether to wear boy shorts or granny panties, and see a fight go down.

I’m actually not a hypochondriac. (What Do You Fear?)

I don’t think I am one though, but I believe in finding out what’s going on with my body. Let’s just say between WebMD and forums, I could be experiencing everything from pregnancy to cancer to skin disease. All of the symptoms run together. I’m not making light of these conditions, but you have to know when you need to seek medical help (thank God for linesisters who are nurses!) and when your mind is playing tricks on you.

Just last night, a show on phobias aired. Poor Kathleen. The 35 year-old mother of three thinks she’s dying every second. Her morning routine includes reading the obituaries for people in her age bracket who’ve passed, contacting their families to find out why/how they died and further obsessing over whether she’ll be next. For 15 years, she says she’s kept her children at home from school most days because she’s afraid to be alone. She has rapid anxiety and panic attacks. Just when I was about to call her crazy as hell, I felt sorry for her. So yeah, I’m good. The picture of health.

There’s a fine line between proper goal-setting and crazy. (Desperate Measures)

Case and point: A 35- year-old woman decided after attending a friend’s wedding that she was definitely going to marry the man of her dreams within a year. She wrote a plan, Project Husband, and got to work. She found a gown, reserved the church and reception location, bought the cake and selected invitations. The only thing that was missing was the most important part: the man. In all that time, she forgot about meeting men and dating. In her defense, she said she was setting goals and believed in the laws of attraction. I do, too, but she’s taken “putting the cart before the horse” to a whole ‘nother other level. Nevermind that it sometimes takes a year to figure out that you don’t want to be in a relationship with someone, let alone a marriage. She ignored the dating experts’ advice and went on with her project. When February 14, 2010 rolled around, do you think she married? Don’t worry, I”ll wait.

While I’m Waiting…

I’m sitting here waiting for a publicist to call for an interview. A 4:30 p.m. call has turned into a 5:45 p.m. and still waiting call. Those are the breaks though. Anyway, it’s been crazy busy for me lately. Actually, it’s just been crazy–period. I’m snowed in and a little antsy because I’m impatient over this interview, plus I have other stories to write. Of course, I’d rather procrastinate and blog, instead of washing my hair until my call comes around. So here are a few things that have gone on in the past month.

I volunteered at St. Jude. During lunch, I participated reading program for working professionals. Instead of reading to a group of kids, you visit each waiting room and offer kids books from the book cart to read. If they’d like, you can read to them individually. I read to two kids: a Latino boy, about six-years-old. His parents, who could barely speak English, thanked me for reading to him. That was the only time he and his younger sister were able to calm down. I also read a mini cardboard book to a 20-month-old who entertained herself by tapping her little tush repeatedly. She saw my cell phone and wanted to play with it. I enjoyed myself. I’ll definitely do again later this month.

I visited a mosque for the first time. Correction: It was actually a study group, which is a “mosque in training,”  as I’m told in the Nation of Islam. I was invited to hear the son of Elijah Muhammad, Yasin Muhammad speak about a campaign to target poverty and lynching in Mississippi. If you didn’t know, a young African-American man was hanged in Greenville, Miss. It was reported as a suicide, but locals say otherwise. Read it here.

It was an interesting experience. I’m not Muslim, and I’m a tad ashamed that what I expected wasn’t all at what it really was. It’s good to explore other religions and beliefs. It doesn’t make you less committed to yours, especially if your belief is as strong as it should be.

So my surgery isn’t anywhere in the near future like I hoped it would be. After a couple of “woosahs,” I was okay with it. That means now that I can enjoy all of the activities ahead for February. I might as well enjoy life before I’m on lockdown for six weeks. Yeah.

Last night, my mama told me she knows I’m not cut out for a 9-5 job. Oh God, what a relief! I’d been feeling that way for a while, but never really admitted to myself. My philosophy is I haven’t come to terms with whatever until I say it aloud or write it down somewhere. I just knew if I told her that she’d tell me I was crazy. I mean, I do have bills to pay. BIG bills. So, how can I do this? All I know to do is keep doing what I have to do until I can do what I want to do, and pray, of course.

Speaking of writing this down and coming to terms, after about four months, I finally wrote about my granny’s passing in my journal. I wrote about it here, but not in my journal where only I can see. I hadn’t written since the week she entered the hospital. There were so many things I could have written in there about other random stuff, but I knew I’d have to write that she died first. Does that mean I hadn’t accepted it all along? I don’t think so, but it was really hard to deal with.

I refused to open the drawer where I keep her obituaries. The week following the funeral, I put her obituary picture (a young picture) and a recent one that I loved on a disc to print out. I even bought special frames to put them in. They were going to sit atop my bookshelf in my living so I could always see her smiling, and anyone who visited me would see her. Every week I promised myself I would walk to the Walgreen’s directly across from my job to print those pictures, but I found every excuse in the book not to. The disc is still in my bag. The picture frames are laying on the bookcase. I still haven’t done it.

It took talking to a friend to realize I was avoiding her death, as if I don’t think about it everyday already. After our conversation, I went to my room and wrote in my journal. I cried from the first sentence to the last, BUT I felt so much better. I FEEL so much better. God continues to keep His promise by sending her to me in my dreams–often. So I’m alright. In a way, I have channeled her. As often as I’m allowed, I sit down and watch Dr. Phil while eating candy uncontrollably. In a little while, those pictures will be up for sure.

Whew, I didn’t even mean to go, but there it is. Anyway, maybe my interview will call in soon. Smooches!

I’m Doing Too Much

I have to write a post about this every year. I’m sitting here relaxing, looking at television, comtemplating getting a cup of hot cocoa. I’ve finally finished two stories I had hanging over my head. I’ve washed all of clothes (though I have a load to fold) and I’ve finished my radio show appearance. For 15 minutes, I laid here feeling accomplished and ready for new week. Then I realized I have papers to grade from a month ago. Papers that I’ve been promising my students every week since then. The last day of class is Wednesday.

I’m doing too much.

Sometimes I spread myself way too thin. I’m all about having multiple talents, which will hopefully result in multiple streams of income, but sometimes it’s just too much. I want to be able to come straight home and just be. No paperwork, no extra stops after work, etc. It’s true; I chase the dollar, but I don’t have to. These days my time is much more valuable. I could get more writing done and even work for my full-time job.

I’ve decided not to renew my teaching contract next semester. It’s nothing new though. I often teach in alternate semesters. My plan was to teach for a full year to pay a dental bill this time around, but I’ve changed my mind. I just need a break.

I’ll be honest and tell you that I haven’t moved an inch to get my work bag. Those grades can wait one more day. Procrastination, get thee behind me. Le sigh.

DMV Adventures: No-Go at the Go-Go

There’s always fun and the unexpected when my girls and I get together. We decided to visit DC again. The last time we were there it was President Obama’s inauguration. We did everything, from joyriding with strangers near Club Love to defending my southern twang from the back of a police car–all while managing to visit the historic Fortitude on Howard’s campus, saunter down U Street, attend a party and get a pretty close look at the Prez taking his oath. Little did we know while visiting, one of us would be moving there just a few months later.

That brings me to now. Homegirl became apart of the Homeowner’s Club in Maryland, so a visit was in order. Consider this Part I of my Labor Day getaway to DC.

Our entire weekend was planned from the time we stepped off the plane to the time we boarded. The first night would include dinner at The Park, clubbing at the K Lounge, followed by the Go-Go, as suggested by her cousin, a DC native. I’m all about the Go-Go. Walk down any crowded street in the district and you’ll find guys beating the bottoms of paint buckets. It’s a go-go beat that you can’t help but dance to. If you’re not familiar, here’s an example of the crossover go-go song:

Who doesn’t like “Da Butt”? I was all in. Leaving The Park, we engaged in random conversation with the doormen/valet guys, who were all dressed in Lifeguard shirts and khaki shorts (still trying to figure that out). “So, where are you ladies going now?”

“We’re supposed to go to a go-go tonight, somewhere in Maryland.”

The guys looked us over, then back at each other. “Wait, you are going to a go-go? Who’s doing it? You said it’s in Maryland? What part?”

What’s the big deal?

“You ladies don’t look like the go-go type. Look at how you’re dressed! You have on dresses and heels, when you really need jeans and sneakers. Ya’ll are not prepared.”

The tall guy jumps in. “—-Unless you’re going to a Chuck Brown go-go. That’s for the grown folks. You can two-step all night. You’ll enjoy it.”

Cool. We took our chances and drove to Maryland.

The closer we got to the venue, we saw it was packed. Cars were everywhere, but we didn’t see anyone….until we pulled into an alternate parking lot. Have you examined your surroundings and instantly knew you weren’t supposed to be there?

It became crystal clear that we were out of our element. Rather than get in the mile-long line for admission, we stood back and people watched for a while. I saw people young and old(er), mostly women, dressed in boots (it was 80 degrees atleast. Maybe it’s a regional thing), cigarettes in hand, mangled weave and yes, even a few pairs of “church shoes”. Nothing but obscenities flew from their mouths about having to pay $40 for the “fake-a** VIP line,” as one girl described it. I failed to mention the suspect number of police cars already parked in the lot. The go-go didn’t start until 11:30 p.m. It was 11 p.m.

My girls and I looked down at our stilettos, cutesy dresses and handbags and decided to sit this one out. But before we left, I just had to know what the go-go was really like. The self-proclaimed spokesperson of the group (I’ll talk to anyone.), I approached the group of policemen. They looked so excited about their night ahead. One was leaning on the car, while another was popping sunflower seeds in his mouth.

“Excuse me, officer. We were about to go in, but things don’t look too favorable….We’re from out-of-town. What’s goes on here exactly?”

You and them wanna go in there?” He laughed. “Why? Look around. It’s obvious this isn’t where you need to be.”

We scanned the crowd. He was undeniably right. So were the guys at The Park.

“First off, you all speak King’s English. You’re dressed nice. You’re not, you know, ghetto.”

He went on, “You see, by the time 2 a.m. comes around, we will have broken up atleast five fights. These people over in the “$20 line” don’t know it, but they’ll never get in. This entire lot will be filled with police cars. It’s all typical at a go-go. I wouldn’t advise it.”

His sunflower seed-popping partner gave us a “that sucks for you” look and nodded in agreement.

“You might be right, ” I said. “But I really wanted to go. It would’ve been fun.”

Suddenly, there’s commotion at the door. A tall, slender girl wearing a half-top, whom I’d just spotted in line runs out of the club, adjusting her bra because apparently it’d almost been yanked off of her. She says, “F*** that b***! She knows where I stay. Come see me!”

Following her a short chick comes out pulling her dress down. It was obvious she was Tall Girl’s opponent, and even more obvious that she lost. Tall Girl beat that ass. We’d just seen this chick. She went in the club looking like Beyonce and came out looking like Sonic the Hedgehog. Tall Girl clearly pulled every track (except three, no lie) out of her head. Bleeding and barefoot on the glass-filled pavement, she was a certified mess. Her friend, however, dressed in a long-sleeved black liquid leather dress, was flawless. I guess she didn’t jump in.

Mr. Officer heaved a deep sigh, “See what I’m sayin’? I’ll be back.” He slow bopped over to the girls. To support his argument, after about 10 minutes, he returned to report that the girl wanted to go back into the go-go after she cleaned up her bloody wounds. Really? It’s that popping in there?

No. Ma’am. We couldn’t take anymore. We said our goodbyes to the DMV’s finest and chunked the deuces. It was definitely a no-go at the go-go.

To be continued….

Because I Care: Alexyss K. Tylor (NSFW)

Surely,  by now you know who Alexyss Tylor. If you don’t, shame on you. This Atlanta native has the foulest mouth, but she speaks nothing but the truth about relationships and sex. Ladies, if you ever need to get your mind right about a man problem or issue, look at any of Alexyss’ videos. She’ll set you straight. Without a doubt. And on top of that, she is HILARIOUS!!!! Like, seriously.

Her platform? VAGINA POWER. Enough said. Just watch the video.

I have got to meet this chick. She’s blunt and down right nasty, but she gets her point across. She may be crass to some, but her Youtube views prove that someone is watching. She started out on public access television and has gone to speak at Spelman and Morehouse College, conducting lectures across the country. Somebody’s picking up what she’s throwing down (I always wanted to say that. ).

Warning: The following video probably contains every expletive and alternative names for male and female genitals. DO NOT look at this at work. For more information on Alexyss Tylor, visit or her Youtube channel

Rewind—Fast Foward

I’m up on a Saturday at 8:30 p.m. writing. This is the way it should be. Since I claim I want to be a writer, I often think about what other writers I follow and admire do. I envision them sitting at their laptops at all hours of the night and day writing–putting something down on the blank page. I imagine them coming up with blog topics at the spur of the moment and putting them in their iPhones and Blackberrys so they’ll remember (I’ve started to do that, too!).  I imagine them sitting in Starbucks and bookstores pushing material out to meet deadlines and also just for the pure joy of writing. I imagine them not going a day without doing any of that.

That’s amazing considering I’ve gone a full six days without writing. My excuses reasons were it’s been a rough week, I was hella tired and my favorite: I didn’t have anything to write about.

Straight bullshit. I live in a world where high-profile celebrities and politicians’ daughters are making their marks as porn stars and makeup thieves. Even as I speak , someone is criticizing my First Lady for taking a trip to Spain with her daughter, no different from what past white First Ladies have done.

There’s always something to write about. Even if it’s just the things in my head. I have no excuse. So today, I declare a new start. To get me on track, I’m going to get the random stuff out. Here goes….


Okay, obviously, that’s what I wrote on Saturday. At that very moment, I received a call from my mom telling me  my grandmother was having emergency surgery because she broke her hip. I cried. A lot. Today, I feel much better thanks to nonstop prayer and family. She’s doing fairly well, but the recovery will be tough. And she WILL recover.

So today, I’m going to start over in this writing thing the best I can. My mind is truly blank right now, but luckily, I found something to keep me on track. Ishea at Six Twenty Seven is participating in a 30 Day Blog Challenge. I need something to hold me accountable, and despite everything that’s going on, I have to keep living. And living for me includes writing. Here are the rules:

  • Day 01 – Introduce yourself
  • Day 02 – Your first love
  • Day 03 – Your parents
  • Day 04 – What you ate today
  • Day 05 – Your definition of love
  • Day 06 – Your day
  • Day 07 – Your best friend
  • Day 08 – A moment
  • Day 09 – Your beliefs
  • Day 10 – What you wore today
  • Day 11 – Your siblings
  • Day 12 – What’s in your bag
  • Day 13 – This week
  • Day 14 – What you wore today
  • Day 15 – Your dreams
  • Day 16 – Your first kiss
  • Day 17 – Your favorite memory
  • Day 18 – Your favorite birthday
  • Day 19 – Something you regret
  • Day 20 – This month
  • Day 21 – Another moment
  • Day 22 – Something that upsets you
  • Day 23 – Something that makes you feel better
  • Day 24 – Something that makes you cry
  • Day 25 – A first
  • Day 26 – Your fears
  • Day 27 – Your favorite place
  • Day 28 – Something that you miss
  • Day 29 – Your aspirations
  • Day 30 – One last moment
  • I guess I should make today Day 1.