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The Fortieth Project

On November 20th, I will be forty-years-old and that is totally  mind-blowing to me because a part of me will always be the young, idealistic girl who wanted to make a change in the world, although she has taken quite an ass whipping these past couple of years.  In the months before my birthday, at times, I feel as though I can conquer the world. During darker periods, paranoid thoughts plague me, telling me no one cares about  an old, fat, unemployed black woman.  My best days are behind me and all I can do is look forward to is death.

But those kind of thoughts very seldom linger because I have too much to do with the rest of my life.  According to statistics and the death rate of black women in my family, I have at least forty more years on this planet before I go to my Maker.   So I have plenty of opportunities to reinvent myself and start anew.  My plans for the future:

1.  I am going to finally develop my own “voice” and write this book I have been talking about since I was ten-years-old.  I do have an ability to hitch a word or two together but I have read so many books that I really do not know what my writing style is.  I think it is a combination of urban with a splash of academia.  But I will figure it out soon.

2.  I will not become a bitter, frustrated individual who is angry at the world. Anytime I surf the Internet and read various blogs, I am always amazed by the large amount of ignorance, hatred, and lack of empathy for others that  exist in our society.   I have not  conducted any research but after reading some of the comments on Yahoo, I have come to the conclusion that there  are some really miserable people in America and that is sad considering  that the pursuit of happiness is in the Declaration of Independence.  It is obvious that many have given up on that pursuit and choose to spend their days wallowing in bitterness and evil thoughts.  That will not be me.

3.  I will continue to love and guide my children to the best of my ability because they are all I got in this world.  To be a single, black mother is one of the hardest tasks in the world because society automatically assume that  families from this type of background are losers.  I made up my mind years ago that I was not raising any thugs or hood-rats and so far, I have had the pleasure of watching my two eldest children walk across the stage as high school graduates.  I am kicking statistics in the ass and I will be keeping up the fight.  Two down, one to go.

4. And lastly, I will continue to be myself. Uncommon, exceptional, unique, beautiful me. When I walk down the street, if you do not like what you see, turn your head.

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