Thirteen weeks into this transformation journey and I've had a revelation -- transformation is boring!

The weather has begun its dance. Warmer currents fighting for stage time when the cold asserts it hasn't finished its act. My body looks forward to the transition period where temperatures don't require much thought and the air feels like a soft caress from skin to soul. There is an excitement. But it's short-lived because my body remembers.

Thumbing through two weeks of journal entries to figure out what I wanted to write about this week has led me to pages of pleas with myself to stay focused. I'm trying not to lose sight of what's important, and failing some days. Who can blame me?

I'm exhausted.

We officially hit the halfway mark of our 100 Days of Deservitude journey, and I find myself somewhere between "look at everything I've accomplished" and "ARE WE THERE YET?!" The truth about transformation? It's not just hard—it feels impossible most days. (Especially now when I’m actively trying to ignore the world burning around me so I can get myself together to do my part to pour water on the fire.)

In those windows of time when I develop the resolve to drag myself to the gym on a consistent basis, I've noticed there is a threshold I cannot push beyond. A place my body arrives at where it naturally slows me down.

It's not easy to shapeshift your entire being and adjust yourself to constantly reside in a space where you actively exercise a belief system that proudly boasts -- YOU DESERVE THE BEST! This has to be the primary texture of innate privilege and it's just not a concept that's present in my DNA.

One day before my birthday, I'm sitting poolside with a view of the ocean in Aruba. The water is sparkling blue and green, and this moment is surreal, even with the gargantuan cruise ships blocking a straight view into eternity.

I wish I were one of those people who came out of the Pandemic renewed, re-juved, and ready to show the world my new self... instead, I came out like I survived war, lived four lifetimes, and I think my hair is still smoldering from the times I set it on fire making dinner…

I'm thrilled to share that I'll be hosting a workshop at Write Your Own Way, a FREE 4-day VIRTUAL event led by my colleagues Monica Hay and Lauren McLeod. This summit celebrates the beautiful chaos of creative diversity. Think of it as your permission slip to ditch the rules and write YOUR way.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel and apparently it's shining through a space in the wall where a phone jack used to be. It's clear the beams were cut with such precision around the phone jack it almost looks like it belongs in 2020.

I miss this time in my life. A time when I was not responsible for anyone and where I got to create my own experiences with little interference save chores and homework.

Nikki Giovanni is gone.

She left my world quietly. I didn't know until weeks after social media feeds hashtagged her transcendence. I disconnected from the digital world in November because my brain needed to cool down. Just entirely too much senseless rhetoric.

On day five of gratitude journaling, I’m going through the motions. There’s but so much gratitude I can find in sunlight and the song of the birds; especially when they are snatching frayed wood from the trim of my house to pad their nests.

Celebrate Black Children’s Book Week! Our panel will discuss the importance of Black Children’s Books and reading in Special Education.