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    • Mei
    • Jöön
    • Jöölai
    • Aüggst

The Processing Mind

  • Embërr, ft. The Curated Drop: The Growth & Grind Report

    December 8th, 2025

    What you are today is what you are becoming. You are today what you have been becoming. Every day is a little life, and our whole life is but a day repeated.”
    — Elizabeth George

    …

    I hit the ground running this month; I started a book club called Holy Root, finished the Gospels, made attending church a non-negotiable, worked intentionally towards developing my femininity and womanhood, became more in-tuned with my home with a deep conviction to nurture it, and began incorporating prayer with my just-under-three-year-old son; now I witness in complete awe how he asks to pray more and watch as he often leads his prayers all by himself. It has not been an easy road, but one definitely worth taking.

    And I find there’s something to say about stamina and how consistency cannot function long term without it. But stamina — it’s built, it’s lived, experienced, not gifted. You work for it, fight for it, and the battle — it’s never over. I quit just about every day, no matter what it is, whether I want it or not, I fall to my knees and I say I don’t want it, hoping that somehow it cleans my hands of any effort requiring me to forfeit my idleness. Every day I suffer in this dark desire for idleness over something that would undoubtedly serve me ten times better; I suffer because I know it. It’s a disease, really, which is why the fight for stamina is necessary: you have to fight the flesh. Every day. There’s no other way around it. We can’t escape it, but we can endure it, and that’s a blessing that comes from the grace of God.  He says:

    No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and He will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation He will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.
    1 Corinthians 10:13

    We are builders. Nothing in life comes without building, and nothing that’s built comes without choice. And it’s easy to be persuaded that things happen to you instead of because of you and that’s because some things are easier to assemble — so easy that you do it without thinking. Sin is so accessible that it’s available in every language, every instance, every moment; while we’re asleep, while we’re awake, with or without thinking, we can build with as little as our hands. Sin is no-bake, no-refrigerate, and one ingredient only: flesh. 

    You want to read a book? Write a book? Lose weight? Run a race? Climb a mountain? Finish school? Break a habit? Start a new one? Whether a want or a need, whatever it is that it may be, the cost remains the same, you need to choose to fight the flesh — a lifetime war, and you’ll lose some battles, but with every morning you choose to get back up from your fall, the victory is already yours. It’s when we completely surrender to our flesh that the war ends, without negotiation, without compromise, we lose.

    But all it takes is a mustard seed of faith.

    It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when sown on the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth, yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and puts out large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.
    Mark 4:31-32

    I planted my mustard seed in Mei, and only now has it begun to sprout, but it is growing faster than I could have ever imagined. So fast that I find myself convicted in the littlest moments, in the littlest things. So fast that I hardly recognize myself when seen in the mirror. I’m different, as different as I assumed the person I’ve always wanted to be would look like. 

    And that’s hope. Regardless of how sensitive it is or how fleeting — when it’s here, it’s addicting, and now all I’m thinking about is what next to plant here in my garden.

    And I don’t know how it happened and I don’t know what to say other than something is changing; that for once in my life, I’m finally awake enough to witness how tangible change can be. That I’m emotionally aware enough to realize I’m living a moment that’s going to change the rest of my life. Tomiee and I never used to share the same interests before and yet an era is evolving in which this might no longer be the case at all.

    So sensitive, so fleeting, yet absolutely addicting.

    Where lies your hope? What’s in your garden?

    Think about it.

    Cheers,
    B.

  • Embërr, ft. The Curated Drop: The Rhyme & Rhythm Report

    December 2nd, 2025

    Faith doesn’t mean I know where I’m going, only that I trust God with wherever it is He takes me.
    …

    Readings

    1.
    A Woman After God’s Own Heart
    by Elizabeth George

    2.
    Through Gates of Splendor
    by Elisabeth Elliot
    (unfinished)

    3.
    The Gospels of the Bible
    The Book of Luke

    4.
    The Gospels of the Bible
    The Book of Mark

    5.
    The Gospels of the Bible
    The Book of Matthew

    …

    Embërr’s Line-Up, Spotify Style

    crooked the road by Mon Rovîa
    City on a Hill by Mon Rovîa
    To Watch the World Spin Without You by Mon Rovîa
    Paul Revere by Noah Kahan
    i Am A Mountain by Coldplay

    …

    I used to think I knew what I wanted, but it wasn’t until I started to clean the clutter around my wants that I found my needs. 

    And what I needed was You — but You knew that, didn’t You? In fact, it’s always been You, hasn’t it? You’ve just been there, waiting for me, grieving me, yet still teaching me. 

    And Lord, I grieve Your tears, but I praise Your patience.
    You came for me, died for me, and have been waiting ever since.

    And every day You’ll wait for me, but perhaps it’ll be a little easier now
    because I’m coming.

  • Embërr, & Corner to Corner

    November 29th, 2025

    Dear Lord, bless my room, minimize the worldly things and replace them with Your Presence. Send me Your Call and prepare me the way You did John and Jesus; Abraham and Moses; Paul and David. Have it take 30 years, 40 years, 80 years — I’m patient. O Father in Heaven, how hungry I am for Your Flame and Your Kingdom. Day in and day out, I find myself hungry for Your Word. O Selfless One, trembling am I who yearns to be Your child, Your student, Your faithful servant. Instill in me Your Spirit and Your Will for the sake of Your Works. From now until my purpose is fulfilled.

    In Jesus’ name,

    Amen.

    …

    I’ve wanted this for a while now; a clean room —  and not just clean, but empty. Empty of all the worldly possessions that don’t serve my walk with God and rather, keep me from Him all together. How easy it is to engage in the pleasures of ‘nice’ things, and yet, how heavy they are — like cuffs around my spiritual soul. How heavy, though how strong I must be to carry them, and I do carry them.

    Like in the morning, when I wish most to surrender, my surrender gets interrupted by miniscule things.

    And in the afternoon, when I wish most to serve, my service gets interrupted by trivial stuff.

    And in the night, when I wish most to pray, my prayer gets interrupted by digital devices.

    Material, material, material.

    How material I am.

    Lord, have mercy on me.

    Because eternity doesn’t come from things, or stuff, or devices; from phones or fancy furniture; from Alexa or Google, Instagram or Facebook. It comes from Calvary and the crucifixion of Christ that bore all our sins in his body on the tree (1 Peter 2:24). And the more I read Scripture and the entirety of the Gospel, the more I find myself drawn to His depiction of love and sacrifice and selfless living; His touch and reassurance; His guidance and spiritual wisdom; His trust and faithful service; His confidence and humility; His forgiveness and endless giving. His posture, which is free from pride, and full of peace. These are the things I gravitate towards and ultimately the things I find myself missing; like a glove without a hand to fill it — empty. 

    And the truth is, I’ve been empty of Him for so long. In fact, I’ve led the past decade with a dimly-lit fire, a puffed up chest, and the pen to my story in the palm of my hand. And I’ll be the first to admit I hate my writing. It’s cluttered with anxiety and doubt; worry and fear; insecurity, dysmorphia, depression, and this constant penetrating thought that I’m not built to stand. I’m the seed that shrivels up on the rock; full of cheap faith and no root (Matthew 13:5-6).

    And you know what comes to mind when I think about these things?

    I’m a sinner. 

    I’m a sinner, and that’s exactly who Jesus came down here for.

    “And when Jesus heard it, he said to them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.”

    Mark 2:17

    He came for me. And so, to step into this new season of surrender, I release my hand from the glove of worldly things and replace it with an emptiness that allows Christ to fill in the space. 

    And the concept is easier said than done, of course. It’s taken me since Mei to actually take a step towards minimizing my space and originally, God wasn’t even the reason behind it. I wanted the aesthetic, the look — of being small. Needing less. But deep down, the look wasn’t enough to get me to move. 

    But God is.

    Jesus said to him, “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” When the young man heard this he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions. And Jesus said to his disciples, “Truly, I say to you, only with difficulty will a rich person enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.

    Matthew 19:21-24

    So, let’s go corner to corner, until it’s all gone, so that the Lord may be glorified with the space I leave for Him. Corner to corner. Room to room. Until all that’s left to to do is

    rebuild.

    …

    He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.

    Jim Elliot.

    What does your space look like? Does it serve you well? Does it serve Him?

    Think about it. 

    Cheers,
    B.

  • Octöber, ft. The Curated Drop: The Rhyme & Rhythm Report

    October 27th, 2025

    She covers her eyes out of fear, not because they will see her, but see the difference, and decide to walk away.

    Hey, you. I know you might feel like I abandoned you, and though I don’t blame you, does it mean anything at all to say I just didn’t want you to see me like this? After every month and every revelation that justified me not amounting to who I spent the last six months saying I wanted to be, could you have gone another month of that? I became a leaking hose of shame; one the nozzle refused to shut completely. And I know you want it all. I know you want the highs and lows, whether it be for inspiration or simply entertainment. And the truth is, in the past I would have given it to you freely, because as long as someone heard it, I had proof I existed. But this time around, I didn’t want to exist, I wanted to change. And for that reason alone, there was someone more important I felt compelled to share my shame with.

    And that was God.

    I gave it all to God. I gave Him my shame, my burdens, and my sins, and from there He asked for my wishes, my hopes, and my dreams. As it turns out, He was the only one who could flip my switch; fill me with the Holy Spirit and deliver me to where I needed to be all along. 

    And where am I now? I’m home, in a season of stillness. I took inventory of my heart and the people in it that actually made me feel good and unfortunately, there weren’t that many. Not even the ones I found myself closest with. The ones I hung out most with. The ones that told me my back was covered when it wasn’t, but I believed them anyway.

    They always say when you move up at work, there’ll be people who won’t be able to handle your success, and I knew that…I just didn’t expect it to be the people I kept in my backyard, or even my guest house. But I started moving up and a friend got jealous, and the more they saw me in my new role, it really took nothing at all for them to sprinkle their resentment in my direction. It took nothing at all for them to betray me but then turn around and say they loved me. 

    So, I stopped talking, stepped away from all the noise, and came to God.

    And here’s what happened next,

    I started reading, A LOT.

    I started four books this month, and although two remain unfinished, that’s two more than the last three months could say.

    Readings

    1.
    when God writes your love story
    by Leslie & Eric Ludy

    2. 
    A Woman After God’s Own Heart
    by Elizabeth George
    (unfinished)

    3.
    The Gospels of the Bible
    The Book of John

    4.
    The Gospels of the Bible
    The Book of Luke 
    (unfinished)

    And I know what you’re thinking, she’s changed. Well, at such a beginner level, I have. And I know that God’s a very straight forward identity and that there’s a huge stigma against religion, but what about faith? Religion is rules, yes, it’s easy to view rules as negative because if someone doesn’t want to follow them, well then, there you go. Bad rap. Nothing finds hate faster than rules do, but again, what about faith? The transformation of unwavering faith. The tangible feeling of hope. And when I say tangible, I mean, the act of giving God the pen to your life and watching as He aligns what has always been meant for you right in front of your eyes. Seeing Him speak to you in a way only you can understand; all you have to do is come to Him and ask for it — but when you ask for it, your heart has to mean it. And when that time comes, He’ll know, and when you’re ready for it, you’ll see. It’s intimate, it’s personal, it’s —

    God.

    But I digress. Suffice to say, my peace isn’t found in a room full of folks or late nights out free from any form of responsibility, restrictions, or chains. No, it’s at home. Alone, but surprisingly enough, not lonely at all. 

    Imagine that.

    Now, on to the bops.

    Octöber’s Line-Up, Spotify Style

    1. Watch Your Mouth by Josiah Queen
    2. Everywhere, Everything by Noah Kahan
    3. Featherstone by The Paper Kites
    4. Fear Of Water by Noah Kahan
    5. Running by Land of Color

    I won’t deny I stepped away, and I can’t even guarantee I’m back, but there’s something to be said about walking away and returning when the time is right. And though I’ve been told in the past that if the time isn’t right now, it’ll never be, perhaps that’s not the case at all. If growth has taught me anything this year, it’s that it doesn’t need sound to water its roots, sometimes it needs silence. 

    Maybe we all ought to give it a try. What do you say?

    Think about it.

    Cheers,
    B.

  • Chapter Four: Aüggst.

    August 21st, 2025

    Sometimes a dream is only meant to have a portfolio — not an audition, or a role — a handshake, if you will, before it can go on its merry way.

    Check in.

    I’m happy. I have a steady morning routine. I am proud of the fact that I am actively writing, nearly every day, whether that be composing songs on the piano, writing poetry, or dedicating time to my blog — I’m writing. A lot. See? I’m doing it write now — I mean right* now. That was a natural mistake, I actually did that. It’s not a cheap joke — it happened, I – anyway… I’m writing. I have a stable morning routine. I play ball on the weekends. I spend quality time with my son in the mornings, work is fruitful, my personality is piercing through the blinds; I’m being seen, just as I am seeing myself. I am happy.

    Double Check in.

    It is now August 21st, and everything has changed. I haven’t written since I wrote this on the plane flying home from Honolulu in Jöölai; I haven’t played any ball this month, either; my son has entered his terrible two’s — five months late, thank god: any sooner and I don’t think I would have made it. And, to top it all off, I have strayed so far from the goals that created this blog in the first place. I haven’t been intentional with my movement, my water, my food, my sleep, my spending, my friendships, I mean — what happened? I feel I am in a constant battle with myself over these things and yet, still, I am happy, so that’s gotta mean something.

    Moving forward.

    Goals

    My original goals for this month were to spend more time with my dog, stay focused on my basketball matches, and incorporate more playing time in-between my writing sessions, specifically video games, piano, even the guitar. I have done none of those things — and that’s not to say I neglect my dog, he just deserves more than his servings of food, water, and bathroom breaks. I also wanted to take a dance class this month with my sister and celebrate my husband’s 28th lap around the sun (which is the only thing I can really say with confidence has been achieved — though, not the dancing part, my husband’s birthday — which, if we’re being honest, was coming with or without me, but more on this later). The only real goal I have stayed true to is actually a secret I hope to reveal by the end of this month, which of course, is coming up pretty fast. 

    And my first instinct is to write a pick-me-up line and say, despite everything, not all is lost, because it’s true. I’ve had a great month. I’m happy. Life is good. How? Why? Because instead of listing out all my mishandled goals and sulking over my failures, I recognize that, all of this, is voluntary. 

    I’m an adult. I am not being graded on my level of growth. Growth is not just about solving some self-concocted mystery of who we are, it’s about embracing every detail of the road while we’re driving to who we want to be; the views can change from sights of green to brown to yellow to blue; roads can be a one way, freeway, high way; lanes can be closed and detours insisted; traffic lights come in three colors, for a reason. One day, Forrest Gump just decided to stop running, but why, if it was in the middle of the road, with nothing in sight, no destination to justify an ending? Because it’s not about the ending, it never is. It’s about stopping to smell the roses, and then searching for another field, with different smelling roses. It’s about the moment. What you’re doing now.

    Life is not defined by the destination, we hear this all the time. Life is an RV in constant motion to different campsites. Settling in, packing up, and moving out. It’s a cycle, just like the time on a clock and the days in a year; the seasons, the generations, it’s all cyclical. So much so that sometimes I get dizzy, but then I take a step back, and take a detour.

    Not all dreams were meant to breathe life into this world. Sometimes just starting to create life in a dream is enough to lay it back down to rest. That is the kind of life we have the power to create and so make life about the process of creating, not the creation. 

    And something I can say I’ve been doing very regularly this month has been, reading.

    *Gasp* I know.

    Unfortunately, something it’s forced me to discover about myself is that I — am a very slow reader.

    21 days, 15 minutes per, and only 30 pages to show for it. 

    Sigh. Nevertheless, I am happy. 

    So, if all I do for the rest of this month is embrace my morning routine, my work, and my slowness, I will work to be intentional in my practice of accepting these things as enough.

    What about you? Can you accept yourself as enough? Is what you’re doing enough?

    Think about it.

    Cheers, 
    B.

  • Jöölai, ft The Curated Drop: The Growth & Grind Report

    August 10th, 2025

    I thought I’d be embarrassed about arriving late to the party, but as it turns out — everyone’s just happy I made it.

    I grew up an uncomfortable kid; slow to learning, becoming, loving — I thought my skin needed tattoos to be beautiful and that my friend’s list had to fill an over-dramatically long scroll to prove that I mattered. I’m the youngest of five and I wasn’t just the smallest; I was the smallest. My voice? Always muffled. Common sense? Never developed. My academia? Under performed. I was small.

    I’d ask my parents what would make them proud but there’d always be something lying around that would make them prouder — I grew up an uncomfortable kid. 

    And though it’s thrown me off my path more times than I care to count, my husband likes to remind me that it’s not my past that gets me home, it’s my present. Everything I do now, is my compass; it’s on me.

    He’s right. My parents have taken their respective step down as my coach and have fallen back into the stands, as my newly found cheerleaders. I am both the coach and the runner, as well as the official who shoots the pistol.

    I am the one who says, “On your marks.”
    The planner who sets the day.
    The designer of the track.
    The one who chooses the lane.
    And the one who decides when and when not —
    to run.

    I used to wonder where principles came from and when mine would finally make an appearance. Nobody told me they don’t just show up at your door — you’re supposed to build them. 

    So, I’m late to the party — I don’t know what I believe in or what I’m willing to stand for. I’m a fool.

    I pretend, by-stand, avoid — I’m a full-functioning adult, and yet an overstimulated toddler all over again.

    I used to deny my menstrual cycle — and for what? I’d deny its ability to hijack my emotions, as if all feelings somehow appeared out of thin air, and then when Red came knocking, I’d be too scared to ask my mom for the proper coverage, so all that left me with were stacks upon stacks of bloody underwear and a downward spiral of self-care, not to mention confidence. I grew up an uncomfortable kid.

    I don’t have the best stories. I grew up the buff girl, the unhygienic girl, and the girl who cried over having to go get a physical. I didn’t gain consciousness until college and the fact is, even after almost a decade of it — college — later, I’m still just trying to find my way.

    Man, this is extremely hard to write. And I think it’s especially hard because I’m a mom now, and I just can’t believe all this happened behind my back. Like, if the mom in me had just kicked in a little sooner, maybe I could have caught some of my worst falls, and then maybe I’d be farther along by now.

    And I know, I know… I didn’t know any better, and yet still, I grieve. I grieve for her, for me. Over and over the memories play back in my mind, the hopelessness ceases to fade, and I’m left in a cyclical pothole of mourning.

    Knock knock. It’s me — your husband. Remember what I told you. Focus on the now, and take your time, we’re all here waiting for you.

    And just like that, he brings me back.

    Okay, so maybe I don’t know what my principles are right now, that’s okay — I’ll build them.

    And maybe I didn’t recognize the science behind my cycle back then, that’s okay — I do now.

    And maybe I don’t know which race I want to run yet, that’s okay — one day, I will.

    For now, I’ll just sit in the process of it all, because that’s the heart of life in its most candid form.

    I reckon that’s enough emotional sap for one day, why don’t you go wet a paper towel and wipe off the residue — let’s move on to the curated drop.

    The Growth & Grind Report

    I might not have done a lot, but I’ve done enough. As I’ve mentioned before, I am deathly afraid of dancing in front of people. I get stiff, I can’t improvise, I can’t get over the fear of embarrassing myself, but during my Hawaii trip, I took the stage.

    Watch:

    People were watching, the music was definitely not loud enough for them to understand what I was dancing to, but I was not watching them. I put on my shades and tuned them out. Kinda like how they say to wear a cap at the gym and keep your head down so you can’t see the eyes. I couldn’t see them, because I wasn’t looking for them. I put on my shades and danced to the beat of my own heart — that and Chris Brown, you can find the song here btw. I wasn’t perfect, but I was there. Right on the top of Mt. Everest, a metaphorical mountain I never expected to actually climb, only dream to. 

    But look at me now. 

    And I dedicate that dance to the follicular phase of the menstrual cycle because without it, I don’t surmise I would have been in the right mind to pull it off. I’d be too overwhelmed with fear and doubt and a cannot attitude to execute something I knew in my heart I’d love.

    I also made it a point to pocket my insecurities during my trip and wear the damn two-piece bathing suit anyway. I genuinely brought it without the expectation that I’d wear it, but low and behold, I did.

    I mean, this trip really brought out my ability to actually accept the freedom I had been so gracefully given. I didn’t recognize myself. I felt …big, bold, and honest. I felt like Tomiee Cruise.

    I reserved space for myself and honored my box hotel — I could have easily checked out early and spent each night with my girls in their shared hotel, and the truth is I would have in the past, but I didn’t. I saved room for my space. I embraced it and let me tell you, I loved every minute of it.

    I was completely indulged in self-empowerment. I wore the skirt, the crop top, the bathing suit; I mean, my fit went way beyond my usual norm. But my favorite part about it was how safe I felt in my own skin. So, thanks, Föllie. You’re the real homegirl.

    Aside from my trip, I’m also learning how to take my shots in basketball. Most of the time I get too intimidated by the guard and resort to making the pass, but little by little, I’m practicing my ball handling and seizing the moment when it reveals itself to me.

    Mira! (aka “Look!” in Spanish)

    Not me crying in the club like 

    I also got to step into my supervisor role at work and lead a group of people on my own for the very first time ever in my Costco career — oh, did I mention I work at Costco? Hi, I work at Costco. 

    Like literally, you know what? Who said I didn’t do a lot? Cancel, this month was golden.

    Aüggst, bring it on, baby. Though I’m late, I’m very much ready.

    That’s it for the Growth & Grind Report. 

    What’s something you did this month that you’re proud of? Anything out of the ordinary? Something worth doing again?

    Think about it.

    Cheers,
    B.

  • Jöölai, ft. The Curated Drop: The Reading & Rhythm Report

    August 8th, 2025

    “If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that.”
    — Stephen King

    The saddest part about Jöölai just might be the saddest part about Aüggst — they’re fillers. You know, episodes without any meaning but are there to fill in the space; to serve as a reminder that I’m still here and don’t forget about me. And of course, I don’t want to believe it, but it’s hard to imagine they’re not.

    I showed up late to Jöölai’s party, didn’t bring a gift, ate all of the food, and left without saying a proper goodbye. And the voice inside my head is spinning; crying out but you grew, though. You grew so much. Why be so unkind to yourself?

    Well, because here I am, at the Reading & Rhythm Report, and I’ve got absolutely nothing to say. 

    I didn’t read, I barely wrote, not to mention I held my dribble (aka I hardly played any ball). To the voice screaming at me from the other side of the room, I did. I did grow, and yet there’s an ache in my stomach that no amount of TUMS can suppress —

    My disappointment. 

    I thought I’d be farther along by now, but I should have known better because — and though shameful — I also thought I could get away with only sharing a refined version of the truth. And that’s not to say that what I’ve written isn’t honest, I’ve just allowed it to serve as a distraction from the things I’ve told you I wanted but have yet to do. 

    For instance, read. 

    Sigh, insert heartburn.

    Maybe I don’t want it enough. Maybe I only wanted it because of how it would make me look instead of how it would make me feel. Everyone loves a reader. Readers are smart. They know things. 

    I also know, I cannot be a writer without it. So, it has to become a nonnegotiable — just like my water intake (another thing I have also been failing at lately but have distracted you from circling back to — I bet you can’t even remember the last time I spoke about my water intake, you know what I mean?) You see? I’m not lying, I’m distracting, but that’s only hurting myself.

    So, game plan:

    I’ll start small. Ten minutes a day. No page count, just a good old-fashioned timer. I’ll keep a book on the nightstand, one in my lunch bag, one on my desk, and one in the car. I need to actively make it a part of my day, and you know what they say — out of sight, out of mind, so they’ll just have to be everywhere.

    Audibles on deck:

    101 Essays That Will Change the Way You Think by Brianna Wiest
    The Let Them Theory by Mel Robbins

    Paperback:

    Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell
    Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman

    The plan is not perfect, and if it fails I’ll try something else — I take comfort in the fact that I’m trying. 

    Now, on to the bops.

    Jöölai’s Line-Up: Spotify Style

    1. Momma by Joyner Lucas & Chris Brown
    2. Chemical by Post Malone
    3. On The Coast by Citizen Papes
    4. Indecision by Sampha
    5. Yellow Brick Road by Quinn XCII

      Maybe I didn’t walk out on Jöölai, maybe I drank too much and knocked out on her couch. Maybe she walked out on me, and now I’ve got Aüggst here, banging on the door, trying to escort me out.

      I don’t blame them, it’s time.

      What’s something you’ve been falling short on? What’s something you want to change?

      Think about it.

      Up next on the chopping board, The Growth & Grind Report

      Cheers,
      B.

    1. Jöölai, & The Power-Forward

      July 29th, 2025

      Every runner runs a different race, even if the track is all the same.

      Every team needs a good power-forward; you know, the offensive push to the basket, our last line of defense when blocking a layup, the box-out, the rebound, I mean, they’re basically the armed guard of the team. The trick is knowing when to make the pass and when to take the shot for yourself, and it’s the same for the menstrual cycle; you need to find the balance between mind-over-matter and when to stop, pick up your dribble, and let someone else take the dub. 

      You see, your body makes up a team. You’ve got enough players to fill the starters, the ones on the bench, even those on the cheer squad. Like, you may not realize it yet but you’re your own hype man, wing man, I mean, jeez man, you’re the man— or woman.

      Did I lose you? Let’s start over.

      Look, during the course of the month, the menstruating body encounters four different phases: menstruation (our bleeding phase: days ~1-5), follicular (our recovery phase: days ~1-14, yes I know they overlap, I will explain all that later), ovulation (our rise phase: day 15), and luteal (our downfall: days 16-28). The menstruation and follicular phase go hand in hand, despite them basically being the Yin yang of each other in terms of how they typically are supposed to make us feel — we associate the menstruation phase with cramps and fatigue while the follicular phase normally has us feeling on top of the world. So, how does that work? How can they occur at the exact same time?

      Well, if you remember how I broke down Red — the name I’ve given the menstruation phase — (and if not, you can find it here), you’d know that we primarily see a drop in three separate hormones such as estrogen (our uterine-lining builder), progesterone (our fertilized egg protector), and serotonin (our “feel-good” mood lifter). 

      However, the follicular phase works in the background, reproducing those hormones at a slower pace. We just don’t acknowledge it because, more often than not, we’re too busy tending to all the bleeding. They call it the follicular phase because during this time in the ovary department, the FSH hormone (follicle-stimulating hormone) is released which stimulates the development of — you guessed it — follicles. Follicles are like the soil a seed needs to grow; it surrounds the seed, just like they do our egg-cells, or oocytes. Their job is to mature its designated egg to the extent that when it interacts with sperm, it’s ready and healthy enough to create new life! 

      It’s like a track race, everyone’s on the line, when the pistol pops — we run, but it’s not a one speed fits all, someone has to finish last; in this case between the two, it just so happens to be the follicular phase, or with a more personal tone, Föllie. Red begins in the uterus, while Föllie takes place in the ovaries, so two different processes are happening in two different places at the exact same time, pretty cool huh? I mean, the body is way more complex than that, but that’s a different rabbit hole to go down another day.

      Now, typically only one follicle is ever mature enough to actually be released from the ovary and out into the vast world that is, the fallopian tube. There it awaits its blind date with what it hopes to be its sperm-mate — Get it? Soulmate? Sperm-mate? Anybody…? Nobody…? Okay, moving on.

      Of course, that’s not to say two follicles can’t be released, because they can, that’s how we get fraternal twins; I’m just saying it doesn’t happen often, though I digress. The moment this happens, we have now entered into the ovulation phase of the cycle, or as I like to call her, Ova. Now, Ova is a little bit of a celebrity to the demographic that desires children. She pops in once a month, signs a few autographs, and takes her leave accordingly. Because Ova’s appearance window is so small, it can take several months to see preferable results; in some cases, even years — in others, not at all.

      There are a lot of factors that play into it, for instance, some months we can experience what is called anovulation (the process in which a menstrual cycle ensues without the release of an egg). This can occur when the body undergoes stress for an extended amount of time, when we’re overweight/underweight, approaching menopause — the reasons vary. But my main purpose in introducing her is to mention that typically when we enter this phase, we unlock what seems to be the ultimate hormone package!

      I’m talking peak estrogen, serotonin, progesterone, testosterone — the dream team. Estrogen boosts our confidence, serotonin regulates our mood and removes the fog, progesterone protects our peace, and testosterone brings the thunder; the fire, the risk, the strength, not to mention, the libido. It’s all there for the taking. 

      Sure, it’s fleeting, but that’s why we have our power-forward — Föllie. Föllie is our longest feel-good phase of the month, where the ultimate hormone package is replenishing. They’re still there, and they’re as peak as we allow them to be. There might be days when we need to make the pass for someone else to shoot, like during the first week of Red, but by that second week, it’s all Föllie. 

      For me, I feel like I’ve gotten the hang of three out of the four phases of the cycle. Despite the bleeding, I hardly notice the difference between Red and Föllie; to me, they’re just Föllie. But there’s one phase in the cycle I can never seem to get along with — Lucile. Lucile always shows up uninvited, overstays her welcome, and messes with everything I had planned.

      But here’s the thing, it’s hard to talk bad about someone you don’t like, especially after finding out where they come from and what it is that makes them who they are. It takes a lot of emotional intelligence and the dropping of the ego, but in the end, I know it’s for the best. Lucile is what we recognize as the Luteal phase, or to put it short, PMS. 

      If I’m being honest, I still haven’t forgiven Lucile since we spoke last month. She stole my sleep, my energy, and my patience; she kept me from my blog and the gym, not to mention the fact that here I am, still cleaning up the mess she left behind, only for her to be making another visit here in the next few days, for the next two weeks. 

      She’s my least favorite of all the phases and yet easily one of the longest, but of course, everything happens for a reason. So, let’s dive into her purpose.

      I’ve gotta hand it to her, Lucile is pretty versatile. She’s essentially the aftermath of a bad blind date (the event where the follicle doesn’t meet its sperm-mate, pregnancy doesn’t occur, and they both go their separate ways which in case you didn’t know, means death for the sperm and reabsorption for the egg — pretty feminist if you ask me); however, Lucile also happens to be the honeymoon destination in the event there’s a wedding (in other words, if the egg does get fertilized by its sperm-mate, then the body gets sent into a more prolonged state of PMS — basically the entire first trimester, which is why it’s known as the daunting first stage of pregnancy). 

      So, to summarize, no pregnancy, Lucile stays. And if there’s pregnancy, she stays longer. 

      Yaaaaaay…

      Okay, okay, so Lucile gets a pretty bad rap; people describe her as uncomfortable, experiencing symptoms like cramps, moodiness, fatigue, bloat, restlessness, extreme hunger paired with ceaseless cravings, the list goes on. But in her defense, it’s because she’s the hardest working phase in the cycle. During her stay, she navigates the body through its production of developing large amounts of progesterone in order to thicken the uterine lining that’s going to keep the follicle protected during its “bake in the oven.” At some point, Lucile decides that the lining is no longer necessary since the presence of pregnancy fails to exist, so then her job is to navigate turning off the running faucet of progesterone and bringing it to a stable and more normalized flow. And as I’ve mentioned before, it’s not just progesterone at play; Lucile is also responsible for slowing down the production of estrogen, serotonin, and testosterone. So not only do our peace-keeper hormones drop, leaving us to be more anxiety-driven and restless, but we also experience gradual declines in our confidence, mood, and strength.

      Great. The problem is… sometimes it takes us weeks to recover from this phase — weeks to rebuild our stamina, consistency, and endurance, and then right before we can take our first sigh of relief, we hear a key turn, the door open, and a voice that says, Honey, I’m hoooome.

      I’m not trying to whine, but damn. Being a girl is tough.

      But do you see how versatile she is? I mean, how can I talk trash about her now? The only thing I can fathom to think of when it comes to my love-hate relationship with Lucile, is to make it better.

      All of this to say, the menstrual cycle is a tough gig, but so is being on the court. You need to be strategic. You gotta know your players, your opponents, the game, and what your next play’s gonna be. I’ve realized that I need to score most of my points during my encounter with Föllie and Ova, even Red, but when it comes to Lucile, I need to fall back into the key and play straight defense, protecting all that is mine. Pass when necessary, watch out for steals, keep my hands up, and box out.

      It’s chess. It’s basketball. It’s track. It’s a lot of things. It’s — 

      the menstrual cycle. 

      For those of you that found this post relatable, do you notice when you’re in different stages of the menstrual cycle? If so, how do you approach it? Do you change anything or just grin and bear it? What’s your play for when Lucile’s got the ball?

      Think about it.

      Cheers,
      B.

    2. Jöölai, & The Spontaneous Aloha.

      July 27th, 2025

      ROBBIE (V.O.)
      (as if rehearsing)

      So, the story starts….

      I was supposed to go to Mt. Shasta. Hike, jet ski, lay in the grass, feel the bark on the trees — the works. The trip was planned two months in advance, the dates were set, the leave was approved, nothing, and I mean nothing, could stand in the way.

      Or so you would think. 

      Note to self: When planning a trip, don’t just say the things you want to do, plan them. For instance, if you’re going to camp, find a campsite, reserve it, buy it flowers, make it your girlfriend, do what you gotta do, but make it official. If you’re planning it with a friend, a spouse, a sister — talk to them. It’s almost laughably how little I spoke to my sister during the coordination of this trip. To say I’m embarrassed is an understatement, but in my defense, I was raised to be spontaneous, so I thought everything would come together on its own. 

      Boy was I wrong. Sorry, Bri. My bad G.

      Long story short, the Shasta trip fell apart but my vacation clock had already started ticking. I had one week to do something worthwhile and bumming at home was not an option for me; however, what eventually came to be the finalized plan was beyond what I could have possibly expected: Hawaii.

      Now, the thought of booking a flight to Hawaii started out as a joke, I mentioned it to a friend of mine, but he was less interested in laughing at the joke than he was interested in actually finding a way to make it happen. 

      Now I need to make one thing clear here, I do not travel, at all. I mean, I find it hard enough to leave my house most of the time. Like, aside from work, the gym, or the basketball courts, it’s not often you’ll find me experiencing life on the grander scale of things — though that’s not to say that’s not what I want, because it is. 

      So, when my friend said I should do it, you’ll be pleased to hear I did, though not without a day’s worth of doubt and hesitation first. I mean, Hawaii? Me? There? No… could I? Should I? No… yes! Yes… yes. Okay. Let’s do it.

      And so, I really dedicate this trip to my friend, Tan Tan. Seriously, I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you for all your help. Thank you to my husband for being so supportive of me going and thank you to myself for overcoming the mountain of guilt needed to say yes to this trip in the first place.

      However, a key point I’ve left out up until now is the fact that this was supposed to be a solo trip. That’s right, I was going to go, alone. Little ole me, taking the island by storm. All I needed to do was find a ride to the airport. I reached out to my mom the night of to ask for a ride to the airport.

      This is how our conversation went:

      Mom, could you take me to the airport tomorrow?

      Where are you going?

      Hawaii.

      Alone?

      Yes.

      Want some company?

      Of course…

      Daddy said I could go (:

      WHAAAAAT?!

      Would you like your sisters to go too?

      Yeah!

      Done!

      No. WAY.

      And just like that, it became a girl’s trip. 

      The flight to Honolulu felt like a restless night, full of anxiety and home-grown fear. They say, “no one ever thinks it’ll happen to them until it does,” but I’m one of those people who thinks everything will happen to them — and to clarify, I mean worst case scenarios. I’m too afraid to walk anywhere alone because I would be the one to be kidnapped, I can’t ride my motorcycle to work because I would be the one to end up in an accident, I can’t fly in a plane because I would be the one to fall out of the sky.

      And I know what you’re thinking, “But weren’t you supposed to take this trip alone?” and the answer is yes, yes I was, and in my defense, being alone was something I was hoping to learn how to do while I was there, but who am I to take away this perfectly aligned girl’s trip? Noble of me, I know… but I digress.

      You know how annoying that is? To think the worst is out to get you? I mean, it is a full-time job, and I already have two of those! Before we took off, I was talking to God and bargaining with Him, I said, “Please, Lord, it’s not my time, Lord. Give me more time, Lord.” But ultimately, it’s His Will and if I’ve learned anything about God, it’s that His Will will be done.

      Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean I don’t fight it.  I’ll say I trust Him and then reach for the armchair any time turbulence hits or hold my breath any time the plane crosses over the ocean.

      Suffice to say, it felt like a restless night, but the next morning was perfect, and every day after. 

      Don’t believe me? Take a look for yourself.

      Heading to Food Truck Cove
      The beginning of our first walk in Hawaii (to my hotel)
      International Marketplace
      Waikiki Beach (my favorite out of all the beaches we went to!)
      Ala Moana Beach Park
      The view from my little box hotel
      My first ever sunset in Hawaii
      International Marketplace
      Ala Moana Beach Park
      Walking the Waikiki Strip
      Keeaumoku Seafood
      Food Truck Cove
      Pebbles
      Keeaumoku Seafood
      Laniakea Beach
      Sunset Beach
      Ala Moana Beach Park
      First Cabin International

      Tuesday 7/22
      [  ] Flight was scheduled for 6:25 p.m. but was delayed until 11 p.m. due to a maintenance issue in one of the bathrooms on the aircraft.
      [  ] We arrived in Honolulu by 1 a.m. and took an Uber to our hotel, The Hyatt, in the town of Waikiki.

      Wednesday 7/23
      [  ] We all woke up at 7 a.m. and ate breakfast the hotel provided (french toast, scrambled eggs, & sausage links; the culture shock began when we realized consuming miso soup was acceptable at all hours of the day, even the morning — I felt like I had finally found my people).
      [  ] We walked the strip to the little hub I had booked under the impression I was going to be alone on this trip, First Cabin International, and checked in, stopping into ABC Stores along the way.
      [  ] Stopped at Kbay Bros Too for our first, of many, poke runs
      [  ] Waimanola Beach (41-010 Wailea St, Waimanalo, HI 96795)
      [  ] Tikis for dinner — the coconut shrimp 🍤is so MUNCH!

      Thursday 7/24
      [  ] I woke up in my little box cubby, got dressed, and took my first solo stroll of Waikiki in the direction of The Hyatt.
      [  ] We ate together again but this time, the menu was different; they served breakfast sandwiches, eggs, and sausage links, not to mention our daily dose of miso soup — swoon.
      [  ] Coffee shop – Ali’i Coffee Co.
      [  ] Strolled the International Marketplace
      [  ] Keaaumoku Seafood for lunch, though my mom ate at Domino’s (tiss tiss)
      [  ] Hiked Manoa Falls Trail — do not pass this one up, SO beautiful. If you want to lay your eyes on some forest-y views, this is the trail to do it. Though, heads up: it has a relatively rocky terrain with a stable uphill climb, but it’s a short enough trail that in my opinion makes it manageable.
      [  ] Next stop: Ala Moana Beach Park
      [  ] Dinner at Furusato Sushi 🍣 (YUM, Diamond Head Roll 10/10) + a quick pop into The Cheesecake Factory for their coconut cream pie cheesecake

      Friday 7/25
      [  ] Another solo walk to breakfast with my family (waffles, eggs, sausage patties, and miso)
      [  ] Coffee run of the day: Kai Coffee
      [  ] Spent some time at Waikiki Beach which easily became my favorite of them all! So calm, so soothing, so perfect.
      [  ] Keeaumoku Seafood, yes, again.
      [  ] Stopped at a Costco! Don’t remember which, but y’all know I had to.
      [  ] Food Truck Cove, but more specifically, Pebbles (a predominantly soda-based food truck). DELICIOUS.
      [  ] A brief visit of the Hale’iwa Store Lots where you can find souvenir gift shops, clothing outlets, shaved ice, and more!
      [  ] Dropped by Laniakea Beach – a turtle beach
      [  ] Beach hopped to Sunset Beach where I got my first and only coconut!!🥥 (currently there’s a coconut shortage, so it took us three different places before we scored the jackpot!)

      Saturday 7/26
      [  ] Last solo morning walk of the trip and to honor it, I took a detour to Waikiki Beach to really take in the water, the sand, and the sky one last time.
      [  ] Breakfast ft. a coffee run to Island Vintage Coffee.
      [  ] Last little souvenir run.
      [  ] Hotel pack up.
      [  ] Airport.
      [  ] Home.

      I still can’t breathe, but that’s only because as I’m writing this, I’m on the flight back home and all I see is water.

      But the water is beautiful, and Hawaii is beautiful, and though I grieve leaving, I’m excited for the growth and change that awaits me back home.

      If you could hop on the red eye to anywhere, where would you go?

      Now answer me this, why don’t you?

      Think about it.

      Cheers,
      B.

    3. Jöölai, & The Will to Surrender

      July 14th, 2025

      Bumper sticker: Life doesn’t happen for you — it happens to you.

      There’s a saying at my work and it goes a little something like this: control your controllables. This line gets tossed around a lot because — and just like in life — there’s a lot of things you can’t control; however, if you can manage to master the things you can, you’ll have better ground when it comes to tackling the things you can’t. At work this means acknowledging the fact that we can’t control what people buy, but we can control what they see, and that can influence what gets put in their cart, so we adapt.

      Just like any store, you’re not going to be able to miss the chocolate-covered strawberries for Valentine’s Day because it’ll always be right in front of you; the same way burgers and chips get pushed for Independence Day, skeletons for Halloween, and turkey for Thanksgiving. It’s all there, whether or not you choose to take it. It’s there, and that’s what we like to call, a controlled environment.

      You can drive sales and project profit, but you can’t force the money nor the people who decide to step through the door. That fate is beyond our control.

      Kinda like the phases of the menstrual cycle. You can tend to the bleeding and even pretend it’s not there, something for some reason the rest of the world expects us ladies to do — but the reality is, the blood is just the tip of the iceberg. So much more goes on during this phase than most people realize. It’s not just a matter of containing the flow, your body is acting on its own, haven’t you ever wondered why?

      Well, prepare to learn anyway.

      Let’s get one thing straight. This is biology. This is hormones. This is…
      The Menstruation Phase.

      Let’s begin.

      Phase One of the Menstrual Cycle is called the menstruation phase, and it occurs when the presence of pregnancy is deemed nonexistent and so, the uterus begins to shed its lining (you know, the layer of tissue that fertilized eggs attach to as a resting place to grow). Without a fertilized egg, there’s no use for that kind of tissue, and so the body gets rid of it, but just like when any of us peel back skin, the result is usually you’re going to bleed, and so we do. Now, some of us bleed for 3 days, others for 5, but the reality is each body is different, and the phase itself is only as uniform as its constructive goal — to shed the lining. And that, is phase one —BUT wait, there’s more.

      During this process, we experience a drop in hormones like estrogen, progesterone, and serotonin. Now, estrogen is the hormone responsible for building the lining that’s meant to sustain the life of the fertilized egg, so no pregnancy means no need for the uterine lining which means no need for a surplus of estrogen. Makes sense, but here’s the catch, estrogen also influences our serotonin levels (the “feel-good” hormone), so when estrogen drops, so does serotonin — which explains why we often feel more irritable, sad, or even more sensitive during this phase of the cycle. Not to mention that the blood loss alone is what makes us feel so fatigued and the reason behind this is the fact that when we bleed, we lose what is called iron.

      Iron aids in a plethora of different tasks within the body. For instance, it helps carry oxygen throughout the blood and so without enough iron, cells don’t get enough oxygen, and ATP (Adenosine Triphosphate) can’t be produced. ATP is our body’s energy currency, and cells need oxygen to produce our energy, so to put it simply,

      low iron = low oxygen = low ATP = low energy = ): waaaah

      Suffice to say, whether we want to admit it or not, this change in our body affects us. Progesterone is responsible for our calm state of mind, so when that hormone drops, we experience moodiness, irritability, even anxiety. And that uterine lining that sheds? Remember how I mentioned the peeling back of the skin? Well, the lining doesn’t just fall off on its own and we bleed as a result. No, it sheds by means of contractions — something we recognize as cramps. Yaaaaaaaay……

      You know, I find it interesting how I’ve gone the last decade of my life just plugging holes in my body instead of wrapping my head around the concept that’s behind all the bleeding. I’ve always centered my cycle around shame and have always tried to hide it the best that I could, but the problem is, the thing I’m ultimately trying to hide from is, myself.

      My body. I’ll say things like, “No, I’m not moody,” or I’ll spend more hours sleeping than anything else, and then I’ll complain about feeling bloated but pretend not to know why — I mean, it’s right there, at my fingertips; an opportunity to create a controlled environment, yet I’m fighting it. Why?

      The truth is, I don’t like how my biology affects me. I don’t like waking up and wanting to go back to bed. I don’t like how everything I eat during this phase makes me feel ten pounds heavier than I actually am. I don’t like how I know I’m capable of running but somehow can’t bring myself to do it. And I especially don’t like that this phase that’s only supposed to last for 5 days actually takes weeks to recover from and before I know it — I’m there, again.

      I don’t like it, so I think I can run from it, but I can’t. I can’t run from myself; I just have to figure out what it means to be myself.

      Okay, so during my period I’m slow and less energized, so what? What do I do with that? How do I capitalize? How can I adapt and make it so that I no longer pretend to be caught off guard by this slowdown that literally happens every single month — like I know it’s there, I know it’s coming.

      It came, and it went. And here we are, but it’s not over. Now, I’m knee deep into the Follicular Phase, and after that, it’ll be Ovulation, and then Luteal — but I’ll save those phases for later.

      The point is, after all that, I’ll bleed, again.

      You can’t hide from your body. It’s your vessel. It’s working for you — doing things you can’t do even if you tried to. It’s your body.

      And you know, so much of life revolves around the desire of wanting to know who we are, but isn’t this a part of it?

      This is who I am. I get tired and I slow down, but that doesn’t have to mean I stop. I just have to learn how to move, even if just an inch further, and accept that progress is progress.

      I’ve made Tomiee Cruise out to be this unstoppable woman, I mean, on point 24/7. But that’s not realistic. It can’t be, because I can’t be — I need to change the narrative and redefine what being on point means.

      So now being on point means being on track — to wherever it is I’m going.

      It means moving, even if just an inch further, in the right direction. It means knowing how to aid in my slowdown, for the sake of my stamina, and surrendering to the things that are out of my control while doing my part to adapt to the things that are.

      And it’s not going to happen overnight. It’ll take months, maybe even a year, because I only get one shot at tackling each phase roughly every 28 days.

      But that’s okay. I’ll keep moving, because even if life only happens to me and not for me, I can be the thing that happens for life, and I can only imagine how it feels to summit that mountain.

      People do it, can you?

      Think about it.

      Cheers,
      B.

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