The average person will experience roughly 6,000 thoughts in any single given day. I personally find this number rather low, but I surmise that just means I am above average – a status I do not find myself at often, so humor me.

The truth is I think, a lot. So much so, that one day I decided to track my thoughts in the form of writing. If I had a good idea or something that I wanted to remember, I’d write it down – advice I’d give to literally anyone because if you think you’re going to remember that thing you said you would right before you went to bed, you’re wrong. Bup-bup-bup – you’re wrong.

Write it down, you’ll thank me later.

I’ve always loved thoughts and thinking and writing things down, but this hobby has proven to be rather expensive since I refuse to write them all in the same place. Now, with this information, can anyone guess what shopping addiction I have? What aisle I always find myself in every trip I make to Target? What I don’t reallllly need but ALWAYS want? The thing I have enough of but can’t get enough of? I know what you’re thinking, and you don’t have to say it out loud, I’ll tell you now, you’re right.

Notebooks. Journals. Pens. Pencils. Anything and everything to keep my notes looking organized and tidy, despite me very rarely ever coming back to them once I’ve finished the thought. It’s an addiction, a hobby, and to be blatantly honest, a complete … waste of space.

I mean, I have drawers flooded with notebooks full of ideas I’ve never given a second thought to yet refuse to throw away; to me, they reflect the person I want so badly to be. I have a page in one of my notebooks that are scattered with things I want to someday do, as I’m sure you have a page just like it somewhere in your desk too.

“I want to learn how to garden!”
“I want to learn how to sew!”
“How to drive stick-shift.”
Or, “How to play Billy Joel’s Piano Man on the piano” for my husband – yes, yes, I know I pinkie promised, but listen, I’m not dead yet, so I haven’t broken that promise. Be patient, I’ll get there.

The list goes on, but that’s not why I’m here.

Believe it or not, the reason why I’m here… is because I forgot to pay my phone bill – no, scratch that, it’s because I couldn’t pay my phone bill.

Now, the only way to do this is in the exact same way the beginning of Better Man, by Michael Gracey, goes… The opening monologue:

ROBBIE (V.O.)
(as if rehearsing)
Good evening folks. Good evening you slags. No, good evening folks.
So, who is Robbie Williams? Well I’ve been called many things –
narcissistic, punchable, shit-eating twat. But while I’m all
those things, I want to show you how I really see myself. So sit
back, relax, while I give you a right fucking entertaining.

So, the story starts…

It was the night before last and I had been begging myself to stop being so…perezosa, lazy. Memorial Day had come and went; I spent the afternoon with my parents, on a double date with my husband, and we saw the recently released Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning.

I. LOVED. IT. Pair it with Top Gun and that’s everything I want to embody in terms of skillset and intelligence. Tom Cruise, you are a man of many talents, and your drive, your hustle, and your ambition remains unmatched. Talk about a right fucking entertainment – Robbie’s words, not mine, mom. DONT HURT ME!

What can I say, I was inspired. Not to mention that lately I had been standing idly by while I let myself go in terms of my weight, productivity, stimulation, and debt. Oh, the debt – the scary, ominous debt. I’ll tell you this, if my credit card limit was heaven, my debt’s tall enough to reach it. So, honestly, this movie came at a perfect time, because these four walls have slowly been caving in on me and I knew it would be just about any day now that I’d find myself caught in the wreckage.

So I thought to myself,

Come on, B. Domi (my son) goes to daycare at 7 and you have the rest of the day to do something worth wild. Write a book, what about that new script you’ve been thinking about? Practice your Spanish, work on your ASL. Learn the choreography to that superb dance scene in Better Man that you like so much. Learn how to meditate or practice yoga, better yet, go get shredded at the gym – then you can be the next Tom Cruise, or should I say, Tomiee Cruise. Yeah, that’s cute. Tomiee Cruise. Be her.

So, I did. I went to bed early, got up the next morning, took my son to daycare, and headed off to the gym where I completed a H.I.I.T workout on the treadmill. No, it wasn’t as hardcore as I thought it would be, but it was enough for my first time back in weeks and I had a drench of sweat to prove it. After my shower, I told myself, why should I stop the mindfulness there? If I put together a nice well-balanced breakfast, I can be one step closer to achieving my dream status of Tomiee Cruise.

So, I did. Scarfed down a protein shake – 30 grams mind you – chased by blueberries, buttered toast, and a cheese stick. Take a moment, I know you need one, because I can sense the judgement through this screen as I write this right now and I only have one thing to say to you.

Rude.

The point is I’m trying and my sister told me that was enough so… in your face!

Anyway, the breakfast wasn’t the problem. The problem was when I went to check in at the gym, my membership QR code wouldn’t load. And the longer I sat there waiting for it to pop up, it occurred to me what day it was.

Monthly plan renewal due date.

Buckets! Well, no need to rush, I thought. I shouldn’t be on my phone anyway. Maybe I could go without it. Yeah. that’s what I’ll do. Go without it. Now, what’s next? OO! My Spanish exam is due today, let’s focus on that. I wonder how many languages Tom Cruise speaks.

The answer is fluent in four, ten in progress. Hot, but I digress.

I waltz over to my desk and boot up my computer; scroll over to my canvas login and what am I confronted with? Two-Step Factor Authorization.

Nicely played, Verizon. Touché. All right, you win, let’s pay that bill. I scroll over to the myVerizon account login page and tragically, I realize I forgot my password. From there, I enter a downward spiral where I can’t reset my password online because they need to send a reset code to my phone number and despite not needing to say it because it’s quite obvious you already know what the problem is here, I will say it anyway:

I. cannot. receive. text. messages.

And thus presents my inner dilemma: I want to be productive, but I don’t want to go out because it feels like too much work. If I don’t go out, I can’t pay my phone bill and if I don’t pay my phone bill, I can’t log into canvas. If I don’t log into canvas, I can’t take my Spanish exam that’s due tonight and if I don’t take my Spanish exam, well, there goes my grade. It’s clear what I have to do, but that doesn’t prevent me from begging the question, should I though?

I know, typical Gen Z mindset, but listen, starting is the hardest part. Give me 21 days, I’ll be more seasoned in not questioning the hard things and just doing them… right?

So, I go to the store. I’m sitting there with a live agent, and as she is looking over my account, I decide to use the store’s Wi-Fi to check my bank account for absolutely no reason whatsoever. No, seriously, in this moment, I have no concern about the card I planned on using. I knew which card I couldn’t use – my debit card, duh, but my credit card? Easy.

Eh – wrong. I was MAXED. OUT. No, no, how can this be?

*Insert montage of all my most recent, though unnecessary, purchases*
*CUE: camera close up to my face when clicking the submit button on said order(s)*

Buckets.

Suffice to say, if my husband and I hadn’t saved our tax return – let alone entrusted me to keep it safe in my savings account, I would not have been able to save myself from an imminent soul-crushing bout of humiliation that would have ensued once that live agent asked for my method of payment.

Which brings me here.

This chapter is meant to introduce the turn of a new leaf, a transition into a more mindful approach to living. One where there is little room for frivolous spending or brain-rotting, where the only weight-gain I experience is intentional, and any social hangouts I participate in feed and nourish me. Each chapter will be based off each month, though each month will carry a name of my own design, and the beginning starts,

with Mei.

And as I begin this new journey of mine, a line from my favorite television series — Frasier, of course — comes to mind:

“Move, change, do something. If it’s a mistake, do something else.”
-Frasier, s.1, ep. 1

And with that said, we begin.