onward

we packed up, hopped in the truck, and were on our way.

"if you need me to take over, just let me know," I said.

but I didn't fully mean it. on the one hand, I wanted to contribute to the 16-hour push down south, and didn't want fahj to have to do it on his own. on the other hand, I know I make a fantastic co-pilot. besides, he did the drive to New York without any help. I knew he could manage.

and then we made it no further than exit 8 on the turnpike, barely out of the city, and he told me that I was taking over.

I cheerily smiled, grabbed a venti iced coffee from le Starbucks, silently prayed and we headed on our way.

I've never driven an SUV of that size for more than a few yards. and have never driven anywhere for more than an hour at a time. not to mention the truck was fully packed, with only side mirrors to help position myself, the pouring rain refused to let up until Maryland, and I drove until we had to refill halfway through Virginia.

I had no idea I had that in me.

in my autobiography, I think we've just hit Part II.

I cried at work last night

I tried my hardest not to, but my willpower was no match for the damn floodgates. the annoying part is that I knew that in these next two weeks, before I'd get the opportunity to declare my almost freedom, before I'd get to bow out gracefully, and before I'd get to put in the highest bid to regain my sold soul, the damn devil was going do everything in his power to break me. he'd make it so that after putting up with 8 months of assault via email, a manager would finally take notice and declare that I'm being verbally harassed by someone in the company, but in that same breath condemn me for standing up for myself when she wouldn't. he'd make it so I would have to bear repeated complaints in a single day that the greatest offense that our media buyer could commit would be "ugh, she can't speak English" (read: she has a non-US accent). and he'd make it so that folk that I worked with for months would still mistake me for an assistant managing someone's calendar, rather than an account executive leading print and digital projects for one of the largest companies in the world.

what really sucks about this shit is that I went from one shitty situation to a shittier one. and yes, there are lessons learned, but the truth is that I'm scared because I can't do this again. I cannot spend my life hating my job. I cannot spend my life complaining about my job. I do not want to do this again. for goodness sake, I just want to be happy and I can't for the life of me figure out what I'm doing wrong. but whatever it is, I can't cry at work anymore.

since folks think it's okay to talk about fall fashion as if it's not pushing 100 degrees outside...

I'm in the market for a serious leather biker jacket.
Celine, as peeped on The Coveteur

red is the color of love

morning!

"being a young woman I wanna set the example that it's possible for us to own our own businesses and own our own record labels...sometimes we don't reach for the stars, sometimes we are satisfied with what people tell us we're supposed to be satisfied with, and I'm just not going for it." beyoncé.

I'll take one of each

anymore questions?

tommy ton & style.com