Sabitlenmiş Tweet
kiesha
723 posts

kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi

The ADHD Watermelon Theory perfectly explains executive dysfunction. Neurotypicals see a delicious fruit and think, "I want a snack."
My ADHD brain sees a 15-pound administrative obstacle course involving heavy lifting, knife safety, kitchen logistics, sticky counter mitigation, and Tupperware geometric planning. So instead, I will starve.
English
kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi

Air Traffic Controller: “There’s a pirate ship on Runway Three.”
Airport Manager: “A what?”
Air Traffic Controller: “A pirate ship.”
Airport Manager: “At the airport.”
Air Traffic Controller: “Yes.”
Airport Manager: “Not near the airport.”
Air Traffic Controller: “On the runway.”
Airport Manager: “That’s impossible.”
Air Traffic Controller: “I thought so too.”
Airport Manager: “Ships require water.”
Air Traffic Controller: “This one appears to require attention.”
Airport Manager: “Who owns it?”
Air Traffic Controller: “The captain claims nobody can own the sea.”
Airport Manager: “We’re not at sea.”
Air Traffic Controller: “I mentioned that.”
Airport Manager: “What did he say?”
Air Traffic Controller: “‘Yet.’”
Airport Manager: “I hate this already.”
Security Chief: “It gets worse.”
Airport Manager: “Of course it does.”
Security Chief: “They filed a flight plan.”
Airport Manager: “The pirate ship filed a flight plan.”
Security Chief: “Proper paperwork. No spelling errors.”
Airport Manager: “Destination?”
Security Chief: “Treasure.”
Airport Manager: “That’s not a destination.”
Security Chief: “That’s exactly what I told them.”
Airport Manager: “Where is the captain now?”
Captain: “Right here.”
Airport Manager: “Why is your ship on my runway?”
Captain: “Navigation error.”
Airport Manager: “How do you accidentally sail to an airport?”
Captain: “Strong winds.”
Airport Manager: “Across land?”
Captain: “Very strong winds.”
Airport Manager: “No.”
Captain: “Fair.”
Airport Manager: “What do you actually want?”
Captain: “Permission to depart.”
Airport Manager: “In a ship.”
Captain: “An ambitious ship.”
Airport Manager: “That’s not how physics works.”
Engineer: “Actually…”
Airport Manager: “No.”
Engineer: “You should see the engines.”
Airport Manager: “There are engines?”
Engineer: “Several.”
Airport Manager: “Why?”
Engineer: “The captain dislikes limitations.”
Airport Manager: “Can it fly?”
Engineer: “Briefly.”
Airport Manager: “Define briefly.”
Engineer: “Depends how attached you are to landing.”
Airport Manager: “Absolutely not.”
Air Traffic Controller: “Uh… sir?”
Airport Manager: “What now?”
Air Traffic Controller: “Runway Three is clear.”
Airport Manager: “Good.”
Air Traffic Controller: “Except for the part where the ship isn’t there anymore.”
Airport Manager: “What?”
Captain: “Permission granted, then.”
Airport Manager: “I never granted—”
Air Traffic Controller: “It’s airborne.”
Airport Manager: “The pirate ship is airborne.”
Engineer: “Look at her go.”
Airport Manager: “I’m taking a very long vacation.”
Captain: “Set course for Treasure!”
Air Traffic Controller: “Should I ask where that is?”
Airport Manager: “Don’t. I want at least one mystery left in my life.”
English
kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi

My 6 year old daughter has had locs since she was 17 months old. She asked me to comb them out so she could see her natural hair...
She had 110 locs. I combed out every single one. And I was shocked by her response..."Mommy, it's beautiful!" I almost cried. She has 4c hair, like me. And extreme shrinkage, like me. But her first time seeing her hair, she LOVED it. It took me YEARS to embrace my hair...She was ready to wear it out in a 'fro. She had dance practice as soon as I was done, so it hadn't even been washed. I tried to talk her out of it, but I realized it was just my own insecurity. I put a headband on her head, and let her wear it out. She was soooo happy!
English
kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi

I’m sitting in traffic, coffee in the cupholder, and my brain just starts running. I’ll catch myself gripping the wheel and thinking, “What if I just kept going? What if I didn’t take this exit?”
The fantasy is always the same: I point the car north and don’t stop until Alaska. Find some cheap motel room with a view of the mountains, get a quiet job washing dishes in a diner somewhere. No emails, no deadlines, no pressure. Just me, the cold air, and nobody needing anything from me for once.
I can almost hear myself talking to the cook in that imaginary diner. He’d ask, “New around here?” and I’d reply, “Yeah man, just needed a fresh start.” He’d nod like he gets it and slide me a plate of food after my shift, saying, “We all get tired of the grind sometimes.”
But then reality kicks in hard. I think about my family, my responsibilities, the people who count on me every day. I picture my phone blowing up with worried calls and I know I couldn’t do that to them.
Last week I was sitting in the car at a red light and actually said out loud, “Just drive, man. Keep going.” Then I laughed at myself and turned on the blinker like always.
I’m in therapy, working through it.
English
kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi
kiesha retweetledi















