Clarity is kindness.

Chaos and confusion give me the heebie jeebies. Don't include me in plans that aren't fully formed. I need the details — who, what, where, when, and why.

I'll admit it: I'm the girl who's ready to move. I live in a kinetic space more often than not, ideas firing off in my mind, one after the other. But I don't chase them all. I have to sit with an idea first, make sure I've built some bones, before I bring it to life. Because overall, I like to get the party started — not just talk about making a thing happen.

And yes, I'm a details girl too. Understanding the vibe doesn't just help me pick an outfit — it helps me imagine how I want to show up, and how to point my energy in the right direction.

Some might say that makes me a rigid Virgo. I reject that classification. I can absolutely be with the shits — just let me know what's up first.

Walking into an environment that gives wtf makes me want to exit stage left. That's not to say I can't stand in the gap of chaos and figure it out — I can. But my capacity to laugh and giggle through the matter? That can be delayed. Because why didn't y'all figure this out before you welcomed people into the space?

Don't half-ass share the plan. Use your whole ass if you want me involved.

I learned a long time ago that I needed to start asking more clarifying questions — and even more so now, as an adult navigating spaces where people carry different value systems, different communication styles, different expectations, different budgets. I've got to ask direct-hit questions, because the old saying about assumptions making an ass out of everyone? True as ever. And I refuse to wear that badge.

A Story for Context

Background I've always assumed a specific protocol for kids' parties — food and an activity included, no questions asked. That's just been my experience. Well. Apparently not.

Foreground I got an invitation to a kids' birthday party at Dave & Buster's. My kid loves that place — games, pizza, let's get arcade waisted. So in typical fashion, I blocked off the time on my calendar, hit the store for a gift and a card for the birthday girl, and made plans for me and babygirl to roll through on a Friday night.

We got there, and were greeted with a reality nobody mentioned: parents pay for their own kid's games and food. Tf? Immediate eye roll.

Had I known that going in, my whole approach would've been different. And honestly — at that point, this isn't a birthday party. This is a meetup. But by then, my child was knee-deep in the wanting of funnery.

I took a deep breath, and proceeded to enjoy the evening with my little one.