I just love writing. I love to write about love making. I love to write about love. Struggles. Faith. Patience. Relationships. Affairs. Lovers. The rise and the fall of life and love. There’s so much to learn through words. Through experiences. I write to live. I write to love. I write for passion and romance. I write for him. I write for me. I write to always remember. I write to never forget. I write to document. I write to feel. I write to hurt. I just write. I just love writing. It’s everything to me. It’s an escape. It’s a fantasy. It’s realities. It’s a life outside of my own but it’s still mine. I write to make you feel. I hope I make you feel. Something. Anything. I write to reach. I write teach. I’m a writer. And I am so in love with the art of words.
The amount of time in a day should be motivation to get as much as you can get done. From the rise of the sun to the stars in the sky, even then there’s still time left. My whole approach since starting my grad program is how much time management can I actually exercise throughout my days. I work roughly 8-9 hrs each day, at this point 7 days a week, each job. Although with my fulltime job I’m so passionately invested in it that it aint even about hours put in, I just want to make sure my families have all they need for these kids. The goal is to feel some sense of completion. Remember I stated about making sure to give yourself credit even for the very small things you’re able to do? Continue that mental exercise and prosper. I like to go to the gym, spend at least 45mins there and then still be able to come home and do my school work. Having my day end around 11pm, by the time my head hits the pillow I go over all that has been done and feel accomplished. It’s almost a rush to prove to myself that there’s so much I can do just within a day. What started this thinking was not just starting grad school but a conversation I had with my boss. He’s a bit much but pretty damn inspirational and he doesn’t even know it. We have had conversations on why the caged bird sings. There’s passion. There’s intelligence. There are many levels to this man. He can even do my weave because he’s has his braiding license. Hell, he went to cosmetology school. He’s a white guy, who’s a Alpha from the backwoods of Mississippi and has had the oddest jobs I’ve ever heard of like chasing chickens, but I’m from the city so I don’t expect to hear about jobs like that. Anyways, the conversation is the main focus here. I asked him one day something and he ends up telling me about his coaching and how he’s trying to start up a new facility and I just looked shocked and confused. I responded to him and was like how many jobs do you have? And his response was I mean we are here for a little while, what else should I do with my time? And I was flabbergasted. I mean legit blown away because I never once stopped to think about that. It’s a natural thing to think time is on our side. It’s that invincibility, that the world is mine mentality. Not that it’s a bad thing to feel as such, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to view time as a good friend of yours. I think just be mindful and treat your actual relationship with time as tenderly as possible because just like friends, time can change. I guess I just want to be as productive as I can possibly be. It sounds cliché, almost childlike but what else am I to do with my time..?
What other ways is there to spend the time allotted?
Look, I’m just out here trying to make the best life for me and enjoy as much of it as I can.
It was such a struggle today for me to get my ass up and go to the gym. I come home emotionally drained and I cried. What’s wrong? I couldn’t tell you. I cried and then took an hr nap. I woke up begging myself to get motivated. Finding the strength to begin to inspire yourself to move and to be present is hard. It’s extremely hard when you’re battling something you’re not familiar with. I just wanted to sleep. And be nothing. Have you ever wanted to be nothing before?? I pulled the blanket over my head and just thought of all the things I needed to get done before the end of the night. And I crawled away from my responsibilities. Resorted to old ways where just the thoughts of all the things I need to accomplish put me in a state of panic with me not believing I am capable of anything. I just laid there, wallowing in nothingness. That’s not me. I can think back to when I was such a fighter for myself. What’s happening? I am not sure what is going on but I dragged myself down the three flights of steps, walked to my complex’s gym and sweated. I sweat so much my eyebrows came off and were on the back of my hand. But I felt good. It felt needed. My body was releasing whatever was contaminating my spirit. My back was drenched. My damn legs were sweating. I just kept thinking about how bad I wanted to give up and I kept going. I kept pushing. I kept adding more and more weights. I created challenges. I pushed myself this evening in the gym. Once I got home I made a list of things to-do and did them. Pushed myself some more. Completed my orientation. Worked on my financial aid. I did this while cooking my food. I have got to learn to be softer with myself. I did more than I expected of myself and I made sure to write.
There has to be more than this. There needs to be softer ways for me to love myself.
Or I am going to have more days where I struggle and I am not sure if I’ll be able to find myself strong enough to go again.
What’s going to be the change for me?
I’m having to relearn how to be fearless. How to just be in the moment. I was thinking about this on the way home from work today. The best times to ponder on all your past mistakes always seem to be either during starry nights or orange skies on your way home. I have so many fears about just letting go and watching the universe have its way with my life. The unpredictability. The unknown. The anxiety. My blood pressure. It all heightens. I’m choking. Drowning in my own fears. I try to trace back memories of when I became so scared. Of when I grew into this shell where words torment me. Since when? Since when have I ever been afraid of what others may say? When I came out almost 10yrs ago, I was proud. I mean proud. Hand in hand I am walking with my woman and here I am! Look at me! No fear. No shame. Life has a funny way of wearing you down. Breaking you down. I think the fear began when I realized dreams don’t pay bills. All I had was just dreams of writing. Never turned them into realities. Never executed my initial plan. Life made certain to raise the awareness that unless there’s action behind your words ain’t nothing gonna get done. And all I have are my words. And the fear that, that’s just not enough. I’m working through this. I really am.
What’s becoming the most quoted phrase from me this is:
“What a life, right?”
Artwork: Pasiphae Plate 2, 1944, Henri Matisse
I tried something different with my makeup today. A softer look. No eyeliner. Bb cream. Mascara. Pink lips. A little blush. I liked it.
Today was just…. Idk. I have a child on the unit who poops in their hands and smears it all over their self and walls when they get mad. Another future ring leader came in tryna recruit young girls in the never ending sex trafficking community. Vicious cycles. Sweet little girls. Rough lives. And it’s these young girls that I want to affect. The ones that have endured the sexual trauma. The horrific nights. The nightmares. The waiting for someone to save them. I watch them level the facility and just pray for them. I’m not where I wanna be or should to help them yet. Technically I can’t.
He says my hearts too big to be in this field. But this is all I’ve ever wanted to do. I have a side hustle of course, but my heart is right here.
One of my girlies said to me the other day that she wants to be like me. She says I walk like I own the place and I look like a supervisor. I told her it’s all about the way you carry yourself as a woman. That shit made me feel good y’all. And it just pushes me. Someone wants to be like me. Knows nothing about the paths I’ve walked but wants to be like ME. Ya’ll wtf??
There are many ways the Most High speaks to you and guides you. You just have to LISTEN.
Written: June 13,2016
You have to learn to be softer. With yourself and with your art. Don’t be so critical. Don’t be so tough. Feel what’s needed and write. Just write. Practice. Practice. Practice. I think the more you think about how you’re not as creative as her or him or them, you put yourself in a vulnerable position to never test yourself. It’s not about her or him or them. Your passion is yours. It’s all yours. The gift given to you is for you to use. Write the world in a shade of green or red. Write your life in passion. You have the ability to write and change lives and people one day may live through your words. Be softer. Everyday if you must, speak your fears and then tackle them. Tackle your fears and then write about about nothing can hold you back. Not tears. Not rejection. Not criticism. Nothing. Face your fears and be ready to be everything someone needs. There’s truth in your words. Share them. You never know who’s reading.
Written: March 20,2017