Ignite the fire

So, I started writing again. Not just blog posts, but like an actual story. A short story to be exact. A love story told in a different perspective since the relationship is like no other I’ve seen couples experience.

All my life, I’ve been chasing this emotion called, Love. I grew up in a household that did not openly show affection, so I give it away to strangers. I learned quickly that people need love, but I always neglect myself.

Then, my chose in guys didn’t help with this craving of feeling love. The physical touch of love. To be apart of this millennial generation is tiresome. I use to call myself a “hopeless romantic”, but that is simply not true. There are men who is capable of showing, giving, and receiving love to a women. Hell, my best friend is one of these men. Bless his heart.

It’s just the glorification of hook ups and side chicks is seen on television. Fights are entertainment, while mental capabilities are weaken to stay dumb-down.

Unfortunately, this is a Brave New World. That story freaked me out and I can see the Alphas and Omegas taking over, while my generation and race complains. Individually, we are responsible for how our life is be, our influence, and change within society. Or, marginalized communities.

The choose is yours.

I want to invite a flame of hope. Become a beacon that isn’t seen much and not follow other people’s judgements, but form my own opinion.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

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Just Believe in ME

Okay, I know I said I would finish the poetry challenge in May. And, now its June. I only have a few left and I’m always eager to write new poetry for you guys.

Speaking of poetry, I have a poetry chapbook I’ve been looking to publish. Whether in a contest, or self-publish, I do want my first piece of writing for the world to see is poetry. I eat, sleep, and breathe the poetic form. So, why not start there? I know, I’m dragging my feet but its only half my fault in motivation.

Understand me when I say this, “I live in a toxic environment.” Surrounded by good and bad voices of discouragement. I’ve always been my own cheerleader, so I’m use to the negativity, but like I said in my last post, this quarter mid-life crisis is dangerously invading my mind, body, and soul. What do I do?

Day 27: “Use water as imagery and/or metaphor or simile”.

Water is Wet by Eevee

I cannot see you in

ME, anymore

Why are you like this

For water is wet, bitch

My tears are not for

Sale, eyeliner streaks these

Stained cheeks cause you are playing

Games, with my heart

Ex lover

Living in my Mid-20s?

Okay reader, it’s been a struggle.

Lately, I’ve been on a world wind of emotions and avoiding writing about it because I’m to busy crying about it. The “IT” is not a clown, but a life-changing circumstance I see coming and cannot change. Unless, God comes down and talks some sense into certain people, but hey, free will right. No manipulation, folks.

Regardless, I’ve been avoiding writing, which is Strange, since all throughout high school I wrote my emotions down in poems and lyrics. Not good lyrics, but at least I tired. Moving on, I’m trying to try my life while slowly realizing I’m having a quarter mid-life crisis at 24. Lovely, right.

At first, I had no idea what a quarter mid-life crisis was until I saw it on a book. A self-help book to be honest. I’m turning 25 in six months and I’ve have nothing but bad memories the first quarter of this life. Bad relationships, bad friends, bad odors that teenagers go through, which skipped me since I love perfume. Yet, the bad and cheap perfume. Futhermore, bad taste in food (Hot Pockets are the death of me), bad taste in music until I discoevered metal & altertnative.

Shoutout to Queen, darlings.

I’m just a kid with no life experiences, no passport, and hardly any good memories, expect from one person who is the love of my life. It just took some time to figure it out. Yet, this crisis, I’m going to talk about it more because the inspiration to make me write a blog post about this comes from a new YA book, “Again, But Better” by Christine Riccio. I just started the book, and I read the author’s note, which I normally don’t, and the author said she wishes this book existed when she was 20 years old and wanting to live her life early on. Besides keeping her nose in a book, she wanted to experience what the characters did in real life.

That is how I feel at times, and I intend to change it.

Kick in the Teeth

One of my favorite alternative songs is “Kick in the teeth” by Papa Roach. It’s an oldie, but the song does justice by educating listeners to not let life get you down.

Lately, I’ve been fighting this feeling of being a failure. Being afraid to write because of what others will say. This blog is suppose to be my reawakening, and yet at times, I’m still feeling afraid.

It’s like a pair of teeth, locked on a pound of flesh, which is hurting me and I’m ignoring the pain. I need to do better with motivating myself, so I can be a better leader, Seek my purpose more, and so on.

I am determined to finish this poetic challenge that I promised myself to complete. Day 28: “write a poem about teeth or spit or longing.”

Baby, simile by Evelyn Davis

why on me man

I am not your

Pet, peasant, pleasure-lover

#MeToo

My voice matters whether you hear

Or not,

I would hate to call the cops

Boom–bang, another male is

Dead.

All for a simple

Command, comment

Declaration of an opinion

You think is yours, that

Your always right, men

In fact, little boys

Bang, bang cannot be

Avoid, aspire to accomplish

Growth, yet that mouth

Is trouble.

Preserving Louisiana

Yo, I am discovering more and more things about the archiving world, and I like it. Since being graduate school, I took a risk and decided to take a archiving class my very first semester. Turns out, this was the best decision I made this year. And, its only been six months. Anywho, the world of archiving reminded me of my love for discovering history and visiting museums. I use to always be excited to visit any museum during my youth, just to look at all the artifacts. It’s crazy I’m in my mid-20s nearly, and I am just remembering this part of myself. Well, I did lose myself during my undergraduate years because of negativity and drama. Now, I’m more focused and driven and my circle of friends is small.

I am not ashamed of that. The reason being, I am now playing catch up because I did involve myself into situations that had nothing to do with me, and I did not invest into myself. Which I should have, I digress.

This morning, I read an article about an organization, “Preserving Louisiana” and a group of people visited the house where the movie, “Steel Magnolias” was shot in Natchitoches. Which I also did not know, but I digress. I looked up some research on the organization and instantly wanted to visit the place. They have a few events this year but, not many exhibitions. I love exhibitions. They are educational and fun to evaluate what is collected and what is discovered. Link: https://preserve-louisiana.org/

For example, I never knew one of governor’s wrote the famous song, “You Are My Sunshine”. They have a whole event/program for kids to learn about a famous Louisiana governor whom lived in the Old Governor’s Mansion. I’ve heard this song my whole life and did not know someone from Louisiana wrote and produced the sing. Let alone a governor. I guess politics are not that bad.

Jimmie Davis

Here’s an article explaining the song and its popularity: https://www.225batonrouge.com/our-city/arts-entertainment/my-only-sunshine

Crazy, right? There is so much I do not know about my own state and how citizens are fighting to preserve certain historical buildings, documents, and raise funding. Archiving is so much more than you know.

For this reason, I will share my educational experience about archiving over the next few months. Sharing tips and whatnot.

Who Am I? Writer, Activist, Librarian, or Poet

I want to start this month with a literary analysis of the book, “Becoming” by Michelle Obama.

I am writing this analysis a month in advanced (April 4, 2019, after a shocking self revelation) to a

particular section within the second part of her book, Becoming Us.

Michelle kept a journal during this part of her life and came to a discovery while dating the now famous,

Barack Obama. She asked her self in her journal two questions:

One I was very confused about where I want

my life to go. What kind of person do I want to

be? How do I want to contribute to the world?

Two, I am getting very serious in my

relationship with Barack and I feel that I need

to get a better handle on myself.

Michelle Obama

Girl, I feel the same way. I’m only twenty-four years old and I’m at an impasse.

I feel like I’m not really doing what I’m suppose to be doing with my life.

Michele had her realization at twenty-six, or twenty-seven. I can’t remember, but she

had that realization early on in her life. She began her life as I have: independent,

educated with two degrees, good job, and a great relationship, finally. Yet, she wakes up to

realize she doesn’t like her job because she is not passionate about being a lawyer. And Barack Obama

is the reason why. He’s passion and drive for others made Michelle sit back and think what is she doing

with her life for others besides herself. Ironic how another person can have an effect on you.

The impression of second opinion, outlook, story of struggle with being fatherless and broken family.

All the while, you live with both parents and they work hard to put you through school and college.

Your parents are proud of you, but don’t ask about your personal happiness. What kind of life is that?

Later on after these questions, Michelle answers her own aching desires.

Michelle states, “but I did need to quickly anchor myself on my own two feet”.

She meant she did not want to get lost in her newly found feelings and relationship.

A person can become consumed by love that he or she forget oneself in the process.

Michelle knew she had to find her niche and to find her calling now. I feel the exact same way.

Which is why I started blogging. In the beginning, everything started with me, myself, a notebook,

and a pen. I wrote a poem everyday until it become second nature. I came with the idea to create a

poetry collection by the time I was sixteen years old and publish that book first before anything else.

Then, the idea for a novel came next. Then, more and more ideas for series, trilogies, manuals, essays

came later on in the time span of two years. And, I graduated high school. Forced to go to college where

I lost myself in relationships and paternal expectations. I lost me.

Who am I? Poet, writer, activist, librarian

Often times, I am certain I am a poet. No doubts about that aspect of me.

Yet, the others are fairly new and debatable. I am a writer, but prefer reading sometimes over writing

anything. The activist and librarian are freshly new like 2019 new. I like the calling of protecting

information and the allowing the public to have access to as much information as possible,

but I hate school. The same uneasiness of sleep, stress, coffee overload, and more are falling

back into play. I needed to create some type of change and it needed to happen now.

So, here I am. In the middle-end of my first semester in Graduate school and I’m starting a blog.

The posts I’m writing now are like therapy to me that I’ve neglect like a child. My baby of sorts.

I knew in 2019, I needed to make a change for my career as a writer to succeed and I don’t plan on

stopping now. As for Michelle, she will find her niche as I am fighting to revive mine.

Twice Upon a Relationship

So, I just recently got into another relationship with someone old. We never really gave “us” a chance, a moment. A series of unfortunate events led us away, which frustrated me more than any relationship. Yet, I knew I was still in love with him. I couldn’t move on, forward with someone new. It’s like my heart wanted that chance again. A third chance. Therefore, this is my love story, 2019.

Day 21: “Modernize a fairytale”.

Once upon a time not long ago

I was single. Mingling did nothing

But make my ache hurt

Longing for him. A prince out

Of my reach, he’s wanted by

Many, envious by few

Yet, no luck with a princess

Even this one. We were zero,

Not a chance to last for jealousy.

Now isolated, the opportunity

Arises out of broken ashes

Like a phoenix, we are

One. Again.