Category Archives: life

Do We?

How often do we look at each other?

How often do we truly see what we are worth?

A picture is worth a thousand words.

What is a real live image worth?

Who gives us the power to judge each other?

If you commit a crime, does it make you a criminal?

If you use your body, does it make you a whore?

Who gives the power to criticize?

Do we truly see the person in front of us?

Do we truly care?

If she cries, does that make her weak?

If he abuses, does that make him tough?

What gives us the power to think that we are better than the next?

We are all flesh and blood. We all come from the same humanity.

So ask yourself…..who gives us the right???

Live life to the Fullest

Picture taken in Savannah on my cellphone

Life is short has really brought it’s meaning to light this year.

We never know what a person is going through, what their struggles are or the demons they face. Hell, we all have them, right?

Who are we living for? What are living for?

Of course, the answer will come in the form of our loved ones. No, none of this pertains to dark topics like suicide or worthlessness. It’s more of a notion of if we are also living life for ourselves.

I always feel like we obligate our time to please others, to work, pay bills, etc. Yet, we don’t necessarily find time for ourselves to enjoy what life offers.

Yeah, sometimes we don’t know what that is.

I recently discovered how to breathe without stress clenching at my lungs. If I want to sit and watch tv all day or hit up a video game just to get peace of mind or read a book while dishes pile up….I do it. What doesn’t get done that day will get done the next.

Yeah, it seems like a small pleasure. A silly one for an adult to indulge in, but what is the point of enjoying life if you can’t take a day for yourself.

We all have a job/career in one form or another. We all have responsibilities and we all have to adult. My point is life is to short to fall into the negative, to be unappreciated, to be unhappy, to let goals slip from your finger tips.

Always find time for yourself and never let someone bring you down. Be kind and understanding because again we never know what someone is going through.

Perfection Is Flawed

I find myself lacking in areas of life substantial to what makes us whole. Areas pertaining to social and personal needs.

I recently discovered my commitment to friendships is unbalanced. My commitment as a wife is diminishing and my ability to be the parent my children need is fading to a questionable doubt.

As we age, I feel we lose apart of ourselves. We fade into the background as we become everything to others, but nothing to ourselves.

I have seen a lot of people speaking of self-care this year, but then I question if it is evolved around perfection. Perfection is a mask we wear to blend in, to hide our flaws from the eyes we wish/need acceptance from.

Flaws are a form of beauty. Well, that is what I tell myself. What if flaws are basically failures we want to dress up in a pretty outfit?

I have experienced many failures in the form of self-doubt, in a form to justify why at my age I should be on the same boat as everyone else.

I’m a parent and it’s a gift many pray to experience. I never take it for granted, but I am flawed to a dark degree. We all are.

I also experience a form of depression, one that creates a dark cloud blinding my ability to see the purpose I have in life. What am I here for? Would anyone cry if I died? Am I burden, emotionally and financially?

The point is everything is flawed and sometimes we need to dig ourselves from the darkness of our minds to find a balance of happiness.

We don’t need approval from others to be able to feel good about the road we have chosen to travel. We just need a friend, someone who understands, someone as flawed as we are.

If we don’t have someone, we can uplift ourselves.

Tiptoeing The Line

As I sit on my couch watching Spider-Man: Homecoming and the demands of raindrops pelt the siding of my home, I wonder how far is too far when it comes to pushing the limits in our writing.

Recently, my motivation jumpstarted a new story I would say I am writing for me. Then again, aren’t most stories we write for ourselves but we just share it for the world to enjoy as well?

There was a brief thought of concern how others would portray this work of art conjured from the depths of my mind. Would I offend someone? Put my foot in my mouth by representing a group wrong?

However, I have found when you drop the bullshit of worrying about the image, the words flow down the stream of enjoyment. Writing what I feel and how I wish for it to be structured takes a ton of stress off my back.

Now, one issue—do I write the bad, ugly, and cringing scenes without apology?

We have a duty as writers to explore all avenues even when it pushes us out of our comfort zone. Should we be blamed if one does not take note of the warning we place in the beginning of our books?

Reality exists even in fantasy, but do we write it raw or be considerate to the characters and those who may have experienced a horrible truth in real life?

A Time for Change

Times are fueled by emotion, injustice, a strong belief of opinion, and media frenzy. A repetitive cycle of wrongdoing is apparent, but we tip toe the line of an influenced narrative.

As writers, do we have the power to open eyes when we are also driven by emotion and on opposite sides?

I don’t speak up often and if you let pain simmer in your chest, it will only cause you severe agony.

I have seen friendships torn apart by one’s mentality unable to comprehend understanding, unable to welcome change. Social media has become a war zone of finger pointing, name calling, and true colors rising to the surface.

I hate to say how there are more sheep in the field than wolves. Society has gained this mob mentality. If one person lights a match, the whole world goes in flames. I have seen people afraid to go against the masses.

Does the change really start from the top?

This may sound simple, but I believe change must happen individually before it can be done as a whole. Majority only see a whole group being bad seeds instead of opening their eyes to the truth.

Not all cops are out to kill, not all people of color are criminals. Not all who believe in Allah are terrorists. Not all white people are Karen. I can go on, but I think the point is made.

The color of our skin doesn’t determine the actions we commit. These are individual behaviors brought on by hate, possibly the way one was raised, or influenced by a world of ignorance.

I’ve noticed how quickly individuals get upset when they see #blacklivesmatter

Why?

I’m black and white. Regardless of sex, majority of my family is black. There is always a worry if they will make it home or if white privilege will be used against them. I also worry about the other half of my family because when society only sees color, they expect you to be a sheep herded towards the field of only one view.

I don’t like having to use the word white privilege. No, but it’s apparent how easy one hides behind it.

All life matters. No one changed that narrative. However, the focus right now is why it is so easy to repeat an unjust action on a particular group of people.

Answers, justice, and to be heard is all anyone wants regardless of background.

We need to change the hate in our hearts and blind ignorance with truth.

We should use our voices, but never shove our beliefs and opinions down another’s throat. I voiced mine. Will you voice yours?

Will you be part of change or part of the problem?

Self-Doubt Kills Creativity

I sit with my cup of coffee in front of my computer with all the necessary tools to work, yet I find myself on the other side of a transparent wall. One that was created from the self-doubt lingering in the corners of my mind.

I call myself an author, but doubt has entangled me with its rope of self-negativity. It tells me my writing is mediocre, my characters are bland, my creativity is a speck of dirt not worthy of any shoe.

It stabs me in the heart, whispers words in my ear. “Failure.” “Forgettable.” “Wannabe.”

My mind believes in the words as the grey cloud shadows me. I question my path. I question the words and worlds I create. Do I belong in this sea of creativity?

Self-doubt tears the creator into pieces and destroys the motivation to reach the hill of imagination.

I have written five books, yet my sales are weak. Reviews are none and only a handful of readers stick by my side. Does this make me an imposter? A fake wearing the badge of author?

There are days where self-doubt takes over, but then I break through the wall because the passion of story telling outweighs the need for my name to be remembered.

Never give up on your passion. Never fall into the trap of racing for popularity or fame.

Stay true to yourself. From one writer to another, we all have a voice. It will be heard.