Where Do You Start When Everything Is All Over The Place?

You have the title, a decent plot, a protagonist and antagonist, side stories, love, heartbreak, pain, possibly death... you just don't have the map to guide you from the beginning to end. The words just don't translate because the finished product is accompanied by the fear of backlash... Or maybe that's just my excuse... Isn't that what Fiction is all about anyway?  

Reminisce

I remember complaining whenever my Mom played a song I considered to be "old"... Fast forward almost twenty years to me being "that person"...

As much as I enjoy discovering new music, artists and songs- I cherish the time capsule tracks that send me back to a defining time whether it's a three minute visit or ten...

Special shout outs to these albums:

Bloc Party "Silent Alarm"

Spice Girls "Forever"

Nelly Furtado "Loose"

Danity Kane "Danity Kane"

Cassie "Cassie"

Ministry of Sound "The 2005 Annual"

Insomnia For Fuel

Taming insomnia is as common as seeing squirrel being a victim of roadkill... Been up over 24 hours and can't manage to keep my eyes closed. My roommate upstairs in the cranial penthouse rarely ever takes their foot off of the gas pedal and I suffer... I simultaneously think about everything and nothing. ADD was never a handicap for I was never a conventional learner- it's actually a strength. One that has overpowered my ability to think with any semblance of clarity. I live in a constant fog which could explain with my favourite outdoor setting is when the fog is thick enough to cut with a knife and the clouds hold the rain as ransom...

Don't Say, Do.

When words fail, text succeed. As an African American woman and lesbian, I was raised to know individuals by name, not race. Educated in DOD schools in my adolescence, I was whisked away from paradise (aka Okinawa, Japan) to have Florida's public education system dismantle me from being an Honor student with dreams of being an astronaut to discovering my gift of script and wanting NOTHING to do with furthering my education because I was derailed. Throughout my elementary and junior high career, my gifted test scores were substandard, a hard copy of my results weren't provided because they were lost and I was denied the opportunity to retest only to be thrown into drop out prevention classes. I'm not a conventional learner. I never was. I'm still not. I was a person who, when she set her mind to do something, made shit happen. I never took "no" for an answer. If something piqued my interest, I became obsessed and made it my priority to know every and any thing I could drown myself in. I've always been a hands on person... I still am. My dreams were never for fame, only experience. Travel. Memories. I love telling stories for some of the situations I've witnessed are in my mental scrapbook of irreplaceable memories never to be duplicated, replicated... Forgotten... And while my stories are colourful and sometimes unbelievable, they are even better when read for my text has always been my most lethal means of delivery and I refuse to spend another sleepless night not having written something, anything whether it's here or by pen in one of my journals because all dreams start somewhere... I just need to force myself to keep the pace...

Procrastinate Much?!

A decade and a half has come and gone. The internal wildfire is now glowing embers. As the dream distorts, the seed remains strong...

This insatiable need to see this dream through is terminal. It has to happen or the ending will be abruptly painful and the consequences will spread like disease...

My chest is heavy and my feet, boulders... My head expands to fill every suffocating environment I find myself in. I can be amongst a stadium of people and still feel alone. My only companion is the nagging story that's yet to be performed on... Finished...

I don't think I'm selfish for needing this because every dream involves pursuit. All choices require some sacrifice and I'm willing to bet it all even if my reward is failure. I'm confident the attempt can satisfy...

Not sure where I'm going but I needed to vent for this chaos is exhausting. Not being able to communicate this mental traffic reveal tears at the most inappropriate times...

Perplexed Prose

No music plays in the background today... Boxes surround... TV plays on... 

Why are we wired to gravitate to unhealthy people? When the damage is done, why don't we immediately cut our losses and move on? Can lust exist even in platonic relationships? Does lust truly have to mean an unnatural sexual attraction? Is lust water that dilutes pain? Is said individual our drug that causes an addiction that blurs our ability to reason? 

WIIFM...

WIIFM...

Pronounced Wiff-Em...

What's in it for me?

That was the enlightening question I was left to ponder...

Death:

While it's sad to those who are left behind to pick up the pieces and continue on, it's something we all must face sooner or later for tomorrow is not promised...

Every pinnacle moment in history has had a leader. A sacrificial lamb. From suffering comes progress. Tears dry. Bruises and wounds heal.

So many martyrs have come before. They will come after. The day will also come when He saves us from suffering. Love seems to be the call that rings. Fear is the fuel to the fire. Someone always answers.

Who's next in the Rolodex?

Will I be next? 

Could I be next? 

Should I be next? 

I'm willing to be next for I accepted death so long ago. Pieces of me have fallen into so many categories over my 31 years that I know what it's life to have lived comfortably and I know how to survive. I've also been stripped of everything except this little voice that summons invisible hands that push me to speak my mind unafraid of lethal reaction. So many people try to protect me when I know my day hasn't arrived. I've answered the call to evangelize and share the Good News that God does love us all. 

Brave individuals with conviction have been called. Liars have been called. Murderers have been called. Slaves have been called. Prisoners have been called. The rich have been called. The poor has been called. The disabled have been called. Women have been called. Children have been called. Gays have been called. Trans have been called. The proof is in that history book. The test is open book and every tomorrow our eyes open to is another day to get a better grade. We're even allowed to share our answers! 

Love. It's all that ever matters...