It is here. Tomorrow’s the last day of Writing 101! I’m so excited to have endured this project. I look forward to participating in more courses. We were supposed to feature a guest today but I didn’t reach out to anyone. It was my intent to do so but realistically I didn’t have the time to draft the post and all that goes into it. I believe it’s important to recognize your limits. That’s how people get all stressed out; can’t recognize when you just can’t. So anyway today I will be presenting a round-up of some of my best Writing 101 Assignments this far in case you missed them. These are the posts you seemed to enjoy the most and I am equally excited to review them for you. One thing that I do a lot on this blog is re-spin posts. It is my way of combing through the material and making sure they each get equal rotation for the constant stream of new visitors. It also helps me to see which posts you liked best and encourages me to produce equal quality material. I encourage new viewers / readers / followers / supporters to check out the recap of my Writing 101 Journey below if you missed it:
I speak. “Thank you. It means deliverance and life.”
***
“Is that your real hair?” a man asks me on the street. I used to be confused before I went back to Chicago and discovered loc extensions were a thing.
I speak. “Yes. This is my real hair.”
“I like your dreads,” says someone else.
I speak. “Thank you, but I like to call them locs, not dreads.”
She looks confused. I speak.
Photo By National Library of Jamaica
“The term Dread Locs came from the war between British Colonists and the Jamaican Maroons, descendants of blacks who fought and escaped from slavery and established free communities in the mountainous interior of Jamaica. The Britain’s “dreaded” to see them coming down from the mountain because of their physical appearance. They wore their beards thick and their hair kinky. This hairstyle then became known as dread locs.”
“Oh”, she says, “I’m sorry.”
I speak. “Its OK. I’m not offended. This is just why I like to call them locs.”
“Are you Jamaican?” she says.
I speak. “I have been there but no, I am not Jamaican.”
***
My husband and I are at Denny’s. Sometimes we are just in the mood for breakfast we don’t have to cook ourselves. Its not a special occasion, its just our thing. And yes, we got tired of IHOP; we decided to switch it up. I order a delicious looking skillet meal. It comes back with melted cheese, potatoes, onions, bell peppers, egg, the works! It looks delicious but there’s bacon in it too. I call the waiter over.
I speak.
“This has bacon in it but I don’t eat pork.”
“We can fix that,” he says taking my plate back. “We have chicken sausage,” he says.
I love meat but somehow pork always finds its way in the meal. I play it safe with a vegetarian version of the plate.
“OK,” he says and takes my plate.
I really hate sending plates back but I’m not in a mood to be sick today. I have not eaten pork in seven years.
***
I’m visiting Chicago and I’m at my cousin’s house. We are about to eat. I say a prayer. I always pray before I eat. It is something my mom taught me when I was little and I have always done it. My cousin looks at me funny. He’s a Jehovah Witness.
“Ain’t no Allah up in here.”
My hands are outspread, palms facing the ceiling. My head is bowed. I finish my prayer.
I speak. “That’s good because I’m not a Muslim and I do not pray to Allah.”
He is silent. I eat.
***
For today’s assignment I wanted to expose the quality of speaking. I talk a lot about the importance of being silent but if we are silent when we are to speak it can be just as damaging. In some cases, silence is not enough. We must speak.
First, I want to thank Colleen of Silver Threading for featuring me in her Writer’s Quote Wednesday! I am so very humbled. Now, for this week’s Writer’s Quote Wednesday I draw inspiration from John Grossman. I came across this quote earlier this week and it stuck out to me:
Silence is no easy task. But when done in its time, silence speaks to self-control. It speaks to discipline. It speaks to discernment. Silence speaks to the presence of humility and wisdom when used appropriately. It is just as damaging to be silent in the time to speak as it is to speak in a time of silence. Words are so fragile, and so vulnerable that they can easily become corrupt. They can abuse or be abused; be misunderstood or cause misunderstanding; they can hurt, tear down, and the list goes on. Words can also heal and build-up but they are like newborns, delicate and completely dependent on its owner. We, the owners of our words, have a responsibility to make sure they are properly cared for. That said, when used in its time silence is not, for instance, the absence of innocence. It is the presence of understanding.
I relinquish the mic
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Click the photo below (or any of the highlighted links) to see how you can join Writer’s Quote Wednesday!
Life is never really this easy. It’s not like you can trace the outlines of a state with your finger and find out who you are. Not like you can exit I-20 and stand before a better you. “Maybe Baltimore will be good for me,” thought Jessica. In any event, she’d better hurry. She had exactly fifteen minutes to build a story around why she was walking out again. He had been surprised to see her show up to his office and a business call had been her saving grace. Jessica’s fingers scrolled anxiously through Google Maps for a logical destination as her heart sank and melted into her lap. She wasn’t a bad person and it wasn’t really Dr. Thomas fault anyway. Neither was it Jordan’s. Davids or Sam’s. Ever since the abuse she’d simply fallen in love with the road and hoped to find herself there. The men, well, they were an added bonus. Jessica felt slightly guilty. It was never about them. Just the road. The way the air smelled crossing another state line. The sensual way the wind combed through her hair. The smooth sound of half and quarter notes booming from the radio. The scenic route of a new city, and the security of a new identity. Suppressed voices vibrated through the door. “He can’t be back already! Come on Jess, think!” That was funny. Her name wasn’t really Jess. The thought made her smile and then depressed her, another change she’d have to make. She hadn’t really thought about a name. Never mind, she couldn’t think about that right now. In about five minutes Thomas was walking back through that door and she hadn’t the slightest idea why she was leaving him and where she was going. The divorce was final but Jessica could never really settle down. Instead she put her trust in new tires and gas tanks. Moving about from state to state like a professional business woman except she had no business. First she had been Angela in sunny California. She met Mike there. He was a Chiropractor (she has this thing for doctors). Then there was David from Texas. He introduced her to the country life. Or rather, he introduced Sidney to the country life. Jessica smiled slightly, and the blood raced anxiously to her fingertips at the mere thought of another change. Sweat began to roll down her face and her heart pumped outside of her chest. The combination of excitement and fear was exhilarating. Jessica’s knees bounced up and down as the door clicked and the knob turned. She put the phone down next to the magazines as the door sprung open and smiled. And hoped to find herself in New York.
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For today’s exercise we had to use maps as our inspiration. I had no idea what I would do! The geographic part of my brain is not as sharp lol. But I hope you enjoyed my short short.
We always ask what the world can give us or rather what we can get out of the world, but what have we given the world? What are you doing with your time? Not in aspect of a career, or of education, or goals or livelihood but of life? What else have you given back to the world? Have you loved someone today? Have you loved yourself? Have you said anything nice today? Did someone need you today, can they count on you? What have you given back? Or what have you given in exchange for the breath that you breathe?
As this year prepares to come to an end, so does the Stella Trilogy. The first major update is that I am now accepting readers for an ARC, Advanced Review Copy, of Stella Book #3 as of next month. If you are interested in receiving a free electronic (unedited) version of this book in exchange for an honest review, please complete this form so you can get your copy next month. All reviewers are encouraged to publish the reviews on their blogs but you will receive a link to the books Amazon and Goodread pages a day or two before it releases in which to post your review then as well.
Here’s how it works in 3 easy steps:
1. Click this link to go to my invitation page on VolunteerSpot: http://vols.pt/4vWcc9
2. Enter your email address: (You will NOT need to register an account on VolunteerSpot)
3. Sign up! Choose your spots – VolunteerSpot will send you an automated confirmation and reminders. Easy!
Note: I am using VolunteerSpot to organize this Sign-up. VolunteerSpot does not share your email address with anyone. If you prefer not to use your email address please contact me and I can sign you up manually. I have also added a page to help keep you reminded that I am accepting readers for ARC’s. I will take it down when I have reached my limit for now.
“Speech is basic. If you can’t control your words, you can’t control anything.” – Yecheilyah
We’ve all been here. The orgasmic rush of an undisciplined tongue trying to figure out if it should spill the beans this morning. The aching necessity to feel our very own thoughts in our own mouths, and the satisfaction of these words sweet against the palate. It starts with the mind. A single thought gives birth to language, and a single scent of emotion strives to find its way on top our lips. Pay no heed to logic or common sense says this voice. Just the flavor of desire hanging on the edges of our hearts and waiting to fall like children from our mouths. Speech. There is no refund policy. Words cannot be taken back or traded or made invisible. Cannot be sucked like air back on top our lips, into our mouths and inside our chest. Cannot send its signal to the brain again and ask him to take them back. Speech can only be controlled. So dissect your mind and determine which thoughts are worthy to make it into the air or onto the page. Choose them like you chose your wedding dress. Carefully. Choose them like you chose your school. Wisely. Treat your words as if they are die hard criminals and you must release some of them for early parole. Which will you choose? Cradle your thoughts in your arms like an infant for words are just as fragile and vulnerable. Once spoken, like eggs once broken, they can never be repaired. The tweet I posted some time ago meant that the person, who cannot control the words of his own mouth, won’t have the strength to control anything else in his life. For his words are his. They come from his mind and from his heart. And we, why we cannot dig into his chest and choose them for him.
The PBS Blog 