“Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper.”
– Memoirs of a Geisha, Arthur Golden
Tag: life
They Had It All
When it came to progress reports and GPA’s there could be some acknowledgement
But when it came to c-cups she was incompetent
Forced to be ashamed of her good girl,
turned off abstinence like it was an accident
bought clothes by the way they fit,
if pants didn’t hug thighs
and waist bands didn’t advertise hips,
and if these English words couldn’t intellectualize the gloss on these lips…
then they stayed on the shelf
because see this bad girl was a good girl
but because they had it all she was ashamed of herself.
had no real desire for Timberland’s but you see she rocked ’em
cause she had to
hid pretend air force one tags deep down in her shoe
so nobody could ever know that this quite girl
was trying to fit into a world that gave her the flu
cause with dark skin kinky hair
no one had the slightest idea she was there
so confidence slid into empty chairs
and she pushed set-apartness to the side
and wished for positive comments this time like they were prayers
forget water
a trip to the mall was like walking on air
and as long as footlocker existed so would this love affair
‘cause popularity called her bluff,
and although it never existed for her kindness wasn’t enough
you see A’s and B’s were fruitless and college ambitions got no recognition
unknown to her that good grades and popularity both had stock in the elite
or that invisibility would not be defined by other people’s views of herself
no more than the Jordan’s on her feet
and that no matter how hard she tried
neither Master Degrees or Apple Bottom jeans could make her complete
and despite how long she struggled through school
it was truth that offered her the first seat
knowledge,
wisdom,
and understanding she did receive
cause they had it all
and she had nothing
Do What You Gotta Do
“You’ve gotta dance like there’s nobody watching,
Love like you’ll never be hurt,
Sing like there’s nobody listening,
And live like it’s heaven on earth.”
– William W. Purkey
Writing: The Flow
I’ve been promising myself that I will get back to Billie Blanks for months now. I cheated on him once. Her name was Jillian Michaels and let’s just say those six weeks together was something else, but eventually I stopped seeing her too. I realized I enjoyed Tabo a lot better and vowed I would get back into it. The problem is I’ve been out of commission so long it’s hard to get back into it. I hate the nauseating feeling I get those first couple of days back, the worst. So I pretty much blame that and prolong another day. But what does this have to do with writing?
I love routine. Not so much for the routine itself, but for the organization it brings to my day. While I don’t perform the exact same tasks each day, I love knowing where things go and how they should be done; following an exact path. There is a problem however with routines and schedules and such: breaking them. Writing takes so much concentration and focus that I notice that the more I break into the routine of writing each day it slows me way down. It’s like trying to start exercising again. Once you’re exercising on a daily basis and are in a position to keep doing it, it’s really not so bad. It may take time to start, but once you start and are used to getting up every morning and hitting the pavement or hitting the gym your good. When your momentum is up, you’re up. But when you slow down and especially when you stop, it takes twice the energy to get back up again and continue the flow. I find the same is true for writing.
I would tell you not to miss a writing day, but I don’t really believe that. Instead I want to tell you to balance your writing life. While writing every single day keeps you in the habit, you can also get distracted inside your own head. You’ve been in the groove so long you haven’t the time to come up for air and see what the rest of the world looks like. As such you miss opportunities to write, influences that could have provoked a great story. Your writing sure, but you’re also too into yourself. You have not given your mind time to rejuvenate for a chance to birth fresh ideas. It’s like editing your own work, at some point you have to give your eyes rest or you won’t catch the constant flow of mistakes so easily recognized by everyone else. Instead, write as often as possible, but take a day or two and don’t write at all. In fact, try not to even think about writing on these days. I know I know I’m talking crazy now. I know that some people (like me) have very sensitive minds, that is, whether it’s writing or exercising its best not to stop at all. Any break can make the next move a great struggle. But, when you have the time to think about something outside the craft not only will it give boost to the creative mind, it also gives life to the work flow.
This is not about slowing all the way down and please don’t stop! Do that and your pen’s going to weigh a lot more than it actually does, trust me on this. But this is about balancing your time. Now that you have set time aside to write, give it the nurturing it needs by creating a balance. Write often, but stop every now and then to focus on something else without getting comfortable in your laziness. You really only need a day or two away from your writing to nurture the groove and get back to the work flow.
NEW BOOK – Stella: Between Slavery and Freedom
This February (exact date coming soon) I will be releasing a new project entitled Stella, a short story about the lives of two women living in two different time periods, their experiences colliding in an explosion of emotional revelations:
Cynthia insists she’s not a racist, and while many of her points about the state of Black America are valid, she still doesn’t believe Blacks should have the same rights as whites. She believes America has come a long way, but that integration has kept it from going further. One day, Cynthia and her boyfriend Alex decide to visit Cynthia’s Grandmother, and happen upon information that will change their lives forever.
Raised under the protection of her mother and the field hands, Stella is unaware that she is a slave. Not being accustomed to hard labor things change when Mama dies and she falls into the cruel hands of “Mars Saddler”. Years later, when The Louisiana Constitutional Convention of 1864 abolishes slavery in the parish, Stella learns of Saddlers plan to keep her on the plantation. She then agrees to accompany Saddlers daughter Miss Carla and her husband John to The Windy City.
Together, Cynthia and Stella learn the hard way the difference between slavery and freedom.
Stella will be available in the following formats as well as in print:
Apple iBookstore, Barnes & Noble NOOK, Amazon Kindle, Kobo, and everything else. Visit http://www.theliterarykorner.com for additional details.
Dogs Have Personalities
On the way to work this morning we stopped at a red light. We could feel the stare of someone on the side of us. You all know the feeling, when your hairs stand up on your skin like antennae. My husband noticed it first since he notices everything. He can somehow see everything you’re doing in your car. So, turning slightly to the left there he was. All fury and bursting with energy. Tongue hung over the front of his mouth and …wait, “did he just smile at me?” I think a dog just smiled at me. He may have winked too. I’m not very good in the doggie breeding category so I don’t know what kind of dog he was but as long as he knows that I know his secret. It all started back in 2007, before which I was a cat woman. As a child I treasured the company of tiny paws and purring sounds. The ease of having them to jump up in your lap, petting had never been so fun. But today cats are just kind of creepy. They’re always sneaking around and peeking around the corner. Showing up at the oddest times, “where did you come from?” Destroying something I’m sure. Anyway, back to the story.
So yes, 2007. My husband and I, (unwed then) received a puppy (Rottweiler) from some friends. Technically she was a puppy but didn’t really look like it. She was almost my height so I was never really convinced. The dog absolutely loved to lounge on the couch downstairs from which she was strongly prohibited. Did she obey? No. She jumped up on the sofa every chance she got and crossed her little paws like she was the queen of the castle. I mean sure she guarded things but sista girl needed to get one thing straight: I am the woman of this house. We named her Lady because aside from her obvious doggy demeanor she was everything but a dog. As you can see she loved to take pictures and happened to be very photogenic. I don’t know who she thought she was (to my knowledge America’s Top Doggies didn’t exist). She handled herself nice and dainty like. I kept trying to tell her she wasn’t as petite as she thought she was, but what I said didn’t seem to matter. She walked around the house like she was made up of feathers though company made it very clear we’d adopted the most dangerous animal known to man. So did her appetite. That didn’t stop her from switching across the floor though, moving her butt from side to side like she had hips. I didn’t play that though, no male doggie company until you are of age young lady. Although now that I think about it, I’m sure she lied about her age.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was in ’09. We’d traveled from Chicago to Dallas in my husband’s truck with little Miss thing in the backseat. What a trip that was. Upon our arrival we checked into a hotel that would allow for pets. Usually I just got my mother to doggy sit but that wasn’t happening this time. The last time mama came over Lady made it very clear that she could take care of herself. Needless to say my mother wasn’t very enthusiastic about doing this again. So we check into the hotel and although very nervous about leaving her there, we decided to take a risk. It was a business trip and we did not have the time to stick around. Amidst all of the fun we were having, we forgot about Lady in the hotel room. It was dark when we got back and I braced myself for the destruction we would have to pay for on account of this child we left to her own devices. But when we opened the door laughter escaped us. I think we laughed for a good 15 minutes straight. We had one of those comfortable sofa chairs and the dog was sitting on the chair with her paws crossed and watching television. I couldn’t make this up if I tried. Nothing was out of place. Nothing chewed on. The only thing this prissy little lady wanted to do was sit uninterrupted on the most comfortable spot in the house. I eventually accepted her for who she was and went out and bought this neat little electronic device that could be used to trim your dog’s nails, since Lady made it very clear that she’d never had a mani pedi before.
So now I know the secret: 101 Dalmatians was not just a movie. If your a dog lover listen to me very closely, this is not a joke: all dogs have personalities. They talk when your away and act like people as soon as you turn your back. I’m just warning you.
Writer’s Quote Wednesday – Rainer Maria Rilke
Smile, it’s Writer’s Quote Wednesday :). Don’t be shy, Join us:
http://silverthreading.com/2015/01/21/writers-quote-wednesdaypoet-victor-hugo-2015-4/
This week, I quote Rainer Maria Rilke:
There are two books I always carry with me: 1). The Bible and 2). Letters to a Young Poet. Don’t laugh, but I thought Rainer Maria Rilke was a woman before I saw his picture! It was Sister Act 2 when I first heard his name, so I looked into it to see if Sister Mary Clarence really knew what she was talking about. Here’s my diagnostic of this quote.
Primarily, Letters to a Young Poet has some of the most inspiring quotes concerning life and love. There is such profound truth here. We tend to go through life expecting to be given the answers to every question in the momentary whim to which we seek them. It never occurs to us that we are not in a position to handle the answer to that question. But if we focus on living, and we live, we will stumble upon the answer at a time when we are wiser and more mature. We will understand it then, though we may not understand it now.
This book itself began as letters Rainer wrote to a young man who was interested in the art of poetry. These letters have been combined into what can be easily mistaken as a book of poetry itself, as it reads.
About the Author: (from Wikipedia)
“René Karl Wilhelm Johann Josef Maria Rilke (4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926) — better known as Rainer Maria Rilke) — was a Bohemian-Austrian poet and novelist, widely recognized as one of the most lyrically intense German-language poets writing in both verse and highly lyrical prose. Several critics have described Rilke’s work as inherently “mystical”. His writings include one novel, several collections of poetry, and several volumes of correspondence in which he invokes haunting images that focus on the difficulty of communion with the ineffable in an age of disbelief, solitude, and profound anxiety. These deeply existential themes tend to position him as a transitional figure between the traditional and the modernist writers.”
The PBS Blog 