(She/her.)Words have inexplicable power. ONE word has the power to change any situation just as quickly as it takes to form. Avid writer, voracious reader, compelled activist, and anxious creator, I am newly embracing what I have to offer.
At 12:14 on June 15, 1992, I went live. This blessed body was born to the earth and ready to begin a new life. 3 days ago, I turned 29. And the days leading up to that day had all forms of emotional rollercoaster-ing happening. I wanted to basically go about the day as any other; no specific attention to it being my birthday, no fuss, no nothing. Just another day. The people in my life had other ideas though, specifically my brother, who would not let the day go by with at least a little acknowledgement. I’m incredibly grateful for him, as his persistence served as a reminder that I am, in fact, very loved by at least some members of my family. (My family dynamic is complicated, and not in any way relevant to this story… moving on).
Freedom in a Landfill
We never believed it could happen to us. No one ever does. Not until they find themselves in the middle of real world horror. It’s strange how we all saw it coming, but either chose to ignore the signs, or genuinely believed something, someone, somewhere, would stop it — It couldn’t really happen in The United States of America for fucks sake. It was a gradual dissent into a situation we often read about in history books, but in 2045? That just wasn’t possible.
I was married once. For three years. Quite literally the longest three years of my life. I met my wife Alesha in the most basic of ways that we have for meeting new people these days; at a bar. A few friends and I were out to celebrate my best friend Jordan’s accomplishment in passing the bar exam. Most of them got piss drunk, but I sort of babysat my drink all night. I’m not really sure why, I was just as thrilled and proud of him as anyone else. I just felt a bit….off. Some time getting close to last call, I noticed the most beautiful woman I have ever seen was looking at me. ME. I’m not un-handsome I suppose, but I’ve never been one to get strange women’s attention. Generally I have to be the one to initiate contact, and I always, ALWAYS screw it up somehow, without fail. Something in my brain tells me, “pretty girl! Tell her about the grossest possible thing about you. Right now. No? Ok, spill her drink on her and then accidentally touch her breasts trying to get the drink out of her shirt. She’ll DEFINITELY assume you’re trying to cop a feel. But it’s ok, DO IT.”
I had so many hopes for this challenge, so many plans. I thought, if I can stick to this challenge, and write 1000 words a day for two weeks, I am going to keep that momentum going. Make it the whole summer. Make it just my regular writing schedule. I’ve been trying to develop better writing habits anyways, and this seemed like a killer kick off to seeing the kind of progress I wanted.
The Colors of Me
Do not diminish me to your overpriced Starbucks order Or Crayola colors named for foods and grains of wood I bleed the same thick and velvety crimson
The Lady, Blood
You don’t know Blood Until you’ve tasted mine Filled with its hollow beating fear Crystallized iron Disorganized platelets in a vacuous sea
My First Month On Vocal
Writing on Vocal has been an interesting and incredible experience for me. I’ve always dreamed of being a writer, but after a decade long writer’s block, it didn’t seem to be in the cards for me. I dabble in writing for Medium, and I’ve been “starting” a blog for the last year. Two in fact, though one is more of a membership site and I have a team of comrades working with me.
My Brand of Gemini
Being a Gemini has always felt like I was automatically branded as a two-faced asshole. As the Twins Castor and Pollux, Gemini’s are often known as being flighty, untrustworthy, and unreliable. But damn are we funny. Great friends, shitty people. I wholeheartedly disagree with this stereotype, even though I can tend to be a bit of an asshole.