this plan & this place

Like all, or should I say most writers who moonlight at their day job, I have questions about making it as a writer…and when I say make it, my meaning is to have shelter, daily bread & recreation from writing. However, I don’t wonder whether I should write. Writing is a must. I will. I have to. But whether it will sustain my living is another question whose answer fails to come with the same assertiveness. I question this to the point of being a tidbit aggravated. Sometimes asking self; if this never happens would you be disappointed enough to deem the career aspect of life a failure? I guess this is the quarter life crisis where you ‘if’ many things…examine and re-examine career etc. Then these eclipses occur and medication is taken in the bores of routine; Wake up. Work out. Go to work. Come home. Yoga. Go to sleep. Yuck!!!

LIVE!!!!

Every time I catch myself simmering in monotony. I scream; LIVE!!! it’s a reminder that living is necessary is not an existence is an experience. And to be quite honest, since the last scream I’m kinda giddy and a quarter angst about it. The other day I wanted and decided to have raspberry tea and red velvet cheese cake at midnight. Called my girlfriend, asked if she wanted to go downtown to do this with me. She said yes and so there we were taking a pause in the beat of monotony. The moment: wicked & indulgent with all its high caloric value. Yum to simple excitement.

—Insert random segue but a seemingly relevant thought ((at least in my head))—:

I remembered this Janet Ward poem posted on the wall of a subway car.

change

there are some, unafraid to show
how life has beaten them up.
or down:
they sit on the street
head in hands
or stare anesthetized
into dumbfounding space, crowds
rain.

others
choose familiar artifice
and carry their defeat
like money
they don’t have to spend
yet

Recently I shared this piece with someone who asked me what does it mean to me.

Me: i know both types. i am the former and small bits of the latter and the other type she didn’t mention. the type that writes it out in bitch & moan poems while purposing to truck…to always keep trucking…regardless, in spite of and words like it.

S: i can’t see myself in either.

Me: i can. i’ve stared into crowds, rain and such. it soothes it really does. And a lot of times I am unashamed to say where and how it hurts. Especially when it becomes too much and i have carried it truck with purpose as forlorn tries to beat me to a pulp. Almost pulverizing the flesh of my perseverance. Yeah. Sometimes you’ve got to stare.

—Exit random thought…back to living—

I’ve been editing my latest book “Emotions & Expletives.” Honestly speaking, it has been three (3) years since my first book was published. After a few mornings, it was taken off the market because of gross disappointment that followed the initial excitement. I can be very critical of my work so as is expected, I read it and wanted to edit the entire body. So I did and have been doing so on and off for three years. Yes I know it is ridiculous!!! Nevertheless, I feel ‘Emotions & Expletives’ won’t be that way. I’ve been diligent and have more confidence in the substance unlike its predecessors that are in the file dubbed ‘under editorial review.’ More so, I am burdened with the weight of giving birth to this particular book. Maybe gestation is over.

Also, I’ve been thinking about summer. I’m a tropical daughter and I love how this city transforms during the warm months, however, I do not look forward to the oppressive heat waves and the blistering days of minimal to no breeze. But it must be said, New York beats differently in the summer and I enjoy bopping to the pavement music. So in the name of living, Central Park Summer Stage’s “Definitely Poetry,” Alvin Ailey at The Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM), the Afro Punk Festival, the Martin Luther Concert Series, the numerous Street fairs, a particular Comedy Series at the Symphony Place and the documentary screening of “Pray the Devil Back to Hell” are among the event bound to find me in their mix. This aforementioned documentary begs the question Does a bullet know Christian or Muslim and is “a story of sacrifice, unity and transcendence…honoring the strength and perseverance of the women of Liberia who came together to end a bloody civil war in their shattered country.” Here’s the trailer and please do visit the website for a screening near you:

Other than that, I’ve been thinking about the next five (5) years until thirty and though I am not quite ready to divulge the details of that plan, I will say this; Living looks promising. And on days when the knowledge of being a writer who doesn’t actually write for a living slams against my resolve to continue on in the efforts of making it as a writer, I’ll remind myself of this plan & this place.