i’m shaking my head right now

because i don’t know who’s looking.

& that’s why i feel like i don’t know what to write. i’ve been typing & backspacing for the past 10 minutes, halfway worried about reactions to what i might wanna express. the other half of me is concerned that i’ll come off as stupid, shallow, unaware, unfeeling, or any other pejorative. & i’m mad at that. i’m mad that all of a sudden, i care enough to censor myself, even a little bit. writing is my first instinct when there’s something i want to release. & here i am trying to be discreet or polite or cryptic or whatever the fuck just so i can blog in relative peace. me 5 years ago. that’s regressive. i need not be that way with something i value as a tool for maintaining my sanity. my writing is so very important to me. it’s not right for me to modify it for anyone who doesn’t have to spend their time reading it to begin with.

so, let’s start over.

my words are not meant to satisfy anyone but me, as i am the writer. i am a vessel for thought & emotion, not the agent of the wishes of other human beings. it doesn’t work that way. i am a writer not because i choose to be, but because i don’t genuinely know how to be anyone else. i am not trying to be anyone’s novelist, favorite poet, or columnist. i write for myself. if don’t write, i don’t breathe. if i don’t let out what’s in me & on my mind when it should be let out, i run the risk of losing myself. i don’t know how to allow silence to dictate my life. audre said our silences wouldn’t protect us. to me, silence is relative to your actions. as a writer, a failure to scratch it all onto college-ruled paper is tantamount to swallowing a scream. if i don’t sit down and type it out at 65 wpm before it eats me up, then i’ve managed to fail the impetus to create. that impetus is as important as nourishing my body. please believe it. if you don’t know that for yourself, i’m sorry. but i follow it. everywhere it leads me. the spark that causes a smile to spread across my face when i hear a favorite song is the same that makes me creative with what i wear out of my home each day; it’s the same thread that joins all of my creativity. it’s an energy that i don’t know how to ignore.

i will write for the rest of my days, even if i’m the only one who’ll ever see the words.

instead of complaing about the weather

i’m gonna post this week’s gratitude list:

oriki calendars

pretty babies



tj’s garlic naan

my cute-ass barber

big earrings

70-degree days

pretty nail polish

dr. bronner’s

almond milk

generous ppl

ppl showin their asses

celia cruz


good vinyl


honey nut cheerios

a good, hearty laugh

ghostface on 30 rock

this garnier shit i bought for my hair

vegetarian recipes







blk folk



jersey knit linens

electric blankets

my mom

my sisters

my grandfather

my ancestors

tulasi sandalwood

revelations (maferefun oya!)

i can’t name it all.
but every day i’ll try to. i just know that for now, i sit at the seat of bliss. and that’s enough.

i think omi gave me

whatever ass kicking babaluaiye put on her a few weeks back. girl, i love ya, but DAMN. i don’t even wanna drink any tea. i always want tea. always. but now i feel like i can’t (or shouldn’t) sit up straight. the sad thing is that i knew the exact moment when i overdid it. and i kept going. i just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

well, veggies, y’all have won another. lol. send me some recipes so i don’t miss yard bird too much.

if you remember

my replies to the discussion questions from wehavebrains.com, then it might interest you to know i’m planning on a series of essays for perusal. they’ll probably be available on this blog within a few weeks’ time; i have a lot to say on a slew of topics. the first topic will be trauma & human response to it, with at least 3 posts dedicated to it. i’m not tryna be anyone’s psychoanalyst or anything like that, but a conversation i had w/ kenya the other day really made me think about how ppl carry trauma w/ them. this is just a mental exercise for me & maybe i’ll parlay it into something bigger at another time. but for now i’m perfectly content to self-publish to the internet under a creative commons license & possibly assemble an anthology of some sort later w/ my responses to the whb discussion questions.

i forgot how much fun those discussions were, especially because i got to flex my nerdy muscle. it’s high time i fully explored those concepts again, instead of keeping that kind of stuff to myself.

Next Newer Entries