Sunday, 12 February 2017
We all have them, faces that thrive upon seeing us fail. People who have polluted their lives and their own options with their own self contempt, that there is no option for them,in their minds, simply to grit their teeth and his at what were becoming. I'll say it once and I'll say it twice, it is not your job to fix all the broken souls in the world. People who mentally crucify themselves with their own poor choices and judgement, then unleash hell unto you. You are nobodys punching bag. Your journey is different , your soul needs healing. In life as writers and facilitators of our own script,as we tap into a greater more infinite self,there will be trials. There will be obstacles. Those obstacles leave you with your own sense of trauma, each time, you need to call collect to the spirit, and the guardian for a top up just to survive the frey. Yet we are warriors still, triumphant in our stance,magnificent in our journey, never let anyone still your armour.That armour is your self esteem, the ability to infuse mind with ideas that leap out at us, and provide the source for our pens. Use your mind, it is part of your shield and the pulse of your armour. As a creative it is your gem.
Saturday, 11 February 2017
Their faces are everywhere,people who play the blame game on you but can't take possession of their own future. Everyday I wake up to his lamenting,the poison from his tongue, I am abused by a guy I rejected, who my family also rejected. Unable to deal with that rejection his maniacal mother and himself spread poison around my neighbourhood, as a writer I channel this I use it to motivate myself, encourage myself. The attempts to bully and alienate me from my own community have lasted for years, they are furious about my accomplishments."Therefore I strive on." I have been called names that turn to ash on my tongue these people are black like me, they call me monkey, animal, slag , slut, and whore because men find me attractive. The mother has a jealous nature and is consistently comparing me to her, "look at me and then look at her" she says cattily. I laugh inside. I roar inside. A guardian whose raised spoiled shallow brats, and commandeers some idiots from the local neighbourhood gnashes her teeth and everybody's supposed to click their fingers. Her son a poor joke at masculinity continues to thrive on the fact that once upon, I was vulnerable, once upon I was lonely, once upon I reached out to him. Now he is angry that he is faceless. With ugly features and dulling skin, if I dropped you I think I wouldn't pick you up.
What tries to stop you must commandeer you. You must use it as motivation,as a key to unlocking all those trapped elements. Don't get mad get smart and even. Don't be beaten by envious devil's dancing in plain sight. They have not won,They will be worn.
It doesn't have to be perfect but as writers we feel we have to tap into something ethereal to free that clenched mouth pen. It is ripe, we know it, it must have a period on the page, this pen must bleed the voices we hear in our heads, captivate audiences with the Marvel's we see visually like spirit dragons dancing for the Chinese new year. We are lost in our own web of spinning,ballerina thoughts, and buzzing electric verbs, yet the page remains concrete. Procrastination is one of the worst feelings in the world, it tsunamis the courage to participate, it taps into unknown fears. The question is where do you want to be? In my mind I told myself an army of excuses until courage was a foreign tongue. I glared at a reflection that I trusted ignoring hollow eyes, not from lack of sleep,just from the nightmares of ideas whispered into the mouths of others, planted like a kiss. Propell yourself forward by reminding you, it doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to begin, like tapping a key on a keyboard, or planting your feet into some new shoes. Try out those shoes, and then take one bold step, there is no black hole, only gravity.
I've been counting the paths to becoming a millionaire since I discovered my own secret formula. It's mad, the hours you spend procrastinating. As a writer I usually dive right in , slicing through fugitive words, tasting them bleeding on my tongue and eating them whole. Yet this challenge, this anxiety evades me at times, what if I actually achieve it, what of all the little voices in my head, what of the talks I envision, the house I dream of living in, the seed I want to plant in every creative entrepreneurs mind. This is real for me. It's a conversation I have with myself before I go to sleep,before I wake up, before I disappear into dreams. I just have to be thirsty and so do you. You have tapped into the curious world of redebonyhotspot, where everything is possible, accessible and vision is bliss. Believe you are more than your limitations. Procrastination is an insidious fear cleverly lit with polite justifications, you are not the mistakes you made last year, the year before, or the year before that. The mind curates attempts at enterprise hoping we learn and we inspire those around us with our vision.