Message for the Singles

Hey! I am single and could not be happier about it.

That came very abruptly, but I just love being single. I don’t have any man I have to be worried about keeping entertained. I don’t have to plan to spend time with someone, and this allows me to just go about my day by the beat of my own drum. 

In the past, I did have some flings. They were just too much work. Who even has the time and energy? I got better things to be doing. Besides, when in a relationship, I feel like one has to find a new balance that not many people do at all, or well. But, one has to make sure they are not cutting ties with everyone to make time only for their new item. I find this to be an exhausting task.

I want to make it clear though that I am not writing this blog because someone I know has done this to me recently. I am merely stating what I have come to learn. Don’t worry, either! I have not just come out of a relationship and am projecting my emotions on you readers. That would just be a cruel thing that none of us need.

Being single is just so fun. There are no restrictions as to who you can go have fun with or how. Because you are not worried about another person, you can put full focus on your own well-being. After all, being attentive to your own health is not selfish. It is something we should all do.

There is an adage to remember that RuPaul, famous drag queen, always says,” If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell can you love somebody else.” 

I love this saying because it really does drive my point home. If you can not even find a way to love yourself, it will undoubtedly be challenging to show love for another. I propose to start doing tasks and setting goals for yourself to instigate self-confidence. Do not get caught up with the ideas or fantasies you associate with being in a relationship. 

If you are single and feel lonely or sad about it, try not thinking that way. The state of being part of the single community can be a vessel to improving and figuring out yourself. Find the freedom in the department of singleness.

Let us all singles make this coming week about self love. I hope you all love yourselves already and, if not, are finding the ways in which to do so. Just know, you are not alone in your battles. 🙂  

optimism and water

when i was in middle school, my mom told me “misery loves company,” after i mentioned my friends’ rough days, and why i felt bad that they were hurting. i’ve since abandoned that phrase, turning to a new philosophy: pessimism breeds misery. you have to want to be happy.

now, the want for joy is not necessarily what brings joy, but it is certainly the water being poured into a plant, vital to growing happiness from the roots outward. obviously you need the soil, seeds, and sunlight first, but your plant simply will not grow if it isn’t given the water of your longing. you have to want your plant to grow, and if you don’t, it will refuse. positive thoughts and expectations will breed more positive thoughts and outcomes, if you’ll let it.

and if situational happiness is more your speed, then allow yourself to watch things die, even if you keep watering them. ask yourself why your garden stopped growing, and what it allowed you to see. everyone’s garden goes a little bit dry sometimes, but if you take care of it, if you take care of yourself enough, the roots will rehydrate and you’ll start to love things again – no matter how trivial.

my bones run dry
as my dreams and garden lost.
the roots fall apart,
and soil turns to dust.
growing ground’s no better
than sand in the desert
if my garden goes unwatered
and plants don’t like the weather.

Chapter 2: a Raven

This is a continuation of my past blog “Son of a Witch and a Raven”        Hope ya’ll enjoy!!!  

       I  waited outside while my wife gathered her ingredients. we were in a small, cliff-side port town, one of the many stops along their journey. we were traveling to find somewhere we could call home. Somewhere good for a coming little one.  My wife stumbled out of the Witchery store, barely able to support all of her newly bought herbs, charms, and spellbooks. I rushed forward and took most of her burden, giving her a soft smile. She grinned back at me – giddy to try out her new spell. We rode out of the town in our wagon until we found an open field next to a small creek. My wife jumped off and pulled out supplies – organizing her ingredients and tools as she set up camp – allowing me to unhitch the horses and take them to the creek for a drink.

          An explosion went off in the direction of camp and I didn’t hesitate to start running. I stumbled out into the clearing to see her, down on her knees by a blackened spell circle, cradling something in her arms, surrounded by bandits. No, not bandits – they were too organized. They were more like soldiers.  I went back into the woods unseen, retreating to the horses. I began to strategize, heading back to the clearing to see how I could outsmart the soldiers. My mind drifted, thinking, why they were here? Then it hit me.

            In the last town, there were posters of a reward – for witches. I shook my head and refocused, thinking of ways to save my wife. If I surprised them, I’d have the upper hand – but I would still be outnumbered. Negotiating? Probably not. Stalling? No. A distraction? Yes – that could work. I turned to the two horses, spooked one off in the direction of the soldiers and brought the other one closer to where my wife was. I hoisted myself up and urged my steed forward, calling her name, and leaning out to grab her. She jumped – I swooped her onto the horse and bolted down the road.                                                                                                                                                 

               My wife and I pushed that poor horse hard, getting as far away from the soldiers as we could. My wife would find water using her herbal knowledge, and I would go hunting using a spear I had fashioned. My curiosity of what she held in her small bundle of cloth grew as we traveled, but I knew not to ask. If she wanted me to know she would tell me. She cared for it, whatever it was, and I noticed that she would hold it close, whisper to it, and sing it a song. But I never saw her do anything else. Plus there was another odd thing – it made no noise. We traveled for a little over two weeks, until we crossed into another town. Although wary, we continued like we always had. My wife found a job cooking or making medicine, and I would find a crafting or labor job to do. We stayed in this town for about a month, then we bought a small, old wagon and supplies to continue on our way.

              I sat on the edge of the wagon, watching my wife try out her newest spell. She had drawn a circle in the dirt earlier that morning and placed her odd bundle in the center. Then she surrounded it with different herbs/charms. She took the pot of boiling liquid she had prepared earlier and poured it on the bundle, turning the circle into a muddy goo hole. She gathered more herbs and placed them at certain places – then she took a step back, put her hands on her hips, and announced “It’s done!”. She turned to me with a smile and told me that now, we just wait for the moon. 

           My wife fell asleep soon after, so I stayed up to guard her circle from night-creatures. It was late, and with sleep weighing on my eyes, I began to doze off.     CRACK    I startled awake, looking around for the source of the sound, but nothing was there.      CRACK       I heard it again, from the direction of her circle. Yes, the sound was definitely coming from the goopy circle! I called my wife, running to wake her up. I shook her awake, telling her about what I heard. She wiped the sleep from her eyes, mumbling about a good dream – but then she bolted up, realizing what I had said. She grabbed his arm and dragged me back out to stand beside her circle. 

            She was bursting with contagious excitement, bouncing on her toes and grabbing his arm hard enough to leave marks. She was whispering things under her breath as if talking too loudly would ruin the moment. One phrase that I heard on repeat was “We’re gonna be parents!” The cracking sound grew louder and more frequent, and the goopy mud started bubbling like it was boiling. And then, the miracle happened. The Moon came out from behind the clouds and shined directly on the circle, like a spotlight. With a bright flash of light, it was gone.

             My wife sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face, while the husband just stood in awe. There in the middle of the circle, laying on top of the bundle of cloth, was a tiny, healthy, pale, baby boy, sleeping peacefully. She crawled forward, tenderly reaching out her shaking hands to pick up that fragile, baby boy. Her husband knelt beside her, cradling her and their new child. She was still sobbing, holding the child close and running her fingers through his thick midnight black hair. I hugged them tighter, whispering, “you did it.”, to my wife as his own eyes blurred with tears. She looked up at him, smiling and said “yeah … I did.”

  

 

Paradise

My friends when I was younger asked me what paradise was to me.

At the time I was in it.

I loved nothing more than my “friends” and our time together.

But, every time this question pops up, the answer always changes. 

But, while I’ve been gone,

I’ve noticed the one thing I took for granted.

I thought that this would be my paradise when I got here.

But, a week in, I felt like something that was missing.

I couldn’t tell what it was.

But, as soon as I hopped into my sister’s car,

I kissed my dad’s cheek,

I ruffled my little brother’s wiry poofy curls.

He slapped my hand away while laughing.

My dad couldn’t stop asking me questions and making sure I liked it

I remember asking my brother if my dad was okay

He laughed and said, “Yeah. Why are you asking?”

I remember grabbing my duffel and throwing it in the trunk, “Because he’s being so nice to me.”

At that time, I couldn’t fathom how much my family loves me. 

I thought that once I left,

That I was gone for good.

But, now that I’m seeing my family clearly,

I don’t want to go.

So, as I answer this question,

Which will undoubtedly change,

As it has so many times before.

My paradise?

My paradise is riding in the backseat of my dad’s truck

Listening to Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd, Metallica….

Laughing and just enjoying my family’s presence.

My First Month at MSA

It’s hard to believe that it’s already been a whole month since I’ve stepped on campus for the first time. Somehow it feels like ages, but at the same time, only a few days. I’ve lost any regular sense of time being here, and I’m sure that isn’t just a problem I’ve been having. 2020 has proven itself worthy to be stamped into the history books for centuries. With a global pandemic, the current state of the country, and one of the most important elections of all time hanging from its belt, it’s more than qualified for a couple of chapters dedicated to it and its effects.

It’s impacted my education in more ways than just one. With virtual learning making things more difficult to grasp and the intense toll this year has on my mental health, staying on task in school is nearly impossible. For example, I’m currently writing this at 11:56 pm the day before it’s due, which is something I would have never done before. I’ve spent way more nights crying in the shower than I’d like to admit, and the amount of visits I’ve made to the nurse’s office outnumber how many times I’ve seen Promare, and if you know me at all, you’ll understand that isn’t a small feat.

My first week here was arguably the most stressful one I’ve ever gone through, and it was a miracle I didn’t have to leave campus. A last-minute schedule change, an ungodly workload, and just an enormous constant state of confusion is enough to drive anyone insane, especially someone with a preexisting anxiety disorder.

However, as horrible as some of my days were, I wouldn’t go back and change my choice to come here for anything. The people I’ve met, experiences I’ve had, and memories I’ve made make up for any stress or despair I’ve gone through. This is truly a unique and special place to be, and I’m beyond lucky to be able to attend. The laughter shared over a pizza at Fox’s, the delighted yells from me and my friends as we ran down the sidewalks of downtown Brookhaven, and the intimate moments shared over the phone at 2 am are all things I will cherish forever, and I am more than willing to go through those stressful weeks a million times over just for those experiences.

So as the clock reaches 12:30 am and my eyes begin to struggle to stay open, I’m smiling at the wonderful people I’ve met and long to grow close to during my future weeks here at MSA. I know no matter what struggles my classmates and I will have to face, we will make this our year. We will rise, we will fly, and we will shine.

Pokemon Sword Review Part 2

If you missed my blog from last week, I would recommend reading that first as this is a continuation of that.  With that being said, let’s dive in.  Ok, so another controversial topic is the introduction of Dynamaxing and Gigantimaxing.  Personally, I think it’s something that makes the Galar region unique; at least if it stays there but it may go on to other regions in the future.  I think this component is a nice blend of Mega Evolution and a Z Moves.  It is more balanced I think, and although not all Pokemon get a new Gigantimax form, all Pokemon can Dynamax, and it only lasts’ 3 turns, so it is not a destroy everything button.  I also like the wild battles where you can take on these powerful ‘mons, it kind of reminds me of Raid Battles in Pokemon GO, yes I still play it, I know I know. 

Now the starter I chose was Scorebunny, and let me tell you that was the right choice, Cinderace looks amazing and is so full of personality.  Defiantly the cleanest looking of the final starter forms in my opinion.  The design is absolutely perfect.  While the middle stage, Raboot is a bit awkward looking, that is common for middle starters and so not really a problem.  Also, I think it’s kind of a “teenager” form, where it is supposed to be awkward but I don’t know that’s just my take on it. 

I won’t spoil the ending of the game for those of you who have not played it but it sure is a wild ride.  The lore of the region is very immersive and you feel as though you really are a part of the game, not just like you are sitting there watching it.  You really feel the mystique of the Slumbering Wield and the legendary guardians who live there; quietly protecting the forest.   

I am currently playing the Dojo DLC (I forgot the name, I’m bad with names); I think it’s called the Isle of Armor.  So far it is going pretty well, except when I accidentally knock out a Pokemon I want to catch, that’s always annoying.  Right now I’m stuck trying to find where to take my Kubfo, the island place I can’t seem to get to, so if you know I’d love a little help.  Anyways, Until I complete the DLCs I think these are pretty much my opinions on the game; I may do a more detailed character analysis if that is something that is wanted.  Well, I hope you learned something at least, see you in the next blog.

Son of a Witch and a Raven

“Hi, my name is Lam, and I live in a small port in the Jaz-cliffs, at the end of civilization – hey, bring back my camera Ki! It’s still recording!”


He took off, holding my camera up like a trophy. My cousin had stolen my camera, again. humph. It wasn’t even lunch and he’s already making me run today. I rounded the corner and – Oof – slammed straight into his backside. Such is my luck. “Ki, why’d  you have to go and make me -”  He spun around, held his hand to my mouth and motioned to be quiet. He mouthed, “Black coats.” and then gave back my camera.

 

We looked back around the corner to see where the black coats were going, but they had already left. “We need to go tell your momma.” He mouthed. I nodded and we ran back, stopping to hide from black coats, and made it without being seen. “Last one in tells?” He asked, pausing to look at me. I started running.

~~~

“So you boys are telling me there’s black coats outside?” Momma asked, putting herbs in bags. I nodded. “Well, let’s hurry then.” I was helping her and Ki was hiding our things under the floors, when the door started rattling. The Black coats were here. 

 

Momma shoved the bags into my arms and stareered me toward the hidden tunnel. Then she went back for Ki. I opened the trap door in the wall and jumped down. Our house was built in the cliffs, so we had direct access to all the caves and tunnels – some lead to the port or another town, but those were boarded up. 

 

The one I was in now had traps, and you could only avoid them if you knew about them. I heard the door open and spun around, relieved to see Momma and Ki. Then she took the lead, avoiding traps as we went, and walking as careful as a cat. 

 

Eventually we came to our ‘safe cave’. It had access to the sea, and the only enter or exit was the tunnel. The lighting was good, and we grew all kinds of herbs and food down here. I also had built a system that turned saltwater into freshwater and salt.

 

Some nights we’d make a fire, and Momma would tell us stories about all the monsters and mayhem in the world outside our small, little town. She would tell of the Order of the Ravens, who scavenged the lands trying to snuff out witchery, or the Order of Nights, who would steal from kings and give treasures away the next day. And the mercenaries called The Giants, who were said to be as strong as titans.  

 

We would stay in our safe cave long enough to make sure the black coats never found my momma, and then we’d go back to our house. But this time, someone was waiting. A man in a black coat, a raven mask, and a torch, standing in front of my burning house. My father.

diamonds and why bread is better

i’ve been baking bread for about three years now – i started with pita, continued to challah, and now, i can make some of the best rolls in the tri-state area. they’re fluffy, buttery, soft, and the perfect base to fill with cheese and pepperoni to make pizza rolls. here’s the kicker: they take 4 hours to make. an hour in total to prepare the dough, an hour rising, 30 minutes to shape, another hour to rise, then 30 minutes to bake.

learning to maintain the patience in baking bread is not an easy skill to learn, and if you don’t have the self-control, can produce subpar results. you have to let it rise and rest, or the gluten won’t develop, and the bread can become flat, flavorless, or just inedible. rising time is how bread develops and grows.

diamonds are formed under pressure. carbon is compressed and crystallized until a clear, shiny, pristine crystal appears.

diamonds cannot be made without pressure, and bread cannot be made without rest.

many high school students are sharing their experience of “gifted kid burnout,” explaining how the American school system has failed them. they try their best, but experiences and educational opportunities have been overtaken by standardized measurements of who someone else wants us to be, and arguably? indoctrinating us to become political pawns in their crooked game of chess, capitalism, and greed.

students learn differently. some need stress, others need rest. to treat a student like their intelligence and worth is determined out of a percentage is inhumane and unreal. where did we go wrong? when did we standardize children? and how to we go back in time to make sure students feel able to become the person they want to be, without fear of failing the system they were raised in?

Pick a Spot, Picnic!!!

Picnics in the park have never been anything less than a vibe.  Cirrus clouds float over your head as trees rustle gently in the background. The soft material of the blanket contrasts with the occasional prickly touch of grass. The warmth of the hidden sun kissing your exposed skin gives you a feeling of peace and comfort. A specialized playlist of your favorite songs play quietly in the background as your thoughts run rapid. Your chest rises and falls to the rhythm of the passing footsteps. Finally, your soul feels at peace.

Doesn’t that just sound swell? (the answer is yes, yes it does!!) Can’t you imagine the scenery around you as you lie without a single worry? This may sound boring to some people.(i don’t know how.) If being completely at a tranquil state doesn’t seem so appealing to you, a picnic can still be fun.

You can watch a movie during your picnic, create art, learn an instrument, improve your terrible British accent (not to brag, but my accent is pretty darn good). A picnic doesn’t always have to be quiet. I personally love picnics, they’re one of my favorite past times.

I plan on taking full advantage of MSA’s  beautiful campus. Beautiful trees are spread all throughout, providing shade and a nice breeze. I even brought a blanket I plan to use solely for the purpose of having a picnic. If you ever see me having a solo picnic, please feel free to join!!!

Usually on my picnics I pick a random playlist and let it play. While it plays, I try to journal or doodle in whatever book I may have brought along. 

Pick a spot and picnic, friends. You’ll be glad you did.

 

 

 

Italian’s Do It Better

Heyy. *in Wendy Williams voice* How you doin?

So, here I am. There you are. We are going to talk about cooking.

I used to want to be a chef when I was a child. (A baker if we are getting all technical about it. ) Through a series of events though, I changed my mind. I have never really thought about the fact until recently. Out of the blue I felt a rekindling for the fun of cooking. There is an emotion you get when you cook something good for someone, and they enjoy it. It’s one of those warm feelings that help you remember why you get up in the morning. So satisfying. 

I recalled this because I recently got the nice urge to be nice while staying with my two brothers in their apartment. I told them I would try and cook like gourmet meals every night. Well, due to another series of unfortunate events, that turned into only one night of the week. What I did cook though, was fabulous. I served the children a nice Creamy Tuscan Chicken Roll on a bed of spinach with cheesy fettuccine on the side and a couple meat calzones. It was an Italian’s wet dream, and they loved it.

This meal was no joke though. It was actually very hard to make for me, only a novice to intermediate chef. 

The Creamy Tuscan Chicken Roll. This one took the most time and was the one I was also most worried of preparing because the process involved never performed procedures. At least, by me. I had to split the raw chicken breasts in half and then smash it like there was no tomorrow. My brothers didn’t have a rolling pin or meat tenderizer though. Instead, I had to use what we had in the toolbox, a hammer. Then, I would put sun dried tomatoes and spinach and other things on that and roll it up tightly. The fridge cooled them down which helped solidify the rolls.

The sauce that went on top of them was not hard to make, at all, I just never had made a sauce that dealt with like flour and heavy cream and stuff like that. It paired nicely, and once that was done, I started frying the chicken rolls.

This part was what I was scared for because we don’t really fry in my house, so I’m not used to it. I knew then, this was gonna be a trip. And it was. I first off made a genuine mess trying to get a hammered chicken roll in the egg wash, flour, and breadcrumbs. Chile…anyways. Once I set them in the oil, I realized that the oil might’ve been too hot. The outside was cooking way quicker than the inside. I didn’t wanna serve raw chicken and give the whole house food poisoning cause that’s not my place to be doin’ that.

What gives me the right? Ya know? 

Since I messed up, I had to stick them in the oven until they reached the correct temperature. 

The fettuccine was actually really easy. It came from a box. I just slapped some butter and milk in a pot and kept going with life. 

The calzones were not hard, but they took time. I had to make the dough, which would not stop sticking to my hands. Then, I had to put it in a bowl with some olive oil, and let it rest and grow. It was so sticky though, so I gave it a good bit of the oil. Maybe too much.  Yeah, with stuffing and wrapping those up my meal was complete.

It took me four hours to complete all the food. Obviously, if I knew what I was doing better it wouldn’t have taken so long. I definitely could’ve managed my time better with when to prepare what, so everything was done at close to the same time. I would say the food was not Gordon Ramsey level, but it was still pretty decent. Honestly though, it was still super fun. If you ever get the chance to cook for some folks. Go and serve it up!