Category: Junior Literary

I am truly exhausted. As an empowered black woman speaking for other empowered black women, I can say that I am tired. Tired of the neglect of my people, the disconnection between races, and the unappreciation from my male counterparts. I am dissatisfied and work entirely too hard to achieve equal rights for my black brothers and sisters to be treated like I am less than such, not only by white people, but my own kin. I cannot stress this enough: I AM IMPORTANT. I am a woman, I am a creator and a destructor. I can both build and break this society with the snap of my fingers. I hold the weight of the world on my shoulders and future generations within my body.

I go underappreciated and misunderstood each day that I walk this earth. And do you know what I get for speaking my mind? I get referred to as an angry black woman! Why must I, the supporter and back bone of this country, be called angry for giving only a piece of a larger part of my mind? My people are treated in a less than humane manner and here I am smiling in the face of by-passers, protesting, and marching for those who are considered less than equal. I have been hosed, bitten by dogs, and kicked out of several places for my race. But worse to come, you and your friends with your “white girl” jokes. Well hell, I’m just as black as you are! Excluding me from certain aspects within my own community because I’m lighter than most, where as I do more for you than half of the “real black” people in this state. Where do I stand in all of this you ask? In the forefront, because I refuse to stand to the side, back, or even middle of this chaos! I will lead. I will represent my people where everyone can witness it regardless of who accepts me and who does not. I will continue to strive for black excellence and racial unity in hopes that I live to see better days. My efforts may continue to go unrecognized but, in the end, it will be me, a part of a greater good, who changes this world for the better. I will rise each day and give my last breath to change and see to it that society sees African American citizens as equal counterparts. I will also use every bit of power in me so that black women are recognized for all that they are worth and given the credit they deserve, without being viewed as “the angry black woman”.

culture war // arcade fire

and so we have the final part of the suburbs (finally).

when i first started writing this series, i don’t think i realized how introspective i would have to be to write it, and i definitely don’t think i realized that it would turn into something completely different from my original intentions. now, i’m not entirely sure what my original intentions were, but they certainly weren’t ending up admitting that getting away from home isn’t always what you want it to be.

now, don’t get me wrong; i love msa a whole whole lot, but it’s not the home i wanted it to be. it’s a new place i have to find myself in, and that’s okay.

as a writer, the feelings of home and belonging have always been topics that i’ve wanted to write about. i love the idea of home being something that you have to feel rather than a place that you live in, and i’m sure that doesn’t go unnoticed in some of my pieces. at the same time, i’m also an innately nostalgic human being, and i write about that a lot as well. i love reminiscence and memories, and i love the writing that can come out of remembering.

the idea of suburbia being a feeling like home is to me came from when i first had the idea to write this series. i had just downloaded arcade fire’s entire discography, and i fell in love with “sprawl II”(i don’t think there was a single day in september i didn’t listen to that song AT LEAST twice). so i started to write a blog about it, and the idea for this series came to be.

if you haven’t noticed, each part of this series is paired with a song (or two). each part of this series is based in chronological order on arcade fire’s album, the suburbs. i tried writing for “sprawl II” and didn’t get very far, but i knew i still wanted to work on this idea of my life in a suburban small town. then i remembered this little song called “suburbia” by troye sivan (yes claire i listen to troye), and i knew what i wanted to do. i knew i wanted to capture the distinctions i have between living in the suburbs as a concrete location versus growing up in suburbia as an abstract state of mind.

so, i wrote it. and i’m pretty proud of it if you ask me. i wanted to write about where i’m from, and i wanted to write about how where i’m from has affected me. i wrote about the suburbs, and i learned that maybe my home isn’t as bad as i’d made it out to be.

and with that, i highly recommend that you all go listen to this beautiful album (i’ll be waiting here for you to tell me if you like it), and i hope you enjoyed the suburbs.

I was on Instagram yesterday and got an ad for something incredible LifeAid, a line of beverages that are all meant to be drunk at different times.  Before going any further, I feel that it’s important to make clear that I have tried none of these beverages, but regardless, I feel like there is a lot that I have to say about them.  LifeAid itself comes in a Lemon Spice flavor and is meant to be drunk at anytime of day.  Something that I find interesting about it is that one of the “key supplements” included in LifeAid is cayenne which I personally never would have thought would belong in a beverage other than a Bloody Mary perhaps.

Another beverage offered by the LifeAid brand is FitAid which comes in a non-specific “citrus” flavor.  It takes a clear step further in terms of extreme-ness compared to its original counterpart LifeAid.  The most extreme, recommended use of LifeAid is when doing yoga or shopping.  FitAid, however, is reccomended to be used when at the gym, hiking, biking, or running.  Like LifeAid, FitAid also includes a surprising spice in turmeric.

FitAid also has its own spin-off product known as FitAid Fuel which comes in a little pouch.  They are meant to be consumed either before or after working out.  From pictures on the website, they seem to come in two flavors, tart-apple banana and tangy-apple sweet potato.  I could see either of those tasting alright, but I think tangy-apple sweet potato would likely be the better of the two because the fall flavors would work well together.

The next beverage is FocusAid.  This is the first beverage under the LifeAid brand which was recommended to me.  This beverage is considerably less extreme than FitAid, but honestly, can any beverage compete with the extreme extremity of FitAid, the absolute most extreme drink in existence?  This beverage is one that I’d guess would be much more suited for my own lifestyle seeing as I live a very unextreme life and that one of the suggested uses of the beverage is when gaming which I do pretty often.  The other suggested uses are for at work and school which leaves this sounding like one of the nerdier drinks made by LifeAid.  The flavor of FocusAid is listed as “Fusion Tea” which could be really good or absolutely terrible.  Fusion Tea is a really nonspecific name, and it’s never said what exactly the tea is “fused” with.

Following the totally lame FocusAid for losers is the totally radical PartyAid for major Chads*.  PartyAid helps you to party hardcore nonstop.  Oh yeah!  It’s intended use is, of course, before, during, AND after you party.  It comes in an awesome berry flavor, and one of the key supplements is milk thistle which I completely genuinely think sounds really cool.   (I’m not sure what it is, but it definitely sounds really cool.)  Unfortunately, I do not party all that often, so I don’t see this particular beverage of being especially of use to me.  Either way, I’d really like to try it alongside all of the other ones.

The penultimate beverage from LifeAid is none other than TravelAid.  Assumably needless to say, TravelAid is recommended to be used when one travels.  Specifically, the drink’s function seems to be to defend against diseases that one might encounter on transport systems such as buses, planes, and trains.  The flavor of this beverage is “Ginger Ale” which I imagine would be alright.  (I have no strong opinions on ginger ale; it’s acceptable and little else.)  Like LifeAid, TravelAid also contains turmeric, but this surprises me less seeing as it is ginger ale flavored.  On second thought, turmeric in lemon spice makes just as much sense.  I’m less interested by this one than most of the others, honestly.  Nothing much really strikes me about it.  This, however, is very different compared to the final LifeAid beverage.

This final beverage is the one that I am most interested in and the reason that I chose to write a blog about these at all.  That drink is GolferAid.  I personally find it absolutely hilarious that there would exist a drink specifically for golfing of all things.  I’m not sure why I find it so funny, but I undeniably do.  GolferAid comes in a “Tropical” flavor.  I’m not sure why the makers of GolferAid thought that “Tropical” was the best flavor for golfers, but as one who does not golf, I suppose I have not much room to speak.  For whatever reason, this drink also contains turmeric which, while I can understand it being included in “Lemon Spice” and “Ginger Ale”, I see no place for it in a flavor like “Tropical”.  I am still very eager to try GolferAid simply because the concept entertains me.

I am honestly excited to try all of these, and will likely be ordering the sample pack sometime soon.  If I do, I’ll probably turn this into a series with a review of each individual drink.  Comment and tell me if you think I should do that or stick to my usual, random, bloggy stuff.

*see the second definition listed https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Chad

To the people I’m hurting, the ones I’m hurt by, and the people who I have broken,

There are so many pieces of myself that wish to become someone else. I am myself, but I have several separate selves inside of me. I am usually surrounded with this idea that my freedom is found in the gut, that one day I’ll get out of the hole I’ve been digging for the last seventeen years and just run across the expanse of the sun, feet catching fire and not caring. I am careful with whom I let see my ruffled feathers; I try to persuade my body to bend with the wind, but my spine chips every time.

I miss so many people that have fallen out of my life. I used to hate the color blue, because it didn’t feel smooth or warm or even real, and now, it’s yellow that I cant stand. Blue is stitches and patches worn in to the side of my jeans, it’s bloodied knuckles for no reason and flower petals, but from the side of the road on the way home. Blue is my detrimental state, and I feel too whole in it these days. I miss yellow, but am glad to have busted out of it. I am, in a sense, broken into different people now. My head spins just to think of all the changes my life has rolled across in the last year and a half.

Seventeen.

 

I can’t keep from looking back and letting myself rot. I am perpetually eaten away by the people I cannot see unless I close my eyes. I want dark things more than I need to unhurt the hearts I’ve squeezed a little too tightly.

And pretty soon, pretty words aren’t going to be good enough for me. Pretty soon, I’m going to need something to hit hard like concrete and stick past the slimy surface of what I’ve been skating on.  This is the most terrified I have felt in a while, and I don’t know why. I don’t want to know why, but I think I already have a pretty good idea of it.

I can’t look in a mirror without seeing the cracked shell of a halo, cast along my ears. I can’t feel anymore. I can’t see or be or do because I am not whole enough. I am not enough for my situation, or the people around me, or anything like that. Life has no meaning, at least, not when I’m looking for a reason every night to not swerve off the highway and drive until my truck hits an irrevocable future. I can’t talk like this without wanting to break all the mirrors in my house. I already miss you, and I haven’t even tried to leave yet. (I haven’t really been here for a while.)

More love than I thought possible, all the pretty words and pathetic poetry I write for the wrong reasons, all to You (and You, and You too),

Kate

 

I’m jumping off a long high rise into a cauldron of space
smashing my head into a glass window
full of tiny porcupine needles to feel the thrill in it all
This is what it feels like to go into a hyperactive shock
Jumping and moving and telling everything
all with shaky hands and twitchy fingers
tie me to an airplane and send me to the moon and back
and I would bow at your feet like a dog
This is what it feels to be already gone
three miles down the road
praying for a truck to zoom its way into my body
So I could catch it with my ballerina’s feet
and kick it into oblivion
like myself
into a place so deep and down that my bubble pops
and I’m lost in a moving nothingness
that consumes my skin like a parasite
starving for its next meal
When I’m all gone
but still present in every single last thing
that decides to wink
and show their Cheshire’s teeth
at a wife pricked with nerves and booze
while her husband stands two feet away
looking at the produce aisle as if it was his last meal
Growling to get to apples
ripe and plump and young
Much nicer than the saggy pears decomposing with age
I’d settle for floating again to nothing
as my crazy leg bounds across the table
like a jackhammer set on high
And that shoulder pain
pinching my testy nerves
and my flapping tongue
and my roaming eyes
always roaming
they never stop to take a rest
what for?
let me be that roller coaster
forever in loop
Dizzy spinning youths
until they throw up from too much regret
until it comes crashing down in some magnificent explosion
I was that clown standing too close to that inferno
I’ll get burned to a crisp catching a flaming child
in my fragile hands
Handing it to that lady begging for her child to survive
a hundred more children died
their screams melt into my pounding head
But I’m relishing in my dancing fingers
flying, crashing, burning
I’m already speeding up
washing the old out
and flushing my system with the new
The waves of energy leak through my pores
Makes them big and unattractive
Makes the boys run away
and gives the girls hives
I’m oozing yellow like a pimple
Then I finally fall down on red

 

 

 

 

Take a step in my direction

come closer,

no.  really look at me.

observe my fuzzy lines and changing angles.

Notice I havent yet faded?

I’ve just switched  my colors

from a solid green to yellowed, rainbow pinstripes.

I am different;

I am changing.

---

Sometimes, I feel like I am not who I am supposed to be.  Not that who I am is bad.  Just that I never saw myself here, not physically, but personality-wise.

So when I think about reverting, going back to the old me or who I think I am supposed to be; I reject the idea within minutes.  First, I think, ‘What a great exterior that would be.’  Then I realize just how unhappy I would be.

So, I am accepting the changing, the shaping, the unknowing.  I’m going to tumble where the wind blows me.  I don’t want to be tied down, yet I don’t want to be lost to all.   There is a sort of balance I strive for, which, I know will take a long time to achieve.  Somehow, it’s like I won’t be happy until I can follow my heart, but I also want someone to help guide me along the way from time to time.  It’s sort of a give and take.  It just isn’t as easy as staying still and stagnant, which I can’t do.

I don’t care that it might take years; I accept the challenge.

Since I was in junior high, I wanted to become familiar with every inch of land on this earth.  I wanted to feel every ray of sun and moon, and touch every drop of ocean and sea.  I wanted a new perspective because I knew the one I had was not the only one to have, and that bothered me.  I need variety.  I need change.

Before now–today, sitting right here typing this–I had been stuck on the past.  I was stuck on everything that had ever bruised or brushed me, good or bad.

I think I am done with that.  I think that from now on I am going to try to transition into a new sight, a completely different outlook on person.  I used to see all those cheesy quotes like, “It’s not where you came from, it’s where you’re headed”.  I would look at them and think, ‘no.’  But now, I find sort of a truth in it.  It does matter where I came from, but not as much as I previously had thought.

I am headed wherever I choose.  Not one word of my past will whisper my future, because if people can change immensely, so can fate.

I have my father’s teeth, but my mother’s bite

This makes me good at fighting,

And bad at everything else

I snap bones

Draw blood

Break hearts

And still I swear I’m more of a lover than a fighter

More of a loser than a winner.

The kind of guy that only wants you when you don’t want him

The kind of girl that wants only what doesn’t belong to her

The kind of guy you write angry poetry about

The kind of girl you write breakup songs for

The kind of guy you don’t take home to your parents

The kind of girl who can’t be owned

This scared you.

Fight or flight?

You were never a fan of heights

So  you hit

And you missed

And I dodged

And I fell

Deeper

And deeper

And you jumped in after me

Still swinging and kicking

Swinging and kicking

‘I’ve gotta keep you on your toes’ you’d say

But I had fallen head first

Deeper

And deeper

I was too old for fighting by the time you caught up with me

By that time I was good for nothing

And you were good for everything

‘When are we going to fight?’

When are you going to start saying what you mean

‘Hit me’

Kiss me

‘Don’t look at me like that’

Make me

You hurt to look at

Must be love

Or at least that’s what my friends say

I don’t think love is supposed to hurt

I don’t see a point in that

Other types of love don’t hurt

So why should this

We always end up in this position

With you over me

Gives you a false sense of security

That you’re the one in control

I let you believe it

I, a wolf in sheep’s clothing

You, an angel in disguise

Y’know

Like that song you like

By that artist I love

‘You’re lying’

If I was you wouldn’t be able to tell.

‘Does this mean choke?’

You know it doesn’t

‘Coward’

Maybe

Dog bites and bee stings got nothing on you babe

But you’re still one of my favorite things

Scarier than any horror movie

Scarier than that dream I had last night

Scarier than your mom

We would have never worked

But we didn’t need the cards to tell us that

Did we

I can only love in ways you don’t know how

Swinging and kicking

Even skeletons need more than skinny love

Swinging and kicking

Red and blue

Swinging and kicking

But your drop was shallow

‘I do like you’

Deeper

And deeper

‘But we could never be together.’

Deeper

And deeper

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the suburbs  (continued) // arcade fire

for seven years, the place i called home never truly felt like home. i always felt like the outsider, the outlier, the vines of kudzu that eat ate the trees and cover everything in green. i was the puzzle piece that never quite fit right. i was the flower that couldn’t be planted with the other seeds in the bed.

only after leaving to find what i thought would be my new home did i realize just how much at home i felt in hernando.

i spent seven years sitting and waiting, and in all that time, i never quite knew what i was waiting for. maybe now that i’m not waiting anymore, i’m realizing that what i was waiting for was for home to finally feel like home. i wasn’t waiting to find a new home or waiting for suburbia to fertilize the soil i was planted in. i was waiting to feel home, not just reside in it.

i wasted so much of my time and so much of my energy trying to escape, and now i sit here and miss home. i miss ladybug bakery and my chemistry class and la siesta and the kroger marketplace and commerce street. i miss the town i’ve come too know and love but didn’t even realize i love until i was leaving it.

i never expected to be sitting here at a school i’ve dreamed of for so many years because i saw it as my chance to get away from home and actually miss home.

maybe suburbia just creeps up on you when you least expect it, and maybe it crept up on me seven years too late. maybe that feeling i’d been searching for the whole time was always there, and i just had to sit down for a minute and find it. it’s the one puzzle piece you spend ages looking for, just for it to have been right under your nose the whole time.

i’m okay with admitting that i miss home. i’m okay with admitting that writing this series has helped me realize that the things i’d assumed about the suburbs are wrong. but if it weren’t for those wrong assumptions, i can tell you for a fact that i would not be sitting here right now.

for seven years, i let the suburbs motivate me to get out of them. i let them push me to want to find where i belonged.

i still don’t quite know where i belong yet. i don’t know where i’m going, and i don’t know how i’m going to get there, but i know where i’m from, and only i can decide where to go from there.