Drought and Famine: Desertion of Self

Wow! It’s been quite a while since I’ve written, or rather typed, an entry. As I was going through my previous blog entries, my last entry was back in September of last year. Believe me, a lot has happened during my hiatus. Usually, when I’m going through so much, I result to my writing or blog to purge and release. However, somewhere along the way, I lost my voice, my way. Then, the madness’s undertow caused me to drown…

I know I was supposed to pick up with a blog about “The Unexpected Adhesive;” on the other hand, that particular entry will have to be addressed at a later time; this one is more pressing at the moment. Bear with me as I attempt to share a little of the trials and tribulations I’ve had to endured after the month of September.

For starters, I had to take a leave of absence from school. From stressing to find a place to stay to trying to attend my night classes, it really took a toll on me wholeheartedly. My legs and feet had swollen so bad I could barely walk nor put shoes on. My migraines became more frequent; stress continued to escalate. Then, I applied for a job at Amazon; I passed the drug test and background test. All I was waiting for was a chance to start working. But, Amazon kept changing my “start date” to I never heard from them again. When I did try to call and speak to someone about the issue, I could never get anyone on the phone. Of course, I received a refund from school. So, I took that to book hotels, buy food, and gas for my car. Within a short time frame, I quickly learned how expensive it was to live in Massachusetts and not to mention all those doggone tolls! I did the best I could, but I had to admit defeat. I couldn’t find a place to stay nor a job. Money dwindled, and I had to come back to where I was trying to escape, HOME! I did not like it. Once I got back home, I knew things were going to pick up right where I left it: a redundant, endless cycle.

Things were still the same; I was still looking for a job with no luck. Adding insult to injury, the same ordeal happened with Cracker Barrel just like it did with Amazon. I applied, interviewed, and had to wait on the background check. I kept calling a few times to check for updates on being hired or not. “We still waiting on the background check,” the manager would tell me. I’m thinking to myself, “It shouldn’t take this long for a background check.” After that, I never heard from them again either. The same was for my partner too. He would get the interviews, but nothing else would follow. So, here we were. My significant other and I was back to sleeping out of the car with no money for food. I would tell him, “We just traded one hell for another.” I would cry myself to sleep and wonder would this nightmare ever end. I’m thinking, “We’re cursed. Still struggling to survive.”

Fortunately, my sister was kind enough to let us stay with her for a while. Finally, we were grateful to a warm place to sleep, a bathroom, etc. He and I continued to job hunt, but we still kept getting the same result. Then, my sister decided she wanted me and my partner to move out. My mother told me we could live with her. Well, my partner was able to finally get a job. I was relieved because I was on the verge of losing my car. However, my elation ended not too long after. The car broke down, and he never received his first check. We kept contacting human resources about it, but they kept giving us the runaround and lying; he filed a complaint with the Department of Labor & Wages but nothing. With no money to fix the car or catch up the payments, I had no choice but to surrender the car. First, I had to leave school; now, I lost my car. I’m telling you I was trying my best to stay afloat; the undertow was something else.

Still applying to jobs, we had one good thing to happen. My dog had puppies; she had seven at first but two died, and it left her with five puppies: Pinky, Red, Apple, Sweetie, and Baby (3 boys, 2 girls). Being around my babies, it helped offset the bad that was beginning to take over my conscious. During my childhood, my dad raised dogs: chows, rocks, and pits. This would be my first time raising pits, let alone five at the same time! It was a challenge at first, but they grew on me. Pinky was claimed by my partner (he’s also the one who dubbed him “Pinky.” He thought Pink was a girl. You can imagine his surprise. LOL). Over the passing of time, those five babies began to wear me down. Despite the turmoil and chaos happening to me, they began to center me. I felt a little peaceful. I just didn’t know what was about to happen. Another blow was getting ready to be administered.

Pinky was the biggest male among his brothers and sisters; Red was his twin, and they were red-nosed pits. Baby, Sweetie, and Apple were the blue-nosed clan. My mother kept complaining that I needed to “get rid of them”. I gave Apple to one of my cousins; his dog was very old, so he wanted one of the puppies. I knew he would love Apple. She was the toughest girl in the bunch; she gave her brothers a ran for their money. It was hard because I was so use to her being the little trouble maker and instigator, yet, I knew she would be in good hands.

A couple weeks later, Pinky was sick, really sick. He was vomiting brown liquid with a strong, sour odor; he lost a lot of weight and stopped eating. I didn’t know what was wrong with him. At first, I thought it was something he must’ve eaten. Then, I thought he had caught the CPV that dogs get. I moved him into the room with me and my partner. Pinky would climb in bed and sleep right beside me. I tried to keep him hydrated, but he would urinate frequently whatever he would intake. With no other choice, I called a vet for help. I’ve never been to a vet before. But, I knew if I didn’t do something, I would lose Pinky. That was not an option. I took Pinky to the vet. Basically, she told me he was dying and wouldn’t make it. I cried my eyes out as he just sat there, staring at me. Then, she was like we had 2 options: 1) put him down or (2) sign over our rights in order to treat him and find him a home. Me and my partner wanted to bring him back home with us, but she claimed he would not make it through the night. The decision was very hard, but I told my boyfriend to sign over the rights. I did not want to kill my baby. I picked him up with tears in my eyes. I kissed and told him that I loved him. My boyfriend did not take it well at all. The vet took Pinky away. I was very heartbroken because I felt he wasn’t going to make it, and I would never see him again.

Later, I found out that they did surgery and he survived. I felt that me and my partner were tricked. The vet said he was dying and he was not going to make it. She never mentioned anything about him just needing surgery. If that’s what was wrong with Pinky, why didn’t she just tell us that’s all he needed? I tried to see if I had a chance to either get him back or re-adopt him. The answer was no! I’m like how did this happen?! Everywhere I turned, I was losing everything! Pinky, my baby, was somewhere and not home with me, his brothers or sisters. He had a home; it was here with us! I think about him everyday; I’m still heartbroken. They would not even tell me where he was other than he was in foster care until he gets better; then, they were going to find him a home.

THIS WAS NOT FAIR!!! I wanted my baby back! The decision was bittersweet; although I was glad he made it, the thought of not seeing him again broke me. He continues to cross my mind. I secretly pray that I will be reunited with my Pink Man someday…someday soon.

It looks like the madness won after all. First, I had to leave school; second, I lost my car, and now, Pinky was gone. I have nothing. I’m dying everyday on the inside. I don’t have a plan and nothing to fall back on if nothing works out.

We still keep applying to jobs and nothing. We thought we had a job; however, we are still getting the runaround. I hate this era! All this technology, expansion of everything, and jobs are still scarce; people are still homeless and need help. I tell you this scares me, and I was fighting harder to stay afloat. Eventually, I got tired and surrendered.

Sinking to the fathom below me, thoughts and memories overwhelm my mind, my heart. But, the only repetitive thought that consumes me is what people have littered my mind throughout my existence: “Your hard work is going to pay off, one day.”

Ha! All my hard work hasn’t gotten me anywhere except for losing what I worked hard to keep. It may not have been much, but it was mine.

It hurts too much to talk, feel, or think now. I’m covered in gunk; I’m numb except to what I feel on the inside. No matter how hard I try or pray, it won’t cut off nor go away.

I was a fighter; I wasn’t going down easy. Everything that happened gradually stripped me down to nothing. Naked, vulnerable with no more defenses to hide behind this time.

“I haven’t the humanity to care anymore.” (C) “Branded” by J.N. McGhee

 

 

Day 7: Sabbatical Completed; Freed by Truth

I am proud of myself for staying committed throughout this sabbatical.

I attended church today; and, I must say that my soul was more than filled. The message came from Romans 5: 1-12; the sermon, “He looked beyond my faults.” Normally, when going to church, I take notes and record the sermon.

There were a few points that made me think:

  1. Trials teach you patience – patience acquires experience – experience gains hope. These steps are sequential; you can’t skip. Hope is highly positive expectations. God is not negative!
  2. Before and during your trials, learn to praise God. You can’t be a witness if you haven’t truly learned who God is in the storm.
  3. Good things take time. While in your process, let God marinate your situations. Don’t rush them! You won’t receive what God has in store for you. Impatience cause you to just take whatever is convenient.
  4. Learn the difference between concerning and worrying. It’s ok to be concerned. But when your concern becomes worrying, you need to place it in God’s hands.
  5. If you have to ask “why,” then you don’t have faith in God. If you don’t have faith, then you don’t trust him. If you don’t trust him, you don’t believe in him. If you don’t believe in him, it causes you to doubt him.

Well, let’s recap.

Day 1 was basically testing the waters. It did feel good to visit my “academic” mother. She believes in me which causes her to push me to my greater.

Day 2 was heavy hitter #1; I’m learning how to commit and work on me. I’ve always tried to prove myself to others by subjecting myself to be whatever people wanted. I’m learning that self-sacrifice doesn’t help anyone especially me.

Day 3 helped me reconnect to the flow of creativity again. Also, water was a healing element that proved to be more meaningful than I ever realized.

Day 4 was heavy hitter #2; I had to really dig within myself, scratch beneath the surface. I had to unearth the two main traumas that took root. I had to stop doing guesswork and actually acknowledge what I have been truly running from for years.

Day 5 – Bonding is a beautiful form of commitment and trust. Though I bonded with my sister, with anyone else, I know it is a matter of time.

Day 6 reminded me of God’s promise and how I just have to keep trusting in him while still working on me.

Day 7; the day of completion. Everything has come to fruition and seeds have been planted. I’ve seen the truth – I have been set freed.

I love how everything that has been revealed by the good Lord seems to tie in together.

The sabbatical maybe over, but I still have to continue to initiate and commit to changing myself daily.

I’m going to get to the next stage.

Moving forward and up…all the way.

Thank you, Lord for enlightening me!

Day 5: Sister Bonding Time

This will be a very short blog. Today was another eventful day; my sister stopped by the house to spend time with me, LOL, and wash her clothes. Little sister is always complaining about us not spending any time together. First, I made her take pictures with me. Our dog, Twyla, wanted to be included; so, I snapped a quick picture of her.

After the pictures, we decided to play video games. I chose to play Spyro 3:  Year of the Dragon. I love playing video games whenever I have the time to do so. We played games for a while until my sister told me she was exhausted. At first, I just looked at her and said, “Now, you’ve been whining and complaining for weeks about spending time together; and, you’re tired.” She replies, “I do have a job, you know. I do work, and I have to work again tomorrow.” I just shook my head. My sister is really something else, but she’s always been that way.

It felt good to have sister time as the sabbatical is coming full circle. I can’t say that each day has not been pretty amazing, enlightening, and healing.

I love my little sister even if she makes me wonder at times.

UPDATE: Emerson, Here I Come!

Hello, everyone! This will be a very short blog entry for today. I just wanted to give an update on the Emerson situation. On my previous blog, I was asking for donations to submit a $400 nonrefundable deposit fee to Emerson College to secure my spot. The ram in the bush I was praying and looking for arrived on June 7. That person was my little sister. She saw that a friend of mine had created a fundraiser for me on the gofundme platform. My sister decided to give me the entire amount; she expressed how she wanted me to finally be happy by pursuing my goals and obtaining a career in my field. I must say I did not see that coming. After all the stressing, anxiety, and worrying, God was right on time. So, we are in there! Thank you, Lord.

Now, that the deposit is secured. I have to make preparations to find a place to live and a job. A friend of mine connected to a non-profit organization who is going to help raise the money for most of that. Thank you, God…again. When people say, “it comes in 3s,” I guess they were not lying,

Also, I want to thank everyone who contributed whether you donated, invested time, prayers, positive vibes, etc. I truly thank you from the bottom of my heart. The seeds you have planted are about to come to fruition. Just watch. Still, I want to thank you all for continuing to witness my journey. This is another chapter in my life that’s about to begin.

I won’t lie; yes, I’m scared. Terrified, actually. But, the only way now is up. I can’t continue to stay at the bottom. I rather go for it and know that I tried rather the alternative.

More updates to come. You guys, be blessed.

Truth Revealed: MOST POETS Don’t SUPPORT Other Poets!

Hello, everyone!

It’s been a while since my last blog. I’ve been enduring my trials in the interim. But this will probably be a short entry or not. I guess we will find out.

So, I just read a review from a “so-called” fellow poet. I will only highlight what gave me pause…

“I appreciate the creativity of using the ‘2’ as ‘to’ or ‘too’, or the ‘?’ instead of ‘question’, but when it is done repeatedly in various poems, it loses its uniqueness and ruins a bit the feel of a poem. There were a couple of ‘ur’ and ‘u’ as well, which weren’t as bothersome. Apart from these, there were few grammatical issues, which are easily overlooked, as no work I have read so far was perfect.

The writing style wasn’t my cup-of-tea either. There was a lack of flow or rhythm to it. As some of the reviews mentioned, some metaphors were forced, and so were some rhymes. I think when one opts for rhyming, the rhythm of that poem should also be more consistent, or else the rhyme is not even as effective. Some of the rhyming pieces really threw me off as they seemed forced, and that’s a shame when the message of the poems was so personal and touching. I can feel the potential in the expression, but I just cannot get behind the style of writing — it simply is not my style to read.” – Anonymous

Now, I wasn’t under the impression that my way of expressing myself was supposed to be subjected to “YOUR” standard way of writing. Also, I read this person’s pieces as well. Only I read to follow along in the story, not to critique it! I personally didn’t like them, but I respected his way of expressing what he felt. Maybe I’m just different, an alien or something. It really seems like no one wants to listen to the story! People want to pick it apart piece by piece because they didn’t like this or that.

I really give because this doggone millennium knows nothing of art or expression. The only thing they care about is the form, not the art!

When I started writing, I was a child. I had no idea what I was writing. I just wrote whatever came to mind. Then, I was taught, at the point, that all poems rhymed. Heck, if you give a little girl a piece of paper and told her to write what she feels, are you going to tear her down because of the “form” or the way she chose to express herself didn’t fit the way you wanted her to do it?

Those poems began at childhood…

I’m done sharing my art! Why couldn’t I’ve been in a time or in the era of the Transcendentalist? They appreciated the freedom and expression of art! Now, all artists are starving because we have to write what people like or what they want to make “it” feel worthy.

Guess what?

True poets support poets because they understand the message, not the form! If you’re constantly worrying about this or that. You’re going to miss the message. All those “urs,” “u’s”, and “?”, they’re there for a purpose. How do you know the little girl is not directing something towards you directly? Hmm….makes you think. It’s our job as poets to convey the message, not to explain it. Everyone has their own perspective of looking at things.

But, I digress.

These dang reviews do not make my book any less important. Despite it not being a bestseller or any other accolade, it is my legacy. And when I part from this God-forsaken planet, it’s all I will leave behind. It’s immortal.

No matter what others say or how they quietly try to tear it down, you can’t take it away.

The power of words…

It’s real whether you believe it or not. Speak LIFE! We have enough negativity in this world: hatred, violence, poverty, jealousy, etc. We’re so quick to throw someone under the bus. So quick to say, “I didn’t like this, or I don’t like that.”

Lesson Learned: Just because people say they support you. “Support” is an action word; support is more than just words or even doing. It has to be genuine from the heart and soul. Just because we’re poets, it seems we won’t be “wholeheartedly” standing together to help bring recognition back to poetry.

You better be careful if you’re caught in a lie. I promise you – it will show around your edges.

I’ll see the real you.

I won’t explain myself or my art ever again!

It’s the last time!

I’m done ranting. More updates to come later.

Chance of Lifetime: The L.A. Art Show

This will probably be a short blog entry…or not.

Well, back in January, I got the chance to go the L.A. Art Show and Aldis Hodge would be among the other artists to meet and greet while discussing his artistic collaboration with another beautiful artist name Harmonia.

Yes, this trip was spontaneous. Totally unplanned, but what the heck? When I plan stuff, it never turns out right. So, this time, I tried something different. I book a room; my drive was like 1 day, and 2 hours away. I started driving Friday, on January 12th. I knew Aldis would be at the event on the 14th. I wanted to make sure I was there. The drive was long especially when I had to drive through the state of Texas! My goodness! As I was driving, I began to think, “Lord, am I ever going to get out of this state?” I did enjoy the scenic route. The multiple states I had to drive through just to get to Los Angeles; the things I saw, the various speed limits, etc. However, once I got to Arizona and New Mexico, I was just drenched in sweat. When I left, it was cold like 32 degrees. In Arizona and New Mexico, desert heat! I couldn’t stand it.

But on January 13th, around 11: 34 p.m., I had made it to my destination. I was exhausted; the place where I booked the room gave me the 3rd degree about paying a security deposit. I told them I didn’t see that on their website and asked why they didn’t inform me of that information when I call to confirm my reservation. Some stranger, a guy, offered to pay the security deposit for me. I was grateful because I threatened to sleep in my car if I had to. They gave me the key to my room, and I just fell across the bed, passed out.

The next day,  I got up early to take a shower, get dressed, and pack. Of course, I had no idea where anything was located. Thank God for Google Maps (it works, sometimes). I didn’t have to drive far just an 8-minute drive. I found the Convention Center; it was massively HUGE! I’m thinking to myself, “I really got to get out more.” I park and go inside. I had no idea what the dress code would be for an event like this, so I dressed up a little with my blue jean, denim sneakers. (I was thinking about wearing heels; I’m glad I changed my mind.) The event opened at 11:00 a.m., but Aldis would not be there until 1:00 p.m. I stood in a very long line for a long while. Finally, the line began to move. Once I received my stamp, I started taking pictures of me, other people, and people asking me to take pictures of them.

The art gallery was littered with multiple art pieces from so many other artists. To be honest, I started in the middle and worked my way to the left side; I never made it to the right side of the gallery. That’s how spacious this place was. I took so many pictures of the art; it kind of made me connect to my creativity, my vision. I felt like I was meant to be there to witness other forms of talent with art: sculpturing, painting, crocheting, glass, mural…too much to count.

However, I looked up and Aldis Hodge passes right by me. Earlier, I was looking for his art piece, trying to find the section he would be in. Oddly, like me, I had passed by it. I was one of the first people to see and meet him and his mother. I asked his mother to take a picture with me. She was a little hesitant at first, but I got her to take 2. The funny thing is meeting Momma Yolette, Aldis’ mother, I almost fainted! I was hyperventilating, burning up, trying to speak…His mother had to calm me down. Why did I do that? Once, I had read how Aldis and his elder brother, Edwin acknowledged their mom: what she taught and sacrificed for them. To be in her presence, I was just in awe. How embarrassing (the story of my life).

Then, I took a picture with Aldis and Ms. Harmonia. He asked my name, shook my hand, and was like, “It’s nice to meet you, Jasmine.” I’m like, “Wow, is this really happening to me? I’m a small town, countrywoman. Stuff like this doesn’t happen to me.” I left right after the pictures were taken.

My grandfather lived in Lancaster, so I stopped by for a visit. He bought 2 copies of my book and asked me to autograph them. I just look at him and laugh to myself. I had to leave because I had to make it back to work on time. Plus, there were reports of snow hitting Mississippi. I thought I would make it before that, but I got caught in it. It was very windy when I arrived in Midland, TX. I thought my car was going to be blown off the road; I have a small car.

Before I reached Dallas, it had started snowing. It wasn’t heavy until I arrived in Shreveport, LA. I had to call my friend because I was scared. I’ve never driven in snow before. He stayed on the phone until he couldn’t anymore. I made it to Mississippi safely around 5:30 a.m. I had decided not to go to work; I couldn’t anyway. The bridges had iced over so bad that many cars were either sliding off the road or sliding into the bridge. Thank God I made it home.

3 things I will admit:

  1. Although, I’ve never driven in snow before; just watching it fall in front of me and to the ground was simply beautiful and breathtaking.
  2. Meeting Aldis, Momma Yolette, and Ms. Harmoina was one of the most treasured life experiences I will cherish for the rest of my days.
  3. The LA Art Show was definitely worth the trip. Other than Aldis and Ms. Harmonia, I hate I didn’t get to meet any other artists. Just seeing those art pieces was awe-inspiring.

With that being said, at least I’ll have another crazy adventure to tell my nephew, D-baby when he’s older. The crazy, spontaneous antics of TeTe Jasz.

Yea, I can’t wait.

*More blogs to come. I was aiming for 4 in one day, but 2/4 is not bad. Just more for me to write tomorrow.*

Here are a few pictures from the LA Art Show. Trust me, that’s not even half of them.

 

 

 

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Backdrop Pt. 2, In the Interim: The Gap after the Publication of My Book and the Birth of My Nephew

It’s the last week of March. I’ve been meaning to keep my blogs current, but I will have to divulge the “why” on another blog entry. As for this one which is long overdue, I have to fill in the gap on what happened after my book was published along with the birth of my nephew.

Shortly, after those two events happened simultaneously, I was asked to come and speak at my Alma Mater, Jackson State University (JSU), to the graduate class of publishing and marketing. I shared my experience with them about being a self-published author, the marketing ordeal, etc. Overall, I admitted to having fun with marketing my book once I found my footing. I told them the various software, tools, and methods that I used and felt would be easier for me. At the same time, it helped me really tap into my creativity on another avenue. Some asked questions; others asked about the book cover, formatting, and all. One of my old instructors asked me, “Why did you choose self-publishing instead of traditional?” I answered, “Most traditional publishers do not feel that poetry will sell. However, with self-publishing or independent publishing, it opened so many opportunities for me. I got to connect with other “indie” authors, writers, graphic designers, and the other creative individuals. In the beginning, I had no idea how to market my book. I reached out, asked others about the methods used to promote their book, and they were all too eager to share their knowledge with me. It was so exciting to be able to ask for help or ideas that these individuals just opened up and advised on what to do. It wasn’t a competition. Once I had what I needed, I just had to apply what they revealed; for the most part, it worked. A couple of students acknowledged that I inspired them to write or even publish their books, poems, or whatever. When my presentation was done, I passed out my author information, encouraged them to contact me if they had any questions or needed help, and I exited that class with a smile on my face. For the first time in a long time, I held my head up. I didn’t look down at the ground as I was walking. I corrected my posture, strutted, and told myself, “I am somebody. I do matter. There are people who are looking at me, admiring me; though, I don’t know who they are. I still want to give back, plant a seed, and hope the seed takes to their soil like so many others before did for me.”

A few weeks later, I connected with my other poetry groups. I didn’t even know there were so many poets in Mississippi. (Lol, I guess they were in hiding.) Years ago, before I graduated from JSU, I had met with a group of poets called the MS Society of Poets, or as I call them, The Belhaven Poets. Why? Because they meet at Belhaven College. I wanted to become a member, but for monetary reasons, I couldn’t join at the time. Yet, I was invited to come and share my poetry. And I did. They were in love with my poetic babies. Before, I didn’t want to share because I’ve always met such negativity, skepticism, and rudeness about my poetry or how I write it. Afterward, one of the poets pulled me to the side and said, “Your poetry is something else. It’s very thought-provoking; it provokes awareness: emotionally, mentally, etc. Don’t you dare stop writing! Continue to write! Continue to be you as you’re fashionably are! Don’t let anyone take that from you! Who cares what others think or say. These are your words; let them unfold and tell your story! No one can stop you except you!” I was so shocked when she said that. But those words left an imprint. It’s funny I haven’t thought about those words until now, as I’m typing this blog. I forgot her name, but I will never forget her or what she planted inside me.

My other group is the Anonymous Poets; I love these poets. There is nothing but a handful of them; they still meet anyway. These are more seasoned, experienced poets. And I’m the only “young’un” as they refer to me. Deep down, I know it makes them happy to have a “young” poet among them. Perhaps, it makes them feel young at heart. Besides, I’m really an old soul myself. What others do or what they are into, I’m just not into it. Just the simple things do it for me.

 

Whenever I meet with them, I feel right at home, spiritually. It’s an indescribable feeling to be among the same individuals who share your passion, who crave the words and emotions that need to be expressed without ridicule or judgment. We’re all there to just share our thoughts, our vision: to just birth creativity and let it be. Not tearing it to shred because it doesn’t fit one’s “criteria.” Poetry is energy; it flows, and it comes from within our hearts, our spirits, our minds; the very thing that comprises human beings. It’s been a while since I’ve been with them, but I will return to that welcome table. Count on it!

In a couple of my previous entries, I talked about my 1st Author Vendor Event with Ms. Gigi, and the Jackson Expo, my 2nd Author Vendor. Now, I’ve caught up to what happened last year. And, well, lol, that’s last year.

This is 2018; I got to get caught up from January to now.

Hope you’re ready for it.

Book Signing for December 8th – Secured!

Hello, everyone! I’ve been so busy trying to schedule a book signing. So I was finally able to secure a time, date, and location. This will be my first, official book signing! It will take place at a local library on December 8th from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. (The rest of the info is on the flyer that’s at the end of the blog). I’m so excited yet nervous at the same time. Also, the Downtown Marketplace in Yazoo City, MS will be selling a few copies of my book in their store! They were really nice, helpful, and supportive.

Other than that, local promotion is going pretty good. It started off on a rocky, uncertain start. Once I found my footing, it picked up some. But all praises and glory go to the good Lord. I’m just so happy and humble that he has truly blessed me beyond words. As I prepare for this book signing, I’m hoping everything turns out ok.  The flyer is ready; I’ve been printing and hanging them in local businesses.

My goal was to do at least two book signings before the end of the year. However, it was so many other writers and authors trying to do the same thing around the same time.  So I just told myself to do this one; and, at the beginning of next year, I would try to schedule another book signing.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow! I can’t wait to eat to my heart’s content. I have so much to be thankful. This year has been filled with ups and downs, false starts, detours, etc. Overall, I can say that I have so much to be thankful for. My new nephew, my heart, Deon’tae – my D-Baby. I’m a published author; I’m connecting with other like-minded, creative individuals.

So Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

After everything slows up, I’ll do a couple of backdrop entries about what happened after the book was published along with the birth of my nephew. 🙂

I promise.

Book Signing Flyer #2.jpg

Little Girl Still Not Heard. The Story Continues to be ignored

Today is the day. A decision has to be made…

So, I had purchased a book review and an author review for $60. This individual claimed to support Indie Authors. I’m thinking, “Well, maybe this person can help. I’ve been getting lies, the runaround, etc.” When I woke up this morning, (I wasn’t fully awake yet) I read that review. It felt like someone sucked the life out of me. (The book review is a reblogged entry if you want to read it).

Basically, I’m a “failed poet.” “This book is the most difficult, most underrated form of art using words. Clumsiness, some metaphors seem forced, artificial, and not at all inspired. This short book is an example of what a few neatly placed words can done (it’s supposed to be “do”), what can be achieved within the confines of letters and punctuation.” And my book received a 4-star rating. On the contrary, my book was critiqued not reviewed.

To be honest, I don’t even care about the rating. It’s the wording of the review! Poetry is an art! Just like a painting, sculpture, or anything. It’s not the beauty of words; it goes beyond that!!! There’s a story within the poems that I’ve dedicated my life to writing, to convey.  For some reason, nobody is listening to the doggone story! They’re so busy trying to restrict my poetry to guidelines, rules, and how “they” think it should be. The cliche’, “You’ll miss the forest looking at the trees.” This review is a prime example.

Nobody doesn’t want to listen to the story, yet everyone is very quick to say, “everyone has a story to tell.” But who truly wants to listen? Who out there has the open mind to really see what the little girl is saying in that book?!

There is a huge difference between a writer and a poet. I’m a POET! Someone once shared “poetry burns the soul and evokes emotion.” A true and profound statement.

As I stated, I am that little girl. Yes, my story still goes unheard. Perhaps, if it was a novel, it would be more receptive. My allegiance is to poetry. I’m open to all types of literature. Poetry won my heart a long time ago. It saved me when “people” didn’t have the time to listen, care, or just have the time.

Being a published author is one of, if not the only, accomplishment in my life. Like, “Hey, after all the hurt, pain, multiple types of death, it all lead me here.” Now, I’m undergoing another type of death: the death of the soul, the death of a poet. Poetry used to be held in such high regards. In this decaying, withering, society, most wouldn’t know what art was if it was right in front of them.

I’ve been facing so much rejection because I’m a self-published author, or my book is poetry. But, I kept trying, trying to connect, trying new ideas…..

My worst fear: my poems out in the open; I can’t protect them or keep them safe. As long as they were on my computer, written in composition books and journals, and within my safe haven, I could control who I wanted to read them and put my poetry away. However, that’s no longer an option.

There are some who share my vision while others heartlessly mutilate my soul.

“Sorry, Little Girl. No one is listening still. So let’s go back to our unreality. Pretend we have a few like minds there. The world’s reality is not my reality. Their sense of rules is overbearing and unrealistic. But prejudice, isolation, and fake patriotism is the drivel that fuels society’s sanity. If rejection doesn’t kill me first, then I will be the world’s main course. And those that speak “truth” will be silenced within Dante’s Inferno. Never to be seen or heard from again: The ‘One-Hit Wonders’.

Subjected to mediocre meanings such as the period, an end. A comma, a possible addition. A semicolon, another addition making it more complex. Letters birth words involving the alphabet. How else would man have learned to categorize, to define the ‘thing,’ the ‘it.’  Yes, ‘it” could be anything. But what would yours be?

Let art live. Just let it be. Stop trying to cut it up, define it, understand it. It simply just the ‘is.’ Words do cut deep, and the truth is supposed to free the soul. Do you really want to be set free? Or be condemned to the world’s crumbling, archaic method of thinking?

I’m an artist; I will die an artist. But I will choose my demise.
NOT YOU!”

© – J.N. McGhee, poet (first), published author

 

 

 

 

Doubly Blessed

Well, today is one of the happiest days of my life! My first book of poems, “Little Girl Blues: Existence of an Image” is available on Paperback and Kindle version! And I have a new little nephew, D-Baby. I’m so excited; he’s the first and only nephew. I’m just thrilled that he will be an addition to my life. My life has changed so much from every dark corner on every turn. However, I’m glad that I’m on my journey. Though I’ve recently lost a few friends, I’m learning that there are going to be a lot more who will not be taking this journey with me.

It was hard to grasp at first; now, I’m on my way to fulfilling my goals and dreams for once. I always help so many with their dreams and goals that I often forsake my own. I’m getting older, and I don’t have anymore time to waste on people who refuse to acknowledge that, “Hey, I matter too.”

That’s all for today! Don’t forget to get your copy of “Little Girl Blues: Existence of an Image” on Amazon, paperback and Kindle today! Hope you enjoy the read; I also pray that this book plants a seed. It’s up to you to help nurture and help it grow in the right direction.

God bless because I surely am.Little_Girl_Blues_Cover_for_Kindle (1)