Alphabet of Life-ing: God

Link to project page if you haven’t read it from the beginning:

https://rescloset22.wordpress.com/category/the-alphabet-of-life-ing-project/
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God and I have a very strained relationship at times and, to be honest, that’s my fault. God is the type of entity that has arms spread wide open always to anyone, no discrimination. He wants everything that I hold. The thing is I like holding on to the bad things sometimes. They’re mine and they comfort me. It’s when I’m truly alone that they become a burden and they eat away at whatever light is left. God wants it, he wants all these bad things because he can take them on better than I can.

The thing about Him is he doesn’t ask sometimes. Either that, or he’ll wait for a blind spot. A moment where I’m in great need and I open myself up exposing every ugly shattered thing. He takes surgical pliers and pulls and untwists them. He doesn’t keep them, but throws the mangled pieces away or crushes them between his index finger and thumb. He tells me to be patient because there’s work to be done and I cry out in pain. Although he’s taking the jagged and filthy portions away, it hurts because of how long it’s been attached to me. It’s fused in with all these important things and as he peels and pulls, my chest caves and I fight to breathe. Every nerve of my body is on fire and I cry like a newborn.

Being at church, hearing and giving praises. Listening to his words. . .reading  them and watching them manifest. . .with every thing I soak in, with every moment I allow myself to receive him, I feel like this. An overwhelming wave of both pain and relief: the two most confusing emotions to feel at the same time. Although I don’t allow Him take everything in one sitting, I pray for the day I can.

What a Response to ‘Are you okay?’ Really Means

We all have our moments where if someone asks us that, our initial response is ‘yes’ because that’s a response that doesn’t require a worried/concerned follow up. No one bothers someone after they’ve answered that way because that answer sums up words that don’t need to be said out loud. The truth is there’s a lot under that ‘yes’, and if your anything like me, you can share in the weight of it. These are my concealed thoughts to that question in different situations.

1. When my manager asks me if I’m okay

It’s clear that this was asked out of pure human concern for my well being, but if you see me dripping with sweat, wreaking of fried chicken and garbage, with a garbage bag slung over my shoulder, what do you think? My feet hurt, my face is in pain from smiling, my calves and thighs ache from constantly squatting on the floor to pick up wrappers and things, and I’m just plain old tired. . . .no, I’m not okay. . . .

2. When I’m on my cycle, and my dad asks me if I’m okay

I get that you are worried that I might hurt you or anyone else within 1 foot of me because my mood is all over the place, but don’t ask me if I’m okay. I’m cramping like my body’s contemplating self termination. I have no concept of time because nine times out of ten says I just got up because I was in bed cringing all day. There is a literal sea of red coming out of my body that I have no control over. Don’t suggest medicine, don’t suggest food, don’t ask me when it’ll be ‘done’. Ask God that question. He’s the one who gave me this ‘really cool’ physical alarm clock anouncing I’m not having babies every month through a series of terrible events. I love you. . .but please think about what it would be like for you to experience this and rethink the question you asked. I’m not okay.

3. When my brothers and sisters hop all over me and ask me if I’m okay

I was drawing something and you invaded my personal space. You’ve been coming in and out for the past 5 hours asking me what I’m doing when you can see what I’m doing in plain sight. You’ve made me mediate 5 arguments because you can’t ignore one another and you complain about being hungry despite being old enough to make whatever processed mess there is in our pantry. Then , you get all happy and jump all over me. . .no, I’m not okay.

4. When my mom asks me if I’m okay

This one is unique depending on the mom you have, but with me it’s one of the few times I release everything:

Nobody likes me at work, and I don’t want to seek validation because I shouldn’t care, but I want people to like me. I spilled a tea urn and my manager almost killed me. I think the food there is making me sick and I think I’m getting fat too. I’m tired and I miss you and all I can think about is pizza. . . .

Those were the only four I could think of, but I’m sure there are more. That simple ‘yes’ holds more than you know . . . . .

Life Update: Brief Absence

My posting hasn’t been extremely frequent, but it’s because of an extreme lack of motivation. Have you ever been so close to finishing something that the thought of its finality kind of hangs over you and makes you want to delay it being finished?: yeah, I’m going through a lot of that. My art book project is nearly finished and my story was halted by a fear of finishing the letter I started (I’ll be posting that after this). I also just wasn’t sure what else to write about beside my projects and things. I didn’t even feel like my life was worth writing about, but I finally got some energy and will be posting a bunch of things tonight (by a bunch, I mean two or three more posts after this). At the end of this post is my sun shiny face while drawing and drinking coffee. The shot was not purposeful, I just felt like taking a selfie. . . . .it happens sometimes. . . .

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Racists

For me, they’re like unicorns, except when I end up somewhere that already seems like narnia, then their existence makes sense. I think I’m the type of open minded person that assumes everyone is just as open minded. I grew up in a suburb, and even though the school demographic always seemed to show that white was dominant, I always found that the schools I hopped to had a diverse population of people, ethnic background and all. So, personally, I never witnessed a large amount of prejudice because it just seemed too ridiculous and the schools I attended never stood for it. Also, my friends were a mix of different things, so it was hard to give an ignorant back handed comment without a sense of understanding or sympathy for what certain slurs or words felt like or meant.

Granted, I might have just chosen a group of people that kept me from seeing how other minorities or races were treated, but it never got to me. Again, I really never felt the sting or experience of racism unless it was pointed out to me or I when I was faced with it in my first year of college. Other than that, I see the world through a colorless lense and I assume I’m seen just the same. The reason I bring up this topic, which deviates from my original one about dating app stages (was supposed to be funny), is because I was actually a tiny bit shocked. The last time I was called the ‘n’ word was when I was 10, and back then I didn’t know what it meant, so I laughed. Now . . .I kind of cringe. . .

Here’s what happened: I was on the app that is Tinder and I was swiping my little heart out, kind of making a cute game of it as I let my little sisters choose the suitors that Tinder had to offer since we were kind of bored. I wander off and happen to match with this random guy. I can’t make a screen shot of the conversation because I  unmatched him after the encounter and I think if I could, I wouldn’t. One because it’s kind of rude to display something like that without his permission and it’s simply common curtousy. I want to be treated with respect and with/without the conversation thread, I would uphold the same right. Please take my word for it, because that’s really all I can ask:

Him: let’s start this friendship off by saying something we hate!

Me: Fruit flies. . . .they just. . .lay eggs everywhere. . .

-your turn O.O

Him:  Niggers

Me: *crickets* everyone’s entitled, I guess. . . .

My reaction thoughts: He didn’t answer for awhile, but it kind of made my heart stop a little. I know why, but I think it’s scary to think about it because, even though he might not be capable of much, I imagine that he’s part of that population of people that don’t necessarily want me to exist. That population becomes a little more apparent to me even with small things like this. I also realized his closed mindedness shouldn’t scare me because no matter what color I am, I’m DiAnre. Being black isn’t really on my list of things to worry about when re-inventing myself, unless God is willing to re-open my genetic color palette and make my skin lighter. I’m one of those people who believe that inside and outside I was supposed to be everything I am today, so why should that be a problem for me or anyone else?

Back to conversation:

Him: (says something about going back to work because I’m a slave (I’m so good at paraphrasing. . .))

Me: *sigh* you guys seem like unicorns to me sometimes. Thank you for reminding me people like you still exist. Have a wonderful day 🙂

-unmatches. . .-

*ehem* hence unicorn reference. . . .

So, I guess this post is more for me since I had such a weird, semi-joulted reaction to it. I’m just amazed that some people still haven’t gotten over things like that. We live in a world with so many cool people, yet we have racism and homophobia, and just . . .mean people. My attempt to give a significant word on this issue sounds like it’s from a five year old, but it’s so stupid. People, no matter where they’re from or what they choose, are amazing creatures. Choosing to have a narrow mindset and let hate invade your mind space are missing out on so many beautiful personalities. Just as an example, although black people are a minority, there are a lot of us. Imagine how much of the world you’re cutting off because of your past ancestry’s mind set? Imagine if I decided to be racist against white people because of what they did to my ancestors??. . . . .I’d have to get rid of a lot of friends at that point. I would be cutting off the majority of the U.S population. . .makes dating choices kind of slim in my area as well.

I like to sympathize with the opposition always, but what am I supposed to say. . .?:

I’m sorry for being born a very dark shade of brown that really just represents the color that my parents genes came up with when they made me, which is also representative of where their genes originated (Africa, most likely). My race is not a reflection of who I am, what I eat, what I do, or how I do things. The ‘n’ word may hold many negative connotations for  you and my group of people, but we are not defined by the stereotypes associated with it,  nor can I say I am as an individual. I can’t say my ancestors weren’t slaves. . .they were, but I’m not because of the milestones and struggle they went through to get me to live in the normalcy I live in now. It’s clear that despite that hard work people like you still exist, but I’m not organizing a group to harass/lynch you any time soon, so obviously I can deal with you on some level as long as we’re simply coexisting. Why can’t you?

 That’s all I would have to say. How do you express sympathy for someone that isn’t making sense. . .To me, racism is that wild card you play when you can’t make a simple, slightly intelligent opinion of your own. Saying ‘I hate *insert racial slur*, that’s why Pauleen is so ugly to me’ sounds way more dumb than saying ‘Pauleen’s into stuff that I’m not into and she’s too short for my taste. I’m not attracted to Pauleen. . .’ That example was kind of vague, but you get the point.
 
Why not choose to see outside the hate and make an effort to see the world as a masterpiece rather than paying attention to the individual colors on the canvas? Nobody likes the guy that’s standing all close to that one famous Picasso being like ‘this piece would be so much better without that mustard yellow in the corner. It’s just not tasteful.’ . . . .WHO CARES ABOUT THE MUSTARD FREAKIN’ YELLOW???? . . .what happened to just taking in the painting from a wholistic perspective and being cool with that? Why focus on race when  you haven’t really taken time to focus on the amazing collage that is the world and who populates it?

This was me venting both a frustration and fear. I kind of wish racist people weren’t a thing, but they are. I experienced a tiny microscopic slice today and may experience worse later in life. The question is whether to seek change or get used to it. The first option’s kind of my favorite, so I’ll go with that one. I know, for some, this may seem like an inflated reaction to one person’s words, and I’ll admit that I’m a sensitive person at best sometimes. I just felt like this was a decent place to showcase my feelings and ideals. Thanks for reading.

Alphabet of Life-ing: Fear

Link to project page if you haven’t read it from the beginning:

https://rescloset22.wordpress.com/category/the-alphabet-of-life-ing-project/

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My fears are small and possibly normal, depending on who you are, what your fears may be, and what your version of ‘normal’ is. I have a tendency to care for them rather than get rid of them. It’s because I allow myself to be controlled by them. They make up the rules I set for my life to keep myself from getting hurt and, in turn, I have to keep them around. They’re etched like tattoos inside my brain and manifest themselves into tangible beings when they need to. They’re the whispered thoughts that inhabit my brain, telling me dark nothings that cause lack of sleep to post it’s status on my face.

I feel weighed down, but it’s hard to let go. It’s hard to imagine what I’d be without them. Without the fear of being loved, I’d be hurt too often. Without the fear of acceptance, I’d be pushed away. Without the fear of curiosity, I’d possibly be demonized by a body of people composed of love. Without the fear of comfort, I might be looking for release in the wrong places. These fears I have act as my sheild and my survival. How can I live without them and how could they live without me?

I’ve become ruled by them, so my unsolved problems, doubts, and worry wreak havoc as my body continues to move forward. Without these fears I know I’d be lighter and maybe even happier, but it’s a weight that I don’t want to let go of. At least not right now when I need it the most.

Project Update

I was kind of silent last week because I had too many things to think about. I was and still am in creative block mode and am trying to push through it. I’m on the last portion of the book that I’ve been working on and I’m trying to figure out ways to make it more user/everyone friendly. I don’t want people to feel like they’re 5 reading or looking at what I’ve given them. I’ve been drawing to find ways to make the creative brainstorm portion of the book more informative and. . .it’s surprisingly very difficult and I can’t think of anything so I’ve been doodling my little heart out so that I can unearth some ideas. Most of what I’ve added to this post was inspired by Brandon Boyd’s work that I’ve been using to get inspired (despite it not emulating his work well AT ALL. . .but that’s because his work is amazing so. . .yeah) I’ve also considered using another social platform to promote my project, mostly because I don’t want to use Tumblr and partially because the few I’ve been using don’t really work well and I don’t have a large enough following to get anywhere with them when the project is finished at the end of the month. Hopefully I can finish this soon and have something physically tangible to promote in August. Kind of hard to promote something that doesn’t quite exist in book form yet because it seems less believable that it’ll actually turn into something. . .to me at least.

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