Something Inbetween
To feel things so deeply — it’s a blessing and a curse. The Spotify daylist for this evening is “wistful sad girl monday,” and it is playing every single sad song that I used to play when I was in college, writing poems to get me in the mood. Tonight, I’m in “a mood.” I wrote two poems, an entry in my journal, an open letter on Word, and now I’m here.
I am, for the first time in my life, okay with endings. How did we get here? By the grace of God and a better understanding of self. I used to resort to self-deprecating thoughts. Feeding myself lies to better understand and justify the actions of others, but I just can’t allow myself to do that anymore. I know how I show up — I know how I move through life, and just because it doesn’t work out doesn’t mean I am less than. It simply means that we weren’t right for each other. Yes, you guys, I am talking about a guy. Sue me.
Since I am for sure that the last time was indeed the last time (because I said so), I will indulge. This guy is a great guy —just not mine. You can’t force the shoe on if it doesn’t fit. I think the only crime in this connection is that he kept trying to come back when he knew that he wanted someone else to wear the shoe, but still, I don’t fault him for it. I’m a catch.
In my last blog post, I wrote about loving others better. The most important thing in my life is love. Love, love, love. I will always walk in authentic love. I don’t care what the world tries to tell me; I’ve never been good at listening to the lies fed to me through the media. The hate, the divide. It’s all been super trivial and silly to me because we all truthfully have bigger fish to fry, and if we just all come together… I can’t even imagine the work we’d accomplish, but I digress.
I’m trying to punch out this blog post before drill and to just let all of my feelings fall onto this keyboard, but there’s a part of me that wants to say nothing. I’ve never been good at keeping quiet, so I have to. To all of my single women out there reading this: there is someone out there who’s going to be sure of you. They will show up not only for themselves, but for you. There will be no room for confusion because nothing will be confusing when God’s involved. Never EVER internalize someone’s actions as a reflection of you, especially if you know you showed up as the most authentic version of yourself. There’s no need. There’s no room for it. Sometimes that person is good, sometimes they’re not, but at the end of the day, internalizing someone’s actions will do you no good. Wish them well, and thank the Lord He’s opening up the door for someone else to be ready for you.
You have fought tooth and nail to be the person you are today. Don’t lose sight of that.
Just think— the last thing you guys get to do together is move on. Isn’t that a beautiful thing in itself?
Heart to Heart
I don’t know why I try to deny myself writing about love when I know that’s literally one of the main things that keeps me going in this world. I’m a hippie through and through—peace and love, folks, peace and love. I’ve been fighting myself for two weeks to write something I think others would enjoy reading, but I can’t deny myself any longer. The heart wants what it wants, and the heart wants to write about love.
I’ve honestly been thinking about love a lot lately (not in relationships, ew). To love yourself and to let that overflow in your friends’ and family’s lives is such a beautiful thing. I truthfully do love the life I’ve created for myself, and I’m getting to the point in my life where it’s going to take a very special man to wheezle his way into my life. I’ve spent so much time longing for love within a relationship (ew) that I’ve lost the plot that love is literally all around me. I don’t think friends and family can replace the need or want for romantic relationships, but turning my eyes to God truly does help.
My entire life, I’ve always known that my personality is an acquired taste. I know that I am not for everyone and that I shouldn’t try to fit myself into a box to meet what I think the man I’m dating would like. I don’t think I belong to any one box, really. Maybe my head is more in the clouds than ever these days, but I think the most important thing I do in this life is making sure I pick the right partner, not only for myself, but for my future kids. That’s extremely important to me. Thinking about that solely stops me in my tracks sometimes. I’ve seen what picking the wrong partner does to people, and I refuse to do that myself. So for now, I will be pouring into myself, my friends, and my family as much as I can.
Like life, love is what you make it to be. Just because someone doesn’t want to accept the love you give them doesn’t make you any less of a loving person. It says more about them than it says about you, and that is okay. I used to give myself such a hard time when a guy just wouldn’t let me love them, and now, when I look back on it all, I’m grateful they didn’t allow me to. God protected me from things I couldn’t see for sure. Overexerting myself to love them, only to receive half of what I’ve given them? No, thank you.
I encourage everyone reading to take a moment to reflect on how you can love others more deeply. It doesn’t have to look like a love letter or flowers sent to their door. It can look like a quick text saying you’re thinking of them and are wishing them well. It can even look like praying for them. It can be as simple as sending them a song that reminds you of them (I love it when people do that). It could be simply showing up for something important to them. I don’t know what that can look like for you, but in short, don’t walk through this life regretting not loving someone a bit more.
End of Beginning
Today, I went back home to visit with Cassidy for her birthday. We caught up and talked about the past, the present, and the future.
After we said our goodbyes, I decided to drive through the Hillcrest area in Little Rock to see what’s changed, as I always do when I come back home. I passed by my old apartment —the old, green, two-story rent-controlled building, one of the last of its kind—and started remembering who I was when I lived there.
I might’ve been going 10 mph down Kavanaugh Boulevard, as I pictured a 22-year-old Daija bouncing confidently down the street on her way to River City Coffee with a bag full of books, her journal, and her laptop. I could see her wearing an oversized graphic t-shirt, Levi jean shorts, and black Dr. Martens that were perfectly broken in and never blistered her feet. A smile spread on my face as I saw that Loblolly Ice Cream made its way on the bustling street. She wouldn’t have to go across town to get a sweet treat when she felt a little sad. To the right, a vinyl shop where I used to pop in and out of had patrons going in, and I pictured a younger Daija leaving with a couple of vintage records to display on top of her record player, so she could, of course, post on her Instagram later to seem cool and different.
As I kept driving, a small chuckle left my throat as I pictured her sitting across from a boy at The Pantry Crest. She’d be sitting there, laughing until her chest hurt, thinking he was going to be the one, because he was just as goofy and awkward as she was. I wish I could go in there and tell her to run for the hills, but knowing her, she wouldn’t listen. She’d experience her first real heartbreak and continue to let him back in until she was 26, even after all of it.
I decided to stop at River City Coffee to order my usual —an iced lavender white chocolate mocha latte with oat milk. As my eyes danced around the shop, I noticed all of the new art pieces that filled the walls. Small pieces, large pieces, all somehow beautifully misplaced. At the corner of my eye, I noticed a patron sitting in my usual spot in front of the biggest window in the coffee shop. She was a skinny black girl with books scattered all over the table as she wrote in her journal. Her head slightly bobbed as she put pen to paper, writing feverishly, and I wondered what she’d one day say to the world through her words.
I swear to you, I didn’t even realize how much I was reminiscing until I saw her, until a pang of jealousy came and went after the barista, whom I didn’t recognize, handed me my coffee and snapped me out of my daydream. As I went on my way, I was left confused as to why this visit was much different than the last. When I hopped back into my Jeep, I didn’t see Daija sitting outside Leo’s Greek Castle eating a gyro and fries, or her running down Kavanaugh. She was gone.
I realize now that I’m back in NWA, that maybe my resigning from the AGR program might’ve triggered it. Had I just not interviewed (truthfully, I didn’t think I was going to get the job), had I just said no, I would still be beepbopping down that street. I’d still be in my rent-controlled apartment, living in a whimsical bubble, sitting in that coffee shop that probably wouldn’t even feel the same now that I’m older. Still, I strangely resent a part of myself that left her. If I couldn’t have New York at 22, the Hillcrest area was the next best thing to me. It was the first place I didn’t feel trapped.
Before we jump to conclusions, I like this current version of myself. I love the friends I’ve made along the way, as well as the memories I’ve created and continue to create. Still, I think no matter how old I get, I will always grieve that version of me, walking down to the two neighborhood bars down the street with my friends on a Saturday night, buying all my groceries from Trader Joe’s, and the life Walter and I had when it was just the two of us (I love my Lilybanilly dearly and am grateful for her).
I think we all have versions of ourselves that we wish we could go back to. I think it’s important to look back and appreciate the person we were and what we went through, but it’s just as important not to get so caught up in the past that we feel crippled from moving forward and appreciating the person we are now. Everything truly happens for a reason.
Today, after three years, I finally waved goodbye to the end of beginning. I think 24-year-old Daija, leaving the Hillcrest area, would wave back.
It Had To Be You
I think the best part about leaving someone is that knowing in your heart that it’ll pass. Whatever feeling you’re feeling about the connection being over with it —to know in your heart that with each passing minute of the day, the hurt will slowly pass through you. For whatever reason, my creative self selfishly tries to hold on to it.
One of my favorite poems I’ve ever written is called “Falling.” I want to share it with you all:
Falling
My mind falls
And then my heart
And lastly, my soul
My soul is the first to pick me up
And then my heart
And lastly my mind follows suit
I’ve wondered why my soul is always the first
To rise up and save me from my perturbed mind.
Why my soul steadily saves my shackled consciousness of
The fruitless thoughts that planted itself within
Why I always imitate my heart’s declarations when, in reality,
It is my soul that whispers to me the next step that I follow.
It’s why I don’t believe in feelings that are fabricated,
It’s why I don’t trust things my mind constantly has to question
It’s why I don’t believe in artificial connections that fail to see my heart and soul.
And it’s why I don’t believe in whatever the hell the world tells its lost people who
Frantically search for a temporary fix and bombard me because I feel secure.
I won’t apologize for trying to heal
And I won’t apologize for being decent
But in the end,
My mind falls,
And then my heart,
And lastly, my soul
But my soul is always the first to pick me up.
———-
I wrote this poem my senior year of college in 2020. In 2020, I believed in God, but I turned away from walking in Christianity. It actually wasn’t until this year where I’ve felt safe enough to actually call a church my home. Shoutout to Overflow!!! Reading this in 2025, it’s kind of funny thinking about who was the one actually picking me up through everything. I hope you felt Him while reading this.
My favorite thing about being a writer is being able to teleport back into the person you were when you wrote something. I can tell you the exact place I wrote this poem and who I was when I wrote it. I can tell you broke my heart and who was there helping me mend it. I’m not here to tell anyone how to live their life, but I recommend getting a journal. Write in it, fevershily, like your life depends on it. I’d argue it kind of does. you cna learn from your younger self.
What a Fool Believes
I love the Doobie Brothers.
I swear I’m not one of those people who take a full table at a coffee shop, but today, it had to be done. The Puritan in Fayetteville is quite busy today, and I had to grab the only seating available at that moment that has a wall plug. To be completely honest, I had something else in mind to release to the masses this weekend. It was supposed to be about an old playlist I revisited that my friend Casey had created during the pandemic in 2020, but I didn’t feel connected to the post. I was indeed grateful for that playlist… maybe I will revisit the topic a little later.
But today, today is a different day. When I think about the last four years of my life, I think about the growth I’ve experienced that I had to go through myself. My parents, grandparents, and others can advise me all they want on what I should be doing and what my life is supposed to look like, but one thing I’ve always been pretty good at is taking ownership of myself. Every day, I have to wake myself up in the morning and look at myself in the mirror. No matter what I do in life, I have to be happy with myself, because selfishly, that’s all that matters at this point in my life.
I think it’s safe to say I am indeed the master of my fate and the captain of my soul with the decisions I’ve made this summer. I am free in many ways, and the thought of making myself smaller so others feel better about themselves doesn’t seem appealing to me. I am grateful I was able to pivot when I did. I am grateful for the friends who give me space to be just as loud as I am quiet sometimes. I am grateful for the friends with whom I can discuss anything and everything under the sun, and not just yap about guys all the time.
-break-
The last thing I will say is that I think one of my biggest strengths is also my biggest weakness. Sometimes, people don’t want to be understood, and accepting that for what it is is hard. Some people will keep you at arm’s length so they can decide which parts of you they want. Yes, God wants us to show Grace and love as He loves and shows us Grace, but sometimes you have to love them from a distance, especially if you know they aren’t even wanting to understand you.
You can’t keep returning to the vomit, thinking it’ll turn back into the food [Proverbs 26:11]. The food was rejected. And in another breath, I genuinely believe that sometimes you have to remake the food. You see my issue? My abandonment issues are showing. I despise having to abandon people I care about, but at the same time, I can’t let their actions drag me down with them. At the end of the day, I will continue to just pray. This isn’t about anyone in particular; my mind is a beautiful mess at the moment.
Solo (Reprise)
I started writing this in New York, and I’m finishing it in Little Rock at River City. I wanted to stay in the moment as much as possible while I was there. I could look out of my window at the Flatiron District forever if I could. The day after I came back, I felt that Arkansas could never truly be my home anymore. This can’t be it. This is where I've grown, but this isn’t where I’m supposed to be.
You see, this is what happens when I say, “I’ll write at home.” Weeks have passed, and it’s the new year. I have already moved, and in a couple of days, I will be attending advanced military training. Walter and I are adjusting to our new city, our temporary home for now. The day is January 24, 2023. I am sitting at a new coffee shop. This one has a different feel than River City. This one actually feels like Blue Sail to me. This coffee shop is on the outskirts of downtown, kinda sorta like River City.
FROM DRAFTS: DEC 2022-JAN 2023
These Days
Let me set the scene for you right now— I’m sitting at my vintage wooden desk with nail polish splatters and scratches. I’m too lazy to sand it down and repolish and quite frankly, the desk only cost sixty dollars at Goodwill. My work monitor sits on the desk to my right. An eyesore to my aesthetic, but I’m grateful, nonetheless, that I have a big screen to toggle the tabs on work-from-home days. To the left sits my typewriter, Bertha. She sleeps with her cover on full-time in hopes she’s not sprinkled with Walter’s cat hair as he galivants across the already cracked wood against my wishes. Sometimes, I wake Bertha up in the middle of the day to see if she still wants to talk. I cleaned her up well, I think.
The hum of my A/C competes with the YouTube playlist playing through my TV. Although it’s a beautiful day out, a rainy 1940s playlist always gets me in the mood to write. Sometimes, lyrics rival my own words, but writing in silence won’t do for me.
Walter jumps onto my lap and sits. He doesn’t purr, but he looks at me intently. Like, I owe him lunch money or something. I always wonder what’s going on in his head. I pat his head as if I know exactly what he’s thinking, and at this moment, maybe I do because he closes his eyes and lifts his head as if that’s exactly what he wanted. I smile at him, and he jumps off of me to join his sister, Lily, on the couch. I think he wants to cuddle with her, but Lily doesn’t like cuddling.
They say your animals are a reflection of you, so now I’m thinking of what Walter and Lily are like. Both are clingy, love food, and are always down for a nap. Walter has an attitude when he doesn’t get his way. Lily pouts. I think I’m more like Walter when it comes to that.
“A Night In Paris” playlist plays next and a text notification displays on the top right of my laptop screen. Maybe I should’ve written on Bertha today and let the technology rest. These days, I’m still grateful.
Lover Girl
Oh geez. What an eventful two weeks it has been. Should I become a nun now? Should I wash my hands with the thought of someone loving me for me? Or will the pressure of societal standards slowly seep into my sanctions? What if I fell under that pressure? I think Daija, as we know it, would cease to exist. I never want to let go of the part of me that loves love, but perhaps I’m slowly getting hijacked and forced to be conditioned and be okay with being talked to and seen as an object. I think society conditions men to take and for women to accept what’s taken from them and to expect to receive nothing in return—the patriarchy.
Last weekend, I had the worst date of my entire life, and I almost conditioned myself that this was something I could accept. Something I could take. I could teach this guy to be normal. I could teach this guy not to comment on my body because of what I went through in high school. I could teach him not to want me just because I was “young.” I could teach him that not all black people are the same, and that we are multi-faceted human beings, and that not all of us fall under the whims of every single stereotype the media projects on my community. I could teach him not to use weaponized incompetence to say hurtful things as a 32-year-old living, breathing, functioning human being in society. I could teach him that God giveth and He taketh away, so your money, your status, and the martialistic things you hold close to your heart mean nothing in the eyes of God. I could teach him that no matter how much you make, what car you drive, or what shoes you wear, what matters is how you treat people and how you love them. I could teach him how to love people properly.
Maybe in the end, I did feel intimidated. I mean, this guy really had the mindset—the kind you only see in movies or podcasts. The type of mindset that falls under the complicated A-typical CEO archetype you’d see in a drama series. It was scarily inspiring and yet superficial at the same time. Maybe I wanted to get to know the real him and how he truly saw himself. Maybe I felt bad for him because perhaps this was what he was conditioned to want. He was right in the aspect that we were 100% raised differently. I, a broken home, falling under that one stereotype, whilst his family fell under that one model minority stereotype.
No, I don’t believe I can change someone in one interaction. Still, I do believe that maybe if I love them the way God intended for us to love others, perhaps I could lead them to not say racist things in the guise of being uneducated about another minority group.
This wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back, as I take a step back from dating. I’m still going to be a lover girl in my own right as I pour into my friends, family, and church —and myself, of course. Being single isn’t something that defines me. It’s literally the most uninteresting thing about me, but I do think it’s fascinating to write about it as I’m navigating it.
I hope this helps someone out here. And just a PSA, I don’t hate the guy and I am 100% not judging him for the way he is, but people are just so interesting sometimes. Yes, he might’ve sent me through a mini identity crisis as I asked myself all week, “Who am I? Who do I want to be? How does the world see me?” But regardless of it all, it made me more grounded. I am who I was before and after that interaction —the same.
Changes (David Bowie type)
Wow. I had written an entire manifesto only to have it deleted. Is this my life?
It seems as if my creativity has been defrosting as of late. Is this what my life was supposed to be like? I got excited thinking about writing after work today. I finally feel like I have something to say. I feel inspired by life again. That’s the most rebellious thing you can do in this day and age. By focusing on the present and appreciating small victories, we unlock a more profound sense of fulfillment and happiness. Enjoy life as it unfolds—entirely, freely, and with an open heart. I think all I was ever meant to be in this world is to be free and to enjoy it.
In life, we all have choices. We can let our circumstances define us. We can be crippled by the thought of trying something new - pivoting, or we can just do what’s called on our hearts. It’s important to have a plan, though. But if something is draining the life out of you, then it’s time to call it quits.
Although I’ve just started my pivot, I understand that fear of failure could’ve kept me at my previous job. I know that I was living a comfortable life and making more yearly than the average Arkansan, but I was unhappy. I was simply unhappy with what I was doing. What my day-to-day looked like, the sacrifices I made, and well, the emotional turmoil that I had felt when it came to Soldiers. I do still feel a sense of guilt towards leaving them, but I need to take care of myself first. For once, I need to take care of myself.
Anyway, I’m not trying to compartmentalize my decision to convince myself. I’m convinced! It was the best decision I’ve made for myself. This is me telling you that I might not be returning to the old me —she’s long gone, but maybe, just maybe, the Daija who craved writing about her experiencing the world has paid the new Daija a visit.
Njoy.
My word for 2024 should’ve been epiphany with the way it’s gone. I’ve learned so much about myself and life. It has truly been a whirlwind of questions being answered left and right. With all the inner/outer turmoil that I have dealt with this year, it has brought me a sense of inner peace knowing that this is just a small blimp of what my life is to be like.
Anyway, I am grateful for it all.
Happy New Year.
Slowly
I can’t believe I haven't written anything in a year on here. Wow. This year has been a whirlwind. A lot of loss is all I have experienced. I feel like I lost a version of myself in a way. Daija, as we know it, has been gutted from the inside out. To the point, I have no clue who I am anymore. I feel like I have always constantly reinvented myself, but everything around me feels so different. It’s like my eyes have been forced to stay open this entire year. Continually feeling out-of-body experiences within my body. It has forced me to slowly figure myself out.
Today, I rotted. I have been so stuck in my head, constantly trying to find some answer as to why I’ve been so numb lately. “Why do I feel so numb?” I continuously ask myself. I say it’s what happened to me in February, what happened to me in May, what happened to me last Tuesday, or what happened to me on Friday. I think it’s all of it, along with work stress, of course. I don’t think I’ve given myself a second to process any of what has happened to me. I keep going. I write in my journal and try to process and feel my emotions to release them, but the reality is, I am still holding on to all of it.
How could this possibly be? How have I not let go of it all? Or maybe I have, and grief isn’t really linear. I think I have been grieving what my love life would be like. I have friends who are married, having babies, getting engaged, meeting their person, and yet I am constantly getting traumatized by 20-something men who haven’t a clue what they truly want in this world. It has made me hesitate in putting myself out there. I will keep trying, I suppose.
Anyways, such is life.
Poison Poison
I don’t know what I want to title the first post of the New Year. It’s been a long while, but I’ve learned that I become the most inspired at the end of the year, the first of the year, when the first flower blossoms, and when the first leaf from a tree falls. I had wondered if I’d learned anything, really. What could I take away from this swift year? It had been a short one, and yet, here I am. A couple of pounds gained, a few more clothes, a new furry friend… I couldn’t have been the person I had started last year with.
What I do know is that the one thing I had prided myself on, the one thing I had wanted, the one thing that drove me through this world, is something I no longer crave or long for anymore. I don’t want love. Well, maybe I had changed. I don’t want it like I used to. It used to consume me. I dreamed of when and where I’d meet “the one.” The pit in my stomach and knowing that the person before me would be the person I’d spend the rest of my life with. The stupid little visions of me laughing until I had cried. The holding hands and talking until I my throat grew sore. The little trinkets we’d buy each other because “that made me think of you.” The quiet and comfortable moments we’d share that were ours and didn’t belong to anyone else. I had written about it over and over again. Love was the theme of my life, and I didn’t want it to be anymore. I don’t care, nor do I want it to be a central topic of what I write anymore. I had love. I am it.
I had seen too much last year. The shadows of what people thought love was and endured, wrapping those shadows around their shoulders and tugging them close, didn’t appease me. It didn’t move me. I had seen a lot of pain and the constant taking and never giving. I didn’t want someone to take all of me, to drain me to nothing.
I told myself I’d wait. I’d wait for kindness, softness, and the warmness they (whoever) would give. I’d wait on the person who was my equal, and I would be okay with being alone because I knew. I knew that this shit wasn’t what was all that had been left for me. I don’t want shadows. I will no longer entertain them or make the central topic the central theme of my life anymore. And so, I don’t care about love. Fuck it.
The Bug Collector
This weather does something to me if I’m being honest. I can think of a million and one things to write about, but the only thing that’s on my mind is me sitting here at the coffee shop. I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting, though. I think it has something to do with the “dating hiatus” I’m on. I get to become myself. My authentic self without wondering if a guy likes who I’ve become or not. I think that’s the strange and damaging thing about dating that we accidentally teach girls. The “no boy will like you if you do this or that,” is polarizing for some women. To think their only value comes from the gaze of men is traumatizing.
I get so angry at myself for being that person that filtered themselves because they were too loud or talked too much. I was a shell of who I wanted to be, who I was, and who I’ve always needed. So one day, I decided to become it. I became the person I have always needed. I questioned everything and trusted myself to make the right decision. I was gentle and kind to myself because I knew mistakes were bound to happen. I affirmed myself when no one else knew I needed it.
I can’t recall the exact moment of my “transformation,” but I know that my friends could tell that I was much happier after a while. I think it’s so easy to become dependent on others to make you feel euphoria, that whenever you go cold turkey, you suffer from withdrawal. There were times when I thought that if I just reached out to that one guy, maybe I wouldn’t have to feel alone… but I stopped myself because I loved myself that much.
This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things
I am 100% a Swiftie, and I wanted to let that be known for one second, so all of my headers will be one of her songs. But on to the real topic, what is up with researching stuff these days? I think we all struggle with some sort of blues when it comes to finding something that is factual and true, so how do we go about researching what we need to research about our research topic? Confusing, huh? Let’s try to dive deeper into this ongoing topic, so maybe we can have nice things.
this is me trying…
How do we know what we need to research?
The simple answer is to research everything because why not? Anything that could be deemed non-fiction or informational, or anything that is source-based, should ultimately be researched. If you are also making any claims of any sort in your work, it should be backed by a source. According to the Pressbooks segment on Why Research is Important, “When someone makes a claim, we should examine the claim from a number of different perspectives: what is the expertise of the person making the claim, what might they gain if the claim is valid, does the claim seem justified given the evidence, and what do other researchers think of the claim?” Remembering this as we’re drafting our research projects can help alleviate any hardships.
Blankspace
Where do I find sources?
If you are blanking while trying to find credible sources, the easiest way to start is by searching your topic through Google. Run it through the search engine and then watch the sources flow. Some notable things to watch out for are articles from Wikipedia… just kidding! I truly believe that you can learn from everything you read, and Sarah Ann Singer agrees. She says that “it is simply limited by its genre-an open-access encyclopedia-and if students understand how to use it (for instance, for learning about well-established topics that may be new to them), it can be extraordinarily useful,” (Singer, Embracing Wildcard Sources). Wikipedia and Useful feel like they shouldn’t coincide, but they do! Although I myself still shy away from Wikipedia, I understand that the information can be a starting point for someone who is unfamiliar with their topic.
Clean
How do I know if a source is credible and appropriate for my project?
A sound rule of thumb when researching is to use sites that end with .org and .edu if you're unsure or uncomfortable with diving deep, deep, deep!
If you are especially researching anything science-related, it needs to be accredited through some kind of organization, foundation, or university that specializes in researching that topic or is accredited by the university. Usually, these websites are source-based as well and have cited a source.
Out Of The Woods
How do I incorporate sources into my writing?
Writing creatively and incorporating sources can be a bit challenging. I think getting very familiar with your research topic of choice and using what you’ve learned, teaching it through dialogue, would be the best way to do this, and citing your sources at the very end of your work, for instance, having a physician or professional who can easily discuss and inform the other characters of the information you researched.
hoax
Where can I find more information?
Embracing Wildcard Sources: Information Literacy in the Age of Internet Health
Sarah Ann Singer
https://www.proquest.com/docview/2329715830?accountid=12085&forcedol=true&forcedol=true
“Why Is Research Important”
Kathryn Dumper, William Jenkins, Arlene Lacombe, Marilyn Lovett, and Marion Perimutter
https://opentext.wsu.edu/psych105/chapter/why-is-research-important/
doomsday
Before you read, listen to this song by Lizzy McAlpine. I’ve always thought I was good at moving on. Letting things be and letting people be who they were meant… but for the first time in my life, I had wanted more for someone than they wanted for themselves. I had seen their soul and every part of their heart, even when they tried to hide from me. I never imagined myself accepting that our time was up for good. Our chapter has finally ended. I feel a sense of relief that I no longer have to daydream about the what-ifs anymore because I know the end. I know that we were not right for each other.
I always try to find the takeaways from all of this. What did I learn about myself when we were together? I know now that I can love. I know now that I love fiercely and unapologetically. I learned that I don’t give up. I am patient and kind and careful. I can communicate the things that bother me and can find solutions. I learned that there are things in a relationship that I can no longer compromise at 24. All of these realizations made me love myself more. I know all of this sounds cheesy, but it’s true. Ask him. Ask them all, actually.
I’m not trying to talk myself up. Writing is how I try to find all of the answers to all of this, truly. I’ve always felt that I needed to know the why. Why had this happened? Why had I felt that way towards them? And so on. I had to find the beauty in it all because if I had focused on the ugly, I would turn into it. I didn’t want that. I don’t cast out the ugly, though. That is beautiful, too. I’ve just learned how to let it go with my words.
I know that if it weren’t for him, I would have never truly seen me. I would’ve never been this secure with myself. I think that’s something to celebrate. I seriously don’t know how I got here or where I came from, but I’m grateful. Endings are beautiful, too.
the 1
The 1.
I’m not sure how I got here or where I came from anymore. I’m not sure if it was a switch or if I was just tired of truly trying. I don’t really care to be perceived in any kind of way anymore, and I do most things for the sake of myself. I do things because I wanna and I don’t do things because I don’t wanna. I’ve never felt more sure of myself than I do at this moment and I’ve never been more content with my life than I do now. This is who I’ve been working to become. This is where I begin again.
I can say no if I want and say yes if I want and I don’t feel bad about any decision that I’ve chosen anymore. I still feel as if I don’t know anything about anything anymore, but I’ve let go of the pressure of knowing and predicting. I think that’s the key to it all. Letting go of trying to know everything and just letting the universe lead and guide you because you are exactly where you need to be. It’s important to be in the moment and take care of yourself now. Your future self will rejoice.
I decided to listen to the playlist that I listened to during this time last year. I’m quickly reminded of the person I was and how lost she felt. How she saw an opportunity and just went for it. How she let go of the idea of the guy she thought she’d be with and who she was at that moment. She was powerful and she just didn’t know it. I am a product of all of my past selves, and now that this year is ending, I’m not sure if that person is truly gone. I’m not sure if she was ever meant to leave… if any of that makes sense. The idea of me evolving doesn’t mean letting go of myself, but letting go of all of those negative internalized feelings. Letting life play out the way it’s meant to. Letting go of the pain that’s come with hurting myself begging for someone to love me the way I tried to love them. I think I did it, guys.
Again, I’m not sure of the exact moment all of this happened. I’m not sure this feeling will stay. I’m sure I’ll feel lost again and I’ll feel like I don’t know what the heck is going on, but I hope to remember how I feel at this moment.
recently,
It’s been a while for sure. Life without writing has been weird. I’ve been thinking of how my life used to be submerged in art, in being creative, and now I’m fighting myself every day to pick up a pen and paper to at least jot down some thoughts. Some days, I lose. I have been caught in the eye of the storm as of late. I don’t know if I should just go back the way I came or just close my eyes and keep walking through. Or should I just lay down in the middle because right now, I’m actually getting used to the feeling?
I feel like I don’t truly understand anyone anymore, and I fear that maybe I’ve been the one selfishly going about life, friendships, and relationships. I’ve been invalidating my feelings about situations and have forgotten to feel. For a second, I thought I was figuring all of this out. I thought I was figuring myself out, but then someone showed me that I know absolutely nothing. I wrote in my journal today, “I know nothing about nothing.” That feeling really has been the reason why I’ve been stuck in my own head and in deep thought about every single thing.
Had I truly known the different layers of people? Had I truly known my own? I read somewhere (source: trust me bro) that sometimes, there are blind spots in our own personalities and how we’re perceived. Sometimes, we truly can’t see how people see us. No matter how hard we try, some people simply will see us for who we are… or who they want us to be. Another reason why I think all of this to be confusing.
This is a short one today, but I think I’ll go into further detail next time.
Got To Give It Up- Pt.1
There are so many drafts I haven’t finished or had the guts to truly tell on myself. I think about this website every single day, but I never really know what to say or write these days because my emotions have been quite stagnant for some time. I go to write, I reread it, and then realize that I’ve written it all before… but there is something that has been tugging at me. What I got to give up in a couple of years.
Time is seriously ticking for me and I feel like I’m caught in two different worlds at the moment. What the world wants me to be, and what I’ve always wanted to be. I’ve always been free-spirited, but the shackles of my decisions as a teenager have brought me into this mess. I feel like I can’t just be and I feel indebted to my current job and all of the people who’ve believed in me for the past 5 years, but at the end of the day, I want to create. I felt like I could possibly combine the two, but I find myself not feeling creative.
A year and a half, and maybe less to figure this shit out. I know it doesn’t like a big deal, and the conventional or traditional thing would be for me to try and combine the two as I’ve said before, but it’s like mixing water and oil. Sure you can mix and mix it all you want but once it stands still, one will rise to the top, and the other will sink to the bottom. I already know which one has taken the back burner. I can’t tell y’all the last time I’ve written a script or drafted on any of my unfinished books that sit on this laptop. I can’t tell you how many poems I’ve drafted that are unfinished because I haven’t had the guts to just complete them. It’s tough sometimes.
I just hope I have enough guts to just do it, but either way, there’s going to be something that I have to give up.
Better Distractions
Today, I decided to do my old off-day routine. That entails coffee shop, nap, binge watch a tv show, and a ride down Lollie Bottoms to top off my evening. I haven’t been feeling the best about my writing abilities as of late, and I’ve been writing the same old things over and over again in my journal. I haven’t found the best routine for me yet. Like I wonder what that will consist of for me. Maybe I need a tentative schedule so I won’t feel like my life is like blah sometimes.
The coffee shop of choice is Blue Sail in Conway. I’ve written some really cool things here, so I wanted to feel a bit connected to the writer I once was. Maybe we’ll inspire each other. So far, so good. I didn’t get my old seat today, but I’m content. My favorite barista in the world is here today. Nobody compares to Christa. She is what makes this place feel like home for me. Sitting here seems so familiar to me, but at the same time, different. I feel a bit wiser, and maybe my drive or whatever you may call it has settled.
The meat of what I really wanted to talk about is the idea of distractions. I feel like I’ve been asking myself what I’m trying to push back today? What are the things I’m not addressing? I think the biggest elephant in the room is mourning the life I thought I was going to have at 23. All a girl wants to do is write, but doors are constantly getting slammed in one’s face… It can be a bit discouraging for anyone. I try not to take any of it personally, but it feels a bit personal sometimes when the same people are doing the slamming.
I think this is the only thing that I’ll probably keep distracting myself from. I’ll continue to sit at coffee shops with my laptop and Airpods and act like I’m saying anything of value. I’ll act as if I’m working at a publishing house and I have this deadline that’s almost impossible to make, but I do nonetheless because I am that girl. I always wonder if living in Arkansas has anything to do with my lack of chance. I’ve always thought staying here was the actual reason for my current downfall.
Although I could use better distractions at times, I don’t think of ever giving up like the world wants you to.
Distance
I absolutely love this song by Yebba. I listen to it every day while I’m making my morning coffee. There’s another song by Emily King that is just as good. I hope you get a feel for my taste in music while reading some of my work.
I’ve been doing a lot of writing and deleting lately, but I wanted to challenge myself to post something today. Every time I go to delete something, I think of the conversation a couple of years back with Brittney. I told her I wanted to get rid of two journals I wrote in 2019-2020 because I was whining and didn’t enjoy what I wrote. She encouraged me not to, and I didn't, for her. I was bored the other day and decided to read a couple of entries while I was drinking wine. It felt like a time machine, almost. I felt like I was being catapulted into a time before covid, before “discovering” myself, and before I found my actual voice as a writer. It was a time I questioned myself the most, but never everyone else around me. It was the time right after I was finding my “look.” It was single-handly the most important time of my life, up until these last couple of months, and I almost threw it all away.
Distance isn’t always a bad thing. I’ve always been a firm believer in distancing oneself in order to find clarity. I’ve found that to be the best way to combat the world too. Distancing myself from who I’m supposed to be to you, and becoming closer to the person who I know I am. I don’t chase, I attract type beat. I’ve gotten a lot better at detaching myself from certain outcomes as well. I still think it’s important to feel, but I think I’ve finally found a healthy balance between feeling the feelings and detaching from them as well because ultimately, we are not those feelings. We have to allow them to flow through us because if we hold onto anger or sadness, then we become it. It starts manifesting in everything else.
In all of my journals, in each ever-changing season of my life, my goal is to be at peace. I want to be at peace with who I am and where I’m at in life. I think peace also comes with acceptance and in the past, I’ve had a hard time accepting the things that have happened to me because I question everything. Although I question things for the sake of art, I think I’ve learned to stop questioning myself. Then peace came. I accept every part of me. I accept. Then came self-love and gratitude for the distance I put between the “self” and “worldly” projections.
This will probably be my last blog until the New Year. I hope everyone learned a little bit about themselves this year. The one piece of advice I would give to everyone reading is to accept yourself first so you won’t be looking for others to accept you and stop neglecting yourself for the acceptance of others. I wish it hadn’t taken me 23 years to figure that part out, but, finally.