Good Afternoon Beautiful People!
I am excited to announce that I have started a new blog. This blog will allow me more freedom to express myself and the real thoughts that go through my head on a day to day basis. It is my hope that you join me there soon! The link is…. http://benevolentsimone.wordpress.com/ Happy Blogging My Dear Followers!
Have a beautiful day!
Thank you,
Breyana Eans
This phenomenal woman was such an inspiration to me. She is the main reason I decided to become a writer. I discovered my gift through hers. She was an civil rights activist, award winning author, and an outstanding writer. She touched so many lives in her life. I never got the chance to meet her but she will definitely live through me.
You will truly be missed. Thank you for the life you lived. I pray that one day I will be even half the woman you were.
The following is the poem, “A Brave and Startling Truth”, written by Maya Angelou….This is one of my favorites…
“We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth
And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms
When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil
When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze
When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse
When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets
Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world
When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe
We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines
When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear
When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.”
♥
Background – Authur Boorman, a then 47 year-old disabled veteran, was a paratrooper in the Gulf War. Ultimately, too many falls took a toll on not only his knees but his back as well. Doctors told him that he would never…never walk unassisted again. That means he could only walk if he had back supports, knee supports, canes, crutches, etc. As a result of not being able to walk unassisted, he couldn’t workout. This caused him to gain alot of weight. In an attempt to lose this weight, he reached out to several yoga instructors. All of them turned him down. Then came along Diamond Dallas Page. Boorman reached out to Page in hopes of recieving the help and guidance he needed to lose the weight. Believing that he could lose the weight and walk again, Page sent Boorman several videos. He believed in him when no one else did. Boorman started his journey with the never-give-up mindset. He was determined to prove people wrong. In this video he says, “Just because I can’t do it today, doesn’t mean I won’t be able to do it someday.” He never gave up.
Watch the video to see how his journey continued. It will tug at your heart strings. It sends the message that no matter what obstacle you face, you can overcome it if you continue to push yourself and work towards it.
Day 5
We’ve been in this forest for hours. I look down at my watch. It’s now 2:16 A.M. A feeling of defeat cloaks itself over me once again. Bob must have sensed something was wrong. He glances at me and says, “What are you writing?” I walk over to a berry bush and observe the bright fruit. “Nothing important. I’m just writing my feelings down.” For the first time since we met, he smiles. “You’re a journalist?” I laugh, “Something like that.” I pick one of the berries off the bush and taste it. Raspberry. I look around for a way to carry the berries. Bob looks at me and hands me a leaf. “Put them here.” I just stare. A leaf? Really? Still, I gather leaves and fill them with berries. Once we’ve got enough, we carry them back to the girls. When we arrive, we see that the girls are up and drawing help us signs in the sand. Smart girls. I hand the girls the leaves. The girls gratefully gobble up the berries. “Now, back to business. How are we getting off the island.”, I say to Bob. Bob smiles again. “Now that we’ve eaten, let’s rest.”
Day 4
I feel weak. I barely was able to get out off of the ground. The children have been resting the majority of the day. I glance at my watch. It’s 6 o’clock. I feel the tears start to roll down my face again. No! I quickly wipe my face. I will not cry again! I decide to go looking for a way to get us off this island. I cannot just sit around and wait to die. I venture towards the forest. I’m almost there when I hear Bob’s cautious voice. “Where are you going?? We need to stick together!” I don’t turn around. “Stick together? Why? We’re going to die out here if we don’t get help soon. With that being said, I’m going to see if there is anyone else on this island.” I begin to walk again when I feel a hand on my elbow. “You’re going to die out here if you stay by yourself. Do you not think that I want to be off of this island too? My wife is dead. My children are starving. What a part of that means that I want to be here?” I hang my head. I feel ashamed for snapping on him. He wants to be off of this island just as badly as we do. I wasn’t being fair. “I’m sorry…How are they?” His face softens as the anger melts away. “They aren’t doing well. Both are very weak. I think we should go find food first. I know that getting off of the island is priority to you but my kids are priority to me.” I nod. Bob was right. As we walk into the forest, I look back towards the ocean. What does the future hold for us?
Day 3
I haven’t slept at all. How can I? Looking over at the man and his children, I am confused. How can anyone sleep through this? Questions flood my mind as I turn over on the charred blanket. How did the plane crash? How did I…we survive? I start thinking about the strange man. I desperately want to learn more about him. However, seeing that the circumstances were what they were, it wouldn’t be appropriate. The feeling still remained. There was something truly mysterious and intriguing about this man. His children were equally interesting. They seem to have sadness in their eyes. I know that sounds stupid considering that they lost their mother. It didn’t seem like that kind of sadness though. This was different. I don’t know. It seemed like their eyes reflected the life of a 60 year old, lonely man. It was odd. I look up from my writing and see the strange man. I can feel my face burning red when I see that his eyes are fixed on me. His eyes are a mix between tropical blue and green….Emerald. God, why am I thinking about his eyes when we are stranded on this island? I look up again and he looks at me. He doesn’t utter a sound but as I look closer, I see tears dancing down his cheek. I feel the tears rise. All I can say is, “I’m so sorry sir. It’ll be okay.” He just stares at me. I thought see a flicker of hope. Doubt comes in not long after and suffocates the hope that was once there. He seems like he wants to believe me but he can’t. I don’t blame him though. I don’t believe my own words.
As the day progresses, I start to feel my stomach growling. When was the last time I ate? Everyone is up now but it’s clear that they feel defeated. It’s only the second day that we’ve been here yet all hope has been lost. “We have to come up with some type of plan.” The man, whose name I learned was Bob, was staring at me. “What plan? There is no way out of here. We don’t even know where we are. There is no way to contact help.” I stated. I could tell that my tone was harsh but I didn’t care. This isn’t a movie. This is reality….This is our reality.
Day 2
◘◘◘◘
I feel something soft underneath me. I smell meat burning. Am I in heaven? It is clear that I’m no longer on the plane. I rub my hands along the surface and feel a grainy material. I look down. Sand? How did I get to the resort? How is this possible? Did they have to carry me off? Where are my bags? I look down at my hands and notice that they are covered in an ash substance. I look at my clothes – my blood stained clothes. I stand up and look around. I see nothing but debris and bodies. I start crying. I look down at the pen and notebook attached to a thick string around my neck. It too is covered with ash. It must have been a miracle that it lasted through the crash. Seconds later, I hear voices. The first is male. The second is a child’s voice. The man is screaming, “SUZZY? AMBER?”I realize this man and his young daughter are looking for their loved ones. I attempt to hold back tears once I realize that we are clearly the only ones left on the…the…. Where are we? The man spots me and begins running towards me. The child is trying hard to keep up. I freeze. “Ma’am! Have you seen my wife and child?” He pulls out a torn picture and shows it to me. The picture is of a beautiful, happy family. They couldn’t have known that today would be the last time they saw each other. The man stands there. His eyes are longing for an answer that I am afraid to give him. “Sir…I don’t think anyone…” Before I could finish, the little girl begins to scream. She runs over to the motionless body. “Mommy?” She looks at what looks to be her mother. The man runs over and drops to his knees. Together, they sit and cry. I didn’t know what to do. All I could manage to say was, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” That didn’t bring her back. Suddenly, I hear a small whimpering. I follow the sound until I come across a child. She couldn’t have been more than 6 years of age. She looks at me and begins to sob harder than before. How do I comfort this child? I then remember the man and the other little girl. “Are you looking for your daddy and sister?” She looks at me. She nodded. I begin screaming for the man. “SIR!!!” Within seconds, the man was beside me. He took one look at the child and picked her up into his arms. “Amber!!” His tears were flowing like a waterfall at this point. “I thought I lost you.” I look around. Where was the other girl? I look at the man and wait for his explanation. I didn’t have to wait long. “Rebecca is lying down. We all should rest before tomorrow. We need to figure out how to get off this island. We won’t last a week here. We have no food, no shelter and no supplies.” He looked at me with tears in his eyes but calm as the sea. I nod. From there, the journey begins.
The Beginning
May 12th 2014 (Day 1)
The day starts out like any other. There is nothing special about it. It is still beautiful outside. The sun is shining her light on the world and there isn’t a cloud in sight. I’m currently packing my suitcase for an extravagant weekend on the beach at the Turks & Caicos Resort and Spa (on the island of Providenciales). The excitement I feel is almost impossible to contain. I look at my clock. 10:00 A.M. Crap. I need to hurry up. I should’ve packed before hand. I begin rushing to finish the tiring task of packing. I booked my flight with Southwest Airlines for 11:00 A.M. It takes at least 30 minutes to get to the airport so I’m seriously playing with fire right about now. I finally finish packing. I grab both suitcases and rush out the house towards the car. I suddenly drop the bags to the ground. Shoot! I forgot to lock up the house. Rushing towards the house, I fall onto the ground. “Ouch! That’s going to leave a bruise”, I mumble. I get up, brush myself off, and head up the stairs. I forgot to close the door and lock it. That’s just my luck, right? I close the door and lock it. After, I rush breathlessly to the car. I pick up my bags, throw them in the backseat and get it. I look at my watch. I almost scream when I see that it’s 10:40. I have no time to waste. I quickly turn the car on and begin to pull out of the driveway. I speed down the highway towards the airport. My heart is racing fast. I am desperate for this vacation. Since the breakup, I haven’t taken the time to pamper myself. That was almost 2 years ago.
I finally get to the airport. I grab my luggage and rush to get checked in. It’s now 10:55 A.M. The lady is taking her sweet time getting my information together. I feel my face getting hot and flustered. She’s done…finally. It is now 10:58 A.M. I practically run to the plane, barely making it. It was now 10:59 A.M and the doors were about to be closed before I got there. I melt into my seat. My heart feels much lighter now that the 500 pound elephant named Stress is gone. All I can think about now is the beautiful island I am on my way to. I smile and close my eyes.
2 Hours Later…..
I couldn’t have been on the plane long before the smooth ride turns extremely bumpy. I hear the pilot say “We are experiencing turbulence in the air.” I instantly get nervous. Turbulence? I attempt to sit up only to be thrown back into my seat by an imaginary force. Panicking voices begin to fill the space. I thought to ask th
This photo is of my best friend & I. Friendships like this one usually don’t come around often. I am blessed.
What do you do when you have given your all to something but still you fail? Why is our best never good enough?
It seems like I’m always here. I give my absolute best to something and I fail…miserably. Yet, I still try time and time again. It gets old. It gets to be such a tiring task. Eventually, you’ll start to question your purpose in continuously trying to do something that never works. That’s about where I am right now. Why am I still trying? I’ve always prided myself on being the best at what I do but lately, it seems like my best is also my worse. Everyone always tells me to trust in God and leave it to him. Well, I’ve done that. I’ve always done that. However, where has that got me? Nowhere. Now, I’m not saying I don’t believe in God. I’m a Christian and I know my Lord makes a way. However, under these circumstances, I’m not sure if God is still listening to me and answering my prayers. Well anyway, like I said before, I give up. It’s too much to deal. I can’t keep repeating this process of doing something and it not paying off. I understand that trial and error is necessary to succeed but I have yet to reach the point of success. I feel discouraged to even commit to the attempt.
When I started this blog, I didn’t know exactly what my goal for it was. Honestly, I didn’t really have a specific goal in mind. I just wanted to write and express myself. I mean, even though it seems like it, that isn’t a “goal”. I could’ve just bought a notebook and did both of those things. I didn’t know what I wanted from the blog itself. I typed in wordpress.com and stared at the home screen for almost an hour. I wasn’t sure if I should start my writer’s journey with something as big as a blog. However, I knew that there was no turning back. The idea of having one had already sucked me in. I could’ve gone with just a website…one nobody would ever have to see. That wasn’t enough. So after about 45 minutes, I finally signed up for wordpress.com.
Then I came across an issue.
What should I name my blog? I didn’t want something cliché. I wanted something that spoke to me as a writer. Then I remembered something from a year or so prior. The summer before I actually started my blog, I attempted to write a book. It wasn’t my first book so I knew what to expect. However, this time I included way too many people in it. While writing this book, I was stressed out and I was losing my passion for writing. Needless to say, I gave up on the book. Anyway, I digress. The name of the book was Lyrically Speaking. I don’t even remember what made me fall in love with this title but some how I did. Well, my problem was solved. Lyrically Speaking would be the title of my blog.
That was just one problem.
The site then asked me what I wanted my “slogan” or subheading to be. Basically it was asking me to define what my blog was about and what it was made for. I had no clue what to put. In fact, I was so clueless that I stopped the process of creating my blog. Instead, I stared at my screen again. This time, there was no flashback to come to my aid. I was stuck. I thought about it and after a few minutes of constant thought, I came up with the slogan, “A platform for creativity to be born.” At first I had no clue what that meant but it sounded good to put. However, a friend of mine who followed my blog asked me why I chose that particular slogan. Crap. Again, I was stuck. I assumed it meant exactly what it said. This site was my platform to be myself. It was a platform for me to be creative and extraordinary.
Another problem solved. *pats self on the back*
Fast forward a few months to now. I am the owner of a blog. Looking back on it, I am so thankful to have made this blog. I have been able to read so many wonderful thoughts that have ultimately inspired my blog. I have the pleasure of reading fellow blogger’s thoughts and opinions. I found that some of my blog followers are like me. That’s exciting to know. It motivates me to keep blogging. My blog is a work in progress and I love it. ♥
First, let me clarify what natural hair is…it is when your hair is truly in its natural state. There is no chemicals, no processing, nothing that would change the natural texture of your original hair. Most people assume that not wearing weave, but getting perms still means they are natural. That is not true. That just means that you are wearing the hair that was given to you.
Let me tell you guys a story….
I have been natural basically my entire life. I used to (and still do) wear my hair in its natural state….literally. I mean afros were my thing. However, natural hair was not accepted. Children can be cruel and ohhh were they. They were mean y’all. But now I see so many of them that are hopping on the natural train. However, they have these misconceptions in their heads that hinders them from progressing. So here are a few common misconceptions that I feel I should address.
“All Natural Hair Is Strong”
Gahlee, that is not true by any means. I have natural hair and my hair is strong BUT that is only because of the texture of my hair. Thin hair and some thick hair that is natural can be very brittle and weak. I’m not saying it is ALWAYS weak and brittle but most times it is.
“Natural Hair Can’t Be Combed”
Seriously guys, I mean come on? I have really thick but natural hair and I can definitely comb through my hair. Natural hair is similar to permed/relaxed hair in the sense of combing. You have to be careful to not over comb the hair but it can be done.
“Natural Hair Is Only For Hippies or “Soul Sistas” ‘
……
…..The stupidity I hear….. First of all, I know a lot of people who have natural hair and they aren’t hippies nor black. I can’t even explain that one. Natural hair is for everyone who wants to be natural and not put chemicals in their hair.
“Natural Hair Can’t Grow Long”
My hair is down my back and it is natural. It depends on how long you’ve been natural and really just your preferences. Some women find short natural hair to be suitable for them. Now, if you are constantly subjecting your hair to heat, it will break off.
“Natural Hair is Difficult and Unmanageable”
This is somewhat true… Yes, it can be difficult but only if you don’t have the proper knowledge. It does take time to detangle, get the knots out and do treatments, but by carefully caring for your hair, you can reap a full healthy head of hair.
“You Must Apply Grease to the Hair and Scalp”
NO! This can dry out your scalp y’all. Don’t listen to this one.
“Trimming Makes Natural Hair Grow.”
Even though trimming will improve the overall health of your hair by getting rid of split ends, it has nothing to do with the hair that grows out of your scalp. By trimming your hair, you are able to hold on to strands that don’t split, so you are able to see length because it’s not breaking and splitting.
“You Shouldn’t Wash Natural Hair Too Often”
I grew up hearing that you can’t wash too often because our hair is very fragile. Maybe with relaxed hair, but washing is wonderful for natural hair. However, strong shampoos can be drying. If you do use shampoo be sparing with cleaners that contain sodium laurel sulphate. If SLS is too harsh for your strands, try a “conditioner wash”, using conditioner to cleanse your hair instead of shampoo.
“Water Will Dry Out Natural Hair”
Water is the BEST moisturizer for your hair. It is your friend…..EMBRACE IT.
With that being said, I’m OUT. Thank you for reading!
I am really blessed to have The Queen’s Foundation.
I am really shy when it comes to meeting influential people. Shocking, I know. Anyway, the purpose of the networking event last Thursday was for me to network with different people who could potentially assist me on my way to becoming a PR (Public Relation Specialist) and owning my own business. I walked in there not knowing what to do…..I take that back. I knew to give my 30 second commercial. That was easy. It was continuing the conversation that scared me, but I amazed myself. I was networking with everyone. I met people like Stephanie Marquadt of the Florida 8(a) Alliance, Brile Johnson of The Women’s Business Center of NC, Kimberley Basnight of Echos Media Boutique all the way to Ingrid Jones of Impact Meetings. That’s just a few people I met.
All of these women had connections to my field(s) of study and were willing to put me in contact with them. I am on my way! That wasn’t the end of networking for me. I have continued and will continue to network through the women that I’ve met.
All this happened because of The Queen’s Foundation. I tell young girls all the time that if they have to opportunity to join this organization, DO IT. This program has continuously opened doors for me that most people don’t have opened for them until they are well out of college. This program is no joke. Like I said before, I networked with a lot of influential people last Thursday. I have that competitive edge that most colleges scout for. Well, I’m done preaching. All I can say is, I AM A QUEEN.
When I was younger, I had the perfect image of what I wanted my relationship to be like. I knew what I wanted my boyfriend to look like, act like, etc. As I got older, I realized that my “ideal guy” was just fantasy. I always seem to attract guys who don’t share my ambitions or guys that I have nothing in common with. Honestly, I attract guys that act like my father. -_-
Ugh. I always these fairy tale relationships and I’m like really? I don’t want a “perfect” relationship but I do want a relationship that is perfect for me….get it? I really sound like I’m single, don’t I? Well that’s the crazy thing about it. I’m not single. I’m in a relationship with a guy that I love very much. However, I feel alone in my relationship. I feel like I’m in it by myself. It’s like there’s never time set aside for me. Sometimes we go days without speaking. Then when we do speak, I feel like we’re going way too fast. It’s probably because I’m younger than he is…
All of my friends (and some teachers), tell me that I would be better off single than in the situation I’m in. I don’t want to believe that. When you really care about someone, you try to make things work. You try to be supportive and loving. Sometimes, you even try to meet them half way. I don’t know. It’s clear from looking at my relationship that I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into. I would like to believe that I have everything figured out but you know what? I don’t have the slightest clue. I guess it will pass soon, but I doubt it. Once I start overthinking, it’ll be on my mind until something else comes and takes it away.
Well, I’m done. I just felt like venting today. Thanks for reading…
“Butterfly in the sky
I can go twice as high
Take a look
it’s in a book
A Reading Rainbow
I can go anywhere
Friends to know
and ways to grow
A Reading Rainbow
I can be anything
Take a look
it’s in a book
Reading Rainbow
A Reading Rainbow”
In case it isn’t obvious, this song is from the popular PBS children’s program, Reading Rainbow which was hosted by LeVar Burton. This show made reading appear to be fun; at least it did for me. The song itself captured my attention. I grew more interested in books because according to the song, reading meant that you could do anything you set your mind to. However, many people have never even heard of this program.
After polling my classes, I found out that 80% of the students have never heard of the show and 10% have heard of the show but never actually watched it. It gets worse…out of the ten percent that actually have seen the show, only 3% found it interesting. I was utterly astounded by the fact that the majority of my peers never heard of this show.
Importance
I know you’re probably wondering why this show was/is so important. Well it’s simple, children aren’t reading as often as they should. Literature is like the foundation of a house. If you take the foundation away, the whole house crumbles. However, if you build a strong foundation, that house will last a lifetime. In other words, if you get a child to master reading/literature, it will last them a lifetime and help them in other areas of your life. Let’s face it, literature is inescapable. Everywhere you go, with everything you do, you’re are going to have to know how to read, how to comprehend a piece of literature, etc. That’s what I feel Reading Rainbow has been doing. It let us know that it didn’t matter how we read, it mattered that we were reading. Reading Rainbow has gone to great lengths to bring reading to us, whether it’s through a TV or an app on our phones/tablets. It worked! Those 3% of students told me that reading was made easier. It was made fun again. If it worked then, don’t you think it could work now?
Well I digress… I just wanted to share today’s experience with you all.
It seems like the most important thing in life is getting money and having materialistic things that hold no sentimental value.
I used to think that it was just my generation but I see now that it is everyone. What ever happened to being happy and free? What happened to living to make a difference? Nowadays we don’t have any real idea as to what “happiness” or “making an impact” really is. That doesn’t sit well with me for some reason. It’s like we have succumb to the age of ignorance. I say ignorance because we lack knowledge about what enjoying life really is. It’s not hard to enjoy life. All it takes is waking up and seizing the day. Live in the moment. Don’t worry about being the richest Joe Schmoe on the block.
What happened to impacting the world just because you lived? Would you want people say that you were the richest person, but unhappy? Or, would you rather people say that you seized the day, impacted the world and was happy doing it? I would much rather be happy. Let’s face it; you can’t take your money with you when you die.
Now, don’t get me wrong, making money is great. However, that should not be the only reason that you are living. That should not be your legacy. You should want people to look up to you because you lived, you made a difference, but most importantly you were happy. I don’t know …maybe I’m just repeating myself and wasting my time. That’s not what I would want my legacy to be… I guess it’s just the world we live in.
The Queen’s Foundation truly lives up to its mission statement. TQF’s mission is to develop and promote under-served young women to reach their greatest potential to higher education and leadership through a society of women across North Carolina. That isn’t just a nice phrase. I have been in TQF’s PowerHouse Program for a year now. I am a witness to how amazing this program is and how much it has benefited me.
I have met so many powerful women that not only lead in their communities, but also give back. It’s through their guidance that I learned what a “Queen” really is. I learned how to walk in a room and make my presence known before I even opened my mouth. I learned how to lead effectively. I still to this day wonder how such a blessing could have been bestowed upon me. I have been mentored by some of the most influential women in North Carolina.
Before this program, I knew who I was…or at least I thought I did. This program forced me to sit down and seriously think about who/what I wanted to be/do. I had to have a game plan. I couldn’t just think of the obvious like, “Oh, I want to be a writer.”, or “Oh, I want to be successful.” That’s great and all but the question was HOW was I going to get there? What was my goal? Was it realistic/attainable? How long would it take me to get there? When I reach my goal, what would I do to further that? I had to have some type of action plan as to how I was going to be. It’s kind of my mission statement. It ties in with my brand.
Speaking of my brand, I learned that your brand is everything. Your brand is who you are and what you stand for. Often times when speaking with some of these powerhouse women, like TQF’s founder, Ms. Nadia S. Moffett, they would ask “What is your brand?” At first, I promise you I looked at them like they were speaking another language. I honestly did not understand what they meant. I remember thinking that I was nice, honest, reliable and interesting and that was it. That was what I assumed my brand was. Yes, these are some qualities of your brand, but it goes deeper than that. I realized that I am an innovator. If you give me a task to do, not only will I do it, but I will go above and beyond expectation. I learned that I am dedicated. I will put my heart and soul into my work and will do better than anyone else. Trust me, I’m not being cocky. I am confident in myself and my work. I know that I bring something to the table that nobody else brings. I bring initiative, innovation, dedication, and sometimes people say that I bring that extra “umph”. That is the making of a brand. That is what having a brand is.
But mainly, this program taught me that I am a beautiful queen. I am a force to reckon with when I put my mind to it. This program is the real thing. If young girls have the opportunity to join this program, DO IT. If a woman has the opportunity to volunteer or mentor for this program, DO IT. This program will change you for the better.
I am a PowerHouse Woman. I am a woman of virtue and success. I will succeed. I am a QUEEN. ♥
Life is seriously getting to me at this point. It’s like I try to be happy and smile but I don’t feel like it anymore. I’m tired of keeping it together. Sometimes I just want to cry and snap. It’s just frustrating. School is stressful. My personal life is a wreck. My social life is non-existent. What’s great about that? Now I know that I should be thankful to be alive and I am. I know that I’m blessed. It’s not about that. I have no time to relax which means all the stress and frustration of my extremely long day doesn’t get to be released. It builds over time until something causes the bubble to burst….I’m at that point now. It seems like no one understands what I am going through. It’s frustrating. I don’t have anyone to talk to except for God. Right now, it doesn’t even seem like he hears my cries. I know I’m probably depressing my readers right now. That’s fine. I know that most of you might not understand everything that I have to go through. I wouldn’t expect you to understand and honestly, I would never want you to. This feeling sucks. It’s feels like I’m in a glass freezer that is full of water. I can’t breathe and I’m turning into an ice cube. To make matters worse, the entire world is watching. I’ve been handling all this stress for way too long. I’ll be fine though. I probably just needed to vent for a while. It’s true what they say. Every superwoman has her day.
I’m that friend…..
In society, young boys are taught to not be feminine. This means no crying, playing with dolls, or doing anything that a female would do. If you do feminine things, you’re ridiculed. It struck me as odd because when I was younger, I would always have my brother play dolls with me. Does that make him not a man now? Does that make him homosexual? What’s so wrong about a young boy expressing his emotions or playing with dolls? In my opinion, there isn’t anything wrong with that.
When I expressed to a few of my male friends about my concerns I got mixed responses. Actually, I shouldn’t say a “mixed response.” The majority shouted at me a harsh “NO!” However, one in particular gave me a rather interesting answer. He smiled and said, “I wouldn’t mind my son playing with dolls…when he is a tiny boy. As far as him playing with one after the age of 10, it’s unacceptable. We live in a society that already puts barriers up about homosexuality and feminine men. The last thing I would want is for my child is to be labeled as “not a man” just because he plays with/played with dolls. I know that may seem harsh but it’s true.” That was really interesting to me. In a way, he’s right. Society forms so many opinions on what a man is and if a male doesn’t live up to that, there’s an issue. There are definitely barriers up for every stereotype you can think of; homosexuality, race, gender, hair type, hair color, etc. It doesn’t matter what it is, there is always a barrier.
After hearing interesting feedback from some of the people, I had to research situations where a male having female tendencies was an issue. I found an article that said that a 13-year-old Kansas eighth-grader was suspended from school because he refused to take off his Vera Bradley “purse”. Yes, you heard me. He was suspended for something as ridiculous as that. He is a 13 year old child. He wanted to express himself. I could understand if he was harming someone with his purse but he wasn’t. His principal took it upon himself to call him out of class to tell him to take off a bag. When he refused, he took it one step further and suspended him. That violates his rights as a person. Who are you/we to tell him that he can’t wear what he wants. His parent(s) sent him to school with it so it’s clear that they thought he wasn’t harming anyone.
It kind of bothers me to know that this is what we’re teaching our young boys. It makes me wonder how my husband (when I get married) would react if I let our son play with dolls. Would I then be ridiculed too? I feel like it is crazy that something as simple as playing with dolls when you’re little, makes you less of a person when you get older.
As little girls we dream about having a big wedding with the perfect husband by our sides. We dream about having children of our own and growing old with our significant others. As we get older, our family starts pressuring us about relationships and finding the “right one”. I was definitely one of those little girls. I could tell you about my entire wedding down to the color of the seat covers. I would walk down the aisle in a beautiful, white ballgown with a long train. My wedding colors would be lavender and yellow.The rest is minor compared to who would be waiting for me when I got to the end of that walk. My husband. He would be perfect. He would be a distinguished, ambitious, loving, family-oriented, charming, and respectable.His looks? He would be gorgeous. He would have a cocoa complexion. He would be between 5’8 and 6’1 with perfect brown eyes, neatly groomed hair, and a irresistible smile. He would want kids..maby three or four. He would be a God fearing Christian that loved our Lord first and foremost.
However, I look at all these marriages that fail and my excitement ceases. It makes me doubt whether a marriage can last. Well, let me change that. It makes me doubt whether two people can stay emotionally committed to one another. Every marriage that I’ve known has ended in divorce. It could be because one of them cheated, or one is just not in love with their partner anymore. What if that happens to me? What if I get into a marriage and end up realizing that it’s not for me? What happens after the love is gone? What if I don’t choose the right man? What if I choose a sorry boy? I don’t know. For some reason these questions seem to always find me. I’m scared. Marriage scares me because all I’ve seen is divorce. 
What is perfection?
Just like beauty, perfection is in the eye of the beholder.
People have so many different ideas of what “perfection” is. I personally don’t think it’s possible to be perfect. There is always going to be someone that doesn’t see perfection even if you do.
I see so many people worried about achieving this unattainable goal.
Most people don’t agree that perfection is unachievable. They believe that with the right tools, perfection can be reached. They don’t understand that no one and nothing is perfect. It’s not meant to be perfect. If we were, our Lord wouldn’t have died on the cross for us. I’m not trying to preach to anyone. That is not my intention. I wish people would understand that perfection is in the mind not reality. Perfection can’t be defined. A lot of people try to define it but they can’t.
But hey, that’s just my two cents.
Lyrically Speaking 