Becoming a Woman

I’m not used to having what feel like grown up conversations with my father. It’s strange. I still feel like a small child around him, so when he talks to me like we’re on the same footing I’m uncertain as to what I am supposed to do. I’m not used to him relating to me like someone on the same level as him. He usually just tells me to do something, or that he’s going out. If not that, then he’s teaching me something I didn’t know about politics, or telling me something that’s from the Bible. These recent conversations where he’s talking to me like a person…are so different. He’s not talking down to me – well, not so much. He’s actually speaking to me like I’m an adult too and like it’s okay now to include me in these kinds of things. They’re like the conversations he has with my older sister. When they talk they don’t sound like father and daughter to me. They sound like too adults. I always found that a bit unusual, and now that it’s happening to me it’s even more strange. What am I supposed to do with this newfound… what on earth is this called? Status? Yes, I’ll go with that. What am I supposed to do with this newfound status? The other day, in another one of our conversations, my father told me that I was a “big woman” (our Jamaican way of saying grown woman). I was astonished that he said that to me, and that he meant it. I still think about that phrase sometimes and wonder what it really means for me, and what I should do with it…

I’m at a serious loss here…

I kind of am “too busy”.

A friend of mine wrote a post on Facebook today against the argument people make of being “too busy” as a reason, or an excuse, for not contacting others. To her defence, she said that she used to go to school and work two jobs at the same time, going off of 5-6 hours of sleep each night, yet she still kept in touch with people; she still called them and asked how they were doing. Since she was able to do this, she says, she does not accept when someone else says that he or she was “too busy” to call or check in. Apparently, if someone is interested in you, or is thinking about you, then the person will make the time to contact you and find out how you are. 

This affected me in a negative way because I am one of those who use the “too busy” excuse. Actually, I don’t say I’m busy. I say I’m tired. When I say I’m tired, I list the responsibilities I have to illustrate that I really am tired. Sometimes I get four hours of sleep at night. Sometimes three. Sometimes seven or eight. Regardless of this, I still have a lot trouble staying awake at school. I have trouble staying awake to finish homework. When school is in session I spend most of my time just trying to stay awake. I also live in my head most of the time so it doesn’t occur to me to reach out to other people. There’s also the part of me that has no liking for small talk. I cannot, for the life of me, see the meaning behind calling someone “just to say hi”. On several occasions my sister has asked if I can’t call her. She’s always the one calling she says. The thing is I haven’t had anything to say to her. I call when I have something to say. Even then, sometimes I forget. I don’t have a regular schedule and it’s usually really full, so I don’t remember a lot of the time that I actually want to tell someone something. When I do remember, it is usually at a time or place where I don’t have the opportunity to make contact. 

I feel bad sometimes, because the truth is sometimes I have someone on my mind for a long time. I have the intention of calling, but I get so caught up in work and school work and family duties that I really don’t have the time to call. When I do have free time, I use it to destress by watching a few episodes of a Korean drama. Sometimes the time disappears without me even noticing. 

I realise it may look bad that I don’t “stay in touch” with a lot of people, but, firstly, I don’t like awkward, and secondly, I really am “too busy”.

On Being A Soldier

The other day a coworker of mine called me a soldier. He said that I work like one, that I always want to follow the rules, but that things don’t always work that way. I understood him. I knew what he meant. I know I’m like that. That’s how I was raised. Obey your elders. Use things for what they were made for. Come back from school the way I sent you there. 

I’ve been thinking about what my coworker said and the fact that he chose to compare my work ethic to that of a soldier. I recall that word being used to describe me before, but it had an entirely different connotation. Before, I was a soldier because I was a child of God. I was a soldier that was constantly battling with the enemy. I was a soldier that was being challenged and tested in order to be made stronger.

I was a soldier who was dying.


I find myself talking to God lately. I’m surprised by it. This morning, as I was about to eat a plate of food, I gave thanks for it, and I included the name of Jesus. I was surprised by that too. I shook the thought out of my head and started eating on my way to my laptop where my drama episode was waiting on Viki.

That’s how it happens. I say thanks for things, because I am thankful, and then I pause at the fact that I’m talking to Him, and then I wonder why I’m receiving these things, why He’s giving them to me. Before I left work last night, at my new job at a supermarket, a coworker, on her way out, gave me two coupons for items that were already on sale in the store. I was able to purchase those items for 20% of their usual cost. That sent me over the moon. It was whip cream on top of the sales that I had accidentally encountered two days before. Their timing was perfect. The same way the timing was perfect when I found an apartment, and when I got this new job. I was in disbelief, yet very grateful at the same time. On my way home, in answer to the question of why God was doing these things for me, why He was taking care of me in this way, a voice in my head said that it was because He had seen my suffering. I let that thought go in the wind that was blowing and quickened my pace to the train station. I was still thankful though.


This morning on my way to work I wondered whether or not I should text my best friend and tell her about these things. She’s also on a not-so-straight religious journey and I wondered what she would think. Last night before I went to sleep I wondered if I should tell my boyfriend. He has his own set of beliefs, though they’re not unique to him, and I wondered what he would think. I don’t know what I think. Not yet.

I don’t intend to go back to church because of this. I don’t want to go in search of another religion either. I do know that I have never believed in God being nonexistent, so it’s okay to acknowledge and talk to Him. I don’t want to be a soldier though, of any kind. I don’t want to be tested, to be put through fire, to be molded, to be broken, any of that. I don’t want to be rigid and unmovable. I don’t want to fight.

Growing Up Millennial

The Captain's Speech

Screen Shot 2015-05-09 at 3.54.51 AMAs a person born in the 90s, I am classified as a millennial, which means I am everything that is wrong with the world today. I stare at a screen instead of talking to people. I expect everything handed to me. I am lazy. I binge watch television shows. I overuse the word “binge”. I expect a trophy when I fail. I take selfies everywhere. I am narcissistic. I am entitled. I don’t read the newspaper. I spend too much time on “The Twitter.”

Or at least that’s how I’m categorized.

As if I’m a book and my date of birth is the summary on the back, telling everyone exactly what I’m about.

I feel as though there is a sense of pride that people have for growing up when they did. I look back on the 90s and am thrilled to call that decade my childhood. Just as people born in…

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I know I have the wrong idea about the situation. I usually do. I see things through my feelings, and that clouds my vision. But I don’t want to suppress anything more than I already have. I don’t want to hurt myself that way. I already hurt myself so many other ways.

It’s like I said, once she says what she has to say she’s fine. She moves on with her life and doesn’t think about it anymore. She probably disapproves of my behavior, but doesn’t think that she should stop relating to me as her sister. Whereas I am upset that she spoke to me the way she did and I am still hurt by it. I haven’t told her this. She probably doesn’t know. Her tone with me on our last phone call was very different from the way she spoke in the texts. I was very surprised by it. She sounds very calm right now. I don’t understand that. I’m in turmoil. I wish I wasn’t. My life is always like this. There are things that I am thankful for and things that I am worried over at the same time, and so I can never be truly peaceful. There is always something that causes me to be anxious. There is always something that I dread, or fear. At the same time, there is something I am happy about. Something that makes me smile. I thought before that these things were cover ups for how I truly felt, which was depressed, or unhappy, but maybe it’s that that’s just the way life Is. When am I going to be happy 24/7? Never. But I’ve never been sad or down 24/7 either. It’s that yin and yang thing, although I don’t think there’s perfect balance, but in my happiness, there is sorrow, and in my sorrow, there is happiness as well. It’s a push and pull kind of thing where my being is fighting to be at peace, to be balanced. Sometimes I am too much on the side of sadness and I seek for something that will provide some way of escape for this. This is where I find temporary pleasure. Sometimes when good things happen in my life, as they have been recently, I wonder if I should be happy with these things. If it is okay for me to be happy. Not whether I deserve it or not. I’ve never thought that. But I wonder if…I wonder why. I wonder why these things are happening to me when they are the result of a negative incident, when someone else may be hurting as a result of that incident. Can I be happy now, even though I was miserable before. Is it okay for me to happy now, when someone else was hurt in order for me to receive these things, though I didn’t hurt that person intentionally, and though that person got hurt because that person may have been trying to hurt me. …

I got myself a pen pal last night. I found her on Instagram.

That’s not what I wanted to write about.

For the summer I’m hoping to finally start arranging my poems into chapters so that maybe I can get them published together as some sort of anthology.

Not sure if that is what I wanted to write about.

I miss my mother, a lot. It would be really great if I could talk to her about this new change in my life – me moving, and the cause of it.

Definitely wasn’t going to write about that.

I miss blogging. I want to do it more often. I definitely could since I have more time on my hands now. It’s just that I don’t know what I want to write about. I certainly have things on my mind, but I don’t know what I should reveal and what I should keep to myself. What can I blog about? What should I just write in my journal? Should I even still write in my journal?


I’m beginning to wonder if all the ideas I have in my head are going to stay there – all the places I want to go to, the things I want to do and say. Will they stay in my head or will they be able to make it out, to come to fruition? I wonder if I should abandon them so as not to be too hurt when (if) they don’t come true, if they don’t make it. I wonder if I should abandon these doubts and really try to make these ideas more than just ideas. They don’t make sense to other people. Other people don’t understand why I want these things, how these things could possibly benefit me. But I understand. These things won’t benefit me. They’ll make me happy. I don’t have a reason. I just want to do them. I just want to live.

I want to live for myself. I don’t care about being called selfish. I know that’s what I am. But I think it’s fine.

I don’t want someone else running my life, telling me what to do with it. I want to do it for myself, not by myself, but for myself. Everyone has opinions and everyone sees life from a different angle. My angle counts. What I see counts. What I think counts. I see no reason for it to be disregarded. I acknowledge that I have not lived a great many number of years. I acknowledge that I am lacking, in many areas. But I will not be made to feel as if what I think is not significant because of that. I will not be belittled for having my own opinions and perspectives. I will not subscribe to the idea that I am stupid or foolish, for thinking the way I do and wanting the things I want.

I am not one for inspirational thinking, or any thing that is meant to be uplifting, but I am becoming very tired of so frequently being positioned beneath the feet of others.

I just got a call from my older sister. She asked about where I lived, whom with, how I found the place, and how much it cost. She also told me to read up on things about money and finance, instead of “the novel or whatever”. She told me to sign up for an account on credit karma, to stay away from store credit cards, and to get one of the others that offered cash back so that I could get some money in my pocket.

This is bothering me for more than one reason. Firstly, I’m not a finance person, a business person, or a money person, or a math person. It’s really hard for me to read on those subjects. Secondly, I just finally started reading tonight, after not reading any for so long because I was so busy with school. Thirdly, I had already planned to get one of those cash back credit cards. I’ve been pre-approved or whatever for one already. It’s just that when I was going over the information there was something about the interest being 0% for only the first year,  or the APR rather. I looked up APR and wasn’t able to understand what it meant, and I don’t want to be paying anything after the first year of having a card. Just now when I went on my bank’s website to try and chat with someone I received a message that there was no one available and that I’d have to come back another time.

I’m also kind of stuck in a rut. I had to move suddenly. I don’t start my second job until this Saturday. I’m broke. And I still lack some things that I need. I knew that I’d have to do without some things for this month, and I’m fine with that, but…I’m such an anxious busy body. I never stay calm for too long. I always pick up something I thought I was done worrying about, or I find something new to worry myself over.

I guess that’s why I’m writing this. I was worrying – the way I always do.

WordPress I missed you!

WordPress I have missed you. You all have no idea how much it killed me every time I opened up a page to write and ended up deleting it because of how crappy it was, or how many blog posts just didn’t get written because all of the feeling I had inside myself just couldn’t make itself out safely in words. My own physical journal couldn’t even accept what I had needed to release.

Well, the semester is over, and I am here now. How are you?

First off, let me say that I am moving out! That’s right. I am moving out of my parents’ house. I am going to live on my own in a tiny little room and I’m going to pay rent and utilities, buy groceries, and stay out as late as I want to. And I’m not scared at all. I just got a second job today. Perfect, perfect timing. No school. Two jobs. New place. Really excited. And I have cheerleaders too!  And the weather is finally, finally warming up (that’s New England for you) so I can wear my cute dresses (and shorts) that I bought in Hawaii last January. AND Chronixx, one of my favourite Reggae artists is coming back to Boston this June! I missed him the last time he came. I will be damned if I miss him again (please God don’t let me have to work on that day, PLEASE).

Anyways, I’m really excited about the near future, surprised that I’m not scared, but confident that I’ll be fine.

P.S. It’s great to be back!