A Typical Day for us.

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My nephew poor baby, loves me to death and looks up to me. Seeking guidance, from my experiences in life. I start off by saying to him every time he asks anything, “You know I was crazy right.” He always, laughs and says that’s why he likes to talk to me and I tell him the truth. I have done and been in such different circumstances than most people, unless you led my lifestyle. Then even, probably not. At the time it seemed so normal to me because it was.

When I look back on my life, I could never have thought up some of the things that have happened on my own. Why, I have to write about it.I will probably drop dead one day out of the blue, because of how I lived before now.Someone, should benefit from the mistakes I made before I croak.

My next few books should be interesting reads to most people regardless, of your backgrounds.I find interest in it as I recall and sometimes can’t believe it happened.”Angel” is nothing like “Family Tree” why I have had trouble with it. I guess, it doesn’t have to be the same. But, for the sake of continuity, I thought it should be somewhat similar and it is somewhat. Okay, I am over that torture.

I decided to break up the stories into smaller books.novelettes, because the stories are so different and each one is a book on its own. Episodes, for sure. I like them though, it is the presentation of each one. I like to move through time out of order. Don’t ask me why, this is how it comes. Then tie it all together in the end. Some semblance of meaning to an outcome.How I got to where I am and the time that passes so quickly on the way is enough for me to contemplate. I was anything but, an Angel except in my heart.

Emotions are a powerful thing, I believe my books will demonstrate the ability they have of influencing our decision making. Enough said.

Anyway, back to my nephew. He said “Auntie, I finally got laid.” Like a good aunt I said, “Did you use protection.” He said “NO.” “I was licking butts, and everything.” I stopped him and said “That is too much info.” I am not one of your friends, I gave him the lecture on how one can still pass STD’s with oral sex and blah blah blah… Keep your condoms on hand; having them available is half the battle. He agreed, after I was done.

A few hours pass, I say to him , “How do you think a man would feel, knowing I shave the hair off my chin.” I laugh every time I think of it. “Why you doing that?” He says to me. Looking like I just confused him.Plucking them is just annoying and when I go to have it waxed, it is just as dreadful and she still plucks.”That makes sense,” he says. “How do you get a close shave?” “Mine grows back too fast, I hate it.” I explained. “Everyone’s does, he said.” There is no man secret to tell me about shaving hair off of the face and keeping it off. Damn.

I thought of electrolysis but it isn’t as effective on darker skin. The machine picks up the darker hair opposed to skin color. For women of color this option isn’t a good one. “I have a beard Auntie, I definitely don’t know anything to tell you accept to try shaving cream.” I think that’s what you need he explained.”Quit calling me Auntie, I told you.” I hate it sounds so, not me anyway. .Aunt Angie, is out of the question too; phonetically I can’t stand the way it sounds. I get tripped up repeating it.

“What can I call you, Auntie.” While he laughed out loud amused by my frustration with him. “Figure it out, I trust you will one day.”

“Between, you saying that and the hairs on my chin, anyone would think I was a hundred years old.” The weird thing about it is I don’t know why, I care about age recently. I never did. I don’t try to be younger than I am or anything like that. It’s annoying in fact, to me when people don’t act their age. I was mumbling these rants to myself.

Brandon came over and hugged me then said, “Auntie it’s not your chin men are looking at.” We both started laughing. “I had a girlfriend with ‘Beef curtains’ I loved her to death.” I was afraid to ask what the hell that means. I was frowning, like i didn’t know. “You know, when your vagina lips are to long like wings.” Never mind, I mumbled and turned around laughing as I walked away. I am done with this conversation. I don’t see the comparison. “You know about that don’t you.”

“No, why would I know about it.” I never see women’s vaginas. All men in the films, I saw or worked on. “Oh that explains it.”

He went back to working on his script, I went back to working on mine.

On the Horizon

Something is coming, from beneath  rooted in the ground, under my feet to pass through me on the way upward to get out.  Conjuring, the spell that will be unleashed into the world l leave behind. Smothering the seeds of souls I  created to give away divine.

There on the ground, not to be seen with normal eyes. Look with the one we have inside knowing the wisdom of peace, connecting all of us in a space we need to find.

I will become the pirouettes of carrying wind moving beneath my feet, taken away in the darkness of passion throughout the flight  Then morning light will slowly take over the transition into day.

Leaves of  my love pass by floating, in colors, through the sky. Waving to me, they said goodbye. I stood there crying and  watched them slowly passing through my side. Then  one by one disappearing from my sight.

Men are molested too

The last few days have been incredibly emotional for me.  A friend I used to work with many years ago found me as a result of my writing.

My first thought was, what are you doing looking for me. It’s been 20 years or more. We worked in mental health together.

I felt he belonged there instead of working there. Lol. I used to joke and tell him this. There was something about him that was wrong because, he tried so hard to be perfect.

Dressed so neat and  his car shined like a diamond. He had a wife that was very nice but humble to him. He was in charge of things. But, there was just something about it I didn’t like.

I would tell him if I am ever alone with your wife, I will tell her she deserves better than your cheating ass. Anyway, as it turns out we became friends.

I never said anything to his wife but,could not stay in the friendship because of it. Knowing what he was doing to her behind her back.

He crossed the line when, he tried to hit on me. I lost respect for him and our friendship. There are not many people who work in mental health, who can find others outside the profession that can relate to our experiences.

I was disappointed about it. Otherwise he was a funny, smart guy who had whit about him. A regular smart ass like myself.  Anyway, years passed like I said before.

I wasn’t that upset we lost touch. When he surfaced he told me. “I read your book The Trees Outside recently. I wanted to tell you, I loved it.”

I said, “Great, thanks.” He went on to tell me he was still with his wife. He was still cheating on her like before. I thought, okay I am really not interested in hearing this same old story.

I reminded him that this was the reason I distanced myself, in case he forgot. I don’t want to hear it now. “I can’t believe your wife is still putting up with you.” Wtf is wrong with the both of you, I thought as I said that.

I went on to say, why don’t you get help or are you happy. Knowing he wasn’t and was trying to escape from himself. Or leave her since she won’t go, do her a favor then whore around all you want.
You don’t respect her anyway, it is possible to love someone and not respect them. After they put up with your crap knowing, it’s wrong.

No matter what her mouth says to you, about it. If she stays, with you that is saying I will take this from you. She was illegal in this country, he told me. At that moment, I liked him even less.

A real scumbag, I thought. I yelled “Why did you call, to upset me with the fact you haven’t changed.” He said something, I will never for get as long as I live. “No, I wanted to tell you now I can.”

I got it instantly, made perfect sense for the first time in all these years. “Oh, you were molested as a kid by a woman.”

“Yes.” He started to cry, and suddenly the monster became the vulnerable child he never wanted to be again. He mistreated women to cover up his pain. Punishing himself and everyone around him in an effort to feel better about what happened to him.

“This is awkward,” we laughed. I thanked him, for finding me and telling me about it. He has done as much for me as he says, my book did for him.

I can’t help but feel that was God, working through him. I needed something then, to keep me motivated to keep making books, remind of why I started. Because, I  was just about ready to throw in the towel. Sick of it.

I have been evaluating, is it worth it to me anymore. Feeling guilty for even having the thoughts about it. Helping others is what I want to do, not a quitter. But, there is a price to pay for pursuing a purpose.

I never saw the downside, coming.
My friends and family are different to me. I sacrifed everything to do it.  I don’t mind the sacrifice but, when things happen out of my control; I am not responsible for doing. I am devastated by it.

I have tried so hard to make things work out. I expect them to do just that by whatever means, necessary. Omg you don’t know. I have lived and slept in places, I don’t want to be for a long time just to invest in my books.

I can’t be the only one. I know this, but I am the one that matters now. My resources are spent. I am having to sublease my apt to make ends meet. I am going back to Europe.
I want to be there.

I don’t want to make decisions for awhile. Not major ones anyway, I am fragile now. I don’t want anymore disappointments in the near future. I don’t have the same frame of mind I used to have. I don’t want to lead a team, I want a no Brainer.

My sequel will be a series of short stories like The Trees Outside, three I think. Because, the stories are so poignant individually. Then, I am taking a break from the Internet. Go waitress somewhere, before heading back to Spain. 

A simple life is in order for me afterwards. I am already drained. I do my best.

Raise your children to be good people

I knew my mom had issues way back when. I knew her judgement was off. So, I got away from her when, I was young. However, not before she messed my self esteem up.

Kids my age were of no real interest to me. They didn’t like jazz etc. If you have read The Trees Outside you know more of why. I explained in that book what growing up in a all white neighborhood; being black was like for me.

On top of having a white father, I never identified with and siblings who can pass. Not blaming anyone but, I said that to make a point. We have issues as kids just by existing. I don’t believe are realized.

Doesn’t have to be issues only, if made into one by how we feel about it. My mom could of saved me so much heart ache. She didn’t know what she was really doing.

The best thing to tell your children or any children you come across is that nothing, is their fault. Whatever, is happening to them growing up is not because of them. Adults know this but, kids don’t.

Things you may not even think they believe to be their fault. Like getting a divorce or losing a job. Kids need to be told it’s not their responsibility to make it better. They didn’t cause it or deserve it. 

I think it is the most important thing to do in order, to empower a child to feel good about themselves in the midst of drama.  Anyone can do it for them. I didn’t have the benefit of being told that growing up. It is like magic. It works.

I told a few kids who were being raised by unhealthy people. One of those kids found me recently, told me I changed her life. I needed to hear that right now. I told her, you just changed mine “How” she said.

“I am so, proud of you.” I was afraid she didn’t believe she was okay. Thinking, I was just saying something to make her feel better because, I was.  Even though, what I was saying is true.

She told me,  “I hung on to that every time, I felt bad and had done nothing wrong.” I asked, “How did you know to do that.” “You told me.” With that said, I know it sinks in and works.

I don’t even remember telling her is the funny thing about it. I am glad I did.

Poem

Dear God, please, I feel so sad. I feel like I just lost every good thing I had. I have no one to talk with, no one but you. Now I am NOT certain of what I should do.

No one could hear as I complained, begging for changes to be made. While it seems, everyone stayed the same. I am having trouble believing, there is nothing to blame. I sacrifed the total of everything I made. The importance of what I have done, remains with me through the outcome.

I don’t expect you to understand the demands, I put on myself. I don’t want them set aside, growing dust on a shelf. I have worked very hard.

The big crocodile tears wetting my face  are dripping over many costly mistakes, some I didn’t make, directly affecting my life.

Please God, give us something coming from you, divine intervention to fix this mess. Because, I am not sure of what to ask. I am at the end of a rope. Hanging on hope I don’t trust anymore.

Wishing someone cares about what they’ve done. I can’t talk to any one person, whom cares. Someone different every time through a email. I don’t know what more I can say anyway, but take responsibility for the errors you made. Figure out a way to compensate.

I have done everything I have been asked and then more. No way you don’t know you effect the outcome. If I am wrong, I can accept it and move on.

Misunderstandings have been faced before. But, there is a problem at the core of this thing. Why would you ignore the complaints over and over and over again. I can’t be the only one.

I want to rely on the faith and trust that I had in you. Don’t take advantage of the power you have.

Success, What is it?

Success is individually defined. Another label, as far as I am concerned; try staying away, from labeling or being labeled others.

If I am satisfied with myself, at the moment I think of it, enough for me. I can only keep trying to completion of a vision. I see accomplishing desired goals, as my success.

There are recipes I guess, but the unexpected and unknown is definitely a factor. I like challenges as long as I land on my feet.

Negotiating is my best strength, I believe. I know there are limitations to what others can and will do for me. I give my best effort however, it’s often not reciprocal and always my best. Busy, tired and stressed.

Human error or uninformed decision making by others are not foreseeable. Consequently resulting in setbacks that can be enormous. But simply mistakes or error in judgment.

Who can say, what success for someone else is without, walking in their shoes.

I have been feeling tortured lately.  Staying positive through negative impact. Keeping others on track with my projects is drainage on my motivation.

I am producing audio books in English and Spanish. I like a illustrator who is not a professional. I want to use her. She is great if I am sitting by her. Takes art direction really well, then.

Okay don’t think. Lol, I love you but, I know what I want. I see why, publishers don’t want images with book submissions.  I don’t blame them. I swear, I could kick my self sometimes.

I could of been, called a writer by now. I could be writng. Guiding others on what and what not to do instead. Remember, trust no one with your work expect to get what you paid for. Check often on things to see, if you get is what was expected. How long will it take to be done.

Miscommunication happens and not knowing how things work exactly, can haunt the rest of your career.  Find out and make sure you ask “If something goes wrong, what is your policy. “

The Bad Squirrels – illustration

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The Bad Squirrels
The illustrations for this book are so cute. I love them, I can’t wait to finish this book. The squirrels wear hoodies. Lol!

The colorist has to add the color.  A lot of work and care. If I didn’t have to over see every stroke, it would probably be finished.

I have to make sure my vision is portrayed fittingly. No male or female characters so each child can imagine themselves as the child dreaming etc.

I want to spark the child’s imagination. I thought about not adding color. But  I have to see what the shrink says… my attorney happens to be a psychiatrist also. (Over achiever )

I do what he says, sometimes. He told me not to self publish. Do what the publisher asks, if that’s what you want. I had no idea what I was getting myself into then.

I don’t regret my decision. I would have felt like I was doing all the work while, I only get a percentage of my royalties. Writing the book is the easy part.

I could not have been more incorrect. But, it is doable with the time and money. That’s what it boils down to actually. That and spending countless hours social networking with your target market.

Good writing; presented well, is a start. But, that does not scratch the surface of what is ahead of you to be noticed. It takes money, networking also, becoming your brand. You are your book’s passion.

Sell that passion behind your books and you will sell books. I didn’t believe that was really necessary for a long time. I felt my book would sell itself once people knew about it. I was wrong.

Building the trust of an audience is important. Be consistent with writing. I jumped in with both hands and feet hitting the ground running. Not knowing which way to go. Don’t do that.

I know now, more than I cared to know about books. I just wanted to tell stories. I still feel that way.

Fruit in due season …