Category: Writing Challenges

To The First Work-Day 2

In a former life, I often said I was an eternal Juliet.

I love LOVE.

I love being able to share passion and space with a special person or people.

And yet, coming off this last break up of someone that I wanted forever with? The man that called me Baroness to his Destro? The one who called me Padme to his Anakin? That one hurt…badly. Do you know how wounded a love poet has to be in order for that poet to put down her pen?


I had to readjust my focus, I had to heal–and I let myself be mad.

The Love Poet had to heal. Juliet had to remember who she was…and truly, if I am honest–that was hard.

I had to admit that I was tired of starting over. I had to admit that I stayed longer, endured more, for the sake of being chosen. I had to admit that I lost myself.

And I had to admit that I was scared to love again. Terrified, really.

But in getting back to this first work, I had to remember…love. And I am worthy of it.



Today, I wore comfy clothes.

And a graphic tee–one of the things that I can credit my ex-husband for. I do appreciate a good graphic tee! This shirt was made by another Black woman bent on taking over the world: Meisha Davis of Sincerely These Hands. The shirt says FIRESTARTER, and gives its definition of what one of those is.

For note, I have been at the helm of the blog space The Ideal Firestarter for 6 years. In that space, the people whom follow and support that space are called Torches. The staff that create the content for this space are called Firestarters. This is the definition of a Firestarter:

Firestarter (noun).

1.) One that brings light, heat and smoke.

2.) Exudes Melanin Magnificence

3.) Mix of righteous and ratchet

The Ideal Firestarter (

Whenever I wear this shirt, I am reminded that what I want to do in the world is completely possible–and my legacy will be, has to be, may always be tied to words.

And that makes me smile. Thank you for my shirt, Meisha. Thank you.


With the burying of my second marriage, I have these things to say to the embodiment of the Dusty Springfield song, Son Of A Preacher Man:

I want the best for you. I always have! You are young gifted and Black…and all that you desire, I hope that you get. Know that I tried to love you as best as I could. I can admit that I wasted your time on some level. The woman you needed me to be, I couldn’t become.

I want you to know that God saw how bad you did me, my children and my family. He saw. I hope you deal with that. I hope that the ‘hard man’ your mother said you were becomes softer, and more willing to listen, learn and forgive.

I tried to love you as best as I can…and it’s okay that you don’t believe me. No opinion of me coming from you matters. I want you to know that I never should have married you…never. You weren’t ready, and neither was I. We tried to make something work, that only wound up burning down.

I tried to stay with you, tried to understand you and bend to what you wanted. But, I am now, was not, will never be, what you wanted. I have accepted that.

For that, I am sorry. I hope one day you can forgive me. Yet, if I remain the villain in your story? I’m quite okay with that. I will remain the Devil that wears Prada.


Writers are weird people, full of quirks! So to narrow that down to 4 traits? I’ll try!

1.) I can pop my toes. It helps to reduce stress.

2.) I can still bend myself in half. It’s a nod to the part of me that still wants to believe I can be a dancer.

3.) When I can’t sleep, I clean. It’s a thing.

4.) I constantly fall asleep with pens or books in my bed. IYK…YK.


I am not a morning person.

I must emphasize this: I am not a morning person! I like to be up late, and sleep late.

On an average weekday I am up between 6:00-6:30am, and fussing at my children to get up and get to school. Buy 7am, I am trying to get my own clothes on, coffee made, and debating makeup. By 7:30am, my kids are headed to the bus, and I am listening to Stephen Furtick or TD Jakes to motivate me, and steady me to get through my workday.

I do my makeup, full face–eyes and face primed!–and turn on the camera by 8am.

And the makeup becomes a shield…it’s needed.


I am a Water Sign.

A Cancer, specifically.

Birthday being June 24–the same day as John the Baptist.

My horoscope for today is

Cancer (June 21-July 22)

A sudden chance to travel or perhaps a sudden cancellation of travel plans might occur today. You might also unexpectedly learn something new or decide to attend a school or sign up for a course. News from afar might surprise you.

Now, with the age I am now, everyone is into their Rising sign and all of this stuff, and I have no idea what that really means! There are certain things about being a Cancer that are completely applicable! And this horoscope?

Yeah. No. The 3 sentence allotment of looking into my future? No, it doesn’t apply–not anymore.


I have lived through records, Walkmans, cassette and CD’s. The best thing that I have happened to me is music streaming. The first three songs in my shuffle are:

1.) GUNS GO BANG by Kid Cudi & Jay-Z (from the HARDER THEY FALL movie). I love this song! It reminds of my Dad, and his ability to tell a story. I love this song!

2.) UPROAR by Lil Wayne. This song was on my commute playlist to get to work. This brings back memories of speeding to work to keep from being late or to speed to get home to crash out. This is my “Hurry up and get there, Black girl!”

3.) THE BLACK BOND by Nas. I adore this man. I always have! He is the only rapper I have ever heard that gave a chick goosebumps. Still. He’s the husband in my head. Still.


I don’t try to live my life with fears and regrets. I think as you age, what you fear either becomes a reality or a hinderance. But, I think, now the fears that I have are more concrete and based around the responsibility of being a mother.

1.) Dying before my ex-husband. I want to live longer than him because I don’t want to leave my children here with this man that doesn’t seem to care for them. I cannot leave them here with a man that cannot help them.

2.) Not healing. There are things I am doing for my mental health to be the best mother I can be, and be the grandmother that I never had.

3.) Getting divorced again. I am scared of having to go through this again. It is draining to build a life with someone only to have them not want that life with you anymore.

4.) Dying ‘full’. I am afraid that all that I want to do, I won’t get to do. This is why I write in the fury that I do sometimes. I have to get it out.

5.) Being a widow. I have found someone that I want all my days with. All of them! And he is 9 years older than me. With that age difference, he is okay dying before me. I’m really not okay with that. I love him, and I know that day is a far off…but it’s closer than what I think. It’s like having the Scythe of the Reaper in a closet that I can’t close! I saw my mother handle losing my father. I don’t know if I am strong enough to do that.


My fashion sense is my way of living out my dream of being a runway model or Barbie.

And after having been married to an oppressive narcissist, I am embracing my body and wearing of colors. My favorite color is still cerulean. But this year, I have embraced reds and pinks again. Color is mean to be that–color! To stand out! And when I wear red, I feel sexy, seen and on some level–GROWN.

Grown women wear red! I am at the age where no color, style or fashion is off limits to me. Wearing red makes, allowed me to own my body again. It is not at the mercy of the opinions of other people.

Red lipstick, head wraps, shirts–I feel that I am at last old enough to wear this color that was only relegated to “Fast ass girls.”

At age 40, my favorite color is red.