Thought...

Life is real.

As a child, I would laugh at my mother when she stated "do you think money grows on trees?"

It comes in all different shapes and sizes. The decisions are difficult, and it's real.

I was always told not to question God, but reality is real. One would not believe all that is taking place, but just take a look around and speak to outside resources.

Wow...

Characters...

Assignment for my Adv. Fiction course. Three memorable characters I have met...
Tell me what you think!

“Big Mike”

            Jaida and I waited for almost seven hours to receive those tickets. The first 25 guests would receive the tickets to a memorable dinner with Day 26, the new guys of Bad Boy Records owned by Sean “P. Diddy” Combs in 2008. We were probably guests number 16 and 17, and we were happy we made it. It was seven hours of excitement, rain, networking, and descriptions of freshman year of college. We finally received our tickets and the dinner was that night. We ran home to change, and thought we were the cutest of the bunch. I made sure I had my business cards on hand because I was ready to network with anyone who shared the same interests as myself. We had finally arrived at the Universal Studios building and were guided to the “dinner table”. Pizza and Pepsi was ready for us as all 25 guests arrived. Finally, the guys then arrived, and there was Big Mike. During my early years, when I was still interested in men, he was the cutest of the group; short and chunky with the dimples of a baby posing for Kodak. He always wore dark sunglasses and was ready to show off his pearly whites. We had private time with the guys; from a performance, to pictures and simple chats. As the night was coming to an end, I walked over to Big Mike, nervous and excited, and I gave him my business card. He looked at it, placed it in his pocket and continued with the night. It was our little secret, and I was in glee. Eventually the event was over, and it was time for us to depart. Big Mike had my phone number, blog address, and my personal e-mail. From that day, for the next 2-3 months, I would consistently receive calls from a blocked number, but I would always miss the call. Was this Big Mike? I believed so, however it was our secret that no one else was aware of, and the private number was our private connection. Even though we never spoke after that day, I was his private fan. He is no longer famous as he was in 2008, but if he calls today and I can actually receive the call, maybe I can convince him to take my fiancé and myself out for dinner, maybe Thai? That sounds better than Pizza and Pepsi. Oh and, my business cards are always on hand, but for my actual business of Adult Toys and Jewelry, I wonder if he’s interested…

                                              

“Lisa Jones”

            Lisa Jones was a powerful woman I met during a year of challenges, decisions and wisdom. She was an official business owner within the Financial Company, Primerica and I admired her story, her drive, ambition and character. I met her at a company conference in 2011, as she was a featured speaker as she was a part of the “Top Women” category. When we met I gave her a description of my life in less than two minutes. I told her I wanted to leave college during my junior year to pursue my career within the financial business, but was afraid of the remarks and disappointments I would receive from my friends and family. As she stood high with confidence, her short haircut, small chuckles and a professional suit fit for a woman of her thick nature, she told me to do what I wanted to do and I would be happy with my decisions later. After meeting with her and thinking about it, I had officially dropped out of college. I did so because I wanted to pursue what I wanted to do during that time. My career within Primerica did not go the route I planned, but I was securely happy with my decision of leaving school. I was able to reach an inside peek of life without a degree, living independently paycheck to paycheck, and I simply learned do what makes me happy and regardless of the circumstances, I would be happy.

 

“The Girl with the Tutu”

            She was so beautiful, chocolate brown with an odd shaped head with hefty eyes that were within the beauty of the beholder. I was on the train heading to meet my fiancée, Samantha at a bar in Brooklyn for a celebration for a friend. Everyone stared at her as she was dressed in a black shirt, black leggings, and a pink tutu. I am sure many thought she looked odd and “different”, but I admired her because of her confidence and daring attitude. I walked over to her and complimented her outfit. She was wearing the tutu to honor her friend who recently died of breast cancer. Her friend was a professional ballet dancer, and her friends wanted to show her she was still within their hearts. I do not remember her name, but I do know she had pure attractiveness and a nice smile. She taught me to continue to be myself, as I am a true woman to myself; but I still have small doubts about certain issues. She complimented my makeup but told me my natural beauty was also stunning. She got off the train so fast; I do not remember her name. But I do remember her confidence, her smile, her words of wisdom and of course her tutu.

Letter to Dad...

Dear Craig,

It’s yours truly, your omniscient narrator. The words today are about your only child, Nyesha. November 1993 was the last time you two were able to physically hold hands. She was only three years of age, not aware of what had just taken place. Today she is always told you always did right, and you were the father that always did what needed to be done. For her mother however, you did not choose the best path. Everyone always speaks on how your physical existence would have meant so much to you, and you would be so proud. But who knows the real truth? It is only you who can make that decision. Would she have the same interests and lifestyle if you were here to physically and emotionally guide her? An epileptic lesbian trying to reach the best that she can receive. What about her ability to drive, would you have taught her at a young age so she would be able to hit the streets with the crazy New Yorkers as she lived here for more than 21 years of her life? And her lifestyle choice? Engaged with a ring of promise and almost 100% happy with a woman four years older than her, very nearly living paycheck to paycheck, five years after high school and still studying for her B.A in English, would you have tried to change her regime? She has never visited your site of commemoration, only because she never knew of the locality, as both your mother and your daughter’s mother told her in November 2012 “it was not the best thing to know”. What a piece of bullshit that was. Maybe her connection would have been stronger, as when a family member speaks of you, she does not have much to say. The main question that remains unanswered is, what exactly happened? As two different stories are explicated from your mother and Nyesha’s mother, what is the factual answer? What led up to the shots grazing your head as they did? Why were you dealing with those guys as you were, was it the “fad” of the 90’s and you could not find another way out? She has never spoken negatively of your choice of actions, but only questions herself “what if he were here?” You two will meet again, but for now, keep giving her your spirit.

"Cosmetic View"

A woman hiding behind her cosmetic shell. Learn more below...

Covered In M.A.C Studio Fix NW45

And More...

Each swatch was a cover.

From the blemishes to the mascara traced tears from unwanted moments.

Each thread from her brush belonged to moments and things she wanted to conceal.

The brush began falling apart because of jealousy she had for others, but all she could do was hide from no one but herself.

She was jealous with the happiness and success others created for themselves. What she did not know is she tried, she tried to give herself the thought of bliss, but the young cracks were merely difficult to mend.

It was resentment and ungrateful moments she presented with “Love that Red” lipstick by Revlon.

The little tube was enclosed with bloodshot anger and hatred she could not express in any other way.

She powdered her face with Studio Fix NW 45 from M.A.C because she was hopeless.

Hopeless as she did not have guidance and a verbal cover to shorten her feelings of worry.

She darkened her eyes with the Noir pencil from L'Oreal. The Smokey eye affect was a symbol of the physical fights she had to endure, while still giving her a chance to see her younger self with each look in the mirror.

It was only her personal look in the mirror that she enjoyed most; she did not want anyone else to know.

As she took the moments to give her eyes the dark shadow, the sharp pencil pinched her with what she was feeling inside; sore centimeters of wrath she developed as she matured.

As a comfortable shimmer of protection, she would use "Gimme’ that Gold" blush from Mary Kay Cosmetics to give herself the feeling of being a part of the bourgeoisie crowd. She presented pride on her own and did not look to any other to seek it; she just enjoyed the feeling of knowing she had the ability to fit in when and where she wanted.  

She was never a fan of liquid foundation from M.A.C.

She was scared if the bottle tipped inside her cosmetic case, she would not have the defense she would need for the next day.

From that, the world would be able reveal her sense of melancholy.

She would never want that.

The rain was also another shield-release to liquid foundation, which was a form that was just not for her.

On rainy days she carried an umbrella bigger than the width of her body because she believed she needed to be protected all around.

Her choice of makeup was her only daily entity of trust. Because of unwanted experiences as a child and a young adult, she never let anyone inside her truthful world.

It was simply her and the cosmetic brush, almost her hammer to fight the unwanted blemishes of life.

Although she tried to cover the toughness she experienced, she walked with a heavy load. Though she did not want to face the negative experiences she endured in the past, she carried it all. Her cosmetic case was always filled to the rim with eyebrow pencil sharpenings and used face wipes.

She did not throw them away as she did not want anyone apart of her life, along with wanting the ability to remind herself of the cause for self-pity.

She owned a smooth Noir Avon eye pencil; it was fresh. She never appreciated it, as it was too smooth for

her liking, almost perfect and she did not want to be the eye of perfection, it would just cause too much unwanted attention.

She was confused; confused with everyone’s depiction of the world.

How were they so happy and had the ability to present so freely and honestly?

She never had the guidance, and was afraid of everyone around her because they had what she never received, a positive lead.

Simply misled and undiscovered, she was alone.

She was only sincere and comfortable with her own view, and because she could not trust the thoughts from others she simply hid behind her cosmetic connection.

It was a choice that took her years to make.

She never enjoyed the cosmetic process, but once her isolation became apparent to her life, she reached out for a cover that was better than her in-home struggle.

As a teenager she never exposed herself to the outside world, as she was simply comfortable staying in to recuperate from the beatings and unhappiness she received from home.

Per her moments of growing into an adult, she could no longer stay home and hide; there was something else she needed to reach.

As she knew she had to cover, she reached The Body Shop. It was now her time to cover it all, willingly and successfully.

Not wanting to solely present her name or natural skin tone, she added much more to her skin, which added much closure to her life.

She simply had to lead her own life. Not looking to face other points of view and not wanting to reach new beginnings of another person, she needed to cover her own life.

Because she wanted to cover fully, and still be able to misleadingly present herself to the world, she developed one view, and that view was a

Cosmetic View.

Happy 2013!!

Hey all! Happy 2013!

I have not created a post in 3 months and that is terrible. I have so many random thoughts and experiences, and nothing has reached the page. I met a wonderful blogger by the name of Peggy at the mall and she was promoting her blog, and really mentioned I needed to write more. I brag about my blog all the time, but do not present as much as I speak. Well please check her out because she helped me get back on! She is a fashion blogger who knows how to tell the damn fashion word! Check her out at www.OntheQtrain.com 

I want to make it my goal to blog 2+ times a week, and now I am starting with one of my poems that I truly love. It is one of my newly revised poem and I appreciate the emotions I see from the character by the words that are expressed. Please leave ANY love; both dislike and likes, I love all the LOVE Check it out on the post above!

See you soon!

Love,
Nye.

Dear Allen Ginsberg...

Hey, all!

Happy Wed. to everyone! It's hump day, the week has began, but yet coming to an end. Fast? Different for all of us.

This next piece is a Random Experience I wanted to share. An assignment again for my Intermediate Creative Writing Class. We had to write to a writer about their work. I have done an assignment like this before, and I wrote to Jamaica Kincaid---since I will be meeting her in 2013, maybe I could give her my letter. What do you think? Let me know?

This letter is to Allen Ginsberg for his "America" piece. This was my favorite poem during my Freshman year of college, as I did not understand it at first, but once it was discussed within the class, I enjoyed it so much. Now, writing him a letter of critique, these are my simple random thoughts, as these are what my Instructor asked me. Some of you may agree on my thoughts, some of you may not. Just leave the love, positive or negative, give it to me! Please let me know what you think!

Dear Allen Ginsberg,

            “America” is an exciting and personable story. You allow us to see America in an array of customs that allows us as the reader think upon many thoughts. Although “America” is exciting, there are ideas that allow us to question if you really felt hatred towards America, or there was so much love you began to result in anger thoughts. You take us on a guide of anger, yet love at the same time, giving us a chance to understand America’s actions towards you and what people around you two think of her. With your opening stanzas, you are speaking to America as a woman, and almost a whore or slut that owes you something. “America I’ve given you all and now I have nothing” is your opening line, which starts the reader off with thoughts of anger between you two. You then go on to say “America two dollars and twenty-seven cents Jan. 17, 1956”. Did you compensate America for a task or sexual activity? It seems as you’re mad at America, but want her in your life at the same time. “Go fuck yourself your atom bomb”, you stated, telling America to leave you alone and perform lonely activity. Why was there such anger that came about between you two? Were there more details you could have provided to specifically tell us what took place?

            Moving on, as you continue to express your angry love, you asked America “when will you send your eggs to India”? Do you think it is America’s responsibility to provide a birth cycle for another country? As you continue, there are positive emotions through America’s history. As she allows “Time Magazine” take control of our emotional life, you compliment America’s skill to assist you in learning more about life’s ideals; such as responsibility, the seriousness of businessmen, movie producers, and as you stated, everyone around you, except you. Do you think if you continued to read “Time Magazine”, you would have actually understood the importance of seriousness?

            As you begin to thank America and state what you would like to do for her, you state yourself as actually being America. Is this a compliment to yourself, or anger towards your lifestyle? It would be easier for us to understand if you explicated more what exactly caused such anger love between America and yourself. As you begin to end your thoughts, you state” I’d better get right down to the job” continuing to turn America’s responsibility to your own. As your thoughts can handle an array of areas, I am sure you can handle the tasks America is responsible for. However, do not put too much on your shoulders; America still needs your support, money, and future political and sexual action. Continue to be the Alpha male, it will assist us better!

 

 

Leave the love!

Until Next Time
XXOXOXOXOX,
Nye.

Love? That DOES NOT SUCK?

Hello World!

Hope everyone is enjoying their new comings of the Fall Season, leaving the Summer of 2012. If it's work, or school, I'm sending much blessings and if it's bothering you, just keep on smiling.

I am here, and I miss placing my writings. Here is a Random piece I created a part of an assignment for my Intermediate Creative Writing Class. I really do enjoy this class, by the way; great minds, my instructor is very free, open-minded, and strict at the very same time. I enjoy it.

This was a part of our 2nd Assignment, and his instructions were to write a story or 2 poems about Love, "THAT DOES NOT SUCK".

--Yes, those were his exact words, and believe it or not, most of the class nominated this assignment was actually difficult. Come on, we love Love. We also hate love, so who would think it would be difficult to write about it? But only because we did not want to give him what he did not want. I agreed with my classmates with the assignment being difficult, but I also found it entertaining, and it allowed my thoughts to flow in an array of ways.

First, I wanted to create a story, but I thought that would be too mushy.

Then, I wanted to write about my personal love life, but that's definitely too mushy.

Then I wanted to write about Vincent Van Gogh's piece "Starry Night", but that was too gloomy; why did I think of that?

So, I did not think I would create two poems, but that is exactly what I did. Below is the first poem I explicated my thoughts of Love in a way that does not suck to me. I wanted to explicate teh meaning of it also, without actually using the word "Love", as well. Let's see what my instructor thought of it.

I just turned the assignment in, so I do not know what my instructor will say, but I am putting it here so you guys can leave me some random thoughts, or even share your Love experiences. Leave anything you'd like! Let me know what you think!



"Thoughts of Love without using the word 'Love'"

Why is the feeling so damn strong?
So blind that one allows the feelings to overcome the past, present and future.
So hard the grudges that it entails is so much different than any other emotion.
As the feelings aid to the disguises of happiness, the masks of hurt, the dirt that passes through the tears through a blink of an eye.
That damn feeling.
So damn strong.
A piece of shit that not even a super laxative could dissolve.
Thoughts that are explicated through hate, reproduction, suction, and valleys that no one else could assist on fixing.
The questions that always emerge:
What the hell is next?
Why me?
Why now?
These are the questions that just take on the pain, and even the happiness.
That damn feeling that no one but you fix.
May not be able to handle them at the exact moment, but later on you'll be able to realize the toughest thing;
Life goes on.



Please! Leave the love.

Love you all!
Xoxoxoxoxo,
Nye.