latinegro

Winds of War

I know I have been quiet lately. Too many things to think about with a less than enthusiastic attitude to write about the same things over and over again. But I need to begin with something that I have always thought about when I was a kid. Only the people in my generation and older would know what the Cold War was like in the 80’s before the Berlin Wall came down and the old Soviet Union was dissolved. Nuclear War was a reality in our minds.

While I never had to go through the bomb drills that my parents went through, I still had a very healthy fear of a full nuclear strike. I was convinced that hatred between the United States and the U.S.S.R would one day boil over and the cockroches will end up ruling the earth. There was always something going on that the US needed to be involved with and yet there were either scandals like Iran/Contra or the fact that we allowed Iraq to use chemical weapons (and Ronald Regan is the greatest president to some people). I never understood the need to be in such conflicts when poverty is so rampant around our own country.

Yesterday many people celebrated the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington. Many people spoke including President Obama. I respect the legacy and the significance of Dr. Martin Luthor King Jr. and this date, but I was not exactly excited to hear anyone speak. The fact of the matter is that the progress of equal rights for all has been slow. We are often under the illusion that things are better when statistically things are no better or maybe even worse than the civil rights era. So we can go ahead and live in a world where things seem OK when things really aren’t.

Now we stand on a brink of another war. A war that really has nothing to do with us. We voted for a change and what we are getting are speeches about change. I feel foolish now because so many times in the past I have talked to my students and colleagues about global citizenship and how social media has made the world smaller and yet we are still operating in the age old notion of colonialism where we teach the natives to behave for the benefit of the world. Meanwhile, the word around us is being distracted by the appropriation of a twerking Miley Cyrus in a gentrified Brooklyn.

I am also quite sure that there the though of the United Stated being the heroes who came in to save the day. Leaders of the free world that come swooping in like Superman to save Lois from Zod with no real recognition that the battle will destroy more than it saves and in the end we all wonder why we even paid for any of it (Yes, I am still bitter about the movie).

Where is the dream? Where are the little black children holding hands with the little white children? Dr. King was a well known pacifist that knew wars lead to the poor heading out to battle. These days, the Armed Forces will pay for college if you give them a certain amount of years of service and of course there is a nice check to live on assuming you can get rid of your PSD. I don’t recall that part of the dream where we invade other countries in pursuit of justice especially when justice doesn’t seem to exist much at home.

Afro Latino, my life, Race/Ethnicity, racism, Trayvon Martin

El Cocolo

I don’t know. Maybe I am getting too old for this. Perhaps I need to dial the rhetoric down a bit. I have always recognized that I see the world from a certain perspective and my views comes from the type of lens crafted through education and experience. I have never expected my views to be universal and as most of you know that I take criticism and critiques very seriously. I just find myself tired of everything that is going on.

Let me preface this by saying that I lead a very happy life. I’m where I want to be with the person I want to be with. I grateful for my job and my family. I have no complaints about my personal life nor my work life. Believe it or not, I love this country. It has it’s faults but I know I would not have this life if were a citizen elsewhere. However, I feel that what comes across in my words on Facebook and on Twitter is a person who complains about everything that is going on. Let us just acknowledge that there is a lot of incredibly messed (note: I kept it clean) things going on in the world.

I can sit here and take a snap shot of the past 2-3 weeks that have included the Zimmerman Acquittal, the killings in Chicago, Riley Cooper, Don Lemon, Stephen A. Smith, the Darius Simmons trial, and a host of other shit (that didn’t last long) that just makes me cringe. Am I getting angrier? Am I changing or is the world around me seem to be more ominous? Because I often feel like the only Jor-El in a room filled with General Zods.

I guess what I’m really saying is that I grow tired of all of it. While I know that I am not the only one who screams out about inequality of all types, I sometimes get the feeling that I am on an island alone screaming at a ball named Wilson. I know that I could just put my head down and continue writing the novel. I know that I have ability to be completely apathetic about the whole thing and just talk about comic books (although, do not get me started on the lack of Black and Latino writers in Marvel and DC).

Its hard when I have to explain to family about the nature of my blackness. Yes, I am Puerto Rican and Equadorian but what do I look like in the mirror? Moreno? Chocolate? I knew at an early age about how “bad” it was to be dark skinned. My cousins called me Tar Baby and other times I was called a Cocolo (look it up). How I define my blackness is really up to me and I have hard time seeing how being an Afro Latino can be viewed any differently in the eyes of the majority compared to an African American.

So yes, I feel that I fall into the black and white binary that holds America together. I am not in favor of blaming the victims. I am not going to sit here and agree with any notion that because someone like RIley Cooper says the n-word so freely it is because his black teammates say it in front of him and thus it made it easier for him. So does that mean we blame Paula Dean’s cooks for allowing themselves to employed by her? Do we blame Travon Martin for wearing a hoody because that looks thuggish? Do I blame myself for my family calling me Tar Baby?

But, you know what? I complain too much. I am an elitist Latino that couldn’t possibly understand what the world is about. I guess that is the way it is in this Post Racialized society.

Novel, writing

The Next Level: Being an Author

It took Juno Diaz 10 years to write a book. I think about that as I pour myself into this text and yet I think I’m on the same wave length. This book is at least 7 years in the making. I think about the experiences I’ve been though, the blogs I’ve written, and the poems I’ve crafted. All that stuff has made me the writer I am today.

As I reached the 75k mark, I wondered to myself, at what point will I be done? I have been physically writing this novel since March. It is still very much in raw form with barely any edits. I have survived working a full time job, being sick, and a mean writer’s block. Asking that proverbial, “are we there yet” question is based on the fact that I’m so ready to edit. The problem (and not in a bad way) is that story has so many components and it cannot just end abruptly and I know that.

I went into this not knowing what to expect because I’m that dude who starts something and never finishes it. I am that dude that will tell you I will do something and either never does it or it gets to you later than you wanted. I have worked harder on being a man of my word more than anything else. That is just in the terms of my personal life, as a professional I am quite different. I suppose that is the dual nature of a Gemini.

So understand that I am currently doing the greatest thing that I have ever done for myself. This is something that has made me become slowly excited. This doesn’t mean that I think this book will be the best shit every written, it’s the fact that I’m creating something. I know that I have other steps to follow in this process and no matter how much sleep I lose writing, what is happening now is the fun part.

I know what the next level has to be past this. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel now. I know how the book ends and I roughly know how I am going to get there. But, finally putting an ending on it does not mean that work of this novel is over. I still have to title the book, I still have to edit the text, I still have design the cover AND I still have to publish this damn thing. So, I am very excited about this whole process and yet I know that I will miss the pure creation of writing when I’m done which will ultimately lead me to write another book.

What makes all of this very weird for me is the ability to talk about this to people beyond this space. Sure, I can write about this in the vacuum that is the internet and get zero responses and be ok with it. But, it is when I talk to people, like family, about this that it becomes surreal. How do you broach that subject that you are writing a book without seeming that you are full of yourself? Sure, that is my problem but I am pretty sure I am the only member of my immediate family that will do this. (Note: I will not be surprised if one of my cousin pulls out some journal showing they published something. lol)

Right now, my goal is about 95k. I think I can wrap up all the loose ends in about 20 thousand words. I think that once I edit and clean up some things, I may be closer to 100k. I makes me smile because there are so many things and people that have gotten me here.

I am ready for the next level. I am not talking about fame or fortune. I am finally ready to proclaim myself as a true publish author.

Race/Ethnicity, Racial Profiling, racism

We are not Delusional

This is, in many ways, is a open letter to my (former) facebook friends who think that race was never a factor in the Zimmerman case. I have had some time reflect on the verdict that was completely unsurprising to me.

We are not delusional. There is no way that anyone can say that the millions of people who are marching and protesting are about the outcome of this trial are delusional. Yet, there are people out there who are celebrating the not guilty verdict. There are people saying that there was a clear case of self defense and that Travyon Martin contributed to his own death. The best part about some of these idiots on Facebook is that I’ve seen them posting articles of crimes that black people have committed against white people. This is when I know we are living in two separate worlds.

We do not live in a post racial America. I wish people would stop saying that America has changed. The fact of the matter is that the value of Black life is not equal but I don’t expect those in the majority to understand. Quite frankly, I am tired of having to explain American History to them. They never had laws created, changed, or amended so that “on paper” they can be considered equals. But, they can get offended easily to the point where they have to question whether the word “cracker” was just as bad as “ni***r” (yet, they know they cannot say the latter of the two words).

There is no delusion in the simple fact that the Stop & Frisk law in NYC as allowed the police to make 533,042 stops in 2012 in which 87 were Black and Latino. But is ok to dismiss our claims of racially biased laws, it is ok to say that we are crazy to believe Travyon Martin received zero justice despite the fact that he was indeed profiled by Zimmerman. So, I suppose it is ok to follow anyone and accost them in the middle of the night and not expect a fight? So it is ok to proclaim self defense when the simple fact is that had Zimmerman listened to instructions by the police to stay in his vehicle, Travyon would be alive today. But, he did nothing wrong, right?

We don’t live in the same world. I know a plethora of parents (who are Black and Latino) who are genuinely scared for their children now. Some have wept about their future and some have wondered how will they explain this to their children. I don’t see that concern coming from the other side. I don’t see any white people (who are celebrating) feel any concern for their kids because they don’t have to. There is no one profiling their children.

Let’s also not pretend that just because Zimmerman is Latino that it is not still racially biased. White Hispanics are just has bad. I have said it time again on this very blog that Latino racism is real and you can tell simple by those who refuse to consider any African influence in their culture. Why do they fight it? Because black has always be considered something bad and that is not a delusion.

I thought that having different opinions coming across my timeline was a good thing. I wanted to see both sides of many issues. But, after this weekend, I just can’t. We just live in two separate worlds. We may have gone to the same high school or grown up in the same areas but I refuse to be associated with anyone that is going to think that we are delusional. Everything is about race, EVERTHING. The fact of matter is that you do not think think about about your whiteness, while we are reminded of our blackness, our immigration status, our language use, our cultures every fucking day. Why? Because it is people like you and the laws that put in place and later amended that remind us of our place in this country.

Emmett Till, Oscar Grant, Amadou Diallo, Kimani Gray, Yusef Hawkins, Troy Davis, Luis Ramirez, James Byrd Jr., Willie Edwards, Anastacio Hernandez Rojas, Micheal Donald, Sean Bell, James Chaney, The Central Park 5, John Collado, Darius Simmons, Jordan Davis, and Trayvon Martin. (just to name a few)

We are are not delusional. You are. Get the fuck off my Facebook.

comic books, Novel, writing

Crisis: Retconning a Novel

Hi. How you? It’s been a long time.

I have been in state a perpetual stillness when it comes to me writing anything. I imagine myself in a floating one dimensional glass sailing through time and space like Zod. It is possible to jump the shark before anything is published?

This started a few days before July 4th when I was feverishly writing a chapter in the novel. I was at point where I had to make a decision about the main character that might change the tone of the book. So I made a decision to go with something that I now regret and while I can simply hit the backspace button and rewrite this, it has made me think about the whole thing.

The story is very character driven. It is a first person perspective about crazy shit that people do and the dumb decisions that they make. However, through all of this, what makes stories like these work is how believable they can be. Much of that has to do with the human experience. What are we capable of? How fucked up can we be to each other? That is the basis of life experiences.

Then there is the ultimate goal which is to further the story along. You know when you are watching a blu-ray or dvd and you’re looking at the deleted scenes? Well those scenes tell a version of a story or they are just details of things that are really not that important. This is something like but the impact would be felt somewhere down the line. The purpose of that whole chapter was to explain a back story of a minor character but then things got out of hand and fiction became a little unreal.

I knew the moment I wrote it that it did not feel right, but I went along with it anyway and thus now I have been stuck for a week at almost 64k words. This is where retconning comes in to play. For those not familiar with the term retcon, it is more of a comic book term that stands for retroactive continuity. This happens in comics when writers hit a reset button in order to make their comic book universe more current or when they simply want to fix a mistake.

An example of this is when DC Comics decided to make this event in 1985 called Crisis on Infinite Earths. This was a massive retconning of an entire universe which effects lasted for a decade or so until the decided to fix other mistakes they made every few years that ultimately let to Final Crisis in 2008. Of course one would think that it would be over until Flashpoint came out in 2011 that leads us to where DC is not with the New 52.

I know this sounds confusing and that is my point. I don’t want to get to a point where I’m retconning this novel every time I make a mistake. That will only make me feel like Peter Parker when he revealed to the world he was Spider-Man only to make a deal with the devil later which made the world forget that fact (Yes, I am beating a dead horse here).

The only thing I can do right now is try to go back to that chapter and deconstruct it. If that doesn’t work then I will ultimately have to rewrite it. The problem with that is that I had an unwritten rule that I adopted from someone which basically states that you never go back to edit your work until it is time to edit. Which means that I just keep writing until I am done then go back and fix typos and expand on storylines I may have missed. All this is apart of writing a first draft.

Sigh. A draft. That is my saving grace. Who knows if what I have in mind now wont change by the time I actually go back to page one and it. I guess that means I may have another Crisis on my hands.

New York City, Race/Ethnicity, racism, Trayvon Martin

Tainted Victory?

Yesterday people (in my circles) were talking about victory. DOMA has been deemed unconstitutional in the states that allow gay marriages and California may be the next state to allow such a law. It is a clear win for those of us who support equal marriages and I am truly happy about that. The problem is that feeling is somehow tainted with the Voting Rights Act being cut down the day prior.

Many people have stated that the Voting Rights Act signed by Lyndon B. Johnson is the corner stone of the Civil Rights Movement. This act made it difficult for southern states within the U.S. to suppress the black vote that has now ultimately turn into the “minority” vote. If anyone has been paying attention over the last four elections, then it should be easy to point out that each year since Gore/Bush the stories of voter suppression has increased.

It was no secret that Republicans were tight when Obama won the first term. This was due to the fact that his grassroots campaign netted a plethora of new voters, young voters, and of course, people of color. We all came out in droves to vote for this man because we were tired of the same old story in Washington. Now, we also know that McCain/Palin also help us by shooting themselves in the foot on multiple occasions.

Since then it was fairly obvious that Republicans wanted to keep Obama as a one term president and those began the open criticisms, the stories of false birth certificates, the rumors of him being Islamic, and just overall fighting of any thing he wanted to do. While I cannot be sure, I am willing to guess that there was some brainiac in the GOP that came up with a bright idea of taking away votes from POTUS during the 2012 election, not to mention they felt they had a winner in Romney/Ryan. Thus, more reports across the country about people not being able to vote.

It was Justice John Roberts that said, “Our country has changed” and my response was and always will be, has it really? At what point do these judges (which includes Clarence Thomas -which doesn’t say much actually) believe that things have gotten better from a racial perspective? Yes, the country has changed decades after the Civil Rights Movement but that does not mean that people will not still use their power to oppress others. In fact, it has become a part of the political game that being played.

I know that I had deemed last year a banner year for racism and I stick to that. This year makes me wonder how close it will come or if it will even surpass it. Or maybe I should just go ahead and prematurely call it a banner decade. This feeling is way past the political climate but just an overall feeling when I look at what is going on.

The Travon Martin trial is just a shit show being played on stage. The Paula Deen hysteria is drama that is not surprising me at all. The defense of the show Devious Maids is laughable.The NYPD reprimanded one of their officer for speaking Spanish to another officer (this is a personal gripe of mine but their Stop and Frisk program does violate the rights of thousands of young men and women of color).

This is just huge distraction to keep the dim witted from actually realizing that their righst are slowing being taken away from them (see the Patriot Act and then look at the NSA).

All I’m saying is that I cannot get too happy at a victory because things can change very quickly. I just hope all the people that were celebrating yesterday will also be in the same corner of those fighting hard to stop the disenfranchisement of “minority” voters.

dog, my life, rocky

R.I.P. Rocky

I think all pet owners inherently know that when they get a puppy it will grow up and eventually grow old. This is something that is always in the deep recesses of our minds, something that should not be thought about until the time comes when your beloved puppy is now a old adult dog.

Many of you know that I have been on this journey to figure out my potential and in that process I’ve grown attached to Rocky. Thirteen years ago we became acquainted as my girlfriend, at the time, received this small little Lhaso Apso. The cutest brownish dog you could have ever laid your eyes on and she promptly called him Rocky (after The Rock). During that time I was in a rut after being laid off from Duetche Bank because I could not find a steady job so it became my job to take care of him when she wasn’t home.

2011-01-29 14.36.36 — He slept any where! lol

We became attached so quickly. I house trained him as best I could and walked him 3 times a day. When she used to come home she would often find him sleeping on my chest (I was knocked out too). Rocky was a vibrant dog that had his own personality. He was feisty and yet very prissy. He hated the snow because his paws got wet (and yet he made it to Syracuse). The one thing I could never be around him was sad or depressed. It was like he sensed that in me. He would nudge me with his face to play and if I didn’t respond then he would use his paw.

Rocky was with me through just about every major change in my life. The layoff, 9/11, the move to Syracuse, the marriage, the divorce, and he was with me when I moved out of my house. It was hard to say goodbye to him when I left Syracuse but I knew that my ex-wife would take good care of him. I wanted him to be able to still walk in the grass and not the concrete of New York City.

He was getting old. Rocky contracted diabetes and became blind after a while. He morphed into a grumpy old man that just didn’t want to be bothered with the stresses of dog life. He just wanted his belly rubbed, a full bowl of water, and food. Although, he still loved to play. No matter how old he got he still loved to play with me or anyone that was going to give him the attention. Rocky was truly an attention whore that would bark at me if I slept too late. lol

He always adjusted to my schedule. We fell asleep roughly at the same time (but then again he slept all damn day lol). This dog would not really eat until I got home. I would make dinner or get dinner and once I started eating, I would hear him digging around his dish. Rocky would always make me laugh because eating was an event to him. He would play with his food before actually eating, unless it was a bacon strip…then there was no playing around with that.

Rocky was the people’s dog (yes, I said it) because he (and I shit you not) would not back down from any sized dog. The rottweiler next door would bark and Rocky would bark back. We take him to the dog park and if any ratchet dog sniffed his ass, this little dog would snap back (and then sniff other dogs afterward lol). He simply did not like other dogs until we got Rusty (another dog I just tear up about). Rocky loved people. There was no guard dog sense about him until he became an old man. If I had company over Rocky would lose his mind if I did not let him out the room so he could meet them.

I cried today. One of my best friends is gone. It was time for him to go. He had heart murmur that was giving him seizures. I cannot even imagine what that must have looked like. The vet told my ex wife that it was time for him. When I spoke to her on the phone I could hear him whimpering (I can barely deal with this).

My Dog. He was very much a part of me. I have had many dogs in my life time but he was the one that connected to my heart in the most profound way. I took care of him like he was child of mine. Our personalities flowed and I even wrote a poem about him. That dog taught me what unconditional love means and that is the greatest gift he has ever given to me. I am just very glad that his pain is finally gone. Goodbye Rocky, I will forever miss you.

my life

Thirty Nine…

Thirty Nine. 39??? How the hell did this happen? I was just in High School a few years ago. I was just at Syracuse a few months ago. I shake my head because I am getting older (although I may not look it because black don’t crack). However, at the same time I’m celebrating because I just about made it out of my 30’s in what seems to be in better shape than when I entered it.

I still feel like a kid. I’m still waiting for that age when I feel old. Don’t get me wrong, I still have aches and pains that I didn’t have 10 years ago but I am still pretty healthy (thank god). It is my spirit that is still young and that goes along way. I have learned a lot about myself and my body to know that I can’t eat certain things anymore. What I’m happy about the most is that I’m still able to run 2 miles and faster than I did when I started 4 years ago.

Now there is no way to hide the fact that I am going to be 4 decades old. I wont get into any reflections because I will save that for 2014, I am just really amazed at what I’ve seen and who I have known. I feel very fortunate that I have been able to use the time I have been on this earth to help other people.

I believe that what has kept me young is being able to move past things. I know I’ve made mistakes that I will continue to try to atone for those but I’ve also tried no to hold on to things other people have done. Stress and drama can weigh people down and make them age faster than they want to. I recently learned that drama is something that just doesn’t happen, we seek it out either willingly or unconsciously. We can’t lead the lives of reality stars who get paid to make drama up. I need to make sure that I stay true to myself.

The one thing that really cements that I’m 39 is the fact that it has taken me this long to figure out how to write a novel. I sit here asking myself what the hell have I been doing all these years? I suppose all the blogs that I have written has prepared me for such an undertaking but for some reason I was just not ready until now. I think it may be the sum of all my experiences that makes it possible to put things into words in the way I want to. I can’t imagine writing something this long 10 years ago. In fact, I couldn’t imagine me having a blog for this long 10 years ago.

I guess feeling young and being mentally older is the key thing. I can be wise enough to help former students with gradate school applications and resumes and young enough to enjoy a Black Adam (see above) shirt that my woman gave me. (It is quite awesome, I will have to rock it soon).

I am just hoping that I can continue down this road that leads to my 40s.

my life, Novel, writing

40K

It is official. I have reached 40k in words. #novel

— OG Tony Snark 🇵🇷🇪🇨 (@Latinegro) May 22, 2013

I reached a pretty significant goal yesterday. I reached the 40 thousand word mark in the novel that I’m writing. This has become something that I am fully committed to and in many cases I cannot believe I didn’t start writing like this sooner. I feel that I am finally doing the one thing that I always wanted to do and that is write a book.

When I look back at certain points of my life, I can see that just about every creative thing I have done has lead me here. In grammar school, I wrote a story that involved my classmates turning into werewolves. I enjoyed that people read it and liked it. That was my first stab at writing anything in the first person. The years leading into high school I created a whole universe filled with superhero characters. They were completely diverse in origin, ethnicity, and gender. I had the comics titled, numbered, and a synopsis written for each one. I wanted to be a comic book writer.

Of course growing up and having people tell me that writing comics was not a good way to earn a living led me to doubt myself, but at the very least I was able to graduate with a bachelors in English. Despite everything, writing was still came very easy to me. When people were stressing finals, I was writing papers and I enjoyed it. But I still remember the voices of people suggesting that writing should not be the way to go, so the only thing I could do was put it in the back burner and make it a hobby.

As most of you know, four years ago I started a blog and the rest is history. What I find interesting is that I have a clear goal to get this book done and I have written way too much to stop now, but I still think about that black and white composition notebook that has all my notes in them. I think about the journals that I kept in High School through all the pains of my parents divorce and all the frustrations of the bullies. I think about how I may have spent most of my life preparing myself for what I am doing right now.

I now laugh at the notion that comic book writers do not get paid much. Maybe they don’t but when you do something that you love, is it really work? I have worked at places that are unsatisfying and it can suck. I now look at the body of my work and I realized that I have done short stories, narratives, essays, poetry, blogs, articles, and screen plays. This need to be creative with words has always been inside of me. I just made the mistake of listening to the naysayers.

I still have those composition notebooks. I still have the those journals that I kept in high school that detailed the issues I went through in my younger days. I am not saying that I have led a tragic life, I just think that I have fuel to create stories in which I can draw from experience.

family, girlfriend, happiness, my life

Stay Happy

Sometimes family can give us advice that we just have to reflect on as well as follow. I had family over on Sunday for a housewarming brunch. It consisted of a lot of food, presents, and salsa music. Not to mention that the woman and I spent much of the past two weeks painting, so it was definitely a day we were looking forward to. It is also a reminder of how a big family can make any apartment seem small.

So after everything was said and done, one of my aunts told me something that I feel I need to reflect on. Most people, when they are saying their parting words to another person, would say something like stay safe or have fun. What my aunt chose to say was “Stay Happy.” I was sort of taken back by this because this is something that has never been said to me. I think she took the hint that I was a little perplexed by this and clarified by telling me that I truly look happy and I need to make sure that I stay that way.

I have to admit that this is not an appalling thing to be told, but I just found it to be oddly enlightening. We live in a world where people tend to blame others for their problems or give credit to God because he/she is the reason why all things are possible. There’s rarely a time when people think about the fact they it takes work and effort to maintain happiness. I think this is the main reason why many of us get into trouble because we are trying to find happiness as if it is a place where we can go to.

Happiness is a state of being. That is why no one person can make us happy if we do not know how to be in that state alone. This is where the list of tragic stories comes into play of people marrying the wrong people or people being stuck in dead-end jobs. There is this notion that we will eventually be happy if we follow this American dream of finding that right person, having that great job, getting a house, having 2.5 kids, and then credits roll. That rah rah shit is for the movies.

I believe that finding true happiness is a rebellious act. Think about that for a moment. How many people hate other people for being happy? This rebellious state of being often acts like a mirror to others. You can see your own unhappiness reflected back to you in someone’s bliss. Can we truly be happy for another person? Of course, but that would have to be based either love for that person or the fact there you have reached that state of being before.

I cannot describe what being happy is like but I can say that I feel free to do the things that I have a passion for and giving less of my attention to things that ultimately do not matter in the grand scheme. I believe that there is power in letting things go. There is no way that anyone of us can be truly happy if we are holding grudges or animosity toward anyone. It is unhealthy to hold that pent up negative energy toward anyone or anything. I choose to have a short memory and it has worked out for me. (Note: I can already see one of my friend’s saying he is happy all the while still holding grudges. Which does work for him but my ultimate point is the the closer to zero of amount of fucks you give will increase the likely hood that you can reach a happy state)

I also believe this state of being gives us an aura that people notice. The term “you are glowing” does mean something. With that aura comes the confidence to do the things we are meant to be doing. I thought about the fact that I simply could not really write the way I wanted to when I was in Syracuse. There were too many things that were distracting me which lead me to do just the bare minimum of what I am passionate about.

Stay Happy is an acknowledgement that I’m doing things right, but it is also a warning. People who are not used to being happy have a way of sabotaging themselves. I can tell you that I have to be careful not to fall into any traps or get too comfortable with my life. There is always work to do to make things better. While it is true that we cannot make every one happy, we can at least make ourselves happy.