2 AM 

There is nothing significant about this post. Except perhaps the pain.  

I have been struggling with every day duties that should have been in the handbook of life, had we been given one. Things like taking public transport or moving on… letting go…

Quite ironically, the sorts of things I cower from seem to come into my life more often. Constantly having to face my fears has left me praising my strength but not actually moving past them. I still cower. I still fear. 
I fear that everything I am used to will change in front of my eyes when I’m not ready for it to move. I fear that I will have to let go of people…pets… The things that mean the most to me. I fear not being able to handle the pain that comes with loss. The reality that comes with death. 

I fear the way I will handle not being okay. We all have this ideal future but what if it’s not like we planned? It never is, I suppose. But still. It scares me not to know what it means to go forward. 

My fear stems from bad experiences and anxiety. I know this because I’m more self aware than most would imagine. It doesn’t mean i can take it away. I’ve tried. I’ve tried to jump off the bridge of fear into the vast abyss. What I got for it was…satisfactory.  not enough to make me change my mind about change. It will scare me until I am confident my life will turn out the way I assume.

Aren’t we all, though? In a way really afraid of life as we picture it to differ. 

I suppose we are. We have to be. We are just human in a world where the mind l works too fast for us to comprehend and emotion takes control of our actions. Our futures change. We are control but we can’t even understand ourselves.  How are we supposed to be perfectly in line with our vision if we can barely get our thoughts in order. 

We are all just fucking drowning. 

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“Sea Grapes” Poem Analysis

Just completed my analysis on Walcott with the help of this analysis.

SoPhIa

Sea Grapes

By Derek Walcott

That sail which leans on light,

tired of islands,

a schooner beating up the Caribbean

for home, could be Odysseus,

home-bound on the Aegean;

that father and husband’s

longing, under gnarled sour grapes, is like

the adulterer hearing Nausicaa’s name in

 every gull’s outcry.

This brings nobody peace. The ancient war

between obsession and responsibility will

never finish and has been the same

for the sea-wanderer or the one on shore now

wriggling on his sandals to walk home, since

Troy sighed its last flame,

and the blind giant’s boulder heaved the trough from

whose groundswell the great hexameters come to the

conclusions of exhausted surf.

The classics can console. But not enough.

Critical Journal to “Sea Grapes” by Derek Walcott

Sea grapes are a type of grapes that is indigenous to Caribbean Sea that has particularly bitter and sour taste. The title of this…

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Woman. RISE. 

Happy woman’s day to all powerful woman in the world. 

To those who have proved to be greater than expected and more powerful than the men who have told them to stand down. 

To the girls who loved books more than barbies and couldn’t understand why her brother got to eat and sleep whereas she had to clean up after them all

To those who do not keep quiet in a world where rape is as common as dying.

Woman. Rise above the remarks made by those we need to support us on what we can do and what we are no supposed to.

Rise out of the ashes of your burnt dreams, phoenix. You’re not dead. So what is stopping you from fighting back?Nothing should be able to hold you back anymore! 

Stand for your womanhood and the people who support you.  Shake hands with the women who hate us for our strength. Wish them their own happiness if they try and steal yours. You are more powerful than you know. And that is why you should rise.

By the words of Maya Angelou, we have been written down in history as weak. Fragile. Dependent. Those were all “twisted lies” because we’ve overcome generations of feeling inferior. To the point that our grandparents believe us to be spoiled. “Too smart” they tell us.  But that is what they are used to. 

But we will rise. 

Rise above Paulette Julies’ poem about the role of women. Why should we be in the kitchen instead of out in the field. Why should I have to fight to prove to be the one fit for the job.

I call bullshit! To all those telling us we are not intelligent enough to take on roles previously seen as “male”. Have we not come far enough to show otherwise? 
I am not a victim.

I am not a child 

I am as human as you and as powerful as it gets. You can throw me down and you can yell at me. But I will rise out of the hatred you have woven around us for centuries… 

As a woman, I will rise. And I will fuck you up.