The power of words

Words are extremely powerful and I have known this all my life as I am a prolific reader. I read while I eat, in the car at a traffic light, at the dinner table with friends, in the bathroom, in the ballroom, I have even tried to read in the shower. While reading the words put down on paper by another allows me to escape into my imagination, putting down my thoughts on paper allows me to quiet the never ending chatter that goes on in my head. As I was writing in my diary today, I started thinking about someone I was upset with and what I would say to them if I could see them. Then I recalled the therapeutic practice of letter writing used a method to let go of disturbing and distracting emotions. With that in mind, I decided to write open letters to all the people who are currently living in my head rent free. There is the ex who transferred their feelings of inadequacy onto me and I have carried those feelings for almost 2 years, a friend with whom I am no longer close whose cryptic text message left me wondering if they were apologizing because they felt bad or because Jesus told them to. Another ex who re entered my life after a nasty break up and with whom I tried to rebuild a friendship but that friendship ended up feeling like the relationship we had, a family member who I allowed to treat me like a child and then they ran with it and last but not least my hair because we have a love/hate relationship!. I am not expecting to feel all better after writing these letters but I am hoping that seeing the words on paper will allow me to reexamine my thought processes about the situations, give me clarity about my feelings and enable me to take actions that will leave me in better harmony with myself.


My quirky habits.

My major in college was Psychology and I think it was quite appropriate for the way I am and the way I turned out.

As I checked my front door last night for the 4th time before going to sleep, I realized that I have several neurotic habits and it tickled me so. Therefore, for your reading pleasure, I shall catalogue below some of my… shall we say interesting habits.

  • I check the front door several times before going to bed and when I leave the house. I am always certain it is locked but I cannot sleep or leave if I have not checked it a couple of times.
  • I do not like odd numbers. If I am eating jelly beans, I have to eat them in pairs and if possible the same colours at a time. Continue reading

Build a new nest

Human beings should be more like birds. This is my mother’s new favourite line. As we took a road trip through Mount Cameroon together, she pointed out the birds and the reason for her utterance. I apologize in advance for lacking the proper nomenclature for the avian in question. So, the male avian constructs it’s nest from palm tree leaves and once it is complete, he sets about finding a mate. Once he has selected one, he proceeds to court and woo her through song and dance. If he is successful, they move into the nest together Continue reading

Your life is in my hands

When we go in for surgery, we put all our trust in the medical doctors. We allow them to put us in a medically induced coma and cut into our flesh. We also trust them to prescribe chemicals that we will ingest hoping that the side effects they warn us about will be manageable and if we are lucky a no show. We put our lives in their hands and trust that we will come out unscathed and the better for it. Trust – willingness to rely on the actions of another person.

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As someone who has been journalling for over 20 years and am still going, this is affirmation that I am part of a special group of people who can chart their emotional and mental growth in words. I have been very sporadic of late but reading your post has encouraged me to polish off that feather and ink and get back to it! Thank you!

as i see it


Perhaps it is something that many of us had done during our younger days or as one of our school assignments. Maybe we have gotten quite older, and some of us felt that it is something that children do, so we felt as if it was necessary to leave it in the memories of our youth, in those old boxes of our childhood memorabilia. I had been thinking about this for the past year, and yes, it really took me a year to realize this. No, the art of journal writing is not dead yet. At least I hope not.

Prior to starting my own blog, I have kept little notebooks or mini-journals. In those small treasures, I’ve kept certain thoughts, verses, or specific quotes that I find beautiful and valuable or applicable in specific aspects of my life. Now, as I sit and look back, leafing through my little…

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Really?!?! That’s what you were thinking about?

Everytime I ride my bike on the freeway and the byways, I always anticipate that the people in the cars around me will do something stupid causing an accident and so I am constantly reviewing my exit strategies. As I rode home from work today, I was doing just that, analyzing the situation around me when I realised that I had a salad in my back pack. In my minds eye, I imagined myself having to drop the bike because somebody cut me off. Immediately the first thought that came to mind was “My salad will get squished!!!”

About 3 or maybe 4 years ago, my sister and I rented a pickup truck and drove to see my mum. In the cab of the truck were carefully selected juicy mammoth sized plantains. They were perfectly ripe and I could barely wait for my mother and my sister to transform them into culinary masterpeices. Well it was not to be as we were in a roll over accident. We had to crawl out of the car through the window and were whisked to the hospital promptly. On our way home, I could not help but ask “Are we going to go back to the accident site to retrieve the plantains?”

Why do you talk …(insert race here)?

I started my childhood in NYC but I now call the great city of Atlanta home. This colorful place never fails to serve up some form of entertainment; from pretty boys in heels and purses to various unique accents. About a month ago, I watched a video by a South African young lady who in poetry form told the story about being called out for talking white. Her response was that she could not help but talk white as she was speaking a white language. Continue reading


Foreword: This excuse for a blog entry was made possible by two people. The first is my sister. I promised her that I would write something before she left for ‘Frisco. She has been there for 2 days so I am quite late. However, some body once said “Better late than never!” The second is someone I have never met but who inspired me immensely after reading her story. She goes by She is a mother of two, a full time student and holds down a full time job. She writes the most amazing entries and her honesty is Continue reading