Review: Luster by Raven Leilani!

Hey everyone! I hope the audio is better on this video! I’m so excited to share this book review with you. An incredible read with so much up for discussion. Luster provides nuanced takes on identity, romance, and race relations. So tell me…what do you think of this one?

Plans for 2022 and Unraveling Negativity!

January has always had a sort of romantic quality. It’s just the idea of a new beginning, all the potentialities and plans unfurling in my head. In the past, this joy was short-lived because I would get so excited about these new ventures that, by the time I got to the execution phase, I’d overthought it too much and would become exhausted or doubt myself. And then the rut commenced…but no more! Through meditation, things I’m learning about manifestation, and working to match my energy to the blessings the Universe provides, I’m getting a clearer picture of the life I’m building.

While I will always update the blog with writing projects and journaling, I will soon be expanding to YouTube! I’m currently reading The House of Gucci by Sara Gay Forden. If you want to read along with me, the book chronicles the meteoric rise of the fashion house, Gucci. Originally a family-owned business, we learn about the volatile fights, allegiances, and betrayals that would eventually lead the family into a series of crises. I’m kind of dancing around the sale of the business because I haven’t gotten to that point yet. (Don’t spoil history for me in the comments!)

Anyway, my plan is to have a book review posted to YouTube by Saturday, January 15. I’ll also be posting a review of the movie adaptation to my TikTok on the same day. Once I get over my crippling imposter syndrome, I’ll be launching a Patreon where patrons or followers can get access to exclusive content, vote on books I read next, join a book club with me, and I’m working on plans for other tiers of membership. I’ll have that up and running by the end of the month or early February.

On the YouTube launch day, I’ll be posting the video here for you all to see as well. If you’d like to financially support the blog, TikTok or other platform, there are various ways to donate outside of Patreon. Of course, no pressure there. I’m so grateful to all of you who have supported me just by visiting and/or leaving thoughtful comments. I’m so happy with the community we are building here and you are to thank for that.

As I alluded to in my previous post, we’re making 2022 a year where we take our dreams seriously. As I’m doing now, I encourage you to make space in your life for the changes and positive things that will come. Let’s change the sentence from: My goal is possible to My goal is probable. Do we see the difference? Allow yourself to live in an energetic space where your goals have already been accomplished. What is that feeling like? As Simplifying Sam says, the longer you can hold on to that feeling, the stronger the manifesting signal you are sending to the Universe.

Mindset is the main element here. One thing, as many of you readers will know, is that I’ve always struggled with negative self talk and others dismissing my dreams. That thought is intrusive and comes often: “So-and-so thinks this is a pipe dream and (insert shock and horror) what if it is??” All this comes from a place of intense insecurity and self-consciousness on my part. I’ve recently begun the labor-intensive task of dismantling my fears in two ways.

1. The “So What” Method – Follow the thought to it’s logical conclusion and expose it as inconsequential or pure fantasy.

Ex: This person is telling me I need to consider X career path and considers my current work more of a hobby. Okay, and what happens next? Well, I feel bad about it and wish they saw and supported my ideas. Those feelings are valid. Process them, acknowledge and allow yourself to feel them. But how does that person’s opinion effect your overall path forward? At least in my situation, most of the time, the answer is that it has no real effect. It only has power insofar as I give the opinion power over me. The actual opinion is inconsequential on its own.

2. Reverse The “What If” – Recall my “shock and horror” line from earlier. What if my dreams really will amount to nothing? Take that and frame it positively!

Ex: My question shifts from “What if my dreams amount to nothing?” to “What if I accomplish this? What if I’m successful?” Allow yourself to think of positive outcomes and that will put you in the right energy for manifestation as well!

This whole process is labor intensive because of the nature of intrusive thoughts. They just pop up without warning. And they are known to come back, back, and back again like a vicious game of whack-a-mole. I’m not sure if it’s at all possible to completely be rid of intrusive thoughts. What’s more, negativity, sadness, anxiety all have their functions and we should not seek to live without them. (Who else is a fan of Inside Out here?). It’s about learning to manage it all when the emotions become too intense. On that road, there will be some days where the intrusions get the better of us. That is okay because there will also be brilliantly victorious days for each of us. During a victory, it’s important to pause and take stock of how much you’ve grown. The only one who needs to notice it is you.

I don’t want to keep you here all day and I know we’ve covered a lot of ground. If you have made it to the end of this post, I appreciate your fortitude! It’s readers like you that keep this community growing strong. I hope you have the best day and remember: You don’t need anyone’s permission to believe in yourself.

Doing What Feels Right and Radical Self Trust

Hey everyone, I know it’s been a little bit since I posted on here. But I am very active over on TikTok and Instagram if you want to take a look over there! Self-promotion aside, I want to revisit a topic that I’ve touched on in previous posts, such as “Taking Control Can Be Messy” and “Getting Philosophical With the Narrator in My Head”. Amid my support net work, I’ve faced a lot of questions about my career: “When are you going to get a real job?”; “Are you looking on Indeed?”; “Don’t you think it would be nice if you went out for this or that interview?”

I understand that these questions and concerns come from a place of genuine support and care. Right now, what I am trying to do with this blog and my related social media channels is not monetarily profitable. However, I believe with continued hard work and dedication, I can make it a reality. I am fortunate enough where I have the time and space to dedicate myself to this venture. So, my thought is why not try?

I’ve expressed this sentiment before. However, in the past, I’ve felt that there was a lingering sense of doubt that stopped me from pursuing the blog and content creation with my whole heart. What if this is a pipe dream and I am wasting valuable time?

I recently reviewed a memoir called Can I Be Honest With You? by Amy Palatnick. While we mainly get to explore her dating life, she also makes note of her spiritual growth and includes a great nugget of advice. When she was in college, she made the decision to follow her bliss, meaning that she’s sought ventures and careers that make her happy. As a result, she’s had many different paths: a Nia, or joyful movement, instructor; a potter; a processwork therapist; and of course, a writer. She’s pursued all these different routes because they felt right to her.

Can we just pause for a second and think about what a beautiful sentiment it is to follow your bliss? It’s so simple yet has the potential to unlock so many different potentials, should we have the privilege to go on that journey. By the same token, let’s appreciate how much trust you have to have in yourself in order to do this. That is the main element I wish to work on now, radically trusting myself and moving forward with the process.

In 2022, my resolution is to trust myself and the universe completely. In fact, I think everyone would benefit from trusting themselves a bit more. Who knows where that adventure could lead us?

So much love to you all and I hope you have the happiest New Year!

The Intruder

You’d think it was strange,
My calculated coolness
As barbed wire snaked up my legs and thighs,
I grinned as the steely stiletto dug in.
Quiet rejoicing beneath the singular sting of needles!
Because it felt like justice.
But for who?

Did I protest when it all got too loud?
Did I struggle against that invisible titan
As he seized my throat
And stole breath from my lips?
Letting waves of nausea hit me on a toxic beach,
Caustic tongues, burning carelessly,
Yet, I remained still and silent.
Because it felt deserved.
But why?

You’d think it was strange,
If you saw me out walking,
You’d observe a tightrope performer,
Shakily straddling unseen tension.
You’d likely feel a pit of anticipation,
The same knowing as the seconds before a collision.
The fall,
The dreaded, dizzying fall.
Because it is never a question of “if”.
But when?

Citrus (A Poem)

The line went dead a long time ago. Disassociation central, and it shouldn’t scare you anymore. God knows I’m passed the point of worry. As I’ve always said, there is something beautiful in death, it’s poetic or sublime. Somewhere along the way his soul froze, buried in piles of snow. But look how it glistens in the night! Nature is, at best, an indifferent mistress, but she makes up for it in her immense wonder.

Even on a moonless night, we can imagine the shadows playing and waltzing behind us.

I’m stuck with the memory of her gray eyes. The horrors sat heavily on her face and made her tremble. It’s amazing that she didn’t break apart instantaneously. Such uniquely personal wounds for a glass doll to endure. And yet, those eyes glazed over with tears…it was its own piercing image. High definition irises pleading for answers no one could give. How they darted about like a caged bird! Do you ever catch yourself remembering the citrus perfume of the grass as she paced about, wailing?

Authenticity is cringe. How quickly empathy becomes embarrassment. But those eyes, the grass, what can you say to the advancing darkness of a December night? The chill that threatens to settle in your bones and steal your soul? Do we prefer apathy? See the army of loss coming over the dunes and retreat into the ocean? Float on to distant lands but even the sea could swallow us. Even so, how beautiful to undulate among the waves, roll and dip above the abyss.

I do not mean to romanticize doom. Think instead of a rose with thorns. A fragile beauty capable of inflicting a precise pain. Even as you close your eyes, wishing the pain away, you can still remember the deep red petals and smell the sweet perfume.

The Many Legends of Wisteria Fields

Rosalie starts her journey along the dirt path with all the adrenaline of a rabbit being chased by a fox. She knows better than to take her time in the Wisteria Fields forest at night. The wind exhales an icy breath along her neck and Rosalie pauses. She glances at the bare trees that look as though they might swoop down and take her into a splintering embrace. “How did I end up here?” she whispers. But that is only to hear herself talk, to make sure she is real. She knows exactly how she ended up here. It was those girls and their laughter.

“You’re scared of your own shadow, Rosalie!” The ringleader began after Rosalie was startled by the sink going off in the girls’ bathroom. Liza Montgomery. She wasn’t excessively mean, not like you see in those teen movies. But she had a keen eye and knack for observational comedy that made her the bane of Rosalie’s —decidedly awkward—existence.

“Bet you wouldn’t last a night at the Wisty Fields Camp,” one of Liza’s friends commented almost absently. This girl was in a perpetual state of applying lipstick in the mirror. Rosalie wondered if she ever went to class. However, as she was thinking, images of Wisteria Fields slowly drifted into her mind: when the news first reported on the disappearances, all the aspiring Youtubers who’d been there since to film their reactions, the pristine campsite, the five bodies never found.

“Abigail, you’re a genius!” Liza chirped.

“So I’ve been told,” said Abigail, midway through applying her 85th layer of Cherry Red.

“I’ll bet you $100 that you won’t be able to spend the night at the Wisteria Fields Campsite,” Liza said to Rosalie. “Tonight. And remember, pics or it didn’t happen.”

“Fine, I mean, I could just take a picture and leave,” Rosalie snorted before realizing she’d given too much of herself away.

Liza pursed her lips. “I wanna see video of you arriving at the campsite,” Liza added. “I want to see video of the sunrise too! You have me on Snap right, Rosie? Just send them my way.”

Rosalie hated when Liza called her that name. It reminded her of a different place and time. “You know,” Rosalie arched an eyebrow to make herself seem superior but she wasn’t sure that’s how it was coming off. She more than likely appeared uncertain. “This sounds like a lot of work. I don’t care about proving anything to you.”

Abigail made a sour face but Liza remained even. “You think this is about proving something to us?” she asked. And with that, the bell rang. Rosalie jumped. The girls laughed. It was a burst of high-pitched giggles that inspired the perfect mixture of anger and embarrassment in Rosalie. She was angry at herself mostly and would have done anything to make them eat their jeers. That was that.

Rosalie fixates on their laughter as she sinks deeper into the woods. Only, as the sky grows darker, their laughter sounds more deranged and maniacal than girlish.

She could still turn back. Everyone within a 20 mile radius of the campsite knows how to get there. It is practically a tourist attraction during the day. At night, that is another matter. Few made the trek recently, or at least hadn’t lived to tell about it.

For what it’s worth, Rosalie has two minds about the whole Wisteria Fields Campsite legend. On the one hand, it is a bit exciting to live right next to the place that so many people are interested in. On the other hand, the campsite has been abandoned for three years now. The town of Wisteria kept the campsite up initially as a potential crime scene, then a memorial, then, as news spread, a local landmark of sorts. The whole thing has a scummy feel that Rosalie isn’t too comfortable with.

Since the bodies were never found, stories took hold that the campers were a part of a coven and went off to live in the surrounding woods. They would take unwitting travelers by surprise and sacrifice them to some demon. That’s not even what witchcraft is about, Rosalie thinks, reminiscing about her one visit to a crystal shop that gave her all the knowledge in the world. Plus, two of the campers were 8 and 9-year-old kids. The same ages as her sister and brother. Rosalie lets the thought pass without lingering.

At any rate, Rosalie feels that, by traveling here, she is only exploiting the lost people even more. And yet, on she goes. After all, what’s the harm in one more high schooler visiting, really?

Just about half hour into her journey, Rosalie sees the familiar shape of the tent at the top of a hill. Her feet are sore but a feeling in her stomach tells her to turn on a heel and run. The air is suddenly too thick to breathe. Her veins are constricting and for a moment, she thinks she might just drop like a pin on the ground.

Without any warning to the rest of her body, Rosalie’s legs propel her forward up the hill. I must have a death wish, Rosalie thinks. But another voice says, Its just a few videos to take in a forest you’ve known all your life. Relax.

At the top of the hill, she crosses an invisible threshold she knows to be the edge of the campsite. It’s like time has stopped in this little circle of territory. Even the grass seems to be a different shade here. Rosalie notes this as she pulls her phone from her sweatshirt and turns the flashlight on. Okay, now just send the first video to Liza. Just go over to the tent and film yourself standing there. Ready? Go!

Rosalie is not in fact ready, but goes nonetheless. She holds her phone up and tries to get a good angle of herself on camera. A text notification blips onto the screen from a number she can’t quite place.

Text Message

Friday, Oct 1, 6:35 PM

“We’ve missed you so much, honey. We aren’t angry anymore. I’ve been telling Ben and Annie you’d come back to us. Dad didn’t believe it at first either. But we are so glad to see you.”

Rosalie throws her phone to the ground as her hands erupt in trembles. “It can’t be…” Rosalie lets the words trickle passed her lips. “LIZA! ABIGAIL! WHERE ARE YOU?” She shouts, spinning around so the trees whirl in a blur. “Don’t bring my family into this! This isn’t funny.”

Suddenly, the tent explodes to life in lantern light, a large, orange dome set beside a campfire that was never lit. Rosalie feels the rage bubble inside her as she barrels through the tent flaps. She looks on the ground in front of her only to find a few blankets. Her eyes shift up and she can feel the color drain from her face.

“Welcome Home, Rosie!” is scrawled in blood along the side of the tent.

Rosalie scrambles backward out of the tent and falls on her back. She remembers. The girls’ bet, begging her parents to take her camping in the woods, her brother and sister insisting they come along. It was her idea to go down to the river, yes. But it wasn’t her fault that Annie and Ben decided to jump in for a swim. It wasn’t her fault that her parents got swept in the current trying to save them, too. But she just watched, blankly. Then, darkness. What happened to her after that? She doesn’t know. All she remembers, all she knows, is fear. A paralyzing fear that grips her throat and presses down until she gags.

Rosalie tries to get up but feels something pulling her down, further and further. She’s sinking. She feels a sudden rush of water assaulting her nose and mouth. Where is it coming from? Fear. What is happening?! Fear.

“HELP! Somebody HEL—P!”

She coughs and wheezes for life but the moonlight is fading around the advancing earth, pulling her down.

She thinks about the last thing Liza said to her, “You think this is about proving something to us?” And the laughter. She can hear them cackling all the way down.

‘Fault Lines’ by Emily Itami is a Hilarious Existential Rollercoaster

This novel and its protagonist, Mizuki, balance the life of a doting mother against her desires for a freer existence. Though she loves her family, Mizuki’s marriage of over a decade has began to grow stale and she is often nostalgic for her days as a singer. She wonders, if she had only tried harder, made different decisions, would she be happy with her life then?

Mizuki’s growing depression and the thoughts that plague her only become more noticeable when she meets a handsome restauranteur, Kiyoshi. When the two strike up a relationship, she must choose between her family or a new life, with all its possibilities.

OK, that whole thing just sounded like I was writing the book jacket but that’s how these plot synopses have to go if I don’t want to give away spoilers. Honestly, Fault Lines is insanely funny and a very real depiction of someone going through an existential crisis. Though the novel takes place in Japan, I know people like Mizuki in my own life. Also, readers are treated to interesting bits of Japanese culture here and there, given Mizuki’s part-time work as a guide to English-speaking travelers.

The scenes between Mizuki and her two children made me laugh out loud almost 100% of the time. Whether it be an exasperated Mizuki being woken up by a toddler’s foot in her face or her dragging the same tantrum-striken child across the street while his pants are falling down. These instances stand out in sharp contrast to the mothers around her, always energetic and proper.

I’m not sure every copy of Fault Lines is like this, but the text is slightly larger than I’m used to reading. Plus, the way the book is mapped out, with some chapters merely being a few paragraphs long, the book is a breeze to get through at 215 pages.

This one comes highly recommended from me! Whether or not you’ve read it, I’d love to hear your thoughts! And, as a bonus for making it to the end of this review, I’ll tell you the next book I’ll be talking about.

Up next we have The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker. You may know that this is the book that precedes The Women of Troy (my last review). If you didn’t know that, it’s OK because I didn’t realize that until halfway through the last book! I’ll be reading this to get a better feel for the characters I absolutely loved, despite Troy’s slow pace.

Let me know if you’re excited for the next one!

This Book Has Me Confused! – ‘The Women of Troy’ by Pat Barker

I’ve written several drafts of this review. After many revisions, I’m still not quite sure where I stand on this one.

The Women of Troy takes place after the fall of the ancient city, Troy, and offers glimpses into the lives of Trojan women, captured and taken as slaves for the Greeks. For lack of a better way to describe it, I have such weird feelings about this book. There is definitely a good deal of political intrigue, which I’m a sucker for.

The Greek camp, stationed outside of Troy, is ruled over by five kings, each with a different group loyal to him. You have Odysseus, largely considered the brains behind the final assault on Troy (the Trojan horse was his idea); Agamemnon, generally considered to rule with an iron fist; his brother Menelaus, much maligned for his undying love of Helen of Troy (the relationship is considered the catalyst for war); Nestor, an elderly and ailing but highly respected man; And finally, Pyrrhus, teenage son of the late Achilles, who is constantly trying to live up to his father’s reputation.

Even after Troy falls to the Greeks, the fighters can’t leave because constant high winds prevent them from sailing. They are left to wonder which gods they have offended and how they can make the best of this situation. Possibly because they have been stuck on Trojan shores for weeks, tensions are always raised between the factions and they regularly appear on the brink of conflict. However, they always remain on the brink, about to spill over but never doing so in a major way. That is possibly my biggest gripe with the book. Nothing much happens until about page 155 of 284. For me, that pacing is painfully slow. I nearly gave up on it!

Also, and this is more of an observation than a complaint, The Women of Troy does not feel like it’s about women, at least not as much as you’d think. This is going to be the hardest for me to explain because it’s a feeling in my bones more than anything. Yes, a majority of the book is told from a woman’s point of view. Briseis was a former queen of Lyrnessus until Achilles sacked her city and took her as “prize of honor”. Though Achilles is now dead, she is pregnant with his child throughout this book and their relationship somehow remains complicated.

It’s through her eyes that we learn about women’s lives and roles in this camp. And yes, we do occasionally get glimpses at the desires and motivations of these women, these are mostly communicated through internal monologues or scenes here and there. It’s worth noting though that some of the chapters are narrated in a close third person and follow either Pyrrhus or Calchas, a seer or priest. Though the change of perspective is not always clearly communicated, we do learn a lot about these characters. We get hints at their internal struggles and vulnerabilities, in a way that is very similar to the women. However, on both of these ends we see a struggle within a patriarchal system built on reputation. This book really isn’t about the women of Troy in the strict sense. You’d be more apt to call it the cruelty of man. The cruelty of man against woman, sure. But also, the cruelty of man amongst his brothers and himself.

I will say, what this book may lack in pacing was clearly put into character development. All of these characters feel richly developed and it is for them that I’m considering visiting the novel previous to this, The Silence of the Girls, which apparently gives more backstory to Briseis.

I really feel like I need to sit with my feelings a bit more on this one. If you are a patient reader, I definitely recommend this one. However, if you’re looking for a fast-paced action-packed plot, maybe it’s not the right novel. If anything, the characters are a major saving grace no matter what.

A Sneaking Rage

I lay on the splintering wood. Weezer’s “California Kids” rattles through the back of my mind like a muddled memory. The smell of freshly-cut grass fills the air…Remember your breathing!… No need to be angry. Nothing is wrong. Still, the rage pools in the center of my brow, its acid dripping down to my lips and scorching my face. Soon, it snakes its way to the back of my throat. I scream, nonsensically, into the piercing blue sky above. The force of my cries shatters my voice until all I can muster is a whispering yelp. But it is a calm weekday morning and no one heard. If they did, I wouldn’t have known.

‘Yes, Daddy’ by Jonathan Parks-Ramage is an Absolute Hell and You Should Read It

Park-Ramage’s debut novel, published this year, follows aspiring playwright, Jonah Keller. We see him enter an abusive relationship with the renowned writer, Richard Shriver. In an effort to heal from the ensuing trauma, and his complicated relationship with religion, we watch Jonah as he attempts to pick up the pieces of his life. Despite the terrors that lie within these pages, we are left with a hauntingly beautiful, and painfully human depiction of suffering and growth. WARNING: I couldn’t control myself on some of these spoilers so those begin at 2:10 in the video. What did you guys think? Have you read this book or do you want to read it? Let me know your thoughts!