Bob Saget. One of the funniest and nicest comedians of the industry. Many recognize him as one of the first hosts of America's Funniest Home Videos. I knew him best as being one of the best television dad's as Danny Tanner from Full House. We all wished we could have a dad like him.

"Today is the first day of the rest of your life. And if that doesn't work out for you, Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life."

-Bob Saget (1956-2022)

#tribute #RIP #restinpeace

When I started my kids book series the first version of my story was very direct and brutal. I was touching on several political issues all at once and when you are passionate about stuff like that and you are a very direct person it shows in your writing. The first version was definitely not something I would recommend reading to the 5 year old or so kids that would compose my readership.

There's only one way I can write and do it well, so from the excesses of my heart flowed the words onto the keyboard. However before could even start to illustrate it let alone publish it there was some definite tweaking needed.

It took a few rounds of reworking to make it something that people would read to kids. After pouring my heart out it was like cleaning blood off the page. However eventually I did manage to make it kid friendly without having to compromise my message.

In blog posts I have found that same thing to be true. Starting raw pouring out my heart, then tweaking my exact wording has been increasingly useful, however nothing in the way of revision as drastic as the kids books.

When you begin a conversation with someone for whom you understand that you might feel love in the future, it is like building an illusion out of cards: you both want to create a dream that you hope will last as much as possible, fearing an earthquake or a powerful gust of wind.

Sounds so simple

But yet so complex

Yes sounded so easy

But it left you with no respect

Set healthy boundaries for yourself

With no wrong intentions

You are the only one who can make yourself happy

So do it freely in your existence

Stop saying sorry for the things you have not done wrong

Instead stand brave like a lion who always rises strong

You can’t please everyone

But your stubborn heart doesn’t want to stop trying

With too much people pleasing, it only leaves you providing

Providing for others and losing your self worth

You lose sight of what being confident looked like

That it was hesitate to henceforth

So move forward with being yourself

Still kindhearted with love and light

But don’t lose your inner confidence for the fear of being disliked

Learn to say no

Make a little bag for littles to have in case they front while at school/work. This can include comfort items, polly pockets, fidgets, a note, etc.

Not my original idea and I can't find who created it, but make a note for new alters/ alters coming out of dormancy or fronting for the first time.

Pack bland snacks or fruit for alters not comfortable eating meat or doesn't eat a lot while fronting.

Make a playlist for asl words on youtube for alters who can't/don't speak.

Make a list of people who alters can go to of they feel lost, unsafe, anxious, etc.

Get an app where you can track who is fronting when or you can make notes for each other like discord or SimplyPlural or just a google doc. (Not sponsored, just what our system likes.)

Make a multiple accounts for things. If your parents/caregivers/gaurdians aren't aware your a system, just make a second one as a spare/backup account.

Y'all got this and you are doing beautifully

Before I am woman , I am black

Before I am woman , I am black

Before I create the metaphor and perform poetry , you will hear how I am black that is how I am Treated like black , talk like nigga

But I am not your nigger

So I will not white wash my verbs and adjectives to not offend

I talk like dead came crawling out my skin

I Part the Red Sea and show you the bones of my people buried in my vernacular

I talk like twine stuck in my teeth , from all the times my people bite down on the whip … and let blood swim down their backs into haystacks and straw

I am not built for dead white man poetry

I speak like Porsha olaywiola , jasmine mans , Cynthia valentine , rudy Francisco

But if you listen carefully , I sing hymns like maya angelou , I took the pain , tell it the way I talk

Make a choir , believe in a god , ask him where is his mercy , where does justice go when it not served ?

Their is no way , he needs that many black angels ,

If he is not building army , to correct history

Or does he know we are walking statistics and picks us off the concrete … so their is somewhere safe for us to lay our head

I was told I speak with so much anger , I don’t vist anger … but I walk with grief … and heart full of passion

So when I beat on my chest when I spit on the mic , crack open my wrist and show you were I can feel the rattle of chains , ready to slip around these colored hands. I speak , while I still got time to tell our stories .. before they erase our history …

I want to teach my history … before I become a haunting , a concrete angel …

I was told , by someone they write to escape the world .. ( it must be nice … to out run your imagination , like milk drunk nightmares, that can put you too sleep … when the midnight shivers .. ) I dance with the reaper … he knows my footsteps… can be a “misunderstanding” in the dark night … with a neighborhood watch that thinks he some kind of spider man .. I think it’s funny , how that pen of yours allows you to escape …

I think how I can’t outrun my shadows and my skin color … both are black …

This world is afraid of both …. So how can I pretend to do both , dream and honor nightmares … that are known to become reality’s

My poetry be black , my poetry talk back , this poet is black .. ..

…

I cried.

The stress of the past weeks caught up to me. I broke down and bawled.

How can I survive another year of school? How can I do this anymore? I can't keep pushing myself to be perfect. Sometime, I will crack.

I forced myself to stop crying and pulled into my driveway. My parents and siblings all came to welcome me home.

Because they were awesome, my parents let me go to my cousin's house by myself. I stayed for a whole week, and made some new friends.

But now I am home. And I have to go back to school. And I have to get all A's and be cute everyday and on top of all that, still talk to people. Though to be honest, I had basically stopped talking to people the last few weeks.

I hugged my mom, and started crying again.

...............................................................

I sat in my counselors office, not believing the words he was saying.

"Wait, I only have a half of a required credit to graduate high school?" I said.

"Yes. You could either take the last class during the rest of the school year, or you could do it over the summer," he said. He looked like he had done this a million times before. "I can set this all up for you now, if you wish."

He looked at my Dad, who was sitting next to me.

"Yeah, do it," my dad said.

I sighed, and relaxed for the first time in years.

Maybe I will get through this, after all.

strange

i can’t decide if it’s too much or not enough

or nothing at all

i try with an obnoxious desperation

to simply be

but there is nothing simple about it

there are far too many layers of paint

to this art of Being

that i’ve lost what intentions

with which i picked up the paintbrush

in the first place

so instead

i wish and i wish

until my eyes bleed scarlet

scarlet like the sweater you wore

when i told you i loved you

now my bathroom sink

is made a sea of

the little black bodies of eyelashes

plucked like dandelions from poisoned earth

left to decay in puddles of agony

all thanks to me, the murderer

who only wants to feel again

but with a flicker of the stage lights

there goes all feeling

farewell to the last delicious drops of september romance

october reminds me that

life is drawing circles

again and again

until i’ve no more ink to go on

a girl, an etching in the indigo spaces

between stars

soon to be seventeen scars

in the milky way

tell me, why is it so hard?

The moon shone bright

On this quiet winter night

It was cold and breezy

But then I saw your figure standing there in the dark

Sitting on a swing in the park

I decided to walk over to you

I asked you if you were cold

You said no but I could tell you really were,

So I wrapped my jacket around you anyways

We sat there for hours

Talking about anything and everything

Our feelings, our stories, our favorite foods

It was like a dream come true

And I'm pretty sure that's when I really knew,

That I loved you

And because of that quiet winter night,

We became something beautiful

Like the stars in the night sky.

Floating in the ocean of love,

Not knowing what darkness lurks outside.

A tiny world, all for me.

A little reminder that humans can actually do magic.

A place I’ve been once and wish to go back.

Mother’s womb.