Diary
Tarot Tuesday: Is this year THE year?
A friend wanted to know about her relationship prospects over the next year. She and I talk about this sort of thing all the time, but she wanted to know what the cards would say with some detail: the who, the how, the when. I drew the Page of Wands.
I told the friend that based on this card, she would meet a man who was young, but established and successful. He is confident and emotional—not a weak sort of emotional, but a fiery sort. In the back of my head, I was thinking “Sounds like a Cancer man, probably.”
Then my mind wandered a bit to an episode of The Real World (as it always does) and this kind of man came up:
Yes, fiery.
Anyway, after we talked it out, she confided that a man fitting this description was already on the horizon! I hadn’t known about this guy and her reading confirmed that she was on the proper trajectory. Still, I told her to be on the lookout–just because the man she was talking to fit the description so far didn’t mean there wasn’t a similar model coming off the assembly line just for her.
If you would like your own tarot reading with even more detail, send me a message. The price is right and we’ll have a great time!
Writing into the Abyss: Where Depression and Creativity Intersect
I sit in front of my laptop, or my desktop, or on a throwback day, with pen in hand and spiral pad underneath. I try to write. Some days I am successful. Many days I am not.
There are two books that I want to work on, am working on, will work on. One should be easy. It’s already mapped out in my head and outlined on paper. The other is more challenging, but I know I want it to be good.
My life is not where I want it to be by a long shot. I have not reached the level of success or notoriety that I had hoped to have by the age of 35. I look back on what I have accomplished and I see four novels and a book of poetry. I understand. I possess the knowledge that I have done more than what many writers have done in entire careers. I understand that five books is a good thing.
But having the knowledge is not the same as feeling successful. I write and I publish and the people say it’s good and they immediately want another, not understanding that I have put years of my life into a work that they finished in a weekend, in a day, sometimes even just one long night. I give everything and more is desired right away.
With every new book comes the dread of following it up with another good book. I don’t know that I can. I never think that I can.
I feel, sometimes, that it’s all for nothing. I am a success, but I don’t feel successful.
They want more books, but they don’t know what I have to go through to get there.
It is dark where I am. My eyes are wide open but I can’t see a thing. I know I have to go to Tartarus alone and claim what belongs to me.
I take the first step and the panic already creeps over me, but I continue in spite of the sweat that has drenched me almost immediately. I am afraid that I will swallow my tongue, that I will stop breathing, that I will die on the spot. But I don’t, in spite of a racing heart and spinning head.
I descend further and further into the abyss for days, months, years, searching for my prize. I know it is here. It is always here. My greatest creativity has always been housed in my greatest pain. I cannot leave until I retrieve it.
I finally hit the basement level of my descent and all around me are the demons I have been avoiding. I have to acknowledge them in order to pass. They demand it.
My own doubts. My own fears. They screech beside me begging for attention. I ignore them and go deeper.
The mentor who betrayed me time and again. The father who doesn’t love me. Fathers and father figures alike grabbing at my shoulders to hold me back. I break free. I break through.
I see authoritarians there. You supervised me into submission. You bossed me into victimhood. You signed my checks but you couldn’t sign my life. I vanquish you, too. I go deeper.
I see the men. I see the ones who loved me wrong. I see the ones I loved. I see the ones who inspired poems:
i was born in diana’s tide with a caul over my third eye
And I see the ones who are the reason that I haven’t written more than two poems in the past decade. I pretend as though I feel more comfortable with fiction but the truth is I feel too broken to write poetry.
And even the ones I still love are there, compassing me about. I break free.
I see me. I see body image. I see someone who doesn’t feel worth it. I see an utter lack of hope, a vision of a future that is not there, in which I have not been remembered. I am dust.
And there, just beyond the nihilism, just one more step beyond the limits of my odyssey, it is there:
The next novel.
That is what it is like to write. Every single novel.
I cannot write until things are right. Every time I sit down to work on something, practically everything, even this blog post, I feel like I am going back to Hell to confront all of my demons all at once. I feel short of breath and I give up to work on other things that make me happy and give me some meaning.
I know that being a writer is my destiny and my gift to the world, but I can’t always do it. This, in spite of the many people who ask me when the next book will be out. If I could make a living on my writing, I would write three a year. But I cannot live in the abyss in order to do that.
This is not writer’s block. This is depression.
I will beat it someday.
Street Photography in DC
Earlier this week while running errands, I brought my camera along with me. I am trying to get in the habit of being ready for anything when it comes to capturing moments both important and mundane. I didn’t think any of these photos were particularly stunning, but I was glad to get the practice.
Here is my entire street photography album. The newer ones are toward the end.
Tarot Tuesday: Is she an obstacle?
A friend had a special inquiry about an endeavor she was embarking upon. She’s very active in her community, church, and is a busy career woman. She’s currently starting a massive project that will require support from many areas of her life. She wanted to know what was on the mind and in the heart of a specific colleague who had the ability to say yes or no to a request.
I drew the Three of Cups. I immediately had a positive reaction in my heart, but as a skeptic, I delved deeper and listened to what the universe was trying to tell me.
My friend’s endeavor would be a success, but why? And why was she having trouble in these starting stages?
Well, I looked at the three women on this card as the three women who would bring the success: the workers, represented by the woman in red; the supporters, represented by the woman in white; and the leader, the woman in gold and white. All women are necessary, all women helped, all women celebrated, but only one brought the grapes! She is the leader and she wants what’s best for you, but give her time to get this thing figured out so she can determine the best way to support.
This was a fun read and I enjoyed coaching my friend through this issue as she continues on the path to greatness!
If you would like a more detailed reading, they’re only $45! Contact me through my tarot page today!
Breaking the Boycott of Sorority Sisters
My name is Rashid Darden and I am a novelist. I am also a member of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc. Acting independently from my fraternity and the members who have chosen to boycott, I plan to exercise my own rights:
I will be watching the remaining episodes of Sorority Sisters this Friday night on VH1 from 9:30pm onward.
As I’ve already stated in an earlier essay, I believe that the backlash from the show stems primarily from the dangerous and alienating respectability politics of black folks. Since that essay, and since subsequent shows have aired, I have been witness to the devolution of values of the members of fraternities and sororities who are against the show.
I’ve seen women exclaim gleefully that they couldn’t wait for their sisters to be expelled from their organizations. The cast members of the show have spoken about the death threats they have received, but fraternity and sorority members only said “Well if that were true, the police would be involved.”
Spoken by people who have never been impacted by cyber bullying and harassment.
Perhaps even more insidious than the aggressive attacks against these women is the acts of the bystanders joining the protests. People joined the boycott because it was the popular thing to do. I had friends who supported the boycott who admittedly only did so because they don’t like shows which air “dirty laundry.”
I also suspect that there were those who were adamant about supporting the boycott because it positioned them to be quoted in national media as an expert in Greek life, to perhaps boost their sales or notoriety. Can’t knock the hustle, I guess.
Meanwhile, I have seen a great deal of non-Greeks support the show. They say to me that they are glad to see that real people are members of these organizations–not just the St. John suit-wearing, mink-flaunting, middle-aged socialites, but real women who have bills and kids and kids’ fathers–just like them.
Behind all of this backlash, some will be suspended. Yes, some will be expelled, but hopefully not without deep conversations about sweeping codes of conduct and broad codes of ethics. Conversations need to happen about why some members are given the harshest penalties while others skip off into the sunset, saved because of their high positions in their organizations. Saved because of the political heft of their chapters of initiation. Why can a man who steals from one chapter be expelled from an entire national fraternity, but a national leader who steals from his entire fraternity is not? Why justice for some, but not for all?
Let’s be clear: These women are not being punished for the show. They are being punished for the attention. Had this been a no-budget YouTube series, this would not have been an issue.
But these are conversations to be had within the organizations. Perhaps the lessons learned from Sorority Sisters will be the impetus that all organizations need to create policies which recognize and reaffirm that disclosure of one’s membership does not tarnish a century-old legacy. Indeed, tarnish doesn’t happen overnight.
Perhaps the legacies first began to tarnish when that first person decided that their organization should fund their travel rather than paying for it out of pocket.
Perhaps the legacies first began to tarnish when that first person voted “no” on a candidate because they were suspected to be “funny” or a “confirmed bachelor.”
Perhaps the legacies first began to tarnish when that first person turned their nose up at a young man or young woman who came to college at a nontraditional age.
Sorority Sisters has not made the public think less of Greek letter organizations. It has given us, the members of Greek letter organizations, an opportunity to check ourselves.
We are not perfect. And how we have handled Sorority Sisters reflects our imperfections. The reaction has saddened me, to be honest, especially in the midst of so much in the world we could be working on.
It’s funny to me how none of the conversations I’ve observed have mentioned how our organizations could get a handle on Sorority Sisters and use a second season of it as a vehicle for changing the culture of Greekdom itself. Kefla Hare’s (Alpha Phi Alpha) appearance on Road Rules Australia truly made me look at Alpha in a different light when I was in high school. Before him, I considered Alphas to be arrogant, out of touch, and pompous. Kefla’s appearance on MTV and his representation of a real Alpha made me reconsider. Put Kameelah, an AKA who appeared on Real World Boston in that category also.
This generation deserves to see itself in April, Cat, Adrene, Shanna, Priyanka, MeToya, Joy, Lydia, and Veronica, with all of their efforts to be good, to be better, and to be real. We are not our sisters’ keepers – we are our sisters. We are our brothers. Whether they look like we look or act like we act, we are still them and they are still us.
Thank you, Sorority Sisters, for showing us as we really are–on your side of the television and on ours.