A Huge Celebration and Thanks

Thank you everyone who has followed the blog throughout its two year lifespan. I apologize for not posting as much as I ought to. I’ve been swamped with finishing out senior year of college and balancing it with this novel launch. I want to invite all who are interested to check out my debut novel Volatile releasing Wednesday April 18, 2018 at midnight. You can order the ebook early on Amazon today!





February is the shortest month of the year. It’s black history month and the third month of winter. Punxsutawney Phil predicts if there will be a longer winter or if spring will come soon. Regardless of his prediction, spring is just a month away. Usually February is as bitterly cold as January with chances of ice storms. Second semester of school is in full swing. People are chatting about Valentine’s day and for some there’s Mardi Gras. Purim often occurs in this month and it’s quite eventful for such a short month.

It’s been a personal important month past and present whether I’m thinking about the fact I moved to my current town on February 27, 2004, which makes this 14 years since I lived here. On the 26th of this month I uploaded my first video, which made it the start of my Youtube career. On the 6th day in 2015 I almost died when I was hit by a car and on the 20th I had my first car wreck this year in 2018. This is also the month on Valentine’s day that our family dog Rocky passed away. In short, this month represents a period transition and remembrance.

There’s No Month Like April


In the northern hemisphere the weather warms, the grass greens. Life is in full bloom with flowering fields, fresh produce, animals awakening from hibernation and mating. A burst of colors on the horizon. Spring is in full swing. Warm showers water the terrain. In the Midwest the risk of tornadoes and severe thunderstorms increase.

A semester closes, and graduation is around the corner. Taking a trip down memory lane, I recall grass stained jeans, prairie dogs, swinging in the park, and field day in elementary, spring mixers and track and field in middles school. In high school prom and last preparation for finals and projects in college.

Cloud watching during the day and stargazing at night, enjoying cookouts and ride with the windows down. The sound of children playing, sprinklers, dogs barking, the chirp of crickets and birds, and lawn mowers returns. The smell of barbecue and fresh cut grass permeates the clement breeze. Light jackets replace coats, dresses exchanged for sweats, and shorts, and blouses in place of jeans and sleeves.

A quarter of the year is over, and it’s a wonder what the remaining part will yield. April is a time of global and personal triumphs and tragedies. The third week has historical ties to horrific events. It is also a period of reflecting on those who entered and exited my life.

It’s a month and season of transition and transformation. A merging of innocence with maturity, loss and gain. The antithesis to autumn where everything slows, cools and dies instead all is revived in a new form. There’s no month like April.

There’s Something About the Number 26

There’s something about the number 26. Throughout my life there have been landmark moments for good and bad surrounding this number. My grandmother one of the most influential people in my life was born on the 26th of January. My older brother is also born on the 26th of May. The 26th of February is when I uploaded my first YouTube video, the 26th of November is also the day I originally opened a YouTube channel. The 26th of March is when I began writing my second novel. I could go on and on about all the events that took place surrounding the 26th of the month.

Beyond my life, 26 has some interesting facts. Twenty-six is the atomic number of iron. According to gematria the number is the sum of the Hebrew characters for name of God–YHWH. The number is associated in Greek with agape love, the highest form of love outside of friendship and sexual interest. It deals with commitment and will. Some associate agape love with originating with God. Like my life experiences surrounding the number, I could go on all the coincidences affiliated with it.

Regardless, the number will always hold a significant place in my heart as it is the number that continues to pop up time and time again.


Six Years and Counting

Six years have passed since I conceptualized Skepticism. Although, I would’ve liked to have published the manuscript by now, the long wait for the edits to fall in line and to be at a place in life where I can dedicate time to promoting it has been worth it. I’ve determined a little over a month after graduation come Wednesday, June 27, 2018 on PTSD awareness day, Skepticism will be available.

Saturday, November 19, 2011 like most seventeen-year-old high school seniors I was fretting over what was to come after graduation. I was weighing my option granted my SAT and ACT scores, cram studying for finals and end of semester projects. Amid, all the progression something within me had shattered. Just a semester ago, I had experienced several negative incidents in relation to writing. Those failures broke my spirit. My passion wilted, and I questioned my ability.

Writing had always been my love. I wasn’t the best yet I worked with my awkward prose, syntax and bad grammar to form compelling short stories. I admit a lot of my past stories were subpar, but without them I couldn’t have churned out two novels and I’d hate to imagine how mediocre I’d still write had I not wrote Skepticism.

I glared at the bright empty Microsoft word document. I’d told my mother I’d never write again. It was the source of my shame. How could I fail at the one thing I had going for me? Most of 2011 had been a painful turn of events. Writing was my release. It was the only way I could express myself. Communication wasn’t my strongest suit.

A writing prompt formed in my mind of an angry eighteen-year-old, Ivy League freshman. He’d share my childhood trauma, misfortune, and misanthropic thoughts. Yet rather than relying on faith and a belief in a God he’d cleave to his skepticism and disdain for religion to explain the unresolved trauma, unexplained events and hallucinations. His denial of not only a higher power but his diagnosis of PTSD would be his greatest asset, but a source of great frustration to both himself and the reader.

In a way this prompt allowed me to explore a world foreign to my own. A world I’d never dreamed possible to comprehend. Each chapter I wrote brought out new questions. I entertained perspectives outsidemy realm of comfort and researched concepts I’d otherwise ignore.

When someone writes a novel whether it’s about magic or coming of age, there’s no way it won’t transform them. Committing six years and counting of my life to Skepticism has been one of my greatest investments. Sure it’s not on a shelf yet. There’s no saying  Skepticism it will be a huge success. If fame and fortune were my end goal, there’s no way I would’ve stuck with this project this long. All the sacrifices I’ve had to make and time spent writing could’ve been used graduating college earlier, making a steady income, interning, or building relationships as I’ve balanced working on my novels with being a fulltime college student. In the process of working on Skepticism a second novel blossomed, Volatile. Not everyone has been understanding of my work as an author. Many view it as a hobby, pipe dream and excuse for not working a “real” job. The discipline of sticking with a project you’re not profiting monetarily from for over half a decade isn’t easy yet I can’t imagine where I’d be today if I hadn’t gotten over my mountain of fears to write Skepticism.



How did I get to this point? Torn between two worlds. Both are as promising as frightening. Pulling in me in opposite directions. Like an internal tug-of-war. I can’t seem to make up my mind, which way to go. Both come with wins and losses. All I want is the best outcome. If I chose path A, I will have to sacrifice everything I’ve known for a potential more vivid future. If it’s all a mirage, I’ll lose everything in pursuit of a pipe dream. However, if I cling to what I known on path B I’ll miss out on an opportunity that might only come around once in a lifetime. However, things are starting to pan out, but still aren’t where I want them yet. This monotony with the same-old-same old routine is tiresome. Something’s got to give? Yet I’m fearful of acting rashly. Familiarity brings comfort with certainty. Yet my longing for change grows by the day and I’ve outgrown this waiting period where I stand at this mental crossroads indecisive.


Oh future, where are you? Who are you? Why are you ever changing? What factors am I partaking in that will lead me to you? You are always on the run, fleeting no matter how clever, well planned I am. You are always one step ahead. Oh, why do I spend time obsessing over you when in reality we will never catch each other even on my death bed there is eternity, which I cannot fathom because its outside the parameters of time. Then there is you past, you always catch up to me, you always follow me. It seems you define me. I can’t ignore you and pretend you never happened, but what good is that? If it were not for your occurrence, who would I be now? Sometimes you’re my best friend that makes me content, then you are my enemy, reminding me of what I could have been? But is that really so or do I take you for granted since I believe everything happens for a reason. Then present you are by far the most complex and trickiest. You get neglected and ignored, pushed to the side and taken for granted. Who are you? Who am I? We are always together we are soul mates until the day I leave this earth. Its like a marriage to death do us part . Through my trials and errors you are always there as a reminder time hasn’t stopped and life goes on. You are my mirror. Where I go you are there whether I want to face you or not. We are one. You sometimes feel like a gift and other times a curse, but either way like a film I’m watching for the first time you bring out all my emotions and deepest thoughts. We aspire and grow by the second. Time is a conundrum that is overlooked, misunderstood and taken for granted. Its not linear.