I've been given the task to write a memoir or manifesto of sorts about my life. From the very beginning to present day - with a deadline attached. I know my friend who "pushed" me to do this means well, but I'm currently not thrilled of said friend. Tough love, I guess. At this moment and time of this post*, I'm not sure if I love or hate what I'm finding about myself and my encounters with black Americans. It's getting deep, y'all.
Even in this initial phase of beginning to write and outline and trying making sense of everything, I'm digging up certain periods and people in my life that I've magically hidden or tried to block out for so long.
The wheels are spinning at the pace that feels at lightning speed, as layers of what I thought I identified myself with are being peeled away.
My intentions are to publish the finished product, which may surprise many, but that's not the point.
The purpose of writing this manifesto is to pinpoint specific areas or situations in my life are blocking me from moving forward with my ideas.
*This post was brought to you by red wine, Phillip Glass and chocolate croissants.