Neo Sol Librarian

This space is a chronological life order of thoughts and feelings from my perspective. But my perspective gives me a unique lens to see and process experiences and thoughts about things outside myself.  I wrote a blog post for the library I work for (link below). And while this isn't the exact goal I set out to accomplish, I did accomplish some personal goals that happen to be work related (which is really satisfying, shockingly enough. Work is work and personal is separate of that is what I have experienced and what others have advised me to experience work). But my personal goals for the last two months have been to: 1) Try breaking down a story idea into interchangeable notecards 2) Find another writing opportunity 3) Question: What can I write at length about.  And honestly, I've really accomplished may 2.5 items on this list in the last two months. But let me focus on the second one for right now.  After submitting a piece for The Root competition, I decided to searc...

Last month, I worked on a submission for writing contest. As the title reveals, I didn't win. But I had the best time creating this piece and I wanted it to go along with my public writings. This was the first time in a long time that I wrote just for the fun of it. I figured I wasn't going to win. This is my first writing contest. And while I thought my story was good, I need work. Either way, I was even more excited to see who the winner was, and boy did they not disappoint. So descriptive and vivid. The shocker at the very end. And it's a scary one. Very current. The link to the winner's story is here .  My original submission is below. I'm already looking for the next contest to participate in, but what I'm also excited about is how much it encouraged me to continue to write. We all have wonderful stories to tell. It's really about getting it out in a way that can be felt by others.  ENOUGH (officially) August 24th, 2020 I am Blake Overton: professor, ...

 Grandma Bea was born in 1908. She had 13 siblings by the time the youngest and last was born. Her family were bootleggers. Mr. Davis running the main business and Ms. Davis, being part Cherokee in a point in history where this nation of people had been wiped out by US militia, ran the household. I believe she said that she saw one of her brothers shoot and kill another brother. I believe she spoke of going into Travelers Rest area to get water to make moonshine. Their family estate stayed in the family until recent history.  Grandma Bea worked in a hotel as a cleaner in her early early 20s, but soon quit to start selling bootleg liquor from her house. She became a mainstay and matriarch in the neighborhood that she chose to lay roots in with her husband, Mr. Barksdale, in Greenville SC. Despite being high toned and able to probably pass for white like her sister did, she stayed and worked in a black neighborhood.  Grandma Bea became known for her liquor house. Many would...

 Anyone else living in a fear ridden state of mind? I know I am. I mean, being black and trans, safety is always at the forefront of my mind. People are crazy and folks should really protect their personhood either way, but especially their physical selves. Can't be putting your energy to everything and everyone. Anyway, while reminders of safety are always present for me, lately it's been skating on fear, which is really different from safety.  Safety implies that I know what the dangers are and have a plan for these dangers. Fear is raw emotion that can be irrational, at times. But unfortunately, I don't see my fear as irrational and not a doctor could tell me differently. Fear of being gunned down in the street by rabid police is real. Fear of not coming home due to people in power not seeing your personhood as worthwhile and unworthy of being found.  And when you look out into the world to see if there is anything that can give you any symbolism of inspiration and hop...

I'm not saying that I don't get sad. I get sad all the time actually. What I mean is that, often times, when I am seeking to see other trans folks, specifically trans people of color, I am met with narratives of resilience, hardship, strife, heartache, and rejection. These stories need to be told. No one else is going to do it, and when queer narratives are told from outside sources, they water-down versions of the real thing. And while these stories need to be told, what about stories for trans people? I understand. The true narrative of trans people need to be told. They need to be remembered and retold again. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I guess I get a lot of the bad and ugly. And no, I'm not critiquing anyone person's writing. I mean really, who the fuck am I?? But I am saying that the popular narrative that is told of trans people is the bullshit that we have to overcome to just be ourselves. And that is great. But aren't these stories for people that are ...

Note: I think when I'm saying societal norms, I really mean gender norms. But I'm posting as is because, you know, learning. Societal norms...I think I think about them more than the average person. Maybe I'm wrong. But as a transman, I'm forever having to think about societal norms. Most of it is really for my own safety (can't be too gay everywhere). Especially at work when I am immediately perceived as just one thing (a Black man) and am expected to act accordingly. And if I don't act accordingly, everything from rejection to an altercation can happen. Only when I think about the expectations that the public has of me simply based off my outward appearance does it become maddening. Some times, I find myself not saying much because of lack of what to say or how to react. Like car maintenance talk. If it doesn't involve deciding between high mileage oil changes and regular, I'm not that much of a conversationalist (I'm not even sure if I descri...

So the other day, I was walking my dog just like every other day. Here's Buddy. He's a cutie right? (Mine is in the front view. That other thing in the back, I don't recognize. KIDDING! It's my sister's dog, Max) Ok, walking the dog, going about my business. Got my headphones in, listening to Yvie Oddly's Giggin . You know, getting my morning blood flowing with my dog, right? Out the corner of my eye, I see something moving, quickly. As I turn my head, this very happy ecstatic Pit Bull, obviously off the leash, comes bounding towards us. My first instinct was to pick up my dog, so I did. My second thought is that this dog is going to get hit being out in morning traffic in Charlotte. So as I'm thinking this, I have my dog under my arm. And Buddy under normal circumstances is still a considerable heft and weight. But there is a dog in the picture. And of course at this point, I'm now yelling out "GO HOME! GO HOME!"  to the loose pit, atte...