Neo Sol Librarian

I'm a little late with this one. But I wanted to save this one for closer to Thanksgiving. Chosen family is everything to this Black transdude, no matter how long it's been since we've connected.  Since I've been writing these past reflections I find my personhood becoming more concrete. Sometimes as a transman, my existence is fleeting. Sometimes walking into a room means leaving too much at the door. Sure we all have to leave some parts of ourselves at the door when walking into a room of our peers or co-workers. But how can you bring about collaboration if pieces of ourselves are not considered, our existence isn't fully recognized? But since reflecting on these queer moments, I feel myself coming more into focus. Almost like the fine tuning that is done at the eye doctor. Not blinded per se. I could see my existence in the most basics of senses. A weird form in front of me. But now coming into more focus, and seeing the details, I have some gratitude for just li...

Nothing new to report that anyone would care about but things are going. This one is related to dress up so it's appropriate for the upcoming holiday in which we all dress up and pretend to be someone else for the night. Cheers!  Funny Queer Shit: That One Kris Kross Concert      One thing that we don't realize until later in life is that our parents, in their own unique ways, have a good time. Along with cookouts and road trips, one of my parents many ways of having a good time is going to concerts. My sister and I have been along for the ride on a number of these occasions: standing in auditorium seats to see MC Hammer, seeing Earth, Wind and Fire on fair grounds while hot air balloons floated in the background. We even saw Janet Jackson and the beloved Velvet Rope tour. Truely, magically shit.     I also didn't realize until later in life that going to a concert is expensive as fuck! First you have to find 1, 2, 3, 4 tickets for the family to go. Then yo...

3 months since leaving the library.  Trumpet Creeper Before Trumpet Creeper After For the first time I feel like I'm working for myself. Do I have goals? Yes! Do I have a plan? Yes! Have I made a dime from writing? Not yet. But I'm not deterred, which is new for me.  Do I feel like a bum? Sure. Am I anxious to start making money again? You bet your ass I am! Do I want to hop into the first thing that pops up? Not at all. I'm not ready. If some time in the future getting extra income becomes necessary then, hell yeah! But it's not necessary. I'm giving myself permission to at least try whatever it is I'm trying right now. I still don't know what I'm doing. But the not knowing is at least planned. It's my Dad's birthday this month and he's in this one. Another installment of Funny Queer Shit That One Basketball Game     As a baby queer, I was very quiet. Observant. Looking for cues on how to act in certain situations. I never would have dreamed...

Month two of nontraditional employment.  I gotta stop saying I'm unemployed. I'm not making money, but I'm self employed as a writer. If I don't believe it no one will.  It's always strange seeing family during a funeral. You're happy to see them, but hate that it has to be on this occasion. You are there for support, even if that support is downing a couple of bottles of brown liquor with your family. You learn so much. But it is hard. There are laughs shared but damn someone had to die for us to get to here? I get and totally understand family reunions now and may fortunes come down from the sky on any one that plans out family reunions (the only one I've been to, two of my uncles got to fighting. But that's another story). Either way, this got me thinking about another queer story. Hope you enjoy and I hope my ancestors get a good laugh at this recollection.    Uncle Mike was a cool uncle. Sure he had drug problems throughout his life, but he was a fa...

 Since I'm writing these reflective growing up pieces, I've been obviously hung up on the idea of nostalgia. It's a bit of a trigger word isn't it? Maybe remininesse is a better word. It invokes a sense of happy reflection instead of a desire to reverse time. But it's all looking to the past for...something, right?  And can't nostalgia be problematic? Especially the unchecked nostalgia that have some pining for the good ol' days of slavery and Jim Crow. The kind of nostalgia that fails to see the harm, often destructive nature of past cultural norms. Hell don't we currently have culture norms that harm today?  Maybe there are people that don't live constantly under the consequences of the past. As far as I know, good or bad, we are all a products of our past. But don't past experiences determine a lot of our future outcomes?  Sometimes I find myself wrestling with how to reconcile my past experiences with my more knowledgeable self of today. For ...

 1 month since resigning from the library.     First, I want to say thank you Universe for this time to just be. Being one month into traditional unemployment has been not difficult. Not easy either. Very contemplative. Both positive and negative contemplations.  The positive ones: I have the fortune of my partner finding employment literally in the knick of time so that we wouldn't be homeless. I'm proud of them. And I'm thankful for them for sure. Even though I found it sad that I left my job as soon as I saw any light of opportunity to quit, but I'm still happy I did. And Kezia seems to be happy that I did too and that gives me confidence that I did the right thing.  The Negative contemplations: The usual really. What have I done? I gave up an entire career to pursue what really? Writing? Who do I think I am? And when I get into these contemplations I find that I get depressed and freeze whatever I'm doing. I'm trying to live more presently. That was par...

        It finally happened. It was inevitable. Ticking time bomb even. I quit my job at the library I honestly thought I was going to grow old in. But even with the best intentions and best ideals, sometimes the shit is just too bad to continue. And it was just bad all around for me. I can't speak for anyone else. I don't have their perspective. But for me, I was seeing a preview of my life if I continued at the library the day I quit. I was becoming drained. Some people may term this burnout, but it felt like more than that. It felt like I was falling into myself.  To the point that I no longer wanted to interact with the world because doing that at the library was enough.      I quit with no plan (which wasn't the plan). I quit with no prospects of a new job (which was definitely not part of the plan). And I quit while we are all still going through a pandemic (which, did any of us intended the pandemic to be as impactful as it has been? Bigges...