...

Redetermining, once again.

I remember getting my first diary when I was five or six. A dear family friend was always curious about my interests; I must have shared how much I like to buy notebooks and pens at the local Walgreens. She arrived one day to visit my grandmother and me. On this visit, she brought me the cutest Winnie The Pooh diary. I never had one before, but I was familiar. With all the television I consumed in the nineties, there was always some young woman writing in one. Now I finally had one, and it has beautiful shades of sage, blue, and brown, and Winnie and Piglet walking through the woods together. I was obsessed with it, and the timing was perfect. I was in my first year of elementary school, and my teacher recognized I needed more help understanding the class work, so I was placed in ESOL (English to Speakers of Other Languages) classes. This ignited my confidence in writing. I was also fascinated by the idea of keeping a record of my thoughts. You know, because a child’s intellect is so deeply respected and sought after, or perhaps I was thinking ahead. Every day I would rush home to write the novella of the drama that took place under the covered walkways of Greynolds Park Elementary. Detailing the exchanges with friends, boys, and family made me feel seen and heard without ever having to utter a word. I felt empowered by my little self to know I could express myself and not worry judgment would be passed. Naturally, this private exchange I had with my lock and key diary came to a screeching halt when my mother decided to do one of her tyrant snoops and promptly confronted me about my thoughts on the politics of the playground, cafeteria, and also the four walls I shared with her, and my grandmother. This could be when I developed my habit of writing but not actually writing. Basically, I would only write when I was required, by law, to do so for the purpose of securing a passing grade. Once out of the rule of my mother, I continued to journal. Journaling is my graduated term from writing in my diary, which means I went from signing off my entries with, love you, hope you write back—to xoxo Roxy. Fortunately for me, I was encouraged by my teachers to embrace writing and storytelling. Sadly, I lived with an ache nemesis 24/7 inside my head that would spin those words to make me believe, “You’re not special. They say that to everyone.” I fell prey to the sad, strange little voice that sounded like one of the Animaniacs. By the time I reached high school, I only used my powers of wordplay to get high scores on standardized tests. Then the time came to decide what I would major in college, and my interest was in any degree that did not require any math. Therefore, I stumbled into a mass communications program and graduated cum laude. After graduating, I would go back and forth between starting a blog and ignoring it shortly after the first post. Attempting to start an online magazine was probably my best posting streak. I found inspiration from publications like i-D magazine and Refinery 29 (UK version) and my desire to make it less about me and more of a collective. I remember staying up until two a.m. writing or editing a post my friends would contribute. Come eight a.m. I was ready to head to work and fantasize about what else I would share with the world wide web. I liked the accountability of that experience. Knowing that someone was taking their time to support me made me feel it was more important than doing this for myself. I’m in therapy friends, so this issue has been addressed. Is being addressed. I’m working on it. I remember hearing some successful person say, think about what you loved to do most when you were eleven years old. Besides watching hours of television and downloading music illegally onto my computer, praying it wouldn’t give me a computer virus, I loved to write. This brings me here because my mentor in life, Daisaku Ikeda, says that we should redetermine. Every day is an opportunity to redetermine to do your best, then try a little harder. I’m creating this space so others can find someone to relate to, find a sense of community, and hopefully laugh. I want to post every week. Of course, don’t be surprised if this ends up being my only post. I need to research if there is any such thing as a successful writer who would start and then stop. See you soon!