Goodbye, 2016

I don't have anymore tears to give this year.
No more heart to break.
I have nothing left to give.
I say goodbye to you.
You caused me a heartache like none other.
You forced me to experience life.
I've never known such pain.
I've never had such joy.
Still I say goodbye to you.
You will have an effect on me for years to come.
I still need room to heal.
The next year I hope for the best.
I hope for it to be better than the last.
To this year, I say goodbye to you.
You have made an imprint on my life.
One I'll surely never forget.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, Goodbye, 2016©

I Wish You A Merry Christmas And A Better New Year

        Christmas is here and 2016 is almost over. My family and I don’t do much for the holidays. We really haven’t for several years now. I don’t remember the last time we set up a tree or hung up a single light. There’s only a medium sized feast and a few gifts if our budgets allow. Although our Christmases are not Christmassy this year is the most uncheerful I’ve ever felt. Last year I lost an aunt and this year my dad. Time is chipping away at my family and grief is leaving little to celebrate. Over time wounds will heal but it will be long in my future for everything is still raw. With that being said trust me that everyone I love has not been overlooked or forgotten.
         I’m not in any sort of Christmas spirit, but I am in the spirit to try and spread my love and understanding. Over the past year I’ve seen grief has not only hit me, but many people I’ve crossed paths with. Many of us will be spending this holiday as a first without a loved one whether it be a parent, grandparent, child, etc. I’ve seen many of these people on my social media timelines, whether they be old friends, best friends I’ve never met, or family, battle cancer, lose jobs, lose homes, etc. These past few years have been really trying for a lot of us. One thing I can say is that we made it through. 2016 was my own personal hell, but I made it through. I struggled through, but made it out on the other end ready to take 2017 head on.
        This season I want to take the time to tell people that I love them. The latter part of the year I’ve been difficult to deal with. I know this. I also no that for some time to come I will continue to be difficult to deal with at time. One moment I’m cheery, the next I’m short, the next I’m silent and don’t want to be bothered, and the next I’m loud. For now this is my new normal. For those of us who have dealt with a lot these past few years we all have a new normal. It may not be pleasant. It may not be ideal, but it is what it shall be. That does not alter my love for my family, my friends, and those who have had my back.
        Merry Christmas to you all. May 2017 be something only dreams are made of. Let it be full of hope and promise and more laughs than tears. Much love to all of you.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, 2016©

A Queen Unbothered

I once shed my crown for a man I thought would be king.
Ready to share my kingdom.
A hunter I thought fit to rule.
His approach fierce.
His heart seemed kind.
Suddenly a darkness showed itself.
Casting shade over a land I built.
An empire still growing.
Changing the queen in me.
It almost shook me from my throne.
Made me doubt my rule.
The darkness was brief.
Just a cloud passed over.
As I proclaimed to be unbothered.
I refuse to let a peasant in king’s clothing rob me of my riches.
I replace my crown.
Vow to never let it be removed again.
Only a true king will rule the heart of this queen.
A king who will see the royalty in me as in himself.
Nothing will crumble our empire.
We will possess a power that will never die.
A king whose approach is fierce.
His heart kind.
His love true.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, A Queen Unbothered 2016©

Tragic Best Friend Tales #3

Friend M is a throwback. I have (had) this friend and hotep is the closest thing I can use to describe her. Hotep may be a little harsh, but hear me out. First, let me give you the back story. Back in sixth grade this girl was actually my best friend. Then middle school hit. I can’t remember if we went to different middle schools or if she went back to her home town for a while, but we lost touch. I ran into her last year and we’ve hung out several times since. Nothing too big. We’ve grabbed a few drinks a couple times. No biggie.
        As everyone should know this year has been pretty rough on me with the death of my father. The first time I actually went out after his death was with her a few weeks after the funeral. I remember it was a Friday and I had to work that weekend. We grabbed some drinks at one of the many bars downtown, met some dudes, it was cool. Then someone decided those bars were lame and we should all go to a club on the rough side of town. I protested, and thank God the club they were trying to go to said that the guys had the pay and the dudes we were with didn’t have cash on them. In the meantime her mother needed a ride home so we drove by to pick her up. They all bitched and complained about me being a party pooper because I didn’t want to go into a rough looking nightclub probably because there were “too many black people there”, suggesting that I didn’t want to be around black folks and because I had to go to work at noon the next day. I got so agitated with everyone ganging up on me (her mom included at this point) to stay longer and to go to this shit club that I finally just had to yell “MY FATHER JUST DIED AND I’M EXHAUSTED ALL OF THE TIME! I CAN’T SLEEP!” I was so furious that it had to get to the point that I had to yell that in front of a bunch of strangers. That was strike one.
        Strike two. Every time we go out there is alcohol involved. I don’t really drink. If I do drink it’s usually something fruity or a hard cider. I definitely do not do whiskey. Well, every single time she’s constantly pressuring me to drink whatever the hell she’s drinking. She’s relentless. I should not have to tell a person tons of times that I do NOT want to drink. It’s a every time thing too.
       The third strike I felt like it was me being possibly oversensitive, but at the end of the day it still rubbed me the wrong way. This time was after we grabbed some food. Well first off when she got in my car she asked me if I still missed my dad. Oh, no. He’s only been dead a few months. Of course I don’t miss him. He’s only my DAD. *sigh* Afterwards she invited me in to meet her kids because apparently the first time I met them she was so drunk she didn’t realize that I’d already met them. I didn’t really want to go in, but I didn’t want to be an asshole so I thought I’d step in for a minute. We talked for a few minutes, and she was playing some song on her laptop and was offended that I didn’t like it when she asked if I did. Her reaction was “What? Because it’s not white music?” First off, what the fuck is “white music”? and secondly, couldn’t it just be that what she was playing was a shitty song? I think it was Tamar Braxton and I’m not really a fan. I genuinely didn’t know who it was because I am, unfortunately, at the age where I’m saying “Well music back in my day…” because I hardly know anything about musicians today. If there’s a current artist out there that I listen to it’s because I found out about them by accident (social media, a commercial, tv show/movie), or it’s a song that’s played so much you feel forced to look at that particular artists discography. It pissed me off so deep that she said that because it was so high school to me. Here we are, women in our thirties, and you’re coming out with lowkey insults I haven’t heard since I was about 17. What made it even more maddening is that a few weeks prior she wanted me to meet her after work because she was going to be with this guy she had been seeing and wanted an opinion on him. This dude LITERALLY looked like Liam Neeson and Unlce Joey from Full House had a baby and told nothing but dad jokes. He was the corniest dude I’ve ever met in life. Like how can you come for me and my music preferences and you were fucking that? Are you serious? Also anytime we go out she’ll spout out all of this pro-black bullshit while at the same time flirting with the most bro frat looking white dude in the bar. But hey, I like The Beatles so obviously I think I’m white *insert eye roll here*.
        After this third strike I stayed away from her for a few months. Not because it pissed me off, but because, as I said, with my dad’s death my emotions have been all over the place and the smallest things set me off, especially if I forget to take my antidepressants (also sorry if I have or will go off on you for no reason. My emotions have definitely been a roller coaster and I don’t mean to be a jerk). So I wasn’t sure if I was actually mad at what she said or if it was just something that set me off. Looking at it now I think it was a little of both.
        Her and I hung out on Halloween and after that I think I’m done. She’s kind of a bitter person. My opinion on why she might be like that is, she had kids very young (three boys), and probably missed out on a lot of her good party years (late teens thru twenties). Now she’s at an age where her kids are almost grown, but people our age now have small children and careers. She’s trying to get back to that party life, but can’t really find anyone to recreate that with, and since she’s been out of the loop for a while is having a hard time relating to other people in a grown woman friendship manner. I don’t know. When we go out she has no problem walking up to people and talking, but it’s the actual friendships that she seems to have a problem with. I can be bitter all on my own I don’t really need someone else who breeds negativity when I’m trying to pull myself out of my own little negative hole. She’s not a bad person. She’s just someone who speaks before she thinks, doesn’t really take others feelings into consideration, and is a little too brash. Perhaps her and I can be friends in the future, but as for right now I need people around me with a much more positive light and gentle nature. That’s what my soul needs right now.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, 2016©

The Ramblings Inside My Creative Mind: Halloween And The Only Witches In My Circle

         Let’s be honest. Halloween is the best holiday of the year. I don’t really celebrate holidays much anymore. Like Thanksgiving is just a day to pig out. Christmas is a day to just lay around in my jammies. New Years Eve is a day I just get drunk alone in my bedroom. But Halloween is different. You get to turn yourself into something amazing, be around awesome people, and enjoy everything spooky. I love this holiday. I don’t get a chance to celebrate it as big as I’d like, but I still love it more than anything.
        For years I’ve wanted to dress up as Jessica Rabbit. I’ve had many issues with that. I’m not a fan of my body so I’ve shied away from that idea for a while. I also always notice that at Halloween stores the Jessica Rabbit costumes they have do not do the real one justice, so finding that perfect red sparkly dress is always hard. What I’m getting at is that if I’m going to dress up for Halloween it has to be perfection. I mean, I cut my own hair one year so that It looked like Harry Potter’s. This year I was torn between Jessica Rabbit and Prince. Since I got started pretty last minute I went with Prince and found 90% of what I needed one afternoon at a thrift shop. A few days before all I had to do was sew some chiffon onto my shirt to make cuffs and glue some gems on a purple jacket. I perfected my make up down to the Purple Rain mustache and I was good to go. The only problem was, I didn’t have any plans.
        I’m not one with many friends. Lots of acquaintances and very few close friends. Two to be exact. With one in Philly and one going to Cleveland with her boyfriend for the weekend that left me either alone or with an acquaintance I wasn’t too comfortable with. I ended up doing both.This is where my witches circle becomes even tighter.
         My Halloween night ended up being pretty blah. I went to a comedy show with an old friend. I’m there dressed as Prince and the only person in a costume besides the employees. This old friend complained the whole time starting before we even got there. I was running a little late, but not so late that we’d miss part of the show or not get a seat. She bitched that she’d meet me there when I was supposed to ride with her even though we still had an hour before the show started and she lived pretty much 10 minutes away from the comedy club. When we got there she then bitched about being so tired and that she wish she had stayed in bed. No one put a gun to her head to make her go. She sat there an texted on her phone, missed jokes, and had to, in turn, ask me what the comedian said. It was just awful and to top it off she kind of pissed me off the last time we hung out (I’ll get more into that in another post). Afterwards I went to get my car at her place and tossed around the idea in my head if I wanted to go downtown to the yearly Halloween celebration alone. I told her that if she wanted to go I’d drive, but she just kinda shrugged it off and went into her house. I thought to myself “You put way too much effort into this costume to just call it a night at 9pm.” I went alone. Didn’t have a whole lot of fun, but still glad I went.
            What I’m getting at is that I can’t continue to be around people who suck the fun out of things and who only want to be around because they don’t want to be alone and use me to put on this pretend friendship. On the flip side, I have to stop doing the same. I didn’t really want to be around her I just didn’t want to go out and celebrate by myself. I’ve just been in such a funk lately. I don’t want to continue to live my life doing nothing. I want to enjoy it, and if there’s someone around who doesn’t want to support me as a friend, be there for the good and the bad, then what’s the point of having them there? I can’t keep saying “no” and hiding from opportunities therefore I can’t surround myself with people who do the same. Life is literally too short to just be in the same routine and not let joy in more than every once in a while. As for now I’ve got my two best friends and I attend plenty of events by my lonesome and sometimes have a better time by myself. There’s no problem with solitude. I just have not fully embraced my own company. From now own I know who’s in my small circle of witches. It may be tiny, but they are the best.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2016©

Our Mess

Look at the mess you made.
The tears you caused.
The hearts you broke.
Nothing is the same.
Everything has long since changed.
The weight of sorrow that will forever hang.
If only I could’ve fixed you.
The tears would dry.
No hearts that need mending.
That only works in a dream.
For this is reality.
The harsh reality that brings much sadness.
So we try to clean up the mess you made.
Leaving a trail of tears as we go along.
Forced to glue back the pieces of our own hearts.
Over time the mess will become smaller.
The tears will become less.
The heart will start to heal.
Still there will always be a part of us that will be broken.
Time doesn’t heal all wounds.
It only makes it easier.
This all started with the mess you made.
The mess of this thing called life.
No one gets it right.
None of us emerge unscathed.
Although this is a mess you made.
I wouldn’t change being apart of it.
For a beautiful mess it was.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, Our Mess 2016©


She’s spoiled.
Spoiled with an attitude.
Short fuse.
She doesn’t mean to harm.
But she’ll burn you quicker than the blink of an eye.
Her temper clouds her big heart.
Her anger shrouds every good deed.
She has a frustration that boils underneath.
Spoiled to the core.
Stuck up it would seem.
All of this she doesn’t mean.
She wished her love shined brighter.
She wished her patience was long lasting.
Her mind and heart cut from different cloths.
She’s not spoiled.
She’s only lost.
Lost on how to calm her mind so she can show you her soul.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, Spoiled 2016©
"Reach The Sky", 2016(c)
Photo: Asia Aneka Anderson

Just Trying To Act Naturally

        I had the absolute pleasure, this weekend, to see “Eight Days A Week” in the theater. Anytime something like this comes along I’m reminded how much I love The Beatles. I discovered them when I was about 13 years old when the Anthology DVDs and CDs were being released. I feel like since then I’m always looking for that same feeling I had from the I first time really heard them. I know I’ll never get that *gasp* moment again, but I try so hard to find that feeling again when it comes to these four.
        Nothing reignited my love for this band the way this documentary did. It feels silly to say, but it’s true. I think it may be because of new footage as well as some great interviews included in the film. One thing that really touched me was hearing Whoopi Goldberg talk about being introduced to The Beatles music. Hearing her talk was like hearing my own story. Her speaking about people accusing her of wanting to be white because she loved them was like reliving my youth. I got that so much when I was younger and sometimes even today. I never paid attention to the color of a band. If I liked the rhythm and the lyrics spoke to me that was all I needed. To be accused of wanting to be something that I’m not always made me feel horrible because I never understood how someone would come to that conclusion just based on a musical preference. It was (is) tough being an artsy alternative black woman.  “The Beatles gave me this idea that everybody was welcome.” is something that Whoopi said that really hit home for me. I honestly had to hold back tears. Growing up, before I had even discovered The Beatles, I was in love with bands like U2, Aerosmith, Tears For Fears, Red Hot Chili Peppers, etc, and I kept it to myself. If I overheard a kid say that they liked the music I did I’d light up and say “Me too!”, but for the most part the things that I loved I kept to myself to keep from being teased…. that is until The Beatles came along. They did make me feel welcome. At that point I gave not one damn about being teased. I didn’t care if anyone thought I was trying to be white. No one was going to keep me from falling in love with this band. No one. I attribute The Beatles with helping me find the courage to step into myself. I haven’t looked back since. They helped me become an individual. More than their music I’ll always love them for that.
        When I look at my life and all the creative steps that I have taken it’s all because of this amazing band. I have many story ideas that have come to mind after hearing a certain song, or seeing a certain interview, or watching one of their films. There’s one major story I’m trying to work on that stems from a reoccurring dream I’ve had ever since I was about 15 that places me in the era at the height of their fame and in their circle. Listening to their music takes me places I’ve never been, but that feel so familiar. Not much can spark my creative energy like The Beatles can.
       “Eight Days A Week” is a well put together doc. Ron Howard really did an amazing job. It’s nothing over the top, but he made sure to bring something new and fresh to the story. Yes, if you’re a hardcore Beatles fan a lot of this stuff you will know and have seen before, but this doc is slightly different. I’ve seen tons of Beatle docs and most tell the same story over and over, using the same footage and the same photos. I liked that Ron Howard got insight from people of different walks of life (although there aren’t many) to share their own Beatle stories. Seeing this was a great end to my birthday weekend (the birthday that I also share with John). It helped to remind me to keep being an individual no matter what.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2016©

We All Don't Live Here Anymore

I hear you in the creaks of this old house.
Your smell still lingers.
I feel your presence.
Yet you are not here.
Empty rooms represent my empty heart.
We all don’t live here anymore.
This house is no longer a home.
That ceased the moment you left.
Nothing is the same.
Nothing makes sense.
I look for you around every corner.
Still all I hear are the creaks.
Shuffles on the floorboards of repeated steps of the past.
That will not be heard in the future.
The silence takes getting used to.
All I hear is your voice in my dreams.
A regular deja vu.
Waking up to be reminded that you’re no longer here.
Grasping at cracked memories.
Desperately wanting to glue back the pieces together.
Anything to make this house a home.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, We All Don’t Live Here Anymore 2016©

Another Year: The Loneliness Yet Peacefulness Of It All

         My birthday was Sunday. This year was definitely different. My dad is no longer here. The past month or so has been a blur, but somehow I’ve been able to go day by day a bit easier. I guess I had convinced myself that I was healed. When I woke Sunday morning and walked into the kitchen to see my mother’s birthday card sitting on the counter I was slapped with the harsh realization that a card was missing. I keep forgetting that my life is forever changed. Still last weekend and this week has been a blur. I went to a party Saturday night and although I had fun something was off. I guess I should accept that this will be my life for a while. I already have social anxiety and depression now we add grief to the mix.
        Overall my birthday weekend was nice and laid back. I got to spend it with awesome people even though a few were missing that I wish weren’t. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have something to rant about though. Just a little something to get off my chest although I am in no way surprised. That Saturday afternoon I went shopping with my mother and grandmother. The next day my grandmother had forgotten that it was my birthday and my mother had to call her to tell her. Now some might say, “Well, she’s older. Something like that is bound to happen from time to time.” Sure. Yes. I’d go with that if I wasn’t always the forgotten granddaughter. She can tell you when my other two cousin’s birthdays are. Hell my birthday is EXACTLY TO THE DAY two weeks after my youngest cousins. I have always been forgotten. I am the black sheep. My other two cousins are treated as gold and I’m only acknowledged when she wants something. As far as family goes I love her because she is my grandmother, but that love is out of obligation not from the heart. I feel like an asshole when I say that, but it’s true. I have no emotional connection with her. It’s unfortunate, but it’s reality. A lot of my lack of self esteem comes from being a child and being teased or ignored by people who were supposed to love me unconditionally. So naturally, for me, I grow up with this resentment. Her forgetting my birthday actually had no effect on me until my mother mentioned it and even then it didn’t have an effect until I realized that my mother was surprised by it. Really? I’m 34 and for as long as I can remember I’ve always been an afterthought to this family. I’ve always been forgotten about. Why the surprise? She’s falling right in line. It didn’t really put a damper on my day since it’s nothing out of the ordinary.
         As far as everything else I sort of wish I had done something big, but on the other hand I kind of feel like those days are over. I’m getting closer and closer to 40, my group of friends is pretty small, and in all actuality I probably prefer a more mellow celebration. Here’s to hoping that 34 brings more peace to my life and something more magical and complete.

       -Asia Aneka Anderson, 2016©

The Ramblings Inside My Creative Mind: Love Don’t Live Here

         I give up on the prospect of ever finding love.The likelihood of it ever happening the way I imagine it seems slim to none. Perhaps it’s all my fault. I am picky. I am anti social. I do have this 80s style rom com view on romance. It’s as if I’m waiting for John Cusack to play Peter Gabriel outside of my bedroom window. Things like that don’t happen. There’s no “Your hand fits perfectly in mine” or “You complete me” or “You had me at hello”. That type of romance doesn’t exist. The feeling of being swept off of my feet by a soul mate won’t happen. Maybe a such thing as a soul mate doesn’t exist. Maybe we just run into people in life that we like enough to want to be around forever and either love or habit occurs. Twice in my life have I ran into men that I thought were my soul mates. The first one popped in and out of my life for over 14 years and cheated on me every time we decided to get serious, but because we got together so well as friends I convinced myself that maybe he would get his life in order and realize that we were perfect together. I finally got the courage two years ago to completely cut him out of my life. The second I didn’t realize I felt strongly about until he was out of my life. We never even dated, but he had every single quality and more that I wanted in a man, I just didn’t feel like I was good enough for him. I hadn’t grown up enough and still had so much to figure out about myself and didn’t want to waste his time in the process. I don’t know if these are feelings I could ever recreate. I don’t trust myself let alone others. It’s a hard habit to break. I either push people away or somehow get to clingy and run them away. The only other option is for me to be alone. That’s probably what I will be as long as I have this unrealistic view or what love and passion should be. I’d love for it to exist and I’d love to capture it and completely immerse myself in that kind of love, but I’m no Meg Ryan. This ain’t a love story.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2016©
It’s come to my realization that maybe I should just blog some random thoughts here. My motivation is blah. No story ideas. My poems are all starting to sound the same. I just don’t really care about it anymore. Well I do, I just don’t know what to say anymore without it sounding stale and exaggerated. I’m still going through every emotion possible while also feeling nothing at the same time. An aunt told my mom recently about a medium she went to and my mom and I are hoping to go next weekend when I’m off of work. I’m not sure if I’m hoping it will give me some closure, but perhaps it will. I think I’m just looking for something to put my mind at ease. I want something to help me move along in this grieving process and also something to put my mind at ease about my past and future. I just want to feel like my life until this point isn’t for nothing because it damn sure feels like it. I have a hard time seeing what this life thing is all about, but I’m always hoping that there is something bigger and greater up ahead. I really think that there is, but I’m getting rather restless. I’m restless about being stuck, being alone, being broke, not being as carefree as I know my spirit wants to be. Oh well. That’s life. It has it’s moments, and most times those moments are grand but overall it’s kind of a drag. Here’s to hoping it won’t be a drag for long. My birthday is next month and that’s always something to look forward too, although I think I want to keep it pretty low key this year and only be around folks that can give me good vibes. Good vibes are all I need in my life right now and for always.

My Words Are Me

I am my words.
My words are me.
Giving you my all with the tap of a keyboard.
This is me.
In my true form.
My words are everything I am.
There is nothing else but these words.
I write from the deepest part of my soul.
These words escape to the surface of my being.
These words are everything.
These words are my truth.
I am truth.
I am my words.
My words.
My truth.
This is all I’ll ever have.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, My Words Are Me 2016©

Tragic Crush Tales #10

        Crush E is my latest in a series of men that have completely wasted my time of the past few years. I seem to be attracting a lot of that lately. Every time I find it surprising that men over the age of 23 still play games and then play victim when you call them on it.
        I first met this guy through Instagram. That was my first mistake. How on Earth did I think I could possibly take anyone serious on Instagram of all places. I don’t even remember how or why we started talking, but we hit it off really well. I got along with him, thought he was funny, handsome, and that we had a lot in common. Unfortunately he lived in Chicago and I’m not in a place financially to be able to move back just yet.
        We started talking around Halloween of 2015 and quickly exchanged numbers. We texted a lot, but for some reason he sort of vanished around Thanksgiving. I’ve said it before, but I’m not the kind of girl who likes to pester someone. We all have lives, families, work, etc. If I message you a few times and don’t get a reply I’ll assume you don’t want to talk to me anymore or you have shit going on and will get back to me when you can give me your undivided attention. Well we started to get into the first few weeks of December and I still hadn’t heard from him. I shrugged it off since we had only talked for a few weeks. We didn’t have anything serious going on. There was a guy who would come into my job all of the time and I could tell there was an attraction so I gave him my number and we went out. The date was absolutely terrible. I didn’t have to dwell on it too long because days later E popped back up and it was as if nothing had changed. We made jokes of my bad date and our closeness grew stronger as the days and weeks went on.
        I say days and weeks because as we were ringing in 2016 E went off on his merry way again. No response to messages until he gives me this long tirade, a week into the new year, about how he needs his space and that I’m forcing a relationship on him and that he only wanted to be friends. Blah, blah, fuckin’ blah. From the moment we first started talking the flirting was on both ends, but all of a sudden I was forcing my flirtatious behavior on him and making him soooo uncomfortable *sarcasm*. I found it strange and also upsetting because a week prior we were telling each other how we were hoping this was meant to be and couldn’t wait to meet each other one day. It wasn’t a one sided conversation. I wasn’t talking to myself. Without going through every incident with this dude let me just say he disappeared often only to return with his victim speech about how I was forcing my affection on him knowing that he didn’t want a relationship. He’s the most confusing man I’ve ever dealt with because I couldn’t understand how we’d both be flirting then all of a sudden it was only me that was the aggressor.
          That brings us to a few weeks ago when I discovered why he always wanted to shame me as the bad guy. There was someone else. Instead of being an adult and telling me that he wanted to proceed with this other woman I had to find out via Instagram. Many times I asked him if there was someone else and he’d always say there wasn’t. When I confronted him this last time his excuse was that they were only talking and not officially dating until very recently. So because they didn’t have the “Will you be my girlfriend? Circle ‘yes’ or ‘no’“ talk that means that it’s okay to still talk to me on the side and not be upfront and let me know that you’re starting to have feelings for someone else? You can’t have your cake and eat it too. I’m not someone’s back up plan. I’m an actual person with feelings. You think that crossed his mind? No. When he discovered that I wasn’t going to fall for the “we weren’t officially dating when you first asked me” excuse he had to pull another one out of his ass. He decided to go with the old high school excuse of “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to break you heart.” Because lying to me or not telling me will make me feel so much better. Thank you, E. Thank you so much. Lying only exists to make the liar feel better about themselves. Never has it ever made the person being lied to at ease. Now, let me say this. As I’ve gotten older and have had my heart broken a few times it gets easier and I mean way easier for me to move on. I’m too old to be crying over some dude and especially one who feels it’s okay to disrespect me. That being said, when he told me that he felt telling me would break my heart, I laughed. It was so arrogant to me. We’ve never met. You’ve played with my emotions like a yo-yo for about seven months and you’re wondering if your fickle feelings broke my heart. Not to mention my father passed not even a month before this (another reason I feel a decent human being would’ve been up front about his actions) and you think your bullshit lies even rank on my list of fucked up things to happen to me this year? Honey, please. I just experienced a heartache like none other and it’s not over Mr. “I don’t know what I want in life so I’m gonna sit here and waste your fucking time and then make it all be your fault. You made me flirt with you. I’m the victim here.” He still tried to find excuses. He brought up three dates I went on during a few of his many absences. Although all three dates turned up bad and he knew about every last one he still wanted to run with that excuse. To me it would’ve been much easier to just say “I wasn’t really feeling you anymore. Sorry I didn’t tell you in APRIL when I first started talking to this other girl (yes, he had been talking to her for three months while we were also talking), but it is what it is.” That would’ve been a more adult response instead of looking for any and every way to make me look like the bad guy and refusing to own up to his bullshit.
        This all sucks because a week after I found all of this out I was in Chicago for an event. While planning this event I was really looking forward to meeting him and getting to be with him. That’s why being up front with me would’ve been a great idea. That way I wouldn’t have been planning a trip with my heart set on that. It could’ve been just about my event, getting together with old friends, and making new ones. Trust me that I still did all of that and had the most amazing time, but that’s not how it all started when I had my heart set out on this. At first when I said my peace and everything was said and done I said to myself that I hoped this woman would do him like he did me (and some girls before me, apparently, but I really don’t want to get into that because I honestly don’t give a fuck). I hoped that she’d stop responding to messages, give him the cold shoulder every three weeks, talk to a few other dudes, make him feel like he’s some thirsty dude that’s just fawning over her, tell him that he’s moving too fast while at the same time egging him on. Then I thought about it. No. Nobody, not even him, deserves to have their feelings played with like that when we’re all out here just trying to find companionship and a soulmate. Instead I want her to show him compassion, communication (which he lacked SEVERELY), loyalty, partnership, and warmth so that he knows what it feels like and in turn can learn from her and know how to give it back. He wasn’t for me and that’s fine. All I wanted was a little honesty and didn’t get it. I’m not missing anything.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, 2016©

This New Phase Of My Life

        I’m still processing. I’m still dealing. I’m still going through a day to day routine as if everything is fine. I don a smile, I pop some happy pills, I make nice, and I carry on. Inside everything is still and silent. I keep going because when everything stops I’m reminded that he is no longer here. It’s been over two months and already business as usual, but how else are things supposed to be? One still has to make a living, be social, and take on opportunities. I am still here. My heart still hurts so much.
        Recently I attended a comic convention in Chicago. It’s the first vacation I’ve had in ages and was so desperately needed. For that moment in time the sadness had escaped me. I was able to feel joy for the first time in a long time. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, but there was a moment, while looking through my pictures, that I thought to myself “I can hear my dad’s laugh if he saw these.” The fact that I could clearly hear his laugh let me know that he did see them and was there enjoying everything with me. While there I also had a man read my aura. Since my father’s memorial service that was the first time I had broken down in public. This man let me know that something very sad happened recently and that I feel like I’m not a good person, but that I am. That I should stop worrying about it and truly know that I am good. He also noted that there are many spirits around me that are pulling for me. He grabbed my hands because he said they told him I needed it. Again he told me I was good. It reminded me of a time years ago when I had a car wreck and was going through so much crap with lawyers, the insurance company, and everything kept falling through. One day as I was leaving the house my dad said to me “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. You’re a good person unlike me” and he just walked away. I was so shocked and hurt that he said that he wasn’t a good person. It’s something that always stuck with me. Since my father’s death that is something I’ve struggled with. I don’t feel like I was the greatest person to him in the end. I could’ve been better. I could’ve tried harder. It puts my mind a little at ease that possibly it was my dad coming through to reassure me that I am a good person and did the best that I could considering the circumstances. I still don’t entirely feel like a good person and I don’t know what it will take to make me feel that deep down, but my mind is slightly at ease.
        Still I try to process. I’m still trying to grasp the idea of death of someone so important to my life. Last year I entered the hospital room as my aunt took her last breath. I was there when the color left her body in a matter of seconds. Her toes and fingertips turned white almost instantly. Her body turned cold just as fast. Even though I was present for that when it comes to my father I still can’t grasp the idea of telling a person that you’ll see them later and have them be gone hours after you leave the house. It seems so foreign. Him not being here is like someone trying to hold a conversation with me in Korean. I don’t understand it. Death is the most simple yet most complex thing to exist. We all know that we’re born, we live, and eventually we die. You can live for 100 years but once you’re gone all that exists are pictures, tales, videos, and things. How mind boggling is that? You go from being a living breathing person to just a memory. As generations go on you go from being a memory to a story that’s passed down to the next generation.
        My dad was only a month and a half shy of his 66th birthday. I see that life is too short. You’re here one day and gone the next. I think about if he got to do all the things he wanted. I’m a true believer that we go when our time is up, but what happens when you don’t accomplish all that YOU wanted, but you accomplished everything that was all apart of the plan? I think about things I’ve tried to accomplish over and over and now wonder if this is even supposed to be apart of my life’s journey. For instance I’ve had to drop out of college more time than I can count for various reasons and what if that’s not what I’m even supposed to do? Perhaps that was years and dollars wasted that’s taken away from what my real goal should be? The question is, what is truly each of our main goals in life if we’re truly not the ones to call the shots on whether we live or die? All of my life I envisioned I’d be a best selling author/screenwriter, all of which has not come to fruition, and it’s all quite possible it may not even be what I should be doing with my life. I look at my father, a true artist in his own right, and nothing ever happened with that. Is there a point where if we deviate from the plan too much this higher being just gives up? I don’t want this sadness to keep me from pursuing all that I want to do, but it happens. I want to do things he never got a chance to so in some way he’s done it, but when life keeps throwing up roadblock after roadblock it hinders you a bit. I don’t want to be 60 and wonder what could have been. At the same time I’m just trying to exist in a world where my father doesn’t and taking baby steps just trying to get my bearing. I can only go through this process, no matter how long it will definitely be, in order to get to the next phase in life where I’m ready to conquer all the things I’ve ever wanted in my name and his. I’m not sure when I’ll get to that phase and that’s what worries me. For now all I can do is continue to try and make sense of how the rest of this new life will go. Phase one: Still loading….

-Asia Aneka Anderson, This New Phase Of My Life 2016©

The Ramblings Inside My Creative Mind: The Burden Of Woman At The Privileged Hands Of Man

         I am not the first nor will I be the last or the only one. Us women have to go through too much to be able to live comfortably without some sort of wall up.
        I am writing this frustrated at the fact that a customer in my store today took it upon himself to invade my personal space, lean over me to stare for an uncomfortable amount of time at my name tag only to chuckle and say “Just wanted to know what your name was” when he noticed the look of disgust on my face. Why not ask my name? If you’re not asking for assistance why is the need for my name necessary at all? It isn’t. He just wanted to lean close to me because as a man he can and if I speak up I’m labeled “moody” or a “bitch”. We all are. As women we are expected to take unwanted touches, gropes, conversation, and googly eyes with grace. Why does society think that this is normal? On a daily basis at my job I have to deal with elderly men feeling the need to brush up against me or touch me to ask a simple question. I have to deal with men twice my age asking me if I’m single or saying other inappropriate things to me at my workplace leaving me in between a rock and a hard place because they know I can’t respond accordingly. I have seen coworkers run from customers to pretend and be busy to avoid being pulled into a hug by a complete stranger. Note to all men who do this: Just because you may be a regular at a business and the employees are nice to you and may even be on a first name basis with you, trust that you are still a complete stranger.
        As a woman I know I am not the only one who, if bent over to reach a low shelf, immediately rockets back into an upward position when a man walks by. It’s protocol. It’s a unwritten rule that we live by daily basis in order to not be violated by a man that “didn’t mean any harm.” At what point does a man go, “You know what? I don’t know her it’s probably not cool for me to just touch her out of nowhere or pry into her personal life. I wouldn’t want someone to do that to my daughter/granddaughter/mom/sister/aunt/etc.”? At what point will we all stop this “boys will be boys” mentality?
        I am tired. I want to be able to go out in public and not have some strange man ogle my breast like they’re the last supper. I want to be able to go to work and not have some man in his 60s feel the need to brush his hand up against my lower back just to ask where the toothpaste is. I want to be able to be friendly with a man and not have him say “If I weren’t married I take you out right now.” I’d like to not have my kindness or customer service taken for flirting. I’d like to be able to work without feeling eyes on me only to turn around and see some creepy dude standing there staring and when I ask “May I help you?” He snaps out of it, declines, and walks away. Do you have any idea how all of this can make a woman feel uncomfortable? Do you know how much this makes us feel less than human? I feel like an object. There’s a way for a man compliment or make small talk without coming off predatory. It especially rubs me the wrong way because I may be very slightly haphephobic. I don’t like to be touched unless I allow a person too. Anyone who takes it upon themselves to touch me without approval causes me anxiety. This is not strange as I have friends and loved ones who are the same. So for a man to think it’s okay to invade my personal space and touch me puts me into hyper defensive mode. 
        I don’t want to seem like I’m bashing and now here I come with the going back on all that I just said, but the encounters I have like this I don’t believe they are all bad people. With the older men I don’t blame them because that’s the era they grew up in. They could grab, caress, touch, or touch a woman and it was seen as flattering. What I do blame them for is not evolving with the times. Nowadays to smack a young girl on the ass is not flattering. It is harassment and will most likely get you punched or at least a good cursing out.
        We live in a society where women are not 100% safe. We live in a society where women are seen as objects first and as people second. We live in a society where if a man gropes you you should take it as a complement and if you feel some type of way about it then you’re just being a spoiled sport. Our society is backwards. We give life and yet we can’t 100% live ours without hazard. Us women have to forever watch our backs, watch how we react, and watch what we say. There’s no complete freedom in that. Yes, boys will be boys, but what about us? Wheres our excuse to be reckless because “girls will be girls”? Let’s get to a point where in society we can all respect each others boundaries and level of comfort. Let’s get to a point where we don’t feel that the opposite sex owes us something other than respect. It’s high time that this should be the normal.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2016©

My Five Stages Of Grief


        I’ve dealt with death before, but never to this magnitude. I’ve lost grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends, but nothing on Earth prepared me for this. You hear about the five stages of grief and in the past almost month I’ve felt every last one of them. They’ll come in waves. Sometimes they’ll hit me all at once. Sometimes they come out of nowhere. Sometimes there’s an absence of feeling altogether. When I first found out my dad had died I was at work. I had just left home not even 4 hours before that. He walked me to the door, hugged me, and watched as I pulled away. How can someone go from being here one minute then gone the next? I feel like I’m processing it like a child who’s learning about death for the first time and still refers to it as a long sleep. Of course death only takes a second, but at the same time how can I hug this man and tell him “See you later” and not even four hours later he’s no longer of this world? I do not understand.
        When my mother called me she had only told me she had trouble getting into the house, because the screen door was locked, and she couldn’t see my father moving. I had two reactions as I rushed out of work early. One was traumatizing while the other hanging onto optimism 1. I was shaking because I knew that this was it. This was going to be the day that my dad dies. 2. This wouldn’t have been the first time for my mother to come home, banging on the door trying to get in and my father being so into his music that he hadn’t noticed she’d arrived. I held onto the latter the entire drive home. My job is barely 12 minutes from my house, but that was the longest 12 minutes of my life. Once I pulled up and stepped out of the car my mother said the words “He’s gone.” I stood in disbelief for only second before wailing into my uncle’s arms. Again, I ask, how? He was okay when I left. How? I was in such a fog that when I entered the house to talk with police I didn’t realize that his corpse was still on the living room couch. I only thought there was a sheet there that was left from when they took his body away. When my mom told me that he was still there I toyed with the idea of pulling the sheet back. That was the only way it could be real. I walked through the living room, towards the dining room, slowly. After seeing a glimpse of his pant leg I knew he was there, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull away the sheet. For hours thereafter, and days, and weeks it still didn’t/doesn’t feel real. My father spent many a night in the hospital due to his COPD and other illnesses. It just felt/feels like he’s in a long hospital stay. I often think back to if I had seen his lifeless body if it would feel real or offer some beginning to closure. It takes a long time for the mind to process the fact that a person that’s been in your life for almost 34 years is no longer apart of it.
        The following day after he’d passed my mom and I drove to McDonald’s. Anytime we’d go there my mom would always get my dad a fish filet, even still sometimes she’d call home to see what he wanted. As we drove there I started “Aren’t you going to call and see what… Oh right.” I imagine there will be times that I will forget or wonder where he is only to have reality hit me that he is no longer here.


         I’ve written before, countless times, of drug abuse*. On the drive home from work that day I remember yelling and screaming to myself in the car. “WHY DIDN’T HE JUST GET FUCKING HELP?! WHY DIDN’T HE TRY TO GET BETTER?! PLEASE GOD JUST GIVE HIM A CHANCE TO GET BETTER!” Because of this I’ve spent the better part of the last few years toggling between anger and nothing. I was never angry with my father as a person, but more so at his choices, and what he had let a substance do to him. Either way I had become so disappointed. I wanted so much better for him, as I know he probably wanted for himself.
        Through this anger, that still arises from time to time, I feel like I don’t have the right to grieve. Although we had a great relationship (I’m a total daddy’s girl) up until a few years ago I, unjustifiably, judge myself on these last few years instead of the entire lifetime. I feel like I was an ass so what right do I have to grieve? I feel guilty. Could I have been nicer? Could I have been more understanding? At the same time, how else would someone react to an addict? I felt for his depression and his declining health which certainly must’ve caused even an more vicious cycle of depression, but I just couldn’t understand it. I still don’t. All I know is I wanted him better and he was stuck in a rut that he would never escape until his soul was freed from his body. Still I was angry and perhaps selfish. I wanted him to be better for me. I want him still here for me. He had to want that. I couldn’t want it for him. Even still I feel like a phony for grieving. For the last few years, until even now, I’ve been angry for various reasons. Angry at the outlet he chose. Angry that he didn’t take better care of himself (despite having COPD and congestive heart failure he still smoked). Angry that he gave up. Angry that he didn’t express his feelings and what he was going through. Angry we didn’t get a last heart to heart. Angry he died two days before father’s day. Angry at society for making people (especially black people) feel as though they should be ashamed to admit they suffer from depression therefore they never seek help. Also angry at society for making people believe that the cure to depression is to turn that frown upside down. Angry that doctors weren’t more forceful with trying to get his health on track. Angry that he’s not here. Angry that my world has stopped and everyone keeps moving and now I’m forced to continue and catch up to a world that kept on spinning. Angry that people keep asking me if I’m okay as if I’m supposed to be. It’s a miracle for me to even get out of bed let alone be okay. So there’s this underlying feeling of anger mixed with guilt topped with hurt. Perhaps it’s not even anger. Maybe I’m just hurt.


        Before he even died I’ve always thought about “what ifs” and “why didn’t I knows?” or “why didn’t I speak up sooner?” So many shoulda, coulda, wouldas. I want there to be a rewind button. I want to go back to a time where everything was fixable. I want to go back with the mindset of the adult that I am now. I want there to be a pause button so that I can truly mourn without having to put on a mask and clock in everyday as if I’m a fully functioning human being. I want to wake up and hear someone go “Ha ha. Just kidding.” and this was all some insane, cruel, morbid joke. But here we are just a day shy of a month and no one has relieved me with that one yet. I’m almost 34 and it seems like our time together was only 34 seconds. It seems like everything has been one big blur and I’d give anything to go back and linger on fond memories and make new ones. I just want to go back and live it all over again. This can’t be the end.


        I’m prone to depression and in watching my father’s health decline over the past few years, and even more so his spirit, I wonder if it’s genetic. I’ve done my best not to let it take me over completely and I think I’ve done a good job so far. I’ve let depression completely take over before and it’s crippling. I made a promise to myself to never let that happen again. That doesn’t keep the tears from flowing at random times. At work I’ll hear “After The Love Is Gone” by Earth, Wind & Fire (his favorite group), a song I requested be played at his memorial service, and all I can do is clench my jaw to keep from weeping. I know it’s not healthy to keep it in, but that’s all I know. As I walk downstairs from my bedroom I look to the living room, where he always was, and walk by slowly, trying to process that he’s not in there anymore laughing at “American Dad” in the afternoon, or playing songs from back in his day really loud, or fiddling with one of his guitars. The other day I had an eerily realistic dream. I dreamt that my parents and I were getting ready for bed and before my dad walked down the hallway to their bedroom I grabbed him and hugged him. I could feel him shaking from crying and the only thing he said was “You be good and I love you forever.” It felt as though I was really hugging him. It breaks my heart to even think about it.
         As much as I want him here his quality of life was very poor. I can’t imagine being someone who needs an oxygen tank and constantly has shortness of breath so going far from home is pretty much a no go. Who would want to deal with that? I know that depressed him. I know he wanted to be able to drive and go outside and do things. I hate when people say that the person is in a better place, but this is true. He no longer has to worry about if he’ll be able to breathe. No more machines. No more medications. He is free. Truly free. That being said it still hurts like hell. I can’t get to a point to where it stifles me, but some days it’s damn hard. All I want to do is sleep. I’m exhausted all the time. The tears are a constant and now the pain manifests physically which is something unavoidable that I was trying to avoid.


        He is gone. I know this. This will be a struggle to completely 100% come to terms with. I know that over time it will get easier, but there is this hole in my heart that can never be filled. I lost an important piece to my puzzle. As time goes on I can only remember all of the good times and reflect on the bad as learning lessons. Life, in fact, does go on and I can’t let it keep going without me. I said in my poem that my dad encouraged me in every major step in my life, and he did. When I went to DC in 8th grade I had second thoughts because I didn’t want them to worry about finances, but he wanted me to go and told me not to worry. The same went for Australia and also picking up my life to try and take on Chicago. When I found out I got accepted to Columbia College Chicago he was the only person I truly told because I knew he’d be happy for me and push for me to pursue it. He always had my back. Therefore, I know he would want me to keep going and doing big things and doing what make me happy. I know he’ll be there to give me a push. I’ll never be okay with his death, but I will eventually come to terms with his passing. I wish he could’ve stayed a little bit longer, but I had no say in that. I know that he is with me where he will be always.
        Dragonflies always remind me of him from the days went went fishing together. More than anything from those trips I remember the dragonflies.The day after he died there were two of them hovering over my car and I’ve seen that same blue one quite a few times since. I’ve never seen them away from water. I know it was him. He’s watching me. I hope to make him proud. I hope to just keep going. He is my guardian angel and I know he’ll steer me right. <3

-Asia Aneka Anderson, My Five Stages of Grief, 2016©

*He didn’t overdose btw. Just thought I’d make that clear.
"Dear Daddy" Asia Aneka Anderson, June 17, 2016(c)
*My father passed away on Friday. Two days later I have to spend a Father's day without him. My soul is forever crushed. I wrote this Friday night. Happy Father's Day, daddy. I love you and miss you more than you'll ever know.*

I'm Lost.

        My father just died. It feels weird to say it. I’ve had many nightmares like this, but none that could prepare me for the real thing. I have no idea what to say. I have no idea what to do. I just keep going back to when I last saw him. He walked me to the door as I left for work and hugged me as he always does and said “Be careful.” I was in such a hurry and my hands were full so I didn’t get to hug him back, only press my head against his chest. Did I even say “goodbye” or “I love you”? Not even three hours later he was gone. How is that even possible? I can’t wrap my head around it. 
        As I’ve written about before, my father has been sick for a long time. Everyone knew this time was coming, but still it doesn’t prepare you. Nothing in life can prepare you for this. I’ve gone through every emotion possible in 10 hours and I know I go through many more in the upcoming hours, days, weeks, months, and years. Mostly I feel numb. The crying has not stopped, but still I’m just numb. I don’t know when it will finally hit me that he’s gone, but it’s a feeling I do not anticipate. I do not want to go through that experience. I know there will come a day I’ll leave the house and wait for him to hug me goodbye, and turn around to realize that he’s not there.
        I keep playing in my head that I didn’t tell him I loved him enough. This is something I know I can’t dwell on forever because it doesn’t change anything, but I know that I will. I know that I will guilt myself for it. I take small comfort that I at least hugged him last time I saw him. I take comfort that he went peaceful. I take comfort that he is no longer in pain. I know I will not take comfort in the things I never got a chance to say. Words he’ll never hear. I can only hope that he knew I loved him as I know he loved me.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2016©

Dear Daddy

Dear daddy, I don’t know what to say.
I don’t know how life will feel without you.
It’s hard to know you’ll only be a memory.
Memories that I will carry forever.
I’ll never forget fishing trips and days in the park.
I’ll never forget the ways you always encouraged me.
Every big step I took in life you gave me that push.
Always telling me I could do it.
Daddy, you instilled so much in me.
You gave me your courage, knowledge, and creativity.
Traits that I never hope to lose.
That way you will never leave me.
Daddy, you were my real life superhero.
No cape needed for the feats you took on.
Not everyday was sunshine and rainbows.
But everyday was one more with you.
Every little girls father is her first love.
You showed me what a man was supposed to be.
I can only imagine I’m only single now for that very reason.
How can one settle for less after the example you set?
Anything other than your example is certainly less.
Daddy, I wish you didn’t have to go.
We needed more time.
There’s never enough time.
So many things unsaid.
So many words we can’t take back.
So many hugs that never were.
I hope you knew I loved you.
It wasn’t said enough.
Daddy, I don’t have the words to truly say how I feel.
I’m so lost.
And numb.
Mostly numb.
The only words where I can find for comfort is, “I love you.”
The love this daughter has for her father will never die.
Dear daddy, I’ll tell you again and I hope you will hear.
I love you.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, Dear Daddy 2016©

Just Because The Year Is Halfway Over Doesn’t Mean New Goals Can’t Be Made

For the last few years I stopped making New Years resolutions and just narrowed it down to making my goal trying to be truly happy. No goal body weight, travel plans, quest for love, blah blah blah. I did declare that 2016 will be a good year after the horrible past few years I’ve had. I deserve a teeny tiny bit of good. Although we’re barely six months in and 2016 has been a struggle worldwide. We’ve already lost tons of legends, mass shootings and nonsense killings, and let’s not forget this circus of an election. So dammit, let me set some goals that I need to carry out through the rest of  2016. These will be my little rays of sunshine to making the rest of this year a worthwhile one.
1. To finally get this promotion and transfer that I’ve been promised for almost months now. It was a promotion I almost didn’t agree to at first, honestly. I felt this strange need to stick with my current store and be loyal to a place who has done nothing but waste my abilities, dedication, and determination. Other managers in other stores saw all those qualities, appreciated it, and wanted me a part of their teams. It’s a much needed and deserved move. Once my current manager stops cock blocking me this move will become a reality and as soon as next week.
2. To go to and have an amazing time at Wizard World Chicago. I already have my ticket, but anyone who knows me knows that when a concert, convention, or anything dealing with people I admire I do the absolute most. I don’t care about staying in a great hotel when I get to Chicago, but what I DO care about is hoping I have the funds to get a photo with Sebastian Stan and Norman Reedus. That’s where goal #1 comes into play and I need my boss to stop fucking around. I haven’t had a trip in forever and I need this so much.
3. This year I need to sit back and let love find me. I keep looking and sooner or later I’m disappointed by what I find. I find liars, cheats, manipulators, and overall just dishonest BOYS who take no responsibilities for their actions. If when the ball drops on the last night of this year I’m alone I’ll be okay because I refuse to keep settling. I refuse to see what’s going on in front of me and sticking it out a little bit longer hoping for the best when I know deep down there is no best to come. I deserve a MAN that is going to love me at my best and love me even more at my worst. I’m going to hold out for a partner that is mature enough to know that a relationship is work and both of us should be putting in 100%. No more feeling like I’m with someone who is purely only interested in physical. I deserve much more than that. So no more losers in dull armor that’s spit shined. With that said I’ll still be adding to my “Tragic Crush Tales” and telling the stories of my failed attempts with these dudes as if I’m the Jane Goodall of fuckboys.
4. This is a goal for the rest of my life not just the rest of 2016. I need to stop letting people get the best of me. I need to stop reacting to something that shouldn’t matter. I should just throw my head back, laugh, and keep it moving. Case in point one of these fuckboys mentioned in #3 keeps making posts on social media that are most likely aimed at me. Almost responded, but why give him the satisfaction? He was talking to me and other girls at the same time and has possibly moved on with one. So, dude you won. You have someone, but yet you still keep coming for me. That’s something you have to laugh at. You have a woman in your life now so why keep bringing any attention, negative or otherwise, my direction? Obviously still in his feelings, but that sounds like a personal problem. No more immediate reactions from me. I’m just gonna like his posts to piss him off. I’ll no longer let people get the best of me, but I will continue to live the petty life.
5. I say this every year, but I feel like in 2016 it may be a real possibility. I want to travel to NY for my birthday this October. If #1 can follow through immediately, and with not much to pay for on #2, I should be able to afford at least a little four day trip to a place I’ve always wanted to go. My fingers are really crossed on this one. Even better is my BFF lives in Philly and her birthday is two days before mine. It would be nice to experience that with her.
6. Last but not least my biggest goal is to keep moving forward. Too many times have I looked back. What for? There’s nothing back there. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming.

-Asia Aneka Anderson

A Question Of Beauty

        What truly is the definition of beauty? How do we each individually interpret it? I can see beauty in everything but myself. I have never seen myself as beautiful. I have cute days, pretty days, and decent days, but never have I looked in the mirror and thought the woman looking back was beautiful.
I’m not sure what societal norm I base my own definition of personal beauty. I can see a plus size woman and see her as beautiful. I can see the beauty in a woman covered in tattoos, scars, or dealing with a disability or handicap. Why can’t I see the beauty within myself as I do others?
        When I look at my love life I equate the lack thereof to my looks. There’s two major problems with that. If I’m looking for a partner who will love me more for my looks above all else then I’m asking for a relationship based on something extremely shallow. The second is where is the value I should have for myself to show a potential partner that I offer so much more? I guess as time goes on and as dating has changed I encounter a lot of people who judge a mate based on looks more than looking for other qualities in a person. These are not the type of people I should be looking towards for a romantic relationship, obviously, but still that insecurity lies within me.
        I’ve grown up in an environment where the way I looked, dressed, my weight, and styled my hair was often criticized. From a young age I saw myself as a smart and creative child and never cared to much about appearance because I was a tomboy, but I was surrounded by certain family who paid too much attention to the unattainable standards of a Vogue type of beauty. It was discouraging as a child to be taunted at school for my looks and then have people in your safe space do the same. It sticks with you. That feeling slowly turns into self loathing and never feeling good enough. I was never the pretty one. Always the weird one because I leaned more towards academics and art. It wasn’t until I was much older that people appreciated my mind, but the damage was already done. Now I’m under constant paranoia as to whether or not I’m beautiful and the answer to myself is always “no”.
         I don’t know if there will ever come a time that I will truly see myself as beautiful. It has less to do with my body and more to do with my mind. The hard part comes as trying to unlearn the negative view I have on myself and my body. I’d love to say it’s a work in progress, but I don’t even know where to start. I will continue to uplift and encourage others and speak on body positivity. Speaking words to others that I should be speaking to myself. No amount of words can erase the negativity done. I will work on it. I am working on it. It’s just waiting for it all to sink in and to finally feel beautiful inside and out.
-Asia Aneka Anderson, A Question Of Beauty 2016©

What My Depression Looks Like

You make me unrecognizable.
To myself.
To everyone.
You’ve erased everything I was.
Now you’re all that I am.
For years you’ve forced me to evolve.
Evolve into someone who hates so deeply.
Hates so deeply everything about herself.
You’ve made me dig a hole I’ll never escape.
Such loneliness.
Such nothingness.
The only two feelings on the surface of me.
I’m suffocating.
What you’ve created can’t be undone.
I long for a rewind button.
A way to get back to my normal.
Any way to erase you.
But you’ve become a part of me.
A part that I hate but can’t let go.
Even though you’re toxic to my very being.
There’s something romantic about it all.
Like a long lost lover in a fairy tale.
But this is no fairy tale.
You are no knight in shining armor.
You’re a disease that has consumed me.
You have a hold on me.
Pulling me deeper into an abyss of nothing.
You’ve changed me forever.
Not for the better.
But you’re all that I am.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, What My Depression Looks Like 2016©

Nobody. No One.

I searched the depths of my soul.
To find out who I really am.
Down deep I found nothing.
I am nobody.
I am no one.
No identity to be had.
Master of impersonations.
Trying on others personalities.
Seeing if any taste familiar.
Mimicker of emotions.
Walking in your footsteps.
Trying to be someone.
I am nobody.
I am no one.
Unsure if ever I was someone.
Anyone recognizable.
My very being empty.
Just a shallow shell.
A shell of what should have been.
I long to morph into what I will be.
I want to be somebody.
I am nobody.
I am no one.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, Nobody. No One. 2016©

A Burden No Longer

I know that I am your burden.
I will bother you no longer.
I am sorry I have weighed you down.
The burden you suffocate yet want gone.
You’ll be free of me once my body hits the ground.
Gone in the psychical.
Free in spirit.
A burden no longer.
A memory that will sting only for a moment.
A weight you’ll no longer have to bear.
An embarrassment I’ll no longer have to endure.
I’m sorry I am your burden.
In the end I will be gone.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, A Burden No Longer 2016©

From End To Beginning To End

Stuck in your story.
When can we begin again?
Let’s start from the end.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, From End to Beginning To End 2016©

Going Nowhere

Can I move forward?
I’m stuck in the here and now.
Bumpy road ahead.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, Going Nowhere 2016©

I Can't Live On Your Time

I thrive for your attention.
Waiting days to hear from you.
Those messages far in between make me smile.
I live by your time.
You say I never call.
I call.
You say you need your space.
I give you space.
I’m on your time still.
I hang on your every word.
Although you speak so little.
I go weeks without hearing your voice.
Days without knowing if you’re well.
Afraid to overstep these boundaries you’ve laid.
Am I in love with the man?
Am I in love with the dream?
Your image lives in my imagination.
Your touch.
Your tenderness.
Your strength.
Your passion.
It all comes from within me.
You’re in your world of infinite space from me.
While I create this magic man to sweep me off my feet.
You are not him.
Yet he looks just like you.
He says all the right things.
You say nothing.
He yearns for me as I do him.
This man loves me unconditionally.
The one who is my everything.
He sounds just like you.
Yet he is not you.
The further you pull away my need for him grows weaker.
I want to care so little.
Wipe you away completely.
In the back of my mind there is still a longing.
A desire of his touch.
The need of his loyalty.
A loyalty you could never keep.
Who is the real betrayer?
You or my mind?
I’ve created this masterpiece that doesn’t exist.
This work of art ruined by reality.
The truth that you will never be my dream.
Somehow I still wait on your time.
Pressing the clock to move faster.
Blindly optimistic that you will transform into what my mind created.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, I Can’t Live On Your Time 2016©

I Want To Feel Beautiful Too

Words of encouragement leave my mouth.
Never coming to mind.
Telling others how beautiful they are.
Their heads held high.
Mine sinks low.
Not feeling those words bounce off them to stick to me.
Fake smile.
Fake pep in my step.
Fake swing to my hips.
I say “Everything’s going to be alright.”
It’s not alright.
I’m not okay.
Everyday I wait for an awakening.
A realization of my own beauty.
Inside and out.
33 years.
402 months.
1,751 weeks.
12,255 days.
17,647,200 minutes.
1,058,832,000 seconds.
I wait.
Waiting to practice what I preach.
Hoping that when I call others beautiful I feel it too.
For now I still wallow in uncertainty.
Will I truly feel beautiful?
Only time will tell.
The clock ticks on.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, I Want To Feel Beautiful Too 2016©

The Winds A Weeping

Even on the saddest day.
Which is the longest day.
The skies could not cry.
The shock left not a tear to shed.
Not even the skies nor I could mourn.
Dry as the desert.
Empty as the clouds.
A soul of excellence among the wind.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, The Winds A Weeping 2016©

The Ramblings Inside My Creative Mind: When I’m 64 And Beyond

        I think about my future often. I wonder who I’m going to be and where my life will take me when I’m in my old age. These thoughts especially come to me when I’m out, maybe on the bus, and I see older people. I look at them and think ‘Have they accomplished all the wanted to in this life?’ or ‘Do they have any regrets?’. I think when we’re all younger we make these plans and have these visions of how our adult life will be, but to most of us life happens and we get completely knocked off track. Some of us have dreams bigger than Texas that somehow never get off the ground because life has different plans. Sometimes it’s scary to think that I will never live to the potential that I see fit. I want to be that older person who has a story for everything. I want a lifetime full of tales to tell. I don’t want to look back on my life and have a ton of regrets and “what ifs”. I look at older people and for some I get a sense of sadness. ‘Did they even get to do half of the things they wanted to do?’. For instance, my mom talked about, as a kid, she wanted to be a dancer. I wonder if she regrets not dropping everything and taking ballet lessons. She also went to college for a short time to study criminal justice. She’s spent all of her life working at a job that wasn’t her passion. Even once did she think to take a chance to do something that she wanted to do? I look at my passion for writing. Although the passion isn’t as strong as it was when I was younger I couldn’t imagine not doing it at all and not trying to muster some inspiration to create something I’ve always wanted to create and make a living out of it. I often tell myself that I’m going to live a free spirited life, but what exactly does that mean? I have to make a living. I have bills to pay. I have to feed and clothe myself. How amazing it would be to drop everything and go on an adventure, but that’s not how life is. So will I end up being one of those people who will have more regrets than accomplishments well into my old age? Life is too short to not do all the things we’ve ever wanted to do. I truly believe that we all need to do the things that make us happy, and I also know that for some that may be nearly impossible. I’ve gone broke trying to do the things that make me happy. I’ve done things that may seem irresponsible, to others, to be happy, but at the end of the day feeling genuinely happy means more to me than anything. I want to look back on my life and smile at memories and not dwell on what ifs.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2016©

January 4, 2016

"I don't like my present age very much. I'm 33 and nowhere close to where I'd like to be in life. I figured I'd be done with school, have a degree, still living on my own, in a career I love, and making decent money. None of that has happened. I feel like a failure. I shouldn't be in my 30's and struggling like I am. I'd like to be about 23 or 24 and do it all over again. Not sure if I would do everything different or not. I'd like to think I would, but I don't know. I just feel like I wouldn't feel like such a failure if I was still in my 20's."

I’ve battled for years with the idea of making a YouTube Channel. I think I may make one this week. Since I’ve never really made a YouTube video it will be a big newbie experience and it’ll probably make your ears and eyes hurt, but everyone has to start somewhere lol. I got inspired by some of the people I follow on SnapChat. I even dabbled with the idea of just posting videos on my Snap and putting them together to make a video for YT, but I have no idea how to even do that, but I’ll figure it out. Probably the stuff I post will be topics off the top of my head. We shall see.

Life In Black & White

My dreams are in color while reality is black and white.
I can’t wait to close my eyes.
Only then I come alive.
At night I thrive from my vibrant dreams.
Knowing what happy really means.
Obtaining every goal I set.
Once my eyes flutter open.
I am awaken by the bright sun.
But still my world is black and white.
I go through life in a daze.
Searching for that clear path my dreams laid ahead for me.
Nowhere to be found.
My mind in a fog when awake.
Forever reaching for that utopia.
That utopia that only exists in my dreams.
Each waking moment I try to add color to my reality.
Each attempt fades.
I wait until I close my eyes again.
Wishing to stay in my personal technicolor alternate universe.
Wanting to grasp it tightly and bring this to a reality.
When I wake I’m still holding on.
Holding on for dear life to awake in color.
Looking for a light switch to make it happen.
Black and white still.
As I daydream I bring hints of color to my reality.
Seeing glimpses of what it’s like to really feel alive.
I hope to one day dream and live in color.
Bridging the gap between my ultimate dreams and reality.
To know and feel what it’s like to be alive.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, Life In Black & White 2016©

The Ramblings Inside My Creative Mind: Cupid or Fairy?

        I’ve seen some strange things in my life. It could be things from my reality or the fact that, ever since I was a child, I’ve had a very active imagination.
        Once, when I was about five years old, I saw what I could only describe as a fairy or maybe cupid. I was riding in the car with my parents. We were on our way to the drive in to see “Coming to America”. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was midsummer and extremely hot outside. Like most families in the 80s our car had a leather interior that stuck to you whenever it was hot out so it was nice to feel the wind through the open window. As that sun was going down I stared out of the window when I saw something larger than an average fly zoom past my face and into the car. I was more interested than scared, which would explain why I didn’t call out to my mom to look at this thing hovering over my lap. I’ll describe it as only my childhood brain processed it as. It was in the shape of a small human. Again it was only slightly larger that a horsefly. Even for it to be that small I could notice human facial features. It had tightly coiled short hair and chubby just like any drawing you’ve seen of cupid. The weird part is that it looked like it was holding a tiny bow and arrow. Although it was hovering over me I don’t clearly remember seeing any wings. The only other way I described his appearance back then is that he looked like his/her body was the texture of a pencil eraser. You know those ones that we all had as kids that were bought separately? It was almost a similar color as well. It wasn’t bright pink, but it also wasn’t flesh colored either. I would say its color was more of a light rose or possibly even mauve. It was an even color all over from its hair to its feet.
        As we drove along I stared at this creature. It would hover close to me then back away and kept repeating that motion. Eventually I got the nerve to shoo it away like I would any normal fly. It seemed as though it flew out of the window, but soon after it came back and hovered over my lap again. It kept inching closer and closer until it stuck me with its tiny arrow. I shooed it away again. It backed up slightly then came back and stuck me again before flying away for good. I checked my arm for marks, but found none. I searched around to see if it had hidden somewhere nearby in the car but it hadn’t. More importantly I stared at the rear view mirror to see if my parents had been watching. They hadn’t. I was the only one to see this creature. To this day, almost 30 years later, I haven’t seen anything like it. I haven’t told many people about it, but it still sticks out in my mind all of these years later. Still I wonder if it was something that I’d actually seen or was it possibly some sort of fly I’d never seen before and my imagination just ran with it. Until I see it again I will never know.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2016©
I’m thinking of starting another series of blog posts about random things that have happened in my life. Anything to keep the creative juices flowing.
How my week is going
Snapchat: Asia Aneka
I guess at 6 years old I already knew what I wanted to do. I need to make 6 year old me proud. #MakeGoalsHappen
"My Vows" Asia Aneka Anderson, 2016

January 1, 2016

 "A dream of mine is to do many things. I want to finally finish my story(ies), publish it (them), and have it (them) become successful. I know I have no say in the outcome of that last bit, but if I'm successful in the beginning steps then hopefully reaching some sort of recognition and success is all the more possible. These, after all, are my main career goals. I have many still. I want to create an art gallery/ youth center in Dayton. I want to breathe a little life back into my city. We need comedy festivals, music festivals, and movie festivals. I want to bring Chicago to Dayton. I want to find love. I want to truly be loved. That is a dream of mine. I want to make movies. I want to create something that impacts people. I want to create something that will last forever and make people think. I guess, overall, my dream is to create."