Conception of a Lioness

The space where all the vicissitudes of my growth come to rest. I'm a young, budding publishing professional who's still learning that there's a time to write, and then there's a time to read.

[conceptionofalioness]

I'm a fan of Chance the Rapper. I still play Acid Rap as if it'd dropped yesterday, I follow him on Twitter and skip the first four minutes of "Confident" to get to his verse (not that I listen to any of Bieber's other songs all the way through). I find him refreshing and, although I wouldn't necessarily call him a "conscious" rapper, I think he does tackle serious social issues in an unassuming and creative way, with vision and intelligent delivery. Take "Wonderful Everyday", an inspired mix of hip-hop, gospel and everyone's favorite 90s PBS show - Chance manages a fresh retelling of the Arthur theme song's message: don't worry, be happy. Although he does not change many of the lyrics, he drives the message home that, despite the hard times you may be going through (as caused, at the time, by the chilling events in Ferguson), every day can, still, be wonderful. 

In light of this previous release, Chance the Rapper and the Social Experiment's new piece, "No Better Blues", appears to be a stark contrast. In this new song, Chance delivers a litany of things he hates, including... well, everything under the sun: charities, hope, creatives, white people, government, schedules, his hands, handshakes, his nonexistent kids and, like most of us, virtually all vegetables. So, why would Chance, who delivered, arguably, the feel-good song of the summer after "Happy", bring us such a bleak follow-up?

Well, I don't think he did. Chance addressed this briefly when he said, in response to haters who (of course) focused on the line about him hating white people:

I hate having to explain pieces because it takes away from the wonder and the reward of deciphering code.

— Chance The Rapper (@chancetherapper)

October 17, 2014

But this one is pretty simple lol, it's satire

— Chance The Rapper (@chancetherapper)

October 17, 2014

Of course it's satire. Anyone who follows Chance on Twitter or listens to his music understands that there is usually a deeper meaning to seemingly banal lyrics. In this case, Chance is, as per his tweet, spoofing complainers, people who hate their jobs, their lives, and everything involved in them. I think the beauty of "No Better Blues" is that in laying on the negativity so thickly, it still manages to be an inspirational song. You find yourself listening and laughing at how ludicrous it is to hate everything, but still manage to hear your own complaints in the lyrics. It embarrasses you into wanting to change your attitude. That is the genius of Chance the Rapper's lyrics: he manages to emote precisely what he intends to, without needing to do so explicitly. 

I can't help, at the same time, but perceive a little bit of truth in some of the lyrics, particularly in the background singers' chant, "It just don't get better", as well as Chance's lyric, "I hate the darkness, I hate racists, I hate white people", in the context of the events in Ferguson and across the country. For millions of people in this country, it really isn't getting better, so at the same time that the song is delivering a clever spoof on pessimism, it's also quite reflective of what many people are feeling in this country during these trying times: a sense of hopelessness and a fear that things will not get better.

This contradiction, or juxtaposition rather, of two distinct messages in "No Better Blues" reflects both the hopelessness and the resilience being currently demonstrated by young black people in Ferguson and across the country. Both hopeful and hopeless, both resentful and relentless, Chance delivers a clever play on reality, and (perhaps unknowingly) reflects the spirit of the Ferguson movement.

[mysharona1987]

A woman sitting by herself is not waiting for you.

Caitlin Stasey. (via mysharona1987)

[conceptionofalioness]

If there's one thing I've learned about staying sane in my 20s, it's that any illusion of a linear path needs to stay back in my dorm room in rural Iowa.

[conceptionofalioness]

"it's levels to this"

My dad had this habit, when I was younger and whenever his hands were idle, of busying himself by writing down names. I have the same habit. If I have an event coming up, I write down all the attendees, as visual reassurance of their anticipated presence. In meetings, I doodle my family tree, starting from my grandparents, all the way down to my youngest cousins, some of whose names I don’t even know.

There was one name my dad wrote more than most – Luisito. He’d write it when he was on the phone, or if he was waiting for someone to recite an address or, pretty much, any time he had a pen and free, blank space. It was a while before I asked him who this person was. It was certainly no one in his life I’d ever met or he’d ever spoken of. When I asked him, he told me this:

Luisito was a friend he’d had years ago, his best friend. They grew up together and remained friends even after my dad came to the United States in his early 20s and wasn’t able to return to his native Dominican Republic for years. When my dad was finally able to go back to Santo Domingo, he called up Luisito to reconnect. They met at one of their old haunts, an old gas station turned outdoor beer garden where locals convened, danced, and drank Presidente beers. Midway through the ngith, Luisito said something about his mother. I don’t recall exactly at this point – something about being interested in his mother’s house – but it left a sour taste in my father’s mouth, who could not comprehend how someone could say even one ill word against a parent, much less a mother. He never reached out to Luisito again. 

He’d never admit it, but I think my father always remembered this friend and, possibly, even regretted his decision to cut him off. This attitude, however, this feeling that a friend’s morals must be impeccable to stay in your life is something that he passed on to me, and something that I’ve found quite damaging in my own relationships. Nobody, myself included, is perfect, so to seek that perfection in others is unfair. Even more, it’s unfair to project your idea of perfection on others. 

During my last week of work this past week, I had a conversation that essentially sums up my experience with and understanding of friendships and relationships. We were discussing Chinese students (I worked for an international student recruiting/ consulting company) and why they had so much trouble adjusting to life in the United States. One colleague, who had lived in China for a number of years and spoke the language fluently, made a revelatory point. She said that, unlike Americans, Chinese kids don’t have the experience of building relationships with different groups of people throughout their lives. They don’t get part time jobs as teenagers, don’t hang out much outside of school or participate in extracurricular activities. As a result, they aren’t as adept at socializing and, also, don’t understand the American concept of having so many friendships. Any friend they do have is someone they grew up with, practically a brother or sister.

I can totally relate to this. I wasn’t allowed to go to sleepovers, didn’t get a part time job until I was 18, participated in very few extracurricular activities and certainly didn’t go to any parties before college. I truly didn’t understand the concept of expanding your network and, also, had a very strict definition of friendship, as my father did. In fact, I recall having a bit of a falling out with my best friend in high school because I, according to her, never talked to her about my life. It’s so silly in hindsight, but, at the time, my only friends were my family members and friendship was, to me, akin to family. Thankfully, this friend forgave me and is still my best friend today, but I definitely risked losing her.

I didn’t get much better in college: I went from not sharing to possibly over-sharing. I had one friend that I was particularly close to, and we’d stay up until 5am way too often talking about everything. We shared so much, I think she’s the closest I ever got to having a friend that I’d considered a sister; she was probably the closest I got to that ideal friendship my dad taught me to aspire to. We were great friends, but I think I was wrong in feeling that only someone who I could tell everything to, who I could share every experience with, could really be considered my friend. I suppose I was lucky, because I did have that for a while, but this friend and I have long since parted ways, so I know now that it’s dangerous to ‘put all your eggs one basket’.

I was devastated for a long time over the loss of that friendship, and I still miss it from time to time, but I think its loss has forced me to branch out a lot more, and I may finally be starting to get the hang of this friendship thing. I have various friend groups and friends that I would talk to about different things, and I’m starting to realize that’s okay. Not everyone is going to be everything you need them to be. In the words of Meek Mill, “It’s levels to this”. I have a friend who I’d talk to about my career goals; the friend that I’d invite to a poetry slam; the friend that I’d talk to about my family or my sex life. This used to all be the same person, and that was convenient and easy, but I like it better this way. On one hand because there isn’t the risk of losing everything and everyone in one sitting, but also because my life is so much richer because of all the people I’ve gotten to meet and love. It’s made me a better person and, I hope, them as well. 

  ~C

[perfumepoison]

It’s all about falling in love with yourself and sharing that love with someone who appreciates you, rather than looking for love to compensate for a self love deficit.

Eartha Kitt  (via freyjageist)

[conceptionofalioness]

It’s not him you need to get over, but rather the idea that his not loving you means you are unlovable.

[conceptionofalioness]

how to show me you love me, part one

drunk text me

come to me with a heavy heart, bursting with truths that float to the surface as your brain drowns in inebriation, mind light, no longer weighed down by fears of what this could be

drag your feet

stay a little longer, blow off your next commitment, lay next to me silently, filling the space between my breast and your chest with the honesty of your steady breath, pull me closer

tell me about the last time

tell me it's the last time, ask me questions like "did you miss me?" or, "how did the sun dare to set every day of all these years without realizing my day couldn't end without you?", questions I don't need to answer

wake up

take me out for ice cream, blow on my neck while your mouth is still cold, freeze the moment, hold my hand and walk with me to the bench under our tree, kiss my forehead under the blossoms and highlight my face with a touch of affection, remember I don't like chocolate

linger

kiss me goodbye slowly, at first, then quickly down my neck and to my shoulders, try to start over, talk about the next time I'll see you, promise me you'll come back

text me

[conceptionofalioness]

homecoming

Going to Ecuador was like going home, in a sense, even though I'd never been there before. There was something familiar about driving from the airport, hot sticky breeze blowing in through the window; motorcycles zooming past, maneuvering between the cars; tiny hole-in-the-wall markets selling fresh vegetables, flies lingering over the produce; red “Pare” signs urging cars to stop; homeless boys offering to clean your window, slipping their tiny hands through the slits of opportunity to grab your cell phone.

It all felt like sameness, laced with difference. There was so much overlap between Ecuador's family and societal dynamics and those of the Dominican Republic. Although I was not staying with my own relatives in Ecuador, I might as well have been. I saw the same narratives that I had observed in my own family repeated among my hosts.

the teenage mother and the daughter of the irresponsible uncle, raised by no one and everyone at the same damn time (coincidentally the same person);

I have several cousins that were teenage mothers, one who had her first baby at 13. To traditional Dominicans, once two people have a baby they are, for all intents and purposes, married. People will refer to him as your 'marido' and will expect him to move you out of your family home. This type of 'marriage' is coined 'casarse por la ventana', meaning 'getting married through the window', or clandestinely, not through the main door, which would be the proper way to take a woman. 

the 'salt of the earth' aunt;

Two of my aunts go out of their way to help others and would rather go hungry than not feed people in their families that may be in need. They've helped others move up at the risk of their own financial security and success. Both of these aunts are professional accountants but neither makes a decent living. Although the wages there are so much lower, prices are still very high. Gas is about $6 a gallon and grocery shopping can be up to $100 per trip. Both make about $500 a month.

the strong willed, strong fisted uncle and prodigal son; 

Then there is the uncle who's doing it all right. He has his own home, is married and just had his first child. He's a professional and a part of the Dominican military, which is an huge status symbol in the Dominican Republic. He's the one everyone turns to to help discipline the children left orphaned by the irresponsible uncle; he's the one everyone turns to for advice.

the overly religious grandma praying for her devious grandchildren.

To my grandmother we're all sinners. She prays the rosary 3 times a night and goes to church almost every day. She visits the sick to pray for them and teaches communion classes. Every time I go back to D.R. she tries to get me do do my first communion. I was baptized Catholic, but I never went through the full cycle; I guess I'm more of a cultural Catholic than a real one. 

Underlying all these narratives are the same issues of economic stagnation, a machismo culture and a lack of sexual education. The trip to Ecuador was an ordeal (think bribing government officials and smuggling Ecuadorian fruit into the U.S.), but this sense of familiarity made it feel a little like home.

~C

[psych-facts]

Any time you talk to anyone about something that they love, they’re, like, their most beautiful. It’s a cool gift to get to talk to people about what they love.

 Amy Poehler  (via psych-facts)

[conceptionofalioness]

Kindle, how do I love thee?

Let me count the ways.

If you know me, you know I’ve wanted a Kindle for at least 3 years now. I’ve dropped hint after hint on Twitter and Facebook around the holidays, on my birthday, on Jesus's birthday, but no one ever bit. I finally resigned myself to biting the bullet and buying it myself. Tax season was right around the corner anyway.

BEST DECISION EVER.

My Kindle is literally the best purchase I’ve ever made. Better than my Mac Book, my vintage Prada pants, my favorite lipstick (MAC Heroine) or my many, MANY curly hair products. It’s completely revolutionized my most beloved activity. I've been saying for a while that I don't believe in the demise of the publishing industry, only in its revolution. Indeed, people will never stop reading (at least I hope not, for everyone's sake), but the way they consume literature has to. The Kindle is only a part of the changes that are bound to happen in the book world. Here are a few ways my Kindle has changed my life:

1 - Nothing will make you read more into a quote than seeing the dashed line telling you that 43,550 more people highlighted a quote. I can't help but think: if all these people highlighted this sentence, it has to be deep and meaningful. The Kindle has made reading an activity that allows for connection - not only with the characters, but with your fellow readers.

2 - If I didn't find time to read in college, imagine how difficult it is now that I have a full time job and am a member of two book clubs. After getting a Kindle, I found that I was grossly overestimating my reading speed. Turns out I cannot finish those last 300 pages of The Corrections in 2 days. Go figure. Nothing will light a fire under your ass more than seeing that you're only 5% through the book and that you still have another 2 hours and 24 minutes to finish the chapter.

3 - The search functions inform my reading in ways a dictionary never could. I was never the type to look up words while I was reading; it's so disruptive to have to put the book down, search for the word you don't know and then apply it in context. With the Kindle, you can search while you're reading - and not only for words, but for characters (imagine reading Game of Thrones and actually knowing who's who!) as well as cultural references or events (on Wikipedia).

Don't get me wrong, there is definitely room for improvement: sometimes the reaction time is slow when I'm writing notes or highlighting text, the keyboard isn't incredibly accurate - but the pros far outweigh the cons. Having it be a device strictly for reading, with no distractions like apps or fancy features, makes it feel almost like reading a 'real' book. The Kindle modernizes and enhances reading without taking away from the escapism that made me fall in love with books to begin with.

~C

[conceptionofalioness]

no quiero ser

de las que esperan

one that ignores the look of disinterest in his eyes as he walks through the house he used to love you in yawning, feigning tiredness from the short flight so he doesn’t have to pretend to remember how that feels

una de las que solo pudo conocer a un hombre, never knowing if there was someone who might’ve looked her in the eyes as he planted another seed, neglected like weeds

one that finds out from the town’s chismosos that she’s not the only one. that her husband has another woman, another child, otra vida

one that stopped existing when she became a man’s mujer - that’s only ever referred to as so and so’s wife, la mujer de aquel fulano

a woman stuck on an island, whose heart freezes once over with every winter he brings back

a woman that drifted away, wasting away in memories that she long ago forgot

una de las que se conforman con dinero, that accepts reparations 

one who sings every song in the same old melancholic tune

una de las que cierra los ojos para no sentir

de las que viven sin amor

de las que sacrifican todo

only to die alone

[fuckyeahrihanna]

[heyisfurwhoresez-deactivated201]

The two best dressed women on the planet right now

[blackfashion]

accurate

[conceptionofalioness]

my two fashion idols

[conceptionofalioness]

us, a list poem

1. You’re always gone, trapped inside a Jay-Z song that cries wolf, of success that doesn’t come.

I know,

2. You’re a young, black boy, trying not to be, so your mom doesn’t have to worry about two black sons, just one.

3. The world is against you, things don’t go your way. The day you decide to change, you find the past won’t go away.

It’s okay,

4. We ruined things.

5. We latched onto failure like a remora to the underbelly of the shark, subsisting on remnants of the first days.

6. I used to remember the way you squeezed my waist and the way my hair fell over your face as I looked down at you that morning. I remembered how it felt just like love. I remembered, but then I forgot. 

7. I can’t stop caring. 

But,

8. You taught me to listen when people insist, promise that there’s nothing there.

9. You’re the reflection of me, my inverted self. 

10. We’re both just broken, held together by memories and promises and I love yous and texts and I miss yous and resentment and lies.

~C

[kees-me]

Wise Words from Elle

Please continue to bless me with dignity, high self esteem and little regard for those who don’t recognize my awesomeness. For they are blind and stupid lord, and I dont respect blind and stupid. Please let my love and glitter infiltrate the hearts and minds of my friends who like to bring up ain’t shit niggas and less than proud moments we don’t need to remember. They know not what they do. Amen.

-Ellie Poo

[duttonbooks]

The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.

Jane Austen (via duttonbooks)

[rihannalb]

Rihanna at ”Balmain” Fashion Show in Paris.

[conceptionofalioness]

WHY IS SHE SO PERFECT?!

[mzanny]

Freshly crowned Miss Dominican Republic 2013 #YaritzaReyes Nice to see such a beauty represent our gorgeous country #naturalbeauty #curlyhair #morenitasRule

[conceptionofalioness]

90% of our country looks like this, yet all our Miss Universe contestants since 2002 have all looked European. Nice to see a more diverse and accurate representation of the Dominican Republic! AND she rocks her natural curls?! love her. #naturalhair #naturalbeauty #yaritzareyes