Hello Bitchfaces. Y’all. Even you sloppy hos in the back row, as I’m in an excellent mood, and even you spiteful bitches can’t ruin it.
So, as many of you know, I publish on a plethora of platforms. I’m an artist in this century, it’s simply how you live. That said, I have been on Medium for years, am tickled pink that the Obamas publish there, and that means I work with them through the Kevin Bacon method, and I have a number of columns there I’m incredibly proud of.
As BMan used to say, “Professional April works there”.
Indeed.
Tonight, I was buzzed that I had a mention in one of the curators selections of the week columns. Ok, cool. Figured it was about this whole, “Women Don’t Want To Be Married” debate that’s been going on.
I don’t know if y’all have noticed, but I tend to be outspoken on matters of telling women what they can and cannot fucking do.
However, it wasn’t that. It was my column on my daughter on her anniversary this year. No different to me than any other year when I come here and tell y’all I’ll be back in a day or two. Nobody worry, I’m still alive.
I guess this one hit different.
So, I read what she had to say, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I am still sitting here ugly crying as I type this.
There’s knowing you are heard, and then there’s knowing you’re heard the way you intended it to be heard. I have had the latter happen tonight, and it has turned me into a weeping, soft bundle of yoga pants and glitter.
I swear, I’m going to get my shit together momentarily.
Usually, I try to keep a little bit of humor in all of my work, mostly so I don’t look like a raging fucking lunatic when y’all read me. You’re welcome.
Sometimes, though. Sometimes you just have to cut yourself and let it bleed all over the page because that’s all that will adequately convey what you feel. Even though I give y’all 98% of me in my words, there’s that small piece of me I never show anyone. Ever.
But, if you catch me on the right day, it’s in there if you’re looking. Something I didn’t catch in the edit process that just lays everything I am bare for the world to gawk at.
It wasn’t overlooked here. It was handed out to the class to follow along.
If you haven’t read my thoughts over on Medium, please go take a look. I’ll forewarn you, though, it’s not this place. I don’t sound the same, I’m told.
Of course, if you know me at all, you know I’m that way in real life, as well.
Thanks for hanging with me. Sharing with me. And listening to me.
I hope you know how much I appreciate you all.
Love- Q
So proud of you and so glad our paths crossed over on Q a few years back. I agree, this one did hit a little different; bittersweet. One of these days I'm gonna have to get me a Medium subscription. I feel like I'm missing out.
There’s a deep chord that is struck when you not only feel seen, but also recognized.