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keeseneysays · 3 years

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This is What It is About Me

I don’t shut the fuck up.

Here’s how that’s a good thing and a bad thing.

The bad thing about it is...I don’t shut tf fuck up, and sometimes...you need to shut tf up.

(Here’s the difference between me and some people; I recognize this.)

The good thing about it is...I don’t shut tf up. Meaning; I’m gon spinnablock. Meaning; I’m bussing back. Meaning; if you make a commotion, be prepared for the noise. Meaning; I am capable of comprehending that you have an opinion. Meaning; I am hoping you are—also—capable of comprehending that I am—also—comfortable with providing mine as well. Meaning; I can converse in a conversation—if you are comfortable enough with accepting a response.

Some people aren’t, and that’s completely okay.

Those people aren’t the ones I want occupying my space.

And that’s okay too.

Nevertheless, an individual— like myself—is comfortable with responses—given properly. Why? I am completely prepared to listen and, if needed, give a proper response as well.

But I can also spinnablock.

If you know me, you know I was raised in the church. Meaning; I know patience. Meaning; I know faith. That’s my story, not yours, but that’s what has always helped me grow. Faith taught me how to choose my battles. My mouth is a battle I do not choose to fight against but with. Meaning; I silence myself, but I don’t silence myself. When I need to be heard, I will be heard. It’s just that. I know who I am, and what I need to work on with myself. Meaning; I know how far I can take it. Meaning; I know what I’m capable of.

The difference—now—is, I know when taking it too far meets it’s not worth it. Meaning; I know I can jump off the mountain, but why tf do I need to jump off of this mountain? Meaning; I know I can swing, but why should I?

The thing is, I don’t have to swing to connect? Meaning; I don’t shut tf up.

Therefore, I don’t feel the need to battle something I can—and am willing to learn how to—control. Not every situation brings the same result, but I have faith that I can navigate through any destination. I can do this through teaching and/or learning. Meaning; I am capable of teaching myself to control a situation. Meaning; I am capable of learning why some situations are not mine to control.

But there is compromise! But, whew, that’s a book itself. Why? Because when I don’t have to compromise, I won’t. Meaning; I am comfortable with acknowledging when I am giving more than I am receiving.

Somethings I am comfortable with makes others uncomfortable, and that’s okay too. Meaning; those people aren’t the ones I want occupying my space.

Just like I don’t want to bring bad to you, I would never bring bad to myself. Meaning; I wouldn’t walk into a wall. (Unless there’s something distracting me at that moment. Allow your mind wonder.)

I’ve been bringing so much bad to myself by making myself uncomfortable in order to allow others to feel comfortable.

I got feelings too.

So I went back to being comfortable.

#keeseneysays #blog #blogger #blogging #black writers #keeseneysayssunday #keeseneysayssundays #black girl bloggers #self reflection #growth #happiness #comfort #self care #black woman #black writers matter #support black creatives #black mental health

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keeseneysays · 3 years

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Teyana Taylor x Wrong Bitch

Keeseney x The Right One

The rain attacked her windshield as she glided pass the third semi truck that night. Yesterday, she turned his location on on his Snapchat. The fight ended, but she was still upset. She was still hurt. She was still mad, so she wanted to test to see if he would lie to her. So she swiftly slid her finger across the screen, entered her birthday—mumbled an ‘oh, okay’ when the lock flipped to the other side of the screen—and opened the app. A few taps and her work was done. But one tap too many led her to the bottom of the screen, and, suddenly, the screen displayed a list of names. Most chats she noticed, but there was a new one with a basketball emoji that wasn’t so familiar. The chats the included the men he played ball with were already created, so this one seemed irrelevant. So she investigated. First thing she noticed was there were messages saved. Second thing she noticed was that it was lengthy. Third thing she noticed was that there was media. It all added up to a problem. She quickly picked up her phone, her face immediately unlocking it, and started recording. She swiped her finger down the screen, then back up, then back down—while tapping every media file along the way—then back up—rather lazily. She then exited the thread, zoomed in on the display name, and then saved the recording on her phone. Erasing all evidence, she locked his phone back and set it on her nightstand—making the bed. If he was telling the truth, it wouldn’t be a problem if she showed up with a basketball next time he wasn’t somewhere he said he’d be. Nevertheless, it’s next time, and her gps just overpowered her and Kehlani’s voices, guiding her through her exit.

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keeseneysays · 3 years

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Teyana Taylor X Friends

Keeseney X Center of Attention

“yeah, I am, but...,” her body shifts up in the bed as she clears her throat before properly resting against her headboard. Her cheek falls and rests against its velvet surface when she goes to tug at her bottom lip. Her lashes kiss her cheeks as she let’s her sentence fall, waiting for him to acknowledge her. Her tongue peaks out to wet her lips once she sees his body lean forward, coming to a stop. He responds, but she’s not listening. She just wanted his attention.

“But what?”

She smiled as his laugh bursts through the phone. Her teeth peak through at her moment of victory. It’s because she’s about to ask him to go out of his way. She can do that, so she does, and he lets her because he knows he can do the same. Which is why she feels he should be exactly where he’s on his way to.

“Okay, I am, but I want, like, 2 different things?”

She grabs her favorite pillow—from his side of her bed—and lays her face into it when he side-eyes her. She peaks out to see a smirk on his face as his body rises from its relaxed position. He then winks before bringing his arm over the steering wheel.

“Where?”

Her shoulders began to shake as he laughs at her smile. This call was unexpected, and he was being affectionate. Her cheeks swelled with joy as she read off her order.

“I want pizza, but from that place you took me to last time.” She smiled when he nodded, “and I want some hot wings off Washington.” She laughed when he mumbled ‘of course.’ She was tempted to say something else but, she resisted. She almost felt like he knew, as he attempted to throw a smile her way before coming to a complete stop. Her eyes followed his movements as his back met the surface of his seat, forcing more of his body into the screen. His hand came down over his face as he released an, obviously, pent up sigh, mumbling about how tired he was. She gazed at him, and her smile widened when his eyes returned to hers. She wish she knew where he was coming from. He laughed before reaching up to change the song.

“What? You might as well say it.”

“I want something from that bakery your sister took us to that one day.”

She saw his eyes shine at the memory, before his body moved forward, the green light bouncing off his tan hoodie.

“Them brownies were good as hell!”

“And that’s exactly what I want!”

Although he continued to focus on the road, he managed to throw a smile her way, “oh, that’s exactly? Like nothing else? That’s all you want?”

Your face returned to his pillow the moment she felt your cheeks heat up.

“Oohhhh somebody miss daddddyyy!”

His laughter was contagious as it boasted through the phone, forcing her to return one of her own. She did miss him. She missed a lot.

“So!?” She shot back, “you miss me too!”

“That I do,” he smiled at the phone. His smile widened when his—their—song came blasting through the speakers. He obnoxiously sang along before coming to a complete stop and quieting the vehicle.

“So I’ll see you in 15?”

Her head peaked up—having been admiring him and giggling at his off key rendition. A strong red hue covered her cheeks as she watched him watch her, with the most adoring smile on his face.

“No. Get here faster!”

“Yes ma’am. I love you.”

Yeah, she was no longer upset. They’ll talk about their issues—the bitches—another day. She just wanted his attention.

“I love you too. Can we cuddle?”

“Absolutely.”

The last thing she saw was his smile before Apple alerted her of their disconnection. Still she remained staring at the blank screen. Still she remained under his trance.

“Bitch, so I guess that means we gotta cut this session short?”

She completely forgot about them.

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keeseneysays · 3 years

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Faith Without Work

This is #Keeseneysayssundays

Okay, I won’t be here for long, but I just wanted to check in and say how beautiful MOREvember is coming. (Even badgalriri ducked in to remind us how important Self Care and Sunday’s are.)

And who am I to go against the savage herself.

I’ve always enjoyed Sundays because of the calming energy that surrounds the day. I was raised in a black household, by black women, the oldest being born in Mississippi. If it’s one thing I know, it’s the church house. And on the seventh day, he rested. Sunday has been known to ,literally, start the week. Although, Sunday is also known to, physically, end the week. Imagine resting before it all begins or once it all ends. Sundays taught me faith. In the words of Katt Williams, you better believe in something. If my God is not something you can relate to, that’s your business and shouldn’t bother me none. My prayers and his love will still surround you. Now the fact that I know God and have no problem coming to him for guidance shouldn’t bother you none either. You don’t have a testimony? I’m not so sorry because I do. I’ve always had this spiritual connection and/or acceptance early in my childhood. I’ve always trusted things. I’ve always had faith in things. I’ve always required as much as I give. I’ve always watched with a happy heart, excited to explore what was next. I’ve always had faith. I was known by first, middle, last name, AND birthday in both my and my grandmother’s church. Why? I had no problem sitting around black people and hearing them talk about why they continue to push...why they continue to fight...why they continue to smile. I enjoyed being around individuals who were not the same but treated everybody as if happiness was free to give out. (We not talking about the messiness that is the church house, yikes) Then I made my greatest discovery as a child; happiness is free to give out. Sundays introduced me to black women with the strength to lead and the power to follow. That’s what Keeseneysayssundays are; unlearning and adjusting. Feeling and rediscovering. Loving and spreading happiness.

#keeseneysays #keeseneysayssundays #blog #blogging #blogger #blog post #black girl blog #black women #black is beautiful #Black Writers #black writers matter #Black Women Writers #faith #spirtuality

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keeseneysays · 3 years

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Faux Friends, Real Friends, Better Than Your Friends

Sooooooo it’s #MusicMondays and one of the things I realized recently is I SLEPT on Everything Is Love by The Carters. No disrespect to Bey nor Hov, but the first few listens just weren’t hitting like I expected. I had a few songs that were added to the playlist, but that’s about it.

Fast forward to 2020, and chhhhiiiiillllleeeeeeee.

Okay, so, for whatever amazing reason, I’ve been connecting deeply to music on another level this year. Maybe, just MAYBE, it’s all the shit we’ve been through this year.

Agreed? Agreed.

AnyWAYS, fast forwarding to 2020, Beyonce really went in the booth and said, “my friends are goals, your friends are foes. We fly, why cry, our souls exposed. We smoke, we laugh, your stress, my stress. Closer than kin, I’m bless, you blessed” and I really only paid it some attention this year.

Don’t get me wrong, I did hear this song, and I grooved to it. But..DAS IT.

What the hell was I thinking? Maybe everyone around me wasn’t friends for real so I couldn’t relate.

She basically said, “me and my friends achieves things together. You and your friends compete with one another. Yeah, we do the trips, but we also break down in front of each other because we provide each other with a safe environment to be vulnerable in. My problems are theirs and theirs are mine, so we regroup, regain, and refocus together. Our connection is deeper than our roots, that’s why what’s mine is theirs and theirs is mine.”

What?

This some simple shit, but then again, it’s not. Common sense ain’t even that common.

That “that’s them, that’s them. They know all my bidness” hit diiffffeerrreeennnttttt. You tell somebody your business because you trust they’re going to keep your business as they keep their own—safe. I find that so cold because it’s like saying, “they not gon tell you shit, but go ask em.”

That’s a FLEX.

Let’s be honest, how many times have we’ve openly and trustingly told somebody something and it came back to you from someone else?

She was popping her shit.

Then Hov slid through. Now, everyone know I love Hov. It’s mainly because of how this man writes to yet without the beat. He’s a storyteller. Yeah, you listen to the song, but it’s what he says that gives the beat some conscious.

I could quote this man whole verse, honestly. Truthfully. But “tight circle, no squares. I’m geometrically opposed to you. Yall like to try angles, yall like to troll, do you? Yall talk around hoes, do you? Yall don’t follow codes, do you? We know everything you say from niggas close to you, you emotional” just hit a lil different.

He basically called niggas indecisive; them, their loyalty, their friendship, their morals, their respect, THEM. You not sure about yourself, so you’re not sure within the moves and decisions you make.

And we all know how that saying goes, you ARE who you hang with.

I used to think that was so much of some bs.

You understand how crazy you have to be to think you can have different boundaries and remain in a stable friendship? I’m not saying everything about you and your friends must be the same...but everything that makes you thrive is going to have to make them thrive as well. Yall are going to have to see the bigger picture through the same lens. You have to want to win, you have to do to win, and you have to feel protected on your journey.

Everyone definition of winning is not the same. To understand the positives, you can’t be afraid of the negatives.

That’s where the word friends come in.

Your friends are frauds, all they want is applause

We all understand that, right?

Because some friendships really focus on and are measured by the praise on how the outside perceives them.

It’s like acquiring something you can’t afford or maintain, but you know you’ll be acknowledged for having it.

OOP.

Buutttt shout out to Bey because I got a small group of individuals that have literally pulled me up outta the water and helped me dry off before encouraging me to get my ass back in the game. I’ve experienced reciprocated energy, good vibes, genuine love and support, and A LOT of wine toasts.

I have friends, and bout them you might just catch these hands.

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keeseneysays · 3 years

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Starts quote. “It doesn’t matter, Keeseney can write it.” Ends quote.

Or what would be known in the hood as, “I bet I can put my mans to it.”

Because guess what?

He can definitely put his mans to it.

Welcome back to #KeeseneysaysSundays

I’m was humble. Like, too humble. Like I was a little too selfLESS. And too many people thought I was selfISH.

AnyWAYS, it’s like always making sure you’re available even when you’re not available.

(Kinda of like that episode of Spongebob)

Nevertheless, welcome to MOREvember and allow me to introduce you to Keeseney.

Sooooo we’re living in a pandemic.

I’ve been living in hell.

But I woke up. You woke up. We woke up.

(As I sat and wrote this, I really took a moment to take in that that statement could not actually be my reality come Sunday when I post this. If this get posted, you’ll understand why I say gon be good. ALL THE TIME.)

And that’s what this post is about.

Whew. I’ve knocked down so many emotional, generational, and toxic insecurities.

I really had to sit back and think. Losing my mother, tore me apart. That woman was my heart. No one would ever BELIEVE who I was when my mom was alive compared to who I’ve been. I made sure of that.

ALIVE. Nursing home, hospital, it don’t matter, she was ALIVE. That was all my heart needed to know. There was a chance of her getting better.

I really did everything I could to numb myself at the age of 19.

I FELT THIS YEAR THOUGH.

I ain’t never been so counted out in my life. I ain’t never been so down in my life.

Notice how I said I.

I.

Used by a speaker to refer to himself or herself.

I’m a herself.

My story isn’t everyone else’s.

Some people are different.

And in my story, 2020 had a hell of a grip.

I’ve never had so much healthy self reflection in my adult years. That shit takes TIME. Guess who didn’t giVE A DAMN ABOUT TIME?

This whole year I’ve literally felt like I was just a ball in a tennis match.

(You know how many analogies I can make out of that?)

I’m just gon stick to...it felt like I was as important as the ball. I was needed to be thrown across the fucking(cross out) court to land as a may.

Guess what? I landed on a paddle every time.

Game on.

But, I mean, this year has been...decent.

I mean, BLACK LIVES MATTER, and it’s being understood how much power we have and how fucked up they got is.

But it’s been decent. I always know how the year gon start because New Years Who? I started the year. My mother always treated me as such. I’ve always tried to keep that same energy. I fumbled the bag a few (a lot) of times, but still, life be good. (The first time I was able to give myself exactly what I wanted for my birthday was when I went to Vegas...alone. I wasn’t supposed to be alone. We all know how that go. But my ticket was bought. Ignoring the fact that that was my first time on a plane or on a vacation that wasn’t Mississippi.) This year I did and wore exactly what I wanted to, and I had a an amazing time.

For my birthday, I told myself I was going to be on my own once I finished graduate school. That was my goal. Since high school, I’ve always paid for everything, but never had anything. It was always tied to somebody else.

When I say I keep my word, it’s kept.

If I say I give up, it’s cap.

One thing I learned from my mama was that you never stay down. I say Joyce the GOAT because she is. I’ve seen that woman open an empty fridge and close it full.

Time never got wasted.

I’m chilling in my own space right now, and I’m not just talking physically.

When I lost my mother, I lost the only woman I truly trusted to show me how to be a black woman. There’s no ifs, ands, or buts—the world is literally forced onto a black woman’s back while she gets ridiculed for bending over. (No sure pun intended) You can only be a black woman. You can only be black. A black woman put her own life on line to bring me into this world, and she couldn’t get to see me...while being here.

This year I realized...she still watching.

Game on.

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keeseneysays · 4 years

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F is For Friends Who Do Stuff Together...

Soooooooo somebody requested Ari Lennox, and I’m happy!!!

Welcome back to #BlackWomanWritesWednesdays

The Shea Buttah Brown Skin Baby Girl that is Ari Lennox is a beautiful fucking soul, okay?! I adore everything about her and her music. And, of course, I love a sexually liberating song from a melanin queen like herself!

So let’s get into it!

Ari Lennox x BMO

Keeseney x F is For Friends Who Do Stuff Together

Okay, hear me out.

Before I met Katrina, I would like to think I knew how to have fun. I still went out. I partied—still do. I drank—still do. I smoked—still do.

Well, okay, not much has changed. Everything is just…fun now.

I can’t really explain it. I just look forward to being with her no matter what we’re doing.

Okay, that’s real cheesy, but I-I can’t put it no other way.

She makes everything fun. She even has me feeling old at times.

Okay, like last week. She wanted to go to the movies. I had no objections. We hadn’t been to see a movie in a couple months. It was our favorite thing to do when we started dating. So, that didn’t worry me. What did worry me—well I wouldn’t say worry, but I should. She crazy—inagoodway. We loved going to the movies because I loved that her crazy ass loved having fun. The second time we went—we had to have been like a month—she rubbed like two out of me. I had never experienced anything like it! Like, she didn’t look my way or nothing. She cuddled into me throughout the movie, but nothing that looked like she had my damn dick in her hand. But she did. When we went last week, she went to the bathroom, and, after a short while, she texted me that she needed help. All of this, just to fuck her in the handicap stall. She had the nerve to tell me that her ass and legs better not touch anything but me. Just for talking shit, I ain’t give her any warning. Not like it mattered. A few people came in and out, but it didn’t faze her. She smirked every time she heard that damn door open.

She’s crazy.

Yesterday, while I was playing the game, she asked me to pause it. I did so—and muted my headset. She then proceeded to push my shoulders forward, practically pulling me to the edge of the bed. Once my feet were touching the floor, she told me to stand up but not all the way. So, there I was, resting against the edge of the bed, while she smiled proudly at her work. I asked was I good, and she responded with a thumbs up, before running off to the closet. I leaned back onto my right arm and continued my game. I soon heard the shower turn on, and I quickly figured out I was supposed to remain in this position. Because that’s what it was. 15 minutes later, she bent over in front of me, still wet from her shower. She told not I had better not touch my headphones.

She’s crazy, but she’s so damn fun.

We spent the afternoon together, celebrating the gig I got this morning. Brunch was on her. I had just landed a $20,000 deal, yet she wanted to pay. She said that money could go to our trip. I don’t know what trip she’s referring to, but I’m sure I’ll have something booked before the night is over. She had pancakes…with strawberries and whip cream. I had steak and eggs. She ate some of my food, and she fed me some of hers. We had a total of 6 mimosas between us. She had 4 of them. Outside, in the corner booth of my favorite restaurant, we talked for about 3 hours. Time got away from us—well her because she was the only one with other plans. She’s off saving her sister from some hair crisis, and I’m at home…waiting. Before she left to go save that damn girl, she told me besides me, that was the only thing she had planned on doing today.

She’s so damn fun.

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keeseneysays · 4 years

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And Again With The Playlists...

Welcome back to #MusicMondays

When we left off, we were grooving. I placed my oldie playlist on shuffle and rated the first 5 songs. This week, I’m choosing to vibe. I love a nice, chill vibe. I’m in love with silence. I’m comfortable sitting in quietness—as long as the vibe is good. Discomfort is what produces—and creates—bad vibes. Therefore, my Vibing playlist was created to soothe and relax my—at times—hectic mind.

Ready…

Set…

Shuffle…

Butterflies x Michael Jackson

THE MOST DISRESPECTED YET BRILLIANT CREATIVE MIND TO EVER GRACE US WITH HIS PRESENCE. I LOVE Michael Jackson. Like adore. His voice—lemme tell you, the Jackson family has some of the best harmonies—JANET JACKSON-- in the business. The fact that the writing credits belong to the likes of Andre Harris and Marsha Ambrosius. If you don’t know those people, that’s truly unfortunate for you. That, “if you would take my hand,” stacked like that…IT’S A REASON THIS MAN’S THE GOAT.

Rating: 1000000000000000000000/5

The Need to Know x Wale ft SZA

Another one of my favorite artists. People sleep on Wale, and that’s that on that. It still doesn’t make sense to me. He got the flow, the pen, the mind, the knowledge, the look, AND HE A FINE ASS BLACK MAN. Nevertheless, the fact that this man truly did do an album with Jerry Seinfeld definitely speaks to his creativity. This album is full of gems. This song is almost beautifully toxic. Although, it is truly based on your perception. It defines the line between secret and private, but—again—it’s entirely based on a person’s comprehension of those two words.

Rating: 5/5

Ice x Kelly Rowland ft Lil Wayne

I’ve always loved Kelly fine ass Rowland. I love the ruggedness of her voice. I honestly enjoy all songs where women are openly singing about their sexual desires. I’ve always hated how men were the only ones expected to be vocal because it wasn’t lady like. Like, men were the only ones having sex. “He hates it when I use my hands.” Then, to have Wayne drop some on it, I mean…it’s Wayne. Not only that, we already know these two are a musical match made in heaven. Not to mention…Sean Garrett in the writing credits! Enough said.

Rating: 4/5

Hold You Down x DJ Khaled ft Chris Brown, August Alsina, Future, and Jeremih

He got all the toxic niggas together to sing about giving into a woman’s needs. Of course, I got this damn song in my playlist! This is actually a favorite of mine from Khaled. The beat is very sensual, very soft yet it bumps. Then, again, look at the voices he added in to complement its production.

Rating: 5/5

Anything U Want x Sevyn Streeter, Wiz Khalifa, Jeremih, and Ty Dolla $ign

Again, LOOK AT THIS LINE UP! Sevyn is so slept on, I hate it! I really just love her voice! Actually, every person’s voice on this record is amazing! LOOK AT THIS LINE UP! Not to mention, the song samples another amazing ass song! (So if you didn’t know this song existed, GO LISTEN TO IT. Then, go listen to Anything x SWV ft Wu-Tang Clan)

Rating: 3.8/5

Drumrolllll....

5. Anything you want

4. Ice

3. Hold You Down

2. Need to Know

1. Butterflies

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keeseneysays · 4 years

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Knowledge x Keeseney

Welcome back #BlackWomanWritesWednesday

Since it’s release week, I’ve decided to give an inside look as to how I produce fiction. Truth is, sometimes I simply have the middle before the beginning, the ending before the middle, the sequel before the story and the prequel before the aftermath.

Still...I gets it done.

Here is a sequel that was written before the story was even created. The prequel to this story is the fifth story in my collection, available Friday!

Knowledge x Keeseney

She easily bypassed the bodies, as they seemed to moved in every direction but hers. Her eyes on him, obsessed with his interest in her. He’s been focused on the way her thigh jiggles every time the L of her heel floats against the black marble tile. She was moving, and he wasn’t. She was coming towards them —towards him. He soon learned he was the only one who wasn’t aware of this. Everyone’s embrace was warm, welcoming, and expected. He watched as she smiled at his best friend, before quickly ducking under his arm—hoping to avoid the bear hug she still fell into. Their banter was light, playfully, and taunting. He couldn’t help the shift of his lip, and she tried to act as if she didn’t notice. And even though she did, she continued to greet the other guest. Some she knew, some she didn’t. Some she hugged, some she didn’t. She ignored the fact that she knew who to hug and who not to because she knew he was watching. She ignored it, but he didn’t. It was nothing against his company, but it was everything against his company. If he didn’t have that level of trust with them, she didn’t either. Although, in the past, she did hug someone he was simply kicking it with, and he said they held her too long. His scent told her her greetings were near over, and it was time to face the music. His eyes were low, and it wasn’t just because of the intoxicating scent surrounding them. She smiled when she noticed the shift of his lip. He was calm and happy. She stilled looked the same. She still smelled the same. She still thought the same. She still was his girl. He still knew that, and that’s all she wanted. He pulled her into him and didn’t bother to hide how magnetic his hands were to her ass. “Hey baby”

#keeseneysays #blackwomanwriteswednesdays #blog #blogger #black girl blog #writer #black writers #black writers matter #black author #support black creatives #support black artists #creative writng #fiction #short fiction #flash fiction

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keeseneysays · 4 years

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Drake, Drizzy, Champagne Papi, Aubrey, pick one, they all storytellers...

Welcome back to #MusicMondays

So, by now, we all know I love Drake, right? Like, love. And I feel as though, musically, we all agree that his best work is his unreleased, released work.

Since its release week, I’m pausing on the playlists—but resuming next week—to discuss how a Drake song inspired the foundation of my novel.

The entire Care Package—which I still thank him for because I haven’t bothered with SoundCloud in a minute—is chef’s fucking kiss, okay? Some of my favorite Drizzy—yes, I said Drizzy—records are on that project, like My Side.

There are so many emotions wrapped up in that song that, honestly, it’ll take a minute to break it all down. Yet, this song helped me create a story that took me at least 6-8 months to write. Granted, school and life were also some of the reasons it took so long, but the story remained fixed in my head. It would simply take me turning the song on to push the story to the front of my mind.

What is it that made the song so appealing, creatively?

It’s the story for me.

I feel as though Drake is one of the best storytellers when it comes to music. Meaning; his music does more than stick to the beat. The lyrics in this song says as much as my story does.

Why are we wasting our relationship on a relationship?

Why are we rushing and forcing it? This isn’t making sense.

Why are focused on things that don’t even mean nothing, girl?

Why can we not find the time to sit down and discuss it, girl?

Let me at least tell you my side of things, man

If you tuned in to #Keeseneysayssundays yesterday, you know my creative direction was really focused on perspective. I love that this song is just overall saying, “I’m tied to someone who’s tied themselves to me without tying themselves because I’m not tied to them.”

That’s the most confusing yet logical thing to comprehend.

It’s involvement without pressure, which, surely, produces some pressure. It just depends on which one of the parties will allow themselves to feel that pressure.

Keep in touch with other women cause you make me nervous

I empower girls that don’t deserve it

I don’t mean to do that shit on purpose

It just that when I go home, I start forgetting what it is

The dream is over, I get lost up in the 6

And you don’t ever come to where I stay at

I love how in this song we get both sides from one. I feel that enhances the read between the lines aspect of writing.

If you’re simply reading the words on a page, you’ll never comprehend what a writer is trying to say.

Me and you are (present tense) playing house

Start thinking that I’m losing touch (uncertainty)

Got a tight grip on you now (present tense)

Maybe I should loosen up (uncertainty)

It’s possible to be unsure about things you know because it’s possible to misunderstand what you know. Then again, some people say, if you’re conflicted, you’re not sure. Therefore, you don’t know. BUT, how do you know what you don’t know? You simply just know why you’re uncertain of something you already know. That uncertainty grows to doubt, and, sooner or later, you simply assume that you really, honestly, never knew what you thought you did.

How to make all of this make sense? Reassurance.

I fucking love Aubrey.

And you can read Traditions, the first story in my collection, The Black and the Blues, this Friday!

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keeseneysays · 4 years

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Writing is only easy to those who simply just...write.

So, I kind of wrote a book. The only reason it’s kind of because the book wasn’t an actual book at first.

Welcome back to a very special #KeeseneySaysSundays Release Week Edition!

It’s finally time for me to achieve one of my biggest goals. I’ve always wanted the creative freedom an author has because I’ve always been a reader. I love when a writer paints a literature visual. It’s art. The amount of details given to a visual—communicated through the English language—has the power to play with and on perception. Being able to give your audience the room to think and guide their own imagination is a goal for me. In order for an audience to follow along with your words, they must understand the possibilities those words can—and will—create. For me, that’s when the topic of cliché pops its head up and everything becomes clouded with judgement.

The thing about clichés that get me is how much people despise them but are afraid to take them on. Cliché is defined as overused statements, yet they continue to be overused. It seems as if no one ever tries to use them differently. They simply just don’t use them—until enough time has passed, and then they pop back up…at the same time…with the same kind of characters…doing and saying the same thing. It’s a never-ending cycle because it lacks creativity.

My goal when creating my stories was to use every bit of creativity my characters allowed me to use. It would be my first body of work that I would have had the chance to—simply—be creative. I’ve had many portfolios over the years, but they were all assignments. Therefore, I was assigned to do something in a way that someone else expected me to do it. I like for my work to be my work because I can explain why and what led to the creations. College, research, and practice definitely helped me become a better writer, but it was still because I was able to master what others had for me. I wanted to push myself to improve on my own.

Therefore, in my thesis, I chose to focus on black love stories. The research part—the two proposals—was me informing my university that all the other shit—including the assigned shit—wasn’t gon cut it anymore. I felt the need to unpack every character and give them their own identity. I wanted my love stories to be between two people who are aware that they’re their own person outside of their relationships. I feel as though that allows people the knowledge on what they need for themselves to thrive—as a partner—and what their partner needs for them to thrive—as a partner. There seems to always be blame without much comprehension, and ion like det. For every why, I wanted a what, and I wanted the what to realistically produce the why.

Therefore, this week is dedicated to my novel and the work put in behind the scenes. Writing is only easy to those who just simply…write.

#keeseneysays #keeseneysayssundays #blog #blogger #blackgirlsthatblog #blackgirlbloggers #creative writing #writing #black writers #black writers matter #aurhor #published #first book #support black creators #support black artists #literature

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keeseneysays · 4 years

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Today I realized, I reached one of my personal goals

And I’m going to share it in hopes of pushing someone else towards theirs.

Welcome back to #KeeseneySaysSundays

If you’re new here, I’ve always been open and honest about my struggles with depression. Starting from a very young age, and worsening once I lost my mother, I’ve never really allowed myself to be truly alone. My mind was so dark—so very dark—for a long time that I surrounded myself with that familiar feeling.

I never really paid attention to the fact that I was the one supplying myself with that uncomfortableness.

I’ve always been my MAIN source of comfort, so when I could no longer turn to myself, I turned to others.

As I now know, that has got to be the most dangerous space to place yourself—and your mental—in.

It seemed as though everything I was looking for…I was searching through others lives and vibes to find. It seemed that way because that’s exactly what it was.

When you don’t know have the knowledge, you search for it. What I had to learn about was just because the resources are presented to you doesn’t mean they’ll be helpful.

Don’t get it?

Okay, so we’re all here trying to do two things; live and survive. A lot of people may think those are the same things, but, then ,a lot of people learn it’s not.

Surviving is exactly what it sounds like; pushing through and beating the odds.

Whereas, living is enjoying the time you have while tackling the obstacles coming your way.

So, what’s the difference?

Happiness.

I was not enjoying the time I was gifted with, but I made it my business to survive. It’s not in me to do anything else. Which is why I didn’t do anything else.

All I had to give to myself, I gave, which is why I was searching for what was missing through others.

My mama always said, “you can’t worry about someone else’s home until you get your own in order.”

Sometime during my last year of undergrad, I realized I had simply survived college. I did the classes. I did the work. I did the studying. I did the partying. I did the extrovert-ness. I mingled. I did the friends. I did the best friends. I did the whatever-the-fuck those could have been called.

Long story short, I did everything I was supposed to to enjoy college, and I only enjoyed it because I was supposed to. I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy undergrad, but the person I was—while surviving undergrad—had more demons than a Hennessey bottle could rescue her from. Doesn’t mean I didn’t try.

My decision to go back to grad school felt like the first time I did something for me. My decision to start taking better care of my body and work out was for me. My decision to get back into my love—mini obsession—with hair was for me. My decision to write more and talk less was for me. My decision to take daily social media breaks was for me. My decision to cut off others access to me was for me. My decision to remove myself from where I no longer wanted to be was for me. My decision to get back into make up was for me. My decision to get back into music was for me. My decision to get back into design was for me. My decision to start a Publishing Company was for me. My decision to expand my blog was for me. My decision to be happy and live happily was for me.

You see how once I stopped searching for happiness—acceptance—from others, I was able to supply it to myself.

It’s because I’m comfortable enough to be surrounded with just myself and my thoughts. I no longer need an escape. My happiness is my escape, and I no longer have to search for it.

I’ve regained my self comfort. I reclaimed my own happiness.

And, I’m very proud of myself for it.

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keeseneysays · 4 years

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Toxic x Kehlani X Run x Keeseney

Okay.

The one I was originally writing yesterday...I didn’t like it. I’m not posting anything that I know like. I’m serious about my shit.

Therefore, I picked a different request to write,

This one maaayyy have a sequel.

This one may have a prequel.

The next--or before--part of this story may be available on the special edition of a book that may be available for purchase soon.

Maybe.

Toxic x Kehlani

Run x Keeseney

“So what’re you’re going to do?” “What are YOU going to do?” “You think I’m going to let you stand here and make a scene?” “Who’s making a scene?” “Michelle, what are you about to do?” “What? I just wanna talk to him.” “Michelle?” “What?” “You expect me to—so you wanna just talk to him...while he’s with another female?” “They’re not together.” “Yeah, and neither are you.” “But we were.” “Past tense.” “Present. We fucked last night.” “Wait, you—what?” “Exactly. I’ll be back. Hold my bag.” “Wait! Ugh!” With a blink of an eye, she’s in front of him, and you’re behind her—each of you staring into one another’s eye. “Who is this?” “Who are you?” “I’m not talking to you. Dre?” “What you want Michelle.” “...I just asked you who is this. That’s what I want to know.” “And who are you? Because—“ Her hand connects before the person of interest has the chance to finish her statement, and you, practically, drag her away from the scene—that she caused. “I knew it!” “So. Dre ass gon call me, again, tonight. He ain’t going home with her.”

#keeseneysays #blackwomanwriteswednesdays #creative writing #support black artists #support black creatives #writer #writing #fiction #flash fiction #kehlani #toxic #keeseney

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keeseneysays · 4 years

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How Many of You Use Playlists?

Not many? Now...I don’t judge, but being able to put your music on shuffle is a fucking flex. Welcome back to #MusicMondays This week I wanted to explore just how much of a flex I may or may not have. (Shitty playlists do exist.) Therefore, this week, I’m selecting one of my playlist, placing it on shuffle, and rating the first five songs that play. Each song rating will be out of 5 stars, and then the song will get an overall position! I have a total of seven bomb ass playlists. The one I chose to start this week off with is Grooves. It’s my 60s/70s/80s playlist. Therefore, the name certainly fits. Ready... Set... SHUFFLE Greatest Love of All - Whitney Houston First of all, the voice. The GOAT. This is a self care/self love BOP, okay? I just feel like Ms. Nippy can sing anything and make it sound angelic. Whether you agree or not, music still has yet to give us a voice as memorable as hers. When she hits that, “I decided long ago...” everyone puts their ALL into singing this song! Rating: 4/5 I Don’t Want To Be Right - Millie Jackson Baby, this toxic ass lullaby. First and foremost, Ms. Millie’s rasp is beautiful. I feel like her voice fit so well in relaying the message of the song. “You mine. Fuck what anybody else gotta say.” I’m aware that this version—among many others—are remakes of the original. While I respect Luther Ingram’s voice, and what he brought to this song, that POV switch from Ms. Jackson is iconic. The mini screams and growls in this song—untouchable. Rating: 4/5 Practice What You Preach - Barry White A song with sang by Barry White, and co-written by him and Gerald Levert? WHAT?! The best song ever. Period. Simple. This song was released in 1994, and I was born in January of 1995. I’ve definitely been listening to this song my whole life. At 25, it still ain’t nothing coming close to this song for me. I scream, “TALK YO SHIT BARRY” at least 10 times when this plays! Rating: 1000000000000000000000/5 Shake Your Body - The Jacksons Um, well, I’m married to Michael Jackson. Always have been, always will be. I grew up in a Jackson household. My mama had an entire photo album dedicated to these men, and my sister made sure to make it where I would know every line from An American Dream. As for this song, I love the instruments. The riff of the guitar, the trumpets, allat! I love how Michael creatively processes music. The fact that he and his brother are listed as the only composers speaks volumes to me. I love an ear for detail, and this song has so much to listen for—and to. Rating: 4/5 I Want You Back - The Jacksons It’s a song cowritten by Barry Gordy—a musical genius! Not to mention everything I just said—musically—about the previous song. I LOVE instruments, and I LOVE artists who are AWARE of what instruments can communicate within a song. Rating:10000000/5 And drumrrooolllllllll... 5. Shake Ya Body 4. Greatest Love of All 3. I Don’t Wanna Be Right 2. I Want You Back 1. Practice What You Preach

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keeseneysays · 4 years

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In My One Little Opinion...I Don’t Think Growth Should Ever Have a Negative Response

Have we looked up the definition of growth lately? No. Well, according to FACTS, growth can be displayed by maturing mentally, physically, and/or spiritually.

Welcome back to #KeeseneySaysSundays Now, this is not a bashing or shady—oops—post because, say all you want, just don’t leave out that I know my business and I stay in it. Meaning, I am aware of what I lack and where I have flaws. While I am still gaining knowledge on those situations, I’m humble enough to know it’s still shit I lack knowledge of. (You see how I said the same thing before AND after the comma, yet they were communicated—therefore comprehended—two different ways?) Therefore, I am NOT the one to judge. So I don’t. But I do call out bullshit. I’ve—unfortunately—been a part of groups where the topic is always someone else. I’ve—unfortunately—witnessed individuals go out of their way to make sure their negative energy was received AND accepted. I’ve also—unfortunately—stuck around while the angry searched for more anger to dispose of on their next victim. Now, again, like I said and like it’s known, I’m not a walk in the fucking park. High school me was an unhappy bitch. College me was an angry bitch. Putting both them girls together, caused for an interesting 5 years of undergrad. ANYways, the difference is, as I stated at the top of this post, I know my business and stay in it. And you know what I realized—by minding my own? It’s TOO many glass houses throwing stones. I have a huge disliking for any energy that comes with a side of, “...but, so.” Them faux celebrations and compliments and congratulations and happiness always end with a “...but so.” And it’s very rare that those words are actually used, but that “...but, so” is always communicated. One thing I know—always known—about myself is I’m a happy bitch. I try to take care of everybody because I feel like I was never properly cared for. (NO disrespect EVER to my mother and grandmother. Their arms were the strength I didn’t have.) I want to heal the world if I can, and if I can’t, that just means I need a better plan. Although, I lost that energy for awhile. Why? Not everyone is ready to be healed. Not everyone is familiar with the power that lies within the healing. Not everyone is ready for the WORK that is required by and for that healing. I used to be one of those everyones, but, somewhere down the line, I got sick and tired of literally being sick and tired. Not everyone makes it there, and not everyone wants to make it there. Not everyone wants everyone to make it there. Some people want better for you only because they KNOW you don’t want it for yourself. They don’t mind putting the dream in front of you because they know you’ll never go chase after it. But never say never. I see A LOT of black women—black people—winning, and it makes me smile. You know what even more uplifting, they fact that those women look like me. Skin color, age, background, hood, city; just pick one. Yet, there are so many others that’s hell bent on making sure these individuals don’t forget the misfortunes they’ve endured in their lifetime. Why? I hate it. I hate it. It’s so disgusting. I don’t have to know you. Hell, I don’t have to like you, but if you once felt like you weren’t worth everything you’re working for now, baby, I’m happy for you. I’m proud of you too!! I want you to keep going! I want you to give yourself every bit of happiness that you’ve once felt as if you were undeserving of. Why is that so hard? Why do so people want to remain in the same cycle? No matter if you find a way out, if you’re responsible for keeping someone else in, you’ll never leave. You’ll always be worried about if the next person‘s plate gets too full. Never mind the fact that you’re not eating from it. I write. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, and that’s all I’ll ever do. But, just like me, my pen is very, very, VERY resourceful. (I’ll be changing that to flexible soon.) To each and every individual who came from nothing and you bagged that shit up and sold it? Congratulations! You made something out of nothing—and profited. Never, and I mean NEVER, wonder what the next person may think, they’re the ones rooting for you. Sometimes it’s the one closest to you with the problem.

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keeseneysays · 4 years

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Drake x Elevate X Keeseney x Build

We gon pretend it’s still #BlackWomanWritesWednesdays

I’ve been locked out of my account for damn near 24 hours--and didn’t even fucking know it at first.

That won’t be something I have to worry about soon.

ANYway, I can finally post again, sooooooo

Keeseney x Build

“How you wanna celebrate?” You feel your body respond without your permission, throwing you into the conversation way before you can process on the question. You give your mind time to settle, your eyes giving the room another once over before refocusing. You study your best friend’s face; the joy in his eyes, the happiness in his cheeks, the wittiness painted across his lips. You can’t help but to mirror his reaction because...you actually did it. Who would’ve known that those long nights would pay off? Certainly not you. You never fooled around when it came to your work, but you still felt as if you could’ve always gone a little harder. So you eventually found yourself lost within your own passion; putting in long nights and even longer days. You were just tryna to perfect something you already thought was damn near perfect. You never went at it alone though. Tracy; that’s your best friend. He’s been your best friend since he saved your fruit snacks from the oversized toddler you were in 2nd grade with. Tracy is the brains of the operation—which is why you call him Brain. He was the first one you told your plans to—if you don’t count Tanya. From the moment you brought him in on your ideas, he was ready to work. That’s when you realized you were underestimating the power of the people you trusted. The word trust always makes you think of one certain individual, so you glance around the room only to find her eyes waiting for you to reach your destination. Tanya; that’s your first love—and only, according to her. You’ve been in love with her since the day she moved across the street. You didn’t know what love was then, but every time she waved at you, you’d write down another potential child’s name. She noticed everything way before you could tell her. She always asked about the music coming from the garage and if she could come over to listen one day. One day turned into 12 years, and she’s still coming over to listen. This time around tho, she’s been providing you with constructive criticism and polishing off what you’ve gladly spend day and night building. Still, she’s always there, encouraging you to do better, be better, and accept better. You send a smirk her way before puckering your lips out for a kiss—knowing you’ll be rewarded with a beautiful sight. As always, you’re right because her soft eyes are now beaming at you. Her cheeks don’t quite reach her eyes, but you see the subtle lift—just like you see the subtle smirk. Your connection is broken once Marcus walks over and catches her attention. Marcus, Patrick, and Fredrick; your 3 older brothers. Only having a woman be there to raise you made you look to your older brothers for more than just guidance. You ultimately wanted role models. You didn’t find that within either of them because they all kindly told you—in their own ways—to build and live your own life. At the time, you didn’t know that that was the greatest piece of advice you ever could’ve been given. They all had their lives and you had yours, yet you were all still present with each other. Brothers and friends—a bond given and one created. You return your focus back to your best friend, who’s busy finishing up a blunt you never even saw him start. You feel your lips pull at tug at the scene. You were invited here by big money making men in big money labeled suits. Everyone shook your hand and offered you water, crab cakes, champagne, and a contract. They told you how much they loved and enjoyed your music and how rich they were going to make you. Little did they know, you had already planned to make yourself rich. That’s when you introduced them to your producer, your manager, your engineer, your very own photographer and videographer, and your security. Little did they know, you had already planned to make you and your family rich. “Nigga, we can do whatever the fuck we want! That’s how I wanna celebrate!” And you celebrated.

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keeseneysays · 4 years

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Today I Had to Tell Apple Music I’m “No Longer a Student”

If you’re a college student, you know exactly what that means.

College is what made me realize just how easy it is to satisfy one’s ego—to scam a mf.

Welcome back to #KeeseneySaysSundays

In college, you’re literally given everything—besides money—just for being in college.

That’s how much faith—literally—they have in their own education system.

Hear me out. You’re told of all these places where you receive a discount at—for being a student. They don’t tell you that it’s like 5 pennies off of your 4 fo 4. You get free subscriptions to platforms like HBO GO, Showtime and shit like that. They don’t tell you that it’s only accessible to use when you’re on campus, logged into their wifi. Money Making Mitches like Apple Music even allow to have a lower subscription fee—just because you’re a student. THEY DO TELL YOU THAT YOU’LL HAVE TO VERIFY BEFORE THE BEGINNING OF EVERY SCHOOL YEAR BECAUSE THE OFFER IS FOR STUDENTS ONLY.

Meanwhile, if your parents have a microwave AND dishwater at home, FAFSA got budging—or budgeting. If you’re parents have TWO cars, that’s two too many to deserve some assistance.

(For myself it was different. Freshman year was the only time I had those conversations with financial aid. After that year, it was on me and what I did that impacted what I received. The fact that I had two—soon three—jobs is why some of my aid got cut. Like those lil ass work study jobs and/or minimum wage checks was gonna suddenly give me access to overthrow this weak ass government or something.)

ANYway, college was/is a soft ass cushion. THEY JUST DON’T TELL YOU THAT THE CUSHION IS A CLOUD.

And sometimes the sun comes out.

Don’t get me wrong, the sun can still shine with clouds in the sky, but it’s at its brightest when it shines all on its own.

I always had a drive to work for my own.

I HATE ASKING FOR SHIT.

(One reason why not being able to drive or have a car was the reason for majority of my anxiety.)

It literally terrifies me to ask anybody for anything. Let’s keep it a stack, that’s probably the most vulnerable thing someone can share with you. That means that this individual is in their time of need for something, and they came to you trusting that you’ll be able to help them—assist them.

Yall probably like, “no, you’re too deep into it.”

And that’s why I don’t ask for shit.

Not having something is seen as weak in the society we live in. Either you get it, or you don’t have it. It’s not ‘you get it or don’t’ because you can get something and still not have it.

Or is that too deep for yall?

ANYway, therefore, I’ve always wanted my own money. I had After School Matters checks every month. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. Which is why I was always okay with not having much, but I knew what I had I could afford. If you don’t get that, that means I had security.

That hustle went with me to college too. After freshman year, you never caught me without a job. After sophomore year, you never caught me without more than one job. I wasn’t hustling to keep up with other people, I was hustling to keep up with myself.

(We not talking about the loot and items I would get that didn’t come from employment. That’s a different subject. Mind ya business.)

STILL, I’m the type to find it if I need it. I’m the type to go get it if I want it.

I used to sell hair in college. (My dumbass let relationship problems fuck up my profitable ass business.) I had lowkey editing and paper services. And I still had jobs doing all this shit. I just wanted extra income. Extra shit. I like shit. A LOT of people have that confused about me.

Because they don’t know me.

I used to feel like I wasn’t deserving of shit. Therefore, there was a period in my life where I stopped going after shit I wanted because I felt as if I was deserving of what was on the other side.

I never once doubted myself. I never will. I know what I’m capable of, and I’m focusing on learning what I don’t know.

EVERYTHING in life is a lesson.

It’s not WHAT you learn from that lesson, it’s WHAT you pull from that L and teach yourself.

(Everything I get that didn’t come from me is either a L or temporary because it’s not mine)

Just like you shouldn’t be relying on college—as an overall resource—you shouldn’t be relying on the other lessons that others teach you either.

Everything that is yours, is truly yours. You’ll never have to second guess what you give or can give yourself—knowledge and wealth included.

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