With weakened nerves, and hearts beating fast, the entire world watched and listened as the words were spoken.  Guilty!  Guilty!  Guilty!  

As I heard the words, tears began to fall.  For the life lost, and for the justice that was long overdue.  The African American community carries the burden for our fallen brothers and sisters.  We walk with fear not because we have done something bad, merely for the divine melanin within our skin.  When will it end?  When does the world decide to play fair?  When will mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, sons, and friends stop burying their loved ones whose lives were taken because of ignorance?  This victory feels monumental, however, the fight continues, and we push forward as there is much work to be done.

I made the decision not to watch the events of the trial unfold.  The persecution of a man already persecuted at the hands of his fellow man who took a vow to serve and protect.   It was a stark reminder I chose to avoid.  Why put myself into a place of anger, bitterness, and confusion all over again is the question I continued to ask myself.  The problem with this story, there was no protection, only hatred, and the tragic end of George Floyd's life.  In what world is a man tried in a court of law after his death?  This amazingly backwards world we all live in is where it all played out.  Makes you shake your head in disbelief.  If you don't see the problem then chances are you might be part of it.  Facts are never easy to swallow, but in this case it is what it is!

Thinking back on the events of that day I can't help but wonder about the what ifs.  What if he had stayed home that day?  What if he wasn't claustrophobic?  What if he had been silent the entire time?  What if God could reverse those 8 minutes and 46 seconds?  I only wonder these things because I wish he was still alive to be a father to his children, to mentor the youth, and to simply live his life.  Why should anyone have to conform to a law that does not work in their favor?  

To say his name is to remember the fight that continues, the work that is to be done, the legacy he leaves behind, the numerous black lives lost before and after him, and the movement that has been sparked because of his death.  It is ok to be saddened, but let us all remember that joy will always come in the morning.  George Floyd, we will ride for you, never forget you, and we will surely not allow your life to have been in vain.  Rest easy brother.

~AJ 👊🏾  
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If this title confused you, then hold onto your bootstraps, purse straps, jockstraps, and whatever type of strap you can find because it's about to be a bumpy ride!  The art of dating is quite arguably one of thee most exhausting journeys I have ever been on.  If I had to describe it, I would say it feels like a full-time job with no benefits or weekends off.  A never-ending cycle of great beginnings that ultimately turn into broken promises, goofy behavior, silly unexplained emojis, and emotions that are left on the table.  Oh boy, this is super fun, said no one ever!  Grab a glass of wine, get comfy, this is about to get real interesting!  Who am I kidding, just bring the bottle because you are going to need it!
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It had been nearly five years since James lost his grandfather.  The relationship and bond they shared were like no other and it still hurt to reminisce at times, so he often forced himself to block the memories.  A few years after the funeral James decided a fresh start would probably be good for him, so he decided to take a job in D.C. as an assistant editor for a local paper.  He wondered if he would have trouble getting acclimated to a new city and state since he had no friends there, however, he assumed most of his time would be spent working so it didn't matter.  

James was always focused and determined.  He wrote a column for the school bulletin when he was in college and had a degree in creative writing, so it felt all too familiar.  The neighborhood he lived in was a bit eclectic and there was a local bookstore up the street that hosted an amateur writing event every other month.  There were flyers everywhere which made it hard to miss.  In small print, it read, "Winner receives $150 and a free book of their choice!"  Although he could use the money it didn't seem worth his time, but it was still quite interesting.  He hadn't written the way he used to since the funeral, and he wasn't sure he was ready.

Weekends in the city were magical.  Events everywhere, live music, good food, and everything seemed to be all the buzz.  James promised himself that he would eventually get into the vibe, but this weekend would be dedicated to unpacking the last few boxes.  After all, it had been eight months since he moved, and it was time to get completely settled.  He ordered a pizza, opened a bottle of wine, and got to work.  The fun part about unpacking is you often forget what you have stowed away and it's as if you are opening a gift.  There was a box marked,  "just for you".  That's funny James thought, it wasn't in his handwriting.  Ah, his mom must have packed away a care package and didn't tell him.  Made sense because she asked him every week if he had finally gotten the last of his boxes emptied.  He would call her right after and thank her for whatever it was.  As James opened the small box his eyes filled with tears, and he took a deep breath.  Inside was a picture of him and his grandfather, the tickets to the car show they went to when he was 14, and his grandfathers' special pen.

James always had a passion for writing that allowed him to escape as needed. Growing up he never knew what made this pen so special, or why it never seemed to run out of ink.   He just knew he wanted it because it belonged to someone he loved so much.  Closing his eyes, he could hear his grandfather say, "It will be yours one day to create your very own special memories."  As James pulled the flyer out of his pocket, his sadness was replaced with a smile, and he knew all along the perpetual muse was his grandfather and that special pen.

Our inspiration comes from many places, some known, and some forever a mystery.  Life is funny in that it will show you what you seek without asking a single question.  In this story of love, inspiration, and hope, James finds himself running from the past, only to find his purpose along the way.  

~AJ 💫

I have met so many amazing writers and creators on my writing journey who have not only been inspiring, but enlightening and supportive within our writing community.   J.C. Maine, an author from Virginia is all of that and more.  Had the sincere pleasure of talking with him to learn more about his creativity, what makes him tick, and what he has in store for all of us.  See for yourself!

◆ How are you doing on this amazing day?
I am doing wonderful.  I am so honored to be doing this interview with you.

◆ Writers are known for having thoughts at any given time.  When do you have your best ideas?
About 5 o’clock in the morning. That’s the time my mind is the clearest, and right around the time I drink my first cup of coffee. ☺

◆ If you had to give a title to the blueprint of your life, what would it be called?
Never stop believing in yourself.  If you think you can accomplish something, you should pursue it despite how the current circumstances look.  In my opinion, it only takes one major opportunity to become successful.

◆ Do you remember the first time you brought ink to paper?
Around 2017 when I started my first book.  It was a nonfiction, and it was a learning experience for me.  It's not for sale, but you can read pieces of it on my blog site, A Better Tomorrow.
​

​The year 2020 was difficult. Despite its many challenges, writer Alicia Jones made the most of it.

A conversational storyteller, AJ casually builds relatable scenes using genuine emotions and unforced humor. Readers immerse themselves in her never-ending thoughts on AJsDiary.com.

AJ also uses her outlet to introduce her audience to accomplished writers from across the country with her “In The Writers Den” interview series. In addition, admirers can read more of her tales in Groov Magazine.

AJ shared some of her time with us by answering THIS questionnaire about her life in 2020 and what to expect from her in 2021.
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How would you summarize 2020?
The year reminded me of an ex who just wouldn’t go away. We had our time, it wasn’t great, so please just go on and leave my life to never return.  Just when I thought he was gone, there he was staring at me from around the corner. [Laughs] Honestly it was my year of great revelations. In the beginning I was doubtful, towards the middle of the year I was thankful, and by the end I realized I had tapped into an entirely new part of who I am and what I’m all about. The year was exactly what I needed.

Have you ever looked back on your life and wondered how you arrived at the place you are in today?  What if you had taken a left versus a right?  Did you make the absolute best possible choices for your life, or could you have done better?  So many questions, with very few answers.  At some point in time, most adults ponder over all of these things and even more before determining what course their lives will take.

Growing up, I was insanely shy, almost to my detriment.  I rarely spoke up for myself, my head hung low, and my voice was so light you could barely hear anything I had to say.  Being teased quite often in grade school didn't help with overcoming my meek personality.   From the way I walked, the way I dressed, to my face's shape, I constantly felt like I was fighting an uphill battle while going in reverse.  Many years after graduating from high school, I sensed a change in my demeanor.  Although still very shy, I began to embrace who I was as a young woman.  Looking back on the kids who teased me in school, I now realize it was necessary for my growth as a woman.  
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There is something magical when you open the first page of a new book.  The peculiar yet ever satisfying smell of dried ink.  The crisp and unbothered pages you can't wait to immerse yourself into.  Or perhaps it's the excitement of what each new chapter will bring.  Soon, you find yourself lost into an exquisitely crafted masterpiece and at the mercy of the author.  

As I continue my celebration of Black History month, I must pay homage to the literary geniuses who have molded the craft and art of writing and paved the way for so many to follow in their footsteps.  Their legacy and outstanding contributions to Black America and American literature's history will never be forgotten.

Well known for his essays on the Black experience in America, James Baldwin was one of the 20th century's greatest writers.  Baldwin moved to France in 1948 to allow himself the freedom to write more about his personal life as a gay man in a homophobic African-American community and a racist society.  His time would be spent between the United States and France.  Baldwin returned to the US to participate in the Civil Rights Movement.  However, after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, he permanently returned to Europe.  In 1956 Baldwin wrote 'Giovanni's Room' which, told the story of a white man torn between his love for a man and a woman.  The novel brought him critical acclaim as a powerful American writer.

Maya Angelou was born Marguerite Annie Johnson in 1928.  It would be over 20 years before she would be forever and famously known as the beloved Maya Angelou, an acclaimed American poet, storyteller, civil rights activist, playwright, autobiographer, etc.  Her name was a combination of her childhood nickname and her then-husbands surname.  Author of over 30 books and the recipient of more than 50 honorary degrees, she is best known for her 1969 memoir, 'I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings'.  Maya Angelou will forever be one of the most influential women of all time.

Nobel Prize and Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist, editor, professor, visionary, Toni Morrison was a brilliant literary force.  From 1967 to 1983 she served as the first female African-American editor in Random House history and was credited with giving a voice to black stories.  "There are writers that we would not know had she not been in that very crucial position as a black woman in publishing," Angelyn L. Mitchell, a professor of English and African-American studies at Georgetown University.   

Reading will forever be fundamental, and it allows you to go to that special place and free your mind.  Without history, we would be forced to create our own narratives of stories we know nothing of.  As a writer, I am honored to share and continue the legacy of these phenomenal writers.

​~AJ 🖤

◆ How are you doing on this amazing day?
I’m doing fantastically well, AJ! Thank you for asking! And since you mentioned today, it’s appropriate that I note that I took the liberty of filling my gut with a couple Oreo cookies, a few cherry sours, a reasonable portion of Starburst jellybeans, a Cella’s chocolate covered cherry, and a slice of cheesecake. So, the best part about being fantastically well on this amazing day is that, remarkably, no part of it was tarnished by a stomachache.

◆ Writers are known for having thoughts at any given time.  When do you have your best ideas?
I’m plagued by my own creativity. Ideas are constantly tumbling off my conveyer belt with me trying to catch them in my left hand while working to bring the ones in my write hand to life. I know an idea’s the best one when it encourages, inspires, or impacts someone else in a profound way.

◆ If you had to give a title to the blueprint of your life, what would it be called?
Bruised: The Black and Blueprint.

◆ Do you remember the first time you brought ink to paper?
No. I do, however, remember creating written and illustrated storybooks for my classmates in kindergarten.

"If a race has no history, if it has no worthwhile tradition, it becomes a negligible factor in the thought of the world, and it stands in danger of being exterminated." -Dr. Carter G. Woodson

There are so many unknown facts and secrets about Black America's history that it would take a lifetime to catch up on all there is to know.  Entering 5th grade, I was introduced to what was called 'American History.'   Painfully dull, unbelievably forgettable, I recall dreading the time spent in that class every single day.  Textbooks filled with endless paragraphs and other meticulously selected subjects designed to control the narrative and silence the knowledge.  Feeling forced to absorb a history that was not of my own and instructed to learn, memorize, and recite the Pledge of Allegiance, I went along with it because it was all that I knew.  'One nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.'  Indivisible human rights are described as follows;  “Human rights are indivisible.  Whether they relate to civil, cultural, economic, political, or social issues, human rights are inherent to the dignity of every human person.  Consequently, all human rights have equal status and cannot be positioned in hierarchical order.”  

It’s been a normal weekend like any other.  Early morning google searches with one eye open, mild contemplation about devising a get rich in 30 days plan, a hunger in the pit of my stomach so strong I fear I will buy pointless things when I make my grocery store run, and a permanent fixation on finding the perfect bouquet of fresh flowers.  I should point out that I buy fresh flowers often, so this is not just because it’s a national day of love.  I should also point out that I told a couple of friends I was purchasing a bouquet for myself because it’s a national day of love.  Hey, I could change up at any moment, but that’s not the point.

As I enter the store it is as if Valentine's Day has exploded and the reminders that I am single are flashing before me like a neon sign at a late-night massage parlor.  You simply cannot miss it!

There are flowers by the grapes, a few bouquets by the spaghetti squash, and an entire sea of flowers by the mixed nuts.  Interpret that in whichever way you like.  As I approach the beautiful assortment of flowers, I see the perfect bouquet I must have.  Having left my glasses at home I can’t tell if that is a $5 sign or if there is a 5 followed by another number and two trailing zeros.  As my vision zones in, I yell through my mask, '$59 for that!  Are you kidding me???'  The lady behind the flower counter in the perkiest voice,  ‘Hi, how are you today?!’  It’s as if she knows I am the masked bargain shopper who scrambles through the discounted, yet older seasoned flowers every other Saturday.  Today is no exception, I'll return on Monday when the prices have returned to the normal single person rate.  

​It's no surprise that this day is not a favorite for many while for some it's the day they wait for every year.  I've been both, however, the more I learned the true meaning of love, the more I realized how hopeless of a romantic I really am.  Sometimes all we need is love to remind us just how amazing it is.  It feels good to see people embark on new beginnings, find love, make great memories, and enjoy genuine happiness.  I'm not mad at the process in the least bit.  

Love is a universal language that we all speak in our own unique ways.  You don't have to wait for Valentine's Day to show your love and affection to family, friends, or that special someone but it's fun, terribly cute and a few flowers never hurt anyone.  Be creative and do something special for him/her, put on your favorite dress, spray on the cologne that makes her go crazy, and just let go and let something different in for a change.  Life is fleeting, find something worth living for and do that, repeatedly.