I'm Doing Summer Vlogs!

Thought I'd try something different to see how creative I could get. Trying to keep it to a "June challenge" kind of thing but I'll go where ever the spirit takes me. My prof told me that poetry comes in all kinds of forms. Video shall be a new form for moi. 

YouTube: Shakeleseaton 

Happy vloggin'

What I learned as a Sophomore

1) We're the most neglected class

After our first year as freshmen, everyone's ready to push us right off the tree even if we're not quite ready to fly. Advisers are tired of having to hold our hands through every class, meeting, activity, study session, mini-meltdown, etc. They need to focus on the sea of new freshmen flooding their offices and the seniors on their way out. After prepping us for a full year, we should be "ready" to independently embark on our college journey. It may be unintentional, but it still happens.Cold world. Bring a blanket.

2) Declaring a major is no joke

If you don't have the faintest idea of what degree you want to graduate with by sophomore year, get it together. And fast.

3) Dealing with new freshmen is... 

A little off-setting at first. Like I said before, basically everyone on campus is running around, making sure the little freshies are taken care of. It's cool at first because we all saw it coming. But still. Having that attention almost completely stripped away sophomore year is a HUGE wake up call. Everyone expects you to have it all together by now. "You mean to tell me you can't show ME where the science building is?" Figure it out.

WARNING: Do not resent the freshmen! (It has happened, believe me) Take it easy on them. They're just starting out and need the extra attention. Some may try to run before they can walk but you just have to let them be for a while.

4) You see people for who they really are

After unwrapping our friends from their shiny, glistening packages and finally taking off our campus goggles,  we start to see smiles fading and some not-so-nice personalities. Friends who we partied with every weekend freshman year turn into someone we spurt a hurried "hi!" to, while we rush off to class. Some grow distant. Others become close friends. Some people couple up and forget about you. Some couple up and include you in everything. Or some people just change. It happens. Be prepared.

5) A lot of things fall apart and get put back together

For many, Sophomore year seemed to be the time where every single bad thing started happening. Whether it be grades, family, friends, sports and the like, EVERYTHING went wrong at the same time. Many times I found myself flailing my arms around, ready to pull out my hair and just kept asking "Why?" It all seemed to come back to back. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Just when I thought I couldn't catch a break, I finally did. The clouds part and out comes Mister Golden Sun. Nothing lasts forever. Not even the hard times. Keep on keepin' on my friend.

6) Parties get better

I promise

7) You walk away waaay more mature than you did freshman year

After getting a full year of ups and downs, you realize that it's normal for everything to not be okay .When someone asks you "How's school?", instead of the expected "Great!", you can now admit to the trials and battles you endured within the past year and how well you handled each. No one is always smooth sailing and no student's journey is perfectly unmarked by mishaps. You just have to realize it was another step towards personal growth and acceptance.

Power of Spontaneity

As classes are winding down for some, summer classes are in full swing over here at Penn. It's so different. Even Locust walk sounds different and I never thought I'd see a day when the beautiful red brick road would be so silently trotted. No hustling and bustling. No shuffling and twisting. There aren't even any flyer people for me to avoid by me "suddenly" pulling out my phone or hiding behind the person in front of me (guilty!). Everyone has crept into their little holes that they're subletting in and barely anything causes a stir. 

With summer approaching, the meaning of the word "chill" becomes literal. The blazing sun makes everyone too hot to do anything but sit around and stare at the tv. I find myself stuck on the conveyor belt. "Let's chill" And we do nothing but eat and sit and breathe. 

It wasn't until a couple of days ago that I realized there's more to it than just keeping each other's company. When I made the proposition to chill, I was met with a (hilarious) game of badminton, frisbee, and racing. The most physical "chill" session I've had in a while. It was so nice to shake things up a bit. We eventually retreated back to the room to relax and watch a movie, but I had some fun. I laughed. I played. I flung. I made really wierd sound effects. It was different.

How coincidental that we watched "Good Deeds". The message I got from it was this: Be spontaneous! Embrace the impromptu and make it fun. Be silly. Not everything has to be structured all of the time. Most importantly, embrace those who encourage the unpredictable side to you. It may come off as scary at first, but it's the part of your being that houses excitement. Don't worry much about order. Be chaotic! Shake things up. Give your self a daily dose of 20-second insanity. You won't regret it (keep it safe and legal though!).

Because when you look back at your life 30 years from now, you'll be more disappointed in the things you didn't do than the crazy ass things you did do. 

Birds

Even at 4:12 AM, in the chilling departure of winter
You can hear the birds singing
Did you know?
Even in the midnight blue, the breath from their lungs beam and pierce through the sky
Did you know?

I wasn't supposed to be alone. Trudging, hustling through the blocks of cement ahead. Abandoned by everything but cold and street lights.
I just want to get home.
I just want to get home.

These skinny jeans are doing nothing for me so I shift my legs frivolously. Halfway there. I wait at a stop light.
Then I hear the birds again. I smile as I realize that I'm not alone.

I'm not alone

Black.
The songs stop. My head hits the pavement. My breath is stuck in my throat and I only feel chimes in my ears. Ringing.

Cold. Its hands are so cold against my body as it forks its way through my clothes and on to my skin. Its weight crushing my belly. And finally its in and that's when my vocal chords no longer constrict.


Even at 4:47 AM, in the milk of the moon,
You can hear the birds singing
So I sing the strange, strangled notes as it chokes its way through my throat.
I'm not even aware of the creature above me with its cold hands, but just then
He stills. Listening to my song and my birds
New breath penetrates my lungs and my singing becomes louder, not quite matching the notes and then it's no longer singing
It's falling and weeping and choking on blood
All morphed into a deranged symphony

We all stop
Mangled body and my mind lay sprawled on the bed of cement
The sun peaks its head through the clouds
The song lingers, but is quickly slipping. Where are my birds? We've made a song through the darkness. The only thing that voids the pins and needles between my legs. My brain struggles to recite the twisted tune. Where are my birds? It's starting to fade from my brain. Help me remember. Where are my birds? Where the fuck are you? Just sing with me one last time. Please.

I lay there and pray for death.

I wasn't supposed to be alone


There's a flower petal hovering over me with my face on it. Looking at myself, and it's as if it never really happened. But it never did happen, right?

I wasn't supposed to be alone, so it never really happened
I should've worn better clothes, so it never really happened
I was supposed to be silent, so it never really happened
I wasn't supposed to fight, so it never really happened
It's supposed to be my fault, so it never really happened
I wasn't supposed to be alone.

And I'm grieving. Not my own death. But the departure of my birds.

But even at 5:24 AM, as streaks of violet makes its way into the sky,
You can hear the birds singing?
Did you know?

I knew
Because I sang with them.

Personal Qualms with Preserving Confidence

While being a part of this team, I've noticed a trend with some coaches in wanting to preserve an athlete's confidence.

While that's all good and well, I've realized how damaging this could be. The only reason I was able to perform at the level I ran at in high school is because I was exposed to it despite whether or not losing would hurt my confidence.

I've been walked down at the line, lost by fractions of a second, placed last, ran on teams with dropped batons, lost races I was projected to win, ran terribly at championship meets and other athletic atrocities.

But guess what?

I still became an amazing athlete.

My confidence can't have a perfect track record (no pun intended), it has its dents and cracks. But that's all apart of the game. Part of a bigger race.

Eliminate the negative self-talk, put yourself out there with the greatest, run your race, win/lose, and come back the next time ready to be better.

Stop punking out and playing small. We're here to compete. If we don't hold ourselves worthy to compete with the best, then we're wasting our time.

Stop the Madness

One day I'll be able to shop in American Apparel
Without hearing the quiet weeping of my wallet.
Or the whimpering of my credit card after each swipe


But as for now, being "college broke" thrusts me into a true reality
And I'm trying to get outta that "hood nigga" mentality

You know, that person who's

Chasing that paperr,

out of their mother's wallet

Or

They got a $700 sneakers but can't even afford rent

Or

They got a $100 belt but can't even pronounce the brand it comes from

When

Shorty is all decked out in her $200 Tru Religion jeans, Burberry shirt, Red Bottom heels, 24 inch Remy weave, Louis Vuitton bag, iPhone clutched to her well $50 French manicured hand... But she's taking the train

Where's yo fly ass car at ma?

Musing over the common cents while not commonly sensing that the words "sense" and "common" ain't been so common since.. I'm not sure when sense became uncommon

I guess it was when

She spent $70 on makeup that lasted two weeks. "But it's from Sephora" so I guess it's worth it

Powder blush your pain away
As you become a slave to insecurities that thrust you into debt
But you still look good though...

Hood nigga mentality

When we're concerned about expressing our styles through expensive name tags and threads
And webs of designer lines

But we don't even know what a mutual fund is.

There must be a material God somewhere in heaven based on all the money we shell out for the sake of them

Yet asking for ten percent is outrageous


We reject those who approach us with "Ugg"- less boots or Polo-less shirts.

"He ain't got no swag"
"She's a lame"

Then complain about artificiality and materialism and getting treated poorly because the people who idolize these things, are superficial.

Hood nigga mentality

We all like nice things. Human nature
But when it begins to consume us and we remain utterly ignorant or in denial about it, we're trapped.

And the people from the outside looking in will laugh at us. And have no reason to help us.

And we laugh at each other. And turn a blind eye.

Hood nigga mentality
An epidemic at it's height

Will you bother to stop it? Will you for once be unblinded by the glitters of plastic and fragrance of cheap perfume and see that wealth isn't attained through the ownership of insignificant things that yield only temporary value and not permanent investments?

Hood nigga mentality

It needs to stop

Being approached by a frat boy because he has to fuck a black girl for initiation

**DISCLAIMER** This did NOT happen to me BUT it did happen to a student here on this campus. When I heard of her story, it moved me to write about it. Enjoy



Maybe it's the hue of my skin,
Or the slant in her eye
Or the curl of her hair
That the most utterly offensive yet deeply "affectionate" thing they could call us is

exotic

Like we're some wild plants growing between the cracks of pavement
That's been so smothered by the cemented ignorance that crush us to the earth

But they're somehow surprised we exist
Impressed that we can take the womanly shape of a flower
That the roots of my veins bleed into and soften the soil
And I grow and thrive, and breathe, and glow
Even when the world around us is barren and cold

I am a tree
That can bear something other than strange fruit

So they call us exotic

Like we're on some foreign display
Eyes peeling off the hairs on our skin
Glaring at us like we're in humane
But they're so captivated that they can't look away
Fascinated by the way my heart beats
Alas, she breathes!
Alas, she feels!
Alas, she thinks!
But wait, I am!

I am human


But Because of the ebony hue of my melanin, the slant of her dark brown iris, the Spanish in her curl, tight tongues that unfurl, the drums in her hips, the plump in her lips, the depth of her womb, the warmth of her blood, the screech of her cry, the roll of her thighs

They reduce us to that little word

exotic

Like the dancer

The ones you'd probably assume my mother to be
Because slipping and sliding up and down that pole
No longer has to be to make the ends meet
But just to be featured on another line of
Some song or video that glorifies the culture of
Defiling a woman's body rather than praising it

Like her pussy is some peregrine dreamland open and waiting to greet her clients with bliss and ecstasy
You'd rather a vixen than a reigning queen
To take you to Magic city and fulfill your
every dream
In the seams
Of your jeans

So they call us exotic

Like some sort of twisted serendipity
Like we were put here by mistake
But somehow still living
And what a marvel it has to be!
A black girl who's still breathing
Where's her baby (daddy)?

I am not a mistake.

So they call me exotic

Not Precious like a gem you'd guard with your life
Not Delicate like the suppleness of velvet
Not Beloved because the ghost of her beauty haunts you everyday
Not Worthy because she is much more than you.
Shit, not even Pulchritudinous because beautiful is too basic of a word and I am no "basic bitch"

I am much too complex of a being to be reduced to such a basic idiom

To be reduced to the color my skin reflects or the gleam it projects to protect the ivory sun from my ashes that, when risen, are a threat to cover the whole world with this "exotic" shade of which I am made out of.


I am not exotic
I am a Woman
Neither simple nor plain as that

I am a Woman