The baby and music.

This afternoon my brother came into my room with a smile that carried full scale mischief, he was followed in by my father who was holding a tiny onesie. It is yellow, mustard is the right word and I wore it as a baby. It was so tiny that I doubted that it was mine even though my mother confirmed it too.

Learned.

I have learned to be enough

To be me without guilt or fear

Without apology for the parts

That do not fit the world’s narrative

A Short-lived Romance

Despite the desperate warnings and songs by her best friend Common Sense, she bought a glo data plan. Her relationship with Spectranet had crossed into the abusive spectrum, it still lit her fires with the comet speed that first drew her but the fires could no longer keep her as warm as it used to.

Ancient Hymns- And Now O Father

I haven’t put up a hymn post in a while and I was featuring more modern hymns/songs than ancient. I prefer the older songs, when I sing them I feel a connection to those who have walked the road before me. Knowing that they too faced the fears I faced and found the solace in the words is a comfort money cannot buy.

To .com or not to .com

I am not dissatisfied with running a wordpress.com blog; blogspot.com however, is another matter. Yet the longing to get chynanu.com refuses to fade and I have a feeling that if I had to pay for the domain thingy (yes, I am not a techy anything), I might just take my blog a little more seriously…

How can I not be feminist?

I haven’t talked about feminism in a while around here, I have actually missed weighing in on issues with a feminist slant. Let me share a funny story- I shared these pictures with the caption #idon’tknowwhattosay on Facebook.

Squad

This is gonna be a very short post.