Crystal Evans's Blog
May 9, 2023
I am a dreamer
I dreamt I went to meet my dad at some place.
My dad is working out of town in reality…
In the dream.
When we were walking on a road, sorta one a dem hilly type road. So you are going downwards…
We saw men running towards us.
My dad and I moved outta the way.
Then we saw two men in white…
My father identified one as a man deceased, known to both of us.
The thing is the man in white looks nothing like the man my father says he is…
The man I knew him to be… his features is different but my dad says it him.
One of his arms is cut off, he has cement all over him.
The other man is wearing a ski mask. I don’t know him.
My father identifies him as his nephew.
Both men are dressed in full white.
My father says it’s the cement that burnt the guy’s hand off.
And anyways, he insist we must go where we are going.
We continue until we came upon a crowd of people and as we approached the crowd disperses, and cement start flashing all over the place.
I start to run. My father casually walks away.
I saw cement on the wall in front of me, cement on people beside me. Not one drop a cement caught me. Cement was being hurled from some unknown source in the ether.
In some other parts of my dream, I had my kids there with me… dreams are weird like that.
I had parts where a chef friend of mine was telling me he was going to lose his restaurant space because the rent was too expensive.
Bronx and Riche was with me, we were going on some journey in the dream.
The dreamland is gray, gray like old European movie grey, buildings had no colour, bridges were made of board, and the roads were paved with cobblerstones…
Nah I didn’t eat late.
I had that dream this morning after I woke up around 4am and dozed off again. 😂😂😂😂
My dad is working out of town in reality…
In the dream.
When we were walking on a road, sorta one a dem hilly type road. So you are going downwards…
We saw men running towards us.
My dad and I moved outta the way.
Then we saw two men in white…
My father identified one as a man deceased, known to both of us.
The thing is the man in white looks nothing like the man my father says he is…
The man I knew him to be… his features is different but my dad says it him.
One of his arms is cut off, he has cement all over him.
The other man is wearing a ski mask. I don’t know him.
My father identifies him as his nephew.
Both men are dressed in full white.
My father says it’s the cement that burnt the guy’s hand off.
And anyways, he insist we must go where we are going.
We continue until we came upon a crowd of people and as we approached the crowd disperses, and cement start flashing all over the place.
I start to run. My father casually walks away.
I saw cement on the wall in front of me, cement on people beside me. Not one drop a cement caught me. Cement was being hurled from some unknown source in the ether.
In some other parts of my dream, I had my kids there with me… dreams are weird like that.
I had parts where a chef friend of mine was telling me he was going to lose his restaurant space because the rent was too expensive.
Bronx and Riche was with me, we were going on some journey in the dream.
The dreamland is gray, gray like old European movie grey, buildings had no colour, bridges were made of board, and the roads were paved with cobblerstones…
Nah I didn’t eat late.
I had that dream this morning after I woke up around 4am and dozed off again. 😂😂😂😂
May 4, 2023
No Fairy Tale, Just a Complex
The Fairy Tale Complex is all about helping women to get their lives together.
It’s stories with a little inkling of personal philosophy, it’s told entirely from a first person narration.
The reader gets it that they are not being lectured, their situation is actually been explored from a place of understanding.
I remember when an ex of mine (we have children) was basically not serious about moving forward.
I couldn’t wait and one of the things I said explicitly to him was…
While this is one of your options.
This is my life.
Recently I’ve had to do the same thing again.
I’ve had to look at a situation where I was just someone’s personal convenience, I was basically something to do.
I had to say to myself that while I am his extra curricular activities… this is my life.
Notice this time, I didn’t say it to him. I said it to myself.
It starts with you.
It’s your life.
You could die tomorrow and this person would find another activity or personal convenience.
This is ideally your life.
Your life is not a fairly tale.
Your life is not a complex.
One of the hallmarks of writing is that it’s a form of journalism.
Journaling is a good tool to help you when you are overwhelmed and to help put things into perspective.
I always encourage my readers and fan club to write out their feelings.
It’s good therapy and sometimes when you read it over, it helps put the situation into a broader perspective.
Who knows your journal might be the story the world needs.
I want to emphasize in closing…
The simplest explanation to a complicated situation is most often the truth.
Skip the complexity and see it as it is at first glance or face value.
Do not try to figure it out from fifty different angles, only to discover in the future, it was exactly as you perceive it to be.
Life is a journey.
It’s not a destination.
Don’t be done by any one experience.
The best is still yet to come.
There are a lot of places you haven’t been.
People you have not met.
Work on yourself.
Broaden your horizon.
Don’t be sold by any one exception.
The best is still yet to come.
Crystal Evans.
It’s stories with a little inkling of personal philosophy, it’s told entirely from a first person narration.
The reader gets it that they are not being lectured, their situation is actually been explored from a place of understanding.
I remember when an ex of mine (we have children) was basically not serious about moving forward.
I couldn’t wait and one of the things I said explicitly to him was…
While this is one of your options.
This is my life.
Recently I’ve had to do the same thing again.
I’ve had to look at a situation where I was just someone’s personal convenience, I was basically something to do.
I had to say to myself that while I am his extra curricular activities… this is my life.
Notice this time, I didn’t say it to him. I said it to myself.
It starts with you.
It’s your life.
You could die tomorrow and this person would find another activity or personal convenience.
This is ideally your life.
Your life is not a fairly tale.
Your life is not a complex.
One of the hallmarks of writing is that it’s a form of journalism.
Journaling is a good tool to help you when you are overwhelmed and to help put things into perspective.
I always encourage my readers and fan club to write out their feelings.
It’s good therapy and sometimes when you read it over, it helps put the situation into a broader perspective.
Who knows your journal might be the story the world needs.
I want to emphasize in closing…
The simplest explanation to a complicated situation is most often the truth.
Skip the complexity and see it as it is at first glance or face value.
Do not try to figure it out from fifty different angles, only to discover in the future, it was exactly as you perceive it to be.
Life is a journey.
It’s not a destination.
Don’t be done by any one experience.
The best is still yet to come.
There are a lot of places you haven’t been.
People you have not met.
Work on yourself.
Broaden your horizon.
Don’t be sold by any one exception.
The best is still yet to come.
Crystal Evans.
May 6, 2021
Me, Myself and I
There’s hardly a minute of my life in which I’m not obsessively fretting about something. I suppose I get a break when I sleep, but even then, I have horrible anxiety dreams; ones in which someone attacks me and I go to scream, but no sound comes out. I’m rendered mute by fear. Or dreams in which my childhood home is suddenly moved to a swampland, and I have to wade through water where crocodiles and other awful beasts wait to devour me. I toss and turn in my twisted sheets, restless, ruminating.
I’m often worried by how overpowering loneliness can be.
We are ourselves before we are actually ourselves. Clay waiting to be shaped by experience, perhaps, but there’s something pre-formed about our personalities before they are even molded.
I write this book while sitting in my front room just before dusk. Faint light through the window renders me a ghost of myself. i gaped at the wall where someone(my -ex) has scrawled “LOVE" on the wall in shaky cursive in the middle of an illustration of a heart broken in two. There are other indiscernable writings near it. One said. Run Away.
Crystal Evans
I’m often worried by how overpowering loneliness can be.
We are ourselves before we are actually ourselves. Clay waiting to be shaped by experience, perhaps, but there’s something pre-formed about our personalities before they are even molded.
I write this book while sitting in my front room just before dusk. Faint light through the window renders me a ghost of myself. i gaped at the wall where someone(my -ex) has scrawled “LOVE" on the wall in shaky cursive in the middle of an illustration of a heart broken in two. There are other indiscernable writings near it. One said. Run Away.
Crystal Evans
