Boring Ambition Lacking the Spark of Connectivity

“There are connections available everywhere according to my wifi advising me to connect to a network. Nothing real though, just surface, superficial, physical, flesh, boring, insincere, small talk, DM’s, social media notifications, wondering if he is evening listening to me or wondering what color are my panties, nails scraping a chalkboard to my fragile ears.” 

Please spare me of the awful plight of your fight in trying to achieve, that journey into becoming who you really are, but the truth is who you really are is buried. You can’t be present with me because all you do is strive to be this ideal of completion but you are already made into something not to be ashamed of. I want to meet you where you are now, not in the futuristic place where you want to be.


I lived several different lives. The ambitious and overly extracurricular, activist, studious student, the career-oriented single black women determined to stake her claim in the game, a young woman in love, who married young and even took up being a housewife for a year. Every role I accepted graciously like an actress desperate to build her resume’.

Each new life birthed after each death, simultaneously weaving me into who I am now. I’m content but taking the weights off of what’s been repressed through shrewd academia and routine, my imagination, my writing, as natural as my breath inhaling and exhaling.

I’m not excited to try anything anymore unless it’s trying to submit a novel or a screenplay to a major publisher. All else is uncontrollable rubbish that will come and go like the wind and any effort that I put in is irrelevant.

I am at that place in life where I realize, I have no control. I am not freaking out, though, I am at peace and more myself than I have ever been. I often find myself tipping my head up and laughing like a sorcerer or a witch who stopped creating spells to manipulate life’s inevitable ends… Now I just let shit end.

I am no longer going with the flow, I am the flow.

People I meet are boring. They have no fire. They are just ambitious and overly consumed with self. How many people I’ve recently had coffee with or dined with who don’t even see that I am there. They just have a spot they’ve designated for me to fit into their shameless story. Like I have no say in it, oh little do they know. I have no agenda. I am just present with them as they go on and on about where they want to go with their boring ass careers.“Boring damned people. All over the earth. Propagating more boring damned people. What a horror show. The earth swarmed with them.”
Charles Bukowski

The free soul is rare, but you know it when you see it – basically because you feel good, very good, when you are near or with them.” Charles Burkowski

But they don’t see me. I am just there for them to use as some kind of accessory to their narcissism. Like that Rolex my friend just copped.

Not sure where this will go, I am just happy doing it. I am at peace living it. Turning thoughts into little worlds where some may find shelter from the gripping boredom of our lives, made of routine and stupid expectations.

Reality is overrated.

Yeah, you might be driven but you ain’t doing nothing new. Just what society tells you to, just like I was when I was stuck outside myself trying to define myself by my college degree, my presidency in community organizations, my prestigious honor of being a mother, alone and unafraid, but not lonely.




Behind the charade of getting money schemes, fancy titles, talking bout you making a difference but your still a puppet on a string. I crave the presence of trailblazers and innovators… starving for the nectar of realness just so I can be sustained in my determination to just be who I am –

I wither away every time their superficiality scathes my skin – passion zapped out of me and deathly boredom sets in.

No one here is really free.


By Janell Hihi