Whenever I think myself a failure because I can't successfully balance two full-time jobs, I'll bask in the fact that I am one blog further in this year's journey than last year's. Progress is progress. While establishing myself as an "awesomepreneur," I must practice more compassion for myself. After all, I'm paving my own path with paperclips and staples not yellow bricks. I'm the wizard at the other end, creating as I walk, and that's hard and amazing all at once. I must

Day One Reflection: "Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies. And be it gash or gold it will not come again in this identical guise." Gwendolyn Brooks My Poem Progress: 0/1 (but I'm optimistic) #NationalPoetryMonth#NationalPoetryMonth

I started this post at 10:40 p.m. - 80 minutes before tomorrow. Tomorrow is April 1st - April Fool's Day and the first Day of National Poetry Writing Month. Tomorrow is the first Monday after Spring Break. (April damn Fool's INDEED!) I always dread this part of Sunday. April is supposed to be a month of "CAPITAL 'A' Art" for me. I'm supposed to write a poem every day this month, I plan to attend poetry events with hope of getting inspired, and Robert Glasper is coming to town

Well, it is. Period. People are constantly asking me how my business is going. I'm polite to them. "It's good" or "It's okay," but never the truth. The truth is "This sh*t is hard. Especially when you're doing it with no money and little time." Granted, I'm not "broke broke." I'm employed, have healthcare, and a home to return to at the end of the day. Since when does that mean I'm financially "in the clear" though? And how do you budget for your dreams, anyway? I mean, unle

Yesterday was a bad Bruce day. Bad Bruce brain. Bad Bruce words. Bad Bruce face. (Bad Bruce, etc.) I reached out on LinkedIn to my 11th grade English teacher - Mr. Foster - and I told him I felt like I had boxed myself in. I started teaching when I was 21 - soft-brained, ambitious, and determined to teach English to students who look like me. Sixteen years later, I'm firmly Ms. Bruce to everyone. I'm proud of myself, but ready for more life. Mr. Foster heard me, His response:

He’s almost the age I was when I met him. No longer a baby, though. And I’m not ready to call him a man. He no longer calls me his fairy godmother. I looked at him yesterday and saw someone I need to get to know again. I remember waiting for him to be born, trying to get his mother to have him before I went back to school from Thanksgiving break. However, childbirth didn’t begin with turkey. It took a couple more days before I got the call. ”He’s here,“ his mom sung into the

Seth Godin blogs every day. Even if it's a small thought he had about math. In the spirit of everyday small thoughts, here is mine for the day. I love this picture. It will be the cover of my book. The thought of it as the gatekeeper of my thoughts makes me proud.