November has always held a quiet magic for me, but this one feels especially full. Today marks two years since I posted my very first JustLj blog on November 30,2023, and somehow, this is already my third November writing here. It’s strange and grounding all at once, like standing in a doorway where the past and present overlap. Anniversaries have a way of making you pause. To look back. To look around.
To look inward. So, for this November, the theme seemed obvious: Two Years. A celebration. A reflection.
A thank you. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, an anniversary is “the yearly recurrence of a date marking a notable event.” But beyond the formal definition, anniversaries are markers of becoming. They show us who we’ve been and hint at who we’re becoming. And two years feels like its own important milestone: not quite new, not quite old, but rooted.
These past two years of blogging have been exactly that for me. An ongoing practice of rooting myself. Of returning here every month and being honest. Of letting this space grow with me, shift with me, wobble with me, and strengthen me.
It hasn’t always been easy, but it has always been real. And woven through November, as always, is the theme of thanks. But this November, gratitude feels deeper, not performative, not seasonal, not obligatory.
It feels earned. Because this year held a lot. Career turns and unexpected opportunities. Rejections that stung more than I admitted. Moments of alignment that reminded me of possibility. Loneliness, clarity, hope, rebuilding. And through it all, writing remained my constant. As JFK once said,
So I’m taking a moment to thank the version of me from two years ago who started this. The version who didn’t know this would go, but trusted themself enough to begin. The version that showed up again the next month, and the next. And the version of me today, still here, still writing, still learning how to be soft and strong at the same time. And to you, whoever is reading this, whether for the first time or the fifteenth. Thank you. Your presence, quiet or enthusiastic, is part of the meaning of this space. You are part of the longevity.
Part of the reason I keep coming back. Brene Brown said,
This blog has helped me understand who I am a little better every month. That is something worth celebrating. So here’s to two years. My second anniversary, my third November, my ongoing becoming. Here’s to gratitude that stays.
Here’s to stories that continue.
Here’s to year three on the horizon. Thank you for being here. Thank you for being part of JustLj. And thank you, November, for marking it all.
Poem of the Month
by me
November Again
November
I hold close every warming ember
Turning the year over toward November
November
The past and future meet where I remember
Breathing in gratitude for another November
What I’m Currently Working on
To stay updated on my journey and what I’ll be working on next, feel free to visit the Works in Progress Page or follow the Facebook Page, where I share daily updates and fun tidbits.
August slipped away before I could catch it. Perhaps that’s how months pass when your life is in a state of transition. You look up and realize whole weeks have vanished into something new. This month, the rhythm of my summer gave way to syllabi, assignments, and log-in screens.I officially began graduate school at the University of North Texas, pursuing a degree in Library Science with a focus on Children’s and Young Adult Librarianship. It’s still strange to write that out. Me, a grad student. Because if I’m being honest, I never really saw myself as “academic.” My path hasn’t always followed the neat, linear lines of a textbook.
And yet here I am, with discussion boards and readings stacked up next to piles of ready notebooks, stepping into a space that demands more of me than I expected. It’s exhilarating, yes, but it’s also a bit terrifying. Some days, imposter syndrome finds its way into the room before I do, whispering that maybe I don’t belong here. Which is why this month’s word feels so important. Belonging. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, belonging is:
“an affinity for a place or situation; the feeling of being comfortable and accepted.”
It sounds simple, almost effortless, as if belonging just happens the moment you arrive somewhere. But what I’ve learned is that belonging is rarely instant. More often, it’s something you grow into. Or something you create for yourself when the soil feels foreign. That tension is where I’ve been living for the past month.
On one hand, there’s the thrill of grad school: new knowledge, new goals, the possibility of building a life rooted in the things I love most. On the other hand, there’s the ache of dislocation. I miss New Jersey: the friendships, the little routines that grounded me, the confidence I found in navigating a place that once felt strange and then became familiar. I carry those streets and people like a second skin. And yet, I had longed to return to Texas. I wanted the closeness of family, the comfort of being near the people who know me from the ground up.
Coming home felt like it should be the cure to longing. But Texas has greeted me with complexity. Beyond family, the culture doesn’t quite click for me; the energy feels different, sometimes even unwelcoming. So I am caught between two landscapes: one that holds my history and one that holds my heart. Neither feels like a perfect fit, and maybe that’s what belonging really is. The constant negotiation between where you are and who you are becoming.
Maya Angelou once wrote, “You are only free when you realize you belong no place. You belong every. No place at all. The price is high. The reward is great.” I think about that often as I walk through my new routines. Perhaps belonging is less about perfect alignment and more about realizing that no place will ever feel complete without the courage to show up authentically. Brene Brown echoes this: “True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are.” That’s hard for me as someone who is still learning to stand fully in myself.
It’s easier to shrink or to question if I’ve earned the right to sit in the spaces I’ve found myself in. But Brown reminds me that belonging doesn’t come from fitting into the mold. It comes from refusing to mold myself into something Im not. And Rainer Maria Rilke offers a softer wisdom: “The only journey is the one within.”Which makes me wonder if belonging is less about the external. City, state, campus, or community. And more about the internal. If I cultivate belonging within myself, perhaps every place I live and every role I take on becomes another layer of that belonging, not the definition of it. So here’s what I know as August closes:
I may not fully belong to Texas, and I may not be as deeply rooted in grad school as I hope to be one day. But I belong to myself, to my values, and to the journey I’ve chosen to take. And maybe, for now, that is enough.
Poem of the Month
by me
I Belong to Me
I am the house I return to,
the key always waiting in my palm.
No city can lock me out,
no classroom can shrink my frame.
I carry my own doorway,
step through, and I am home.
The streets I’ve loved will fade into dream,
their voices stored in my marrow,
but they do not define me.
Even here, where the air feels strange,
my breath makes the map.
I mark the ground with presence,
not permission.
Belonging is not borrowed,
not granted, not earned.
It is grown like a flame in the ribcage,
a quiet fire that refuses to dim.
And when doubt comes knocking,
I light every window,
answer the door with my whole name.
I belong to me,
and in that,
I belong everywhere.
What I’m Currently Working on
To stay updated on my journey and what I’ll be working on next, feel free to visit the Works in Progress Page or follow the Facebook Page, where I share daily updates and fun tidbits.
Life has meaning only in the struggle. Triumph or defeat is in the hands of the Gods. So let us celebrate the struggle!
–Stevie Wonder
This month has certainly been a doozy, but in the best of ways. May 25th was my commitment ceremony for my time studying at Southern New Hampshire University (SNHU). Not only that, but throughout the whole month, I have taken the time to not only reflect, which I mostly did last month, but also to celebrate my accomplishment fully, not just on the 25th. As the above Stevie Wonder quote expresses and inspires times of struggle, call for proper celebration.
My college journey started in 2019. First, I studied hard and got my GED that same year and followed the momentum without a second thought, and enrolled in college. I chose SNHU because it had online courses and an English and creative writing program. I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with a degree but I knew I wanted to get one to prove to myself I could. As for the chosen major and program, I had been writing poetry for myself since I was 18 to cope with my depression and anxiety, so I thought it was a good start reference to study. If Im being honest, though, in those early days, I really doubted myself because I hadn’t stayed with a full commitment to something for too long in my adulthood at that point. So, the fact that I have now completed the process is unbelievable and overwhelming to me and worth celebrating. I apologize now because I have a feeling this won’t be the last time I write on this, and yes, Im aware most of my blog posts have been about my impending graduation, but that’s because it is such a monumental deal for me. Celebrating this journey and no accomplished endeavor is what I hope is the first of many big deal moments moving forward in the future that calls for celebration.
However, my achievement made me think about celebration hard hence why I am writing about it this month in this blog. Sadly as someone who lives and struggles with mental health issues, I have not given myself many opportunities to personally celebrate, so I have never given the word much thorough investigation, surprisingly. The Oxford Dictionary defines celebration as : to show that a day or an event is important by doing something special on it. Given this definition, why don’t we/I celebrate every day?
Even the earlier shared quote from Stevie Wonder begs this question because if every day is a struggle and we should celebrate the struggle why do we all pick special and specific days and events to fully celebrate? As a person who doesn’t give myself enough credit, the commencement ceremony was so special for me; my family gathering and showering me with gifts, treats, and sweet words was everything; it felt so good and so foreign. Should it have felt so foreign, though, is that right that it was, is that a personal problem or one society has created? As a writer, of course, my response to these questions was to find more quotes and seeing others’ thoughts on this concern :
I think people in Italy live their lives better than we do. It’s an older country, and they’ve learned to celebrate dinner and lunch, whereas we sort of eat as quickly as we can to get through it.
–George Clooney
The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is in life to celebrate.
–Oprah Winfrey.
These respective quotes shed light on my concern for celebration and lack there of common self-celebration. Out of the two I really like the Clooney one because it really highlights how this issue could well be and likely is a societal problem in American culture. I do believe, however that this problem is fading because of influential people and work bringing attention to it. As someone who tried to stop my life way too early, I fortunately understand and know now how every day is precious, beautiful, meaningful, and worth celebrating. I also know, unfortunately that not everyone feels this way or has come to this understanding as of yet. If you are one of those people in the ladder group, first, I am so happy you have found your way to my page as that is its purpose, but more importantly, even though I know how hard it is to take the time every day to celebrate yourself and the fact you have stepped into and completed yet another day.
What I’m Currently Working on
As always, to follow my progression or what I am doing, you can head over to the Works in Progress Page or follow the Facebook Page where I post updates and share fun tidbits daily.
Author Recommendation
this month’s author recommendation is a duo, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. Currently, I am reading the classic that is Good Omens. For those who have never read it, I highly recommend it. Pratchett and Gaiman create a fun, witty, and innovative narrative on good and evil through the perspective of a cast of wack, goofy, and smart characters with unique takes on life as the world is on the brink of Armageddon. As my readers know, I like to make my monthly recommendations tie into my theme for the month, and I dug deep and wrapped my brain tirelessly to do so for this novel and came up with this quote from the book:
“The world is full of all sorts of brilliant stuff and I haven’t found out all about it yet, so I don’t want anyone messing it about or endin’ it before I’ve had a chance to find out about it. So you can all just go away.” ― Neil Gaiman, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch
This quote plays into the latter notion of my thoughts on self-celebration in the blog, as it truly captures the element that a new day of living is worth celebrating alone.
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