Homecoming: a film by Beyoncè Knowles-Carter, is presently streaming on Netflix. It was on my welcome screen, where it belongs. Well done, Netflix. (The HBCU documentary series is next, right Netflix?) 👍🏽 My face hurts from grinning nonstop since I found Homecoming. I don’t care. Two hours and seventeen minutes with Beyoncè and her hand-picked talent have lifted me all the way through. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve streamed it, so far. Thank you, Beyoncè; I’m incredibly proud of you! 💜💜
I’m thrilled by how it’s led to my feeling compelled to play my violin. And drums, guitar, and bass. (I’m fighting off an urge to play my keyboard as I type.) I’m inspired to create music again. As I rewatch, I’m studying the complexities of Beyoncè’s music. Also, fantasizing about how amazing it must feel to be in a band with Beyoncè. She had people, some of whom look like me (!!!) playing the violin in the middle of all the festivities, and they rocked! Yep. I squeed so hard.
I love that Beyoncè has harnessed her superpowers to build others up. Also, her leading superpower is hard work. Beyoncè leads by example, and successfully demonstrated the same leadership skills I studied in Army training. She gifted us with footage of her beautiful family, and herself unmasked. I’m grateful whenever Beyoncè reminds us she’s human. She’s continuously striving to be the best Beyoncè she can be, and it makes me want to be the best Alison I can be.
Aside from clips with her children, my favorite part is when Solange joins her at the pyramid base, and they dance together. It felt like the joyful moment with my sister, Heather, I’ve longed for since her passing. It was sisterhood celebrated in a manner so healing to me. I’m using my augmented morale to develop a new skill. It entails installing a stop and think before allowing my pain to speak.
I don’t ever want to weaponize my pain. I recognize I’ve made this mistake in the past. I’ve lashed out and felt justified in my sloppy aim because I was injured. It didn’t make it stop. It just added guilt to the pain. Fail. I’m sorry to those I’ve hurt with hasty, ugly words. New strategy: Say, ow, when the pain hits. Pause and think before saying anything further. Focus on shaping the pain into something beautiful, (rather than allowing it to leak all willy nilly.) Turn ow into wow. Heh. (Too corny to trademark.) 🤭
I’m watching Game of Thrones in realtime for the first time. It’s excruciatingly fabulous. It feels like HBO is teasing me, but I don’t mind, because they’re also giving me candy, and there might be cake. (Isn’t this how heroin works?) Glued. Also, I picked up on a hint to cease all speculative info dumping regarding the story. (It was from a fellow autistic, but it still counts. Maybe double.) Ceased. 💪🏽🙃 I’m off to resume the adulting I’ve neglected, recently, (for some reason.) ✌🏽💜