Green Ranger




Summer in Fall

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October – The transition of seasons was a bit tumultuous for me. I’ve been keeping myself busy by taking on a few more projects than usual. Along with the recent loss of a family member, I realized the importance of time and timing. Often, I grow tired of the heat of the summer. My skin gets a little itchier, my forehead a little sweatier, my palms a little clammier. But, when autumn arrives, the greens transition into burnt oranges and browns. Yellow leaves drift away to the ground, while the cool winds hit my bare eyes causing tears of joy dry eye. The word “layering” transforms from hair talk to clothes talk, while scarves fill up the spaces where necks used to be. Hello, orange beanie season. Continue Reading


2015 Kim Dawson Model Search BTS “GOODNIGHT LANE”

"GOODNIGHT LANE" starring Mariah Hesselgesser and shot by Cameron Phan! from Kim Dawson Agency on Vimeo.

For 19 years now, the Kim Dawson agency holds an annual model search that filters out over a thousand contestants between 13 and 24 years of age down to a handful of finalists. Mariah Hesselgesser was our finalist–a 5’9 thirteen year-old who was scouted out during a volleyball scrimmage. It was a matter or time; she’s got a promising face. The concept wrapped around our girl was for her to awake from an after school nap and being lured away on a mini dark and dimensional adventure. She’s assumed to have dreamt these happenings, but has trouble distinguishing her imagination and reality in the end.

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Trial and Terror

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“‘Tis a lesson you should heed: Try, try, try again. If at first you don’t succeed: Try, try, try again.” I was taught resilience in my adolescence and still have a hard time grasping it. More difficult to read than to speak, the notion is easier is said than done. Continue Reading


The Matriarch cont’d: A Struggle with Vengeance

My uncle Keith was a smiling man with a stutter. He was the youngest of six children; my mother, only a few years his senior, was the second youngest. His best friend was also my uncle and his older brother Kevin. Keith and Kevin: easily mixed up but never the same, the only two men to affectionately call me Baby Jayde.

Corporal punishment was never my thing; neither was abortion. I’ll admit I would never go picketing through a city claiming to be pro-life. I am simply pro-living. My beliefs range between ‘no one should cause another’s death’ and ‘do what’s best.’ These convictions never waivered because I had never been pregnant and never been killed. This would remain unchanged, that is, until my uncle’s murder. Continue Reading


Three peas in a pod

I’ve been taking more pictures of bathrooms and kitchens. Nothing extravagant or special, just cute simplicity.

It all started on a summer day in New Jersey. I was randomly taking pictures of Anthony’s kitchen. I noticed the blue scrub and thought it was adorable and most definitely unintentional. Screen Shot 2015-10-28 at 4.40.45 PM Continue Reading


Wednesday 4:06pm

I’m at my local coffeeshop having a very mediocre cup of joe and I’m disappointed about that. Local, like 50 feet behind my apartment. I frequent here often. Mediocre like pouring 6 packets of splenda in my black coffee. Black coffee is one without sugar, cream, or milk. I’m a simple woman and my only two requests when ordering was “something iced and sweet.” Imagine my surprise when he pushed across the counter an iced! but sugarless/creamless/milkless (anythingless sweetless) coffee. Granted they were out of some type of puree or something they would typically use for sweetened drinks, I just don’t understand why he didn’t use a substitute–or furthermore–why he figured to completely scratch my order altogether. I reached this point of confusion as I was standing to the side, waiting for him to get sugar. Fuck am I at Coffeeshop manually making my own drink for. I just started following Kendall Kardashian on Instagram, so maybe she’s subconsciously warping the diva out of me. Maybe not. I’m displeased.

The following is a picture of my new office.


Anywho. Still here at said coffeeshop. There’s a girl across from me studying some type of language.. I think it’s french. She’s speaking so softly/repeatedly, sounds like she’s casting goddamn spells over there. Here’s the weird part: I’m finding myself drawn to it. I actually took my headphones out, wish I could’ve turned her up. It isn’t distracting. She makes for great background noise-like studying behind classical music or an instrumental. Literal sweet nothings very delicately spoken, and if I can take it deeper, it’s nice to hear something intellectual, regardless whether I understand it or not. I came here to be proactive and if the bitch across from me is teaching herself a new language, the least I can do is open my laptop and not check Twitter. When she got up to leave, I said “same time next week.” …This put a little pep in her step and she left rather quickly. Just kidding, I didn’t say that.

I’m getting creepier everyday.



Stars and Stripes

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“Five” is ​​the number of pentagram, a five-pointed occult magic star.

The next year of my life is right around the corner and have been reading into some numerology on my birthday, which falls on the fifth day of November. I’m not usually into deeper meaning or clairvoyant things such as astrology, ideology, telepathy, and things of the sort. But, last week, I found myself with a bunch of website tabs up all dealing with being born on the day 5. I am surprised (and a little ashamed) to say that everything I read was true. So, I pulled ten quotes that sum up myself and anyone else lucky enough to be born on the 5th day of the month. Continue Reading


The Matriarch: A Short Story

It just so happened this way. It was as if a higher power or inner voice had been telling me to slow down. So accordingly, I returned home last month with plans to recuperate, to seek that foundation that I seemed to lose more of each waking morning in New York & New Jersey.

I was two months into relocating to find work in the city, but I was still hopelessly searching for something. Nights out became monotony. Those days, the nausea I felt after three Whiskey Neats was merely physical emptiness. Every word that left my mouth reeked of homesickness. Giving short notice to my family, I left the city to go home with the hopes of returning with growth.

I guess I figured mother’s wise words and good cooking would whip me into shape. I’ve always been uneasy around my elders, except her. I never went to teacher’s office hours out of fear that they’d bore me with their middle-aged woes about the “real world”. I seldom called up uncles and aunts just to be saddened by their arising ailments. I was never the “meet the parents” girlfriend. I’ve never had a mentor. Besides a few relatives, the 137 contacts in my phone are people under the age of 30. Old people aren’t my thing. They don’t understand Twitter and I don’t understand 401K’s or hair loss.

But my mother’s different because mother is everything. She is existence. Our age is infinity and our bond eternal. So, when I came home and she urged me to visit my grandmother – a task I hadn’t felt the need to carry out during my five years in college – I complied. Grandmother is mother of my creator. Grandmother is, too, eternal.

Fatigued from taking paths I swore to never roam again, I managed to get up and visit the old lady. I knocked on the door delighted to see the space where teeth once were peeking open to let out a gummy smile. Continue Reading


Concrete Jungle

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The Flower District in New York took “concrete jungle where dreams are made of” and made it a reality. Trees and plants tower over the sidewalk, offering shade to the thousands of residents and visitors passing through this block daily. It’s still astonishing to me how often these small wonders can be found in such a densely populated city. Continue Reading


October 14th, 2015

This morning’s commute to the library featured a recently killed Blue Jay kind of swept along side the sidewalk. I’ve seen enough movies, skipped through enough books to know that there’s some mythological explanation or Omen behind dead birds, right? Granted, this was only the second dead bird I’ve seen this week, the first ones what really blew my mind.
I wasn’t in my right mind to begin with; I should mention that I realized I had just lost my wallet about 5 minutes prior–so I was already pretty frantic. It all started when I was pulling in my parking lot after searching where I last left. I backed into my spot going negative miles per hour. I hopped out and started checking ever side of every door. When I got to the passenger’s side, I’ll be damned if I didn’t squish the blood and guts out of some pigeon with a death wish. Wait, what.

This is the first animal I’ve ever killed. Honestly, losing my wallet for that moment was like a shield for my feelings, thank God, ‘cause I probably would’ve had a mental breakdown otherwise. Instead it made me really senseless and angry. I was either angry at the bird for being a dickhead rebel and not moving a fucking inch when I ever so slowly parked my car, or mad at the sky for dropping a sickly Helen Keller bird behind my wheel. Insult to injury: obviously I couldn’t just leave my car parked over a fresh carcass like that, so I had to fucking drive over it again to move to another spot.

I took a picture, thought about sharing this scenario before, but someone cleaned up the bird the following morning so I was fine with pretending it never happened. Not until today when I saw yet another bird chalked-out on the cement–

*Flashbacks to last Friday*starts flinching*Gets to library and immediately begins research*


If you too have mindlessly ran over an animal you never knew you hated, and then walked up on his homie right after his last breath the following week, here’s what I found out:
Nothing, because those articles got uninteresting pretty quickly. I still posted the links incase you’re in the Halloween spirit or something.

Rest in peace, Demetrius. Believe me when I say it was unintentional. (I took a picture from afar because I’m not that fucking gross.)


And as for my wallet, some considerate human being hit me on Instagram and I picked it up 15 minutes later.


Thank you, kind gentleman.