As winter keeps playing peekaboo with our emotions and wardrobes, 7 pm sunsets (at least for the East Coast) are our sunny reminder that Spring is nearing. And for the astrologically minded or just lovers of the natural order of seasons, the Spring equinox feels like the true renewal that January 1st often lacks.

I'm obsessed with the rules of three. So much so that the triangle is my favorite shape (it's so angular and chic). Everyone should have a favorite shape. Enough inner dialogue though- Here we are, (it'll be my last time talking about my beginnings, next time will be on your tv screen or floating around on a non-incel podcast clip) the third and final blog for my mini Origins series, Origins: Poetry, Pandemic, Progress.

 A year in China? Poetry? What were you doing over there and where exactly is this going? What's funny is that I didn't even think I would be writing about China in the context of my poetry until I started writing Origins: Way Before Not A Monolith. My feelings about my year in China were complicated for a very long time. I always said I would do a video but as we've discussed sometimes the spoken word and I don't exactly get along. But after 7 years and a poetry book under my belt, I think it's time we talk in-depth about my year in China and how it encouraged me to rediscover my love for poetry.

They say long-form content is back! Although I wouldn't crown myself with the title of certified yapper, verbally that is. I quite literally always have something to write and I believe that's where this story begins. Before we get to the pivotal moments that led to my debut poetry book, Not A Monolith: poems and musings of a black woman, I must first lay the literary groundwork that helped shape Baby Tash.