Author: Rowen Aster
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Bleuprint in the Making
Journal Entry 009: The Dream That Didn’t Rush Me I don’t want dreams that shame me. I want dreams that rock me to sleep. That rise with me slow.That don’t turn urgency into a personality.That remind me becoming isn’t on a schedule — it’s a spiral. Tonight, I’m dreaming without deadlines. 🖋 Reflection: Write down…
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Bleuprint in the Making — Journal Entry 008 (Saturday Night Whisper)
Journal Entry 008: Listening to Momentum Tonight, I am not worried about moving forward. I am learning to listen to the spaces between the steps. Momentum isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s the nap.Sometimes it’s the moment you stare at a plant and don’t check your email.Sometimes it’s the sigh you let out without squeezing it…
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Bleuprint in the Making — Journal Entry 007
Journal Entry 007: The Win That Wasn’t Measured This week, I stayed tender. I didn’t push through the migraine.I didn’t gaslight my fatigue.I didn’t pretend to be okay on Zoom when I wasn’t. That’s not slacking.That’s sovereignty. I’m done chasing external applause.My body’s “thank you” is the only win I need. 🖋 Question: Name one…
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Bleuprint in the Making — Journal Entry 006
Journal Entry 006: The Boldness I Didn’t Announce I used to think being bold meant being loud.That it had to be some capital-M Moment. But today, boldness looked like saying:“That doesn’t work for me.” And then… not following it with a 3-paragraph apology. The revolution doesn’t always look like fire.Sometimes it’s just one womanreclaiming her…
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Journal Entry 005: When a Whisper Becomes a Wall
I used to think boundaries had to sound bold —“No!” with fists on hips. But lately, my no is a whisper.A breath.A slow blink before I don’t respond. And it’s still valid. Boundaries don’t need to be loud to be real. Sometimes the most powerful thing you do all weekis not explain yourself. 🖋 Question:…
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Bleu Is the Color Of…
By Rowen Aster Bleu is not just hue.It is inheritance, echo, return.It is grief stretched thin into silk.It is every woman I’ve ever been, humming softly beneath my ribs. Bleu is the color of saltwater prayers and unopened letters.To the little ten-year-old girl who had to bury her mother —and face the world alone with…
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Bleuprint in the Making – Journal Entry 004
Journal Entry 004: I Am Still Worthy If I’m Not Funny Today I used to think humor made me palatable. That if I made them laugh, they wouldn’t notice how tired I was. That my softness could be toleratedas long as I packaged it in a punchline. But today, I didn’t feel like being funny.…
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BLEUPRINT IN THE MAKING — JOURNAL ENTRY 003
Journal Entry 003: I Am Not a Calendar Entry I once said yes to a back-to-back daybecause I thought being full meant being valuable. But now I feel it in my spine —I am not a calendar entry.I am not a placeholder between bullet points.I am not here to be optimized. Today I cried.Not because…
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The Kitchen Where I Became
Last night, I visited a place I hadn’t stepped into in years,but my bones remembered the floor before my feet touched it.I was in my great-grandmother’s kitchen—not in memory, but in presence. The wood creaked like it knew my name.The stove wore the scent of collards, oil, and time.And my grandmother—long gone from this earth—stood…
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Evomé Sa’tari – The Living Manifesto
For GenX Women Who’ve Had Enough of Becoming What They Never Asked To Be I’m not writing this for applause.I’m writing this because it needed out.Because after 53 years of holding it down,keeping it together, doing what I thought I was supposed to do—something cracked open.And inside was me. Not the “strong Black woman.”Not the…
BleuPrint Diaries 