Words, Words, Words

Well, that was fun

2010-12-30T14:24:00.000-06:00

WHEREAS

Even I am growing tired of the random content and haphazard posting on this here blog, and want to be deliberate about something…

WHEREAS

In trying to publish more in journals, I can no longer post drafts because even though there’s no huge readership, to some publications this space still counts as publishing and many lit mags request “no previously published work”…

WHEREAS

I cannot bring myself to divulge private things on a regular basis, which seems to be the key to being a widely and oft-read personal blog, for I am barely able to divulge in real life and I tend to internally berate myself for being self-centered and overindulgent (well, I guess that’s pretty personal)...

WHEREAS

Five years is a long time, and my blog has lasted longer than some marriages…

WHEREAS

It has always bothered me, in a telltale “your fly is down” sort of way, that I misspelled my URL…

IT IS DECREED

Words, Words, Words (previously known as Rough Draft) is taking its curtain call. *It was hard for me to know when to call it quits; I don’t like the idea of leaving my web-trash all over the place. Maybe I’ll work it into the archives of my next project.

***

There will likely be another...something--a more intentional, properly planned something--in the future.

But for the moment, I'd rather read/listen to you.

Happy new year, and keep me posted!

Phew!!

2010-12-21T09:06:00.000-06:00

My first semester of graduate school is behind me. I knew this day would come--I visualized it. But I didn't know how good it would feel. The other night, I just sat. That's it. I sat, slouched in a chair, with my head back and my feet up and reveling in the goodness of not owing anybody anything.

I had ~~a few~~ several late nights, but no all-nighters. I guess I'm just not cut out for them anymore, and that's fine by me. I also had the audacity to ask for an extension, and you know what? I got it because I had 'always attended class and been prepared with insightful contributions during discussion'. Yes, I am happy to report that it does matter--that being professional and accountable to my professor and colleagues is acknowledged and appreciated. I'm thrilled by this because one of the major reasons I wanted to physically return to school (versus the online degree option) was for the in-class magic. I love discussions that make me think on my toes; they lead me to conclusions that I might never come to just ruminating alone.

I'm already excited about the spring.
**

And I would be remiss not to shout-out HomeBoy, who supported me through my procrastination and academic insecurities and group project melodramas. He made me coffee for late nights; he let me sleep when I needed to; he was a wonderful host to the family we've had visiting, keeping them entertained and occupied when I had to sequester myself in our office and bang out page after page. He's my grad school secret weapon.

Certifiable

2010-12-09T01:38:00.000-06:00

Want to watch me weave a web of domestic delusion? First, give me a long-term assignment; then, sit back and let the crazy unfold. For some reason, deadlines bring out the domestic in me. If there's an assignment looming, I'll clean the bathroom. If there's a project nearly due, I'll cook dinner. Case and point, yesterday was the eve of my poetry portfolio & lit journal submission deadline. I come from work, and what do I do? I bake a lasagna. Know when's the last time I made lasagna? Never. And the night before a major assignment is the perfect time to try a new recipe, right? I am some kind of lunatic.

To my credit, I did have the drafts. I just needed to finalize them, choose the journals I wanted to submit to and write the cover letters. I just couldn't sit myself down. I watched TV and cooked and talked on the phone and ate a late dinner and then got to work on the portfolio. *And woke up he next day with rings around my eyes that made me look part raccoon. Now I've heard that procrastination can be symptomatic of a fear of failure or a fear of success, and HomeBoy and I have talked on occasion about how waiting might be a subconscious ego thing. That way, if you don't get the stellar results desired, you can hide behind the idea that you didn't really give it your all.

But knowing all this wasn't enough to get me to shape up. The other thing is, I won't turn in poor work. It will be later than late before I turn in trash for the sake of being "on time." But the inaccurate ultimatum I just established isn't even legit; it's not a choice between quality and punctuality--I create that dichotomy when I lollygag and dillydally and avoid, avoid, avoid. Honestly, I freeze up. Before I sit down to write anything that will be judged, I think it will suck. I think that I am not the writer that I've fooled myself into believing that I am; I think, "This will be the tell, some one will read it and figure out I have no idea what I'm saying...Hey, let's rearrange the living room!" It happens almost every time, seriously. In the metaphor of writers' blocks--I'm Sisyphus out this b*tch!

I don't want to fail, and for every success the stakes get higher--each success has to be bigger and better than the last one. This sounds like a recipe for disaster, doesn't it? But how can anyone compete with her/his own potential? It's maddening. Well, I got one of my giant projects done, and I've got one to go. So if the next time I post, I'm talking about macrame or microbrewery--you'll know why.

So help me...

Quote of the Day

2010-12-02T13:58:00.000-06:00

"I'm still blue-collar,

it's just a nice f*cking collar."

I'm not dead...

2010-11-22T14:47:00.000-06:00

This little light of mine,

I'm gonna burn it at both ends.

The final weeks of the semester are winding down. I still have much to do, but I believe I will do it all--and well too! I'm no better at deadlines or pacing than I was in undergrad, but dammit I'm a professional. I'll get it done because I have a responsibility (and because a bad grade means I can kiss tuition reimbursement goodbye)...

*chirp, chirp*

Well, that's all I got.

You have to bring that up, how we died in Cleveland?

2010-10-28T17:06:00.000-06:00

Ben Stiller was destined to be funny. Have you seen his parents? I've watched all the episodes so far...

"They threw cutlery." LOL!

On A Purple Day in December...

2010-10-18T08:48:00.000-06:00

Prince sure knows how to draw out the anticipation, doesn't he?

The line-up will include:

Janelle Monae

Esperanza Spalding

Maceo Parker

Leelah James

Cassandra Wilson

...and MORE!

Looks like we'll be taking a trip in December.

Quote of the Day

2010-10-13T12:18:00.000-06:00

"Well you're about as helpful

as a concrete life jacket."

We are living in a material world...

2010-10-12T16:53:00.001-06:00

I do not have five hundred dollars to spend on an area rug...

I do not have three hundred and fifty dollars to spend on an area rug...

But, oh! Would that I did.
World Market, you are such a tease.

I'm in there!

2010-09-29T09:25:00.000-06:00

Pretty cool.
Pretty cool, indeed.
I've got to order a copy (or dozen).

If anyone watches the trailer and recognizes the song playing, please let me know what it is. I think it's beautiful.

On Toddlers...

2010-09-21T15:22:00.000-06:00

(via text)

SIS: They're so cute when they're jus take care of...Lil' Bit is potty traind!

ME: Well, when ur tired of sitting in shit, u move.

Get Busy Living...

2010-09-20T00:00:00.001-06:00

This year I officially entered my late 20’s. With 3 years left in this primary-post-adolescent decade, I’m thinking about goals—goals and fun, but it didn’t start there…

I’ve been reading some of the top women bloggers (in my opinion) for a good long while. One of them created what she calls her “Mighty Life List”. It’s an amazing to-do list of things she wants to accomplish in life, and I like this idea. However, with my proclivity for procrastination, I’d probably keep putting things off until I woke up one day in my 70’s or 80’s (hardly the end, but far from my prime) with a life list completely untouched. I need deadlines—preferably something closer in than before you die.

So, on my 27th birthday, I decided to make a list of my own and “30 B4 30” was born. I took some time to chew on this list; I wanted the goals to be ambitious but not impossible—meaningful but not too serious. For some, one entry wasn't enough, hence #6 on my list: engage in 30 acts of audacity.* I included this because I have been a very grounded and safe person pretty much all my life. I’ve been “an old soul”, a “Mother Teresa”, “the responsible one”. While I don’t have a problem with any of those endearing monikers, I do believe that discomfort is fertile ground for personal growth. So bring on the uncomfortable!

*I am not suggesting, by this list, that I have not been living to this point. Nor am I implying that you have to check things off a list to feel a sense of accomplishment. Living in the moment is a beautiful thing; my only aim by having this list is that I will be more open to those moments, so fewer of them pass me by.

Quote of the Day

2010-09-16T15:05:00.000-06:00

on creativity:

"Love it and let it go."

Comparing NOTES: 1 undergrad, 1 postgrad-both freshmen

2010-09-14T10:58:00.001-06:00

This series is about the first year of school for an undergraduate student and a graduate student, respectively. Each week, the students will submit journal entries relating their experiences--highs, lows, frustrations, breakthroughs, epiphanies and all-nighters (let's pray there aren't too many of those).

1.5

Undergrad 09/12/10

Okay... so today is Sunday and I'm actually preparing myself for class tomorrow. I'm making sure my calculus homework is completed CORRECTLY. I'm officially caught up in my Intro to English Composition class, and History... *smh* that class should just be canceled due to its lack of organization. I STILL don't have a book for that class because the professor doesn't want to order them. He feels his lectures are good enough. I need to know FACTS, not just his theory of what happened. I don't know about anyone else, but when it comes to learning, it's exceedingly hard for me to retain info without a primary source. My professor talks way too fast and he stutters too much for me take informative notes (I still try though).

And now that I'm trying to control my academic life, my social one is falling apart. On Friday night my roommate, a couple of friends, and I attended 'Fashion Night Out' in NYC. I thought we all had a really good time. However, the next day my room mate text one of the girls that went with us to see what they had planned for the day, and she said nothing. But the other friend told me they were going to the beach. My roommate and I were a little offended because we DID invite them when we didn't have to. So now I've made a vow to myself, if I do all my work during the week, I will NEVER spend another weekend bored out of my brains EVER AGAIN.

My 'campus boo' did make our relationship official on Sept. 1st, but I think it was a mistake. I didn't know you weren't suppose to hook up with the 1st cute guy that was your type on campus. Alegedly it's some kind of rule. Everyone keeps asking me why we date and we've only been living here for about a month. I mean, from what I can tell he doesn't have a problem with being in a relationship, but supposedly it's an unspoken rule that you don't seriously date anyone at least until the second semester. Well, who knew?! You learn something new in college everyday -___-

Comparing NOTES: 1 undergrad, 1 postgrad-both freshmen

2010-09-12T10:59:00.000-06:00

**
1.4

Undergrad 09/05/10

Okay, so I haven't submitted my blog in about two weeks because every time I started my segment, I had to stop and do something else. Right about now I'd have to say that time management is my biggest hardship to overcome. I'm catching up on work from a week ago; I have to complete a student loan form that I honestly THOUGHT i finished prior to moving in; and every time I think I'm done, there's another task awaiting me. I guess this is the hard part of college. Although I thought I'd like the independence, I'm starting to wish it didn't all fall on me like a ton of bricks.

If I could grade myself on things other than school, my grades would go as follows:

A--Cleanliness

B--Socializing

D--Roommate (a different story for a different blog, smh)

A--Relationship

However, these ARE NOT important in college. The actual academic work is what we pay for, but young adults (like myself) get easily distracted by the social side of this experience. My goal in freshman orientation was that by the time I graduate from College socializing wouldn't be so hard for me.After these two weeks I've realized that socializing isn't THAT hard when you have total control of yourself. For example, I can talk on the phone all night if I want, without someone yelling at me, "IT'S THREE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING! GET OFF THE PHONE!", or I can wear whatever I want, whenever I want, to attract a certain type of person without a second thought. When you have the freedom to do whatever and be whoever you want, your self-esteem skyrockets and socializing just becomes easier by default...I just wish being responsible came as easily.

Now that I know my weaknesses, I can strengthen them. Hopefully by next week I'll have some good news to share. '_'

Grad 09/07/10

I have been robbing Peter to pay Paul where time is concerned, and it's really a shame. It's not even that there isn't enough time--I'm just procrastinating. UGH! It's embarrassing to even admit that, but it's the truth. One of the things I hoped to do by taking time off between undergrad and graduate school was to vanquish this demon habit. Apparently, old habits don't die hard--they don't die at all. They are undead, zombie habits. But I'm not going to let this screw me up; I'm determined to grab procrastination by its bloodless throat and throw it in a back vault. Then i will fill said bank vault with cement...all that to say, enough is enough already with the procrastination.

In my personal statement for the grad school app, I said that I would bring collaboration and professionalism to my classes and colleagues--skills that I have honed for that last 5 years in the workforce. Well, professionalism certainly has no room for the other "p" word. I'm not going to let myself or my classmates down. There. It is written, so it shall be done. It may be done with a self-imposed facebook block and a 2-hour per week TV time limit and my cell phone on silent until 10 pm every night, but it will be done.

Dang. Whip it.

2010-09-09T09:59:00.000-06:00

I tell ya, boy, Big and Little are building an empire.

A colleague and friend of mine shared this song with me yesterday. Upon first listen I thought the repetition would give me a headache, but I listened a second time. The production is crisp, the vocals are promising and the content is age appropriate (even if the delivery of a few lines is SUS). Then, the pop kiss-of-death: a few hours later the song was in my head. And the longer it stayed in my head, the more I wanted to dance to it.

Quote of the Day...

2010-09-07T13:10:00.000-06:00

"I've never had anything so good

that I wanted to slap my mother,

I have had some things 

that were good enough
to slap yours, though."

Comparing NOTES: 1 undergrad, 1 postgrad-both freshmen

2010-08-31T12:11:00.001-06:00

1.3

Grad (08/29/10)

Hypothesis: I cannot do my homework at home--least of all on my couch.

Trial 1:

Read...nod...zzz...hours pass...wake with a start...oh hell!

Trial 2:

Begin reading again...reread last passage...nod...zzz...an hour passes...wake in a huff...FTW!!

Trial 3:

READ...nod...zzz...wake with a familiar foreboding...not AGAIN!!!

Conclusion: No, I cannot do my homework on my couch, but that does not mean I will be unsuccessful in every place in my house.

Further Study:

--Try using the office (duh!)

--Do my reading standing up

Comparing NOTES: 1 undergrad, 1 postgrad-both freshmen

2010-08-28T15:00:00.000-06:00

1.2

Undergrad (08/22/10)

I just moved in a few days ago. The 1st few days were hell, I mean I couldn't stand the people, the atmosphere, or ANYthing. I couldn't seem to get into the swing of things. I hated everyone because it felt like everyone was clique-ing up with each other. I was a little scared that college was going to be just like high school...

But after the orientation was over, I began to fall in love. It's the little things like waking up in your OWN area. Taking as many showers as u want, whenever you want. Washing your OWN clothes with your choice of detergent. The little things have made me grateful to be here. The utter freedom of having company, leaving, and coming home when I want?! It's just beautiful! Lol, coming from a household with barely nothing to a dorm room with a free laundry room means a lot to a girl like.

Not to mention I've made some "friends". At 1st it felt like every1 was avoiding me, but now I'm fine. I had a Snookie moment. (I'm the prettier version of Snookie in the dorm because my 1st impression was pretty bad. But now every1s cool wit me.) I love it. I mean, I thank God for allowing me to be here. Hopefully being here will lead to me establishing great friendships.

I officially start classes on Wednesday, and I'm slightly excited. I can't lie, I like being here without going to class... But u HAVE to go, lol, class is the main objective of college. I like the studying part; I just don't like the seeing new people part. I get all types of nervous, my stomach starts to turn and I can't concentrate. I don't want to give off a bad 1st impression to my professor, but I have no choice but to sit ALLLL the way in the back. Just in case I freak out, at least I'll be in the back. But I'll be okay. I've learned that everything seems hard at 1st, but after you're over the newness of it all you'll be ok. I know I'll be ok. Thank God.

Grad (08/22/10)

It's 12:10am. I have class in 15 hours and 20 minutes. I have just--JUST printing the reading material. Oh yes, class is in session.

Blip

2010-08-26T11:27:00.002-06:00

"Communication"

facebook just told me

to reconnect with you.

but what do they know?

This is a nice supplement:

Comparing NOTES: 1 undergrad, 1 postgrad--both freshmen

2010-08-24T11:34:00.000-06:00

disclaimer #1--I realize that today is not, in fact, the 15th

1.1

Undergrad (8/15/10)

When I think about college, I can't even lie, I wish there was a way around it. I think of it as a long journey that I HAVE to complete for a better life. And with that in mind, I'm literally forcing myself to go through with this. I know I'll be fine academically because I have no problem with studying for hours, writing pages of work, or reading long stories.The work load that I was fortunate enough to preview during the EOF Summer Course wasn't too much for me to handle... so I'm not worried about that. I'm just not excited. I use to be before, but after the EOF Summer Course I've come to the realization that ignorant people are everywhere. EVEN in college. Although the ignorance has dwindled down since high school, it hasn't been completely depleted.

On the other hand, I do look forward to the independence that's incorporated in college. No one's going to remind you to do what you have to do. No one's going to sugar coat anything for you. No one's going to hear you're bullshit excuse for not pulling your own weight. And that's just so exciting to me. Ever since grade school, I've watched slackers get away with not doing their work and lying about why they didn't do it. Now, if a student doesn't do his/her work, they're looked at as an idiot, lol. Like FINALLY, people in college realize that not taking advantage of education is one of the dumbest things you could possibly do!

And I can't sit here and lie like I'm not interested in the perks of being a college student. Beside the fact that I just HAVE to go to college, I'm definitely looking forward to having my own dorm room and the cute boys I get to invite there (teehee!] lol. I mean, just to have my own space to do whatever I want is amazing. However, when people ask me if I'm excited about finally going off to college, my overall response is no, I'm really not. It's not interesting. All I can see is the bad so far (loads of work, new people, etc]. But everyone else keeps telling me there's more to it than that... so hopefully I'll find it. =(

Grad (8/15/10)

Some of the differences between being a first-year undergrad and a first-year grad:
1) I’m not living in a dorm, and I’m sharing a bathroom with only one person—and it’s a dude (hi honey!)
2) This is the cherry on top. Don’t get me wrong, this program is very important to me, but in terms of society’s general perceptions and expectations—I did my time(undergrad).
3) Having a part-time school schedule and a full-time work schedule; it was the reverse in undergrad.
4) I am NOT taking out any loans. (‘Hank ya!)
5) School isn’t the most important thing in my life; it’s way up there on the list but not numero uno
6) I will be a part of a brand new program, versus that of a very old, sacred tradition.
7) The majority of my academic community will not share my ethnicity, gender, socio-political trappings and historic/cultural collective memory.
8) Co-Ed
9) All-nighters. I will not do them.
10) NO RAMEN! (*maybe. see #5 below)

Some similarities:
1) My desire to (over) achieve has not wavered, in all likelihood.
2) Still have to make a good impression and prove myself to professors and colleagues.
3) Farewell long, leisurely weekends; see you in a few years!
4) Bye-bye extra TV watching (except for Mad Men and maybe ANTM—a girls got her vices).
5) No meal plan. This time, the plan is to have someone else prepare the meals (I’m looking at you, HomeBoy).
6) I have my own computer, so no waiting lists in a lab for me, and a good thing, too, with the facebook and all.
7) I will learn new, amazing things and will be very excited about them.
8) I will have to do group projects and will be much less excited about them.
9) I will probably attend campus events that include free grub.
10) I will make THE MOST of this opportunity

BIGGEST SAME: I will be a student again, and I have always loved school.

BIGGEST DIFFERENCE: At the end, insha-Allah, I will have a publishable manuscript of poetry—CHILLS!!!

Just Swell (Thank you.)

2010-08-18T10:49:00.000-06:00

Things are going well. Yes, it's been a while. Yes, I mentioned a birthday post and have yet to make good on that. Yes, I'm working on a series with a co-author for this blog. Yes, I start classes next week. Yes, work is very, very busy. Yes, we are currently fasting (Ramadan Mubarak!) Yes, yes, yes...

I am busy and blessed, but eustress is STILL stress, is it not? So when I need a minute--nay! a few minutes--just to keep it light or take the edge off, I can always watch this bit. It makes me grin every single time, without fail.

Hope everything is just swell with you, too.

Thanks, I needed that.

2010-08-06T17:01:00.000-06:00

(excerpt from a text-versation with my sister):

"Teresa my dear, you are the bright side!"

And so I say, with all the optimism I can muster--

You too are the bright side!

Disconnec...ted.

2010-07-22T16:48:00.000-06:00

Dear FedEx,

What kind of asinine operation are you running where a delivery person would leave several hundred dollars in mobile electronics on a front porch--without ringing a doorbell!? Without requiring a signature!? Are you stupid? That is not a rhetorical question; I would really like to know.

Sincerely,
Teresa
**

Dear Young Woman Who Answered When I Called HomeBoy's Number,

Don't let me see you in the street.
On second thought, DO. Do let me see you in the street.
I wish you would let me see you...

So Serious,
The Angry Woman Who Paid for That Phone
**

(And now I can laugh about it...not right now, but soon.)

A place called this exists...

2010-07-19T08:56:00.000-06:00

I don't want to introduce this as "Music Mondays" because as soon as I brand something or trump it up, I'll slack off. (Remember "Twenty-Something Tuesdays/Thursdays"?--exactly.) So lets just say that it happens to be Monday, and I happen to have this song on my mind that I want to share. That's all.

"A Place Called This"

HomeBoy introduced me to this emcee, L'Roneous, hailing from northern Cali--the bay area I believe. When we first started talking (not talking-talking, just talking), we met at this coffee shop in downtown JC where he taught me the basics of chess. Then we went to a diner for a quick bite, and he dropped me off at home. Before I got out of the car, we sat in the jeep and listened to this song in total silence. Why talk? We just enjoyed the music and the company. This song stirs a plethora of memories for me, but even if it didn't I couldn't deny how fresh it is. Hope you enjoy.

I wouldn't use the word "ingrate" or "pansy"--no, I wouldn't use those words exactly

2010-07-15T11:23:00.000-06:00

“Like every respectable child of the psychoanalytic age, I want to take this opportunity to blame my parents.”—Shannon O’Keefe, It’s a Wonderful Lie
**

We didn’t ask to be born—we didn’t choose to be here. We had amateur parents. And? After the earth shattering revelation that our parents aren’t omniscient or perfect, at what point do we move on? I think that once you deem your parents fallible, you can no longer hold them responsible.

I am not a parent. I’m only an older sibling, and even from this vantage point I can say that parenthood is hard. You’re trying to relate but remain in a position of authority, assuring the younger ones that they will come out on the other side while attempting to remember what it felt like when it was you in the thick of it—the unending madness (both the anger and the crazy) of growing up. And it wasn’t even that long ago for me. Add to that the rapid rate of societal shifts and cultural transformation, and we have a damn-near complete breakdown in communication. Adults and young, not-quite-yet adults (children) are foreigners to each other; the cliché of “speaking a different language” is as close as it’s ever been to a literal interpretation. Try to hack into a son/daughter/sister/brother/niece/nephew/godchild’s laptop or phone and you may not understand what you find there anyway. Teachers face some of the same problems—how to prepare YAs for a future of challenges that don’t even exist yet. Now, more than ever, children are validated in their complaints of “you don’t understand.”

Fine, I can accept that, but I need them to accept this: THIS IS LIFE. And while I may not be savvy on the techniques of cyber-bullying or the peer pressure du jour, I’ve got more experience living than you. This is not me implementing some sort of hierarchy. I don’t believe in those, and we don’t need them. This is me simply saying that if I survived the paranoia, neurosis, insecurity, etc. etc. etc. of growing up (and still, from time to time, find my way through those obstacles as a "grown-up"), just maybe word or two of what I have to say is worth listening to. The helicopter parenting only makes matters worse, it seems; the longer a parent hangs around, the more they can take the blame. My mom didn't wake me up…My dad forgot to write the check…blah, blah, blah cry me a river.

My dad used to tell this anecdote (I didn’t realize it was one at the time; I just thought it was a joke). It went something like this:

Two friends are walking, when a bunch of guys approach and try to jump them (he’s not one for exposition, my dad). One friend turns to the other and tells him to run.

“Naw man!” he says, “I’m not a punk!”

So the one friend stays to fight the gang of guys, while the other runs away. When they see each other later, the tough guy friend is battered, bruised and pissed.

“How you just gonna leave me like that?!”

“I told you to run…”

“Man, I wasn’t about to run from those guys. You should’ve stayed to fight.”

“Well, my fault. You’re problem.”

I used to think, damn that’s cold. Not anymore. Regardless of where we put the blame, the onus is on us to find a remedy or coping mechanism. So if your stage-mom is the reason you hate theater, or your overbearing coach-dad is to thank for the reason you avoid all sports like the plague, or any other person has ever hurt you or made you feel uncertain of yourself...Okay. It happened, and it sucks and we are affected. I honor that. I acknowledge that, but-- their fault, our problem. Now what?

“Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.”—Malachy McCourt

**The image in this post is the result of a google image search for "Teen Angst". I think it's pretty hilarious**

Freedom, Random: Independence Day thoughts...

2010-07-06T11:46:00.000-06:00

1) Man, I wish my neighbors would run out of fireworks...

2) If the fireworks symbolize "bombs bursting in air", why are we so happy to see them?

3) I wonder what the birds think of this day. Is there some great fowl legend that explains why every year at the same time, random explosions threaten to take them out?

4) Wow, my neighbors bought a lot of fireworks...

5) I miss walking to the waterfront and watching the fireworks over the Hudson.

6) Who's having a cookout? I can't smell the charcoal for all the "ramparts bursting".

7) No work tomorrow--woohoo!

8) Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. (Optimus Prime? How did you get in here?)

9) Are we honoring the troops today, too? I think we should be.

10) Really, neighbors?! Really?! Are you still going?!?!?!

Emphatically Yours...

2010-06-30T13:22:00.002-06:00

I like words, language, turns of phrase...I like new ones, old ones--especially old ones. Sometimes I like to go mucking around in the dictionary.com or Oxford English attic just to see what I can dust off and put to good use. (There are some good ones!) Sometimes I am writing an email or in conversation and I use a word that I didn't know I knew. That's always a weird but pleasant surprise. I spend so much of my time communicating that having interesting terms at my disposal makes the experience more entertaining for me--like learning to brush your teeth with the opposite hand or walking backwards or something.

I don't know why, but I've been exclaiming a lot lately, and as I try to limit my swearing (only for peak comedic effect) I've started to use other words and phrases to express my distress, surprise, etc., like:

"Zounds!"

"My word!"

"Fie!"

"Upon my life!"

"Damn it all to hell!"

Okay, that last one isn't void of curses, but they are the mild swear words at least. And, I am not damning anyone, just it--more specifically it all. That could be anything: all the bugs, all the splinters, all the incompetence...Let's be honest, who would be upset to see any of those things gone?

A Typical Exchange

2010-06-28T15:29:00.000-06:00

(between one of my sisters and me)
**

ME: Introspection revelation--I am not a humble person anymore.

SISTER: U definitely are!

ME: Oh. Okay...
Seriously? Because I'm not in my head. So much for introspection, hmph!

SISTER: U know that's the least reputable form of observation, rite?

ME: What, introspection? But Socrates said the unexamined life is not worth living. :(

SISTER: Rite...but self observation has one of the highest margins of error...it's the least empirical and innately biased

ME: Yes, Master. ;)*

SISTER: Lol
- - -

*My brilliant and funny sister, upon completing her M.A. in education, insisted for a time that everyone call her "master", so there's the innards of that joke.

Squelch[ed] the 'Tude

2010-06-25T13:50:00.001-06:00

I had this whole post ready. It was a vehement diatribe that I scribbled in a fury about a week ago sandwiched between a much more calm and stable preface and afterward. I even changed the text color to blue for those parts--that's how calm. But after receiving news of yet another marriage proposal, the third one I've learned of this week, I could not waste the space or opportunity on a stale rant. There is too much love, too much happy going on right now and it has put a happy damper on my pity parade. Thank God.

Right now, in this moment, it's summer and life is beautiful and that's where it's at.

Congratulations to all the newly betrothed.
It's going to be a hot summer, indeed!

An Open Letter to a Lit Mag

2010-06-15T08:07:00.000-06:00

Dear Up-and-Coming Lit Mag,

I thought we had an understanding. You, without so many issues off the ground, and I, having not published outside of my alma mater's periodical, could work together. You accept a poem of mine for publication and quell my first-timer jitters, and in return I have various family members purchase copies and contribute to your bottom line--everybody wins! I came to you humbly enough, not expecting you to give me the world. I was happy simply to be considered; I felt accomplished just submitting my work on time. So I clicked send and thought no more of it. Months passed. I moved on.

Then, you reached out. "We liked one of these enough to print it," you said, "so send us a wee bio and your mailing address. We'll send you a couple copies when the next issue prints." I replied immediately (almost immediately; I had to write the bio--I don't just keep drafts of those lying around just in case). Then, when I came to from my daydreams of reading tours, speaking engagements, honorary chair positions at esteemed colleges and universities and photoshoots for the book jacket, I told a few people. I told my parents, a few close friends and the wonderful writers whom I had called upon to workshop with me on such short notice. They were happy; I was happy; everybody was happy.

That was months ago, Lit Mag, and the issues that I was supposed to receive are still MIA. I know print media is going through it. I know magazines, especially start-ups, are having a hell of a time, add to that the fact that you are not aspiring to be pop-culture bird cage liner and it makes things even harder. I understand that. So, maybe there is no hard copy of this issue. Should I look online? Will my poem be there? Did you change your mind and don't want my poem anymore? Did the entire staff and affiliated printing press spontaneously combust? What gives? Seriously, I'm not mad. I just need closure. Tell me if you want me or not, so I can pick up my poems and peddle them elsewhere. Either way, you were still my first so no hard feelings.

Sincerely,

poetry & the posts to come

2010-06-11T16:39:00.000-06:00

1 - gonna talk about my birthday a bit, but that's later

2 - *talked about the concert a bit, that's here

3 - and the beginnings/essence/bones(?) of a new poem:

"Polyandry"

My grandmother
took three husbands,
but not nearly as much
as they took from her.

*If I'd known folks would actually be able to see/read what I wrote about the show, I would've tried a little harder, dig? It's honest, anyway.

Walk Walk, Fashion Baby

2010-06-08T11:01:00.002-06:00

So, the 18th St Fashion Show...

About 5 years ago, I was wondering around downtown KCMO, before it became the Power and Light District. It was a weekend and, being the curious pedestrian that I was, I walked up and down the hilly city blocks. I looked into shop windows, some closed and some open, peered at industrial facilities-turned-living spaces and wondered, "Where are all the people?" Then I stumbled onto 18th Street and, lo and behold! There was fashion. It was the annual 18th Street Fashion show, and that year the theme was "Chocolate Summer". So many pieces in rich creams and satin browns; some even broadened the theme to include other candied colors. I was still very new to the city, and finding this show put me at ease. "Okay," I thought, "there is something going on here."

In the years since then, I've fogotten about the show or missed it from being out of town. Not this year. This year the 18th Street Fashion Show celebrates it's 10th anniversary, and my homie is one of the sponsors, so best believe I'll be there. This year's theme is "A Decadent Summer". Don't mind if I do.

**and i LOVE that the show is at dusk. how deliciously eerie.

Preemptive Fun

2010-05-30T16:32:00.005-06:00

Fall semester will be here in no time at all. I remember what it was like to be a student: weekends not my own, always more work to do, my terrible proclivity to procrastinate...I

am determined to excel in this MFA program, or at least to give it all I’ve got. I’m ready to do that – happy to, in fact, but freely relinquishing my “free time” has me in a tizzy to pack as many good times into this summer as possible. I know, making it a goal sort of sucks out the leisure and relaxation of the endeavor, but a friend told me, “you know stress will come sooner or later, so it’s important to be deliberate about your free, happy times, so you can look back [retreat] on them during the crazy times.” Already, a few weeks ago, we up and went to St. Louis. Chicago is next on the docket and probably Omaha after that. In between, there are home updates and repairs, scholarship searches and of course my actual job. Can one be overwhelmed by the good and positive things on the horizon? That’s called eustress, right?

Made up words

2010-05-26T12:04:00.000-06:00

Scene: In Urban Outfitters. T, friend and HomeBoy looking around.

Friend:

I like UO, but sometimes it's hit or miss.

(picks up cluch with tiny bow) Hit.

Friend:

(picks up faded, floral thing) Miss.

It's cool for inspiration, but they try too hard. Then again, I've never been a fan of buying new things that look used. It's...it's faux-thentic.

Friend:

Yeah, and it's overpriced. (chuckles) I like that, "faux-thentic."

If I see something in UO that I like, I always want to cross check with my grandma, my mom and aunts to make sure they don't already have the very thing I'm looking at.

Friend:

Good idea. (picking up some pattern covered thing) I wish they had more of their furniture in-store. I really like the whole Anthro, UO aesthetic.

They are very similar.

Friend:

They're owned by the same people.

Really? I didn't know that - explains a lot. It's like the Banana, GAP, Old Navy trifecta.

Friend:

Exactly. UO is a step down from Anthropologie. It's like the GAP.

Well, I wish they would get a move on that Old Navy version because this is still too much.

I’m a Lover of a Fighter

2010-05-25T13:39:00.000-06:00

When HomeBoy takes an interest in something or takes to a new hobby, OMGoodness, he goes so hard. Case and point, in our last apartment, when he was wrapped-knuckles deep in boxing, I came home one day to a speed bag on the living room wall. (I was not happy about this, as our last place was a great loft with high ceilings and an open floor plan – so open that one could see said speed bag from any vantage point except the bathroom. But I digress…) So yes, HomeBoy takes an interest and then he’s relentless. His latest love? Jiu-Jistu and mixed martial arts. To his credit, HomeBoy’s interest began before the hoopla of the Ultimate Fighter Competition reality series, and as an historian, he’s delved into the beginnings of the sport and learned much about its geography and evolution. (He’s a veritable walking mass of Gracie, Jiu-Jitsu, MMA trivia, complete with bad Portuguese accent imitation.)

I am sometimes swept up in the whirlwind of HomeBoy’s enthusiasm, and a couple weekends ago is a prime example. His hobby took us to St. Louis on Saturday for an event sponsored by Strikeforce, the second largest promoter of MMA after the UFC. When I decided to be a good sport and tag along for this event, I considered the sociological possibilities of such an immersion. I was not disappointed. It was a soggy drive there and back, but the event was really rather cool. I have a greater appreciation for MMA after seeing it live. We watched several matches, none of which were boring. I even recognized a fighter, and because the tickets were so affordable we had really good seats--close enough to watch the action in the cage and not depend on the jumbo monitor overhead, far enough away to avoid sweat or blood. The physical disparity between the fighters and the fans was quite ironic. While the fighters all looked like extras from 300, most of the audience (as I described to a friend) looked like they were as enthusiastic about KFC as UFC. There was an abundance of Affliction and Tap Out gear, a fair share of spiky hair and mullets, plus the overdressed ladies who were 1) with the fighters 2) with the promoters 3) trying to go home with a fighter or promoter. Thankfully, nobody spilled beer on me and that pregnant lady didn't go into labor. (No, you didn't misread that.)

All jokes aside, I really did have a good time, and it made me thankful that HomeBoy and I are so different. I'd have never experienced something like that were it up to me alone. Who knows? Maybe I'll hit the mats and train with him one of these days. (If he reads this, I'll never hear the end of that.)

insha-Allah*

2010-05-17T13:33:00.002-06:00

Erykah Badu

Janelle Monae

June

I. am. so. there.

* "if God wills"

Edited to add: Got tickets. It's going down.

Came and went

2010-05-03T12:30:00.000-06:00

While the end of National Poetry Month came and went without a peep from me, I did have a poem in my proverbial pocket on April 30. In fact, I shared it in my toast at my sister's wedding reception the following day. (Surely you can fill in the blanks regarding my absence: lil sis getting married + big sis/matron of honor in town the week before + loose ends = no rest for the weary.)

"The Sun Never Says"

Even after all this time

the sun never says to the earth,

"You owe me."

Look what happens

with a love like that.

It lights the Whole sky.

- Hafiz

Farewell NPM,
and congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Austin.

Speaking of Spoken Word

2010-04-19T11:03:00.002-06:00

I picked up Seventh Octave a couple weeks ago because I missed Saul Williams and our only copy of SLAM is on VHS. So I skimmed and read, first silently and then aloud. Then, when I went to the bird feeders blog, she’d posted this great performance by Rives, and it was like sweet confirmation from the universe that I should speak to spoken word. So, I will. I’m circling back around to the oral tradition of poetry. In the beginning, it was what pulled me in – I loved it, and I couldn’t wait to write something to share with anyone who would listen to me. Then, a lot of people started listening, and def poetry jam happened and open mics and poetry slams were as frequent and far as the eye could see. It was competitive and inauthentic, and I wanted no more parts of it, so I silenced myself. I wanted to get stronger on the page; that’s where I focused.

In recent years, I’ve been to only a few events (as a spectator). I’ve listened to various poets and writers belittle spoken poetry, like it’s fake – their very western sensibilities making light of words that fly up from mouths. Is it because they cannot hold these words in their hands? Is it because they cannot follow them? I don’t know. What I do know is that when oral poetry is successful, when the likes of a Rives or Saul Williams or Talaam Acey or Suheir Hammad recites a poem, it is otherworldly. What the written word does not give you is that third experience/interpretation – that thing in between the words and spaces and breaths and pauses and the clever use of a homonym and various forms of wordplay. I am not diminishing the importance or impact of the written word, but it is, essentially, only two dimensions. When oral poetry is done well, there is more than the transmission and reception of common communication. The speaker and audience commune – you’re in a relationship from the opening line to the closing phrase. And it is beautiful.

Content with my pace now...whatever, it's cool (#4)

2010-04-16T13:59:00.001-06:00

“Time Traveler”

Ask me

how many times I have started over--

how many endings I’ve seen.

It’s not magic

when it’s not a choice,

and reverse isn’t an option.

This is really short - too short, probably. Also, I've heard Back to the Future referenced several times recently, I think that means I'm supposed to watch it.

Stalling (and #3)...

2010-04-12T12:26:00.000-06:00

What’s the hold up? I am much more hesitant than I used to be about posting first drafts. I think it’s because first drafts can really suck. So why would I, one who cares about words and the combination thereof, put first draft drivel out for all to see? Maybe I spoke too soon about my participation in this year’s NPM challenge. I’m trying to see it as a sign of growth, though – that I am becoming more discerning and honest and objective about my work – when I can read something newly written and say, “Wow, that’s bad.”

That being said, here's another one - probably not so great in its current form, but I'm not apologizing.

"The Missionaries Are Coming"

My soul isn’t lost
I know just where it is.
But perhaps I can help you find
what a pure smile looks like,
how to get along with very little
and God.
The God that you read about,
who only visits you on Sundays,
I will show you Him in the waters.
He whispers to me on walks to the market.
He is keeping my grandmother alive
till she’s taught me all I need to know.
God is with everyone here—
maybe it’s because our houses
have no windows and we keep our doors open.
He can come and go as He pleases.
In return, He sustains us
by your visits, between your visits and long after you've gone.
So, welcome, nice to see you again.
But my soul isn’t lost
I know right where it is.

NPM Day 5, Poem #2

2010-04-05T15:09:00.001-06:00

“Mouthful of Cotton”

Puffy stuffing
blossoms from my teeth
gums made of dirt
Can’t scream
can’t swallow
can’t even bite my own tongue
Fibers tickle my throat
until saliva makes them soft
Then the wad makes its way down
and rests in my belly
I scoop out with my fingers
any bits left behind--
quickly now
Before it begins
to grow again

Slow start?

2010-04-05T08:07:00.000-06:00

eating more words than i'm writing, so far this month. :::sigh:::

It Begins - NPM Day 1

2010-04-01T16:38:00.000-06:00

“Scars”

Birthmarks
Chicken pox
Bike races gone bad
Facing bullies
Sibling rivalries
Team sports
Adolescence
Iron accidents (the clothing kind, the curling kind)
Cooking (there’s still enough thumb left for a print)
Gaining
Losing
Gaining again
TJ
Vincent
Miguel
Brian
Lamar
William
and Roland.

National Poetry Month Is Upon Us

2010-04-01T07:51:00.000-06:00

It is with excitement and anxiety that I embark on another NPM challenge - one [draft of a] poem per day for the entire month of April. The rules I'm giving myself: any form, any content, no previously written poems. In sweet anticipation of the muses and geniuses that I pray will taunt me this month (and for always), I'm drawn to this TED conference talk given by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love. Her delivery is very good, as is her content. My favorite part is her retelling of poet, Ruth Stone's narrative of "catching" a poem - oh to have the Juju come down on me like that. Olé!

Back "On Top"

2010-03-24T16:04:00.000-06:00

I’d given up reviewing ANTM because my interest was waning

and the show has been on forever, but I am still watching.

And last week was just full of good stuff, like:

Tyra’s ensembles. She looked so very chic in her puffy-shouldered black, and let’s not even get me started on that gorgeous gray single-buttoned cat suit? Emphasis on the suit; it was one piece but the top was a blazer. Shut up! Someone is glad to have her body back. PS, Tyra, thanks for toning the hair and make-up way down.

No Miss J? Who could ever replace Miss J? It can’t be done! These were my thoughts, but lo and behold! André Leon Talley. Honey, it’s a wrap. I may actually learn something from this cycle, especially the way he likes to throw French and fashion terms about all willy-nilly. Alasia had better be glad he’s there, or she wouldn’t be. I sense Nigel is feeling some kind of way though; he’s not the big man on the catwalk anymore.

Raina. Her picture – swoon.

Not touching her eyebrows during the makeovers was a stroke of genius on Tyra’s part.

Ren. This has happened before, and I’m just as aggravated. She bemoans being a part of the competition, but when in the bottom two she let someone else go home. Gabrielle really wanted to be there, but you didn’t speak up. Boo on you.

Jessica. Stunning. once she learns what she’s doing, that one will be a major threat.

Simone. I’m not going to sleep on her either.

Krista. Body and bone structure are amazing. Still waiting for you to impress.

Alasia. She is beautiful, but she’s still a child,

and right now that is overpowering my perception of her.

Angelea. How are you so hard-edged in person and so soft and feminine in photos?

In Praise of Late Blooming

2010-03-17T21:15:00.000-06:00

I had my first kiss when I was 17 years old, and it was pretty much perfect. In fact, I still breathe deeply when I stop and think about it.

I first discovered Santana when buying 11 CDs for $1 (or whatever the promotion was). I had the disc (it was a “Best of” collection) for maybe 2 years before I opened it one night in my dorm room and let it wash over me; the experience was riveting. No, I wasn’t high, but that would have been awesome I bet.

HomeBoy lobbied for years that I read The Godfather and The Sicilian. When I finally got around to it, I devoured nearly everything Mario Puzo that I could find.

What do these events have in common? I think it’s that the experiences were delayed for me and perhaps that made them all the more amplified and meaningful.

Growing up, I don’t recall ever being in a real rush for anything – especially to be a grown-up. I wasn’t the fake-ID-using, get-older-relatives-to-buy-me-liquor, needy-for-“romantic”-drama, hand-on-my-hip, sassy type. I was present for a few risky games of truth or dare, but I was pretty much chaperoning. I’m not what you would call an “early adapter”, but I don’t mind. Kissing and handholding and “making out” were enough to keep my head in the clouds when so many teens my age were visiting clinics and worried about multiple partners. Discovering early rock and roll kept my faith in music when pop stations were dead to me. And what more can I say about Puzo except “there is no frigate like a book.”

…The point! The point, Teresa! What is it, and get to it…

I guess what I’m getting at is this – I’m in favor of slowing down. Being connected to younger people allows me to see what a rush they are in, and it isn’t always good for them (or for any of us, really). Yes, life is short, but there’s something to be said for the ripening process. We are in a rush to experiment with so many things early in life, but we may better appreciate and understand those very same things if we experience them later. I’m not saying take everything slowly. Dreams, ambitions, goals – run! Go get them! But as for the other stuff, I think those things will come when the time is right. And if we wait, they could be sweeter and more memorable than we ever imagined.

Maybe we’d have a different perspective on aging, if we didn't think the “best years of our lives” were behind us.

Is there anything you're glad you waited for?

Anything you wish you would've done sooner?

Dear Daylight Savings

2010-03-15T08:10:00.000-06:00

Suck it.

A Touch of Madness

2010-03-07T11:36:00.004-06:00

It started out innocently enough. Last week while on the phone with my mom and one of my sisters, the subject turned to movies. I told them how excited I was about Alice in Wonderland and joked that I even considered making a "mad hat" just for the occasion. After all, one can't have so many favorites in one project and not commemorate. (Those favorites being Johnny Depp, Tim Burton, Anne Hathaway, Helena B-Carter and the tale of Alice, of course.) We all got a good laugh out of it, and then the topic of conversation changed again. I thought no more of it until the next day.

At work I looked around my desk at all the random doo-dads and trinkets. I knew why they were there - to add a bit of whimsy to my space, some fun and silliness. "Ha!" I thought to myself, "Could you imagine putting those things on a hat? How curious." I came home, and while taking off my jewelry, I noticed more little things on my dresser: various pins and buttons, a pocket-watch that still needs a chain, a fuzzy lapel pin that looks a lot like a Tribble.

"Well, I do seem to have the materials, if I were so inclined..."

Thursday night found me with all manner of delicious nonsense spread out across my coffee table.

"But you love that hat," HomeBoy said.

"None of the changes will be permanent," I assured him, "I'm only using hat pins and tape."

I had forgotten how much fun arts and crafts can be. Fixing and fastening, arranging, rearranging, positioning just so... I really did enjoy myself. And, in true childlike fashion, I couldn't wait to show it - "Look what I made!"

The silliest part may be that I'm not at all embarrassed. At no point did I feel like I was too old to do such a thing. To be honest, I am quite relieved to find I am capable of such nonsense.

Speaking of Oscar Nominees

2010-03-03T09:47:00.006-06:00

(this awards season fixation will be over on Monday, so indulge me until then will you?)

I am so excited about the trajectory of animated features, and I look forward to a large-scale return to 2D animation. Don't get me wrong, the magic that CGI can create is, well, magical, but there is a beauty in the quality of hand drawn cartoons that I've only come to appreciate lately. Disney did it with The Princess and the Frog, and now Irish underdog, Tomm Moore, has popped up and landed in the category for best animated feature film with The Secret of Kells. There's an article in the Times about the feature and it's director. More importantly, there are stills. People! These beautiful, vibrant stills will take your breath. Add to the amazing art this story that Moore tries to keep as close to the history as possible, and you can't help but hope that this is the tipping point for animation. I know I do.

Here's the official U.S. trailer:

And the promotional trailer:

What's really good?

2010-02-23T13:22:00.004-06:00

After reading this post over at twenty-something's blog, I thought more on what I conceal and reveal. I'm a pretty private person anyway, and I'm more likely to be guilty of leaving questions unanswered than over-sharing. Then why are you even blogging, Teresa? Geez!

Is it dishonest? To only talk about the good stuff? I often feel conflicted about sharing good or bad news; it’s a wonder I have anything at all to say. Ever. When I have bad news, I think to myself “I don’t want to bring anybody else down, and people have enough problems of their own to be worried about mine.” When I have good news, I think to myself “Share it, maybe, but don’t oversell it. Sure, it’s great that this cool thing has happened for you, but nobody likes a blowhard. Besides, somebody somewhere is going through a difficult time and may not be in a place to receive your good news.”

It probably sounds ridiculous. Folks are plenty nice and supportive and all, but I don’t think I’m brave enough to be that vulnerable. And I try not to go overboard on the inspirational stuff either because…well, angst and disappointment are funnier, and I tend to mock the overly optimistic. (We’re not all running around here a bunch of little Matilda’s and Fire-starters, sorry to say.)

Does sharing only the good do more harm? Is sharing the negative necessary?

I'll Make You Famous

2010-02-19T15:54:00.002-06:00

This must be the fun part about being a teacher – the ludicrous interaction with younger folks makes for great sound bites, or transcripts as it were. Below, a text message exchange between me and a younger one.

HER: Get a twitter

ME: U mean a twitter account? I’ve been trying not to.

HER: Why? I’m bouta delete my fcbk. I hate it. It took me 10 min to figure out how to log off.

ME: Oh no! I’ve heard that more ppl r opting out of fb in favor of twitter.

HER: Yea cause it’s simple. And fun. All u do is tweet in reply to someone or tweet about something stupid u saw or heard. Or anything really. And u could feel closer to celebrities because they really be on there.

ME: That’s what’s missing from my life! Feeling closer to celebrities!

HER: Haha. And being close to me.

ME: That’s a better reason. U should have led with that one.

*I’ve seen facebook abbreviated as “fb” but never “fcbk” – until now. I think I know why.

The Post Never Posted

2010-02-19T15:45:00.004-06:00

The day before the grad school application was due, I wrote a mock post about how I didn’t get in and how I was okay with that. I felt like what the program offered was perfect for me but didn’t know if my recommendation letters arrived, and I was editing my writing sample and writing my personal statement (and rewriting and rewriting and rewriting) until just days before the entire packet was due.

I blame my duplicitous mind. On the one hand, I know that if something is meant for me I will have it. On the other hand, maybe this wasn’t for me. Maybe I was only meant to go through the application process to solidify in my mind whether or not I was dedicated to being a writer.

That post was filled with honest critiques of what I could have done better to prepare and affirmations about how not getting in isn’t the end of the world – very valid points, all. That post had flashbacks of my undergrad experience and uncertain musings about my future. That post was…eh…pretty well written, I guess. But I have no reason to publish that post, so you’ll have to take my word for it. ;)

Lucille, which stands for light

2010-02-17T11:18:00.006-06:00

Lucille Clifton has passed away. She leaves behind family and friends, powerful poetry and countless black women writers for whom she was a patron saint. I once heard someone say that she was a poet’s poet. I have read only a small portion of her work, but I see why. She seemed to look inward, to her own life and community and this very spiritual, political act of being a woman, for inspiration. A singular depiction of an isolated instance can reveal answers about the whole of humanity. Everything is everything.

Among the things I take away from her work, I take that I am enough. Lucille Clifton could have written of loftier things; she could have made references to things I know nothing of and flexed language that required a vocabulary lesson before I could get through a poem. She didn’t do that. She spoke to being human, of women and men and babies and families. She spoke of God and light and death and thriving – apartments, city blocks, neighborhoods. All she needed was right there. We were enough for her. We are enough still.

Lucille, “which stands for light”, shine always. Amen.
**

I've now added The Book of Light to my reading list.

Suh-WEET!

2010-02-11T16:56:00.005-06:00

It’s really cool working as a creative professional, I just have to say. I feel fortunate to be in a place where creative enrichment opportunities are not only encouraged but provided. This week, the artist, Will Cotton, came to give a lecture. I hadn’t heard of this artist before the email announcement that he was stopping by, but am I ever glad I went! He works in confection landscapes, but don’t let the saccharine subject matter fool you – dude is serious.

His work is so amazing! In the course of one hour, he explained his inspiration and motivation and his journey from the first “ah-ha!” moment with a Candyland game board to manipulating atmosphere and painting royal portraits several years later. All with his work being connected by a single thread – a licorice string, if you will. In addition to superior technical ability, his realist style and use of color blow my mind, and his work ethic is ridiculous. He builds the candy landscapes before he paints them. He talked about the meaning behind his work – our world of desire, indulgence and guilt; there's so much more to it than a gumdrop forest or a lollipop lane.

And because these words do the work so little justice:

Better yet, skip dessert, and just go to his website.

I have never seriously considered having a portrait painted until now.

Sing a Song...

2010-02-04T15:45:00.003-06:00

Black history month is a mixed bag for me. I feel it's important, but I always feel overwhelmed. Plus, every year I see the same bogus things. McDonald’s, Popeye’s and Walmart come to mind, and their special commercials that attempt to pander to the community while coming across racist as hell. “Hey Look, Black people! We know you – chicken, slang, break-dancing! Buy stuff!”

I can’t be too judgmental, though, because I feel guilty for not knowing more about the pioneers, inventors, innovators, artists, activists and achievers beyond the ones we typically highlight. You know who: MLK, Rosa Parks, Malcolm X, Jackie Robinson, Madame C.J. Walker, George Washington Carver - to name a few. It’s not that these people aren’t important (hahaha I just said “these people” that’s funny), it’s that there are so many others who don’t seem to make the cut.

As a community who's spent so much time in the margins, it seems ironic that we would be so selfish with the cannon of “worthy Black Folk” when it comes to this month. Granted 28 days (or 29) is hardly enough to cover all of the history and inspiration, and I get that the knowledge building should happen all year round. But if the month is to raise awareness, why not raise the awareness of people who we’re not, well, aware of? So, my personal projects for this month are: 1) read unfamiliar works by familiar Black authors 2) talk to the elders in my family – they’re black history, too.

I’ll start with Cane by Jean Toomer, and I’ll call my grandma this weekend.

Kids these days...

2010-02-03T16:31:00.005-06:00

The following is an exchange via text between myself and one of my adolescent relatives:

ME: I need an update. How r u doing? What's going on with school stuff? Non-school stuff?

RELI: I'm pretty sure I passed all my classes this semester... I just gotta nu fren named ______... & everything else still sux.

ME: Passed everything? Even ur "i-hate-this-the-teacher-is-wack-im-not-learning-anything-im-not-majoring-in-this-anymore" English class?

(nothing)

ME: ...???

RELI: Srry i was txtin my english teacher cuz i aint go 2skool 2day. He tol me i did really well on my exam. So yea...

ah, youthful optimism!

Grammys: High Notes, Low Notes

2010-02-01T14:31:00.004-06:00

Yes, this is another awards show post.

I didn't even intend to watch the Grammy's. I did't know they were airing this weekend until a coworker hipped me to it on Friday before I left work. Generally, I'm into the TV and film awards more than those for music, but I decided to check it out. Not that what I think has any baring, but here are my personal high and low notes for the 52th Annual Grammy Awards:

High Note: Lady Gaga and Elton John opening the show. Loved it.

Low Note: Lady Gaga not receiving album of the year.

High Note: Pink’s performance.

Low Note: Anybody sitting underneath Pink’s wet n’ wild extravaganza.

High Note: “Earth Song” tribute. I love that song, and I think it actually made me fist pump like a champ.

Low Note: This wasn’t so much a low note as a rest or refrain. Beyoncé’s performance was solid but derivative. Why do I feel like I’ve seen in before? Because I have; talk about déjà vu.

High Note: Tarantino calling Em and Wayne “glorious bastards”.

Low Note: Well, everything else Tarantino said.

High Note: “21 Guns” performance with the Broadway cast = awesome

Low Note: Taylor Swift’s performance. Having Stevie Knicks was cool, but Miss Swift was off key and out of breath most of the time.

High Note: Bon Jovi. No fist pumping here, though it would have been appropriate, no?

Low Note: The sound kept crapping out during the Drake/Wayne/Em performance. Did the sound techs go home, or was that just my TV?

High Note: Maxwell – and with Roberta Flack, no less!

High, High Note: Mary J. Blige and Andrea Bocelli. It was beautiful, and Mary holds her own with anybody. That’s diva.

What's with me and the lists? Good grief, Teresa, would it kill you to writing in cohesive, thoughtful paragraphs once in a while?

Twinkle, Twinkle, Movie Star

2010-01-25T16:50:00.005-06:00

20 Reasons I LOVE Awards Shows (not necessarily in preferential order):

20) I love movies, even more now than when I was younger. (I was a serious kid, too serious.)

19) The attire. I admit it; I sit on my sofa like Caesar and issue a thumbs-up or down for every presenter and winner as they come on stage. It’s fun, too, to check out the internet the next day to see who agrees with me or not.

18) The opening – especially with the SAG awards. When the actors say their little intros it feels like an inside joke. Who doesn’t want to be on the inside of a movie/TV star’s inside joke? (PS – This year, Eddie Falco’s opening was hilarious.)

17) I love being right – when the nominee I think should win actually does, I get a little giddy.

16) I don’t mind being wrong – when the winner is a surprise to me, that’s okay too.

15) A hearty addition to my Netflix queue. Last year I actually watched the Oscars with pen and paper in hand; it’s necessary when some of the nominees haven’t even hit theaters yet. Crazy Heart? Congratulations, Jeff Bridges, now what was that about?

14) Invariably, somebody gets played off for talking too long – always funny.

13) The totally-scripted-but-act-natural dialogue that occurs between presenters before they actually get to announcing the nominees.

12) When cameras cut to the faces of the nominees who did not win.

11) When a winner is genuinely shocked and tongue-tied at the podium. Drew Barrymore was a bumbling mess at the Golden Globes and the SAG awards; I like her more now than ever.

10) Listening to laymen talk about their predictions; for a brief moment, everyone turns into a grad student studying film. (Like me, for instance…)

9) I get to imagine the wonderful, talent friends I have who will someday be at such glamorous events.

8) The announcer is usually a woman. (Take that, various commercials for goods and services who think that a male voice equals authority!)

7) When the host is great (I’m looking at you, Ellen DeGeneres).

6) Texting my friends during the show with such 140-character-or-less gold as “I don’t care if she DID win, I’m still not going to see it”, and “Clearly somebody called in a favor.”

5) I like cheering for the actors who I think are probably good and interesting people in real life. (Yay! Michael C. Hall!)

4) For the brief amount of time that the camera cuts to the audience, I like watching the inter-generational mingling of Hollywood past, Hollywood present, and Hollywood future.

3) The soapbox moment – there’s gotta be at least one.

2) Watching the movie awards is more productive than watching an actual movie because I can get things done during commercial breaks.

1) Helps me visualize for when I get there. You know, as a nominee, guest of a nominee, an announcer, an usher...whatever - I'm flexible!

Ring the Alarm

2010-01-14T16:53:00.005-06:00

I know that there’s nothing funny about theft – neither car theft nor home burglary nor any other kind tickle my funny bone, but I was just wondering if we could make the alarms themselves a little more…entertaining?

Our house alarm went off at 5:30 am a few days ago (everything is fine – triggered by a frozen pipe that burst in the basement…everything is sort of fine), and it has that terrible muted, fog horn thing going on. And we all know and loathe that now ubiquitous car alarm sound – the one that’s a combination of a house alarm, a clock radio alarm, a fire truck, a school bell and sirens (as in the ones who tried to lure Odysseus and his men to crash themselves into the jagged, pointy shore).

Anyway, you’d recognize an alarm as an alarm if it’s triggered unsuspectingly in the middle of the night or stupid o’clock in the morning. So why can’t we have different sounds – or phrases? Oh, or favorite songs or movie lines?! I nominate the following for consideration to make car and house alarms more (ahem) fun:

10. “I’m not touching you! I’m not touching you! I’m not touching you!”

9. Riding Along in My Automobile by Chuck Berry

8. “Back up! Back up! Mind ya’ bid-ness that’s all, just mind ya’ bid-ness!”

7. “Woo-Hoo! I’m the king of the world!”

6. “That’s what she said! That’s what she said! That’s what she said!”

5. “Goooood morning, Vietnam!”

4. The famous scream from Home Alone

3. Samuel Jackson narrating any number of warning phrases

2. Christopher Walken narrating any number of warning phrases

1. “I’m really happy for you. I’m gonna let you finish, but _______ was one of the best thieves of all time.”*

* This one is customizable!
You can input the name of your favorite larceny legend from history!

Picture That

2010-01-08T17:22:00.003-06:00

Can they do that?

In two days I read about two separate instances of the President and First Lady’s images being used for advertising – without their permission. First PETA uses Photoshop to put Mrs. Obama in an ad, and then Weatherproof finds a photo of President Obama on the Great Wall of China (that’s “President”, NYT, not “Mr.”) and they blow it up and throw it up on a billboard in Manhattan – 41st and 7th Ave.

According to the Associated Press, the coat company paid them for use of the image, but it was up to the licensing party (in this case, Weatherproof) to obtain the necessary clearances. So here we go passing the buck. Associated Press says, “we thought you were gonna do it!” Weatherproof says, “Huh? We bought it from you; we thought you were gonna do it!” Meanwhile a larger than life President Obama is endorsing this press-mongering coat company against his will. (Sure, he looks dashing, but that’s not the point.) Not to mention, for a short time Weatherproof marketed the coat on their website as “the Obama jacket.”

One thing I can say for Weatherproof, at least they used an less familiar image where Obama is actually wearing their merchandise, and not an oft-seen, official press photo. Hello, PETA? Are you listening? The photo of Sister First Lady in her sleeveless, black shift dress with a double string of pearls has been everywhere! Not to mention in the PETA ad she is the one woman standing completely face forward. Were you trying to get caught, PETA?

I know it’s been a long time since the nation has had such a young, vibrant and attractive first family, but this feels really irreverent to me. What’s next? Somebody takes photos of Sasha and Malia and puts their faces on a box of cereal? Sure, the Obamas want to be/appear accessible and of the people, but respect the office and personal privacy. Plus, they seem cool enough – you probably could’ve just asked.

2010-01-05T12:43:00.006-06:00

Is it rude to return to one’s blog without doing the requisite New Year post, when such posts are undoubtedly all over the place and we’re already at the 6th day of January? Hope not. Moving on…

My good friend gave me a calendar in August of last year. It was one of those spiral notebook style desk calendars with only the date printed and not the year. I keep this calendar on my makeshift nightstand, and on New Year’s Day I flipped all the pages back and started anew. It was a physical epiphany.

Flipping those calendar pages symbolized for me that any new beginning only puts the past behind us; it doesn’t make it disappear. Of course, I know logically that the past does not disappear, but sometimes that’s what we’d prefer. How much better would it be if our sadness, mistakes and embarrassments had never happened at all? So, we count down the best of it and say goodbye to the rest of it. So long, 2009, you ain’t gotta go home, but you gotta get the hell out of here!

The calendar uses both sides of each page, so the reverse of each day is another day. This sparked another lesson for me, one that I’d heard many times before. My father says that wherever you are in life, at some moment in time you made an appointment to be there. As I look at both sides of each calendar page, I wonder how my days will be connected – how my determination in January will pay off in May or if my indiscretions in December will hurt me come April.

I am a huge fan of fresh starts, and whenever I wanted to make a change in my life I waited for the next beginning to, well, begin. I needed a new year or my birthday day (one’s personal new year) or the first of the month or the start of a week. I told myself it was a cleaner start; I would have more resolve. However, until that start date I indulged in whatever behavior I was preparing to alter or relinquish. The cycle usually went like this: 1) make intention to change 2) set date to implement change 3) change for a short time 4) relapse and bemoan 5) repeat [eventually].

That didn’t really work for me, so as of late whenever I’ve want to do something differently – I do it as soon as possible. This can range from immediately to tomorrow to the next opportunity to do so. So far, that’s working out much better. I don’t need a new year or a Monday or a whatever to change. We like to use the phrase “start from scratch” as if that is the very beginning – our “day 1” our new year – but it’s not. By the time we’re scratching, we’ve already been motivated to do so; something has already happened. So why not start from itch and get a head start on your fresh start?

Well,how do you like that? This turned into a New Year's post after all!

Infinite In Between

2010-01-05T12:43:00.005-06:00

Is it rude to return to one’s blog without doing the requisite New Year post, when such posts are undoubtedly all over the place and we’re already at the 6th day of January? Hope not. Moving on…

My good friend gave me a calendar in August of last year. It was one of those spiral notebook style desk calendars with only the date printed and not the year. I keep this calendar on my makeshift nightstand, and on New Year’s Day I flipped all the pages back and started anew. It was a physical epiphany.

Flipping those calendar pages symbolized for me that any new beginning only puts the past behind us; it doesn’t make it disappear. Of course, I know logically that the past does not disappear, but sometimes that’s what we’d prefer. How much better would it be if our sadness, mistakes and embarrassments had never happened at all? So, we count down the best of it and say goodbye to the rest of it. So long, 2009, you ain’t gotta go home, but you gotta get the hell out of here!

The calendar uses both sides of each page, so the reverse of each day is another day. This sparked another lesson for me, one that I’d heard many times before. My father says that wherever you are in life, at some moment in time you made an appointment to be there. As I look at both sides of each calendar page, I wonder how my days will be connected – how my determination in January will pay off in May or if my indiscretions in December will hurt me come April.

I am a huge fan of fresh starts, and whenever I wanted to make a change in my life I waited for the next beginning to, well, begin. I needed a new year or my birthday day (one’s personal new year) or the first of the month or the start of a week. I told myself it was a cleaner start; I would have more resolve. However, until that start date I indulged in whatever behavior I was preparing to alter or relinquish. The cycle usually went like this: 1) make intention to change 2) set date to implement change 3) change for a short time 4) relapse and bemoan 5) repeat [eventually].

That didn’t really work for me, so as of late whenever I’ve want to do something differently – I do it as soon as possible. This can range from immediately to tomorrow to the next opportunity to do so. So far, that’s working out much better. I don’t need a new year or a Monday or a whatever to change. We like to use the phrase “start from scratch” as if that is the very beginning – our “day 1” our new year – but it’s not. By the time we’re scratching, we’ve already been motivated to do so; something has already happened. So why not start from itch and get a head start on your fresh start?

Well, how do you like that? This turned into a New Year's post after all.

Hiatus...

2009-12-01T08:31:00.003-06:00

hiatus - n. a break or interruption in the continuity of a work, series, action, etc. [though i hardly would describe this space as having "continuity"]

"If you want to know the truth
I could care less about a period
at the end of this sentence
for i have no desire to stop here..."

-"Your Self-Fulfilling History",
Mbembe Milton Smith

One girl's New Moon is another girl's New Edition

2009-11-18T17:02:00.011-06:00

Ah, boy bands. Is there anything more wonderfully corny and tweenaged? I’ve had my share of fixations with these well groomed groups of “Tiger Beat cover boys”, to steal a phrase from Ocean’s Eleven. Their melodramatic lyrics and polished choreography have haunted the dreams of PTYs long before NSync/Backstreet Boys. (I always confused them, sorry.) Here are some of the groups I think of, when I hear “boy bands”…though none of them really play instruments – that’s curious. This is by no means an exhaustive list, as there are many groups that came before and many more who will surely come after, but I have a soft spot in my heart for these fellas:

Oh Ronny, Bobby, Johnny, Ricky, Mike and Ralph. (I know Johnny came much later, but that sequence sounds best.) These guys were equally coveted as boys and men. We LOVED New Edition in my house – from “Cool It Now” to “Can You Stand the Rain”. How serious was it? Well, when “Can You Stand the Rain” came on Video Soul, we sang the song in 5 part harmony. There were 4 of us at the time.

More near and dear to the hearts of me and my sister were The Boys, ABC (Another Bad Creation) and ultimately Immature. Don’t judge. “Dial My Heart” and “A Little Romance” are the sweetest songs – even today. So lovey-dovey and yet so age appropriate; I appreciate the latter more in hindsight. My crush was the lead singer. He was the second oldest brother; I was the second oldest sister – we were kismet.

ABC was a little more street, but no less cute – and again with the age appropriate lyrics. “At the Playground” and “Iesha” were their biggest hits, and every girl with a 3-syllable name that ended in “A” was happy to put herself in the song. (“Te-res-a! You are the girl that never had, and I want to get to know you better…”) After all, what good are boy bands, if you can’t convince yourself that they’re singing to you?

As mature, junior high school students of a certain age, we discovered Immature upon seeing them in House Party 3, though the group had released an debut album by then. The 90’s trio was so inappropriate. Their first hits (to me, anyway, since my personal catalogue begins with album #2), “Constantly” and “I Will Never Lie”, were chock-full-o teenaged melodrama. That was fine, but the bird chest of a shirtless Marcus Houston was a bit over the top. (That’s right, Marcus. Some of us remember). But they were cute, and not so grown up as Jodeci or Genuine, so we listened. We listened all the way to “We Got It”. (And man, did they.)

In occasional fits of frenzied nostalgia, I go to YouTube and listen to all of them - never fails to put a smile on my face. Not as innocent as Jackson5 but less pornographic than…well, most recent stuff (I’m looking at you, B2K and Pretty Ricky), these R&B boys struck a happy medium with the little ladies and the Powers-That-Be who bought the CDs and posters and concert tickets. Being an ex-tweenager who may one day find herself buying such posters and concert tickets, I really appreciate the happy medium. And the happy memories.

Honorable mentions: Soul For Real, Mystic, 112...and the list goes on

The soul of wit

2009-11-16T10:36:00.002-06:00

He asked
how I got such long lashes.
I said
I water them regularly.

Untitled first draft

2009-11-02T14:49:00.002-06:00

I have learned too well
what is acceptable--
what is good and right.
I have learned so well
that I police myself.
Nothing muzzles quite so well
as a tongue afraid to move.
Nothing bounds so tightly
as an uncertain self.

I know all the words to say.
I can turn a phrase,
sprint a rebel word run
that will have your mind
meditating on freedom.
I can sing a song that will incite
a riot. I can do all those things for you,
but not for me.
When we all go our separate ways,
and the picket signs are scattered
in the streets like so many bodies.
I count myself a casualty—
the living dead.

"The 'F' Word"

2009-10-20T11:18:00.002-06:00

Who am I, to call her oppressed?
How do I know that all she has
isn’t all she wants?
That all she is
isn’t all she every wanted to be?
Dreams change.
She is the center of her world,
so to hell with ours –
filled with wrongs we can’t seem to right.
Within her range, she affects change.
Improvement.
Enlightenment.
Revolution.
I come home every day,
leaving the world outside my door
exactly the way I found it.
But in a single day, she
has formed an opinion,
changed a mind, laid a foundation…
she has labored at love
and bore much fruit.
In her world, nobody’s hungry.
So to hell with ours.

Thinking about family (a micro-retro-post)

2009-10-15T10:20:00.004-06:00

After letting passengers off and allowing fresh riders to come on board, the train pulls out of the station. The sudden jerk causes even experienced riders to wobble a bit. Teresa turns to her uncle.

ME:
Being short has its advantages when you ride the subway. I don't sway as much when we pull off - lower center of gravity.

UNCLE:
Yeah, but you've got everybody's armpits in your face.

SCENE

There is no more a Leggard response than that.

"Rubble"

2009-10-08T11:28:00.002-06:00

The air is so thick,
and no step is a safe one.
There are ghosts passing
on either side, but even they
are not weightless.
Wait less.
Move more.
Can’t stay covered in the ashes.
Have to find ________.*
Torn and tattered,
bruised and bloodied,
heads are swimming.
The only parts that feel clean
are the tear track marks.
Salt water makes the skin raise up—
Pagliaccis are everywhere.

*yes, that's a blank. this is only a draft, after all.

Addendum

2009-09-25T07:42:00.004-06:00

(i know i'm not writing a bunch, but these aren't throw-away posts.)

After reading Cowgirl's comment, I started thinking about the familiar.

Have you ever heard or saw something for the first time, but you still recognized it somehow? That happens to me from time to time. I remember experiences I've never had - long for a time (past, future) that I can't really lay claim to.

For the song "Summertime" (see last post), Jazzy Jeff sampled this gem from Kool & the Gang. It makes me nostalgic for something, but I don't know what. Maybe I have hidden memories? Maybe I've been here before...

You can't tell me this doesn't feel delicious on the eardrums.
(Well, you could, but I wouldn't believe you.)

Take a listen and mellow out. Happy Friday.

Once more for the road

2009-09-22T07:19:00.004-06:00

So long, Summer. It was pretty touch-and-go for a minute there anyway, huh? I figure this is a proper send off, and any excuse to play the feel-good classic by DJ Jazzy Jeff and Fresh Prince is fine by me.

Until next time...

The Fear

2009-09-17T23:08:00.005-06:00

"When you want what you want more than you fear what you want, you will have it." - Alan Cohen

I want to talk about fear. Fear of failure, fear of success, guilt for being afraid – all of that.

This space gives me leave to articulate whatever I please, no matter how profound or mundane. People read it if they want to and click to a different space if they don’t. I don’t really divulge, so I have very little on the line here. It's not particularly therapeutic because I am not willing to be completely raw and vulnerable in this space. Hell, there are very few spaces in even the 3D realm where I’ll take that risk…

Wait, I’m wandering…

Okay, so this space allows me to put my thoughts out there, but as a writer (I have the nerve to claim that again) sharing this way isn’t enough. What’s so special about something everyone can do? Or, as Groucho Marx (as retold by Woody Allen) put it, “I would never want to be part of a club that would have someone like me for a member”. I’ll never be a writer if all I do is blog. (Which is not to say that writers don't blog, but not all bloggers are writers, dig?)

If I really want to test my mettle, I have to submit my thoughts to someone who can turn them/me down. I need a door closed in my face, so that I can a) get creative and find an open window or b) get angry and break that shit down. So many success stories hit a turning point when the protagonist has nothing left to lose. Those of us who have little more than nothing may hold onto our scraps so tightly that we can’t reach for anything else…

Here lies the body of Teresa. She played it safe…

And there are copouts, so many copouts that I could distract myself for the rest of my breathing days with other things that “need to get done”. But I know that I am never more alive and full than when I’m scribbling in a damn near blind fury or performing. I know this. So what do I do with this information? I don’t know yet, but I can bet it starts where fear stops.

Just a thought...

2009-09-14T11:22:00.001-06:00

"Dreams"

Unrealistic,
but that still doesn't make me
want it any less.

About Face

2009-09-11T14:29:00.004-06:00

Dear Break-outs,

This is how it works. I vow to wear virtually no make-up and not to pick. In exchange, you happen very seldom – only a few pimples at a time – and in a singular area on my face. I let you run your course, using only a mild astringent, and then you leave me be. WTF, Breakouts? This was not part of the deal.

Aggravated & Self-Conscious,
Teresa
**

Dear Teresa,

You don’t own me.
I do what I want.
(RHASBERRY!)

That’s “Miss Break-outs” to You,
Miss Break-outs
**

Dear Break-outs,

Do I really have to get reinforcements?
Because I will. Don’t make me do it.

Teresa
**

Dear Teresa,

Empty threats. You can’t just up a change the skin regiment all willy-nilly! That’s not even your style – gimme a break! What’chew gone do now, punk? Bust a move!

B
**

Dear B,

Please leave sooner than later. Uncle.

Teresa
**

T,

I’ll think about it. (Chump.)

At the End of the Rainbow

2009-09-01T11:24:00.002-06:00

Last Friday, Reading Rainbow aired its last episode in a 26-year run, and it feels a little like I lost a friend. I grew up with this show; the likes of it and Sesame Street and Mr. Rodger’s Neighborhood (to a lesser degree) swirl together in my nostalgia to create this rose-colored childhood memory.* I think on that time now as a golden age in children’s television programming, where leaving your young ones in front of the TV could actually be a good thing.

Now I can’t recall specific episodes, but like the NPR article states, everybody knows that soulful yet accessible theme song and those familiar three notes that followed the oral book reports. (“But you don’t have to take my word for it!) And if I recall correctly, there was great diversity in the children cast on that show; at the very least I remember thinking that I could be one of those kids.

In an NPR segment, Reading Rainbow is credited with teaching children why to read, rather than how. And as the focus has shifted from comprehension to phonics, “research shows” that children may benefit more from gaining skills like spelling and grammar than content. That makes my Humanities heart bleed. It’s like the difference between teaching children to read to expand their thinking and teaching them to read to follow instructions. Children are maturing much faster and becoming more savvy all the time, and I think the why is more important now than ever.

We need something composed of complete sentences and full thoughts to compete with the flash-bang! of texting, twitter and other malformed incarnations of language. I’m not so parochial as to want to eschew all new rhetoric and language conventions, but we not only speak with this language – we think in it. And I fear the more we shortcut and abbreviate ourselves, the more we shrink our thoughts and ultimately narrow our own minds.

I’m sure this makes me sound like some stodgy English teacher or librarian, but I think this is a great loss. I hadn’t watched Reading Rainbow in many years, but I’m still sad to see it go – and the era along with it.

* I would be remiss not to give Fraggle Rock and Zoobilee Zoo honorable mention.

(image from here.)

20-Something [Social] Life Cycle

2009-08-29T17:34:00.005-06:00

- subcultural rebirth

- clique gestation/ interpersonal maturation

- technological disenchantment

- psychoanalytic introspection

- existential crisis

- burst into flame

- repeat

Is it really that serious? Of course not... and absolutely.

Ramadan Reflections

2009-08-25T00:30:00.001-06:00

(because, clearly, i'm a sucker for alliteration.)
**

Yesterday, I overheard someone say, “I’m starving.”

Really? Really?

It was the 3rd day of Ramadan, and my body was still adjusting. I wasn't walking around sad-faced and pitiful; my stomach didn't even growl too much. And I didn’t intend to indulge such dramatics. For one, it’s not becoming, and for two – it isn’t necessary.

However, hearing that hyperbolic turn of phrase (for surely she wasn’t serious) actually made me grateful for the fast. Through it, I will recognize hunger, but it will confirm that I know nothing of starvation. That’s one of the benefits of Ramadan; Muslims get closer to the experience of the unfortunate. Hopefully, it will not only make us more diligent in our compassion but more thankful for our bounty.

Ameen.

Ramadan Mubarak

2009-08-22T13:39:00.005-06:00

The Islamic month of fasting began last night at sundown.

It makes me feel especially connected to Muslims across the world.

And I think the President feels connected too. Very cool.

A Peculiar Kind of Optimisim

2009-08-20T08:09:00.004-06:00

An excerpt from a recent conversation with one of my sisters:

"I have good news!"

"What?"

"I went to the doctor today and found out that I have poison ivy."

"You're stupid."

"I thought there was a parasite living under the surface of my skin."

"Well, in that case."

Dude. 3 Years.

2009-08-09T16:35:00.000-06:00

A few days ago, HomeBoy & I celebrated our 3 year wedding anniversary (it sounds so stodgy when I say it that way). He wrote me this amazing message that made me cry the second time I read it (the first time I was too busy trippin' because other folks could see it).

What a beautiful soul.
What a blessed life.
I don't want to ramble,
but I believe Ingrid Michaelson said it best.

PS - We went to this delicious Italian restaurant. Ever had really good canneloni? It will change your life.

An Exercise in Nostalgia

2009-08-05T21:30:00.000-06:00

You know, senior yearbook quotes can reveal a lot about a person.

In my high school, the seniors had the most detailed portion of the yearbook. Unlike the under classmen who had all of their images squeezed onto a double page spread like so many sardines, our photos were laid out three per page, so we could include a list of all our extracurricular activities, our signatures and a quote of our own choosing.

People pulled activities out the woodwork. I’m convinced some even made them up. My own list wasn’t very robust, as I worked all through high school. But the most interesting part wasn’t the list of extracurrculars; it wasn’t even the highly stylized signatures of the senior girls – complete with hearts and smiley faces, ad nauseum. The most interesting thing about the senior section was the quotes.

Being several years removed from high school, I’ve gone back to peruse my yearbook on occasion. I’ll read a few of the handwritten messages; then I make a B-line for the senior section to see who’s quotes exemplify their high school selves, and who’s quotes were foreshadowing the people they would become. Of course, I have not kept in touch with everyone from my graduating class, so maybe the quotes just fit my memories of them. At any rate, here are some of my favorites:

"...in my pants" -Original
"Nothing left to do but smile smile smile" -Grateful Dead
"I get by with a little help from m y friends.
I get high with a little help from my friends." - The Beatles
"Carpe Diem"
"Insanity, think of it as a survival kit." - Anonymous
"We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep." - The Tempest
"I don't want to repeat my innocence. I want the pleasure of losing it again." - F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise
"When I know who I am, then I'll be free." - Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man
"Four years of Academic [our high school]...'And still I rise" - Partially Original/ Maya Angelou
"Deaf people can do anything except hear" - Original (and from a hearing-impaired student. awesome in my opinion.)
"College is for girls who don't want to marry the first idiot they meet and push out his illegitimate children." - Original
"I wish they would only take me as I am." -Vincent Van Gogh
"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." - Unknown
"Nitwit blubber oddment tweak." (I believe this is take from Harry Potter)
"My heart took delight in all my work, and this was the reward for all my labor." - Ecclesiastes 2:10
"Both tears and sweat are salty, but render a different result. Tears will get you sympathy, sweat will get you change." - Jesse Jackson
"We all go a little mad sometimes." - Norman Bates, Psycho
"If I could say a few good words...I'd be a better public speaker." - Homer Simpson
"The difficulty is not to die for a friend but to find a fried to die for." - Anonymous
"Silence, here I am. Here I am -silent" - Nirvana
"Verily, when Allah intends a thing, His command is 'Be!' and it is! So glory to Him in whose hands in the dominion of all things: and to Allah is the final return." - Al Qur'an

I could have included more, but I don't want to transcribe the words of my entire senior class. Like I said, I haven't kept in touch enough to know if any of these quotes have proven to been ironic or prophetic, but I hope we have a reunion because I would love to know.

"Peacetime"

2009-07-30T11:30:00.003-06:00

[edited to add]

I like technology most when it helps me do something timeless – like create poetry.

While watching The Good Shepherd the other night, I saw a scene in which the main character and his love interest were dancing at a night club and the band leader interrupted the music to share the news that France and England had just declared war on Germany. “But please continue dancing and enjoying our music,” he said, “I’ll update you as information comes in.” The protagonist’s love interest held him closer – tighter – for as long as she could. And continue to dance they did.

Even after I turned off the movie and went to bed, I couldn’t get that scene out of my mind. I didn’t want to get up and grab my notebook, but there’s a memo app on my BB. So I opened a new memo, and wrote the following: (tentatively titled, “Peacetime”)

Hold me close;
we’re on the brink of war.

Let’s keep dancing.
Soon enough there will be no music,
and we will ration smiles.

But tonight we can pretend
that our hearts are light, our spirits free.

And the only bloody Marys
are the ones served with Sunday brunches.
Not the ones with futures and families.
Not the ones named for the mother of Jesus.
**

I question the line breaks.

Are you talking to me?

2009-07-29T07:50:00.000-06:00

As I rushed through the halls at work yesterday morning, a building maintenance gentleman with a huge cart stopped short right beside me. Then I stopped. He said, "ladies first", and I almost tripped standing still. "Thank you," I said. As I scurried the rest of the way back to my desk, I had a flurry of feelings and thoughts. I’ll try to illustrate them:

“Ladies first” => was he being facetious? => Sojourner Truth’s “Ain’t I a Woman” => I wasn’t offended => it seemed genuine => race/class/gender (minus class in this instance) => should I have insisted that he go first? he was pushing a heavy load… => (so am I – Rimshot!) => is this chivalry or decency? => is there a difference? => was taking his cue an anti-feminist act? => maybe he wasn’t in a rush? => when did I become a lady? => woman, yes. lady? I don’t know => it was a nice gesture, at any rate => sometimes a cigar is just a cigar => I don’t smoke

Yep. That's pretty much the inside of my head at any given moment.

poetic license...

2009-07-21T16:37:00.004-06:00

Yippie – n. a term used to describe the young and upwardly mobile who despite their education, professional careers and relatively affluent lifestyles persist in expanding consciousness through nonconformist, unconventional and free-spirited behavior; a cross between a “yuppie” and a “hippie”; ex. It’s good that she’s buying local and handmade items, but that yippie spends way too much!

Happy Birthday, Bighead

2009-07-20T13:55:00.007-06:00

Dear HomeBoy,

I know you don’t really celebrate your birthday, and that’s fine by me. But I do. So, how can I satisfy my need to recognize and your request to keep it quiet? I think a post will do the trick. Here it goes…

“Twenty-Eight Endearing Things About You”

28. You look like a child when you’re sleeping – totally unassuming and peaceful.

27. Your search for humor is relentless, and you always share your findings with me. (Whether I find them funny or not – that’s a different story ;)

26. My friends love you, and my family respects you.

25. You’re a rather good impersonator; your Nas and Mos Def are pretty good, but your Elijah Muhammad is the best.

24. However, your impersonation of my dad still leaves much to be desired – keep working on it. ;)

23. Your competitive edge is pretty funny. Phase Ten has never had such an intense interpretation before you started playing, I’m sure.

22. You love your friends and family with steadfastness and intensity. I admire that.

21. You introduced me to Aesop Rock, L’Roneous and Aqua Teen Hunger Force. How can I ever repay you?

20. WWJD – What Would Jay Do? If I'd had you as a math tutor, maybe I'd remember a few things.

19. I love to see you and your sisters together; you have a beautiful relationship.

18. You don’t buy me flowers, you bring me ginger snaps.

17. When you get into a hobby, you REALLY get into it. RC Cars, boxing, MMA and jiu-jitsu… need I say more?

16. You are the reason I know anything at all about the UFC, and I really do listen! BJ Penn, Royce and Roger and all the Gracies, Tap Out, Affliction, Sherdog, arm bar, triangle choke, oma plata – see?

15. You may single-handedly keep afloat the protein powder industry.

14. I see a tree limb, a doorway, a set of monkey bars; you see a pull-up opportunity.

13. Somehow scaring me as I walk into dark rooms or turn corners is still funny after all this time… to you.

12. You, in a most beautifully articulate manner, defended feminism to my father. While I observed in absolute silence with a smile that could rival the Cheshire Cat.

11. Your pragmatism and frugality can be irksome – they also come in great handy.

10. You research EVERYTHING, from laptops to what’s the best method for making coffee. (I love our French press, by the way. Thank you.)

9. You’ve relinquished any creative control in the interior design of our home, but you help me carry out the ideas.

8. After only 3 years, you’ve nearly mastered the art of dishwashing. ;)

7. You are kind to all animals, and even pet the strays.

6. You have high school memories of me from before I even really knew who you were.

5. You never hold me back from anything I want to do.

4. You make me question myself, which ultimately results in a stronger resolve or a clarified perspective.

3. You were a soldier, and you are a scholar.

2. You’ve pondered a multitude of ways to embarrass our future children.

1. You are who you are all the time.

Ways to Keep Busy While the Power's Out (in the morning)

2009-07-12T18:25:00.004-06:00

(Besides the obvious - gutter!)

- Call the electric company and report it, of course.

- Wash dishes by window light.

- Make shadow puppets.

- Wonder if I should have spent that extra $$ on a backup generator instead of interior paint.

- Listen to the rain fall & remember when that used to be a soothing sound.

- Count all the things in the refrigerator that could spoil. Do this in my mind, of course; don't open the fridge and let what little chill is left escape.

- Write a letter, like they did in Olden Days. If I really want an authentic experience, tie my letter to the foot of a pigeon.

- Write my blog post by hand and laugh hysterically at the irony.

- Marvel at my dependence on modern amenities.

- Meditate on gratitude. My situation is only an inconvenience - a discomfort at the most - and it's temporary.

- Be Still. (Seriously, when was the last time I did that?)

2009-07-07T10:24:00.003-06:00

Truth is,

I hadn’t been listening to you recently.

You were like milk –

fortifying me in my youth,

but less tantalizing as I got older.

Sure you were still important,

but I needed you less and less…

Still you were a part of me,

as familiar and requisite in my world

as the building fund, alter prayer

and aluminum foil at the tips of cornrows.

Maybe I should have

shook my head in defiance

instead of in shame

because maybe you didn’t do those things you were accused of?

Should have been more vocal

instead of lending my silence to the swell

of rumors, cruel jokes and accusations.

When the news came, I didn’t believe.

But when it was confirmed,

I retreated into my catalogue and let the whole thing play.

You never miss the water…

or in this case, the milk.

I’ve kept my sadness to myself, mostly.

Not really wanting to join the throngs of mourners

whose sincerity is only outdone by their amnesia.

Could a little more kindness have saved your life?

Yes, you have Gone to Soon.

Yes, I Want You Back.

Yes, those are very clichéd things to say –

I guess that means I’m just like all the others.

But you are not, and you never were.

Transformers

2009-06-30T16:19:00.003-06:00

I am ready. So ready to transform this house some more. I have a love/hate relationship with our Queen Mum. Sometimes, I am dazzled by her stateliness, endurance and potential, other times I wish she was a brand new modern condo. My dream for this house is somewhere between restoring her to her original grandeur and updating everything with just a wink to her history.

I’ve visited blogs and websites of people who have been in this same 100+ year old Victorian ship that we’re in. I’ve seen some scary befores and inspiring afters, and they make me want to make this house all that it can be – inside and out. HomeBoy and I, for the sake of our savings and sanity, are taking things slowly. Last year, we focused on the LR and DR; not too shabby, if I may say so. Both rooms still need finishing touches, but we’ve made great progress.

This spring and summer, I want to take things to the next level. No, seriously. We’re going to do some work upstairs. The initial and ambitious plan is to finish all the floors, repair a little cracked plaster, customize our bedroom closet and paint and paint and paint. We’ve already been to Home Depot and made some color decisions; it went relatively quickly because I knew what I wanted. Warm colors are downstairs, so we’re doing all cool colors upstairs – calming, soothing blues and greens and gray (for the office).

We’ve learned quite a bit from last year’s projects:

1) Projects should be done in a specific order to minimize unnecessary work. Last year, we had the floors done before we did the painting, and though we were very careful, there were still a few spills to pine over and clean up. This brings me to the next learning...

2) We are not painters. You put on your coveralls and your scarf and it’s all cute for about an hour; then you want to call the crew that HGTV keeps off camera. I will be pricing some interior painters; if the cost is reasonable, I will gladly turn over my brush and roller.

3) There will be times, outside of moving into a new place, where you will have to lift your furniture, and it will suck.

4) And finally (for the moment at least), house renovating is hard work. Take the time and appreciate the process. Sure we worked on weekends then went to work on Monday; sure we came home to a dining room covered in tarp and tape and a bedroom with a dining table and chairs in it; sure taking a full couch up a full flight of stairs will make you feel like every push-up you’ve ever done in life meant nothing. But when the tarp comes up, the furniture goes down and you love what you see – it is all worth it.

image from this cool blog.

Words to Live By

2009-06-25T21:28:00.000-06:00

"Don't stop till you get enough."

-Michael Jackson

The Prototype

2009-06-25T08:29:00.002-06:00

The first time I saw Love Jones, it was in the theaters. I was in the seventh grade, and I remember going to the movies with a friend of mine – still high from Erykah Badu’s debut album, and couldn’t wait to see a good romantic drama about black love. (Though I doubt we would have articulated it that way back then.) From the leather, denim and sepia saturated cinematography to the bluesy soundtrack to the flawless beauty of Nia Long, everything about that movie excited me. And Darius Lovehall (Lorenz Tate)? Darius Lovehall was the best thing since sliced bread.

The character’s pomposity and wordplay were an intoxicating combination that could make you slap him and still invite him in to “talk”. I’d experimented with writing poetry by this time, but Love Jones introduced me to the performance aspect. Though it would be a little while before I began performing, from the night I left the theater I was hooked. Spoken word was this intellectual, grown and sexy thing in my mind, and Darius Lovehall was it’s patron saint.

Fast forward some years, and I’m at the New York comedy club about to slam against some dude named Talaam Acey. I’d never heard of him and the prize was a paltry $25 (enough to cover the drink minimum, the host joked), but no matter – this was just for the love of words. I. Was. Floored. He had an amazing way of intertwining sensuality and social commentary ( p**sy and politics) that tricked the audience into learning something. His delivery was wonderful; his demeanor – haughty and humble at the same time. After a close judging, we complimented each other and I invited him to a bi-monthly open mic in Jersey City.

When he showed up to my stomping ground in JC, he brought some copies of his latest CD to sell. The title was Morally Bankrupt, and it was the best $10 I ever spent. I played it on all-day repeat for weeks, and I dethroned the fictional Darious Lovehall as patron saint of spoken word because here was a man who made Mr. Lovehall sound like a beginner. Since our first meeting, I have purchased two more of his CDs and even saw Talaam when he came to KCMO earlier this year. (It was a Tuesday night, folks. I don’t go out on week nights for just anybody.)

He’s made a living at this performance poetry thing for over a decade. He travels and performs and writes. He’s still just as haughty and humble. He’s still teaching audiences on the sly. And for a limited time only, he has a free download (courtesy of Microsoft) of a piece called “Five Women”. I’ve listened and I enjoy it; though I think some of his earlier work had more fervor. Check it out, if you have a chance. For some, this will be an introduction; for others, sweet nostalgia. Either way, I offer a taste of the Good Deacon and his Reformed Church of Lyrical Lucidity. (Oom Sha-lock-lock.)*

*The italics reference specific pieces of Talaam’s poetry. Though I would like to take credit for “The reformed church of lyrical lucidity”, I cannot.

Time Traveling

2009-06-19T12:45:00.002-06:00

I had lunch with a Colleague the other day. We talked of creativity and occupation and ULTIMATE LIFE PURPOSE – nice light conversation. As we talked, Colleague began to muse about the near future, “…in three years, I’ll be 26.” And just like that, I was older. Colleague’s future is my present. In 3 more years, I’ll be 29 for the first time…

Last weekend, I attended my baby brother’s high school graduation; it was yet another reminder of the passage of time. his current milestone was my past cornerstone in a foundation that has, thankfully and prayerfully, been building upward ever since. Combine that with all the recent weddings and babies, and it’s a surprise I haven’t started to grunt when I get up from a chair or forget my sunglasses are on top of my head.

“I feel my mortality,” Colleague said.

“It’s better than the illusion of immortality,” I replied.

“But ignorance was so much fun.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t go back to not knowing.” We both agreed on that. We both also have had the experience of growing up as mature youths – old souls, wise beyond our years or whatever. It’s funny how you can be those things without ever feeling like a grown up.

“I feel like a grown-up now,” Colleague said. So what does this mean? Maybe it’s like the bird feeder said – about feeling the changes as they approach (and while in the midst of them, I might add).

As a purported Millenial, I am part of the “it” group right now. Everybody wants to know what we think/feel/want. That could easily be no more than our society’s obsession with youth culture. What about when this glorified decade passes? Who will we be then, and will anybody care?

Not Post-Its, "Post-ettes" - as in little ones

2009-06-14T09:36:00.002-06:00

1
stayed up last night watching Caveman Valentine with Sam Jackson. while his ridiculous hair distracted me from his character development, initially, i found the story very interesting. at the end of the film it occured to me that maybe the only difference between an eccentric and a nutcase is their tax bracket.
**

2
dear lady on the NJ Transit train who asked me about the Trenton stop,

i didn't know that the train we were on was a local and that it would stop in Trenton. i hope you weren't too late for you appointment. in my defense, i had just stepped onto the train. i should have looked for the ticket attendant and asked. i didn't lie to you; you asked if it was the 8:32 to Trenton, and i said it was the 8:25 to Long Branch. that's why i was on it. anyway, i know how much it sucks to get lost, so I hope you had safe travels in spite of my back advise.
**

The Requisite Birthday Post

2009-06-09T11:36:00.004-06:00

PART I

A colleague of mine saw a Kenneth Koch book on my desk last week, and he engaged me in a brief yet enthusiastic conversation about the author/poet. Later that same day, said colleague left this poem on my desk, and though I am still in my twenties it feels appropriate to share:

To My Twenties

How lucky that I ran into you

When everything was possible

For my legs and arms, and with hope in my heart

And so happy to see any woman--

O woman! O my twentieth year!

Basking in you, you

Oasis from both growing and decay

Fantastic unheard of nine- or ten-year oasis

A palm tree, hey! And then another

And another--and water!

I'm sill very impressed by you. Whither,

Midst falling decades, have you gone? Oh in what lucky fellow,

Unsure of himself, upset, and unemployable

For the moment in any case, do you live now?

From my window I drop a nickel

By mistake. With

You I race down to get it

But I find there on

The street instead, a good friend,

X-- N--, who says to me

Kenneth do you have a minute?

And I say yes! I am in my twenties!

I have plenty of time! In you I marry,

In you I first go to France; I make my best friends

In you, and a few enemies. I

Write a lot and am living all the time

And thinking about living. I loved to frequent you

After my teens and before my thirties.

You three together in a bar

I always preferred you because you were midmost

Most lustrous apparently strongest

Although now that I look back on you

What part have you played?

You never, ever, were stingy. What you gave me you gave whole

But as for telling

Me how to best use it

You weren't a genius at that.

Twenties, my soul

Is yours for the asking

You know that, if you ever come back.

I am not familiar with Koch’s work, but I definitely want to get acquainted now.

PART II

And as I am in the habit of creating connections and naming things, I hereby christen this my Marathon Year. Whatever does that mean? Well, bare with me as I make something up, won’t you? Twenty-six is the number of miles in a marathon; the Greek myth of the battle of Marathon concludes with a foot soldier running the distance of 26 miles, despite fatigue, to tell of a victory against the Persians.

lesson #1: fight through the fatigue

lesson #2: try to have good news

Marathon runners today have tremendous endurance and strength, though you can’t always tell by looking at them. They train hard and often, but always give themselves time to recover. The night before a race is critical; they always eat well and rest up.

lesson #3: endure

lesson #4: never reveal all of your strength

lesson #5: give yourself time to recover

lesson #6: carbs are okay, if you have a long journey ahead

In the case of the Battle of Marathon, the Persians outnumbered the Athenians 4 to 1. In the case of modern day marathons, those who start strong don’t always finish strong. Yes, training and preparation are key, but there are always variables we cannot foresee. It would behoove me to remember this the next time I’m feeling like I’ll never get ahead or when I’m feeling like I can’t be stopped. Both self perceptions are false and could cost me dearly. A lot can happen in twenty-six miles, which brings me to my final lesson:

lesson #7: it’s anybody’s race

Silly, but true - a retropost

2009-06-03T08:12:00.002-06:00

(This actually happened a few weeks ago. I can laugh at it now because it's over.)

I came back from a meeting to find a tiny bug on my screen. I flicked it, but it didn’t move. Why? Because it was beneath the glass of my monitor. I had to watch it crawl – up, down, across, along the edge. I called IT,

“This is going to sound weird, but um, there’s a bug in my computer and I can see it crawling around, but it’s beneath the screen so I can’t kill it.”

Silence.

“I was wondering if I should use some compressed air or something; I think it must have gotten in there through the speaker holes.”

“Well, uh…”

He’s obviously struggling to find a response. I put him out of his misery.“It’s not really affecting my work.” That’s a lie. I was totally losing my shit as this thing crawled across my word documents and excel spreadsheets and NY Times homepage.

“Well, there’s nothing we can really do. What kind of computer do you have?”

“An all-in-one.”

“If any more show up, we can replace the entire unit. Definitely call back if you see any more.”

“Okay. I’m sure this is the weirdest thing you’ve heard all day.”

“Yep.”

He laughs to make me feel less lame. Thank you, IT Guy. I hang up the phone convinced that this is karmic payback for the innumerous and terrible puns that I have tossed about with reckless abandon. I changed my desktop wall paper, which was a super focused and close cropped photo of a flower petal. (Do I look like I’m kidding?) I opted for a black and white landscape shot with a few strong lightning bolts in the middle. If this little nuisance was going to traipse around on my screen, I didn’t have to sit there and bare witness. Of course when I open anything that wasn’t a predominantly black screen – there it was!

I haven’t seen the little bugger all day. I guess it’s gone, as quickly, quietly and uneventfully as it had come. I couldn’t be happier. In the future, I’ll be more sparing with my bad puns, but I’m tucking this experience away for a time when I am old, quirky and have to be tolerated. Then I will turn to the young’uns and say, “Ask me about the time my computer had a bug.”

That's a Test of a Different Color

2009-05-29T09:59:00.003-06:00

Courtesy of VSL (Very Short List), I found this cool little visual IQ test. It sort of feeds my latent designer, so I was pleased to have gotten such a good score. I didn't do the whole thing straight through - had to take breaks and go back a couple of times. Some of the colors are so subtly different that they all started to look the same! I could explain it, but the sight explains it better. So just go play!

Seriously?

2009-05-27T10:39:00.004-06:00

"Proud Non-Reader, Kayne West Turns Author"

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a stuffy, pretentious, self-important poser. Maybe it’s because I graduated from college. Maybe it’s because I was an English major, but to have a self proclaimed "non-reader" co-create a book seems a rank offense. Like he is intentionally thumbing his nose at articulation and literacy. In this 52 page mega pamphlet, some pages have a few odd words or phrases and others are completely blank. It irks my life. I’m not taking away from his capacity to create catchy music and clever wordplay. I am dismayed, however, at the outright frivolity of the endeavor. I wonder if this is how actors feel when some random celebrity “tries their hand” at acting - or any aspiring or established craftsperson, for that matter, who has to entertain the wanton antics of some smug dilettante suffering from a case of self-entitlement.

If you want to write things down and make those things available for others to read, that’s cool – put it in a CD jacket, publish it through Kindle or post it on your blog. Hell, put it on a T-shirt even, but don’t waste the resources to print and bound something you don’t even believe in. You’re a non-reader? That’s cool. Now you can add “non-author” to your credits as well.

See the article (with my orange interjections) below.

It's like writing in the margins - the margins of books. Take that!

NEW YORK (Reuters) - Rapper Kanye West does not read books or respect them but nevertheless he has written one that he would like you to buy and read.

The Grammy Award winner, known for his No. 1 albums and outspoken statements on everything from racism in America to the banality of Twitter, is the co-author of "Thank You And You're Welcome."

okay. I do like this title.

His book is 52 pages -- some blank, others with just a few words -- and offers his optimistic philosophy on life. One two-page section reads, "Life is 5% what happens and 95% how you react!" Another page reads "I hate the word hate!"

ever notice how words that lack any real impact tend to be followed by very strong punctuation?

"This is a collection of thoughts and theories," West, 31, said in an interview about his spiral-bound volume, which was written with J. Sakiya Sandifer.

because heaven forbid you ever throw away something you’ve written down? I guess you’ve forgotten the better stuff.

West said he put his thoughts in a book because "I get paraphrased and misquoted all the time." He calls his wisdom "Kanye-isms."

"My favorite one is 'Get used to being used,'" he said.

"I feel like to misuse, overuse or abuse someone is negative. To use is necessary and if you can't be used, then you are useless."

wow, to be a hater of books, he sure is a fan of semantics! this is kind of clever – in a suessical sort of way or like a freestyle. however, the thing with freestyle fodder is that much of it is really clever in the moment, but if you have time to think about it, you come to a conclusion like, “WTF are you saying?”

So does he fancy himself a modern-day Confucius?

"I'm trying to end the confusion," he said, laughing and adding, "I'm gonna put that on the next album."

again, with the wordplay; look for that Confucius / end confusion line in the next single.

West's derision of books comes despite the fact that his late mother, Donda West, was a university English professor before she retired to manage his music career. She died in 2007 of complications following cosmetic surgery.

"Sometimes people write novels and they just be so wordy and so self-absorbed," West said. "I am not a fan of books. I would never want a book's autograph.

All artists are self absorbed to a degree. How else can we think that our perspective and opinion are so important that the whole world ought to know about it? And don’t you worry about getting a book’s autograph; I doubt you’ll ever find a book to give you one. (That’s personification – something people tend to use in books and other such contraptions with words in them.)

"I am a proud non-reader of books. I like to get information from doing stuff like actually talking to people and living real life," he said.

I get this. there’s no substitute for experience, but books are not simply purveyors of someone else’s life. they are also playgrounds of inspiration and doorways to worlds unknown. not to mention we don’t all have the means to get up and go whenever we’re curious about something. “I wonder what Paris is like in the fall? I think I’ll go in September!” and limiting this statement to real life leaves no room for fiction. even you can’t disregard the importance of imagination.

West, a college dropout, said being a non-reader was helpful when he wrote his book because it gave him "a childlike purity."

should I read “childlike purity” as “infantile intellect”? hmm…

West dedicates the book to his late mother.

"My mom taught me to believe in my flyness and conquer my shyness," he said, defining "flyness" as confidence. "She raised me to be the voice to allow people to think for themselves, to find their own way."

know what makes your closing statement appealing? rhyme and assonance – literary devices. you are a walking contradiction, sir. now if you will excuse me, I have to find my own way to the library.

A Chocolate Room

2009-05-22T20:37:00.007-06:00

Here's a story about a dining room.

Once upon a time, it was all green trim and white walls.
Then we changed it, and now it looks like this:

I really love the way the colors in both rooms look together.
(Not that anyone would be standing in the threshold between the two rooms, but still.)

The End.

Everything's Coming Up...

2009-05-15T11:18:00.008-06:00

Dear Nature
(and whoever actually planted them),

Thank you for the beautiful peonies in the backyard. They are HUGE blossoms, they smell amazing (really fragrant, not just green like many flowers) and best of all – I didn’t have to plant them. Sure, there are ants on them sometimes, but I can flick or rinse those away, no problem. I snipped one and have it on my desk at work, and catching a whiff of it every time I turn around makes it easier to be indoors all day long. I think I’ll snip some more to bring in the house, if I can get enough of them without the ants.

I’ve never been a girl who cares much for flowers – not a dislike, just a disregard. Now, I actually stop by the bush each morning on my way to the car. I’m thinking about ways to give them as little gifts once more and more of them bloom. When it stormed the other night, I found myself thinking, “Good for the peonies!” You probably won’t find me on my hands and knees in one of those silly hats playing in the dirt any time soon, but I’m noticing, Nature. I’m noticing.

Thanks Again,
Teresa

PS – Good job on the irises too!

3:36 am

2009-05-13T02:35:00.005-06:00

"What fresh hell is this?" - Whoever I heard say this that one time

Know what happens when you become fixated on sleep? You can't. I've been pretty deliberate as of late in trying to get to bed at a decent hour - 10ish. But then I get caught up on the phone or watching a movie on TBS that I've seen half a dozen times already (very funny), or wretched facebook or any number of lame time killers. By the time I lie down, I already feel doomed. Then the pressure is on.

"If I can fall asleep in the next twenty minutes," I tell myself, "I can still get about 6 hours."

Twenty minutes come and go. I sit up and look at the clock across the room. "Zut!"* I remark to myself, as I reset my cell phone alarm to give back the 30 minutes of sleep in the morning that I just lost tonight.

"I'll have a yogurt for breakfast and bring soup for lunch, so I don't have to take the time to make them. If I figure out what to wear to work as I'm falling asleep, I can go straight to it in the morning."

I recline again. Twist. Turn. Shift. Flip pillow to the cooler side. Put second pillow at the foot of the bed. Pull up the sheet. Kick off the blanket. Open the blinds and close them tighter because OMG is there a search party going on, is public enemy number 1 outside - why the hell is it so bright out there?! Breathe a quiet sigh of relief that I haven't awakened HomeBoy with all this damn movement. Close eyes tightly. Imagine myself sinking into the bed or whatever. Look over at the clock.

"What!!? I'm going to be so tired. This is ridiculous. Come on, Self, knock out already! We can't get up any later tomorrow morning."

So focused on how tired I'm going to be tomorrow, I can't sleep tonight. It is sometime between O-dark-thirty and Stupid-o'clock in the morning. I'm too anxious to sleep and I'm too tired to get up and be productive. So I lie there, sometimes looking out the window but mostly staring at the thin strips of light that seep through the binds and paint the ceiling. I hear the occasional car and wonder where the driver and passengers are going. Ain't nothing open this time of night except... Ah the sage sayings of "righteous women".

How are the hours trudging along so slowly now? Time, you play a cruel trick. If I was asleep these 3 hours would have been thirty minutes, but because I am awake you make them feel eternal. This is what it feels like when time passes you by.

*This was probably a much stronger and English word in real life, but it's too early in the morning for that kind of language. Seriously. Too. Effing. Early.