my sentiments exactly...almost...

it's not just birthdays and holidays anymore, people. there's a cardline called "journeys" and it's in hallmark gold crown stores and it covers everything from chemo to coming out. this ain't yo grandma's greeting cards.

the curse of adaptability... and a new clinical term...

one way people identify their “callings”
in life is by deciding what they could never do without – art, music,
math, the newspaper. if something comes to mind, that is at least a
place to start. but what if you don’t know what you can’t do without?
what if you are an extremely, go-with-the-flow, totally adaptable
person? does this mean you have no passion? no ambition? no drive?
let’s take it a step further, pair that adaptability with the ability
to learn things quickly, then toss in a laundry list of affinities.
you’re left somewhere in the middle of possibility, but not the green
hills, sunshine kind of possibility; this is the seedy shadow of
possibility – that bastard cousin, indecision. graduate high school?
check. graduate college? check. get a great job? check. then what the
hell is the problem? I should be thanking my lucky stars, but instead
I’m reproaching the stars – double checking to see if any of them are
my true north or if I’ve been fooled. let's be clear, i am not unhappy
by any definition, but i guess the honeymoon employment period is over...

in other news, i think i may have chronical
dyslexia. (and i probably just made that up, but let me explain) no,
not chronic dyslexia because that would be habitual and that's not what
i mean. "chronical dyslexia" as in, my mentality wants to go backwards;
this sounds bad, i know but it's under control - i'm in no danger of what nas would call a "second childhood." but i think it boils down to wanting to have more "fun" (for "fun" see a billion different things for a billion different people).

see, when i was younger i was 'mature for my age' (or at least i was told). people made this sound like a compliment, so i continued to perpetuate this behavior. looking back, while mature meant "safe and responsible" it also meant "boring." were it not for my younger sister, i probably wouldn't have had the handful of free-wheeling childhood experiences i did encounter. so one day i caught myself saying, "damn! i totally missed my chance to be 'young and foolish!'" well, no take-backs. i'm not underage, so there will be no fake IDs. not in school anymore, so i can't cut class (and hell no i'm not cutting work). there will be no experimentation with mind altering substances. when i told my husband that i missed my chance to do young and dumb things, he said maybe that was a blessing. maybe i would have gotten too deep into something i couldn't get out of (can you believe it? someone more level-headed than me - in this instance anyway). he makes a good point. i guess what irks me the most is that i don't think i stayed so straight-laced entirely because of my pristine virtues or exemplary moral compass. i mean, i wanted to be a good kid, but often times, i was just scared...

anyway, all that to say that if i create stellar fiction in the future don't raise an eyebrow when you see me in person because there's a pretty good chance i didn't do any of it.

"meditations on voice"

i am participating in a black history month exhibit. the theme of the show is "we speak [for] ourselves", and this is where the theme led me. hope you enjoy...


fast and furious
slow and slurr’d
dropping consonants
and smooshing vowels
Understand?

drawling and dragging
screaming and hollering
singing and shouting
tsking and sighing
You dig?

hands on hips
eyes rolling
neck cocked
head whipping
fingers snap
I heard that!

feet stomping
legs hopping
hips swishing
waist rocking
I know that’s right!

weeping, wailing,
praying, moaning,
chanting, resisting…
Testify!

ancestors and babies
speak to each other
sisters and brothers,
what’s the news?

Funwa L’alafia--
Ashe! Ashe!

Word.


so the poet in me, perhaps she is not dead. but she sure as hell is good at playing possum.