Phew!!

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.

On A Purple Day in December...

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.

On Toddlers...

(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.

Dang. Whip it.

 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.

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

 
“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**

Squelch[ed] the 'Tude

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!

Walk Walk, Fashion Baby

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

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?

insha-Allah*

Erykah Badu

 Janelle Monae

June

I. am. so. there.

* "if God wills"

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

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

“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.

In Praise of Late Blooming

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?

The Post Never Posted

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. ;)

Kids these days...

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!

Infinite In Between

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.

"Rubble"

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.

The Fear

"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.

so this is sunlight?

it's early in the morning. the day after i have completed my academic tasks and instead of feeling really good, i just feel hung over. does that make sense? i've thought more about this blogging thing, and i guess it's a good idea if i'm going to live far away from friends and family. they can read it to keep up with me because anybody who knows me knows that i'm pretty bad at keeping in touch. don't mean to be, just am. i got a return email from hallmark staffing saying that they received my application and i will hear back in 3-4 weeks. i was so nervous when i sent it. i have to find another hustle for the summer because right now i'm staring down the barrel of unemployment and homelessness. wonder if i can stay for another month in that apartment? wonder if i can find a job in GA? wonder if i could be on the brink of the greatest grown-ass summer of my life? i'm getting excited just thinking about it. it would be a period of well deserved freedom and boundless creativity. i bet i could finish my play. i bet i could learn a whole bunch of cool hole-in-the-wall spots in atlanta. i bet i could actively cherish friendships and actively deepen the ones that i have not had the time to cultivate. i bet i could befriend some strangers. life is so filled with possibility. i must not forget that. even if employment doesn't come so quick or i can't get another month in that apartment or whatever less than desirable thing may befall me. it's all gravy because i can always control the way i handle a situation even if i can't handle the situation itself, savvy? i haven't been awake early like this in a long time. i miss the sun. this solar powered woman's been running on fumes, but not today. i am awake and my sun is here and she will take care of me, so i can take care of somebody else. i saw "pay it forward" for the first time on sunday. it was so good. it brought out the utopian in me and i haven't seen her for a while. i even got teary at the end, but that's cause other stuff was plaguing me too. i cry at movies sometimes so people won't link it to something else. after battling the slings and arrows of procrastination on yesterday and coming out unscathed, here i go again...i'm claiming a new space today, a space of: energy, confidence, professionalism, vision, freedom, love, God, nature, patience, focus, sexiness (hell yes, and it's about time if i may say so). for some of these things it's just a matter of kicking it up a notch, for others - it's experimentation. either way, i plan to enjoy the ride.
peace, tmL