Autumn All Day

It was quintessentially autumn all day yesterday - crisp high winds rattled leaves from trees. Some were brilliant oranges, golds and reds. Some were a dying brown. Still others were green, but they were all flying. All in swirls of delight, little dancers on a bright blue backdrop. They seemed to move to the rhythm of the music we played in the car on our way to pick up some odds and ends. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon.

Then it was 30-something degrees this morning. Was it thirty-five degrees? Thirty-nine? Is there a difference?

I guess this is what they mean when they say, "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." Well, it was autumn in Kansas City for an entire day, and I didn't sleep through it. So that's good.

(Sheesh, and also "Brrr".)

breakdown, and let it all out...

Here's the funny thing, all this time I thought catharsis only worked if you spewed all over other people. I wrote a post nearly two weeks ago about what was causing my writer's block, and I have read and reread that post many times since then. I have been hesitant to post it because it contains some very vulnerable sh*t and I wonder(ed) if it would affect the way folks interact with me (especially since a number of my readers are people I interact with outside of the internet). What I've come to realize, however, is that by virtue of writing down what I have been avoiding, I have become substantially less blocked. Am I half way through the next great American novel? No. But I am writing - in this space, comments on other spaces, in my leather bound journal, poems, honorary pieces for special occasions, funny bits and pieces... I was not doing that before because the only thing that wanted to come out of me was the thing that I wanted so desperately to keep inside. (This is strictly metaphorical and not at all anatomical, folks. Don't be alarmed.)

I spoke to a very good friend of mine about this writer's block and my struggle with it. Why, if I knew what was causing the problem, would I not fix it? Why not remove the block? Well, maybe because that block is the cornerstone in a much larger wall - perhaps even a dam. And am I ready for it all to come tumbling down - am I ready to sink or swim in it - just so I can get some words out? That's a tough one.

Shouts out to the other earnest, inconsistent bloggers out there. We'll get around to it, and we'll wait.

Just. Say. Something.

(Many thanks for your patience.  I'm not going to pretend that I haven't been gone, but I am going to just keep it moving...)

“The Journey Home”

Being home in Jersey was great, but I think we stayed a hair too long.  It actually was a little sad leaving.  There was almost a routine happening, and I could sense a very pleasant reality where HomeBoy & I could be near our families all the time.  Islamic studies every Sunday with one sisterfriend, weekly Sunday brunches with another, house  parties-turn-sleepovers at my Brooklyn Bgirl’s crib and plenty of time to spend quality time with those I can only currently claim as cyber companions (and Spelman sisters, of course).  Not to mention roadtrips to PA to see a niece and nephew who have to take my brother’s word that they have another aunt – out there somewhere.  I could spend more time with my parents and my married family (I don't really like "in-laws") and my grandmother and my little bro and sis who are entering their senior and junior years of high school (respectively).  But this is not me talking myself into relocation; this is just me envisioning alternate reality.  (Not the first time.  Won’t be the last.)

***

“This Is My House. I Build It”

The living room is done, for all intents and purposes.  The dining room needs at least two more coats of paint (it’s a dark color, so I don’t want to risk it).  Actual décor is a different matter entirely; we’re just trying to get the furniture back downstairs right now.  I’m swooning at the thought of buying art and hanging photos.  And I don’t mean the good “so enraptured in takes my breath away” kind of swoon, I just mean the faint-y kind.  But the house is still standing; the minor leaks we were having are finally fixed, and the growing season is over.  So no more Jumanji in the yard.  Though, a “concerned” neighbor did take it upon himself to cut our front bushes because they were, and I quote, “dangerous to look at”.  The coward did it while we were out of town, and he left one behind.  I’m told they look really nice in the fall – prick.

***

“Friends Graduating”

So my homie has finished her M.A. and is a SAG card carrying (she was already bona fide) actor.  She’s gone on to that big apple, so she can be apart of it.  I miss her already. 

Another friend transitioned last week, after her third bout with the “C” word – sucks I can’t even type it.  She was more than a friend.  She was the first friend I had in this land of Oz; she is the reason I know many of the dynamic women that I do.  She was a super cool Bronx girl who is heroic in my mind.  She was a fly photographer and a woman of God, she volunteered and brought people together.  She translated for me, “Price Chopper is like our Shop Rite back home…and Blue Belle ice cream – that’s like Turkey Hill.”  The last time I saw her, we were driving her to a doctor’s appointment, and she remarked, “Ain’t that something?  My little sister taking care of me.”  It wasn't so serious then – it was just some back and neck pain as far as we knew.  I wish I could’ve taken better care of her… for longer… At the service, her pastor said, “Be glad!  She’s not coming back here – she’s graduated!”  I know God's plan is THE plan, and she's not in pain anymore.  And the service was a comfort - a joyous time of remembrance, but still I wish her commencement felt less like an ending.  I love you Sis.

edited to include:

(how funny I am to apologize - to assume i have "readership".  i love yous guys who do check me out, but it's not like the WSJ didn't print or something... ;+)

saw the light... it was good

(This narrative will be mostly in pictures.)

So, home improvements, right? Making moves... it's looking good.
Until we look up, that is, and see these:



These gold-gilded monstrosities were in the LR and DR.
We lived with it for a while because we are practical people
and there were more important things to take care of, but then Liberace called...



He wanted his fixtures back. We gladly obliged him.
In their stead, we found these two (dare I say) sumptuous pieces
at Home Depot. Regular, ol' Home Depot - don't sleep!



This is the dining room chandelier, and the lights are bright enough to withstand a dark wall color. Oh, espresso...



(Oh the amber drops look like candy! But I won't eat them - promise.)



This is the living room light/ceiling fan fixture. Love the smooth, curved lines on this, and the metal work will echo the dining room wall color quite nicely.



(The metal finish on this fan is beautiful. It's sturdy, but not overbearing.)
****

It's the next step in making this place look like our own. Next, we tackle the painting. Does painting the ceiling the same color as the walls really benefit a space? What about the general rule of a ceiling being a few shades lighter than the wall? Two rooms, two approaches. We'll see what happens!

Twenty-Something Tuesday 1.6

"If I was twenty-five again,
I would be much more physical!
I was late getting into exercise,
and I wish I'd started much earlier.
The benefits are substantial!"

- Am Amazing Woman

You said it, Sister.

Twenty-Something Tuesday 1.5

"The best thing about life in your twenties
is you can do anything you want to do and still have the energy to do it."

-- An Amazing Woman

If I or any of my siblings ever complained about being tired, my mom would laugh and say, "Ya'll are the oldest children I know!" My sibs and I are years removed from those instances now, and though I would argue that puberty takes a lot out of a person (we need more sleep during that stage; science even says so), I think I get what my mom found so funny. We had fewer responsibilities and energy to spare. But sometimes we would do nothing at all with it.

As twenty-somethings, our responsibilities may have increased, but we still have amazing energy. There are probably things we do right now that we take for granted: all-nighters, late movies and concerts on a weeknight, road trips, jet-setting and not wasting the day of arrival or departure to "catch up on sleep". We will not be able to perform this way forever. So I say waste not, want not. While I do advocate taking care of yourself, we can splurge a little bit right now -- burn the candle at both ends once in a while. It's exhilarating.

GEMINI 1: Wait a minute. Didn't you just miss a post last week because you were too tired after coming in from a concert on a Tuesday?

GEMINI 2: Yep, and I'd do it again too!

**image above courtesy of the internets.**

out of the frying pan and into the fireplace...

(This will be a narrative in pictures, mostly.)

When we moved in, we had this:




The green was a no-go, so we started to change things:




Then, upon closer examination, we saw that there was more to do than paint:


(this tile would fall out if anyone bumped into the mantle too hard)


(this cover is beautiful but was not living up to it's full potential)


So, we found a great contractor by recommendation,
and he started the transformation.
But he had to destroy...



before he could rebuild...



This is what we have now:




The end.

Twenty-Something Thursday 1.4 (the better-late-than-never edition)

The best thing about life in your twenties is
you finally get to start feeling like a "real" adult because you've got two and a half decades under your belt. When the first decade went under there, it meant that soon you'd have boobs like Pam Grier (hey, we all had dreams!) and that your teeth were beginning to shrink to match your face. The beginning of the second decade meant that soon you'd be able to drink too much LEGALLY and that you got to start believing you were smarter than you actually were. The latter half of the second decade means you've got the tits, you can start showing those teeth again (because you're through with those self-conscious years where you were above an utterly shameless grin), you know exactly how much to drink (although you don't actually need to drink at all) to find that grin without showing it to the toilet later, and you really ARE as smart as you think.

- An Amazing Woman

Besides smiling and laughing while reading the above (because, seriously, my nickname was Chiclets during that big teeth phase), I like what this response does. It reminds me that even though twenty-somethings are still children in the eyes of many, we've come a long way, Baby! We are well equipped to begin a conversation with, "I remember when..." or "Do you remember that time?..." We have memories and experiences, we have stories to tell -- silly ones and tearjerkers alike. That's major evidence of adulthood right there.

Everyone likes to talk about how easy childhood was, but we are still close enough to our single-digit and adolescent years to remember that they weren't all snow cones and hopscotch. There were cliques, labels, bullies, heartbreaks, insecurities; there was confusion, fear, misunderstanding, embarrassment and the list probably goes on. No we didn't have to pay bills, but we sure paid dues. The fact that we can look back and laugh is a testament to the resilience of children. That we have made it far enough to look back at all suggests that we can survive, and maybe that we've learned something. Life has plenty more to teach us in this next stage, but let's not ignore or discredit the lessons that we bring with us to this point, resilience being one of the most valuable among them.

If only more adults could look back and laugh (and I'm including us when I say 'adults'). I've seen more families fissured, more friendships dissolved, more beautiful faces wrinkled by anger lines as a result of holding grudges than I even care to think about. And for what? It's so ironic that we are fastest to forgive at an age when we have "all the time in the world", and when time is flying by ever so quickly we have the audacity to waste it being bitter, wounded and scared.

I think it is worth the effort to remember childhood, the good the bad and the ugly. I think it's worth the effort to continue to practice resilience, forgiveness, sharing, wonder -- all of the great lessons of our youth. It would make us better grown-ups. We've all been told not to sweat the small stuff. Well, insha-Allah (if it be God's will) we will live long enough where it's all small stuff. And we will find the things that mattered in childhood are the things that still matter: people who love you, doing it for your self (whatever "it" is) and - best of all - recess.

** ps - that beautiful photo was found here.

late breaking...

(((((Yawn. Stretch.))))

Went to a concert last night - Ingrid Michaelson.  She was worth every penny.  However, the opening act (who was good but just a few songs too long) and the obnoxious gent who saw the need to shout at random (and ad nauseam) were not worth the sleep I lost.  I say all of that to say that Twenty-Something Tuesday will be a Thursday edition this week.  

Stay tuned.

Twenty-Something Tuesdays 1.3

"If I was twenty-five again,
I would think less and feel more. Plan less and do more. Fear less and go forth with no plan, no expectation, no rumination. Just feel."

-An Amazing Woman

This amazes me because it is so contrary to what so many of us have been told. As soon as we've learned to think for ourselves, we are expected to do it all the time. And in that thinking, we are supposed to prepare ourselves for the road ahead and err on the side of caution. Rationalize. Organize. Prioritize. If the answer for doing something was simply, "because I feel like it" it was assumed that person was being irresponsible or fresh (or both).

But so much good can come from abandoning those precepts - art for one. I've heard on more than one occasion that it is through suffering that the purest artist comes forth. Now, I'm not about to cosign that one go through her life miserable to make great art (though to each her own). Yet, imagine if we did not even indulge that anguish or any feeling at all? If we did not permit ourselves to feel whimsy, there might be no fiction. Without pain -- no great tragedies, and perhaps considerably fewer comedies. Without sarcasm -- no theater of the absurd (and no Woody Allen, for that matter). And that's only a slice of the literary and dramatic arts. How many great works would be lost to us, if artists were afraid of how their work would be perceived or judged? Furthermore, inspiration is nothing if not spontaneous creativity. That Muse everybody talks about? She's real, and in my experience she never comes when I sit around thinking about her.

Now, there is a time and place for everything. Thought, planning and fear exist, so they must be here for a reason. I'm not suggesting we throw caution to the wind with no regard for the repercussions of our actions (even if we can use the excuse of being young and foolish), but we cannot be immobilized by our right brains. We can learn a lot from Hamlet, who thought himself into inaction, though intensely passionate he was. Leave a little room for thinking, planning and fear but only an under-the-seat or overhead compartment's worth. If it's more than will fit in there, then check them at the door and quickly, lest life takes off without us.

Twenty-Something Tuesday 1.2

"If I had known at 25 that I'd still be working at age 60,
then I would have realized that my job was really the beginning of a career and would have been more purposeful in my choices."

-An Amazing Woman

This piece of advice resonates with me because I am not a big believer in "the meantime" Does this mean that every single moment of every single day has to be optimized for the sole purpose of one day ruling the world (or at least in one's industry)? No. But living life in a lull or in constant anticipation of a dream we are not actually pursuing is an exercise in futility. We all know, or will soon learn, that coming right out of school and landing your dream position is usually the stuff of fairy tales, right up there with charming princes and talking donkeys (but we do get our share of poisoned apples, how curious). Even within this advice I see some additional, implied gems: 1) have purpose 2) be conscious of time 3) be open.

Purpose is a big pill to swallow, and as 20somethings I don't think we should be especially hard-pressed to know what our purpose is right this instant. But knowing one's purpose probably helps decision-making to be way easier down the line. Some of us are blessed to know very early in life what our purpose, our calling, is (well la-dee-dah). If that's not you, cause it sure ain't me, be cool; this decade is about exploration too, so I've been told. Trying different things is great, and there's probably nothing so satisfying as finding your niche. However, I think approaching purpose as the themes of one's life makes it a little less daunting (of course I also love literature and the study of it, so perhaps this just sounds good to me).

When people began asking (more frequently, that is) during my last year of undergrad, "So what do you want to do?" The best, most nailed down answer I could muster was, "I want to write and travel and get paid to do it." I may have said perform as well; I don't remember exactly. Now that isn't as big as, say, wanting to perform the first open heart surgery in space, but those were my themes. Those are still my themes. While the traveling component of that equation is still, mostly, a self-sponsored hobby, 2 out of 3 ain't bad. And I still have time to work toward my Anthony Bourdain status.

Time-consciousness is something I still struggle with because I spend so much time in my head that when I come out, I've missed dinner -- or the boat, depending. I like speeding up & slowing down, savoring the moment & time that flies; I like to be organized, but not necessarily having a schedule. So, I guess the best way to be conscious of time, for me, is to remember that it is my greatest resource. Do I make the most of every day? Do I get enough sleep? Do I take time for myself (yes, every day)? Do I take time for God (yes, every day)? While time is not a renewable resource, it is a refreshable one, so how good I feel when I wake in the morning may foreshadow how satisfied I feel when I go to bed at night.

Being open is the greatest thing. It provides opportunities and experiences that we may completely miss if we stay too focused -- if we're wound too tight. It sounds a little airy-fairy and granola, but it means a lot of things: being willing to try new things, go to unfamiliar places, engage people who are a different Myers-Briggs type. ;+) Accept that there is more than one path to your purpose, and that a journey you never intended may still be one that you need to take. This is important for 20somethings who have preconceived notions in mind about where to live, what job to have, what someone their age should be doing, etc. Casting a wider net means a greater chance of picking up trash, it's true, but it can also mean snagging that prize-winner that would've been just outside of your reach otherwise.

**This sounds way too advice column-y. My apologies. I pretty much just write what the piece of advice brings to my mind. The truth is in the words of the women who've lived it. The rest is just my own speculation.**

**All pics courtesy of the internets.**

this old house...

So the homeowner honeymoon is over. "Charm" and "character" and "architectural detail" are all well and good, but there's still work to be done. Operation hardwood redux has come to a successful close (mostly). We still have to put new trim on, but the downstairs floors have gone from this:

to this:

Not too shabby. Homeboy & I are happy with the finished product, but now it has jump-started a half dozen other renovation projects. Since I cannot talk about more than one home improvement project at a time for fear that my head will explode, let's start with something (that should be) simple - painting.

Ah, yes. The easy interior face-lift. We opted for a mustard yellow in the living room (and by "we" I mean "I" because this whole design thing is not Homeboy's bag; he'll humor me but that's about it). When we first applied the color to the walls, I had an uncontrollable urge for Nathan's hot dogs, but once the furniture came back into the room, I felt much better about the choice.

So now that the living room is empty again (thanks to the refinishing project), we can tackle the painting once more. Now the question is the trim and fireplace. Keep it light, or go darker? I'm keeping in mind that the LR opens into the DR, so whatever trim color I chose has to complement the palettes of both rooms. Here's the color scheme in the LR:

(above pics: 1) LR with furniture in it 2) curtain closeup -- both stripes and floral pattern are in the room 3) microfiber dark brown additional seating - dusty chocolate brown)

Here's what we have in the DR so far:

(pay no attention to the green & white tragedy in the background.)

I know for sure that orange will be the accent color in the DR -- what shade I don't know. Other colors I'm digging for this room include cream, taupe, chocolate, powder blue or mauve (to accent the accent). My inspiration was this pot holder I picked up in a quirky little shop:

You've seen all the evidence, ladies and gentlemen. On the question of trim color, what's the verdict? So far, the jury's still out on this one...

edited (6/15) to include:  Oh yes, I am definitely painting the DR.  So I'm open for wall color suggestions as well as trim color suggestions. 

birthday booty... (as in loot!)

Alhamdulillah, I had a beautiful birthday. Hugs, smiles, cards, gifts, well-wishes -- an all around lovely day. In addition to calls, emails, ecards, text messages, shout-outs & various and sundry outpourings of love here are the spoils:

Entertainment. Courtesy of one of my lovely sisters.

Crocheted companions (yet to be named).

Courtesy of my lovely colleague and sister-friend.

The coolest little paperweight I ever saw. Courtesy of a colleague.

A beautiful scarf. Courtesy of my sister-friend, the actor.

Many lovely cards, but we knew that was coming.

Wisdom for the ages.
Courtesy of the many amazing women I happen to know.

I am very pleased with the last item on this list because it is a gift that i initiated. (aside: And I am not very good at asking people for things; I usually get it myself or go without. But we have not because we ask not, you say? I know; dumb way to live. Which of the favors of your Lord will you deny? I know; I'm growing.) About a week or so before my birthday, I began pondering the significance (if any) of this milestone -- this quarter century. I'd found myself over the past several months reading books about and seeking out blogs written by twenty-somethings. As I talked with my peers and realized that we were having similar experiences, I decided it was time for me to stop living beyond my age & get in on the conversation. But I didn't want to come empty-handed. So I reached out to some truly amazing women in my life: family, friends, colleagues, etc., and asked the following:

I would like to create a keepsake of wonderful words to carry with me into the next quarter. So if you have the time, please complete any or all of the following & send this back to me:

If I was twenty-five again, ___________
*
The best thing about life in your twenties is __________
*
If I had known at twenty-five that _______, then __________
*
I wish somebody would have told me __________ when I was twenty-five
*

Et cetera, et cetera, some other niceties. The results of this little project have blown my mind, and I haven't even gotten all of the responses back yet. The women range from those who have recently exited their twenties (or are currently being escorted to the door) to those rounding out their third quarter. The answers are funny, poignant, hopeful and some baring a little regret. Some of these women replied straight away, while others sat with these prompts for days (some sit with them still) -- taking the time for deep introspection & a pleasant stroll down memory lane.

Though these words were given directly to me, I see fit to share the wealth. So I am hereby inaugurating Twenty-Something Tuesdays, and each week I will share an excerpt from one of the responses. I will protect the identities of these awesome women, but the wisdom -- like so much of it -- is available for the taking. I will not be posting by order of preference or anything like that; all of these words are equally important to me. I won't keep you in suspense any longer; here's the first gem:

I wish somebody would have told me
that 'love your neighbor as yourself'
can't work
when you don't even love yourself
when I was twenty-five.

*(Oh, & I joined a blog network. The nerve of me!)

on the eve of my D.O.B.

This day feels more momentous than December 31. The day to come seems heavier than any January 1 in my recent personal history, and it is not so much the culmination of the twenty-five years behind me as it is the weight of the twenty-five before me (insha-Allah). It feels ripe with possibility and change -- full of learning and discovery. I don't even know what I have to say this evening; I just feel more compelled to write this post now rather than tomorrow.

I am much more comfortable on the verge. Perhaps that's why I like moving so much, why I like Thursdays better than Fridays, why I always want to rearrange the furniture. I like the anticipation of what's next; I crave the future. But this is not at the expense of my present. I appreciate the here&now very much; after all, it's all we ever really have.

So what do I have to say for myself? I'm not prepared to do a lengthy introspection, but I do feel a theme coming on. I've sought out birthday themes in the past, but not this time. This time it's come to me. My theme is simply what I'm feeling, and I feel on the verge. I'm anxious and excited about what's to come. I'm grateful for life and eager to fulfill my place in it.

Sometimes when I communicate with folks (email or otherwise), I ask them, "How's life treating you? How are you treating life?" I just thought it was a clever thing to say, but the latter is a question worth answering. I have been so very blessed that sometimes, well many times, I cannot figure out for the life of me what I've done so good to deserve it. Life is treating me like one of her favorites. So I'm resolved to treat her much better.

(artwork by Richard Bromley. Giclee Print. available at art.com)

i get by with a little help from my friends...

Last night was the first night HomeBoy and I slept at home in three days. We're finally having the downstairs floors refinished and we couldn't walk on them. The sanding and such began on Wednesday, so that morning we were cast out into the wilderness. Packing a suitcase to go to work is one of the strangest things... We had a plan of course, we would sleep in the car if it came to that. But it didn't because apparently, we are not all alone in this Midwestern world.

I thought this would be a sad post about how we realized that we had no one to call on and how terrible it is to live so far away from your family, etc (cue the violins). Instead, we have come to a beautiful revelation - we are not alone or without friends. Don't get me wrong, we can meet people and be social and all that, but that's easy. Asking people for favors is hard, even if they are your friends. Asking people to encroach upon their personal space for a number of days is even harder. Maybe it's my pride that makes it so hard to ask? Well, this was a lesson in humility. I reached out to two different friends, asking if I could stay with them, and they both said yes. Easy-breezy, "yes". (The second friend was actually going out of town, but her intentions were good.)

HomeBoy was going to "rough it" while I stayed with this Beneficent Friend, but after the first night, he changed his tune. So I went back to Beneficent Friend and asked if there was room in the inn for one more, and again, "yes". Like it's the simplest question she'd ever been asked. We stayed on for two more days. As our stay concluded, we bought Beneficent Friend a gift and took her to dinner; it was the least we could do. I'm not sure if she realized what a big deal that was to us - to me. It may seem to her that she simply opened her doors to a couple of friends in need. To me it showed that we were indeed friends, for-real, more-than-pleasantries, i-need-a-big-favor friends. To me it showed that in the vast, landlocked Midwestern world, we were not alone.

As a Muslim and spiritual person for most of my life, I shouldn't be surprised. I know, from experiences as well as recorded accounts, that Allah can provide if Allah so wills. I cannot even count how many times I've heard, "ask and ye shall receive". Yet, every time some wonderful blessing befalls me, I am still shocked and awed; I am still left wondering what have I done so good to warrant this? I still can't answer that question, but Allah knows best, and the Beatles said it best, "I get by with a little help from my friends."

tis' better to give...

HomeBoy and I, we're not really materialistic people... I mean, comparatively speaking... I mean, we do okay but mostly because we can be a couple of serious spendthrifts. Add to that the fact that we're Muslim, and there ain't a whole lotta typical gift-giving going on. Plus, we're pretty self-reliant people; if he wants something - he'll get it, and I do the same.

HOWEVER! When I returned from this theater festival last weekend, I came home to a print of one of my favorite poems*, my very own mp3 player and a deluxe edition DVD of Across the Universe. (Oh yeah!) And last night? I treated my beloved to Alicia Keys, live at the Sprint Center.

Like I said, we don't do the gifting often, but dammit if we don't do it right! Love you, honey!

***

*imagine

you massage the universe's spine,
the way you twirl through time
and leave shadows on the sun
my love is the windsong
if it were up to me
i`d never die
if it is up to me
i'll die tomorrow a thousand times in an hour
just to live seven minutes later
if it is up to me
the sun will never cease to shine
and the moon will never cease to glow
and i'll dance a million tomorrow's
in the sun rays of the moon waves
and bathe in the yesterdays
of days to come
ignoring all of my after thoughts
and preconceived notions
if it is up to me
...it is up to me
and thus, is my love
untainted
eternal
the wind is the moon's imagination
wandering
it seeps through cracks
ripples the grass
explores the unknown
my love is my soul`s imagination
how do i love you?
...imagine.

-saul williams

what's in a name?...

When I first titled this space "Rough Draft" it was because I felt like none of my writing was ever really finished - especially the poems. OMG! The poems! I would start one and decide to perform it before it was done and have to improvise the ending on stage. Or I would be commissioned (and by "commissioned", for the most part, I mean "asked very nicely") to write and perform a piece by a certain date and would not get around to the writing of it until...oh...the day of. And then there was this possessed scribbling that took place all the way until I was being introduced and called to the stage (at which point I'd try to pull a poignant ending from heaven knows where, or I would be improvising the ending...again). The good thing about this? It kept me on my toes. The bad thing? At later instances, folks would ask me to "do that poem", and I'd have to 1) break the news that parts of it were freestyle, so this may be a little different, sorry 2) start the poem and hope that i could end it the same way 3) try to convince them to listen to a different poem I've been working on - one with a middle and end. Another bad thing was that, despite the good bits I'd actually created and the typically positive response from the listeners, I always felt I was short-changing my audience. That is a sucky feeling.

What? Huh? What was I saying? Oh yes, the title...

The problem with calling this space "Rough Draft" is that life, unlike art, cannot be revised or done over. (Thankfully, like my poems, it can be improvised from time to time. Yes!) Yes, we can learn from the past as we go forward, but "Rough Draft" became misleading and mocking to me. This. Is. Life. I'm not going to get even one day back by being timid - by living in pencil. Every action is permanent, and I'd better make it count. So I've landed, for the time being on "Words, Words, Words" because, no matter what, that will always be an accurate description. *And I like Shakespeare. Whaddaya gonna do?

change is in the air...or is that pollen?...

Wait!

Don't go!

You're in the right place. I just needed a new look, so things may change a few times over here before I get it the way I like it.

Every time I log on to post, Blogger's all, "customize! update! new and improved!" Today I finally took the bait. No one told me that there were choices involved! I have a love-hate relationship with choices; I love to have them, but I hate to make them. I previewed each and every template option at least twice. Tried it on; took it off. It was a lot like shopping except it's free, and I don't have to worry about a growing line outside the door because other bloggers are waiting to try on their new layouts.

So if the appearance of this here space changes more frequently, take it with a grain of salt because I may be indecisive, but at least I'm saving money! Also, I lost some things, so I'm working on getting those links back *with some cool new additions.*

Confound you, Blogger! You and your options!

erase. replace. embrace. new face.

A dear friend asked me recently if I thought hip hop was dead. I told him I didn't know because hip hop and I have been estranged for some time now. I remember a time when I couldn't even fathom those words. There was a period from late high school to early/mid undergrad when my headphones would have had to be surgically removed. (Common's Like Water For Chocolate and Mos Def's Black on Both Sides? Soundtracks for the best year of my high school life!) Sure, there was some jazz and alternative for good measure, but hip hop was my meat and potatoes. It was soul's food and I was always trying to fix somebody a plate --

"Let's go hit up that Roots concert."

"Got that new Talib Kweli?"

"You don't know who Jean Grae is? Here, listen to this..."

I can't pinpoint exactly when the change happened, but it must have been somewhere between: the declining skill level of most emcees, the change from crunk to snap, relocating to the midwest and the white rapper show. Suddenly, rap and radio was a thing of the past and I wasn't very interested in it's future. Even the sun goes down, heroes eventually die...

I fell into a femme phase: Corinne Bailey Rae (my condolences), Regina Spektor, Amy Winehouse, Lizz Wright, Chrisette Michelle, the new MJB (damn, it's like we grew up together), and the list goes on. There was a range from sultry and soulful to comedic and quirky. Nowadays, I seem to be leaning, evermore, towards the quirky. And it's like I told my sister, either my taste in music is truly lacking internal compass, or the sitcoms and TV commercials are getting wise. Par exemple:

Ingrid Michaels

Sara Bareilles

Yael Naim

I think I'm drawn to the lightness of it -- and the story telling. It feels free and unassuming, not bogged down by meta-messages and social implications. Maybe I just like that the treble outweighs the base, but these days I want music that puts a smile on my face - music that sounds like spring or a day out with girlfriends. Spare me the intensity of "what's real in the streets" or something that might give me an STD through the speakers. I am tentative so this may change, but for today, I choose love over sex, fantasy over "real", a little bit corny with a smile over mean-muggin and preserving my sexy.

There's room for everybody at the table, of course, but it's healthy to eat lighter every once in awhile.

signs of life...

Small berries on branch (sometimes blue on evergreen)

Very early morning (don't miss fajr)

Cartoon grass pushing through (nature finds a way)

Today was the first official day of spring, and it didn't disappoint. Kind of made me feel like a new soul. Yeah, don't really have a handle on that embedding video thing yet. Enjoy!

Love you.
Love.
Me.

call me the negotiator...

HomeBoy and I are finally going to get the floors refinished. We've discussed it since we closed on the house last August. We've done recon since about last November. There was one referral we were holding out for - waiting on that last estimate because it could CHANGE OUR LIVES. so after our last free estimate, we'd narrowed it down to The First Guy and The Last Guy. The Guys in between were too good to be true *questionable*, so skip them. When I received an email regarding the estimated cost from The Last Guy, I decided it was time to play the game. It went like this:


ACT I
Scene 1

(on computer at work)

LAST GUY FLOORING:

Newbie Homeowner,

Hope this finds you having a great Monday.
I was able to corner Woodworker in the office
yesterday, and get his estimates completed.
I have attached your proposal to this email.
If you would please let me know that you were
able to download without a problem, I would
greatly appreciate it. After looking the
estimate over, please email or call the office w
ith ANY questions or concerns.

Thank you for the opportunity to provide you
with this estimate, and we are so sorry it took
so long to connect!
Have a wonderful week!

Woodworker & Wife
****

ME:

Woodworker & Wife,

Thank you for getting that estimate to us so quickly;
I was able to download the proposal with no problems.
Unfortunately, the cost is too high. I understand that
quality work is not cheap, but this is the most expensive
estimate we have received. So, we will have to go
in another direction.

I do truly appreciate your diligence and professionalism
in working with us. Though we cannot use your services
for this project, I will consider Last Guy Flooring for potential
future projects. After all, we have two stories
of hardwood floors that need attention.

Sincerely,
Newbie Homeowner
****

LAST GUY:

Newbie,
Please keep in mind that we are highly competitive.
If you would like me to speak with Woodworker, and we
can see if there is movement in the cost. Would this be
of interest to you? Let me know- Thanks for getting back so quickly!

Wife
****

ME:

Greetings Wife,

If there is room to reduce cost, that would be great.
Our other offer was about four hundred dollars less,
but I'd prefer to work with Last Guy Flooring since
you came as a referral. Please let me know if there's
anything you can do.

Sincerely,
Newbie (who ain't so green, by the way)
****

LAST GUY:

Miss Newbie,

I just spoke with Woodworker, and he said the lowest he could go
would be $300.00 below the original estimate. We would also
throw in a cleaning kit with the complete job. Let me know your
thoughts on the revision. If you decide that this will work for you,
I can email you a revised proposal. Hope to hear back from you soon-

Wife
****<>****

Scene 2
(on the phone with First Guy Flooring)

ME:
Hello, First Guy? Yes, this is Newbie; you came to our house some months ago to give a free estimate on refinishing our floors?

FIRST GUY:
Yes, was your address 123 Blah Blah Blah? At Yadda Yadda?

ME:
That's right. I was calling to find out if you were still avilable to do the job and if the estimates have changed (looking at original figures in appointment book).

FIRST GUY:
Now we talked about redoing your entryway for $(a few fingers), and your living and dining room for $(a couple of toes)...

ME:
That's correct. We have one other very strong offer, so I was wondering if there was any wiggle room in your etsimate.

FIRST GUY:
Well, our estimates are usually dead-on, and I don't know who's giving you a lower price, but I strive to be accurate so that halfway through the project you don't find yourself with additional [read "bs"] charges.

ME:
I see, so the cost definitely won't be higher than what you've told me?

FIRST GUY:
That's right.

ME:
(knowing his offer is still hundreds of dollars less that Last Guy's first offer, but cool as a cucumber) Thank you. We'll be in touch.
****<>****

Scene 3
(at work on computer)

ME:
Wife,

Thank you so much for inquiring about this. I really appreciate
how understanding and flexible you and Woodworker have been,
but as a young couple starting out and as first time homeowners
every little bit counts. We have to go with the lother offer.
However, we've got a lot more wood floors to tend to in this old house.
So this won't be the last time you hear from me.
Thanks again.

All the Best,
Not-So-Newbie

END

So, the moral of the story is - you might want to take me with you the next time you go to buy a car.

Love Triangle...

Dear Spring,

Just wanted to thank you for stopping by last weekend.
It was great to see you. I just wish I knew you were
coming; I would have cleaned up a little! But we spent
so much time outside, I bet you didn't even notice the
slight messiness. That's why I love having you over.
You're such a pleasant house guest -- your warm
personality and sunny disposition make you a joy to have
around. I hope you'll visit us again soon, and please
plan to stay longer next time! Don't worry about
wearing out your welcome -- it's impossible!

Until next time... (which will be some time soon, right?)

Your Friend,
Frost Bitten

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dear Winter,

WTF!? I told you it was over between us. You really need
to stop hanging around like I'm going to change my mind. I
will admit, you were very interesting at first - always playing
it cool made me want to get to know you better. And our
first snow together absolutely took my breath away. But what
then, and what now? Our relationship has grown quiet and cold.
That may be your cup of tea, but I've had enough of this -- of you.

Good Riddance...

Sidewalk Salty

the coldest winter ever...

a dear, distant friend of mine (what's a dear, distant friend? well the kind you don't connect with often but always hope the very best for them and they can make you smile - oh yes - by merely thinking of them) asked how i was doing, and this is what i had to say:

"what of my life? there is much writing and editing, but as for the becoming/unfolding/transforming - i cannot see it (yet). to be completely honest, i am on the recovering side of what i believe to have been depression. suffice it to say it's been the coldest winter ever. somehow i still manage(d) to come across in my workplace as an ambitious, high-functioning, self-starting individual, so that's good. (it's also brought about this notion of a functioning depressive which, as black women, may just be a new name for a very old reality; it needs further study.) HomeBoy has seen more of this side than i ever wanted to show him, but i applaud his endurance - he done good. we are love laborers, he and i - indeed.

but thankfully, spring is near (man i love it when the seasons are a metaphor for my life! i could do without it being in realtime though, i'm just saying...) i feel like i've had to relearn alot of the lessons i've professed (even subtly) to know for a long time. but i don't mind that, as long as i learn them. (maybe i'll even write them down.) that's all i have to say about that...

i've been thinking about a design certification program (to up my personal aestethic and also be more marketable for freelance work). it's a way to kind of "get my feet wet" in the academic environment again, in preparation for grad school? MFA programs? world domination? who knows? but my job will help foot the bill, so i'm down.

no babies - not even on the horizon. the most traditional-family-like thing i'm looking forward to is working on the house once the weather breaks. (i can hear the sanding... i can see the paint samples... i can feel my emptying wallet from overpriced contractors - ah to be a homeowner!)

i don't know if that's not enough, more than you asked for, or exactly what you wanted to know. either way - you're welcome! ;)

take care [to] be well."




this is not my photo, but i thought it fitting. google helped me find it here.

hiatus and hindsight...

more than 2 months have passed since i last posted, and you know what? that makes coming back to this space even harder (though i'm finding even the simplest of tasks difficult these days). i had this big plan, see? i was gonna revamp my blog and start posting regularly in the new year, and there would be essays and photos and content oh my! but the new year approached, and there was all this other sh*t to do, see? so then it was january 1, and it was all still the same. and the weather was sucking and it was cold and (blah blah blah, cry me a river, i know). then february rolled around and it was more than just the weather that sucked, and i was in this funk that was damn near terminal - terminal, i tell you! optimism, ambition, love, hope - all of it nearly flatlined, and i didn't even want to talk about it so i damn sure wasn't about to write about it.

it was a dark time, and i'm not saying it's all unicorns and rainbows now, but it is better. i'm on the other side of some days, some weeks, that i was certain would take me out (figuratively speaking). see, when your heart is sick, you can hang on to it for a while – nursing the sickness because you want to feel your way through. but when you decide to start to heal your heart, and your body gets sick immediately following (seriously, like the next day) you realize that health – on every level – is the most important thing there is. it was surreal, having my body feel, for one week, what my heart/head was feeling for months. Some scary sh*t.

anyway, all that to say, life didn't stop. life never stops, and maybe we (read "we" as "me") incur the most trouble when we try to make it stop - when our answer becomes no. no to trying, or seeing the bright side, or picking ourselves up, or even letting someone else pick us up; no to looking for answers; no (God forbid) to even asking the questions. we have been given life to live it, and the trouble comes when we try to just skate by, existing.

this may all be me just babbling, but that's cool too. gotta start somewhere, right?

it's good to be back.

**(what the hell?! she didn't post this on no 02/07! i know, but that's when i started picking up the pieces.)

hijab hubbub

For a long time, my hair was my signature – not because I wore a particular style, on the contrary, my hair was very versatile and I rocked many a “do’s”. I watched my mom do my sister's hair and I tried to pay attention when she did mine (when I wasn’t falling asleep that is). As a result, I learned how to handle hair at a very early age. In my wonder years, I wore my hair mostly braided or pressed, but in high school I discovered the miracle of natural texture and I never looked back. Afro puffs, gel-induced curls, head wraps, two-strand twists (referred to by a childhood friend as my ‘fake locks’), etc; I even colored it. Once while sitting in English class, my teacher looked out over the class and asked if I was present. When I raised my hand, she doubled back; told me that when I change my hair, I look like a different person (yeah, it was that deep). In college, my hair expanded and changed shape, along with my thoughts and perspective – full out afros, conditioner-saturated chignons, Iverson-inspired cornrows. I did neglect my hair a bit in college because I did so much braiding/twisting for my peers that when it was time to treat my own tresses I was too tired (in college I also discovered that I have a nice head for hats).

When I became Muslim, I’d been exposed to many sisters who practiced their deen differently – some covered, some didn’t, we all accepted each other and it was no big deal. (Some of the brothers thought it was a big deal, but that’s another post for another day…) I was comfortable with taking my time. “I would cover one day,” I told myself and others, “When I’m ready, I will do it. I don’t want to rush and then backslide later.” I felt very strongly that modest appearance does not a Muslim make, so I was content in my heart to take my sweet time. Years passed (really, I think two) and I still wasn’t covering – still not an issue. Then, one year I went to homecoming and stayed with my sister friend who was living with a Muslim family. In this family there was very inquisitive, outspoken young daughter. She asked me when I arrived if I was Muslim, and I said yes. Then she asked why didn’t I cover, and I had no answer for her. So I started covering that day. That was October of 2006. I’ve worn my hair out maybe 3 or 4 days since then (just to let it breathe, you know). And I’ve seriously considered not covering anymore. Some mornings the scarf just won’t lay right and it’s so frustrating. Some days my hair looks so fly that I just want everyone to see it. Some days I just don’t want anything on my head. So the plan was to stop covering when the new year came. The new year’s not particularly significant. It’s just easier to let on-lookers think it’s some sort of resolution rather than to explain my religious-internal-modesty-versus-vanity-versus-self-image conundrum. I just want to feel the most like myself that I possibly can.

But here’s the thing, somewhere over the course of the past 14 months, covering has become a significant part of who I am. Sure on a lax day I will wear a hat, but I cannot imagine going out without my hair covered. It would be uncomfortable – I would feel exposed. I told myself that in the new year I would be finished with my persnickety preoccupation with my hijab. Either I would stop covering and be fine with it or I would continue covering and shut up already! (Because, really Teresa, it’s only as deep as you make it and nobody wants to hear it any more.) I used to think that it wasn’t so big a deal; I do all the fundamental stuff, so what’s a hijab? Then it occurred to me, if the other components of this deen come easily to me, then that’s all the more reason to strive for this one. Others have substance abuse, fornication and heavier things to overcome, but I have this issue of vanity with my hair. It is my very own struggle, and maybe Allah (SWA) will be pleased with me for making the effort to submit in a way that would seem small by comparison but is so big to me.

So days before the new year arrives, I’ve made my decision. My hijab is here to stay. (And that’s all I have to stay about that. Seriously.)

shit.

You help raise them. For the first few years you’re praying not to drop them on their heads or give any permanent damage. Then they start school and you hope they make friends and catch on to the lessons quickly. They get to high school without being retained a grade and no one’s pregnant or has contracted anything. No negative statistics here; in fact, they’re thriving. Good grades, good athletes, confident, socially well adjusted and possibly trend-setting. A couple of years from college – it’s gonna be alright. Then they get assaulted by cops in the hallway of their school building. Everything is turned upside down. You want to hit something, shoot something, burn that bitch to the ground. You want to spit in the faces of every pig you see. You want to make somebody pay. More than anything, you want to go back in time and keep it from every happening.

Respite Housewives

I stayed home yesterday – just straight up took a vacation day. Okay, not purely for the sake of vacating; we had a furniture delivery (yay for something besides the couch to sit on!). I dropped Homeboy off and kept the car because I’d planned to run all these errands. When I got back home, it started to snow – no pansy snow either – I’m talking flakes the size of __________ (insert name of random large insect or small rodent here). So I thought to myself, what if I used this Paid Time Off as… time off! Novel idea, isn’t it? I’m a genius. Once I accepted the notion of relaxation, I had a very good day. What did I do?

1. Perfected my one-hand pancake flipping skills
2. Took a bath
3. Read various blogs, access to which are denied at work
(“Access to which…” I bet that’s all wrong grammatically)
4. Was held hostage by a Law&Order SVU marathon
5. Shoveled our backyard pathway, front steps and sidewalk
(This work I liked doing. Besides, we’re homeowners now and that’s our responsibility and I’m not risking somebody pretending to fall in front of our house so they can sue.)
6. Drank hot cocoa (Damn, I’m such a bad television commercial.)

I guess it’s what some would call a “mental health” day. I didn’t have that purpose in mind when I did it, but I’m glad I did. It wasn’t all bon-bons and daytime television, but dammit I was close!

ANTM – PS – Bianca’s gone! Hooray! IN YO FACE! (more on that later…)

the closest i may ever get to being on Inside the Actors Studio

I would LOVE for you (whoever "you" are) to repost and reply to these questions - in the comments or on your respective blog spaces (just please let me know if you do, so I can come look.)

1. What is your favorite word?
(You ask this of a writer? Are you serious?) "love"

2. What is your least favorite word?
"can't"

3. What turns you on?
wit

4. What turns you off?
intolerance

5. What is your favorite curse word?
hell

6. What sound or noise do you love?
thunderstorms

7. What sound or noise do you hate?
awkward silence

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
acting

9. What profession would you not like to do?
shoe-shining

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?
"I understand."