100

This is my 100th post. I've had this blog since June of 2005 so its still relatively young and I am very much a newbie. That should be evident, I don't know html, don't have any pics, nor have I quite figured out how to do the blogroll. But on this 100th posting I wanted to reflect on why I started this blog in the first place. Initially, I cited my goals as the following:

i am startin this blog for many reasons:*i've been meaning to start
documenting my transition from adjunct life to grad school phd life*i want to
have an 'outside' writing environment, separate from my journaling*i want a
place to write where i can connect to others in the Blog-0-sphere
atmosphere

Well, I don't know how much I've kept those goals. I really can't document my transition from adjunct-dom to phd-om because I'm not going anywhere. But this has been a place for me to document my travels from adjunct-dom to full time work to pregnancy to...who knows whats to come. This has become an outside writing environment, I tend to only journal at most once or twice a week now privatley. And as far as this being a place for me to connect to other bloggers, I guess I still feel pretty isolated. That isolation comes from myself in some respects, I have a few blogs that I do post comments on and occassionlay those folks visit me. But I've also got tons of blogs that I read and never write a comment on because I feel like the little kid on the blogging playground with the fake keds. Come on, you know what I'm talking about. The fake keds your mama would get you from Kmart, they looked like the real keds, they just didn't have the keds written on the back.

I guess I need to break out of my blogging shell. I'm always embarressed by my writing though. That could be why I hate to look back over my thesis or anything I did in school. Why am I so embarressed to see it? I dread the thought of trying to ever publish anything because I lack confidence in my words. No, not in my words but in the way I use my words.

So, I don't know how my goals have held up. At least I did have something.

Now, my goals for the next 100 posts:

-Continue to be honest about tracking my feelings.

-Spend at least once a week posting about something good. Even if I have to look real hard out of my evil little eyes.

-Just be.

*****

At lunch today, my bro gave me a really cool quote from a song (I'll have to look that up later), from Mos Def.

"how you got high expectations, with no patience?"

Taping that one to my head.

And everbody sing...'Swing Down Sweet Chariot, and Let me Ride'

P Funk

That's the only thing that makes me feel somewhat like moving and feeling good. This morning, for like 2 minutes I forgot about everything, MIL's cancer, baby worries, money worries, dirty apartments, crap work, and I felt really good. It happened as I was walking into work, the sun hit my back and it warmed me up so much that I forgot it was winter, the wind blew and for a split second it felt like how it does on an early Spring morning.

Then I kept walking in and realized that was just a small reprieve.

I don't know. There is so much on my mind, I don't even know where or how to start. I feel sad, worried, and tired. MIL starts her chemo this week and I'm scared. I don't quite know what to say, so I tend to bumble:

Me: We can fix you soup.

Me: I can sweep your hallway.

Me: You want a silk or cotton scarf?

Its just scary because you hear the word chemo and of course you get the worse possible images in your head. I am trying to visualize it as something else though, not as your body breaking down and you feeling sick, but as your body trying to rid itself of the sickness and start anew. Fresh. Rebirth.

The way it looks now, her chemo should end about a month after the baby is born. That will be a real time to celebrate.

Happy Love Day

***Warning, the following contains a very random memory that attacked my brain on the way back from lunch today***

When I was about 13 or 14, the summer before I started high school, every day during the week my cousins, brother, aunt, and I would go to the playground. The walk from my grandma's house to the playground was an interesting one. It took us about 15 minutes because at the time my cousins and brother were young, the youngest being 4 and the oldest 7 or 8. We had to walk through a housing project known as Ruffin Road. The name about sums up the area. It was pretty rough, the ditches were usually filled with empty beer bottles and trash, condoms, torn clothes, and discarded toys. Weird combination.

But we trudged away anyway, mostly because there wasn't much else to do. We had one car, a small Buick, and there were 7 of us. You do the math on that one. We could've taken the bus downtown, but with all those kids it was hard. So, we went to the playground.

We would leave home around 10:00 AM, any later and you'd run the chance of drug dealers and prostitutes being in the way, plus it would get hot and we'd want to be back in before noon to put the kids down for naps.

Once there, we all had a routine. My brother and cousin played with the other boys there, my aunt and I would take turns pushing the girls on the swings or catching them on the sliding board. After everyone was settled into their activity, I did what I loved the most at that time, I played basketball. And I played hard. Against myself and against any boy who was willing to play me. I had no idea, until a few years ago when we were all reminiscing about these days, that it was such a big deal for my cousins. They had a girl playing basketball. On a public court. In the middle of the projects.

The only thing that would break my playing and the playing of everyone else at the playground was lunch. Free lunch got served anywhere from 11:30-11:45. The city provided free lunch for kids at the local playgrounds. It was never good, but for some reason we were all addicted to getting it. Most of the time it was just a sandwich, juice, and honey bun. Really nutricious, gotta keep those poor kids growing strong you know. But what I remembered today when this thought came dancing in my head was how much we all shared. Everyone would sit in the shadiest part of the playground and spread out their feast. A breeze blowing, we'd eat the edible parts of the sandwich, gulp down the juice and devour the honeybuns. The days they had donoughts were the best. There were some kids who would try to take more than one lunch (the rule was one lunch per kid and you couldn't take it off the playground). They'd sneak the food in their pants or on their bikes. For them, it was probably the only meal they would get that day. We would take whatever we didn't eat and trade or give it away to one another. Why the city had a lock down on food- crap food, is beyond me.
Some days, they gave us popsicles.

We only went to the playground that one summer. My mom said she had bad feelings about us being there, and sure enough, months later a kid was shot on that court. But what I remember are the hot summer days, the heat rising from the court, and lunch.

Reasons Why Blogs Hurt Me

1. I came to the library today with the intention of working on RESEARCH not reading BLOGS.

2. Blogs come in colors that are much more fun to look at than journals.

3. Blogs are funny, laughing too hard hurts my ribs, and makes the baby punch my lungs.

4. Blogs make me question myself, being pregnant with raging hormones, its not good to read about how the rest of the world is making strides and progress while you can hardly roll yourself out of the bed (feelings of Gregor surface).

5. If I could stop blogging and reading blogs I could get home quicker, eat two huge veggie burgers w/ cheese and onions and relish, drink a ginger ale, watch TV and take a nap.

Things I am Thinking About...

*Pizza

*Going Home

*Public Education Policy

*Teaching

*Labor

*Cleaning my House

*Poverty

28 Week Update II: Cucumber fights back

ite thThis weekend I discovered a delightful thing. As I was stretching out to take a post breakfast nap on Saturday, I looked down and could see my stomach move out in two different spots. Cucumber must have been flexing and practicing her gymnastics routine. So, I gently touched the spot where I'd just seen movembet, and she moved again! I reached to the other side of my belly and said her name, "__________," and touched again, she responded.

This was the best weekend I've had in a long time, despite the constipation, heartburn, and leg cramps.

I really do love being pregnant. Its moments like that one that make you realize just how special and amazing this entire event is.

Does this border on the obsessive?

This morning, I put DH out of the car at his shuttle stop and I kept on driving to work. On my way I saw a student, nothing new there. She had her bookbag on her back and was buttoned up tight to brave the cold. And out of no where I just got insanely jealous. I wanted so badly to park my car, get a bookbag and go to a class. Any class, French, Math, Bio, a Chem lab, Western World lit, it didn't matter. I just want school.

So, it got me to thinking (and no, I'm not about to go into a lamentation about not being able to go start a PhD in the fall) am I addicted to school? And if so, is that bad? Are all addictions bad? At first I would say no, but then when I think about it a bit more I wonder, does an addiction mean you border on the obsessive? How would you know if you were addicted to school? What would you look for?

I do have the need to smell books, I can think of worse things to smell.

I do find myself looking at course schedules to find just one more class to take.

I love shopping for school supplies. I love picking notebooks out.

And, I can't imagine myself not being in a classroom, either as a student or teacher.

I had a neighbor tell me once that the only reason I wanted to go to school was so that I didn't have to grow up, because as long as you are in school you can avoid 'adult' responsibilities. She also felt that I thought too highly of the academia and accused me of having Ivory Tower Syndrome. Now, two problems with this:

1. Being in school, at least for me at both the u-grad and grad level NEVER meant avoiding adult responsibilities. I worked the entire time because in my house, the rule was such that when you turned 18 you were on your own as far as school went. My folks paid for me to go to private school k-12 and figured that I should be able to handle what came next. So, I worked and took out loans. Both of those activities were very 'adult'. I had to learn about promissary notes, loan payments, consolidations, and at times had to debate whether or not I could afford an extra semester. I also worked 2-3 jobs at a time as an undergraduate student just to be able to maintain. And, I had no car. I depended on rides and had to schedule classes around that. I walked to work in between classes.

As a grad student, the responsibilities of course grew. In my program I didn't receive an stipend/TAship for grad work. So, I had to again make the decision as to whether or not it would be work$h it in the end. Taking out more loans and working (at times full-time) was difficult. The total of all my loans could buy me this to ride in or half of this to live on. You have to be very adult about making decisions regarding that much money.

The nature of graduate work (even at the MA level) also requires an adult attitude. I had to read, research, and write, on my own for much of the time. I had a wonderful advisor, but it was still up to me to actually do the work.

2. I don't have Ivory Tower Syndrome. First off, I'm not in any Ivory Tower. I'm in a building made of bricks and mortar, and technically as an adjunct I don't really have a building/office space of my own if you want to get into the spatial dynamics of the situation. I could go even a step further and discuss that issue: not having an office, or limited space, what does that say about how my work is valued? I lugged everything around in an old leather bag. But, I digress. The work I do and see myself doing in every way touches the world outside of academia. My research interests have me looking at issues of language politics and who gets to say what where, and how they say it, and how the message is received, and how this shapes our attitudes about culture/race/class. Why is this important? Well, in a world of sound-bites, you better hope that your 20 second relief gets cut and edited in just the right way.

I also see that we still talk about valuing language and writing but do we really? And what kind of value$ are we willing to put down? Many of our students (k-12) in poor urban environments still lack the ability to communicate effectively so that they can become active participants in circles outside of their communities. Who's responsible for this? Who's gonna teach them? How are we gonna teach? What approaches work best? I should also add that lots of our non-native speakers get more programs/funding than our natives speakers who could still be looked at as not holding enough English speaking skills to be effective communicators. That's not to say I'm against funding ESL research/work because that's another area I've been strongly committed to for much of my working life.

No, no, no. I don't plan to be locked in an office with books and coffee. Real academic work is not that easy. Working with language and writing and people means that your gonna get dirty. And I want to lather myself in the mud.

28 Weeks

I am entering into my 7th month of pregnancy.

Pregnancy. Month 7.

7 months, 2 more to go.

28 Weeks.

28 out of 40.

No matter how I say it, I can't believe it. My stomach is round and taught. What used to be my belly button is now a puckered navel. I have my dark birth line dividing my belly. I actually think my posture has improved, because of the weight of my stomach and breasts, I try to walk upright more. My hair has gotten longer, the hormones have blessed me with this. The rest of me hasn't changed that much, though its hard to see my feet and legs sometimes. I like how I look.

I'm utterly amazed at what my body has been able to do. And I didn't have anything to do with it. Jokes on me. I have no control over how much I would grow, when the baby moves, how I move, how often I have to go to the bathroom, or how often I can't go. I had not an ounce of control over any of these matters and yet everything still happens.

The baby now moves and shifts from side to side and I can feel arms and legs poke me in various places. In yoga class, there are certain positions she doesn't like (and I can't blame her). Downward facing dog gives me heartburn, but she seems to be comfortable with it. Any pose that requires me to sit or lay down still is not a favorite for her, she moves and kicks until you can actually see my stomach and shirt move.

I really don't know where the past 7 months have gone. Well, for 2 out of the 7 I didn't even realize I was preggers, so that leaves me with 5, and 2 more to enjoy.

Taking Advice from a lil bit of er-where

Last night I was talking to my grandma who told me that the moon had been through a changing phase, and this, she declared was the reason why so many people had been struggling. We've had several deaths (close relatives and friends of the family), along with financial problems, and the nasty ole black cloud that seems to have taken residence above our heads. So when I read Tree's post about giving unsolicited advice because so many friends and family seemed to be going through rough times, I felt like maybe my granny's theory had something going to it. It does seem like for so many people I know, there have been lots of hardships and obstacles here recently.

I have to thank Tree. I don't even know if there was anything directly related to me on that page, but little does Tree know, I was able to find meaning in many of the statements. I keep saying it, and its true, and I know I keep saying it because I'm still trying to force myself to believe it; there is so little we can actual control. What we have to learn to do is to be resilient. No, scratch that too. What I have to learn, is to be resilient. I think that's what separates me from being able to reach my goals. When something goes wrong, or doesn't go the way I planned, or just something unexpected happens, I spend so much time mulling over it and being angry/hurt/confused/let down/bruised, that I loose precious time. Time that I need to spend in finding another way, another solution.

This weekend, my dad and I exchanged our normal pleasantness after church. He asked how I was, and I said, "I can't complain." He said, "Oh really?" I responded, "Well, I guess I could, but it wouldn't do much good." Then he says, "No, the problem is the word you used. Complaining rarely gets results. You gotta think and be creative."

Creativity. I lack that. But again, I'm working on it.

I'm going to dedicate my next yoga practice to putting out positive vibes in the world for everyone-because it seems like we all need it.

...don't wanna be no where but here....

The title comes from a Mos Def song... don't know why but here lately I've had the most random songs in my head, for no apparent reason.

This weekend was weird, it seemed like it was gonna start okie, but then after a series of icky events on Thursday, then an upset tummy that caused me to go to the doctor on Friday (baby is fine, just had a touch of the old stomach bug), and the fact that I could not sleep well at all because of horrific heartburn, it was just kinda nay-pooh. I didn't accomplish much of anything, did get to spend time with my family which was nice, but did nothing around the house, no writing, no reading, just griping (both verbally and physically- my belly).

Sunday, H and I were able to finally figure some things out, or so we hope. I'm actually not even gonna say we figured anything out, from now on I'm gonna call any plans for the future sketching. Sketching is different from actually drawing plans. When you draw plans, it sounds like you use a hard pencil with thick lead, if you erase anything, the picture gets smudges or smears all over it. Sketching is just a bunch of light lines, its the way you hope your picture will look, but you realize that between the time you conceptulize it in your head, get it to paper, and then show it to others, there are some lines that might have to change. So anyways, we sketched what we'd like to do once Cucumber is born, and while I wasn't immediatley pleased, lets just say its far better than having to think about day cares or babysitters, or any body we don't know or don't trust taking care of her. My family is all gonna pitch in and try to help, so that I can work outside the house (!) after she is born and so we won't end up living in a cardboard box. I've got some other sketches that I need to make, but it made me feel like I could stop holding my breathe for a little while, just knowing that there will be plenty of folks around who want to take care of her, and who want to help take care of us.

I'm hoping for a much more productive week than I've had the past couple of weeks. I also realized (with the help of H) that I spend far too much time lamenting and complaining about things that I have NO control over. And therefore, what happens is that I waste time and energy on those things and don't dedicate myself to the things that I can control.

Now, how do I get myself to remember that?

Not a complaint, but can I share a fear?

I first learned about blogs because the PhD program I was due to start at was big on blogging. Well, it wasn't like they were just all about blogs, but lots of the students and faculty members were into this, so I started reading their blogs which of course leads you to other blogs, and before you know it, your addicted to a good 10 that you have to read each day.

Well, for a while, after I realized I wasn't going to be able to go to school in the fall because of the baby and my MIL's cancer, I just stopped reading the academic-related blogs because it was difficult. It was hard for me to read about rhetorical theory, research projects, seminar papers, books, classes, teaching, conferences, etc, because for so long that has been what I thought I was going to be about, and to have my life turn around so suddenly, it took some time for me to actually work through things. And I must admit, I'm still working through. No, I don't regret the baby and I don't have ill feelings towards MIL, but most of all I was just mad at myself. Angry because I know that life throws twists and turns, why was it so difficult for me to learn to be more resilliant? I used to pride myself on always having a plan B, C, D, and E. Never just one. But I slacked, I got comfortable, and God threw me a curve ball. Again, the lesson or theme for today seems to be 'thinking outside of myself,' but now I don't have a complaint to spew, but a fear.

I started reading academic-related blogs again today and I'm fearful. Not jealous. Not angry. Not anything else, just fearful. Why? Because I feel like I'm so out of the game, not around scholars, not in school, not studying to be a scholar, not writing, not reading (well, nothing that amounts to much), and just not using my head and thinking, or trying to take things to the next level. I'm afraid I won't be able to do it again. Afraid I may have lost it. Now days, once I finish working my 8 hours, I do what most folks do, the folks I'd sworn I'd never be like, I go home, get food and park it in front of the TV. By 10, I'm ready for a shower, more TV and then the bed. Then I get up and do it all over again. On the weekends, its grocery store, cleaning, church, then hit repeat. Last year at this time I was teaching, working on a grant-funded research project, and was just about to get my acceptance into Grad school.

I don't want to be too hard on myself (thats a first!) because hey, I am pregnant and it is harder to move around, I'm more tired and tend to get irritated very easily, but I just wonder, is there any way I can get back into that groove? Maybe the problem is that I'm a different kind of peg now and I can no longer fit into that groove, I'm trying to force myself into something I am not. But then what kind of peg am I, and how can I create a groove that will fit me?

I do want to go to school, I do want a PhD, I do want to write, I do want to research, and overall, I do want to teach. Those things help to complete me, they are just who I am. But now, there is another part of me as well, this part that is going to be a mother, and this part that has had to act in more of a supportive role than before while we've been dealing with MIL's illness.

How can I expect myself to be able to do all those things and keep a family in balance? My family will always come first, but its my use of time and my thinking that will have to change.

I'm afriad I'm not who I thought I was, or who I thought I was going to be. And maybe the problem is that I was holding on to one set image of myself and now that image is whats going to have to change? But how do hold myself up to it? How do you write when you feel out of it? Okie, lets cut the bull-shit as my dad would say, how do you kick yourself in the ass?

As Moe Greene said, " I gotta business to run. I gotta kick asses sometimes to make it run right."

Damn Moe, now how can I do that?

True

For about 20 of my 27 years, I've totally thought my dad was insane. Crazy. A monster. Paranoid. But the oddest thing started happening about 2 or 3 years ago, I realized that he was none of those things, I realized he was right.

Its weird though, how our perceptions of people can change. Kenneth Burke talked about terministic screens and I liken this to his theory. We move through life and experience things (events, people, language, images) and we try to make sense of them as best we can, but as we continue to move and note changes, our perceptions and understandings change and we try our best to make meaning.

I think (or rather I hope) that I'm learning that one of the best ways to make meaning is to allow the meaning to make itself. I tend to over-analyze almost everything and I think that's just the rhetorician in me. At times, we can't allow ourselves to do that, sometimes it takes the letting go in order to discover the meaning.

One thing my dad has always taught us is to keep our enemies close (yes, that is in relation to the Godfather), but there is truth in that statement. I've learned, and most often the hard way, that if you don't keep a close watch on those around you, you end up being hurt. I think some of these life lessons will become increasingly more important now that I'm preparing myself to be a mom, I want to pass along wisdom to my daughter.

Just minus the paranoia.

No Complaints allowed

Being pregnant has taught me one clear thing about myself: at times I'm a very self-centered/focused individual. Now, this does not have to be a bad thing, it can in fact aid in one's own protection. My dad once pointed to our front door and told me, "Once you leave this house, on any given day, there are numerous people out there who are out to get you." Whenever he said that (which was often) I would always envision someone in a long trench coat, a Fedora, and dark shades standing on the corner trying to lure me into a dark alley. But as I got older, I understood a bit more about what he meant and I think I did develop a real 'tough girl' attitude, so much so, that at times it bordered or being both paranoid and selfish.

Sharing my body for six months now with someone I know, but don't know, has taught me to let go of some of myself and allow someone else to delegate and be in control. The larger Cucumber gets, the more I'm aware that I can't control everything about myself. Getting up 3-4x during the night, having to take vitamins the size of my pinky finger, drinking milk, eating (gasp) meat, (and enjoying it, gasp), having to sleep on one side, not being able to just run or jump up in the mornings. These are just small things that I've noticed, but they prepare you for something that is much larger than yourself.

In our yoga practices we are always encouraged to dedicate our practice to something that is much larger than ourselves, to take us outside of 'us/me' and to join with 'we/you' its something that I have to try to remember daily.

Cucumber Speaks, I Listen

I know I've said this a gazzillion times before here, but I am just so in awe of the fact that every day, the baby's movements are stronger and more pronounced. I can't tell the difference between arms and legs, but I can definitely tell the difference between her head and appendages. At some points, especially at night, when I roll over in bed, I can tell she doesn't like it because I've interrupted her position. Her head will move firmly over my bladder or my rib cage. I love that she reacts!

Last night, the dogs were barking and being extra woofy, and she would actually start kicking when they started to bark. The baby books have said that at this point her senses are becoming more and more acute, so she can probably hear some sounds. As I write this now, she is pounding away at my sides.

Lovely.

Emancipation

My brother and I were both having a rough day yesterday and so as we lamented about our lives, I think we came to a new revelation for the both of us.

Sometimes you got to get really down before you can really get up.

News Flash***I know that most people would say, "Duh, who doesn't know this!" or as my family likes to say, "Quit complaining and do something already!" or as my Dear husband says, "You are just figuring this out, and you are how old?"

Well yes, I am just figuring it out, and I am 27 years old. Thank you very much. But for almost the past year I've been on a roller coaster ride, school, work, family, illness, moving, not moving, pregnancy, the list goes on. This morning as I rolled myself off the side of the bed and felt extremely tired, even though I'd gone to bed early, I started thinking about all the things that I've experienced this past year, not just physically from the pregnancy, but emotionally as well. And its no wonder I feel tired. Not only is my body working around the clock to sustain my life and the baby's; but my head has been working around the clock as well, to try as hard as it possibly can to make sense out of everything that has happened. And it can't. I don't know everything has been woven together to meet at this point. But it has, and even though I don't understand why, and even though I'm broke, and afraid, and scared, and anxious. I'm also starting to feel excited and happy. Out of all of this chaos, I want to emancipate myself from the anxiousness that used to rule my life, from my dire need to feel important to outside people, from my thinking that if I don't have a house, 2.5 kids and a SUV I'm not making it. Because the truth is, I have thought that way, in the past.
All bull shit aside, as much as I once thought I knew myself and had it together, I didn't have a clue. It takes changes and movement to really learn who you are and where you are going.
At some points, and I think this blog reflects some of those moments, I've felt so low and crestfallen, and I'm sure to have many more days like that too, but I also want to feel new again.
Me again.

I blog because

i don't have anything to say. To anybody at anytime.

How do you know when you need to switch gears? How do you know when no matter how hard you try, something is not worth it, or not necessarily not worth it, but just not for you?

I gave my official notice of not going back to school in the Fall and it was much harder than I expected. Initially, I felt relieved. Finaly, I'd wrestled with everythign and a decision had been made. Then I felt hopeful, I'll send the email, but something else will work out. Then I felt despair, the email has been sent, the pen lifted on that chapter and its gone.

Trying to reapply again for the future feels like it just can't happen. There would be tests to take, apps to redo, references to try and solidify again, and the need to write or do something. At this point, the most academic thing I've done in the past year has been to read academic related blogs by real academics.

I'm just tired. I don't want to think of myself as a quitter, but I've got a baby on the way and maybe I just need to reshape/rethink my focus, because this shish ain't working.

I don't feel like writing when I get home, I'm not forced to write at work, but my work is not creative in nature and I just feel zapped and fried by the time I get home. Once I'm home, all I want to do really is to crawl in my bed and read (non-academic minded books mind you) or watch TV. I've watched more TV in the past six months than I have in the past six years.

My mind is mushy. And I don't think its just the hormones.

.......

baldhfsdfoiusfdhsfsoijfs Week 24/25 Update

The title of my post describes exactly how I feel. I've got so much going on this week, and heck the next 3 months, I don't even know where to begin anymore.

Most of what I need to do now, involves prepping for the little one who is due to arrive in three super-short months, February doesn't even give me a full 30-31 days! My doctor's visit this past week revealed that my stomach is growing and growing and growing. She is moving more and more each day and in really weird positions that sometimes cut off my breathing. But the best part of it, is knowing that there is a tiny little person in there. The worse part, just the waiting and worrying. I am a worrier by nature, but now not only do I have myself to worry about, but also this brand new person! I worry about whether or not she'll have all her fingers/toes/eyes/ears/nose, whether she'll enjoy school, will she like to read, will she want to date at age 12, how will I keep the bad people away from her, and the good folks close? She's not even here yet and I panick.
I do try my best to control this panick though, because I don't want to pass along any of these feelings of angst to her. For now, the womb is a small, safe, warm environment. She'll have enough to deal with when she bursts into this world. Did I say burst?

We haven't started talking about what kind of birth we want. That seems to be the hot topic amongst many pregnancy groups, What kind of birth do you want? Uh, one that is pain free and leaves me ready to go to Disney the next day? What kind of birth do you want?

Many folks in my prenatal yoga class have done it before with no pain meds and say that yoga and breathing was all that they needed. Then, there is the medicated bunch who say that there was no way they could have gotten through it withough meds and lots of meds. I don't know where I fall with this yet. I have never been one to run to medicine or pain killers, for years I sufferred with menstral cramps that would knock me out for a full 8-10 hours. But I've never had to face the prospect of hurting for so long and then needed to have the energy to push out a living creature. I guess I've still got some time to decide on that one...

I want to up my yoga but can't find another class right now that fits into my schedule, though I just might have to create time, I feel like the more I get up and move around the better off I'll be. I just can't believe that time has gone this quickly already.

My stomach is not ultra huge, but I do have problems reaching my legs now to shave. So there, too much info for you!

***Note, I say 24/25 because the way I count my weeks (per the doctor) actually means that I begin a new week in the middle of a 'regular' week***

Ah...another task completed!

Okie, so another of my weekly tasks was to:

4. Create a list of writing projects.

And here they are:

1. Write about things that people have said to me that I don't want to forget:
-the time someone told me I was pretty, for a Black girl
-the time someone told me they were shocked that I was so smart
-the time I got called an Oreo
-the time my dad almost through my stero out the window


2. Write about rhetoric in pop culture
-My Good Times paper that never was finished

3. Continue w/ thesis writing

A running list of Music I will need to Deliver Cucumber

So, after reading a scary post about how deathly birthing/pregnancy are, I've decided to try to soften it up a bit for me by working on a list of music that I'd like to take with me. I've heard other mothers say that they planned to do all this stuff while in labor, but it never happened because well, they were in labor. I am going to try though.

Marron 5: This Love
James Brown: Paid the Cost
Dave Matthews Band: Crash, #34
Johnny Cash: Ring of Fire (To be played when the baby is 'crowning')
SWV: Weak in the Knees
Mos Def: Umi Says
50 Cent: Its your Birthday
Snoop Dog: What's My Name
Mary J Blige: My Life
Jill Scott: Thinking About You
(Artisit ?): Get Down on It
Annie Lenox: Sweet Dreams are Made of These
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers: Last Dance



TBC

Happy to Report

I am happy to report, that as of today, I have accomplished one of my goals for the week:

Number 7:

7. Determine whether or not I want to take a class this semester.

I have determined that I do NOT want to take an academic class this semester, instead I will increase my yoga!

Ah, its nice to feel accomplished.