My first day

Its my first day back on campus and I don't feel ready for some reason. I've got my lesson plans and my readings prepped and all, my syllabus is up but I just feel out of the loop even though I taught last semester, so there's no real reason for that.

I didn't sleep well last night either, just felt really anxious and couldn't relax. It must have something to do with all the stuff I'v got going on. I constantly feel like I'm in a rush, always doing something or having something that needs to be done and yet not enough time. I have to try to and carve out time at night to work but that doesn't always work because the Babe starts to get fussy and if she can see or smell me, she wants to be in my lap or on my hip. We've not done the babysitter thing, primarly because we don't have one and I don't know that there are too many people I would trust with Babe anyways.

Since we moved out of the city, now it takes like 45 minutes to get to my parents' house they aren't always readily available. Even though I complained, I must say I miss having the extra help.

I dunno, I'm starting to hear whinning in this post so I'm gonna shut up.

I just feel swamped.

Cute things Babe can Do

1. Dance to her favorite music (reggae, some hip-hop, Johnny Cash, Backyardigans)

2. Play with her toys by moving them from one hand to another and shaking them.

3. Laugh and snort.

4. Laugh so hard her mouth doesn't move.

5. Get very angry when we take a toy away, or an item she perceives as being a toy but its not.

6. Give kisses

She is quite amazing.

fingers

Today I was driving to the grocery store and I started slowing down for a yellow light. I ended up beside a car with an older woman. I couldn't see her face at first, but just her fingers on the steering wheel and for a split second I thought they were my grandma's hands.

They were dark brown and some of the fingers a bit crooked, wrinkled, but still smooth.

I pulled up and kept staring at the woman's hands until I'm sure I made her quite uncomfortable and she waved. I smiled, nodded, and waved back.

I remember how my grandma would use her fingers to work vaseline and oil through my hair, parting my hair and smoothing it down. Sometimes she'd take just her pinky finger and use it to point to a place in your head where you either needed more grease or were using too much. I remember her fingers making sandwhices, trimming the edges off the bread, smashing the sandwhich down so it'd be almost flat. Or how she'd slide her glasses back on her face; she would use her thumb and ring finger and cup the classes and slide them back on her nose. When I was younger, much younger, she would paint her fingernails, usually a dark red deep purple, but she was always particular about the color looking just right.

My last memories of her fingers and hands were of her in the hospital, she was sick, so sick, and laying in that big bed, so small. I showed her pictures of babe and she said she was so beautiful, "like a doll." I couldn't stand to see her like that, the room was warm, and I felt hot. Family was around, piled up in the room like how we always are, and I looked at everyone's faces. I could see that we were all wearing masks, but I couldn't do it any longer. So I grabbed gradma's hand, or either she grabbed mine, I don't remember now, and it was so warm. So warm and so soft.

Its been 7 months now since her death and in some ways I feel even worse, different things catch me like what happened today. It might be a smell, or a song, or something small, but it pulls me back in this tidal wave of emotion.

nothing

Not much going on here. Been feeling a bit under the weather lately, mentally and physically. I put too much into the whole New Year New you thing.

Babe should be sprouting some teeth soon, she's got drool everywhere and constantly trying to bite. Its weird to think that she's already 8 months old. Thats close to a year! She has a toy she really likes that sings music and when she hears it she jumps up and down and kinda bounces around. Its the cutest thing.

I've got house work and other work to tend to.

Yup.

New Year. New Poop.

The babe is pooping like crazy.

I bought yet another calendar.

More work less blog.

Walk it Out

I'm ready to walk this damn year right on out.

20 Reasons why 2006 needs to get the boot.

1. My grandma died RIP GMA.
2. My great aunt died, RIP Clementine.
3. My great uncle died, RIP Wilbur.
4. My uncle died, RIP KEE.
5. James Brown died.
6. Babe and I were hit by a dump truck, we are thankfully o.k.
7. The job I had the first part of the year sucked ass.
8. My apartment floor erupted and I had to evacuate within 48 hours.
9. My brain has been so loopy I did a suck ass job at teaching.
10. My teaching job is running out.
11. I didn't go to school.
12. My grandma died.
13. My grandma died.
14. Poverty.
15. War.
16. My grandma died.
17. My grandma died.
18. My grandma died.
19. My grandma died.
20. And last, because my grandma died I lost me.
***
***
But with all of that said, I know that out of this pain and hurt I felt in 2006 I also saw some very beautiful things that I think, or rather I hope I can learn from.

1. My beautiful daughter was born.
2. A 15 hour labor that resulted in a complication free c-section taught me patience and how to let go of worry.
3. Watching my grandma with cancer taught me compassion and patience, and a faith that withstands all. She was beautiful.
4. Seeing family members around me loose so many taught me that we really don't have much to hold on to beside our family.
5. Having my babe taught me that work really does not matter nearly as much as I thought it did.
6. Babe also taught me that if I do have to work, I want to make sure I'm doing something outside of the home that is worthwhile and helping others, in the same spirit my grandma lived in.
7. Not having a home and being displaced for 2-3 months taught me that its the small things that matter, late night tea drinking, walking from the bedroom to the bathroom in just your roos.
8. Being hit and in the accident taught me how much material objects just really don't matter.
9. Having a home now taught me how important it is to make roots where-ever you are.
10. Not going to school this year was the best thing that could have happened to me. I learned that I really didn't know what in the hell I wanted to study, nor did I understand the importance of balancing theory and practice. Orthopraxy. There's that word again.
11. With so many of my plans moved and cancelled I've learned that while you have to make some goals for yourself you also have to make room for God to step in as well.
12. I've also learned that writing is important for me. I avoided blogging and journaling for quite some time, but not writing my problems or writing about what I was feeling did not make things better or make things go away as I'd thought.
13. X (because there is still so much unknown and I'm welcoming that).

I'm going to try to welcome 2007 even if it means letting go of so much I held on tightly to in 2006. I'm also thinking about going back to the old way of doing things, because I seemed to get so much more done that way.

Think. Paper. Ink.

Membering

Last night my bro reminded me of an old TV show I used to watch, Bananas in Pajamas. This show came on in the US about 10 or 11 years ago. I remember that I watched it when I was a senior in high school and the summer after I graduated I bought the stuffed toys. That fall, of 1996, my granny went into the hospital with colon cancer and I gave her one of my stuffed banana to keep her company. He went to the hospital with her and came home and had a semi-permanent place on her bed for quite sometime. I have no idea whatever happened to that cartoon or to the stuffed toys. I'm quite sure my mom or granny might have thrown them away if they got too dirty and weren't washable.

***
When I was a kid I would want to pack my own lunch for school. I'd study the way sandwiches looked in advertisements on TV and in my mom's Women's Day magazines and try to recreate them for my own lunch box. Of course I had no idea at age six or seven that they spray paint and glue those sandwiches for the photos or TV commercials. All I cared about was the image and having that image to give to others at school, that I, _______ ________ __________ had the PERFECT motha-otha sandwich.

I would beg my mom to buy good white bread (because usually dad would get us wheat bread from the thrift store that was only like an hour away from being molded and ready to make penicillin). Then I'd get her to buy a head of lettuce amidst much protest on her part because she'd proclaim I wasn't gonna eat it. I might be able to get her to buy a tomato, then American cheese, and ham or turkey. The night before I would artfully construct my sandwich. Planning the layers, standing back from the kitchen table looking at my creation, patiently creating layers of tomato, lettuce, mayo, meat, and cheese, sculpting so the sandwich would stand tall and pretty.

Then my mom would come in and tell me how I should pack everything separate. Put the tomatoes in a separate thing of aluminum foil, put the bread separate from the meat and cheese, lettuce she thought should be wrapped in paper towels and then aluminium foil to keep it fresh. Her theory was that this would make the sandwich actually edible, instead of the soggy mess I'd end up with.

But who the fuck had enough time to sculpt a sandwich during a thirty minute lunch break, one that would be pretty and perfect enough for the entire lunch table to see and want. Or one that would make them think my mom made the best sandwiches.

***

Its funny how you can't force memories. Or at least I can't. Sometimes I struggle so hard to try to remember something from childhood, or from my granny, or just from last week and I can't. Its like the harder you try to grab for it, the further away it moves. So I'm just trying to commit them to this thing call the Internet so that they can float in another space until I can figure out what to do with them all in my head.
And isn't it lovely that we can have labels for them as well. To keep them neat and ordered. Wish I had that for my head.

To those who might ask: What pray tell is a Black name? My reply:

When I was in high school people would say, "You so don't have a black name." I guess because my name doesn't sound like the typical (or maybe stereotypical-because what is typical?) African-American name people would have a hard time with me. Its like, you had to have a certain name or certain persona in my high school to be considered 'black'. I know it sounds silly and believe me it is. But anyways, I used to think that I should change my name to reflect my African-American culture, but the older and wiser I got, the more I realized that my name didn't have to the kind of name that others saw as being reflective of African-American culture, all that mattered was that I knew who I am and where I'm coming from.

I do however see the significance in changing your name or taking on additional names, people do that all the time when they are trying to rebirth themselves or recreate a new role for themselves, and from time to time I have gone by different nick names or had different circles of friends call me different things. Its like once I had babe I became mum at home and DH became dad and we just kind of refer to one another like that now. But in some circles I'm called x and some circles y. I like that, I like the fluidity of taking on another name as I move through and am around different people.

My family, my dad's family in particular is big on names, I guess that's why I have such a long one. One first name, a middle name, another name I got when I was baptized, a name I took when I was confirmed, another name I adopted when I starting to actually practice a religion by choice, and then my maiden name + my husband's last name. No, they aren't all on my birth certificate, but I like having them in my pocket.

Now I have Tinkerbell too.

Your Black name is Tinkerbell

When DH and I were dating, for the first 3-4 years at least, my MIL didn't speak to me. She didn't agree with the fact that DH and I were together because I'm brown and he's kinda creamy. Ok, to put it bluntly, I'm Black, and he's White. Yup, can you believe it? Two people who happen to be different shades fell in love and wanted to just love one another and be together and hug each other and just be together. But anyways, I digress.

So one time MIL went to an old friend's store and the following conversation ensued:

ol friend: Hey, your _____'s mom. How's it going? He goes out with my friend _____.

mil: Um, hello.

ol friend: Yeah, they really get along great.

mil: I don't know who your talking about.

ol friend: But you are ________'s mom right? I recognize the last name, and his name is on your check here too.

mil: Yes, I'm his mother.

ol friend: So, you know _______, they've been together for like two years now.

mil: I don't know her.

See, mil pretended I didn't exist, kinda like how you ignore or try to ignore a toothache until its pounding through your gums. (Does that mean I just equated myself to being a toothache?)

But anyways, she ignored me until she figured out I wasn't going anywhere. And sometimes when I look back on it, I'm angry but other times I laugh, and last night I laughed because DH and I were talking about it and how I could have introduced myself to her and she could have called my Tinkerbell, because as far as she was concerned she didn't want anyone to believe that I existed and that I dated her son. Actually, she probably would have been happier with her son going out with a fairy or a Tinkerbell type. She probably would have found it easier to explain to her friends the wings than the brown skin.

But, all is well and my Black name now is Tinkerbell.

Reason #39 2006 needs to move on out

It has been quite a week, or end to a week, as technically Sunday starts a new week, I think.
Babe and I were in an accident on friday afternoon, trying to get home with cleaning supplies and stuff, as we're trying to still move in county house. County house is still not ready and we now have to deal with the accident stuff.

But what I have realized during the past 48 hours is that nothing really matters as much as I once thought it did. Or rather things matter in a different way than what I once thought.

I am so glad the semester is over now and that we are moving soon (I hope, we've had 3 or 4 different move-in dates now) because I'm really charged with starting afresh.

My head is still cluttered but at least now I feel like I know how I might begin the decluttering process.

The accident plus a call from a far-away friend on Thursday helped me to realize what kind of thinking I need to have and more important want kind of practice I need to have.

orthopraxy is my new word. not just right speech but right action.

a moment of clarity

Mm. Ok.
So in all this chaos of moving and trying to start afresh in county house, I was feeling really bummed out tonight because I've not done any 'school' work so I started reading on my dear friend Kenneth Burke and realized something. I totally could have used his dramatist theory to write my thesis.
How could I have missed this?

Conversation I'm having in my head with tired me and school me.

Tired me: Ok so here's the deal, Burke felt that we are symbol using creatures, right?

School me: Right.

Tired me: So like, he also had this theory about the study of rhetoric. That if we used rhetoric we could ultimately understand human behavior. Why we do what we do.

School me: What we do, what we do. Yup, that's correct.

Tired me: So he thought that we really were like performing on a stage. That's the whole idea behind the pentad. Its like this drama thing.

School me: Everybody plays the fool. No exception to the rule.

Tired me: So, what I could have looked at with my thesis, instead of the whole terministic screen thing (that I don't think I used in the way I should have, or could have done it differently), but anyways, what I could look at how relationships amongst audiences are created to divide the audiences.

School me: Your pretty smart.

Tired me: Well, no, see I was feeling guilty for not having read anything 'school' related and just reading blogs and stuff. So I forced myself to look at some Kenneth Burke articles. I've also found that not many people have looked at

School me: Maybe you should go to school

Tired me: Maybe sleep deprivation is the key.

School me: Lets go to bed.

Tired me: Agreed.

.

busy.
moving.
chaos.
new house.
period.

a Mum moment

Babe discovered her right hand yesterday. She's been using it all along, but it was like she just woke up on Sunday morning and looked at it like, "Wow, fancy meeting you here. I think I control thee."

So all day she would be playing or eating or doing whatever and then at certain moments she'd stop and notice that hand again.

I learn something new from babe everyday and today she taught me to stop and notice the small things.

"Hello right hand, how art thou?"

Babe has a very nice old English accent. No idea where she got that from.

much to say

I've actually got some writing that I really need to get done during the next few weeks. I've got a Xmas memories piece I'm supposed to be doing for my family's gathering and I've got some work things I need to do and something else that I can't remember. Hum.

Last night I was gonna try to get some work done but opted not to when I was given the chance to take a nap. Now, I've got to try to force myself to do work tonight, when I'd rather be playing with babe. Maybe I'll work on some stuff for about an hour or so after I get babe's bath and then call it a night.

I don't know.

I need to make a writing list:

1. Christmas Memories piece
2. CV
3. Philosophy de la me teaching
4. RSA application
5. Paulo Friere paper

My goal: to have most of this stuff completed by the end of the week, so that I can at least have the writing out there and then I can work on touch ups after that.

Babe is calling.

Treat a Woman Right

Just a few years ago, a fun Saturday night for me would have included dinner and a late movie at the cool little old school movie theatre. Afterwards, we might have gotten Slurpee's or donuts or something and then headed home to watch weird shows that only come on super late at night (stuff about aliens, conspiracy theories, etc, the fun stuff). But now things have changed. Do you know what I got tonight and I'm just flipping thrilled? A nap! I got to sleep in the bed for like 1 and 1/2 hours.

I think all the stress and strain from the week just finally caught up with me. I had my last week of class, papers to read, folks to meet with, house stuff to do, babe to love and take care of, and all the other stuff that goes along with being a wife, mom, teacher, and er-thing else.

More progress on the county house...plumbing is done and now the walls are all up, thank God. Just painting and other small finishing touches to make. We are hoping to clean up next week and start the move in process next weekend. It'll be weird to have a house. Even weirder because we've been in flux for such a while now and I really do hope and believe that being there will help to set a foundation for us.

More on the progress front, I have actually started to work on a teaching philosophy statement. I'm trying to spend good time on it so that it can actually be good and not poop. Any suggestions from all you teaching folk out there? Cause a sista wants to get back in the giz-game with school and working.

1+1=2

Interesing to look at the two posts that I've had today. One seems to infer that I know where I'm suppused to be. The other that I need to move from that space. And this is why I really like my blog or blogging. Being able to see these two pieces of writing together on one page (screen) forces me to read what I've written and to think about what I'm thinking, really think, something I don't normally like to do with my journal.

So let me 'splain because the irony between the two posts has actually lead me to some new knowledge. For quite some time I dealt with issues of regret and anger about not going to school, about my granny's death, about relationships. But what I'm learning, through babe and my new role as a mom, is that I really do have a lot to learn from all of the experiences that I'm going through now. Its not that I am not happy as a mother, but more that I'm unhappy with myself in the space where I just float with along with the 'whatever'. I don't want to be a controlling planning freak anymore (ugh, gulps as she thinks about her new organizer) but I don't want to just 'be' either. There is a balance. And for me, it means putting my role as a woman into perspective. I am a mother but I am also a person who wants to continue to write, research, teach and work with students. So what I'm learning is that I need to make some decisions about what I do with my time and how I ask for help.

I've reached another wave of murky water and I want to poke my head out from under. I know I've hit points like this before and been sucked back with the waves, but I'm tired of the dirt and grit in my mouth. I wouldn't mind it so much if I were actually getting to the shore, but its just something else to weight me down, so I need to learn and progress.

Lonely People

"All the lonely people, Where do they all come from?
All the lonely poeple, Where do they all belong?"

Sometimes you feel loneliest when you are surrounding by people, things, motion.
I think that its out of brokenness/lonliness that you can learn and move. There is a real chance that I won't have a job, the job I love after next Summer. But I'm not even stressed about it. Like normally I'd be freaking out and trying to make plans upon plans. But I'm not feeling that way at all. I think this was the last push I needed to make some real changes to my life that I've been afraid of.

I tend to be so afraid of failure that I don't move at all. But inside all of this motion, this chaos, I'm finding that standing still is even more scary than if I were to try to move. So I'm choosing motion.

Wee Babe

Babe is now 7 months old. I can't believe that much time has passed, some times when I look at her I feel like I just brought her home. Its amazing all the stuff she can do now: pick her toes, take socks off, roll over, sit up on her own, put fingers in her mouth, eat baby food (hot favs right now are sweet potatoes and oatmeal), make poop with form, laugh, smile, and grunt. Last year at this time I was just about to find out the sex of babe and now she's here and I feel like I've known her forever. Its amazing to watch her develop and as my dad says, "settle in her ways."

I complain a lot about not being where others are, career or school wise, but most days I know exactly where I'm supposed to be and babe helps me to remember that.

Carving out Time

I have been sucked into more technology. After having three separate paper calendars, I've gone ahead and taken the plunge and purchased one of these. DH thingk that I'm just fascinated with small tech gadgets, and truth be told I am. I got my first ipod, the nano, this summer and I got my first laptop, a mac book. There is just something sleek and comforting about them, which is strange for me because I used to be a totally pencil paper type of person. For me, I didn't think it was actually 'good' and in my 'head' or out of it, unless I had the ability to physically write it down. Now its different, with so much going on I find it bothersome to have tons of notes and reciepts cluttering my bag, so I guess I was looking to go as paperless as possible.

I always thought that I'd want to stick with the old fashioned calendar, and who knows, maybe some day I'll go back, but for now, I needed a change.

And I like the ability to color-code my calendar.

Now, lets see if the pretty little gizmos will help me get through all the work I've got tonite!

New Week.

Sundays were sad as a kid. I guess it was just the realization that a new week was upon me, back to school, back to bedtimes, back to chores. As I've gotten older though, I see Sundays in a different light, now I do see it as the start of a new week, a chance to reorganize and try again to get things in order, to start fresh. I hope that the toilets and sinks get put in this week, the plumber seems to have a bit of a problem with doing what we want, instead he likes to do what he wants. I also hope that I can at least get my last week of class finished up without much hassle. I've got a group meeting this week and then its all done, grades should be turned in and I can breathe a bit easier until January. I also need to shop around with DH for another car. Living so far out in county house will mean that we have to have two vehicles now, not something I'm particularly happy about, but it has to be done.

I also hope that we can start to move things in bit by bit. Because of all the shish that has gone on with getting this house in order I don't really feel like its home, I hope that changes. I think that because of all the history that house contains I've been feeling a little unsettled, I keep reminding myself that we have to create new history in this space.

I remember the first time I ever saw the house. DH's mom had gone to the beach with some family members and so she needed him to go and get the mail, check things out, feed the cats. So DH (then my boyfriend) asked me to ride along with him, because his mom didn't care for me being brown and being with her nice cream-coloured son, she never spoke with me, nor wanted to meet me. So driving through the neighborhood and looking at her house made me feel like I was a spy. We drove around the block so I could get a good view of the house and see where DH grew up, and where I was not welcomed.

Fast forward now, 8 years later and I'm fuckin moving in. Its amazing. That house didn't have nae a brown person to come in there, and now there are going to be brown folks living there. I'm just amazed at how things can change. I would have never guessed that I'd live there. I am happy that we have made so many changes to the place, new colors, new walls, even new floors and siding and windows. I think DH and I both needed the place to be visibly different. Maybe I don't feel like its home just yet because I'm not there. Its also in quite a different location, I taint be no suburban girl, so this will take me some time.

I need to learn to be patient with myself, just tonight I was joking with DH that we could go ahead and sell the house now and move to Maryland. I like being on the Eastern shore. I like even more that its not Virginia. Since my granny passed my ties to this place are different. I'm happy that I have family here, but with very few (read 0) real prospects for school or work, I just don't wanna be here any more. But I don't have any real plans just yet, a few things I'm thinking about, but no real plans, so its probably best for us to be settled for the babe while we regroup and think things over.

New Week. New drink.

Reading something good

DH went to New York this weekend. New York, New York, city so nice they had to name it twice. eh.

But anyways, because he knew I'd miss him and need something to occpy my free time, eh, he went out and got me a book. [I am very proud to say that I'm starting to read non-babe related books again.] He got a book by William Henry Lewis, a Penn Falulkner Finalist, and a damn good writer if I can add my own .3 cent worth.

One of his short stories is called, "I Got Somebody in Staunton," and he's got this line that I just love:

"I'm back to feeling like a twenty-eight-year-old history professor, stuck in another situation where graduate degrees, pedagogical discourse, and academic distinctinction don't mean shit."

Its one of the best reads I've had in a long time. I wish I could scribe shit like that, where your voice just comes out like smooth butter on warm bread. Not like chunky ass govment peanut butter on .50 cent bread.

Random shit on eyes

When I was about eight or nine, or maybe ten, but young, young enough to still play with dolls and not care what others thought, I had a friend from school spend the night. Her family actually knew my family, our grandmas were friends or old neighbors, or something. Well, this girl's father died right before she was born. It was a sudden death, he was found drowned in his car in a ravine. I don't think anyone knew how it happened exactly. But she had been told stories about her father and his death, and the fact that her grandma never got over it, and I don't know how you could, now that my grandma has passed I understand what its like to loose someone and actually have a visceral reaction. But this girl would say really odd things, like she could see ghosts, around us. Needless to say, I was a bit spooked out.

So anyways, she came over one Saturday night to spend the night and we played with my dolls and stuffed animals in my room. Things would be fine and then she would proclaim she could see something or feel somebody. Later I went back and told my mom and grandma this and my granny remarked that the girl, "just won't right, she'd been marked by the death of her father." I thought something was odd about her, I mean I'd always liked playing dolls and enjoyed a scary story, but there was just something about her that made me feel uneasy. We were up in my room and playing with a huge stuffed animal that I had, it was like a pink dog or something loud and big. I tossed the animal up in the air and stretched out on my back on the floor to catch it with my feet (the acrobat in me). When it came down, something small from it, dust, dirt, I dunno, scratched the cornea of my eye.I rubbed my eye hard and turned my face over, shaking my head, hoping to get it out. She stood up beside me and got real upset when I started tearing up. I wasn't crying out of pain, my eye was just watering because there was something in it. We went downstairs to tell my mom what happened and she helped me to rinse my eye out with water. It felt better, but I still felt like my vision was blurry. My mom's answer for most anything sick related is to get some rest, so we went to bed early at that slumber party.

The next day, my eye still wasn't any better so we went to a patient first or some shit like that and they put this dye into my eye and shined a special light over it to show if there were any tears or ruptures. Sure enough whatever had fallen off that bear had torn a spot on my cornea. They gave me drops and had me wear an eye patch. Like a pirate. A real black patch.

It was a Sunday when that happened, and I remember my mom needed to go to the mall afterwards. I feel unsure now when I think back to how old I was, because I know damn sure that I was quite embarrassed to walk around that mall with that patch. So I guess I was old enough to have some awareness and care, but not too old to play with toys, or pretend I was a pirate.

I never had that girl over my house again. Her stories scared me and the fact that she saw things in my room that I couldn't bothered me even more. My vision didn't stay blurred for long and I got rid of the patch after a couple of days. I wonder what she sees now.

I am attempting to type this post with a babe in hand. Not the easiest thing to do since she really wants to eat the mouse cord...hmmm guess I need the cool wireless mouse afterall!

Been busy with county house things today, washer and dryer got delieverd, picked new floors. Slow but steady progress.

Babe has been busy adjusting to solids, sweet peas, sweet potatoes and oatmeal seem to be the top pics right now.

Busy but productive day.

I'll let babe type the restxfe s
dfgggfifiofjooeoldfl

Confession

I'm lazy. And I worry. And so that makes me a lazy worrier. What does this have to do with anything? Well, lets take a look at the two adjectives and see how they work together. Being lazy requires no real work, normally. It means that when I do have free time to do work (research/write) I normally don't. I end up surfing the net or blogging. I'm a worrier. What does that mean? I worry over everything. I tend to be pretty obsessive with both of those things, but whats weird to me is that it actually requires quite a bit of work to be a worrier, I mean you can't be but so lazy because it takes an awful lot of energy to concoct horrible images and situations in your head. What got me to thinking about this was Dooce's post on worry and anxiety.

I'd say that my first real panic attacks probably happened when I was about 6 or 7 years old. I can distinctly remember hearing my father come in the door and feeling sick. Let me go ahead and clear up things now, my dad was not a horrible man, he never laid a finger on me, never hurt any of us physically, but lets just say he had (and still does) have a way with words. It was around this age that I was in and out of doctor's offices because I constantly complained of stomach upsets and feeling sick, my exact description to my family was that I felt like, "cut up cheese," you know the feeling. What they thought was wrong with me was that I had a spastic colon, I'm starting to wonder now that I'm older and have more knowledge, if it wasn't that but if it was anxiety issues. Now I know my stomach would hurt and I'd feel horrible, but I also remember being so worried that my dad was gonna say something to me about my school work, or not doing something right. Those feelings are forever tied together in my head. Even now though as I think back, I'm not sure if I tied them together in later years or if there is definitely some type of connection.

I often wonder why I worry. I know for a fact that it doesn't solve anything, doesn't make me feel any better about myself, but I still just do it. And the creepy thing is that sometimes I even worry hen I don't worry because I don't feel 'normal'. One of the most miraculous things that has happened to me occurred when I was in labor with babe. I had to labor for like 10 hours without any pain medication and I never once flipped out. Lets just say everyone was shocked. But it was like something took over and I didn't once get nervous or upset. Mind you, the entire time I was pregnant I kept trying to figure out if there was a way I could have the babe without having the babe. I'd even thought of doing a home birth because I was so afraid of hospitals/doctors/etc and I ended up having an actual surgery! But I never flipped, not once.

I think that what helped was to remind myself of my purpose and to let myself know that labor would not last forever and that no matter how much I worried, nothing was going to change anything at all. When I think about how much I still worry, and I find that I do it in a different way now, Dooce's post rings in my ears. I think that I also worry sometimes because I feel guilty. I felt extremely guilty after babe's birth because the surgery my grandmother had for her cancer did not go well. I started to worry that maybe there was something still wrong with me, or that in some way my good fortune lead to her not having the results we wanted. If I get a good report from school, or hear of something happening that seems like its working in my favor, I worry and start to think about all the bad shit that could go wrong.

I think that I really need to take some time to learn from what I experienced when I had babe. To focus and to let yourself just go and be like water. Bruce Lee said that. Because to become so worked up does nothing. It won't get you anywhere.

Learn to swim.

So, how does this connect with laziness? Its easy for me to keep worrying and to continue in this habit. Its what I know and it takes work to correct myself and tell myself to "SHUT UP ALREADY!" But I think there is also an element of fear. What do I do if I don't have worry? That crutch that keeps me from doing things like sending off that article? Taking the GRE again, applying to school?

The post I had about being at a Crossroads is right, but I don't need to think about why I'm not applying to school versuses trying to get a 'real job'. Its deeper than that, I need to figure out how to rid myself of this anxiety demon because its what stops us all from doing so much.

Benefits of a PhD

No more adjuncting (maybe).
Tenure track job=work for life.
Holidays. ;-)
Research. mmmm yummy research, and lots of books.
Books.
Reading.
Books.
Working with others who are interested in my field, no longer having to bore my family or babe with random rhetorical factoids.
Travel.
Writing.
Reading.
Did I mention more books?

Crossroads

I'm at a very intersting intersection in my life. This past year has been such a roller coaster ride of emotions, from shear elation to a sadness I wouldn't wish on my worse enemy. But now I've got time to think, to really try and think about what I want to do and I never realized how hard that is. Up until this year I *knew* I wanted to get a PhD and finish my education, but now with wee Babe sometimes I'm not so sure. But then I'm left wondering where I want to go from here, if I don't get a PhD I'm sure not gonna teach full time writing at 4 year colleges, not the way things are going now. I've done the community college circuit and nothing has ever panned out because they really want PhDs even though many profess they don't, bull shit.

I also think about money now that I have wee babe. I want her to be comfortable, but I don't need to be rich in order to do that.

Too much to think about and I've got to go to class tonight and talk.

Bah.

Riders on The Storm

Riders on the storm
Into this house were born
Into this world were thrown
Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan
Riders on the storm

-The Doors

I thought about Riders on The Storm when I read Tree's post about her Thanksgiving and feeling the 'calm before the storm'. I think my family and myself feel like we're riding out this hurricane as best we can.

This was our first Thanksgiving without my grandma and it was just not a bad day. We were all trying to still make it happy for Babe because it was her first, but it was hard to do that because she didn't even really know it was turkey day time. So, inevitably, we tried too hard and set up too many expectations of ourselves and it ended up being rather shitty and sad. My mom usually does all the cooking but this year could not bring herself to make a turkey, granny used always cut the turkey and we just couldn't look at a bird without her hands being there to cut it up. So, my mom made bar-b-que chicken, mac and cheese, greens, mashed potatoes and sweet potato pies and it was o.k. Just o.k. but it wasn't the food, my mom can throw down like none else, it was the fact that everything was so different and we were trying even harder to make it even more different. We were all acting, but without even really acting if that makes sense.

My uncle also cooked at his house and wanted us to all come over, but before we could make it out there my aunty called to say he'd been taken to the hospital for chest pains. So we waited anxiously until they called back, and thank God he was fine, just gas and a broken heart, or the later is my own diagnosis.

I also had a random friend from high school come by, her mom had heard that I'd had a babe and visited a couple of weeks ago. Random friend (who really wasn't that much of friend because she tried to get me beat up once, that's a story for another day) lives and works in NOVA and has just bought a place up there. My dad overhead this info and proclaimed that she was doing "big shit, because she left and never looked back." This was preceded by him telling my bro and I the night before that we were loosers. My bro because he's not going to school, me because I didn't start the PhD program. Dim the lights on hope.



So, we ate and tried to talk and have fun. My cousins and I ended up looking at pics of folks we knew and trying to make ourselves feel better by telling ourselves that we really aren't doing that bad. That didn't work but for so long.

Now I think we are all worried and anticipating Christmas. We always did Xmas eve at granny's house, I just went there for the first time in months tonight and it was hard, but I felt guilty because I never go and my aunty and her kids still live there. So, I don't know what we'll do for that holiday, everyone keeps telling us we'll get through this and that we'll be closer and have fun at holidays again, but right now I don't feel it. I almost dread it, even though again, its Babe's first.

I think the entire family just still feels so lost with out granny. She was our center and now its like we've all dispersed, like what happens to an atom when you divide it, all the electrons fly out and disperse to other atoms, or some shit like that. We're just all bouncing, some times together, but more often than not, so alone, so alone. Fade to black.

I do have my moments of clarity, when I can say or see how I might try something, but then because of all this stuff that has happened I'm even afraid to plan anymore because I realize how little control I have in life. I want to try to slowly get myself back on a schedule, try to keep teaching, try to get into a program again, but I feel like everything is so scattered and just keeps changing, I don't know where to grab first. Enter Faith from the left.

When things change I have a hard time bouncing back. Like now, I feel like I'll never get into school again. And I won't if I don't study for the GRE and try to actually work towards doing stuff on my CV. I also can't have a good work schedule if I'm staying up until 2 and 3 still and then sleeping away the rest of the day. If I wanted to, I could go to bed with the babe and still get up at 8 or 9 and read. But I feel so knocked off the school horse that its hard for me to get back up there and take control again. Resilience, please take center stage.

I don't know. I guess I should just take it one step at a time and not even put too much hope into Christmas. We did get more stuff done at the county house and hopefully we'll have plumbing by Tuesday or Wednesday at the latest. At least I'll have a pot to pee in.

Exit stage.

What I am Thankful For

By: Ilnizzzah B. Blog

This Thanksgiving I am Thankful for many things:

*babe
*a very loving and understanding hubby
*a new house that is almost done (minus bathrooms, some ceilings, and some paint, but really its not that bad)
*family
*books
*far away friends in warm sunny places
*time off
*Coke

Have a Happy T-Day!

Step Two

I actually followed through on my ye ole post and have not tried to beat myself up today for not reading theory, writing, or researching. How the hell was I supposed to do all that without actually having a place to do so?

But anyways...the holidays are here, whether I'm ready for them or not and this year is mixed with so many emotions. We will of course miss our granny because at Thanksgiving she was always the one to cut the turkey and proclaim when it was time for folks to go home. At Christmas, it was her house we gathered around to talk and dance. Then of course we've got the babe this year. While she doesn't know much about holidays, its weird how I still feel this need to go through the traditions with her. I know she won't remember this Christmas or Thanksgiving, but its like you want to start with the traditions already.

Last year at this time I was preggers and also a bit sad too, thinking back over how things were going at that time, but now I realize I had no idea what I was in for.

I'm feeling a bit better today, things don't seem quite as cloudy and I'm hoping this mood sticks around longer than the turkey.

Step One

I've realized from looking at some of my old posts that I have been stuck for quite some time. And I'm not making any promises here, but I've got a long way to go and I know that I'll probably slide back a few times, but I've got to try harder than I'm doing now.

Tree of Knowledge suggests learning to let go and she's right. I can't keep thinking that I'm gonna be able to do everything. That was one of the problems I had right after babe was born. I kept thinking that I should be able to be the same person I was before babe. What does that mean? That person stayed up until 2 or 3 in the morning, making lecture notes, reading comp theory, Kennth Burke, grading papers, making 'fun' games, and watching alien abduction shows. A really dear professor told me that one of the worse things I was doing to myself was trying to hold on to that old person and not allowing this new person to take over. I can't stay up and do that anymore, that doesn't mean that I can't still go back to school or be a good teacher or writer or researcher, but it just means I've got to do things differently now. Maybe, just maybe I can be better organized now, because babe has forced me to be organized, in her own little disorganized way.

So, I once had another professor who kinda went crazy, but was actually always really good to me and DH, tell me once that the most difficult thing is deciding what you want to do. After that, all you have to do is to make a plan and then put everything in action. So, thats what I'm working on now, deciding what I want to do. I've got some ideas...but for those of you who know me so well, I'd like to hear what you think.

1. Stay where I'm at (location wise) for the next year or two. Babe needs stability and I do too with babe. Plus, we've put too much time and effort into county house to just abandon it. I feel like I can be nutured in this environment and thats what I need before I launch into a doctoral program.

2. Take a class in the Spring. I need to just get back into the 'practice' of writing and I'm lucky that there just happens to be a wonderful class being offerred in the Spring that I can take.

3. Create a good teaching portfolio. I need one regardless for grad school or for Instructor-ship positions.

4. Make a new CV. I never really made one in the first place. Any good suggestions of format?

5. Try to write for a conference paper call, or submit to a journal. And I mean really doing it, not just saying that I am and then not following through with the work.

6. Figure out why and how I teach. I need a teaching philosophy that states more than, "I use a collaborative rhetorical process approach."

7. Do some volunteer work again, I need to step outside of myself.

8. Start to think about what I really want to study and write about for 5 years of my life.

9. Keep blogging. This is about the only writing I do on a regular basis and it helps. A lot.

10. Wait to begin numbers 1-8 until I'm settled into county house. Its hard to work when you are living out of one room.

The Mask

I'm feeling like I need to wear a mask. I'm hiding.

From myself.

I'm feeling lazy and downtrodden and just sick of it. I want to be in my house. I want my clothes to be clean and straight. I want to be able to eat when I'm hungry and fix good meals. I want to be able to read again, to write again, I want to be hungry again, not for food but for knowledge of self.

I used to know what I wanted, and when I'd figure out something I'd work for it. But this year, I've had so many obstacles and distractions that I've let myself go.

I can't do this shit no more. I write and complain so much and feel like an idiot when I go back and read what I've written, because the power is in my hands. I have the ability to choose and work towards whatever my goal is. But I'm lazy about it, I'll be honest, its me.

So that's why I'm wearing this mask, because now I've got to decide who this person is underneath and what she's done to herself, is doing, and where she's gonna go next.

Making some changes, making a list, checking it twice

Got lots done today:

hair cut
manicure/pedicure
lunch with DH and babe
some christmas gifts for the babe
paid bills
balanced check book
new list for county house
*finally* changed my address with dmv
figured out i can really do whatever in the hell i want about school/work/etc

Got more to do tonite:

another list for county house
finish laundry
watch Law and Order
relax
think more about what in the hell i want to do with school/work/etc

I had to go to the DMV today to change my addy and stuff and while I was there I saw so many young (we're talking 15-17 years old and I know this because they were talking about being in high school) with babies. Young girls with babies, its nothing new and in some ways its an 'old' issue and one that doesn't get as much attention anymore, but it just got me to thinking. There should be programs out there for these girls. Maybe there are and I just don't know about them. But these are the ladies who need prenatal yoga and massage, how frucking stressed would you be at 15 with a baby on the way? They also need to know how to learn to give themselves the respect they deserve so they aren't out in the street trying to find it.

I know how hard it is to have a babe in a committed relationship. I can't imagine if I had to do this alone, and if I were 10 years younger.

>>>>Keep up the Thinking<<<<<

The Confessions of a Nervous Mum

Its not something that I'm super proud of or anything, but I am a worrier. I do it like breathing, it just comes natural to me. I see to always find myself stressed out or worked up over something. The past couple of weeks its been work and school. Before the babe was born I was thinking that I'd be easily studying and applying to go to grad school for next fall. I had no idea that I would still not be getting any sleep with her being 6 months old nor did I think I'd be at a point where I'd much rather read Good Night Moon than bell hooks.

But I am. I'm trying to take this time to do what my own mother suggested, reorganize my thinking and try to figure out exactly what it is that I want to do and then create some type of plan for those goals. But I'm finding myself getting very nervous.

I want to go back to school. I want a PhD and a tenured job. But I'm scared shitless. I have friends in programs right now and they don't have kids and seem to be having a hard time. I don't want the babe to suffer because I still get a kick out of pedagogy, reading, resaerch, and trying to tie together random bits of knowledge that no one else seems interested in. I want to have more kids, well maybe just one more. How do we as women work for this balance?

I'm not willing to sell my soul or sacrafice my family for career, but I still want career too, I guess I'm just going at this in a different way. How can I work towards my goal with my little one still being my primary focus.

I'm calling on all you ye ole Phd-ers and mums and who-ever else has something to say about this to help me out.

How do I create balance? How can I work towards getting myself back in a program now? How can I be competitive, but at the same time show my daughter that you can't be a super-woman, just a woman who tries to do it all, damn that don't even make sense to me.

Help.

Run on for a long time...

I'm really into Johnny Cash now. I've been listening to his cds for the past 1 or 2 years. DH and I got reintroduced to him through Elvis. We watched a special on Elvis a couple of years ago and then became really into his music. I think I just passed him off as 'Elvis' not really understanding the impact he made to the music world. I know that I used to be pretty biased when it came to music from that time period just because I'd always been told that Elvis 'stole' music from black folks and pawned it off as his own creation. Now, while I don't know if he did that intentionally or not, what I do know is that there were probable black folks who were doing that kind of music but didn't get the same amount of attention or play because they were black folk.

Now back to Cash. There's just something about his music that takes me back to being a child and listening and watching my Pa-Pa when he would listen to the radio or his CB 'talkie' as we called it. My Pa-Pa was a truck driver and always had a CB radio in his trucks. I would beg him to let me sit in the truck with him, I'd climb up on the leather sits, feet not touching the floorboards decorated with Yosemite Sam. Then I'd wait patiently for him to tune into a station and start talking. This was probably my first introduction to a language other than English. I would get him to talk and then translate to me what the others were saying. Some of the conversations were probably not at all appropriate for me, but when he would tell me how the truckers would be looking around for a place to eat, or talking to one another about the weather or traffic. I loved listening, it was like they had their own little world and with that their own way of communicating. The thing I really enjoyed was the secrecy that surrounded the language because no one else knew how to speak this except my Pa-Pa and the voices that came out of that box.

I found this website that has some CD slang.

This wooly bear is gonna truck it easy on down to the county house, got work to do 10-17there today. Hoping that the 10-17 down there goes well.

10-10.

Da easter Bunny

When I was in elementary/middle school (grades K-8, because in Catholic School thats how we did it) I performed in musicals. We had a music teacher who loved doing fall and spring productions. You had to be in the choir to participate and I because I was totally overzealous and liked to participate in everything, I was in most of the musical productions.

We did everything from Fame, to The Easter Bunny Who Couldn't get Sold, To the 'Greatest Gift'. We even had costumes. Well, sort of, most often they consisted of the choir wearing black pants and white blouses, or white pants and red blouses. You get the picture. One year I remember we did a particularly big number for our School's Spring Festival where we sang the theme song from Fame and then did a medley of Gershwin. At the time, it was just fun, and something to do. But looking back at it I can see how our choir director was really introducing us to all sorts of different music, and that was good for a school that had a majority of poor african-american kids.

We would practice like everyday after school for weeks. Singing, learning dance moves, and practicing our cues.

I have a confession to make: I never sang a note. I would lipsync the entire time because i was too afraid to sing, but loved being on stage.

One of those things that makes you go, hmmmm.

68.2

I am still very angry. We contacted the police in the county and they told us that things like that hardly ever happen in that area. That doesn't make me feel any better. And I know that this could happen anywhere and it does, but that don't mean very much until it does happen to you.

I also found out that my uncle believes the folks who approached him live in that neighborhood, what a welcome wagon introduction. How am I supposed to feel comfortable now. I do worry and thats something I've never felt before about a place where I live. I've felt uncomfortable in certain neighborhoods, but never fear.

And I also know that I shouldn't let someone have control over me like that, but I can't help it. There is so much on me right now, I don't feel like I have a choice, I'm scared and I'm angry.

I should be reading papers right now, but instead I've been doing some research on hate crimes. According to the Stats provided by the government, in 2005 there were 4,691 hate crimes that were reported as being racially motivated, of those, 68.2% were anti-Black.

As much as I want to say that things are good, better, whatever, I just feel so stiffled and filled-up right now. I want to believe that we as a country our headed in a positive direction, but with numbers like this, I don't know. What's the problem? What's the solution?

The problem is so large and the solution, I don't even know where we'd start until we can truly define the problem and how we got here. But you got too many folks now days who don't want to acknowledge the past, who think that because we are 'free' we should be thankful and just move on about our lives. That's a good part of the problem right there.

According to these stats, in 2005 VA had 295 hate crimes reported.

Where am I gonna raise my daughter?

I guess the question isn't so much where, as it should be how will I raise her, because by the looks of things this kind of ish is happening everywhere.

I just don't feel safe or comfortable.

Beef

" Some beef is big and some beef is small, but what ya'll call beef is not beef at all, beef is real shit happening everyday..."

-> Mos Def

Today at county house shit hit the fan. My uncle is working and doing most, if not all, of the remodeling on the inside. He's African-American. Believe me, that will be very relevant info in a few sentences. He drove out to the house like he has been for the past 4 weeks he's been working there. Two white men in a pick-up truck followed him, pulling out from around a corner in the subdivision. They drove to the house and parked and got out when he did. The conversation that ensued went something like this,

White man: What you doing 'round here?

Uncle: Working on this house.

White man: We don't want none of your kind round here.

Uncle: What are you doing bout mayne?

White man: I got kids in this neighborhood and I don't want your kind around here, I'mma call the cops.

Uncle: I can save you the time and trouble, becuase I'm gonna call the cops on you! This ain't right, I'm here to work.

More stuff said, white man got back in his pick up and so did uncle and all drove away.

Its fucking 2006 and some bigots have the audacity to try to fuck my shit up? They have kids and don't want 'his kind' around? I got a kid and I damn sure don't want her to be round no racists ass shit. I know its inevitable, I know, I know, I know, that no matter where you live there is going to be some kind of ism, but its goddamn 2006 and someone has the nerve to pull up on some shit like this? I'm in awe. Just shocked.

But maybe I shouldn't be. I live in the South, I've had people scream racist shit to me and DH as we walked togheter to school, and that was like 6 or 7 years ago. We've gotten stares, not been seated at a restaurant, had folks purposefully not serve us, and even had 'family' try to run game on us.

I'm not letting someone fuck up my place, where I want to plant roots and nuture my family for right now.

No.

How can they try to have me running before I even get there?

Me list!

Well, while I've not read the 68 essays that need to be read by morning I'm about 10 slides away from being done with my presentation and I've made a list of all the things I need to complete by the end of the week. Now, that list doesn't mean too much, but it does at least get the shish out of my head and into me cute little orange notebook.

The babe is still sleeping and so is her dad.
Better finish this up before they both arise and proclaim the necessity of my presence!

Let them eat cake or mustard, or Mrs. Dash, or, or something...just let them eat

I have found a new place to work here in my parent's house, the kitchen. Now, normally this wouldn't work because there would be a ton of folks in here cooking, eating, or watching TV, but tonight mom's not home from work yet, dad is napping, and babe and DH are in the living room. I am supposed to be working on a presentation, but finding it hard to do it. I would rather eat or blog.

My attention span is shot. I have a hard time focusing on any one activity and the ONLY thing that is motivating me to work on this presentation right now is the fact that tomorrow is my last day doing it!

Okie, I'm gonna play a little game with myself, I'll see how much I can get done in 1 hour.

BRB

progress

Well, we now have pipes in county house and door too! Its hard to believe, if you looked at the house now you'd be like, this is not that bad, it couldn't have possibly been as bad as you say, but oh yes it was!

Its almost 2:30 and I have not gotten much accomplished at all. Woke up at 9:30 with babe, watched some Seasame Street and then climbed back in the bed around 11:00AM and now I'm just getting up. I don't feel too guilty though because babe didn't go to bed until 2 last night.

I'm not letting myself stress over her sleepin habits today, as long as she does get some rest and eats and poops and pees, I'm happy.

Now I'm working on my final presentation for the little prep writing class I'm teaching, I'm so glad that's almost over and done with.

I gotta say, today is a good day.

saturday morning special

I'm feeling a bit better today, last night was kinda rough, and the post reflects that. I think that I was feeling tired and angry. This morning though, I woke up to a happy smiling babe in a cute purple pj suit with 'feet', warm waffles, oj, and family talking and moving about.

The county house is getting new doors today and more paint. Hopefully on Monday it'll get water, lol.

The babe is napping and quite happy with herself because on Wednesday she started to sit up on her own. Yesterday she turned six months old. I keep telling myself I just had her, and now she can sit up on her own, throw toys for attention and grunt when she poops. Time flies.

I'm also working on some of the much needed school work that I needed to do while I have some quiet time.

Not bad.

what you eat don't make me shit

Why do I care so much about what other people think?

Family, friends, random folks. I once knew a girl who didn't care about those things. I knew her and she would listen to whatever music she pleased, she would bop her head as she walked around in thrift store finds and a tape player when er-body else had a cd player. She didn't care.

And the turth is, that girl still doesn't care, but she doesn't care in another way now. An almost haphazard way.

I want so badly to get back to doing and working and just feeling good about myself and things. I want that, but then some days its just a struggle. I feel so far behind. With everything. I thought that I'd be together by now, but so much shit happened, and here we are.

****
"sounds like a love song," "i gotta make the song cry"
-Jay/Z

I feel like I gotta make my blog cry. My post last night, when my bro read it, said that it made him want to cry, and thats just how I was feeling. I wanted to paint a picture that was pretty, but sometimes things are so pretty and so beautiful that they make you sad.

I remember when, not even when I was little, but when I would go to my gma's house and sit around on the bed, finding a small space to try and sit down because er-body was up in there. On a Friday nights like this, we'd all be in and out of my gma's room. Eating, snakcing, laughing, and I can't even recall a specific conversation. I mean, it wasn't so much about what we said but it was just the fact tht we were all together. We would laugh at each other, rehash all the problems and difficulties we'd faced that week and gma would find a way to sort them all. If one of us was too quiet, she'd say, "Now, what on your mind?" And the shit that really gets me, is that she meant it, she wanted to know exactly what you were thinking, and if she didn't get it the first time around, she'd go through and have you explain again. Then, she'd repeat what you said, and she'd understand. She really would.

I think we are all missing that, we're missing having that one person who could keep us all together.

Last week, I went to my gma's house for the first time in months and it made me so sad. So sad, and not much has changed, but one significant thing had, the smell. My aunty now burns candles in the house, and my granny would have never done that. She didn't belive in lighting 'fires' in the house when you didn't have to. But now the house smells like sweet candles. Not like my sweet granny.

And I know that things have to change, I know what happens when you don't allow yourself to move past a certain stage, you never get a change to move past the pain, but I'm so afraid of not remembering.

"I know you can hear me now, for the record, I love you,"
mary-j

Pretty Memories

On the first of the month, when my aunty and granny would get the food stamp booklet in the mail, we'd all pile in the back of an old Buick and go to the grocery store. We would have been eating cornflakes and hamburgers for the last week of the month and would be eager to have some new flavor on our palates.

My granny would take one cart and my aunty another. Mostly my bro and cousins would follow my autny around in the grocery store because we knew she'd get the good stuff. My granny would get potatoes, meat, bread, peanut butter, juice, eggs, butter, lunch meats, waffles, syrup, and cereal. My aunty would get cookies, chips, lil'debbie snack cakes, and drink*.

We'd plow through the line with our two carts, not understanding what food stamps were, except for a way to get something good to eat. Not paying attention to the looks we'd get from other customers as we loaded froozen pizzas, ice cream, and candy bars onto the register's belt. See, we hadn't learned words like handout, welfare, liberal, conservative, poverty. We just knew that these brightly colored notes were our tickets to Count Chocula and powerded donoughts.

Our food stuff from my autny's cart would be gone by the end of the week. A bag of chips left opened on the table would allow the chip crumbs inside to turn soft, the kind that melt on your tongue without any drink. The cookies would all be gone, except for the vanilla creme ones that no one liked, and the drink would have been downed in a day.

But what would remain would be the meat and bread and peanut butter my granny brought, and she'd find a way to get in you, especially if you were hungry, and even more so if you were hungry but just didn't know it.

What would remain was knowing that there would always be something to eat, thanks to her resourcefulness and planning.

We always had the cornflakes. And if you wanted a sweet treat, you put sugar on them. But just enough to sweeten the milk a bit.

Pretty memories.

This number has been disconnected.

My mom and dad's phone got disconnected. From the folk who pay bills way before dem thangs is due.

I know we've hit a bottom.

Like oh, my gosh, Becky, can you believe this? This is like so whack, they like don't have a phone. Oh my gosh, are they like poor? Or like stupid?

No, its called we just have let shit go. But don't you worry, these is just technical difficulties.

We gone get it together.

no words and all words

I'm feeling a lot of different things today and I'm too tired to put full words and sentences around the feelings, so pardon me while I clear my throat with splurges:

-guilt. had to teach all morning and then work all evening, still working (kinda, bit of a break). as a result the babe had to get lugged around with me, feel bad she didn't get to do her normal rountine, had to be outside a bit too much. worried about her cold.

-tired. so. tired. work at the county house. work at my parents house. just work. but can't get ahead. would take me a solid week of working to get ahead. not even talking about housework, but being caught up on the bills and balancing our spreadsheets for all these home repairs.

-work. did i mention i have an article STILL to write? and cfps that i would really like to respond to? and that i'd like to take one class in the spring, but damn if i can't keep shit together now, how can i do it with a class and teaching? and the fact that i want to write...so badly...again.

-eating. not eating the way i should. DH needs to eat better, we need to do it for the babe and we need to exercise. i hate exercise. no i don't. i hate not having the time to do it. i hate making excuses.

-anger. i get angry at myself. at mil. at random people. for no reason. no, i take that back, i do have a reason, most of the time its because of myself.

-county house- ugh. county house. where fore art thou county house. i know where you are, and its coming along slowly but surely, but so slolwy. oh so slowly.

Another week with so much to get done. I need to get organized. i have 3 calendars i'm working with. and none of them work.

Guess who I am for Holloween?

The boogy. woogy. wonder woman

coming clean

I got a much needed haircut yesterday, a total of 3 inches. This is the shortest my hair has ever been and I'm really enjoying it. I've never been one to really put too much into hair, makeup, etc but sometimes its just fun to be pampered. I really wanted to do something different with my hair so the stylist gave me a Chinese bob. I like it.

I realize my posts have been kind of sad, but it seems that as the holidays draw near I'm missing my gma so much more every day. I also went to a funeral last week, my uncle passed (also from cancer) and so I think I've just got death on my mind. Some days I have to fight myself to remember the good days I had with her, and not just her last 3 sick months. Its so hard, I never imagined it would be this way. But the one thing that makes it better is the babe.

Babe some how is intune to what I need. As much as I might think she doesn't understand, she certainly proves me wrong. At just over 5 and 1/2 months I'm in awe of how much she is growing and how smart she is, and I'm not bragging here. She enjoys music, reading, and flipping over. She is brilliant!

My haircut and the babe have actually made me feel much better these past two days. My head feels lighter and my heart warmer with her.

The county house is still being worked on...hoping that the plumbers will come this week and restore working pipes. Hoping the sheet-rocking will be done. Wanting to get more paint. Ooo! and order appliances.

The haircut has done me some good.

missing her.

Some times, since my gma passed, memories come at me out of no where. I can just be driving and all of sudden one will rush over me. Today it happened and it hurt. I was driving down to county house to meet some workers when all of a sudden it just hit me that I hadn't been to my gma's house in well over a month, longer probably. That used to be unheard of. I would go at least once a day, at least. Its hard for me to go now, its even hard for me to drive in that direction. It hurts.

When I have hard or difficult memories, I try really hard to wash the bitterness away with something happy. Last week when this happend and it really started to get at me, I was walking downtown and I just started to think about how many trips my granny and I took down there. On Fridays it was like a treat. We'd take the bus, leaving home around 9 or 10 in the AM and go downtown to pay her bills and just look around. We'd have lunch at the counter of Murphy's and then be back home in time for her stories on TV. Something so simple, but I have it forever.

Today, when it happened I started to think about Sesame Street. Every morning when my mom dropped me off at gma's before she went to work, thats what I watched. Then I'd have a snack, maybe a nap, play outside if I could, and come back in to watch another afternoon episode of Sesame Street, 321 Contact, and whatever else came on PBS..

Here I am, 28 years old, and thats what I think about, those times I treasure. But there is much more, my gma did more than take me on the bus and let me watch TV, its the fact that those simple things were made so special by her. With her.

#453

I am tired.

I want to be in my bed, snuggled in warm pjs, with a good book and some hot chocolate and a really big cookie.

I am at work, in an office with no window (one day, maybe) and I need to read papers. I don't want to read papers.

Tomorrow I have to meet two contractors and hope county house does not fall in on itself, no more than it already has.

I am tired.

Or, in my drawl, "ty-erd".

Procrastination

I should be doing the following:

-finishing a powerpoint presentation
-working on a presentation
-reading a story to babe
-doing stomach crunches
-reading an article
-working on a business plan draft

What I'm doing instead:
-bloging
-reading blogs
-taking funny pics with my mac
-dancing with my bro
-dancing with babe
-eating rice pudding and drinking lemonaide
-not wanting to fill in my calendar for the week
-about to call my DH
-thinking bout taking a bath and reading
-thinking bout going to bed
-wondering why I don't get shit done

#345

This weekend has not turned out to be as productive as I needed it to be. With the long list I made the other day, I can honestly say that not much got done, except for taking care of a babe and loving a babe, which are necessities and fun too.

We went to county house and tried to work more, but that was hard, the former resident of county house is still there (sort of) and said party really didn't want to through away too much stuff. That makes it hard for us to have folks come in and do work and to clean up. But, we are making some process...two room are just about ready to be painted and the plumbers are supposed to start work this week. Hopefully, hopefully we'll be in just as the semester is winding down.

As for my own work, I did not read any papers, nor did I read or research. No surprises there.

I'm going to have to try a different way to get myself to actually get things accomplished. Maybe set smaller goals for each day? Instead of my two page long lists that I'm so fond of.
***

This week we've got more folks coming out to the hosue to work and I start with a 3 week presentation I'm doing for workplace writing/GRE prep. I've also got to prep for my comp class and find a way to remodel a bathroom. I also have to..I don't know what else I have to do.

Arg...

Frrrrrruckkk You

I've just been told that another member of my family has cancer and is dying.

Fuck you cancer.

If you remember, my grandma passed, two great aunts, a great uncle, now my uncle is dying in hospice. My mother-in-law finished her treatements and we are hopeful.

This is just ridiculous. There aren't even any words I have to describe what I feel. I keep doing research and reading and trying to learn more, but right now I can't even focus.

Just saying fuck you cancer

Let's get Organized

Must get Organized....

Okie, no need to panic just have hella lots to do....

1. Take care of babe
2. Take babe for holiday pics
3. Pick paint for rooms
4. Buy paint
Pick flooring
Write review for journal
Uh...read article that needs to be reviewed for said journal by Friday
Read mid-semester papers
Design a prep course for writing for professionals
Continue with VBAC research
Clean county house
Clean county house
Organize cleaning of county house
Sign up for running training
Find a way to get hair/nails done

Not to mention there are tons of articles I've been reading because of the research I've been working on that I hope to post here soon.

I'm a bit pissed because my laptom is a MacBook and I have Safari as the internet browser, Blogspot doesn't recongnize that and so I can't post links like I'd want to.

So they look like this:
http://www.newyorker.com/printables/fact/061009fa_fact

But that is a good article that I want to comment on...just not right at the moment because the babe just woke up and should be sleeping so I can write, but oh well...I'd much rather read Good Night Moon.

G'night

In my house...

County house is trying to break us, not financially, but mentally. We've been fortunate in that we have got some good deals for folks working on the house. We are trying to do a nice job with the restorations, but we don't have thousands of dollars to put in this. However, mentally I think we are all suffering because we don't have a home. We are staying with my parents, most of our stuff crammed either in the babe's pack-n-play or in my mom's old room. We haven't been able to cook a decent meal in months and can't run around in our underwear (babe included because my folks believe in having a babe dressed in layers).

I am hoping that things wil really start to come together after this weekend, the thing is I keep finding myself saying that. After this weekend we should have this done, after this weekend, this, and so on. But really, I am hoping that we can see some change after we work again this Friday and Saturday.

I can't complain too much though. My folks are letting us stay here without giving them any money and they do cook (lots of fried this and fried that, *smile* they are true southerners with their soul food). But I have to admit there has been something comforting about eating in that way. I started eating meat when I was preggers with the babe. Most days, early on, my taste was so off I didn't know what to eat. Then I found Subway's Turkey sub with cheese and LOTS of vinegar. Oh my Lord, I would eat them twice a day. Thus began my transition back into the world-o-meat. I still don't do pork or beef though. But my parents pretty much eat whatever. My mom fries chicken, fish, makes porkchops, roast, a little bit of er-thing.

The past few weekends when she's made chicken or fish, I 've found that my spirits have been higher and I think its because we do turn to food for comfort. And right now that is really what I want.

Wish I could get that served deli style.

visualizing meaning

In class a week ago, my Comp students and I discussed why visuals are so important. We 'see' pictures most often and not words when we are thinking. As we read we don't see the words in our heads, but instead are able to conjure images while we are reading that allow us to connect with the written word.

At Cornell there is a project that is asking professors to do this, to describe or show the most important diagram, or chart, or image that relates to what they do. It's called Visualizing Meaning and it looks really cool.

Any thoughts on what you'd use?

'tis be the Sabbath

Tree is talking about evangelist in her post right here and I can understand this. Around here at this University we often have a man who comes out (with a TV camara and recording equipment) and he shouts about Jesus and religiion and faith and why everyone should be non-denominational and believe in Jesus. Mmmm, sounds like there is definitley a denomination in there. What pisses me off is that the whole thing is so staged, its so much of a set-up that its not funny, but I fear many students get sucked into hearing him talk and end up wasting preciscious time arguing with the dude.

Religion in my family used to be a very private matter, until my brother left the church he was raised in and turned to an entirely different religion. My parents freaked and so did my grandma. They felt like he was turning against them. The sad thing is, this whole event could have been a wonderful way for them to learn more about another way of connecting to God and being a good person, but it just turned out to be ugly. Things are better now, but my bro does worry about who will come to his wedding, if he ever finds a bride. *lol*

Burrr

I'm not feelling well today. And I should be feeling good, today is the last day for two of my intensive classes which means I'll only have to teach one class twice a week in the evenings. As much as I was enjoying the ESL coureses, it was getting to be kinda hard not getting home until like 10M, then having to rush to get the babe fed and ready for bed (or to at least pretend she was going to bed).

So, I think I'm just plain ole worn out. We're still staying with my parents until the coutny house is done, which looks like it could still be another month, and both my mom and dad have had colds. That plus the fact that I'm just not sleeping like I should or eating like I should, has a lot to do with why I'm feeling crappy. My only wish is that the babe doesn't get sick. She has a bit of a cough now and some sniffles too, so I'm trying to be diligent about handwashing and not kissing those chubby little cheeks!

The other nite I had another little melt down, as much as I was all about keeping my eyes on the prize, I still have days where I just feel off. More like, I've fallen off. The other night I saw an old professor and he was like, whats going on, how are things, and I began to break out into a sweat. I just got so nervous because I thought I needed to talk to him about academic stuff and I just started babbling on and on because I really haven't done anything academic- I had a baby for Pete's sake. But at that moment I didn't see it that way, I was sweating and rolling my eyes around and looking trully like a feign. But what I didn't get was that really, I don't have to try and pretend that I'm all academia, there is more to me than just that. I'm a mom now, but for some reason, I just could not get that through my head last night.

I was talking with DH and bro about what happened and they both agreed: you have got to be honest with yourself about your place in life. And I've got to be honest with where I am right now, I'm a new mom, with a gorgeous 5 month old little girl who rightfully commands all of my attention for the moment. I have always had such a hard time with prioritizing, I'm really an all or nothing type of gal. So I think that what has happened now, is that I've thrown myself into the babe and feel guitly if I do anything non-babe related, i.e.:work, research, writing, reading papers, anything that is non-homemaker like. But what I fail to realize is that in order to be a good mother I've also got to be a good woman. Its easy to get lost in the world of diapers and wipes, but I hope that can show my daughter that there is a way to create harmony, maybe not balance because that suggests that everything is equal, while harmony shows that things can coexist. You can't do it all, thats just the bottom line.

For now, I need to focus on feeling better and getting rid of this cold. Then, I've got a house to get in order. I also need to draft a new CV, and work on some CFPs. Oh, and the babe and I got a new toy today! Stacking rings, that's first in order.

Eyes on the Prize

My post was gonna be all about how angry I was because I happened to look at the blog of a person who is in grad school and who is reading stuff I read like 3 years ago and the person is actiing all like this is the best stuff in the world and is all brand new. So I was gonna be all angry and upset and pissy because I was feeling like I should be reading that stuff and writing that stuff because I did that stuff a while ago. So, that was what my post was gonna be. Anger and jealously. But I've decided to redirect my energies.
***

Sometimes I spend so much time reading what other people are doing and thinking about what people are thinking about or trying to think about what they are thinking about me, that I just waste time. Tonite, my bro set me straight. I mean he really did and I needed it. This ain't no time for being focused on what other folk is doing (or saying they doing) this is time for me to do what I need to do.

I've been watching 'Eyes on the Prize' tonight (you can find out more about this program on pbs.org) and it never fails to motivate me. I remember watching this show when I was a kid in middle school. Grades 4-8 piled in a room (I went to a small prodimatley Black Catholic School) and so we could easily fit into one large classroom. We watched the entire series, its basically about the African-American struggle. I didn't realize how important it was for me to know and learn about it, but I always felt good when I watched it and just didn't know why. Now I know that what I was feeling was a connection, a connection to the struggle and to others. While in no way do I think my life even compares to the way folks struggled before, but nowdays things are just different. The issues of race and class are so blurred. Some of my friends who aren't brown folk have experienced many of the same things I did because of class, but there is are still race/color issues. But anyways, when I watch this show I just always had this since of pride and feeling good about where I came from and who I came from. I would listen to stories from my grandma about how when she was a child Jim Crow was rampant. White folk would give little Black boys a penny or two to sit in a window and eat watermelons and peanuts. Schools shut down in her town because folk did not want to integrate.

We have come so far, but have such a long way to go.

Because of all these setbacks and injustices we just have so far to go. I'm thinking bout how we sent our kids into schools to try to integrate and how there would be riots. Riots. Riots, because little girls and boys would go to school. Now there are riots in our schools- us against us. Ridiculous. We are so lost in so many ways, and I don't know how we can get back on that road again- my guess is that it starts small. Hell, I'm feeling lost so let me start with myself.

So, instead of bitching and moaning and complaining and being a hatah, I'm not gonna put that energy out there. I'm gonna put good positive energies out there, and think about folks like Malcolm, Martin, Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglas, the Blackstar, and more local- my granny, my grandpa, those folks who made it even possible for me to be doing what I do.

And made it possible for me to keep dreaming and working towards doing even more.

You da Mama

When she is screaming and feet flying...
...I'm da Mama

When her mouth is sore from teeth prying...
...I'm da Mama

When she has been up for 12 hours straight...
...I'm da Mama

When her diaper is full and cannot wait...
...I'm da Mama

When she has to have milk and her brow is furrowed...
...I'm da Mama

When I got to get papers graded, an article read...
...I'm da Mama

When she need to be feed...
...I'm da Mama

When I got groceries to unload, dishes to wash, a call to make...
...I'm da Mama

When she make that soft cry, that I know is fake...
...I'm da Mama

When she don't sleep, fights a nap, and drops off noddin' in my lap...
...I'm da Mama

When she sit on my lap and watch my fingers as I type...
...I'm da Mama

When we lay on the bed and roll over on our tummies...
...I'm da Mama

When we stand outside and watch the sky above...
I feel so much love. I hold her. I hug her. I keep her tight.
I'm da Mama.

The babe is becoming more mobile. For the past 3 weeks she has been rolling herself over. She does this every oppotunity she gets, its especially fun when changing a poopy diaper.

Tonite, I'm feeling lonely and sad. We are rushing around like mad to get the county house in order so we can move in. My classes are moving slow and I'm missing not being in school. More than anything, I'm missing my granny. She would have been able to help me prioritize house stuff and she'd have known just what to do to soothe the babe's gums from teething. I miss her awful. My bro and cousin were talking about her tonite, just how she always knew just what to do and to say. Her cancer made the last 2 months of her life so horrid, bit she stayed so strong and beautiful to the end. She had to be the strongest person I've ever met in my entire life.

I feel like I need to do something to really honor her life, her legacy, but I'm not sure what. I've been thinking of organizing a walk or something, just something to do. I felt so helpless for her at the end and I miss her so much now, I just need to do something.

And on rainy nights like this, when everyone is sleeping or busy I think of her even more.

The babe keeps me going though it never fails that on nights when I feel really alone, she always either wakes up or stays up and we end up dropping off to sleep together, that helps me not to feel so alone.

Babe is fussing now so I must tend to her.

Just switched to the beta blogger

...does anyone know the difference? i see that i can now attach lables....kewl.

Things I have Learned

This is the end of two of my courses for this semester, I was teaching two intensive English Writing Classes. I want to take some time to write about what I've learned and what I think I need to do to improve my teaching of these classes in the future:

1. Take more time to read the short stories ahead of time. Most of the students are non-native L2 or L3 speakers and they will need quite a bit of time to go over the stories we read.

2. Revamp my own way of thinking that you don't use literature to teach writing. This was something I picked up in grad school and it has stuck with me. That made it really difficult for me. I think I spent too much time sometimes talking about literature and too little time talking about writing. I've got to find a balance and have got to work on letting students know that this class while its focus is writing, is also about how to respond to literature.

3. Design more writing prompts that help connect thinking about writing and thinking about the stories.

4. Find a way to have office hours!

5. Spend more time talking about grammar within our papers, not with worksheets.

6. Give more background on the stories we read and contextualize them for students.

7. Bring in outside articles and have students write responses.

8. Make sure students understand what the class is about before they even begin.

9. Find a way to use more technology.

***On a more personal note***

-Prep for two to three weeks, have backup assignments in case the English of the students is not exactly what was expected.
-Writing games/activites
-Grammar presentations
-Presentation on the stories by students

Don't teach two long classes back to back. You have a babe now and you are way too tired once you get home.

Pump plenty before class so your boobs don't look and feel like cantelopes.

Uhh.

I just feel uhh. I am tired and extremely discombobulated. I don't know if I spelled that correctly and I'm too lazy to do spell check.

There is much still to be done with the house and it gives me a headache. We've been using a uhaul truck almost every weekend to pack and move things around to and from storage. Plus we still have to help DH's mom move this weekend.

Not to mention I still have a zillion things I have to do for work, its hard.

Uhh.