Just Tired

Tired of....
driving
inconsiderate people
no support
work
thanklessness
cell phones
stagnant water
racist people
the television
empty words
making plans
breaking plans
old motivation.


Things are still not balanced for me. I don't know. How do people do it? No, scratch that how to women with kids do it? How do i balance? How can I be who I want to be and not feel like I'm pulling my hair in order to do it? I don't know. I don't know, I don't know.

I just know that I feel like I've got to work harder than I ever have before.

"rainy day, rain all day, aint no use in gettin up tired just let it groove it's own way" (Jimi Hendrix)
But my problem, is that I still lack that balance. When I take the approach to just "be like water" (Bruce Lee) I loose all sense of control and just let things take ME over. I feel so out of it, I'm sick of the space I'm in. How will I dig myself out of this? I want to be a good mother, but first I got to be a good person, a good human, woman, whatever, but damn if don't no body make this shit easy.

Tired but Accomplished

Mangaged to finally finish my teaching philosophy statment and not feel horribly embarressed when i read it. Washed dishes and did laundry. Still have more piles to go and did not finish house cleaning.

Babe is crying and I need bed, so does she, most go soothe the babe.

Funny, her tooth is coming in and you can hear it 'clink' against her little spoon as she eats. Just a tiny little rim of white poking up out of those gums. Most soothe the babe.

Lots more to do. But at least I did finish this one thing, that I've been trying to do for like- 5 months now?
Yikers...at this rate....

Nope, just gonna be patient.

Just got bored.

Trying to procrastinate with work made me change things around.
Feeling guilty about procrastination made me keep it simple stupid.

feeling better

I got through both my classes and feel better. Its kinda like talking and writing with my students helps me to remember why I'm doing this.

This=teaching, trying to learn, trying to write.

One thing I'm not still settled on is the whinning I was doing earlier about managing all my roles. But instead of whinning I think I'm gonna try to talk about it. Or maybe write about it.

What does it mean to be a mother in 2007? Or what does it mean for me?
Are there any 'Status on Motherhood' reports out there? This balancing act is hell- home, family, child, career, education, self. I love being a mother, but some of the roles that are forced upon me (and maybe I allow them to be) make it hellah-hard to be a sane human.

More later, more work now.

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.