I'm back.

The road trip was a success, despite adding my father at the last minute. He's not exactly the EASIEST person to get along with at times (especially when he's drinking, which is all the time), but we made it. We saw some beautiful sites up and down the California coast, lots of ocean views, miles and miles of farm land, and some cows. The kid got a kick out of seeing all of the animals, and even though it took a while, I felt an odd sense of accomplishment by driving the entire trip.

As promised, I'm sharing some of the photos I took along the way. Enjoy!

Down at the boardwalk.

The Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk was a lot of fun. This was our first stop on the road trip. We got to the boardwalk at about 7pm & found out that on Mondays & Tuesdays all rides were only 75cents! Yes! The kid road trains, and boats, he drove cars, and played games to his heart's content.

Monterey Bay Aquarium
I've been to a few aquariums in my life, but this one was, by far, a step above the rest. The hall of Jelly Fish was amazing, and there were seals and otters just sunbathing in the bay. Wonderful!









San Francisco
Even though I'm a native Cali girl, I had never been to San Francisco. It was a fabulous city, but so damn cold! (somebody should have told me to bring a COAT!). The weather definitely threw me (60s in the day time!), but we had a great time riding the historic cable cars, strolling Fisherman's Warf, and exploring the California Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park. I will definitely make my way up to the bay again (and soon!).


(one of the hearts that decorate Union Square)






(you can ALLLLLMOST see the Golden Gate Bridge. the cloud were so low, it was hard to make out *even when we drove over it!*)






(the roof of the Ca. Academy of Sciences is alive, literally! It's covered in grass & plants. it was beautiful)






I hope you enjoyed the photo tour of my road trip. Hopefully this is just the first of many!


~
Have you ever been to San Francisco? If so, what is your favorite spot in the city?
How was your week(end)?
Got pictures to share? Link to them in the comments!

After a busy, busy weekend of hitting up Sea World & the circus, the munchkin and I are hitting the road again. A few weeks ago I mentioned taking a road trip, and it's finally here!

Today, the munchkin, my mama, my little bro, and I are driving up the California Coast. I've planned a couple of things to see along the way: The Monterey Bay Aquarium, Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, Golden Gate Park, and The California Academy of Sciences. But I'm sure, like most road trips, we will fit in a few detours. I'm planning on driving the scenic route, snapping a few pictures with my new camera, and sharing them with y'all.

I (probably) won't be posting this week, but if you're curious about how it's going, follow my twitter updates for pictures & the lowdown about the trip. When I return, I'm going to share my review of Farai Chideya's new novel, Kiss the Sky, as well as some of the things I've been writing this summer.


Be blessed y'all & enjoy the week!




What are you reading this summer?
Do you guys have anything planned this week?
Are you hitting the road this summer, or enjoying a staycation?

I have always loved a good story. Times like these, when I am off from work & school I tend to devour books. It's so easy to get lost in a world that isn't like my own (or JUST like my own, only different lol), and marvel at the talent and imagination of writers. For as long as I can remember, I've always liked making up stories. When I was young--maybe 7 or 8-- I would create knock-off muppet capers on our old typewriter and beg my mom to send them into short story contents. She never did, but I never stopped thinking up stories.

I've always run from the title, "writer" (apparently, I'm not the only one). I certainly don't get paid to write, although I do love it. Even though I've yet to see a story in print, I'm still like the 7-year-old me, thinking up stories in the middle of the night. Lately, I've been getting back to my love of words. For the longest I was too tired, too lazy, too busy to just sit down and write. For the past few nights, however, I've been staying up way into the wee hours of the morning...writing. And it's been good. For the first time in the long time I'm not procrastinating. I'm just letting it flow, and not thinking too hard about it (this is still a struggle). But it's coming. And I'm so happy about that.

So, in the spirit of the 7-year-old me, I'm going to share a little something with y'all. Comments and critiques are always, always welcome!

~~~~~

Untitled

"I can't believe this is happening to me again." Nina muttered aloud as she lay in her bed, annoyed.

For the past few days she contemplated the remnants of her life. As always, she had a plan, and as usual, it had once again been derailed in an instant. As she lay in bed, she struggled to make sense of her world. Struggled to figure out what to do next.

"Well, get up..." She told herself. She in need of some serious convincing, but didn’t move.

"Get up, girl. Snap out of it," she tried once more.

Again, her body did not move. And again she tried to will herself to her feet with empty rhetoric. Nina's mind was willing, but her flesh, very weak, choosing instead to remain in the comforting lull of her pillow top mattress. Although she knew she couldn't afford to spend another day wallowing in the blueblack coziness of her bedroom, she was just so tired. Not physically, but mentally, exhausted by having her dreams dashed, again.

As Nina lay in her bed, she didn't feel like fighting anymore. Didn't feel like getting out into the world and blazing another trail for herself, only to have it blocked by yet another devastating roadblock. Today, Nina thought, she'd rest. She rationalized that she’d spend just one more day wallowing in her defeat, and tomorrow she would scotch tape together whatever was left of her life.

Nina reached for her remote and flipped on the TV, hoping to find some sort of reprieve from the doubts threatening to overtake her.

She flipped on the Today Show and watched as Matt and Meredith tried some delicious, exotic concoction. Her stomach twinged. Nina hadn't eaten for two days. She hadn't even thought about eating, too busy caught up in her own head. But watching them dance around the kitchen taking large bites of spiced curry shrimp, made Nina suddenly want to eat. But it wasn't that simple, little ever is. Since her self-imposed hiatus from life, she hadn't been to the grocery store, and she knew that whatever was left in her refrigerator was probably toxic.

Nina’s stomach growled angrily. Instead of pulling on a hoodie and jeans to go to the store, she flipped off the TV, pulled the covers over her head, and slammed her eyes shut. She willed herself to fall into near coma, hoping that tomorrow she’d awaken, and this would all be some sort of hellish dream.

~~~~

Thoughts? Should I keep it going or kill it?
What are you writing/working on right now?
What are you reading right now?

Related:
Read the first part of the story I'm working on right now, "This Side of the Wall"

(photo courtesy Goff White Design)


Today the world stopped. Literally. As if it has been thrown into retrograde and stopped spinning all together. For ninety minutes millions of people around the world paused to mourn the death of Michael Jackson.

I wasn't going to blog about Michael's memorial, there are so many people doing that already, but the commentary kills me. Twitter was popping, as usual. Many people were being respectful, and others were being themselves (asses), but twittering while I watched the memorial was like sharing it with a big group of friends. The web has made the whole world so tiny, and this man's music brought MILLIONS together. I am awe stuck, not only by the popularity of MJ, but by the sheer power of music.

And then, Donny Deutsch had to come along and wreck my high.

Deutsch was a guest on MSNBC's "the Ed Show" and he threw some serious shade on what was a joyous home going service. He claimed to not to want to be the "cold-hearted" guy, but claimed that all of us who were touched by Mike and shed a tear for him and his family needed to get a life.




After offending MJ fans everywhere, he went and hit me in the heart. While he continued to relegate Mike to being only a "great singer and dancer," he uttered some fighting words.

"I don't think music changes lives."

Record scratch. Say word?

Music has changed my life. It is something I take very personally. There are songs that have indelibly scratched themselves into my memory for all eternity. Moreover, I would not be a writer, would not have had the courage to speak my own story had I not heard Nas' Illmatic. Donny, music not only changes lives, it births them, it saves them, and it gives us something to keep striving for. How many babies have been made, relationships saved, revolutions started, and riots calmed just by music? When Africans were enslaved in America, music not only changed lives, it helped them spread the word about a path to freedom.

So Donny, don’t tell me music doesn’t change lives. If I have been reminded of one thing today it is how easily we can be united by a common thread. Despite racial, cultural, or economic differences, we can all find a commonality through music. It is truly a universal language.

Today I went to lunch with my grandmother, two brothers, and the kid and the talked turned quickly to Michael Jackson. I mean, he was a HUGE part of our childhood, especially for my older brother and me. I have been resisting the urge to write about Mike, because I'm sure, by now you've read every tribute, seen every video, and pulled out ever LP, CD, or MP3 of his music you've ever owned. But talking to my brother today brought it all back.

Michael Jackson is a LEGEND!

Michael Jackson's music indelibly scored much of my childhood. My bother and I reminisced about acting out the "Thriller" video--we'd put on the LP, he'd deepen his voice to mimic Vincent Price, and I'd tackle the dance moves. Around '85, my bro had a red leather, multi-zippered jacket, just like Mike. We thought it was so cool when we spotted it at the swap meet and BOTH begged our dad to buy it, pleeeeeaaasssseeee. Although my mother was very strict about what kind of music we could listen to, just about the only secular music we didn't have to sneak in the house was MJ. My mom made an exception only for him (Prince was way too much for my young ears), and we all crowded around the TV, super excited, when "Remember the Times" premiered on NBC.

As we talked, I realized just how BIG Michael Jackson was to all of us. My brother--mid 30s--was still able to tell me the songs from "Captain EO", a film we saw EVERY time we went to Disneyland (which was a lot). He was still able to tell me the ending of the video "Bad," and reminded me that "Smotth Criminal" had a super extended version that stared Joe Pesci. Our conversation made me really, really want to watch, "Moonwalker," a film that took viewers through MJ's career. I watched "Moonwalker" so many times I knew all the words & all of MJ's dance moves. My aunt had the movie and we'd watch it every time my dad dropped us off at her house. I called my aunt to see if she still had a copy, she didn't, but thank goodness for YouTube!

In honor of Michael, I want to share my favorite clip with you. Enjoy!





What is your favorite Michael Jackson memory?
What's your favorite song?

Today my son and I were enjoying the freedom of our summer break and decided to walk to the bookstore. Since I’m trying to get the munchkin ready for preschool, I choose to use our walk as a teachable moment about colors. As we passed some flowers growing in someone’s yard, I asked him to name the colors.

“Purple mom! Das purple!”
“Good, and that one?” I said pointing to a white flower.
“I dunno….”
“That one’s white,” I said.
“White,” he repeated.

Then he said something that caught me off guard.

“What’s her color?”

My son pointed to a fair-skinned Latina that passed us on the street, and I didn’t really know how to answer. “What’s her color mommy?” He asked again, a little annoyed I didn’t answer him the first time. Silence. I was silent. I mean, how do you break down race and ethnicity to a three year old?

“She’s wearing black…her shirt and pants are black,” I scrambled to answer him somehow.
“Oh,” he said and kept walking.

Our walk to the bookstore and our conversation made me think about the influence, or rather lack of influence, race and ethnicity have on little kids. They are not born knowing or recognizing any differences between themselves and others—we teach them that. They are not aware of any of the cultural connotations, prejudices, and stigmas attached to different ethnicities—that’s all us. So how do we talk to our kids about the diverse world in which we live in such a way that teaches them to appreciate everyone’s uniqueness?

Every since Obama was elected, people have been talking about “post-racial” America, an America that has finally shed its racial prejudice and has achieved a sense of colorblindness. Honestly, I don’t buy it. Sure, America has elected a Black man as the president, but that doesn’t mean we are over our history of systematic racial oppression. Just when we’re ready to say we’re “post-racial,” racism rears it’s ugly head in the form of Rush Limbaugh, or the elderly man shooting up the holocaust museum, or some other lurking presence forcing us to take a long look in the mirror and confront this country’s racially divisive past (hello hollow slavery apology). Despite all of our strides, we have not moved beyond race…and shouldn’t’ have to.

In order to live peacefully as a body politic, you do not have to pretend our differences do not exist. We do not have to blind ourselves to our cultural, racial, and ethnic markers that help make up who we are---we should celebrate them. Pretending something doesn’t exist, is still pretending.

When I think of the blood of my ancestors—the Africans brought here so long ago, my Native American great-grandmother, my Belizean grandmother, my southern mama—each of these things, have shaped me into the woman I am. To sweep that aside under the guise of colorblindness would be akin to suicide. It would mean I’d have to give up myself in order to fit in. And that’s not a choice I’m willing to make.

No, in order to truly ascend above our past, we don’t have to be post-racial, we need to be ourselves.

And be okay with that.




Parents, how do you talk to your kids about race?
Do you believe we are in a “post-racial” America?
Or is that even a good thing?

I can finally breathe.

The school year has taken its last, long winding turn into the summer sun. The kids are gone. The grades are in. The room is packed up (well, not really), and I can finally relax.

This year seemed to last FOREVER. Longer even than my previous years teaching. Now that I have time to look back and reflect on how it went, I’m longing for a “do-over.”

My students were more than a handful this year, they were like a duffel bag of firecrackers, each full of their own opinion, swagger, and hormonally driven angst. I had to fight some of them every step of the way just so they’d see that what we did in that room was valuable. Some battles I won, some, I was beaten down, but at the end of the day I hope each of my students walked away with at least ONE lesson learned.

The last month or so of school, we read the novel, Monster, by Walter Dean Myers. In the novel, a sixteen-year-old boy was on trial for murder. I knew my students would be interested in the novel—strictly on the subject matter alone—but I didn’t know they’d LOVE it. To date, three books are “missing,” stolen by someone itching to take this masterpiece home with them. A stolen book, in a class full of self-proclaimed non-readers, is the highest compliment. So I was pleased not only that many of them told me, “that story is dope Miss,” but also because they could see themselves between the pages. For once they saw themselves and a world that looked like theirs reflected in a book. And that made my heart smile. To see them so deeply engrossed in the book, they yelled when we had to stop, lifted my spirits. But it also made me wonder how differently the year might have gone had I included more books like these in my class? Would they have listened more? Would they have tried harder? Would they have not gotten into that fight? These are the questions I struggle with as I run this year back through my mind over and over again.

If I could do this year over again (and lords knows, I don’t wanna!) I’d pick better books. I’d focus on building a family, before we building perfect sentences, and I’d make sure to celebrate their every achievements—no matter how small. If I had it to do over again, I’d be their biggest cheerleader and critic, pulling no punches and not just pacifying them because I’m tired, or not into it, or feeling lazy to fight. If I had to do over again, I’d work a little smarter, not harder, saving my energy for what really counts—them.

This year is officially over, so there’s no going back. What I can do, however, is think about the issues, my battles and victories and do better next school year. Even though today is over, everyday offers you an opportunity to do it over.



What do you wish you could do over?
How will you improve on what you did today to make tomorrow truly GREAT?