(photo cred: JanBurke.com)

The internets have opened up a lot of opportunities for me and after attending this year's BlogHer conference and meeting so many women who are just DOIN' IT, I feel compelled to.do.something.

It's easy for me to procrastinate. For me, procrastination is like breathing, I do it automatically. So to step up and put myself (and my words) out there is kinda scary. But in the spirit of trying new shit, I'm kicking procrastination aside (for now lol) and getting my productive groove on.

Last week, I shot Susan of Color Online a message asking if she would like me to write a book review for her site. Color Online is a very popular book site that focuses on authors of color, and I've been looking for ways to expand my writing. I love reading and I love great fiction, so writing about things I love come natural to me. Thankfully, she was happy to have me write a review, so be on the look out for my review of Carleen Brice's second novel, Children of the Waters.

Another step of faith I've taken (I'm telling y'all, it was a productive day), was to reach out to a FABULOUS woman I met during BlogHer. She runs a site for hip black women and I noticed that, despite having several contributors, she was the one doing most of the writing. I figured, a busy sista like her MUST be tired (or up all night), so I shot her a tweet and asked if she needed writers. To my surprise, she was open to me writing for her site and so I'll be contributing really soon. (But this brings up a whole other can of worms: do I break out of my anonymity and write under my government name? I will explore this in another post. Stay tuned).

As the old saying goes, a closed mouth won't get fed. Far too long I've had ideas, wanted to do things but failed to just open my mouth and ASK for opportunities. No mas! I'm tired of cluttering my mind with shoulda, woulda, couldas that lead to nothing but self doubt and regret.

Even though I'm about to go back to work in a month, that doesn't mean I have to put my own personal goals on the back burner. I've been saying--for the longest--that I want to earn a living writing. I want to be able to work from home, be there for my son, and do what I love most: write. It's not gonna be easy to fulfill my dreams, but it's certainly not impossible. A little more hustle, and perhaps a little less sleep, and I'll get there.


One last note of self-promotion...

Tomorrow evening ( Thursday, August 6th @ 8pm EST/5pm PST) you can catch me chatting it up with Ananda Leeke on her radio show, "Sisterhood, the Blog Radio," talking about my experiences at this year's BlogHer conference, my definition of sisterhood, and what inspires me. Please listen, call in, comment, and show her (and me!) some love. {listen to the show HERE}


~~
What is ONE thing you'd like to accomplish today, this week, this year?
Have you stopped living in the land of shoulda, woulda, couldas & stepped out to do what you want to do?
Got an interesting post or project? Drop a link in the comments section so we can check it out!

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"

I'm a restless soul. What can I say? I'm a Gemini. Sometimes I get so absorbed in a project or idea and I'm working on it like a maniac till like 3 or 4 in the morning, and other times, I don't give it a second thought. That's how I was with this blog. I blog in spurts, but I know I should do better (have you noticed? I've been trying!). I know that I have certain goals in life. I want to write, but I hardly carve out enough time to just sit down and do it. That must change.

I stumbled upon Aliya King's blog the other day, and it came at the right time. You see, she's a writer/journalist and she doles out TONS of great advice/inspiration to those of us starting out in the writing game. Although I'm not starting out, I did go to school for this, I haven't taken advantage of every opportunity I've had. When I think back at where I could have been had I hustled a bit harder, I want to kick myself. But as my mother always says, there's no sense crying over spilled milk, so I'm moving forward.

Although it looks like I'll really be jobless come June 30th, I'm not worried. Through a short twitter discussion with my girl, Mdot, I realize this is just giving me the space to SEIZE the opportunities I've been neglecting. I want to write, and now with more time on my hands (sans job & with unemployment check in hand), I'll have time to write. I've been talking about releasing a collection of poetry for YEARS, and have just never done the work. I have the poems, sitting, waiting, but I haven't put them together. I will work on pulling it together this summer. I'm also going to see what I can get into on the web. I've already made contact with a few popular sites to do guest pieces, and to my surprise, they're open. So I'm going to roll with it. Even though it would be SO easy, I'm not going to complain about losing my job. Instead, I'm going to be open to all the opportunities that will come my way, and embrace them.



What have you been neglecting that you REALLY want to do?
When are you going to stop wanting to do it, and just do it?
(let's encourage each other!)

this is not my life anymore
by Wanda Coleman

it belongs to the two moreno tots with starcrossed eyes
feet like mine and wavy brown hair

it belongs to the widow who lives alone behind bars black
enough to resist crack addicts and petty larcenists

it belongs to the woman in Chicago whose cacography reveals
fear of white doctors and whiter walls

it belongs to the mulatto guitarist who dreams of being
knighted by the queen in his next sleep

it belongs to the manchild who wears my frown

~~~

Wanda Coleman's poem always makes me ask myself, "Am I really living? Or just getting by?"

It's easy to get caught into a cycle of just putting one foot in front of the other. Familial responsibilities, financial concerns, life...all manage to get in the way of striving to do what you REALLY want to do in life. As women we tend to mother everyone before we stop to take care of ourselves. Until recently, I've been too tired to do many of the things I really enjoy. For one, I haven't been writing as much as I'd like. I've just been too tired to allow the ideas to flow. Soon the tiredness numbs my want to write, and nothing gets written. Sad.

Lately, I've sort of snapped out of it. Perhaps it's because the end of the school year is in sight (8 weeks!), and I'm not AS tired at the end of each day. My classes are sort of on autopilot, working on projects and presentations, and much of my energy is not spent on directly teaching, but rather facilitating the process. It's a nice switch and it's presented me with more energy and more time to think about other things beside work. And I don't plan on squandering it.

This weekend, instead of falling into the comforting lull of procrastination, I actually worked on a few creative project I've been neglecting. It felt good to actually be in motion on something that relates to ME and what I want to do, not just tending to others. Of course, life will not allow me to be completely selfish, I am somebody's mommy after all. But I've definitely gotten my second wind.


Blog fam,
Are you living your life or just getting by?

i have been "away" for the past few weeks. away from this blog & others' blogs that i adore. it's not because i've REALLY been away, but i've been in some sort of a lackluster groove.

i can feel it...this blog, writing, me writing, tugs at me. all the things i should be making time for, like myself, have been trying to get my attention, but i've been ignoring them. i know that i'm tired. my students this year are challenging, to say the least. when i get home, i'm so tired & do nothing but feed my son, read him a story, get him to bed (and maybe a bath), watch Cosby reruns and go to sleep myself. my body feels neglected. i haven't worked out in SO long & it shows. i am sluggish, i am craving more sugar (pepsi!), and i need desperately to do something else.

sure, i can wait until the new year and risk falling deeper into this slump, but i've decided to fight. fight my will to veg out and not take care of myself. this week i will work out, at least 3 times. i will not fall asleep at 8, just because. i might even pick up a book, unrelated to work, and *gasp* read.

i've been invited to attend a book club this Saturday. i'm semi-excited because i'm sort of a nerd and like to talk to GROWN FOLKS about books sometime. who knows, perhaps this endeavor will propel me on to things that i have been neglecting, like writing.

everyday i think that i should be writing. everytime i flip open a magazine, or read a book, i think...i should be doing THIS. yes, teaching is noble, teaching is necessary, but writing, for me, is my ideal life. but how can i claim that if i'm not working toward it? how can i claim to be a writer if i am not writing?

and so it begins, the first FULL day of my summer vacation. i have waited for this day since school began in September (lol) and now it's here. i have NO Idea what we are going to do today. my weekend was pretty full of grown-woman activities to last for a minute. I went to a joint bridal shower for two of my sorors, and on sunday went to church and then brunch with friends. while we were leaving the restaurant, which was beautifully situated on the waterfront, i realized that i've never been to "brunch." sure i've eaten breakfast and/or lunch at that weird in between hour, but never formally went to a restaurant and had brunch. it was fun, and very grown-woman-like. i decided that we needed a regular girlfriends outing of some sort. i ran it past my friends and they agreed. hopefully our lives won't work us out of this idea, because we need it. it's so much fun keeping up, talking about life, and just having a good time. i need more of that. too much of my life is on pause. it's about time i start living for today, while planning for tomorrow. ya know?

so today, we have no plans. i'm halfway looking up info on potty training (ugh!) and homeschooling materials for preschoolers. the munchkin is pretty smart, but i'd like to keep him learning throughout the summer and not just watching Curious George all day (well...starting tomorrow! lol). anybody have any suggestions for books? i'm open.

speaking of books, i just finished Terry McMillan's The Interruption of Everything. that book was GREAT! i've never read a Terry McMillan book (i know, i know), so this was a welcomed surprise. the book was right on time too. it basically dealt with a woman whose life needed to be shaken up, and she's forced to follow what she WANTS to do. i can dig it. i've been writing more and thinking about writing. i've been working on a little side project (hopefully released soon), so i'm at that place where i'm taking baby steps. hopefully i can i will capitalize on my free time this summer to accomplish the things i want and work toward my goals.

so what's on deck for your week? how was your weekend? and what kind of goals do you want to accomplish in the near future?

Few times in my life have I been completely mesmerized.

In 1999 while channel surfing, I came across this man and his poem on the PBS documentary, “I’ll Make Me a World*”. Saul Stacey Williams completely blew me away. I had never HEARD a poem sound like that before. Never heard a man beat-box in the middle of a stanza. Never heard words strung so dangerously together. Never felt any energy like this from any poem, I’d ever read or studied. I was awestruck.

In an instant, my entire view of poetry changed. Until then, I thought emcees had all the fun. I thought they were the only ones aloud to ride beats with words, but Saul Williams switched up my whole thinking. Soon I began seeking more. Back then, we didn’t have you tube, but the Internet was just starting to be BIG (for me at least), so I searched and searched and found everything I could find that he wrote. Time after time I was blown away, and was sonned by his immense ability to pair word and emotion and my inability to mimic it.

Fueled by this newly discovered muse, I practiced. I wrote. I recited poems, and I found the courage to actually perform in front of groups of people. Until then, poetry was something I did privately. I did not share my words. I did not declare myself a poet. Until then I was stuck, conversing only with myself and my psyche, afraid to share my voice because I thought people wouldn’t get it.

But they did.

And here I am. A degreed writer. A blogger. A poet. I used to be afraid to call myself a writer. I never thought I was worthy of the title, as if writers were only those famous ones we’ve read in English class.

But I am
indeed a writer
living in papyrus
with pen and paper
always within reach

peace.



**If anyone knows how to get a copy of this series (I'll Make Me a World), PLEASE email me. theprisonerswife at gmail dot com. thanks

what is poetry? (when enough is too much)

breaking windows
with words, grinding
rough diamonds into amethyst rocks
trying too hard
to reach inside        thoughts
sweating themselves about how deep
they pretend to be       poets
trying to bottle them as butterflies.
when enough is too much,
who can be the judge?
what is and is not       art
pretending to be God
pretending to be man
where the divine
and the blasphemous
do lunch at Sylvia’s, arguing
who is more
in touch with the people.

(c) me. circa 2003. harlem, ny.
~~
poetry is something that many attempt to define, but rarely come close to doing. what is a poem, exactly? by definition it defies such confinements. even its strictest forms allow the poet room to play and push the envelope.

this year has been my first year teaching creative writing, and as a poet, it's been an interesting experience. teaching writing, of any kind, is a bit trying. i am a natural writer (did i just type that OUT LOUD?). i can hear things others do not. i know when a line, a sentence, an essay is right because it SOUNDS right, and that fine-tuned ear is not really easy to explain to others less familiar with the rhythm of words. this semester i've been teaching my kids about poems. all kinds of poems. yesterday, we explored limericks (they had a good time trying to write those). prior to that it was the sonnet, the tanka, and the villanelle. in working with the kids, the thing that i consistently notice is that they either LOVE writing poems, or they are completely frustrated because they "are not good at writing poems," whatever that really means. when my students hit roadblocks and start to psyche themselves out, i try to tell them to relax and not think so much. over-thinking it has been the death of many a poem for me, so i know it must be killer to them. they come to class with their preconceived notions of poetry: it MUST rhyme, it has to have short (or long) lines, it's really, really hard to write. it is my job to help set them free.

writing for me is like...breathing (or fighting, or fucking, or living, or_________). it is a means to express all the things i wished i had the courage to say to people's faces. it gives me a voice, power, agency. it affords me room to live outside of the world i see everyday. for my students, i want them to see the power they have within to create. at 13, many of them are dealing with SO many issues i never thought of back then. they need an outlet, other than older boys or their neighborhood corners. they needs this (words) more than they actually know.

as readers, what do words, and specifically poems mean to you?

April is National Poetry Month, and as a poet, i'd be remiss if i did not acknowledge & celebrate it. over the course of the next month i will share some of my favorite poems by my favorite poets, dig into my own poetry crates, and maybe write a little something new.

i encourage you
to do the same.
   c'mon
share with me.

so, i've never shared any of my fiction with y'all, but i do write. i'm certainly no james baldwin, but i do a little something. this piece happens to be old & was born out of a writing workshop exercise. the first line had to be used either at the beginning or ending of the piece. i have progressed somewhat as a fiction writer, but i do like this little vignette. let me know what you think.

~~~~

There is always murder at the heart of love. He wanted to choke her. He wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze until his fingers etched plum-colored marks into her amber skin; the same color as the hickeys he once planted from her nipples to her navel. He wanted to squeeze until every bit of life God ever breathed into her body had been rebuked. He wanted her dead. Wanted to stuff her in a box, or a closet, or something, anything so she couldn’t taunt him any longer with her happiness. How dare she? How dare she smile as if nothing has happened? As if she didn’t spit on his deepest emotions and stomp on his heart. Bitch. Yes, she is a bitch. A vile whore who tricked men into loving her, trusting her, only to leave when they are most vulnerable and need her most. Such cruelty deserves death, he thought. Yes, he said to himself, yes, she deserves to die.

The phone rang, snapping Derrick out his murderous thoughts. Who the hell? he asked himself. It was nearly 4am; no sane person would call at this hour. This could be one of two things, bad news or bullshit. Not wanting to hear either, Derrick decided his machine would answer the call. After three rings, his black cordless went silent, and his cell phone began ringing. Damn, he thought. This has got to be some shit.

“Hello”

“Hey…it’s me”

“I can’t believe this. Wha—“

“Please don’t hang up. I know it’s late but—“

“Damn right! What the fuck do you want?”

She swallowed. He sounded different, angry. He never cursed at her, never raised his voice even in the middle of their biggest arguments. Hang up. Hang up the phone Mina. She wanted to hang up, but couldn’t. She was in shock. She knew she hurt him, but she never imagined how devastated he was. His face was still burned into her memory. His eyes still searched her for answers. Why? Why didn’t you tell me, Mina?, his words sliced into her. She never meant to love him. Never wanted anything more than a great fuck, but he made her laugh. He was too silly, too nice, too smart, too much of everything her husband wasn’t. No, she never meant to love him, but she couldn’t help it.

“I…” she stuttered, “called to tell you that—"

“The fuck you call to tell me at 4 in the morning? What? You wanted to tell me you’re sorry that you’re married? Save it. I don’t want to hear any bullshit apologies, Mina. I want to know how could you…how could you? You never answered that. You never told me how you could make love to me, pretend you love me, then—"

“Pretend? I’ve never pretended with you, Derrick”

“What the fuck you call it then? We were fucking playing house for a year. A year!” He screamed into the phone.

“I know, but it’s…complicated”

“Complicated?” He began laughing—harsh and throaty. His tone lingered somewhere between agony and amusement.

“Is that the best you can do? Complicated? That’s some bullshit. Was fucking me supposed to uncomplicate things, Mina? What was that supposed to solve?”
She winced, rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. She did not want to have this conversation, but she couldn’t sleep. She struggled with this for the last week. Should I tell him? No. Will he understand? Will he be happy? Will he believe me? Will he even care? She began crying, softly—barely audible. It was dark. Mina sat—lights out—trapped by the words that wouldn’t leave her tongue. How could she be so stupid, she thought? She loved a man she did not deserve. He was not her husband; he was her lover, her friend—her soul mate?

“Well?,” Derrick exhaled, angry yet weary. “What was so important that you had to call at 4 in the morning?”

“I…I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

baked macaroni
ambled through the living room
making us hungry

you rang, bringing sun
and sadness with a taut smile
wishing you could share

everything with us
is somehow lacking in ways
hard to explain over

again I want you
to meet me places you can’t
imagine exists

somewhere beyond this
time parceled out in tidbits
love sustains us all

~~



so, we are home and back into the routine of our everyday life. yesterday was Easter and like a mad woman, I decided to take over the cooking duties. you see, usually my mother and/or grandmother slaves over the hot stove, but I decided to give them a break. thanks to my sista*friend/super-chef-on-call, i pulled it off (and it was good). i whipped up fried chicken (which was a bad idea because it was about 90 degres yesterday!), potato salad, baked macaroni, and mixed veggies. needless to say, everybody enjoyed my cooking which made me feel all grown up! (even my grandma wanted the recipe! LOL). so my ego got a bit of a boost, even as my press was sweated OUT.

although i wasn't ready to go back to work today, i told myself that i would think positive. instead of dreading the morning, i said that today would be a GREAT day, and it was, had it not been for the headache. but it's over now (thank the LAWD!) and tomorrow is a short day for the kids (handclap). i think i'm still experiencing a bit of time-zone confusion because i'm pretty tired and it's only 6.

i find myself wanting to write poems again, which is a good sign. i haven't been writing as much as i should. so many times i feel like i'm squandering the opportunities i've been presented with. i watch others put their dreams together and turn them into reality, and then i secretly wish to do the same, but just...don't...quite...do...it.

what's the holdup? what am i really afraid of?

i guess, i'm the only one that can answer that. and it needs to happen. soon.

(going to meet my man)

on visiting

smalltown u.s.a.
a blur of cows and branches
and prisons emerge

out of nowhere we
rush to hold memories in
tangled fingers and

polaroids. you ask
for a soda, burger, and
what's new in the world

everything has changed
and stayed the same all at once
your face tightening

remembering each
curve of my lips. we smile but
watch the clock tensely
~~


(in the sticks...literally)

tomorrow is our last day of visiting. i can't believe how quickly these four days have seemed to zoom by. i am tired. i will not return to work on monday rested, but rather still feeling like i need a vacation. my son has been acting out a bit. beloved and i have been having a wondering spin on the dance floor. i am dreading tomorrow. i wish i could stay longer, but work and bank accounts do not permit it. tomorrow will be a bit sad, but i will be brave. when 3:05 hits, and the COs call out that visiting is done, my heart will drop. his heart will drop. we will hug and kiss for minutes on end, but it still won't be enough. he will go back, be strip searched and lock in to a lonely cell with nothing but his memories of our conversation and kisses. i will go back to an empty hotel room to pack, and get ready for a long and lonely flight. in a few months we will do it all over again. the joy. the heartache. coming together and leaving again. this is the cycle of our life. for now.

i have been just staring at this site for some time now. i've been meaning to post. i've been wanting to post. some have asked where the hell i've been (some may not care? lol).

i've been here. staring. looking. watching. wanting to post, but not making myself come to this computer to write.

i need to write. i long to write, but i just can't. don't ask me why. i am on some extended writer's block that i can't seem to shake. the desire is there, some rough ideas are there, but not much else.

i need some inspiration.
i need some new scenery.
i need some new music.

how have y'all been?

writing is fighting
a barrage of words    banging
paper    ears     your heart

    struggling
to conect beyond the noise
beyond what makes us

     wondering
if anyone can hear
our inside voice, really

or if
it even matters
at all.


~~~~~~~

i'm in a rush, posting between periods. but i'm struggling to teach my students how to write...clearly. they are so stuck in a world of txt messages and IMs, that it seems as though basic, standard English is like Chinese to them.

as someone who writes well, i'm having a hard time conveying the nuances of the language to my kids. so much of what i write and how i write is caught up in my ears, i'm wondering how i can help them tune into that melody.

any advice? bell rang. peace.

Umoja: To strive for and maintain unity in the family, community, nation and race.


today marks the first day of Kwanzaa, the seven days after Christmas that aims reinforce the seven collective principles of African culture. today's focus is Umoja, or Unity.



i have always LOVED this song. for a time, it operated as my theme song, my anthem. i played it daily, sometimes several time a day basking in the strength and beauty of the horns and Latifah's words. even today, i am still moved whenever i hear it, and my swagger becomes that much more fierce.

at first listen, the song may seem not to speak much to "Unity" as it does to female empowerment, but when you think about it, a community cannot rise and achieve FULL unity until all of its members are valued and respected. as audre lorde so aptly stated, "It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences."

in this Kwanzaa season and beyond, let us focus on trying to celebrate and accept that which makes us beautifully unique.

peace

1. not having to wake up at 5:45am: i am SO not a morning person, but have been forced to become one in order to earn a living. when i was in NYC i had to be at work at 7am, and would have to be up, out, and on the train before the sun even got up. it sucked getting up so early, but watching the sun break over the river almost made it worth it.

2. being able to watch the today show in its entirety: normally when i hear the Today Show theme music, i know i'm running late. everyday i need to be out of the house before 7am in order to drop the little man off at the sitter & get to work in time to make copies, write the agenda on the whiteboard, and listen to a little music before my students start pounding on my door. being on break allows me time to catch up on all the fashion mistakes, complicated recipes, and the weather reports in my neck of the woods.

3. spending time with my son: you are probably wondering why this is number 3 on the list. i could have easily made it #1, however, at some point, i want my son to take a nap because i can only watch so many episodes of Thomas & Friends, or read Hop on Pop, or play with the trains. i absolutely LOVE my son, but now i realize that i don't have to have him tied to my hip to be considered a good mom.

4. not having to change out of my PJs: i confess, i'm lazy...sometimes. i don't like to get dressed up to go into the world everyday. i like the softness and ease of my cotton basketball shorts, or ultra-soft capris. i'd rather be barefoot, in shorts, and a tank-top & lounging around my house than stuffed into a pair of slacks and uncomfortable shoes.

5. unlimited options: this is probably THE BEST thing about being a part-time stay at home mom. if i want to stay home all day & let the munchkin run around the house like a madman, cool. if i want to get us dressed and go to a museum, cool. if i want to walk to Borders and browse for books & let him run around in the kid's section, cool. every decision, every idea, every day trip is possible because i don't have to answer to anyone but myself (and bank of america). whatever we want to do, we can do because i'm the boss. the freedom of being able to plan, or not plan, your day according to YOUR needs is priceless.

when i'm working and my students are driving me crazy and it's march or april or november, i always try to keep my eye on the prize: break! although i can't afford to stay home full time, being able to have a few weeks or months off allows me to experience life on the other side of the mommy coin.

each time i'm off i cherish these days, love the freedom they offer, and long to have them again. hopefully one day my passion will allow me to sustain us financially, and i can officially make the switch from part-time to full-time stay at home mom. until then, i will enjoy my time off while it lasts.

I am a master procrastinator.

I have been saying I am going to write for the longest time. I’ve walked around with the same line, and the same idea for a story in my head for at least a month. Even though I’ve had the itch the write, the need (or perhaps just the want) to write, I haven’t been writing.

Over the long weekend I planned on cracking open my laptop, starting a new, bright, blinding word document, and…writing. This weekend I read. I devoured the book Random Family by Adrian Nicole LeBlanc and marveled at just how much my life was both so similar and yet completely opposite of the lives of those in her book.

Her book is amazing. Although it is a work of non-fiction her words possess the beauty and realness of a novel. I found myself rooting, and hoping against hope that the people in the story came out ok. And then I got jealous.

Whenever I read a good book, I am envious of the author’s ability to connect word to meaning, and meaning to emotion. To weave stories and words and ideas into something so complete and so real, people are compelled to tell others.

I dream of being that dope one day.

I dream of writing words that touch people in a real and profound way. I dream of being more than the 13th man in the literary crowd, cheering others on, but really wanting to get in the game.

Tonight. I cracked open my laptop and wrote down that line I’ve been carrying in my head for the past month. I also began writing the story. It’s not astounding. I am not a fiction writer, but I am a person with stories--many, many stories just waiting to march from my head and onto the page.

At the end of it all (or maybe the beginning?), I hope to be able to share them with you, and welcome you into another section of my mind, my life. When it is all said and done, I hope you will enjoy what it is I have to offer. And if not…hey, at least I tried.

it's amazing how the universe works.

lately i've been feeling as if something has been missing. feeling like i'm spending my life working, and not enjoying my time on earth. in the last post i mentioned that i was searching for my passion, when all along, i already knew.

i love to write. i love to fling my words and thoughts into the atmosphere for people to digest, to enjoy, to discuss, to devour (nightly lol). it's something i've always been (fairly) good at. but yet i continued to hesitate. i continued to make excuses as to why i wasn't writing (no inspiration!), why i wasn't submitting work (lazy!), or why i wasn't working within the writing world (too hard to break into!). all along my issue wasn't about being unaware of my strengths & passion, but rather it has ALWAYS been about doubting myself and being afraid i'm not good enough.

slowly, i have been taking steps to sort of break free of my self-doubt. recently i've submitted to two mags, and just when the idea of (re)starting my own lit journal/press weighed heavily on my mind, last night a friend asked me if he should ressurrect a lit project we founded some time ago. kizmet.

immediately my mind began racing and i started talking a mile a minute about how we could/should/WILL do it. how, this time, we need to be super serious and business-minded and not just take our talent and skills for granted. after all, we have kids and families we need to feed. i think i overwhelmed him. matter of fact, i know i did. he told me my energy was like a bully LOL and we needed to slow down. but i'm so excited. the seed has defintely been planted.

it's crazy.

the moment you make a conscious decision to find ways to be in pursuit of, to try to reach for what you want, to grab it with both hands and believe...the universe opens up and makes room for you.

i am feeling restless.

this past weekend was a pretty lazy. thankfully, there wasn't much going on & i had a chance to rest and relax. but as usual, the weekend felt way too short. too rushed. and as Monday approached, i began to feel hurried and not quite ready to go back to work.

this feeling isn't unusual.

i've felt this work-day uneasiness my entire (working) life. although the jobs have changed, that feeling--the one that tells me i COULD be doing something else--overtakes me. and, as usual i began to wonder.

am i doing what i'm SUPPOSED to be doing?

or is there even something i'm SUPPOSED to do?

hmmm...

i've always been curious about those who are uber passionate about their work. i've wondered how they managed to figure out what makes them SO happy. i've tried to sit, and think, and figure out what would make me jump out of bed and run to work, but i can't quite put my finger on it. there are a slew of things i dig, but not many i truely LOVE.

i've been scouring the web (and my brain) for ways to help me solve this mystery. i know i dig writing. at one point in this blog's history, i posted daily, always wanting to get out a burning thought & discusses things with y'all. i love music. i'm a decent poet (i think). i dig being in the company of interesting people, but finding the passion that taps into all of the things i really can't live without...alludes me.

perhaps i'm just playing it safe.

afterall, i have a son to look after now. i can't be some irresponsible starving artist, hoping my art will pay off. that's selfish. i HAVE to be able to make money (and, i want to be comfortable), so being broke isn't an option. perhaps i'm just afraid to take risks? or maybe, i'm just afraid to fail?

because she has all the answers (lol) i turned to Oprah, her site as least. they have a few articles on "finding your passion." Cheryl Richardson, some life-coach guru, poses questions that will (supposedly) help you discover your passion. it's a fairly long list, but i'm going to try to anwer 5 of them here, and i invite you to do the same (i'm nosey!). so here goes...

the questions (see the full list, here)...

What interest, passion or desire are you most afraid of admitting to yourself and others?
i'm not really sure. i'm not really afraid of admitting any passions or desires. most of my friends know that i write, perhaps they don't know i've always wanted to perform (singing, acting) in some way.

What would you do if you knew you could not fail?
hmmmm....be writer, open my own publishing company, and start a magazine. i've always loved writing, it seems SO damn difficult to break into to. i'd write books as well as write for magazines. i've always been a sucker for the glossies & would love to sit across the table interviewing folks.

What do you love about yourself?
my sense of humor. i'm sarcastic as hell, but i'm also pretty damn funny. i love how easy-going and flexible i am. i rarely loose my temper or get stressed out.

What would you do if money was not a concern in your life?
travel & write.

What one thing do you dream about doing that you've never told anyone?
hmmm....i'm not really sure. perhaps that i wanted to have my own magazine, but i think i told a few folks about that. i'll have to think about this one.

When you were young, what did you know you would do when you grew up?
when i was young, i had my heart (or my head, at least) set on being a pediatrician. how typical. i also wrote stories & tried to get my mom to enter them in contests.

How would you like the world to be?
fair.

i'd like the world to be fair & loving & accepting of people's differences and ideas. non-judgemental & safe.

What would you regret not having done if your life was ending?
traveling & publishing a book.

~~
hmmm...i think i see a trend forming. how about you?

this week i've found myself moving through the streets of los angeles....i've never really stopped to look at my city in detail. found some interesting things, wrote a (bad) poem...thought i'd share them with you...



free stylin...

birth
place color crime rate
blood blue in red
my neighborhoods dead
covered in ashes
weather be classic
times is passin'

south central cries foul
tell me how
one can afford to live
hood's for sale but
we only got blood to give

summer births
rites of passage
sometimes i ask when
brown gon' win
just one of these games
wondering how many
hit the grave before
they go to college
droppin knoledge
InshAllah
it's the way we get through
praying HE grew us up strong
not wanting to do wrong but
options be limited
time is closing in
cash & posers win
and i'm tired of the games

ok, so i have been incredibly lazy lately. blame it on the weather, the fact that i've been off since June, or whatever else the case may be, but day after day i find myself bored, sitting in front of the computer or tv or watching my son play in the park.

don't get me wrong, i LOVE the fact that i'm off for the summer. i wouldn't trade that for ANYTHING (well, except maybe a free house or a million bucks lol). i enjoy not having to get up early, fight traffic, and rush to work just to complain how much i need a vacation. so i'm cool with being off, but i wish i just had something exciting to do. i know, i know...you are probably thinking i should take my son to the zoo or museums, right? i've thought about it, but have yet to take him there. for one, he is young enough that he doesn't really care, and two, i'd rather not go alone. being that beloved is away & my friends with kids are back in NY, i just don't feel like going everywhere alone. it's hard. not only is he the only one i can talk to, i have to pack EVERYTHING under the sun so i can cover the "just in cases" that always come up. i have to entertain him, cater to him, and not really get that in return. it's not his fault..the munchkin is nearing 2, so his world revolves around him, but mommy needs some conversation, someone to talk to as well. and then there are the families...

every time i take my son out i always see lots of families. mothers AND fathers, and part of me is so jealous. i want that to be our family. beloved, the munchkin and i...just hanging out and exploring things together. one day, right? i just wish that day wasn't so far from now.

~~~

lately i have been spending my time focusing on eating better & fitting in some workouts (walking or dvds). so far my efforts are paying off. i've dropped 12lbs since July 6, so i'm happy about that. i guess i am being sort of productive, right?

today i order a few books (classroom management & teaching creative writing) and a pedometer on Amazon.com. now that it's approaching August, i have to get back into the swing of things and start planning for the fall & my new crop of students. i am a bit nervous about returning to work. last year was SO difficult, this year can only be better, but i'm still nervous. ahhh, i guess that feeling will wear off once i'm a vet, right?