Pushkin...

I Loved You Once (I wish I had Dudley Randall's translation on deck...)
By Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

I loved you once; even now I must confess,
Some embers of my love their fire retain;
But do not let it cause you more distress,
I do not want to sadden you again.
Hopeless and tonguetied, yet I loved you dearly
With pangs the jealous and the timid know;
So tenderly I love you, so sincerely,
I pray God grant another love you so.

The End of Innocence...

I got some information yesterday that I don't know how to deal with...

Nothing bad. At all. Actually, this was the realest, damn near, anyone had ever been with me. Period.

Spending time with my sister, I wound up going with her to drop something off at my aunt's house next door. I hadn't visited my aunt since she moved in, so I dropped in just to catch up. Her pad was the dopest I'd been in on the block, and she's still getting things together.

There, we met one of her friends from nearby in Detroit, Dee, who reminded me of the young women I grew up with (that my parents didn't want me hanging around...lol). She was in her late 40s, never married, three adult kids, recently unemployed, etc...Judging from my blog, everything I'm working against, right? But the most admirable things about her were most notably her confidence and the lessons that shone through her recounts of her own mistakes.

All my life, I'd receive warnings and posited examples from my careful mother or from older colleagues and mentors who had ran a professional or personal gamut of misadventures. However, the stories (and even advice) of a complete stranger drew me in and taught me some things about myself and where I am in my adult life.

The first thing I learned is that where I am, who I am right now is quite alright. Lord-willing, I have a long life left ahead of me, but if this is it, I lived this life a combination of ways--mine and, now, His.

Next, from an anecdote of her own--in many ways, very similar to an experience I've recently had--I learned to trust myself, my intuition, and to be open to change but not leave myself vulnerable. It is pretty easy to get fixated on things (or people) you place your love on; however, it does an injustice to yourself and others around you to close yourself off because of the object (or person) of your received affection. In short, if I'ma be "Shrugs", then I'ma be Shrugs for real.

Lastly, just the fact that, through everything, she had lived her life the way she wanted to--and in the midst of her crazy tales was correctly quoting scripture (!!)--let me know that the Lord had introduced us for a reason. Even if we never meet again, I was supposed know this woman's story. And just to give you all a visual of her: if Tyler Perry's Madea never existed before, give Dee about 20 more years to manifest her... :)

This time home may not be so bad after all...

By Popular Demand....

I'll just say it: I'm home and I'm scared shitless.

The flight delays yesterday weren't half as bad as my nerves had been the entire week. I was actually pretty composed compared to the days when I had something (someone) to fly home to. Any delay meant that plans would be foiled, that there was a possibility for something (often unforeseen, regardless) to go wrong, another second apart...etc., etc., etc. This time around, I just have me to deal with. As cool as I've gotten with myself, I'm not sure if I'm ready for that solo time, yet.

The beginning of the trip started with small talk with a friend on the way to Bradley Airport in Connecticut, splitting a Black and Mild. I'm not even sure if he knew how on edge I was about coming home; maybe he got the message when I whipped a cigar out my coat pocket. I'd hinted at it, but I don't divulge what I don't think people want to hear. Even when I do get started, if I sense disinterest, I change the subject--abruptly. And thus, I had a few starting points for my syllabus next semester when I got out the car opposed to a calmed state of mind.

Then came the delays; Philly had an "ice storm" (which didn't look like much upon landing) so we were stuck at Bradley for another three hours. I had mixed feelings about this. I was upset that people --including myself-- were "inconvenienced" by the weather and that everyone was being so melodramatic about it. I was upset that I wouldn't get to hang for two hours at Philadelphia's airport, one of my favorite layover spots in the nation. I was upset that I had to make frequent connections with my parents "guestimating" the time that my plane would arrive. However, I was not upset that my coming home was delayed...I was ambivalent about my arrival, overall....

Finally the plane takes off and lands in Philly, all but 20 minutes before my flight takes off for Detroit. Luckily, my gate of departure was adjacent to the gate I'd landed at; even more, the flight wasn't scheduled to leave for another two and a half hours because they had to fly in a captain from Norfolk. So I got my time in Philly, after all. But all my shops were closed. And, besides, I'm broke. Go figure....

Three hours, a dying cell phone (I had to check my carry on at the gate at Bradley), and no free Wi-Fi gives you a lot of time on your hands in the 21st century. I was trying to hone in on the things I had yet to do for other people: respond to student emails, edit one student's paper for a colleague, grade for the class I TA-ed for this semester, brainstorm gift ideas for my family--impossible feats at the moment. So I had a pretzel....people watched for a second...finally, whipped out my Bible and reread the book of Ruth. Ruth's story is always great to read, but this time, it didn't cut it.

My tears were welling up, and the dam I'd constructed as a facade of strength-- my easy-going nature--was giving way. I had to admit to myself that I was scared and upset about coming home to something that wasn't mine anymore. The life I had before--the last string of that being my relationship with Adrian--was gone. My family will always be my family, but as I grow, they grow. As they grow, the space that was once mine is made smaller for me and larger for other things (in this case, my parents' stuff). Wayne State is no longer my "stomping grounds"; it's a place I go and laugh because I feel old and visit people I want to be in two years. The memories are just memories; the activities of the past no longer available to fall into (or appropriate, at this stage, lol). For the first time in quite a few years I am single this season, which hit me after I closed my Bible. I ended a relationship that, just symbolically, was my last link to my youth here, the thing that kept my heart in Detroit. The sole reason for mid-semester trips (even made-up holidays, like "Valentine's"), summer vacations, weekend visits--gone. Even my parents at one point thought they were seeing me too much for me to live out of state. But now that's gone. And I don't know what to do with myself.

I have a month to spend in a place where I don't feel like I fit anymore. This doesn't say much for Amherst, however, as I still feel a bit alien there. My home is here in Michigan, but my heart is neither in Amherst nor here, anymore. I don't know where to put it. I'm afraid to lay it anywhere for now. Sometimes I wish it was still up on a plane somewhere...

My family has been more than awesome. Miracle is literally stalking me, and Miah thinks she's bossy because she has a job, so they're being good little siblings and taking care of me ;) LOL...but even still, I feel a little lost and need some time to work through this. With everything that was happening back in Amherst, I wasn't ready for this feeling, nor was I ready to talk through it. But here it is, looking me dead in the eye, waiting for something to happen.

There is so much more to say, but I'll spare you all for now. Goodnight.

Teach me how to "Doogie" (also known as "Damn, I'm 27.")

Disclaimer: Title is in reference to the 90s show "Doogie Howser, MD"--he was blogging before blogging was hot. #doogiebeendidit ;)

*****

I didn't tell my mother, but I was almost as shocked as her when I reminded her of how old I'd be this year about ten days ago. Sometimes, I like to imagine my childhood as perpetual; it was pretty good, by my standards. Ice cream. Toys. Sugary cereal. Picture books. Magic (because the rest of the year we were pretty broke) Christmases. I didn't want for much, and I praise our parents for that and for instilling in each of us that it was more than OK to be individuals and to pursue our dreams in spite of external--and often internal--limitations. I also praise that, above all, they stuck it out through all the rough patches and showed us what love looks like in its rawest.

Even still, I reflect on my love for the words in between the pictures and the excitement I got from going to libraries, museums and my mom's occasional black history lessons and remember how I got where I am today. Whether I occasionally want to revisit my youth or not, I was made who I am today by those experiences. I can attribute most of my 27 years to these memories and the lessons that accompanied them.

So, what next? I've been praying for something to change for a long time, but I understand that the Lord, along with His willingness to bless me, wants me to be an agent in that change. I am at a point where I am in love with who I am, flaws and all--a first-time thing for me. I'm aware of my limitations thus far, and I am willing to witness my growth unabashedly from here. I'll never be "grown" per se; such an statement limits me to recognizing who I am now as a person in stasis. No woman is a disaster-free island. No person living is immune to change.

What would I like to change about my life--that's my query of this moment. There's a lot. Getting out of Amherst--which I can't express clearly enough-- is definitely on this list, but it is low on the priorities I have for my spiritual, emotional, and physical life. It's more of a notch in my belt, an in to making bigger bucks and having some creative control of my research and writing. These things are definitely important, but the truth is that my work and my ego are not my life.

There is so much more.

Since this blog is pretty top heavy, I'll just make a list of the goals I have for my 27th year. They're just things on my heart at the moment that make me want to live bigger, do more for myself and others to account for the years I've been blessed with. So here they are--as usual--in no particular order (lol)

1. Being more intuitive, recognizing my instinct as a blessing, not a source of doubt or over-confidence in confronting issues or opportunities presented to me.

2. Traveling more--my sense of exploration and discovery is calling me beyond my comfort zone. I'd love to hit each of the continents within the next 5 to 10 years and literally see what the world has to offer--and what I have to offer the world.

3. Pushing myself as an artist. There is so much more I think I can do that I've abandoned because of work or because (in the past) I wasn't the "best" at it. I need to rely on my own vision and critique more before I consider what the rest of you think, to state the point frankly.

4. Being in love. Not snagging a husband or some temporary guy to keep me warm or emotionally bloated with his imagined perspective of me. But real, unashamed, unconditional, reciprocal love. Nothing lasts forever, I know, but I do long for the feeling and experience. I'm so careful with my heart, I have rarely allowed myself to divulge it to someone else.

5. Being comfortable in my skin (finally!), I now see a need to maintain such comfort. Eating better, more regularity of my physical schedule and sleeping better ( I don't sleep lol) are first steps. No drastic diets or obsessive workout plans (it took me years to get curvy!) but something that will help me stay active, work off stress, and improve my asthma.

These are the five most pressing things on my heart right now. I don't know why these five came out first. I don't prewrite these things; I just be "doogie"-ing. I only know these are all things up for prayer and up for my willingness to take action on, simultaneously. This will be work, indeed; none of this is easily attainable, being broke, overburdened with work, stressed, kind of located in a place not conducive to some of these things and more I imagine, etc. But this is for me. My gift for myself at 28 would be to see all of these things through.

Twenty-seven will be a handful, maybe both hands full, I predict. But living isn't easy; seven months, and 7 and 17 were difficult in their own ways. Life is hard. Thus, such a point makes 27 seem rather unspecial. But I'd like it to be.

Some of the same elements are here in spite of my growth to this point: Ben and Jerry's; Cinnamon Toast Crunch; a love of stuffed animals, libraries, museums and the like; a love of words... all things important to who I am today. The only difference is that now I long to take all of me and make that me bigger and more complete for God's glory and for myself.

Can you dig it?

*cue the outro music*

Top 26 of My 26th

1.Miah's birthday EXTRAvaganza
2.Geeky saxophonist drinking contest
3.The Shardonay Surprise
4.Shopping with Alex (any occasion)
5.Dessert and Drinks with Amiri Baraka
6.Rufio
7.Club night with Rachel and the "fellas" (aka "Party Like a White Girl"-night)
8.Jackie's Diss Defense Party
9.Various Privileged .5 Occasions
10.Phoenix
11.Anti-Valentine's Day trip to Boston
12.Trey Songz Hater Brigade
13.The Spot
14.ABD
15.Afro-Am "Ladies Night" (aka Cristy's night out)
16.YUP!
17.Christmas Times with Coco and Chris (aka Crotchfest 2009)
18.Grandma Finds Cheese in her pocket
19.Singleness
20.First viewing of the Tattoo Connection.
21.Meetings at our little ramshackle office
22.Apartment hunting with Rachel
23.Buffalo Wild Wings :(
24.Kelli
25.Moving Rachel (…smh lol)
26.Rec's Party at the Elevens.

Raw.

Inspiration...



When I got home early this morning, I wanted to cry.

As wonderful as the weekend had been, I couldn't help but feel that I was a victim of something up until this point, like despite being faithful (but not completely “good,” even still) the Lord had forsaken me nonetheless. Over the last few weeks, I’ve been lied to or called on (and then smiled at) so many times that I don’t even know who to trust. I’ve been made into a trusted kind of “den mother” character who has the answer to everything and the help that everyone needs that I couldn’t possibly live up to at this very selfish point of my 20s—but that nonetheless, out of my mushy heart, fall into and fume about later. I’ve had close friends pull away from me while new folk (try to) move in, which is difficult to adjust to with such severe trust issues. On the romantic front, every guy who has shown the least bit of interest in me either has a wedding band, as many years of life acquired as my own father, or substantial female following—all definite red flags. And then, there was my stilled research…and the fact that as soon as my income hits my bank account, it comes right back out…

Up to this point in November alone, I just felt done. It takes a lot for me to feel done. So many people were asking so much of me…that I did not really have time to ask too much of myself. All I’ve known is that I have felt confused, lonely, overworked, underpaid, betrayed, leaned on, bent over, cast aside, but—for better or for worse—never forgotten. And I smile through it all…but in the dark (and only in the dark), I drown it in smoke and liquor at its worst.

I ask myself how I got to this low point, often. Was it letting too many people in? Has it been taking on too much responsibility? Could I have set my expectations of myself and of others too high? Am I allowing myself to grow the way I need to? I don’t know. All I do know is that there has been too much weight. Too much weight. And I’m implicated in all of this.

So sitting, after a nice meal and a few drinks, I came home this morning, looking to make clouds in my living room. I flick the lighter and bow my head. They rise…

I wanted to cry.

Then I began remembering what the Lord had done for me. Just this weekend…

All weekend, I’ve been surrounded –happily—by living legends of my life’s work. People who inspired me do this thing I love—to write—and to question and then change the world around me. Amiri Baraka. Sonia Sanchez. Askia Muhammad Toure. John Bracey. Haki Madhubuti. Eugene Redmond. William Strickland. Melba Joyce Boyd. All of whom I sat with, built with, laughed with…never knowing when or if the next time for such an occasion would come. It was more personal than the thing of dreams I imagined when engaging such wisdom. Amiri Baraka told me that my disdain for apple pie was a “psychological problem” and went on to work through one of my favorite poems of his to teach with me, over drinks. Boyd and Redmond—two wonderful poets and scholars—took the time to push me to keep doing the work I was doing and even gave me more to do in the field of poetry. The sparkle in Madhubuti’s eyes when Bracey introduced me as a Detroiter was the reaffirmation I needed to take my nerves down from approaching a person who had been so pivotal to my own research—and poetry. The presence of Toure and Sanchez were just awe inspiring in themselves, and the kind nods and touches of recognition they gave let me know that they remembered me from before and will remember me next time…

Redmond even taught me how to use an old school (super, super, old) SLR camera and trusted me to document the final panel that he would be on during the conference. It had been some time (years, maybe) since I’d done photographic work like this. I didn’t realize how much I missed it…and how fulfilling it used to be…

Building, even still, with other scholars was also a blessing. Through the smoke, I began to see the would-be inappropriate flirtation for the encouragement it was. Not only am I beautiful, but my intellect encouraged attention. And moving from that aside, passing ideas across dinner tables and over book displays helped me refocus my priorities to my work, reaffirm the importance of my project to the field, and reroute my attention to getting the hell out of Amherst—-the inspiration for this blog since my first entry.

Finally…the support, humor and love of my tried and true friends came with the last toke. What a weekend. Sneaking….no, meandering into buffets we didn’t pay for. Passing notes and texts across panels (even when chairing). Bucking our eyes at the antics of the older generations. Skipping up alleys at night in sleepy stupors. Watching in awe at one another’s brilliance. Passing spare books to a friend to get an autograph, just so they don’t miss the opportunity. Cramming into cars just to cut across campus. The smiles. The laughs. The “good jobs”/”good lucks”. The hugs. Those were real. The realest things I’ve felt in a long while.

After this, I dipped the rest of my smoke in water and I smiled. I was happy. I felt foolish for wanting to cry, even more for feeling like the Lord had forgotten me. In many ways, He had given me what I needed; He’s working out my life for my good…and His (Romans 8:28). Despite my own disappointments and failures over time, this weekend he reminded me who I am and why He has me here, instead of anywhere else or amongst anyone else. I can’t let the things that trouble me, that are external to my relationship with Him and my work here in Amherst hold me back.

I do have a heart that fleets, breaks, and mends like clockwork in spite of how I try to protect it. But, even more, I have faith. And I have the Lord. This does not mean I'm not still dealing with some of the hurt that drove me to smoking last night. There will definitely be more low points, but I have to begin to take them as transitions, not obstacles. In all of this, the Lord has been so good to me, whether I have given Him due immediately or not. But He is showing me one thing through all of this…

I need to be so much better to myself.

These are my Confessions....(no Usher Raymond)

1) I usually say what I mean and, often, to a fault. Just know that when this happens, a) I am not sorry and b) you're welcome. Honesty is hard to come by.

2) My intuition is ridiculously strong. Often, before I am told something, especially as it concerns me, I've already had some dream or sign that makes some things downright unsurprising. This is weird and it also kind of takes the spice out of life for me. I can honestly admit to being absolutely surprised and sideswiped at one point in my entire life, and that took almost 27 years (kudos to Alex and Shardonay...*slow clap* lol)

3) I have honestly loved (in the heart-sense, not "biblically" lol) only three men in my entire life; I've only been in love with one.

4) I hate cliques and mob mentality. Needless to say, this has troubled some of my aspirations and relations as I've moved through some very small professional and social circles. Just keep having to tell myself, "It be like that sometimes," and keep the movement fluid.

5) I truly value my friends, but sometimes I don't know if they know it. When my attention has been set to something, I am usually unreachable or out of touch for a long period...at least until the chosen mission has been accomplished. My heart and mind are often at odds about this. Those who really know me (which a few of you do :) ) know that I'm only a phone call away, whether the news is of a festival or a funeral. Believe that I am trying to get better at this...

6) I don't trust too many people. Outside of immediate family, maybe one or two people. Total. To go into any further detail here would be more than I'm willing to confess today. :)

7) My biggest fear at this point of my life is never having my own family (specifically, kids). Maybe I was conditioned to be this way, having observed my parents in action, but I just feel this as necessary to my life. I'm in no rush, at all; I'm broke, single and a grad student. It'll be a while, lol... But I know exactly what I want in this area of my life, and I can't say that for any other part of my life at this point.

8) As of Spring, I decided to trust the Lord with my romantic life, lol. This goes against who I've trained myself to be in my adult life: Picking a target, making a move, and then (if the situation requires) moving from the scene unscathed. The whole idea of courting just missed me for a while because I thought a) men were lazy and didn't do that anymore (with good intent, anyway) and b) why wait on someone else when you could have what you wanted right now? Needless to say it has been unpredictable, random, amazing at times, frustrating at others...but all the same, I've relinquished control of the situation. The few times I've tried to interject, He's convicted me. Harshly. When I'm faithful to Him, He rewards me...randomly. He directed me to Psalm 46:10 last winter, so I guess I should stick with that.

9) I'm single, broke, slowing down physically from my younger days (lol), don't trust many people, and I'm overworked, but I don't think I could be happier than I am now... given my circumstances anyway. I feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be, even though right now I'm bored and struggling with what I may need to change in order to feel more fulfilled. Only time will tell...

10) I just typed "I" 37 times--in various contractions and singular usages--in the above statements. This is a record. And it will never happen again. LOL

Falling back...

I have a love-hate relationship with daylight savings time, especially that BS in the spring when Mother Nature (more aptly, corporate America) snatches an hour back from me. When we "fall back" an hour, like some other Americans, I'm conditioned to be a bit excited, feeling like I've gained something (back) or got over somehow. The truth is that time is time and, no matter how you shake it or spend it, it will fly by, nonetheless. No matter who is counting or taking note of the time, it is all running down on one watch. His watch.

One thing I've noticed in my own life is that this period of falling back has been more than a gifted hour of sleep; it has been a time of transition, a watershed moment of truth and emotions...for no reason. I don't even know if there's a connection, but since I've been here, that extra hour has never been as enjoyable as it was when I was young because I haven't been able to sleep through it (lol).

Try having an extra hour to wonder why (from your own deduction) why someone you fell hard into something like love with cheated on you (again, deduced) and stranded you on your best friend's couch until dawn. Dawn is a long time to wonder and cry when you have to see 1 AM twice...

Try setting back your clock only to sit reading by lamp light, half wondering how you're going to write three 20-page papers by the end of November and wondering why a relationship based on years of knowing and loving somehow lacks reciprocity...

Try being able to sleep through an "extra" hour while wondering brokenhearted why a friend that you shared so much with could shut down on you at a proximity too close to ignore...

...And this is just through 2009.

This year, in keeping with tradition, all emotional hell broke loose. But I did something different this year: I was able to enjoy my extra hour.

Not because I wasn't hurt.
Not because attempted to brush the "dirt off".
Not because I ran off into something else to spare myself.

I didn't have anyone or anything to fall back on but Jesus. After so much pain and so much openness in my past, he showed me over the past 11 months (I recommitted my life to Christ on Dec. 2, 2009 in "someone's" kitchen. I can share that story later...lol) to be vulnerable only to him. Men and women can only be as human as God made us, and to be human is to be broken, sinful, and selfish.

I have been hurt and I have done hurtful things to others--knowingly and unknowingly--during this time so I know that I'm neither bulletproof nor perfect. But the Lord, with prayer, apt attention, and faith in Him, helped me prepare myself for the storm this fall. I will admit that nothing that happened this time around was anything I DIDN'T pray for or about. The Lord has a funny way letting you know that your will is not His; your wants and plans are not His plans for you.

I definitely got a bit more than I bargained for this time around, but the truths that the Lord revealed to me were more than enough for me to recognize His love for me in place of devastation and confusion. At 1AM this year, perhaps both hours, I was on my knees in prayer, literally laughing, thanking Him for His mercy and the ability to be merciful. Forgiveness is powerful, especially when the person you need to have mercy on the most is yourself...

I would appreciate no comments on this blog. Just thought I'd share. Thank you. And be merciful...

Markeysha Dawn Davis
Doctoral Candidate
W. E. B. Du Bois Department of Afro-American Studies
University of Massachusetts Amherst
(313) 318-1831
mddavis@afroam.umass.edu

Riesling. And me.

It's a nasty habit.
Seeing visions of
what could be in
clouds of smoke,
only to be dispersed in
ashes...
a signal of
the death
of dreams and
calamity
or the rise of the new
--a phoenix
in the horizon.
Imagined.

Each whirl of grey
a reminder that
I'm not conjuring
the uncertain
But they too are
temporary,
as I am.

It's complicated
to consider the
uncertain
under a dangerous cloud
that houses the dreams
of a believer.
I wish I knew
of a way to
relinquish
feelings,
to extinguish
the smoke that
hazes my mind,
but it's necessary to stay
ahead
of you.

It's a nasty
habit.
Wondering why you go down
better with spirits,
while I'm right here.
But the fear is
too much.
I don't want you to be
everything,
but there you are,
in the wind when I
exhale.
I close my eyes to
forget
but the Riesling...
and me
recall this haze
of uncertainty,
half of which
I desire,
part of which I
admire,
and sometimes
loathe to my core.

But another aspirin to
numb the waking pain
of sitting in solitude,
wondering why
your piece
no longer moves
though the board is clear....
It's a nasty habit,
this game.

Poetic circumstances

[#NP "All Blues" - Miles Davis]

I'm sitting in double-seat alone on an Amtrak, if you don't count my fuzzy companion/neck pillow, Mr. Bear, as a living being. OK...he isn't, but the point I'm trying to get to is that though I'm alone on this journey, something about it is speaking to me.

It's beautiful, watching the world literally roll by your window. Watching the sun set, rise within a day's travel. Watching people stroll by, feigning solitude with the false barriers of iPods and cell phones, having the realization here and there that there are more than 300 people between the four cars that they could be socializing with. This is why I take the train home. Sure it costs me a day and a half of travel time, but I see time as expendable anyway, especially when you're enjoying yourself.

Even still, though I am enjoying myself, a large part of me wonders how long I'll have to do this alone. Explore. Discover. Realize. Learn. Love the world. Love me....

I have no shortage of interested men, but I do have standards lol (please see previous postings to see what those might be). For some time, I thought I'd found someone (often against my better judgment) who could replace "Mr. Bear " (and then some), but the one thing I've learned over the past few years was that you can't control the way people feel about you without manipulating the situation in one way or another. Long story short, as far as love goes, I've definitely gone organic; if it doesn't come naturally, I'm on to the next pick.

Moving on from that situation, both mentally and now physically (literally), I don't feel freedom or excitement. It's rather bittersweet. Sometimes the potential for love can be more intriguing than actually obtaining or pursuing it. For one, that phase of potentiality is like no other moment in love, other than what I assume is the moment when you discover you could be with that one person for the rest of your life. Losing that is almost as bad as a break up (almost...) but at the expense of more important things, the loss is well worth it.

Coming back to the present--the train--aloneness is something most of us are born into, just as many of us will die alone. I acknowledge my aloneness, but I refuse to accept loneliness as a condition. I realize that I have too much to offer the world to be lonely and, as a result, selfish with my joy --and my pain. While for now the journey of life for me has been alone (for the most part), I have a feeling that someone out there is waiting for me to come around the bend. Saving a seat for me...and Mr. Bear.

Markeysha Dawn Davis
Doctoral Candidate
W. E. B. Du Bois Department of Afro-American Studies
University of Massachusetts Amherst
(313) 318-1831
mddavis@afroam.umass.edu

Pursuer

He said
"I want to be in you."
Pause.
I grabbed my bags
and retreated slowly
in polite decline.
I'd known of him for years but
never knew him to be so
forthright.
And he was so
Light:
His presence could be
but an essence
in any room
and still be overwhelming.
For me.
I'd always felt him,
even when others occupied my time,
my mind,
but I had no idea that the feeling
was mutual,
that someone so wonderful
had enough love left
just for me.

He said,
"I want to be in you"
Not selfishly or temporarily but eternally.
I ran (bags and all),
this kind of love
too much for me.
If I let him in,
where would I go?
Who would be able to
love me,
with a pursuer so
jealous?
I mean,
he sent his people
he closed in walls
he isolated me and said
"Love me."
As I loved myself
as I loved others
as I elevated everything in my heart
but him,
he said that he needed a place there:
"Set me as a seal upon your heart
As a seal upon your arm
For is love is strong as death
Jealousy as fierce as the grave..."

I kept running, afraid.
He kept coming, lovingly,
scroll,
in pursuit.
I feared him,
but I knew I loved him
in spite of everything I
thought I wanted or
knew I needed.
He had come to me
unsummoned
so many times.
He was more than a friend
by then.
He had taken the weight of
my bags as
his burden.
He comforted me in the cover of
the night and even shamelessly in the light of day.
Loving me.
He died loving me.
So I let him in.
Markeysha Dawn Davis
Doctoral Candidate
W. E. B. Du Bois Department of Afro-American Studies
University of Massachusetts Amherst
(313) 318-1831
mddavis@afroam.umass.edu

A Pre-Position

Me myself I
Us ourselves we
What could become
with no
conjunctions?
"I" functioning
without "U,"
and we're short
a few,
just to get technical.
Vows aren't
vows without
vowels.
Symbols are
unreal.
But signs indicate
how we feel.
Still,
I hold pen in hand
while you
grasp pride
fear...
Fate ain't enough
for some,
but understand
that it's not up for
consideration.
Billie was blue enough
for all of us;
I'm trying to live
in the green,
so I guess I'll
go and keep it
moving.
No refrain.
No repeat.
No coda.
My mode is
progressive,
ever-building,
like Trane,
my existence in the breaks of your melody:
Not what you're used to
but profoundly comforting.
I don't want to write you a love song
unless it's Supreme,
centered in Creation.
You can't realize
the new
while stationed,
so move.
Don't make a
pass
if I throw.
Go.

In search of Francois Dillinger?

I love Michael Cera. I mean, really. He's perhaps the most lovable, young loser in Hollywood at this point--on film at least. But above all, in each character he takes on there is a steadfastness that even the most macho or popular guy (generally pitted as his foil) cannot rival. Having admired his adorably unassuming edge in both "Arrested Development" as George Michael Bluth and in "Superbad" as Evan, I have to admit that I fell in love with him as Nick Twisp in "Youth in Revolt" just today. Or maybe it wasn't him as Nick...but as Francois Dillinger...the bad ass, suicidal French man he conjures as an alter-ego at the behest of his demanding crush, Sheeni. Twisp himself was incapable of little more than sideways snipes at his mother's lovers and a neat "self-session" undercovers before he "made" Francois. But as the movie reveals, Francois--seeing the desperation of his 16-year-old creator 1) not to be alone and more importantly, 2) not to die a virgin--seemingly reverses the roles on Twisp and recreates him....see video :)

Dillenger in Action

This movie, charming and hilarious as it is, has its obvious limitations...despite my love for Cera/Twisp/Dillinger. First and foremost, and probably the only point that need be made, there is no way in HELL that any of this could happen. To anyone. Ever. The shit that Nick Twisp goes through for Sheeni --from blowing up his mother's car and trailer and propelling his father's car off of a cliff with a rock to the gas pedal to having Sheeni drugged at school each morning to make her fail classes--is as useless and unrealistic as it is comical. But the point is that he does all of these things in order to solely catch her attention or because she's voiced her expectation for him to be a willing bad-ass (even acceptable to the point that it screws her over and gets her kicked out of French prep-school). Taken away from its context and the humor removed, we see a near universal story of boy-meets-girl/boy-likes-girl/girl-makes-expectations-known (or often plays/is hard to get)/ boy-gets-girl. If life was this formulaic, there would be no need for a Twisp to remind us of our own failures at love.

Where am I going with this? Well, there's been a slew of articles pitting black women, like myself (young, employed, educated, attractive, and supposedly "middle-class"), against black men (some with the same qualifications) and, for the overzealous blogger/columnist, against the very world in which we live and work. Black women are alone, according to these writers, because they are too smart, too demanding, too inaccessible, make too much money, work too many hours, and have too many needs. Unashamed, I admit to be one of this number of single black women over 25, but contrary to popular belief, my singleness is by choice. I can't link my choice to emotional scarring or even divine influence because neither would do justice to the freedom I feel. There is not the weight of performing femininity to the extent that I am lost in a man's expectations of me, in opposition to who I am allowed to be when he is not present-- a snort-laughing, Will Ferrell-loving gamer who prefers bare feet to stilettos and wedge heels and Blue Moons and Handi-Snacks to wine-and-cheese tastings. Nor is there the burden of dictating an impossible masculine identity to a man I am hardly allowed to know because of my stark expectations of him, a la Sheeni in "Youth in Revolt." However, it seems I'm alone in loving this freedom sometimes because people (not exclusively black men and women) get so caught up in performances of masculinity and femininity that they miss the chance to get to know the person they are interested in beyond gender.

It takes a long time for a lot of us to realize that we cannot create the man or woman we want and that this fact does not mean settling...nor does it mean to adhere to any kind of racial dating "anarchy" in revolt against a particular group of men or women who you "don't get". Love is a hell of a lot more than a list of demands and a swapping of bodily fluid, but for most, anything more seems uncomfortable...unfathomable even. While a Francois Dillinger appeals to me, it is not because I relate to the bratty, bumbling idiot that Sheeni was. It's because he was a bad-ass, pure and simple :)...and by all means not an expectation I'd place on other men. However, the point that Twisp, via Dillinger, was able to take risks on his own accord to demonstrate his affection and even vocalize his desire to be with Sheeni (regardless of how crazy he seemed to me and everyone watching the film with me) helped me visualize the way that I expect to be courted. Whoever chooses to love me should be unashamed to do so and, on his own accord, be willing to take selfless risks that will strengthen our bond. I can't define these things now of course because the ways we need to be loved change with our life experiences. And believe that I'm not asking a man to do the impossible, but more notedly to not be afraid to take a chance for fear of rejection. I just know I expect these things because this is the way that I love, which is why Cera's character(s), crazy as they were written, touched me so :).

Maybe someone will read this and completely miss the point (highly likely); others may say "me too" while laughing at my blog picturing me waiting for a Francois Dillinger ready to tell me the business. As a single black woman with both social history and "current trends" allied against me, why not dream of Francois?

10 Random Lessons Learned in 2010...so far

1. Never anticipate anything to be the "best (insert timeframe/holiday) ever". It just won't live up to your expectations.

2. Prayer works, but be clear what you're asking for. Please.

3. Giving is still my favorite pasttime.

4. Hennessey is yummy.

5. Both Tyler Perry and Trey Songz need to be stopped.

6. I'm addicted to social networking. Help.

7. Nothing is more annoying than when a guy apparently likes you, but you can't tell if it is because he wants you or because he wants to be you.

8. Lord-willing, a mini-van full of kids will due. No more than that.

9. Dave Chappelle may be the greatest comedian alive...even in a hiatus.

10. The Aubrey Graham phenomenon is a tragedy that brings people closer
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Paciencia y Fe

I have to be the biggest control freak under the sun. So much so that I don't even allow myself to freak out when something doesn't go as planned or as expected. The more I live with this fact and dialogue with God about it, the more I come to realize that I truly have no control or say in what becomes me over time. The most I can do is keep peace, pay bills, and meet my responsibilities while God works in the background.

This realization makes me feel all kinds of crazy. Before I came to know Christ, I approached my entire life as a DIY project. Got pain? Take an aspirin and throw some ice on it; better yet, walk it off. Need money? Go hustle. Lonely? Get cute and go scoop someone up. Only now do I realize that I had little say in any of these things. I was healed because God saw that I was to be. I was supported financially (in more cases than a few) because He wanted me to be secure. He provided company for me, even temporarily, because he didn't want me desperately seeking an attention or companionship that I really didn't need. When I reflect on many of these moments where I thought I was at the control playing Mario or Sonic, winning the game, God came through to let me know that I was merely Tails...Luigi at best...in the lifepath that He's shaped for me.

With this understanding of my lack of autonomous control over my life, I have to be patient with and faithful to God's will. There are several things I want and pray about often that I think He does not feel that I'm ready for yet. But even in this, he is continuously providing, making sure that I never have want for anything. Some things can't merely be attributed to "luck", y'all; I can testify to this several times over.

For the meantime, while I take care of my earthly responsibilities, I'll just wait and let Him work. Who knows what is in store...


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It's late, I'm up, so why not...?

Haiku

I.

We dance breezily,
Lithe, as the wind catches hold,
Our shadows merging

II.

The eve sky foregrounds
Calming vermilion dreams
A glowing sequence

A Shortie

Taking on the pages
first,
I engage you,
as not to
phase you out.
I
have been here long enough
to stand here longer
to sit
wait
react
only in thought
or in keystrokes
indirectly aimed
at your heart.
There's a start:
Lazy lines of
energy via QWERTY
keying, thinking
I'm being bold. I'm
cold because
I can hold your gaze
long enough to
refresh your page
and see what
truths are revealed
about me
in a nanosecond.
I am legend,
known for my
wordplay
but this game ends soon,
with or without penalty,
I assume.

And I wonder....?

Ladies and gentlemen,

Like most of you, I reside in this world, and like some of you, I look to the day when the Lord will come back and relieve us of its ridiculousness.

IN THE MEANTIME, however, while we coexist (or whatever) on this earth, I watch the people around me--closer than they think and even with the ability to remove myself from situations mentally and observe myself--and plenty of this whole mess of human relationships confuses me. Particularly, the relationships between the "sexes", namely male and female (in this age, it is necessary to specify for clarity) confuse me the most. The dynamic between the genders baffles me daily, as participant and observer, especially in the realm of romance. How do we choose who we want to be "bothered with"? Why? What goes into a relationship? When should "the next step" be taken? How much and to what point should we depend on factors external to ourselves to make decisions in love?

I wish I had the answers to these questions, but as a participant/observer, taking an authoritative position on these questions would be problematical ;-). But, after years of deliberation, I know what I expect and what I want from a male counterpart when the time comes. I hope that my man-friends can use this to see how the mind of a woman works (in all of its multi-functional madness) and that my lady-friends can come up with their own ideas of who and what works for them. I am currently in a season of singleness after a long relationship; in my singleness, I've had nothing but time to reflect on the good, the bad, and the curious in my own experiences. So here goes nothing (or something, to be honest, LOL):

How do I choose who I want to bothered with?


Well, I don't have a type, which is important. Some people get so caught up in their own idolizations of a certain persona (athletic, "thug", professional, even nerd..) that they don't give people who don't fit their boxed perceptions of manhood (or womanhood) a chance. Even worse, they may try to mold someone, either actually or in the confines of their imagination, into the "type" that they want to be associated with . While my perceptions of manhood are not "boxed", I do have standards, and as I've matured they've changed. A man who even wants me to consider him must have a good relationship with his family, a sense of responsibility to himself and those around him, feasible career and life goals ("I am doing" vs. "I'm tryin' to be"), self-love and love for God. Of course there are more superficial things like a nice smile, cool hair (short or whatever), clean shoes, and a sense of humor that complements my own that are also key, lol. But the important part is to have standards above all. If a guy can't meet the few expectations for "consideration" (above), it's already a no-go.


What should go into a relationship?

I have not had many relationships as an adult, but in the few I have had some things worked and some simply did not. Relationships based on and around sex, for instance, do not last long, even if there is some evolution of feelings by chance. Also, relationships in which there is love but a lack of communication and reciprocity can be just as troublesome and damaging to one's perception of healthy love. I don't want to get any more personal, but these are things I learned over time. From my experiences, what I learned should go into a relationship are 1) Trust, 2) Love 3) Time, 4) Open communication, 5) Willingness to take risks and 6) Mutual respect.

Trust is key for me, more so than love because if I don't trust you how can I really love you? Love is an evolution of "like", something that comes with knowing a person...really knowing them...like who they are, what makes them tick, whether their mother likes daisies or geraniums and which they'd choose for her. If I don't really "know you-know you", I can only like you (albeit, a lot)or come to love who I THINK you are.

Making time for the person you love is so important; if you're having a crappy day, do not "not" call the person you love. Call them and tell them why your day was crappy...and ask about theirs! LOL...sounds simple, but you'd be surprised... This goes hand and with open communication. Open communication is not, "How you doin...what you wearing...what happened today...I love you, bye." Open communication is also not "Hey baby, I just missed you since we last talked 2 hours ago, I'll call you back after work..." (this is borderline stalking/possessiveness). By open communication, I mean that you know what your girlfriend/boyfriend is going through, you know what questions to ask and when, you know when something is off (as in not that they sound different so they're "cheating", but that they sound different, so maybe they're depressed or something happened, etc.). To reiterate briefly, simply knowing the person you're "bothered with" makes all the difference as to the success of your relationship, and knowing a person takes more time than some people are willing to commit.

Risk-taking, in love, is key from the first moment you know you want to pursue or be pursued by a person. Men, if you are interested in a woman, just go for it; otherwise, you'll never know whether she digs you or not. The worst thing she could say is "no", or maybe "maybe" :). Women, if you are interested in a man, try not to make yourself seem unavailable; as special as you think you are, there might be someone prettier and/or more interesting to fill his time, and you know it. #imjustsayin! If none of us are willing to take risks in love, we are quicker to settle for less than what we deserve.

Finally, mutual respect is of the utmost importance. Belittling, sniping, being accusatory, testing, etc, are all as unacceptable as being unreliable, philandering and abusing. These are all unhealthy and represent the lack of respect a person has for their partner and themselves. Respect means that you call/contact a person for decent reasons and AT a decent hour, you have their best intentions in mind (not showing up in the middle of their work or studying just because you feel like you need to be seen), and you truly can appreciate who they are and why they are without wanting to change them. You can't really love someone without respecting them.


What comes after all this?

To frighten everyone who will probably read this, after all these things have been achieved successfully, why not get married? It seems like the unpopular thing to do, but then, why not? There are several reasons everyone wins 1) More money back when you file income taxes, 2) babies!, 3) constant companionship, hopefully, with someone you can stand, and 4) if you're a Christian, congrats, now you can spread the gospel with your children and your marriage and you can have sex. To me marriage seems awesome, but I'm willing to wait until someone I want to be bothered with comes along AND pursues me. I've gotten myself in enough trouble throwing a lasso out there. LOL...

The external versus the internal towards the eternal...(?...LOL)

Many of us care if our friends, family, co-workers (#wheretheydothatat?) etc. like our significant other. My point is that if you don't like him (or her), what's the point? What do you feel? Why? How does this person add to your life? How can you add to theirs? As far as matters within your relationship go, outside of the spiritual, this is what should matter to your union. Sometimes you worry so much about what other people think about what is going on with you and who is right for you that you discredit your own judgment about the people you let in your life and those you choose to love. Knowing one's self (especially, through God) and one's needs can make all the difference in whose voice you heed at the end of the day.

Again, I'm just a single girl reflecting, but hopefully this gets someone (especially ladies) thinking about what they want out of love. As for myself, I just want a guy to laugh with, travel with, and love who will be a confidante, protector (of my heart and spirit) and (eventually) provider. When the time comes, I will reciprocate. I think a lot of women would expect many of the same things. Now, I can take care of myself, but dammit I'm old school; a lil bit here and there never hurt anybody ;)

I'm done thinking now :) Goodnight

An Ordinary Sunday Cypher

Dark Morning

I'm so scared to want anything right now. Anything.

For the moment, I just need to be.
I think I've been here for a long enough time, already.

My heart is where it is. I'm cross- country and attached to things, places.

People?

I can't. I think I can't. Can I?
Don't know.

I wish this darkness wasn't so isolating.
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Lunchtime Lecture

We're not as strong as we think we are.

Ever.

We're so quick to finger point and question the contradictions of others without first confronting ourselves. I've done this more than my fair share of time.

Sometimes it is safer to indulge the present and do what isn't so spontaneous and meets the needs of what we are denied or what we deny ourselves all at once: pain, success, love, contentment...

A bad habit. "Nobody knows...," but you. And God. That's more than enough people aware of what you do than you're comfortable with.

But how else do you fill the void?
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Sunday

I usually feel like people don't get me, and I usually think I'm right about that.

Maybe I'm not as forthcoming as I'd like to believe I am. Maybe that same forwardness throws people off.

With all I'm given, maybe I'm a sponge to some, meant to soak up all of their mess when they purge and cleanse themselves, leaving me soggy and dishelved in a corner somewhere.

Maybe I give out way too much love, more than I can replenish at once. Maybe there just isn't enough to go around.

Maybe, just maybe, someone out there does understand what I'm saying when I say it, can look at me and know that when I feel, I feel all.
Yours. Mine. Theirs.

Maybe that someone won't be able to handle it. And I won't know them. Or feel for them. Or love them.

I wonder how He did it?
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Everybody hates (still) Saint Valentine...

After years of observation and experience, it is safe to assume one thing about St. Valentine (or the numerous St. Valentines): everyone still hates him and one way or another wants him dead. Again.

Men of today want him re-dead because he costs them valuable money they could spend on beer, video games, or a flat-screen TV. Women want him re-martyred because they think that the men are going to kill him (again) anyway, though they hope that the conjectured belief of the Saint's life shines through anyway. Safe to say, people think they'd be happier without the commercial observation of Saint Valentine's death. Some think they'd be even happier without love or companionship.

I'm kind of a rebel to this philosophy. I love Valentine's Day and I love love. When this "holiday" comes around, I get more than a little excited, solely because I realize that it's not about me. It is about making the person (or people) you love feel special, reminding them that you care and, if you're committed, that you still find them desirable. When I walk through a retailer in January and early February, I don't think about what I should/could get from the racks or how I'd love to smash a glass heart vase, I think of how much my mother would love the heart shaped box of Almond Joy chocolates, or how one of my friends would laugh at the 8 X 10 Snoopy valentine card. The joy of giving and seeing others smile is what it should be about, not necessarily who should get you what and how much they should spend.

Your boyfriend or girlfriend, husband or wife could give you a break from chores as opposed to a new watch or bottle of cologne and the meaning would be just the same. Your partner could spend time with you and that would mean so much more than spending $80 on a dinner that barely filled either of you. Gifting is great; I enjoy giving and receiving gifts. But I'd rather have a kind offering than a gift from obligation, any day.

This is where the wires seem to get get crossed. I feel

Blinders off

My sisters Kristen and Rachel referred me to a verse today in the book of Isaiah.

Chapter 43, verses 1 through 10.

No time for citations, but essentially everything is already ordered; I have no control. Ever.

God wants me to know peace. And love. And happiness. But first, he wants me to know Jesus.

The excerpt from Isaiah lays out this plan. There will be low points--floods, fires, and famines, if you prefer the biblical. But in my life, sickness, loss, sadness, disappointment, heartache...but in all of these things, He wants me to come to Him. To heed Him. Not to do what seems best for me or what I determine will make my life easier. My life is not my own in that way.

In this mode, before hearing this Scripture, I woke up this morning anxious to get the day over with. Washed my hair. Showered. Prepped for the day....jewelry, clothing, socks and scents. God said "Cry. Be still. Listen". I did. Just like I did when he had the digital "penstroke" working last week.

I sat there, fully clothed and completely broken. All I wanted to do was work. That's all I have control over. Work. It is all I know these days.

God said, "Not today. Be still."

I resigned to His will. I couldn't even pick up BabyBerry, my constant companion, for a Twitter update.

He gave me no peace until, fully clothed, I lie in my bed under blankets. The calm was overwhelming. I think that was His way of hugging me, letting me know that he was there. I stayed there 3 hours, literally until I had his permission to get up

Did that provide closure or any real resolve? No, not really. But I know to wait for His blessing, I know not to stress and to keep living. I know that He will not overwhelm me with more than I can handle.

The storm is the prelude to the blessing. With my umbrella and galloshes, I'll remain humbled and faithful.

I can do no more than this.
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The Unspoken

I'm sitting on the edge of my bed wondering why, this time, I got what I prayed for.

But who am I to question God?

I was frustrated, I was broken and disappointed. My heart, hardened--with purpose, I believe. I prayed for words, for voice, through tears. Finally, tears.

Hours later, I woke up and began to speak. Silently.

I realized that this was not my doing alone, and I didn't question what was written. I just clicked "SEND".

Numbness.

I went a few days not speaking of the unspoken, but I assume the damage is done. I'm done, too. I think.

Still frustrated, broken and disappointed...but my heart...

Someone said this would be equivalent to an amputation...something so needed, so wanted, suddenly gone. For the sake of survival...

I wonder if there could be something more to this, if this is not what is supposed to be happening. But I have no control over that. Love is a funny thing. The only constant thing, really. Eternally.

I wish I could say more.