tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009859603318487012024-03-14T02:55:42.415-04:00Keysha Does Amherst!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-86372493711894024572012-12-12T10:50:00.001-05:002012-12-12T11:02:53.070-05:00A happy blog postBecause my real life --with the exception of certain relationships and recent tragedies--is fairly entertaining in a positive way, I am bringing some of this energy to "Keysha Does Amherst" this morning. I don't like to burden my "offline friends" with my inner thoughts and insecurities as they are, unless they are spilling over; primarily my very close friends are the only folks who access this blog at all (thanks for checking on me :) ). For the most part, however, 2012 is closing out well. <br />
<br />
Some updates:<br />
<br />
1) I found a counselor/therapist who has helped me through this very tough period (See posts "So I Went To See a Shrink..." from last December through "When keeping it real goes wrong", late September 2012). She has been amazing and has helped me rein in all of the craziness going on around me. If she ever reads this, "Thank you." And I will probably never let my SB faculty advisor read this, but he definitely sat with me while I recounted events, resisted help, and eventually called Every Woman's Center to set up sessions while crying (finally) happy tears. Thanks, Nat. <br />
<br />
2) I've resisted writing new posts so I would not have to read the old ones. For a while, they were just too painful for me. Talking about what has happened does help, though. And finally, I recognize how entirely abusive and unnecessary that entire situation was. I will not say that I regret any of that experience, however. I learned quite a bit about myself and my resilience; for instance, I have a pretty mean right hook...and I hope never to be pushed to use that skill again.<br />
<br />
3) I'm happy in my skin. I've been through a lot of other people's BS in addition to those limitations I imposed upon myself, but I'm spiritually and emotionally good. Very little people can say to me or about me will make me react. I'm not at all claiming invincibility; I'm just saying that life is good, in spite of how terrible some folks want it to be. <br />
<br />
4) I'm ABD. Finally!<br />
<br />
5) I've realized how blessed I am to have the best friends in the world. Friends who scope out rooms to ensure your safety (or check out the guy who you were checking out to see if he was checking you out). Friends who can pinpoint (literally) the longitude and latitude of every memory you share together. Friends who welcome seven-hour conversations just to catch up...even from midnight to daybreak. Friends who hold you accountable. And, finally, those very important friends who raised you and/or grew up with you and know you better than you know yourself. Thank you. <br />
<br />
<br />
Amherst is really starting to grow on me. I've even earned a nickname from who I see as the local Gandalf: "Clove".<br />
<br />
No apocalypse jokes on those last statements, please :)<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-_IXOuN9Y6po/UMiny3tatJI/AAAAAAAAAPk/w35mtAIeB-E/s640/blogger-image--2135408479.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-_IXOuN9Y6po/UMiny3tatJI/AAAAAAAAAPk/w35mtAIeB-E/s640/blogger-image--2135408479.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-40752917222671598622012-10-06T15:41:00.001-04:002012-10-06T15:41:08.529-04:00Purging DayThe constellations above<br />
Are the same,<br />
Even when I gaze under <br />
a different light.<br />
I still take my coffee<br />
Dark blonde:<br />
Light, sweet, but bitter enough<br />
To wince.<br />
I spend my days, still,<br />
Preparing for beginnings<br />
To no end,<br />
Praying for a chance to<br />
Rest myself<br />
In something.<br />
I sleep in the crook of <br />
My own arms,<br />
Peacefully,<br />
Shrouded by God's desire<br />
For me.<br />
I love, <br />
still,<br />
In spite of hate.<br />
In spite of you.<br />
I almost lost these things<br />
By giving myself away,<br />
Piece by piece,<br />
Only keeping what was necessary<br />
To fight again tomorrow.<br />
Now I know<br />
That it pays to be<br />
Selfish. <br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-86508534451525431122012-09-30T13:45:00.001-04:002012-09-30T14:18:15.995-04:00When keeping it real goes wrongAlmost immediately after posting about my friendship with my friend (unnamed, but known to the few of you who do read this blog), something horrible shifted in our relationship. <br />
<br />
Wednesday night, I visited him (with some leftovers from dinner with my bff) to celebrate news I'd gotten about my academic career and perhaps play a little pool. He was strangely AWOL when I got there, so I called, left the food on the doorknob, went in the pool hall for a drink, and went about my business. He called a half hour later, asking if I still wanted to hang out. I was just at a bar down the road talking to friends, so I went back. <br />
<br />
This was the moment he became a monster. <br />
<br />
I walked in and noticed he was either high or drunk, two bad signs considering his mental health state. On Monday, He had asked to read a conference paper I was presenting on Saturday in order to help me prepare. Flattered, I obliged. When I got his substance induced feedback, the flattery was over. He was offended by the subject matter (how authors in the past stereotyped mixed race characters..though I focus on authors who dismiss these stereotypes as bullshit), and told me the paper was garbage, he thought I was smarter, I'll never get out of UMASS because I don't believe in myself (and I write like that, lol), etc. I just looked at him like he was crazy, thanked him for his feedback, and said "let's go play pool". <br />
<br />
That was awkward but at least we got a game in. At the Billiards hall, however, there was another young man of color, openly gay, who I began a conversation with. My friend moved in and out of it, an became irritated and walked back home. I met back up with him trying to decide if I should hang a bit longer or head on; I was worried (and tipsy at this point) so I just lay down. He went out to smoke a cigarette and began yelling at nothing across the river in his backyard for about 7 minutes. He said there were demons at one point; at another he said there was a local derelict in the woods he curses at. I dunno. <br />
<br />
He came back in and lay in his bed and, after going in a homophobic rant about the guy at the bar, asked me if I'd ever thought about killing anyone. I said yes and left for home. I wasn't sober and I definitely just hauled ass out of there, trying to process everything. I found myself upset to tears and that I'd left my hat (he'll claim things that people leave or give him and pass them to the next person) so I went back. He was upset because I didn't call first; irritated (because I rarely call first) I said at the moment I couldn't do the attitude and he didn't deserve that courtesy. <br />
<br />
This is where the barrage of verbal abuse commences. <br />
<br />
He asked me why I even knew his name. <br />
<br />
He accused me of being angry with him for not being intimate with me (read my last fucking blog, lol)<br />
<br />
He told me I was shit to him and he didn't owe me anything. He "paid his debt" to me for helping him transition after being in a behavioral health facility for a week and without income or food for the past few weeks. <br />
<br />
He told me he hated me and wanted me to "skip rocks". <br />
<br />
Etc <br />
<br />
Etc<br />
<br />
<br />
When I asked him, calmly, why he would say things like this, he'd just repeat them. I'm not sure if it was the liquor or the psychosis talking, but I was more worried than offended (but still very offended and heartbroken that someone I loved would say these things to me). I got angry. I wanted to burst a window or throw a glass ...anything. Instead, I walked around his tiny apartment, grabbed the things I'd lent him while he was in the hospital, a cigarette I'd bought him, extra frozen produce I'd shared, threw them in a bag he'd handed me, and threw the full bag across his kitchen floor. That was our friendship--a cluster of small sacrifices, often one-sided, that I saw as an extension of myself to someone I wanted to be well but he, as someone who often and continues to have things handed to him, could never appreciate or even understand what selfless love, in the AGAPE sense, means. <br />
<br />
I left, again, determined not to see him. But, again, something didn't sit right with me. I got some distance and I called him, to see what the issue was, and we spoke for 30 minutes. He was an emotional mess and I was concerned that he'd take drugs again so, in my PJs, and with a change of clothes and a half bottle of milk (for cereal), I went back. He was calmer while I was there, though still under whatever he was under. We cooked eggs and pancakes. I had my cereal and made some earplugs, and managed to go to sleep while he blasted Korn for two hours. Later that morning I showered at his place, a lottabit shell-shocked by everything. But he was better, back to himself. He reread my paper, asking questions this time, and wished me well on my trip. I went home and cried and slept until I drove to the airport, heartbroken and extremely confused. <br />
<br />
<br />
Saturday....<br />
<br />
I got back to Amherst at 7ish and met with our shared friend for coffee. I was curious to if she'd talked to him and found out about a karaoke event at a local bar. Loving karaoke, we went. He showed an hour later, had been drinking but still approachable. We had a great time singing, dancing and laughing at one another. His mood progressively darkened through the night. I'd offered to drop him and our other friend off. Upon dropping off our girl friend, he began getting irritated at my car radio and pulling at it, and cursing her for her family's faith and nationhood. Luckily, she just left, but I got stuck with the monster. <br />
<br />
He continued ranting and said that if I didn't agree with him then fuck me. I kept asking him why on earth did the conversation (extremely hateful) even matter so much to him?<br />
<br />
Scroll up to the insults hurled at me on Wednesday night X 12. <br />
<br />
He begged me to go away and forget him, promised that he hated me and wanted nothing to do with me. <br />
<br />
I snapped, after weathering the verbal abuse not once but twice. Drunk, he'd placed his belongings on the ground next to his door when he was cursing me. I grabbed his phone and threw it against his apartment building, I took his car keys and chucked then into the parking lot in the dark, and then I punched and slapped him --a few times -- in the face while cursing him for being a dick and using me, knocking him into his bushes<br />
<br />
I didn't even recognize myself at that moment and I didn't know I could be driven that far into anger. Of course, at that moment in his head he finally got to become a victim so he rubbed it in, calling me psycho and running from me in all of his 6"4 300lb frame. I tried to apologize, but I left, my last words--forever--being I love you (to which he replied "fuck you"). <br />
<br />
While I was on the road, feeling emotionally 10lbs lighter, he called claiming to have left his keys in the car. Done with this I reminded him of what had in fact happened to his keys and that this was a "him" problem. He wanted me to go home, and I was now parking at my complex. He went on and on throwing every sympathy move at me (my mother curses me out, my brother is dead, we're friends right?, I need to go to church tomorrow, etc). I told him to call one of his coke whores to let him sleep over, or break the damn window if he wouldn't look for the keys himself. I told him I was over him AND his mother, and that he needed to forgive his brother and let him rest. <br />
I drove back and parked far away from his door scooped up the keys from the gravel and threw them in his face. Turning and leaving for good. Silent. <br />
<br />
I told our friend what happened, so I could officially announce my estrangement and I called his father to let him know I was still worried and I tried. As I said in my last blog, part of loving a friend is knowing when to walk away, knowing when you're a hindrance as opposed to a help, and knowing when to pursue your own happiness. Being around him once made me very happy, but everything has its season. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-77678655373693751302012-09-24T04:20:00.001-04:002012-09-24T04:20:06.372-04:00I love you, but....It never gets easier. <br />
<br />
A few months ago, I wrote about talking to a potential love interest and friend (who is now nonexistent to me for all of the best reasons...lol) candidly about relationships and how that honesty and openness often gets me placed in the "homie" category. Yet again, the curse is in play :) In this case, it may be for the best, though my heart begs to differ. <br />
<br />
For the past few weeks (if you follow me, sincerest apologies for the hiatus...but really, I don't care), I have been in deep with someone I now consider a great friend. It wasn't always like this; we each had our motives--or lack thereof--at the beginning of our connection. We both sheerly sought to have fun or fill a void. After a tumultuous season, however, something wonderful happened: We became friends. We listen to one another, share interests and know what makes the other tick. We have had the pleasure of sharing meals, adventures, advice (unwanted and needed) and, in a strange turn of events, we even discuss Scripture in depth and randomly. He even put the man who claimed to be "God's will for me" (see earlier post) in his place when I was too scared to respond to the barrage of texts and calls this "gentleman" unexpectedly made after a peaceful hiatus. We have a plethora of differences, as I mentioned in a previous post, but the respect and love for one another is there. And it's honest. <br />
<br />
But, as I mentioned, this is hard for me. Maybe because the desire to be romanced (period) is there. Maybe because knowing him flaws and all makes me more involved emotionally. Maybe I'm confusing these feelings for something else all together. <br />
<br />
I don't feel confused. I feel like a good friend, something I didn't expect to evolve from what we were(n't) before. <br />
<br />
The hardest part, I think, is accepting what being a friend means. It means boundaries. It means, perhaps, really realizing that you aren't the other's ideal for a partner (and maybe he/she isn't right for you...though my mind and heart are still negotiating this...it's more of a domestic dispute that a civil conversation). It means hearing about other girls or guys, and dying slowly inside the further the descriptions veer from resembling who you are. It means loving unconditionally and wishing your friend the best for their situation, whether you are involved or not, and and knowing, when the time comes, to move on in order to insure your own happiness. It means really loving someone enough to die to yourself and tough through a bruised ego, lust, lofty fantasies, and selfishness. <br />
<br />
What I complained about before is lightweight compared to the real deal. It is hard to love someone without struggling through the implications of desire and fulfilling one's own wants and needs. I know it has been hard for me. But because I know what I feel is real, I am willing to fight those things detrimental to what has come to be between the two of us. I just hope it does become easier with time ....<br />
<br />
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xF70UHCoDp0&sns=em<br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-85302188339552294532012-09-03T20:52:00.001-04:002012-09-03T20:52:38.380-04:00True dat<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-NKK1BKeK6eU/UEVQ1MPAGAI/AAAAAAAAAPE/zOUPFgn2SEQ/s640/blogger-image-1206462056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-NKK1BKeK6eU/UEVQ1MPAGAI/AAAAAAAAAPE/zOUPFgn2SEQ/s640/blogger-image-1206462056.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-71788122318075753472012-08-31T11:42:00.001-04:002012-09-01T10:17:32.461-04:00ConfessionalWithin the span of seven days, I've received two alcohol-induced confessions that have thrown me for an emotional loop. Though they were perhaps things I needed to hear, the only thing that they've left me is emotionally exhausted. <br />
<br />
The latest was from a long-ago friend--a very good one, once upon a time--who estranged himself from me (and many of my other friends) on the surface because of his longing to be with a former girlfriend who lived at a distance. Of course, it would be polite and safe to leave the story there, as I have for the last 10 years. The truth is that we were extremely close, but culturally, politically and racially so different that our bond caused confusion. Lol... But our love for comedy (he was an aspiring stand-up comic), New York hip hop, movies and our respect and love for one another kept that bond tight. Briefly. <br />
<br />
We took classes together (at first by accident, and later--more painfully--on purpose), he came up to my dorm room to escort me to each gross cafeteria meal, and even accompanied me on my fledgling adventures into Detroit's hip hop scene. We had fun. Until we made out. While that was something we wanted, he had an Yahoo girlfriend (just that; pre-eHarmony, never met) that this was unfair to. We acknowledged this and kept it moving, never "going there" again, but still having adventures, watching movies, making up crazy jokes and stories. Still laughing. <br />
<br />
Then it was over. Suddenly. <br />
<br />
I understand how our friendship complicated things with the girlfriend, who he later met in person. I understand that we had to set boundaries, but he just stopped. Everything. <br />
<br />
As I mentioned before, we still had all the same classes and lived in the same place. We still shared the same love of movies and differences about affirmative action and other politics. But "we" were not. It wasn't until another good friend of ours exploded on him that he started showing up again. I was too heartbroken to say anything and too immature to really acknowledge how I felt. I just let go. We saw each other once before he left for the Southwest to be closer to his now-real girlfriend. I sent him off with a few George Carlin books for the plane and a "good luck".<br />
<br />
We reconnected a few years later when he moved back to the Detroit area, but it was never consistent. I just knew he was there, and soon he was there and I was here in Amherst, a far cry from the girl he once knew. <br />
<br />
Last night, he texted me out of the blue, "not drunk" but drinking, he promised. He apologized for choosing a stranger over me, and confessed that he missed me and our friendship and has for a long time. I didn't know what to say, and I still don't.... In a hail of "it's all goods" and LOLs, I just wept. Not happy weeping, and not sad. I'm not sure why I cried. <br />
<br />
I'm not sure how I feel, but I know this guy represented the first time I'd literally felt abandoned by someone I loved, friend or more. That's a lot to process in a few minutes and within a few messages. And he tried to make amends for a 10 year old pain of mine within that. <br />
<br />
******************<br />
<br />
This and a few other misadventures in love and friendship taught me to put all my cards on the table instead of being stubborn and self-righteous (as I am apt to do). I did this recently with someone who I have grown to care about over the past few months. Our whatever-it-is has not been without interruptions or disappointments. Like the friend discussed above, on paper, he and I are extremely different people. As many times as I've said or heard, "this is no good", he's still here and so am I. We have a number of similarities, and I love his forthrightness. But it is relationship that needs time to grow, still. <br />
<br />
About a month ago, I decided against my reluctance to reveal how I felt (I can't even say "I" decided....I fought hard not to say anything. Lol), and I wrote him a note about how I felt and why I couldn't say anything sooner. It wasn't an ultimatum, a character-basher, or a proposal of any kind. Just a note. About me. And it was unplanned; I have no idea what it says anymore. I just know it was free flow from my heart. <br />
<br />
Last weekend, I saw him while I was out around Amherst. He was drinking. We made small talk and he invited me to have a drink. I decided to sit with him. He acknowledged my note and said he shared my feelings. I was not sure how lucid he was (the next day he said he could recall very little) but I determined I wouldn't press the issue. One would think that I would love to know that the feelings were mutual; someone else would've been ecstatic I think. But I was taken aback; not sure what to say, even more unsure of if what I had to say would matter at that moment. I just listened. <br />
<br />
We spent the next day as usual, with the exception of attending his awesome church as a guest, but I never pressed the question of that conversation. Though I'm beyond my stubborn self, I don't think I'm ready for it. That might be why the subject came up when it did, and he may not remember at all...<br />
<br />
The text-talk with my old friend was just icing on the cake of an emotionally heavy week. But there's a reason for this, I guess. Who knows what's coming in the near future or what this is preparing me for? (God knows, lol). <br />
<br />
What a welcome back. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-33982598491486315052012-08-04T09:33:00.001-04:002012-08-04T09:33:19.623-04:00Happy Saturday!<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-MmEi-ZMIL9M/UB0knlEt49I/AAAAAAAAAOs/K2CGiaVI2Wk/s640/blogger-image--1727538160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-MmEi-ZMIL9M/UB0knlEt49I/AAAAAAAAAOs/K2CGiaVI2Wk/s640/blogger-image--1727538160.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-1101433950254675652012-07-31T08:03:00.001-04:002012-07-31T08:03:01.181-04:00Love this song :)<iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/dOYk8mnhbog" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
<br />
ALL FOR LOVE<br />
<br />
I played the fool before<br />
Stared at the sun until it burned out my eyesight<br />
Blind but a man must move on<br />
No time for regrets<br />
Who lives in rehearse<br />
Rehearsed the times you were here<br />
Through other ladies I drove myself crazy<br />
Wondering why they weren't you<br />
You may think I'm a fool<br />
But still I did it<br />
<br />
All for love<br />
All for love<br />
Stayed in the sun too long<br />
Even the sun moves on<br />
All for what<br />
All for love<br />
<br />
I'm a seeker in search of a dreamer (dreamer)<br />
She dreams, she dreams, she lays her head down and dreams<br />
Or maybe it's me this time?<br />
But baby lets live<br />
<br />
Or maybe it's me this time<br />
Yeah, I played the fool before<br />
Stared at the sun until it burned out my eyesight<br />
Blind but a man must move on<br />
No time for regrets<br />
Who lives in rehearse<br />
Rehearsed the times you were here<br />
Through other ladies I drove myself crazy<br />
Wondering why they weren't you<br />
You may think I'm a fool<br />
But still I did it<br />
<br />
All for love<br />
All for love<br />
Stayed in the sun too long<br />
Even the sun moves on<br />
I did it for?<br />
I did it for me and you<br />
Stayed in the sun too long<br />
Even the sun moves on<br />
<br />
Stayed in the sun too long<br />
Even the sun moves on <br />
<br />
~Bilal~ <br />
Album: Love For SaleUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-78631037793062462052012-07-28T10:37:00.001-04:002012-07-28T10:37:19.346-04:00Visual.<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BeMAwtqGsbg/UBP5HaEu8NI/AAAAAAAAAOc/tNuzchQMoFg/s640/blogger-image--1748001047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BeMAwtqGsbg/UBP5HaEu8NI/AAAAAAAAAOc/tNuzchQMoFg/s640/blogger-image--1748001047.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-5031040324934734142012-07-25T16:01:00.001-04:002012-07-25T16:01:37.104-04:00JulyThis has been a good summer, so far, because I've been forced to sit my ass down.<br />
<br />
I hate sitting still, but the pulled tendons around my right ankle don't condone my restless nature. While I have teaching and grading to occupy me, even from bed, the peace of stillness has made me long for more moments of solitude and reflection (and trash tv and gossip magazines lol). I've literally gone within the month from privately bashing where I am in my life--confused by the shifting goals I've aspired to since 2008 and how many seriously ratchet people I've entertained this year-- and sulking about my inability to find a stable space emotionally, professionally and physically to grow to realizing that all of this is in fact a part of my growth and not to worry about what is or isn't there right now. Worry is not conducive to God's plan for me...neither is forcing, plotting, or obsessing over what I can't control. I can control the hours I work and the completion of my research to a point. But everything else, whatever. <br />
<br />
In this mindset, I am visiting Amherst this weekend for a brief staycation. My motives for even booking this trip were rooted in my period of uncertainty, but now I am very certain of what my ideal trip will concern and what kind of time I'd like to spend with myself. Home has been great, to say the least, but the peace of solitude is surface-level at best. You won't see me writing this again, but I do miss the peace of Amherst temporarily, and the ability to disappear and pretend to be alone (as Jesus has been a constant companion). While there are folks I love and want to see, do understand that this is my trip and not a group weekend adventure. <br />
<br />
I need quiet. <br />
I need peace. <br />
I don't need your drama. <br />
Mine is gone. <br />
I need beer and sunshine and nachos from the High Horse. <br />
I need to write my lit review at Amherst Coffee. <br />
I may need karaoke and a bubbletini. <br />
I need to drive up 116 to see Mt Sugarloaf. <br />
I need to stand alone in the rain at least once while it is overcast this weekend. <br />
I do not want to dance, club or walk miles in heels on a bum ankle. <br />
I will not wear my Crocs or ankle brace to a club. <br />
I need a huge laugh while sober. <br />
I need Vita Nova, but unfortunately my flight leaves at 9 am on Sunday. :(<br />
<br />
Now that that's out of the way, I'm looking forward to my trip. And sitting still before the rush comes in September. <br />
<br />
Here's to a lazy weekend...<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-7875949001115973302012-06-26T19:43:00.001-04:002012-07-04T23:45:38.063-04:00On an upside...The words don't come as fast<br />
As the images do,<br />
But they will. <br />
One day. <br />
I guess. <br />
I wish I had them;<br />
They're all I've got<br />
Most of the time. The rhyme<br />
Never escapes me, <br />
But it comes in with a vengeance<br />
When the literal gets<br />
Too real. <br />
I'd rather speak in metaphor<br />
Than piece together the violence<br />
Of real words<br />
That hurt,<br />
Circle and Pierce the spirit<br />
Like a crown of thorns...<br />
Yeah: that real. <br />
For now,<br />
A blank space will do<br />
Because I don't have the energy<br />
To lie to you. <br />
And the truth won't fit. <br />
<br />
Imagine what you wish<br />
To find here. <br />
Write back soon...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-77501014235642386472012-06-22T22:37:00.001-04:002012-06-22T22:37:01.064-04:00Meh.I come on a bit strong sometimes. Especially if I get too comfortable. <br />
<br />
That's rare, though. As a Sagittarius, I never allow myself too much comfort. I need to be 10 steps ahead at all times. ALL TIMES. <br />
<br />
But people love when you "keep it real". And I love people, and being honest, so why not knock out two birds with one stone (being, the rock of realness"...lol)? There's only one place where this practice fails me. <br />
<br />
Matters of the heart. <br />
With the opposite sex. <br />
After the age of 25. Lol<br />
<br />
Talking to a friend tonight (or not a friend...?), I appreciated that he welcomed my perspective on the female psyche without thinking I was trying to inch up on him romantically. I truly enjoy helping my men out with this because who else would? And I'm always right :)<br />
<br />
However, by doing this, I realize that I exit the romance zone in my gentleman friend's mind and immediately enter "homie" status. In this case, that works for me (and I vocalized this, lol), but I wonder how many other men I've pushed away unknowingly because of this need to make people feel comfortable around me? Sometimes, I think it may be something else (height, hair, weight, skin tone, credentials, etc) that detracts them. But it could very well be how damn friendly I am. <br />
<br />
Men like women with issues. <br />
I don't want men to know mine. <br />
I don't want men trying to save me. <br />
Jesus has that covered. <br />
As I smile, laugh and make light of some rather sad situations in the world of dating, I lose. <br />
<br />
And so goes my blog. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-82228395518684076332012-06-18T02:49:00.001-04:002012-06-18T03:07:42.470-04:00ReconnectingI love my family for trying to understand and love who I'm becoming, when the fact is that I'm not even sure who I'll be yet. They seem a bit more comfortable with this process, my moods, and some of my disappearances (they are not comfortable with my wandering by car yet, lol) than even I am. This has helped my transition to living at home for the summer quite a bit.<br />
<br />
Back in Amherst, I find myself silenced quite a bit, and that bred a reluctance to speaking or sharing. Whether it was trying (unsuccessfully) to connect with someone because of limited airtime (some folks take up that much space!) or stopping short of disclosing myself for fear of judgment, I've just opted for silence. And sometimes, cigarettes. Holding all of this in is unhealthy and distracting--a dangerous thing when most of my livelihood is supported by my ability to think and be mentally present. <br />
<br />
Being with my family has kept me accountable to myself in a way that haven't been in the past few months. They make me talk about what's going on in my life, what lies ahead, and remind me of who I was before I got into a slump. Before even over sharing my life's details with my father last week, for instance, we had a conversation about young people needing to get married. True to his fashion, he argued that "dumb m----- f----- needed to get married between 16 and 30" while they still look good and someone will still put up with them. The quoted part was omitted at first (lol), so, applying the commentary to my own singleness, I asked him:<br />
<br />
"Well, what if you don't have a choice of whether you're single or not? What if there's just...no one?"<br />
<br />
He looked at me seriously and added the above quoted criteria to his assessment, thus--in his words--removing me from the pantheon of dumb m----- f------s. and he said something that I've been wrestling with for a while:<br />
<br />
"As a young professional, you could possibly support yourself. There's not too much a man can offer you financially. You don't need a 'good relationship' right now. You need a good 'thurapist'."<br />
<br />
That's how he pronounces "therapist". <br />
<br />
His reasoning was the pressure of my work. I wanted to cry because he was so right! But I laughed and told him about my experience with the shrink at UMass a few months ago (read my blog). He told me to try again, so I will. First, here...if my position covers meetings with CAPS...and I will follow up in the fall at UMass. <br />
<br />
Of all the people here and perhaps on Earth, my mother understands me spiritually (among other ways) in ways that the rest of my family does not. As a believer in Christ, it had to be difficult not to have a spouse also committed to being a follower and teacher of His word, but by herself, she tried to expose us to Him. I wanted to check out a local church today that is in the same network as Vita Nova (Acts 29), and she offered to go with me--even though they were meeting in a park on a street corner in the middle of the hood (she lived in that neighborhood once). My brother and his fiancée brought brunch over for Fathers Day, so I opted out (I hadn't seen them in months) and did a bible study/prayer later at a coffee shop. But later that afternoon, we sat outside and talked about songs that moved us...while she winced, at first, to the Christian rock I played between Fred Hammond and Tonex, and then nodded along. <br />
<br />
<br />
And then there's my brother, my sister, and our adventures in dating (collectively). While I'm sometimes the voice of reason in these conversations, every leap year, I have my WTF moments. And guess what? It's 2012. Lol<br />
<br />
My brother's engaged and my sister is a hot commodity. And I contend that I'm a hot mess and need to be under a rock...at least until I'm ready to come out and play. My sister, having gained some wisdom from somewhere (dad) over the last few years understands....even my insecurities and regressions. My brother, however, is different. He doesn't understand how I can be critical of myself when the men I date (or don't...they are all bad to a big brother, lol), in his opinion, are a hot mess. However, after saying this, he proceeds to deliberate with Mallory (the fiancée) about who I should date:<br />
<br />
(He whispers hushedly to her. I hear him)<br />
"no....I'm not going to say that," she says. <br />
"Yea! He's perfect though. Tell her...."<br />
Mallory looks at me and sighs,<br />
"Your brother thinks you should date Harry Potter."<br />
<br />
Yes. <br />
<br />
I'm going to bed now. Lol. Goodnight. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-54146182775995950052012-06-08T01:00:00.000-04:002012-06-08T01:11:12.830-04:00A poem: Remembering...Love is brightly blinding,<br />
but you trust that the light<br />
doesn't burn.<br />
At first.<br />
A first time becomes a second<br />
of multiple reactions<br />
teeming with satisfactions,<br />
as you fall in and out
of rhythm<br />
with yourself,<br />
hoping to merge with another.<br />
Some things don't mix well,<br />
but you're drawn to the passion<br />
like a moth to flame,<br />
desperate to be burned<br />
but fearing the pain.<br />
Blinded...<br />
Stumbling through words and actions,<br />
saying what's repulsive or pleasing,<br />
but never asking or meaning.<br />
What are you feeling?<br />
The heart beats you to a pulp<br />
when faced with stagnation,<br />
but the urge to protect it<br />
hardens you.<br />
But the flame always
melts away<br />
that wax
you thought was iron-clad.<br />
But the pain...<br />
burning...<br />
brightly...<br />
blinding...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-90637193212550146702012-06-01T23:32:00.000-04:002012-06-08T01:13:48.826-04:00It's been far too long...Life is crazy.<br />
<br />
Then again, life is what you shape it to be, from the blessings you are given to the choices you refuse or fear making. This period of my full 28.5 years has by far been the most fascinating--both enjoyable and intolerable at times. I'm growing, but I still feel cocooned to a point. I used to think that cocoon was Amherst, until I began to understand that I am my own inhibitor, stopping myself from emerging just short of seeing the light.<br />
<br />
Or maybe it isn't time to break yet. I trust that God will let me know when.<br />
<br />
I have had countless conversations about what is wrong with the world, what is wrong with people here (and what's right, sometimes), what is wrong with this town that lies behind a "Tofu Curtain", what is wrong with me. The answers I both receive and conjure on my own all vary depending on the multitude of perspectives I encounter and the particular moments at which we exchange ideas. I have noticed that more often, however, I spend less and less time considering what is right about the aforementioned things.
To the point of keeping this blog introspective, I won't touch on the "what's wrong with the world...the people here" points, but I refuse not to talk about me right now. I need to, so bear with me.<br />
<br />
I told my roommate on Memorial Day (while reflecting on the many moods we've both experienced over the last year) that it is often hard to be yourself in a space that is not conducive to who you were and who you would like to become. For me, I identify Amherst as my space of suppression. Having been here since I was 23, this is a space where I have come of age in a way I wasn't able to while attending undergraduate and working in my hometown. Reflecting on my choices then--even not having any qualms about uprooting myself to Amherst--I wonder if my older self would have chosen this path, given the same opportunities.<br />
<br />
I can't answer that question, and I trust that God has me (and her) here for a multitude of reasons.
If you'd ask me to list them now, I couldn't :)<br />
<br />
I'm just trusting Him on this one.
In any case, this blog has always provided an outlet that sitting with myself, praying, or talking to others has not allowed. So I'm back, after a brief, but intense, hiatus. One day, if I haven't in person,<br />
<br />
I'll catch you up to my Amherst adventures, but I'm still processing a lot of them (LOL).
Some things just don't compute (and shouldn't).Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-59598838372831627162011-12-09T23:15:00.003-05:002011-12-10T00:14:02.430-05:00So I went to a "Shrink" yesterday...<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k1GOVpz2Ukc/TuLqkDGBGbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/SMa1Z7Na9cM/s1600/lucy-van-pelt.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k1GOVpz2Ukc/TuLqkDGBGbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/SMa1Z7Na9cM/s320/lucy-van-pelt.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684363584721721778" /></a><br />After an emotional rollercoaster of a year and a rather tumultuous few weeks, I finally made it over to UMass's counseling and psychiatric services yesterday to try and sort out my emotions with a "neutral party"--a shrink.<br /><br />A list of things (in no particular order) led me to re-evaluate being evaluated and seeking help, not limited to:<br /><br />1) Residual emotions about social and academic happenings related to graduate school.<br />2) Sadness triggered by homesickeness<br />3) Despair triggered by a baseless long-distance relationship<br />4) Powerlessness over finances towards a long-time goal (buying a car)<br />5) The death of a friend<br />6) Supporting friends and family as they identified/mourned (I also mourned) lost friend<br />7) Adjusting to two new jobs (nothing more stressful than feeling like a rookie)<br />8) Being at a Dissertation stalemate<br />9) Still mourning the loss of my grandmother<br />10) Pre-mourning the loss of Miracle, my family's 9-year-old Golden Retriever, who has cancer<br /><br />The list could go on, but I'll stop here. I went in to seek help (for all of this) on Monday, November 14, shell-shocked but moving anyway; while I don't have much, I did have students, friends and family depending on me in various regards. I had to get right.<br /><br />They gave me a general look over and questions, and told me to go home, subsequently telling me to come back next week. <br /><br />I wasn't in crisis, according to desk staff.<br /><br />If you saw me anytime around November 14, you knew "crisis" was not the word.<br /><br />In any case, things got progressively worse, for the better...as ironic as that may seem. By God's providence, I thought, I had a car lined up to buy...not necessarily the fancier models I had hoped I could purchase but something that I could whip back and forth...preferably to Albany and Chicopee, MA, to spend time with my then-boyfriend. The day before I exchange funds for the car, the car is in an accident. #FAIL.<br /><br />Superadded to everything else, I was crushed by this glitch in my plans. Literally, broken in half. But, once again, Providence seems to come through. I was tipped on another car, "newer" (meaning late '90s, lol), lower mileage, etc...same price, with a plan. Again, a way to bridge the divide between the boyfriend and I. There is a snafu with the paperwork that causes a two-month delay in purchasing. Again, #fail.<br /><br />I promise, however, God knows what He's doing, all the time! <br /><br />The same day that my hopes were high about this new car was the same day that George (my former boyfriend), dumped me...citing distance, his work load, and my recent helplessness and his related helplessness to help me as a reason for us to part ways--the "it's-not-you-it's-me" speech. I had only heard these on television, having never been broken up with before. Mind you, the first two reasons were questions I'd brought up on LABOR DAY about our relationship (He prefaced his windy, pointless speech with "Remember in September when you asked..." for instance). The entire time he tried to insist that he wasn't using me (which he did for company at his friends weddings and barbecues and to edit his papers for class through October) or stringing me along (which he was honestly because he could have said something, anything before November besides "I understand your point"). It was selfish and pathetic, largely.<br /><br />This is what I call an asshole move, ladies and gentlemen. But I may be worse than him, because while he was pouring his heart out saying what I think he thought I wanted him to say (a pattern), I was thrilled. His lopsided sympathy couldn't have better timing. At the point that he exited my life ("exited" because I've purged myself of all but memories), I was one stressor less. Life got that much better.<br /><br />From there, attention turned to other stressors and how to make them better or non-existent, seeing that God was willing to provide if I was willing to surrender. <br /><br />I gave up on "out-of-pocket" purchased cars (for now) and instead went to my credit union (take #2...the first exchange wasn't so nice) for financial counseling. Only because there was no reason to purchase a car a week before I leave for Detroit, I'll be an owner of a 2006 or later car model in late January or February, LORD-WILLING :)<br /><br />During the week of Thanksgiving, I near-haphazardly rented a 2011 Camry (**drool**) so I could house-hop as a single woman and enjoy the holiday weekend out with friends. This alone was so recharging that I'd nearly forgotten the breakup (until "Purging Day"), the car drama, and the homesickeness. I just lived, happily, and gave thanks.<br /><br />The next two weeks, I celebrated my birthday with friends and students between three parties (my last class, on my birthday, was a wrap-up party...with birthday cake and a gift from my co-teacher and a card from some of my students :)). I had a blast, and I honestly face-palmed myself for ignoring all of the love that the Lord had surrounded me with through these people and my family while I chased after the idea of lopsided love with one person who didn't deserve time.<br /><br />BACK TO MY "SHRINK"<br /><br />Finally, I arrived at the counseling suite, letting them know on their little questionnaire how the Lord and I helped me, without their help, in as many words can fit on the little lines as possible.<br /><br />My therapist, who was offputtingly abrupt at first meet, apologized for them overlooking my condition, but turned it back on me saying that I should have basically begged for help or stayed until someone knew I was "bleeding inside".<br /><br />I didn't quite see the need to run down this list of faith bringing me through, especially when after prodding him with questions about relationships and work stress he tried to sum it up to generalized "daddy issues" (which he could not "diagnose" after hearing about our relationshp) and offending me something terrible by asking me "Coming from Detroit, how did you end up in graduate school?"<br /><br />Sigh.<br /><br />Needless to say, he determined that someone as articulate as I am doesn't--I'm sorry--DON'T need no counseling. I don't agree completely, as we all need to check in sometimes. I certainly didn't need his patronistic assessment of my black single female educated self.<br /><br />I should've went to see Lucy from "Peanuts". Probably would have had the same results, but at least she's famous for not helping people.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-33408568928257191632011-11-09T12:44:00.001-05:002011-11-09T12:44:49.098-05:00The Copout<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SEhQ5XzuYZk/Trq8EQaKMvI/AAAAAAAAAFg/2ibMbaDVJ2E/s1600/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FbW9vbXkuanBn%253F%253D-789099"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SEhQ5XzuYZk/Trq8EQaKMvI/AAAAAAAAAFg/2ibMbaDVJ2E/s320/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FbW9vbXkuanBn%253F%253D-789099" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673053461936747250" /></a></p>(There are only 3 men in my life whom I absolutely "get". One of them is pictured above.)<p>Well, this one was coming. <p>And I'm not even bitter. Yet. <p>I after witnessing and experiencing some interesting male/female relationship and friendship dynamics, I've been prompted by my own curiosity to issue the following question to the opposite sex:<p>Why can't you deal with life as it is given instead of sacrificing everything for a little bit of nothing? ("Nothing" read: a few moments of bad sex with a hot (or not) stranger, an addiction, a demanding job with little return, your self-importance, etc., etc.)<p><br>Almost every man I know is always in search of "more". What "more" is depends on the extent of his ego. "More" could be still reaching for a childhood dream that he may or may not have (severely) out-aged. "More" could be him seeking a sexual outlet from his relationship because his (very) familiar repertoire of sexual prowess causes his partner to all but capitulate to sex with him; but a new/girl or guy wouldn't know all his "old tricks" for a few more months. "More" also accounts for those men who put love, personal health, family, etc. on the backburners in a vain effort to prove not only to himself but to the world (who does not care, largely, while the people who do are forced to lie in wait) that he is somebody. The "more" that they seek is generally egotistical: I want someone ELSE to find me interesting, virile, attractive, lovable etc., etc., but in the meantime, I expect to hold on to everything I don't appreciate. What is this about? What is listed above are just my opinionated observations (all are real scenarios). <p><br>The general reaction the prompting of this question or the simplified question of "Why the hell are you so damn selfish?" consists of a combination of the blaming of others (often the neglected) for their lack of support or the mention imaginary parties on whom these gentlemen base their egos (often call "everybody else" or "they" or "my boys"). Those of us "lying in wait" don't care about those imaginary people and, largely, those of us who do express a genuine love and concern don't offer our opinions or our truths to discourage or hurt you but to help that ego at least be based in something productive and to show that we do care. Of course, any direct or indirect attack on the male ego's more ridiculous endeavors are grounds for dismissal, name-calling and other abuses, or infidelity. Women, however, are deemed crazy, ungrateful, bitchy, unlovable...when we choose to be miserable by ourselves instead of miserable with His Royal Useless--king of the cats. <p>But of course these same men (who fall into the categories above) will love a woman who is like them all day. They will chase after infidelity, stay to endure verbal and physical abuse, let a woman use him as an ATM, they will play "daddy" to a woman with no direction...and sometimes they will do this clandestinely while a good woman is still clueless and hanging on. What prompts this? Albeit, many women do fall into these same categories of "downsyness" (Miah's word for extreme stupidity), but what would prompt anyone to emotionally wreck themselves and others whom they supposedly love with self-destructive commitments and behaviors that may temporarily boost one's ego? <p>I'm not buying the copouts anymore. <p>But, still, I'm not bitter. Yet.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-28113226386203970942011-11-03T20:41:00.001-04:002011-11-04T01:07:15.082-04:00In Motion<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oRMjEHvacDc/TrM1YGa_01I/AAAAAAAAAFI/Wq5jLJr7MBk/s1600/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FQWZmaXJtYXRpdmUgQWN0aW9uIDAzMC5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-755825"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oRMjEHvacDc/TrM1YGa_01I/AAAAAAAAAFI/Wq5jLJr7MBk/s320/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FQWZmaXJtYXRpdmUgQWN0aW9uIDAzMC5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-755825" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670935043946566482" /></a></p> (pic wth friends as we campaigned to save affirmative action in Michigan with the NAACP, circa 2006)<br /><br />A few weeks ago, a younger colleague of mine (about 7 years younger) asked me quite genuinely "What movements are you a part of...right now?" This followed a political panel that we were both present at. I stood and thought about it for a second, thinking about my passions and affiliations over the years for the bettering of society (and self), and responded that "at the moment" my concern was Student Bridges, the college access organization we both are working for to get underrepresented students aware of and ready for college. She seemed concerned that she wasn't doing enough, but I paused and replied that she was doing enough right now with her work and passion for our organization. "One movement at a time is enough for me," I said before walking away. <p>I meditated on this exchange for a few weeks, now finding the words to talk about my musings. In the past I've affiliated myself with pro-affirmative action, anti-racist, anti-sexist, anti-hate, Democratic, student empowerment, environmental, and equal rights for all causes. I am still all of these things and on top of them, a Christian and Black (and all other corrective ethnic) Studies advocate. I have never seen a need to separate these concerns into categories; my larger concern was never being affiliated with a cause. My concern was with the inequalities of the human condition lived by all because of prejudices, selfishness, and the concern for the empowerment of the few with agency over the whole of humanity. </p><p>I think that just about covers where I stand. </p><p>"Movements", as they come and go fleetingly, are not about the moment, about the scene you can construct en masse, about the attention you can get if you scream loud enough. They are about reaching the heart's capacity to soften to your fellow being (human or not), reaching the mind's ability to rationalize what is right over what is wrong. This is what the Civil Rights movement meant. While many of the survivors and martyrs of that era did not expect immediate change for themselves, they planned for and prayed for a better future for their children and the children of their opponents. </p><p>I struggle with identifying with the "Occupy" movements stretching across the United States. I do identify with the "99 percent", who --if not unemployed--are insecurely employed and are at the mercy of those who "have" and allocate capital as it best benefits their small circles to the detriment of their employees. Why I can't identify is because of the anger, the bells and whistles, and the spectacular elements of this rather disorganized movement. And where is the connection to the underemployed? The undocumented? Those beyond the national poverty line? Those also known as an unaccounted for portion of that 99 percent who lose everything if they miss a day at one of those 1 percenter corporate chains and lay at the mercy of their local and state legislators who almost never presently have their best intentions in mind? While I see the effect in what these groups are doing on the media, I am not sure how this--without heart and cognitive concern of the fellow man and rooted in a system of capitalistic gain, largely--can facilitate any large scale change. They've done a great job, however, in exposing the desperate points to which the "haves" will go to enforce the abuse the police-state on the "have-nots", across colorlines.</p><p>Movements for change are about reaching a common ground and connecting with your fellow human being. We have much to learn from our past in our reach for a brighter future. I am open to those movements for change that concern the whole, a bridge between classes, nationalities, races, religions genders, sexual orientations, etc., that count for the empowerment of our world beyond the concepts of capital. If we got beyond the power of the almighty dollar, who knows what commonalities we could reach? </p><p>But as I said, one movement at a time. I'll pass my seeds of activism onto my students and colleagues, my friends, my parents and family, my future children, whose hearts and minds I have access to. We can be the positive change we wish to see in the world by identifying ourselves with humanity, not a "cause".</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-27012634593036672012011-10-10T14:02:00.000-04:002011-10-10T14:03:40.249-04:00A resting place fit for a "Queen's Mother"<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KK9UF-mMMFI/TpMzfKnaxhI/AAAAAAAAAE4/y0lDqO7-3Wk/s1600/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1HMDE2NTktMjAxMTEwMTAtMTM0NC5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-720250"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KK9UF-mMMFI/TpMzfKnaxhI/AAAAAAAAAE4/y0lDqO7-3Wk/s320/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1HMDE2NTktMjAxMTEwMTAtMTM0NC5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-720250" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661925767053493778" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JUzSmbQCgVg/TpMzfdA7eII/AAAAAAAAAFA/ukE4jbc6Umw/s1600/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1HMDE2NTYtMjAxMTEwMDktMTAyMC5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-721285"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JUzSmbQCgVg/TpMzfdA7eII/AAAAAAAAAFA/ukE4jbc6Umw/s320/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1HMDE2NTYtMjAxMTEwMDktMTAyMC5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-721285" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661925771992332418" /></a></p>Markeysha Dawn Davis<br>Doctoral Candidate<br>W. E. B. Du Bois Department of Afro-American Studies<br>University of Massachusetts Amherst<br>(313) 318-1831<br><a href="mailto:mddavis@afroam.umass.edu">mddavis@afroam.umass.edu</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-55236415425746693192011-10-10T11:56:00.000-04:002011-10-10T12:01:29.161-04:00The Worst Bad...<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TnpJT3IQCE/TpMW2cHnH9I/AAAAAAAAAEw/kQJslojpEoY/s1600/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FQW1oZXJzdC0yMDExMDcyMC0wMDA0OS5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-789161"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TnpJT3IQCE/TpMW2cHnH9I/AAAAAAAAAEw/kQJslojpEoY/s320/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FQW1oZXJzdC0yMDExMDcyMC0wMDA0OS5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-789161" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661894281051709394" /></a></p>When I pray to the Lord about my life and my family and friends, I always ask that His will be done--despite our own desires. Not to say that I don't ask for certain things for them or myself; if things are meant to come to pass, they will. But regardless of what our wants are, He knows our needs...and what will draw us closer to him ultimately. <p>He has been pretty good to me throughout my "hiatus" from this blog and regardless of most of the painful things I've experienced this year. Through the successes, the deaths, the disputes, the heartbreaks, new loves, illnesses, disappoints, I know that He has been at work the whole time. The one thing I've learned is not to ask Him "Why?" Instead, I've opted for the "Let's see" or "What can I learn from this" approaches. <p>Today, I received a reminder of his work during a conversation with a former romantic interest. This guy--nice looking, successful, intelligent-- has been persistent for years--which any woman can appreciate. However, in praying about him and a possible relationship months ago, all signs (ever) would point to "No". I often got the point from our conversations early on that he was interested in the idea of me, but not me as I was. I could not talk about my passion (my work with black culture and activist tradition) without some dismissive comment and conversations were usually consumed with his own opinions and thoughts. I didn't feel respected or appreciated; just wanted. The romantic interest he had for me was flattering, but it definitely was not enough. <p>After some prayer and upsetting times, God would send different people and things to show me what I should expect and look for to fulfill my happiness, but I know that He knew my emotional hang-ups tied to a certain relationship lingering on the outskirts of romance that prevented me from giving myself completely to another person. Of course, He squashed that immediately (lol). During that time I questioned myself, my will, my wants for what they were. And even during that time, I resolved not be my best self. Eventually, enough became enough and I gave up on love, honestly told the former romantic interest above that I could not even manage a relationship or whatever he wanted from me because of the reasons listed, and I sought to be alone to figure things out. <p>I prayed about it, people came and went, and then out of nowhere came my current boyfriend...at ball...like in a Disney movie. At first, I was unamused and that may have been the last time I questioned God, or as I stated at the time, "Really, Lord?! For real?" I'd finally resolved that I'd be better off alone trying to figure things out, and here comes this guy. But, in essence, he was everything I needed: stable, funny, relatable, hard-working, family-oriented, romantic, handsome AND interested. So with a LOT of prayer, I let myself fall in love (like I had a choice...lol).<p>It has not been perfect. He's really busy with school and full-time work (as am I). The dates and flowers have been less frequent. We talk often but sometimes we just can't sync up in person. These issues have all been cues to run in the past, but my prayers have remained consistent with one amendment as it relates to us-- I pray for not only God's will but patience throughout this period. I have definitely been tested, but I know He has a bigger plan for me. Whether this man, or another, is part and parcel of this plan is to be determined. But so far, he's still here, and I'm happy about that. <p>But back to today...<p>The former romantic interest asked me out; of course, I said no because I am seeing someone. "Ok" is his first reply, and then he spouts on about how he wasn't given enough of a chance to make something work with me. I mentioned to him that he was great, but not for me and that I was relying on God's will (which I'd interpreted as "no" on anything between us, if I was to rely on the obvious). I did not say that God did not send him to my life for a reason. But he took pause to that and pretty much asserted that he may have been the "bigger plan" God had for me and that I was doing my own will. <p>What?<p>I refused to entertain that comment or the audacity of it with him--opting for a clean, final reply of "Goodbye"-- but I learned something new and a bit troubling about his character. The manipulation I sensed (and had generally sensed) in his tone made me realize even more that he was not "God's will" for me. For someone I'd previously prayed about and moved on from, I think that the Lord was clear at that moment about giving me the one word I needed to edge out of that corner.<p>The Lord knows what He is doing with us, and we have no right to tell Him what it will be or won't be as it relates to our wants and needs. God's will is done whether we want it or not; if this was not the case, who would He be to us? To this world? The worst thing we could do is impose consume ourselves with our desires to the point that we neglect or demand more of the blessings that God has already placed in our way. I hope that this man finds happiness with someone who can love and appreciate him and also that he learns to do the same and, more importantly, learns to heed the God we serve instead of expecting other people to submit to his own will. <p>In the meantime, I'll stay in tune and in touch. I've got some waiting to do...<p> <p>
<br>Markeysha Dawn Davis
<br>Doctoral Candidate
<br>W. E. B. Du Bois Department of Afro-American Studies
<br>University of Massachusetts Amherst
<br>(313) 318-1831
<br><a href="mailto:mddavis@afroam.umass.edu">mddavis@afroam.umass.edu</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-16937980703203947622011-10-10T01:10:00.003-04:002011-10-10T01:28:26.119-04:00Yesterdays....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSTQJNbjtPBs2qlI0A5SQYEDrwZSgYG37AF_w9BDKuoAA9MQtkx-g"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 201px;" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSTQJNbjtPBs2qlI0A5SQYEDrwZSgYG37AF_w9BDKuoAA9MQtkx-g" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I was just sitting around today, idling after church at Vita Nova and brunch with some friends at Lone Wolf. <br /><br />Dawdling...as I like to say. In my own house.<br /><br />I often do this when I feel like I have no release. Then I get restless. Then I get desperate. And I leave, usually to return with something I don't need in tow.<br /><br />I've idled around a lot these days, passively seeking some release, preferring to wallow in stress, work, and anxiety about what I can't control or what I can control but can't quite get my mind around just yet. It's is a painful kind of idling because I know I can make better use of my time.<br /><br />Then I remembered this blog. <br /><br />I stopped contributing my entries because of just a few reasons:<br /><br />1) I didn't want nutty people in my FBWorld, "Twitterverse", or real life reading it as a digest<br /><br />2) Some confusing/infuriating/painful things happened that I did not know how to punctuate here, and<br /><br />3) I fell in love. Again.<br /><br /><br />Of course, more than this happened. <br /><br />My grandmother--my friend, whom I adored and admired--passed away suddenly in May. I've had a lot of success academically and professionally (the stress/work part of my absence is half related to this). I found out two weeks ago that my beloved Miracle was diagnosed with cancer and who knows how long he will be with us, not even sugar-coating it. It has been very depressing, but ((jazz hands)) the show must go on as the burdens pile up.<br /><br />This has been an interesting eight-month hiatus. I really think I should start blogging again, but I am not sure who will read after all this time. <br /><br />If you are willing to read, I am willing to keep writing. Just for my sanity at this point.<br /><br />It helps.<br /><br /><br /><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-40899532956709418892011-02-07T11:30:00.001-05:002011-02-07T11:30:34.612-05:00Long time, no blog...<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lfsdjvTmboI/TVAeK7vzc3I/AAAAAAAAAEk/dyLT4kJ0UPc/s1600/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FRGV0cm9pdC0yMDExMDEzMC0wMDI0OS5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-734613"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lfsdjvTmboI/TVAeK7vzc3I/AAAAAAAAAEk/dyLT4kJ0UPc/s320/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FRGV0cm9pdC0yMDExMDEzMC0wMDI0OS5qcGc%253D%253F%253D-734613" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570985912243024754" /></a></p>I'm in a sensitive state right now. Honestly, I feel stronger for it. <p>I drafted this entry three nights ago and didn't know what to write...didn't know how to write it. I couldn't figure out how to put it to pixel and release it to you. All of you. <p>Nonetheless, here it is. <p>As you previously read, I had some inhibitions about returning to Detroit for the holidays. I had a great time in spite of my worry, though. I hung out with good friends and stayed close to my family. I went out on a few dates and made some new memories. I caught up with mentors and future colleagues and got guidance on what I needed to do to accelerate my exit from Amherst (a super plus). In short and "on paper", all went well.<p>But still, my unreadiness to return to that space shone through. I still felt closed in, especially at my former home. Despite all of the accolades and pep talks, something about my academic work and the prospect of actually completing this doctorate and working full time instead of being a student worried me. The moments with my friends were bittersweet: great for the time being but also limited to the brief time I'd be around (a month seems long until you live it). The dates and hanging with interested men was fun, temporarily. I realized my affections--like, love and lust--are not fleeting. I do so much better with more than compliments, physical contact or dinners and outings. The superficial, freer side of dating is fun but not for me. I deserve more than this. Knowing that these men were more than willing to take me up on the surface end of things was no reassurance that anything kindled in this one-month holiday stint would yield (or be worth) any longevity. <p>I returned to Amherst quite a mess, to say the very least. The great times I hoped to recount over coffee or cabernet became burdensome. My lack of confidence in my work became a road block to both my creativity and productivity. My weird love life became a silent obsession; I just wondered why I couldn't find what I needed from a selection of very different men and, conversely, wondered why I cared so much. The lack of space in my parents' home was seemed more symbolic of my need to not solely "do Amherst" but to live here until the next step. My tried and true friends, again, were hundreds of miles away. <p>That was a very lonely week. <p>I think my friends here in Amherst may have picked up on my mood a bit but they have only known me to be seldom angry, sad or disillusioned. This usually doesn't last long, and I'm generally a quite easy-going, frank woman. This time, however, it was perpetual and getting worse the longer I sat with it. Those who know me knew how to break me out of the funk (for which I'm grateful...you know who you are). People who don't know me took it personally. Then, I didn't care; now, I try not to. Essentially, my tip then was "fuck your problems; I have my own." I don't think I left any mystery to that fact. I tried not to talk about these things in depth, though. The way they swirled in my head made them seem like too much to recount. I opted for silence. <p>When I realized that my silence was a problem, I knew that I needed to rebuild myself somewhere other than where I was and where I had been. I spoke to one of my best girl friends who had recently moved to downtown Detroit and set out on an impromptu road trip (no car, of course...and winter storm advisories ignored lol). As I've written before, the train, though a long commute, has a very calming effect for me. Seeing the world literally roll by makes me realize that even when I'm still the world does not stop moving around me, that my problems are not permanent, and that, at the end of the day, home is wherever you take your heart...and that can be more places than one. <p>The train ride to Detroit was interesting all around. In hindsight, it felt like a long movie, characters with varied life stories coming together and connecting to share themselves with one another. My riding buddy was another 27 year old (born a few days after me) from Cleveland who was just as frustrated with the Pioneer Valley as I was when I started this blog. We did everything in our shared seat from sharing music to quoting lines from Berry Gordy's "The Last Dragon." He was nice enough, but I could tell he didn't know what to do with me. He would go from speaking gently to energetic depositions of how "hard" he was and how he could survive on his own. I couldn't tell whether he wanted to "holler" or give me a fist pound. Another passenger, a young woman but untraditionally-aged college student from the city, was a joy to talk to. She was another Christian woman and was willing to trade information and laughter on everything from man advice to our love for the Lord. <p>Interestingly enough, the train ride had shaped itself to be pretty entertaining. I was a little annoyed at the confusion of my male riding buddy, though at the end of the day whether he flirted with me did not matter and I understood his plight, lol. Another chance meeting on the train helped me sort through this. There was a gentleman quite a few years older than me who I'd seen early on at the station in Springfield. He had watched everyone silently, including me. On the train, we met because he and my riding buddy had become fast friends through hours of travel. He was also a college student and turned out to be pretty interesting himself. <p>I watched him watch my interactions with the younger man and often saw him make some perplexed expression at certain points. Several hours later, after we'd passed my riding buddy's stop, he turned to me and asked whether I'd gotten the younger man's contact info. I sleepily said no and revealed that I wasn't surprised by that fact. He shook his head, laughed softly, and told me one of the realest things I'd ever heard from a man...nonetheless, one who was not trying to talk to me:<p>"I don't get it. When I saw you in Springfield, the way you were dressed, the way you looked at everyone else--kindly-- and just did your own thing, I was like she must be a professional. A nurse or something. But then after talking to you, you are so down to earth...and beautiful. That's rare. Your boyfriend is lucky."<p>I said thanks and told him that the said boyfriend didn't exist. <p>He laughed and shook his head again, then tried to rationalize my character, my work, and my appearance --all he felt were great qualities--against my singleness. I then shook my head and laughed. <p>"At the end of the day," I concluded. "I'm just a woman.". He looked even more perplexed after that.<p>I carried this conversation in my mind off of the train and into Detroit during my short trip. From Macy's to Meijer to a nightclub, I interacted with quite a few men of different ages and occupations. All of them seemed a bit confused as they approached me. At this point, I kind of understood why, though the attention is always great: Men just don't know what to do with me :) <p>More than all of this, this trip home, hanging with my girl, revisiting my family helped me refocus myself. Waking up to the city's skyline each morning was continually renewing. Going antiques shopping with my mother was fun and the type of dates with her I look forward to in the near future once I'm done here in Amherst. My dad's "scared straight" pep talks and his presence are always encouraging; every time I get packed up to go now, though, I start noticing some hesitation. It only gets harder. Seeing my sister for the first time in her painting studio and watching her interact with one of her professors was also a proud moment for me; this kid, once seemingly apathetic about school, was now a perfectionist of a painter who rushes to her black lit class because she's interested and doesn't want to be late and has her own office on campus. And my girl, almost finished with law school, new apartment in the city, working for a lawyer in Detroit with a respectable profile, and defending cases in a district court in the metro area...I can't even say how proud I am seeing her grow. <p>And that's what I realize this moment is about. Growth. <p>I felt stunted because I was looking backwards, expecting things to be the same in spite of the few changes I attempted to make myself during my previous visit home in December. During this moment, low as I had been, I was able to see my family, my girl, different people and the spaces I was in through new eyes. As my family and friends rise to better things and also tackle obstacles along the way, so do I. It is not as lonely a road as I had convinced myself. <p>While I do feel encouraged, there are moments when I drift back into worry. It's a very sensitive position, so I don't expect it to pass easily. However, I'm excited about what is going to come out of all of this. The world is ahead of me, and I have a litany of people who love and support me. Above all this, the Lord has been with me and has seen me through even the lowest points of this season. I only see myself rising from this moment renewed and, more important, ready for the next challenge. <p>It never ends :)
<br>Markeysha Dawn Davis
<br>Doctoral Candidate
<br>W. E. B. Du Bois Department of Afro-American Studies
<br>University of Massachusetts Amherst
<br>(313) 318-1831
<br><a href="mailto:mddavis@afroam.umass.edu">mddavis@afroam.umass.edu</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-68310245815988716342011-01-03T13:53:00.004-05:002011-01-03T14:54:53.580-05:0050<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lfsdjvTmboI/TSIni8_YCUI/AAAAAAAAAEY/7pjoug5L1Bk/s1600/x2_40415f0"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lfsdjvTmboI/TSIni8_YCUI/AAAAAAAAAEY/7pjoug5L1Bk/s400/x2_40415f0" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558048371569592642" /></a><br />It's been more than a year and a half since I began blogging on "Keysha Does Amherst!" (#pause), and I've managed to crank out 50 posts. Albeit, this one is a bit frivolous--perhaps pointless (maybe even a waste of keystrokes)-- but I felt compelled to log in and write something today, whether or not anyone is reading.<br /><br />First and foremost, I want to say thank you for following me, from the bottom of my heart. There are a handful of you who do and I know you by name (and heart, for that matter..lol), but I appreciate you checking up on me every now and then. At first, I toyed with the idea of keeping some kind of political ranting space--like the good old days of undergrad-- or even a space to veer into my idealized notions of what hip hop should be doing (see my second or third entry, here...lol), but this has truly been more of a space of therapy for me. The last two years have been rough, emotionally and spiritually. Having this blog has made the difference. But, even more, having you all comment or even having my more informal Facebook and Twitter friends (usually, just friends in general, lol) just drop by for a peek and give me feedback in person means a lot to me. Your encouragement has been appreciated and put to great use for this blog :)<br /><br />Second, I realize that many of my posts have been about my musings on love, on people, or figuring myself out through God. It helps to talk about these things in a fairly public forum, but I realize that it can be redundant ;) This year, I will be opening myself up to topical discussions. A lot of people, in casual non-cyberspace conversation, ask my opinion on different things...often, random weird-ass things that I can't quite answer with any real thought on the spot. Maybe this blog can become a Q&A forum every once and a while. I'm all about entertaining different notions (and entertaining, period) so it could be fun....LOL<br /><br />Finally, I hope that I can be more of a regular blogger. I would be more than happy to commit myself to writing something once a week for KDA! That kind of follow through would take a lot of time that I don't have, however. But I'll try.<br /><br /><br />Anywho, thanks for reading :) HAPPY NEW YEAR! And if there's something you want to ask me to write about, just inbox me....somewhere :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-75433796272949178132010-12-27T04:53:00.001-05:002010-12-27T04:55:48.743-05:00Pushkin...I Loved You Once (I wish I had Dudley Randall's translation on deck...)<br />By Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin<br /><br />I loved you once; even now I must confess,<br />Some embers of my love their fire retain;<br />But do not let it cause you more distress,<br />I do not want to sadden you again.<br />Hopeless and tonguetied, yet I loved you dearly<br />With pangs the jealous and the timid know;<br />So tenderly I love you, so sincerely,<br />I pray God grant another love you so.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-900985960331848701.post-19188364927744569532010-12-19T08:27:00.001-05:002010-12-19T08:35:05.776-05:00The End of Innocence...<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lfsdjvTmboI/TQ4IZR69ynI/AAAAAAAAAEM/6Na_9pvOUWU/s1600/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1HLTIwMTAxMjE4LTAwMTY0LmpwZw%253D%253D%253F%253D-785351"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lfsdjvTmboI/TQ4IZR69ynI/AAAAAAAAAEM/6Na_9pvOUWU/s320/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1HLTIwMTAxMjE4LTAwMTY0LmpwZw%253D%253D%253F%253D-785351" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552384620994873970" /></a></p>I got some information yesterday that I don't know how to deal with...<p>Nothing bad. At all. Actually, this was the realest, damn near, anyone had ever been with me. Period. <p>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.<p>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. <p>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. <p>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.<p>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. <p>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... :)<p>This time home may not be so bad after all...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0