Keysha Does Amherst!

So I went to a "Shrink" yesterday...

2011-12-09T23:15:00.003-05:00

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.

A list of things (in no particular order) led me to re-evaluate being evaluated and seeking help, not limited to:

1) Residual emotions about social and academic happenings related to graduate school.
2) Sadness triggered by homesickeness
3) Despair triggered by a baseless long-distance relationship
4) Powerlessness over finances towards a long-time goal (buying a car)
5) The death of a friend
6) Supporting friends and family as they identified/mourned (I also mourned) lost friend
7) Adjusting to two new jobs (nothing more stressful than feeling like a rookie)
8) Being at a Dissertation stalemate
9) Still mourning the loss of my grandmother
10) Pre-mourning the loss of Miracle, my family's 9-year-old Golden Retriever, who has cancer

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.

They gave me a general look over and questions, and told me to go home, subsequently telling me to come back next week.

I wasn't in crisis, according to desk staff.

If you saw me anytime around November 14, you knew "crisis" was not the word.

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.

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.

I promise, however, God knows what He's doing, all the time!

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.

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.

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.

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 :)

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.

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.

BACK TO MY "SHRINK"

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.

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".

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?"

Sigh.

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.

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.

The Copout

2011-11-09T12:44:00.001-05:00

(There are only 3 men in my life whom I absolutely "get". One of them is pictured above.)

Well, this one was coming.

And I'm not even bitter. Yet.

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:

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.)

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).

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.

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?

I'm not buying the copouts anymore.

But, still, I'm not bitter. Yet.

In Motion

2011-11-03T20:41:00.001-04:00

(pic wth friends as we campaigned to save affirmative action in Michigan with the NAACP, circa 2006)

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.

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.

I think that just about covers where I stand.

"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.

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.

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?

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".

A resting place fit for a "Queen's Mother"

2011-10-10T14:02:00.000-04:00

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

The Worst Bad...

2011-10-10T11:56:00.000-04:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).

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.

But back to today...

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.

What?

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.

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.

In the meantime, I'll stay in tune and in touch. I've got some waiting to do...

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

Yesterdays....

2011-10-10T01:10:00.003-04:00

I was just sitting around today, idling after church at Vita Nova and brunch with some friends at Lone Wolf.

Dawdling...as I like to say. In my own house.

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.

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.

Then I remembered this blog.

I stopped contributing my entries because of just a few reasons:

1) I didn't want nutty people in my FBWorld, "Twitterverse", or real life reading it as a digest

2) Some confusing/infuriating/painful things happened that I did not know how to punctuate here, and

3) I fell in love. Again.

Of course, more than this happened.

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.

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.

If you are willing to read, I am willing to keep writing. Just for my sanity at this point.

It helps.

Long time, no blog...

2011-02-07T11:30:00.001-05:00

I'm in a sensitive state right now. Honestly, I feel stronger for it.

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.

Nonetheless, here it is.

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.

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.

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.

That was a very lonely week.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

"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."

I said thanks and told him that the said boyfriend didn't exist.

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.

"At the end of the day," I concluded. "I'm just a woman.". He looked even more perplexed after that.

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 :)

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.

And that's what I realize this moment is about. Growth.

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.

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.

It never ends :)
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

50

2011-01-03T13:53:00.004-05:00

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.

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 :)

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

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.

Anywho, thanks for reading :) HAPPY NEW YEAR! And if there's something you want to ask me to write about, just inbox me....somewhere :)

Pushkin...

2010-12-27T04:53:00.001-05:00

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...

2010-12-19T08:27:00.001-05:00

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....

2010-12-18T00:28:00.002-05:00

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.")

2010-12-07T02:06:00.006-05:00

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

2010-11-29T21:23:00.002-05:00

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.

2010-11-21T13:39:00.008-05:00

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)

2010-11-14T02:28:00.007-05:00

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...

2010-11-08T08:38:00.001-05:00

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.

2010-10-27T01:54:00.002-04:00

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

2010-10-08T22:10:00.001-04:00

[#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

2010-09-20T17:15:00.001-04:00

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

2010-09-19T00:58:00.002-04:00

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?

2010-08-03T22:18:00.007-04:00

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

2010-07-08T00:15:00.002-04:00

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

2010-05-30T12:01:00.001-04:00

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...?

2010-05-15T03:09:00.002-04:00

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

2010-05-02T23:05:00.002-04:00

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....?

2010-04-18T23:22:00.008-04:00

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

2010-03-29T22:20:00.001-04:00

Dark Morning

2010-03-19T06:52:00.000-04:00

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

2010-02-18T08:07:00.000-05:00

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

2010-02-14T09:57:00.000-05:00

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...

2010-02-12T13:02:00.002-05:00

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

2010-02-01T22:35:00.000-05:00

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

2010-02-01T00:05:00.003-05:00

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.

Birthday/Christmas List (by request of NICOLE)

2009-11-25T01:12:00.004-05:00

Because Nicole has NO idea what I want for my birthday or Christmas, I'm making this list to give her options (LOL!). Both "holidays" are relatively close (December 6 and December 25), and, since roughly 2002, the weeks around these two dates are so jam-packed with school and work obligations that I never have time to plan anything for myself. And thus, here is my wish list:

1) Adult Swim in a Box: absolutely fantastical!

2) Black Amethyst Body Wash, etc. : I <3 this stuff....as do men :)

3) Carol's Daughter "Recipe for Smooth and Shiny Hair": Smell the Black Vanilla first and ask questions later...if you know me, you know that I'm a little obsessed with my hair. Perfect gift, lol :)

4) Itty, bitty purse Bible: I'm tired of lugging my 10-pound Black Jesus study bible to church and Bible study. Help a sister out!

5) Any Christmas movie or set...especially this one, lol:

6) I absolutely LOVE this collection, but I don't own it: Langston Hughes's "Ask Your Mama: 12 Moods for Jazz" (1961)

7) Any kind of funky jewelry, especially nose rings or earrings: Time to dress my head up now; the hair is gone!

If all of this seems unreasonable, wine is also great. Or you can chip in for my next month of asthma medications. Happy holidays. And happy birthday to me :)

Um...Relax.

2009-11-20T21:40:00.004-05:00

Since I was trusted to handle small non-digestible objects by my parents all of 25 years ago, I've been a huge Barbie enthusiast. German Barbie never did it for me, but Christie was my girl! Me and her, and eventually Kyra, the east Asian Barbie buddy, became best pals. I never looked at them in all of their size 0, waist-length maned, perfect-skinned glamor and thought any less of myself. Now, with the generation of children witnessing Oscar the Grouch being relegated to a recycle bin and "Veggie Monster" (not our cookie-craving chum) raiding the local garden, there's the complaint that black Barbies are too European featured--their hair too straight, their noses too narrow, etc...things that African American P.C. police have come up with to launch attack on America's beloved lady doll. So now, Mattel responds with this:

http://www.racewire.org/archives/2009/11/barbie.html

Now....the fact that this doll comes with a straightening iron could be a problem. But I feel that black women (and women in general) get a little too riled up on the issue of Barbie. While there is complaint about how black Barbies were just Barbies painted brown, I never had a problem these brown plastic women (aside ...from the fact that all her clothing fit strange) because they looked like someone I'd seen before. For example, the picture they include of "Colored Francine" from 1963 resembles my grandmother's style when I see old pics of her (slim, long straight hair (always too fine for a 'Fro), brown, narrow facial features, etc)

With the complaint for fuller hair and features, black Barbie opponents amongst women of color are failing, as well, to realize that we are all diverse, with varying hair preferences, hair textures, and bone structures. It is due time for a dark and lovely doll with some beautifully curly hair (oh but that's been done by Mattel--Shani, 1990s--I had that doll; did you?), but I don't see why Christie has to go to the wayside because she's not "black enough".

And as a matter of fact, scratch that point about the straightener being a problem. Nowhere in the ad, I'm sure, does it say "Straighten Grace/Trichelle's hair so she can be beautiful/get a job!". It is a CHOICE; she can stay "natural" if the girl who adopts her wants too. That's pretty forward thinking to recognize the VARIETY of beauty present in the black community. I'm done lol

On the subject of stupidity....

2009-11-18T21:08:00.003-05:00

Some time ago, I realized that I would never accept any woman who chose to attach herself to my either of my brothers, including my dog. I've been all the wiser for it.

I've even told him verbatim, "Don't bring any of these women around me unless you put a ring on their finger (left-hand, fourth digit)." I meant that sh-- like I've never meant anything else. And I mean everything I say. Unapologetically.

And with that, to the sleazy and easy women of DontDateM-----T----.blogspot.com, I warn specifically of two things: 1) Get some self-respect/self-confidence and accept YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY for foolishness and lack of concern for your own well being, and 2) stop being a groupie sl--.

From Columbus to Ann Arbor to Muskegon, from 1998 to the present date, I mean this with the depths of my soul. My brother is a musician, he has the gift of gab (yes), and he's intelligent and charming and ...etc, whatever you all see in him before you decide that he's come to save your wack a--es. Do realize that, of no excuses, he's also a touring performer, he's a young man with the world ahead of him--a world that includes many different women (including some of you all in the past)--that gives him the opportunity to run freely until he feels it suiting to slow down and pick a life partner. If he didn't choose you, go back in line and wait for the next man picking, since you don't know how to go for self, appreciate your own worth, and find someone who will respect you.

As my boyfriend (as in actual and 6 years and counting--not imagined...or one-night stand...or constant obsession, as some of you all have experienced according to your little blog) stated once, it is time for you ladies to "Get the red mushroom and grow the f--k up". I shouldn't have even heard about your little blog, nor should I have lowered myself to addressing your internet tirades and petty jealousies. I can list names of all of you, but I won't; that would be embarrassing, wouldn't it? Actually, yes, for me; reading your stories and knowing the SOURCE(S) of all of this bunk, you've done enough to embarrass yourselves ;)

With this said, please get a job. Find a hobby. Keep your legs closed. Stop googling him and his lady. And stop googling me for my email....I'm a hacker; I KNOW when I've been searched hacked or "included".

And leave my brother to find his own happiness while you hopefully find your own. Being a vindictive b---- can grow to suck, I imagine.

Peace be with you.

Ummm...

2009-10-24T21:36:00.000-04:00

It would be awesome if people stopped googling me. My network tells me these things,...stalking ain't wassup.
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Feeling the Foo Fighters right now...

2009-10-09T01:19:00.002-04:00

I'm really <3 ing this song currently....

I’ve got another confession to make
I’m your fool
Everyone’s got their chains to break
Holdin’ you

Would you born to resist or be abused?
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Are you gone and onto someone new?

I needed somewhere to hang my head
Without your noose
You gave me something that I didn’t have
But had no use
I was too weak to give in
Too strong to lose
My heart is under arrest again
But I break loose
My head is giving me life or death
But I can’t choose
I swear I’ll never give in
No, I refuse

Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Has someone taken your faith?
Its real, the pain you feel
You trust, you must
Confess

Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Oh...

ooooh,oh,oh
ooooh,oh,oh
ooooh,oh,oh
ooooh,oh,oh
Has someone taken your faith?
Its real, the pain you feel
The life, the love
You'd die to heal
The hope that starts
The broken hearts
You trust, you must
Confess

Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?

I’ve got another confession my friend
I’m no fool
I’m getting tired of starting again
Somewhere new

Would you born to resist or be abused?
I swear I’ll never give in
I refuse

Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Has someone taken your faith?
Its real, the pain you feel
You trust, you must
Confess
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?

Keysha's Top 10 Sexy-Flexy Songs

2009-08-30T16:48:00.000-04:00

Setting the mood with a special someone? My recommendations, with brief notes....

1) "I Want You" - Marvin Gaye

Nothing or no one says sexy quite like Marvin Gaye did. "Let's Get It On" and "Sexual Healing" are obvious choices, but this one says it all.

2) "Juicy Fruit" - Mtume

A theme for chocolate lovers everywhere, lol.

3) "Time of the Season" - The Zombies

One of my favorites hippy jams. Be honest, if a guy came to you with this song (albeit in the 1960s-70s) you'd be all over it, lol.

4) "Closer" - Nine Inch Nails

Just listen to it if you haven't. It's a special, animalistic kind of sexy.

5) "Stars" by Kindred the Family Soul

Commitment is sexy. Period.

6) "All the Things" by Joe / "Not Like This" by Calvin Richardson

Woman-stealers!! But their bravado and confidence in their snatchability comes through extra sexy in these songs. G'won then, boy. G'won then.

7) "Can U Handle It?" By Usher

I like a challenge.

8) "Soul Sista" by Bilal

Brings out the "earthy ho" in me, lmao.

9) "So Far To Go" by Common

The Dilla "Shining" version. I like.

10) "At Last" by Etta James

If this song doesn't get you in the mood for love, you may be emotionally dead. I'm just saying.
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Because I stalk doggies...

2009-08-10T01:23:00.001-04:00

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Naked truth...

2009-08-06T14:15:00.000-04:00

What colors would you have for your wedding? What flowers?

What would your song be?
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Polar Bath!!

2009-08-05T13:53:00.003-04:00

A random scene we witnessed while at the Detroit Zoo last Saturday...

Baking Cakes!

2009-08-05T13:01:00.000-04:00

Adrian's 25th birthday cake, as made and conceptualized by me and painted (with chocolate and frosting) by my sister Miah, the resident artist. The yellow coat and his eyes and the donuts are made of marshmallow fondant. Yum!
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Things That Make Me Happy in WestMass---My "Chocolate Drops!"

2009-06-25T07:33:00.001-04:00

L to R: Fierce, Fancy, Fabulous, and Feisty on our Boston excursion

I wish I could take them everywhere with me. I knew each one of them from separate walks in my Amherst life. However when we all came together, the sparks just flew. I LOVE Y'ALL!! :)

Now, if I could only get Miah, Shardonay, and Jackie to Amherst, we could be like the Justice League...but hotter, funnier, and chocolatier. Lol!
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Blankie Making!!

2009-06-22T02:30:00.000-04:00

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Lovers

2009-06-21T05:57:00.000-04:00

It doesn't matter where you've been or what you're doing, but where you're going and coming. This mallard had the good sense to go back home at the end of the day.

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Dear friend,

2009-06-06T04:02:00.000-04:00

There are good days and there are those bad ones. This wasn't one of the best. No reason; just because...

People say my face is easy to read; illiteracy must be running rampant recently. Actions should speak louder than words, though my laughter may seem indecipherable. I'm not emo, just emotional. Today.
I couldn't begin to tell you why, but I can tell you how it feels. The mind is no place to dwell for the lonely at heart; a lot of people don't understand the pull of this vital "organ". Regardless of what you may think, its feel reigns supreme. "Lonely at heart" is no representation of loneliness itself, for that I am not. But there is a disconnect I feel between my self and my world...that is beyond my words.

Then it begins, the little things you've never noticed, like the way my right foot caresses my left when I'm moved beyond words (usually to tears) or the constant changing of things to hold my attention (or yours) or the writing...

And it all may have nothing to do with you. Maybe I'm just writing because I knew you'd read it.

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Moo Moo goes fishing...

2009-06-05T14:08:00.000-04:00

A little piece of home.
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Why my dog is the "ish"

2009-05-31T22:09:00.000-04:00

He checks his Facebook all by himself.
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Things that make me happy in WestMass...Lake Wyola

2009-05-26T01:36:00.000-04:00

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It Begins! A Black Power Summer....

2009-05-22T09:58:00.000-04:00

( Prepping for the Prospectus and Dissertation, Spring 2010)

If you know me, then you know I like to have my ducks in a row before I do anything. ANYTHING. That doesn't inhibit my absolutely charming randomness, but I like my shit to be tight at the end of the day, careerwise.

Anywho, here are some books I'll be working my way through this summer:

Secondary Works:

1) "New Thoughts on the Black Arts Movement", Lisa Collins and Margo Crawford (Dr. Crawford is awesome!)
2) "The Black Arts Movement," James Smethurst. (Smethurst rocks!)
3) "Wrestling With the Muse," Melba Boyd (Amazing woman and mentor)
4) "Waiting 'Til the Midnight Hour", Peniel E. Joseph (Nice guy)
5) "After Mecca", Cheryl Clarke (Brilliant)
6) "Black Power", Jeffrey Ogbar

As you can see from many of the above descriptions, I have a lot to live up to :-)

Primary Sources:

1) "Black Power", Stokely Carmichael and Charles V. Hamilton
2) Collected/Selected poetry of Nikki Giovanni, Sonia Sanchez, Don L. Lee, Amiri Baraka, Jayne Cortez, Larry Neal, Gwendolyn Brooks, and others
3) "Rebellion or Revolution?" Harold Cruse
4) "Black Fire", Amiri Baraka and Larry Neal
5) "The Black Woman", Toni Cade Bambara
6) "Soledad Brother", George Jackson
7) "Revolutionary Suicide", Huey Newton
8) "The Wretched of the Earth" and "Black Skin, White Masks", Frantz Fanon
9) "White Man, Listen!", Richard Wright

...The list continues...I'll try to post some book reviews. If you all have any suggestions, hook it up!!

Until then, I'll continue to complain about Amherst, which currently smells of hot-ass cow.

Later.
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What I did on my last day as a second-year graduate student....

2009-05-20T22:49:00.000-04:00

1) Finished final paper for Politics in Haiti and Cuba class @ 5:10am
2) Woke @ 10:15am
3) Rode to Connecticut with a friend to meet our girl at the airport and do lunch @ a Cracker Barrel, noon-3pm
4) Turned in my final paper @ 4:30pm
5) Graded student papers @ 5:30pm
6) Called Adrian to cheer him up @ 6:30pm
7) Bought books in celebration of my freedom!
8) Dinner with Nicole @ 7:30pm
9) Bed...

Feels like I'll sleep tonight for every hour I lost over the past nine months of teaching and learning.

This feels good.
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This is how lame Amherst is:

2009-05-20T19:46:00.000-04:00

Really? And this is at a children's toy store. What kid wants to play this?

Lamer than this would be the depressingly white girl, surrounded by her white friends, wearing a shirt, with an Afro-ed sister on it, that read:

"The Only Cool Girls...Are Black"

Get me out of here. Please

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In the midst of this DEPLORABLE paper...

2009-05-19T16:19:00.000-04:00

I discovered something interesting about Cuban hip-hop. It, like hip hop movement in several other world circles of youth, drew it's influence from African-American artists in the late 1980s and the 1990s. However, this Cuban music also had the musical influences of salsa, son, timba and other Afro-Cuban melodical forms to add to its art and relevance to the Cuban youth.

Like its American brother, Cuban rap, at times, also serves a political function, as Sujatha Fernandes writes, giving a voice to voiceless black youth in a post revolution/"post-race" Cuba. But a major difference between our rap and theirs comes from the distinction between what is underground and what is commercial.

While "underground" implies a revolutionary tinge and "commercial" obviously emphasizes material gain and wealth, the cultural outsider to Cuban rap would be surprised at which form would be more meaningful to black Cubans. Cuban underground rap, Fernandes writes, is often more likely to fall into the fold of "revolutionary" art, that is, art that does not emphasize racial disparity - after all, Cuba is the only nation more "post-race" than the United States (my nose just grew 5 inches) - nor challenge the socialist government. On the other hand, in the midst of socialism and what some see as economic deprivation, Cuban commercial rap presses the need for poor black Cuban youth - typically composing the highest numbers of the unemployed - to hustle in order to make ends meet. There's no chance for conspicuous consumption, because as one rapper notes commercial and underground are all the same in Cuba because there is no market.

What a tangled web we weave...

Still reading.
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Blogging instead of doing a final=FAIL!

2009-05-19T00:30:00.000-04:00

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An Introduction

2009-05-18T23:05:00.000-04:00

Aside from the people, .....

I HATE IT HERE.

Amherst is just one of those places that you don't go for any extended period of time. For a summer? Sweet. A weekend? Even better. A month? Doable. Any length of time longer than a month is just pushing it.

Several factors may contribute to my disillusionment with this area. I'll just begin with one.

I was born and raised in Detroit, Michigan - one of the blackest cities in America, purposely. The white flight of the 1950s-1970s basically robbed me and my generation of any real meaningful interactions with middle-class white Americans and those ethnic/"racial" others that they let into their fold. Unless we crossed 8 Mile Rd., or drove west on Michigan Avenue long enough to be engulfed in suburban whiteness, my family and I (outside of my parents working) had little to do with any groups of people outside of city limits when I was a kid. I appreciate those interactions with people of different ethnicities because, with prime-time television and local news outlets telling you, an impressionable 10-year-old, or what have you, that all non-black people fear and hate you and here's why.... , those real-life instances with diverse connections across cultural and imagined racial lines gave me a chance to learn about and love people unlike me and more importantly correct and be corrected about false assumptions about race.

Amherst is a different story.

This place touts itself on diversity and liberal politics and, most importantly, "tolerance" - the worst kind of 'ism (though it grammatically isn't an "ism", it is). Everyone here protests something, even if they have no clue about the people, thing, or concept that they are protesting for. It seems to be the "en vogue" thing to do. And it is not always just white people here - though, since people of color make up less than 10 percent of the population, it almost always is. Do not get me wrong: I love when people are willing to learn about other cultures and jump in whole-heartedly to explore what it means to be a part of someone else's world. I love genuine interest and diversity of thought, habit, and interaction from people who are shaped by their environments. Voyeurs and posers, however, piss me off. People who rock dashikis, lock (not "dread") their hair, are regulars at salsa and reggae nights, learn how to play the talking drum, rock the mic from time to time at the local hip hop shows and still, STILL have the nerve at the slightest opportunity to call out "you people" (of color, not always black) for simply being. More than once have I observed or heard first-hand the instance of "tolerance" being tested by a simply suspected person of color by a "liberal" white person here. First and foremost, the concept of "tolerance" implies inadequacy of the group being tolerated. So, though these people are interested in dressing as I dress, embracing the cultures of my African, Latino, Hispanic, and Afro-American brothers and sisters, and dancing as we dance, we are still just to be tolerated?

Get the fuck out of here.

Amherst has the potential to be a great place to raise a family and have a quiet, prosperous life - if you can overlook all the bullshit. Detroit has its issues - major issues - but everything is out in the open, has been for more than half a century. Amherst is in denial. The Jason Vassell case and the local reactions to it speak volumes to that point: . When this place gets over itself, maybe I'll get over being here.

Until next time....