50

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...

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

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

The End of Innocence...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Popular Demand....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

There is so much more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can you dig it?

*cue the outro music*

Top 26 of My 26th

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

Raw.

Inspiration...



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

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

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

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

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

I wanted to cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need to be so much better to myself.