Yesterdays....

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...

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

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*