Saturday, March 29, 2008

The Club

I just had to share this - do you remember going out and purposely breaking curfew because whatever you had gotten into was worth the punishment you were sure to get at home. Well my son is having one of those moments, right now, as I type this. The problem he has is he cant even begin to do the amount of dirt i did at his age and therefore cannot outsmart me in these things...

So, tonight was his first real club night. Unfortunately, DC allows them in young - 18 (although they are not allowed to drink). So his friends have found a way to get into Love (aka Dream) for next to free by going at the crack of dawn (club hours), which is about 7 pm. I guess they let the L 7's (form the L with your left and the 7 with your right and bring it together and you'll get it) young folks in early as "fillers" so the club doesn't look empty when the grown folks get there. Now I call them L7's affectionately - while cool amongst there friend, they are certainly "square" to the DC party scene (ooops, I gave it away - L& is square). I can imagine them walking around the club trying to get the nerve to holler at grown woman....so funny.

BTW- this whole club thing required I have the "grown woman/young boy" talk with my son tonight to. Had to inform him so he wouldn't get his mind blown away by some young woman lookin to turn my child out.

Anyway - back to the point - curfew was 2. Did i hear from him at 2, 2:10? No. At 2:20 I called the friends cell phone too, hoping he would be embarassed enough to call. After all this is DC, folks, I need to know the boy is alrite. So I was just trying to get him to call, but of course I was going to give him an earful about being late. NOONE answered there phones which is a clear sign that they are all standing together, looking at there phones, shaking their head like - ain't no way I am answering this call.

So, what did I do. A text message to my son stating:
What you don't want is 4 me 2 leave this house 2 come lookin 4 u. U hav 5 min 2 call me back

Wouldn't you know it, a minute later I got a text message from my son, explaining that his friend had his cell phone (a lie) and had run across the club to find him so that he could respond (another lie). But, he was ok, and that was the real reason for the messages anyway. He has no clue how many angels have saved him - tonight, blogging while trying to reach him reminded me of words of wisdom bestowed upon me by fellow blogger and mother of "boys to men" Patricia. Her patience and understanding of his need to expand his horizons and express himself right now kept me from storming up to the club in sweatpants and tshirt (im capable of it) or ruining his night with punishment. Instead, I just let it ride....

Round Up...

Ya'll knew I was going to post on it sooner or later, right? For those of you not in the DC,MD,VA circuit, a round up site for black schools has hit the internet. And, while the concept is not new, (because we used a similar site to locate classmates for our high school class reunion) this is more of a "myspace" approach to reuniting. I heard about it first through my Howard peoples, my close homeboy, and then a good friend. I figured if Howard had one, then certainly the "real" HU did also - smile, I couldn't resist - so i randomly checked for a Hampton site. And, there it was, www.pirateroundup.com.

So then I was faced with the interesting question. Do I want to be found? Do I want to reconnect, reunite, rekindle old relationships? At first, the answer was a hesitant no. While I knew alot of people while I was there, what was the chances they would remember me? If I started a page, would I become a "Roundup" dud, that is have my worse fears confirmed when NOONE bothered to become my friend? Or, what if I wasn't important enough to anyone to be in their "memory" chain? What if I requested to be their friend and their response was 'who the hell are you.' (Yes, unfortunately, this is really how I think. But, since so many of you have been reading, you already know this...)

So, instead of posting a page, i went through other pages. The past temp boyfriend(s) that I never admitted to...hmmm. LOL. The past psuedo relationship that never came to fruition....hm mm(again). The girl i always thought would be the most successful. the friend I thought I would never be able to find. the homegirl who i socialized with sometimes, but would run from other times. (Some times, I used to be funny acting like that - chalk it up to low self esteem). They all had pages. They all had innumerable amount of friends.

Then, i went to the pages of those exfriends - you know, the ones that were SOOOOO cool, before they became....fill in the blank here (Greek, Cheerleader, Socialite, FratHo, Lush, etc...). And I came across a few faces of people who I had a relationship with but inexplicable lost it, and always wondered...what if, or, more often than not, what was I thinkin?

So, I swallowed my incessant self doubt and posted a page. Then, as is always the case, I got wrapped up in the fun of creating "My space" and my phobias evaporated as I searched for that perfect KRS1 song to play on my site. So ridiculous, I know. And I began to submerge myself into the socializing of what is now Hampton cyberspace.

I think the difficulty for me was the reality that, just like that, I was back in that uncertain, late teen space where socializing and outside opinions meant so much, or at least I thought they did. And just the idea of having to cross that social bridge almost felt overwhelming. Here it is, more than ten years later, and somehow i reverted to a space i thought I had long overcome and cast away.

I guess some part of me never actually fit at Hampton. It was a different world, and I resisted it for a long time. But I learned to love it and appreciate it. Those years were difficult ones for me, trying to escape the things i didn't like about my past, wanting to believe i was doomed to be a failure, as i was often told, and trying to form who i wanted to be. Believing in a dream of the future me, but having no evidence, no proof, that I could ever be anymore than I was. WHile my friends nad fellow Hamptonites worried about the next cabaret, i wondered why my mother wouldnt had just cussed me out, how would i survive the engineering department, where would i go after hampton, etc...The personal journey was very necessary, but taxing, painful, exhausting. And Hampton was the background to that change - so i often escaped it, running to Norfolk State to be with my then boyfriend now husband. So , where does that leave me and how do i really fit into the scene of Hampton alumni?....I guess that's the real question that Pirate Roundup has begun to answer....

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Gossips Negativity

I haven't written in a long while. Not only my journal, but my stories. I can't put my finger on it - the stories still play out in my head, but I have lost the discipline of removing myself and recording them. Is it possible that tomorrows novel is really seeping down the drain of never reached goals, cause I just had to watch three back to back episodes of Design on a Dime?

Its embarrassing, really, how much TV I have watched lately. But, true to form, I haven't watched any good stuff. No, without HBO Sunday night lockdown, I am like a child in a toy store. I run past all of the high end, high priced, high tech things and beg and cry for the $2.00 electronic toy that is bound to break before we get home. And as soon as I get it out of the wrapper, I really don't want it anymore. SO, I watch ESPN and HGTV. Wondering what happened to The Shield. And, in the meantime, two more characters who had a delicious love affair going on in my mind have begun to fade into oblivion.

I posted a poem today entitle Gossip. I think that is whats starting to sap my energy. I am ashamed to admit it, but I gotta tell the truth and shame the devil. I have been engaging in....gossip. I know. Its pathetic. The things is, its all work related (all my friends can sigh, i haven't spilled the beans). But the speculation and whispered dealings are taking their toll on me. I remember when I was in highschool and I didn't think twice about gossiping. In college, I was more inclined to keep folks business to myself, I think living with people allows you to sympathize more with their situation. But, here is the bad thing: after undergrad I became a full fledged gossiper. It was pretty bad. I mean, while someone was confiding in me, I was already looking ahead to when I shared the delicious news with the next person. When I caught myself, literally listening to someones every word with bated breath so I could rush out and repeat it, I felt soooooooo pathetic. Pathetic. No other word. Was that all I was, someone who enjoyed others demise and spread it around like Miracle Whip? Something deep in my spirit really convicted me

But here is the most telling part. For a while after, I had to ask people not to confide in me. If they started, I asked them to stop. BECAUSE I COULDN'T stop myself from gossiping. I had to go cold turkey. Now, isn't that ridiculous? But my self pride was at rock bottom as well, so I couldn't love anyone else enough to protect their secrets when I didn't love myself (did you catch that subtle Mary J. Blige hook in there?-No? How can I, love somebody else....)

SO anyway, after going cold turkey, i practiced. I would take in small bits of info, see if i could keep them to myself. I began to want people to do good, be good and not suffer. I didn't enjoy watching the trials of their lives. Then I began to wish they didn't have to suffer at all. And that feeling of - Hope, Mercy, I'm not sure what to call it, but it killed my desire to want to spread information that would hurt the ones I luv. Sometimes, in frustration, I will slip. I may discuss something in an attempt to help someone, or to make sure I am not crazy before I offer my advice. But, I really believe that's different, the malintent is certainly no longer there. I also learned to listen without giving my "advice." Sometimes folks just need to be heard, understood, AND NOT JUDGED. It took my being there to learn this feeling, but, if I am the person I strive to be, then I would hope I was able to be this type of listener for somebody.

But, at work recently, the malcontent is in the air. And while I don't disagree that some have the right to be angry, I find the daily discussions and reminiscing to be ....tiring. Useless. I feel like I am covered in some type of greasy residue that won't come off.

So, I have to let go, remove myself, and block my ears from the gossip I am facing at work. Maybe that will result in me returning to my own focus and eventually lifting a pen.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Im in Essence

I sat in the hair salon, I was maybe 11 or 12. And I stared at the mountain of hair books around me. Picking over the standard compilations of angular cuts and hair art, I opted for the Essence Magazine. The magazine fell to Terry McMillans Disappearing Acts excerpt. Within seconds, I was sucked in, transfixed, at awe by this glimpse into a novel.

I always wanted to have that same effect on someone. To have someone sitting in the hairshop, or doctors or dentist, thumbing through and, sighing, stop to glance at my work. And, in moments, be sucked in to the emotion of my write, such that they remember it long after they put down the magazine.

Now, I don't know whether I accomplished that - but I have met the part of my goal I could somewhat control - I have been published in Essence. In the upcoming April 2008 Issue of Essence Magazine, in the WORD section, my poem PreDestiny graces the page. What an overwhelming, defining, exhilarating experience. My work has been published before, but not in a forum that has been a part of my life since child hood, that defines the African American experience and growth.

SO I am thrilled and honored to be in Essence. I have to thank fellow poet and wonderful writer Shai for advising me. Pick it up, check out the poem, and tell me what you think.....

Saturday, March 15, 2008

BIG EAST

My Hoyas lost the Big East Championship game. I was hoping for a repeat of last year. It's interesting how a simple sports game can have you cheering and cringing, excited and frustrated. The pregame hype was of a New York brotha walking the streets of the city, explaining the rawness and realness of the east and how the tournament represents it. A unique hot of corporate america grasping onto something authentic without ruining it. I enjoyed the spot.

So its Tourney time - tomorrow they will announce who will dance. Of course, the Hoyas will go without question. But I hope they show glimpses of the earlier two games in the tourney - when they let it rain and enjoy themselves.

On another note, HBCU's (or at least Howard and Hampton) are offering a social website *ala myspace) for alumni. Its amazing who you will see and who remebers you. I put up a page at www.pirateroundup.com. So, if you are Hampton alum or affiliated, check it out.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Wire Recap

I spoke to a good friend from highschool today and she pointed out that I hadn't written my normal Wire write up. And I am glad that she brought it up because I had so much to say.

When the season finale - and the shows finale - ended on Sunday, I found myself at a loss for words. The reality is, I am invested, in the show and in the characters. So, I felt disappointed because a saga, an era, ended. Unreasonably early (although, how many dynamic plots can they come up with - even the Wire writers can't keep pulling this high caliber stuff together). So I watched it again, and let it soak in before I came up with what I wanted to say. But here are my thoughts of the overall season:

1. I didn't want Omar to die like he did. Let that man go out in a blaze of glory - he was the glue to the show. Kinard pops him in the head? Are you kiddin me? Kinard? I want to take a belt to that bad ass lil negro myself.

2. As I stated before, didn't Snoop and Michael pull off a "Godfatheresque" showdown. That was a classic. Yo, how my hair look Mike?

3. Do the police ever get it right? Yeah McNulty and Freeman were wrong, but you got the drugs, you got the money, and some real police work got done. Who knew the tug of war between political gain and policing was so tight. But two NATURAL PO-PO are out of the game for nothing.

4. Who I would have loved to see one more time: Stringer Bell. Stringer Bell. Stringer Bell. oh, let me move on. did I say Stringer Bell yet? ALso Bode - my favorite street thug. Wallace, the youngun Bode killed. But, all the characters I luv the most were killed off, so no hope in seeing them again.

5. Wasn't it smooth how they cameo'd in everyone - from Avon and Wee Bay to the police oficer who used to sleep all the time (working the evidence room when they went to get the cell phone). Very clever. Shardine showed back up - but I woulda like to see Avon's sister too.

6. How heartbreaking is it that they only gave Michael and the drug dealer consortium one or two scenes in the final episode. What was that about. I wanted some more street - I wanted to see the streets reaction to Snoop, wanted to see how Michael is living now, I wanted to know if he is just going to wild out, or is he on his way to Marloism.

7. Was Michael wrong for dumping Duquan? My girlfirend and I were talking about it. I think that Duquan was already using drugs and Michael knew it. I mean, why else would he ask to go stay with the geekers and Michael actually take thime there. Speakin gof which, how pathetic was Duquan. My goodness. That baby boy didn't have an ounce of confidence - he tried to hold onto a little pride. Example of Excellent writing: when Duquan reminsces on last summer when they threw piss balloons at the other boys and Michael doesn't remember it. Duquan still a child, Michael had become a traind killer. Classic.

8. Doesn't Carver owe Randy something? I mean, while he is becoming real police, shouldn't he remember the kid who paid an awful price for dealing with him (becuase he handed the case - and the kids life- over to a jerk like Hurk (pun intended))

9. Does anyone else but me think that Cedric (Acting Commander) is gross? That is one brotha I don't mind not seeing again. It's not really that he is unattractive per se, its that stiff board thing he's got going on, walking all awkward and pronouncing his words unecessarily hard. Everytime he talks I cringe. I mean, didn't you not mind when he started dating the white girl. I actually felt sorry for her. Him, I won't miss.

10. I was a big fan of the Baltimore Sun copy editor. He played the hell out of that role. I wanted him to bust the crooked reported, but, it played out just like it would have in real life.

11. The Wire staff mustlike nonemotional, blase type woman. Was it just me or was Alma (the journalist) simply Kima in Spanish? And how does Kima - who used to beat down brothas "illegally" turn into the snitch. Very interesting. Maybe she is tapping into a sensitive side now that she's "gettin her kid" for the weekend. (You know it annoyed me that she said it like that)

12. Im lovin Slim for the final shot of the season. The old man was the funniest "This sentimental ___ is costing us money" - hilarious, the Wire style. Speaking of which, how pissed off are the Greeks that they allowed Joe to be killed and now the connect is in shambles. Why didn't they put a hit on Marlo. They were way to efficient to allow Marlo to sell the conect for 10 million too.

Overall- I thought they got the ending just right. There is no satisfaction. There isn't black and white justice. Life is circular and the game stays the same the players are just different. Marlo - the rawest thug ever, ends the show suited up and making deals- just like Stringer. Chris, the silent murderer you definitely want on your side, takes all the heat, just like Wee Bay did years ago. Method Man is just another traitor gone wrong. Michael morphs into a version of Omar - he no doubt can be a street legend too. Just hope he stays on our team - despite what Bugs daddy did to him. Duquan could never be more than the junkie he was born to be. Well, he might have if he had reached out to Presbo for help when he first dropped out. But, after all the job searching, he winds up going right to the geekers anyway. The future Bubbles. The black cop that used to work with Freeman is ratting politicians out to the judge, just like McNulty. Of the four boys isn't just like life that Naman, the one who was kinda a punk (no real heart for street life), but the loudest, most bullyish, best dressed, most spoiled, is also the one who gets the help of Bunny and is going to be alright. Like my friend said today - the ones with a little something have a chance if they get help. But children like Duquan, they inevitably get lost before this game every gets started. Different players, same game. Perfect mirror to real life.

Im gonna miss it.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Creation

I thought I would share what goes on in the mind of an author - or in my mind at least. During the day, I dummy down, focus on whatever "the man" (really meaning the system) needs me to do to be a productive citizen. I don't mind, I enjoy my job, I am beginning to see my career blossom. But, every now and then, in brief sessions of downtime, a characters conversation will play out in my mind, or an interaction. Like watching a movie really. I can't lay claim to most of my fiction, the characters play themselves out before me.

After the evening whirlwind of homework, piano practice/lessons (I am teaching it right now, ballet and tap, tennis, and whatever else our crew is into, then I began to put everyone to bed. Now during this process, I enjoy my little ones, but,I began to look forward to stealing minuets at my computer and fleshing out the story. It's like anticipation that forbidden long awaited bowl of ice cream. Not outright excitement, but a content satisfaciton feeling.

Now sometimes a story or, more likely, a poem will only ive me a brief moment to capture it. Tha tis, the first lines will appear to me and if I don't type them or write them down, their gone. Like today, I got locked out the house and as I waited in the back the following lines formed: Your love, so lush, dribbling, soft, plump, and overripened fruit, waiting...But, while I was waiting for the next lines to po in my head, I was distracted by a cat that perched itself in the middle of my yard and looked at me anxiously, as if I had invaded his territory. My mind switched to the cat, I started thinking about the scene from Fallen the movie, and forgot the rest of the poem.

But anyway, I feel tht calm type of thrill and I sit down and type out what is playing in my mind. Now, I don't see characters. Which means I cannot tell you , really, facial features. I know them from the inside out, how they think, how they respond. And that's where I write from. So you will get a lot less about there wardrobe from me (cause most times I can't see it anyway) and much more about whats in their heart.

For example, I have this erotic story playing around my mind. Its been lingering for the past two days, so I need to jot it down. A man and a woman are in a sandwich shop. They are friends, but he is discussing the lack of passion he feels with his wife. She laments about the overpassionate, but connected on no other level, relationship she is in. And so the story plays form there.

So, that is how most of my stories are created....

Wednesday, March 05, 2008

The Wire

The Wire is on fire this season. Ya'll know that I only really watch television on Sunday evenings - and I have been the biggest, loudest, surest supporter of The Wire since Season 1. Let me tell you - this actor Tristan Wilds is phenomenal at expressing Michael Lee, a young boy trying to raise his brother Bug and is forced into a life on the streets to support and protect himself and his brother from child abuse.

Episode 59 is the culmination of all the seasons, if you really know you will even hear a shout out to Chardene, Lester's young luv from Season 1. But back to episode 59, the writers are phenomenal and wrap this series up in a classic fashion. But Tristan and Felicia "Snoop", playing Michael and Snoop, deliver the rawest, truest gangster scene in this episode. Stripped to the raw realness of life and interactions, this is a breathtaking scene without gadets and unnecessary flare. I can't believe this young boy nails it like he does, but he is a star in the making!

Yes We Can

I love this - thought I would share it!
Yes We Can Obama Song by Will.I.Am

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