Boldness, Genius, Power, Magic

2010-01-16T13:00:00.000-08:00

Continue with me on my academic journey at signifying monkeys.

On the Fulfillment of Dreams

2009-05-18T08:09:00.001-07:00

So, I’ve come to the end of my undergraduate journey, and I feel obligated to say something profound. YES! YES! I DID IT! I got my Bachelors of Arts Degree in English! Okay, maybe not as deep as you might expect, but powerful nonetheless. It seems not so long ago that I embarked upon this educational odyssey, along with this public journal documenting the bulk of my hopes and aspirations. Until now, I’ve felt as though I have been playing catch-up and that finally, I am beginning. So, I have to be a little sappy and say to anyone over 30 or 40 or whatever, who desires an education, but think that it’s too late for them: it is never, ever too late. It is never too late to learn something new, or to reinvent yourself.

Never…ever.

For as by now we know that, "boldness has genius, power and magic in it."

And, while I shall continue working toward a Master’s of Arts in Literary Studies, this is the end of the online journal, Boldness, Genius, Power, Magic. And what a way to end; with the fulfillment of a goal! Thanks again for all of your support. If you've missed any posts, please go back to the beginning, and share the adventures of a non-traditional student all over again.

OWO FODO ADOBE

2009-04-26T03:31:00.000-07:00

"Owo-foro-adobe is the adinkra symbol of a snake climbing a tree. The Akan observed the action of a little snake attempting to get to the top of a tall raffia tree and were impressed by its actions. At first glance, it seemed that the snake was attempting an insurmountable task. The Akan noticed that the snake would creep upward inch by inch, constantly moving, and constantly inching upwards. Eventually, in time, he reached the top of the tree."

"There may come a time in a persons life when his goals seem unobtainable the goals may seem hopelessly distant, similar to the snake trying to get to the top of the raffia tree. The individual may feel distraught because of the enormous task or endeavor. Goals or aspirations may seem unattainable or beyond ones reach. Owo-foro-adobe speaks of overcoming such circumstances by accomplishing a seemingly impossible task or achieving an unusual goal. Like the snake climbing the raffia tree, individuals should emulate the snake by working hard to obtain their personal and social goals in life."

It is a mantra for me now:

“Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.”

I so believe it. And I will continue to recite this affirmation as I move forward, continuing on a path that I feel destined to walk. Despite the seeming chaotic nature of life in general, there are still opportunities to claim some small part of it for yourself. This journey of mine will not end in two weeks when I graduate with a Bachelors Degree in English, (although the blog may). I am happy to report that, though it was a small challenge, I will be continuing my studies in the fall as a graduate student at the big university in Atlanta. (Are mature students in graduate school still considered “non-traditional”?)

For those of you who have been interested in my adventure, and silently rooting for me, I give thanks.

Singing Horn Parts, Baselines Like Thunder

2009-04-13T18:23:00.000-07:00

While I can be just as romantic as the next woman—roses and all have their place—over the last five years, or so, I am completely jaded by music artist whose main objective is always to love me down, massage my toes, “lick me up and down ‘til I say stop,” (there was actually a song that says that), get me pregnant, take off my clothes, and well, you know the rest. Sometimes after driving home from work having my ears and sensibilities musically molested, I often want to call the DJ on my cell phone and ask if it was as good for him as it was for me, then smoke a cigarette.

Maybe it’s just me, but what happened to songs that documented what was going on in the world? Curtis Mayfield’s 1972 album “Back to the World” was essentially a commentary on men coming back from Vietnam facing the hardships of no job, dealing with the stress and memories of the horrors they’d seen in war, drug abuse encouraged by war, and even worse, coming home and learning that your woman cut out on you. His “Super Fly” soundtrack, while some say the movie glorified the life of a drug dealer, balanced if not negated that life by exposing the detriment of the drug user (“Freddy’s dead, that’s what I said”), and the lost souls of friends as in “Eddie You Should’ve Know Better”:

Eddie you should’ve know better,
Brother, you know you’re wrong,
Think of the tears and fears
You bring to your folks back home,
They say where did he go wrong, my Lord?

We all remember James Brown’s “Say it Loud, I’m Black and I’m Proud,” and in 1978 the Whispers lamented the plight of many young girls who succumbed to the streets and slick talking men,

“…a wolf in lambs clothing came,
Blew her mind and changed her ways,
And now she’s turned out…”

Or, Dion’s 1968 classic “Abraham, Martin and John”:

"Anybody here seen my old friend Martin?
Can you tell me where he's gone?
He freed lotta people but it seems the good they die young
I just looked around and he's gone".

Still, a beautiful song.

Where is our “What’s Goin’ On?” album for the 21st century? In an interview, Smokey Robinson discusses a conversation he had with Marvin Gaye about the making of that album in which Gaye reveals that it was in fact God who was writing the lyrics for that masterpiece. I believe him. Gaye’s soulful plea to “Save the Children” makes me shutter in light of the children in today’s world who are suffering needlessly.

So, where’s our Marvin Gaye?

Where’s our Parliament/Funkadelic, Chicago or Earth, Wind and Fire? Where are the bands, I mean, real bands with 20 members, two drum sets and a brass section? All you have to hear is the horn parts to songs like “Shining Star,” (Earth, Wind & Fire) or “Sir Duke,” by Stevie Wonder, and you’ll know the song before a word is sung.

So, why is it that:

“We don’t listen anymore
To baselines like thunder, and
Guttural testimonies in the midnight hour
Professing anguish for a wayward woman.
Soldiers return from war
Back to the world they thought they left behind.
No baselines for them;
Just drum machines and angry lyrics
Numbing rhythms that freeze the brain like ice.
We don’t question anymore
What goes on in the world or,
Sing horn parts, like words to the song, or
Name that tune because we’d recognize the baseline
Driving past in a ’72 Duce and a Quarter,
Lemon yellow, fuzzy dice, and gangster whitewalls,
Like, sunshine on a cloudy day”.

Before There was "Milk," There was "Philiadelphia"

2009-04-04T11:42:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I finally got to see Sean Penn’s portrayal of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay rights activist and Politian who was gunned down in San Francisco in 1978. His Oscar-winning performance of the popular Milk was a stark contrast to his brooding and masculine portrayal of Jimmy Markhum in Mystic River, for which Penn also won an Oscar. But, before there was Penn as Milk, let’s not forget Tom Hank’s brilliant, 1993 portrayal of Andrew Beckett in Jonathan Demme’s Philiadelphia.
We see a youthful Hanks transform from a healthy, crackerjack attorney with a top law firm, to the withdrawn, gray shell of man who sues his employer for discrimination after discovering that Becket has AIDS. The scene where Becket (Hanks) is interpreting the opera, "La Mamma Morta" by Maria Callas, to his lawyer (played by Denzel Washington) still moves me to tears.

Walking into The Light

2009-03-25T18:12:00.000-07:00

I see it. It's getting closer and closer. It's the light that's been at the end of a very long, non-traditional tunnel. A little dramatic? Maybe. But, if like me, you are a forty-something student returning to school after many years, or finishing school after many years, you certainly understand my excitement. Now, if like me, regardless of age, you are trying to meet deadlines and filling out applications for graduate school, then you also understand my anquish; the nail biting days waiting to see whose going to accept you and who isn't. And, while my journey began with a simple desire to acquire a bachelors degree, my love for literature has compelled me to study further. So, I find myself waiting with bated breath, trying not to internalize when I have been rejected because of that nasty little standardized test. Nevertheless, I will continue to do what must be done, (even if it means taking that test again, for a third time), in order to achieve my goals.

In one of my favorite movies, The World According to Garp, there is a scene that I have memorized. Garp's wife teaches graduate school. Garp's young son asks him, "Dad, what is gradual school?" [He mispronouces it, you see.] Garp, lovingly holding his son's hand answers, "Well son, gradual school is where you go and gradually find out that you don't want to go to school anymore".

Maybe for some people, but I can't wait. I feel as though I am just beginning.

A Funny Thing Happened On My Way To A Job Fair...

2009-03-07T18:39:00.000-08:00

Well, as my undergraduate career comes to a close, I'm working as an editorial intern for a local magazine. But, this time it's a paid internship; which is nice because I'm finally getting paid to do what I do best, write....although it is internship wages. Unfortunately, because of the current economy, (I'm going to assume that it's the economy and not my writing skills...okay), like so many other industries, the publishing business is hurting too, and as a result, it doesn't look as though I will get hired. Although I plan to be in graduate school this fall, I still must work. And, while I'd love to be working in the publishing business, instead of waiting and hoping for the "right" job, I am looking for the "right now" job.

Since I last HAD to look for a job, job hunting has changed a little. When I first came to the Atlanta area I was amazed at the fact that there were actual "Help Wanted" signs displayed all over the place. Of course, that was about 18 years ago. I've always prided myself on being able to find jobs rather easily, but now...whew! I have filled out at least 40 applications and have gotten ZERO responses. That's scary for someone who has worked all her life. The funny thing is, I've filled out all of these applications online. You can't just walk into a business now days, with your interview suit on and your honest face and apply for a job. The problem with Internet applications is that you literally become just another number, and you have no idea what happens to your application once it it delivered into the web sphere.

Then, there are the job fairs, which implies that it will be a free-for-all, fun, carnival-like, career grab bag, with enough jobs for everyone to leave with three. Lately though, they've become just another local tv news story, (along with apartment fires and shootings), looking more and more like cattle in their best outfits, all with a bag full of cookie-cutter resumes, being lead into perpetual lines wrapped around some convention center from hell. Everyone, it seems, is looking for a job; and the smiling recruiters with strong hand shakes who get paid to go from city to city to build up people's hopes seem suspiciously in on the conspiracy to make people actually believe that they will leave with a fulfilling and rewarding career.

So, I went to one such job fair that was actually called a "Career Fair," because of course, I don't want just a "job," I want a CAREER. And, that it was a CAREER fair for my school, made me feel like I might of really had a chance. Well, about a quarter of the recruiters were government entities, (I am too old to be a DEA agent or a Secret Service agent.) Then, there were the companies who wanted you to become a Manager Trainee. Another quarter of the companies were looking for interns, unpaid. And of course, no one was actually hiring, and in fact, if you wanted to apply, most suggested that you simply go to the website. A few actually collected resumes, but then what?

So my question this week has been: "Do you personally know someone who actually got a job as a result of a job fair?" I mean a REAL, pay the bills, the car note and buy groceries, job. Of course, if you don't have a job, you've got to go to these things when you can, because if you're hopeful, (like me), there's always that one, one hundredth of a chance that the job you want is there waiting for you, right?

A Wave of Feel Good

2009-01-17T08:09:00.000-08:00

Don't you feel it? It's more than a moment. The world knows it. Can't you feel that we're living at a very special time in history? If you don't then you must not be living in the "now". I invite you to come from under your rock, because it is indeed the beginning of a new time, a new era. And regardless of what our personal issues are right now, we must be still and acknowledge that this is an awesome time to be alive. It is the Age of Obama.

Even more than the significance of a Black man coming to power in a country that could easily be conceived as the architect of racism, it feels like a collective confirmation of the humanity of us all. And while there are those who contend that President Obama is "bi-racial" or "mixed"; he is either a Black man by the very definition of those who determined from the beginning of this country what "Black" is, or we are all, every American, "mixed".

Witnessing President Obama's success, his self-possession and sureness, has conveyed a sense of the same in us all. It was there all along, we knew it. And now he is the collective validation of our individual faith. Moreover, the image of his strong black (and some white) family, reminds us of what has been important for us all along. His very public displays of affection for Michelle, Sasha and Malia endears us to him, and places the black family prominently in the forefront.

So in spite of labels, political, racial, or otherwise, and in spite of your fears, BE HERE NOW. This is a time to celebrate humanity, community and family. Use this historical momentum to propel your own goals and dreams. The energy is in the air, harness it in order to inspire your own ideas or motivate others. Let's ride this wave of "feel good" for as long as we can.

Goethe's Couplet Holds True

2009-01-06T06:38:00.000-08:00

I begin this year with a reflection on why I began writing this blog. It was, in part, an effort to support and celebrate my decision to leave a job and work harder toward a lifelong dream to continue my education and earn a degree. I wanted to study literature to build a foundation for my own writing. It was also an effort to quell some anxiety I had about doing it. And it was in order to motivate me to write on a more regular basis in addition to the writing I've been doing for school, and staying connected to my own creative foundation. And now as I embark upon the last semester of my undergraduate career, there is a measure of happiness and satisfaction in knowing that there is this record, (public as it may be), of my very personal endeavor.

The economy has thrown a curve ball in my plans, so while I have two classes left to take this semester, a lack of funds (and funding) has made it imperative that I find a job. And though I haven't decided yet if the blog will proceed once I have graduated, I intend to be in graduate school come August. For having taken the GRE a second time, I am one step closer after raising my score by 150 points!

So I begin 2009 with the piece from The Scottish Himalayan Expedition,1951 by William H. Murray, in which he quotes Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe. It is most comforting and encouraging for me, and it is where I got the name for this blog. In the beginning, I wrongly credited Murray for the couplet, but in the piece, he properly credits Von Goethe. Here it is again, and I hope that you too will be as inspired by it as I am.

from The Scottish Himalayan Expedition,1951
By: W.H. Murray

Until one is committed there is hesitancy,
the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness.
Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth,
the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans:
that the moment one definitely commits oneself,then Providence moves too.
All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred.
A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour
all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance,
which no man could have dreamt would come his way.
I have learned a deep respect for one of Goethe's couplets:'
Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.'

[Artwork is "Contemplation" by painter Marcio Melo, a Brazilian artist living in Canada.]

Happy New Year!

2008-12-31T07:38:00.000-08:00

More than Christmas, with it's notorious shopping sprees, over-played holiday music and fruit cake, I am always considerably more giddy about the new year. I always look forward to new beginnings, starting fresh and all that jazz. This year will be extra special for me because for one thing, it is the Age of Obama. We will have our very first African American president of the United States. And if that wasn't enough, come May, I will be a college graduate; a moment I've been waiting for a long time. Here's hoping all of you have a gravity defying year.

What is the Neo-African American Aesthetic?

2008-12-20T11:22:00.000-08:00

Since I have begun tossing this term around as though it was already a part of the literary lexicon, I thought that maybe it would behoove me to formulate an official definition, in order that others might understand what I mean when I say it. First, I should talk about how I came upon it.

Actually, it was a collaboration. A community effort. It was coined in an all black, African American Studies class on the Harlem Renaissance. It evolved.

New Black Renaissance.

New Black Aesthetic.

Neo-Black Aesthetic Movement.

I don’t remember which name came first, but Neo-African American Aesthetic (NAAA) developed from a discussion about what we personally expected from the literature and art of our people in the Age of Obama. It does, in fact, proceed from a combination of the intellectual efforts of the leaders of the Harlem Renaissance and the Black Arts Movement, in which members sought to create a black identity based on the black experience.

The Harlem Renaissance, which took place roughly from 1919-1940, was divided into two camps which became the primary debate of the movement: Art vs. Propaganda. But generally speaking, black writers during this time “shared common literary experiences,” and Sterling A. Brown lists those as: “(1) a discovery of Africa as a source for race pride, (2) a use of Negro heroes and heroic episodes from American history, (3) propaganda of protest, (4) a treatment of the Negro masses…with more understanding and less apology, and (5) franker and deeper self-revelation”.

The Black Arts Movement of the 60s and 70s, was spawn by young, politically conscious black artists who “proposed as one of its principal aims the grassroots mobilization and politicization of all black-identified people, using literature, music, dance, film and other art forms to achieve both artistic and political autonomy at any price”.

So, may I suggest, that the Neo-African American Aesthetic (NAAA) is a continuation of all these things. It is the best of both, with a 21st century awareness. It is art and propaganda reflecting the experiences of us all, the middle-class and the “low-down folks”. It is our beauty and our ugliness, however, presented in a way that is not always crass, not always proper, but always honest. It is an understanding that we no longer have to prove ourselves to be human and worthy to anyone but, each other. It is, in the Age of Obama, an understanding that “we can disagree without being disagreeable”. It is the profound declaration that who we are artistically is essentially priceless, and that no amount of money is worth selling our souls or the souls of our brothers and sisters. The Neo-African American Aesthetic (NAAA) should reflect our love of and commitment to craft, and it should always represent the apogee of our creativity, spirituality and humanity.

Source: The Handbook of African American Literature by Hazel Arnett Ervin
Artwork: John T. Scott, 1940-2007

Exquisite Heats by Cherryl Floyd-Miller

2008-12-19T19:10:00.000-08:00

It's not only because this poet/visionary/friend has been a powerful contemporary influence in my writing and life that I can't wait to read her new collection of poetry. It's also because I know that Floyd-Miller is a writer's writer; committed to the art, committed to the life. She has an amazing talent, and she embodies the Neo-African American Aesthetic. Exquisite Heats (Salt Publishing)is available right now, and would make an excellent Christmas gift.

Where's the Best African American Fiction?

2008-12-14T13:46:00.000-08:00

In the class on the Harlem Renaissance that I just completed, there were some who wondered, "Who are the new black writers? Who are the writers who will usher in a new movement in African American Literature?" We (the class) proclaimed this new movement to be the Neo African American Aesthetic. If you're wondering who these writers are check out the new anthology Best African American Fiction due out in January, edited by Gerald Early and E. Lynn Harris.

Oh, and be sure to also check out Best African American Essays, also edited by Gerald Early with Debra Dickerson!

Now It Feels Like "That" Time of Year...

2008-12-09T15:05:00.000-08:00

Gift Card Therapy for Post Semester Anxiety

2008-12-06T11:46:00.000-08:00

There is always a point in the semester where I get so caught up with academic assignments that I don’t have time for much else. That point can be almost accurately detected by how far and few in-between my blog posts become. Indeed I have spent the last month wrapping up what has been my last full-time, undergraduate semester. And though I still have a few finals next week, I have completed what was my most important undergraduate assignment; my senior thesis. The thesis was a twenty-page analysis of the slave narrative, From the Darkness Cometh the Light or Struggles for Freedom by the little known writer, Lucy Ann Delaney, wherein I establish Delaney’s work as a “transitional narrative” within the black, female literary tradition.

For now, I must focus on final exams, and then just after Christmas, on New Years Eve, I’ll be attempting the BIG, UGLY, EVIL GRE again. And while I don’t get too caught up in the holiday shopping hype, I do like a good sale. And a little retail therapy always helps to calm my post semester anxiety. (I actually do become focused and less agitated when I stroll through Nordstrom’s shoe department.) Except that I don’t have time to hang out in the malls until after the holidays. That’s why I’m one of those people who love receiving gift cards!

However, I’ve recently received emails or heard that so many stores are closing and that the gift cards may be null and void, but I don’t think that’s true. Besides, I can’t hold on to a gift card that long. And should you receive a gift card, don’t sit on it; spend that money, honey! And, if you’re purchasing gift cards, I suppose you could just ask before you buy. In spite of the recent economy, not every retailer is going to hell in a hand basket. And as I understand it, they’re just waiting for you to use those gift cards. Furthermore, there are surveys that show gift cards as being the number one preferred gift, and have been for several years now. Gift cards make it easy for me to shop at my convenience. And if your friends know you well enough, they know what stores or restaurants you like and what gift card to purchase. So, if you're thinking of me, I'm very confident that Starbucks, Macy's, Barnes & Noble, Target, Whole Foods or any of those stores that I tend to shop at will not be going out of business before next Christmas. And I'll be sure to use those gift cards before then.

Imagine...

2008-11-04T11:41:00.000-08:00

Of Late...

2008-11-01T13:42:00.000-07:00

Sibling Rivalry. The children of Civil Rights icon, Martin Luther King, Jr. continue court battle over their mother, Coretta Scott King's personal papers. We understand that these kinds of disagreements and issues can come up in most any family. (I know siblings that have argued over $5000 insurance policies and a 1972 Duce and a Quarter. Not to mention that outside child that daddy never told us about.) So, before we judge let's also remember that business is business; (and in this case we're talking millions of dollars.)And like Berniece King said on the Frank Ski & Wanda Show, they may be Kings, but they're also human.

Here's an interesting article in The Root with legendary African writer
Wole Soyinka conducted by Henry Louis Gates, Jr. in which he offers his thoughts about "the power-sharing agreement in Zimbabwe, the Sudan, Mugabe and Barack Obama.

The New York Times pays tribute to American literary icon,Studs Terkel. "In his oral histories, which he called guerrilla journalism, Mr. Terkel relied on his enthusiastic but gentle interviewing style to elicit, in rich detail, the experiences and thoughts of his fellow citizens".

Contemplating My Non-Traditional Time

2008-10-17T09:06:00.000-07:00

Though this semester was supposed to be a little less stressful in order to have more time to work on my thesis, I’ve managed to incorporate History Society meetings, a fitness class three days a week, Sigma Tau Delta, and a hour between classes, twice a week, for elliptical and treadmill. My victory for the last few weeks though is that I have managed to stay consistent in my workouts. (And I’ve even lost a few inches and a few pounds!)

But, I sometimes feel like a bit of a fraud. Classmates and colleagues seem to think I have it all together, but as a non-traditional student I have to work really hard to maintain some kind of orderliness in my life. And let me tell you, even though I invested in a really good planner this semester and keep my vacuum cleaner in a visible spot, the truth is, I’m not that good when it comes to organization; that is, organizing my time, activities, studies, etc. I’m more spontaneous, and I tend to handle things as they come; is that bad? I work on class assignments according to what’s due next. And if I can get in a little house cleaning, do a couple loads of laundry, cook a meal, I feel like I’ve had a productive day. But then there are those little jobs I’ve been meaning to get to, but just haven’t had the time, like taking all my photos out of old shoe boxes and buying some of those cute little photo storage boxes to file them in.

In a recent lecture on How to Write a Research Paper, there were two words that stood out for me: Time Management. Does that mean scheduling everything? Does it include learning that in the middle of your thesis that your hard drive is dying? Does that include having to wait a half hour before someone takes an hour and a half to install a new hard drive? Does Time Management include standing in those long lines at Wal-Mart to buy a frozen dinner when you don’t have time to cook? How about chatting with your spouse about how his day at work went? How about when the garage door opener stops working?
Alas, this is the life of a non-traditional student.

The Opening of Perry Studios Prompts Some Old Questions

2008-10-06T12:32:00.000-07:00

The opening of the Tyler Perry Studios here in Atlanta reminds me of the central debate during the Harlem Renaissance of “Art vs. Propaganda,” and how among black readers and writers, there is still a bit of a conflict surrounding what some think is real literature and “urban fiction”. During the Harlem Renaissance, “a flowering of black culture which included literature, music, painting, sculpture and politics,” there was much discussion of what African Americans should project in their art and literature. The W.E.B. DuBois camp (which included the likes of James Weldon Johnson) felt that “all art is propaganda,” and should reflect the best part of our community and uplift the race (see "Criteria of Negro Art"). The Alain Locke camp (which included Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston) believed that we “must choose art and put aside propaganda,” and “choose the role of” not only “group expression,” but “free individualistic expression” as well. We’ve all heard about Richard Wright’s discontent with Zora Neale Hurston’s (and James Baldwin’s) work. He criticized her and Baldwin for not dealing with race or “the Negro problem” in their work.

So in 2008, as writers and readers, what should we be dealing with? Some might argue that during the Renaissance, when Negros were becoming new (see "The New Negro " by Alain Locke), there was a need to portray an image of ourselves that we could hold before the world as proof of our competence and desire to live equally among the human race, (mostly white America). Some might say that we shouldn’t air our dirty laundry, or show the ugly side of black life, (even today, when you’d think that the Oprah’s, Condoleezza’s and the Baracks would be proof enough of our possibilities).

I think that we are still becoming new; not so much to the world as to ourselves. And while I don’t have a problem with Omar Tyree or Zane getting paid to do what they do, I’m hoping that in my lifetime, black writers who are motivated by a true desire to master the craft of writing, building a strong literary foundation, and adhering to the standards of traditional, classic literature will encourage readers to elevate their reading expectations and experience through their work. [And, while I am more likely to see an August Wilson play than any production starring “Medea,” I applaud Perry for his determination, his success, and on being the first to build a black-owned and operated film empire.]

Poetic Epigraphs

2008-09-06T16:36:00.000-07:00

Many narratives of former slaves were written to expose the atrocities of slavery in the south, appealing to citizens in the north to help put an end to the institution. There are many recognizable elements of this genre in most every narrative such as an engraved and signed portrait of the author, an account of his/her family history, the statement "I was born," followed by the place and sometimes the date of birth, and then there are the poetic epigraphs, (often used at the beginning of chapters or the narrative itself in order to set the mood of what proceeds it). In the Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, he quotes the writer whom he calls "the slave's poet," John Greenleaf Whittier:

Gone, gone, sold and gone
To the rice swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia hills and waters-
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

In the narrative that I am studying for my thesis, Lucy Ann Delaney (though she does not mention having acquired any formal education) employs the verse of several Victorian poets.
In the dedication, she uses the last two lines from a stanza in a piece by British writer,George Linnaeus Banks, a poem entitled "My Aim":

I live to learn their story who suffered for my sake;
To emulate their glory and follow in their wake:
Bards, patriots, martyrs, sages the heroic of all ages,
Whose deeds crowd History's pages, and Time's great volumes make.

And from the sonnet sequence Book of Day Dreams by the Phillidelphia born poet, Charles Leonard Moore, she quotes:

Soon is the echo and the shadow o'er,
Soon, soon we lie with lid-encumbered eyes
And the great fabrics that we reared before
Crumble to make a dust to hide who dies.

I believe these writers integrated the poetry of the day to dispel the myth that black people could not be educated. I also feel that these epigraphs are a tribute to the idea that even after having been through the horrors of slavery black people could still find beauty and solace in the poet's song.

Of Historical Proportions

2008-08-28T17:49:00.000-07:00

No matter how you slice it, it's just plain Historical; that a black man is accepting the nomination of a major politcal party to possibly become the president of the United States of America. I have to admit, I didn't think he'd get this far. Now, I believe that it just might happen. But, I just wonder though: remember how your grandmother or auntie used to have the photographs of Martin, John and Jesus hanging on the wall like members of the family? Will a new generation add Obama's portrait?

Counting Down to Graduation

2008-08-19T17:43:00.000-07:00

I'm really excited today,first: because today I begin my last full-time semester as an undergraduate student. I won't graduate until May, but I'll only be part-time starting in January. I'm also excited because I deliberately saved African American literature and studies for my last year, in order to spend this time reading and writing about the work that I was raised on and inspired by. With the exception of a World Music class, (which I'm taking to satisfy a humanties requirement), I'm taking a second semester of African American literature from 1919-the present, an African American studies class on the Harlem Renaissance, and I will be doing my thesis which is a close reading of the narrative, From the Darkness Cometh the Light or Struggles for Freedom by Lucy Ann Delaney.
I am especially geeked about the Harlem Renaissance class, not only because we will look at the films Lady Sings the Blues and The Great Debaters, but the text for the class will be engaging and I can't wait to get into that whole "art as propaganda" discussion brought forth by W.E.B. DuBois, and The Negro and the Racial Mountain by Langston Hughes. In addition to the Norton Anthology of African American Literature edited by Henry Louis Gates, Jr. (and the late Nellie McKay), I'll be reading The Cambridge Companion to the Harlem Renaissance edited by George Hutchinson, and Voices From the Harlem Renaissance by veteran, Nathan Irvin Huggins. We'll also be reading Ernest J. Gaines' A Lesson Before Dying, Their Eyes Were Watching God, and August Wilson's The Piano Lesson. If that isn't enough, we'll also be seeing productions of Wilson's Gem of the Ocean and Radio Golf.
Is this school, or literary Heaven?

[Last photo is a scene from Wilson's Gem of the Ocean.]

Life After the GRE

2008-08-12T18:39:00.000-07:00

So I'm trying to look on the bright side after failing miserably on the Graduate Record Examination (GRE). This is the standardized test one has to take if one desires to attend graduate school. And while my hopes of getting into graduate school have been doused only momentarily (uh, I will be taking it again...you know, if at first you don't succeed, yadda, yadda, yadda), it has got me to thinking about what in the world will I do with myself come August 2009. For starters, I can try and get used to the idea of working an eight or nine hour day again. Lord knows that'll be the hardest part. I could also work on a more consistant workout schedule; loose a few extra pounds. And hey! I'll also have more time to start reading all the books that I never have time to read because of class assignments. Most of all, I'll be able to focus more on my own writing again. I wrote the most during those times when that was all I had, and now that I have a little more of a foundation I believe I can create a stronger process for myself; become more disciplined. Yes, that's it! I'll turn lemons into mojitos! Okay, so I'll use limes, but it'll work for what I could use right now.

Black Moses

2008-08-10T13:42:00.000-07:00

Isaac Hayes, 1942-2008

King of Comedy

2008-08-09T08:34:00.000-07:00

Bernard Jeffery McCullough
"Bernie Mac" 1957-2008

Musician, Author...James McBride

2008-08-01T17:27:00.000-07:00

Heard a great interview this evening on the PBS show Between The Lines,the "weekly author interview program" hosted by the wife of the late Maynard Jackson, former mayor of Atlanta. I've listened to the show many times, and learned about some great new authors as a result. Today I learned about James McBride, author of Color of Water, Miracle at St. Anna(the film produced by Spike Lee soon to be released)and Song Yet Sung (Riverhead Penguin). Take time to listen to the podcast where he talks about the characters in his new novel. Sounds like a must read; it'll definately be on my list. And check out his website also, really cool. In addition to being an author, McBride is also a musician and has written songs for Grover Washington and Anita Baker, among others. Click here to see the trailer for the movie Miracle at St. Anna, due to be released September 22.

My Bold Writing Retreat!

2008-07-24T20:33:00.000-07:00

I really enjoy reading about author Tayari Jone's adventures at writing retreats, but I often become envious knowing I don't have the time or leisure to go off to some fancy, schmancy mountaintop writer's colony to schmooze with those lucky enough to secure a spot at some prestigious hideaway for creative minds. Soooo, the first weekend in August, when my beloved is away for his niece's wedding, in the scenic suburbs of Jonesboro, Georgia, I am holding the first ever, (spoken slowly, with a deep voice, and an echo) Bold,Powerful, Magical Summer Weekend Writing Retreat! Ahem...here at my house...for uh...well, ME! Since I can't go to the mountain, I'm bringing the mountain to me. My retreat will include late night writing workshops (with Coltrane playing softly in the background) working on my own stuff...no class assignments, no papers on Lady Mary Wroth, just my stuff. And as an added bonus to stimulate my creative juices, I am including a walk at the Chattahoochee National Park, a pedicure, and an outing to Doc Chey's Noodle House in Emory Village...

Blackness in the Modernist Movement

2008-07-22T14:12:00.000-07:00

Some people (and scholars) believe (and teach) that all the black writers of the Modernist era (roughly 1914-1945)are contained in the movement known as the Harlem Renaissance. However, there were many black writers and poets who were writing well ahead of Alain Locke's "New Negro," but were perhaps less celebrated. According to W.E.B. DuBois, not only did William Stanley Braithwaite publish more than thirty books (mostly anthologies), and was the editor of the Poetry Journal, Poetry Review and the Stratford Journals, he was "the most prominent critic of poetry in America". Fenton Johnson (not to be confused with the Fenton Johnson at University of Arizona)is one of the least-known African Amerian writers, possibly precisly because his work falls in between the writers of the Reconstruction and the New Negro Renaissance. His most notable poems are probably "Tired" and "The Scarlet Woman," both of which embrace the vernacular, and represents a radical rejection of conventional rhymed structure. Alice Moore Dunbar Nelson is sometimes associated with the Harlem Renaissance, but she was writing just as that movement began. Themes of race and gender were of great importance to her, though she did not feel she had the "ability to manage dialect".

And there are others as well whose work should be studied and celebrated: Charlotte Forten Grimke, James D. Corrothers, Sutton E. Griggs and Angelina Weld Grimke (no relation to Charlotte, I think), are just a few.

Add Your Signiture!

2008-07-16T12:50:00.000-07:00

Did you know that Congress has signed away our right to privacy?

It’s true! By making FISA law, the President and Congress made it legal for US agencies to spy on our text messages, email, and phone calls to people outside the US, without any cause, reason or let alone a warrant. Does that sound like a right to privacy to you?

If not, add your signature to this full-page ad by the ACLU "in a major national newspaper expressing our disappointment over this abandonment of Constitutional principles. The ad will print the names of tens of thousands of Americans who believe in the Constitution and want Congress to hear us loud and clear: next time, stand up for our rights".

But, you have to do it by 6pm this evening!

Look Ma', A Conference Just for Us!

2008-07-08T15:21:00.001-07:00

It had to happen, right? That's right sistahs and brothas,now there is a conference that celebrates the growing number of African Americans using the web to publish our thoughts from politics to family photos. And why not? There's a convention for superheros, and Tupperware (I imagine). The Blogging While Brown Conference will be in Atlanta July 25-27th. (Oooo, right in my back yard, and summer school will be over!) The Electronic Village reports that there are currently 1,269 Afro-blogs, and lists them, (I'm uh...still looking for Boldness-Genius). Of the top ten black blogs it lists, the topics are politics and entertainment...(no literary or personal journals in the top ten). But that's okay, it's an international conference for people of color and they also have a uh, a blog! So, if you're Blogging While Brown you may want to come on down to Hotlanta; it looks like it could be fun. But you'd better hurry, registration ends July 14th!

Funerals for Us Tree Huggers

2008-07-05T18:44:00.000-07:00

Though in my old age I am becoming increasingly practical about my ultimate demise, admittedly, even for me just the sight of a casket can evoke the heebie jeebies. But let's face it folks, while death and dying is something we all hate to think about, one thing's for sure: you can't get out of this life alive. If you are not quite comfortable with the very commercial (and unnatural)way in which we bury our dead, or you're confused about the funeral industry, or even if you're simply concerned about the environment, this might make for an interesting and enlightening read. This article by Brendan Kiley of Newsweek talks about the possibilities of a "green burial" for those of us who are not Muslim, but also may not want our bodies preserved (with the help of embalming fluid) through the year 3052.

2nd Blogger-versary!

2008-07-01T13:34:00.000-07:00

When I started this blog two years ago, I thought I'd be a college graduate by now. Well, it seems I have one more year to go, but I've grown so much in terms of my writing, and I've gotten by with a lot less than I had imagined I could. There are moments when I feel like I couldn't write another word, when I am elated about something as simple as being on the dean's list, or the euphoria of knowing that I've finally made it into Sigma Tau Delta. There are times when I wonder how in the world will I get through graduate school, and other times when I can't wait to get to graduate school. Then there are times when "I HOPE I can get to graduate school". All in all, it's been a worthwhile sacrifice and an amazing journey. But, don't give up on me yet, I'm almost there!

[And while I'm at it, how about a new look for my last year as an undergraduate!]

Contemplating Baldwin Again

2008-06-26T10:07:00.000-07:00

When I first read Giovanni's Room years ago, I was young and couldn't quite understand the homoerotic implications. But, I really enjoyed this beautifully tragic story by James Baldwin, and I was really excited to revist it in a graduate class I'm taking this summer on Gender and Sexuality in Literature...(a class I lovingly refer to as Gen & Sex). In class, my professor and I became engaged in a somewhat heated debate about the degree to which David, the protagonist being, and in my opinion not being, responsible for the death of his lover, Giovanni. I still feel now,just as I did all those years ago, that Giovanni, as sweet as he may have been, was too needy. He entered a relationship with the understanding that it would end, and when it ended he shattered like fine china. I agree, David was a jackass; mostly because of his own self-hatred. But, they were both technically adults in a homosexual relationship in Paris in 1956; what did he expect?

This was Baldwin's second book, and it wasn't well received. Critics were put off by the homosexual content and I suppose black people were put off because well, there were no black people in the book. I love that Baldwin was courageous enough to write the book he wanted to write, in spite of the criticism from Eldridge Cleaver about "homosexuals" and "baby-rapist," and from Richard Wright about insisting that black authors should only write about "the Negro problem". As a writer, I may want or need to write about something other than what others can see. And what others can't see, may be issues that we all struggle with, regardless of what you see on the outside. Giovanni's Room deals with classic issues of identity, self-denial, a loss of innocence (no matter how artificial it may be), and what I call, auto-expatriation (one's attempt to be someone else). And Baldwin makes these struggles clear, in spite of his characters packaging.

My London Dream Comes to an End

2008-06-01T09:48:00.001-07:00

Bayswater

Well, I've been home for just over a week now, and it's time to get back to reality; no more petite custard tarts from the sweet, little Portuguese baker on the corner, no more Tube hopping in the middle of the night, no more imagining Mrs. Dalloway strolling down Bond Street with a bouquet of flowers.

Now, it's time for summer school, and maybe a gig in the Office of Student Affairs. Now, I really begin my countdown to graduation, which includes preparing to take the GRE at the end of the summer. My course loads will be a little lighter from here on out. Two classes this summer will include Gender and Sexuality in LIterature and finally, African American LIterature to 1850. I saved African American Literatures for my last year, because I know I already enjoy it, and I wanted to be able to focus on something I really loved. (As opposed to being stressed out about something that doesn't hold my interest as much.)

So, fare thee well, my London....maybe we'll meet again.

Eating London

2008-05-17T15:57:00.000-07:00

While some people measure their London experiences by how much stuff they can buy, in a way, I measure mine by food. That is, I like trying cuisine that is new or different, or at least not what I'd eat on a regular basis. Being a vegetarian, that's not always easy because most dishes have some kind of meat in it. Interestingly enough, London seems to be a very "vegetarian friendly" city. Most places has some kind of veggie alternative. In fact, my hotel has a veggie version of the traditional English breakfast which consists of two really fat link sausages, baked beans, mushrooms, tomato, eggs, ham and hash browns. Mine, of course, had no ham and substituted a really tasty veggie sausage. (This breakfast my roommates and I received free because our weird European tub faucet wouldn't shut off, and there was no maintenance staff available to fix it for two hours.) There is a nice vegan vegetarian restaurant in West Kensington called 222 Veggie Vegan. While there a had a nice tomato, cucumber and smoked tofu salad, and a really fancy-named dish that turned out to be spaghetti and tofu, the sauce very heavy on the Cabernet.

At Portobello Market today, I tried a Ghanaian dish called Spinach and Agushi with rice. Agushi is crushed melon seeds which is kind of mixed into the spinach...very spicy and really good with the rice which was sort of similar to Spanish rice. Then of course, although I am vegetarian, I had to try some fish and chips, which is simply one big piece of deep fried cod and french fries. (Paris actually does have really good french fries, by the way. That and salad was mostly what I ate for the day there; with a few pieces of cucumber sushi.) I've also been to a couple of Indian restaurants; a really nice one in Salisbury (after our Stonehenge trip) called Shah Jahan. But both don't seem to serve traditional Indian chai tea, and they seem to think I don't know what chai tea is. (The waiter in Salisbury even laughed nervously at the fact that I even could pronounce 'chai', and still brought me what tasted like plain 'ole tea. Anyway, I'm just going to assume they don't serve it here.)

And, speaking of sushi, I found this cool little place recommended by Rick Steves (PBS's Travels in Europe). It's near Piccadilly Circus and it's called Yo! Sushi. They prepare sushi which they place on a conveyor belt and you pick whichever one you want. The color of the plate tells you what the price is. I chose about three purple plates of vegetable and salmon sushi. They even have sparkling water on tap right at the bar in front of you. (Have to hit that one again before I leave town.)

My Wicked Adventure

2008-05-14T16:18:00.000-07:00

So this evening, after having spent the day at the Victoria and Albert Museum, I rushed back to do laundry over on Queensway. It's been a week since I got to London, and after a week, sharing a small European-style hotel room with two other people gets to be a little...well, let's just say I needed some "me" time. So,after dropping my clothes back by my hotel room, I jumped on the train at Bayswater, went to the Victoria Apollo to see the musical Wicked. (Using my student ID, I got fourth row seats for twenty-five pounds) It's a cool take on the story about the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz, before Dorothy dropped a house on her sister. Actually, the actress that played Glenda the Good came pretty close to stealing the show, and I can't get that song "Popular" out of my head.

Well, after the show was over, I crossed the street to Victoria Station and guess what? I hopped on the wrong train. Then, when I got to Vauxhall Station, I jumped off expecting to take the next train back to Victoria, only to find out that no more trains were coming in or out of Vauxhall. So, I had to go up to the street and take a bus back to Victoria, where I ducked into Marks & Spencer to grab a Hummus and Roasted Vegetable sandwich. I made it to the Circle Line platform, where I took the next train back to Bayswater. I'm feeling pretty close to being fully acclimated to the trains here, and I know that's going to be the first thing I miss when I'm back in Atlanta traffic.

Live From London

2008-05-11T16:34:00.000-07:00

Wow, what a great way to end the semester. I paid three pounds to use a computer in my hotel for an hour, so I suppose I should make it quick. So far, London has been pretty cool, I must say. I've been here for four days now, and I've visited the British Museum, Windsor Castle, the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, I saw the Lion King at the Lyceum Theatre (which is a blog all by itself)and the highlight...I spent yesterday in Paris where I saw the Eiffel Tour, the Arc de Triumph and the Louve....Thoughts...maybe it's me, but here in London, I'm not conscious of my blackness. I'm not sure how to explain that, and it's not that I've read to much James Baldwin or Richard Wright or Nina Simone. You may know that London is an international city, so there's nothing special about being white, or black or whatever. I don't feel as though people look at me and wonder, "what's that black women doing here in our neighborhood?" or "I'm gonna watch that black woman in my store, because you know they steal." Maybe it's still too soon to tell, but if I get noticed, it's because of my accent...especially in France.

Moving Right Along

2008-05-04T12:59:00.000-07:00

Well the weather is warming up and another semester is coming to a close. And while I still have old co-workers asking, "So, when are you coming back to work?" and "Be careful, you might be too old to get a job in that field by the time you finish school," I still say, it's not the destination, it's the flowers you pick along the way. And while throughout the semester I was never quite able to get into it, I managed to finish up with an improved GPA.

So, now with one last paper to turn in, I look forward to a productive summer which will include two classes,(one a graduate class to spruce up my transcript), a part-time job, and the GRE. But, first...it's off to London town to chill with Liz, eat some fish n'chips, Piccadilly Circus, the British Museum and a weekend in Paris.

And although I hear that London is a rather cosmopolitan, relatively integrated place, I'm still curious to find those places that may be predominantly black...don't know why...I just think it would be interesting to see how and where regular black people like myself live in other places. Nevertheless, I plan on having a great time. Meanwhile, Paul Gilroy has written about race relations in Britian and is "renowned for his work exploring the social and cultural dimensions of black Britishness." Not to mention that really cool photo on the front of his book...

Down Easy With Dessert

2008-05-02T18:06:00.000-07:00

A serving of the chocolate lava pie with vanilla ice cream would be necessary if I were going to go through with this. He always made me feel so inadequate with his high achieving M.B.A., his 653 hours of available sick leave and his perfect dental records. I feel a little disappointing, but this is the perfect opportunity for me to move on.
“Are you stressing about something, Jacie?” He asked, lowering his fork to the starched, white tablecloth. I picked Café Balabans for this occasion because it is his most favorite place to eat in the West End. It has always seemed a little pretentious to me; the Pasta Mauri Mauri and all. I prefer my ground beef cooked. But this was a regular haunt of his boss, and Preston looked forward to the moments we would run into him.
“Why would I be stressing?” I stuffed a piece of chocolate lava pie so big into my mouth that a little drip of chocolate oozed from the left corner, and I had to swipe it with my tongue.
“You know I hate it when you overeat”, he began, “I’m beginning to think you’re doing it to spite me.” It’s like him to think that it’s all about him.
“Actually,” I started.
“Ah, you are stressing.”
“I’ve been offered a job at a university. It’s an associate professorship; tenure track.” I explained.
“And what’s your excuse for not taking this one?”
“Actually, I will take it.” I said.
“Oh, then they must offer snacks.” He smiled a little at his own quip, and I thought, you jackass.
My weight was not an issue in the beginning, but he saw me as one of his projects. It was his intention to have me in the gym five days a week. First, he said I was being passive aggressive, then finally just down right stubborn when I’d called to say I had to meet with some collogues or students after work. Then on the days when I simply went straight home to work on my book, he told me I was just being plain lazy.
“The position is in Boston.” I loaded another scoop of chocolate and made room in my mouth for the ice cream. “I’ve already had my things moved from the apartment”, I told him.
“What are you talking about?” He was taken aback.
“While you were at work today, I got all of my stuff. I’m not coming home with you Preston.” I stuck my finger in the chocolate on the plate and licked it slowly.
“And you were going to tell me when?” I could hear the crescendo in his voice. His nose was flaring just as his boss walked into the restaurant with his wife. Now I knew he would not make a scene.
“After dessert.”

Literary Starts

2008-04-17T18:28:00.000-07:00

So, tonight was the launch party for our university's fifth literary journal, in which I have a couple of poems and a short story published. This isn't the first time I've been published in the school's journal, and actually I was the prose editor for the first one. It was a eclectic gathering of collegiate literary types, both students and faculty, with an opportunity for me to read, again, for an audience. More and more now I'm trying to take advantage of those opportunities to speak in front of people with the hopes of working through the fear. It's not a celebrated journal; my school is just a small, state university south of Atlanta. But besides it, my work has not been published anywhere else. So I just wonder, is this how the literary greats get their start, on small, obscure college campuses? Let's hope so.

One of the poems published was the one I began this blog with:

Summer, 2006

Twirling, whirling,
A rotund, spiral of rainbows
Culminating in a fuzzy, memorial blur of
Burning ashes dangling from waxy,
Bubble lips, stained with Crayola red lipstick,
Back porch bar-b-ques, chicken and ribs
Piled high on Mama’s good platters,
And, Uncle Poindexters greasy fingertips beneath
Her dress pinching her chubby butt.

She used to be a fat lady in a circus,
With all her deformities readily on display
In the bemused, clash of colors that Miss Millie patched
Together from the drapery of the old Majestic Theatre
In Jasper County, and the discarded
Sparkling, scraps of the skinny girl on the trapeze.
Sewn in too was the memory of Hillard’s
Bucked teeth, mocking her interest in him,
And, panties with the days of the week
Not in her size.

~sbnl

The Genius of Ernest J. Gaines

2008-04-04T18:50:00.000-07:00

The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman is one of those movies that whenever it comes on television, I watch it again as though I’ve never seen it before. I know everything that will happen before it happens and yet, when she shuffles her frail, 110 year-old body to that “whites only” water fountain in front of the Louisiana court house in 1960-something, the tears in my eyes are still unable to defy gravity; I cry like I’ve been spanked.

How often have you watched this movie or read the book with the assumption that “Miss Jane” had been a real live human being? Don’t sweat; you’re not the only one. It so happens we’re reading this classic, written and published in 1971 by Ernest J. Gaines, in my Contemporary Literature class, and apparently there are many who still believe that “Miss Jane” was an actual person. Even my well-informed professor was “not certain”, and people in the class gazed at me as though I’d blasphemed when I brought up the fact.

That, I think, is the genius of Ernest J. Gaines. In a 1978 article for Callaloo titled “Miss Jane and I”, Gaines talks about the “creation” of this character

“…The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman is absolute fiction. By that I mean I created Miss Jane, and if I did not create all the events she mentions in her narrative, I definitely created all the situations that she is personally involved in”.

His “Jane” is a Bahktinian figure of epic proportions through which many black women slaves who never had a voice speaks to us decades later about the atrocities they faced, about their tenacity, their fears and triumphs. Indeed, for us “Jane” is most certainly real, and it didn’t hurt that Cicely Tyson’s portrayal of her has ingrained an image on our hearts and minds for all time.

What Is Soul-II-Soul?

2008-03-24T16:41:00.000-07:00

There is about four or five weeks left in the semester, and I have three 8-10 page papers to finish within that time; and not-to-mention a Spanish composition, presentation and final exam. And, while I was poised to graduate in December, I’ve decided to stick around for one more semester to try and increase my grade point average just a little more. I’m hoping this move will help increase my chances for getting into graduate school. Besides, I’ve been pursuing a college degree since I graduated in 1981, one more semester won’t kill me…(or at least, I hope it won’t).

So, meanwhile, I’m thinking about my trip to London coming up in May, and wondering how I should spend my free time while I’m there. For this two-week trip, I’ll receive three semester hours, so tours, theatre, reading a novel, and some class time will count as course work. But, evenings and weekends we’ll be on our own. One of those weekends, I’m certain will be spent in Paris (or possibly Venice but, I’d prefer Paris). And, I’ve been online checking out jazz spots: Jazz Café, 606 Club and maybe Spitz. And, then I got to thinking, wouldn’t it be cool to be able to see Jazzie B and Soul-2-Soul perform in some, cozy joint in London?

And, whatever happened to Soul-2-Soul anyway? And, Caron Wheeler…and Carl McIntosh with Loose Ends? Y'all remember "Keep on Moving", Wheeler's "I Adore You", and "Hangin' On a String".

This is why I love the internet. It turns out that all three of these 80’s, British R&B hipsters have MySpace pages. And, though I don’t think Loose Ends is still performing (hit me up, if you know different), it just so happens that Jazzie B will be performing at Jazz Café twice while I’m in London town. If I can make that set, it alone might just be worth the trip.

Lady Mary

2008-03-21T14:14:00.000-07:00

Lady Mary Wroth is credited with being the first woman to publish a sonnet sequence, and an impressive one it is. Unless you've majored in English or Literature, chances are you haven't heard of her. Yet, during the Renaissance, her sonnets, Pamphilia to Amphilanthus, gave insight into a woman's heart and creativity. I sometimes wonder, if when I first read Wroth's sonnets without knowing she was a woman, is there a way to tell from simply reading them that the writer is female? Here are a couple of her sonnets, see if you can tell.

When night's blacke Mantle could most darknesse proue,
And sleepe (deaths Image) did my senses hyre,
From Knowledge of my selfe, then thoughts did moue
Swifter then those, most [switnesse] neede require. swiftnesse
In sleepe, a Chariot drawne by wing'd Desire,
I saw; where sate bright Venus Queene of Loue,
And at her feete her Sonne, still adding Fire
To burning hearts, which she did hold aboue,
But one heart flaming more then all the rest,
The Goddesse held, and put it to my breast,
Deare Sonne now [shut] , said she: thus must we winne; shutt (shoot)
He her obey'd, and martyr'd my poore heart.
I waking hop'd as dreames it would depart,
Yet since, O me, a Lover I haue beene.

70.

Poore Loue in chaines, and fetters like a thiefe
I mett ledd forth, as chast Diana's gaine
Vowing the vntaught Lad should no reliefe
From her receiue, who gloried in fond paine.
She call'd him theife; with vowes he did mainetaine
He neuer stole, but some sadd slight of griefe
Had giuen to those who did his power disdaine,
In which reuenge, his honour was the chiefe.
Shee say'd he murther'd and therefor must dye,
He that he caus'd but Loue, did harmes deny,
But, while she thus discoursing with him stood;
The Nymphes vnti'de him, and his chaines tooke off,
Thinking him safe; but he (loose) made a scoffe,
Smiling and scorning them; flew to the wood.

Renaissance Ideas of Blackness

2008-03-10T06:23:00.000-07:00

When I started a Renaissance Literature class this semester, I didn’t expect the luxury of viewing it (or having it presented to me) from a black woman’s perspective. After all, we are talking about Shakespeare, Lady Mary Wroth and George Herbert, right? Well, Kim Hall’s book Things of Darkness: Economies of Race and Gender in Early Modern England is a fascinating and thorough examination of the black/white dichotomy in seventeenth century British society, in particular, its literature and art. If you’ve ever wondered about the issues of race and gender during this time in history but didn’t know where to read about it, this is an excellent place to start.

A Lot of Music in a Tiny Box

2008-02-02T20:01:00.001-08:00

So, I didn't make a resolution, but I starting working out and eating less back in October in anticipation of graduating in December a size 8. (Hey, it's possible!) And, for small weight loss milestones I'm trying to reward myself with something other than food. For example, instead of a slice of cheesecake, I give myself a nice, hot bubble bath, or a CD, or a new blouse, right? So, today I rewarded myself with an iPod Shuffle; it's like the iPod Nano for those of us who can't afford the $150 bucks for the Nano. Which is fine. It holds 250 songs and that's just enough to fuel my workout. I spent the evening loading it up with my first workout playlist, (which was no small feat if you're over 40).

Once done, I got a pretty good workout in my kitchen. (No carpet there, so I slide a lot easier in my socks!) Now, I consider my music taste to be relatively diverse, but for a workout, I downloaded some good old fashion party music. I start off kinda mellow, and crank it up and then cool it down. Check out my playlist:

1) Private Party by India Irie

2) Diamond in da Ruff by Jaheim

3) I Am Not My Hair by India Irie

4) How to Survive in South Central by Ice Cube (yeah, that's right!)

5) Home Alone by R. Kelly & Keith Murray

6) Work That by Mary J. Blige

7) Wanna Be Startin' Something by Michael Jackson

8) Pressure by Sounds of Blackness

9) Just Fine by Mary J. Blige

10) Atomic Dog by Parliament Funkadelic

11) Represente by Orishas

12) There's Hope by India Irie

Untitled

2008-01-26T18:50:00.000-08:00

There was a young man sitting at a table at the entrance of a book store in the mall today. And, usually when I'm in a mall it is for a specific purpose, and I tend to have blinders on; only searching for that thing that I went for, and nothing else. So, the first time I walked past, I just knew that I wasn't in the market for books right now, at least not any that doesn't pertain to one of my classes, and so I didn't pay much attention to him. But, once I'd passed the store, I realized that he had books on the table, and I thought.."he must be doing a book signing".

So, leaving Sears (after having purchased a couple of articles for in-laws in Trinidad), I decided to stop by the table afterall. The young man lit up, "Well, I see you decided to come back." He sounded enthusiastic, and right away I was beginning to feel a little bad. You see, right away I noticed the brightly colored cover of his books, with big, silver bold letters, and I just knew it wasn't something I'd be interested in reading. "What type of writing do you do?" The answer I already knew, "Urban fiction."

To make a long story just a little shorter, he was self published, no use for agents or publishers..."get yourself a distributor" and do-it-yourself. Inside, I cringed. I thought, see Persistence, your turning into one of those literary snobs that Marlon James and Matt Johnson talked about.

Studying Slave Narratives

2008-01-21T12:50:00.000-08:00

Since my academic focus is beginning to narrow down to 19th century African American Literature, it is impossible to avoid reading some of the many slave narratives which often document relationships between masters and slaves with amazing clarity. As a citizen of the 21st century, it is sometimes frustrating to witness these affiliations, from the safety and comfort of my livingroom, knowing and believing slavery to be only a cruel and injust system inflicted upon people just like me, for profit and sport, to the benefit of others. It is bewildering while reading these narratives when some of the individuals, in spite of the cruelty they have been subjected to, still find that they feel much affection for their former masters. In the narrative Behind the Scenes or Thirty Years a Slave and Four Years in the White House, Elizabeth Keckley, former dressmaker to Mary Lincoln remarked,

"how warm is the attachment between master and slave."

I could understand the attactment a master would have, as a slave performed those duties that I wish I had someone to do for me at times. But, a slaves' attachment to a master? I don't quite get it, nor do I think I ever will. Upon a long awaited visit to her former master after the Civil War, Keckley goes on to say,

"Could my friends of the North have seen that meeting, they would never have doubted again that the mistress had any affection for her former slave."

In spite of my own mistrust (well founded, I think), still there is something for us all to learn in these narratives which often bring to the forefront the human interest aspects of slavery.

A New Year, A New Semester

2008-01-04T18:15:00.000-08:00

Next week begins the final year into my quest for a Bachelors degree, a semester that will be at the least engaging, if not arduous. I chose to forgo my gig in the President’s Office, and instead take on an 18 hour load which includes an internship with a literary journal. I will also be doing a directed research for which I created the syllabus. (I’ll talk about that in the next post.) I actually only have classroom time for my four other courses which includes fourth semester Spanish, Renaissance Literature, African American Literature before 1850, and a Contemporary Literature course. And, because I’m not working in an office everyday, I can revert to the comfort and ease of wearing jeans and tennis shoes to school again, ah….

I’m excited about this New Year, because for the first time since I first pursued a college education many, many years ago, I am actually beginning to see a light at the end of the tunnel; my goal of continuing my studies and building a foundation for a writing career is conceivably in my reach.

Studying 19th Century Black Women Writers

2008-01-04T18:00:00.000-08:00

So, one of the highlights this semester for me will be this directed research that I’ll be doing. This is like, taking a class, only I’ll be the only student. That’s a good thing in that I’ll get time and attention (or at least I think I will) with studying and focusing on a subject or genre of particular interest to me. It will be under the direction and guidance of a professor that I’ve chosen, and I’ll be using this information to help prepare for my thesis in the fall. I had to create and propose the syllabus for this research, which had to be accepted by he Language and Literature department head. For me, this subject will be 19th century African American women writers.

The two texts I’ve chosen as primary are Reconstructing Womanhood: The Emergence of the Afro American Woman Novelist by Hazel V. Carby and Written By Herself: Literary Production by African American Women, 1746-1892 by Francis Smith Foster (a scholar at Emory University that I hope to ultimately have more interaction with). The writers that I’ll be studying are the narratives of Harriet Jacobs and Elizabeth Keckley, Anna Julia Cooper, Pauline Hopkins, Francis E.W. Harper, Ida B. Wells, and Mary Church Terrell. It will be interesting to study the similarities and the individualities of these black women and their work through the veil of the Victorian era and in the aftermath of the Civil War.

2007-12-26T10:37:00.000-08:00

I watched the movie The Hours again for the second time. And while I always thought it was a very good movie, and knew it had something to do with the writer Virginia Woolf, I now know and believe that if you have never read Mrs. Dalloway, you really haven't seen The Hours. The homosexual inlay become not just obvious, but pertinent, and the thread of mental instability provoked by societal expectations and the status quo become another character in the story. If you've read the book, then you should enjoy this story. If you've enjoyed the movie, but couldn't quite make all the connections, the book will make everything clearer.

It's All In the Bag...(but, not really)

2007-12-18T09:41:00.000-08:00

So, you want to carry a really nice handbag to impress your friends, right? But, you can't afford to buy the latest Prada, or Dolce and Gabbana, or

Vintage Hermes. Well, as if we don't have enough stuff to indulge our consumer jones, the website, Bag, Borrow or Steal is here to solve all your needs when it comes to your expensive, (and ridiculous) taste in handbags.

For the low monthly price of $5 bucks, or an annual fee of about $60, you can rent the handbag of your dreams.

Now, like the next female, I like a nice, fashionable but practical, well-made handbag. But, I generally like to carry a purse that doesn't cost more money than I have in it; or one that I don't have to take out a small loan to purchase, or one that I'd have to rent, with a monthly bill attached to it, (no matter how small they make it seem). But, hey, if Burberry is your thing, (and you have absolutely nothing else to do with your money), this might just be the website for you!

Lessons Learned in a Creative Writing Class

2007-12-07T21:37:00.000-08:00

So, I began an Advanced Prose class this semester with some ambivalence because, on the one hand, I don’t think you can be taught to be creative. On the other hand, if you have some creative talent, I think that it can be made better by learning and practicing the mechanics of writing and grammar, and by doing exercises that help generate a better flow of ideas. But, I’m always skeptical about taking a creative writing class where people who already think that they have some talent come expecting to leave a genius. (Not me, of course. I still have a hard time believing it when people tell me I’m good…but, I’m coming around.) Furthermore, in these classes, except for a midterm and final portfolio, you spend the rest of the semester being critiqued and evaluated by your peers. I understand that it might be challenging for a professor to have to read the feeble efforts of students’ (10 to 15 of them), week in and week out over the course of the semester. But, I didn’t pay $360 to hear some third year undergrad tell me my story is no good because it doesn’t involve a twenty-something, real estate mogul/stripper with a Ph.D. whose man is cheatin’ on them. I want the doctor in the room to tear it apart.

However, I did find that there were some things I learned that I can use. The text that we used for this course Writing Fiction Step By Step by Josip Novakovich included some simple exercises that make me believe that writer’s block could very well be a thing of the past. I found exercises on scene building and character profiles that I think will help me to develop better stories with more complex characters. New Sudden Fiction, ed. Robert Shapard & James Thomas and Short Fiction by 33 Writers, ed. Mark Winegardner provides a treasure chest of some of the best short stories to read and learn from. Overall, I think this class has shown me, perhaps, how rigid I have been. I tend to write in a linear way, that is, my histories tend to happen in a straight line. At least on paper they do. But, I am excited about the possibilities of moving back and forth in a story through scenes. I think this will allow me more flexibility and freedom in my storytelling. What’s more is that I think I am a little more open to the experience of a creative writing class, and I believe that I may even turn out to be a better writer as a result.

Live Cargo by Pauls Toutonghi

2007-12-07T21:25:00.000-08:00

Live Cargo is a fascinating collection of short stories by Pauls Toutonghi that I wanted to highlight. We used this collection in my Advanced Prose class this semester as well as a few others. I found Toutonghi invigorating, classic and wise beyond his years. I love how he juxtaposes histories as in he does in “Still Life”, where he places side by side a story about the death of a friend of Pablo Picaso, with the experiences of a grandfather in the trenches during World War I. And in “The Lives of Saints” he infuses humor with Greek philosophy while exploring the possibilities of Socrates as a male, exotic dancer. I’ve wanted to read contemporary short stories that restored my faith in the short story form, and in the kind of literature that I want to read and write, and Toutonghi does that for me. This is a great night table book!

Southern Vegetarian Comfort

2007-11-23T13:49:00.001-08:00

Southern Vegetarian Comfort

So, for those of you who don't know, I've been a vegetarian for about twelve years. Because I haven't been a strict vegetarian for about the last five years, I tell folks that I'm not a "real" vegetarian, because I do eat some dairy. Also, about once or twice a year I eat salmon or trout or whiting. But, whenever I tell people that I don't eat meat they look at me with pity: "Oh, you can't even eat hamburgers?" Anyway...to introduce a new feature to the blog, have a look at some of my recipes that I've been proudly photographing. A friend of mine got me hooked on flickr.com and I thought I'd share some of my vegetarian meals. So come enjoy the culinary adventures of a Southern, vegetarian cook!

Semester Reflection

2007-11-21T22:13:00.000-08:00

Virginia WoolfThe Thanksgiving holiday is a good time to begin reflecting over the current school semester. It’s the point where you’ve become progressively sick of school, but still schizophrenically looking forward to a fresh start in the coming semester. It’s also a good time to catch up on upcoming assignments, journaling, housecleaning, and oh yeah… blogging.

Now that I’m looking forward to my trip to London next May, I’ve been thinking a lot about the British Literature classes I’ve taken and the Brit Lit that I’ve read, including the Postcolonial stuff. I wasn’t expecting to like Shakespeare, or Milton, or Emily Bronte, but I’m really enjoying the wonderful connections and segues into early American Literature (for example the John Locke stuff), the similarities in subject matter and issues of the Victorian era on both sides of the pond, particularly in terms of the value of women and Africans in society. I love imagining that Bronte might of had a different ending in mind in Wuthering Heights where Catherine didn’t have to redeem herself by acquiescing to the idea of an “angel in the house”. And I’m totally into that scattered, fragmented narrative that Virginia Woolf uses in Mrs. Dalloway to reflect the alienation of individuals in a society that can’t talk to the people closest to them, and that delicate line of “Proportion” between the sane and the insane. Mrs. Dalloway uses that "stream of consciousness narrative technique" that is indicative of twentieth century literature; a quintessential Modernist work.

But, there’s this guy in my class…we’ll call him Jerry. Jerry absolutely doesn’t get it. He doesn’t like fiction, regarding it as “just a bunch of made up stuff that doesn’t make sense”. He only took the class to fill an English requirement, and Brit Lit was the only thing that fit into his schedule. I guess I should point out that Jer’ is some kind of technical major, and in a way I understand. I felt a similar isolation in a math class involving assigning equations to lines on a graph…((ugh)). But, I think Jer’ needs an attitude adjustment. I think literature, fiction can teach us a lot about societies and eras in our history through the lives of ordinary people. I don’t think it matters whether the character in the story is “a real person” or not. All of the values, beliefs, ideas, desires, dreams, etc. of the person who wrote the story are reflected in every aspect of a narrative; even if it’s not autobiographical. And that is real.

So Jer’, free your mind; consider the possibilities, breath…breath…breath…

Extra Curriculum Offers Balance..(Ya' think?)

2007-10-30T15:50:00.000-07:00

[an alter at the Dias de Los Muertos Festival]

With all the writing I’m having to do for classes, my blogging and journaling has fallen short, I know. But, rest assured that I am working hard to prove to myself that leaving a job to go back to school was not in vain. While I’ve recently finished reading two great books, Bastard Out of Carolina by Dorothy Allison and Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, I reached my forty-fifth birthday. And right now, it’s all about balance…yeah right…anyway…. I’ve been trying to take advantage of some of those perks that come with being a student… (No, not a car loan that I don’t have to pay back until I graduate)…I mean like, discounted movie tickets and such. There’s a lot of things that go on that people who work everyday, at a job they hate, don’t even think about.

For example, a few weeks ago, me and my beloved saw Sean Jones in concert…for $10 bucks each! Jones is an awesome trumpeter with the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra. Our campus hosts an excellent jazz series and as a student, I get $10 dollar tickets. I also recently saw the John Patitucci Trio featuring the prolific bassist and Brian “Wow” Blade on drums…that’s worth the year’s tuition alone… (And now, I don’t even mind that hike in the student activity fee for the new building on campus.)

And rather than simply go out to eat on my birthdays now…I try to follow up with a birthday “activity”. One year it was rock wall climbing, last year, hiking. This year yours truly went horseback riding for the very first time in her life, thanks to intramural activities…(I’ll spare you the interesting photos of that one). I also attended the Dias de Los Muertos, the Mexican Day of the Dead Festival at the Atlanta History Center. So, you see, learning is more than simply opening a book; it’s about living and experiencing some of the fun stuff life has to offer…there is still some, ya’ know.

THIS JUST IN! I’m going to London next year for two weeks through the Study Abroad Program! Yes, yes…home of Shakespeare, Emily Bronte, Milton, George Herbert, Virginia Woolf….Zadie Smith! Whooo hoo!

"Above the Fall Line", a Reading by Amy Blackmarr

2007-10-13T19:01:00.000-07:00

Amy Blackmarr is as much a reader as she is a writer. Listening to her there is the feeling that she has done this many times. And indeed she was quick to let it be known that this, not writing and selling books, is her bread and butter. I think she joked that, “The destiny of genius is poverty”. I liked that. I like being reminded that I should not expect to make a lot of money as a writer; that if I am planning on doing this, I’d better damn well like to write; and read. Blackmarr was confident about her genre as she talked about what it means to be a writer of place. Her goal, she explained, is to discover the particular genius loci of a place. And while I still need to look genius loci up in the dictionary, it seems to mean capturing the essence and soul of a place, through your senses, and to be able to convey those very intimate details to the reader, and to write about a place so that the readers can put themselves there. Blackmarr recalled driving down a road, seeing a snake caught in the beak of a hawk, and remembering that at the time, she felt just like that. Only she couldn’t tell if she was the snake or the hawk. “An image becomes an essay,” she says, “inner and outer landscapes reflect each other”.

From a collection called Above the Fall Line, she read a piece called, “Love and Kudzu”, which speaks honestly about a woman who may have let the right guy slip away because of her own indifference, and then later seeing her mistake. Blackmarr slips easily from first to second person obviously without even noticing. When asked about this, (and she took questions like a well-oiled politician), she explained that employing second person was a way of distancing herself, a narrative distance. Although she says, “when you write in first person you have to remove yourself, or the emotional weight will steal the power”, writing in second person, she says, immediately connects her to her readers. But in this essay that at times sounded very much like a memoir, Blackmarr says, “In the personal we find relationships to each other”.

While I am still trying to define my own writing process, by comparison, Blackmarr’s process sounds anal. After learning that writer’s block does exist, the key to dealing with that she said, was to establish a pattern, a structured routine or a particular period of time. On weekends, she doesn’t write at all, but the other five days of the week, from ten until two she has no connection with anyone and she writes. When asked about influences she claims that Charles Dickens taught her a lot about narrative, and that Ray Bradbury is “incredibly eloquent”, suggesting that we all make a point of reading Dandelion Wine. Short story writer, Ray Carver she says is “brief in presentations but deep in his thinking”. Barbara Brown Taylor and Richard Selzer also make her list of influences.

Like a lot of writers, Amy Blackmarr says she is never happy with her work, never satisfied. But she likes that as a personal essayist she is not obligated to write in a linear narrative. “Your life is your work and your art, and it take your whole life to create”.

First Presentation Now Just a Memory

2007-09-30T09:14:00.000-07:00

The Southern Women's Writer's Conference has come to a close, and my first presentation was very successful. It was a small conference, so all that stressing I did over my little paper was for nothing. The Berry College community (about one and a half hours north of Atlanta) was very welcoming and the campus was beautiful, idyllic even. But, my most memorable moment at the conference was...no, not my presentation. It was meeting Ms. Vertamae Grosvner. She spoke at one of the lunches, but while I walking accross the scenic campus, I heard that distinct Gullah accent asking for directions to the dinning hall. She was radiant and hip and I just had to introduce myself. Poet, actress, culinary anthropologist, and writer Vertamae Grosvenor is the reason I know how to cook rice ("properly" she added). She also had a featured role in Julie Dash's Daughters of the Dust (one of my most favorite movies), on which she was a language consultant.

Taryari's Book Meme Challenge

2007-09-30T08:53:00.000-07:00

Tayari Jones, author of The Untelling, was given a meme, and while she decided not to tag anyone, she's left it up to us to do our own. So, in an attempt to break out of my blogging slump and start October off right, I'm gonna meet the challenge.

Total Number of Books I Own: It’s impossible to know right now. In my living room, I have a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that my beloved built. When we bought our home, we had to look for a house with a living room to accommodate this literary shrine. There are seven shelves, completely full with books on top of the ones that are properly placed. I have text books lined up on the side of it. I have books stacked up on my printer table. I have a smaller book shelf in my bedroom (also built by Mr. Persistence), and I have a waterbed in my guest room (the water mattress has long since been replaced with a futon mattress), and the headboard is a bookshelf filled with books….and the top of the headboard…and boxes in my garage that I still haven’t unpacked since moving here six years ago…and a box of books I left in St. Louis, packed away with old Chaka Khan and Billy Joel albums…Whew!

Five Meaningful Books:

One: The Learning Tree by Gordon Parks. I’d seen the movie and fell in love with Newt. When I realized there was a book too (not understanding at the time the movie was an adaptation), it became the first book I ever finished reading. It also became the first time I realized that a story could be created from the life of an ordinary black person; a young black person. It was the first time that I envisioned stories about my life, and people like me.

Two: In Search of Our Mothers’ Gardens: Womanist Prose by Alice Walker. This was when I first became aware of Alice Walker. I’m a little embarrassed to say that I was already out of high school, but unfortunately, I don’t remember reading much, if any literature by women before college. I discovered Walker as I was also discovering black bookstores, realizing that there were whole stores with literature by us! It’s no wonder that I didn’t read much before. Walker’s books made me know and believe that stories about us, particularly black women, were important…and necessary. (Thanks Alice!)

Three: Here I had to try and decide between Richard Wright and James Baldwin. And while Native Son and Black Boy were very influential for me and my writing, (this is my way of adding a 6th book), I have to go with Just Above My Head by James Baldwin, primarily because of the young girl growing up in the church aspect. Spirituality was very important for me growing up, and I thoroughly identified with that character in this story.

Four: Jonathon Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach. I grew up in Baptist and Pentecostal churches. This book confirmed what I’d always believed in my heart but didn’t know how to articulate: that spirituality doesn’t reside in a building, in a ghost, anything anthropomorphic, or anything outside of myself.

Five: The World According to Garp by John Irving: This book made me realize that I could identify, on some level, with a character completely opposite of myself: white, male, New Englander. I love all the Irving novels that I’ve read…and I’ve read plenty…twice…and thrice!

Last Book Read: Iola Leroy by Francis E. W. Harper. This book has become an important part of my research for my thesis. And, learning that this wasn’t just another “domestic” novel, a novel to extract sympathy for the abolitionist or Negro cause, was eye-opening. This novel was written to show that African Americans (and not just the ones with obvious “white blood”) were wholly capable and ready to take their place in American society after the Civil War. This novel demonstrates the literary diversity and cleverness of black women writers in the 19th century.

Last Book Bought: Brother, I’m Dying by Edwidge Danticat. I enjoyed Breath, Eyes, Memory and The Farming of Bones. I love Danticat…she is fast becoming my favorite writer.

As If...

2007-09-20T20:10:00.001-07:00

...I shouldn't be studying for a Spanish exam, or like I actually have time for fun reading in the thick of the semester. But Danticat has a new book, and I couldn't help myself. I just love the wisdom, loveliness and intensity in danticat's work. She is an old soul who writes as though her life depended on it.

Power Hour for Jena!

2007-09-07T16:45:00.000-07:00

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everwhere."
Martin Luther King, Jr.

There's power when people unite!

What would you do if Mychal Bell (Jena 6) was your son, cousin, or nephew? Would you wait for Obama, Oprah, Russell Simons or Kanye West to speak up before you step up?

You don't have to be a superstar to make a difference! Your skin doesn't have to be a certain color to connect you to the movement to Free the Jena 6. If you believe in Martin Luther King's dream of racial equality we need you to contribute to the Power Hour for Jena and express yourself! Commit to tapping into the Power Hour for Jena by completing one or more of the following activities today and everyday counting up to the national peace rally for Jena on September 20, 2007!

Here's how you can help:

1. Identify ways in which you can support the Jena 6 movement and begin to take action!

2. Sign petition to end this injustice -- http://www.colorofchange.org/jena/

3. Call 10 people to notify them of the injustice!

4. Appeal to the Jena District Attorney to drop all current charges against the Jena 6 and demand the release of Mychal Bell. Bell has been incarcerated since December 2006!

5. Send letters to the Louisiana Governor & Louisiana Attorney General - Sample letters available -- http://www.naacp.org/pdfs/SampleJena6SupportLetter.pdf

6. Send letters to the 2008 Presidential Candidates & to President George Bush. Where do they stand on this issue? Will you vote for someone who allows Mychal Bell to continue to sit in jail? What does this really say about our leaders?

7. Ensure the leadership of your church and associations (incl. sororities & fraternities) know about the Jena 6 case and plan to support. Post a press release or statement of opposition online and communicate a CALL TO ACTION to all members.

8. Contact U.S. Congress representatives to state your opposition to the Jena 6 case -- http://www.congress.org/congressorg/home/

9. Make a phone call to the Governor or the Board of Pardons in LA, between 8am-4:30pm EST, 1-225-342-7015.

10. Contact local and national TV & radio stations to demand ongoing coverage! Until then, tune into www.youtube.com for the latest interviews & commentaries...Real Talk!

11. Write letters to the editors of local newspapers & magazines.

12. Print 10 blank letters of support, find 10 supporters, buy 10 stamps and mail them!

13. Write a heart felt letter of support directly to Mychal Bell, Inmate, A-Dorm, LaSalle Correctional Center, 15976 Highway 165, Olla, LA 71465-4801.

14. Encourage educators to utilize the Jena 6 case as a teaching tool. Is this American Justice?

15. If you're a DJ, artist, or promoter, throw in a "shout out" to Jena 6 at every opportunity!

16. Send FREE Jena 6 text messages pointing people to http://www.freethejena6.org/

17. If you cannot travel to Jena, LA, show solidarity by wearing black and join other local supporters of the Jena 6 to rally in your hometown on September 20.

18. Make Free Jena 6 t-shirts and sell them as a Jena 6 Defense fundraiser in your city.

19. Ask your church to collect a Jena 6 Defense fund offering on Sunday.

20. Post Jena 6 information to e-groups, myspace, facebook, and/or your online social network.

21. Team up with your investment club, alumni association, or support group to raise Jena 6 Defense funds and awareness.

22. Share the Jena 6 case with people of other ethnicities and discover the common ground we share on racism in America.

23. Discuss the Jena 6 case with your family members, friends & young people.

24. Pray for the support of the Jena 6, justice, racial equality and world peace.
Your commitment to the Power Hour for Jena will build the momentum necessary to put Racism in America on blast! The Jena 6 is just one example of the many unjust cases that pass through the U.S. Justice system. Although racism continues to choke America, it is no longer the American way!! Your voice must be heard on this issue!

Be the change you want to see! Right here, right now!

Send this email to at least 10 of your friends and challenge them to contribute to the Power Hour for Jena! Let's all take a step together and hold ourselves accountable until justice prevails!!

Together we will win!!

john t. scott, 1940-2007

2007-09-04T15:44:00.000-07:00

one of the highlights of my last visit to new orleans (just
before katrina), was a trip to the museum in city park and an exhibition of john t. scott's work. gazing at his scupture and paintings was like a familiarity, a recollection of something
i'd known before. his work contained the absolute sublimeness of purity.

Fall Semester, 2007

2007-08-19T18:23:00.000-07:00

Another fall semester has descended upon me, and I am officially beginning my countdown to graduation. And while graduation won’t actually be until December 2008, I am just making sure that all my ducks are in a row and that everything will go according to plan. As I wind down to that anticipated date, most of my studies will be in my major, English, as I have planned it that way. But, I still have a couple of classes to fulfill some of my core requirements, one of which is Spanish. Then there’s Astronomy…a science for English majors... (clearing my throat).

As usual, I am looking forward to the literature classes, because I get read fiction and/or novels that I’ve always wanted to read but never got around to it. In British Literature II, I’ll be reading Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte and Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. I’m also taking the course, Women and Literature, which promises to be an intriguing and diverse mixture of American, Modernist/Post Modernist women writers. I’ve already begun reading Bastard Out of Carolina by Dorothy Allison, about growing up poor in South Carolina. This story has already plucked familiar emotional strings from my own childhood and is now very hard to put down. In addition to Allison there’s Tony Morrison’s Bluest Eye, which I’ve read before, but this will be a great time to read it again. Along with a Katherine Ann Porter reader there’ll be Sweat by Zora Neale Hurston, The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gillman (two short stories), and Coming of Age in Mississippi by Anne Moody.

Actually, it seems that all of my reading will be women authors.This much reading in the next four months will be grueling, but I have done it before, and ingesting so many satisfying narratives leaves me feeling, hmmm, spent, content and with a sense of accomplishment.

Experience, Imagination, Passion

2007-08-18T20:48:00.000-07:00

While I’m still not convinced that someone can be taught to be a great or even a good writer, I believe that anyone with a talent for creating stories can learn to do it better. Grammar and writing skills can be taught, and I think it is safe to say that Formalism has its place. But, I think it takes more than knowing where to put your commas to create good literature. And, it is for these reasons that I choose to earn a literary degree rather than a creative writing degree. But, in the midst of my literary studies, I opted this semester to take the course, Advanced Prose. This will, I hope give me an opportunity to work on some of my own projects, processes and provide a little academic relief from the other four classes that I will be taking. I’m a little nervous though, because the professor is a French chick with a couple of poetry books under her belt. (A poet teaching prose, hmmm?) But, hey, she has a Ph.D., so I’m gonna take my chances.

British Lit: Only the Beginning

2007-07-31T15:45:00.000-07:00

The one thing I like about taking a class in the summer is, by the time you begin to get burned out, the class is over. I began this British Literature class feeling a little intimidated, wondering if there would be anything that would command my attention without leaving me feeling, well, a little inadequate. I mean, come on, let's face it, the thought of trying to decipher Chaucer's Middle English or the courtly love poetry of Thomas Wyatt can seem as daunting and unattainable as Sir Phillip Sidney's Stella is for Astrophil. But, fortunately I had a really cool professor who allowed for many silly misinterpretations in an effort to get us to relax about the whole Brit-Lit thing. The result for me is a hard-earned A in the class, and a healthy appreciation for our British, literary predecessors. Of all the works we read, the ones I enjoyed the most were Twelfth Night or What You Will by William Shakespeare, Paradise Lost by John Milton and a really surprising story that was saved for last. It's called Oroonoko or The Royal Slave. It was published in 1688 by Aphra Behn; a woman. She tells the story of Oroonoko, an African Prince, his love for the beautiful, and strong, black woman, Imoinda, and how they were kidnapped and sold into slavery in Surinam. It was surprising to read this story among the usual line-up of dead, white men normally resurrected for such a class. Behn is a genre bender, writing at once a memoir, a biography and travel narrative, which is credited for being possibly the first novel. It is beautifully written, engaging, and I imagine, it had roughly the same effect on British women of the time as did Harriette Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin just before the Civil War. Try it on for size. It's not very long, and hey look...here's a free copy! For me, this is only the beginning; for I intend to take British Lit after 1800 in the fall. And, you know what that means...Virginia Woolf, baby, yeah!

Blog Anniversary!

2007-07-14T11:34:00.000-07:00

Considering the anxiety I imposed upon myself at its inception, it's almost hard to believe that I've been blogging for a whole year. Not only that, it's been just about a year since I left my job to become a full-time English major. Do I regret it? Not for one minute. I'm still excited about continuing my education, building a strong literary foundation for my writing life. And while at times it has been dangerously close to nail bitting, I have managed to add to my learning experience in ways that I might not have otherwise been able to do, had I still been working. I have interned with an Atlanta weekly, been to a national writing conference, made the dean's list, worked in the office of the president, and...drum roll please: I'll be presenting a paper at a conference in the fall.

The past year has been wonderful. Thanks to all of you who have contributed by reading, commenting and telling others about the fantastical journey of a non-traditional student. (And especially thanks to you CFM, for your contributing support. ;)

Theatrical Ceremonies

2007-07-13T16:07:00.000-07:00

There was little, if anything, in my environment growing up in North St. Louis that afforded me the opportunity to explore theatre or stage performances of any kind, with the exception maybe of Parliament Funkadelic coming to town. I only became interested in playwriting as a way to ‘write the words they say in movies’ because when I was young, I didn’t realize there was actually a job you could get called screenwriting. Even by the time Spike Lee came along, I began thinking that I had to be a director in order to get something I wrote performed on film. I didn’t have the privilege of attending a performing arts high school, and well truth is I never saw myself as a performer, always a writer. Even though I had a very short run as the wife of a plantation owner in a seventh grade play (one of those little known facts about myself), written by my teacher for what was probably one of the first Black History Months, performing was not in my blood. But I believe the first time I became fascinated with performance and what an actor can do on a stage in a darkened room was after watching a PBS production of a play called Ceremonies in Dark Old Men. I couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven when I saw it, and though I’d forgotten what the play was about, I only remember how impressed I was with the performance. And, even though I don’t remember most of the actors, there was a Puerto Rican actor whose name I committed to memory, Jose Perez. Maybe because he was Puerto Rican, maybe because he was a Puerto Rican with an afro, I don’t know why, but him I remembered. (You may remember Perez as Torres’ father in the TV series New York Undercover.)

The reason this is all coming back to me is because I recently saw a production of Ceremonies in Dark Old in Atlanta starring Glynn Turman (who most may remember from the later seasons of Different World, and also acted in the 1975 PBS production of Ceremonies). It was a True Colors theatre company production at the Balzer Theater on Luckie Street, and its harmonious cast included veteran actor Eugene Lee, brothers and Morehouse alumni Brandon J. and Jason Dirden. So, I’m telling everybody about how I remember seeing this play on PBS as a kid, but only remembering the Puerto Rican dude. And now as I am researching back, I realize that there were two plays on PBS back then that got my attention: One was Ceremonies which actually included Rosalind Cash as Adele Eloise Parker, Godfrey Cambridge as Mr. Jenkins, Glynn Turman as Theo, and Robert Hooks as Blue Haven! How could I forget that? The other one, was a play called Steambath which starred Bill Bixby and Jose Perez, who played God (who was the attendant in this sort of steam bath afterlife). I’d somehow mixed the two plays together, but now for me, the web has been untangled, never to be intertwined again. Both are very good productions with steller performances. Ceremonies was written by Lonne Elder III, who also wrote the 1981 adaptation of Bustin’ Loose starring Richard Pryor and Cicely Tyson. Steambath was written by Bruce Jay Friedman, who also wrote the 1980 film Stir Crazy, starring Pryor and Gene Wilder.

Seeing this play again reminded me of how impressed I was with how words combined with skilled performances could take over the imagination, create a hope and determination to do something, be something, to leave something more beautiful than when you came. And though I had all the details criss-crossed, it reminded me of the importance of art in my life. Where were you the first time you saw a play, a performance that held you captive, attentive and awed in the blackness? Could you not stop laughing? Did it make you wanna read a book; go to college, open a lemonade stand? Did you cry thinking about it ten days later? Where were you; do you remember…?

(Photo is from a production of August Wilson's Two Trains Running.)

Philly Caribbean Festival

2007-06-26T17:36:00.001-07:00

Vacations get short when you quit a job to go back to school. So you gotta make it intensly fun in a couple of days. So I and my beloved did just that at the Philladelphia Caribbean Festival last weekend in Fairmont Park. It was hot, the music was slammin', so I had to have a mango italian icy, right? Our hostess was fabulous, serving up all our Trinidad favorites like peas and rice, corn soup, roti, callaloo, bake and OMG! homemade, coconut ice cream and rum cake! I have to tell you, I did not think about Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton or Weight Watchers. Then, there was an all night (and, I mean I didn't go to bed until the sun came up, whew! Haven't done that in years), backyard party, where there was even more food. I'd never been to Philly but, I had a ball!

First Life Overloaded? Try a Second!

2007-06-26T16:57:00.001-07:00

Well, now that I've safely made it through the first half of an Early British summer with a midterm 'A', I can tell you about my latest partial obsession. I think it's even better than Spider Solitare as a being totally time consuming and an excellent object for procrastinating when I should be studying: it's Second Life! It's an online, three-D world where you create a personality, live, work and play....like in real life...but, it's sort of a cartoon...with some very real like avatars...or, people....anyway, it's a lot of fun.

For my second life, I've chosen to be a man...a black man. (Hey, why not?) And, I'm trying to see just how much second life money I can make on a free account. Second life money is called Linden dollars, after the company in San Francisco that developed it called Linden Research Lab, Inc. With Linden dollars you can buy and sell anything from yourself...yeah...to an island.

Not are there companies that are experimenting with Second Life to do virtual job interviews, but apparently some people are even finding religion in their second life.

For me, it's just a fun way to relax exercise my computer skills.

An 'Early British' Summer

2007-05-30T15:19:00.000-07:00

So, my summer vacation is technically over because for the first time since I’ve been back in school, I’m going to summer school! It shouldn’t be so bad; in addition to working on campus, I’m only taking one class. I’ve taken a lot of American Literature courses, Postcolonial and World Literature, but for the summer I will began my journey into British Literature. I’m looking forward to developing my understanding of early English language poetry and prose, ultimately focusing in on some Shakespeare, Marlow, Milton, and Sirs Philip Sydney and Walter Raleigh.

At the start of this class we’re reading some stuff with no known author, and also an epic poem that I read first in World Literature, Beowulf, which ironically is coming out this year as an animated feature. Beowulf is the oldest of the great long poems written in English, composed over twelve hundred years ago. It is a story about the cruelty of life, death and sorrow, but also of faith, courage and honor. The courtly love poetry of Sir Philip Sydney is still a bit intimidating to me, but the sonnets of Shakespeare are down to earth, and sometimes humorous.

And while I am somewhat suspicious of literature that functions as propaganda for religions, there is a poem which I find devastatingly beautiful. It is called The Dream of the Rood. It is about the dream of a tree’s memory of having Christ nailed to it and dying. Sentimental? Maybe. But, The Dream of the Rood is eloquent in the understanding that a tree is, not inanimate, but a living thing with a soul, a memory, a dream. Observing the crucifixion from the point of view of the cross is that defamiliarization, which Formalist Viktor Shklovsky talks about in his essay, "Art as Technique"; it causes you to see something which is recognizable, but differently. That’s good writing.

Photographic Recollections

2007-05-22T16:11:00.000-07:00

Ardell,
1912-1998

Jackie,
1938-1978

Melba,
1927-2007

It is never easy; loosing the ones that you love. But, in loosing them you almost always begin to contemplate the lives they may have led before you knew them. While they are alive you only know them as Grandmother, whose fried chicken wings are the only piece of meat that could cause a vegetarian to falter. Mama, whose voluptuousness I generously inherited, and Auntie whose style was timeless, unmistakable. As they grow older and eventually fade away, these last images and ideas of them are what we retain; the painful scolding in a pointing finger, the security and comfort in warm layers of ample arms and breasts.

But, if you are fortunate enough to have your pick of the personal belongings they leave behind, as I recently did upon the death of my Aunt, old photographs give a glimpse into the individuals they once were, and perhaps even who you are. These photographs remind you that they were once vibrant, sexy and ambitious black women looking toward the future. They were confident and poised, the kind of woman you try to be. They were unafraid, imperfect, unapologetic and beautiful. They are the women I aspire to be like.

Re-col-lec-tion: the power of re-collecting and re-calling the strength, determination and hope in images and remembrances of those who made us strong.

An Authentic Atlanta Story

2007-05-19T09:08:00.000-07:00

You’ve heard of New York Stories? Well, The Untelling by Tayari Jones is an authentic Atlanta Story. An eloquent, New South narrative reminding us that what William Faulkner said is indeed true, that “The past is.” The soft fragrance of an urban magnolia, Adriane Jackson, unfolds as we learn how private guilt and shame over a past, which we sometimes have no control over, works to create a self-deprecating consciousness, threatening to crumble our future happiness. The Untelling speaks about how family secrets folded and tucked away, resurface and erupt into a barrage of emotions, regret and even physical devastation. This is an important lesson for African American families, for I believe it is our tendency to bury those poignant, deeply personal family injuries with the belief that we will simply “get over it”. But Jones shows us through this powerful and contemporary tale how our clandestine memories linger, maybe forever.

Whewhooo! Summer Fun Reading

2007-05-08T08:38:00.000-07:00

Well finally the semester is done, and I can catch my breath. Didn't get the grades I had predicted in the beginning, but I didn't do bad. But now that's all behind me and I gotta look forward. This is the time that I get to do some fun reading. And while I have really big reading list, it is my determination to get to at least five books read before the fall semester begins. Not included in that five will also be a British Literature class which will include some Beowulf and some Chaucer. (Canterbury Tales, yeah!) Up until now, I've not had much British Lit other than the small amount that I got in a World Literature class and Hamlet. But, even with my part-time gig in the president's office, (and giving myself a refresher course in Spanish to prepare for the next level in the fall), I intend to do some reeee-laxin' this summer.

I just finished reading Iola Leroy by Francis E.W. Harper, so I don't think I can call that part of my summer reading. It was my "nightstand" book during the semester. In bed, before going to sleep, I write a little in my journal and read a few pages of Iola Leroy. Even with five classes, I couldn't resist beginning this novel which I've heard so much about. Considered a romance novel at the time, (an odd genre for the worldly, no-nonsense, journalistic and womanist writing of Ms. Harper), but further reading helped me to see that Iola Leroy was a propagandist novel, aimed at white, female abolitionists and black sunday school patrons to express the possibilities of the newly freed slaves and educated African Americans. A very different novel when you look at it in this light.

But, now that exams are over, I've already begun my first summer novel: The Untelling by homegirl, Tayari Jones! Hey, read it with me and send me your comments, and we can all exhale together.

From The Atlanta Writers Club: Two Ways to Protest the Ruination of the AJC Book Review Section

2007-04-29T18:04:00.000-07:00

**REPRINTED WITH THE PERMISSION OF GEORGE WEINSTEIN OF THE ATLANTA WRITERS CLUB**

Dear Atlanta Writers Club members, guests, past speakers, future speakers,
and community supporters,

As many of you know, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution is eliminating the
book editor job held by Teresa Weaver and might dissolve the whole book
review section of the paper. We pride ourselves on our thriving literary
community, so what message is the AJC delivering about us when it begins to
dismantle a prime outlet for news and reviews about books?

Below are just two of the ways you can lodge your protest:

If you feel that this myopic act devalues the readers and writers of our
region, please click on the link below for the petition launched by the
National Book Critics Circle, and add your signature and comments alongside
those by Clyde Edgerton, Darnell Arnoult, Joshilyn Jackson, Karin Slaughter,
and many, many others (my entry is #202, right below Michael Connelly's):

http://www.petitiononline.com/atl2007/petition.html

There's another, even more powerful way you can make an impression on the
AJC--and help bring media exposure to this situation: participate in the
ATLANTA “Save the Book Review” READ-IN! Bring a book and wear your Atlanta
Writers Club T-shirt to a demonstration outside the front doors of the AJC.

The following is an invitation to the READ-IN from Shannon Byrne, Publicity
Manager of Little, Brown and Company:

Hundreds of readers will converge upon the Atlanta Journal-Constitution next
Thursday, May 3, for a READ-IN to protest the AJC’s business practices
regarding books coverage. Come to the READ-IN and see for yourself! If you
have to work, please still tell everyone you know to come out to show their
support!

WHAT: ATLANTA “Save the Book Review” READ-IN! Bring a book (or many books!)
you love, and let’s create a critical mass of readers to put the pressure on
the Atlanta Journal-Constitution to reverse its terrible decision to
“reorganize” its book review out of existence! They got rid of the book
review editor, and without an official champion for books within the paper,
the quality of books coverage is endangered! It will become disorganized and
sporadic, if not simply perfunctory, until, worse, it’s no longer there.

TIME: 10:00 AM until…you decide!

DATE: THURSDAY, MAY 3, 2007
*rain or shine

LOCATION: Converge in front of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Hold open
your book and read aloud or to yourself. Trust me, you won’t be the only
one. Picture hundreds of people doing the same thing!
[*directions below]

WHO: Open to any and all writers, readers, and lovers of books and
newspapers. Come one, come all Atlantans (or ATLiens), Georgians, and even
you hardcore out-of-staters.

WHY: Because the city of Atlanta wants a robust, reader-friendly,
intelligent book review, not just a section run on auto-pilot from above.
Teresa Weaver has created and run exactly this kind of section for almost
ten years now and we want the AJC to reward her expertise, not eliminate her
job.

Again, if you haven’t signed the "Protect Atlanta's Book Review" petition
yet, here’s the link to it:

http://www.petitiononline.com/atl2007/petition.html

This week, the National Book Critics Circle launched a big campaign to help
save book review sections in newspapers nationwide, and the momentum will
continue next week. Read what authors, critics, and many other voices in the
world of books and publishing have been saying about the issue:

http://bookcriticscircle.blogspot.com/.

Thank so much for your support of the Atlanta literary community, and PLEASE
SPREAD THE WORD!

*DIRECTIONS:*

MARTA:
The MARTA stop is Five Points.
Exit onto Marietta St.; the AJC building is less than two blocks west
(left).

TO GET TO THE AJC FROM I-85 or I-75 NORTH:

Take I-85 or I-75 south.

Continue on I-75/I-85 south.

Take EXIT 249C toward WILLIAMS ST./World Congress Ctr./GA Dome/Aquarium.

Stay straight to go onto WILLIAMS ST. NW.

Turn RIGHT on ALEXANDER ST. NW.

Turn LEFT onto CENTENNIAL OLYMPIC PARK DR. NW.

Turn LEFT onto MARIETTA ST. NW.

The AJC is at 72 Marietta St.

See Parking Instructions below.

TO GET TO THE AJC FROM I-75/I-85 SOUTH:

Take I-75/I-85 North.

Take EXIT 246 FULTON ST./CENTRAL AVE. to Downtown.

Ramp forks. Keep left to take CENTRAL AVE. to Downtown/GA Dome.

Turn LEFT on DECATUR ST. Continue.

Road becomes MARIETTA ST. NW.

The AJC is at 72 Marietta St.

See Parking Instructions below.

TO GET TO THE AJC FROM MIDTOWN:

Drive south down PEACHTREE ST.

Turn RIGHT on FORSYTH ST.

Turn RIGHT on MARIETTA ST.

The AJC is at 72 Marietta St.

See Parking Instructions below.

PARKING:

TO GET TO THE 3 FAIRLIE ST. CENTRAL PARKING SYSTEM LOT (located one block
from the AJC; $4 self-pay, all-day. The perfect location & the perfect
price!):

From MARIETTA ST. as you drive southeast and see the AJC building on the
right-hand side:

IMMEDIATELY turn RIGHT on FAIRLIE ST. (the sign will read Fairlie St. NW50;
this is the street that borders the south side of the AJC; the AJC is
bordered on the other side by the State Bar of Georgia ).
Drive one block to the bottom of the hill.

Cross the railroad tracks.

Turn right into the 3 Fairlie St. Central System Parking lot and keep
driving.

Drive under the viaduct (you’ll feel like you’re driving through a tunnel).

At least 200 empty spaces will be available at this little-known,
little-used lot (which is actually underneath the Spring St. bridge—and ONE
BLOCK from the AJC).

Self-pay; $4 for 12 hours. The machine takes dollar bills, coins or credit
cards. It will not issue any change for larger bills. Place the ticket stub
on your dashboard to avoid booting.

TO GET TO THE 3 FAIRLIE ST. CENTRAL PARKING SYSTEM LOT (from Midtown):

Drive south down PEACHTREE ST .

Turn RIGHT on FORSYTH ST .

Turn RIGHT on MARIETTA ST.

Turn LEFT on FAIRLIE ST .

(Follow directions above.)

For an online Citysearch map:
http://maps.citysearch.com/map/search?location=72+Marietta+St.+Atlanta%2C+GA
&searchLocation=Search

DON'T FORGET TO BRING A BOOK!

***
I'll be there and I hope you will join me. Remember to wear your Atlanta
Writers Club T-shirt--we'll have some for sale there in case you need one.

Regards,
George Weinstein
President of The Atlanta Writers Club
http://www.atlantawritersclub.org/

New York Times Obituaries: The Last Fifteen Minutes of Fame

2007-04-28T12:10:00.000-07:00

When someone inevitably ask, “So, what’cha gonna do with a degree in English, teach?” I always feel compelled to tell them that yes, teaching is actually my plan B. With an English degree I intend to become a working, well-compensated, literary author and eccentric, traveling the world for the best vegetarian cuisine, collecting rare books and personalities, participating in Voodoo rituals in Haiti, an occasional fish fry back home in St. Louis with my sisters lying about the good old days, and who will inevitably, upon my death, having done something so wildly fascinating that I land a spot in the New York Times obituaries. Unlike your average, everyday, run of the mill obituaries, the NYT obit is like a biography/tribute in a nutshell. And while not just anybody lands a coveted NYT obituary, according to the obituaries editor, Bill McDonald, they do sometimes approach people before they die, “directly but also delicately” to compose a future obituary. (Which is why I’m working on mine now.)

I like how the NYT eulogizes not people who are simply famous. Some of the entries are about people we might not recognize, but who might have done something truly fascinating. Like Kelsie B. Harder,

"whose ruminations about why his parents gave him what sounded like a girl’s name
provoked such enthrallment with proper nouns that he became a leading
onomastician — a student of names and their origins — died on April 12 at his
home in Potsdam, N.Y. He was 84.”

(Me, I can't even pronounce onomastician.) Then there is Harold Max Mayer who died on April 20th. The

“former chairman of Oscar Mayer and Company, he invented the popular Smokie
Link, a spicy hot dog, and took an active role in acquiring and managing the
Claussen Pickle Company and the Louis Rich Company.”

(Who knew?) And, even though I claim to be a little jazz savvy, I didn’t know about Andrew Hill, who worked with the likes of

“Dinah Washington, Johnny Hartman and Dakota Staton. He got a chance to play
with Charlie Parker at the Greystone Ballroom in Detroit in 1954. A job with
Roland Kirk brought him to New York in the early 1960s.”

NYT also pays tribute to the famous and infamous, sometimes adding an extra tidbit about them that we might not know. Like the burly, provincial politician, Boris Yeltsin, who became a Soviet-era reformer. In his autobiography, Yeltsin recalled that as a child, he and his family lived in a hut for 10 years,

“winter was worst of all,” he wrote. “There was nowhere to hide from the cold.
Since we had no warm clothes, we would huddle up to the nanny goat to keep warm.
We children survived on her milk.”

Well, I’m a city girl, so I don’t know anything about huddling up to a nanny goat, but maybe something in my life and work will garner a final nod from the NYT obituaries. “Hey Bill, I’m working on that biography now!”

2007-04-25T15:23:00.000-07:00

Imagine me: In the middle of my living room floor, surrounded by scraps of paper, colored markers, and glue sticks. Well, that’s exactly where I was yesterday, preparing for a poster presentation in my tutoring class. Had no idea what my focus was until the last minute, and had no idea how to put it together. Standing around in Staples, I begin picking up all the stuff I thought might work until I realized, this was costing me way more than I had intended. But, then I remembered that book, All I Really Need to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten by Robert Fulghum and it hit me: I need some construction paper, a glue stick, some colored markers and some scissors. You know what? It worked just fine. I had the feeling of being in a grade school art class, and as vexed as I was, it was actually kind of fun. That nagging pain that I had going down my neck and shoulders begin to let go as I scrupulously focused on cutting perfectly around the edges of my 21st century stick man. The focus of my poster was how our backgrounds and ideologies can sometimes get in the way of a tutoring session. From making eye contact with a student, to conflicts about whose responsibility it is to direct the session, conflicting goals and how past learning experiences all influence how we tutor.

Southern Short Stories

2007-04-24T15:57:00.000-07:00

Although I am an English major, for a degree in anything there are other basic course requirements which must be met, like Biology, Georgia History or Math, which for most English majors I know, is a nightmare. Literature classes, which are required for my major, keep the semester from feeling like a job. This semester I took a course in Southern Short Stories which really opened my eyes to the diversity of Southern writers. One of the books we used was the Signet Classic Book of Southern Short Stories, an excellent introduction to some of the best short story authors around. It includes Edgar Allan Poe and his mastery of the sympathetic unreliable narrator in The Tale of the Ragged Mountains, and Ellen Glasgow’s subtle use of gender role reversal to discredit two would be reliable narrators in Dare’s Gift. I also read Three Men and Bloodlines by Ernest Gaines whose intimate knowledge of the Louisiana social landscape is unmistakable and authentic, and the neo-slave narratives of Alice Walker, The Child Who Favored Daughter and Strong Horse Tea. And, too, Katherine Anne Porters’ last “Miranda” story, Old Mortality, with its dispersion of the mythology of Southern womanhood. I’ve learned that the range of the Southern literary canon expands far beyond the “plantation novel”, and the valorization of the antebellum society we are normally exposed to: from the fascinating and unflinching depiction of Flannery O’Connor’s Southern Grotesque, to the progressive interpretation of women and marriage in the stories of Ellen Glasgow and Susan Petigru King.

Non-Traditional Stress

2007-04-24T12:39:00.000-07:00

So, another semester is coming to a close. I’m getting that aching, tension signal in my back, up my neck, and in the center of my head indicating the approaching week of intellectual haze students trek through on automatic called, finals. For a non-traditional student, over 40, it is a lonely trek. All of the people I know who are my age are working overtime to make the payment on a timeshare in Florida. Or, they are peeking through the door of their children’s bedroom to make sure they are not hanging out in all the wrong chat rooms. Or, just relaxing from a long day of work in front of the TV, with a beer. There’s no one in my immediate circle who understands how, no matter how great my desire was to be back in school, it can be solitarily stressful. The demands to do well, to excel in a sea of kids who can text message ten people before you even dial one number gets annoying by this time. Or, the kid who says, “You actually read the book? I never read”, but they ace every exam; who are these people? Don’t think I’ll be making that deans list this time around, but anyway, it’s nearly over. For thirty days I can chill, before I rev back up for the summer.

2007-04-16T13:49:00.000-07:00

That word, that word,
Like a Signifying Monkey we
Claimed that word for ourselves to prove
Your barefaced use of a sign which you created just for us
No longer had the power it once possessed.
But we were wrong.
The word, subtly evoking seeds of self loathing,
The word that defiled hip-hop,
Has gained the momentum of a backhand slap
Descending from, it seemed, the highest point in a
Civil rights kitchen, to the fleshy jawbone
Of the youthful mouth from which
It scarcely materialized.
We have given that word more power than before,
For now they blame us for that word,
And they use that word, expressing their own defilement,
To reclaim the power they once possessed
Over our souls.
That word, on the brink of their psyche, at the tip of their tongues,
Like a stallion at the gate, eyes bulging, teeth exposed,
Recalling for them their glorious, colonial dream,
Salvaging the politically repressed rage of tormented souls,
And wounded egos.
More powerful than we knew,
That word.
~sbnl

2007-04-13T14:07:00.000-07:00

Roscoe Lee Brown, 1925-2007

2007-04-13T14:02:00.000-07:00

Calvin Lockhart, 1934-2007

Lift Up A Girl Like Kiri Davis

2007-04-09T07:29:00.000-07:00

*UPDATE*

Well, Cosmo Girl has decided that "the online voting has been corrupted as a result of one or more instances of tampering with the voting process by users." So, as a result,
have thrown out the votes, and will be deciding the winner themselves....hmmm.
But, you can still view the video, and you should.

See the ten minute film, A Girl Like Me, by young film maker Kiri Davis, and vote for her in Cosmo Girl's film contest. The film is a poignant look at how young black girls and children are still informed by European standards of beauty. Davis is poised for a ten thousand dollar award when she wins, so please go and support her online at Cosmo Girl.

A Girl Like Me

"The issues my friends and I face inspired me to create this
documentary. Through my interviews, it became extremely apparent how European beauty standards still maintain a dominant role in our society. Society imposes
standards that affect us all no matter what your sex or race is. I hope the film
helps girls everywhere understand that you can’t allow other people to define
who you are. You have to define and celebrate yourself. You have to love the
skin you're in!"

– Kiri Davis

More Profound Than the Average Movie

2007-04-07T08:26:00.000-07:00

Since Ugly Betty and Grey’s Anatomy were a repeat of old shows this week, I watch a movie that I had been looking forward to seeing from the moment I saw the previews. It is a movie starring the comic actor from the TV show Saturday Night Live, Will Ferrell, as the main character, an actor whom I have never regarded as being very funny or interesting. But, it was the storyline that grabbed me right away. The movie, Stranger than Fiction, is a story about a very predictable, uninteresting, IRS agent, Harold Crick, obsessed with numbers, who hears a voice narrating his every move. After talking to a friend about it and seeking the help of a psychiatrist, he seems to begin to accept the fact that he hears this voice that knows even the amount of brush strokes he uses to brush his teeth; that is until the voice speaks about his little known, inevitable death. That’s when he employs the help of a literature professor, portrayed by Dustin Hoffman. And, by ruling out all other types of narratives, Hoffman tells Crick that his life is basically a Tragedy, and that there is only one way for the story to end; with his ultimate death. Not only that, after he finds out who the author is, (played by Emma Thompson), Crick learns that she is a writer who always writes tragedies, and the main character always dies. What makes this story even more interesting is that Crick meets the author, and the author comes literally face to face with her character. I’d say that this movie is a virtual writer’s fantasy.

Not everyone will find this movie as insightful as I did. I suppose that it is tailor-made for a nerdy, literature major like me. But, I think Stranger than Fiction has the simple, quirky charm of movies from the past like, Irma La Douce or Breakfast at Tiffany’s or even Twilight Zone episodes. Now being the chronic worrier that I am, this movie has some rather reflective questions one would have to ask themselves like, “If I knew I were going to die, how would I live my life differently?” “If I knew who held the pen, would I try and find them and convince them to change the ending?” “If I knew I couldn’t change the ending, would I still want to know what it was?” And, more importantly, “If I were an author who came face to face with a living, breathing representation of a character I made up off the top of my head, would I drink more, or would I stop drinking all together?” At least in response to the first question I would say that, I do know that I’m going to die, so everyday I try to get my life closer and closer to how I want it. So that maybe by the time the author decides to smack a “The End” on me, my life will be just as it should be when I die.

Tutoring Rant

2007-04-07T08:12:00.000-07:00

I was recruited to enroll in a class called “Issues and Methods in Writing Consultancy”, and I decided to participate, mainly as an opportunity to hone my tutoring skills, earn a stipend and make an attractive grad school candidate. I was encouraged by my internship professor, and when they said, “It’ll help you improve your own writing,” my self-serving mechanism really kicked in. The whole idea grabbed me by my ego. Somehow I began doing well; I received an ‘A’ for midterm, but I’m not sure how. The assignments seem scattered, mostly our own personal thoughts of what we are learning so far. But, because this is my schools’ inaugural writing center, we’ve focused a lot on how to build this writing studio for students to come seeking guidance for their writing.

A writing center, mind you, is not a proofreading, “check-my-paper-for-errors-and-I’ll-be-back-to-pick-it-up-in-an-hour” kind of drop off place. It is a place where writers, campus wide, can get someone to sort of collaborate with them and help them organize their ideas, help them create a process for themselves; help them be more creative, no matter what kind of writer they are. But, after checking out a few writing centers at other schools, like Emory University, establishing a writing center takes more than an idealistic rhet and comp professor and a few green students hoping to comp an internship. And, with all the articles and essays that’s been thrown at me about the challenges of tutoring ESL students, and students-over- thirty, reluctant students, and students with papers about why men are simply better than women or why God don’t like gay people, we’ve not read one thing about how to open a writing center.

So, HELP! Help, I say! If anyone out there has any information, a book, an article about the challenges of establishing a writing center for a university, please, please hep’ a sistah out.

Adventures of a Non-Traditional Student: Oh the Places You Will Go

2007-03-23T11:55:00.000-07:00

I’m at the point in my student career where, okay let’s face it: it’s time to make a couple of dollars. I was beginning to feel like I need to have some kind of steady cheddar (income), and besides that, my loan money is running out. I decided to try and get a job on campus. I could work it in-between classes; I gotta go on campus anyway, so I’d save on gas. And, I could study in-between. I tried for a student stipend-ed position, but didn’t get it. Then, I applied for a position in the Office of Student Affairs; that’ll look good on my grad school application. Well, that fell through also. So, I thought: Starbucks! I’ve worked at Starbucks before, and that was one of my favorite jobs. They’ve just opened one a mile from my house, I can work the hours around my schedule, and I am still in touch with the cool young lady who used to be my supervisor, who is now a district manager, and I could probably get in quickly.

Well, the day I delivered my application to Starbucks, AE, the very cosmopolitan young lady I attended AWP with, called and asked, “Are you still interested in my spot in the President’s Office?” I thought, Starbucks who? Any way, it turns out that AE, who currently works in the President’s Office, will be transferring to a bigger University next fall. I’d forgotten that she’d told me she’d refer me to her boss as a possible replacement. Well, she referred me, and I started training today! I was a little nervous because, well, it’s the President’s Office. In several semesters of being back in school, I’d never even looked in the President’s Office, let alone seek a job there. It doesn’t pay much, because it’s a student position. But, I’ll be greeting the school’s VPs, deans and whatnot throughout the week, helping to keep the President abreast of his meetings, sorting mail, and making coffee, etc. And, the best parts: I can study while I’m there, and man, that’s gonna look good on my grad school application.

The Winds of Civil Rights Change

2007-03-12T00:10:00.000-07:00

Okay, I’ll be the first to admit that I become a little idealistic within earshot of a skilled orator, espousing rhetoric that moves even the most politically lacking individual to action. I grew up in ‘The Church’, and though Christianity is no longer my first religious language, I know a good preacher when I hear one. And, while the Reverend Al Sharpton has been dismissed as an “opportunist” and a “publicity seeker”, he is among the few that can without a doubt successfully draw attention to issues concerning black people.

So, you ever get the feeling that a prophetic wind is blowing and you just want to be in its path? I had that feeling this weekend, and wanted to be in the room when Reverend Sharpton spoke. It was more like, I didn’t want to be like those who dismissed Martin Luther King, Jr. and decided to stay home and play dominoes when he marched in Selma. I didn’t want to miss out on a potentially historical moment. So I attended a rally for the National Action Network’s newest Atlanta Chapter. NAN is a “political, social, and activist-oriented organization” founded by Sharpton, and he was in southwest Atlanta to help promote the organization’s local group. The Atlanta Chapter leadership, founded by Marcus Coleman, is surprisingly youthful, professional and seems as full of promise as was the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) was at its inception.

During his visit and recently on his syndicated talk radio show, “Keeping It Real”, Sharpton has suggested that some African Americans have become so economically comfortable that they don’t believe there’s anything left to fight for. I propose, also, that there is an uncomfortable divide between African American haves and have-nots that we rarely, if ever talk about. Or, is it that maybe our forgotten connections to one another run deeper than we care to consider?

If nothing else, Sharpton’s political preaching skills sends listeners off with some social and political food for thought and conversation. He drew an uneasy laughter from the crowd when in reference to computers and the internet he said, “We have fifty ways to communicate, and nothing to say.” He did not mean it as a joke, but a reprimand. Sharpton kept it real indeed when he told the crowd that “we must use the commitment and dedication of our grandmothers,” who incidentally, did not have the benefit of modern technology in their struggle for civil rights.

The Interpretation of Dreams and Research

2007-03-06T07:29:00.000-08:00

It is not possible (I think) to be studying Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams and Psychoanalytical Theory without paying close attention to my own unconscious night scouring. That dreams (according to Freud) are a free association of events and repressed memories from the course of the day, or several days leading up to the dream, is beginning to seem plausible. Throw in the suppressed fear of a missed period and test anxiety from the guilt of not having studied, and you’ve got yourself some dream food. But, back to this in a minute.

While the research I am doing on the history of St. Louis and its African Americans sometimes has to take a backseat to Theory, Biology and the other degree required necessities, the fact that I’ve decided to do my senior thesis on a little known, less analyzed, female author of a slave narrative from St. Louis, has given me an immediate outlet for studying the stuff I really want to be studying right now. But, now, surfing the internet is a funny and miraculous thing. It’s sort of like free association in that, I could be looking for one subject, and something on that page could prompt me to look for something, not quite, altogether different. So that by the time I shut off my computer for the night, I’ve learn a whole bunch of stuff! It’s kinda fun, you should try it sometimes….Okay, so I don’t spend my spring break in Cancun, or in downtown Atlanta trying to revive Freaknic, but research can be fun too.

So, last night I’m trying, as best I can, to follow a virtual paper trail of my subjects’ personal and professional associations, but then I also come across a timeline for African American history in St. Louis which includes among other things the year the Missouri State Penitentiary was integrated, 1973 (a rather disturbing piece of history there), the year St. Louis TV personality, Debbye Turner became Miss America, 1990, and the year The Colored Aristocracy in St. Louis, which profiled St. Louis’ free African American society, was published by Cyprian Clamorgan, 1858. Now that sounded like a book I need to get my hands on, and what do you know, I was able to order it through the interlibrary loan program in the schools' library. So much information, so little time.

Now, back to Freud. Last night I dreamed that I was at my cousin’s house (in St. Louis). And, there was some kind of landscaping or construction company digging up the connecting backyards throughout her subdivision, but by the time she got home they hadn’t finished…so, there were all of these houses with their yards dug up, just layers and layers of dirt. When I took my cousin to her backdoor to see what the construction company had done, all of the neighbors’ dogs were digging more holes in their yards…and, the one directly behind us had dug a hole beneath the fence and was happily moving back and forth between the yards. Could it be that my dream is a confirmation of my unearthing the valuable information that I seek? That I am happily navigating from one buried treasure to the next? Hmmmm…..

In the dream, I was also making tuna salad with caramelized onions and cream cheese, but I don’t think that has anything to do with St. Louis history.

My First Conference!

2007-03-03T11:36:00.000-08:00

Spring Break is upon us, and I attended my first writer’s conference! And while from the outside looking in it had the feel of being an environment poised to legitimize what we do (or want to do) with our lives, from the inside it felt absolutely validating, like home, giving me permission to be my literary/creative self. I was invited to attend the conference by my gutsy, Southern, blond advisor who I now know is in my life at this moment for a reason. She understands and supports my ambition, my vision and my writing, which for a student and writer beginning a journey at age 44 is a valuable commodity. She is bold, unapologetic and encouraging. She is decidedly my mentor. On the other end of the spectrum was fellow student, AE, a tall, very young, but very mature, lady who at first glance seems New York-ish, dare I say too sophisticated for a small university in Georgia. She is among those youthful, brazen colleagues who continuously teach me a thing or two about expecting to get exactly what I want without blinking. Between sessions, we navigated our way through the Peachtree Center Mall to Spring Street, and lunched at Haveli’s, an Indian restaurant in downtown Atlanta.

The conference consisted of countless sessions, panel discussions, and workshop events, many of which were happening simultaneously, which made it a little difficult to chose one to attend. Honestly, I started out not really expecting to be inspired, but I found a little something in all the sessions I attended. There was the reading which featured writers celebrated by the Southern Women Writers Conference held annually at Berry College in Mount Berry, Georgia. One African American woman would have made the panel diverse, but Judith Cofer, a Puerto Rican writer who is also an English professor at the University of Georgia, provided the spice in an otherwise bland reading by Southern women. We also attended a session where small press publishers talked about their efforts to promote fiction chapbooks, which is a great alternative to publishing in journals or anthologies as a way of promoting one’s work. Included were Eric Delehoy of Gertrude Press and Carmen Gimenez Smith of Noemi Press.

I had not intended to go a second day, but AE convinced me to attend the conference on Friday, and I was inspired a little by Robert Olen Butler who teaches creative writing at Florida State University. He’s not readily embraced by faculty so much though, because of his encouragement to students to ignore the stuff that they learn in literature and theory classes. Although I believe in having a strong foundation, I thoroughly agree with him that art is born from dreams and the unconscious, not from the mind, (although they are perhaps “formed” in the mind). After he spoke, I left that session in time to hear Rita Dove read her work. Dove has been the U.S. Poet Laureate 1993-1995, and also for the Common Wealth of Virginia 2004-2006. She also enjoys ballroom dancing! One big highlight for me was, (although I didn’t get to the New Voices of the South in time to hear her read), that I met the lovely Natasha Trethewey, Emory University professor and author of Bellocq’s Ophelia, which I loved. We learned that we have a mutual acquaintance (a friend of hers and my ex-creative writing professor), and I let her know that I’m working my way to Emory’s Ph.D. program.

My conference experience ended with AE and I having dinner at Sybydee’s, a really cool Thai restaurant in Midtown. I think I have been bitten by the writer’s conference bug, and I can’t wait to attend more. The fact that next year’s AWP conference will be in New York alone is reason enough to start planning and packing.

a good drumbeat is like, love...

2007-02-16T08:08:00.000-08:00

It’s funny how you can get used to another drummer’s beat: How the lives of two people can compose syncopated harmonies like Baptist quartets, and improvise like jazz quartets providing safe works of art out of life for one another. My drummer left for Carnival this week, and I had all these plans. Were it not for the fact that midterm exams are next week, yours truly is relegated to a reluctant but eventual Georgia winter instead of slurping sweet cherry juice from an impromptu icy under a skin baking sun while strolling down Fredrick Street to the sound of sweet and festive steel pan. Since I can’t soak in the sun on Maracas beach, I decided this is my opportunity to really catch up on my studies and prepare for tests. And maybe, I could finally read that copy of Iola Leroy my advisor gave to me, and begin another short story. I’ll get on the treadmill everyday. Go to that cute little tea shop in Virginia Highland. Go window shopping, work on the abstract for the English conference, and begin writing my research paper on Ellen Glasgow, and…

The first day and night I felt strangely paralyzed. I always think I could get more done if I just had more time to myself, but ironically I’m finding that I have to struggle even harder to move, with my rhythm section missing. Going to class is easy; automatic. It’s the time in between time, the space between the spaces that feel so bereft. And, its’ very quiet, save for the TV and the clatter of shuffling cards on computer solitaire. I wrote down all of my deadlines for the week and stuck them in my mirror so I couldn’t forget. I have a Georgia government exam in the morning that I will be studying for. And I have been getting on the treadmill. It won’t be long. My drummer will be back soon, and I’ll be back on key.

Researching the Origins of Black St. Louis

2007-01-14T11:01:00.000-08:00

I am seeking any information about the history of African Americans in Saint Louis, Missouri during the colonial and antebellum period, and through the civil rights era. I would particularly like to know more about the arrival of the French speaking Africans that came from Haiti by way of Canada, the Mill Creek neighborhood and Gaslight Square, and civil rights activities. I’ve already collected a few websites and articles, but if you know of or have any information about any others, or books or places of interest, please email info to me at boldness-genius@hotmail.com.

On Possession of My Gift

2007-01-11T21:29:00.000-08:00

So, I’m taking a class this semester called “Issues and Methods in Writing Consultancy”. Sounds serious, huh? It’s actually a class to help me develop my tutoring skills in order to intern in a new writing center that the university is establishing. Key students were invited to participate in this inaugural program, and I was one of them. I never thought much about tutoring. Most people just want you to correct grammatical errors, or even sometimes they want you to tell them what to write. But, I thought hey, not only will it create an opportunity to earn credit hours towards my degree and a stipend, it will also look good on my application for graduate school, and perhaps I could snatch one of those teaching assistantships at Georgia State. But, when in class the professor wanted us to openly talk about our own writing process, I felt myself begin to withdraw, wondering if I’d made a mistake.

It was like being asked to strip down to my underwear, and I was wholly unprepared for how awkward and potentially exposed I felt. That was when I realized just how personal, how internal my writing process is. Who knew? First, I’ve never truly committed to a process. Writing, I thought, is just something I do. And, when I talk about it, I chose who to talk about it with. While everyone else in the class was eager to tell what seemed like a lot about themselves and their writing, I've never wanted to gather a crowd of people and entertain them with what amounts to my private sphere.

I felt myself at a crossroads. But, somehow deciding to let my guard down in order to develop the skill of tutoring, and perhaps help others cultivate their own writing processes, I feel that I have already shattered some barriers in my own writing.

Inherit the Wind and Other Academic Hustles

2007-01-08T18:56:00.000-08:00

While today marks the beginning of the second semester of my new life as a full-time student (I’d been part-time for the previous six semesters), I’ve been going to school long enough to be of the opinion that: college is a hustle. Universities raise tuition fees at will, and book publishers make minimal changes to textbooks in order to come out with new editions almost yearly for courses that are required; and of course, the new editions are ten bucks more every year. Since I’ve been back in school, our student activity fee has increased 18%, the student health fee has more than doubled, and the athletic fee has increased 12%; and I’m not that athletic. Also, even though non-traditional students make up close to half of the campus population, more and more remedial classes are being fazed out of state curricula. So, if you decide you want to change your life and go back to school after a twenty year hiatus, but you haven’t seen an algebra book since high school, you’re really going to have to step up your game. My school’s minimum required mathematics is a “low-level” calculus class. These are some of the ways, I think, institutions weed out those who may be less focused, perhaps less capable, or those of us who may simply need a little help forging our educational goals. Frankly, the way I see it: it’s a racket.

But, that’s just one of the hustles.

One thing I’ve learned: college is a game, and she who finishes, gets the degree, and the job. Get multiple degrees and your opportunities grow. Get a technical or science or mathematical degree, and your possibilities increase further. But, with the exception of the information that you’re actually interested in (for me it’s English), all of the “required” courses are just the hoops you have to jump through in order to gain the knowledge you really want. And, you pay dearly for privilege. The lower level courses, such as “Introduction to This or That”, are pretty formulaic. The professors are generally part-time, with only a Masters degree, as opposed to a Ph.D., so they generally don’t even create their own syllabus. It’s a standard syllabus created by the department with exactly what they think you should know by the end of the course, and every instructor follows it from semester to semester.

Enter Dick York and Spencer Tracey.

It so happens, that just last night I saw the movie Inherit the Wind for the first time. It turns out that this “Creationism vs. Evolution” debate is nothing new. This movie is a fictionalized account of the 1925 Trial (the "Monkey" Trial), which resulted in Scopes’s conviction for teaching Darwin’s theory of evolution to a high school science class, contrary to a Tennessee state law that mandated the teaching of a form of creationism. Now, it so happens that Biology 1112 begins with the discussion of “evolution”, seeing as how evolution is the unifying theme in biology. But, in the spirit of political correctness, professors always have to provide a disclaimer at the beginning of a class, “I’m not trying to tell you how to think” or “It’s perfectly okay if you believe in Creationism, but this is what we teach based on the material” or, “Please don’t go tell your pastor that we don’t believe in God”, yadda, yadda, yadda. And, while college is supposed to be a safe place to ask “Why”, it’s not the most convenient. These professors have a schedule, ya' know. They don’t have time to entertain questions like, “If you chop off one of a bird’s wings, will birds evolve into one-winged creatures?” Yes, someone actually asked that question. In a room full of youthful curiosity, thick enough to encrust a fossil for thousands of years to come, I could feel people secretly questioning their paradigms.

But, I understand. At nineteen and twenty most of us aren’t that secure in our beliefs. What we believe is constantly being challenged and constantly evolving. And, that’s okay. Or, it should be. Because, whatever you believe, if it’s that important, no one or no thing will be able to breach it. And, if a new idea does get through, then maybe it’s worth considering. However, with higher learning, like with religion, you have to know how to eat the fish and spit out the bones. The tests for classes such as this are all multiple choice, Scantron forms. That’s how standard it is. They don’t care what your beliefs are. Memorize the material, mark the right answer on the form, get the A, get the degree, pass go and collect the $200. Save the questions for your guru.

I even had to reign myself in once or twice in a history class (before I mastered the game). My then, blond, Finnish (from Finland) professor, whose concentration for his Ph.D. was African American studies, who is married to an African American woman, father to biracial children, who enjoys rapper, Fifty Cents, who thought Hustle and Flow was the Best Movie of the Year, made the mistake of comparing slavery to the holocaust. Humph! Because the class was full of eighteen to twenty-somethings, he thought he would get no response when he implied that slaves somehow had it good because they had regular meals and clothing. I had to remind him of The Narrative of Frederick Douglass, where Douglass talks about how as a slave child, he ate mush from a trough with other children, like pigs. Or, how adults were given one pair of socks a year and children were given none; they walked barefoot year-round. Even in the winter. But, I raised up, and got a B out of his class. Cause no Finnish, wannabe who thinks he knows black people will ever be able to convey what I know my folks went through; no matter how many degrees or black women he has.

Winter Break

2007-01-03T12:28:00.000-08:00

My recently acquired status as a full-time student, while leaving me with less “play money”, also leaves me with vacation time between semesters. Working a full-time job, you get two, maybe three weeks a year. Except I usually break those two or three weeks down into one to three day “mini vacations”, and thus I rarely got a “real vacation”. So, while having these last few weeks to essentially do what I want has been amazing, I’ve often felt just a little guilty. That my family, the people I used to work with and my beloved occasionally and sarcastically remark that, “Wow, some people have got it sooooo good”, makes me feel just a tiny bit embarrassed, I know I’ve earned this time in my life, so the embarrassment doesn’t last long. And, now after cleaning all the stuff that I just couldn’t get to during the semester: the top of the refrigerator, sorting out all my receipts from the past year, cooking more often during the week, organizing all of my books and papers from classes, pulling out beds to vacuum those hard to reach spots, ceiling fans, etc., I now find that the closer it comes to the beginning of the next semester, I get a little…bored. “Embrace the boredom”! I tell myself. It won’t be long before I will be frantically trying to finish a reading assignment, or staying up until 3 a.m. to complete a research paper that I’ve know about for two months.

I didn’t think I’d have much time for “fun” reading. That is, reading that has not been assigned by an over zealous professor who thinks that their class is the only one you have. But, actually it was one of those professors who organized a book club gathering at her house for the holiday. After reading six novels in her class this past semester, she’d thought it’d be fun to read one more! And, you know what? It was. The Inheritance of Loss, by Kiran Desai is a challenging, yet approachable exploration of the genetic and collected consciousness of a colonial legacy. And, though it is a story which takes place in a village at the feet of the Himalayas, I find as I do in all Postcolonial literature, that the legacy is the same as that of African Americans. Our “double-consciousness” is equivalent to the thread of hybridity common in the literature of colonized people. The mark of the colonialist is an indelible one which has left us all fragmented; even they themselves. Desai’s writing is a thoroughly ambitious continuation of the efforts of Indian literature to claim and reclaim her own histories. Her experimentation with form inside the novel is mildly impressive. And, while it occasionally seems wordy and ostentatious; it is still a beautiful, youthful and clever addition to the annals which include her mother, Anita Desai, V.S. Naipaul and Salaman Rushdie.

Now, let's see if I can squeeze in one more book by next Monday...

Last Rites

2007-01-02T15:00:00.000-08:00

Having grown up in Baptist and Pentecostal churches, I have attended funeral services that are spirited, to say the least, and most often animated. Although there is a start time, the end time is often unpredictable and sometimes determined by how many people pass out from having the Holy Ghost descend upon them. A soloist wails a gutsy, bluesy rendition of “Precious Lord”, and the choir rock and sway to a thunderous bass line whose vibrations jolt the most solemn of mourners. So watching more reserved tributes to the deceased, such as that of a president, seem a little surreal in its execution.

Nevertheless, I am always taken aback by the formality of white Americans and Europeans, whether it is the funeral services of former presidents, popes or even the marriage of Prince Charles and Diana. No matter what we think of these individuals living or not, the grandeur of these ceremonies is arresting, and commands the awe and attention of the world (and, they cost a lot more than passing the collection plate will ever pay for when the deceased couldn’t afford insurance). There is always a prevailing sense of being in the midst of something historical and memorable. The pomp and circumstance regarded in these universal customs of death and marriage, (although Europeans seem to evoke a little more pomp that Americans), takes on a remote, timeless and enduring quality. In short, white people sure can put on a show. And, whether the program is done in a day, or whether it plays out over the course of a week, I find myself glued to the television and internet until it is over.

The funeral rites of the Pope, with its Sistine Chapel backdrop, the coordinated flow of red Cardinal robes, and the colorful regalia of the Swiss Guards revealed the splendor and mysteries of hundreds of years. A ceremony that, until the death of Pope John Paul II, had only been witnessed by a small fraction of the worlds’ population. And, while the tribute to Gerald Ford was not as over-the-top as Ronald Reagan, it still was a performance for American record books. No matter how scruffy and disheveled American soldiers look in the field, when they put on those dress blues, marching with deadly precision, making a coffin appear to float on air, they bring a degree of dignity to any program, regardless of what people may think of the dead person.

Still there is something more satisfying in watching a sad, New Orleans dirge break into an upbeat, jazzy “O When The Saints, Go Marching In”; people dancing in the street with their ushering uniforms/Mardi Gras costumes on. You haven’t had a good send off unless Sister Jackson does her infamous hoochie, coochie shout down the isle, or the preacher, with his adenoidal lament, attest to your faithfulness in tithing. The image of M.C. Hammer wiggling and gliding on the stage at James Brown’s funeral service in Augusta, Georgia, although unnerving, somehow just feels right. And, as usual, the funerals of others always propels me to think of how I myself would liked to be eulogized, and how I’d like my life to be celebrated when I leave this earth. For starters, I know I want a lot of good music; I’d like some African drumming and dancing, and that New Orleans vibe sounds good. There’s got to be a lot of good food and fellowshipping. And, I want to be remembered for my persistence, my never-give-upness, and maybe my mouth watering Curried, Vegetarian Fish and rice, my words and…

Say It Loud

2006-12-25T10:13:00.000-08:00

"We'd rather die on our feet,
Than be livin' on our knees..."

-James Brown, (1933-2006)

TSOTSI: See This Movie

2006-12-21T09:45:00.000-08:00

If your idea of a foreign film is one of those sexy, French fascinations of blurring the line between the Oedipus complex and incest, then you may be surprised to know that there have been many compelling stories on film being made in Africa, about Africa and Africans, set in Africa. There’s even a cute romantic comedy out of Zimbabwe called Jit, about a poor man competing with another man, of questionable means, for the affections of a beautiful young, South African lady. But, then there’s Child of the South, starring a youthful Alex Descas, (who portrayed Mobutu Sese Seko in the film Lumumba, about Patrice Lumumba, first prime minister of the Democratic Republic of the Congo), and also Josette Simon, who also appeared in the movie Cry Freedom with Denzel Washington. Child of the South is about a young South African journalist, who was exiled during apartheid following her fathers’ death. She travels to Mozambique in order to get back to South Africa to see her mother who has stayed behind. In Mozambique, she meets and falls in love with a young doctor (Descas), and finds herself literally and emotionally in the middle of civil unrest in Mozambique.

But, if you’ve never watched an African film; if you’ve never watched a foreign film, here’s a good place to start. Tsotsi, starring South African, Presley Chweneyagae, is a ruthless gang leader in a Soweto township, who carjacks a woman’s car, and later finds that her baby is in the back seat. “Tsotsi”, which translates to “thug”, rediscovers his humanity and compassion, compromised when his mother’s death orphans him as a little boy. The film has won numerous awards, including an Academy Award for Best Foreign Film of 2006.

The screenplay is an adaptation of, The Blood Knot, a 1960’s novel by South African playwright Athol Fugard, who also wrote Boesman and Lena, which was developed into the movie starring Angela Bassett and Danny Glover. The character of Tsotsi is beautifully reminiscent of Richard Wright’s Bigger Thomas, in the novel Native Son, in that it is the tragic condition of his life which delivers him unto the recognition of his own humanity. The devastation, deprivation and desperation of having grown up, living his life in a drainpipe, in the clutches of wretched poverty, appear to render Tsotsi heartless. But, his encounter with another life, which is totally dependent on him, returns him to the benevolent and civilized creature he has always been beneath his callous exterior.

And, if you’re curious or if you are an African music connoisseur, the soundtrack is a memorable mix of Kwaito (South African Hip Hop), with tracks by Bonginkosi “Zola” Dlamini, who is a poet, actor and musician from the South African township of Zola (hence the name), who also stars in the movie.

One Semester Down, Three (or Four) More to Go

2006-12-14T12:16:00.000-08:00

Wow! Returning for my first semester as a full-time student has been a whirlwind, but in the last four months I’ve accomplished a few things. I’ve been the associate editor for my school’s newspaper, worked in a professional writing environment (as the “oldest intern”), boosted my GPA, completed a short story, and read a bunch of wonderful books. There were moments I thought my head would explode, but I’ve discovered a little more of that 2/3 of our brain they say we don’t use. Next semester’s menu will include a class which focuses on the Southern Short Story (Ernest Gaines, Flannery O’Connor, Katherine Anne Porter, etc.), and the class I’ve really been anticipating: Literary Theory…Oooo y’all, it’s getting deep! (As you may be able to tell, I’m a little excited about that one.) I’m also keeping my fingers crossed for another internship, this time with a local magazine. Meanwhile, during my three weeks off, I’ll be trying to shed a few of those study break pounds I picked up, see a couple of movies, getting a head start on Literary Theory, and I’m reading The Inheritance of Loss by Kirin Desai, daughter of Anita Desai, and winner of this years’ Booker Prize….Whew! I feel good!

Modern Relevance of Richard Wright’s Universality: What We Can Learn from a Black Boy

2006-12-09T09:47:00.000-08:00

Richard Wright, an African American product of the Jim Crow south, managed to transform himself into a global citizen in that, since the initial publication of his autobiography, Black Boy (American Hunger) A Record of Childhood and Youth, people in many places have been able to identify with the themes prevalent in his life and work, particularly in the 1950s and 1960s. However, not so much has changed about the human psyche in the 21st century that our post 911 world couldn’t benefit from the wisdom in his work, and his foresight and ability to see and travel beyond our obvious, perhaps not so obvious social and/or prejudicial boundaries. Although the social boundaries that severely encumbered the American dream for African Americans, including Wright, have been (tongue-in-cheek) all but eliminated, many, both black and white have become so entranced in achieving that dream through rose-colored consumerism, failing to recognize the incarcerating effect of debt, and the social consequences of living in a capitalist society. In a world where there should be no poverty, illiteracy or fatal differences because of religion or ethnicity, we must begin to understand how these issues create boundaries for all of us. Rather than temporary, feel-good solutions, like Wright, we must continue to look for ways to “alter” our “relationship” to our “environment” and essentially alter our world (Wright 200). In the introduction to Black Boy (American Hunger) A Record of Childhood and Youth, Jerry W. Ward, Jr. explains that Wright wanted to present not merely “a representative myth of growing up Southern”, but “an American story which speaks to “the hunger for life that gnaws in us all, to keep alive in our hearts a sense of the inexpressibly human” (Ward xiii). If we are listening, then from Richard Wright’s humble and severe beginnings on a Mississippi plantation, his ineffable yearning to disrupt the cycle of poverty through literacy, and his understanding of literature as a vehicle for social change, we should be able to formulate a renewed empathy for many who, even now, still suffer from long-standing social problems in a modern and complex world.

Bebe Moore Campbell, 1950-2006

2006-11-27T18:44:00.000-08:00

"If this is a fair world, Bebe Moore
Campbell will be remembered as the most important African-American novelist
of this century -- except for, maybe, Ralph Ellison and James Baldwin. Her writing is
clean and clear; her emotions run hot, but her most important characteristic is
uncompromising intelligence coupled with a perfectionist's eye for detail."

—The Washington Post Book World

...Not Idi Amin's Story

2006-11-24T08:38:00.000-08:00

If you want to watch the genius, which is Forest Whitaker, bring to life the notoriously vile legend of Idi Amin Dada, then prepare to have all your fears and uneasiness, which were ignited in the ‘70s upon learning of Amin in the media, rekindled. If you’re looking for a movie to more closely examine the life of the infamous, African president, don’t see this movie. This is not Idi Amin’s story. And, while I don’t know enough to dispute the atrocities of this Ugandan president’s regime, I do understand that the novel, written by Giles Foden, a British journalist who spent twenty years in Africa, is a historical novel, which includes both fact and fiction. In fact, The Last King of Scotland is the story of a fictional young doctor, Nicholas Garrigan, who becomes the personal physician and confidante of the tarnished Amin. And, from the time of Joseph Conrad, white men have been going into the Dark Continent, coming out with stories about wild, uncivilized Africans, conjuring unfathomable nightmares in Western dreams. Again, I am not debating the events that we have been told about which characterize the life and administration of Idi Amin Dada. But, because I have been born into a world that has always been post colonial and post slavery, and because I am a descendent of those colonized and enslaved, and because I live in a world which continues to recognize me as one of the “others”, it is sometimes difficult to hear stories about other “others” without at least a fraction of doubt. Even as an American, I don’t feel that I have the luxury of taking things at face value. So, as for me, I must do more research in order to satisfy my own understanding.