Another post after so long away. I will say that this blog definitely feels most like home, though I do have others.

This feels like a place to write. Really write. So I will when the need strikes.

I've been in New York. Harlem. I met a man. I spent lots of time at the Schomburg Center. I've eaten at Manna's. I've been to Crown Heights, Brooklyn....the Blue Note.

I went to library school.

Now I am in Illinois while my Harlem Love and I get things in order to get settled.

My Harlem Love.

So I'm on the move again. To New York City. I'm starting a graduate program. I've learned after several experiences not to say things like "it feels right." To be honest I'm not sure this feels right. I know that I am geeked about a program in which I will learn much, much, much about graphic design and what they call information design (or was it information architecture). I am excited about the prospect of library science and learning about it.

What I am not so happy about is sinking myself further into debt. Student loans, moving to New York. I'm not really that excited about New York to be honest. I saw myself heading to a small town in the South or in the Caribbean. But, that's life I guess. The expense though is overwhelming. I have to find an apartment, though I thought that I would get on campus housing. The expense . . . that's probably my biggest worry for various reasons. I'm going to have faith that things will just work out.

something delicious

Today I prepared a recipe from a cookbook I bought recently. It comes from Claudia Roden's The New Book of Middle Eastern Food. The dish is what I would call a Persian casserole made with basmati rice, dates, lentils, and chicken, beef, or lamb. It is flavored with cinnamon, nutmeg, and saffron. I made it with chicken, as I am trying to eat lighter these days. It was delicious. Not being entirely familiar with Persian cuisine outside of my frequent trips to restaurants in my old city, I'm not sure if it looks as it should, but I suppose I can worry about that the next time I try it. I really love Middle Eastern food. Research for some recent work I've done has gotten me interested in the cuisine. I can now count it as one of my favorites along with Mexican, Italian, and Southern cooking.

I have tried many of the recipes in Claudia Roden's book and I recommend it to anyone. One of the great things about the book --and there are many-- is that it offers recipes from countries throughout the Middle East. Many also have notes that instruct the cook on how to make a particular version of a recipe, meaning, you may be provided an Egyptian or Turkish recipe and Ms. Roden's notes let you know how you might make the Moroccan or Lebanese version of it. It's sure to make you a convert, if you don't already adore Middle Eastern food.

The end of a long hiatus?

So, I'm back. I don't know how long. So much has happened but right now I won't go into all of that. I need this spot right now because I am stumped. I have a writing assignment, a profile on someone in my class and OH MY GOD, is this woman boring. I have notes and I'm trying to make it work but...Maybe I've peaked and I just can't churn it out like I've been able to in the past. A big part of it is that I just don't write enough anymore. It's not part of my everyday. It's on my mind everyday, but I don't make it happen.

That's why I need this spot. I think of it a bit like warming your car on a winter morning. Revving it up, you know, so that things run smoothly. In the end, this is a good way of taking care of my writing, so to speak. It's gone down the toilette, I feel. But that is also another story. Now, the topic at hand is this boring woman. If I were good, wouldn't I just be able to churn this out, dazzling the masses in the process, one might ask? I don't know, she's pretty boring. And since, I've talked to her a total of about 50 minutes my entire life, the material I'm working from is pretty thin. Three pages of notes about how supportive and wonderful her husband and family are. Her current dilemma, not so much a dilemma as a heartwarming story to share with the grand babies later in life. Help. I wonder if she dots her I's with hearts? Her name isn't Candy or Tami or anything. But you know, too bad, that would make a great profile. Years of emotional abuse and neglect as a child have me convinced that healthy personal relationships are suspect. That might be overstating it a bit, certainly emotional stability and support can make for good writing (and reading). We'll see what I come up with. Maybe I'm just jealous.

I'm also feeling sorry for myself and that takes focus. Redirecting the considerable energy required for self-pity is no small feat. But I must. Maybe I'll make some popcorn. N0, no snacking. Procrastination is a sneaky whore isn't she?


Oh, yes, it's due tomorrow. I better raise up and get to work, y'all.

Peace in the Middle East.

There I go...

So here I am. The last post, maybe forever, maybe just for awhile. I don't know. I don't know anything, haven't for quite some time.

But I'm going to keep on moving. I feel as though this is a momentous occasion, some sort of watershed in my life, although I know it is not. But it really feels like this is closing a chapter of my life. Much has changed since I started this and as usual, they were all the things that I secretly hoped wouldn't, or would never have expected to. But that "is the life"...That's what a French friend of mine used to say, he would always add the extra article. He also always translated the french word for neighborhood (quartier) as quarters no matter how many times I told him otherwise. That was annoying, but he was a great kisser, but that's another story...

Anyway, here I go. I still think of the boy whenever it's quiet and still or I'm alone with my thoughts, but maybe I always will, it really was that kind of love, at least for me...But I'm settling into Seattle. I even got a promotion and a raise recently and I've only been on the job a month. So now, while I still sometimes feel like a doe on shaky legs trying to balance myself and stand on my own in this new life of mine, I do think that I may finally have the ganas to make it happen...

Here I go...

this is it, what...let's get rich, what...*

I have made the decision. This will be my last week of posting to this blog. It's time to end this and move on to what I really need to be doing. This blog has helped me immensely since I began last April, but I am starting to see that it has diverted my energies from what I need to be doing. It is a time waster for me. A way of saying that I'm writing regularly without really writing. It's just not the real deal and I have to move on...

Straight from the cask said that writing is "the most beautiful and meaningful activity one can adopt." He's French, he knows these things...

I have to be about the business of writing, for real now.


*everyone knows, it's from the song "Luchini aka This Is It", Camp Lo ("Uptown Saturday Night" Profile Records, 1999), don't they?

Loneliness and Louise Erdrich

Why do I feel so terrible? I don't know. I'm in such a stinky mood lately andI'm not sure if it's the weather change -it's finally drizzly and gray for the long haul here in Seattle- or if it's because my friend will be visiting soon, or if what's going on my life is just gross. In the past this might have been a time for a little retail therapy, but I am too poor now to commit to the intensive therapy that would facilitate any true, lasting healing...

I was walking to work yesterday and I realized that my life has begun to return to what I don't want it to be. That everyday drudgery, that go-to-work- come-home cycle. I know that it is only temporary, but I'm not helping myself because I'm not doing the things that I need to do for my future, ie, writing, and for my soul, ie, writing. Why? Because I am alone here and feeling fairly lonely. I am feeling sorry for myself because the adjustment to this place has been difficult, as some of you know, and I seem to have once again taken up my most familiar past time of wallowing in my loneliness. It might be fairly accurate to say that I just know that I am a lonely person, but I guess I have to admit that I wallow in it sometimes too. Yes, I know that this is not productive and I know that the intensity of the way I am feeling is only temporary too. The fact is, I have always been keenly aware, since I was a child, actually, that I am lonely. There have only been a few times in my life when I was not.

I don't really know what to do about that, I just live with it, I guess loneliness is my companion in a sense.

Wow, does this sound pathetic or what?

I don't mean it to, it's just that I know ultimately what I need to make it go away and that's not something I can necessarily make happen on my own.

See, I am not lacking in the self-esteem department, or too shy or afraid to make friends. I am not a weirdo -at least not in a disturbing sort of way- I am not one of those people who needs constant validation from others. BUT, I am one of those people who is really strong, independent, no nonsense, and even at times, enchanting. Yes, I said it, so shut up. It's true though and I forgot one thing, I'm not arrogant or exclusive. I am sure of myself and accepting of others at the same time and I am very honest.

You would think that I might have hordes of people flocking to me. But I don't, I've realized some things in evolving into the person I describe above and am fiercely proud of, and that is a lot of people don't like those things. This is starting to sound like I ripped a few pages from the martyr handbook and posted them here, but that is my intention. I suppose I'll just have to find away to abate the loneliness. I go through these periods, kind of like phases, when I realize that I am alone. Now more than ever, because so much has changed this year and I still don't know how to reach my destination and there's no one to really help me or even accompany me on the journey, as I thought there might be a few months ago.

Anyway, I feel okay about it and I know that my own behavior, ie, not writing, is a huge cause of this. I'm postponing the thing that makes me whole. Why? No complex answer, I am being lazy, I am a procrastinator, and at times I've been feeling sorry for myself. I wonder if Toni Morrison or Louise Erdrich ever went through these things.

By the way, I went to see Louis Erdrich read passages from her new book, The Painted Drum, last night at Elliot Bay Books. God, I want to be like her. This is big, because I don't want to be like anyone, ever. Her writing is so moving, so like a painting in muted colors that captures your attention through the subtlety of its expression. Like Toni Morrison, her writing, really touches you, moves you in ways you didn't know possible.

Could I be like that? Could I touch people, move them in ways they didn't know possible? Something in me tells me that I could.

I better get on that.

By the way, stop by and say hello to Sharon. She is home now and sounds like she is doing well, which makes me feel a little less lonely...

*my favorite book by Louise Erdrich is the Antelope Wife.
**Elliot Bay Books along with 57th Street Books in Chicago have to be the most amazing independent bookstores I've been to.
***my favorite book by Toni Morrison is Song of Solomon. Oh, and the newest, Love is quite amazing too.

The topic at hand...

This has been a week filled with disappointments.

Well, only three really, but I guess that's a lot for the period in which they sprang up. Three days by the way, that's when all of these things occurred. I am alright though, I don't feel emotionally bruised or battered, I guess these disappointments weren't so serious but they were definitely unexpected.

That's life, I suppose. I wish it didn't have to be. I wish that everyone was given one day when they would be granted their heart's desire. You would decide when you wanted that day, but that would be it, one day, and after that things would go back to normal. You couldn't wish for anything mean or spiteful, like the death of your ex-boyfriend or girlfriend for breaking up with you, or a lifelong curse on the woman in the minivan in the grocery store parking lot who slid into that space in front of you when she knew... Of course, some people would use their day by the time they were six years old, or at least by the time they were 25. Only the most sage among us would hold on until at least our mid-thirties, when you finally begin to understand a little bit about life and what it means.

I'm pretty sure I'd be stuck in there somewhere among the 6-25 year old set.

I'm slowly learning what it means to be an adult and I'm keenly aware of that. This week made me see...You have to accept your disappointments and move on, even though a little bit of each one we experience sticks with us. If we're lucky, it sticks in the form of experience that we draw on and use to navigate the rest of our lives in a positive manner. If we're not so lucky the vestiges of those disappointments stay with us in the form of a big, sticky mass that lingers and turns into something we can't seem to shake no matter how hard we try. Something may happen that allows us to clean it all up and free ourselves from that sticky mess, like a big bottle of Goo Gone or something. Unfortunately many people don't open up that proverbial bottle. Even more unfortunate, sometimes people don't recognize that big bottle of Goo Gone for what it is and there's usually no one to tell us, at least no one we're apt to listen to.

This is a little corny, but you get my drift, I hope.

Signs and stuff...

I talked to someone the other day who told me the story of a woman who is engaged to a man who she is not sure she likes, but she's staying with him, sticking it out, apparently, because there are signs that seem to point to the fact that this man is who she should be with. So the person I was talking to asked me if I believed in that kind of thing.

"What kind of thing?" I asked.
"In signs. You know like, do you believe that things happen for a reason, or that certain people are put into your life for very specific reasons?"
"Of course." I replied.

So today I am thinking, well, not just today, but often I think about this. Especially this year, forgive me if this is sounding trite.

Anyway, I look for signs in life. Sometimes, I think I try too hard to find them. I don't really do this because my life has no meaning, or because I'm necessarily looking for something, but I really believe that life is full of signs, in fact Sharon wrote something along these lines not so very long ago.

Today I met a man who is going to help me make Algerian pastries. A chef. He described himself to me as tall and dark-skinned with glasses. When I met him today, he was with another man, who was actually tall and darker-skinned than he was, he also happened to be wearing glasses. I assumed it was my guy, but no. Not a sign, but kind of a funny thing today. When this man described himself to me, I was tempted to ask, "Do you mean tall by Algerian standards or American ones?" Because those are two very different standards. After meeting him, it's clear to me that he meant Algerian ones. He talked lots to me about food and how Algerian men misrepresent themselves to women when the leave Algerie and immigrate. He kept saying Algerie, instead of Algeria and Alger instead of Algiers. "I have a little experience..." was my reply.

Very interesting...

Sorry, this will be for those French-speakers out there. Those of you with a few years of French under your belt should be straight too...

click here

The gist, a magazine in Morocco published an article about immigrants coming in to the country from Sub-Saharan Africa. The article was titled "Les criquets noirs envahissent le nord du Maroc" or "Black crickets invade northern Morocco".

YIKES!!

The King of Morocco issued a statement saying essentially that he condemns the paper's publishing and stance saying that 'the Kingdom of Morocco does not advocate any sort of discrimination against anyone based gender (perhaps this includes sexual orientation too, but I'm not sure if it would), religion, race, or color (probably skin tone, for those of you of lighter hue, not in the know about these things), because, to do so, would go against sacred principles of Islam and international law.' This is a loose (but fairly accurate) translation...I know we (black people) do this to each other all over the world, but it's interesting to see it playing out on the continent... I also have to point out that this sort of paints a slightly different picture of Islam and Muslim attitudes. I don't know tons, but I know that on paper (and even historically), it really seems to be the fairest, most inclusive of all world religions. Oooh I better watch it before I make it on to some Homeland Security watchlist, but I guess it's too late for that....

I couldn't find the site or a link to the article itself, but here are some reactions from message boards and the French web portal & search engine Wanadoo...Sorry non-French speakers....


Lord, let my people go!!

The First Step

Today I finally sent out a query letter to a magazine. This was a letter I wrote about three weeks ago and have had saved on my computer since. I would look at it periodically, read it, sometimes change the wording and then, close it without sending. But today, I did it. I don't know why I didn't send it before. Maybe I was (am) scared. But, of what? Rejection? I'm not sure that's possible, I've had enough experience with that to be able to handle it. Besides, that's not normally the kind of thing I fear. Actually, I don't know what I fear. Being scared, if I haven't mentioned it, is sort of new for me, it's something I first experienced --or maybe let myself experience-- in France last year. I just let myself go and be paralyzed with fear. So much so, that I couldn't make decisions without second guessing myself, or really even make any sort of move. Hence, the phrase paralyzed with fear, I guess...

I think that experience was good for me, because much like the complete and utter failure that I also experienced last year, I learned that there is nothing to fear in fear, if that makes any sense. Sure, there is uncertainty, pain, and sometimes even despair, but it's not the end of the world and going through it, makes you realize in the end that you can do anything, or what your limitations are, whatever the case may be. This is a very good thing. I've said before, failure is liberating. I should perhaps restate that and say failure and fear are liberating.

Another thing I'm afraid of: there is a boy who is interested in me. A tattoo artist. He seems very nice and clearly he likes me. I ran into him today and made him giggle. Picture a big, muscular man with long hair and biceps covered with tattoos, giggling. That may be hard and sounds kind of weird, but I often have that effect on men, I make them giggle, what does that say about me? What does that say about them? He practically ran out of the shop to catch up with me as I walked by today. I shouldn't be scared, I realize, but this is new. He seems different, nice. He treats me like he has a crush. He could be a freak, yes, I realize this, but maybe not. I sense that he is, gulp, perhaps kind of normal. I'm scared. How will I act, if he is nice, if he is normal? What will I do? I've never known that before...

Morocco or bust...

The past couple of weeks have been hard for me. I am missing France, I am missing the way of life and outlook that I know so well back east. I am generally not feeling Seattle right now, but I guess this is what happens when you move somewhere new. It did happen in Paris at first, but, I don't know, things made so much more sense there than here.

I saw a flight to Morocco advertised in the paper. Not too expensive and you know, I was so tempted to call and reserve. In fact, I did and held it for a day, but then I called and canceled because I realized that if I did actually buy it:

a. I'd have no money for food here until I left, or there once I arrived

and

b. I'd just be running away from the pain of the past few months. It would be like a really expensive drinking binge, but of course, way more fun.

Anyway, I tend to do that when I am sad, I want to travel and explore, because it takes my mind off of things. I think it's a pretty harmless escape mechanism, but just like anything else, alcohol, crack, heroin, chocolate cake, when it's all over your pain is still there. But this is a different kind of pain that maybe a jaunt to Morocco would clear right up. I don't know. I'm still debating. Do I really need to eat or ride the bus when the alternative is Casablanca, or Fez, or the Sahara? Eating is overrated, isn't it? Besides, I'm cute, I could swing a meal or two once I got there. Makrout, chorba, bastilla. I can work it for all that.

Okay back to reality. Reality can be so unfortunate sometimes...

You go, Mexico!!

¡ORALE!

2 Septembre

Now here I am, back where I started when I arrived in April. Same internet cafe, same computer. So much more has happened but strangely, I feel as though I am the same as before. I know that's not true. Today I thought, for the first time in life, that I wish I could go back and change some things. If I could, I'd go back to May and I'd make it so I'd never have to experience the yuckiest parts of the summer, but, even those were good for me, or at least I can see that they will be in the long run. Except Gregory, I'm not sure I can ever accept the loss of Gregory. I'll never see the sense in that.

Hmmmm.

I am thinking of the people on the Gulf Coast and how the dark skin of so many of them has sealed their collective fate. I am thinking of how I was struck suddenly after seeing the front page photo of today's New York Times, by the realization of how undervalued Black people are in this country, it's something I've always known. It's something every Black person in this country grows up knowing; it's just a part of life here for us. I have cried today. And I am feeling again today, that I just have to pick myself up, write more, read more, go out into it, and take the next step.

Haiku (almost)

Tonight, an orange moon

glows.

"Come here. Look." He would say.

Third Wheels?

I have made a new friend here and I really like her. She's as sweet as pie, as they say. She is originally from the Midwest and a really silly girl. She possesses this very charming self-consciousness that is balanced by a total lack of pretention. She is totally unassuming. She is also married.

Now I say this, not as a sort of "oh no" aside, but because I went out with her recently, for the first time and her husband came along. Prior to this, we'd had several conversations about what she did on weekends on days off, etc. They all seemed to include her husband. It could have been something she did just with him, but more often that not it also included other people, single women, mutual friends. So, after awhile I asked her

"Do you do everything with him?"

It was then that I realized that it made her feel a little self-conscious when she replied in a stilted manner with this explanation:

"No, I do other stuff without him, I guess it just happens to be these particular stories. You know, I mean, we're friends, we like to hang out, you know? I mean, we have lots of mutual friends, really." "That's really it, we don't do everything together."

But I didn't mean it critically, or did I? I don't think it's bad to do everything with your boyfriend or husband, I guess I've just never had a relationship like that, where someone wanted to do things with me all of the time, so I can't imagine it. It sounds kind of nice, but also kind of annoying. Really, what she made me think of was another friend whose boyfriend (now husband) had recently moved in with her and consequently they began doing everything together. One day when we were both still living in Chicago, she suggested we go to yoga and I said that would be great, she then said: "Oh, I'll just tell Marcus* and he can meet us there." I remember thinking 'hey, since when did Marcus enter this particular equation?' First, I actually thought it weird that a guy would do yoga**, I'm not sure I'd want my man doing yoga, a little too sensitive for me. Then I thought, why would he want to do it with us? And why would she want him to? I ended up canceling and thinking who really is the third wheel here?

So my outing and conversations with my new friend got me thinking. Am I/Have I been jealous because I don't have a boyfriend, because I am perpetually single, or is it weird that a couple does everything together ALL THE TIME-- from hanging out with his friends to hanging out with hers?

I have to say I think it's weird. Maybe because as I said, I've never been with a man who accompanied me everywhere I went, but I think that I wouldn't even want that. Or would I? Maybe it's wonderful. But from this end it still seems like it would be way annoying. You know, maybe that's why I'm still single. Well, at this point it's not, but maybe it's why I will be single for awhile yet....


*names have been changed to protect the innocent.
**please don't write comments about this, I know plenty of men enjoy and benefit from yoga.

All is right with the world...

Just when I think I am fed up with the phony, pseudo-liberal, pretentious, homogeneity so prevalent here in Seattle, I am awed by the physical beauty that exists here.

Lush greenery. Olive trees, cherry trees, apple trees. Blackberry brambles and wild rosemary. Everywhere, complex symphonies of fragrance and color in the flowers that seduce me each time I pass.

And tonight there is a beautiful full moon, encircled by glowing yellow rings and suspended in a sky full of stars.

You can't beat that.

Eu falo português...eventually, that is...

I am very excited today, I resume my Brazilian Portuguese immersion. I am meeting someone who will give me Portuguese lessons in exchange for French ones. I also have a Portuguese teacher, who I will resume meetings with after I move and get settled into a better routine.

I've mentioned before that I like the language. I really do love it. It's beautiful and sexy and I can't wait until I can communicate. It's also kind of hard, pronunciation is difficult and unlike French, a misplaced accent can change the meaning of a word entirely. Wait, let me be more clear, that's not true, misplaced accents in French can change meaning, but generally pronunciation doesn't change. Anyway, I love the language and I am considering a trip maybe during Christmas, or in the spring.

Just one more thing, there is a great blog, from Jôka P called Avenida Copacabana. Even though you may not be able to read what he is writing, his photos are beautiful. Check it out Eunice, especially. I think, his writing is very nice too. :)

PSA

Today was my second day at my new, 'real' job and I have just one thing to say...

If you have nail fungus of any sort, let's handle it people, it's no way to live.

It's in the stars...

Okay, this is today's horoscope from Rob Brezsny's Free Will Astrology site:

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21):
I couldn't believe the show I saw on the cable channel Spike TV: "Blind Date with a Crackwhore." Fred, a twenty-something stockbroker, got set up on a date with Propecia, a fortyish crackwhore. I watched with horrified fascination as she rejected all his genteel attempts to create rapport, constantly turning the conversation back to where they could score some crack. I bring this to your attention, Scorpio, in hopes it will serve as a shining example of how *not* to proceed in the near future. You have in place everything you need to experience a week full of intensely meaningful adventures with allies who bring out the best in you. Therefore, don't flirt with senseless, random distractions--like blind dates with crackwhores, for instance. And don't do what I did, which is waste precious time entranced by stupid crap. Give every spare moment to capitalizing on the integrity-filled success that's available.

There are a couple of things here I need to know, first and foremost, when does this show come on again and why did it in the first place? Second, who or what is my proverbial "crackwhore"? And since when did crackwhore become one word?