day 5

every once in awhile i have these days where i think about chris for extended periods of time. i call them bad chris days. they pop up unexpectedly, seemingly triggered by nothing in particular. i've been having one for the past two weeks... at first i wondered if, nine months later, i found myself thinking about him with such intensity because i was meant to be with him. but one thing i've never lost sight of is that i needed to end our relationship. i don't regret it. i just keep wondering why i keep coming back to this... why things still feel so unfinished. it's frustrating; i'm with someone who is everything i ever hoped for, and i wasn't even looking. it feels so stable, so nurturing, and so complete, and yet... last friday i was talking to one of my friends who met him before i did. apparently, his freshman year he fell for another student -hard- but she wasn't feeling him. i mean, it took a minute for him to get over her. i think that as a result he put a wall up that i had only begun to break down after four years. so two things about that conversation made me think. first, that he was able to connect with someone in a short period of time that took he and i years to develop. when i look at the way that martin and i interact and the way that he treats me it just makes me think, damn. it makes me wonder why chris and i couldn't get that. because i'm just not at a place where i can accept that we had no business being together. especially not after four years. maybe it was him and his immaturity. maybe it was me and my passivity. it's just hard because the thought that he could have something better with someone who is not me makes me feel inadequate. and that hurts. which brings me to the second problem: thinking about all of the makes me want to try it again. to fix things. to deal with the challenge presented...

day 4

ok so i broke down and watched the tyra show. definitely a waste of time. i've spent a lot of time alone, seeing martin for only about an hour each day. i've cut back on my phone time (slightly). it's wonderful. i sleep alone. i get up alone. i eat alone. i feel a little bit more relaxed. my thoughts are a bit clearer and less scattered. no deep thoughts yet...

day 2

yesterday i started a two week detox. restricting the amount/types of food that i put in my mouth has already demonstrated just how much power i give to food. ...and just how temporary the pleasure i receive from eating is... i'll be honest, i was frustrated when i couldn't put any mustard on my sandwhich for lunch. disgusted by my breakfast of raw oats, seeds, almonds, and dried fruits. and i amost broke down when martin fixed himself a steak fajita for dinner last night. but i made it, and i'm almost done with day two...

p.s. i've also sworn off tv (project runway not included) for the duration of the detox. hopefully it will get me back on track for thinking about the conference paper i need to write by the end of september... in other words, feel free to call me!

seeking...

stress is a bitch. i've never been good with dealing with it. i used to think that i was because i never considered myself to be stressed out... then, during my senior year of high school i realized that my body dealt with the stress that my conscious mind avoided. while applying for college and dealing with graduation and the stress of a large transition i developed extremely painful headaches. my dentist told me it was because i developed a habit of grinding my teach at night. so over the years i've begun to file my teeth down, leaving me with headaches caused by jaws sore from being clenched for hours and hours (even during the day). i have to wear a night guard until i'm at least 30.

during college i was diagnosed with ibs (maybe i'm reaching the TMI line again...). so, in addition to grinding my teeth, my stomach now responds to stress, leaving me with cramps, feelings of uneasiness...

and now, at 22 i've been placed on my doctor's watch list for ovarian cysts. my allergies and eczema are out of control. i constantly find myself with some new physical injury (though i do little more than walk to and from class and work). and i'm always tired. i space out in the middle of conversations and forget what i'm talking about. but what sucks is that i know that going to the doctor won't help. the majority of my physical issues are directly related to the fact that i've never learned how to handle stress... so at twenty-two i feel like i'm literally falling apart.

i need a serious physical and mental detox, but i'm so overwhelmed that i'm almost paralyzed with fear. i've become a zombie. i have little interest in anything but tv. and when i stop to think i'm overpowered with feelings of failure. of not being good enough. of not working hard enough. of not saving enough. of not being nice enough. of not being liked enough. then i start to plan my great escape from austin and graduate school, only to give up when realizing that my fears will following me to the end of the earth and that struggle is a part of this process called life... i just wish i could learn how to deal with it in a way that was healthier. i don't want to become a black woman academic, middle-aged and half out of her mind and in a perpetual state of hopelessness

as usual i'm anxious and quite uncomfortable with standing still... financially, i'm unsecure. i need a job in order to meet my goal of having rent money and saving to go to cuba in december. my savings is a joke. and, after a year of being out of college, i still struggle with successfully budgeting my money for food. oh, and i'm addicted to retail. corporate america is so tempting - to have a steady paycheck of more than 1200 a month is a dream. i'd love to be able to save hundreds of dollars a month. buy a condo. each at a good restaurant once a week. and embrace my passion for beautiful shoes. but the 9-5, 40 hr a week concept is a nightmare. thus, i stay satisfied with my current position. i have a great apartment. i've taken several trips this year alone. my car is in good condition and ready to take me anywhere my heart desires. i need nothing. i'd just like the security of being able to save money again... i'm trying to be cheap again. i left old navy without buying the two, very cute pairs of capri jeans. i didn't make the planned run to target to buy containers to organize drawers and closets in my apartment (my obsession of the moment).

our generation is so impatient. we want everything in the moment. i remember the strangest concept i've ever heard from a financial planner: waiting until u have enough saved to make purchases. i've never seen such a thing done. sure my mom always paid utility bills and the mortgage from her checking account, but a car? a vacation? clothes? it's interesting that so many of us are so in need of immediate satisfaction that place ourselves at the mercy of creditors (who charge a ridiculous amount of interest) that wait a year to buy big screen tvs, laptops, and furniture... even more frustrating is the need for success. here i am, 22 years old, and i want to be a guy-sheftall. i want to be publishing, lecturing, tenured, and traveling the world. i want to start a program that provides a new and profound approach to the intellectual development of the next generation. clearly, i'm not ready. i just wish i was - or at least a little less anxious

i'm trying something new for the summer... let me start with a story: this morning a couple of classmates and i decided not to go back to class after the break (well, we went back about 45 minutes late). in previous conversations i found myself offended by some of the comments made. today, however, i realized that she is a really cool, inspiring person with a lot of cool experiences and who thinks out of the box. so, i'm going to try something new: to try appreciating people for the goodness they have to offer. maybe it sounds super simple, but i have a habit of avoiding people who make me feel uncomfortable... meanwhile, i'm missing out

standing still

i've been in l.a. since wednesday night. it's my first time here... an interesting place. huge for one. about 90% of it looks the same; some a bit nicer than others but still similar. then there are the newer, suburbanesque areas or more lavish, ritsy areas. aside from the fact that the black social scene is SO much better than austin, i don't quite get the hype...

aside from exploring new corners of the world, i've finally realized just how much tv i watch. crystal doesn't have cable, just one channel that doesn't work half the time. at first i tried to ignore it by staying out of the house. then it became painful. i got annoyed. then frustrated. finally, i woke up this morning realizing that i had to find an alternative; turning the tv on would wake up everyone in the house. i spent some time on the internet, got bored, and decided to read the book i checked out from the library... which is another interesting story: 22 years later, i've finally discovered the true beauty of a library. sure i enjoy finding books relevant to my research. however, being in the current broke state in which i'm in at the moment, i'm finally looking to the library for books for personal enjoyment. i know this sounds incredibly strange, but my dad raised my sister and i to develop a library of our own. i've always read books that i bought first. it's even kind of weired to be reading a book that isn't mine- i don't expect this to make any sense to anyone but me...

SO, while reading, i started to notice things about myself and my surroundings... like reading the space around you solely by listening to the outdoors... allowing your mind to drift from one subject to another without the distraction of the television (which can be so abrasive and intrusive in a perfectly subtle way)... listening to youself breathe... noticing that my body craves water or more sleep....

sitting still for the first time in MONTHS, i realize the need to be away from the television more often. i wasted so much time this past school year. i could have accomplished so much more. written better papers. read books better. read more books. tapped into a creative energy i have denied for years. figured out how to be happy in life a a grown-up dealing with bullshit on a daily basis... i wonder what i've been hiding from. i tell people that i have basic cable for the "essential" shows - top model, the apprentice, oprah- but, honestly, i'll watch almost anything. i've told myself it's the necessary space in which to sit and do nothing; a way to de-stress... but is it really? especially when i'm wasting so much time? and i've also said that it helps keep me informed to participate in the intellectual discourse on pop culture... maybe it's my way of hiding from life.

one thing this past year away from spelman has helped me realize is that life can be cold, lonely, and painful... what's frustrating is that most of what exists in grad school is no different from the rest of the world, expect that i am in a serious position of privilege getting paid to read books and help teach students, working towards a ph.d. it's just so frustrating to realize that hazing, having to make small talk with people who don't have your best interest at heart, kissing up to people who aren't nice, working your ass off for little or no recognition, never feeling accomplished, etc., etc., are all a part of dealing with being an adult. and there is the fear of failure...

so i cover it up by watching tv. and by shopping. this weekend, i promised myself that i was going to devote my low funds to finding a dress to wear to a wedding next week and locating the perfect pair of peep-toe flats... instead i spent several hundred dollars buying dresses without a place to wear them, shirts knowing that none of my classmates take fashion as seriously as i (in other words, i'm wasting my time and should instead be maximizing my current wardrobe), and drinking (alcohol is a whole other blog, i'm going to give it up for the summer after the wedding and force myself to get back into shape)... even know, as i watch my account dwindle, i keep a close eye on these cute steve madden flats for when they drop below 29.99... i do this every summer. the anxiety of finally sitting still after a busy school year usually leads to my funneling my insecurities and worries into a costly shopping spree. at least the good thing is that i don't spend money that i don't actually have. (i hate credit cards) meanwhile, while i can stand in my closet and smile thinking about the new shoes, dresses, shirts, i have bought and will buy - the concerns and insecurities remain... in other words, i remain in hiding... however, this summer i won't have a job anytime soon. maybe it's time to apply my creativity to something cheaper and more productive...

three reasons to hide from pop culture

1. kathy griffin's show on comedy central, titled "Kathy Griffin: Strong Black Woman"
all i have to say is "REALLY, Kathy?" too many layers to begin to picking this show apart.

2. Jack Black's new movie, "Nacho Libre." not only is it insensitive given the current political climate, but it's racist to the point where i don't understand why no one is mad. he picks up a spanish accent and cape for the part, kind of a comedic take on zorro. it's a mockery of spanish-american culture (aka a minstrel show). it's the kind of thing you would expect from some frat boys.

3. a rap song that i heard on the radio two weeks ago, talking about "lick it, lick it, suck it for an outfit." now i love black culture, especially among our generation, but so many elements are out of control. i think we have the best beats ever. it's amazing to see the distinctions in music, fashion, language, dancing, etc. among regions within the U.S. however, every day it becomes more and more painful to listen to such music, knowing that it creates serious tensions in black relationships, whether they be friendships or sexual. hmm... a new documentary idea?...

yesterday, while driving, martin looks at me, smiles, and says "let's get married." i look over at him like he's crazy. i respond, "not now." he looks disappointed. i explain that i'm not ready to get married yet. that i had things i wanted to do first. he asks, "what kind of things." i hadn't quite thought of those things, except to live and not be married. so i told him the first thing that popped into my head. "travel...," i catch myself, "not that we wouldn't travel once married. there are just certain things that i've always wanted to do by myself that i wouldn't feel right doing if we were married."

i wasn't lying. but the truth is that i've always been afraid of marriage. not sure why. i look forward to planning my wedding and going through the actual day; but the day after is another story. this, perhaps, is the greatest difference between martin and i. when he thinks of marriage, he sees us sharing the rest of our lives together. i, on the other hand, see myself miserable at the age of 40. i don't know what brought this on. maybe it's that i have yet to see a truly happy couple (including my parents) at twenty+ years of marriage. everyone says it's hard work. funny, all the movies tell us that it is -that is should be- easy and fun. maybe it's that my relationship with martin started out easy and fun, and has transitioned into a rocky state in which we're finally forced to deal with some serious personality differences among the two of us. i find myself wondering, "can i deal with this for the rest of my life?" or "this is not what i signed up for" or "i'm too young to be going through this" ... i'm learning a lot about the both of us: i don't like confrontation, not even in relationships. i hate drama. i'd rather let things go by telling myself that it's not that serious. i'm tempted to run when confronted with criticism. in a way i shut down when unexpectedly confronted, i rarely lack the motive to fight back. (is this how chris felt?) martin lets nothing go. if he's told something is going to happen, he holds the person to it. he expects affection on a regular basis, especially during daily ritual moments (saying hi, goodbye, going to bed, etc.). failure to do so is a direct and very personal assault. as one can imagine, the past week has been emotionally trying and somewhat draining. i'm often pushed to the point of the indifference about the whole situation. if anyone has any idea why, please tell me...

so, basically, i'm not so sure that i believe in marriage... at the moment, i don't think it's natural. socially expected, yes. economically practical, maybe. but what alternative is there? what is the real difference between a long-term relationship and marriage beyond the ability to leave without breaking a "sacred" religious pact? ...and i'll take it a step further: sometimes i feel like love is a bunch of bullshit. i'm tired of sappy scenes on tv and in movies. love songs are stupid. hopeless romantics are trapped in a state of self-denial. harsh and pessimistic - yes i know. but, at the moment, i fail to see the beauty of love. chris used to tell me that our relationship would work as long as we wanted it to. i thought that it had just run its course. but now i realize he was right. our relationship failed because i stopped wanting it to. he gave up because he realized my desires were to be somewhere else. so now, if martin and i are going to work, i have to want it so bad that i'll put up with all of the drama. and i'm struggling to maintain the energy, stamina, and motive to keep up. again, if anyone can help me i'd greatly appreciate it.

and on the subject of chris... after almost seven months, not a day goes by that i don't think about our relationship. (i hesitate to even write this because of how it blew up in my face last time, but blogging is therapy for me...) i've gotten better. i haven't had any recent moments when i break down and cry while driving, walking to class, cooking, or sitting on the couch. i no longer have moments when the desire to contact him becomes physically painful. i no longer crave seeing his smile, hearing his laugh, or catching him watch me while i sleep. i don't remember what kissing him was like. i rarely think about his hands, or his feet, or him bobbing his head to music in the car while driving downtown. it's been ages since i've laughed about his thing for candles and "fresh air." i still look at martin and remind myself that he treats me exactly how i've always wanted. everytime i have a good memory of chris i'm able to remind myself of those moments that led to our breaking up. but i still find myself wanting to ask him certain questions i know he'd have the answer to. i wonder what he would think about the latest three six mafia or jamie foxx song. i think of funny things that happen and know he'd appreciate hearing them. most importantly, i miss the space our relationshp provided in which i could go to his apartment, change into his sweats, curl up on the couch, and forget about the outside world. i don't have that anymore. and i don't know if it grad school or being out of that relationship that changed things...

and i feel super guilty for even having these thoughts while being with martin. part of the problem is that this relationship has been so close to my previous one. and they so completely different. but my heart feels so heavy. i feel like i have so little to give. and the extent to which martin is enamored with me makes me feel that i'm incapabable of ever being able to reach such a level. i am so incredibly confused that i almost feel like i need time to myself, but i'm afraid it will do more harm than good to a potentially great relationship...

i should be writing a paper but...

i'm listening to this song, over and over...

Just like a star across my sky,
Just like an angel off the page,
You have appeared to my life,
Feel like I'll never be the same,
Just like a song in my heart,
Just like oil on my hands,
Oh.. I do love you,

Still i wonder why it is,
I don't argue like this,
With anyone but you,
We do it all the time,
Blowing out my mind,

You've got this look i can't describe,
You make me feel like I'm alive,
When everything else is a fade,
Without a doubt you're on my side,
Heaven has been away too long,
Can't find the words to write this song,
Oh.,..
Your love,

Still i wonder why it is,
I don't argue like this,
With anyone but you,
We do it all the time,
Blowing out my mind,

I have come to understand,
The way it is,
It's not a secret anymore,
'cause we've been through that before,
From tonight I know that you're the only one,
I've been confused and in the dark,
Now I understand,

I wonder why it is,
I don't argue like this,
With anyone but you,
I wonder why it is,
I wont let my guard down,
For anyone but you
We do it all the time,
Blowing out my mind,

Just like a star across my sky,
Just like an angel off the page,
You have appeared to my life,
Feel like I'll never be the same,
Just like a song in my heart,
Just like oil on my hands

catch me if you can

i'm trying to pack my summer schedule with stuff to enjoy my free moments as much as possible. here's what it looks like:

1. May 12-20 - turn in last paper. pick tida up from airport. spend next week shopping, drinking, eating, and pampering myself (wash car, get pedicure, etc.)
2. May 24-28 - trip to L.A. to hang out with crystal and lauren
3. June 1 - first day of portuguese summer-school classes
4. June 2-4 - martin's friend's wedding in mississippi
5. June 15-18 - nwsa conference!
6. June 30 - July 4 - COMING BACK TO THE A!!!
7. July 7/8 - summer school finals. leave for Cuba for 2 or 3 weeks

I CAN'T WAIT

haven't written in a couple of weeks, but it has felt like ages. i have about two weeks of school left. i'm excited and terrified. grad school is kicking my ass. i met with my prof. today. he completely ripped my book review apart, and all i could do was look at him thinking, "did you seriously expect me to produce a coherent essay despite all that i have to do outside of this class?" yes, he did. so i'll admit it - my bad. life in austin is... going... i wish i had the time to find the positive energy i once had. school has its moments, of course. i'm writing a research prospectus on Afro-Cuban women as agents and as cultural symbols within a transforming society after emancipation. that's exciting. and one of my best friends is coming to see me after school is out. that's very exciting. oh, and i'm going to L.A. for memorial day weekend. super exciting. i'm buying a bottle of champagne after this semester is over...

HAPPY FOUNDER'S DAY!!!

i see...

lots of black people on campus for the annual Texas Relays. black people playing loud music as they circle around the block several times, bumping paul wall, mike jones, TI, and groups that they never play on the radio here. freshly-washed, beautifully-colored cars with tvs and 24-inch rims. bass bumping so hard that the store widows shake. black women with tight jeans, shirts with lace, tiny shorts, heels, and ponytails. black men with long shorts, pimp walks, dark sunglasses, white tees, and straw hats. my favorite: a man with the fifty cent-type tank with red, white, and navy straps; jeans with red, white, anad navy at the cuffs, white sneakers, a belt buckle (with the front of the tank tucked in!), and a straw hat. black men on bikes. black people grilling in hotel parking lots (i'm not talking about the small, play grills either. they had the huge grills that you use for church bbqs and family reunions). black people walking in large groups, clearly on display for the world to take notice. black high-school students with matching t-shirts that say 'betcha can't do it like me" on the back. weaves, jean outfits, and pontytails to the side. air force ones. AND I'M SO HAPPY!!! i haven't even been to sixth street yet...

school is crazy, as ususal, but that's okay. i've got good books to read for tomorrow. i have two final papers to write that i'm acutally enjoying the process of writing. my classes for next semester will be on point (historiography of colonial latin america; a research seminar, a.k.a. no classes, just embracing my full nerdy side by conducting archival research; and black critical race theory and praxis). the sun is out and it's warm- again. and i'm gonna get some good FACEBOOK pics during the texas relay after-parties this weekend. speaking of facebook, it's a sick addition that i can't shake. i have nothing better to do at work right now, and i can't do homework, so i check my profile/stalk other people/search for new friends in hidden corners of the internet... for five hours at a time...

meanwhile, question of the day: how can we address the duke incident in a manner that is both productive for the "community" (not yet sure how to define it) and emotionally/mentally/psychologically for us as black women?

and just when the world seemed too stressful:

payday came, the sun came out, and black people showed up in large numbers to a FREE common concert... a lovely day, indeed

No one falls in love by choice, it is by CHANCE.
No one stays in love by chance, it is by WORK.
And no one falls out of love by chance, it is by CHOICE...

not sure who wrote this. i copied it off of a facebook page... ah, facebook... i think i would add to this statement, because "love" (this incredibly abstrat concept that somehow shapes our lives in the most subtle and extreme ways) is so much more simple/complex... becasue falling in love isn't just chance, it's fun and exciting and reinvigorating... staying in love is hard and frustrating and confusing... and falling out of love is painful...

i cried when i left atlanta. my stomach was in knots during the drive out south. i sighed when i checked in at the airport. i made it through security, to starbucks for my routine trip, and found my gate. but when the plane backed out onto the runway i broke down. this has been a hard week; harder than the past month. in a sense, toni cade brought me full circle to a place in which i was forced to deal with multiple emotions. returning to austin has been one of the saddest moments of the past year...

1. atlanta: i am no longer a student at spelman. and by spelman, i mean the lifestyle that it symbolizes: pusuing an education in the midst of an intellectual space crafted for black women; having virtually any type of black social opportunity within a ten minute drive; seeing and interacting with people who look like me on a daily basis; having money; living with two other women; having the time to just "be" and spend time with black women friends; complain about the problems of the world with like-minded people; engage in mindless activities like watching cable tv and finding the perfect sale; working out on a regular basis; enjoying domestic chores like groccery shopping and doing laundry; searching for bootleg cds with the latest atl songs...

2. austin: i am a grad student, which means that i spend my days reading, writing papers, taking classes, and STRESSING. in some ways, this is the ideal life. many people would probably tell me to shut up and stop complaning. but i take a different approach to my current status - - this shit is hazing... my dad always tells me, "no one's going to give you a degree. you have to work for it." i remind myself on a daily basis that graduate school is a test of endurance, motive, and passion. the work is never-ending. there is not enough time to give every assignment full and equal treatment without sacrificing food/sleep/breathing. no one tells you how you are doing. there is no shoulder to cry on (at least as far as faculty are concerned). and it gets even deeper... there are few young, educated black people in austin. that means no hang-out spots, few cultural events, no social space on campus, and little socializing. our schedules are all so cramped that there is litle time to just sit and chat and do all of the small but significant things that allow you to relax, recoup, and feel like a fulling functioning person... there are certainly moments and even days when i enjoy my work, but most of the time my brain is just trying not to shut down from overload... i often feel that there is little room for emotion

3. family and friends: wonderful. i don't always take the time i should to touch base, but everyone is physically healthy and productive. my dad and sister are talking again. after this semester (and an academically rocky first year at college) my sister will be forced to enter a serious period of growth and maturing... my cousin and close friend have two of the most beautiful children i have ever seen. I LIKE CHILDREN... well, some times. slowly, i'm letting down my walls... most importantly, i have learned to love and appreciate the fact that my immediate and extended family are committed to supporting and protecting each other

4. relationships: and i've saved the best for last... back in october -fed up- i decided to pursue the "life of passion" constantly sold to us through tv and movies. i broke up with my boyfriend of four years. started dating martin. and for the first time, genuinely enjoyed falling in love by kissing, having long conversations and nights out on the town (corney as it may sound), exchanging dreams, cooking, etc., etc. then we took it a step further; we met each other's families. and it was all wonderful. and he is still wonderful. but a harsh reality has set in: i'm still not over chris. being in atlanta forced me to realize this. so, while he won't talk to me, emotionally, i have two relationships to deal with. this past week has pushed me through some tough realizations... a. i broke up with chris because i wanted wanted time to myself. part of it was to date other people, but i had no intention of getting into another relationship. now, here i am, five months later in a full relationship that has become serious... what the hell was i thinking? if we do get married, that little month was all the time that i gave myself. i'm at the point where i rarely spend time alone... don't get me wrong, i have no desire to date other people, i just should have forced myself to be alone so that i could sort out my feelings for chris and martin, adjust to life in austin alone, and decide when and what type of relationship i wanted. i feel like i've screwed everything up. b. by being in a new relationship, so close to an old one, my perception of both has be tainted by comparing the two. once again, what the hell was i thinking? part of the reason i broke up with chris was because i realized martin (not just another man) could offer me things chris couldn't. that forced me to view martin in a light of perfection that blinded me from a crucial process of healing. and now, thinking about chris, confuses me. i broke up with him for a reason- he needed to grow up and my being with him hindered that process. however, until meeting martin, i was always open to the idea of us getting back together at some point. and now i don't know. see, if i had given myself time alone i'd be better able to tell if i'm missing him because he represents a time when things were easier and i was happier or if i genuinely miss the person i was around him... i don't even know if i'm missing him because i wish we still had our friendship or if this is just a part of the process of letting go...

my mother always to tell me to let go and let God; to let it go and give it to God... i'm just not at the point where i'm willing to let go because i'm afraid of a greater plan that is out of my control. i just need to trust. trust

i haven't been this unhappy in awhile. it's been coming for a few weeks... first feelings of dissatisfaction. restlessness. dangerously longer periods of pocratination. bitterness. anger. and now i'm overwhelmed to the point of being subdued. i don't know what this is; if it's depression or hormones; if it's normal or slightly more serious. i'm not at the point of hating graduate school, but if i stay on this path i soon will... i don't seriously consider quitting, i just imagine what else i could be doing... working at a non-for profit... living in another country... in a differerent (shorter) graduate program... pursuing some glamorous life where i'm happy. and that's just the thing - - why should i be in a program where i'm not happy? it has nothing to do with my classes or the people... i'm not quite sure what it is. maybe i just need a change of attitude... and a trip to atlanta for toni cade:)

there is a rat in my apartment. i spent all afternoon at my place watching tv until about 7:30. then i went to wal-mart for about an hour. i came home, started boiling a pot of water and then took a shower. i was in my bathroom setting up my flat iron to do my hair when i notice a few little bugs on the floor. normally, i would have been horrified, but for some reason i decided to pick it up... but it wasn't a bug; it was a little turd... and not just little either. i've seen mouse poop before and this wasn't it. martin came by and confirmed it for me. then we packed my stuff and left. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIVE IN AN APARTMENT WHERE I SAW A RAT??? i want to move

for the love of music

this weekend was beautiful... right now i'm still glowing, humming jill scott (the second album) in my head, thinking about beauty of black people, music, good weather, and -for the first time in awhile- changing the world...

friday: last day of class for a week. no classes. no homework (well, of course there's always work to be done). i went to the BAR ON CAMPUS (can you believe that?) and got tipsy with a few classmates. black russians are the new drink. went out with Martin to the club for the first time all semester

saturday: i don't really remember the day... i just know that i did absolutely nothing. at night we went to a quirky movie theatre to see block party. drank wine, at chicken fingers, and creme brulee (yes, at the movie theatre). i realized that, although i could certainly live anywhere, for the sake of my spirit, i need to be near a major city with a diverse population. i wasn't born in one, but i've gotten used to it... there's no need to turn back now

can i just say that block party brought me to a new place; my love of dirty south music has spiraled out of control during the past few years- i had forgotten the incredible feeling of listening to quality to music... sort of. i had almost forgotten the beauty of being surrounded by black folk who live by surrounding themselves with music, who feel the beat, who can't help but move they hear a hot song, whose bodies respond to a familiar song... who are simultaneously down to earth, warm, socially/culturally in tune, and politically conscious...

sunday: just have thank moya for the email for the "before the music dies" premiere afterparty... it was one of the best concerts of my life. it opened with some amazing austin-based jazz and funk groups, then moved to this incredible electic guitar player named doyle-something. i really like his music, and probably would of like it more if i hadn't grown impatient waiting for erykah. she came out with this new group- funk sway... it's a collaboration of a bunch of musicians, including lisa and wendy (who played with prince for years -what yall know about purple rain?), a popular trumpet player based in austin, doyle, QUESTLOVE (gotta love him), dj jazzy jeff and others... erykah kicked the set off with green eyes and played for other songs. then the group played several together... but here's the best part: dj jazzy jeff surprised us with an hour-long party AFTER the concert ended. it was AMAZING - everything from michael jackson to stevie wonder to prince to seventies funk to seventies r&b to some 90s alternative hits... i'm inspired

now i wish that i had gone to the movie premiere yesterday... it's supposed to be about the state of the music industry (putting ten superficial songs into rotation at a time, limiting the artistic development of musicians, and calling for a change). it should be going nation-wide in the next few months... i'm excited. after last night, i feel like i can actually do something to help change the music industry... i'm craving a return to good music on the radio...

i don't know how old i was. i think i was at tuskegee university. my parents always used to bring my sister and i with them on cross-country trips where my father attended black nationalist conferences or presented at other black intellectual events. i was in middle school, i think. i remember walking thorugh a large open area outside of the middle rooms. i was still short. the windows were tall and filled the room with natural lighting. i walked passed tables of vendors, stopping at one covered with stacks of books. i was awestruck. a man behind the table- with long locks and silver rings with chunky stones- reached across the table. i saw his hand before i noticed him. he reached across the table holding this book. "you need to read this he said." i took it and looked at it. he told me the author was a great writer. and so i brought my mother over to buy it for me, along with another book, "Gal." now, if i had a similar encounter with him, i would have assumed he was just trying to sell me something. interestingly, the a similar level of passivity and indifference to others and their commands would probably result in a similar outcome. more importantly was the book he gave me: "Parable of the Sower". if my mother realized what i was reading i think she would have been disturbed. here i was- young, reading about extreme violence, sex, and a drastically different world in rather vivid description... but i was hooked. even more amazing was the gift given to me: one of the best pieces of writing i've ever read; a science fiction novel written by a black feminist woman. in many ways this marked my transition to more mature novels that moved beyond ghosts, vampires, and sappy loves stories from the juvenille section of the junction bookstore. i can't believe i read that book when i was so young. it's still my favorite. rest in peace Octavia Butler.

i've decided that there needs to a simple, informative, and to-the-point book about women and their bodies. a quick guide book women can put on a shelf, nightstand, or in a desk drawer. something that introduces us to common occurrences with our bodies. let me explain: yesterday i go to the doctor. something with my body has been off for about a year now. (note: if you're not ready for the too much information segment, this is the part where you'll want to stop reading). i been having weird pains and abnormal bleeding... yesteday the doctor told me that i may have a cyst. now, not only did i have to ask her what a cyst was and where it came from, but i think she was trying to conceal her thoughts on how serious it is until i have an ultrasound. i asked her if it was large and she said yes. but i don't know if it is abnormally larger, dangerously large, etc. etc. you get the picture. my point is- here i am a young woman who's never had serious health issues, dealing with a doctor who either doesn't know how to break bad news or isn't the best at communicating with distraught patients. but someone/something needs to teach women like myself (fortunately, i have a mother who's been through this several times) what these basic health issues are, how serious they are, and what types of questions we should ask a physician to fully comprehend the situation at hand. because it took me three conversations with three women to feel even slightly at each, while i paid a doctor a lot of money to leave me hanging. i can only imagine what this would be like for women who are young, or who know nothing at all about their bodies. i can only think of how for the past several months i've been in pain and ignoring it because i barely stood still long enough notice. i'm even more frustrated with the doctor...

"Something New"

last night some friends and I went to see the movie "Something New"... i'm not sure how i feel. it's nothing like crash, where you leave the theatre wondering what the hell happened; whether you should be happly that racial predjudices are being exposed through the mass media or pissed off that the white man who sexually assaulted the black woman (whose husband had a conk!) redeemed himself by saving her life. or maybe it was the same... the same catch 22. on the one hand. the movie is extremely entertaining, tapping into the fantasies of young, heterosexual, single middle-class/professional black women frustrated with the lack of men at their "level" (aka with a college degree, job, property owning, etc.). the movie's characters are relateable (is that even a word?): they're intellegent and successful, bourgeois but still able to have a good time. but there is an interesting message that permeates the film. we can't have it all without a partner. even if we have perfectly good friends. more importantly, that we can't find that ideal mate who is our socioeconomic equal. two of the women in the movie find a mate. one is the protagonist's friend, who marries a black cook she meets at a rich white woman's engagement party. the other is the protagonist, who finds the perfect man --who is white. once again, i can acknowledge that this has always been a secret fantasy of mine. however, he isn't just her dream man; he helps her become her TRUE SELF. this is where "Something New's" "what the fuck?" moment occurs. first, he is aparently everything black women (and black men) apparently can't be: free-spirited hippies who connect with "the folk" through community gardens, nature lovers, dog lovers, and willing to drift from corporate america. then, there's the moment when he tells her he wants to see her completely naked- aka without a weave. finally, there's the complete transformation she takes emotionally, spiritually and physically once with him - a process she apparently couldn't undergo on her own or with her friends. so what messages does this send to black women and, more interestingly, people who aren't black women (or black men)? is it worth being mad? or should i just be happy to see a black woman protagonist in a "positive" role?

today i've made a new discovery: hormones are a bitch. actually, i already knew about it. but today is the first time i've decided to put it in writing. every month, around or during that time of the month i become increasingly irritable. maybe i'm preaching to the choir... i hate those moments when you (i) realize that you've just snapped at someone or gotten annoyed with someone for something that normally wouldn't even bother you. and it's not like there's a switch to turn off- you're stuck with the pissy mood until another one takes over. so, this morning i wake up only to become pissy five minutes later... part of it was for a good reason. but another part was this uncontrollable feeling of irritation that stayed with me for the rest of the morning, only to slip into self pity. i'm not normally like this. i don't like being like this. it's 70degrees and sunny outside with a perfect wind- yet i just want to take a nap.

p.s. this isn't to validate any assertions men like to make about women regarding pms. they get pissy and moody just as often. what's their excuse?

just came from a faculty-student discussion on the doctoral program. one of the professors was a black woman in social work, who studied intervention among vicitms of domestic violence who were substance abusers. an interesting comment: she noted that, in the process of studying/researching substance abusers, she had become a substance abuser. her substance was her research. we all laughed at her comment because it was true and a bit scary. how many times do we let ourselves become so wrapped-up in our work that it becomes our sole driver? how many times do we let it become so important that we put it before food/sleep/free-time/breathing? of course, i can't relate to this entirely. i still welcome every distraction i can get from work. not that i don't enjoy; but because i crave social interaction in a new place that is still becoming familiar. come to think of it- i was the only first year in the room. maybe its a warning for the future... food for thought.

why Texas is out of control

so today i logged into the University of Texas at Austin bookstore website... not sure if you all know, but a couple of weeks ago Texas beat USC to win the national football championship. it's kind of a big deal for texas fans... ya'll know i could care less. meanwhile, there is a special page on the website dedicated to the 2006 Championship, like footballs, pre-ordered dvds, books ("Texas Pride: the Story of a Championship"), mugs, posters, shotglasses, tshirts, beer mugs, wastebaskets, license plates... .... .... and it goes on for another eighteen pages. but my favorite item: a football autographed by Vince Young for $199.99. are u fucking serious??? sigh... why Texas, why?

back in austin, tx! (?)

never thought i'd say it, but i'm quite happy to be back in austin. it's sunny and about 80degrees. i have no classes for another week. i think tomorrow i'll go to the lake for the day. sure, there are no bourgeois black folk; no good radio stations; and no spelman... but i'm back in my own apartment (and away from my family members struggling to get along). i can curl up and watch a movie with my boyfriend whenever i want. i have a huge gym to use for free. and the nerd in me has to acknowledge it: the library is on point! so, i'm going to try something different in 2006, no more being bitter (secretly) that i'm not young, black, and fabulous in the atl... meanwhile, i've got a plan to keep up the good attitude: TRAVELING. next month i'll be driving down to houston to meet up with my old roommates for all-star weekend. then, in march, i'll be heading out to atlanta for toni cade...

confessions of a young black feminist: part I of many...

so i have a couple of new favorite songs, and i should be ashamed...but i'm not. they include:

1. "Nasty Girl" by B.I.G. and others... can't help but love that diddy
2. "Gettin Some Head" by Shawnna. i'm not even going to try to explain it. but the beat is bangin

written 1/1/06

damn, ya’ll, it’s 2006… 2005 was a great year. i learned to take advantage of the Atlanta social scene. made new friends. made a documentary. worked a fabulous job that, though problematic, forced me to become more assertive and less afraid of talking with new people. GRADUATED. moved to Texas. became a grad student. broke up with my first love. found the man of my dreams... met my cousin’s baby. lost a childhood friend. learned to be emotionally vulnerable. became a fan of live jazz. the list could on and on… i guess being here in 2006 not only means that i was fortunate to see another year… but that, being alive, i am still in the process of growth…

resolutions for 2006:
1. pay off credit cards
2. start a mutual fund
3. train for a marathon
4. (borrowing from Moya’s list) write on a daily basis
5. learn Portuguese
6. TRAVEL
7. find a way to connect with black students… not set on a specific age group

finally, a dinner conversation with my dad and godfather have left several thoughts with me regarding race. perhaps a point will follow later…
- black girls and interracial dating. many black women are still scarred from a childhood of socialization in which “beautiful” was a close to white as possible, whether it was through straight hair, “good” curly hair, long hair, lighter skin, light eyes, etc. etc. how many of us still possess the wounds left from feeling unwanted as girl children while black boys chased after white and latina girls? how much anger do we carry with us into public spaces frequented by black men/white women couples? what do we do for the black girls who deals with this today? additionally, what healing process do “we” (i.e. I) need to begin to allow people to be without sending out negative energy? at the same time, is it fair to assume that most black men date white women because they are presented as trophies in society through the media, etc.?
- blacks and higher education. blacks aren’t graduating from college like we should be. black men especially… black children aren’t being told about college. looking at my own cousins, black children are barely learning how to read, write, and add. i’m not trying to pretend that we’re the only ones experiencing this, but these are the people who look like me… there are so many levels to this problem, but nothing will change until parent become advocates for their children’s education.
- white people and white privilege - - mainly, most whites never think about race because they don’t interact with nonwhites (blacks) on a regular basis. their understandings of blackness is so incredibly limited that 1. they are threatened by blacks who are educated or have money even when they can’t recognize it in themselves 2. because they don’t use the n-word, don’t advocate racism or racial violence, and consider themselves to be “good Christians” they assume that they don’t need to deal with race and 3. frequently can’t comprehend the concept of a black person beyond the stereotypes of being poor, uneducated, and either a threat to society (violent, diseased, inferior culturally, etc.) or entertainers.

letting go

yesterday i decided to call chris to wish him a merry xmas. he had his newphew screen the phone call and make up a bullshit excuse when he realized it was me. ..."ouch" is the only thing i could say. i was like, damn, four years together and you can't even answer the phone yourself? ...this past week, especially, i kept thinking about how things had ended between the two of us... i guess between school and being in a new relationship i hadn't allowed myself the time to proccess all that had happened. i felt guilty... i kept wondering how i was going to "get over him," but that in itself was confusing for me... see, i wasn't not-"over him"... i don't love him anymore and i certainly don't want him back. so then i thought maybe it was that i was still attached to the concept of our relationship. but that wasn't quite true either. sure i could think of the good times, but the foundation of my relationship with him was built upon this inner feeling that we wouldn't make it - a feeling i secretly had had since the beginning. moving to austin made me acknowledge it. meeting martin gave me the courage to end it knowing that i was denying myself something stronger, deeper, and more fulfilling... and yesterday, after being hurt when he refused to talk to me, i realized what it was: i wanted his forgiveness for hurting him. yes, he hurt me several times over- and that's partially why i ended it- but i had already forgiven him. i wanted HIM to forgive ME. of course, this is stupid for two reasons. one is the obvious- i broke up with him because he is immature and selfish- clearly, he hasn't been overcome by feelings of guilt for what he did to me. he only wanted to "make things right" so he could be happy again. second, i can't expect him to forgive me for breaking up with him. i realize this now. i guess i thought becoming friends would signal that he had forgiven me. but if we were capable having a successful friendship we never would have broken up in the first place. so it's over. i'm not a part of his life anymore. he's not a part of mine. i'm letting go...and i'm ok with that.

before i reflect on the year 2005 (we still have a few days left)... i vow to leave my grudges behind with this day. life is too short, fragile, and valuable to waste it being mad at people. just one moment of anger/frustration/resentment is a moment that could be spent pursuing happiness... xmas is in less than two hours and the 10 o'clock news lists multiple people who have died today. i can only think of what their families must be going through...which is why i'm going to let go.

the day after

yesterday was amanda's funeral. it finally hit me that she's gone... sort of. we sat in the church and sang songs together, watching her family to see how they were doing and thinking of the incredible person we had all lost. and she was amazing. the priest came to the podium and began speaking by saying "amanda was full of life..." that hit me hard, speaking of someone in past tense, thinking of someone being full of life no longer... but it was so true. she did everything hard, laughed hard, cried hard, partied hard, and loved her friends and family... it's interesting what people remember about you when you've died. her sorority sisters from college talked about how she knew everyone on campus during undergrad. that she maintained her competetive edge even in intramural volleyball. that she was always on the phone and always up for a party. how she would drunk-dial her parents and friends. her closest friends from highschool remembered school dances and our trip to greece. how incredibly outgoing and caring for everyone she knew. ... if there's one thing i want to take away from this it's to take time to live it up NOW; not to wait until i have enough money or more time or have finished the semester. cause, honestly, i'm not worried about not having done enough before i die - clearly i won't be thinking about it then. what i don't want to happen is to live another ten, twenty years and look back on my life thinking, damn, i wasted so much time waiting for it to be the "right time."

to amanda

my plane got into chicago yesterday at 10:30am. i got home at 12:00. i found out that amanda died at 12:05... life is crazy. i hadn't talked to her in almost a year, yet last week (december 8) she sent me a message on facebook asking if i was coming home during the break. i told her i was, and she gave me her cell number. it's still in my phone... i was telling my friend about my facebook conversation with amanda the other day. i was looking forward to our meeting- i wanted to see what type of person she had become... i've known amanda since sixth grade. she was this loud, bossy girl who was, perhaps too serious about basketball and volleyball (i sucked at both but played anyway). i remember her crush on jonathan taylor thomas. i remember her obsession with jimmy buffet. the infamous trip to greece during our junior year. yearbook drama that she always managed to stay out of. the tea party i threw a month before we all started college. when i think of amanada, all i see is a tall, thin girl with bright eyes and a huge smile. i can still hear her voice. but what i can't see is her not being here. i think that it's only now beginning to hit me. she died two nights ago driving home in the snow. this is unreal... everytime i think of her being gone i have to think to something else. i don't know what to take away from this; i only think of what her parent must being going through. what her sisters have to come home to. and then i wonder what to do with myself. what do you do when your childhood friend dies? you go on of course, but doing what? setting up for xmas parties (as i had to do yesterday)? watch tv? buy presents? go shopping? when nakia died i learned to stop taking everything for granted. today i'm in disbelief. this is bullshit. life is incredible.

aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

so i've been working on this paper since thursday night and i now have -ya'll ready?- nine fucking pages... i'm so tired of staring at this screen that i have a headache and my mind has become numb. i just want to pack my bags and get on a plane to go home. i don't even care that it's thirty degrees (yes thirty) colder and there is snow everywhere. i just want to get out of austin and away from these books and not have to think about papers or grades or classes or jobs or the next five-six years of my life for a pitiful salary... i just wanna go home...

so i recognize that there is such a thing as property. legally "it" is not mine/ours... why the hell wouldn't you tell somebody in the first place? ok... no, it's not ours, but what about intellectual property? what about the fact that my blood, sweat, and tears will be on display across the country and i won't even know about it... i'm beyond pissed

privilege is a bitch

today in class my professor went around the class and asked us why we chose to study latin american history... ten minutes of bullshit... "life circumstances brought me to it." "friends from summer camp got me interested in the culture, though i'm afraid to visit the country because of its violence" [are u serious???] "i know that memories of the period are still fresh and there are a lot of untapped resources" R U FUCKING SERIOUS???!!! no, you are not studying people in latin america simply because of life circumstances, intrigue with the culture, or a love for the people; you study latin america because of something either deeply personal or extremely superficial and based on preconcived ideas of the region.

here's a summary of my response:
professor: Takkara, what do you wish to study in latin america?
takkara: race, class, and gender in Cuba.
p: why?
t: because race,class, and gender is how i define my life.
p: why Cuba?
t: well latin america because of the common history of slavery. cuba because of the parallels in social developments with the united states. i'm fascinated by the similarities and differences...

see the difference? no "i fell in love with the culture while i lived there." no "untapped archival documents to be analyzed." my research is personal and i have no shame. i wouldn't dare say i love salsa because the beat is bangin' (though it may be true for others). i love salsa because its sexy and sensual and, most of all, exotic. ... i'm through with this topic for the day... i'm sure i'll be back to it in the future.

can i just get this semester over with!

every time i look up i think, damn, i'm still in school... not that i'm upset that i've been in school for the past twenty-ish years and still going strong, but that i've been busting my ass (sort of) for the past several months... and it's still not over. i broke down about a month ago and lost all motivation. the only thing that keeps me going is the desire to finish strong. my classes are getting on my nerves. i have so much damn work that i never get to put the necessary effort into my weekly papers (though part of that is my own fault- i spend a little too much time being social during the weekends). the white students in my english class spend the majority of the class talking about form, imagery, and symbolism without jumping into the racial politics that shape the period we're studying... i'm just not trying to commend the use of primitivism in literature of the harlem renaissance and negritude movement as a "subversion of stereotypes" when the majority of readers were/are white and allowed such writings to reinforce their ideas of black inferiority. and i'm so bogged down by my work for my monday and tuesday classes that i never get to invest the amount of time necessary to really take in and analyze the readings for my wednesday class. ah, the life of a grad student... i could have worse problems. maybe that's why i'm not stressing like i normally would.

oh, and a random comment... i slept on marques houston; that song "naked" is secretly on point. maybe it's just me...

yes, i've been in hiding... with a man. his name is martin and he's wonderful. i'm having a hard time thinking about anything besides him and school. life is fabulous...

lost in translation

chris and i broke up last night. i told him that there was a sense of urgency on my side, which was why i needed to see him, but that he seemed to lack the same feelings. he was too complacent. i told him we needed to take a break until he could come see me and we could work out our issues face to face. i was tired of putting up with his excuses for why he couldn't come visit, or even give me a date to visit him. i was tired of his not having a job; of his not being motivated; of his disinterest in my life. i was tired of being young and in a committed relationship that was going nowhere. i feel guilty because of what i may have done to him. but i don't even know how he feels because he shut down weeks ago. and that was partically my fault- i pushed him away. if we are meant to be we'll come back together at another time when we're different people. i don't think so, though. i'm kind of numb. i don't really want to talk about it anymore.

right now i'm so living in a bubble/bundle of happiness with my friend who is the most amazing man i have ever met and is definately not my boyfriend... like i'm having a hard time keeping focused on my school work and even paying attention in some of my classes... and i've had the best conversations ever... and i actually get PHYSICALLY turned on by talking about the most mundane, having-nothing-to-do-with-sex topics... and we're so much alike and so perfectly different that it's crazy...and i constantly find myself learning new things and teaching him things and sitting and just being so overwhelmed looking into his eyes so i have to look away for a few moments just to keep from breaking down... and just when i feel silly for randomly thinking about him he calls... he's just this completely normal person who i know has flaws (somewhere) and i'm not holding him to any model of perfection, but i'm willing to take whatever comes my way because i feel like it's worth it... and there is so much that i could say, but i feel that it would betray a level of intimacy that i have never before experienced or even known to be possible... i didn't know this was possible...

the other day i told my boyfriend that i wanted to see other people. i told him it was because our relationship (friendship... conversations) was falling apart, and i often felt i was too young to be in a relationship defined by drama. we're still together, and it was my choice. i had been contemplating ending it all for a couple of weeks, but, faced with the prospect of nevr seeing the man i've loved for the past four years again, i told him i wanted to give it one last try. i don't quite know why, but it felt right. was it becasue i'm scared? am i waiting for a reason to hate him? all i see right now are the good times. maybe that is how i should leave it... i've cried for two days, and i don't know what to do. i just want to control everything... and in doing so, i've found myself in this latest position: fighting for and against my relationship simultaneously. chris hasn't done anything. i don't know if it's becasue he wants out, though i don't think so. he said he felt it coming, and i think maybe he feels he's already lost. or maybe he doesn't know what to do. but i've forced my controlling self to take a step back from fighting and just be for a few moments... the problem is, chris isn't doing anything either. and that's the worst part; it hurts to think that after all of this time he'd not feel it worth the effort to keep us together. i want to yell at him, "why won't you fight for me?" "why won't you fight for us?" this shit sucks. we have so much potential as a couple, which is why i want us to try to work it out, but, but i think i killed the momentum with my honesty. at least i got the ball rolling... i told him i needed to see him to reconnect. he still hasn't said anything. just that he wishes we could have our relationship without complications. what is that??? i'm putting the ball in his court...

check this out

ok so i had to write another blog... i just found out some really interesting/cool/slightly-weird stuff out. so my "friend" is orignially from chicago, the same city as my family. i was raised baptist, as were my parents, but my mother's mother was raised methodist. my friend is methodist, and his mother is originally from chicago (maybe now you can see where this is going... maybe not). he said that his parents met at St. Mark Methodist Church in chicago. i remember my late, great-great aunt going to a church named St. Mark. at first we thought, "hey, a church named St. Mark is the same as a church named Mt. Zion; there are dozens of them." So, just now, he called his parents to ask where the church was located in chicago. i called my mom to ask her where my aunt's church was. then- u ready? - he, sitting next to me, and my mom, on the phone, both said the same address at the same time! now i know you're thinking, OK, but it gets better. my parents were married at the church in 1978; his were married there in 1979. his grandfather probably played my parent's wedding. his mother was raised in the church, and my aunt was a life-long member. his parents still attend the church, as do several of my aunts... isn't that crazy?! and my mother said that we probably crossed paths as children, cause my mother used to take me to church events. maybe we met years ago...

(re)evaluating the system

so i love my professor... he's a mexican scholar of latin american history who's about to leave ut-austin for uchicago. meanwhile, he's probably one of the realest professors out of the latin americanists (aside from my advisor). he's constantly going off about how we construct latin american history... for example, when we think of latin america in the twentieth century we immediately see images of peasant revolutions, corrupt governments, passion/sex, and macho men/submissive women... the issue is that we (i'm using the term we loosely) act like these phenomena exist only in latin america-- clearly the same things can be said about the united states and europe...

meanwhile, today's conversation focused on the role of the intellectual. as a scholar-in-training, i and many others that may read this blog aspire to someday publish articles and books that will aid in transforming the academy... but can we really? and how? true, we can insert various aspects of identity often ignorned by our counterparts into the field of history, anthropology, art, feminist theory, etc... but what about the revolution? how far will they let us go in being radical? i want to challenge captialist values that shape our social relations as collegues. i want to call people out on being pseudo-activists, on identifying as liberals and studying the "subaltern" (this term deserves some serious discussion in itself) but refusing to have them/us as neighbors. i want them to recognize that we all have political agendas in our research... clearly my saying fuck bullshit conservative canonial texts won't get me a degree... let's talk about why we are people of the united states studying latin america in the first place. let's ask ourselves how our research is going to help end poverty, rape, child abuse, and worker abuse. and what am i doing about this??? at the moment, nothing. but i still have hope for developing an agenda...

which brings me back to my professor. he mentioned that many scholars see history as liberatory. i don't quite understand how though. most of our research only reinforces the status quo... and concepts of liberatory are relative; our conceptualization of such terms are inherently subjective. everyone has their own idea of "revolution." where is our common ground?

he identified the catch 22 in writing history: we write about oppressed identities (race, gender, sexuality, etc) to attack discrimination and work towards liberation, but aren't we reinforcing binary constructions of difference in the process? social constructions of identity are, indeed, constructions. they're not real. but there are material realities to these constructions. so what do we do? many writers (some examples can be found in the literature produced during the harlem renaissance) chose/choose to define themselves as "american" and deny any racial affiliation. it pisses me off... but are they onto something? what is our plan? perhaps we should fight to create equality, but view it as steps towards a society without difference? is this even possible?

my professor also challenged us to think beyond writing books for academic audiences. most books are never read, especially not by the people whose stories we claim to be examining. and, for most of us, our language is not accessible... so do we write stories for those outside of the academy? what will we write about? who will publish them? will they be read, and how will they help transform the world? maybe books and articles are the wrong approach... how about documentaries? or community forums? how will we bring our scholarship back to the community? and what is the community?

just a few thoughts...

this weekend was FANTABULOUS!!! aside from the fact that i have successfully avoided doing ANY work (and i will soon be regretting this decision as the night approaches), i had a ton of fun (hehe that rhymes). friday i went out with some friends for dinner, then we got a bunch of wine and drank before going to a club. it was an undergrad party, but 1. i was too drunk to notice, and 2. there were a bunch of non-undergrads present... i don't know if that's sad or disturbing or both or neither... i had on this very cute, jessica simpson-esque turquoise dress with no straps and kind of flouncy at the bottom. and flats because i didn't want the children to think i was getting dressed-up for them. i danced with a whole bunch of people until my "friend" showed up... come to think of it, maybe i should begin my wonderful weekend on thursday when he and i went to see The Gospel (the movie)... anyway, after the party at the club, we went to another party sponsored by the african students association. the party was amazing- with some of the sexiest men i've seen in awhile, and good music from africa, the caribbean, and the u.s. (dirty south and a couple of oldies). my "friend" met me there too and we only danced with each other... now anyone who has ever seen me dance knows that i believe dancing should be sexual (what else would the point be?), and he is one of THE best dancers ever! maybe even THE best??? after the party i dropped my friends off and he and i went to ihop. i got home at seven in time to see the sky becoming light blue... saturday we went running (we're now up to three and a half miles). then i got some wonderful sonics mozzarella sticks for the second time this week and went to bed before midnight. this morning we went to church... yes, takkara went to church. i'm having a lot of fun, but i keep asking myself, are we dating? technically, no. i have a boyfriend, i tell him stories about chris (which i'm sure he hates but i don't care), and we never talk about being anything more than friends. but we only dance with each other when we're at the club together, we go out alone, and talk like two people dating and trying to get to know each other would. interesting...

it is cold outside, and wet, and cloudy. it reflects my mood quite well... something deep inside feels uneasy and has me on edge. i'm not quite sure of what's going on. last night my boyfriend asked me if i felt that we had grown apart... i told him no (and i wasn't lying), but i think he feels differently. then he asked if i was seeing anyone else out here in austin??? i wanted to tell him not to put his insecurites on me. but i was nice. i just told him no. i told him that i wouldn't do such a thing to him. and then i gave him 101 reasons why. i should have said "fuck you" and hung up the phone... i don't really think that this has anything to do with me. i think that he either has done something or wants to do something...which honestly doesn't bother me. i just want him to be honest. the thing is, though, i'm not being completely honest. i want to talk to other guys. i want to date around. part of me is holding back because i have so much invested in this relationship and i love him. i don't want to break it off and regret it. but another, maybe larger part of me is fed up with his lack of drive, immaturity and selfishness. every week i realize more and more that he's not the man i want to marry. maybe it's just a phase? i'm not quite ready to have him out of my life. but i'm also not in the mood to play all of that john legend, ordinary people bullshit. i'm just not sure that it's worth it. there are so many days when i wonder how/why we've even come this far together. but he's taught me alot about myself: to take myself less seriously, not to get angry so quickly, to be more affectionate, to appreciate sports... i appreciate him for that; i really do. but maybe we've outgrown each other. at least maybe i've outgrown him...

what would jesus do?

lately i keep having hearing and reading conversations about the purpose of life... purpose? i think, "who cares?". i think, "what's the point in trying to look for a deep meaning?". for me, what is important is not the meaning, but what i do with my life. i don't know if that makes sense... what do we hope to get out of knowing the "meaning" of life? clarity? direction? happiness? yolanda (adams) said that it's not about reaching the end of the journey, but experiencing the process. my advisor said that sometimes you take classes and wonder what it's going to do for you, and you don't realize until the end how it helped you. that's how i'm starting to look at life. sometimes i wonder why the hell i'm in grad school, why i didn't pursue my childhood dreams of being a fashion designer or a magazine editor, why i don't just open a coffee shop or go move to a mediterranean village. but then i think of the people that i've met, the experiences that i've having, and the person that i am daily becoming. and that's how i know that i am where i am supposed to be.

so i don't really care about the meaning; i care about how i live my life and the decisions that i make to evolve in the the type of person worthy of god's love. i want to become more compassionate like jesus - call me corny, but i look to him as a leader of the revolution just as i would toni cade or malcolm x or che... or even mother theresa. i struggle not to give into the temptation to live a completely self-centered lifestyle focused on acquiring material wealth. but what about cute shoes? ...and i want to help change the academy to make marginalized groups valued both as students in the classroom and in books as subjects of study. but what about tenure, salaries, and recognition? i want to never feel that being rich is more important than living my dreams, that wearing clever outfits is never more important than noticing that the person next to you is struggling, that i'm never too perfect to embrace another perspective and change, that i'm never too busy to know whether my friends and family are healthy and happy, and that the world is never to screwed up to fix... i want to appreciate good food and wine while helping children learn how to read, and to save for a house while giving money to help send black women to college... what would jesus do if he lived here today with us? would he live with the poor?, because i don't know if that would help (and i honestly don't know if i could do that). would he become rich like oprah so he could give back? would he become a teacher? would he start an ngo like daison? would he fight the government that has so many of us distracted from the use of our tax money to kill and pursue economic ventures for their friends? would he be a poet? what would jesus think of me? i guess i won't know until it's over and done... i want to become a person that god would approve of... but, who is that person?

p.s. i knot that this is really random and has nothing to do with my post, but i just saw a hip-hop old-head walk by... but he was white. picture a tall thin middle-age white man with a pharell-type hat cocked to the side, baggy jeans, a big t-shirt, and sneakers, but with classes and a brief case. i wish i took a picture.

i have a little crush... yes, i know that i have a boyfriend, but CLEARLY he isn't here (and he's also not doing shit back in atlanta...). there's this guy (sorry alii another guy) that i've been hanging out with. and it's very fun- full of conversation, new experiences and good dancing. so i'm in the early stages of the crush, where you randomly think about the person and wonder what it would be like to do such and such... you know that initial exposure to a person who you don't really know, so you have to invent them in your head; that period without personal flaws exposed, wondering what's next, not even near getting on each other's nerves, or -dare i say it- the first kiss. oh dear... dear, dear, dear. is this cheating? i haven't done anything. and it's all in my head. but maybe i want to? and i knew i was in full crush mode when i pulled out my Ella cd of love ballads, only for the grown and sexy... and i've been inspired to listen to sade in the middle of the afternoon... what a wonderful little place to be in, to space out in class thinking about salsa dancing or driving or just talking and laughing. perhaps i can still have my sex and the city and live in austin.

walking on cloud nine

right now i am alert, antsy, a little spacy and... full? for the first time since coming to austin i can say that i am truly happy. not just happy, but in a state of overwhelming euphoria. i'm not quite sure when it happened.

thursday i met up with some friends at a jazz club at this spot called the elephant room. it hosts music groups from central austin throughout the week. thursday's group included the one of the finest men i have ever seen... i was ready to establish the "pedro the trumpet player" (also known as pete) fan club, that is until i found out that he was married. i still think he's sexy. then my friend natasha and i went walking and found a salsa club. i had my own humbling experience when a white man tried to tell me what was wrong with my steps. ya'll know i wasn't havin' that. i pretended to be listening to his suggestions, though i was actually thinking of how this was my first and last dance ever with a middle-aged white man. i'm still salty.

last night i met up with my friend martin, a trombone player getting his masters in music at UT. somehow i found myself back at the salsa club (with the same white man) listening to a live salsa band. i was pleasantly suprised to find sexy pete playing in the band:) my friend natasha and javier joined us for a few dances. later we went to another club that played ALL DIRTY SOUTH MUSIC!!! who knew that austin could get down!? ...actually, this blog is doing nothing to convey my excitement... all i can say is that i woke up with a smile on my face.

austin isn't as bad as i thought; it has its perks, like an incredible live music scene (currently, i'm at a cafe drinking ice coffee watching couples swing dance to a live old-school type big band). i feel quite comfortable with when and how i am. who knows, maybe austin may one day feel like home...

guess who's bzack

these past few weeks i've been trying to adjust my personal style to to be... more professional. i've never been so lost as a fashionista in my life. see, the thing with UT is that -on top of being stereotypical lame-looking graduate students- most people are the original t-shirt and jeans dressers. it hurts me every single day. i tried to do the slacks with nice shirts and cute shoes. but i was too dressy. so i began to embrace the "graduate fashion" -- the i'm-trying-to-reflect-some-style-while-looking-like-i-had-too-much-work-to-do-to-look-cute look; the laid-back and feminine with bland clothing that reflects absolutely nothing about my personality look (except maybe that i like pastel blue); and finally the i'm trying to look feminine but i have no concept of style beyond wearing skirts look. it's a damn shame. and to think that i began to look like them.

but yesterday was the worst: i wore a pair of perfectly cute blue pinstripe long shorts with a WASHED OUT HANES T-SHIRT AND FLIP FLOPS. i was so ashamed that i rushed off of campus the minute that class was over. i hope to never return to such a low place again. this morning i began thinking about the often fashion-centered world of spelman and atl. how had i deviated so far from the path of growth along which i had been traveling? and instead of picking out another lame skirt i put on one of my favorite pairs of jeans (i only have two) with a sheer pink blouse. and then i realized what was missing from my life: HEELS. yes that's right, the heels are back. and i don't care if i'm the only one on campus wearing them. i need to maintain the last of the pride that i have left. so take that! the real takkara is back, with heels. fuck flip flops.

(note: for all of you flip-flop wearing ladies, i'm not saying that they are anti-fashion. i just don't think that they go with every outfit...)

p.s. this morning i went to a seminar on gender and film. i found myself surrounded by some of the worst chunky, strappy, no personality-having shoes of my life. i've never felt so on top of my game.

check it out

so i had a purpose in coming to this site. i was going to write a blog about... something to do with my day. however, before i got to this point, i saw alysia's most recent blog. ya'll need to check it out ASAP. i've never been so happy to be black.

i remember when i first learned of death. i was five, maybe six, taking a shower while my mother sat in the bathroom and talked with me. i don't remember how it came out, but i do remember being stunned. how was it that we could no longer be?

i feel guilty for being angry. i feel that i've allowed myself to be overcome by my inner pessimism that i am constantly fighting. it's not that i can't laugh or see the humor in everyday things, but i am constantly aware of the pain/suffering/grief inherent in so many experiences.

i have cried three times in the past 24 hours. first i cried while i was reading an article for class. joan dayan critiqued paul gilroy's the black atlantic for its lack of connection to reality. in a very dense two hundred and twenty-something pages he discussed the aspirations of black intellectuals and performers to address issues of race that stem from a history of slavery. dayan argued that gilroy missed some crucial elements in this discussion, namely that there is a material reality of racism visible beyond intellectual and artistic discourses. she pointed to the prison population of which fifty percent of black males. i couldn't help but look up and think of how few of us there are here at this institution of 50,000. she also suggested that a critique of the black atlantic needed to acknowledge the system in which so many of us are not even given the opportunity address our circumstances. it was yet another reminder that, while i am here dedicated to the study of race/gender/class/etc., there are people in the world dying and struggling to live.

later, on my way to class, i found out that nikia died. you take for granted the relationships that you have, whether they be intimate or in passing. i remember her as a warm, friendly, caring person who always made me feel welcome. i admired her sense of style and her dedication to the history department: all of the times she rolled the tv into class when professors were running late, helping me sign up for phi delta theta, and wearing t-shirts advertising the first annual history day. there are so many images that stand out in my mind...to think that i took them all for granted. i can't believe that she's gone. i can't believe that she was so young. that she went so fast. that she probably never saw it coming. part of it is so very surreal, but the bulk of it is so very real. i pray for the strength of her family, friends, and for spelman.

then, this morning, i read deLaine's blog. it breaks my heart to see how we allow low self-esteem to put us in circumstances that jeopordize our mental, phyhsical, and emotional health and development. i feel like i have come to a place where i am slowly losing faith in black men. more and more i meet black men who prove my stereotypical images true as selfish, self-centered, misogynistic, materialistic, and close-minded people. not that this can't be found in others, but i'm not attracted to them. ...beyond that, i struggle with standing up for what is right, "choosing battles"... there are all of these messages that tell us to back-down. don't fight your teachers who hold your degree in their hands. dont' call people out on their ignorance because they are your future collegues and you want them to like you (but do i really?). don't stand up for the woman being disrespected because they may harm you... do i live as a coward or risk death as woman of morals and ideals?

and yet i am alive to feel. maybe this is good for me- anyone who knows me knows that i am not good with dealing with the emotional aspects of life. maybe this is part of what yolanda adams refers to as "the process." i don't consider these to be bad days or even hard, just overhwhelming. and yet i am so fortunate to be here in this moment and just be.

in the eye of the beholder

so lately i've noticed that i've become increasingly angry (yes, moya, you are very right). at first i thought it was part of my adusting to austin. then i assumed that it was a part of being a grad student. but i kept thinking-- no, i'm not quite hitting it on the head... then it hit me: I AM SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED

this frustration is only increased by the fact that my boyfriend is in atlanta, and infidelity is not an option. not that i could if i wanted to... there are only ten black men over 21 in austin. (side note: is this topic of discussion politically correct even within the territory of blogs???)

so while i was originally going to write another angry blog, i decided to save that for later and pay tribute to my current mental state. i'd like to acknowledge just how bad it's gotten here in the "atx" (like the atl... i think it's stupid too).

what i mean is that, once you stop looking for this generation's denzel to walk around the corner, you realize that there are "attractive" men everywhere. "attractive" is a very subjective concept anyway. take my recent encounters for example:

1. there is this very cute, very tall and slightly dorky white boy in my cohort who i keep seeing at my favorite coffee shop. he seems very straight-laced from the outside, but a recent conversation revealed that he's a little shy and awkward. i find this to be incredibly sexy. ...actually, i'd be attracted to him anyway...
2. there is a Black grad student in the music department who has been one of the most welcoming people i've encountered since beginning the semester. i met up with him and another friend at the club last week. he is a textbook nerd, but he's still cool; he talks about classes, practicing for performances, and mentoring students a lot, but he also likes dirty south music. plus he has a cute little butt, and when i saw a cute outfit that was very proper but casual. and an an abercrombie hat...i'd probably be attracted to him under normal circumstances also
3. last night i went out with a group of people who live with my friend, including a seemingly lame white boy. his overwhelming lameness diminished greatly after realizing that he was one of the friendliest people i'd crossed paths with all week. he even made me laugh with his unapologetic dance moves to the yin yang twins. later i thought, "maybe i could take him home..."
4. even a big boy, with a black dress hat and matching bead on his cornrows, becomes cute when moving and shaking across the floor walkin' it "like a dog" to music that only Black texans have ever heard of.
5. right now i'm looking at a punk-ish guy outside with tattoos covering his arms and a lip ring. something about that scruffy, bad-boy look keeps me from focusing on the book that i've been trying to read for the past several hours.

do me a favor, if any of you run into any attractive Black men in your neck of the woods, could you send me a picture?

frustrations

today, so far, is a why day... one of those days that you constantly find yourself asking, "why?" like why all of the attractive men in austin can only be found riding the bus... or why limewire will let me download samba music, but apparently it doesn't consider salsa to be its own genre... better yet, why can't there exist a nice apartment near campus that's affordable so that i don't have to ride the bus for one and a half hours every day? why isn't there a decent coffee shop near my apartment? why is it 96 degrees outside, but i have a cold? and why has my professor sent me and my classmates on a wild goose chase to find an article in a journal that secretly doesn't exist?

I'm in the middle of reading this book on U.S.- Latin American
foreign relations, and learning about how the U.S. has fucked up almost
every attempt for sovereign nations to pursue social reform and
economic development in its own quest for "freedom" and "democracy." I
thought I knew something about the United States' foreign policy, but
I've never been so ashamed to be a part of a society- who's government
I don't even feel connected to -as I do now. Even worse, I now
understand that the model and language used to invade and destroy Iraq
began not after 9/11, but shortly after the U.S. claimed its
independence in the eighteenth century.

Even more frustrating is the blatant failure of the government to
properly respond to the struggling and displaced people of Louisiana
and Mississippi. I would expect that they ignore the thousands of
Blacks living in poverty in their daily lives. But to know that they
stand by knowing that people are without the resources to evacuate, and
then literally/physically pass by and ignore their cries for help,
blows my mind. Coming from an HBCU, I have a special place in my heart
for Black institutions of higher learning. Four have been damaged in
the past week. Who knows when and if they will be able to reopen. I
can't help but think of all the students of color who are affected.

What's more frustrating is the silence here at the overwhelmingly
white institution that is the University of Texas. No one has talked
about it. I've seen only one fundraiser (sponsored by a black
fraternity). The people in my program continue to plan for nights out
at the bar without even a moment of reflection. It's like damn, does
race really color your perception of humanity to the extent that you
are unaffected when hundreds of people seven hours away have died? Can
you not feel anything beyond keeping your blonde highlights fresh,
buying Live Strong bracelets, and giving a dollar for the Tsunami? I
know that I am preaching to the choir, but I am frustrated, and angry,
and feeling helpless. Our struggle is so deep within and so far beyond
the academy.

yesterday we had our history dept graduate reception. it included a mix of new and senior students, professors and faculty. i was the only black person there. i expected some sort of culture shock in attending UT at Austin, but i've been fine. however, yesterday, during our first interactions, people started acting up. in particular, one man attempted to check me during a simple conversation. the graduate coordinator introduced him to me. he was wearing a shirt, tie and dress slacks. i say this because the majority of students wear jeans, washed-out t-shirts, and flip-flops. i assumed he was a professor. within thirty seconds of talking he questioned a simple response to one of his questions. giving him the benefit of a doubt, i wondered if i was unclear. later, when talking about my travels to Cuba, he asked if Cubans or Americans arranged the travel tours. i responded, "us." he asked, "who's us?" now at this point i want to say, "negro, who do you think is us? do are either of us from Cuba?" instead, i respond, people from the U.S. [side note: i think we need to get out of the habit of using the term American in referring to people from the U.S. i know that it's how we're socialized, but it's a bit arrogant to label ourselves as "Americans" and all other people in the Americas by their respective nationalities]. this is when the alarm finally goes off, and i move to talk to someone else.

earlier in the day, i went to a Black graduate student reception. the director of the Center for African and African American Studies (CAAAS) acknowledged that students in Ph.D. and masters programs often receive the lowest funding offers. he said that while they knew we were qualified, our departments often think otherwise. and while were are aware of racism as children- and speak of it often at Spelman- i think that there is little that can prepare us for the hurt and frustration that comes from being viewed/treated as less simply for being Black women. i hope that i never get used to it; doing so would mean that i had fully embraced cynicism and lost hope.

meanwhile, i think there are several ways to deal with it. we can fight it. we can find humor in it. and we can work to assure each other that we are smart, capable, and entitled. they've been told it their whole lives.

i for one have a new mantra. ready? I AM THE SHIT. why? because i am twenty-two years-old, i got into one of my top PhD programs -on the first round, WITH FUNDING- and i'm living my dream, and i'm just getting started. i think that everyone who reads this to tell them shit that they are the shit too. and we're not going to down to our imbedded gender behaviors that make us feel guilty for being aware of our inner brilliance. i'm not a bitch or cocky or snobby. i'm confident. and i'm going to keep telling myself that i'm the shit until i learn another way to deal with bullshit. who knows, i just might put it on a t-shirt.

another birthday

today is my 22nd birthday. damn, i'm 22 years old... it's weird how birthdays evolve. when you're little your parents pull out the stops. you get the cake, cards, presents, etc. you learn to count each year using your fingers. you anxiously await the day on which everyone seems to be celebrating you. you even pick out your presents weeks before the big day. and birthday parties are the best. but, as you get older, birthdays lose their importance. you have cake with your family. maybe go out with a few friends. i can't say that i haven't had some memorable days.

i went to my first college party on my eighteenth birthday. my new friends at spelman took me out for my first cheesecake factory experience. then we went to a hotel party and met a whole bunch of dudes i was too intimidated to talk to. and, being freshmen, we had to leave EARLY before most people had arrived to make dorm curfew. i'm still mad at the girls of HH who were fast and had to sneak out for who knows what during orientation week.

on my nineteenth birthday my freshman clique and i had a reunion at cafe intermezzo. who knew that- because of sorority bullshit (actually, it had little to do with the organization and more with the obsession of being a member)- we'd barely speak to each other by the end of the year.

my twentieth birthday was THE BOMB. i was living in havana, cuba. i told everyone i wanted to spend the big day drunk and dancing salsa in a club. we went out deep through the streets of the new city like we were running things. stacey, ronni, tasha, ashley, deLaine and i were such pimps that we had a huge group of dudes with us. some of them were even cute.

last year i wore a cute white skirt i payed way too much money for (note to self: get cute skirt dry cleaned). went to wild curry with deLaine, moya and moya's friend brandy. coincidentally, brandy and i shared the same birthday. my roommates, moya and i spent the night at club shadows. we had guys buying us drinks all night. that night was only the begining; a new world really does open up when you turn twenty one.

and here i am today. i got up and got dressed. played with my sexy ibook. talked to friends. my two-year-old goddaughter called me and sang happy birthday with her mother (she only knows when to say "you"). ate dinner with my dad, aunt and uncle. now i'm watching a movie. and i'm quite satisfied. no cake, no candles... for my birthday my mother bought me a washer and dryer. it's a big change from barbie dolls, but it's probably the most useful gift to date.

who knew?

i'm here in austin... well, actually, today i'm in houston visiting my aunt and her husband. i expected this transition to be quite hard, but i'm actually happy. my apartment is working out. i'm about to start some really good classes. like being in atlanta, i enjoy the freedom that i have. my latest challenge, getting to know the people in my program. it has nothing to do with them being the complete opposite of a typical spelmanite - or maybe it has everything to do with it. i've met some cool women who will run this year's gender symposium. most of the other people also seem normal... so far. only time will tell what is to come.

meanwhile - given a moment to vent - has anyone noticed the incorporation of "hip hop" music/culture into back-to-school commercials? really, "we like backpacks and we cannot lie"??? and if i see one more suburban kid in hip hop arizona jeans i'm going to scream. also, what the hell is going on with samuel l jackson's new movie? better yet what was he thinking when he stepped in front of a camera with his hair like that? is tht how he proves his street cred on the big screen? just a thought.

the g-unit tees

there is a recent fashion trend among black men in america... i think the first person to appear in these odd-looking tank tops was 50 cent. they are similar to "wife beaters," though the straps are thinner and often multi-colored. i just don't get it. i thought that 50 looked weird during some of his recent appearances, but i couldn't really pinpoint the problem. then, recently, i've noticed grown ass men around the city of atl wearing the same shirts. you can tell that they feel like the ultimate sex symbol (that for some reason people assume 50 to be). but instead of looking masculine and cool the shirts are actually kind of feminine. i just don't get it.

today was a good day

so this is officially my favorite part of the year to live in atlanta... the weather is sunny and warm. the flowers are in full bloom. ok, i know that sounds really corny. today i slept in for the first time in at least a week. got my oil changed (and it was half off with a coupon i found this morning!) found a good parking spot at school. finally found a thesis statement for my senior thesis... moya and i went to cheesecake for a late lunch and got drinks... don't sleep on lunch @ cheesecake... went to my film class. made progress on my documentary. now i'm going home to eat dinner. what more can i ask for?