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...