It's been a while, but oh well.

I usually don't opt for "me" time, but today was a little different. Today it wasn't necessary, warranted, or even forced. It was...it was just nice to sit and think and to have my thoughts to myself. 

I didn't have to worry about any assignments due tomorrow, or even the day after. I didn't have to talk to anyone. Or console anyone. Or answer to anyone. 

It was just me. My TV. My room. My music. My space.

I just wish I gave myself more times like this. Sometimes I get so caught up in people, places, and things that the idea of solitary-me is out of the ordinary. But when you let it - the quiet can be comforting or liberating - or both. 

Undecided

Today, my dad told my younger brother and I to know and remember this: everyone has a little bit of prejudice in them. 

Maybe out of naivete or sheer belief, my brother disagreed, citing himself as an example. Me? Not so much. It sounds simple enough to pick one side or the other, but is it truly? The idea, or rather the concept, is something that I can't seem to fit my head around. At least not right now.

So I just wanted to write it down. Let it marinate. And maybe tomorrow, or another day I'll be able to assign words to my thoughts...come back to it later. 

You as my witness... that's what I shall do.  

(Sort of) An Internal Battle

Maybe its just me, but it takes a lot for me to actually go out and BUY an album. Its not that I don't want to support artists, its just that I don't really have a real job, thus I hate paying dollars and cents for something I know I can own for $free.99 

Sidenote: I actually got into a rather heated discussion with a Mr. Chad Hermann of Post-Gazette blog "fame," about this topic. According to him, as an English Writing major - someone who wishes to one day be paid for her artistic endeavors - I should be willing to support others who are attempting to do the same. Anything else would be hypocritical. And I suppose that is understandable - Sir. But he, with a full time job, and salary, hails from quite I different circumstance than myself. Living off of a refund check is hard to do, and if I have to choose between lunch and a new cd - why not choose both?  If at all possible, I try to skip the illegality of downloading music by getting from my roommate, a friend, or coping it from the radio station I DJ for. But its not always so easy, especially when I am home, just me, myself, and I with no roommate or radio station within reach. 

So every time I anticipate a new release, I fight with this internal battle: to buy or not to buy?Its harder than it might appear - trust me. 

But I've developed a system - criterion if you will:

The album must A.) Be by a worthy, and trusted artist - one who has proven his or herself thus far (Except for Kanye - I drew the line at Graduation boo). B.) Be a car classic - something that I can, will, and want to bump en route, whether it be to the grocery store, the mall, or the club C.) Not be more than $12.99 - these stores charging $18.99 for a CD are all clearly out of the loop. 

I shoot for all 3, but 2 out of 3 ain't bad. Last ones that passed the test: T-Pain - Thr33 Ringz (although it shouldn't have) and Q-Tip the Renaissance (buy it if  youhaven't already. I love it.)

Sometimes I just need new music in my life, and Kid Cudi, Maxwell "Pretty Wings", and Gym Class Heroes were only sustaining me for so long... 

This being said... my latest investment: Chrisette Michelle's sophomore album. She's def dope. And def worth a listen.

Currently feeling tracks 1, 5, 7, 9, 12.

"From the rising of the moon, to the setting of the sun..."

Summer Reading

Since I have nothing better to do, I've compiled a rather long summer reading list:

• Sula by Toni Morrison
  
• The White Album by Joan Didion
  
• Temple of My Familiar by Alice Walker
  
• On the Road by Jack Kerouac
  
• On Beauty by Zadie Smith
  
• Up From Slavery by Booker T. Washington
  
• Breath, Eyes, Memory by Edwidge Danticat
  
• Naked by David Sedaris
  
• Notes of a Native Son by James Baldwin
  
• Maybe a lil August Wilson cuz my roommate put me on :)

Some are old - which I've been wanting to read for a while, others are new - writers who I feel like I need in my life. During school, I'm always complaining that I never have time to read what I want to read. Thankfully, this year, I had a rather dope Nonfiction teacher who opened my eyes to a Jive Talker, a Corpse Walker, Che in the flesh, a girl named Bobo, and a city formerly known as Persepolis.

And for the first time in my college career, I actually read all of them. And, for the most part I enjoyed it. So why not continue the trend? 

Btw... 16 days.

"Guarded secrets inside of my head... precious gems entrusted to me. Those words struggling to be free..."

Patience is virtue, so they say

I'm sitting here... writing this... on my phone... In Buffalo, when I should be back home. I was supposed to be back by 2:30 mind you... But somehow I find myself still sitting here in this dorm. Waiting. On Negroes. And my patience is wearing thin. Actually, my patience was thin to begin with. Is that a bad characteristic?

Its probably not the most flattering...

I just can't stand having to wait on other people - for extended periods of time with no explanation.

But instead of getting even more irritated, I'm gonna take this time for a little self-reflection. What's the rush? That's what I keep asking myself...

Life shouldn't be rushed.

"Don't you know that, patience is a virtue? (Yes it is) And life is a waiting game. Don't you know that, peace must be nurtured?"

Denial. My fairy tales (can be true if you just believe)

So... tomorrow is my little brother's first prom :) And when I mistakenly referred to his date as exactly that - a "date." He shot me down, and demoted her title to merely that of "a prom go-with-er."

Rude.

I then asked for a second opinion.. and he laughed and somewhat agreed.

If this is some kind of macho-movement, I might have to incite a counter-revolution. 

What is it with dudes that makes the idea of a "date," or anything remotely romantic or affectionate that makes them uncomfortable? Correction: what is it about calling those things what they are that makes them uncomfortable? 

If my bf were reading this, he would probably tell me that I need to see both sides of the story... that labelling (or not labelling) something does not take from its meaning or value. That "a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." And while this may be true, I feel like we should be able to acknowledge the events and people in our lives. Sometimes that acknowledgement means attempting to describe to the world what they mean to us through the only way we (or at least I) know how - through words - not to gain the worlds approval, but instead to self-articulate. 

"No matter what I say its nothing but words. Just trying to prove to you what I know is real. Let me express to you the way that I feel."

Some niggas recognize the light but can't handle the glare

So every time I see this, it makes me all warm and toasty inside:

Its a piece by Glenn Ligon ("We are the ink that gives the white page a meaning").

Negro. Sunshine. The irony... I love it. Something tells me that the average person would be hesitant to put the two words together. They appear to be polar opposites. Negro literally means Black... in more languages than one. And sunshine refers to those direct rays of light, unbroken by cloud. Therefore, it seems contradictory to combine them. But why? Isn't it in the darkest of corners where a ray of light has the most meaning? Don't you need the dark to be able to recognize the light? The existence of one, allows for the existence of the other.  This is not to say that Black people need White people in order to define themselves as a group, or vice-versa. It is simply a thought that without the social construct known as race, that we use and enforce, one's "Blackness," or "Whiteness," or "Asian-ness," or "Latino-ness" might simply be lost and defined only as "selfness." At least the way I see it, in order to have a distinct and collective identity, there needs to be something to which it compares - something it is distinct from.

Just a thought...

"There is a light that shines, special for you and me..."

From my stoop I stand

With this day, I hold that my summer has officially started. 

As I sit on the front porch watching the slow, silent, and damn near deserted place that is suburbia... I can honestly say that it feels good to have nothing on my plate. I usually thrive on an agenda: the need to have a time and a place to be. I suppose it makes me feel as if I have a purpose. This usually manifests itself in a flurry of meetings, organizations, and extracurricular activities. Last summer this meant not only was I working 40 hrs a week at the YMCA with those lil bas ass kids that I loved so much, but I was also slaving at Banana Republic, and volunteering at the Literacy volunteers in my spare time. I was busy, but I was never bored and never broke. 

But right now feels somewhat different. I don't have anywhere to be, nor anyone to be with, at any point in time. (At least for these next 3 weeks). It's kind of nice to just be able to sit. And think. And watch. And listen. And write. Maybe this'll be the summer that I get a headstart on that book I swear lays dormant inside me. Why not.

India.Arie and Mirah are where I am in my life right now, and I think that's a beautiful thing:

"Been around the whole world, still ain't seen nothing like my neighborhood. And of all the fancy satins and silks, my white cotton feels so good. Search high and low for a place where I can lay my burdens down. Ain't nothing in the world like the peace that I have found..."  

Newfound glory

So... I'm not sure what this means, but I've decided, possibly out of sheer boredom, that I'm going to go on a run - yep, I said it - a run. 

I am by no means athletic, or health conscious. But laying around the house makes me feel fat and I am determined to do something about it.

Just thought I'd share.

I'll let you know how it goes lol.

Oh yeah... 21 days.

1:40pm update: This is ridiculous. I am so completely out of shape, and EVEN THOUGH I took my inhaler before I almost passed out mid-jog. It wasn't even that hot, and then my legs started tingling, and I got lightheaded and had to walk pretty much the rest of the way. But I did get in a good 35 min. of cardio, and for that I'm proud. So, working out def has to be put on my list of things to do this summer... that and discover a new fav author. I'm starting with Joan Didion.

Home, Sweet Home?

So I've been back in Rochester for not even 24 hours.

Is it a bad thing that I already don't want to be here?

They say home is where the heart is. And while I know, and love the place from whence I came, I truly feel like I could do without it. 

I'm beyond boredom... and I simply can't deal with it. Or maybe its deeper than that. I'm beginning to think I've simply out grown it. I've moved away, in more ways than one and I'm beginning to feel like a stranger in my own skin. The house is the same. The streets are familiar. But somehow... the feeling is not. 

The family is lovely. And the food is great. But beyond that... nothing here even slightly begins to beg my presence. Half my friends are gone. And the other half are still in Pittsburgh. And I hate feeling like I'm trapped inside with nowhere to go on days like this... where a trip to the grocery store is the highlight of my day, and the only reason to put on some clothes. Summer is not supposed to be like this.

But then again its still only April. 

And so the countdown begins... 23 days until London.

Brownie

An outside of body experience,

I am the onlooker no longer the actor

The listener, no longer the voice

Watching

Waning

Waiting

For something to come or someone to follow

Because otherwise it seems I'm just walking blindly

seeing all but understanding less

eyes masked by the sinfulness of it all

vision blurred by the confusion its begun

to unfold

from paradise to purgatory

purgatory to paradise...

Take 562

Once again, I've decided to embark on this journey that we call blogging.

Usually such an act on my part is nothing more than a temporary pasttime. For historical reference I considered including post from my previous blogs. But I won't. Each is representative of a separate moment in my feelings, my thoughts, and my life. Thus, each is to stand on its own. And this blog is no different. 

And so it begins... and we'll see what happens.