I decided to walk home from Temple's campus on Thursday night.
It was nice out - brisk but unseasonably warm too.
The sun was peaking out just so, and I wanted to let it seep into my skin just a bit more.

So I began my walk; I headed straight up 13th sreet, then took a left at Girard.
Stay on the main streets, I told myself.
Your 'hard' face ain't gonna scare nobody for real.
So stay on the main streets I did.

It was nice, my walk.
Filled with Lizz Wright, and India, and Traci, and Corinne.
It was smiles and oh it's so nices, and pretty flowers.
It was seeing parts of North Philly I hadn't yet seen by foot.

Until it wasn't.

Until I got to Girard. Up Girard.
Until I got to the dark.

By that time, the sun had set, no longer illuminating my way.
I was affected by the darkness.
The absence of light had awakened in me a stiffness,
Where before there was just easy and breezy and lalalala-y.

I became stiff, and untrusting,
I developed a twitch at the neck - looked back every few seconds to keep the dude behind me in check.
All I saw was brokenness, and abandonment.
'Shady' lookin gas stations and rinky-dink stores.
All I saw was dark.

And then I was pissed.
Why was I feeling so uptight?
Why was the darkness changing me so?
Why did I let it?

It was like, as soon as I stopped seeing white folks I became nervous.
No - it wasn't like, oh, there are no white people around, that makes me nervous.
It was 'coincidence' (I think not) that this shady darkness was indeed full of dark people.
What is it about the shadows, about blackness - both literal and metaphorical - that scares.

I mean, I'm critical of these things.
Why in the hell did I let myself be scared?
Clutching my bags tighter and tighter as I walked past people.
It's because this area is dangerous, I told myself.
The Kensington strangler, the boat loads of shootings, etc. that grace the news reported live from this block.
That's why I was scared.

But still, I was pissed.
Even more pissed when I got to the place that was well lit,
And suddenly the mouth went up,
The shoulders came down,
The grip - loosened.

And 'coincidentally' there were less and less brown people.
And somehow I was relieved.
Relieved. Relieved. Relieved.

Relieved.

Have I got to a place where I feel more comfortable being the only one (or two or three)?


fall springs upon me like
new winds and full moons.

like the dusty reds of broken hearts.

the smell of fresh dirt
attacks my nostrils like
like
like - the dew rain in mississippi.

it's a strange feeling:
fall.

it's sensual overload.
it's like a brand-new pack of crayolas
and too many pages in my favorite coloring book.

but i love it:
fall.

the earth signals change,
and so, like a child heeding her mother -
i will follow.

so I was home last week for my mom's surgery (hysterectomy), and watched this cheesetastic movie with hillary duff (a cinderalla story). despite it's cheesiness (which, is in keeping with the me of me), i was struck by the quote:

"NEVER LET THE FEAR OF FAILURE KEEP YOU OUT OF THE GAME."

later on that week, I had a major breakdown, during which my parents tried their darndest to convince me that i'm smart, that i'm not a phoney, that i can be in academia and thrive.

this all started in part because i've been avoiding chapter two (lit review) of my diss proposal. i've been avoiding it because i don't think i have anything to offer, say, critique, etc. i KNOW that's not true, but when i get in front of a computer, those thoughts begin to infiltrate my brain like uncontrollable internet virus on speed.

then my dad, in his typical wisdom, said,
"so, you're afraid to write because you're afraid of failing?"
ummm...yea dad, I guess I am. then i remembered the quote from the cheesemovie, and began to think...hmmmmm....signs????

what makes this stage of getting a phd so hard is that the stakes are HIGH. and for me, mediocrity is not an option. but when your fear of failure, of wanting to be brilliant, of writing (which is ummm, just a weebit important) transfers into opting out, it must be revisited.

where am i now? let's just say i'm revisiting...

so i'm doing my daily blogroll on google reader, and i come across this lookbook from nom de guerre, a fashion co that's fall lookbook is called "countdown to violence."

read a snippet on the inspiration here.

then look through the lookbook.






since i really want feedback before I give my opinion, please look through those link and share. thoughts??

"For women - poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence. It forms the quality of the light within which we predicate our hopes and dreams toward survival and change, first made into language, then into idea, then into more tangible action. Poetry is the way we help give name to the nameless so it can be thought. The farthest horizons of our hopes and fears are cobbled by our poems, carved from the rock experiences of our daily lives."
 Audre Lorde, "Poetry is not a Luxury", from Sister Outsider

since i don't have my computer (long story) right now, i can't upload this song (i'll come back later and do it), i'll just go ahead and recommend paying the $1 on itunes, it's well worth it.

Artist: Dvorak
Album: String Quartet No.1 in E Minor, From My Life
Track: III, Largo Sostenuto

put on some headphones, turn it all the way up, and just meditate on the song. i know(some) folks think that classical music is the dreads, but this song makes me tear up every time i hear it. it's sighs and gasps, and highs and lows. i love every moment of it.

what i've been working on. a literature map to help me sort my thoughts.

Grow These Plants if You Love to PartyGarden Party: "

Nothing makes guests feel more welcome than homegrown ingredients and touches, be they edible or decorative. Obvious marijuana jokes aside, there are lots of great plants to cultivate in your garden if you love to throw parties. I've chosen a handful of favorites, all of which are relatively easy to grow, lovely to look at, and practical for entertaining.



Read Full Post"

I'm selling $5 (or 5 for $20) raffle tickets for PIAP's 3rd annual pink party (09 October 10)! Enter for a chance to win an iPad, 27" flat screen, Nintendo Wii. $150 AMEX giftcard, OR to just support the cause!!! Email, im, or call me!


i wrote on Monday that I was going to take the 24hours that my bff suggested I take. turns out, I needed a little bit more than that. more like 48 hours. after i did my first training for yoga work exchange (the coolest thing! 2 hours of work/wk for 2 free sessions!), I was a bit tired, so i decided to just go to bed.

truth is i'm tired now, but i'd somehow find the energy i needed if i were planning on going to a happy hour, a thrift store, or a bookstore (all of which are options at this point, lol). so i must challenge myself to be productive tonight. even if i only work for 2 hours - or 30 minutes. i need to get somewhere. i will be happy if i write a coherent paragraph. 

so onward i go (keep your fingers crossed that i don't lose any more documents!).


unt*-

lboog

a few faves (in no particular order):

  1. Home Sweet Home
  2. Apartment Therapy
  3. Le Coil
  4. Not Couture
  5. New York Times Lens
  6. Schubox
  7. Modcloth
  8. Feminist Hulk
  9. Etsy

mi pollo loca told me today - 
"i think you should really pray and meditate on what is holding u back".
what she was referring to was my stress about not being able to "grind" when necessary. i have a deadline - Chapter 2 (lit review) to my diss chair by August 1st. that's this Sunday. i.e. t-minues 6 days. she then proceeded to recommend taking 24 hours - 
"meditate, pray, do something fun!!!!!" 
i wish i could afford to : that was my response.
what's got me thinking now is, can I afford N O T to? 
what is this unshakable tendency in me that refuses to think that the brain, just like every other organ or living organism, needs, well...a BREAK???? 

it's just supposed to "WORK". like - all of the time.
all of the time?
really, Krystal?

i suppose there is some inherent logic in "re-booting" from time to time, since the likelihood of my brain just working like new without having some time to hibernate is, ummm, UNlikely. 

it's 6:09. i'm still at work (i ain't gots no internet at home, grr).  i've decided that thischickrighthere is right. i need some mental (and emotional, because let's face it, this thang is a labour of love)space.

so here's my 24 hour, i'm-not-gonna-think-about-my-dissertation, plan - 

  1. wanderlust at target (bikes, electronics, whatever).
  2. go home and spend some qt with magoo and esme (my cats).
  3. yoga 
  4. meditate, read, and pray (question for the Mighty Counselor: what is it that's holding me back? why can't i accept the power that you have given to me? what is it that makes me afraid to embrace my talents? how can i move beyond this fear (of being stupid)?  
  5. watch empty television (a la Disney channel, HGTV, Food Network, maybe the recorded episode of Mad Men from last night).
  6. Bed - early!
  7. Wake up - early!
  8. Go for a walk/jog (around my block, Kelly Drive, who knows)
  9. Workout @ gym
  10. Work (it's fun, really, if i had a sucky job this little sitchiachun would be waaaaay worse!).
  11. Make a list of reasonable work goals for the night, and mix in some play
  12. Back to the grind.  
here's my mantra - God created me in His/Her own image. start reflecting.

until next time party peoples.

~lboog
  

vintage bike. also - want.
i want. from Uhuru furniture's blog.

power lines
cool jet streaks @ the franklins
and again ;-)
snow in el paso, just ain't right.

some pictures of good ole e.p. (you know, the old West Texas town?) -

focus
(feels like i need some hocus pocus)

because my eyes drift from table -
to floor
to out of...

focus.

why can't i focus?
even to write this poem?

So I decided that I'd actually share some of my poetry, just in cases someone needs to be a little inspired, or angered, or just stimulated in some way or another. I wrote this one about 3 months ago, was just in one of those moods. Will post more as the universe inspires me...

Speak Love, Speak Light/


When everything is going so bad/
And life seems to slip away,/
When the sun, the moon, the stars/
Have lost their magic to hold, to/
Captivate—/

Fear creeps in,/
Like a good ole friend/
And lies between the sheets/
As lovers do./

When the very faith/
That once grounded you to/
Your breath/
No longer seems, to be,/
Anywhere/

The power to give up/
Rises like tides and/
Breaches the north shore of/
Your heart./

Tears flood your mouth./
Your feet, no longer/
Steady in that once held faith,/
Pant rapidly for air/

Grab hold to the levees,/
Buckle your knees against/
That tide—/

Speak love,/
Speak light./
Hold it in your heart./
Speak love,/
Speak light./
Don’t ever let it go./

When earthquakes/
Typhoons/
And blizzards/
Occupy—/

When the enemy has/
Taken territory in your/
Deepest of, most sacred of/
Places/

When inhale/
Exhale/
Inhale/
Exhale/
Lacks—/
When air itself is gone—/

Speak love,/
Speak light./
Hold it in your heart./
Speak love,/
Speak light./
Don’t ever let it go./

You must—/
or die./


IMG_6946, originally uploaded by SelassiePickney.

Just trying this thing out from inside of Flickr's page.

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