You wonder how the mind of someone with an attention deficit works? Let me tell you my last three hours:
read,
spontaneously decide to go for breakfast,
write, write, write,
daydream about a jazz song I used in my civil rights class,
go to Abbey Lincoln on youtube,
think about Elle Varner and switch to her,
stern admonishment to myself to focus,
write, write, write,
see a reference to the Great Dismal Swamp,
wonder what's the difference between a swamp and marsh,
realize I can't define either,
look both up,
began reading a dissertation about the melding of cultures in the Great Dismal Swamp,
intrigued by the existence of maroon colonies there,
began to search for more info on that,
FOCUS, elle!
write, write...
hey maybe I need a break,
read 10 pages, the heroine in the book roasted some tomatoes,
ooh that would be good!
let me go to foodnetwork.com and look up a good recipe...
hey, the Neelys baked tomatoes yesterday--let me see when that comes back on, is there a bug caught between my blinds and window?
why yes there is! somebody come kill it!
focus, girl.
write...
take time from what I am working on to jot down more words for the blog post I am writing out by hand about Trayvon Martin
I am now appropriately medicated, but that is going to make me soooo sleepy. But until then, write, write, write...
Uh-oh, my nephew just asked me to help him find baseball movies on Netflix...
I don't know how I get anything done.
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Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
FYI:
"Some of Us Did Not Die
We're Still Here
I Guess It Was Our Destiny To Live
So Let's get on with it!"
-June Jordan (inspired by Auschwitz and Fallersleben survivor Elly Gross, who proclaimed in an interview, "I guess it was my destiny to live.")
We're Still Here
I Guess It Was Our Destiny To Live
So Let's get on with it!"
-June Jordan (inspired by Auschwitz and Fallersleben survivor Elly Gross, who proclaimed in an interview, "I guess it was my destiny to live.")
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Well...
Not a lot to say right now. But I sat down. And I wrote. And since I am off today, I hope to come up with something else. But count this as my obligatory post-every-weekday-until-you-get-back-into-the-habit post.
21 days to develop a habit, I heard.
I'm on my way!
21 days to develop a habit, I heard.
I'm on my way!
Monday, January 23, 2012
I'm Tryin'
Well, I've already surpassed the number of posts for all of 2011. And I've re-set my blog as my browser's home page, so I have to think about it.
I am hoping that this perseverance rolls over into my academic life. I've been on a writing hiatus since early-December. I really need to work on an article that is bugging me.
Wish me luck!
I am hoping that this perseverance rolls over into my academic life. I've been on a writing hiatus since early-December. I really need to work on an article that is bugging me.
Wish me luck!
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Saturday, January 14, 2012
FYI:
“I love myself when I am laughing, and then again when I am looking mean and impressive.” — Zora Neale Hurston
I love her.
That is all.
I love her.
That is all.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Link Love
So many of my friends have moved on to other venues; my blogroll was primarily a list of dead links or archived writings (valuable in their own right and I want to re-link).
I'm starting fresh! Give me ideas--I'll re-post this for a few days because I assume most people have more exciting lives than I on a Friday night. Who should I be reading?
I'm starting fresh! Give me ideas--I'll re-post this for a few days because I assume most people have more exciting lives than I on a Friday night. Who should I be reading?
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Homework
So, tonight, I have to proofread my son's book report on The Hunger Games. I have not had time to read it (I try to read along with them, but I am playing catch-up from my absolutely ridiculous laziness over the break). Description? Thesis? Trying to read about it online while skimming his copy, but I'm starting to give it the side-eye.
**Is This Thing On?**
So, the one piece of advice that I keep getting about my writer's block is, "If you want to write... then write." That means stop my procrastinating and perseverating (what a psychologist friend just called my stalling and avoidance techniques) and write.
Even if it's fluff.
Or boring.
So, in 2012, I am trying to get in the habit of writing something, ANYTHING each day. Seriously, sitting my butt down in one spot and just going for it.
So, here we go.
Even if it's fluff.
Or boring.
So, in 2012, I am trying to get in the habit of writing something, ANYTHING each day. Seriously, sitting my butt down in one spot and just going for it.
So, here we go.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Happy Blogiversary, elle, (abd) (phd)
Five years ago today, I began this blog with these words:
I think it has gone swimmingly :-) I don't post as much as I'd like, but the friends I've made, the thoughts I've worked out, the writing I've done, the realizations to which I have come all have made this one of the most important endeavors I've undertaken in my life.
I don't know what the next five years will hold. Will I have a year in which I actually post consistently? Will I finally call it quits as the tenure clock shifts my focus away from writing anything but THE BOOK (that's how I think of it--a terrifying, in-need-of-revision thing that stands between me and job security :-)? I really don't know.
But I am glad I did this!
A few minutes shy of November 29, 2005, I'm beginning a new blog. Let's see how this goes...
I think it has gone swimmingly :-) I don't post as much as I'd like, but the friends I've made, the thoughts I've worked out, the writing I've done, the realizations to which I have come all have made this one of the most important endeavors I've undertaken in my life.
I don't know what the next five years will hold. Will I have a year in which I actually post consistently? Will I finally call it quits as the tenure clock shifts my focus away from writing anything but THE BOOK (that's how I think of it--a terrifying, in-need-of-revision thing that stands between me and job security :-)? I really don't know.
But I am glad I did this!
Thursday, August 05, 2010
No Place Safe
(Wrote this a month ago. Forgot that I didn't publish it here. Will give you some idea of my summer before I start writing more)
Today, I am on the bright side of the sickest period, physically, of my life. And days ago, while I lay on my bed, thinking I might be slowly dying, my darling father actually did. To say that I am not well is an understatement. My family and friends banded together to bring me back to the city to better care and I am feeling the effects.
The nausea no longer turns me inside out.
I no longer have to close my eyes while my best friend or my mom or my sister bathes me.
I can actually make tears and jokes and dear God, words.
But just now in this hospital, the sickness has rebounded in away. I feel assaulted, so shaken, so fucking tired that I can only do the one thing I feel that I know how sometimes--write.
The other day, long dark hours ago, when I couldn't speak and my mother was telling one of the aditting doctors that I was a professor, and of history no less, I should've felt the warning come of him, but Lord I was so ill. He said something like, "A-ha! Is she ready?"
He came back today. I was not ready. He pulled his chair up in the middle of this room where my mother and I sit now and began with the questions. What did I teach? Surely I realized the broad scope of my fall classes? Had there been black films made in a protest tradition? Could I find copies of them?
Did I get the Amazon suggestions he left at my bedside table the other night while I was vomiting--books I should read as a historian, he assured me. My mom asked had he been a history major. "No," he said imperiously, "I just read."
Because of course she doesn't.
And then came the heart of his argument. Could I understand the position of white people like him who respected black people who had seen real racism in the 1940s and 50s but now had to deal with the anger of black people for whom racism was rare, and mostly a memory?
A memory of resentment, I think he said. No black person born after 1970 has really encountered racism--well, maybe me from Louisiana, but here? Oh no. No, we want to preserve our racial preferences without acknowledging our racism. We too often assume racism.
As an example, he'd grown weary of his black friend who often wondered if poor service was a result of her race. Anyone could be served badly in a Texas city by the end of the 20th century.
And yes, he understood the feelings of (black) nurses' aids who cared for (white) patients who were subjected to racist abuse. BUT alzheimer's... delirium... old memories... and couldn't I understand that one of the greatet fears of old white women was thata black man would come do something to them into the night?
Also, when would I teach about the Palestinian-Israeli comflict? Wasn't Israel as guilty as South Africa? Step outside my comfort zone--it was as easy to teach about others as ourselves.
Finally, he prepared to leave after telling me I didn't talk enough for him. Me with the nausea and the phlegm and the cracked lips.
He doesn't see racism (or sexism I'm sure)
but he
came into my room
turned down the TV my mama was listening to
disregarded my recently delivered dinner
ignored my signs of discomfort and final outright silence
advised me on what to teach--though he never asked my specialties
gave me homework
had a history of dismissing black women's opinions and experiences
planned to challenge me and my authority from the moment he knew my title.
Before he re-situated his chair and left,
He said, "I feel better now."
My blood pressure when they just checked it?
149/104
and all I can do
is write.
Will this be my life?
ProfessorWomanofColor?
I don't want it right now.
Today, I am on the bright side of the sickest period, physically, of my life. And days ago, while I lay on my bed, thinking I might be slowly dying, my darling father actually did. To say that I am not well is an understatement. My family and friends banded together to bring me back to the city to better care and I am feeling the effects.
The nausea no longer turns me inside out.
I no longer have to close my eyes while my best friend or my mom or my sister bathes me.
I can actually make tears and jokes and dear God, words.
But just now in this hospital, the sickness has rebounded in away. I feel assaulted, so shaken, so fucking tired that I can only do the one thing I feel that I know how sometimes--write.
The other day, long dark hours ago, when I couldn't speak and my mother was telling one of the aditting doctors that I was a professor, and of history no less, I should've felt the warning come of him, but Lord I was so ill. He said something like, "A-ha! Is she ready?"
He came back today. I was not ready. He pulled his chair up in the middle of this room where my mother and I sit now and began with the questions. What did I teach? Surely I realized the broad scope of my fall classes? Had there been black films made in a protest tradition? Could I find copies of them?
Did I get the Amazon suggestions he left at my bedside table the other night while I was vomiting--books I should read as a historian, he assured me. My mom asked had he been a history major. "No," he said imperiously, "I just read."
Because of course she doesn't.
And then came the heart of his argument. Could I understand the position of white people like him who respected black people who had seen real racism in the 1940s and 50s but now had to deal with the anger of black people for whom racism was rare, and mostly a memory?
A memory of resentment, I think he said. No black person born after 1970 has really encountered racism--well, maybe me from Louisiana, but here? Oh no. No, we want to preserve our racial preferences without acknowledging our racism. We too often assume racism.
As an example, he'd grown weary of his black friend who often wondered if poor service was a result of her race. Anyone could be served badly in a Texas city by the end of the 20th century.
And yes, he understood the feelings of (black) nurses' aids who cared for (white) patients who were subjected to racist abuse. BUT alzheimer's... delirium... old memories... and couldn't I understand that one of the greatet fears of old white women was thata black man would come do something to them into the night?
Also, when would I teach about the Palestinian-Israeli comflict? Wasn't Israel as guilty as South Africa? Step outside my comfort zone--it was as easy to teach about others as ourselves.
Finally, he prepared to leave after telling me I didn't talk enough for him. Me with the nausea and the phlegm and the cracked lips.
He doesn't see racism (or sexism I'm sure)
but he
came into my room
turned down the TV my mama was listening to
disregarded my recently delivered dinner
ignored my signs of discomfort and final outright silence
advised me on what to teach--though he never asked my specialties
gave me homework
had a history of dismissing black women's opinions and experiences
planned to challenge me and my authority from the moment he knew my title.
Before he re-situated his chair and left,
He said, "I feel better now."
My blood pressure when they just checked it?
149/104
and all I can do
is write.
Will this be my life?
ProfessorWomanofColor?
I don't want it right now.
Friday, October 16, 2009
I, John Brown, Am Now Quite Sure...
Today marks 150 years since the failed raid on Harper's Ferry. In the aftermath, John Brown predicted, "that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood."
The historical portrayal of him for so long was dismissive and ableist-- he had to have been wild and "crazy"-- what white man would risk all that for black people? It pissed me off badly. I adored John Brown when I heard of him in my history classes. In fact, while working on my M.A., I took on the haters in a paper entitled "John Brown: Crazy like a Fox." If I had known then what I know now, it might have actually been a good paper. :-)
Thinking of how he has been "written" reminds me of several things:
1) The people who dismiss slavery as the most significant factor leading to Civil War (again, the idea that this nation would've torn itself up over an issue that had black people at the heart of it? Impossible!)
2) Tim Wise's observation that so many people, when made aware of his anti-racist work, ask, "What happened to you?!" Hard to imagine that people would actually work to disinvest in whiteness--which shows how much we need to re-think the ideas that whiteness and related privilege are largely invisible*
3) H. Rap Brown's (Jamil Abdullah al-Amin) assertion that "violence is as American as cherry pie." It's been a primary tool of this nation-state; why are we surprised that citizens of any political position engage in it? And relatedly...
4) ...The absolute dissonance that allowed southern sympathizers to write about the Klan, for the longest time, as an honorable organization, that still allows my students to be taken aback by my use of "terrorism" when I describe Redemption, but permits the vilification of John Brown.
5) Another John Brown quote:
__________________________
* And people are doing this work. Beyond the writings I've seen, a few weeks ago, I saw one of Jane Elliott's older films in which she asked an audience full of white people how many of them would like to be treated like PoC in this country. Not a single hand was raised.
** Respect for the poor and "weak" is derided now--imagine how it must've been 150 years ago.
The historical portrayal of him for so long was dismissive and ableist-- he had to have been wild and "crazy"-- what white man would risk all that for black people? It pissed me off badly. I adored John Brown when I heard of him in my history classes. In fact, while working on my M.A., I took on the haters in a paper entitled "John Brown: Crazy like a Fox." If I had known then what I know now, it might have actually been a good paper. :-)
Thinking of how he has been "written" reminds me of several things:
1) The people who dismiss slavery as the most significant factor leading to Civil War (again, the idea that this nation would've torn itself up over an issue that had black people at the heart of it? Impossible!)
2) Tim Wise's observation that so many people, when made aware of his anti-racist work, ask, "What happened to you?!" Hard to imagine that people would actually work to disinvest in whiteness--which shows how much we need to re-think the ideas that whiteness and related privilege are largely invisible*
3) H. Rap Brown's (Jamil Abdullah al-Amin) assertion that "violence is as American as cherry pie." It's been a primary tool of this nation-state; why are we surprised that citizens of any political position engage in it? And relatedly...
4) ...The absolute dissonance that allowed southern sympathizers to write about the Klan, for the longest time, as an honorable organization, that still allows my students to be taken aback by my use of "terrorism" when I describe Redemption, but permits the vilification of John Brown.
5) Another John Brown quote:
I want you to understand that I respect the rights of the poorest and weakest of colored people, oppressed by the slave system, just as much as I do those of the most wealthy and powerful. That is the idea that has moved me, and that alonewhich often makes me wonder how his position on class** also contributed to the portrayal of him.
__________________________
* And people are doing this work. Beyond the writings I've seen, a few weeks ago, I saw one of Jane Elliott's older films in which she asked an audience full of white people how many of them would like to be treated like PoC in this country. Not a single hand was raised.
** Respect for the poor and "weak" is derided now--imagine how it must've been 150 years ago.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Just in Case My Descendants Look Back at this Blog...
...and regard it as a journal of my rather boring life, I don't want them to be like, "Dang, Big Mama/TeTe/Cousin elle/whatever!!, you really were out of it in January 2009."
I didn't observe the 96th anniversary of my beloved sorority on the 13th.
I let the MLK holiday pass with nary a word.
And I was almost silent on inauguration day.
But so the kids won't think I lost it, can I just highlight my favorite part of the day:
Well, Bush leaving and images of Malia snapping pics and Sasha just looking adorable.
I really don't have a lot to say today--I don't have writer's block, exactly. More like I'm lazy--I don't want to do the work to put to paper (or keyboard) all the thoughts, feelings, and ideas I've been having lately. My time has been consumed with work and the Kid.
I'll be back soon. Here and here. That's right--as soon as I get a coherent thought, I'll be writing here and at Shakesville. Wish me luck!
I didn't observe the 96th anniversary of my beloved sorority on the 13th.
I let the MLK holiday pass with nary a word.
And I was almost silent on inauguration day.
But so the kids won't think I lost it, can I just highlight my favorite part of the day:
Well, Bush leaving and images of Malia snapping pics and Sasha just looking adorable.
I really don't have a lot to say today--I don't have writer's block, exactly. More like I'm lazy--I don't want to do the work to put to paper (or keyboard) all the thoughts, feelings, and ideas I've been having lately. My time has been consumed with work and the Kid.
I'll be back soon. Here and here. That's right--as soon as I get a coherent thought, I'll be writing here and at Shakesville. Wish me luck!
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Feeling Sort of Meh...
A combination of things:
1) Post-holiday down feeling
2) A touch of homesickness
3) Writing a syllabus and school starts next week!
4) Feeling the upcoming semester already:
---- MWF classes for the first time ever, which takes away my long weekends (during
which, I actually do get work done).
---- Will it be hard to trim down to a 50-minute class?!?!?!
---- Teaching an honor's class, had a special project outlined that now I'm worried about. Thinking of ditching it in favor of a longer paper--but don't want their project to be "just" a paper.
---- My son has after-school extracurriculars out the ass--choir, skippers, Spanish, basketball, and maybe math tutoring. He wants to take guitar lessons--I'm thinking of looking into it because I want to encourage any interest in music. Can any one say frazzled single mom?
5) Presenting at the OAH and I want to seriously re-work that paper.
---- My department will reimburse me for some of the trip expenses, but have I mentioned that I'm not just rolling around in the dough yet?
6) Dee's wedding! Two months to go, and it's the little things that are stressing me.
7) Time to finish revisions on what I hope to be my first article. Really, it just is.
8) Feeling pressed for time and unable to keep up with blog-worthy topics at this moment.
9) Just finished "The Wire." Post to come. DRAINING.
10) The month of March--that's wedding, a panel I'm sponsoring, OAH, evaluations time. My spring break that month will be irrelevant.
Making that list made me feel better.
Send/leave me links to things you think I should read!!! I hope to be back up in the next couple of weeks.
1) Post-holiday down feeling
2) A touch of homesickness
3) Writing a syllabus and school starts next week!
4) Feeling the upcoming semester already:
---- MWF classes for the first time ever, which takes away my long weekends (during
which, I actually do get work done).
---- Will it be hard to trim down to a 50-minute class?!?!?!
---- Teaching an honor's class, had a special project outlined that now I'm worried about. Thinking of ditching it in favor of a longer paper--but don't want their project to be "just" a paper.
---- My son has after-school extracurriculars out the ass--choir, skippers, Spanish, basketball, and maybe math tutoring. He wants to take guitar lessons--I'm thinking of looking into it because I want to encourage any interest in music. Can any one say frazzled single mom?
5) Presenting at the OAH and I want to seriously re-work that paper.
---- My department will reimburse me for some of the trip expenses, but have I mentioned that I'm not just rolling around in the dough yet?
6) Dee's wedding! Two months to go, and it's the little things that are stressing me.
7) Time to finish revisions on what I hope to be my first article. Really, it just is.
8) Feeling pressed for time and unable to keep up with blog-worthy topics at this moment.
9) Just finished "The Wire." Post to come. DRAINING.
10) The month of March--that's wedding, a panel I'm sponsoring, OAH, evaluations time. My spring break that month will be irrelevant.
Making that list made me feel better.
Send/leave me links to things you think I should read!!! I hope to be back up in the next couple of weeks.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Busy Weekend
Between birthday party preparations and getting ready to go the 30th Annual Sickle Cell Softball Tournament (I've missed like, twice, in 15 years, and once was to give birth :-), I won't be around much this weekend.
But BFP got me on youtube this morning and as I've spent an hour-and-a-half watching it while cajoling my two-month-old nephew, I wanted to share something.
Silly, but I forgot how much I liked this song:
Maybe I just like Angie Martinez, period, because hers is the only verse I can rap from Ladies' Night, too.
And I used to love this by Missy. Made me feel grown.
Anyway, since blogger allows you to schedule postings and since one of the main reasons I wanted the ability to tuck things behind a fold was so I could occasionally post the short stories that my romance-reading-self sometimes pens, I might put up a couple.
If I get my nerve up.
Have a good weekend.
But BFP got me on youtube this morning and as I've spent an hour-and-a-half watching it while cajoling my two-month-old nephew, I wanted to share something.
Silly, but I forgot how much I liked this song:
Maybe I just like Angie Martinez, period, because hers is the only verse I can rap from Ladies' Night, too.
And I used to love this by Missy. Made me feel grown.
Anyway, since blogger allows you to schedule postings and since one of the main reasons I wanted the ability to tuck things behind a fold was so I could occasionally post the short stories that my romance-reading-self sometimes pens, I might put up a couple.
If I get my nerve up.
Have a good weekend.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Unproductive
So usually when I'm slacking on one thing, I'm on the ball on some other. But lately, I am thoroughly unproductive.
I'm not cooking.
I'm not prepping for the spring semester.
I'm not reading.
And most upsetting to me, I'm not writing.
I can't even have a good cry to get over this spell. I cry like two minutes at wide-spaced intervals and that's it. Last night, tears actually got caught in the corners of my eyes and would not fall.
Perhaps, I thought, I am tired of the house. So last night, in a really inconsiderate way, I called up a guy to whom I'd given a raincheck and was like, if you can meet me in one hour, we can do something.
But, as sweet as he was (is!), when I got home, I felt the same. I decided to write something, at least catalogue how I was feeling. I grabbed looseleaf and a blue pen (that's my serious writing gear) and...
nothing.
All I could think of was a story from my long ago days teaching elementary. In the middle of class, one of my students was trying to describe how she felt about some event and she told her classmate, "Girl, my bones were even sad."
And I said something to the effect of, "Hush, little grown girl, your bones can't be sad."
She insisted that, yes, they could.
Eventually, I understood her. And right now, my bones are even sad. I'm frozen (dreading going to the AHA next weekend!) in space. I'm also apparently not fooling anyone because my BFF came up here this morning. I cried for two minutes again.
For three hours, she worked her usual magic to reassure and support me and to kick my ass in gear. And while I don't think I feel better, I must.
Because I wrote this, right?
I'm not cooking.
I'm not prepping for the spring semester.
I'm not reading.
And most upsetting to me, I'm not writing.
I can't even have a good cry to get over this spell. I cry like two minutes at wide-spaced intervals and that's it. Last night, tears actually got caught in the corners of my eyes and would not fall.
Perhaps, I thought, I am tired of the house. So last night, in a really inconsiderate way, I called up a guy to whom I'd given a raincheck and was like, if you can meet me in one hour, we can do something.
But, as sweet as he was (is!), when I got home, I felt the same. I decided to write something, at least catalogue how I was feeling. I grabbed looseleaf and a blue pen (that's my serious writing gear) and...
nothing.
All I could think of was a story from my long ago days teaching elementary. In the middle of class, one of my students was trying to describe how she felt about some event and she told her classmate, "Girl, my bones were even sad."
And I said something to the effect of, "Hush, little grown girl, your bones can't be sad."
She insisted that, yes, they could.
Eventually, I understood her. And right now, my bones are even sad. I'm frozen (dreading going to the AHA next weekend!) in space. I'm also apparently not fooling anyone because my BFF came up here this morning. I cried for two minutes again.
For three hours, she worked her usual magic to reassure and support me and to kick my ass in gear. And while I don't think I feel better, I must.
Because I wrote this, right?
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