Late night in the country ass city. There is a nice fog and it's warm for December. Today I went out alone. It's strange sometimes because usually I'm in a constant state of mommy awareness when I'm out with the kids so to be out alone and only have my one self to be responsible for is strange and yet mildly familiar.

My writing world: It's getting lusher. I have a few notebooks that I carry around. I keep notes on the novel and write little journal type things in them. I have not been journaling as much as I used to. I used to be on it two to three pages of brain drain. Now, half a page to one page of interesting, good things, budgets, to do lists. I'm trying to get to the point that whenever my kids say something smart or funny I have the paper and pen right there ready.

I heard Toni Morrison on NPR today as I did the breakfast dishes. She spoke about a lot of stuff but what stuck with me was the idea of complicated characters. I look at the histories as I reread my current manuscript and do this literary sankofa and go back to my old edits and piece this book together because I've created real histories for my characters and they are not cardboard at all. Which is exciting because your characters then have depth. You empathize with them. You might see aspects of yourself. I've been editing forever but as I find out things like it took J Diaz eleven years to finish his last book I feel like OK I can do this.

I'm working on writing the latest synopsis. I realize some of the things in the summary are not directly talked about but are eluded to in the actual novel.
Get the whole description of the story in one page. I have something down for this new version. It's kinda fun.


On the bus: Today on the bus an ahole talked loudly to his friends about how he steals from certain stores that are not expecting him to steal. He said if they don't have what he wants by the door he is not taking it. "If I have to take an escalator, the steps or an elevator I ain't stealing it cause I'm gonna get caught." I openly stared. He didn't seem at all ashamed or regretful. He was also an older man in his late fifties maybe.

An annoying man sitting in front of a couple "is that man your father?"
"No he's my husband." she said. "No way, That guy is old." said the high drunk man
"No way!" everything the woman said he said "uh uh. nope. you are too young."
i heard her say she had children who were a certain age. I heard her say she was in her thirties. She was really explaining things to this person, eventually they got up and sat in the back of the bus. The same man started yelling "hey man reading the newspaper....hey man wearing glasses....dude with the vest.....hey sir." The man was smart and feigned interest in his paper.

YES WE CAN!!!!

Be still......

I noticed the firetrucks on my way to pick up my daughter. I did not think they had any thing to do with me. I turned the corner and I could smell the burning smell. And then I saw it a smoldering skyline. Dark towers melted from the scorching heat. A community playground had been set aflame. The firemen were still hosing it down. She leaned to the side. It is gone. Dark burnt wood against a periwinkle sky. A mom said it happened around 1pm and the arson team was there. wow, someone actually did that on purpose.
The playground had hardly any shade. The kids had fun. There was a tire swing that my daughter and I spun ourselves on till we felt nauseous even hours after. Well worth it though, to see the puffy clouds and blue umbrella sky spinning. It's like you have anti-gravity or you can fly. Lots of regular swings. Great little cubbies to hide, and steps to climb, tunnel slides and regular slides that burned your ass when the afternoon sun would bake the playground toys.
I cried. I didn't want my daughter to see that when she got off he school bus. The playground was behind her.
The bus came and my daughter was distracted by other things. As we left the area I told them we couldn't go to the playground. In the car ride home we told them the place had been burnt down. My daughter and her friend looked at each other with shock. Dramatic shock at that. Then they went back to whatever they were doing.
Just like that. I was all devastated wondering how dealing with this loss of a play ground would contribute to their sense of blah blah blah.
So the emails are going out and the community that built the playground are going to raise funds and rebuild the playground. The place was built by the people of the city. Who volunteered their time and energy. People donated money.
It will be rebuilt that is the lesson. It sucks that it has to be but it can be because the people are already rallying for it to happen. I will donate time and womanpower when it's needed.
That was on Tuesday.

Story Time-Today I went to storytime. Oh on Monday we went to this musical storytime where the performer has a guitar and she played all the kid classics. She was really lively. It was at a bookstore that was packed. I met a caretaker from Ghana. She said I'm from Ghana, there are no elephants on the streets."
"I come from city just like New York." Children have a misconception of Africa because of the African Jungle Alphabets simplifies Africa. Africa is a huge continent with so many cultures and languages and beliefs and traditions. The nanny found an old friend and they hugged happily. The friends said, "I was thinking about you."

I'm gonna give the story hour by my house another chance. It was so not diverse. There were diverse caretakers, Nannies, one daddy, au pair, grandma's. The lady at the regular story hour forgets the lyrics to the nursery rhymes. Sometimes she doesn't let all the children knock down Humpty Dumpty or throw the pig in the air or hit the tambourine to the syllables of their name.
Overheard, Quote of the day. "Be still and know that I am God." This quote resonates with me because in meditation is where you can have this relationship with god. Through breath and stillness.

I have a two year old now!

In writing: I finally found my memory stick. Trying not to panic I found other missing items that I would not have found if I had not been cleaning up/looking for the memory stick.

I'm back to editing. I'm punking out of writing the new stuff that NEEDS to be written so that I have a finished manuscript but I haven't gotten there. I really like the story I'm working on. But why am I not writing the new stuff? Maybe I need to do some concise chapter summaries or something to get this moving. It's been slow. I'm gonna get back to collaging soon.

Night Owling

I come from a long line of night owls. I am a night owl with early bird responsibilities.

When the house is oh so quiet I sometimes just sit and inhale the silence.
There is nothing else left to do. Everyone is asleep. No one to look after except myself for the moment.
The writing pours out of me. I am glad I can type fast without getting caught up in looking at the keyboard.

Outside my office window, which is usually loud with nature's music, is silent as robins, sparrows, cardinals and wood peckers sleep.


Raccoons bring the party during the night. They screech and fuss at each other. They walk on our roof with raccoon boots. They swing and slide on the neighbor's swing set.

This is the time I write and work on my novel. I catch up on email. I search for that agent. Maybe I'll work on a collage or a new greeting card design. I might catch up on 30 rock or Lost. I can get a bunch of windows open at once on the Mackie Mac. Working on this a little and then work on the next thing.




Haiti
I have to send some blessings and prayers to Haiti. My people who have suffered so many losses when two, three hurricanes hit the island back to back. I ask the universe to please protect my people.







When i was little I lived on the island. There are things I remember very clearly. In the 70's we used an outhouse. The gray brown out house with the terrible poopoo smell and dark foreboding hole where I threw stones and wads of balled up toilet paper.

I remember my mother coming home in a white uniform. I lived in a turquoise house with coral pink walls inside.
I had many cousins and I was free to roam as far as I could. I never got lost. I never went too far. I had two grandmothers and so many aunts ready to feed me, or spank me depending on their moods. I played with dried mango seed which was my doll and played jacks with dried pig knuckles. I never went hungry. I never felt poor.
Bless Haiti who held me in her arms for those two years I lived there where I unlearned American English and renamed my Grandmother "Big". The whole family started calling her that.

An island already devastated now must deal with this. I hope the new administration really gives Haiti some positive attention in the form of money, agricultural assistant, food aid, job production for road building and food growing. Haiti was the first free black nation in the Western Hemisphere. The people fought back against the people that held them as slaves and defeated them! Is this why the island is left to perish. Is there a long held grudge against this tiny island because of Haiti's revolution. Meanwhile children eat dirt cakes to stop the hunger pains.

Tomorrow we are supposed to get a scaled down version of a hurricane.

Peace

1st days

School has started. My big girl actually has a real school building with a playground and everything. Last year classes were held in a cut up gym. First graders in one "room" and second graders in another "room" and kindergartners in the cafeteria which was broken up too. Despite that this experiential learning was fabulous. The school teaches hands on learning. Do it to learn it. They did really well with what little they had and my daughter loved it and flourished. The whole summer was spent renovating the new space. Every grade has a classroom and there's a real gym and an art room. They even have a music room. The paperwork has already started coming home. Weekly bulletins, things to fill out.

I am on a paper purging mission. Papers have got to go. So I'm pulling out the file folders and the labels, the paper shredder.
It's quiet with the little tree in school. I've been on an editing zeal. Cutting the beginning of the novel up like crazy. It's painful and yet liberating at the same time. If it's not essential I cut it and I have to be ninja ruthless with it too.
When ever I sit at the computer or I write something for the novel in my journal I feel like I am flying. My fingers just zoom across the keyboard and I swear i glow.

I saw the couple who I had seen arguing. I remembered her because of her red curly weave and he had braids. They were walking together his arms around her and her arms around him looking very cozy!?

I wanna send a shout out to the Brooklyn massive. Millions of people will converge on Eastern Parkway monday for the loudest funnest brightest raunchiest parade. It's hot and sweaty and Caribbean African to it's core. Love it.

Oh the freaking drama

We are on our way to storytime. I push zazu in the stroller. We get to the bus stop no one is waiting. Meaning we just missed it. Usually there is a crew of folks. Most are normal folks, some gang members, a few are users, drinkers, drug addicts. I once saw a woman dozing off from her high. She was holding a little baby in her arms. He was in blue and had a blanket loose around him. She was sitting on the bench under the bus shelter. I woke her up. "Oh, how old is your sweet baby?"
"Oh, he's three months." She said slowly lifting her head and sitting up a little bit. She pulled the baby closer.
"I have little ones too." I said trying to keep her on earth. I would catch that baby. She said, "I'm not even waiting for the bus. I'm waiting for nicky to come back."
"Oh cause I was going to tell you that the bus is coming." I didn't want to leave. She was alert now. She pushed her long, thin blond hair back away from her shoulder.
"I'm OK. The baby is OK." She said in molasses. I doubted that big time. She nodded at me. A thin guy with hair the same color as hers approached.
The lady said, "Here comes your bus." I got on the bus staring out the window at them.

That memory lingers with me as I decide to walk. The library is about a mile away. I can do that easy. I am a New Yorker after all. I love walking. I take to the bright busy streets. Gritty to say the least.
I get to a bus stop three blocks away. It's a major intersection. I check down the street to see if a bus is coming, I would hop on. No bus and I wait for the light to change. Cut to the couple having the argument. He is up in her face saying something. She steps back yelling back at him. I didn't want to look. My heart is pounding. I cross the street. The woman yells loudly, "Don't you put your hands on me" as I am crossing the street. I am upset. I don't know what to do. He follows her seeming threatening. Yells at her to come back. She disappears down a hill and he starts walking in my direction and then quickly changes his mind. He goes back towards her. I I can hear the woman yelling at the man. A group of men are watching. They have come out of the store and are all standing outside. I implore the men.
"Please go help her. She needs help. Don't just stand there. Go!" My toddler keeps repeating, "Go, go." Two men go down. Nobody says anything.
The men come back shaking their heads, "They gone." The light skin guy says. Then they go back into the store talking about what they saw. I stand there for a moment. Afraid for that woman. I think about a woman I know who goes through that daily. I witnessed her partner losing his temper and hurt her in the parking lot of Chuckie Cheese while we were getting the children in the car. The woman had zoomed out of the parking lot leaving her partner temporarily in the dust.
As I walk away I think of the other women who deal with that daily. Zazu calls me and I go to her. "Happy mama?" I smile at her sweet face. I take a deep breath.
"OK baby let's go to story time." I smile genuinely at her. I straighten up and look around and people rush by going their way. It didn't seem as if they had seen or heard anything. I am back on track and I pray that man let her be or someone made him let her be. I feel helpless. All i can do is give ether. I feel thankful for my partner and life situation.
I start really thinking about my life. What am I doing with my gifts? I think about my writing workshops and what my goals are for them. I think about that woman. I distract myself with lists of goals. Teaching is something i love and do well. The couple keep coming back to me and I tell myself there is nothing I can do about it. I notice a woman about to cross the street with two girls and a teen age boy. Though I didn't recognize her at first she is a person who has taken one of my workshops. I want to say something about what I have just seen but her children are there and they are
young girls. We chat and she makes faces at zazu. I fold the stroller and the bus comes. We chat on the bus and I get off at my stop. My thoughts once again reflected back to me.
Storytime was great. Two new songs, one involves jumping up and down. The monkey chases a weasel and pop goes the weasel. What does that mean? Why is the weasel going pop? Why can't the story time lady remember the words to the songs.
One of the moms at story time said she got her bar and had just started working two days a week at a law firm. Her face had that glow of freedom. I know I get it when I have some time away from the children and I can focus on my novel or when I'm teaching.
End of story hour we go to the playground. I realize the power of presence as I helped my daughter walk on a thin beam. I felt so present with her there. There was no place else I needed to be. I felt that so strongly and concretely. It was almost an epiphany.
We go to this store to buy water and goldfish crackers. Outside of the store we open the bag and I eat one as my daughter eats one too. Mine taste a little strange. Is that peanut butter? I take the bag from Zazu instinctively I look at the date. Don't know why. The crackers had expired LAST November as in 2007! I was flabbergasted. I went back in the store and I showed the bag to a manager. He shrugged and said.
"Whoa. OK sorry about that. Do you want another one?"
"Yes I do. But why do you have expired food on your shelf?"
"I'm sorry Miss." He takes the old bag and walks to where I got the crackers. He checks and picks up an entire case of expired stuff. He hands me a fresher bag And he walks away. I know you don't give a shit but Dang.
I look on the shelf and find more expired bags. I show it to the next manager and told him the situation. . I get his name. I tell him if my kid gets sick I am going to call you guys and going to call the media. Will you help pay for any medical bills? No. I lectured him a while longer and he remained apologetic saying that it reflected badly on him and that I should call. The security guard had gotten closer to us. As I was leaving I told the cashier who had helped me that the the store was selling expired food. i left the store. What if she had eaten the whole bag without me noticing? What ifs danced before me. She didn't eat the whole bag. She only age half of one and I had made her spit out the piece she had already started to eat. I could have fussed more I guess. I just left with a name and a new bag of chips. My only plan was to watch my girl make sure she is OK and call the media maybe NPR if she did get sick. We were fine. But damn they could not offer any type of reason why the store would have expired food on their shelves.
Going home was quiet sort of since we had to take the bus. Nothing else dramatic happened. I wondered about what happened to the woman. I gray cloud stayed with me worrying about her.

Pregnancy Anorexia

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-1041605/Plague-pregorexics-How-women-dieting-exercising-pregnancy-cost-babys-health.html

This is a link that will take you to a disturbing story about women who do hard exercise and diet while pregnant so they don't get fat. You are supposed to get fat. That's the only darn time a woman can get fat and have people smiling at her.
Our one sacred time and here comes trends and celebrities fouling it up. Women see pix of super skinny so and so two days after having her C section and think that is somehow natural. It ain't natural it's for million dollar movie roles and commercials not for real life.

Country City

Country City

Outside my office window there are sounds of a raccoon outside. It is on the roof then it's in a tree. Clicking in racoony. He climbs the tree and distracts me from pseudo research.
There is a a squirrel that chills on our front steps devouring pine cones. The porch and steps are littered with little pieces of pine cone. It looks like how the living room might look after Family Movie night and a toddler was involved in munching on snacks.
There is a large white rabbit hopping freely in fields of the wooded college campus not far from our home. It's both house and free rabbit. My daughter tries to out run the storm clouds as we walk back home from errands.
Bright pink flowers decorate tall bushes with extending branches.
the sound of crickets so loud it's blaring somehow we are used to it
the cicadas too loud ass folks
the spider webs everywhere
spiders outside the door
dazzling green
a pink bit of sunset intermingling with a blue gray evening sky
the home for the mental infirm live on the corner where country turns to city
the smells of the honeysuckles replaced with
beef burger french fries bus stinky

Blind woman and toddler-Everyday Courage

Blind Woman and her toddler

A black Labrador seeing-eye dog guides a blind woman into the sing along story-time at this library around my way. The woman has a toddler in a carrier on her back. He looks at us and waves. She seems familiar with the layout. There are tables pushed against a wall. Her fingers trail the tables as the dog guides her through the rec room. Women and children open up the circle for them. She sits on the floor and takes the toddler out of the backpack. Mamas, dads, nanas and nannies sit on a blue alphabet mat with sweet chubby babies on our laps. Several of the children refuse to sit still and are being chased. The story-time lady gives everyone rattles to make music with. She forgets the lyrics to "We're going to Kentucky."

The blind woman’s little boy has a monkey backpack with a leash attached to it. He keeps having to be pulled back away from the crates of colorful scarves and furry animal puppets that he can see. She tries to hold him while singing, "Are you sleeping". Her baby sits for a moment and he gets squirmy. He has bells on the back of his sandals so she can keep auditory tabs on him.
The child next to the beautiful shiny black seeing eye dog is playing with it's tail. It does not react. The dog lays heavy on the mat waiting for his next task. The children pet him, some avoid him as we march around in a circle. The mom stays to the side and marches in place leaving the dog in the center.
At the end of the story-time a few of us are left gathering our children and talking. The blind mom comments on her son missing his nap the day before. This gets us all into a lively toddler sleep deprivation discussion. She gathers her son and herself to leave. I stay behind as my daughter climbs up and down and up and down a few steps and stands next to her toddler friends.
I sometimes find it challenging to leave the house with my own toddler. There are diapers with changing pad and snacks, wipes, entertainment, stroller, change of clothes, juice, book. Then your own keys, phone, bag, money, jacket... Then the getting changed and dressed and shoes on....I tried to imagine what she dealt with doing it as a blind person. Leaving the house has to be an act of daily courage. Could I be that brave in my everyday life?

I wondered how she got to the story-time. And one day I saw her waiting for the light to change, toddler on her back and her seeing-eye dog very attentive as cars and buses rumble passed.

I saw her again recently, this time walking with just the walking stick and her toddler with the same monkey backpack with the leash attached. They walked up the block to the bus stop where I was. They turned the corner as a bus pulled up. Her child said, "Bus mommy."
She said, "Already?"
I said, "It's a 22 bus."
"That's what I need."She said. The bus driver lowered the bus steps for her to get on easier. She picked up her son and put him on. She stepped in and up and then went in her pocket for change. Doors close. My older daughter and her friend who had witnessed the two were staring at the departing bus. Then they looked at each other in amazement and said, "Whoa!"
And then I see her at the supermarket. She is pushing a stroller and is carrying a basket. There is a somber looking worker walking with her. I hear her say, "sweet potatoes".
I wonder if he will help her pick good produce.

Life is the Art

In my art life
I took the lap top downstairs but played Win Lose or Draw with D and didn't work on anything.

Today Saturday the 22 of March, I am making Alphabet letters out of magazine clippings so we can scan them and make an animation for our 18 month old daughter.
That is creative and fun.
My Vision board is still half down. Oak tag with beautifully covered surface and bare space. What should I put there? I know what I want but can a magazine picture say it. I'll find quotes and put that on there.
Visions Boards are visual representations of the things you want to manifest in your life. To make one you use a big piece of canvas or oak tag. Look in mags, books to find images. Look at it daily to remind you of your goals.

Freewriting

It started at this intentions meeting. A group of people sat around and gave positive energy to your goals and dreams after you stated them out loud. It was an awesome meeting and very powerful. One of my intentions was that I was teaching successful writing workshops that help people write free and help them cure writers' block. My friend called me and asked if I would be interested in doing some workshops she just got a studio where I could do them. Of course I marveled at at how quickly this goal came to fruition. I believe.
I had a workshop yesterday. I used different sensual stimulation and the participants wrote off of smelling nutmeg(me), mint and vanilla. We wrote about the tastes of summer and what seeing the image of a beautiful elder woman holding the earth in her hand, her knowing smile kind and welcoming. For this class we did four and five minute freewrites. We used word prompts that i clipped from magazines.


Sometimes our creative selves just need a non-judgmental place of expression. Freewriting helps you write without constraints.

Here are a few freewriting facts

* Freewriting is a really helpful writing activity that allows a person to write without stopping.

* Write fast, don’t let the self-censor get you, it’s that sly voice in your head that says your writing is no good and it’s all pointless. You can’t listen to that cause you can’t stop.

* Don’t start thinking how great your writing is. Stay focused.
* You don’t have to worry about mipelling or punctuation

* There is no erasing or backspacing. No stopping, no erasing.

* If you can’t think of anything to write then put down “I can’t think of anything” or “I don’t know what to write” over and over again till something else comes.

* Freewriting is a technique designed to help the writer find their style and voice through uninhibited expression.