My Deepizm

Week Eighteen: Only one more left

2008-06-06T13:48:00.002-04:00

Molo!!

Well... I turned it in. My 26 page (single spaced) independent research project. I still can't believe I wrote that much... I just feel so relieved! Only one more final exam to go and only one week and one day before I'm on a plane headed back to America. But I'm not ready to reflect yet, so let me share what I did this week that didn't involve writing 13 thousand words:

So last Sunday I went to a concert in Observatory, a suburb not far from where I live. It was a lot of fun. Cape Town has it's own little music scene apparently. Local dj's and song writers came out and performed some of their work. Hip hop artists and r&b singers. It's amazing how much American pop influences music all over the world. The artists didn't have their own vibe per se... they didn't sound all that different from one another or from some of the music you can hear on the radio in America, and that's what was weird about it. I don't mean to imply I didn't like it because I did; it was like being at home.

On Wednesday I went to a reggae concert also in Observatory. Really nice. The lead guitarist thought he was amazing. He was alright. Some drunk guy was really feeling one of the Bob Marley covers and he danced right out of his shoes and his shirt on the stage! Everyone fell out laughing. It was hilarious. The theater where they were performing was tiny and quaint. The accoustics weren't great and there was a little feedback, but it was still fun. And I had great company.

Yesterday morning I had breakfast with my academic advisor from GW, Dan. That's right. My academic advisor from GW is here in Cape Town. He and his wife come up nearly every year I believe and spend a few months here. He's great. We talked about my project and life. I told him how inspired I've been by this place. Dan doesn't know it yet, but I'm going to be in his office like every day next semester. Running my mouth, listening, and trying to get advice about my academic and career pursuits. I'm looking for a Masters or Ph.D program now: anthropology.

Cape Town, a little metropole of "somewhere else" right at the tip of Africa. It's amazing and it has definitely challenged me and inspired me academically, spiritually, mentally, just in every way. It's made my whole world look different. I want to see the rest of it.

Friends are always asking if I'm looking forward to being back and to be honest... I'm looking forward to the familiar. I'm looking forward to my Mommy. My family and my friends. And all the Love that's waiting for me at home. Of course I'm looking forward to most things; some things I could do without. But no point in looking backward.

Thought of the week: So, Life... what's next!?

One Love

(p.s. if you've missed any weeks, I keep a blog!! http://www.ndeep.blogspot.com/)

--
"For there are no new ideas. Just new ways of making them felt..." Audre Lorde

Week Seventeen: I can't believe it...

2008-05-29T13:44:00.000-04:00

Molo.

There are so many things I simply can't believe. For one, I'm on week seventeen... I only have two more full weeks here. One paper due and one more final exam. The one I had today I think went rather well. I had to turn in two papers earlier this week. One on Monday and one on Wednesday. Thank you Jesus their done and off my plate. Only 3k words left!

I guess the second thing that I can believe, but wish just wasn't really happening is all the violence that has broken out here in South Africa, attributed to xenophobia.

I feel like I've heard more police sirens over the past few weeks than I have in my whole stay here. More accounts of muggings and overall violence. The police have made themselves very visible in the city as well. People have been displaced by the pure threat of violence. I won't go into horrific details but the types of things that people are doing to other human bodies is absolutely unbelievable. I really don't even want to picture it in my mind. Zimbabwe is in so much trouble and South Africa is too. Refugees from Zimbabwe are being attacked in the streets, in the city of Johannesburg I heard from a friend this weekend, people were attacking Indian and Chinese people who were presumably South African by nationality. Cape Town is no where near as bad as that but there are more people living in the park a block away from my house.

I was listening to a young South African woman talking about the violence and what she offered was that "people are simply fed up. They are tired of being poor, of being destitute especially after putting a black government in power. They were promised change and it hasn't come. They're trying and working and then the government seemingly gives all the help to these people who aren't even citizens. They feel cheated." She certainly wasn't implying that any of it was right but just trying to provide some rationale. Often people easily just attribute acts like this, especially on the Continent, to the "brutal, backward, barbaric nature" of African people. As if African people are just more prone to these types of acts because they're African. If you've found yourself having those thoughts, you should probably check yourself. A friend of mine, a coloured South African woman expressed to me how embarrasing these attacks were for her. "The whole world is looking at us. What are people thinking. These people are other Africans." I have a few friends from Zimbabwe and I can only imagine the fear and contempt they feel. You can read the news reports yourself (http://iol.co.za/index.php?set_id=1&click_id=3069).

Know that I'm fine. Nice and cozy in my big house in the southern suburbs with concrete and barbed wire fence and security guards... truth is prayers are always appreciated because anything can happen to anyone at anytime. But I don't do things that make me feel unsafe and I'm a smart girl.

Besides, with this hair cut I look South African anyway.

One Love

p.s. To answer the question I get most frequently, I return to the States on June 15th! I'll be in Atlanta for a week and a half before returning to DC to work and intern on June 24th.

--
"For there are no new ideas. Just new ways of making them felt..." Audre Lorde

Week Sixteen: Only a few more thousand words to go

2008-05-22T15:18:00.000-04:00

Molo!! Family and Friends!!

I would write more, but I don't have time as you can tell from the subject line I'm pushing through this mountain of work. It's going well though! I got some extensions for my papers. What a relief!

Yes, it's super short but keep sending those prayers my way!!

Love

--
"For there are no new ideas. Just new ways of making them felt..." Audre Lorde

Week Fifteen: Oh my GOD a MONKEY!!

2008-05-15T15:21:00.000-04:00

Molo! Family, Friends! Thank you all so much for the birthday wishes!!

School is almost over! Yay! I know it is over for some of you. And some of you are preparing for graduations... Congratulations. I wish I could be there to share in those moments with you. But since I can't I want to continue to share some of my moments with you. Over the weekend I took a road trip to Knysna, a little town east of Cape Town, right down the Western Cape.

I asked the guy who picked us up from the car rental place how long it took to get to Knysna. He said, "Uuhh, about 5-6 hours. For me. Oh, you, womans soooo ummm 10 hours." To which I replied, "Why is it going to take twice as long for us to get there just because we're women? Does the distance magically double because we're women? Are we going to be driving 60km an hour when the speed limit is 120km?" He didn't have much to say, but chuckled a bit and said, "About 6 or 7 hours."

The drive there was a little stressful because Julie, who is here visiting, had to drive on the wrong side (that's right, not different, not the other, the wrong side) of the car on the wrong side of the road. It took her about five hours to really get the hang of it. It took us 7 hours and we stopped twice for gas and once for a meal. Julie was concentrating oh so hard as we drove up and down the sides of mountains. What fascinates me about the geography is that there were times that we were driving on these emmense stretches of road. Wineyards on one side. Monkeys, I mean donkeys on the other. And there were mountains on every side of us. It was breath taking. Julie even pointed out that the trees that grew on the sides of the mountains didn't grow on a slant like you'd imagine they would, but they grew straight up into the sky. And there were other trees whose leaves sparkled in the sun light like they were wet, but weren't.

We arrived in Knysna right as the sun had begun to set. It was one of the most beautiful places I think I've ever had the pleasure of being. Knysna is situated in a lagoon. There were mountains on both sides and homes built what appeared to be right into the mountains. There was a single bridge that connected both sides of the lagoon and as we drove into the tiny vacation town all of the lights in Knysna were lit up. It looked like we were driving inside a postcard. It was wonderful.

We went to dinner that night and had some really nice cuisine. I had chicken stuffed with spinach and feta in some kind of Morrocaan inspired seasonings. I forgot what Julie had, but I tried it and it was equally delicious. For dessert she ordered the Mulva pudding (a South African delight) and ice cream and I had grilled bannanas and ice cream. Really good by the way.

The next day we went to MONKEY LAND!!! Oh my god. So it's this park and they have 300 monkeys just roaming around. The monkeys are free to go where ever they want within the park even the picnic tables near the reception area where you can snack before going on the tours. Then a tour guide, who knows way too much about monkeys, takes you to different areas and you get to see all kinds of monkeys just hanging out (literally) together. All of the monkeys are from captivity. They are former aids to blind people, or former pets. Some come from zoos. They're all really domesticated, but the smallest one is still twice as strong as a human and twice as smart as some humans too. Apparently they frequently steal keys and cameras from tourist. No one in our group got anything stolen, but I still had a nice time. I got some great pictures I'll share with you soon.

On our way back from Monkey Land we stopped in Plettenburg Bay and took in the Indian Ocean. It was really beautiful. For lunch we went to the Cruise Cafe which we had been hearing great things about. Had the fish and chips. Very fresh fish. It was amazing in fact and then for dessert we had a vanilla creame broule with shortcake, rasberry saucy stuff, and rooibos fruit. Rooibos has been my new favorite tea since the first time I had it so to be able to taste it's fruit was really cool. It tasted like the little berries that grow on the side of the house that you try when you're a kid and pray that they won't kill you or make you sick. Anywho, all the flavors of the dessert, the shortcake with the creme stuff and the rasberry with the rooibos fruit stuff. Oh my god! So good! Those flavors were made for each other.

After a nap we had Cafe Mario in the waterfront complex for dinner. Pretty uneventful.

Sunday we woke up, had our complementary breakfast and rolled out. We were planning on taking a scenic drive through Wilderness National Park but it turned out not to be so scenic. The woman who gave us directions at the reception area gave us all kind of wrong directions and an unhelpful map so we had no idea where we were going but we ended up in this obscenely nice housing neighborhood. These homes were immaculate. They were like private little getaways for the insanely rich. But it was so not a national park.

We headed back to Cape Town a little bitter, but on the way back guess what we saw? Now people had been telling us we were going to see them, and we were looking hard and on our way up a mountain we saw no not one, but two MONKEYS!! With their little hands swinging through the guard rails. They had clearly mastered the art of crossing the trecherous highway! It was so cool! MONKEYS!!

Yep. Monkeys. They were the highlight of my trip to Knysna.

I'm sending everyone of you some love and I hope you'll send me the same. I've got a lot of work due within the next couple days and I could use some prayers.

One Love

Week Fourteen: Yay! It's My Birthday!

2008-05-08T15:24:00.000-04:00

Molo! Family! Friends!

So, today is my birthday! 21 years on Mother Earth. I am so blessed if I do say so myself. I'll be celebrating it tonight with a special friend from home who came to visit for two weeks, Julie, as well as friends I've made here in Cape Town. One of my housemates, Michelle, treated me to my first horseback riding experience on Saturday for my birthday. I have to tell you the story:

Imagine waking up and having to get presentable at 6:00 on a Saturday morning after a night out dancing. The thought of it still makes me a little uncomfortable. Well we did it. I did it anyway, Michelle stayed in and knocked gently on my door at 6:15 to remind me that we needed to leave in 15 minutes. I scrambled up trying to get myself together. In the hurry, I couldn't find my camera (but Michelle got good pictures of me) but we scrammed out of the door to catch the first train out of Mowbray station. One of Michelle's friends went with us. She was a little late and we had to physically hold the doors apart so she could jump on the moving train to Vish Hoek (pronounced Fish Hook).

We get there. Catch a mini-bus to Ocean View. Ocean View is a predominately "coloured" community and directly adjacent Ocean View is the Imhoff Horse Ranch. That was our destination but we got a little mixed up so we got off our mini bus prematurely at an equestrian center a couple miles away from where we were supposed to. So we had to hop onto another one. We ran across the street to try to catch one going farther up. A few pass by but going the wrong direction. Finally, one stops for us but we noticed it was empty. I was a bit uneasy at first, but it was only the driver who looked small and there were three of us. The driver turns around and that's when we realize it's a woman.

I had never been on a minibus driven by a woman before. "Interesting" I thought to myself. We tell her where we're going and pull out our change to pay her. The minibus this far was R4 and that's when she said, "It's ten rand." I thought, "Ten rand, oh that's not bad for the three of us." And then she says, "For each of you." "WHAT?!!?" all three of us said in a resounding note of disbelief. "You're taking us 2 km! How can you charge us R10 a piece?" I asked. "In America, they do things their way, but here in South Africa we work differently, so..." she said. I looked at her in the rear view like she had completely lost her mind."I've been here for 4 months!" I know how public transportation works. "How come no minibus I have ever rode in has cost me more than R5?" "Well, the drivers must get mesmerized by your beauty. You all are very pretty girls. They like you so they charge you less." "That is the craziest thing I have ever heard in my life." I said to her. I was thinking, "How in the world could the drivers even recognize me when there are 14 people sitting on my lap." "I'm not paying you that much. I can walk. You can let me off right here." I said. She kept on driving. She was fishing for a better explanation I suppose, "I am trying to look out for you girls. I'm a woman, and it can be dangerous for young girls to walk around here.." By the way, it was 8 o'clock in the morning on a Saturday on a major road. Gangsters don't do their best work around that time. Not to say it couldn't happen, but "I don't want you looking out for me." By that time we'd reached our destination. I gave Michelle the R4 I was going to pay her with. Total I think we gave her about R15 which was still too much in my opinion, but on our way out she said, "I'm not stopping for you three anymore." "Please... don't."

I was extremely vexed by this woman who was supposedly "looking out for us young girls." She was trying to take advantage of us because she recognized our accents. That might have worked had I not been here for 4 months, but I wasn't going to let her get over on me. I didn't let it bother me too much though. I was looking forward to riding this horse. We get there right on time. Paid and signed the if you die, you can't sue us release form. Afterwards we got fitted with our horses.

My horse's name was Echo. An older girl with a little bit of an attitude I was informed. She and Oscar, one of the older male horses, "got along well" I was also told. It seemed like they had some tension in their relationship because Echo tried to headbutt Oscar. I didn't want to seem like I was all in her business so I didn't ask. As we started off on the trail down to the beach, I realized that Echo was a professional who did not need my help. She knew the trail better than I did so me pulling on the reigns we pointless. The only time I pulled on them was when she tried to stop and eat the trees. We had a little caravan going so if one horse stopped, all those behind had to stop until we was done chewing on that particular tree branch.

When we got on the beach, Echo got a little antsy. And then the guide asked if we wanted to trot. Without me asking, Echo takes off in a trot and my butt is getting beating. My whole inner thighs were feeling the pain as Echo did her thing. When I pulled back and asked her to stop she did but she still had an attitude about it. She didn't like how I was holding on to the squeaky reigns. I apologized. She started to warm up to me as we headed back. Actually started to do what I was telling her to, but by that time it was a little too late we were back in the holding area. I climbed off and pet her nose. She nuzzled me a bit to show some affection. It felt like a "thanks, see you around" pat you'd get from someone you just met.

My butt was hurting the next day but it was a lot of fun and the view from the beach was absolutely amazing. What a beautiful country this is; in spite of the crazy female taxi driver. I'm thankful that I took the opportunity to come here and that I have the pleasure of spending a special day in my life on the Continent. It feels wonderful.

I'm thankful for each and everyone of you, Family and Friends, alike.

I'll see you soon

Week Thirteen: The Black Intelligencia of South Africa

2008-04-30T13:39:00.000-04:00

Molo Family! Friends!

What a week! Not much has changed in the way of my work load. I'm equally as busy if not more, but I had such a nice ending to my week. Let me tell you about it:

I'm undertaking this independent research project and the woman supervising me, Jane, is the head of the department of the African Gender Institute at UCT. I went to visit with her, check in and give her a progress report. Because I e-mailed her and hadn't heard back from her regarding her availability, I just went by her office in the AGI on Thursday since she's usually available in the morning that day. She's not in her office. I go upstairs where the reception desk is to leave a message for her and that's where I run into Elaine, my professor for my AGI course on feminist theory on the continent. She's meeting with a student but I ask her if she'd seen Jane. She told me that Jane was speaking at a conference that she was on her way to and that I should definitely go. I had no desire to go to my religion class (the topic was Hinduism) so when she offered to give me a ride, I said absolutely.

We get there a bit late, but Jane has just begun. We sneak in and take a seat. Elaine is listening oh so critically. I get a little lost at some points because some of the words she's using I've never heard of before. Generally though she was talking about the woman who brought Jacob Zuma up on rape charges and the trial that insued. Talking specifically about how the scripts people have of their heads about how a rape is supposed to go prevented them from viewing her or her story as credible and plausable, respectively.

Her paper wasn't the most interesting at all, but what I thought was more interesting was the conversation that I was privvy to during lunch between Angelo, Desiree, Elaine, and Bianca (who works with Elaine at the AGI). They are apart of 'the' Black intellectuals of Cape Town. While they don't brand themselves as such it was quite obvious. They were all early to mid 40s with the exception of Bianca a recent Master's grad in anthropology who works with Elaine. All of them academics or in the case of Angelo, a former academic working on a novel. I had such a great time at the conference on Thursday so Elaine offered to take me again on Friday. During this two day conference I observed all of them:

Angelo was watching Boondocks (an anime tv show) on his laptop during some parts of the conference. Desiree sat mostly attentitive giving her opinions only when she clearly felt moved. The paper she presented was brilliant. I'm actually reading some of her work for my project. Elaine brought up questions about cultural constructions of masculinities and sexuality on the continent specifically in relation to Jane's work. At lunch, they critiqued Jane's from beginning to end. What they found most problematic was her inability to talk about race and sexuality critically as apart of these "scripts" that people had in their heads.

They also talked about all the books they'd been reading. One called "Coconut" by Kopana Matlwa. Think brown on the outside, white on the inside which is equatable to an 'Oreo' in Afro-American lingo. Desiree loaned me her copy of "Coconut" and also told me that I should make time to come by the University of the Western Cape where she is based. Angelo invited me to raid his book collection and we'll be exchanging illegal downloads of our favorite television shows via the internet. And Elaine invited me over for dinner with her family.

On the way home Friday, I told her that I was a little upset that I hadn't asked her to sponsor my research since she was an anthropologist by trade and my work was ethnographic. She told me I was welcome to come to her anytime for help.

Anywho, I've made some great connections with the "older crowd" (not saying that 40 is old or anything). I just enjoy being around Black people who are older than me and successful and doing what they love to do. I always have. They have so much wisdom that can rub off on you. I can always use some more wisdom.

One Love

--
"For there are no new ideas. Just new ways of making them felt..." Audre Lorde

Week Twelve: About 20k words in four weeks....

2008-04-23T13:37:00.000-04:00

Fam! Friends!

I know I'm a little late with this... truth is... HOMEWORK is no joke!. I'm really clamping down. I have 4 huge papers due within the next four weeks, average 5k words a piece. This Includes the final draft of my independent research project and the literature review I'm working on with Rape Crisis. I'm finalizing the plan on how I'm going to get it all done, but the key is working non-stop during the day all next week since we have a few national holidays: next Monday, Thursday and Friday. Most people are taking the opportunity to travel, but I'm going to be working on these papers. Knocking them out.

Oh, I've been successful in getting some internship applications out there for this upcoming summer in DC. I even got some 'call backs.' I'll keep you posted!

Only a few weeks left! Oh my God... I can't believe how quickly my time here is flying by!

That's all I got (time for).

One Love

--
"For there are no new ideas. Just new ways of making them felt..." Audre Lorde

Week Eleven: To Pick a Brain

2008-04-16T11:03:00.002-04:00

Molo Family! Friends!

Sorry I'm late with the weekly update. My week has been a bit busy and I've been a little under the weather. A bug is going around, but I'm fine. On with it then:

I have spent the entire week picking the brains of the women at the Rape Crisis center for my independent research project. If I include the one I did today, I've done 8 over the past 7 days. And last Thursday I did 3 interviews in a matter of 7 hours. My brain was a bit tired.

My research began as an interrogation into the discourse of a rape crisis center and looking at how that discourse interacted with the work they did in the policy making arena. Then after some preliminary research and formulating the interview schedule, it became aparent that what I really was interested in was not about the policy but how these women understood themselves, rape, and the work that they did at a rape crisis center that has its own history having been in existence for 30 years.

All of these women have absolutely amazing stories and the power of this organization to actually change the directions of their lives and change their understandings of their gendered selves is absolutely amazing. One of the women said that it affects "the essence of you... that's the essence of rape crisis." It has given them a voice. Especially the black women who come from environments and live in environments where "African" customs and practices still very much inform the way people are and the gender relations i.e. women are subbordinate to men, women are jurial minors, men are the breadwinners, women are financially dependent on men. It has made these women who come from understandings like that bold enough to stand up to the crazy things that happen in their churches, specifically the 'men of God' sexually take advantage of the young women in their church, in their homes... one of the women said that she and her husband and son clash all the time because she learned from her (step)daughter, her son's wife, that he is abusive. Every last one of the women I've spoken with have either had friends or family members who have been victims of some form of sexual violence, and some have had experiences with it personally. Rape is very real in this country and rape crisis does it's part in supporting the survivors of rape.

They are working to end rape in a country that has the highest incidence of rape in the world and has one of the fastest growing HIV/AIDS infection rate in the world. Why are they struggling to keep their doors open? Why isn't the government throwing money at them? And why don't they have a revenue generation system? These women have the passion, the know how, to do this work. One woman said that "rape crisis was like an angel... I'll be the last person to leave when they shut the doors." Even though all of them aren't university "educated," they have found a way to to ground themselves in a very (scholarly) feminist approach and have given each other the language and tools necessary to understand this issue of rape, gender equality, and themselves. Yet, they have not managed to also discover a feminist, business ethic and savvy.

One of the major themes that is sticking out to me not only in my work with them, but also in the classroom is: how does scholarship translate into action? How do I can get my own needs and wants and passions to interact with the formation of a feminist approach to business and activism that allows me to make the kind of money I want to while simultaneously working for (or operating) the type of organization that does work for women internally (within the organization) and externally (in the community)? I mentioned this a few weeks ago and it's this low rumble that seems to pervade all the research I'm doing, all the papers i write... I just don't think that it's enough to theorize, to get published or read important feminist text... I want to change the world!

Forgive my heady musings... but then again it's all apart of the expereince of being in South Africa.

Off to wine and cocktails with my professors!

(They're welcoming a new member to the staff of the African Gender Institute and invited students!)

One Love,
Nikki

--
"For there are no new ideas. Just new ways of making them felt..." Audre Lorde

Week Ten: Do not leave candles unattended and make sure your fire extinguishers work

2008-04-10T02:46:00.002-04:00

Hey Family! Hey Friends!

Have you ever felt that rush of terror come over you when you look at all of the things you are supposed to be doing and you count the number of hours you actually have available to get it all done? I felt that earlier this week.

I had to type 20 pages of my research proposal up for my independent research proposal on top of needing to have something to show for the literature review I am working on for the rape crisis center. I also had an 4-6 page paper due at the end of the week in another course. I had to eat at some point, maybe take a shower, and wash my clothes--you know--live. I was feeling the terror.

I sent an e-mail nearly in tears to Kath at the rape crisis center telling her about my plate and how much I was trying to chew... She's great by the way. She really put me at ease. I was also put at ease after I spoke to Prof Bennett who is overseeing my independent research. Those two projects just take up so much of my time, and the lines between them are so easily blurred... but I had to put them into perspective and get to a place where I could manage my time like I needed to. I've made deadlines for myself and have also made it a point to rest during on my weekends.

So I've worked through my feelings of anxiety and I'm just being very careful about adding more things to my plate. There is a fashion show coming up on campus, and you know I love to dress up and wear my heals and walk around like Eva from America's Next Top Model. I'm considering auditioning for it, but I'm going to do some serious thinking about it first and find out more about the time commitment. Just a point of interest.

I cannot end this e-mail without telling you about the crazy thing that happened last night:

At around 8pm the power went out, as scheduled. The power company, Eskom, calls it load shedding. The power is cut four hours a week, Friday mid-day and Monday 8-10:30pm. That isn't what this story is about. It's just to place it into context. The power is out, it's 8pm and it's pitch black in my house. So I found some candles and lit two for my room; so did Michelle whose room is next door to mine. We soon realized that we weren't going to be able to do homework by candlelight, so we figured we would hang out. My housemates and I gathered in the kitchen lit candles and kept each other company. Matt decided he wanted to see if he could cook a hotdog over candles... That was gross to watch. After about half an hour of watching Matt eat this uncooked hotdog with candle soot on it, I figured I should at least try to nap so that when the power did come on, I'd be able to stay up late and put some time in on my paper due Wednesday. As I turn into my doorway I look over to my right and see a bright light eminating from Michelle's room. I look up and there's a dense cloud of black smoke coming from her room. I peek around the corner and see that her bed and a bookshelf are in flames! I run back to the kitchen yelling "fire! fire! get the extinguisher!" A couple guys grab the fire extinguisher in the kitchen and Jeb runs to get Moses, our house mentor, in the other house. Meanwhile, Matt can't get the fire extinguisher from my kitchen to work and I'm yelling for everyone upstairs to come downstairs since the smoke is traveling upstairs and I didn't know if people were asleep. The fire is climbing up the wall and Ethan is beating flames with a pillow yelling for water. Moses and Zach come running with fire extinguishers. Zach's fire extinguisher also isn't working but finally Moses' is and he puts out the flames. Needless to say that Michelle was and still is freaking out. No one was hurt and her bed, books and trinkets took the brunt of the damage. My room is a little dusty, but nothing serious.

Thought for the week: Do not leave candles unattended and check your fire extinguishers.

One Love

Week Eight, but mostly Nine: Durban --> Cape Town

2008-04-03T02:45:00.002-04:00

Molo! Family and Friends!!

I'm back (in Cape Town)! I hope you didn't miss me too much, but I was on VAC (Fall Break… it's Fall here) in Durban. So, to catch you up:

Durban: First of all, me and my friend Emily took the SA Roadlink from Cape Town to Durban. The SA Roadlink? Think Greyhound and think about what would be a few grades worse than that and then think about being on that for 30 hours one way, 60 roundtrip. That's SA Roadlink. They have the audacity to call these buses "luxury double-decker coaches" but the reality is that they are roach infested, smelly vessels.

The trip was scheduled to take approximately 24 hours, but it took somewhere around 30 hours. We left about 7pm Friday and about an hour and a half into the trip the bus pulled over at Shell gas station and remained there for about 3 hours. No one told us what was happening but Emily finally went down to see what the problem was and discovered that we were in fact waiting for a mechanic to bring a part and fix the electric adapter on the bus. Thank god I had managed to fall
asleep by this time but Emily informs me that around midnight they proceeded to play, no excuse me, blast, this absolutely horrible music medley.

We finally arrived in Durban around half past eleven Saturday. Emily and myself were the only ones left to get off at Durban; the bus had stopped at like 30 different small towns along the way which wasn't bad because I got to see how people live in less urbanized areas of South Africa. The bus attendant and the drivers offered to take us home as they were pulling out their wine and ales to drink. "Work then play" the bus attendant said to us with a smile as we got off at
our stop.

The bus ride was a mess, but the guest house we stayed at made up for that. It was absolutely beautiful. The beds were a little hard, but I didn't even care they were clean and not a smelly seat on a roach infested, smelly vessel. It was like staying at a family members house for the week. The man who ran it was so nice and knowledgeable about the city.

That day we went to the beach and walked down the board walk. Saw a motor bike expo on the way. Also saw a surfing competition. We had dinner at a chic bohemian restaurant that evening. The next day we went to the botanical gardens (I saw a monkey) then walked around the city centre. That was an experience. We made it out alive and that's all that mattered. We went to the Suncoast Entertainment centre the next day where we went to the movies and saw 10 000 BC (don't judge me, that's all they had that was even worth seeing… and I use worth very loosely) and spent a little bit of time in the Casino! I won R30 by the way… I mean I lost it all about 3 minutes later, but it was fun. Went to a European influenced restaurant for dinner where the waitress proceeded to explain to me what a bagel was! I didn't know what a "boiled bagel" was. Apparently it's a regular bagel. The next Indian restaurant for dinner. Our last full day there we visited a museum and saw Durban City Hall.

The museum was probably the most interesting part of the trip. I learned so much about apartheid and the city space. Apartheid was a monster. It was about making black bodies labor units. About dehumanizing black people and making them unwelcome in spaces that they helped to build. It was about control. It's deep. Too deep to put in this paragraph. I'm learning so much about how contemporary South Africa lives in the legacy, the shadow of forced removals. We can have a chat about it when I return if you want.

So, Thursday we were back on the bus headed back to Cape Town. The trip was equally as uncomfortable. I was so happy to be back in Cape Town. I missed my mini-buses and the homeless man outside of the 7 Eleven and I missed that guy outside of Shoprite who sells the overripe vegetables who always asks me if I'm doing okay today. *sigh*

But I'm back. Until next week! (look for pictures from Snapfish this week!)

One Love

--
"Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with shades of deeper meaning." Maya Angelou

Week Seven: Activism and Academia

2008-03-20T02:59:00.000-04:00

Molo! Family and Friends!

Forgive my tardiness! I know I usually have this in your boxes by the morning, but schoolwork is really picking up. We're ending the first quarter and our 10 day VAC (Fall Break) is just around the corner--next week. I'm going to Durban which is on the eastern side of the country! I leave this Friday evening (so no week 8 update) and I'll return to Cape Town next Friday just in time for the International Jazz Festival March 28th-29th!

So this week:

I had the pleasure of going to a play on Saturday that was produced out of the University of the Western Cape (UWC), a historically black and coloured university, by Mary Hames, the Director of the Gender Equity Unit at UWC, apartheid activist and feminist scholar.

Hames produced, performed in and wrote some of the pieces featured in the play, "Reclaiming the P Word." It was South African women's take on the Vagina Monolgues if you're familiar with that production. It's wonderful because it really encourages women to take back their bodies from these patriarchal notions we have about femininity and pleasure and self worth and just reclaim... the P word.

**commercial break** I met the cutest baby at the theater. Her name was Nika. Her mother ran the theater so as people started to file in for the performance, she asked me to hold Nika for a while. I obliged and was taken by this little girl. She was trying to eat my finger and my cell phone and my programme. Toward the end of our time together she spit up on my jeans... awwww. Soooo cute! Her older cousin/sister cleaned me up.

Ok back to the show: After the amazing performance I went up to introduce myself to Mary Hames because I thought she was the coolest person ever. I didn't realize that I'd see her today in my class! She was a special lecturer in my gender course. She remembered me. She sent a smile my way and went on with her lecture about "the university as a site of resistence.'

The academy is an interesting institution. There are very historic (perhaps prehistoric) ways we think about learning: who should have access to it, what it's uses are and why we need it. Hames is currently working on organising women students around their reproductive health rights.

Does it make sense that at a university where there are free condoms everywhere, they make the morning after pill very very available and they preach safe sex, that there are no policies or accommodations for female students who do get pregnant and want to remain in school? Does having a baby automatically mean that you are unfit to be a student?

I mean, in the first public high school I went to, a predominately black school--where teen pregnancy was real--there was a day care facility on campus for young women who had children; and people who were going into early childhood education were the teachers and were able to get hours toward their degrees.

Honestly before Mary mentioned it and posed those questions it never even occured to me that women should be able to have children whenever they want to. Who says that a university isn't a place for mothers? Who made that rule? And how can we begin to have a discussion about its implications on women.

Fascinating woman, Mary Hames. Probably the coolest South African person I have met to date. She said "not many people prescribe to myr type of feminism. It requires real commitment. It's 24/7."

Her and Elaine Salo challenged the class to really consider the way we view intellectual labor. Are we here in academia to write articles and get published internationally, and have people cite us in their papers, write a few books... or do we have a greater responsibility? Especially in a South African context where there is a void in the area of struggle and resistence. It's a time when there is a real need for activist and scholars--activist schoalrs who do more than tell someone's story. They help that someone to write their own story.

This week has been filled with learning about learning. I have had the opportunity to engage with my professors and lecturers and classmates around issues that are being parsed out in the classroom. Really figuring out how the academy, the tower, higher learning, i.e. these degrees I'm earning, are going to be useful to people other than myself.

I have so much to be angry about: Bush. This trillion dollar war in Iraq. Poverty in America. The racial and gender inequality that still exists; that the Civil Rights Act and Affirmative Action can't fix.... I could go on and on, but what am I doing to make change? How do I want to actively be apart of finding solutions in the near future?

One Love

--
"Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with shades of deeper meaning." Maya Angelou

Week Six: Introspection

2008-03-11T03:24:00.006-04:00

Hello, hello! Family and Friends!

I've been having to deal with a lot of big girl decisions this week.
Lot of thinking about my future and what's next after this experience
and how I'm going to use this experience and just a lot of
introspection into the person I want to be after all this is done.
Thinking about different ways I'm being myself here. Thinking about
how different I may be when I return to the states, but also thinking
about ways that won't change.

I do know that I'm applying for graduate school at GW. A 5 year
Master of Arts in Public Policy/ Bachelor of Arts in Women's Studies
program that will allow me to take graduate course in my senior year
that count towards both degrees and then leave 24 credits of my M.A.
for me to complete in the 5th year. It shaves off a couple years of
the graduate degree and saves me some time and money. I had been
questioning whether or not I could pull something like this off, what
if it's too much... Do I want to spend another year in D.C.? Where do
I want to live? Those type questions. I can't believe that this is
my last semester before my senior year in college! AAAAHHHH! I'm
hyperventalating as I'm writing this and hoping for some advise on
what I should do in the last year to make sure I can get a job after I
graduate.

Oh, I'm sorry I haven't even mentioned South Africa yet and that's what this is about...

Let me see: I had a wonderful dinner last Thursday with some Zimbabwean women and one South African woman. She hangs out with the Zim women but makes sure that everyone in a 5 km radius knows that she is in fact from SA, Jo'burg to be exact. Two of the women I met, Serena and Nyasha are related. Nyasha is a few months younger than Serena but she's Serena's grandmother. What is stranger than that is that I didn't think that was odd. I just said, "Serena, respect your elders. Will you get your grandmother some more rice."

I had dinner on Saturday, March 8th International Women's Day at
Kath's house. Met some wonderful people there as well. Had kudu for
dinner. Kudu is a wild buck with curly horns that someone has to
shoot in the wild in order for you to have the meat but it's at the
Pick n' Pay and costs less than steak. I told Peter, Kath's husband,
that I'd tell people he actually killed the kudu we had for dinner
so... Peter actually stood out on his deck and shot the kudu that was
running through the hedges, skinned it, and then cooked it to
perfection.

I had a pretty slow week. Lot's of papers due this week and next (okay two), but it feel like a lot. I suppose I don't have much of a right to say anything since most people are in the midst of midterms and I get to bed by 10pm every night.

Anyway, I hope you have some time to introspect and do some thinking about what you want for yourself in the next few years. It's a good practice to do every now and again: inspect where you are, where you've been and where you want to go.

One Love!

--
"Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human
voice to infuse them with shades of deeper meaning." Maya Angelou

Week Five: Humanity

2008-03-04T06:18:00.005-05:00

Molo Family and Friends:

This past week has been one in which I won't ever stop feeling. I'll preface: Last week I had a very moving and emotional experience. I share it for no other purpose than to remind you that I am living in a place where the reality for a lot of people is that life is cruel and harsh, and sometimes humans are brutal to one another for reasons beyond the comprehension of most of us.

Last week Wednesday I was taking my weekly trip to the Rape Crisis Center. I had just planned to do some reading. Take a look at this resource cabinet I'd heard so much about. I walked in and the place was pretty quiet. The regular receptionist wasn't there, but the woman who was there informed me that no was there; all the staff was at a meeting in Khayletia which is a predominately black township where there is another Rape Crisis center. I told her that I was just there to read for a couple hours and I did just that. I made myself some Rooibos tea and dug through the resource cabinet which had surpassed all my expectations. There were so much there about constructions of race and gender violence, historiographies of rape in varying cultural contexts, studies done by women's research organizations, materials to help counsellors of sexually abused children; just a wealth of information. After my second cup of Rooibos, I packed up and returned the materials to the cabinet and made my exit.

As I was walking toward the main rd, not ten steps out of the door of Rape Crisis I run into an older woman, a teenaged girl, and two very active children not older than 5. The woman asked me if I worked there as she pointed to the Rape Crisis house. I told her no, but I was doing some research and voluneer work there. She then starts talking to me in one of South Africa's 12 official languages cleary just venting. Her eyes were sad and her arms looked tired from carrying
these two small children around but I stopped her telling her that I only spoke English. She looked somewhat annoyed that she couldn't use her first language, but she was perfectly fluent in English.

She tells me her story: Her daughter, the teenaged girl was raped and either the hospital or trauma center directed her to this place. She told me that the daughter had not had any services provided to her: no AIDS/HIV test, no pregnancy testing, no emergency contraception, no rape kit, nothing. She said that they only came here because they were told that they could get help here but the receptionist inside said that there was no one there who could help them and that the daughter should go to the Wynberg where I guessed there was another crisis center for rape survivors. I told her that I wasn't sure what I could do, because I didn't work there and the woman was right there was no one there and I had no idea if or when they were due back. It was
already 1 o'clock. She looked at me with frustrated and confussed eyes and the daughter couldn't look at me at all. In fact, she kept her back turned and her hood on her jacket up.

I felt my stomach clinch and my eyes burn from holding back my own frustration and guilt. I didn't know what to do. I asked the mother what she needed. She said that they were stranded. She said that she had to go pick up her son from school and get back to where they lived which was in Town. They only came there because they were told that someone would be able to help them. Provide them resources. Tell them what to do next. Provide the girl with some counselling. The mother told me that she wasn't working but the daughter was to start work on Friday and she wanted to have all this "stuff" taken care of before she started so she didn't have to take time off. I asked her again what she needed. She said money. I told her that they could wait inside for the staff to return. The mother was clearly getting more frustrated and she was done with me at that point. She said that she wanted her daughter to go to Wynberg to the crisis center but she needed to go get her son and take her girls home.

Transportation around Cape Town is expensive on a budget of zero. From Obz to Town is R4 for one, but she has two kids plus one she'd have to pick up which would be R16. Her daughter needed to go to Wynberg which would've been R6 one way but to get her back to Town from there could be up to R10.

She looked at me begging me not for money but to just tell her what to do. I told her that there was nothing that I knew to do. I didn't know what she should do. She said to me, "I only stopped you because you were human..."

She dismissed me and I walked away toward the main rd. I was crying inside but I already knew what I was going to do. I went straight to the nearest gas station which was less than a block away, I pulled out my weekly ration and I walked back to where the mother and her kids were. The mother had stopped another woman and was talking to her. The teenaged daughter was posting against the wall, her hood up and her head down. As I was walking toward them she looked up at me. I called her over. Her mother didn't even notice I was there. I took out the money I had to give saving only enough to buy a phone card so I could call my mother. I put it her hand and it was the first time she looked in my eyes.

My god: she looked like me, like you, like anyone of my friends, my cousin, my sister, my mother She was a human being. I put the money in her hand her and we held on to each other for a moment and I just felt her pain and her sadness and I still do.

I rushed back to school and I called my mother. I was so upset. I put my hood up at the pay phone and I let the tears roll down my face as my mother consoled me. I sent up a prayer that evening for that young woman's strength and for her triumph over the forces that seek to break her spirit. I hope you'll do the same.

No afterward.

Week Four: Conversations.... Words... Discourses

2008-03-04T00:37:00.003-05:00

Family, Friends…

Dialogue. Speech. The power of words. The power of silence. These are the things that I learned this week. I read Yvonne Vera's Under the Tongue this past week. Vera is a Zimbabwean woman writing in a post-independence Zimbabwe and really challenging the notion of "freedom for everyone." It's a story about incest and secrets and silence and the ways in which women in that country are expected to carry the burdens of keeping these horrible things that men do to them; these things that keep their spirits captive. I won't do a full book report, but if you can find an Yvonne Vera book I'm certain you'll find it challenging and enjoyable.

So, it was the first full week of classes. The work is picking up and the pace is getting set and I'm finally meeting African people. I say African not as a monolithic term as if there is some unifying aspect of skin color, culture or language that makes the people I've met 'African' instead I use it to distinguish them from the 'American' students which I do use as a monolithic term to describe what sometimes feels like a homogeneous group of individuals I am studying abroad with. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm getting too heady. It's being back in school. My brain works again.

About the people I've met. I've met Kim, a white South African woman from Johannesburg. Peggy, a Chinese Canadian woman. Mashudu and Xabiso, Xhosa speaking men who I'm having dinner with tonight. Anna, a Tanzanian woman studying at UCT. Simba, a Zimbabwean man studying film and production. And it's only fair to mention that I had lunch with one of the guys in my house, Zach from California. Great guy. We met for lunch and we're going to make it a weekly ritual because we find each other to be so cool.

Simba, Anna and I had a really deep conversation on Sunday where we met at a braai (a barbeque) that was held at my house. Someone asked who I was going for in the American presidential election and I told them. We then got into a discussion about race and gender and American politics and American foreign policy which of course lead to a discussion about apartheid and race in South Africa but that lead to a discussion about mores and morals and crime specifically how different it is in Tanzania as compared to South Africa. And of course that moved us into a discussion about colonization of all people of African descent which lead us to talk about privilege and education and how we as educated black people were responsible for a lot in terms of advancing black people in the diaspora. Whew. Deep. I'm just fascinated and really taken by the people I've had a chance to meet so far and I'm doing whatever I can (like cooking dinner) in order to really get to know them because I do enjoy their company and conversation.

Funny story: I got sick Wednesday and after going through the day on Thursday all miserable I decided I should go have a visit to the student wellness center. I have to tell you about this because it wasthe strangest experience I've had since I've been here. Okay, so we all know how doctor's offices in America feel. Sterile. Unholy. Uncomfortable. You're sick and the receptionist is looking at you like "ewwww." This was the exact opposite. I go with my credit card, bank statement, passport, birth certificate, insurance card, drivers license, and proof of address because I feel like they ask you for all that and then some when you go to any clinic for the first time usually. Not here. The Afrikaans speaking receptionist handed me a one sided piece of paper that asked for my address, phone number and student number. She gave me an "awwww" look not to be confused with the "ewwww" look. I asked how much the visit would cost and she said "Nothing, you're just going to see a nurse." Ten minutes later she handed me a chart and directed me to the nurse's office I was to go see. "Oh, she doesn't come out and mispronounce your name and ask you to come back? That's different." I think to myself.

So I walk into the nurses office. There was a bed looking thing against the wall. It didn't have that crackly paper on it though. There were sheets and a blanket and pillow. There was a sink and a medicine cabinet looking thing next to it. And then there was a desk with a computer on it and the desk was pilled with charts and a nice white lady also Afrikaans sounding was sitting behind it. I sat down in a chair facing the desk. She asked what I needed from her as I handed over my chart. I started telling her my symptoms and she wrote them down. She was really patient with me. She stuck a thermometer in my mouthat one point and took my wrist to read my vitals (no stethescope). She handed me a cupto give her a urine sample in. She told me what she wanted me to do with it. Told me not to let it touch my skin. Of course I felt really awkward in the bathroom so I'm like trying to clean the outside of the cup before I give it to her. She takes it from me when I come back to the room (no gloves on mind you) puts a piece of paper in it and tells me that what ever I have is something viral and that she was sorry but there was no magic pill she could give me and that I would have to treat the symptoms. She assures me that I probably don't have anything that will kill me but that if I didn't get better I should come back and see her.

That place was magical. It just showed me how ridiculous the medical practice in America is and how it doesn't have to cost me an arm and a leg at GW's student health for a nurse to tell me I'm sick.

I've learned a lot this week in terms of discourse in class and in terms of how it all applies in my life and in the lives of the people I'm meeting everyday. Take the time to have a meaningful conversationwith someone this week.

This one was a long one! But I tried to keep it conversational...

It's the theme.

One Love

Week Three: Cultural... Appreciation

2008-03-04T00:30:00.004-05:00

Family, Friends...

Appreciation is the word of the week. I am learning to appreciate Cape Town, South Africa. I really am. Last week I was a little down,but everything worked out in the end. I mean, yes, I got my flashdrive jacked this week but I'm not upset. I probably should not have left it laying around at a party at my house. Things like that happen when you're less than careful. This week has been interesting and I got to do some cultural things that really helped to bring my experience back into perspective.

I'll share: Last week Thursday I visited Robben Island where Nelson Mandela was held for 18 years as a political prisoner. It was a very powerful experience. It felt like a place of resilience. Ex-political prisoners under the apartheid government actually serve as tour guides for the prisons on the island and many of the people who work on the island which is a museum actually live there. There is a church there and people from all over come to get married there. We actually saw couples in suits and gowns there preparing for their ceremonies. Just moving the experience. You look into that tiny cell and you can't believe that a man could live there for 18 years without going absolutely mad, but then you hear stories of how the men kept themselves sane. How they learned to communicate with one another by hiding notes in tennis balls; how they would teach one another to read and write during the working hours; how they stayed sane.

I also got a chance to go to a concert for the South African band Freshly Ground. If you haven't heard about them yet, you will very soon because they are amazing. Their music is distinctly South African. The band is made up of white, black and coloured South African men and women. Their music is so universal. Everyone likes the type of music that they make. The only band I can think of in America that's even close is the Brand New Heavies, if anyone has ever heard of them. Check their music out though. Freshly Ground.

Classes started yesterday, Monday. They "fake" started on Friday. Apparently there is some unspoken, yet understood rule about the"first day" of class (which was supposed to be on Friday). Professors and students don't actually show up to that "fake" first day of class. Everyone except for semester study abroad students and freshers (freshmen) knows that. So I sat in my classes waiting for the professors to come in on Friday and when they didn't show I felt like someone knew something that I didn't. I mean, of course I thought it odd that I would see people just sitting on the steps of Jameson Hall for hours. I'd "go to class" and then see them there when I was walking from class, but who knew? You don't actually go to the first class. You learn something new everyday. And I have been.

My week is definitely on the up and up. So far, Ithink I'm going to enjoy my classes. They seem challenging and very thought provoking. Yesterday I was given a list of books and told to pick one and read one. The lecturer didn't really give a deadline, but she did mention a paper being due next week. I guess I'll read the book.

Appreciation: I appreciate those of you who read what I share every week.

One Love

Week Two: Culture Shock

2008-03-04T00:23:00.003-05:00

Molo Family and Friends,

This has been some what of a trying week. Yes, I know my first e-mail described the awe and wonder I felt from being in South Africa, but this one forgive me, is one in which I just need to express my first real feelings of culture shock. I felt it terribly yesterday. I mean, I hated everything about this place from the bright colors to the music to this place called Wynburg which I've never been, but because of the way that the minibus taxi operators yell it out of the windows of the taxi's it's a place that I never want to visit... Now of course it hasn't been all bad, but culture shock makes you hate it all. And I did. I was depressed and couldn't sleep, but was tired atlike 2pm because I looked at my watch (which I refuse to change toSouth African time) and saw that it was 7am and I wanted to still bein my bed (at home... in America... in Georgia or DC... didn't matter) asleep.

But like I said, it isn't ALL bad. In fact, yesterday I had the pleasure of visiting the site where I'll be doing some volunteering and research. It is a Rape Crisis center started here in Cape Town inthe early 70s. Wonderful place. I mean, the women were extremely nice and welcoming. The space was beautiful and they just had their stuff together. They even cook dinner with the volunteers once aweek.... awwwww... That is the cutest thing ever. I'm really going to enjoy that experience. There is such a wealth of resources inside that place and I know that it's going to be both a challenging and rewarding experience to work there.

I had a chance to lay out for an entire day on the beach. I even watched the sun set behind the mountains while I was there. The sky turned this beautiful orange color and I don't have to tell you that the colors of the sky against the backdrop of the ocean was absolutely breath taking. I spent all of 10 minutes in the water the entire time I was there. The water is very cold here. Partly because the closest continent is Antarctica, a big block of ice.

I also visited the aquarium. Very cool. The have a "Predator Tank" with sharks swimming around with other fish. To put it intoperspective, the majority of these fish were at least 5'0 feet long. There was this one particular fish that I saw inside the Predator Tank that had big teeth marks in his flesh. I don't know how he survived.

So those were the good things that happened this week. It rained for most of the weekend. Which would not have been a bad thing except I had decided to wash clothes. I have a fairly modern washing machine available in the house I live in, but drying can be a whole other animal when there is no dryer. I washed my clothes in the evening (no sign of rain) and decided I'd just hang them in the morning. But CapeTown decided it needed to rain that morning, so I had wet clothes drying in my room on a tiny little rack. My room smelled like a no name brand fabric softner and wet potato chips. And it took forever for the clothes to dry. The whole weekend! I mean, they just dried today so you can imagine the stale smell. Honestly, I'm going to have to wash them again because I can't walk around smelling like old feet.

I won't go into the complex details of everything that went wrong thisweek, but let me say that they do things very different here. Cell phones are prepaid. Customer service on the phone doesn't reallyexist. The charge that shows up on your credit card/bank statement for the purchase of your cell phone is "Internet Online Sea Point" which doesn't make much sense since you didn't purchase the phone on the internet or online or in Sea Point, a suburb you've never been to. There is no such thing as a toll-free number here, and Jessica service number 34235 from Bank of America sucks.

One Love

My First Week in Africa!

2008-03-04T00:17:00.002-05:00

Hey Everyone!

My first week in South Africa: This has been an experience to say the least. Internet is hard to come by. Phone time is hard to come by. Soy milk is hard to come by and I can't walk anywhere alone after 7pm. Public transport consists of raggedy looking men in minivans picking people up (anywhere from 10 to 20 people at a time); a few buses that you are not advised to ride if it is empty; taxi drivers that change the price of the ride depending on how many white americans are riding with you; a train that takes you into town (Cape Town), but you have to be so alert, so on guard because professional thieves lurk in the train stations.

But the people are absolutely beautiful to look at. Beautiful black people everywhere you go. I have never felt so beautiful; I can feel the standard of beauty being somewhat closer to what I look like as I walk down the street with my short cut and big earrings.

When your wallet gets stolen our orientation leaders say "Welcome to South Africa." When the lights go out they say "Welcome to South Africa." I partied at this restaurant called Marco's African Kitchen during a city wide black out. All the power in the city was gone for 5 hours. When the lights went out the sisters serving us broke out the candles while the band kept right on playing their drums and percussion instruments. No idea how they heated the food but it kept right on coming too.

The landscape is stunning. I am surrounded on all sides by mountains and water and so many different kinds of trees. Pine trees stand next to palm trees that stand next to bamboo stalks which grow next to beautiful flowering trees. Everything grows here including this tea called rooibos. I was addicted after the first sip. It's so good. Thank god Lipton packages and sells it. It only grows on these mountains in the Cape. It has such a rich flavor.

Registering for classes: my god. The university runs on paper. Nothing is digital. Being educated here is going to be an experience all it's own. All of the african students I've met thus far are so smart. They possess some higher level thinking skills that I'm going to have to work hard to develop. They are brilliant people. I'm having a wonderful time.

Loading pictures can be expensive (you pay per megabite for internet here) so look for pictures within the week. I don't have to tell you that they are beautiful. You'll see them soon.

Thinking of you all

I'm Going to South Africa!

2008-01-24T09:34:00.000-05:00

That's right... My flight leaves on January 29th and I touch down January 30th in Johannesburg and from there I fly cross country to Cape Town. Yes, I am excited. And nervous. And thrilled at the opportunity to check off another item on my "list of things to do before I die," but I am also sad to have to leave people I love to get this experience of a life time. I wish I could share those moments of awe and joy with everyone I know as they happen...

Hmmmm.... I just thought of something... The internet! Oh, my god. I can use the internet to share those moments! Take pictures. Make movies. Write some stuff... I'm down. I'll call it blogging! And I'll do it all the time and people can check in at their leisure.

Oh man I'm smart...

-N

You Made It!

2007-12-07T19:42:00.001-05:00

Blatinos!

It's Friday!! I know you're happy! Matter fact, it's after 7pm, you should be reading this on Saturday, in the middle of the day, in front of the tv with your feet up on the coffee table! I don't usually send messages on Fridays, because Fridays generally speak for themselves, but today is a special Friday. It feels particularly magical to me. Perhaps it's because I've been sitting in the library for the past 9 hours doing school work... no, that's beside the point. The point is that we made it through another trying week! Even though I'll be working through the whole weekend on five final assignments do next week... no no... Um, some of us will be taking it easy this weekend. Chilling, watching some college basketball or some football! Yes!

Look, however you plan on spending this weekend, don't forget to send up a prayer for us who are going to be spending the night in the library...

One Love,
TRDL

The End of Yet Another Hump Day

2007-11-28T18:07:00.000-05:00

Hola Familia,

It's approximately 5:17 on yet another hump day. Now I know that some of you are still in the office, some of you are still in class. Others are on their way to Tanika n'em house to go see about they cousin, and others of you are slaving over yet another paper that's due in 5 minutes. Whatever you may be doing and where ever you are on these highways and byways, I simply ask you to take a brief moment to yourself... Reflect on all the other Wednesday's you've gotten through in the past (I've gotten through approximately 1072) and be thankful that, by some grace and some prayer, you'll make it through this one too. Oh, and don't forget to stop by the store to pick up some milk and bread. And don't forget to send out that e-mail to the staff about that meeting next week. And for the last time will you please return your sisters phone call and call your Auntee cause it is her birthday, and tell Dre n'em don't be coming 'round your house no more acting crazy, and did you check blackboard for that outline that you had to do? Oh, and make sure you go up to the registrars office by 5 tomorrow. I think your mother called. Oh and don't forget to... :) smile

--
"Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with shades of deeper meaning." Maya Angelou

The Souls of Black Women Folk

2007-03-06T18:46:00.000-05:00

by Nikki Lane

A Forethought

Herein lie a sketch; rough in some parts, but proportionate and honest in every. A sketch that if viewed with the same integrity that was used in drafting it, could reveal the peculiar circumstances that have shaped the Black woman’s experience, history, and identity in America. Its reading may lead to an understanding of who She is, and who She isn’t; show where misconceptions of Her personage come from and, in the end, I pray it leads to a deeper understanding of who She has become in these opening years of the Twenty-First Century.

I do not wish to abstract the Black woman or Her experience; She has been an abstraction, a parody, a stereotype, a fraction of Herself for too long. It is important to note, however, that I do not seek to simplify Her either. Controlling images fashioned by the white heteropatriarchy have sought to simplify Her. It is my wish to return Her to Her rightful place in reality where She has been absent from for centuries while conveying the truth about Her past and present complexity and depth. However, this is not an attempt to universalize all Black women’s experience. That is an impossible feat.

W.E.B. DuBois’s The Souls of Black Folk, the book this work is fashioned after, managed to articulate what life was like in a Black body, but I would argue that it did not delve adequately into how gender constructs a different experience in this Blackened body.

This, my humble work, attempts to undo what the Black Nationalist Movement, (middle class white) women’s movements, (racist) white patriarchy, and capitalism have managed to do to Her identity and story, whether in oversight or strategic hostility: erase them both from then and from now.

A profound appreciation for the Black woman serves as the motivation behind my pursuit of this project. While that appreciation finds a way to inform my methodology and my analysis, I should note that I attempt to extract even those parts of Her—myself—that conflict and even disappoint. I do not, and cannot, claim objectivity. In fact, my standpoint as a Black woman—as a racialized individual—does not afford me objectivity. This body, however, does allow me to bring a richer, more robust analysis to this project. Many of us who occupy this particular position in society, somewhere on the margins, somewhere behind the Veil, are forced to show those beyond it its Truths. For when the opportunity arises, the oppressor expects the oppressed to teach him his mistakes (Lorde 114). This project is not me taking up that responsibility because there is something fundamentally wrong with its logic. The oppressor excuses himself from responsibility when he can justify his behavior by saying that he didn’t know he was doing anything wrong. But here I hope wrongs will be righted, rights lefted, and insight granted. So it is my hope that in the end you, Gentle Reader, will come to see the Black woman the way I do: tangible, human.

“I pray you, then, receive my little book in all charity, studying my words with me, forgiving mistake and foible for sake of the faith and passion that is in me, and seeking the grain of truth hidden there.” W.E.B. DuBois from “The Forethought” The Souls of Black Folk

Work Cited...

Lorde, Audre. Sister Outsider. Freedom, California: Crossing Press, 1984.

(This is a piece of a work that I'm currently worknig on. I think I'll use my blog for the next few weeks for throwing some ideas and concepts out there that I've been playing with.)

Retrospect for Introspection: Ease on down, ease on down the road

2007-03-04T13:57:00.001-05:00

Don’t you carry nothing that might be a load.

Heals clicking, hope in my heart
Good friends to lean on—who know their part
We with ease… we ease on down
A yellow brick road
To uncover

What’s been ours all along
Courage, heart, smarts, and

home

I'm soooo not very good at making close friends, but I'm getting soooo much better. I've met people in the past five months who I want to be in my life for the next 5 decades. You're special to me and I've probably told you so in my own way, but if I haven't yet, you'll know soon enough. Thank you for being there. Thank you for telling me to breathe.

One Love.
The Doctor.

Reasons...

2007-03-04T13:06:00.000-05:00

Reasons… Why do we serve? Why do we choose to give of our time, our attention, our money, ourselves? Why are we here? Reasons are vast; they lie in the deepest recesses of our own personal histories, experiences, and motives. But why should we be here?

We should serve for the sake of impressing upon younger generations a legacy of altruism. We should choose to give in an attempt to enrich the lives of another person. We should be here, give, and serve as a demonstration of our gratitude for the work of past generations. We should be here to build upon community. But what is community?

Community is giving and taking, caring and believing; it’s a random act of kindness, it’s a nod to acknowledge someone’s presence, it’s a meaningful handshake, and an engaging conversation. Community is a sense of belonging, a collective effort to connect. The quality of those connections is what causes some of us to feel more apart of that community than others. And when those connections are real, genuine, and meaningful, they are difficult to break. One is filled with an overwhelming sense of obligation to maintain them.

Make a contribution to quality connections which in turn will foster community and create an environment conducive to giving and serving. This is one of many reasons that will make this experience meaningful for all of us.

One Love.

The Doctor.

A Couple of Quick Points

2007-01-01T19:36:00.000-05:00

First

Jennifer Hudson's performance in Dream Girls was absolutely superb, but I'm sure you've already heard. If you haven't... you should be shot. Eddie Murphy surprised me, as did Beyonce. Eddie's performance was definitely Oscar worthy.

Second

The answer to my questions from the Universe came rather quickly. It turns out that you can stop yourself from falling. You have to be honest with yourself, and it takes having the ability to use foresight, but you can do it... I promise.

Falling...

2006-12-20T08:40:00.000-05:00

I have a few questions for the universe...

Is it possible to stop yourself from falling? If you're already in the process of tripping over... falling for something/one, and gravity is a given constant, is it possible to regain your balance once you've started... falling?

What if you really don't want to stop, but think you should? Because it's probably for the best that you not crack your head against the concrete. Is it like a self-fulling prophecy at that point? You fall because you really wanted to all along.

Oh, but your reason for thinking you should stop is logical, empirical; if you fall for something/one you can't have then you are likely to hurt yourself. Stopping is the smart thing to do, and doing the smart thing has kept you out of trouble your whole life... has kept me out of trouble my whole life. What do I do? What do you do?

Alright, universe, if you could get back to me with those answers soon, I'd really appreciate it.

5 more days

2006-12-13T11:59:00.000-05:00

....

Yo...

2006-12-11T19:42:00.000-05:00

It's almost Christmas.

I Think I Might Work Too Hard

2006-12-07T11:30:00.000-05:00

Damn...

I work too hard. When I'm not doing something that can produce tangible results--for me, for something, or for someone else--I feel like I'm wasting time, and Lord knows how I hate wasting my time. I understand 'chillin' and I do that frequently, but chillin' is just that. It's pressing pause, not stop. I guess I'm making note of this now, because I feel like if I don't learn how to press stop at some point, I may end up burning myself out before I'm 40. But then I feel like if I'm not extremely productive now, then I won't be happy at 40. AAAAHHH!!!

I'm not exactly sure what I need to do. I'll probably talk to my momma about all this. She always seems to have my answers, but you are more than welcome to leave a piece of advice as well.

I Say Goddamn

2006-07-28T08:12:00.000-04:00

Have you ever had one of those moments when all you can say is... "Goddamn." The instantaneous nature of the way the moment comes into fruition causes the outburst--if it is an outburst--some can hold it in, but for some the moment is too catalysitc of the "Goddamn" that there is very little they can do to stop it from breeching their lips. For instance, let's say you see someone who is too attractive for real words. You might look, even get caught in their gaze, and on the inside you say "goddamn, i didn't know they made people that good looking anymore" or something to that effect. Maybe you don't say "Goddamn," that particular explicative isn't for you, but I guarantee you say something else in it's place. You might say, "Golly Gee," "Oh my," "Oh my damn," or the simple, the classic, the "Wow."

Rather random, I know. But I had some "Goddamn" moments yesterday, and they were the internal ones--I couldn't actually say them out loud--but "i say goddamn."

This Blog Thing Is Tough/Deep in the Heart of Textin'

2006-03-20T18:45:00.000-05:00

I don't know about you... but I find it difficult to keep up a blog. I mean, damn, it takes a disciplined person to sit at their computer and put their business on "front street" day in and day out. It's like a job, if you think about it. With the exception that you're not getting paid for it. I make no promises to maintain this blog, however, I will do my best to get in the good stuff--if time permits.

I have a real life outside this cyber space world where so many other individuals now choose to live. Life is not all about megabites and high speed connections. It's about memories you can share with other people, not mp3 files you can share. It's about long lasting friendships and relationships that you can store in your heart, not about how many friends you can store on your AIM list. People, I'm not against computers (I am against iPods, but that's another blog entry), but we have to remember how to communicate to one another face to face, or in the very least, mobile to mobile. I know people who I haven't spoken with in weeks or months, who'd rather text me than call me. I think that's ridiculous. Come on. Whatever happened to being able to say, "I'm only a phone call away." Now its, "I'm only a text message away."

"Hell, I ain't textin' no body no mo. Folks need to learn how to use a few of their damn day time minutes on me to show they care." --N_Deep

I don't think there's anything wrong with the internet. I'm using it right now. It's a good thing. The instant messaging, the e-mail, the Facebook, the MySpace (which I think began as a indy music space thing). These things are useful, they have their places, but let's not let them subplant and replace the way we develop relationships and talk to one another. I'm all for meeting your future wife/husband/boy/girl friend online, but make sure you know what you're getting into; and be careful. (I know some of you watch those Lifetime movies... those are true stories.)

Don't IM me when you could call me. That's all I'm saying/typing. Don't think you can just hit the friend request button on MySpace and be my friend. I don't even know you! Oh and just because it's on Facebook, doesn't make it official. When you see my Away message on AIM and it says, "I'm Busy," I'm Busy dammit. And just because you see my name pop up, doesn't mean I want to talk to U. O, and pleze dont type the way u talk. That pisses me off. I'm sittin here gotdammit soundin' out stuff, cuz yo azz ain't tryn 2 type in ENGLISH. I just wanna come thru tha screen &... kick yo azz.

;) << I hate those things. They aren't cute.

Oh and watch that D.L. special on BET, which is starting to look a lot like MTV (and is a whole 'nother blog entry). It features Terry McMillan and her ex-husband. Their marriage ended when she found out he'd been cheating on her... with men. In the black community, we call this being a "A Brother on the Down Low, or the D.L." Watch the special. I don't know when it comes on; check BET.com or something. Alright then. Peace out.

I'm done. I'm done. I still remember Rosa and Mrs. King. How about you?

Mrs. King

2006-02-01T15:01:00.000-05:00

Coretta Scott King... will truly be missed, but most importantly... remembered.

I won't forget.

If you don't you should...

2006-01-14T19:57:00.000-05:00

If you don't watch the Colbert Report or Jon Stewart.... you should be shot.

I'm Saddam

2005-12-11T12:09:00.000-05:00

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Turkey Day

2005-12-01T09:56:00.000-05:00

We all know where Thanksgiving really came from, right?

http://www.nativeweb.org/pages/legal/thanksgiving_nelte.html

If not, I've provided a link to a nice summation of the history...

Now I do suggest that you do your own bit of research on the matter, as I would suggest with any information. But it looked pretty good to me (not that I'm a definitive source of any kind of history). I did find one guy who was very biased in his "analysis" of the holiday as he used only one primary source in his "discovery" of the first Thanksgiving. He failed to note the one that took place 2 years before, but he did find the space to mention the failures of communism while he praised America's "free market." *shrugs* I don't know *shrugs again*

Let's see... What did they tell me in school? Ah yes.

It was the day that the Pilgrams landed on Plymouth Rock and had a feast with their new friends the Indians; laughing, singing, and enjoying turkey and a bountiful harvest, and friendship...

But it was really in the days following the time when the white settlers landed on this great big rock we call America, slaughtered (with not only guns but also pestilence and disease), enslaved, and stole from hundreds of "Indians" aka Native Americans... and gave thanks for all that beautiful destruction by eating turkey... year after year

Be careful people... history books are evil...

Racism connoisseur

2005-11-16T20:10:00.000-05:00

Apparently no one had the balls to take on my *say something* challenge. Or maybe they just didn't see it... that's fine. Let me start here by saying if you haven't heard of Boondocks, you live under a rock. You need to pick up a newspaper turn to the comic section, look for a little boy with an Afro or a baby boy with cornrows... you can't miss them. The creator of the strip, Aaron McGruder, has developed an anime version which comes on Sunday nights at 11:00 pm, on Cartoon Networks [adult swim]. You should check it out. If you like Chapelle, you'll love Boondocks.

Oh, yes, the topic of these post... Racism Connissoure...

I'm a Racism Connissoure, if you find any thing that's good, that... well, you know, has to do with somebody being racist or something--I mean, I'll take your personal anectdotes... even if you were being racist--umm, just let me know and yeah... I'll be your friend, or add you on my buddy list or something. Yeah, well... that's it. Nothing much really going on here... I'm in college. I'm a pretty good looking 18 year old Afro-Americana. So, yeah. I'm not trying to hook up with anybody, I just thought I might throw that out since you were reading my personal blog. Ok... well, I can't think of anything else to say--hell, you probably stopped reading anyway--way before I started talking (typing) about nothing. Alright then, you have a nice day or night, or afternoon--whatever. Ok, bye

~N~

Nigga Please...

2005-11-15T13:06:00.000-05:00

Is anyone bold enough to talk about how they really feel about the word? If so... *say something*

The Four White Boys with Rhythm

2005-11-11T11:08:00.000-05:00

Play that drum, white boy
Strum that bass white boy,
Blow that horn white boy
Finger those strings white boy,

White boy, capture that soul
That we all hold,

Souls are transparent, white boy
Souls don’t have color

Music don’t have color, either white boy
So clash that cymbal
And blow that horn
Finger those strings

Boy…

I'll Remember Rosa...

2005-11-04T08:29:00.000-05:00

_
"Most historians date the beginning of the modern civil rights movement in the United States to December 1, 1955. That was the day when an unknown seamstress in Montgomery, Alabama refused to give up her bus seat to a white passenger. This brave woman, Rosa Parks, was arrested and fined for violating a city ordinance, but her lonely act of defiance began a movement that ended legal segregation in America, and made her an inspiration to freedom-loving people everywhere."~~ the Academy of Achievement Washington, D.C.

But Rosa was not unknown among the circle of other Civil Rights activist. Her move was no accident, or a spur of the moment decision. Her and her husband had been diligantly working for equal rights in Alabama, especially in one landmark case of the Scottsboro Boys (nine black boys arrested and charged with raping a white woman on a train. )

We can believe what historians tell us, or we can do the historical research ourselves and found out more, the truth, about our history. I will remember Rosa.

I will remember the day she sat down for our rights, and the times she stood up for them too.

Go here to help guide you in your search for some REAL history...
http://www.courant.com/news/opinion/commentary/hc-commentarygoldstein1030.artoct30,0,6839008.story?c

http://www.africanaonline.com/rosa_parks.htm

My Me Quiz

2005-10-26T14:04:00.000-04:00

http://www.quizyourfriends.com/yourquiz.php?quizname=051026140132-235088

Now listen... If you don't know me... this is not something you should try. Ummm... it is a c0mplete and utter waste of time, okay? So no strangers should click on that link up there; got it?

My Head Hurts...

2005-10-24T12:49:00.000-04:00

(in my best Baptist Preacha voice)
When it comes down to it [short pause to gasp for air]
and you've had one of them days... and uh
You just don't know what to do [musical in tone]

You just don' reached the lowest of the low [just about singing]
They say you ain't got no where to go
And ya head is a poundin
I said yooooo heeeeaaad gets ta poundin' [stretch it out]
"Preach Preacha!"

Well then you...
I said yoooouuuu [singing]
You (the choir fills in)
Got a head ache

Can I get a Amen?!

(I really shouldn't do that, but I swear that's what just played in my mind...)

My Dreams

2005-10-16T16:43:00.000-04:00

My dreams are alive in me
Alive and thriving
Not deferred
Unperturbed and driving
Driven rather by the things
Around me
Failure, hope, success surround me

My dreams are alive in me
I’m living my dreams, even
As they exist within me
Just as I experience life
And am alive

I’m a dreamer

Forever lost
Lost in my dreams
Lost in a daze
Forever dreaming
Dreaming the future
Dreaming the dreams

Forever…
Lost and dreamin’
All in a daze

For You...

2005-10-15T17:06:00.000-04:00

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Potenetial Energy

2005-10-14T10:26:00.000-04:00

I have the potential to perform
Great miracles
I have the potential to break
Generational curses
But I can’t do a thing

Sitting
........On top
.................Of this
..............................Hill

(requires basic knowledge of physics)

N_Deep

2005-10-13T13:39:00.000-04:00

2005-10-13T13:35:00.000-04:00

I hope Missy don't get mad, but i think it's an important image to keep in mind when you're talking to me... or any other human being

Umm...

2005-10-13T01:30:00.000-04:00

Raise your hand if you don't date people you meet online!

*raises hand*

Don't Get Mad... Get Glad

2005-10-12T21:49:00.000-04:00

Yes, it’s been a while, but hey… I mean, you must understand that I’m a busy woman now. I have a part time job, I go to school, and I have to maintain an excellent GPA in order to stay in school. So, let me tell you this…

It’s going good. A lot has changed in me, mentally since the first day of class. It’s funny because I look at what I thought my Woman Studies class would be, and it’s nothing like that. All of my classes seem to intersect as far as the topics are concerned which ensures my interest.

I’ve got Sociology, Psychology, Woman Studies, and English. The English class deals specifically with the New Negro Movement of the early 1900s, or the Harlem Renaissance. The goal of the class however is to provide a view of the New Negro Movement on a much broader and more interdisciplinary context than it is generally taught. First of all breaking down the misconceived notion that the movement originated in Harlem; second, discussing the different versions of Washington, D.C. that have been talked about throughout the ages.

Psychology is my intended major so you can imagine how much I’m enjoying that. My professor, Dr. Umm-I-would-tell-you-but-ummm, is great. He’s witty and his teaching style is very conducive to my learning. In other words, he ain’t borin.

Sociology is very interesting, because it’s a discipline that I never really understood completely, even when I took the class in high school. I think Woman Studies, and the angle it takes in trying to identify forms of oppression in our social institutions and systems helps to give me a greater appreciation of it. I think it’s a good way to balance the Psychology, because it’s a constant reminder that many of the problems we go through on a “micro” level are not so personal, because they can very well be the effect of a “macro” issue.

Anywho, I’m going to church here…I’m not a heathen or anything. (jk). I was afraid initially that I wouldn’t find anybody trying to do this thing the right way, but I thank U Know Who that I have. They are really nice girls. And there are a handful of guys, but you know how that goes… smh. Where are all the good brothas at? And even if they are the good brothas, they’re either taken, ugly, in hiding, or a few hundred miles away from me.

I can’t even trip though. I mean, if I meet that special person, I do. And if I don’t, then I’ll die a very lonely old lady…

And guess what, I can say that I’m cool with that! Don’t get it twisted; I don’t want no junk, so I’ll wait for my perfect one...

Even if I have to wait on Jesus

My First Day of College

2005-08-31T11:58:00.000-04:00

How lame, right? A freshman in college commenting on her first day of class. *shrugs* If you don't like it... keep it movin' cause it's about to get lamerer.

My first class, Psyc 1. How appropriate. I do plan on majoring in Psyc. My professor, whose name I will not disclose for purposes of privacy, is--i think--really good at his job. Experienced, anal retinsive, tough even, but really good. I'm going to enjoy his class.

Tis, this day has not come to a close for me.
I am but a class away from insanity
A woman studies course
Of which the first text reads
"young feminist and the new feminism"
Lipstick lesbians,
I will no doubt see...

Not that I have a problem with that. I'm probably over-exaggerating anyway. I just don't want to get sucked into a typhoon of man bashers. I mean, I love men.

I'll let you know how it went.

My Deepizm I

2005-08-20T17:01:00.000-04:00

o Black reclusive, yet I’m giving you
o An exclusive, so…
o Sit back and enjoy the vibes
o Words cut you so deep you thought I was slinging knives
o But I promise it’s just the words I scribed
o Get tissue cause
o My mouth is an ever flowing fountain of knows
o Knowing no limits, un-abounding
o Recounting my baptism
o In cool springs of Baduism

It's been a while...

2005-08-19T13:16:00.000-04:00

Well, it's been a while... since I wrote in my blog. But nothings new except my house. And my phone number... and the fact that I don't have a job; and I'm two weeks away from school...

I'm Green:

2005-08-04T18:21:00.000-04:00

Green

You are a very calm and contemplative person. Others are drawn to your peaceful, nurturing nature.

I thought it was pretty accurate. But I wonder... how do they do that?? **shrugs**

Who are you for me to lie to you?

2005-08-04T10:30:00.000-04:00

My philosophy on Lies:

You've got to be some kind of egotist to think that you deserve a lie from my lips. Lie to you for what? So you'll think highly of me? Please... There are too many people who know me, the real me, and think highly of me already, for me to even waste my breath trying to change your mind.

It's so funny... People lie to each other so much, it becomes apart of their psyche, and they even start to believe their own lies... But I've decided to stop beLIEving them (mine or someone else's). Now I am in no way, shape or form saying that I don't lie anymore. O God No! You and I both know that I'm going to mess up, I'm human; but I'm not going to plan on doing it, and I'm not going to make excuses when I do (Hell, I hope it's for a good reason and I hope it's a good lie). But hey**shrugs**

However, I am a firm believer that you shouldn't let the right hand know what the left hand is doing... Or vise versa. This is wisdom and can be achieved through tactics I like to call non-lying methods or NLMs. You know... The half-truths-but-not-really-a-lie kind of methods? Here's a summary:

*the often misused don't ask, don't tell
Ex. "Suzie never asked if I had a girlfriend, so I never told her."

*the censorship method (bleeping out the information that doesn't need to be shared)
Ex. "Bobby, where are you going tonight?"
Bobby replies, "Just hangin out with friends..." he leaves out the fact that their going to smoke pot.

*the clever euphemisms and wordplays that leave the other person assuming and you in the green
Ex. "Do I look fat to you honey?" (she's five hundred pounds)
You say, "Honey, you are P.H.A.T. and ALL THAT to me!"

*and my favorite the-talking-until-you're-blue-in-the-face-but-never-actually-answering-the question-with-a-straight-answer method.
Ex. Your future employer asks, "Have you ever been arrested?"
You reply, "A few years back two officials of the law to helped me get over some anguish (or, yes I was arrested) I was feeling because of my husband's blatant disregard for my feelings (that stupid fool cheated on me). I was hurt (I killed that sucka). And all the while I had to deal with the kids (he left these two bad A kids with me while he was out sleepin around), the pressure really got to me. They helped me out a lot (they locked me up for 7 years). I'll never forget what they did for me back then...(they put those kids in foster care, now I don't have to deal with them anymore)"

Sure, there is a very thin line between the NLMs and JPL (just plain lying), but believe me, your conscience knows the difference.

Before you fix your lips to lie...Just think about it... Ask yourself: are they really worth you lying to them? Probably not. I mean, did they make you? Nope, that means they can't break you. Is you driving a Benz over a broke down hoop-ride going to make them think anymore highly of you? If it does, you don't need them. Is she/he not turning you on like they used to? Hell, tell them. Lying won't do either of you any GOOD. People, lying won't do any of us any GOOD!

**steps of soap box** But hey... That's just me.

I'm not a liar... I'm a make-believer...

**disclaimer**Please don't try these examples at home. Keep in mind that I'm not suggesting that any of these methods be used in the context in which I give the examples... I just used them so you would understand the methods a little more clearly; hoping that the situations would ring a bell. **disclaimer end**

My Life

2005-08-03T22:03:00.000-04:00

A blog...Well I guess I can get with that...

My life is fabulous... the Fabulous Life of Deep...
LoL. Right. That would make a great show on VH1.
An 18 year old girl, ridding around in a busted up brown GMC van with no air conditioner, but happy as all Hell, cause she knows its going to get better. Yep! Perfect, I think I'll pitch the idea to them...

Anywhoo, I'm not complaining. I don't mind. I mean my life is better than it used to be. Hell, better than what it could be. I'm thankful, but I'm not complacent. I know that in order to make it better than it is now, I've got to do a lot more sweating, bleeding, hurting, and crying... but that's life. That's My Life anyway. But it's all good.

Sweating means you're doing some work. (unless you're in a Sauna)
Bleeding means you're either in the process of fighting... or you're done fighting (hopefully you won)
And crying... crying is catharsis. It's your soul bleeding, because it too was fighting.

We battle everyday. But you know how you can tell you're winning??
You woke up this morning...

This is my routine...
If it's hurting me, I stop doing it. If they aren't saying anything that enriches my soul, I leave them alone. And I always find something to do for a few minutes out of the day, that doesn't require much brain power... I call this MEdedication Time.

My Deepizm

2005-08-02T17:04:00.000-04:00

And so I sit...
And take a minute to examine,
My heart and my tongue. Because
My mind is dauntless.
Never affraid to think of the impossible
Never dared to not think I could...
Do anything...
But my heart and my tongue don't always follow suit.
But they will... Now
Watch me work.