It's been a delicious past couple of days. My Thanksgiving fare turned out alright. A couple of minor snafus pushed dinner back by a couple of hours. My unreliable oven went out and my kitchen sink was clogged. I was forced to call emergency maintenance for what would typically be non-emergencies, except that it was Thanksgiving. The oven has been acting up a lot lately, and that was the worst possible day to have to even think about being without it. In any case, I was not denied assistance (which they could have technically done), and though the maintenance man was put out, everything was made okay in a matter of minutes.

With the aid of my sister I found my rogue box of Christmas ornaments and lights. It was pushed back in the overhead storage compartment next to my hall closet. She got them down for me, and while the oven was being tinkered, we got the lights on the tree and placed the few baubles that I do own onto the branches. Over the next couple of weeks, I'll be purchasing some more. I started my new collection last night in Hampden (Catherine was visiting and we were tooling around on the Avenue).

Dinner with my mom, Caryl, and Jim on Friday was nice in that it was stress free. I made the macaroni and cheese casserole,and it turned out well. While I was there my mom gave me a couple of tabletop christmas trees--one green and one white. I'll buy a few tiny ornaments for those too. After watching a couple of movies mom and Jim drove me home.

Before Catherine showed up yesterday afternoon I made a morning of cleaning up for her arrival. I also made a mix of Christmas songs. Tomorrow, I am off work. Sarah and I are going to do some serious shopping! Tonight, I go to her place and we will see "The Edge of Reason" together. Absolutely perfect.

The sun is waxing rebellious and shining brightly, illuminating all the rainy, slick sidewalks. This is supposed to be a mostly cloudy day with a few showers, but when I saw the bright light punching holes through the thick gray, it seemed indicative of grace. I was a bit overwhelmed yesterday with the implications of where I left things with Gordon, overwhelmed about the fact that I am again low on money and need my next paycheck, like today... I need that Sprint rebate ASAP...but all of these things are beyond me at the moment. No amount of pondering is going to conjure up money, resolution, or anything else.

Today is my shot at really seeing the Hand of God at work, if I want to see it. My sister is sleeping, fighting every step the notion that she needs to get up so we can get this party underway. We are going to have a feast for two. We are going to watch movies, decorate a tree, talk about the new boy she likes, and listen to music.

How could I forget for an instant that I am more blessed than I can recount? Even the closed doors, somehow, lead to blessing.

Colour Me Presumptuous

I went to class last night even though Caryl was due to arrive at my place sometime around 8 o'clock. I left at the break, though, as a compromise. My professor teased me a bit about having the option to stay...simply blowing off my sister. He did let me know that I am welcome to come to a briefing, of sorts, next tuesday that he's holding with the other two members of our class who did not attend last night--so that I won't have to totally miss out on the salient points that were made after I left...

In looking over the paper he handed back to me, I see that he's asked if I mind e-mailing him the file, "in case [he] ever returns to 'Christa T.'"

Who's the patron saint of miscommunications?

Hmm. what to say about the current state of affairs...? Well, I sent out my terse, but not snide reply to Gordon yesterday afternoon. Last evening I was sent a somewhat apologetic response, but one in which it was asserted that he would basically not be coming to the reading... so there it was all laid out there. The truth of where I fall in the hierarchy of things/people that are a priority to him. So, today, late morning, I sent a reply in which I was going for a measure of genuine communication about the implications of his decision. Not asking him to change his mind, but going for the point beyond the surface of this debacle. I was met with a reassertion of his commitment to his long-standing position about e-mail ettiquette and some bs dissertation on how sometimes plans have to be rescheduled. I replied one final time letting him know that his thoughts on this did not escape me, but that I did not feel that my most recent e-mail sought to undermine the fact that he is busy and frazzled, but that it was clear to me that we are not seeing the issue the same way, and to that end, should end this particular thread of communication since it's been unsuccessful.

So, that's that then? I guess so.

I'm having a hard time right now. Basically, Gordon's follow up skills have been spotty lately, and this has resulted in several "misses" in terms of getting together with him recently. His ability to keep or make plans with me has been nil. He e-mailed today to ask about the poetry reading on dec. 3rd... how long it was going to last. essentially, he's been invited to someone's dinner party, and is trying to figure out if he can do both.

if you've ever been "better-dealed" in a social scenario, you know it doesn't feel good. I was already in a place of annoyance with him, so my reply to his rather interesting attempt at light-hearted dissing and beatific blessing on me by way of statements like "I hope you're doing fantastic," was cold and stilted to say the least.

Let's just say it involved a numbered list and a lot of questions. It's not snide, but it is straight, no chaser. I was like "before we discuss the reading, I have a few questions about some things I haven't heard from you about, such as the following..." I also encouraged him to be true to his preference, because it would stress me out to know he was basically counting the minutes until he could make a hasty exit. I don't need those kinds of favours.

Why do people think they are softening the blow of a kiss-off by saying something like "hope your day is going well," or "take care, and best of luck," after essentially saying "I don't want to buy anything you're selling." Just make your comment, let it stand out there, naked and bald. It's more respectful to the person you're blowing off. It really is.

For lunch with Quill:

sweet butternut squash puree
crab salad
(and perhaps salmon with creamy tamarind sauce)
breaded eggplant discs

Afterward, if she is interested, I thought a craft fair at the quaker school up the road would be a fun turn.

I cleaned last night as I promised myself I would, and I feel better for it. I managed to work out a new "tree schematic," and now it is happily residing in my living room. The sense of balance and reason is back.

I dreamed about Gordon again last night (I believe I have every night this week). I dreamed that I was trying to call someone, but accidentally dialed his number. This was a small-scale disaster since "the ball was in his court" in terms of contact,and by calling I was breaching an unspoken understanding. I debated hanging up before he answered, but thought that would seem even worse since my number would still show up under "missed calls" in his phone display. It was odd, also, because I had been rather painstaking about the dialing; I was trying not to accidentally ring him up.

When he answered he was very busy and decidedly peeved. His tone was one of exasperation, and my excuse that I had mistakenly called him sounded flimsy, even to me, despite the fact that I knew it was true.

O, Tannenbaum

Okay, so the tree, once put together, is bigger than the space I had allotted for it. I guess I failed to take into consideration that branches protrude behind, outward, forward... So, I moved the foyer table to a less organic spot, and the tree is taking up the lion's share of the entry way space. The good news? Entering/Leaving by way of the front door is in no way obstructed, but the feung shui? Off. Way off.

Maybe it will look better when I rig up the lights and bedeck it with glowing spherically shaped ornaments and the like. I know it'll look great with some christmas loot underneath it. Essentially putting together my artificial, pvc dream of a tree, forced me to confront the fact that my apartment really needs to be cleaned up. You can't put sugar on shit, pardon my french, and expect it not to smell. No point having a majestic Christmas decoration in a dusty room.

So tonight I'm getting on my hands and knees and am giving my kitchen floor a good scrub (along with a nice, disinfecting bath for the stove top and the counters). Then, I'll make my way to the bathroom to get that in good shape.

Am having the lovely Quill over tomorrow, so the place needs a spit shine anyway. Other than this visit, I expect to hang out with Sarah tomorrow evening, and come home on Sunday in time to go to a poetry reading in Hampden at Mina's.

Smallville was forgettable tonight, a vehicle of an episode, the sole purpose of which was to provide texture, to illustrate the villainous capability of the young Lex Luthor. So be it. There's no shame in having mere plot-moving scenarios once in awhile. The best part about the show for me was the preview of next week's episode. Looks like a must-see.

Okay, so obviously, I am not writing my sister off...not washing my hands of her...but I am scaling back the effort. It is exhausting to keep a door open when no one walks through.

The tree did not come today as I was told it would. So, I am working from home, mostly, again tomorrow. I will go in in the morning, for about 2 hours, and then make my way back here to prepare my heart and home for 7 feet of artificial Roosevelt Fir tree, frosted. I need to get new ornaments! After it arrives, I'll go downstairs to my storage unit and retrieve the lights and baubles I do possess, and take stock of my Christmas cheer.

It takes time to build a vision, but I'm making something strand by strand, year by year.

I've come to the conclusion that my sister Crystal and I don't have the relationship I want for us to have because of her, not me. With that said, I am backing off. This year, as with most other years, my mother is making her Thanksgiving dinner on the Friday following the actual holiday. She and her friend are going to his sister's house for the holiday proper, so Caryl and I are hanging out at my place. When I learned that Crystal was going to make it home after all, my joy felt complete at the thought of spending time with her, too.

But her plans are to go to the home of people to whom we are related, mostly by marriage. The very relatives with whom we spent the bulk of our holidays growing up. The very relatives that talk about us when we're not around.

I called her last night to ask her to consider coming to my place instead and she said that she felt she needed to "connect with her family." I'm not even kidding when I say this is what she said. I find it ironic to say the least that these very people do not and will not care one way or the other whether she shows up or not. I doubt she's even invited.

Then she tried to have a conversation with me about what Caryl and I are doing, what we're cooking, etc. I didn't really need her detached interest in something she doesn't care to be part of. I am washing my hands of that girl.

I have rethought reestablishing contact with my estranged friend. I realized that as the person who initiated the severance, that I have forfeited some "rights," and when all is said and done, I would not want my "acknowledgment" of the fact that something major has occurred for her to be misinterpreted as an open invitation to contact me. I don't want to be in her life again. It was very stressful and I often felt encroached upon during the course of our friendship. I also believe that it was for her benefit that we are no longer in communication. Who am I to assume she wants an acknowledgment from me,anyway? I mulled all of this over, prayed about it,and realized that the best and most considerate thing to do is leave well enough alone.

The scripture that kept coming to mind as I prayed for God to give me His insight into this matter is : "As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool returns to his folly." In essence. Don't open closed doors.

I need to pick up a few more things in order to be prepared for Thanksgiving, but I think I will do it later this week, or on Monday. I want everything to be as fresh as possible. I have settled on recipes for Pork Loin with Mushroom Fricassee (sp?), sweet potato cheesecake for dessert, and a sausage stuffing with walnuts, and some type of dried fruit (maybe apricots?). It's a bit ambitious, but at least it will just be my sister and me if it's a horrible disaster. My secret for making truly excellent food is to be at least partially buzzed during the preparation. It removes the inhibitions and makes me fearless in experimentation.

In other news, almost everyone from my Poetry Workshop class is interested in continuing to meet over the spring, informally, to keep up the writing community. One of the members sent out an e-mail on Friday to the entire class (only 6 of us), and save one person, we've each replied in the positive. The one person who has not yet replied does not really fit in with the rest of the group--she's always just someplace else in her reading of a given piece, or focusing on minutiae. Frankly, I hope that she does not want to join us, because her comments in class usually stress me out. But, if she should, it's worth it to me. I have come a long way in trusting the sensibilities of the other writers in the group, and I don't want to lose that.
Ironic, considering how much I have kvetched about that class on this blog, and in my offline communications with friends.

It's nearly time for the office holiday party again. I may actually be able to go this year!

The Quest for Kate K.

I just finished writing a paper on Christa Wolf's The Quest for Christa T. and I feel a deep sense of pleasure over the outcome. Nursing my second cup of aromatic, double spice chai, I am reveling in the hiss of the steam heat running through my pipes, keeping me warm.

After attending a gospel/jazz benefit that was put on my by church on Friday night, I came home and watched "Cold Mountain" all the way through. On Saturday I did a double header: I knocked out both "Whale Rider" and "The Postman Always Rings Twice."
Before going to Sarah's place, I ordered the christmas tree I've had my eye on for a few weeks now.

Before coming back to my little abode early this afternoon, I grocery shopped. I got the pork loin around which I will build my Thanksgiving meal, along with some things to see me through this week.

Been thinking on my proclivity toward being alone a lot. Some of it's preference, but some of it is fear. I know you already knew this, Gentle Reader.

Devika and her El Mono were all over my dreams last night. They were coming to visit me, but were delayed. Devika called my cell, and I knew it was her because of this sonorous jazz ring tone I'd attributed to her number in my phone's directory. The apartment in the dream was the one that Sarah and I lived in, in Mt. Vernon, but I was giving Devika directions as though I lived in Montgomery County. I kept referencing roads and metro stations that are located there. The second time she called me in this dream it was to say that they were lost. I think I said something like "can't you just get on the beltway?" after trying to give her several other points of reference that weren't sounding familiar to her. She said something like "Um, Is that the only way...?"

By the time they arrived, I lived alone in my current apartment, but my mother and Jim had traded out my furniture for a white wicker set up! I was totally put upon, but did like this one corner of the room my mom had decorated. There was a desk, positioned catty corner; it was dark wood, in the same style of the accompanying pieces I have now. Seeing something that was so close to my own taste placated me, and I decided not to raise a fuss about the wicker, but I did wonder where my sage green couches had gone...

Suddenly, Devika, El Mono, two children (including one very plump baby girl)and a Russian friend of theirs, and me were in this car together. We were setting off on some kind of day trip,but El Mono missed the turn out of the Shady Grove Metro parking lot, so we were waylaid. Devika had let her hair grow insanely long and was carrying some type of hair product with her to help her manage it.

Then... back at my apartment, sans children. The three of us (Devika, El Mono, and Me) crashed a dog obedience training at a local french-style cafe. The dogs were all these scruffy looking mutt types. They were learning to say "thank you" by putting on certain facial expressions and certain gestures. They were really dirty.

The rest is a blur... oh, I do recall that I was in a scene with some Smallville characters in which I was trying out a new technique of recording songs just using water from a cooler.

***********************************************

It is so bleah out today. Why is it that no matter what time I go to bed, I wake up feeling exhausted? Anybody got any helpful hints for waking up with energy?

The Best of Chet Baker Sings...

Am listening to the singing trumpeter while drinking my morning coffee (the taste of which is best described as being "amiss"). Well, everything can't be perfect. This much I know.

Okay, so I still have not watched "Cold Mountain." Due to my busy weekend and class schedule I just haven't popped it in. It's also 2.5 hours long, which is a commitment on a weeknight. So I am bound and determined that Friday night after my outing is over, I am coming home, making some coffee, turning off the lights, snuggling on my couch while I relish watching this thing all alone in my place. Gosh, but I do like being alone. It is underrated. It is heaven to me... provided I can have limited contact with others when I'm in the mood to do so.

I read an article recently about couple, recently married (it was the 2nd marriage for both of them), and they mutually agreed to keep their individual residences. Several things about their situation made this a practical choice. It gave me hope, honestly. I have always thought that having a lair of your own to which you can retreat when you just need a break would be great.

As a writer, I find that having space of my own is crucial to the pouring forth of ideas. Living with someone stunts that process for me. I can't really open up to the page (or anything else) until I am all alone. A true introvert, others do not usually inspire me. I have to get all nice and insular before I know how I feel about anything. Maybe it's a problem? I just find that I'm much more likely to want to be with someone else if I know that I can be alone whenever I want to be.

Thanksgiving will be just my sister Caryl and me in my apartment. I am so excited. I've never made my own Thanksgiving meal before. I'm thinking short ribs or pork loin instead of fowl for the center piece.

Chai and Banana Bread for Breakfast

27 degrees out!

I received some relatively big news about an estranged friend last night, and feel that I want to acknowledge it. I will send her a card/write a letter to her at some point next week. I need some time to think through what I want to say.

Far less significant than the news I heard about my friend, Gordon cancelled plans to come over tonight. I got some e-mail from him yesterday morning saying he needed a raincheck, asking "maybe we can reschedule?" I debated not answering the note, because I wasn't sure that it needed a reply. But, as is always the case with me, I can't not follow up, so I sent him a basic response to it, acknowledging that I received word of the change.

So, I'll just snuggle deeply on my couch tonight, and watch a young Supeman make it through another hour of teen angst. That's good tv!

Keep warm, everybody!

Jam Packed

My weekend has been so satisfyingly full. This weeked was Family Weekend on campus, and even though I am not an undergrad, my mom and her beau did some research and found out about some free (or inexpensive) campus events for us to go to... they were so intentional about wanting to spend time with me, and that was awesome. They even brought me "happy Family Weekend" presents. What I realized is that there are so many things happening on campus that I can be taking advantage of on a regular basis. I was in this mindset of just going to my classes. No wonder I don't really feel connected to the community. Must rectify this bad paradigm post haste!

After church this morning, I hooked up with them again and we went to Cafe Hon for brunch, then went antiquing and window shopping in Hampden. There are so many awesome shops I've passed by a million times, but had never visited. I am so going Christmas shopping on "The Avenue," Hon!

After going to view the spaghetti suspension bridges that Hopkins Engineering students built, we went to my place to chill and watch a movie while waiting for the concert at a church in Towson where Gordon's art is showing. Minor snafu. We went out to the car at 3:15 and found that Jim (mom's friend) had left his lights on for the two hours we'd been inside. Needless to say the car would not start. I started mentally preparing myself for the fact that we just might not make it, but we gave it about 15 minutes, and finally we did get going. Arriving right at 4 p.m., we slid in right behind G and his family (His mom, dad, uncle, niece, nephew, and sister). I have never met anyone in his family, so I was a little nervous sitting behind them, but also excited.

During the intermission he took my hand to greet me and we exchanged a very nice hug. My mom hugged and kissed him, too, and they chatted for a bit. After the concert, I did walk around with him chatting with various people, and then he introduced me to his family (unfortunately his sister and her kids left before intermission so he lamented not getting to introduce me to them). When my mom and Jim were ready to go, I went to say goodbye to him. We hugged again and he confirmed that he will see me on Wednesday for Smallville.

From there, the three of us headed up to the Towson Diner, then back to my place for coffee. They just left, so I'm unwinding. I think I'll try to finish watching "The Importance of Being Earnest." I love weekends like this. No time to muddle about just thinking the same old tired thoughts.

I just finished watching "Sylvia," which featured Gwyneth Paltrow as the doomed poetess, Sylvia Plath [Hughes]. What is it about women poets before the 1970s and suicide?

For men, being a poet was currency (and still is), like being a drummer in a rock band (as put forth by a Washington Post film reviewer in one of his articles). Even though no famous women poets have committed suicide (not that was publicized, in any case) lately, it is not the same for us. Gaggles of admiring males don't bum rush the podium after readings to twitter and giggle, or to posture and preen like little sick animals.

I have known of two men that my work touched deeply, even somewhat romantically...but universal appeal of a woman poet? Not so much.

I am not suggesting that this lack of the celebrity factor is why Plath and Sexton did themselves in (or that it accounts for Millay's self-destructive behavior that led to death)...but something about the proclivity toward poetry in a woman has its root in a particular kind of sadness, or so it would seem.

Recap

I began my week by getting together with an old, albeit peripheral friend that I know from my Intervarsity Christian Fellowship days. We had the chance to hook up earlier this summer when he introduced the new SMCM IV staff person to myself and other alum. It's a long story that really doesn't need to be told in order for me to convey the gist.

Due to some perception/insecurity issues of mine from that era of my life, there were some things that I needed to discuss with him. Some small-scale tension was apparent (on my end) this summer during our get together, and he asked if I needed to process anything with him. His schedule finally allowed him a free evening to come to Baltimore to have that discussion. It was very beneficial for me in that I felt that I was heard and acknowledged. No major drama, but important for clearing the air nonetheless.

On Tuesday night I went to my 20th Century World Literature course where I feasted on the fare of some jocular banter with my instructor. I like him more and more, and feel that he looks forward to my weekly contributions to the class discussions. That's a nice feeling. It's nice to see him smile when he sees me. A smile is a powerful thing. It's acknowledgment, It's favour. Know that feeling you get when you know someone likes you? It's special, if I might use such a sentimental term.

I was making an effort to explain to Sarah that I find this man so...intriguing... It's so odd. I would be happy if this man just smiled, discussed books with me over coffee,while he smoked a cigarette, (wearing a turtleneck sweater and faded levis) and verbally riffed off my brilliance. Very different than what The Artiste calls forth...

with G, well it's all emotional and yearning. That's fine. It hasn't proved helpful to deconstruct my devotion to him. It is what it is.

Today, I, along with the rest of the world am trying to figure out where I go from here. What comes next... all the questions that we're all asking ourselves.

I am looking forward to having some quality time with my mom this weekend. Amongst other things we've planned, we're going to G's art opening at a church gallery on Sunday. But before the fun, another lackluster day at the office.

And Never the Twain Shall Meet?

It was unavoidable. I went into rabid partisan archetype mode when my mother and I were on the phone tonight. She did not call me to be contentious. She was looking forward to shooting the breeze... catching up... that sort of thing. I actually introduced the subject of the election this time, because when you're talking with family, it's safe for the talk to get vicious from time to time, because in the end you know no one's disowning anyone else. Blood is thicker than political affiliation--even if it makes you the black sheep republican in a family of die-hard, civil rights-era african american democrats.

I was a democrat for years.

I voted for Clinton in both of his election years. I voted for democrats on some levels of government yesterday (I think they are the most useful at the municipal level), but I officially changed my party affiliation in 2002.

I still hang on to the concept of myself as a moderate, but the issues that mean the most to me belong less and less to the sphere of the democratic party. It has been a natural evolution. I suspected that I was a republican, really, as early as age15, but my parents told me that was ridiculous. I am black, they pointed out, therefore, that was not really possible. I believe I got a tongue lashing and icy stares for the better part of a day... this was yet another way their daughter was "forgetting" who she was. Well, at that point, it was just a notion. In every way that mattered at that time, my sensibilities were more on the liberal end of the spectrum. I see in hindsight's perfect 20/20 mirror that what I was then was moderate.

Just two years before my 30th birthday, I came into my own as a true conservative.

In the wake of the election results the polarization of the country is obvious. Now there is the predictable rhetoric about working together... but isn't that just a bit ludicrous? Convictions won't really allow for tolerance in most areas, not as anything more than a nice idea, any way.
I see this in both subtle and glaring ways.

Something I've noticed is that most people (who don't know me) talk to me assuming that I am a democrat. I am young, black, female, I frequent academic and cultural events. I have some bohemian types as friends. There is the accepted idea that I am at least somewhat intelligent. And when people take these things together, they feel safe saying to me "Can you believe what that moron of a president has done to this country?"

I wonder if I should "out" myself as a republican in moments like that, or let them go on and on. I find that usually the people who make this assumption don't really want me to say anything anyway. They just want to voice an opinion. And because I know who I am and why I've made the choices I've made, I don't feel that my security or sense of identity is riding on correcting the misconception--all the time. I really try to pick my partisan battles. There is a time and a place for everything.

Can either party, if they are being true to their ideals, compromise on the big ticket issues?

Lincoln is credited with saying "unity cannot be created, it can only be kept." He launched a war that bore the appearance of divisiveness, and it did rip this country's heart out. He knew he had to demolish an old ideal, because in order for things to one day be right, we had to start all over again. He couldn't make nice with the south. He couldn't "work together" with them, being "unified" under false pretenses.

And what I'm getting at here is that sometimes a bridge cannot be built. The wounds are so deep, and if you're not going to punk and pimp yourself, you have to just stand right where you are....

I know there are wounds any time a man cannot win an election, twice, and not have it be suggested that something is "amiss." Even the way the pundits and news anchors frame their discussion of the outcome is telling. Phrases like "What did Kerry do wrong?" and "What happened?" demonstrate bias. It is unthinkable to many that these results could really be a reflection of what American citizens really wanted to happen.

Somehow I suspect that if things had gone the other way, no one would even think to ask if the election was stolen, to wonder if it needed to be investigated. Even television shows on the WB are blatantly endorsing the democratic party. And the message is that unless there is something wrong with you, you will too. I have heard it stated through the mouths of at least two different characters on these fringe networks that "they stole [steal] the election [elections]."

This too, is divisive, but you get the sneaking feeling that it is acceptable. This is not considered bad form or inappropriate by sponsors or the writers of these programs.

The decision seems to have been made that war is the ultimate evil. And yet the very right that you and I have to be as partisan as we want to be was won on a number of blood deep battlegrounds. The very right to put political smears in a fictional character's mouth is possible because of war.

The chasms between us in this country represent a new kind of civil war, and while a house that is divided against itself cannot stand, I don't know how either side can give in and not be crushed in the process.

Within me there has lived both a democrat and a republican, and I could not bring them together. One of them had to win.

I was a bit late to work...had to vote first thing since I have class this evening, and it would be too close for comfort to try to stand up and be counted after office hours. Fortuitously, because my last name begins with the right letter, and I live in a certain precinct, I was in a group that got pulled from the line ahead of others to vote first. Once the line (I have never stood in one so long) started moving, it wasn't bad at all--to be so close to the front--and then to be pushed even further up due to a "luck of the draw" phenomenon, I was done by 7:15. I predict utter bedlam this evening. I know so many don't have the luxury of morning voting.

I just ate a packet of cinnamon roll flavoured oatmeal. Now I'm off to make coffee. Let the games begin!