Monday, June 22, 2015

I don't get it

To love is to love one hundred percent, butchery I don't get is loving more than one.

Your heart is oblong and divided.
It's sore from trying to fight it.
It's glum from trying to hide it.

Your heart is full yet empty.
Excited then confused.
Uncertain then the sedentary scraping of the sublime.

Your smile flickers - it short-lived circuited long ago
--- when you fell in love twice and never got over the one.

But I really don't get is moving on and still holding on.

You still want what you can't have.
You still desire. You long no avail.

You keep keeping and are forgotten
...most of the time

If you have you're way, you still won't get it.

...I don't get it

- Simply B

Saturday, June 20, 2015

Healthy or Nah? Cinnamon Sweet Potato Chips

In trying to eat and train healthy, I've been on the search for healthy recipes for all meals, including snacks. Now, I'm not a sweet potato eater, but I figured I needed to try something new, so I bought some.

I decided to slice them and roast them in the oven - something like sweet potato chips. It didn't take long to do and it wasn't messy (easy clean up).

(I know by this point you really want to try this delicious snack, which is under 150 calories!)

WHAT YOU NEED: sweet potatoes, PAM cooking spray, cinnamon, brown sugar

Now you can peel the potatoes if you want (I did), but it's not necessary, just wash them off really well. Slice each potato as thin as you like, almost like chips. You'll need to spray a cookie sheet and arrange the chips in an even layer. Once you do that, just spray the chips across the top and place them in your 375° preheated oven. It only takes about 7 minutes per side. (Yes, flip'em!)

The final steps are to sprinkle the cinnamon and brown sugar on the chips, then toss them in a big bowl to get the chips nicely coated. (It will be hard to resist sneaking one or three, but they are so good. Dive in!)

Saturday, March 28, 2015

Where do I fit in?

Have you ever asked yourself 'where do I fit in'? It's a question that I've asked myself often since my early teens. Since my surroundings experienced an expansion to include people from all over the world. Somewhat of a melting pot. I shared classes, benches, dressing rooms with Nigerians, Jamaicans, Middle Eastern Indians, Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Panamanians, Bajans, Haitians, Germans - I was surrounded by people that weren't from where I was from. Lately, I've been reflecting on that time in my life that extended into my time as an undegrad at The Florida State Universit (FSU). By that time, I was no longer shocked, but wondering what was my story. I am taking a class on Afropolitanism, now in my 4th semester of grad school, and it's got me thinking and questioning again. Where do I fit in? In reading Taiye Selasi's essay - "Bye-Bye Babar" - the term "afropolitan" is "the newest generation of African emigrants, coming soon or collected already at a law firm/chem lab/jazz lounge near you. You’ll know us by our funny blend of London fashion, New York jargon, African ethics, and academic successes". They are of mixed backgrounds living or have lived in different countries including the United States. Am I just a black person in America? Am I American? Is that what I'm supposed to go by? Should I travel so that I can become a "citizen of the world"? How far back does my background reach? I'm probably not the only Black American that thinks like this - thinking of my place in this country (USA). It's probably funny that I even think of these questions, but when you question your own identity, it's a big deal. I know where I come from and there is a certain specialness about what I am made of even though I cannot tell you what African country my family sprang from. I can tell you that after some research, there are roots in the Bahamas and from the Geechie nation on the Atlantic coast. The cost of not knowing or accepting who I am [read: who we are] can be damaging - I didn't get to that point. However, my class has made me more interested, liberated, excited (for learning), and thankful - I am not the only one. Selasi's afropolitan is worthy of accolades, not the criticisms I've read, but all of them (good or bad) helped to make a mainstay. So where do we fit in? The answer: whereever we are with whomever we're with and whoever we are.

Monday, October 6, 2014

Some Thing Called A Secret

They are the transmissions of despair The locomotives of ludicrous disaster The pistons of poison rushing through rushing to who Whom what where Ever...they are are... There. The raucous and calamity of treachery - despised but kept, hidden but un-swept, too much often when dealt. They are the caked on slime Dried over time Stubborn mules, the prime Suspects: they subject their objects as prospects of failure never sitting always intending to declare a new charge - invisible, undetectable, but reachable. They win as they wind up and down up and down and around from the sky to the ground... It doesn't help to frown. They don't pay for where the sleep they never sleep - always growing never snoring no need for exploring... Forever imploring. Stop they cannot will not - not like the brakeless training bikes training wheels out of sight big and small like tikes - not like Mike. They are the frenemies that tend to be present endlessly and to change that means to shame their game stare straight in the mirror - a reflective silver - and say: It is I with two to see and only one to speak; I must cement the trap disposal, disengage this long proposal and end... These secrets...

Saturday, October 4, 2014

No Love to Love

I don't love you.

Even though I don't love...
stole my heart.

The electricity and fluttery butterflies
they made me shake...stiffly

You only fooled me...
Lying and smiling all the same, but I am okay....I smile on.

So what If I don't laugh, and really you don't care?
So what if I no longer cry, and you stare...

Until then enjoy the latest distraction
the Main attraction...

I will...

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Writing Project Proposal

Writing Project Proposal
I am choosing to complete the Educational Project, with the three week poetry unit, because it fits into my profession as an English teacher as well as helping to establish my ability to produce quality lesson plans. Being a particularly “young” teacher, I do not have a great deal of experience making unit plans, especially one that covers such a broad range of content. The ultimate goal of the poetry unit is to have students understand the connection between form and content of poetry. They will develop a richer sense of poetic form providing meaning or theme, and how it is a product of its time. This simply means understanding how society and/or environment informs the structure and content, and vice versa. In the end, students will have explored several different forms, the histories, purposes and influences (or results) of the forms and poems written in such a way. They will have also experienced writing their own poems in the different poetic forms studied, writing an analysis of a poetic form and/or reflection on the effect(s) of a poetic form in today’s time.
Poetry is something that I have really enjoyed learning and exploring for quite some time, and I believe it to be just as important, if not more, as the novel, short story, or other literary forms. Developing a poetry unit plan will push my level of understanding and appreciation of poetry, while at the same time allowing me to have something that I can actually use within my classroom. Furthermore, the way poetry is taught, if at all, does not provide a truly inviting or favorable experience for high school students. Perhaps, by knowing the background of the different poetic forms, students will gain a better appreciation for poetry; this may, in turn, garner a greater championing of the study and conversation of poetry. If nothing else, it will certainly improve the reading and writing of students all around.

Friday, February 28, 2014

Everybody ain't always happy

As of late, I've come to realize that everybody ain't happy for you to be happy. It's funny, because happiness should bring happiness, but people start in on their own lack of happiness and things get ugly...

I am happy and am in love. Haters are real. Jealousy is real. Envy is real. Why me? I don't have all there is to have in the world that money can buy and I'm not exactly where I want to be in life, so what's the big deal? I am happy for you, for all that you have done, will do, and are doing. You've made gains in your personal and spiritual life it seems, but there is something, some thing that is keeping you from living in your happiness. I remember a sermon stating that in order to have happiness things have to happen in your life. Things have happened in my life, both good and bad, but I choose to relish the good.

How do we get back to love?

I have grown. I've grown up. I am grown. I am no longer the girl looking for love. I lost sight of it, and finally realized that I had had it all the time. I saved room for love and happiness. There's room for all: if you rolling with Christ, and riding with me, cool. If not, fall back. I don't want the drama. I don't need the mess. I have my own, and just in case inquiring minds want to know, we are just fine. We do what we want. I do what I please. I hate it for you if you think differently.

Why must they try to tear down my house when they know it's made from love...

I would like to close with this:

"Here come bad news talking this and that, yeah,
Well, give me all you got, and don’t hold back, yeah,
Well, I should probably warn you I’ll be just fine, yeah,
No offense to you, don’t waste your time"