FU.....N

I shouldn't promote bad behavior of my nieces and nephews, but it's too easy to do, especially when they're hysterical.

Cynderballz made me a pot roast dinner last night and invited me to take a break from my dissertation. I stopped by (it was delicious) and there was some debate about who was going to eat the last croissant. Everyone had one, but one family member already had two and was hawking to get it for his third (no names. Okay, Dylan). Disappointed, he went downstairs to blow up Nazis and destroy Russians.

Nickerdoodles finally decided because she's young and growing that she'd be the person allowed the second croissant, but being genetically connected to Casey and me, she couldn't eat it until she called her brother back upstairs. When he arrived, she bit into the croissant, which triggered and "F.U." from her brother and a "go to your room" from Cynderballs and Mike.

As he marched away, Nikki said sarcastically, "The poor boy. He only wanted a roll."

Inappropriately, we all started laughing. Cynderballs looked to the bottle of wine for a last drop and discussed something about pan-sexuality and I went to Dylan's room to tell him, "Dude. If that was me. I would have said no one ever listens to me. I'd tell them if they listened, they'd know I was spelling F.U. - D.G.E., because I wanted some for my vanilla icecream. You need to be more clever next time."

Karma is watching my childhood exhibited before my eyes through the antics of my niece and nephew.

Happy Halloween! I'm dressed as an apathetic uncle who is going to Nikki's field band championship at the Carrier Dome. I'm dressing up as an unenthusiastic relative who reads books while the bands perform. I hope people recognize my amazing efforts.

a song from the apple picking day

A month ago, while taking a new colleague apple picking for the first time in New York State, and with two arrivals from Uganda sitting in the back seat, a song was sung to make our road trip a little more meaningful. Rochelle sang "America the Beautiful" with her Tennessee music and filmed the scenery of upstate New York. Yesterday, she gave me a copy of the footage and I post this clip as a karmic reminder of time and how this song and her singing of "His Eye is on the Sparrow" made the apple picking extra special and meaningful.

She told me she will kill me if she knows I posted her singing, but I wanted to put it somewhere where I knew where I could find it later on. And that is why it is here.

America was truly beautiful on that day.

Oh, man.

My colleague asked me to fill in for her at a local middle school to do a writing workshop for twenty-five 7th graders. I knew the class was all girls and that my buddy, Cedric, was doing a workshop with all the boys. What I didn't know was that they established a classroom for creating young ladies, and when I arrived, a girl asked me, "Excuse me, but what does a man know about being a lady. Where's Marcelle?'

That was the first five seconds.

The girls were loud and full of middle school drama. I only had an hour and I wanted to establish a routine quickly. We practiced a call so that they knew when they needed to listen to me. "Hey, Ladies," I'd yell, and they'd respond, "Get Funky." I'd then shout, "Say what?" and they'd snap their fingers twice, clap their hands twice, then point to themselves shouting, "Diva."

It worked.

The teachers said they were going to steal this call and response from me because they've never seen the girls so focused on anything for so long.

The problem with such karma, however, is that it took all the energy I could muster to sustain one hour of their attention. I don't know how anyone worked with the beautiful abilities of Patty Labelle and Aretha Franklin for so long. I had a room full of divas in training, and man, although I needed part of the instruction to be about me, it definitely was mostly about them.

blended verbally

My friend, Cedric Bolten of Verbal Blend, asked me to judge a poetry slam at Syracuse University, and I found this story of what he does on YouTube. I took his invitation as a sign to reconnect with what I love to hear and see: youth spitting out ideas within the parameters of how they hear the muses and meters of rhythm and verse. As the evening when on, the mics got more emotional, and from each poet became a devotional display of their thoughts. Karma is what each fought for on stage. I'm at an age to appreciate such magic.

Indian Summer Run

I admit I'm a total grump these days. I need to be, because I'm guessing at all the work I'm trying to do, while guessing about where I will find time to get any of it done. I wake up, and the guess-work begins and continues until I guess it's time I head off to bed, because I'm simply exhausted. There are days, too, that I realized I've had zero interaction with human beings. It's just me and my ideas.

But yesterday was a day for an Indian Summer run. There was no guessing at all. I knew it was probably the last glimpse of warmth that I'll have for a long time. The air was fresh, the leaves were beautiful, and the scenery cracked me up (including a few snakes that were sunning in the road and a rooster chasing four ducks by a small pond near my house).

Sometimes, I wish I could just wake up and physically run until bed time. My body couldn't handle it, but if it could, I would. The mental marathon that is my life never seems to end. I need to remember a day like today to fuel me for the other days where I'm guessing at what it is I'm actually doing.

At least, I guess I do.

Hmmmmm

My writing mentor, Marcelle, texted me today about making a connection with Reenah Golden (pictured above) who lives in Rochester. Reenah Golden starred in NO CHILD that was put on at Syracuse Stage. She is a writer, poet, activist and actress who works out of Rochester. Marcelle thought that it might be good to know her as I'm on the job market and there's a position opened at the University of Rochester. I've applied of course (to positions all over the nation), but something strange happened as i was reading.

I was in Manlius about to enter the school when Marcelle's text arrived. I started scrolling the message when I noticed something fluttering and blocking the light by my eyes. I looked up and there was a monarch butterfly trying to land on my tie. I thought, "Now isn't this strange." Then, when I entered the building, the door handle and wooden frame were loaded with lady bugs. They were everywhere.

It's October and a little late for nature's colorful joy, so I was a bit touched by the moment. Whether or not any of it has celestial meaning awaits to be seen. I do know, however, that I took it as a karmic moment. Something to consider as a part of the natural world.

Channeling the Bangles (and high school music)

It's MoNdAy already again. I'm living a variation of Groundog's Day the movie. Oh well. At least I had two days with a few spaces of down time in them. I will carry those moments with me for the rest of the week.

Their 80s hair wasn't that bad, was it?