My Life, Revisited

Guess it's time for an update, eh? Well, my lack of "updates" is just me trying to refrain from lamenting my life. Nothing new happened over the last few weeks, instead, everything is to my detriment, cyclical: home, school, home, school... with research, presentations and (Jaylah, my sweetheart's) appointments and illnesses in-between. Graduate school takes a lot of the "fun" out of learning, i find. I'm just not cruising along like i used to and it's more work overload than anything else. And you realize just how pathetic it all is when you cannot afford to take your face out of a book long enough to send an e-mail, make a phone call, curl up with your significant other...or you run the risk of "falling behind". I said i wouldn't come on here and lament but, there! I wanted to take a trip (back home) this Christmas, soooo bad, but i have a ton of work that i have to get done during Christmas, not to mention catching up on my RA/GA work; so i'm lamenting that too. Life's just NOT EASY, is it?

On a more uplifting note, I will be taking my daughter trick-o'-treating tonight, so i'll be closing the books for three hours. Stay tuned for the photos...

All Work

Busy as a bee, these days. My life is crowded with work, work and more work. I'm up to my neck in readings and i have two presentations this week (one was yesterday so one more to go). I am not keeping up with my RA hours which means i will be playing catch up in December. Single people i know can't imagine what it must be like to run a family and do full-time study. They tell me there's light at the end of the tunnel. This is one long tunnel.

People/books to read in the near future

White Teeth (2000)-- Zadie Smith, black British writer
The Unbelonging (1985)-- Joan Riley, black British writer
Small Island (2004)-- Andrea Levy, black British writer
Wish I Was Here (2006)-- Jackie Kay, black Scottish writer

Citizenship

Where shall I turn, divided to the vein?
Derek Walcott

Well, not exactly "to the vein". I became a Canadian citizen just yesterday (as opposed to being a (West Indian) permanent resident). I'm eager to find out how i will feel being a citizen and all. The euphemism they use nowadays is: your "adopted homeland"...

There's the issue of belonging: do i feel like i belong, now? Nah. When i go back "home", i don't feel like i belong either. It's not that i don't want to feel like i belong, it's just that that feeling escapes me; belonging is not easy. There is also the two-faced narrative of belonging and unbelonging to contend with: (1) Afo-Canadians (ah, the politics of the hyphen) have a long Canadian history and are, therefore, rooted here. (2) The (only) two official languages (and founding cultures) are French and English. Now, that's fucking confusing. I won't get started on the multicultural politics cuz it'll never end. There's also the acerbic feeling that i've cheated the people from 'elsewhere' who don't get a bite from the apple of firstworldness. *Sighs*, i better get use to my complicated status.

Thinking through Race

"Every writer should feel free to write about any and all subject matter as a part of their creative impulse."

This is the general energy prevailing in class after having read a novel written by a white Canadian male author about Native Canada, cleverly disguised in multiple voice narration.

Professor XY (white woman): "If everyone (Blacks, Natives, Indians-- minorities) write only about their own identities then it can lead to a ghettoization (emphasis mine) of the literature they produce."

Why do i find this problematic?

On a Separate Occasion

Same idea that everyone should teach everything and race shouldn't factor into who's teaching what. A black person should be able to teach a course in renaissance literature in the same way that a white person should be able to teach African literature without there being a race issue. That's fine, except:

Me (black woman): "You cannot look at a person and not see race."

Professor Q (white woman): "Yes, true, but the colour of a person tells you nothing about that person. I see black when i look at you but it doesn't tell me anything about you except that you are a minority; i am a minority, too, in Toronto (emphasis mine)."

Why do i find this problematic and ironic?

Silver Moon

She hails the saccharine--
scented intimacy
of his quivering flesh,
rising.
Savours,
mingles, with the primrose
of his kiss (chiffon affair),
oh, that kiss--
like a thousand snowflakes
on a burning blade!

Red, always red hue
or blue, or yellowish blue
sheer pad of desire
like brewed chocolate
through hungry fingers
abated, and flowing--
she rides, the floating
shadows, alone.