"At night, I guess,

is when I do it, Sandy."

That was my confused (and a bit exasperated) response to one of my students in Creative Writing yesterday. She wanted to know when I wrote (as in what time of day). I thought it was an odd question, that was until I thought about it. I guess until Sandy asked, I never really thought about my writing in this manner. Writing has always been a part of my life. A journal here, a poem there. A Post-It on the mirror. The "To Do List" on my desk in my classroom. A magazine cut out on the coffee table. My pile of short stories and query letters in the basket in the living room. The novel (currently by Colin Channer) on my bed. Now...my Musings.

Now that I've had a chance to think about it Sandy. Here is my answer. I write....
1. at night
2. when I am bored
3. at work
4. when I am pissed
5. when I can't sleep
6. when I am being naughty
7. when I am being a coward
8. when I am inspired
9. when I am overwhelmed
10. when the sun is shining
11. when it is pouring down rain
12. when I wake up from a nap
13. in the morning
14. whenever

Tomorrow when I see Sandy, I am going to ask her (and the rest of the class) when they do their writing.

Camelot Comes Back to the Campaign

My Sunday routine is to go to Pilates and then return home. Then I make a pot of coffee and read the Sunday NY Times. I usually read the Arts section, then Style, followed by Travel. If I have more coffee left then I read the Health and then Opinion. I love The Post & The Sun, but the NY Times is my weekend mental treat.

I guess you can surmise that I had coffee left to drink this morning.

I must admit that when I saw the title "A President Like My Father", my immediate response (in my most cynical voice) was "here we go. What does this woman have to say about the campaign?" I was actually going to skip it all together. Then my eye caught this:

"Sometimes it takes a while to recognize that someone has a special ability to get us to believe in ourselves, to tie that belief to our highest ideals and imagine that together we can do great things. In those rare moments, when such a person comes along, we need to put aside our plans and reach for what we know is possible."

The talk on the news tonight is whether Caroline's endorsement will help or hurt Obama. Truthfully, I don't think it matters. I think Caroline just wanted the rest of the world to know (if they haven't already caught on) that change - real change; life altering and foundation crumbling change is possible. Change that isn't even conceivable is within our reach. Believe.

You can read Caroline Kennedy's OP-ED here:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/27/opinion/27kennedy.html?_r=1&ref=opinion&oref=slogin

"I'll take it because it will help me afford the candy bar that I have been saving for."

The talk is everywhere. The housing bubble has burst. The price of electric is going up, this summer...again. The Feds cut the interest rates to the lowest in 10 years. Plane loads of foreigners are here shopping, taking advantage of the low dollar. Oh la-la!

Maybe it is the company that I keep, but I usually only hear 'broke' people talking about their lack of money and it is never in the context of the state of the economy. Today I was talking with some friends about the pluses and minuses of the "stimulus" that our elected officials have negotiated and all the talk has me worried. I mean if the 'haves' are talking about things, what are the 'have nots' doing?

As it relates to the economy, I did two things before I left for Vegas. One, I called my mortgage company to get some information on refinancing. I mean the rates are really unbelievable. Two, I opened my 403B statement. Let's just say I put the statement in my "I could really use a drink" file. It really frightens me to think that I am working my ass off and may be getting poorer. Now I don't want anyone to think I am starving, certainly I am not. I eat quite well (perhaps more than I need to be). My house is warm (and I am not ashamed to admit that I curse each time I see the amount I tithe to BGE). I just returned from a very lovely weekend getaway (that involved airline travel) for goodness sake!

What kicked off this conversation with my friends today was a comment that I heard a reporter from CNBC say about this "stimulus". Truthfully, I am not sure what to do with it. I do know that I'll need to chew on it a bit more before I can let it continue the mental digestion process. The reporter said, "I think the stimulus is a good thing because it is directed to poor people and we need them to jump start this very weak economy. They spend money."

Before I end today's little rant, I need to give a shout out to my friend Bippy. His view on the "stimulus" is the title for today's musings.

Star Gazing

I just returned from a relaxing extended weekend in Las Vegas. The "official" reason that I am giving for my visit is that I went to celebrate a coworkers' 40th Birthday. The "real" reason is that I went was to just to get away. You know when you need to see a different kind of sunrise? A different sunset?

Vegas didn't disappoint. I've been to Vegas more times than I should probably admit. I mean it isn't my favorite place on earth, but I go each time I get the chance because the more Vegas stays the same, the more it changes.

It was a virginal Vegas experience for 3 of the people in my group, so being the people pleaser that I would like to think that I am, I didn't make any special plans (for myself) for this particular trip. I just decided that I'd leave myself open to whatever the cosmos deemed appropriate.

Friday night we arrived at The Paris Hotel (my favorite cheap Vegas Hotel) earlier than scheduled. Can I say, go Southwest Airlines? I had Sexy Pomme Frites (seriously, that is what they were called on the menu) and a glass of Riesling for dinner. I went back to my room, unpacked and went to bed.

Saturday morning, I got up and watched the sun rise, showered and then left to meet the birthday girl at The Bellagio for a champagne brunch. On the way to The Bellagio, I ran smack dab into the my very first frenzy. It was complete with the lights, the camera flashes, the shoving and pushing of the crowd, the hysteria and a few very serious men in black suits. Of course I was completely annoyed until I heard someone say, "Can you believe Barack Obama is having breakfast in the Paris?" Yes! Barack Obama was in the hotel. He was there to greet folks at the Buffet and to thank Nevada Caucusers. OK, I will just say that Obama's smile is nicer in person. What a charismatic man! I hope I don't get stoned for this, but the Pesto Mashed Potatoes and the entire bottle of champagne (yes, by myself) are the only things I remember about brunch.After brunch, I decided that I needed to walk off my Obama and champagne buzz. While in line at checkout counter inside Jean Philippe's Patisserie, a very nice lady gave me 3 huge oatmeal cookies (oh my God were they good) and a Hillary for President sticker. She said that the only way I could show my thanks for the cookies was to come to Planet Hollywood and listen to Hillary's victory speech. I really, really considered going, but then I saw how quickly everyone cleared out of Jean Philippe's to go over to Planet Hollywood. I had dark chocolate covered pretzel sticks instead.

Saturday night, I returned to The Bellagio. The Birthday Girl wanted dinner at Sensei. I had really decadent piece of trout with brown sugar crust and another glass of Riesling.

Sunday morning, one of the Vegas Virgins asked me if I wanted to go running. I ended up running (OK jogging) 10 miles of the strip. I know, can you believe it? I usually only run if a dog is chasing me. I did 10 miles...without stopping. Go me! After the jog. I headed to MGM Grand for lunch. Upon entering the lobby, I noticed that the lobby was absolutely swarming with girls. They were all between 9-12 years old. They were all dressed in pink and black. I will admit, I took the bait. I asked one of the few adults that I saw what was going on. I was kindly informed (it was more like a 'duh' lady) that Miley Cyrus was in the house. Yup, Ms. Hannah Montana herself was in the hotel, she had a concert later that night. What amazed me was that so many of the girls were lined up and ready to attend the show, but it was just the middle of the afternoon.

I guess now that I think about it, I am no different than they were. The girls were blinded by star light, just as I was the day before.

By the way, I'd like to thank the staff at the Mandara Spa (especially Eddie) http://www.harrahs.com/casinos/paris-las-vegas/casino-misc/spa-detail.html for making that dead weight feeling in my legs go away. You guys rock!

Is There a Dream Analyzer in the House?

I can't remember what they say about dreams and there meaning. I am pretty sure that somewhere something has been written about them being attached to the subconscious and that they are the emotions' way of telling you one thing or another. I can work with that. Twice in the last few days, I have had the same exact dream. I think that it peculiar. I don't usually remember my dreams, so the fact that I remembered that I had the same dream is pretty significant. The dream went like this....

I am in front of the computer and I am working on an article of some sort. In the dream, I recognize the writing, it is mine. It is something that I have been working on for a long time. I am editing my article and I am extremely excited- someone is waiting on it. In the dream, I don't know what they are going to do with it, I just know that I can't wait until they get it. In the dream, it seems like my excitement is a combination of nerves and joy (I mean, my heart is pumping). It feels like the experience I am having (in the dream) has been a long time coming.

In the dream, I only say one thing and I repeat it over and over again. I repeat, "The time is now, ILP. The time is now."

The Pirate's Daughter

When I try to explain my Jamaican heritage to people, I do so knowing that they can not fully understand why I love Jamaica as much as I do. I get comments like, "Oh, you're from Jamaica! I love Bob Marley! Yes, Mon." <----- (I really, really detest that one) or "Jamaica, I've been there, what a lovely country. Too bad we had to get back to our cruise." or "Oh, Jamaica, what was the name of that lovely hotel that we stayed at when we were there?" What makes me the most sad are the eyes that I get from so many people. The eyes that say, "You're from Jamaica? I'm sorry that you are from such a lovely, but poor and desolate place." All I can do is smile and secretly sigh on the inside because I know that people mean well when they pay "compliments" to the country that is at the very heart of my existence. It is the land of my mother and father. Jamaican (a fellow yaadie) Margaret Cezair-Thompson does a phenomenal job putting into words what is at the core of my love for Jamaica. She does a fine job of explaining the intricate details of the history that gives Jamaica the national phrase "Out of Many - One People". Set in the glamorous era of 1940's Jamaica, The Pirate's Daughter is the tale of two generations of women (a mother and daughter) and their struggle to find a place for themselves; not only in society but within themselves. Thompson does what no other author has been able to do when it comes to the land that I love. She is able to tell her tale and do so in a culturally sensitive way. She does so without the usual stereotypes about Jamaica that I have become use to hearing (but will admit still stings my ears and grates my nerves).

Her characters are multi-dimensional (as all humans are), so that part of her novel is ordinary. Multi-dimensional characters are what I have come to expect from writers. Her descriptions of our culture, her brilliant descriptions of the landscapes and the tropical climate, her accurate summaries of my frustrations and disappointments with the government is what is extraordinary. It makes her story compelling and irresistible. The character May captured my feelings best when she had the epiphany, "that it wasn't really the people or government of Jamaica that she loved [in particular]...it was the land itself." (Wow!!)

As they would say in Jamaica, "Mi haffi big up Margaret Cezair-Thompson, enoh?" Much respect. I look forward to reading more.

Changing the World

At work, one of my many duties is to monitor the progress of the numerous college students that work in our building. All of the 'kids' (I was ready to bang my head against a wall when one of them handed me their drivers license and it said DOB: March 2, 1987) are usually full of energy and great ideas when they arrive. They ask questions and share all of the plans, they are like little sponges...they soak up all that you give them and they are never satisfied, they constantly want more. They have the maps made for their future. They reminds me of myself when I was their age. I can't even believe I just wrote: "when I was their age".

One of the interns, who just wasn't progressing at the pace as everyone else, came to work on Tuesday morning; resigned and then went home. Yup, she came in on Monday and worked. She asked to leave early that afternoon. Tuesday morning she came in, said good morning, cleaned off her desk, and then handed me a letter that read:

Dear Ms. ILP,
I am writing this letter to let you know that I will not be continuing my internship with you. I went home last night and watched my 50 year old father work on his car and realized that I needed to tell you what I have known for a long time. I do not want to live my life doing something that I am not interested in. I do not enjoy education, I do not enjoy being in charge, I do not enjoy what education has become. I do enjoy reading books, but I do not enjoy educating people about them. I do not want to be involved with it.

I would like to look back at my life when I become my father's age and be able to say that I changed the world. I am not interested in changing the entire world, but I am interested in changing the part of it that I will be involved with. I have no idea (at this time) what I may be doing when I change the world, but I know it will not be in the way that this current internship is trying to prepare me.

Thank you for your time and understanding. I especially want to thank you for your patience (I know that I put you through a lot).

Sincerely,
XXXXXXX

Everyone wanted to know if I was upset about the intern quitting. They wanted to know if I was going to tell her college supervisor how unprofessionally she resigned. They all seemed concerned that I may have been hurt by the interns decision.

I cant say that she resigned at the most convenient time. But when are those sort of things convenient?

That intern did get me to thinking though. How does a person know if/when they are going to change the world?

Walk A Mile in My Shoes...

is one of those sayings you hear a lot. It is kind of like the Jamaican saying: he who knows it, feels it. I was at work today and I asked my department chairperson if she knew why one of our coworkers hadn't been to work in a while. The conversation went like this:

ILP: Hey, where's L?
DC: (uncomfortable and obviously annoyed) She went over the edge again and is at home.
ILP: Huh?
DC: Yup, just like last time. Except she didn't wait for someone to tell her to stay home.

Some background: L is someone I've worked with since 2000. L is one of the smartest intellects that I know. To look at L, your mind would definitely say Annie Leibovitz meets Jim Morrison. She looks like she belongs in Haight Ashbury...during the 60's. L would give you the clothes off of her back is you needed them, even if it meant her walking around naked. I guess you get that L is just a nice lady. In a hippie sort of way.

Two years ago, L went through what I will call a rough one. I will stress the word rough. I mean a person couldn't write this plot line. In the span of 11 months L met, dated, moved in with, engaged, married, and buried the love of her life. (See, I told you, a person could write this one.) The love of L's life didn't die suddenly. He died of brain cancer. His death was a process. A very slow one. Everyone in our department went along for the 11 month ride.

L's first absence from work was due to the fact that she was just exhausted. I mean who wouldn't be? We (our department) were exhausted. She needed time to recoup. She needed time to exhale and breath again.

What I found interesting about this go around is that my DC didn't seem as understanding and patient as she was last year. My DC put it this way, "I'm sorry, business must go on. The world continues." Yes, time, it does go on. It moves at a different pace for each person, but it does continue to move.

I just hope L gets better this go around. I can't begin to imagine what she is going through. Honestly, I don't want to know. It all seems like much more than I could ever bear. I hope and pray that L isn't the one that Time ends up forgetting.

A Long Way Gone

I usually don't read memoirs. Something about reading the intimate details of another persons life always seems so voyeuristic to me. This memoir of a boy soldier was too compelling to overlook. I was standing in line at a Starbucks (go figure) and saw this memoir. After reading the excerpt entitled: New York City, 1998, I knew that my trip for a Venti 180 Skinny Latte was going to cost me $25.00.

The first third of the book is very graphic. So much so that I had to put it down a few times. I guess being given a gun and told to fight in a war would be graphic. I can barely wrap my brain around what the experience might be like for the men and women who do it for our country. The men and women that do it for our country are grown (or grown according the law). Ishmael Beah was 10 when he was given an AK-47 and told to fight for his country. It sickened me that adults in his life saw his need for food, safety and shelter as a means to carry out their wicked agendas. I asked so many times while reading his words, what I do not believe Beah had the time to ask during his experience. I asked: why? I asked: what was it all for? I believe the answers would have destroyed him at the time.

In a way, I understand Ishmael Beah's need to tell his story. It is a story that must be told. Him telling his story is the only way he would begin to live. Not just survive, but live. Beah's story is the only means for him to get justice for his family, justice for the other child soldiers that never made it out, justice for himself.

I will never understand how a human being can rob a child of their innocence and live with themselves. Doing so is the greatest evil.

Today My Horoscope Said

Virgo (8/23-9/22)
The road ahead of you is in a state of unrest right now -- there is a lot that is still to be decided, and those choices have to be made by other people. If you rush forward and just hope for the best, you might be adding more chaos to your life than you can handle. Wait until the uncertainty fades and you can get a clearer picture of where you need to go. The future is something you should enter into with a clear understanding about what you are setting yourself up for.

Why is it that when you are the most anxious, that is the precise moment that you begin to reach for anything that might provide a glimmer of hope and reassurance? On an ordinary day, my eyes would have skipped right over this section my Internet default page and gone to the section with my email or the news headlines of the hour. But I guess today isn't an ordinary day. My mind's eye directed me to actually stop and read my horoscope.

Of course, I have a half dozen "what ifs?" and "so exactly what does this mean?" and "Could this mean this or does it mean that?" You know that my eyes only saw my horoscopes...today, because the cosmos are trying to tell me something. This horoscope is my "Hey you, be prepared" reminder.

OK cosmos...I'm listening.

New Year's Resolutions

I discovered a while ago that they don't work for me. It must be calling them "New Years Resolutions" or something, who knows. So, I don't make them. What I do now is if I see a change that I need to make or a goal that I would like to work towards, I write it down and then do what needs to be done in order to make it happen. I don't find it necessary to wait until the 1st of a new year to begin.

One of my three constant goals is to eat well, lose weight and exercise. The "Big Three" (as I like to call them) are goals I like to always have on the radar. Well today I met one of these goals. I lost 10 pounds. OK, so not 10 pounds literally, but it sure felt like it. I mailed my 15-20 page portfolio to UB. I waited for 20 minutes in a very long line at the Post Office, put $1.48 worth of postage on a large brown envelope and handed it to the postman behind the desk. I made him tell me twice that UB would have my portfolio in the morning.

So what's next?

I just packed my gym bag and I am heading out the door. I have to make sure that I don't eat 10 pounds worth or chocolate while I wait for the final decision.

Believe.