Wow.  I started writing this blog in December of 2005, when I was but a lowly, wannabe artist -- unemployed, having quit my PR job; dancing somewhat professionally; living with two crazy white girls in Clinton Hill, one of whom fed the cat regularly with my silverware.  And now I have a year of NYU film school under my belt, a new job at a documentary film company, a blossoming first novel draft, and a writers residency coming up in the fall. 

I've also fallen in and out of love, dyed my hair several more colors, gone completely broke, assumed and denounced several web identities and profile pics, started eating raw foods, and moved to my sister's house in the Bronx.  I'm not sure what all that means, but a lot has certainly changed in the (almost) four years since I started this.  And maybe this blog has something to do with that.  A space in which my simplest thoughts and yearnings become significant.  I am still searching for this space in the world, but maybe I first found it here -- with all of you.

With that, I hope you join me on Blogger.  I've gotten quite sophisticated in my old blogger age -- you'll get a lot more than my MySpace ramblings.  So follow me on Blogger!  You could be the first.  And you can twitter me if ur game.  Web still teaching this gal some new tricks.  :)

I thank you for reading me.  You are appreciated.

peace,

Ms. T.

One away from 200!?  If just for ceremonial purposes, I must write on. 

I realize that I have pubbed a lot of "new blogs" of late, but have pretty much focused my energy on writing and not blogging in the last few months, plus my new job; likely, much to the dismay of my blog readers.  however, and the point of blog post 199, I'd like to share that I have consolidated my interests into one place, so please visit Alligator Legs on Blogger.  You can subscribe by email, share on Facebook, and all that good sh*t.

Read wisely.  :)

much love,
Ms. T.

i haven't been coming on this site too regularly for awhile now.  and i guess it goes without saying that there have been some changes.  just realized that myspace now redirects all outgoing links so that it can monitor spammers and/or keep folks from leaving their site.  so none of the links i've been posting in my (now monthly) blogs work, not to mention all the links on my profile page.  that is some bullshit!  really. 

it is now even more appropriate that I take leave of the myspace blog arena.

to check out my new blog, as i mentioned before, visit www.urbanterrestrial.com.  i also started another blog to chart the completion of my first novel, at alligatorlegs.tumblr.com. 

be blessed and at peace,
Ms. T (aka Editi)

Check out my new blog, Urban Terrestrial [www.urbanterrestrial.com].  Still in development, but in the spirit of letting perfectionism go, I've decided to share. 

Finally got my own virtual space and it feels so goooood!  Let me know what you think.  ;)

peace,
Ms. T.

P.S.  Feel free to leave comments on the site, but between you and me, my name is officially Editi, not "Ms. T," or heaven forbid my real name.  A little bit awkward, I know, but thanks for your understanding.  ;)

P.P.S.  Anyone else diggin Tuggs.t.a.r.?  I have a new lyrical crush...

I haven't been blogging much lately.  A much needed "hibernation" that I hope will give way to something great.  Anyways, I finally blogged on the election.  Finally was able to put to words the strange sensation I've been feeling since last week, apart from the other heavy stuff going on.  Please take a look, I'm guessing some other folks might relate to this too.

"I offer that, perhaps, it is only through Barack Obama's election to the Presidency that I have seen my own potential reflected back to me in a way that is both dazzling and blinding -- as a minority, as a black woman, and as an African.  It was the unattainable goal, now achieved, that leaves us all to question how we've set our own goals and measured our successes.  Whether we truly believe that we are deserving, capable, and intelligent enough for our wildest dreams to become realities."

Check out the whole blog here:  Climbing Uphill

peace,
Ms. T.

I'm currently taking suggestions on what to do with my hair. I'm not really feeling it anymore and this past year of film school just about killed it. It totally broke off on the sides as the brittle, untwisted hair at my scalp gave way to the weight of my locks. (I should have listened to my sometimes hairdresser about that whole moisturization thing -- she said oil to my hair is like water to a plant -- but I always felt like she was scolding me and I don't do well with authority figures.) Now I have a fertile plain of baby hair interspersed with grown ass locks...not the most attractive thing ever. I feel like one of those ladies in the Rogaine commercials. To have a lot of hair on your head with it missing in key, visible places is silly. And apart from that, as cool as I thought it looked in S.Africa, I don't know what the fcuk I was thinking dyeing my hair half gold! That and I'm beginning to realize other folks have heaped all their own psychic shit onto my hair, in addition to my own psychic shit, and I think I need a cleansing.

I'm not the same girl I was when I started them, almost five years ago, and the everpresent sameness of my reflection is getting annoying.

Yeah, something's got to give. I've seen some chicks rockin the mohawk (shave the locs at the side, even one side with cool scalp designs is hot), or the standard shave it all off to an easy breezy afro, but I'm not sure what's next for me. How do I evolve from dreadlocks? I'm not quite sure. I've worn my hair permed, braided, extended, natural, natural and dyed, locked, and locked and dyed, so there's really nowhere else to go unless I do that shave all but one lock thing. (I don't know if I'm ready for that...?) Then there's that sexy azz bald fade that I saw many a sista sportin at the aFrican street fair. (Or I guess I could weave fake locks into mine to make up for the damaged parts, but it seems really stupid and vain to wear my first weave in the midst of a "conscious" hair statement.)

I keep tryna imagine what the next phase of my life looks like and I can't help but think my hair can push me forward. Something that says no-nonsense, doin it, artsy though grounded, successful, runnin tings, happy and healthy.

But what does that look like?

peace,
Ms. T

having taken a vow of silence last wknd, to reflect on 2007, i came to some conclusions. "this is the year of not pretending." not speaking for a couple of days ensures that whatever u say first can have no pretense, has to really count.

one of the first things I said was my name. Not a sort-of pronunciation that makes a concession to the non-Ibibio speakers of the Western world, but the real deal. I still have no idea where it came from as I'm so used to saying it the wrong way as a means of introduction. Why bother saying it properly when nobody can pronounce it anyways? Well, I was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's office and the receptionist butchered my name, so I simply opened my mouth and said it back correctly. As though I had been saying it that way all along and not just for Africans. Dawned on me that people who say it wrong are actually not referring to my mother's child at all.

standing on the subway platform sketching the storyboard for my second semester film, an older indigenous black male approaches and looks over my shoulder. "are you an artist?" he asks. i shake my head no, not wanting to waste the words. he keeps looking, inspecting my work. "those are pretty good," he says. "You been to the museum before?" I shake my head again, not wanting to encourage him. Then suddenly, exasperated, I say, "Can I help you with something?" He keeps standing and watching, unwilling to acknowledge that I'd like nothing more than for him to disappear. "I think i've seen that one before," he says, "the hands praying with the chain over it." It's a rosary, I think to myself, silently. And how could he possibly have seen into my brain, my deepest memory, praying with my mom at her bedside in the morning. I'm saved by the train pulling into the platform. "This your train?" he asks, as though we're in the midst of a conversation. I nod. "Keep drawing. You're really good."

I walked onto the train surprised at having been short with him. I wondered what I would have said, if anything at all, a week before, when I wasn't observing silence. And I realized that I don't always say what I'm really feeling. I had to ask myself who is the real me, the one who would smile and engage in casual conversation with someone I didn't particularly care for, or the one who would tell him to get the hell away from me because I'm busy and don't want to be bothered with silly questions. Who am I really? I had to consider this question. To admit that there is a person inside of me who actually DOES know how to speak the truth and is not just aspiring to it. That she exists already and is somewhat stifled by the refined superego self who limits her full expression. Well, I am now faced with the task of living up to the standards of my real self.

what I learned, in silence, is that i tend to generally talk and share too much. that there is a time and place for it but it isn't every time and place. maybe this blog is a space for it, and maybe it's not, but I realize that I've never really thought about the import of what I'm saying before publishing it to the world.

i read an article a few weeks ago in The Nation about Facebook and privacy that scared me shitless. So I am beginning the process of rolling back my online presence. To that end, this will no longer be a public blog. If you would like to keep reading, you will have to subscribe so at least I know who I'm sharing with. For a handful of you, this won't change anything at all. To the rest, if you would like to continue reading this, please subscribe.

Too often I give it all away for free and i'm flipping the script this year. It's not quite a cut and run, though I've considered it. ;)

peace,

Ms. T.

Check out my latest post on BlogTalkRadio.com.

peace,

Ms. T.

I give thanks for two years as a Myspace blogger. And for Mayda del Valle. Check her out below...and check my latest radio show.

peace,

Ms. T.

Went to the Here & Now Art & Film Conference at NYU this past wknd. The single most affecting and potentially career-shaping experience of my life. Take a look at Zola Maseko (Drum, 2004) discussing the meaning of revolution in African cinema.



For more, visit my other blog, at The AFRican.

peace,

Ms. T.

Check out my latest post on The AFRican. Hopefully this redeems my post on Hillary vs. The Obamanon! LOL. ;)

peace,
Ms. T.

Check out my latest post on The AFRican.

Peace,

Ms T.

P.S. There is much more to say, ie, I'm loving film school! Will write more l8r. ;)