RBOC--start of the year, start of the term

• My afternoon class is always turned up to 10. It's a rare semester when that class is sedate or quiet. Last semester, a group of them yelled my name and commented on my outfit each day when I came into the room. This term, they mostly stared at me like they were bored. Second week of class and I've already had to give the evil eye/you're pissing me off look to a student taking out her phone. Questions hang in the air like a bad smell. I may have to start eating chocolate during class before it's over with.
• I've exhausted most of the television series I wanted to watch on Netflix. That makes me sad. Binge-watching Netflix has become quite dear to me. I started Twin Peaks, since I didn't watch it originally. I don't know if it's worth continuing. We'll see.
• The department somehow ended up with several first year students who don't have a composition course to enroll in. All of the sections are full, so new ones have to be created. But a number of students came begging to be overloaded into my sections. They balked at the idea of finding a class taught by a different instructor. A couple said that the material I chose for my classes was right up their ally. That made me feel really good, especially since I often feel like the work I do in the classroom means nothing to anyone but me. Of course, I still sent them out of my office to find another class.
• The pastor of the church we attend asked the membership to fast this month. Skipping meals gives headaches, so I was going to fast from sugar. Then I made a cup of hot tea and the honey was coming out too slowly. So I used sugar. Then I decided to fast from candy only. That's probably not really what the pastor had in mind, and it's probably rather pathetic, but it's the best I can do. And since there people keep leaving mini-chocolate candies on the lobby desk, it's not a small thing to resist.

Things to Do in 2015

Here's the plan:

1. Consciously and intentionally spend time alone doing non-mommy things. Away from my house.
2. Find a way to keep my children out of my bedroom much more often.
3. See The Diva more frequently.
4. Read more books that have nothing to do with class (although I happily have a chance in the coming semester to teach two books that I loved reading for pleasure)--I vaguely recall that I used to do this all the time. What happened to that?
5. Find truly yummy ice cream that I can eat now that I've discovered a disturbingly sad link between dairy and migraines. I wonder if I can launch a letter-writing campaign to Ben and Jerry. That would be my dream!
6. Laugh more. Seriously.
7. Make some proactive decisions about my career instead of waiting for the ax to fall on my professional head.
8. Cross some more items off my life list.
9. Enjoy being 40. Try to be fabulous.
10. Refrain from completely ignoring my blog. Or decide to end it. One or the other.

Please be kind 2015. The sea is so big, and my boat is so small. But, our family (my extended family--not me!) welcomed a new baby on the last day before the new year. I'll take that as a sign, ok?

What I Learned from Going to the Movies

In case there's anyone reading this . . . .
I know it's been a month of Sundays since I've released an idea into the blog-sphere. I've been--I don't know--groggy. But I had a burst of brain activity today.

I rewarded myself with a trip to the movies. I submitted my grades, on time, and without waiting on and coddling students who didn't turn in work even after second and third chances. And I don't feel all sad about giving them the bad grades they earned, even though I really like some of them. What's really nice, though, is that I saw "The Best Man Holiday" for the second time. I love it! It's just an enjoyable, entertaining, fun film. AND it has Taye Diggs' perfect teeth and Morris Chesnutt's dark chocolate goodness. And the female actresses are stylish and Nia Long should still totally play me in the movie of my life. It's a wonderful rhythm of tear-jerking sadness and laugh-out-loud humor. I think that rhythm reflects the way life seems to me these days. It's a gut-wrenching mix of highs and lows.

Sitting in the dark, thinking about how nicely styled the characters are, I also thought about how the story underscores how vital friendship is. Our friends really are the family we choose. They help us mark the moments that matter as we are living our lives. They provide context and meaning. Those relationships are intimate in a very particular way. We need them. I'm glad I have good friends.

And I'm just going to say this, too: I like seeing black folk on screen doing the darn thing. These characters are people I'd like to know, not because they're perfect, but because they are emotional and have fears and desires and they fail and they do the wrong thing and then sometimes do the right thing. And they look good. There's something to be said about the politics of pleasure (Joan Morgan said it) and it's just pleasurable to view this world get lost. It does still have this weird, generic Christianity that I can do without, but I can forgive that. It makes me happy. It feels good to watch.

Finally, an unrelated side note: I gave in and "adopted" an Elf on the Shelf for our family. My children begged for one for the second year in a row, but realized that he's as creepy as I think he is. And yet, they say good morning to him as soon as they wake, and tell him good night before bed. It's rather fun to see where he's going to end up every morning. I'm glad he's here. This could be the last Christmas when both of my children fully believe the magic.

I like to re-read posts from the last few holiday seasons this time of year. I don't think I can do that this year, but I'm reminded that I've had some good ones.

So, all in all, I think I still believe the magic just a little.

What's the Matter Mary Jane?

BET just aired a shockingly thoughtful and engaging beginning to a dramatic/comedic series. Being Mary Jane stars Gabrielle Union (who I've loved for years) and bears the markers of Mara Brock Akil (who worked behind the scenes of Girlfriends, among other shows). It's witty and energized.

But . . .

I really wish that it didn't begin with that squirly (and dubiously conceived) statistic about black women and marriage.

Still . . .

Being Mary Jane is really enjoyable.

Not Very Tempting, Tyler Perry

I gave myself an end-of-semester, before my children are out of school treat today and went to the movies. I really wanted to see 42 but decided to wait until I can see it with my hubby (which really means that I'm waiting for it to come on HBO or Showtime and the children to go to sleep). I had read a couple of commentaries on it, and knew from the get-go that I was probably not the ideal demographic. I don't get along well with Tyler Perry movies. Or Kim Kardashian. But I had just watched the Grey's Anatomy episode with Jurnee Smollett and remembered that I like her. And Vanessa Williams. Perhaps most importantly, seeing it would get me out of the house and out of my head.

Not long into it, I decided that I needed to blog about it. Watching the scene from the teaser, in which Judith (Smollett) and her lover first have "sex" on his private plane was intensely disturbing to me. The clip presented this as passion-filled and sexy. But I just found it creepy and violent. If I had read Carolyn Edgar's discussion I wouldn't have been so filled with ick, but I didn't, so I was left to make confused faces in the dark with the four other people in the theater. This character, Judith, says no--repeatedly and firmly, while clawing and hitting this man. Is it just me, or is that rape? She never actually says, "yes"; she just stops actively resisting. Um, that's not the same thing, folks.

I have lots of other problems with this story, including the bland way that marriage is portrayed, and the fact that Judith complains that her husband Bryce takes her for granted while, in my estimation, she also takes him for granted. She never fully discusses her needs or desires with him--he forgot her birthday the year before, but she doesn't even mention it for the current birthday and then is in despair that he forgot again. I can't remember any scene that depicts them even getting close to sex (except for when she gets all hot and bothered by her lover's innuendos and rushes home to attack her thoroughly confused husband). Of course, when I think about it, people who have sex in this movie get punished, so maybe that's why he doesn't. Then, there is the ever-present problem with overblown, jacked-up religious silliness. I know this is some people's version of Christianity, but it's not mine. I can't even unpack all of that right now. Seriously.

And then, there is there weirdness of Judith at the end of the movie, old, alone, and limping along with her HIV and unresolved Daddy issues. I'm not sure why she needed to be barely mobile. Or why Smollett couldn't play her at the end of the film. It's all so confusing.

This probably could have been an interesting plot, but it falls flat as a pancake.

I did, at least, get out of the house, though. So I guess it was good for something!

A Couple of Random Things

• I seriously love television. If I had any sense it would have been my subject of choice for every academic pursuit. But it's really getting on my parental nerves lately. Condom commercials pop up in every time slot, during every type of programming, even in the middle of the afternoon. And the other day a "Dateline" promo forced me to define "prostitute" for my seven-year-old. Arrrgggghhh.
• The grading. Oh. My. Goodness. It's mountainous. And not all good.

I think that's all.

An Appropriate Dress

I'm still in a haze. Random thoughts keep forcing their way into my head. It's hard to stay focused, despite the mountains and mountains of end of term and catch-up grading that forces me out of bed. I keep thinking of the very strange phenomenon of buying a dress for my father's service. I generally don't like shopping, but this had to be the worse shopping experience ever; it was even worse than when I had buy a dress for my girlfriend's wedding four weeks after I had my son (leaking breast milk, newborn in tow, lumpy post-baby body--good times). I thought I could buy something quickly and never wear it again. I kept thinking of the Langston Hughes poem that says something like tell all my mourners to mourn in red 'cause there ain't no sense in me being dead. (Don't know exactly what to do with that thought . . . ) Mostly, though, I was hearing his side-bar comments, which made me laugh and cry at the same time.

I'd pick up one dress and hear, "Too short." Another, "Waaayyy too tight."  or "That looks nice." I'd see another and hear, "You do know that you have to wear that to church, right?"

Was I supposed to be looking for something cute? appropriately sad? reflective of his joy of life? It was all just so weird.

In the end, I was entirely over shopping altogether. I tried on a few dresses that looked too hideous, even for mourning. I bought one that didn't make me look like a potato. I don't know. It got the job done.