hey mona lisa

I first learned about this Faith Ringold story quilt, "Dancing at the Lourve" from the fabulous Mr. Biles' art class back during my halcyon yet hood days at A. Philip Randolph H.S. (Mr. Biles, if you're reading this, please know that you've had such an indelible impact on my life - from worldview, art apreciation, musical tastes, who else but you would play Take 6 and After 7 in class? But most importantly had us understand that blackness did not have to equal a lack of exposure to the wider world).
In class we talked about the word "gauche" and how the girls dancing around the painting could be seen as having behavior or home training. But we decided that they were just excited to be at the world's most famous art museum. And now that I've made that sojourn I couldn't agree more...
I'm just a little girl from Bed-Stuy. But by luck and a whole heap o' blessings and good credit I've been able to see a lot of the beauty of this world - man made and God ordained. There is much more to see do of course, I just want to stay on the journey and remember to order more pages for my passport.
I just want my fellow kids from hoods across NYC and the country to realize that this world is for them too. The block is hot and too small to contain them.

travel pillow

When my mom and my sister dropped me off at JFK so I could catch my Air India red eye flight to London, my sister was gracious enough to buy me a travel pillow, like the one seen on the right (except mine in red). Planes are usually uncomfortable, and no amount of good spicy, Air India curry could make it less so. I've often looked jealously at other passengers with their own pillows, drifting off to sleep while I wiggled around trying to get comfy. Now I was one of those savvy travelers. But the pillow was also something else, and homesickness highlights everything- my sister knew I was about to hop on a 6 hour flight back to London and she tried to help make it as pleasant as possible. That's what people who love you do, they try to help you through uncomfortable or difficult spots.

And that pillow came in handy during that long ass flight as I was elbowed, pushed and shoved for hours on end by the lady sitting next to me.So, in my head I thugishly whacked her arm off as she begs forgiveness. That never happened. In real life, I tried to ignore her, and stifled laughter as I listened to my "Me Talk Pretty One Day" audio book.

Then next thing I know, the plane touches down in London and I make my way through the looonnng immigration line, pick up my suit case, drag it and my duffle to the tube, and listen to my Addicted to Race podcast (check it out!). As I'm listening to the American accents coming out of my ipod, all around me couples are taking in those first moments together, after they've reunited at the airport. Surprisingly, I didn't wallow in the fact that I wasn't in their place. I was too busy thinking about who I've left at home, and how great it will be when I see them all 5 weeks from now. Until then I'll be wearing my Princeton hoodie out, remembering great moments and making new memories.