All About Ms. World's World

DIGGING

Today I went digging and mistakenly unearthed my past. My past loves and collectables, all in the form of books. It wasn’t my intention to excavate my literary past. In fact, it was all an innocent game of “I need to find that book.” The book in question is Anne Lamont’s creative writing classic "Bird by Bird." A book I brought in 1998 with hopes that it would help me break a creative gridlock I was experiencing as I worked on numerous essays for graduate school applications. The book was recommended to my by a friend, Aaron, a Californian intellectual, who I adored and worked with at the Guggenheim Museum. It is so ironic because I still have the book but I lost touch with Aaron after entering graduate school in Indiana.

So, after putting out the garbage for tomorrow’s collection, I went book diving in my mother’s basement. It was harder than I expected work. I had forgotten about the boxes because newer white boxes had supplanted them with Japanese characters printed all over them. The boxes from Japan had been placed on top of the older boxes and held fresher, more recent memories for me to comb through at my leisure.

Picking up boxes which hadn’t been moved in over 2 years was a little exhausting but worth the price. I had found lost treasures such as my small but priceless Toni Morrison collection, playwright Adrienne Kennedy’s “People Who Led to My Plays,” and a copy of Ntozake Shange’s “Sassafras, Cypress, & Indigo” which seemed to save my life one dark night in San Francisco during the late nineties.

There were books that represented previous aspirations like a copy of "Teach Yourself Hindi.” I can’t believe I own that book! The idea of teaching myself Hindi actually sounds pretty ridiculous now but in 2002 I was a convert. (I even took a Hindi class at CUNY). I uncovered college yearbooks (I have every year except my junior year which I spent in Italy). which reminded me of my glory days in the ivory tower at Sarah Lawrence. I found remnants of three semesters spent in journalism school in the Midwest when I picked up a large textbook on First Amendment Law.

Finding forgotten books was also like remembering pieces of me that have fallen away or died hard deaths. I have a collection of books on soul mates. This idea makes me smile and laugh now. I have nothing against the idea of soul mates but I’m so happy that I’m no longer looking for one. I also have a small collection of sassy, feminist, and sexy books by Seal Press. I won’t divulge the titles because family members may read this.

But the biggest surprise in my literary excavation was the discovering of 3 books, “Let’s Go Australia,” “Let's Go India & Nepal,” and “Let’s Go Southeast Asia. All of these books were dated 2001. Two copies of these out of date travel guides have covers ripped off of them, which tells me that I picked them up during a stint working at a bookstore, probably Barnes & Noble (I did enjoy their employee discount on books and in the café!).

I can understand me picking up travel guides that were on the verge of being dumped on the street. But I can’t fathom why I have a fully intact copy of Let’s Go Southeast Asia. Did I have any hopes or desires of going to Southeast Asia at that time in my life? I don’t remember so, I decided to rescue the three Let’s Go travel guides from the forgotten-land of my basement.

These three books represented my past and presented. In 2002, I desperately wanted to travel to India. Australia & Southeast Asia would have been places on my mythical long “Places I Want To See Before I Die” List but that is the past.

It is now the summer of 2006 and I have a little intimate knowledge of the places listed in each of the books. I know what dosas taste like and I know to avoid masala dosas because I can’t take inferno they form in my mouth. I learned this lesson in Pune, then in Karnataka and Tamil Nadu. I know that Melbourne, Victoria, is a place that you definitely want to take the time to visit because it is a lovely European city in the place called OZ. And I know that winters in Eastern Australia feel like autumn on the East Coast of the U.S. I also know that if you want great beaches for cheap without stepping over a thousand other tourists, leave Thailand behind for the spectacular beaches of Malaysia or if you are very adventurous hit the beach in Cambodia.

After paging through the books, I’ve decided they can be trashed. I don’t need them anymore. I have seen some of those places described between the pages of each book. And honestly, I can’t believe it. Sometimes I can’t believe how far I’ve come.

Right Now

The second part of 15 Stages or The Story of My life, The Short Version is taking forever to write. Honestly, I was overwhelmed by the response that Part 1 received. I figured somebody may feel it but I got so much love that it was a bit of a shock. I`ve been a little nervous about writing the rest of the African-American Bollywood saga that is my life. However, I`m getting over it. I really feel a need to write about my life right now because I know I`m ending another phase of it.

In late July, I will be ending the fifteenth phase of my life. Lately, I ride my bike around Toyama City and sometimes marvel about the fact that I`m here. I can`t believe the underestimated, smart, bookish, cute, fat Black girl who grew up across the street from the projects has gotten so far. I know I could do it but sometimes I still can`t believe I actually did it.

I`m getting very excited about my new phase of life. Everything is finally becoming very real. Yesterday, I brought airline tickets which will ferry me out of Japan to Hong Kong. I`m staying in Hong Kong for a few days then it is off to Bangkok via an Air Asia flight from Macau. I finally sorted out various tourist visa matters and am in the process of working on my resume. However, I know I need to concentrate on my current reality. I need to live in the moment and savor all the texture and emotion of my Japanese life. Sometimes it is very difficult for me to stay in the present. I`m a dreamer by nature and a doer out of necessity and envy. I`m working very hard to be present right now.

I also feel like my future is so bright that I need to wear shades. And I love feeling that way.

Part 1: 15 Stages or The Story of My life, The Short Version

1.Birth - Grade 2 in Elementary School

This is the best part of my story. I was born into love. I was raised in the bosom of my maternal family. I was also a daddy's girl. I have great memories of waking up on Christmas Day to run down the stairs to a living room covered with gifts for my brother and I. My grandmother hosted barbecue parties in the summer which were legendary in our neighborhood. My mother was always taking my brother and I to the library, museums, zoo, movies, and theater productions at the local university in an effort to expose us to the world. I would gaze upon the stars from the window in my bedroom and pray to God that I would be able to see the world when I was older. I remember having a very clear sense of self at the age of seven. I remember so much of my beautiful childhood that the next phase brings tears to my eyes.

2. Grade 3- 6

I became officially fat during this period. I got called "fat," along with every other world in the dictionary by my classmates. Fat pig, Fat dog, etc. etc. My parents marriage was cracking. I left parochial school after third grade due to financial issues. As a fourth grader, I rode #27 city bus to Chase Intermediate School which was located in a predominately white area. I had my first white best friend named Wendy B. I invited her over to my house to hang out and stay overnight. Wendy's parents needed to officially meet me before they would consent to her coming to the all-Black part of town where I lived. Wendy was a little nervous about coming to my neighborhood too. When she finally came to my home to visit and stay overnight, nothing dramatic happened. The Black people in my neighborhood didn't take much notice of her. We hung out at my grandmother's house and went to the Union Terminal. I realized at Chase Intermediate School that I was being taught the same math lessons which I had learned at catholic school. I took a test for my hometown's most selective public school. I failed the math portion. I received the results and cried because I knew it would be hard for me to get a high quality education at the regular city schools. I discovered Musical Youth and England during this time. I read voraciously.

3. Junior High School

I attended a junior high school in my all-Black working class community. The white students who attended my junior high school were from an all-white working class area. It was a school filled with poor kids who were receiving a shitty quality education. I knew this when I was in the seventh grade! I was in the highest level classes. I made all A's except in physical education (I made a B). I won every academic award in the school. I worked as a library helper. I read all the time even during lunch time at school. My classmates made fun of my voracious reading appetite and my London pin which I wore on my semi-fashionable clothes. My best friend was Angelique M. She was a great best friend. I would visit her and talk about wanting to live in New York City or California. I was in love with a classmate named Itko (pronounced I-tee-ko). I was obsessed with losing weight. Every summer I would pledge to lose at least 50 lbs by the beginning of the new school year. I would try to exercise for 3-5 hours a day. I never lost any weight during the summers. Every August, I would cry in the bathroom because I was still fat. I was also had unfashionable clothes. I felt like the ugliest person alive. I was ashamed of myself because I was fat. Sometimes I just wanted to die. After two years in my neighborhood junior high school, I knew I needed to get out. I was in pre-Algebra classes for two years. I was only assigned two books to read, Treasure Island and The Witch of Blackbird Pond, in my eighth grade English course. I never had lots of challenging homework to do like the kids on The Brady Bunch. My low quality education wasn't going to prepare me for Columbia University or any other top colleges in the U.S. which I read about in Lisa Birnbach's College Book guide. I longed for a fair chance to fulfill my potential. I started calling various Catholic schools in my area. One day when I was looking through a newspaper, I saw an ad about testing for this private school. I called the school inquiring about information. I was 14 years old. My mother used her last $20 in her wallet to pay for my test at the private school. I knew I had to do well because my mother didn't have $20 to give away. I did well on every area except math. The private school cost about $12,000 USD a year plus books and supplies in 1986. I received a partial scholarship from a local private organization modeled on A Better Chance organization. 

4. High School

All I wanted to do on a September day in 1986 was to survive my first day at the private school. The school was located in the richest neighborhood in my city. I was dressed in my finest and newest outfit and shoes. This Is It by Kenny Loggins played on the oldies radio station. I thought it was the appropriate song for this pivotal moment in my life. High school wasn't just high school for me. I knew as a ninth grader that entering the gilded halls of Country Day School would change my life. I knew I was in the position to attain the education which I desperately needed to leave the Midwest behind for a top college. This rich kid's privilege was going to be my salvation. I was 1 out of 3 African-American students in my class. Many of my classmates turned 16 years old and received a BMW, Volkswagen Jetta, Honda, Audi, and even a Porsche as a birthday present. I lived in a neighborhood that most of my classmates had never visited. The yellow bus wouldn't come to my neighborhood to pick me up for school. I woke up around 6:30am to get ready for school and take a city bus to another neighborhood where I would catch the yellow bus and ride for 30 minutes to Country Day School. Most of the kids on the yellow bus were African-American. I received B's and a few C's at school. I was in hell, socially. I just didn't fit in. I wasn't rich. I wasn't white. I wasn't thin. I wasn't an East Asian or South Asian child of doctors who could pretend that being non-white wasn't an issue. I was an African-American feminist, liberal, internationalist, pro-abortion rights, Equal Rights Amendment supporter, Baptist raised, book lover. I listened to Scritti Politti, Culture Club, and B52s. I still felt ugly. I still felt ashamed of my body-size. My moods verged from hopeful to suicidal all within a day. I felt like the character Allison in The Breakfast Club. I got a job at a book store during my sophomore year. I worked on Monday and Thursday nights and the weekends. I learned so much working there. It was great to have my own money and help my mother out. I used to give my little brother money to take his girlfriends to the movies. I spent my earnings on books, music, movies, and magazines. I was still dreaming of London, New York City, Los Angeles, and many European lands. I spent one summer working at the bookstore and reading travel guides. I was so desperate to see the world that reading about it in Let's Go , Frommers, and, Rough Guide temporarily satiated my wanderlust. My sophomore year a girl from England named C. came to Country Day. I loved talking to C. because she was English. She once commented that I talked about London like I had been there. C. stopped talking with me once she was in with the popular group. I was in love with brothers. The oldest brother was C. who was a senior during my first year at Country Day. The youngest brother was D. who was one or two years ahead of me. They were from an African-American upper-middle class family. I didn't have a chance in the world with C. Nothing ever happened with D. who was the screw-up son of the Talented Tenth family. I was planning to apply to the following colleges: Sarah Lawrence,Bard,Emerson, Wesleyan University,and Pitzer. I wanted to attend a college with a filmmaking program, a liberal atmosphere, and study abroad programs. The safety school which I really never ever wanted to attend was Miami University. Some people in my community wanted me to attend Spelman College. However, I felt I was a little too eccentric for an all-Black school. My Godmother didn't believe I could get into my top college choices. She also didn't believe I'd ever leave the Midwest. My college advisor/homeroom teacher telephoned my mother to voice her concern over my selective list of out of state liberal arts colleges. My mother told my college advisor that she trusted my decisions. My father and stepmother didn't want to fill out financial aid forms. The tussle over this issue led me to have a mini-breakdown on the telephone at school. I applied early decision to Sarah Lawrence College in the fall of 1989. I received my acceptance letter and financial aid package a few days before Christmas break. It was one of the best Christmas gifts I've ever received.

Ms. World Gets Mail & An Ode to Honey

I'm housebound for the weekend due to illness. I've got a wicked cold and scratchy sore throat. I'm also feeling very fatigued from a mad week.

I've visited my dealer, I mean doctor, twice this week to get prescription medicines. In Japan, the doctors prescribe enough drugs to make the Mexican cartel jealous. Sexxy Jimmy "I like butts!" Ng noted that Japanese doctors give you enough drugs to cover Grand Canyon. And we are only getting prescriptions to ward away the common cold.

However, I'm a very happy girl because I got mail! I got a huge box of videotapes from my brother. Thanks E.! Now I can catch up on all my favorite American TV programs.

My show is UPN's Girlfriends. I know people hate on UPN but I don't care. I enjoy some of their African-American programs. My brother doesn't watch UPN's Eve, All of Us, and Half& Half, so I'm missing out on some funny stuff.

He did tape America's Top Model, American Idol auditions, Law&Order, Cold Cases, C.S.I., Kevin Hill, Desperate Housewives, The Apprentice, and Amazing Race for me. I can't wait to lose a few brain cells from ODing on American TV.

My giddiness is on overload because I also got a small package of magazines from my mother. Thanks mom! Some of you may have figured out from my previous post/psychological meltdown that I love me some magazines.

I used to subscribe to over seven magazines in the U.S. My magazine racks were filled with everything from Essence to Vogue, The New Yorker to SAMAR (South Asian magazine for action and reflection), Oprah to Vanity Fair, Martha Stewart's Weddings to BITCH, and so on.

I currently have two overseas subscriptions, Bibi (a South Asian American bridal magazine-don't ask! ;) and Transition (an international review featuring an eclectic mix of articles and interviews on colored people). One of my writing goals is to get a piece published in Transition.

My mother sent me the three latest issues of my beloved Essence magazine (check it out here). I know some people hate on Essence but I love it. The magazine is committed to reaffirming African-American women in the land field which is American media. I even have an partial Essence wall in my Toyama abode.

My mother also sent me the latest issue of Suede magazine which is Essence magazine's hipper, cosmopolitan, and multicultural younger sister. I'm kind of feeling it. However, Suede only exists because of the original Honey founded and edited by Kierna Mayo and Joicelyn Dingle in the mid-90's.

Honey was tha shit!!! My homegirl Lady T. sent me a promotional issue while I was in Hoosier-land getting a master's degree. I drooled over it for weeks. It was the magazine I always wanted to create for young women like me. It was eclectic, clever, interesting, spirited, current, and visually amazing. Honey lasted several issues then died when Mayo and Dingle were pushed out of their editorial positions.

I love my Black woman magazines and I can't wait to cuddle up with my latest issues.