Staying Awake

The Katrina aftermath in the South has moved me so much (see previous post), I'm blogging furiously for the first time in months. I'm a classic Type A personality--I've gotta do something. I've made my donation to the Red Cross and will probably give to the Mississippi Workers Center, which is the only social justice grassroots group in the area that I have information about in terms of a hurricane relief fund. The local St. Vincent de Paul Society is accepting donations to go on a truck to Louisiana this weekend, so will try to stop by over there with canned goods, clothes and toys. But that's not enough. I have to do more. And as a writer, I know I can throw my words out there to ripple out and touch everyone within earshot/Internet range. So that's what I'm tryin' to do.

I'm glad that Bush is finally starting to feel some pressure to respond more appropriate to the post-Katrina madness. And I'm glad that, as they usually are, the Congressional Black Caucus was quick to hold the President's feet to the fire around this issue.

But mostly I'm glad that so many other people in this country have gotten so vocal about their outrage that it has taken so long to get help to the people of New Orleans. In particular, I give big ups to my fellow bloggers/comrades/colleagues who've defied the self-centered/dumb American stereotype and expressed their righteous indignation at the snail's pace relief efforts by our federal government. See what Jeff Chang, Hoovie, Jean and Margaret Cho had to say about the Katrina aftermath, which is undoubtedly one of the worst (if not the worst) disasters in U.S. history, although it's causes were not entirely 'natural'. More on this later.

When will people start to wake up to that fact? And the fact that this is probably just the first in a series of natural disasters that are being caused/ exacerbated by our heavy dependence on fossil fuels and the global warming effect that follows? I keep thinking of the Matrix and Buddhism; how we are all really 'asleep' and need to be awakened.

I think the alarm clock is ringing, people. Are we gonna hit the snooze button or finally get up and face the day?

Staying Awake,
Rona

Tell Our Government to "Get Off Their Asses"

The post-Hurricane Katrina disaster in New Orleans is a national emergency. But because New Orleans and southeast Lousiana is mostly poor and Black, our federal government, FEMA and other government agencies are dragging their feet to get help to these people. If you don't believe me, check out the horrors people are facing on Democracy Now, CNN and other news sites for yourself.

And if you're fed up with the slow response to this horrible disaster like I am, call the White House and tell the President to stop the f**king around and get down to the business of saving people's lives.

White House comments:
202-456-1111

Fax:            
202-456-2461

E-Mail
comments@whitehouse.gov
vice.president@whitehouse.gov

And I have to say that I'm disappointed that MoveOn.org hasn't taken any real action to get real relief to the people of New Orleans. People are just not taking this situation seriously enough.

In Struggle,
Rona

The City I've Dreamed Of, Drowned

I've always wanted to go to New Orleans. Visit the Latin Quarter, see the famous wrought iron balcony railings, listen to the jazz that has shimmied down the decades from Satchmo's and King Oliver's trumpets, pay my respects at the grave of Marie Laveau (the "Voodoo Queen"), eat a beignet dusted with delicately sweet powdered sugar.

I've always wanted to see the )places in the bayou where the Manilamen lived and gathered, descendants of the first Asians, the first Filipinos to set foot on North American soil. I've dreamed of traveling to New Orleans, maybe doing a residency there, spending time on streets where funeral parades are like carnivals, with tuba and trumpet and trombone swinging away.

I've always felt a strange spiritual kinship with that city--perhaps it's because of my natural affinity with the sea, with the peculiar psychic energy that is generated by places that sit on the edge of large bodies of water, whether they be oceans named Pacific or gulfs that spew hurricanes like San Francisco draws fog.

But I never made it to New Orleans, never got to fulfill my romantic fantasy. And now I feel like weeping because this magical city that was the birthplace of jazz, and the inspiration for so many artists and dreamers, has been drowned by a hurricane with an ironically pretty name: Katrina. I feel like weeping because I will never get to see New Orleans, not the way she was.

I feel like weeping because I go to CNN and see Black people, poor people, people who didn't have much to begin with, their faces drawn and scarred with the agony of seeing and knowing that death is so, so close, that the waters of the sky and the earth are all around them, and that there is never enough help and food and safety to go around when you are Black, poor, or don't have much to begin with, in America.

I feel like weeping even though I hardly wept when the tsunami hit in Thailand and Indonesia and Africa, the wave that killed hundreds of thousands of people just the day after Christmas. For some reason, now, I want to weep long and hard for New Orleans and her people. Maybe it's my PMS or just the fact that I can somehow relate to those people trapped on rooftops and in the Astrodome, those victims of a natural disaster so mind-boggling that even usually stoic CNN reporters are breaking down in tears during their on-air time; maybe I can relate to them because I live in the Bay Area, at a conjunction of several major fault lines, where the earth trembles nearly every hour even if we don't feel her shivers, where death is always close by, though silent and waiting. Where even the threat of such natural tragedies could never keep me from staying here, living here, in a place full of beauty and mystery and history.

I feel like weeping when I read emails saying that a comrade who lives in New Orleans is safe, and when I remember the other folks--like Xochitl whom I just saw a few weeks ago in Albuquerque, who offered me a place to hang out if I ever wanted to come down to the Big Easy--the other folks I know who live in New Orleans. Even though they are not my best friends or family members, I still want to weep because I don't know where they are or what's happened to them.

I want to weep, but the tears won't come. So I weep words instead. And pray.

In Hope,
Rona

P.S. Please make a generous donation to the relief efforts; the people of New Orleans need us.

The Race Factor

As always, racism flourishes even in the midst of tragedy. Check out these two parallel photos and accompanying captions about the horrible hurricane aftermath in New Orleans.

Black folks (still at the bottom of the proverbial racial totem pole/hierarchy) be gettin' the short end of the stick. Always. We got lots of work to do, folks.

In Struggle,
Rona

He's Forgotten How to Tell the Truth

Anti-war protesters keep insisting that our government and our 'president' tell the truth about the war in Iraq. But I don't think Bush knows how to tell the truth anymore. His approval ratings continue to spiral downwards in the polls, yet our President-Select continues to try to tell us that he 'understands' all about what it feels like to send a loved one off to war. This from a draft-dodging Daddy's and Mama's boy whose own two daughters are sitting comfortably in their palatial home not risking a single hair on their heads for their country's safety or for so-called 'democracy'. Democracy Now gives their take on Bush's refusal to pull out our troops from Iraq.

In other news, at least 20 people have been massacred in Haiti, the first free Black nation in the West. And another jailed and tortured priest from the Lavalas party, Father Gerard Jean-Juste, is contemplating running for the presidency.

Hm, a leftie Afro-Haitian Catholic priest / political prisoner v. a spoiled white rich kid from Texas who's probably never done a lick of real work in his life? I think I'd take Jean-Juste.

In Struggle,
Rona

More Than Rumblings

I'm off for a mini-camping trip with some youth from my organization today, but I had a bit of time to check out the Democracy Now web site. I have to say I am ecstatic at the happenings at Camp Casey/Crawford, Bush's Texas ranch. I know that a lot of radical lefties probably dismiss Cindy Sheehan's protest as 'liberal' or 'not enough', I hear more than just the rumblings of an anti-war movement in the news of this ongoing act of civil disobedience, and I say it's about time.

Some highlights of the new protest:

"War is not the answer. Only love can conquer hate. If Bush is right, then Marvin [Gaye] was wrong. If Bush is right, then Mohandas Gandhi was wrong. If Bush is right, Henry David Thoreau was wrong. If Bush is right, Martin Luther King Jr. was wrong. If Bush is right, Jesus of Nazareth was wrong."--Reverend Johnson at Camp Casey

"We want [Bush] to act like an executive officer that he is supposed to be. He represents the whole of the United States. He represents all of those troops that are laying their life down for this country and die for what they thought was the good cause. I think it's just -- I think it's just a moral -- a moral sin against them to have them fighting a war and not know exactly what they're fighting for, because you lied to them."--Andrea Hackett, mother of soldier killed in Iraq

I also have to say that, no matter how much it pains me to admit it, this act of protest would not have been half as effective if some random lefties went out there and lit a candle for the fallen soldiers in Iraq. Only a mass-scale movement of everyday ordinary folks whose lives have been devastatingly impacted by this unjust war have the moral credibility to make this happen. Punto.

Jazz and Blues

Just got back from the San Jose Jazz Festival, which is the biggest free jazz festival in the world. Hung out at the salsa stage and saw/heard Cubanacan, Quimbombo and Candela. They were all pretty good, but I think I liked Quimbombo's funky, eclectic style best. It's not for everyone--they threw in some hip-hop R&B vocals, some rapping, some jazz on one bridge, and other stuff into the salsa mix, but I kinda liked that. Like a rougher, more fragmented Los Van Van sound. I like it when folks try new stuff. Oh, and the lead singer was kinda cute. ;-) The conga player for Candela was off the hook though, and did a lil' solo right before we left that was pretty fierce.

It was good to dance again, especially after seeing Rize last night and getting all crunk about Krump (see, I know the difference!). I even threw in a little Krump action (or at least I tried to) during a merengue song, since that's about the most Krump you can get in terms of music at a jazz festival, methinks.

In other news, I'm saddened to hear about the Greek airliner that crashed, killing 121 people. I know that flying is still supposed to be the safest way to travel, but whenever there are airline catastrophes they just seem so big. Tragedies like this put things into perspective: enjoy life while you can, be thankful of your blessings, I say.

Peace,
Rona

Rize v. Dance 360

Happened to see Dance 360 late last night as we were flipping channels, and then happened to go see Rize at the Parkway in Oakland tonite.

If you don't already know, Dance 360 is a daily half hour dance competition show where a few amateur dancers get to battle it out in front of a big circle of folks (360, get it?), with a live DJ in the background doing special scratches when it's time for them to go solo or 'head to head'. The crowd does an annoying chant each time the contestants have to switch up, and I have to say that, despite their obvious love of dancing, the competitors were just so-so dancers.

Now, if you really want to see some dancing--some real fire and virtuosity and movement innovation--I highly recommend going to see Rize. It's a documentary about some young (and not so young) Black folk in South Central LA who are part of the crazy hip-hop 'Clowning' and 'Krumping' dance phenomenon that is apparently all the rage. This stuff goes way beyond breakdancing and makes Brittney Spears look like a blonde smurf.

These fierce, committed dancers paint their faces, perform at kids' birthday parties, and battle each other in 'Krump sessions' and huge annual 'Battle Zones' (the latter actually held at the Great Western Forum--yes, the one that the Lakers play at), which give them a high-profile outlet for their creative urges, everyday anger and frustration at the oppression of their communities, and basically throw down some amazing moves. There are even some little kids who get in the mix: don't miss 'Little Mama' who gets down in more than one scene with some insane hip-poppin' moves that made my eyes go wide with half-wonder / half-confusion that someone so little can move so big.

So turn off UPN and forget that wanna-be, lukewarm shit that is Dance 360, and head down to your local movie theater to see Rize. It's the real thing.

Peace,
Rona

Finished Dune

And damn, that was a helluva ride. I have to admit I'm a little embarassed that, as an aspiring sci-fi novelist, I'd never read Dune until now. Never seen the movie either. Now I see why they call it 'the supreme sci-fi masterpiece' on the cover. Some amazing shit for someone in the mid-1960s to write. And it's interesting how many 'deja vu's' I experienced reading the book, how many scenes were so similar to stuff from Star Wars, the Matrix, etc. I wonder how much influence Frank Herbert had on George Lucas, the Wachowski brothers, and others. I'm getting a lot of ideas/inspiration/lessons for my novel.

Now I get to watch the movie finally (had to read the book first!).

Ironically, I'm heading off for the desert of New Mexico tomorrow for work. Not quite Arrakis, but I'm sure there'll be lots of sand.

Peace,
Rona

What's Going On...

...in my life. A random assortment of things really, but most of them quite good...

1. Been dealing with unpacking, cleaning up the old apartment, and settling into my new place in Oakland. Although I love my apartment and the neighborhood we're in, our noisy downstairs neighbors have been difficult to deal with. But they've been responsive to our complaints so far, so there's still hope.

2. Excited about my work co-coordinating an upcoming conference on social justice fundraising and movement building--how does money work in our organizations? How is fundraising connected to building power? What does tax policy have to do with creating a truly just and democratic society where people's needs are taken care of? All these questions and more will be addressed in what promises to be a kick-ass conference. Keep on the lookout for updates here, but it may be a while: the conference isn't until August 2006! But in the meantime I get to work with some amazing fundraiser-activists, like Kim Klein and Stephanie Roth, mine and many others' personal fundraising gurus.

3. In other fundraising news, an interview that I did with Wes Mukoyama, the Executive Director of the Yu-Ai-Kai Senior Center in San Jose, will appear as the cover story in the Grassroots Fundraising Journal next month (I think). The story's about how Wes was very resistant to asking for money from individuals when he first started out in a local training for non-profit fundraisers, and how he made the conversion to be a fabulous fundraiser who has raised a bunch of money for his organization and is about to launch a big capital campaign to improve their facilities. It's great to have my political and writing worlds come together in such a practical way that will actually help people with real everyday problems.

4. I'm in the process of setting up a small writing group of VONA alums with E. and others. Going to try to meet weekly, which will be excellent for my writing. I'm still writing between a half hour and an hour a day, and getting a lot of pages done. Working on a short story about a man obsessed with time as well as on my sci-fi novel entitled, tentatively, 'The Flight to Hass-Olam".

5. Gearing up at work for possible elections madness, if Arnold decides not to cancel this stupid special election in November. One of the issues we might work on is Proposition 73, which would require girls under the age of 18 to get their parents' permission before they can get an abortion. Even if CFJ doesn't work on it, I will somehow on my own. This shit is just sick and wrong.

6. And on a related note, I am glad to announce the premier of a new publication devoted to the complex, touching and often painful stories of women who have had abortions, Our Truths/Nuestras Verdades. It's available in both English and Spanish. I worked on the advisory board for the publication for a time and worked on the submissions committee. This is a much-needed publication that helps women break the often stifling silence—from both the right (who want to call women who've had abortions lost sinners, selfish whores or worse) and the left (which often wants to act as if having an abortion is as easy as walking to the corner store for some aspirin). I'm proud that I was involved in this publication and know it will have a big impact on the lives of many women and girls out there.

7. Lastly, got to see the end-of-summer-school recital of S., a friend's son. The summer school--I believe it's called Oakland Fine Arts Summer School--provides all-day arts programming for kids through the 5th grade. It was so cute...the kids (just about all Black, Latino and Asian) sang Stevie Wonder and Thelonius Monk songs, danced to Chinese music, and even did comedy sketches that they wrote themselves! The recital brought a lot of light into my day.

I hope your days are full of light, blessings, beauty and justice,
Rona

Pastors for Peace makes it to Cuba

After being detained last week at the Texas-Mexico border, where they were attempting to cross with a huge 'friendshipment' (I love that word) of material aid such as medicines, medical supplies, school supplies and other necessities to Cuba, Pastors for Peace's Cuba Caravan has made it to the Red Island. In addition, the Venceremos Bridgade, which I went on two years ago, is also in Cuba right now.

More later,
Rona

Reading Material

What are you all reading right now? If you visit, please comment.

My current reads:

Dune, by Frank Herbert, because Chitra told me I should read it.

Arranged Marriage, by Chitra Divakaruni. Excellent short story collection. It's interesting to read an author's work after being in a workshop with them. It helps extend the learning.

That's it for now. Although, of course, I have a shitload of books on the reading backlog, as any good writer does. ;-)

Peace,
Rona

Writing=Narcissism?

I know a lot of people--some artists, some avowed non-artists--who think that writing (or any other artistic endeavor) is narcissitic. After all, we writers have to hole ourselves up in rooms or at cafe tables or prison cells to write, cutting ourselves off from the rest of the world and spending time honing our craft. I myself have struggled with this question: Does being an artist automatically means that one is self-centered, overly egotistical and, yes, narcisstic? Having had the unpleasant experience of working with many, many egotistical--and often abusive--artists, I know that this suffering-artist 'stereotype' is not entirely untrue.

But as I continue to explore and expand my resume of creative experience, I am glad to report that my answer to that question is a resounding NO. Artists do not have to be completely narcisstic and ego-driven to produce good art. Of course, there are plenty of examples of great artists who are not very kind or compassionate people. Chitra talked about this in our novel workshop at VONA, and about her own belief that one can be a good writer and a good person; she seems to be a fine example of this herself: best-selling novelist, creative writing professor, married and the mother of two sons (we got to meet her family at VONA, they all seem very happy). It's good to have a role model like her to emulate.

For myself, as I move into my own light as a writer, I find myself more generous with my encouragement and support of other artists' creative efforts. I seek out opportunities to tell my fellow artists that they're not crazy, that they're not alone, that they need to trust their visions of their art. For example, L., a co-worker, who is entering an undergrad creative writing program in a few weeks after several years of tireless movement/activist work, talked to me recently about feeling like writing is such a 'luxury'. The 'L' word reminds me, of course, of Audre Lorde's essay, 'Poetry is Not a Luxury', which can also apply to fiction-writing or any other creative endeavor. For me, writing is not a luxury, it is a necessity. I need to write in order to feel fulfilled, and even further, the stories I dream up as a Filipina-American writer living and struggling in the early 21st century need to be told.

To quote from Lorde's essay: "For women, then, poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence. It forms the quality of the light within which we predicate our hopes and dreams toward survival and change, first made into language, then into idea, then into more tangible action. Poetry is the way we help give name to the nameless so it can be thought."

That is what writing feels like to me. So I don't feel guilty anymore for taking time off from checking off my workaday 'to-do list' so that I can write for an hour a day. I don't feel selfish. At the same time, I know I need to help make space for others to create and manifest their dreams so that I am not just promoting myself, for my creative fulfillment and success are tied to the fulfillment and success of my fellow artists. Not all writers or artists feel this way, I'm sure, and perhaps the competitiveness that comes with material success will someday hit me as well.

But for now, I'm writing, and developing, and feeling an expansive hope through this process that makes me believe that a better world is not only possible, but is being crafted word by word, line by line, in my work and the works of my writerly comrades.

In Peace,
Rona

Gettin' my VONA Fix

So last night I went to the VONA open mic at the cafe at La Peña Cultural Center in Berkeley and got my VONA fix, along with all the other 2005 alums that came through. Although the energy in the room wasn't as hyped as it was during my VONA week at USF, it was still beautiful and palpable, a feeling of warm writerly cameraderie and kinship that I don't think I've ever felt in any other group in my life.

Of course, there were lots of beautiful brown folks in the room, and I got to hang with my novel homies E. and R., who are going through VONA withdrawal too. We got to hear some slammin' poetry and prose from our fellow VONA alums and others, including a woman who read an 'Elegy for Iris Chang which was particularly moving. I wondered how many folks in the room knew who Iris Chang was; I hope the woman's poem inspires them to find out.

Checked-in with my fellow novelists about how their writing is going; everyone seems to be doing a little something-something, but everyone said they were missing the VONA vibe. I've been doing well, trying to write for an hour a day, which was the goal I set at VONA, and it's working out so far.

Got to hear some poetry from fellow activist-author M., who read a moving piece about her mother, who recently passed away. Even K.'s little girl, V., who is in the sixth grade, read some of her poems. It's lovely to hear a child read their own poems, crafted with so much sincerity and the clarity that only a child can have about life.

Ran into a bunch of folks, including some Frisco heads whom I was pleasantly surprised to see on this side of the bay, since I just moved here and thought I wouldn't be seeing them for a while. And then afterwards, we went to Luka's Lounge on Broadway and Grand, which I think may become a new kick-it spot for me. Nice decor, beautiful people, good drinks, even some fancy food (I'm a bit of a food snob, don't you know). Grooved to DJs Fuze and VNA breakin' it down on the 1's and 2's.

Now, back to more moving and unpacking. Ah, the real world.

Peace,
Rona

As the World Turns

The world is quite full of drama these days, isn't it? My one tiny hope is that I may help people think a little differently after reading my blog, or at least help them see an issue, a group of people, a set of ideas in a different light. I venture farther and farther away from the preachiness and soap-boxing days of my idealistic youth everyday, but that's a good thing, I think.

I got an email today from the Latin American Working Group about the impact of Hurricane Dennis on the Cuban people. So far, 16 people have lost their lives, and almost the entire province of Granma has been demolished. Forty people have been killed in nearby Haiti (the first free Black nation in the West) as well, which has already been suffering from civil unrest and poverty for decades. It's telling that Cuba, a socialist country, rarely has hurricane fatalities because it has built an infrastructure that can evacuate people quickly and effectively, while Haiti's US-crippled democracy leaves little for ordinary folk to rely on. Several people in the southern US states have also died. I pray for the survivors and the victims and hope the world helps these countries recover.

I visited Cuba two years ago this summer, and it was an incredible experience. For once, I felt as if I was in a country where I wasn't crazy for believing that a government has a responsibility to care for the basic needs of its people—namely, to provide a free education, free health care, food and shelter. For the first time in my life (that trip being my first outside the US), I was in a country where people took for granted that they could visit a doctor whenever they wanted and never have to pay (it's actually true, I had to get treated for a minor ailment by a doctor and was laughed at when I asked how much I owed them. My US-born-and-bred mentality couldn't fathom not paying for medical treatment.) I got to hear people talk about the use of solar power to power Cuban homes with electricity, and got to argue with folks about whether institutionalized sexism and racism really was dead in this socialist society (the short answer: of course they're not, but Cubans have a more sophisticated public discourse on both topics than many Americans give them credit for). I was embraced by an Afro-Cuban woman on the streets of Barrio Chino (Chinatown) in Havana, even though I had never met her before and was only asking for directions.

So it makes sense that I would feel a tug on the heartstrings when I hear of the hurricane's impact on the Cuban people. I would love to go to Haiti one day if it would help the Haitian people in their struggle for a real, sovereign democracy, without interference from the US, their 'Big White Brother' from the north.

But of course I also long to go to the Philippines, my 'homeland', where my ancestors are from and where my mother left her family behind more than thirty years ago. But that journey seems a long way away; it's too difficult, too painful, and too important to be treated as any other trip. But it will happen one day, maybe sooner than I think.

I've been thinking a lot about travel lately, ever since I heard Chitra, my VONA novel workshop teacher, say to another student, "Travel is good for a writer" or something to that effect. I've traveled quite a bit in the US, but not much outside of it, and I'm feeling the pull now of the open sky and sea, of lands far from home that are strange to me. I think travel would be good for me, too, not only as a writer, but as a human being. It can help open my eyes to new realities that books, newspapers and second-hand stories can only hint at.

But for now, back to writing, until an opportunity to hit the road arises.

Peace,
Rona

Coming Down, Gearing Up

Coming down from my VONA high. Wow. WoW. WOW. This shit really did change my life. It sounds sentimental and cliche, but it's true. The main way VONA has altered my reality is by making me realize that I AM A WRITER. Not a wanna-be writer, not an aspiring writer, but a real-deal-Holyfield kinda writer. A fellow VONA alum said it well:

"...just being surrounded, immersed in writing, [made me feel like] a writer. It's not about skill or publishing. It's a feeling. A little, little hummingbird in my chest flutters. And in the vibrations of its even smaller wings, I hear and feel, Hey you might be able to really do this."
--Ky-Phong Tran

I've been writing stories, poems and the beginnings of novels since the second grade. But I don't think I truly felt I could claim that mysterious, glamorous title of 'writer' until this past week at VONA. And for that, VONA will always have my gratitude. Working with Chitra and my fabulous 'chicken' Novel workshop homies was a deeply engaging, inspiring, enlightening and emotional experience that I will carry with me everyday as I move forward in the world, pen and paper and laptop in hand.

More quotes from the week:

"The obstacle is the path."
--Zen Buddhist proverb, via Chitra Divakaruni.

In the same vein: "Go straight for the pain, because that's where the treasure is. And since people of color have a lot of pain, we have a lot of treasure."
--Jimmy Santiago Baca, via Miriam Louie.

"Poets do a little. But novelists do it for longer."
--Ricardo Wilson, my new novelist homeboy, after the novel workshop crew stayed out 'til 4am (well, okay, I was home by 2:30am) partying at Zam Zam's and Milk in Frisco while the VONA poets and short-story writers were fast asleep in their beds! And whoever said that poets were wild and crazy? Not to mention that one of our novelists didn't get any sleep at all because she had to catch a plane at 7am the next morning.

"You need to get grounded. It's about keeping your feet on the ground."-
-Miriam Louie, fellow novelist, after my emotional post-VONA breakdown left me drained and in tears. I caught up on sleep on Saturday and yesterday, and got my grounding after a week of open-heart vulnerability.

Gearing up: H. and I are moving this week to our new spot in Oakland, so we've finally started packing our stuff up. And boy, do we have a lot of stuff. I'm very excited to be moving back to my side of the bay, and being closer to my new VONA friends, my long-time friends and my family. I feel like I'm going home. And I've earned it.

Blessings,
Rona

Mindbuzz: VONA Day One Reportback

Today was the first full day of my Voices of Our Nations (VONA) novel workshop experience, and two hours after I've left campus and my comrades-in-writing, my mind is still buzzing from all the great conversations, critique and cameraderie I experienced--just in one day.

I feel as if I've spent the morning in intense meditation: as I walked down the street to my house from the bus stop, the air seemed clearer and more crisp, I noticed the elderly Korean couple walking slowly arm in arm with their big black German shepherd, I heard the small and large sounds of everyday living around me that I normally take for granted. I felt as if my brain had been tuned to a new frequency, my awareness heightened after the morning workshop with Chitra Divakaruni and the other novelists in the room.

I have to admit, after the orientation yesterday for VONA I left feeling a bit apprehensive and fearful about what this experience would be like. The words 'life-changing', 'intense' and 'extroardinary' were bandied about by VONA faculty and alums alike, making me wonder whether I would have a nervous breakdown this week--not what I was planning.

But I'm getting it now: the passion and commitment of the other writers (all writers of color, for VONA is exclusively for us) is truly intense and beautiful, especially for me because it's been a rare experience for me to feel kinship with other writers in a supportive, non-competitive way. It's fuckin' great.

And it was pretty cool to get this feedback from folks about my sci-fi/fantasy novel-in-progress:

"This is really well written...Your language is beautiful" (from Chitra!)
"I found myself captivated and drawn in by the story"
"Wow! Very nice! Sci-fi! I was riveted"

We got into an interesting discussion about the sometimes-assumed 'responsibility' of writers of color to write about our culture, about race and politics, etc. One of Chitra's comments particularly struck me: "It's not so much about the milieu we write in [whether contemporary fiction or sci-fi or whatever] but about the concerns that we bring to our work." (I'm paraphrasing; hopefully you get the point)

The folks in my workshop are an eclectic and intriguing lot: a former journalist for the Chicago Tribune who lives in Guadalajara and rents rooms to writers and tourists; a globe-trotting Hemingway admirer who recently returned to the States from a writing/reading stint in Chile; a young Latina writer from Oakland who is working on a complex family drama novel told from the perspectives of two sisters and their daughters. And that's just a few of them. I feel privileged to be in their company and happy to be sharing with all of them the gift of our writing.

More to come,
In Peace,
Rona

Quicklinks

Thanks to Gura, found the Pinoy Cook web site.

Got to give props to Caffe Roma in North Beach, where I am now enjoying a smooth cup of cappucino and free wi-fi.

One more: where to find free wi-fi cafes in San Francisco.

Deeper thoughts soon to come...

Oh yeah, Happy Pride!!

Rona

What I'll Miss About San Francisco

So I haven't mentioned in my blog yet that H. and I found a new place--we're heading back to the East Bay, and I have to say I'm really happy. Originally, we were only going to live out in Frisco for a year until his business got up and running, but it's been a year and seven months and I'm ready for some sunshine, warmer temperatures, the laidback Oaktown vibe, and a 20-minute 'commute' to work versus an hour-and-a-half one.

But there are some things I'll truly miss about living in SF. Not that we won't be here all the time--I don't think H. could stay away for even a few days, and I've gotten so used to the conveniences and attractions that set Frisco apart from Oakland and all the other cities in the Bay Area to stay away for long either. So what'll I miss? Let me count the things...

-Serendipitous access to art venues and other creative attractions. For example, last weekend we checked out the free Intersection for the Arts 40th anniversary celebration block party, which took up the long block on Valencia between 16th and 17th. We saw the Marcus Shelby Trio perform, got to peep some YouthSpeaks poets, but didn't get to see Ntozake Shange because she cancelled at the last minute. Bummer. But we did also get to see a fine exhibit of anniversary-related art in the gallery on the top floor of the Intersection building. H. took home a poster from the blood-red punkesque mural that featured the words 'Jello Biafra v. Dianne Feinstein v. Quentin Kopp'. How San Francisco.

-Another time, H. and I stumbled quite on accident (we were on our way to Trader Joe's for mundane grocery shopping) a Dia de los Muertos exhibit at SOMArts, consisting of some amazing altars by local artists, including one memorial to Frisco residents who had been killed by gun violence in the previous year.

-Last artsy example: Tonite I stopped by theVoices/VONA faculty reading (again, free!) at USF to hear Junot Diaz, Elmaz Abinader, David Mura and Jimmy Santiago-Baca read. Just five minutes away from my house. I'll be in my Novel workshop with VONA next week, and glad that I'll have to take the 38L to Arguello instead of all the way downtown (oops, I'm supposed to talk about what I like about San Francisco).

-The food. Did you know that San Francisco has more restaurants per capita than Paris? Or something like that. The grub in this town is really off the chain. Whether you're jonesing for cheap Thai take-out (King of Thai) or chi-chi gourmet raw vegan food (Millenium), late-night Chinese food (China First on Clement is our current favorite) or slammin' Italian food (North Beach or Richmond district, for starters), Frisco's really got it all. There's also this spot for hardcore carnivores called Espetus Churrascaria, a Brazilian-style barbecue place, that I've been wanting to try. Well, okay, Oakland does have an edge on SF when it comes to barbeque overall, but we won't get into that now.

-The beaches. From China Beach to Baker Beach to Ocean Beach to North or South Beach (okay, those last two aren't really beaches but they are close to the water and have great views), SF's got the best access to beautiful ocean views of any urban area I've been to. Even when the ocean is covered or obscured by fog, you can't beat a drive down the Great Highway.

-The cafes. There must be at least five times as many cafes in San Francisco than in Oakland and Berkeley combined. Which means you can always find a spot to park your booty and grab a cup o' joe (or tea or chai or whatever you're into) and write or chill or people watch or whatever. My favorite cafe spots in Frisco? La Boheme on 24th and Mission for the eclectic and gritty experience; Crossrooads Cafe in Southbeach for a chill vibe and quick access to waterfront walkways; Mario's Bohemian in North Beach to write in and get a nice view of Washington Square park; and Bazaar Cafe's backyard patio and free wi-fi is my pick for the rare sunny, warm day in the Richmond district.

But even with all that said, I can't wait to move back to Oakland. I'm an East Bay girl at heart. But I think at least a small part of my heart will be left behind in San Francisco when I migrate back across the Bay Bridge.

Peace,
Rona

Multitasking Me

Got to send out props to the ever-insightful and observant Max Elbaum, who wrote in a comment to my previous post that I could become a columnist if I really focused my energy on achieving that goal. Max—who is a published writer in his own right—observes that I seem to have 'other priorities' right now, which is true. But it's not just true right now, it seems to be true at every other point in my life. I just always have a lot going on, and can never be happy focusing on one thing at a time. What can I say, I'm a classic multitasker.

One of the reasons why I don't feel I could 'just' focus on my writing is that, in order for me to feel connected to the issues I care about—such as, say, racial inequality in public institutions or the erosion of a woman's right to choose how to create (or not create) her family—I need to be engaged with them on more than just an intellectual level. While interviewing folks for articles about said issues is one way to stay 'connected' to what's actually going on in people's lives 'on the ground', I have to say that I'm not sure if that would be enough for me to feel like I'm really part of a movement to create a better world.

About five years ago, my day job—which took up most of my time—used to be working for a national trade association of independent, mostly progressive/social justice-oriented, publications like The Nation and the SF Bay Guardian, etc. And although I did and still do believe that those publications are crucial parts of a broad social justice movement, I have to say that doing that work, stuck in my office most of the time, and hardly ever working with or around folks of color, low-income folks, immigrants, youth, etc., was horribly unfulfilling. The independent, progressive media in this country is still woefully white (and privileged and male, in terms of leadership), despite my old organization's efforts to make it more diverse and multicultural.

Could I make a living as a columnist/freelance writer/journalist/left-wing pundit? Possibly. Do I want to? I don't think so. At least not now, or at least not on a full-time basis. Opportunities have presented themselves, but I have to say I'm pretty happy working at an organization I love, getting to raise money for an organization that helps young people of color, mostly working class, in Oakland, in San Jose, in Fresno and Long Beach and San Diego and beyond, can have the opportunity to bring their marginalized voices to the broader public debate about their schools, about their lives. Knowing that my work directly impacts the ability of thousands of people all over the state to have a say in the public policies that affec them directly makes me feel incredibly proud, happy and fulfilled. I feel it's part of my calling to live my values through my work in this way.

Does that mean I can't be a creative or political writer, and a published one at that? Of course not. It just might mean, though, that my writing career won't take shape in a very consistent, linear way—more likely, it'll grow in fits and spurts, especially during those times when I'm lucky enough to get paid for my writing, or when my activist work on education issues and fundraising converges with my writing talents.

But that's okay with me. I have the writing of my novel and some short story projects to sustain me creatively, this blog to sustain my political writings and get my words out to a small degree in the blogosphere, and the random opportunity to do an interview or write an article for an activist rag. And that's okay for me, for now.

But who knows what the future might hold? Maybe I will follow in the foosteps of a Rodel Rodis or Emil Guillermo, with a Pinay twist. Maybe I'll become the Juan Gonzalez or Arundhati Roy of my generation. The future is full of possibilities, and I'm not ruling out any of them. All I know is that, for now, I'm perfectly happy where I am. And that's a blessing that I'm not quite ready to risk losing. Not just yet.

Peace,
Rona

Warning: Inconclusive ramblings follow.

Random musings on this somewhat anti-climactic Philippine Independence Day. One-hundred-seven years after the Aguinaldo's Kawit declaration, and where are we as a nation, as a Filipino diaspora? Recent polling shows that President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo is the least popular president since Ferdinand Marcos. Recently, Rep. Liza Maza introduced legislation meant to lift the ban on divorce in the Philippines. How far have we come?

I read an interesting column by Emil Guillermo in AsianWeek the other day, lambasting the 49ers for their training video, which contained a buck-toothed Asian man chonging it up a la Mickey Rooney in 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'. To quote Sin La Salle in 'Be Cool' after he shoots a Russian gangster for twice calling him a n*gger: "Racial epithets. Why must it always come down to that? Makes me sad for my daughter."

Emil's a good writer. I like his stuff, generally. Articulate, well-thought out arguments, fairly progresive politics. I've read a few of Rodel Rodis' columns in Philippine News. I like some of his stuff too. Makes me wonder where the Pinays (especially Fil-Ams) are in this whole columnist biz. Don't know of any that have gained the prominence of an Emil or Rodel. And the interesting feedback I've been getting about my essay that appeared in Phil News makes me think: "Why couldn't I be a columnist?" I already write this blog, right? Heh.

I realized the other day that I haven't been writing about much political news on this blog. Perhaps it's because I work in a non-profit that does pretty cutting-edge, progressive social change work. Meaning, I have plenty of people around me all the time whom I can politick with. Today, for example, I coordinated a fabulous house party for my organization, Californians for Justice, where a bunch of activists got together to hear about our work, listen to a youth leader from Oakland High School speak, and give us some cash. It's nice to be in those spaces, where we can feel completely comfortable with our politics around race, class, gender, etc.

But it was also nice to be in a place where I was challenged a bit around my politics—my friend T.'s wedding in Sacramento. T. is Chinese-Vietnamese, was forced to immigrate here when she was a child because of the Vietnam War. T. married S., a fellow Chinese-Vietnamese refugee. They were joined at their wedding banquet by 500 family, friends and well-wishers. The program was in Cantonese and English. The crowd was probably at least 90% immigrants or children of immigrants. It was a trip, but a cool one. And the food, damn, don't get me started. All I'll say is: Twelve course Chinese banquet. Abalone. Walnut Prawns. Peking Duck. You get the picture.

Because of the wedding and the house party, I've spent more time in a car this weekend than I have in months. I'm tired, and ready to grub on some homemade pasta and roasted asparagus.

G'night, folks-
Rona

Eating Out

It's really been all about food in restaurants this weekend, which is nice since I've been trying to bring lunch to work from home and cook more. Eating out now feels like a reward instead of just an expensive necessity. Started the weekend early by eating out for all my meals on Friday. First, had Shan Dong for late lunch on Friday with V. and H., then crossed the street for a taro pearl drink, on V.'s recommendation. The milk was not too heavy or creamy, tasted very fresh. Yum. It was good to catch up with globe-trotting V., who recently witnessed some racial profiling/police harassment at a Giants' game.

Dinner that night was at Red Sea with M., whom I also hadn't seen in forever. It was a gorgeous day on Friday in Oakland, and the sun shining through the slats in the blinds at the restaurant made me feel like I was tanning while sipping my honey wine and eating stewed collard greens with injera. Double yum.

Today, H. and I had lunch with his mom and sister for said sister's birthday at Kamakura, which I haven't been to in ages. Decent sushi, not quite fresh enough for the prices they were charging. But I didn't have to pay for it, so that was nice. Stuffed myself silly with spicy tuna, oshinko, New York and Hollywood (tuna, avocado, cucumber and tobiko, I think) rolls. Triple yum.

Then for dinner tonite we had standard Chinese food at H.'s dad's favorite spot in Potrero Hill. Sorry, not gonna give up the restaurant name--gotta keep some places secret, eh?

I think tomorrow we'll take a break from restaurant food--maybe I'll make pancakes with fruit compote and maple syrup, scrambled eggs and turkey sausage for breakfast instead. Quadruple yum.

Happy eating,
Rona

Happy Writing News

I got accepted into the Voices workshop, a week-long writing residency for people of color that happens every year at the University of San Francisco. One of my favorite writers, Junot Diaz, is one of the masterminds behind the program, which I've heard many excellent things about from fellow writers. I'm so juiced! I'll be in a novel workshop with Chitra Divakaruni, which is dope!

I had an essay published in Philippine News recently, and have been getting some lovely feedback on it from folks I never thought I'd be able to reach with my writing, like an old family friend whose son I used to play with when we were babies. My Tagalog prof, Dr. Paz, gave me big-ups in class about it which spurred some of my classmates to read it too. I have to admit it's not my best writing but I'm glad it's out there and that my words are settling in people's minds.

I also started taking a fiction writing class at the Writing Salon with Junse Kim, whose quite skilled teacher. Last week we focused on conflict and how character's desires move scenes along. Next week, we'll be dealing with dialogue. Good stuff.

And I've been carving more time out for my writing overall. I've finally gotten over the fantasy that a fascinating, eloquent novel will spill forth from my mind and my fingertips when the elusive 'muse' strikes. Learning and mastering the craft of storytelling, as Junse says, is like exercising muscles to make them stronger, it only comes through practice, practice, practice.

A Whole 'Nother Level...

...of existence. I'm writing this blog while sipping earl gray tea sweetened with half-and-half and brown sugar and sitting out on the sundrenched garden patio of my neighborhood cafe, Bazaar, taking full advantage of their wi-fi network and eavesdropping on my cafe-mates' conversations. It's a frickin' gorgeous day, even in the Richmond district in Frisco, where usually the fog and cold makes me wish that I had brought an extra sweater with me in the morning.

I just finished working on my novel for about an hour, which is the longest chunk of time I'd had to write in a couple weeks. It feels good. So does working on my tan while clicking away on my new baby, whom I have not christened with an official name yet, just silly little nicknames that I will not divulge on this blog.

Going to head out to Oaktown soon to watch the long-awaited Episode III with Gura & Co. I've heard is at least better than Episodes 1 & 2. I guess genius does fade over time. But at least this is the last time we'll have to be tortured by bad love scenes set in front of a CGI backdrop.

Maybe after tonite I'l have more evidence to help flesh out my theory that Yoda is Filipino. (short, flipped grammar, kick-butt martial artist--need I say more?)

Tanning and blogging away,
Rona

Keeping My Mind Open

Finally getting a chance to read Pema Chodron...

"...I encourage the audience to keep an open mind. This is often likened to the wonder of a child seeing the world without preconceptions. As the Zen Master Suzuki Roshi put it, 'In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's there are few."--from Pema Chodron's The Places That Scare You

I've always had a hard time when I'm not 'in the know' about topics, scenes, people. We all like to know what's going on, yes? I have a particular insecurity about being perceived as someone who's not in the loop. As I get older and more chilled out--or as I try to chill out more--I realize that being a 'beginner' and not knowing everything is actually a state of mind to aspire to. It keeps my mind open to the joys of learning new things, the possibilities of the moment.

Peace,
Rona

Around the Blogosphere

It says something that the only time I have lately to blog is while I'm on a mini-vacation (following a weekend training I co-conducted for GIFT). I'm in Southern California, not quite LA, but not quite Santa Barbara. The weather is warm and humid and I want to take showers twice a day. It's nice to have a little break after a whirlwind of work, computer-buying happiness, travel and more work, and to hang out with my good friend G. and her family.

We're in a largely agricultural area outside of Santa Barbara, and when you step outside the air smells of a strangely soothing combination of ocean mist, dark soil and manure. Makes me feel closer to nature, realizing that not far from where I sit there are people working in the fields planting, picking and tending the crops of vegetables that I may eat someday.

Now that I have some time to sit, breathe, and check out blogs on my new laptop, I find some golden nuggets of wisdom...

...from El Serenito, insight into why I have always been drawn to music and people from Latin America (for me, Mexico, Cuba and Puerto Rico are the main lures). I have a Salvadoran friend who always tells me, 'You're Latina. Filipinos are Latino" in his characteristically cocky and flippant way. I've always known we share a history of colonization with our hermanas/os in the Spanish-speaking world, but Serenito breaks it all down in a whole new way.

...and way over in China, Priscilla is studying away, hangin' out with Vkdir, and forgetting English. Just don't forget about us, girl!

...from Cathy, some pics and news from the recent border protests against the Arizona Minutemen, who are, collectively, nothing but racist terrorist vigilantes. In a nutshell, they are civilian white men who have taken it upon themselves to go to the border between the US and Mexico to keep 'illegal' immigrants from crossing over. It doesn't help my peace of mind to know that Governor Schwarzeneggar has endorsed these wackos, whom even the US Border Patrol has said are dangerous and should just out da way. Schwarzeneggar is taking cues no doubt from his advisors (who also advised former Governor Pete 'illegal immigrants aren't human' Wilson) to take a hardline stance on immigration in hopes of boosting his plummeting popularity ratings.

...over at Tatang's Karinderia, Rhett, a card-carrying Republican progressive, waxes philosophical about "BushShit Economics".

...over at Utopia, Martin vents his (rightful) outrage at the $1 million bounty that the US government placed on Assata Shakur's head. Assata, a living legend, former Black Panther and revolutionary, is living in Cuba and hasn't bothered anyone as far as I know since she hijacked a plane nearly thirty years ago and landed on the Red Island. But I guess that being Black, radical, female and alive is enough to label you a wanted terrorist in this day and age.

...Gura posts news about the death of Julian Boyd, an English professor at UC Berkeley. I didn't know Professor Boyd either, unfortunately, but it sounds like he was one of those rare college professors (at Cal, anyway) who actually liked teaching students, and was good at it.

...and last but not least, happy birthday wishes go out to Max in DC. One year closer to 30, buddy. Enjoy it while it lasts! ;-)

Hope your forays into the blogosphere are equally enjoyable...I'm gonna go do as the Southern Californians do and soak up some rays before hittin' the mall.

Rona

I'm in Love

Not with a person, or a pet. Not with a concept or an image, a poem or a book or a song or a substance. Nope, I'm in love with something far more insidious yet utilitarian, something that's a little bit bigger than a bread box but smaller than an extra-large pizza: my ultra-sleek-slammin'-dope-funky-fresh-brand-spankin-new-wireless-ready-straight-out-da-box Macintosh 15-inch Powerbook. Aaah, love for inanimate objects can be so oddly obsessive, yet shockingly satisfying.

And I'm not the only one happy about my new purchase. Already, four people have exclaimed 'Congratulations!' when they found out I was a new Powerbook owner. Mac addicts are such geeky/cool creatures.

Happy in Love,
Rona

Totally Cool Coincidences

Coincidence Factor (CF for short) #1: Watching the biopic/religious/historical epic film "Luther", about Martin Luther, the spiritual firebrand theologian who threatened the regal power of the Papacy in 15th century Europe.

CF #2: The week following my viewing of 'Luther', Pope Benedict XVI (formerly Cardinal Josef Ratzinger) was chosen as the successor to St. Peter and the more than two hundred fifty popes who have led the Roman Catholic Church.

CF #3: Staying up late the other night on a whim, I am flipping channels and get the beginning of Pope Benedict's first mass as Pope in St. Peter's Square. I can't really stand looking at his creepy Bela Lugosi eyes and turn it off once they start panning to him every two seconds.

CF #4: Watched 'I Heart Huckabees' last night for the first time. Trippy movie. Made me think a lot about...coincidences.

CF #5: New visitor Ben uses the phrase 'coincidences of ours' in his comment to my last post. Not sure if it's a "Huckabees" reference but close enough. Coincidence!

CF #6: Got this email today from the University of Creation Spirituality/Wisdom University, a New Age-y, eclectic spiritual institute that I'm not big into but that I still respect, mostly because excommunicated former priest (and Bay Area resident) Matthew Fox is their head honcho of sorts. I've met him a couple of times; he's a cool guy, if not a little egotistical, but hey, when someone's the spiritual equivalent of an international rock star, what can one expect?

Here's an excerpt from the email:

"There are many exciting things happening to which I would like to draw to your attention. 

We are developing an extraordinary and provocative strategy for Matt, given the fact that his nemesis Josef Ratzinger is now Pope.  Matt is writing a letter to Ratzinger challenging him to make good on his assertion in his first mass after his installation on April 24th  to "listen to the whole church" by meeting first with all those he expelled or silenced while he was Head of the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith. As you know, scores of other leading theologians and priests besides Matt were silenced or expelled by Ratzinger in the squelching of dissent while he was Head of the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith, including Hans Kung, a German theologian, and Leonardo Boeff, a Brazilian Jesuit.   All of them are being invited to co-sign Fox's letter.

Additionally, Matt is preparing a manifesto called "The New Reformation: Toward a Mature Christianity", in which he proclaims that we are in fact confronted with two churches: one dominated by the image of the punitive father, personified by the long and harsh career of Ratzinger himself and his long suppression of internal dissent, rejection of other religions,
and protection of pedophile priests; and the other expressed by the feminine spirit of Wisdom and personified by a compassionate mother/father god of justice and compassion.  It is time for the church to choose whom it will follow:  an angry exclusionary god or the loving open path of wisdom.

To dramatize his letter and his Proclamation, Matthew will be preaching a sermon on Pentacost Sunday May 15 in Germany near Frankfurt. He will proclaim the need for a new reformation and expound the choices before the church, while inviting the Pope to meet with him and others who like him were silenced or expelled.  If all goes according to plan, he will then travel to Wittenberg, where Martin Luther nailed his ninety-five theses at the Cathedral in 1517, and nail his Proclamation on the same church doors.

From Wittenberg, he will travel to Rome where at the gates of St. Peter's Cathedral he will challenge Ratzinger to a debate about the future of Christianity at this moment of historical crisis and opportunity.

Isn't this totally cool?"

Yes, it is. Totally f**ckin' cool. My meditation-induced hopefulness is gettin' a turbo charge outta this sh*t.

In Peace,
Rona

Slowing Down, Waking Up

It's been an interesting couple of months since I've been relatively blogpost-less...I cut down on reading blogs as well as writing on my own, and it was a good thing. It is always important to take a break from things, even if you love them--and especially if you dislike or get stressed out by them. I've learned the hard way that if things are too difficult for too long, I am doing something wrong, repeating an unhealthy pattern over and over, not learning from my mistakes.

There are so many huge events that have recently transpired in the world, in this particular moment in time in which we are living; things that have inspired passionate arguments between me and my partner, my co-workers, my friends. The Terri Schiavo tragedy (aka the media circus that was created around her and her family's suffering), Pope John Paul II dying, the Papal Conclave taking only a day-and-a-half to choose the new Pope, an arch-conservative who wants to make the Church 'smaller but purer.' So many frightening things, yet I--and we--must figure out where the bright spots are, the rays of hope in the ominous shadows.

Interestingly, H. and I happened to watch the film 'Luther' the weekend before Pope Benedict XVI was chosen. The film is about Martin Luther, founder of the 'Great Reformation' which shook the Roman Catholic Church and spread throughout Europe like wildfire in the 15th (?) century. I spent a good part of the film explaining some of the historical background of Roman Catholic 'indulgences' and other corrupt practices to H., who grew up fairly non-religious and often recoils in shock at the strange Church customs that I grew up with as normal everyday occurrences. It's good to have to explain the culture and customs of the Church to an outsider, because it sheds light on how absurd, illogical and sometimes downright disgusting some of these customs are--and how, in many ways, they are counter to the development of a truly authentic spirituality based on compassion, tolerance, faith and love.

I don't really know what to say about the new Pope, or about the state of the Catholic Church today. Others have quite articulately stated opinions that I wholeheartedly agree with: John Nichols, Leny (thanks for the welcome back and congrats on your new book!) and Rhett (see March 31 and April 6 posts, specifically), for starters. It's healing to hear and read the voices of other progressive Christians / Catholics (recovering or currently active) expressing skepticism, fear or even optimism about the Church's direction. And even though I haven't gone to Mass in months, I still know that the Church is a hugely influential institution in the world, on the one hand, and I still have a deep love for many of the teachings and the lessons I learned growing up in the Church the first eighteen years of my life.

In contrast to my recent thoughts and mixed feelings regarding the future of the Catholic Church, I have been meditating a lot more lately, and recently attended a day-long meditation retreat for people of color activists at Spirit Rock. The retreat inspired and energized me, and strengthened both my interest and faith in Buddhist meditation and the Dharma (the teachings of the Buddha as handed down for the past two-thousand-five-hundred years or so). I felt such peace in sitting, walking and eating meditation (yes, eating--have you ever slowed down and just paid attention to what you were eating instead of reading the paper, talking to your partner or scarfing down your food in five seconds flat? Notice how flavors become more intense?) with my comrades and colleagues, and realized how simple yet profound Buddhist practice is. Breathe, slow down, notice, be present. I just paid attention to what I was doing for the first time in weeks.

I've carried this mindful approach into the rest of my daily life, and I think it's really helping. I feel less judgmental, more compassionate of others, less prone to cling to my angry, unhelpful attitudes and thoughts. I even feel compassion and near-forgiveness for some of the people that I have hated in the past--which doesn't mean I'm rushing out to embrace them and welcome them back into my life, but it feels much better to be more at peace with them in my own mind than to allow myself to be constantly bitter and triggered, and to waste precious energy on spitefulness and negativity that I could put to more positive uses in the worl.

I feel I am awakening to a whole new reality. Sometimes it's a little frightening, but more and more it just makes me feel happy and hopeful that a new, better world is unfolding around me.

In Peace,
Rona

Deadline-free (for now)

Hello there, dear readers. I'm back for a bit from my month of deadline after deadline. Since we last chatted, I won a lil' essay contest (along with some money--woo-hoo!), got myself into an online writers' group for fiction/speculative fiction (or SF for short) writers, and applied for a summer writing workshop that I've been wanting to get into for a few years but never made the time for.

It's been a productive past few weeks, to say the least, and I'm feeling great about my writing. The novel is coming along well, and I finally finished a short story that I started--no kidding--FIVE years ago. Whoa. It felt great to finally put it to bed (for now, at least, until I get it into a workshop so it can get critiqued!).

I've also started going to Kali class again, hoping to make it out there at least once a week. It feels good to spar, to wield my stick and empty hands, to be in community with other martial artists again. I've missed Kali practice, although I think the break from class was necessary too. Sometimes you notice things about your practice that are crucial only when you leave it for awhile. I think this is true for writing, for Kali, for anything.

I am also meditating more lately, partially because it's something I've been telling myself I need to do for my own spiritual well-being, but also partially because of some minor health problems I'm having that the doctors say is caused by anxiety/stress. I've known for a long time that I am a type-A, slightly paranoid stress-case, but I thought I had it all under control (don't we all?)! But seems like my body and mind could use more stillness, so I'll be loggin' more minutes on the ol' meditation cushion.

I hope all is well in your world. Don't forget to stop and breathe once and awhile.

Blessings,
Rona

"Oh, yes, I have a blog....I forgot."

Haven't been blogging much lately. Haven't been much inspired to. I mean, really, life is much more than who won an Oscar for Best Actor, isn't it? That goes to show you that either: 1) My life is supremely boring, or 2) I have better things to do with my life than blog.

I have to admit, dear reader, that the answer is #2. Not to say that I don't value your visits to my humble little blog, or that I don't want to write things that you'll find so terribly interesting that you might leave a comment or have a cafe conversation with a friend about some thought I provoked in your mind. It is, quite simply, just that I have lots of other things on my plate: my novel, for one, which has been occupying a greater space in my mind and my overall consciousness the past few weeks. And that's a good thing. I'm ready to be obsessed with it. I'm ready to dive into researching languages that I can incorporate into my dialogue and my characters' names; I'm down to spend hours lost in the writing of what promises to be a tome of sorts. I'm ready, God/dess. Bring it on.

In addition, I have a couple of other writing projects I need to focus on right now. Deadlines, deadlines, they are a'callin'. I'm trying to pull together an essay for a contest that I desperately want (and need) to win in order to purchase my very own laptop (ah, the very thought of having my own computer--I use H.'s right now--makes me sigh dreamily). And I need to pull together an application and writing sample for a much-longed-for workshop that is coming up this summer. Wish me good luck!

So, gentle reader, I doubt that I'll be blogging much anytime soon. But I'm sure that the blog and web site links I've provided to the left of this text will give you much brain-fodder and textual entertainment to distract you while I'm otherwise occupied. And who knows, maybe you'll go out and start your own blog instead of just reading mine. ;-)

Blessings,
Rona

Now, That's a Winner

Okay, who saw Jamie Foxx accept his much-deserved Oscar award last night? Was it the best award-acceptance speech ever or what? And what about the fact that Jamie--an avowed party animal who no doubt could have brought any stunning model or starlet or groupie with him to the Oscars--brought his daughter with him as his date? Now that's class, that's a suave m**thafu**er if there ever was one. He even almost broke down crying when he talked about his late grandmother, who helped raise him. Definitely raised his star status in my mind.

I was overjoyed that Foxx took home the 'Best Actor' award--almost as overjoyed as when Miss Eva the Diva won the top nod on America's Next Top Model. I do wish Don Cheadle could have also received a best actor award for 'Hotel Rwanda'--even though I don't think his performance was a virtuoso as Foxx's (I mean, Jamie Foxx did have to do an intense piano audition in front of Ray Charles himself to even be considered for the role). But I knew that 'Hotel Rwanda' wouldn't win any Oscars because, let's face it, Hollywood is all about illusions and that movie was just too much reality for most Americans.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't spend every waking hour glued to the boob-tube, but I do watch a fair share of good TV programs (there are a few out there, and I do mean a few, especially since I don't have cable) and good movies. And Jamie Foxx in 'Ray' (as well as 'Collateral', for which Foxx lost to equally deserving Morgan Freeman for best supporting actor) was the SH*T. (FYI, I only caught the last hour of the Oscars--just in time to see Jamie win, along with 'Million Dollar Baby', et al).

More interesting Oscar tidbits here and here, and these aren't fashion reports, folks. I do wish, though, that one of these high-octane Black actors (okay, someone besides Danny Glover) would make it a point to highlight that, despite these gains in the entertainment industry by Black artists, Black people in this country in general are not doing well economically. And not to tarnish the shine on Morgan's or Jamie's golden statuettes, but 'uplifting the race' doesn't mean shit if you don't pull some people up with you.

Surprised, but Not Disappointed

A refreshingly intelligent and thoughtful piece about the real consequences of our increasingly 'luxurious' lifestyle (think: retail therapy at Diesel or Williams-Sonoma). Goes to show that you don't always find what you're looking for in the usual places.

R.

Disappointed, but not Surprised

I rarely hero-ize people these days, unless they're dead. Otherwise, they just disappoint you by doing and saying stupid things that make you cringe and say 'D'OH!'. Here's an example, from still-funny-as-fuck Margaret Cho. Margaret, I love your honesty, but I sure don't admire the fact that you want to be white.

I think I wanted to be white for the majority of my high school career, not because I necessarily thought things would be easier or because I thought I'd 'just be able to show my mad skills', as Miz Cho says, but mostly because I really thought being brown meant being ugly, poor, dirty, etc. Now that's honesty.

Nowadays, I would never want to be white. I mean, who could be white after knowing how much behind-their-backs shit-talking people of color still do about white folks? And I'm even (I'm especially talking about) the people of color that seem to kiss white people's asses, the ones that seem like the classic 'Uncle Tom' types. They talk hella shit, and always behind white folks' backs, then turn around and smile to their faces so they can keep their jobs, privileges, relationships and twisted power intact.

I, for one, have generally favored the shit-talking-to-your-face approach with white folks. Much more honest and productive, doncha think?

Some thoughts for the day,
Rona

A Wine By Any Other Name...

...is still a wine, no? Sorry, sometimes I can't come up with interesting or catchy titles ("Does she ever?" you ask with raised eyebrow). But today did turn out to be a 'wine day' of sorts.

At lunchtime at work today--my co-workers and I all eat together and generally have a grand time conversating and chowing down--we somehow ended up on the topic of good cheese, and then, inevitably, good wine. D. asked what our favorite cheeses of the moment are. "Ah," I thought, "a question made for me!" I replied that lately I prefer sheep's milk cheeses, like pecorino toscano or romano, which have distinctly different flavors but are both made of sheep's milk (I believe that's what 'pecorino' denotes in Italian). C. said she loves gouda, while D. professed a fancy for gruyere.

And then the conversation turned to wine, and E. talked about V. Sattui Winery in St. Helena, which always seems to host a disproportionate number of people of color, making it one of my favorite spots in the Napa Valley. And despite the fact that E. says that more snobbish wine-lovers think of V. Sattui as uncouth and low-class, I've had some great wine-tasting experiences there. Like the time an older man behind the tasting counter said that he liked the winery's Sauvignon Blanc to two young women, who asked him why he liked it. I guess they thought he'd wax philosophical about hints of kiwi and notes of grassy lime in the wine, but he simply shrugged in response and said, 'I just like it!"

As part of our wine conversation at lunch today, I also talked about my birthday dinner at Absinthe Brasserie in Hayes Valley, where H. treated me to the best dinner out that I've ever had (really, I'm not exaggerating). We asked the sommelier to recommend something from Absinthe's extensive wine list (it was something like 8 pages long and divided by region, I think). H. had ordered the coq au vin (super-delicious) and I had ordered the special dungeness crab (equally super-delicious) so the sommelier recommended a Pinot Gris (sorry wine-snobs, I don't remember the name of the winemaker or the year--my bad!) from Alsace, France, which is renowned for this varietal. Well, the bottle was forty bucks, more than I've ever spent on a bottle of wine, but I said, 'What the hell, I'm never gonna turn 33 again!" and we ordered it.

Oh, God. I don't think I'd ever really known what it tasted like to have such a well-matched wine and food combination. It was fuckin' delicious. I'm not very good about saying what flavor-notes a wine brings forth (pear? melon? lemongrass? Isn't wine made out of grapes?), but I can say that every dollar that we spent that night was well worth it. And although I can't afford to buy any wine that costs more than $15 a bottle max on a regular basis, it's good to know that I can experience gastronomic nirvana again sometime in the near future. I do live in San Francisco, after all, which I've read has more restaurants per capita than any city in the world except Paris.

Now, if you want to be a real wine connoisseur you should woo your way into a viticultural (or is it oenophilic?) apprenticeship with Miz Chatty, but if you're just a lay person like me you might learn something from Tatang as well. His SO, Gura, accompanied him on a wine tasting trek in the Amador Valley, and T. had some things to say, let me tell you! Gura seemed to have a more mellow approach to wine tasting. I'd have to say my own wine-tasting attitudes fall somewhere in between.

And tonite, I treated myself to a couple glasses of a decent pinot noir that H. bought a couple weeks ago. We sipped it during a dinner of homemade pasta with tomato and onion sauce and some roasted asparagus (unfortunately, I don't think the wine went well with the asparagus; I noticed an icky alcoholic scent in my glass after I'd just eaten the asparagus, and the wine tasted bitter and .

I spent a few minutes after dinner perusing a handy little web site, EatDrinkDine.com, which seems somewhat simplistic but is still helpful for wine novices like myself. I don't think I'll become a real connoisseur anytime soon, but I stlll enjoy a good quaff of liquid gold now and then. A small, simple, but blessed pleasure in this big, crazy world.

Drink well and be happy,
Rona

Love

Dear Gentle Reader,

Silly me. I sent silly Valentine's day e-cards to a bunch of friends, to my co-workers, to acquaintances, yet I neglected my blog audience, who certainly deserves my love and affection since you continue to return day by day to read my words, put up with my meandering thoughts and hopelessly idealistic moralizing. I thank you and wish you love and affection (a day late, as it were), dear reader, for including me in your blog wanderings and for considering me in your thoughts.

And, of course, I wish you love simply because you are, and I am. Because we exist on this mortal plane and it is a good--and necessary, in these dark days--thing to love one another.

Blessings,
Rona

Thank God It's Friday

I'm sitting home alone at 11:16pm on a Friday night, full from another scrumptious dinner at J.'s restaurant, Pagolac, on Larkin near Ellis in SF (yes, I like to plug my friends' businesses!). I was caffeinated from a small coffee I got at La Boheme on 24th where I waited for H. to pick me up, and where a pretty girl with tan jeans and long black hair told me my earrings were beautiful. Always nice to get compliments from strangers, especially when they seem sincere.

It's been a long week, full of the large and small events of life. Late last week, Ossie Davis passed away (see my earlier post), leaving an incredible legacy of activist-artistry in his wake. And then early Tuesday morning, activist and artist BJ Alisago also left behind this mortal coil and joined the ancestors on the other side of the veil.

Some more trivial events: I finally finished reading Garcia Marquez' Love in the Time of Cholera, and started really digging into Nalo Hopkinson's Skin Folk, a collection of speculative fiction stories that are pretty amazing. I got to page 88 in my novel draft, still making green-ink notes in the margins and in between the lines. On Tuesday, we had an action at work to demand more resources for poor schools in communities of color. I finally made it back to Kali class last night, and remembered how good it feels to move my body in these ancient ways, to flow through the patterns of thought and energy that are part of my cultural legacy.

I'm tired, physically, but I'm also looking forward to a happy, light-filled weekend (let's hope Mother Nature grants my wish for sunshine). Tomorrow I'll be attending my comadre's son's school expo (he's 6 years old and oh-so-cute) and of course will get to see his brother, my inaanak, too. And then it's off to Gura's Lunar New Year shindig, where I hope to eat lots of good food (is Tatang going to grace us with his excellent marinated and grilled beef specialties? I hope so.

Rest easy, folks, it's the weekend,
Rona

Rest in Peace, Kasama

I didn't know BJ Alisago very well--met him a few times, I think he practiced Eskrima, I watched him perform Kulintang once, and I interviewed him for a job at my old organization--but it's still very sad to hear of his too-soon, sudden and tragic passing. I believe he was only 27 years old. I wish his spirit light and love on its journey to the afterlife, and I know that he is now with our many ancestor-comrades, those who have passed on before us.

BJ's passing also teaches me that life is short and unpredictable, and that we must value our friends, comrades, family and loved ones every moment of every day.

Be well,
Rona

Holidays Galore

It seems as if this year's late winter holidays came all at once, in one great big holiday package, wrapped in bright red and pink paper and gold ribbons. Does this happen every year or is it just this one? Not only is today the beginning of Lunar (or 'Chinese') New Year (Happy Year of the Rooster!), but it's also Ash Wednesday, the first day of the Lenten season for Catholics. Which of course means that yesterday was Mardi Gras ("Fat Tuesday", when everyone's supposed to party hardy before abstaining for Lent). And, of course, Monday is Valentine's Day, meant to celebrate love in all its manifestations.

Happy Holy-Days, y'all-
Rona

Rememering and Honoring Ossie Davis

Democracy Now! has some great pieces on the late Ossie Davis, including a moving interview with actor Danny Glover.

Ossie Davis: Rest in Power

I was very saddened to read in the paper yesterday of the death of Ossie Davis, actor, director, activist and husband to actor Ruby Dee. Mr. Davis was one of those celebrity father-figure types, the kind of man that seemed to walk and act with integrity.

Seemingly tireless 'til the end, Mr. Davis passed away this past Friday, just days after the start of shooting for a new film in Miami. I know that many people in this country and all over the world will mourn the loss of this great artist and activist.

One thing I always remembered him for was that, in his eulogy for Malcolm X, he spoke emotionally about how Malcolm was, no matter whether you agreed with him or not, a real 'Man', and that Ossie had known that there were times when he himself did not act quite like a 'man' because of what this racist system of oppression had forced him to do. And then of course we cannot forget that he called Malcolm "our shining Black prince."

To me, and I'm sure to many others, Ossie Davis was a Man, a man of dignity and elegance, talent and intelligence. May he rest in peace and power, and may the civil and human rights he fought to secure for all people be realized one day.

Blessings,
Rona

A-Bloggin' We Will Go...

I love finding blogs that make me want to hang out with their bloggers. So I'm adding Utopia is a Practice to my blogroll. I found this guy (embarassed to say I don't even know his name) because he left a comment in response to one of my blogposts. Seems like he's a musician, a Latino brotha, does sustainable living stuff and has good politics--check out his recent posts on learning earth plastering techniques to build houses and the 'insider scoop' on my favorite Bush-wonks, Condi Rice and Alberto Gonzales. Fresh!

I also love finding out that my friends have started their own blogs, often at least partially inspired by my own venturing into the blogosphere. Recently added Daniel's A-One Chronicle (but still haven't figured out why it's called 'A-One'--like the steak sauce, Daniel?), which has of late been the chronicle of Daniel's foodie adventures in Oakland and Frisco. Always fun to find out where good food is being dished up.

I also love the sexy-boy pics that El Serenito has been posting during his self-proclaimed 'myheowbernation'. Yes, you'll have to read his blog to find out what that word means.

And early congrats to Chavajero, who is getting married 'for real' in the Church next week (which is why you won't find any recent posts on his blog--ahem). Can't wait to see the pics, C.

See you in blogland or elsewhere-
Rona

Random / Shuffle

Ever feel like your brain is a CD or MP3 player set on 'random' or 'shuffle'? I think that's my primary mental state most days. Perpetual multi-tasker. Gets distracting at times. But it can make for some interesting writing.

More tangibly, Apple has launched their teeny tiny iPod Shuffle. Interesting concept, although I wouldn't buy one. My mental random/shuffle mode gives me quite enough (pleasant and not-so-pleasant) surprises, thank you very much. And I'm much too much of a control freak to like not knowing what song's gonna play next.

Started reading through my first draft of the novel. Not as bad as I thought, thusfar. Lots of green ink (I refuse to use red ink to revise my stuff, too school-like) in the margins, mostly notes to elaborate on sections that I skimmed over in the initial writing. Good nuggets of language and plot development in there, just need to mine them out and spit-shine them a bit.

I'm super-excited about my job lately, especially the grassroots fundraising aspects of it. The idea of ordinary, everyday, just-like-you-and-me folks supporting our own organizations to create real change...yes, I have to say it turns me on. Thanks to the Journal and GIFT and CFJ for inspiration.

Finally allowed myself to buy a copy of O Magazine, Oprah Winfrey's suprisingly smart and intriguing rag. Excellent writing--Elle magazine is also very well-written--which is always nice to find in the world of women's magazines, where the majority of the writing is sappy at best and just plain dumb at worst. Come on, folks, we DO have brains and care about more than how to score our next boyfriend or how to apply three layers of mascara properly!

Had a fabulous Vietnamese dinner with H. at our friend J.'s newly remodeled restaurant , Pagolac. (actually, it's J.'s mom that owns the place--she's also the cook and is a damned great one) We devoured a lotus salad, hot-and-sour soup with prawns, five spice BBQ chicken and a catfish claypot concoction with broken rice. Yum. The place is on Larkin near Ellis in the ever-intriguing Tenderloin in Frisco. Check it out if you're in the 'hood.

And I'll defer from commenting on our "President's" State of the Union address. Suffice it to say that, thankfully, I got to listen to it on KPFA which meant that the commentators had halfway intelligent and progressive things to say about it afterwards.

Hope you enjoy your own random/shuffles,
Rona

Pre-Valentine's Day Musings

I've been thinking a lot about loneliness lately. Partially because I feel kinda lonely living in Frisco, away from most of my friends and family in the East Bay, partially because St. Valentine's Day is coming up, that annual commercialized love-fest where people who are not happily (or unhappily) coupled are often made to feel as if they have some horrid congenital defect.

I've been noticing and thinking a lot lately that many people in this world (coupled or not) are lonely. You can see it on their faces on BART or the bus, you can read it in their blogs, you can sense how people hide their loneliness behind the thin veneer of their fascination with pop culture entertainment or fashion or any other potentially distracting habit. It saddens me that so many people are lonely--especially in a city like San Francisco, which is so densely packed that often I feel like a tiny ant crammed into the claustrophia-inducing spaces of the city's elevators or public transit systems--at the same time that I know that loneliness is just one condition of human existence. And that loneliness, too, will pass. At least for most people.

This year, I've decided to send love-notes out to my friends (coupled or not), in addition to celebrating V-day with my sweetie. If Valentine's Day is supposed to be about love, then why don't we also acknowledge, honor and celebrate the people we love non-romantically? What happened to the cute little ritual that we carried out in grammar school, where we gave cheesy, store-bought Valentines cards to all of our classmates? I think that should continue way past the 5th grade. Love for your fellow human beings doesn't end when you hit puberty--or does it?

Something to think about,
Rona

Not Much Ado About Not Quite Nothing

Not thinking very many deep thoughts these days. Well, nothing suitable for the blog, anyhow.

Watched 'Ladykillers' on DVD the other night, even after D. told us that it was 'terrible.' I didn't find it so terrible after all, although I have to say it was the first film I'd seen in a while in which the proverbial 'black guy' dies first. Surprise, surprise, eh? The surprise really was that I hadn't seen that in a flim for at least six months.

Took my mom out for dinner on Friday night for her 60th birthday, to Roy's in downtown San Francisco--'Hawaiian fusion cuisine', which means a lot of fresh seafood, some Hawaiian and Asian ingredients and dishes like macadamia nuts, kim chee and gyoza. Moms actually enjoyed it a lot, which I was surprised about. I thought she would think the $25 and up entrees too extravagant for my budget (which they were, but good food is my big weakness). But now I know where I get my somewhat expensive tastes from, because she loved it, and offered to bring us back there in a couple months, her treat. God, if only I could eat at nice restaurants like that at least once every couple weeks, I think I would be so overjoyed by both the anticipation leading up to and the happy memories after the meal that the rest of my life could strike that precious balance between bliss and burden that can be so elusive at times.

Spent part of my Saturday filing papers away at work, which felt good because we purged so many old and outdated foundation publications and guidelines that were taking up so much space. Now that we've cleared out the old, we can make way for the new: prospecting for new funders is up next.

Went shopping yesterday at Nordstrom Rack and bought some nice new pieces from good designers at cheap cheap prices. That's what I'm talking about. I balk at spending more than $50 on any one piece of clothing--with the exception of coats and maybe really nice sweaters, so my finds pleased me: a pair of Eileen Fisher cargo jeans that look way more hip-hop than anything I thought she would design, a bright red t-shirt with a pink 'R' emblazoned on its front, and a pale pink camp shirt--I don't know why I'm into pink and red lately, I think it's the insidious influence of all the Valentine's Day stuff all around the stores.

H. and I took a leisurely walk around the scenic Crystal Springs Reservoir. The trail is right next to the 280 freeway for a good stretch, but once we got down the hill and away from it, it felt like we were far away in the country. We even saw a group of about eight deer feeding on the grassy slopes beside the trail.

Yup, that was my weekend, in a nutshell. Not much to hoot and holler about, but that's really all right by me. It pleased me. And that is precious.

Hope your weekend was just as pleasing,
Rona

And You Think the Hip Hop Generation Doesn't Care?

Well, check out Pinay DJ Kuttin Kandi's response to Hot 97's airing of their pathetically racist and awful 'Tsunami Song'.

There's No Place Like Home

And there's nothing like traveling to give you some perspective on life, on your hometown, and on the good things you've got that you take for granted everyday. After my less-than-cheerful previous post, I've gotten some light and fresh clean air and have once again remembered that life is pretty fuckin' good.

I just got back last night from Denver, where I attended a 3-day training for trainers offered by GIFT, an amazing organization that has dedicated itself to training the next generation of fundraisers of color who want to build social justice community groups by raising money from everyday folks--poor people, people of color, immigrants, youth, etc. These folks actually give most of the money that's given to non-profits in this country (upwards of 75%), but for various classist and racist reasons are not prioritized as donors or fundraisers by many progressive groups.

The training was fantastic, definitely the best training I've been to in many years (and I've been to lots of workshops and seminars on various fundraising and non-profit management topics in recent history), and I met some cool people who are doing extraordinary work in their communities. From organizing young women of color in Albuquerque (Young Women United) to building a coalition of Latino organizations in North Carolina, from running environmental justice campaigns in API communities to providing crucial support to grassroots groups in New York City, the groups represented by the participants at the GIFT training are engaged in meaningful and necessary work to make this country a real democracy that includes everyone that lives and works here, not just the folks who are 'citizens' and 'voters'. And my comrades from these groups reminded me once again how much great organizing work and movement-building is going on, slowly but surely, day by day, even in the US, the belly of the imperialist beast.

Denver was interesting. It's in a spectacular natural environment, with th snow-capped Rocky Mountains on the horizon, stretching as far as the eye can see, almost seeming to surround you. But Denver's not a very integrated city, you could say. Definitely saw Black folks and Latinos, but the downtown scene in the bars and restaurants was pretty white. I didn't observe any overtly racist discrimination; people were pretty friendly if not overly-curious about our group--a multi-racial people of color crew that roamed the somewhat desolate streets of downtown Denver every night. The last night I was there I realized with a shudder that Littleton, Colorado--where Columbine High School is located--is only 20 minutes away.

Although I had a great time at the training and in Denver, I do get homesick quite easily when I travel, and I was so happy to come home last night, especially after a long day of airport waiting and delays. Seeing H. was, of course, sweet and nourishing to my soul. As M., my hotel roomie in Denver, said after overhearing some of our phone conversations, H. softens me and 'makes me all melty'. He is the true blessing of my life.

Today, I welcome myself home with a nice Frisco-style brunch, with good coffee and grub, the Bay Guardian on my lap, and some phat beats playing in the background. There really is no place like home.