The road to Ithaca.

There is the breathing easier this week knowing that he won't be working the long hours as in the last, but the straining thought of me possibly being the laden one this time. My weekend was okay. Filled with love as it grows into something more beautiful than yesterday,and less wonderful than it will be when I wake up tomorrow. He might be the sole constant in my life and I am thankful for it all.

In this last week, i had my introduction meeting to capoeira class. I've always wanted to learn the technique, and it's the latest in my 'oh women can do that too' ego-trip. lol. But seriously though. I enjoy the idea of becoming the foundation of something. This is the first batch of students that will do capoeira at this college and i anticipate growth in myself and the formation of a new community.

The coldness is annoying, just. Makes you (well, me.) counter-productive and dreary. I've not been getting time nor freedom of mind to do any writing. I hope that the upcoming writing workshops would be able to cure that somehow though. I do write a whole lot more of my opinion with this degree as compared to my first, but it still doesn't find the peace enough to fall into stanzas.

I should find a way or means of motivating myself to take this Latino diasporic class more seriously. It's a drag because of the fact that I feel disconnected from it and there is no emotional attachment between me and the subject matter. Then what of whites that have to sit through my African diasporic classes. If they can do it..

Menaremenaremenaremenaremenaremenaremen are men. and we should probably expect less than we actually do for them. I am tired of men and their ways. I promise I love my boyfriend and father recklessly, like it was what I was told to do with my being. but there is something about me that creates subtle havoc with the other sex, and that too I am tired of. argh.men.