a pieced and quilted life

Do you have an ear for writing? Want one?

This week in my Language Structure and Acquisition class we are learning, or should I say exploring sentence diagramming as a tool for breaking down the syntax of Language. In particular, we are working on a large project that digests a piece of literature which uses non-standard English or dialect, and we are taking note of the author's use of linguistic elements.

So the final elements we are analyzing is syntax, along with pragmatics. And it is syntax that has brought us to sentence diagramming.

Let me be honest here--I LOVE sentence diagramming. But let me also follow that with I'm not particularly good at it. I'm not bad, but I'm no pro. I guess that begs the question then, why do I LOVE it. Love is a strong sentiment and often not applied to things we struggle with. Another bit of honesty? If the sentence is far past simple I struggle with diagramming. 

But here's the reason for my love: I LOVE LOVE sentences. Not just love, LOVE LOVE. Hell, I could even throw like into that. I LOVE LOVE and love to like sentences. I really do. I love words too, probably just as much as sentences, but sentences are the trophy shelves of words. Think about it. If you find a word that you really like how are you going to showcase it? How are you going to give that word a vehicle to move out of your mouth and go through, zooming, and racing into the world? 

A lovely sentence.

Gertrude Stein is often quoted as saying/writing:

Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.

This sentence poetically explores the identities of roses. It elevates roses and provides a vehicle for the word to have an impact. Of course there is more to that sentence than the love of the word love; it also speaks towards the law of identity and the rule of threes in writing, but my point is that the sentence it what delivers all of the above. And that, is why I LOVE sentences.

So back to diagramming sentences. My novel for this project is Their Eyes Were Watching God. Anybody who knows me should not be surprised by this choice. I still wonder why I didn't name my daughter Zora, as was always my plan. But, the passage in the novel that I choose to work with for syntax and pragmatics is of course pure dialect. It is at the very beginning of the novel and is spoken by a collective of women, and directed at the returning Janie. They are questioning her up and down, almost eating her alive with their antagonistic words.

As I sit here with my whole project complete, including the five-page paper I wrote synthesizing my whole analysis I still have to diagram two or three of those women's questions. And I am at a complete and utter lost. I'm digging out grammar books from years past with yellow pages and fading blue ink (must be old because I HATE blue ink and only write in black or pencil--in fact, I only annotate my books in pencil.) I'm combing the web, I'm bugging E for assistance, heck I may even ask the kids to help me.

But as I'm exploring, and searching, and trying to find the solution to these few sentences I'm also thinking of something else. How important it is to have an ear for writing and language, and how sentence diagramming can help facilitate that. One of things I've discovered while tutoring is that students, no matter how bright and full of good ideas, that have problems with writing do not have an ear for writing, and in particular do not have a foundational knowledge of grammar and sentence structure. 

This is where sentence diagramming comes to the rescue. Sentence diagramming helps you to actually see, structurally, how sentences work and don't work. It allows you to not just learn grammar words and phrases like "subject," "predicate," and "transitive verbs" but to be able to see what they are and what they actually do in a sentence. How do they contribute to the structure of a sentence. 

That's real language nerd talk.

Any one who wants to command writing and want to be able to communicate themselves effectively must learn the tools and elements of writing, and also how they work together to influence and communicate meaning. Is diagramming the only way? Heck no. But it is a great way to develop that ear of writing.

You don't have to have aspirations of being the 21st century Zora Neale Hurston (like somebody that I know, ahem) to desire to have an ear for writing or better yet language. Do you blog? Do you tweet? Do you communicate in writing at your job? Are you a student? Are you an aspiring singer/songwriter/rapper? Do you work with the public? Are you looking for a new/better job?

The list can go on and on. Our lives are filled with language and communication. Learning how to deliver your words effectively will greatly affect how you communicate. 

Do you want your words arriving in a 1982 faded powder blue Toyota Celica, or a Mini Cooper, Mercedes, or perhaps a Honda CR-V? Think about it. Our delivery matters.

Give sentence diagramming a chance.

*For the record, my sentences would arrive in the 1982 faded, powder blue Toyota Celica. Why? Because it has a story to tell.

-Kiandra

 

quilt.write.think.grow.

3 quilts that surrounded me as i wrote my research paper. this was taken during the writing of the first draft. a saturday afternoon.

i know it's not quite right of me to have a blog that i effectively seem to ignore. truth is days run forward, marching like ants carrying crumbs to a hole in a wall. each day steady and in line, obedient, moving forward not minding nothing but the destination of night.

(summer heat makes me think of ants)

each day is so steady filled with work, things, children, school, something to keep me moving forward. i think there was a time when i could hold multiple things in my mind, juggle thoughts on top of thoughts, on top of actions, on top of everything else life manages to create. but that isn't so these days. 

i've let go of minute things, grand things, fancy things, festering things and have managed to just let myself be concerned with the things that need taking care of today. 

gratitude prayer. kids. me. edward. kids eat. school work. me eat. e's school work. the twin's coming. the twin's mama. kids eat. kids bored. school work. e's school work. everybody eat. school work. the twin's coming. the twin's mama. mama. brother. sister. school work. e's schoolwork. the twin's coming. kids. kids eat. schoolwork. art class? schoolwork. kids ride bikes? schoolwork. kids make crafts? schoolwork. kids learn times tables? schoolwork. kids eat again? schoolwork. hi mama. schoolwork. e's school work. schoolwork. the twin's mama. schoolwork. knit the twins hats? schoolwork. hi nina. schoolwork. mama... tio mykey's calling. schoolwork. sleep.

that is the constant train of thoughts running through my head. a complete, and constant loop.

did you read closely? yeap..twins are coming in the family. boy and girl...and oooh the things i want to make for them. 

but did you catch my non subtle drift? schoolwork. yeap. constant loop, everything is ordered in some way or another around schoolwork. 

candied maple leaf quilt, jersey fabric. pieced this the last week of june after finishing the big paper.

gee's bend quilt kit i pieced the last week of june, it was to celebrate the paper i had just finished.

as with the last blog...so much has happened since the last time i've set fingernails to keyboard:

1. kid's got bikes.

2. wrote a 20 page paper on african american women writers and quilters.

3. found a church home. yay mag.!

4. read two shakespeare plays.

5. e finished 2 classes. starting 3rd.

6. finished four classes. in fifth and sixth. both of which are finally major (english) classes.

7. sewed 2 quilt tops together.

8. taught my first class at ucr extension. 

9. wrote my first prose poetry piece.

10. made homemade blackberry barbecue sauce.

11. made my first macaroni salad.

12. thought about the day granma died, tried writing about it. cried but eeked out some words.

13. cleaned out half of the garage.

14. hung cheap curtains in the front room and the kid's room so that the only dirty, white, mini blinds left in the house is in me and e's room. small victory.

15. finally replace the broken t.v. me and e have been watching for the past year and the half with the top of people's head cut off. 

16. made a chicken salad that almost made me gag, but the kid's and e liked.

17. ate about 8 cantaloupes, and about 15 lbs. of green grapes with the kid's help. 

18. learned to like, maybe even love fresh blueberries.

19. have my mama tell me we are a match made in heaven because i love to write and she loves to read.

20. ate sun-warmed blackberries from the backyard that made my knees buckle.

21. made a peach cobbler.

22. start reading bird by bird again. along with poemcrazy (first time).

23. attend my niece's quinceria (I know spelling is off but i'm being lazy..), meet my brother's cute dog einstein who scared the gas out of me, to which i went upstairs to keep company with his girlfriend.

24. bought the kids water colors, made them make a color wheel by mixing their own colors, and then set them free to paint as they wished.

25. kid's spent a day with abuelita while i taught class mentioned in #8, which was more a huge accomplishment for me than them.

i know i'm leaving something out. but i had to draw the line and stop somewhere. the point is that so much happens, so many little things that i want to find ways to capture but I just don't always have time. one day they are big things, the next day they are minuscule in comparison to the current day.

i also don't travel with my camera anymore. that really effects my blogging. i just don't have the time and patience to carry and compose shots outside of my iphone most days.

the bad thing with all of this is that i sit here to write and everything comes pouring out at once. i want to say so much.

like that i'm taking a shakespeare and creative writing class right now. and how reading shakespeare feels like walking on a beach with flip flops. each step takes muscle, but you know you are surrounded by something to be revered so you step on...hot sand and all.

like how i had a huge, breakthrough in a story this morning. and how i'm so excited that i had to just write something to keep me from eating cheap lemon sandwich cookies and cold cantaloupe slices. and how the story is coming to me in bits and pieces, snatches of dialogue, images of streets and people walking, carrying on with their business while life dances around them in a tight jig. 

like how i finally know. writing is the definitive me. and how i hear dialogue and see characters walking around me, living their lives or how at times they pester me tapping me on my arm saying "i'm ready to tell you that little bit now" when i'm in line at the grocery store or the boy, girl and me are playing sequence, or i'm in shakespeare class drawing conclusions about old england.

like how amazed i am with my children and how patient and kind they have been to me and e as we have had to commit so much of our (family) time to homework. and how going to church has been something they love and look forward to. and how they have become a part of our school life. i read shakespeare to them when they are bored now, they like the sonnets more than the plays.

like how me and e faked like we had "furniture shopping" money and went to a few local furniture stores with the kids window shopping. and how we haven't had new couches since we bought our first place in 1999, a condo...and then bought a house in 2000 to which we added a couch and even then we could only afford ikea. so that our "furniture" (if you can call it that) is old, raggedy, slightly embarrassing and worn with kid stains and marks. and how now we feel sort of grown up because we hung curtains and put our feet down and told the kids "no more toys in the living/dinning room." but truth is we can only do so much on so little of a budget, so patience reigns.

like how i think we have finally settled into a rhythm with both me and e being in school though he still waits to the last week to write his papers which means i get stressed out along with him and pull all-nighters along with him. and how though we got it now, on 8/15 the kids will be starting school and things will be disrupted all over again as i try and balance homeschooling with meschooling and eschooling and what ever things life seem fit to throw our way.

one of the mini quilts I'll be teaching how to make in this weekend's class.

there's a lot of living going on in my life. a lot of excitement. a lot of easing up of tension, doubt, worry and just moving with a sense of faith and trust. 

i don't know how i'm going to get where i need to go in this life. i just figure i'll write, quilt, bake and garden till i get there. see what comes. see what images pop and strike my fancy while the train moves. see what stories scream the loudest to be told and what pictures demand to be made and hung on my walls.

hope this finds you well.

the happy ki

p.s. all pictures taken on iphone. not bad, eh?

the first encore.

of my life.

a week or two ago i came across something on she writes about encores. i read the e-mail quickly, and then got back to my lessons believing that the article was not one-hundred percent connected to or concerned with my life.

well, my mother called me later that day (or it could of been later that week - my days are a blur) and as she started to tell me about the changes her life is going through (good), i passed on what i had read earlier...that she was experiencing an encore in her life. i encouraged her to live it to the fullest, to dream wide big fat dreams and to do any and everything that would bring her peace and fulfillment. 

end of story. i thought.

i'm not sure if many of you know, but i'm attending a Christian-centered university. a part of my education is a couple of classes that center on a greater understanding of Christianity. the first was overview of the Bible, and this semester I am taking the Christian life. after this class, there will be no more that i have to take, however, i believe there will be more i want to take. (if i was a traditional student at my university i'd have to go to chapel daily (mon.-fri.), but since i am classified as an adult student (different program) my Christian fulfillment is met with two (very good) classes.)

anyway, in my current Christian studies class we're reading a book (which i love and recommend) called knowing God. and as i'm sitting here and reading it a thought occurs to me:

this is my first encore.

i don't think it was anything that i read particularly, but the overall change i've noticed in my life during these past three months re-dawned on me. i'm sure i've said it here before, in previous posts, but it needs repeating: i am not the same woman. not by far.

as i was reading and taking notes, i sort of looked back at myself and thought. this is not my life of 2009. nor 2007. nor 2005. nor 2003. i realized that i am on a new trail.

it is like my life is a journey through nature, and now i am encountering another terrain. as if before i was in the rainforest and now i'm going through the wide open plains or grasslands. nothing before, nothing after is neither bad nor good, but exists in its own respects, a life of its own.

i looked up encore in my handy dandy dictionary (not notebook) :)

encore - n. 1. a demand by an audience for an additional performance. 2. an additional performance in response to such a demand.

not bad, but i thought i'd change some words. here's my definition:

encore - n. 1. an encouragement by life for a new journey. 2. a new journey in response to changes in life.

my definition feels more applicable. it feels more understanding, as if through it we can understand and apply the concept of encores to our lives.

why encouragement instead of demand? new instead of additional? journey instead of performance? and changes in life in lieu of response to such a demand?

simple. life encourages us. life and the God of life, the God in our family, the God in nature, the God in the good things we do encourages us to move into new journeys. it happens when we respond to the changes in our lives, not the demands. demand is a negative word and the God in us...the life and God of our life is not negative. Life and the God of our life is shaping and creative, forceful and molding, but also loving and purposeful.

we most continually embrace life's encouragement to begin new journeys. we most respond to the changes in our lives, whatever they may be and set off as explorers, of ourselves, and journey through life's different, varied, and purposeful terrains.

remember: different, varied and purposeful.

i'm sitting here and i'm wondering out loud, and on screen -- what were the changes in my life? what encouraged me?

and it is simple, beautiful, and two-fold:

my granma and my children.

when granma died life ceased to continue as i knew it. it has been the most profound, in good and bad ways, experience my spirit has encountered to date. more profound than loosing my father at five. more profound than birthing my children. more profound than marrying my guardian angel. more profound than my childhood. more profound than anything.

more profound because it was painful and beautiful and inspiring and damning and pushing and uplifting all at once. there was never anything painful about bringing my children into the world. there was never anything beautiful about loosing my father tragically at five. there never anything damning about marrying edward. there was never nothing like that, all at once, in my childhood.

it was the moment and time when definition and purpose of life took up presence in my life.

which leads to my children.

they are the encouragement and the change. i realized i have to give them what granma gave me. what granma gave me personally and what granma gave me through my mother. what granma gave me in inspiration. what granma gave me in sacrifice. what granma gave me in love.

i look at my children and how loving, patient, nurturing and kind they were when i refused to get out of bed, even months after granma was gone and i am encouraged and inspired by their love. they deserve a granma-sized and abled mama who would do big and great things in their lives, by example. they deserve a mama who is strong enough to not only seek out but accomplish her dreams. they deserve a mama who lives up to her potential and does not hold back her gifts.

children do not do what you say, but what you do.

so...this encore is about what granma did for me. for my mother. for our family. her sacrifices. her love. her strength. her courage. her fire. her will to be her no matter who was looking, listening, or watching.

hear me when i say, that's my girl...and that's what i will do for my children. 

from my grandmother, to my mother, to me, to my daughter...out to the world.

so here i am today, smiling and knowing that it is true that granma's spirit lives on in me.

those things she sacrificed -- i will accomplish for her and me.

those things she taught -- i will teach in her name.

those things she embodied -- i will be for her, my children, and me.

granma never hid behind her talents, her strengths, her gifts. and that is what this first encore in my life is about.

sharing my talents, fortifying my strengths, and using my gifts.

we all have talents, strengths, and gifts...it is what makes us uniquely us...but it is up to us to share them, use them, and birth them out and into the world.

where ever you are in your life be like my granma, she would be proud and say to you like she said to me:

"you mark my words, i may be dead and gone but you gone do big thangs. granma knows what she talkin' bout. i may not live to see it, but you mark my words...granma knows what she talkin' bout."

i am marking your words granma.

love, ki

wishes of this full woman

"Learn how the wildflowers of the field grow: they don't labor or spin thread..." 

i never thought it would take me 34 years to fill my skin and suspend my own bones. i inhabit myself now.

i am like granma sitting in a chair with her left calf on top of her right knee, a phone pushed against her ear with a side-cocked head, a moore cigarette in one hand, and the other hand snapping at us kids. that lady's me.

she was a full woman, and now i am too.

wishes of this full woman:

never hate anyone or anything

feel lovingkindness and compassion underneath my skin and eyelids all days

never forget that i'm smart/able/capable

write/create with human-ess, rawness, awareness, truthfulness, and life

learn how to heal myself, and help others learn how to heal themselves *(better to say learn to ask God for healing and teach others to do the same)

actively love my family daily

carry out my purpose with passion and intention

be apart of the cycle of inspiration

smile at the wind...dance with the bees...and sing with the hymns of rain

value my time, energy, and passion

have patience with myself and others

speak easy more times than not

think consciously instead of being an apathetic passenger in life

allow my heart to decorate my sleeves

never shy away from speaking my truth and sharing my life lessons

contribute to the happiness and blessings of others

accept me

continue to do, be, and seek better ways of living 

abandon fear, doubt, and insecurity

learn from nature

move with the flow, speed, and direction of life

cultivate godliness through spiritual discipline

blessings and peace, ki

*excerpt from my personal journal dated 5-12-11

more than halfway there.

i've written about 174 pages on my novel to date. 

it goes like this.

feb: i realized i could no longer ignore the urge to write. there was a whisper that kept saying "write" when i'd meditate. it grew impatient with me ignoring it, and started to yell.

march: i started looking into classes i could take, discovered a local spot, and planned on taking classes come spring.

wasn't sure if i wanted to take fiction writing classes or non-fiction, was heavily leaning towards non-fiction. didn't understand the purpose of writing fiction, which to me was in effect...telling untruths. wasn't sure if i could get down with that.

april: while telling my mom about the uc extension system, i discovered ucla extension's writing program. i called on the last day that spring classes were starting and got the last seat in a (non-fiction) class called: finding and telling the stories you were meant to tell. 

these two instructors changed my life. completely. 

may: found my voice early on, the class was that good. still didn't know how i felt about fiction. in this class we were using fiction techniques to tell real life stories...which is called creative non-fiction. this is where i felt i was going to go with my writing.

june: found the story i was meant to write...as the class was ending. started writing it. enrolled in a beginner fiction writing class with same two instructors and begin writing my novel, chapter one.

read the color purple, the bluest eye, the red tent, and started reading books by edward p. jones.

still didn't quite know how i felt towards fiction writing, decided to take the class to "feel it out." i felt that since i'd be continuing with the same two instructors i'd be safe to explore.

july: started taking a yoga class, took some other one-day writing seminars. continued to write. firmly established my writing practice which i had started in april, which is to write first thing in the morning before everyone else wakes, while listening to jazz.

august: asked a lot of tough questions of myself. wrote the answers. wrote as much as i could daily. started researching toni morrison, and started reading paradise.

september: started novel writing 2, i had written so much in the summer i felt i was ready to jump past novel writing 1. enrolled in three other fiction classes locally.

still didn't know what i felt about fiction writing, besides i needed to learn it. my two favorite instructors mentored me, and told me, and i'll never forget these words: "just please keep writing. you don't need to take another class, you have everything you need to write the story your writing. all you have to do is write it."

i didn't get their confidence in me, i surely didn't feel like i had all i needed...so i piled on the classes.

wrote. workshop. repeat. met other writers and started gaining confidence in my voice.

october: wrote. workshop. repeat.

another one of my teachers took me aside, gave me a long talk, and made me promise i'd keep writing, no matter what life brought, no matter how busy life got with the kids, even with my inclinations towards art...i was told, kiandra you must'n stop writing. i was told if i stopped, he'd haunt me in my dreams, track me down, and make me continue writing.

i promised. (with a smile)

hadn't gotten very far with reading paradise, by toni morrison, and set it aside to read sula, by toni morrison as a suggestion from yet another writing teacher. also got all her books used from amazon (that i didn't own already)

november: wrote. workshop. repeat.

december: i am now more than halfway there. have written more than 174 pages of my novel...and have about 126 to go.

i have met other amazing writers with inspiring stories to tell.

i have learned how to write a novel..but of course mastering it is something altogether different.

i can finally say i get fiction writing. it took me a lot of months to understand what fiction writing meant. i'm a why person, i have to know the why of something, and i couldn't understand why someone would write fiction (non-truths) over non-fiction. never mind that i loved reading fiction...i guess its best to say i didn't know why i would write fiction over truth.

i get it now. and,

i love fiction writing, and may prefer it over all other writing.

and i finally understand what my writing mentors meant when they told me: "you have everything you need to write this story."

what i didn't have then was confidence. and now i do. i'm still a bit unsure of my writing voice, but i've been told that is completely normal, and with time i will grow comfortable with my way. but finally i feel like i've found who i am and what i'm meant to do.

i'm more than halfway there with my novel...but i'm there in my life.

i told e yesterday, when he had a similar revelation about his professional career, that was the golden ticket - knowing what you want...it doesn't matter how long it takes you to suceed in getting it. the hardest part is knowing what you want. once you know that...you have something to shoot for, something to aim and work hard towards.

and like i told him...it don't matter how long it takes. a month, a year, or three years...as long as you keep working you'll get there. 

i get that about my life now. and am excited to work towards this novel's completion, and the other things i'll write (what ever they will be) in the future. i feel empowered. i have confidence. simply because i know.

and all i gotta do is just keep swimming, just keep writing. 

remember...knowing is half the battle.

writing luv, ki

that nerdy girl.

it seems to me that i have forgotten the reason why i blog. my life has evolved so much this year, morphed, moved, and congealed itself into what i know today.

which is very different from when I started just about four years ago.

thankfully, i think blogging brought me back to writing. i like somehow, all those years of writing, and sharing my life, gave me a slow entry back into writing. though i didn't know it.

i don't know what i want to do with this blog anymore. truthfully.

my life; which at one point revolved around crafting, making, and art; now begins and ends with words, similies, metaphors, sentence strutures, grammar, characters, dialogue, setting, and description.

i'm in love with writing and i quite honestly don't know how to share that. at least not yet.

i honestly feel this week i fell in love with fiction-writing. seriously. i hadn't written a chapter in like 2-3 weeks, i was antsy and worried that my characters had abandoned me while i was busy finishing up classes, cooking thanksgiving dinner, and starting my (1st) winter garden.

but no. i woke up, turned on my jazz, and wrote. and again, there they were, telling and showing me their lives.

(really so kind of them)

and it was at that point that i got fiction writing. i got it. when the movie started playing behind my eyes again, i got it. i called e and told him..."i think i'm in love with fiction writing. i get it, and i love it."

after 9 months of writing, i can finally say i understand, and love fiction writing. the point and purpose of it -- to tell a story.

how do i share that with you all when i can't share my writing here? how do i share my passion for sentence diagraming when it is a dying art? how do i show how exciting it is for me to learn new sentence structures when most people hate writing, let alone reading about it? how do i say grammar rules (which i have yet to master, so don't think its because i'm grammar smart because i'm not) makes my heart beat faster?

yes, i am that nerd.

that girl who can read a dictionary like a novel, and asked for a gigantic thesaurus for mother's day. 

writers, we love sentences. we collect them, store them, re-read them, and try to nurse them gently (or brutually) out of us.

we also love words. 

like one of my last fiction writing teachers from last semester, he loved a simple, dialect, word:

ruint.

i feel his excitement when i read it. it tells the reader about the character. it tells so much. the person who would say:

"he ruint it" 

is different from the one who would say:

"he ruined it"

*shivers*

yes...its like that, i get goosepimples when i hear poignant words, great dialogue, and image provoking descriptions.

i'm just rambling...but honestly, this is my dilemma. where do i and this blog go now?

maybe i'll just share what i'm learning like i always did. maybe a few of you would like to take this wordy, writing, life ride with me.

maybe. i don't know, maybe i can find a way to share my passion.

a word of the day/week?

a sentence of the day/week?

book reviews? short story reviews?

my hobbies when i'm not writing, that help me write: gardening, baking, knitting, quilting, painting...maybe i can share those...between the words.

maybe you all would like to learn grammar rules with me?

or learn classic poetry structures alongside me?

maybe i just need to talk more about my novel in progress...share updates?

maybe i can talk about cool writing gadgets? (are there any?)

maybe i can just share writing advice (from a beginner writer)?

maybe i'll figure something out...a way to continue blogging that fits in with where i'm at in this life of mine...who knows.

either way...like i, this blog must evolve.

shouldn't we all?

writing luv...ki

letters

i b k :: offering my thoughts, wip

i seem to live 

between 26 symbols 

that string together

art

for me

i get absorbed 

 

i b k

 

living between the curve of

an a

and the slant

of an l

sleeping in the hiccup

of c's and the valley's

of y

blowing like undulating wind

in the waves of

's

sunbathing on the green hills

of m

sheltering from the

rain of life in

e

 

i b k

holding an armful

of sentences 

and

mouthfuls of

paragraphs

 

--- end poem ---

i hope each and every one of you has had plenty of thanksgivings this year. i hope so much so that it wasn't shared only on thanksgiving...but that you woke up each and every morning, or went to bed each and every night and gave thanks

for something.

even the simple like rain and sunshine, that is quite complex. or the complex -- like love and life, which is really simple.

i'm not painting anymore.

i'm not quilting anymore.

i'm not making bags anymore.

i'm not creating visual art anymore.

at least right now. at least for a while.

and i am thankful.

i'd much rather brush stroke sentences across wood. not paint. 

and i feel like it is me. 

finally. completely me.

that is my something. my something simple and complex. my something grand and minor that i am grateful for.

words.

i am grateful for learning how to use words like colors, textures, and staccato melodies. syncopated melodies. 

i am happy to understand the meaning behind punctuation and

line breaks

and opening up the possibility of structured poetry, along with

my prose.

i am happy for 

words and language and syntax and punctuation

---

untitled :: the poem that flew by, wip

if i could turn all these floating letters that look like colors into pictures 

(and maybe someday i will)

lay them all out like a palette of nature

i'd be painting

 

what trees sound like and how mountains are in constant prayer

and the way moats dancing in sunlight reminds me of

my granma's sleeping pallets and my daddy's funeral flowers

and how i believe we (or at least I) can

swallow cumulus and altocumulus clouds

and learn to float in the sky

with dandelion seeds

and fall gracefully back to earth like

free leaves

 

i would assign the color yellow to e

and paint the sun

which is the color of honey and my dead father

i would call g blue because g is the first letter of god

and georgia (my granmother)

and both are the back drop of this life i live

like sky

k would be the color of brown birds

because the i that is me

inside

flies like owl colored birds

i would give a the color green

because beginnings are fertile 

like earth

yet fragile like leaves

 

my mouth would be

the listening canvas wild and wide

like wildflower fields

my words would be

indigenous 

--- end poem ---

i'm really scared to write poems, more so to share them. and thinking that no one reads this (blog) i do it here to get comfortable with the idea. the prospect.

sometimes i just let them fly by, too lazy to catch them, or too cold to fill the breeze they bring. but these days i try.

i started by catching them, when they fly by, like the spirit of my granma, and letting them know they are safe in coming out my mouth.

poems are tender i've learned. they are like me. they need to know someone is listening. is still. and is attentive and patient to learn what they want to say.

they are the shared soul that passes through all of us. how else would the words of one touch the many?

it is my lesson to learn of stillness. i need to be still. available to the whims.

and so these days i wait. and listen like i'm trying to catch the lyrics of black thought or kweli...trying to hear what the soul says.

maybe one day there will be peace in painting, or quilting so i can share this space.

but if not, i'm grateful to have letters for colors and armfuls of sentences and mouthfuls of paragraphs.

this is what i have today.

writing love,

ki

yellow shade :: a simple poem about art

gone.

and it feels like forever now.

it feels like never again

it can be

like rainbows that dissolve in sunlight

 

i can be sick about it

cause it feels threatening enough to my life

my happiness

like loosing hope

 

gone 

as if u forgot how

it was

as if stolen glances had to be

paid back in bouncing checks

of a broken life

as if it was only a phase

 

life imitating art

art playing life

a frida and diego living that passed

without painterly affairs or

big stone necklaces

chocking the neck of it all

 

abandon the it of it all

and stand it there like dried out paint brushes

unable to be soaked, cleaned, and shaped again

 

leave it to film like skins...gloss and matte

but mostly matte

cause living, u do it dull now.

 

u used to have ferrules for fingernails...

ur hands were like brushes...leaving brushstrokes

in my life

 

what are they now,

ur gone?

 

beautiful pink halfmoons writing

about what u can't paint

 

dream of hansa yellow hearts falling

between partly phthalo blue cloudy quinacridone skies

love (yellow shade) is there

---end poem---

today and the past few days i've not written much...but this poem wanted to come out, so i let it. i miss painting, quilting, art making...

but the drive to write is stronger. to tell this story i know like a song. a beautiful one.

it is difficult being a person who lives in color and not finding the time to stroke it across a wood panel, or stitch it together with limp, and soft fabrics.

i try to write artfully. let all the art my eyes see seep into the words, shape the letters, and paint my sentences into scenes...

but sometimes, like today...it isn't enough.

i imagine it is like the necklaces frida kahlo wore, thick around her neck, choking her and making her beautiful at the same time.

i need to find balance...a peace with this bilingual way of living.

i feel like a philandering artist when i write, and know that i am doing it well. shouldn't i be painting? no this is what i should be doing..i respond quicker than i can speak it.

but doesn't the paint, the fabrics miss me. my hands? my eyes? my way of seeing color and relationships between things like i do. this way of speaking through art. telling stories and writing poetry with needle, thread, and old washed up fabric.

if i paint then i feel like i'm cheating on my story. ignoring the fine craft of writing for paint brushes that are worn in and broken the way i've chosen them to be. 

where is the balance? 

i think today i may just paint...and while i paint think about my story...see what a scene would look like in art. or maybe i should play with fabric and quilt the background of a scene. i could switch back and forth...telling the story in words than in color, than in words, than in fabrics...till

it all makes sense.

maybe.

paint or quilt today?

luv, ki

nanowrimo: day 6-9 pep talk for those falling off the novel writing in a month bandwagon and looking for their own novel writing swagger

there's a reason i haven't blogged about nanowrimo since day 5, and i'm on day 9.

its boring. i know it is. i started thinking to myself...who in the world wants to read about an artist/writer struggling to write 1786 words a day on a novel they (the reader - not me - cause i know very well what i'm writing about) know nothing about.

no one. its okay. i understand. it took me a few days to accept it, but i have.

and then, i'm thinking about this nanowrimo novel writing program thing and i'm like...why am i doing this again?

i'm not kidding, i have completely lost track of why this sounded like a good idea to me that last week in october. really, what in the fairytale was i thinking?

what? what? what!

why couldn't i have signed up for some other internet meme type thing? why. some other work a long where i join thousands of other creative people doing something...creative, practical, doable, and enjoyable?

like doll quilts or something...remember when i did that?

this is not fun anymore. no, its not. i'm going to step forward and tell the truth. admitting. it no longer feels like a good idea. in fact, a fairly dumb one. i'll tell you why.

i enjoy writing. i enjoy murking around my head and using my imagination to dig deep about life, about people, about relationships. i'm a thinker. i love to live in my head. seriously, i could stay in there for weeks, i love it so much i've started stretching the concept of living in my head to living in my body.

yeah, i live in my fingertips sometimes, my knees, my neck. i know sounds crazy, can't quite explain it, but its true.

the thing with nanowrimo and its word count daily goals and deadlines and rushed feel is all that...the word counts, the daily goals, the deadlines and rushed feel...it takes me from living in my head and makes me live in nanowrimo's head. and i don't know who nanowrimo is. i don't know if its a he or she, what it looks like, sound like...nothing. and i don't like living in its head and it telling me every 10 minutes:

"ki, not enough words for the past 10 minutes," nanowrimo says while looking at its watch, then sighs to the sky. "your never going to get anywhere with this ki. your not going to make it unless you set down the metaphors and similes and all that flowery b.s. you like to write and pump out some pages."

nanowrimo is hostile. impatient. not very friendly. and even has the nerves to tell me "so what" when i make ridiculous good word counts. like 4141 in one day. yeah, nanowrimo poo-pooed on that day, told me "so what...you still have like 40,000 words to go."

i don't like it.

i've written whole chapters in a day, but i ain't gone lie, i'm not proud of them. i've written whole chapters in a week that i am proud of though.

i'm a slow, sensual writer. i take my time and i hate to use this metaphor, sorry in advance, but i (make) love (to) my words, sensually...i take my time with them. i love them down, like that old r&b song says...you know the one..."let me love you down"

that is when i am at my best. because i am thoughtful. and purposeful. and meaningful. i'm lovely with the words.

nanowrimo is not fostering that lovely writing ki.

i don't know that deep, literary writing can be done during nanowrimo. it can be started i'm sure, but done...i don't think so.

so...i ranted on and on to say this.

i'm changing my goals. not really, but yeah, kinda. i'm not going to focus on how many words i write a day i'm going to focus on if i sat my behind down and wrote. because the truth is...that's the only important thing about this whole self-serving contest anyway. that as a writer you learn discipline and write everyday.

so that's my goal...to write everyday, and then on day 30th, see how well i stuck with that. it has to be about something more than the pumping out of words. really. it has to be about quality.

i want to write quality, engaging writing that digs deep and sounds musical. i can't do that with some november beast on my back chin-checking me every few minutes. i'm from south central...i'll fight back.

i guess that's what i'm doing now.

i'm fighting back. *punches nanowrimo in the eye*

i'm telling nanowrimo that i'm not going to do word counts, but maybe metaphor counts daily...or something else flowery. *kicks nanowrimo in the shin*

I'm going to try and write as descriptive and flowery as i can, taking my time to sit, listen to jazz (and the sound of my fan blowing in the background - i need the white noise too) and stare out my window and find the most beautiful way of describing the most mundane thing...while sitting my behind right here...typing/writing. *kicks nanowrimo again*

i'm going to write love...and geez...writing love takes time...the words need to be rolled around, felt, whispered to, and caressed in my brain before they can fall out on the page.

really...that's who i am as a writer. i have to stay true to me and my words.

so, enough fighting...i'm sort of breaking up with nanowrimo (must be a man then...that would explain his lack of respect for flowery writing). we can be friends, but no longer we will be writing partners.

i'm still going to write feverishly during this month, because the truth is i was already doing that since like april or something. and really, really, consistently since july.

but i'm no longer going to concern myself with word count...and reaching some not even a true novel goal of 50,000 words.

the truth is...rushing out 50K words wouldn't even do me any good...i'll need at least 100K words to be able to seriously consider this ms.

and one more thing (bare with me, i'm spilling my soul like people do when they break up),

everyone knows that your first draft is crappy. so some people use that notion, that fact to just breeze through their first ms and allow it to be crappy...this attitude of who cares its going to be horrible anyway just close your eyes and get through it like you did your first time...

but um...am i the only one here who wanted my first time to be special? i don't want to write a crappy ms, a crappy first draft. no. i want to write a darn good ms, one that even though it needs to be re-written is sooo much closer to a finished product.

i'd rather spend 9-12 months writing a really wonderful first draft, than to spend 1-3 months, and then 2 years re-writing it.

if i take my time now, won't it be worth it in the end. i mean sure i'll probably spend some ample time re-writing it, etc. but won't the re-writing be so much better? so much easier? because i took my time the first go at it?

that has to be the truth. it has to be.

i want to mold quality, not crap.

the process is hard enough, why not just accept it and do your very best...throw all your good stuff at the wall the first time around.

that's my rationale. and i'm sticking to it.

the hell with the november month long writing trend to pump out 50,000 words.

i'm going on a kiandra jimenez writing trend...where we write good flowery stick to your heart type stuff...that makes your heart flutter with metaphors so creative you wonder where did they come from and similes so spot on they explain the reason for life and existing.

yeah...that's what i'm going for.

like trying to write the meaning of love.

so there.

haha..i don't care nanowrimo. because to be honest with you all the agents and publishers hate you...they say that you make their months of december horrible, because they get so many crappy ms that people just rush out in a november novel writing frenzy.

not going to be me. in fact, i'll do you one better. i'm never going to send out a ms during the month of december. ever. period. i don't care if it was requested. (well, i take that back, i do...and i will...but! only if it is requested and happens to fall during the month of december. like if the timing just worked out that way.)

i'm going to send out my ms when it is done. and it won't be done during the month of november so i'm going to stop trying.

okay...that felt good.

i think that is about all that i wanted to say.

no wait...i'm not quitting...i'm just changing here...i'm making the next year my nanowriyr (national novel writing year) yeah...how you like that?

let me share a quick calculation with you other novel writers:

if you wanted to write a dammed good 100,000 word literary novel, and gave yourself a year, guess how many words you'd have to write a day.

go on guess. i'll wait.

274.

two-hundred-and-freaking-seventy-four!

can you imagine how great that novel would be if every day for a year you lived it, breathed it in, and put your heart down in 274 words.

am i the only one screaming in my head right now? like really?

that's it. 274 words a day for the next year will bring you to literary heaven.

that my friends is writing truth. that is writing love capabilities. skills. that is the "truth like a.i." as jermaine dupri would say...

in fact let me share the lyrics:

"i'm the truth like a.i., got the proof and stay fly...know why? cause i write the songs that the whole world sings"

now let's take that rapping swagger...and apply it to writing:

"i'm the truth like a.i. got the words and stay fly...know why? cause i write the books that the whole world reads"

i know...nerdy rappin' ki. i do that. really i do that with lyrics...i take on the swagger of rappers...and slap it on my back and apply it to my nerdy life..like my art stuff, my writing...all that stuff...i get crazy.

i "whobang" on what ever is holding me back. i do..i'll put on some t.i. "bring 'em out" some jay z, all kinds of stuff..pump myself up...and then mellow down with the roots, get spiritual with india. aire and then write to jazz...

i know, i'm weird like that.

i may even take it back and put on "stomp" old school kirk franklin...

i know...but that's just how i do it. you can do it your way.

so let's get back on topic. my pep talk to myself and other writers fearing they are not cut out for nanowrimo.

its okay...nanowrimo is that boyfriend that looked all cute and charming...till he opened his mouth. you can dump him. i promise you, you'll find someone better. he may not be popular...but he'll have his own swagger. and that's cool.

look at e. he ain't the most hip hop-ed out guy i ever dated...in fact quite the opposite (though he loves the song noila clap - don't know why) but geez i love him with all his e, nerdy, non-dressing, non-ghetto self. he's like a breath of fresh air that came around in 1998 and never left me. he is my always blue sky. he is mine, and i so love him.

you too can find your novel writing swagger.

go on...think about it. you can.

mines is writing love.

so "whobang" on writing...get your swagger...and let's "do the damn thing" but let's do it write.

writing love,

ki

p.s. in case you are wondering, i made my writing goals for the week. i wrote more than 12,502 words last week. i don't know the exact amount..because..well you read the last 1800 words right?

i say that to say, i'm not stopping, or breaking up with nanowrimo because i can't do it, i'm breaking up with it because i don't want to. i don't think its for me. it doesn't fit my m.o. my style, my writing swagger.

that doesn't mean i'm not going to write my arse off the next few weeks..but i was doing that before nov. 1st rolled around. i'm still going to show up every day and write, i'm just not committed to this idea of having to write 1786 words a day.

does that make sense?

i hope it does, cause i'm still going to be blogging about my progress. i don't care if no one reads it, its my journal. its my prerogative.

okay, enough

2125 words

time to write on my novel.

nanowrimo: day 5

before i talk about today's word count, i want to do a public service announcement.

support writers...buy books

this is such a crazy, hard road...there is so much that goes into writing a book...i'm sure everyone's heard some author say how writing a book is like birthing a baby.

oh i so promise you, they never lied. this is a long, labor-intensive journey. nothing in the end is guarnteed. nothing.

you can love it, pamper it, cry over it, scream over it, whisper prayers and sweet nothings to your papers ear...but in the end. after all your hard work. after you've went over and personally chosen each word. personally constructed each sentence. dreamed about and talked about your characters, their lives, their actions, their dialogue...

nothing is guarnteed.

you have to love it. love the words. love the sentences and the way they sound. you have to love all the possibilities. love your characters...their story.

otherwise...there is no sane reason to continue.

i get that.

and i hope that readers get that too.

know that the author loved and carefully crafted each and every word for your enjoyment...what a gift.

okay, off my soapbox.

yesterday was not a good day. writing wise. i wrote nothing. not even "and" or "the" or even "it." nothing came out of me. i want to say that i tried, well i did...I showed up. i put myself in front of my computer, but after a good thirty minutes of trying to start a sentence, deleting it, staring at a blank white page...i closed my netbook, and cuddled with e.

there are writers that belong to different writing camps. i can't name them all, but i'll tell you about two. there is the write every single day no matter what camp, and then there is the write when the muse/words allow you too camp.

for the past eight months i've been in the second camp...the write when the muse hits one. with nanowrimo here, i've been trying to force myself to join the other camp. the camp that says everyday show up and write something.

it isn't easy.

but, my instuctor told me last night....don't give up just yet, give it the whole month. just keep trying.

like i said, it isn't easy.

however, i'm going to just keep swimming. i'm learning about myself as a writer along the way. for instance, i'm learning that ending a writing session by ending a section/scene makes it harder for me to continue the next day.

for me, once i get going...i'm going. so today...i stopped, just before the ending of a scene/chapter. it was hard, but i thought...if nothing else, tomorrow i'll have something to say.

we'll see tomorrow if it works.

stats?

today's word count: 2,778

992 words over!

in the past 5 days i've written 10,624 words.

39,376 words to go, 25 days to do it.

as always, my nanowrimo advice: write, write and then write some more.

writing luv,

ki

post word count: 497

total day's word count: 3,275