That's funny, you do look....

In response to Yoko's memorial day post, I find it very odd when strangers share their ethnicity guesses with others.

Yeah, I'm black. Duh. And I suppose that for white people, this is enough information. (Except for this one cop in Virginia who, while preparing his report of spring break fender bender that I was involved in asked "Is Ashyknees black?" I was wearing a hat at the time, but still. Duh!) But for other black and brown people, especially in NYC, my background has occasionally proven to be a stumper.

While living in New York, I had to apologize for not speaking French and not speaking Spanish. (I am truly sorry about the former since I studied French in college). I am not from any island, but rather an anti-island. No, I am not from Kentucky. I am not from Canarsie...I've never been to Canarsie...I don't even have a twin who lives in Canarsie.

What is it about me that mislead strangers to believe these things? What would lead someone to look at a picture of my dad and say, "he looks like he's from the islands?" Would someone put a finger on the origins of such hunches?

Go to the Store on Route 64

Route 64 is my new favorite bus route. On Sunday, I wanted to make my way to Boxstoreland, so I took the only route I knew: trolley to broadstreet line, then transfer to the 79 bus. But while I was making the perilous pedestrian crossing from Ikeaworld to ACMooreville, I noticed a 64 bus rolling through one of the massive parking lot. Could it be the very same 64 that runs only a block away from my apartment? Yes indeed, it is.

As I waited and waited for my 64 bus in bus swelter, er shelter, between the Walmart and the Home Depot, I thought, my goodness, if I had a car, I'd never know this little microcosm of the city existed. I would have never learned how the waiting passengers knew to turn shopping carts on their sides and use them as benches. I would have never wondered why so many insisted on sitting in the official shelter when it was at least 15 degrees cooler across the driveway. I would have been at home in ignorant comfort.

Usually, a bus ride that runs from a Walmart through a number of "transitional" neighborhoods, would make for some great eavesdropping. But the best thing I heard on this ride was a cursing lady telling someone that if she came home to find the laundry not done, then someone would be out on the street. It's a good thing I never lived with her, or I'd be homeless by now.

Also, there's a new candy that comes in a plastic container that you can clip to your wasteband. It has sparkles right there in the candy!

(see, I told you I'd be writing more stuff.)

I Need to Write More

I was just looking back over my previous posts, and it seems that the more frequently I write, the better my writing is. Duh.

So I'm going to write more. The "anonymous" blog medium is limited. Still, I must continue to try to create entertaining posts within its constraints. One problem is that the more post worthy events happen in my life, the less time I have to write about them.

I will also return to writing in journals. Sure, I already have boxes of journals in which I basically write the same thing over and over again. If I were some aclaimed author, that would be called "returning to familiar themes." Since no one is going to read my journals but me, it doesn't matter. Going back to journal writing will help me overcome my feedback cravings.

Oh, how I love comments, but let's face it. In the circle that I blog in, the only sure fire formula for feedback is to write about needle crafts. I am all for sharing needle craft triumphs and tribulations, but I cannot measure the worth of my posts based on the number of times I mention knitting.

Aunt, BEA

I just returned from our nation's capital, were I attended Book Expo America and visited one of my aunts.

Since it was my first BEA, I was a shameless Schwag Hag. My prize freebee is a model ship in a bottle, courtesy of UVA Press. They're at www.upress.virginia.edu, God bless 'em.

Even better, I got an autograph from Sesame Street's Gordon!

Machismo Melancholly

When I returned home from a work related day trip to New York, I chose to unwind by watching American Masters. Now I'm kind of bummed out and I think that show is to blame. But why would a documentary on John Ford and John Wayne left me feeling blue? Maybe I was creeped out by the John Milius interview.

On the bright side, I have found success in working on a yo, K 2 tog (the first and last stitches are K) bamboo silk scarf.

Busy Bee at the Grindstone

Yeah, I'm actually working at work. It can happen to the best of us. Yet I'm also broke. How ironic is that?

Buzz buzz.