>>>>Jane Through The Seasons

My future self, the one I will become this winter, will be shaking her head in disgust if I continue as I have done so far this summer. It has not been very bad. I did go to the MoMA once, and to the Met, too. And I saw two Shakespeare plays in Central Park, plus a couple of other things that may or many not only have happened in my imagination. Ohh...yes, I went to the High Line! Almost forgot that one. Ha! But  the last day of summer is speeding near and I have decided that I cannot stand to make my future self upset so I will have a few excursions before the summer leaves. Then when winter comes I will be very glad to hibernate.  I am sharing with you my plan. Mind you, I will not be ashamed if nothing gets crossed. You may wag your finger all you want. But I hope to impress myself and actually go out a bit more. I feel all I did is read. I am not complaining. Okay, so here are some of the things I would like to do:

The Day He Left by Jane A. Odartey The afternoon brought ladybirds to the skies. The island swirled in fumes of petrichor. The hot earth swallowed liquid pearls with rainbow hearts. Love wept, logic giggled. ---

it rained from dawn till late morning. i went for a walk when it stopped. they say the approaching night will be wet. -- Jane

On my way to our apartment once, a man opened the door for me, but lost in thoughts I did not say thank you. "You're welcome!" He snapped and I felt embarrassed. I said, thank you, then. I heard in the news, about a couple of months ago, that a similar thing happened to a woman, but she got killed instead.  I could have been that woman. I have partaken in several conversations where people vented out how much it irked them when someone failed to show gratitude.  I have vented here a few times already on how it pisses me off when someone takes me for granted. So maybe you are like that, too. You want to be appreciated. When you do something nice, you want people to show you some gratitude. As human beings we are blessed and cursed with many emotions. We enjoy love and we battle hatred; we are irritated by hunger, at least I am, and we like the taste of a good cool drink on a hot afternoon. We are also not self-sufficient. We depend on our environment and other people for

For a slim book of about 114 pages, Passing by Nella Larsen, asks some very good questions. When I first read the novel for a class some years back, I read too quickly to fully appreciate it. It is worth noting that my reason for picking up the book for a second reading had much to do with Rachel Dolezal . The novel was one of the first things that came to mind upon hearing the Dolezal case. Though Passing is about the black individual passing for white, Larsen did envisioned the white person passing for black. Something many of us did not consider until it was "news."  Larsen's protagonist, Irene, talks about a white character, Dorothy Thompkins, who though somehow seemed Negro, was not. In that same conversation Irene said "It's easy for a Negro to 'pass' for white. But I don't think it would be so simple for a white person to 'pass' for coloured." The white man to whom Irene said this responded with, "Never thought of that."

When I have Fears that I may cease to be by  John Keats WHEN I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high pil`d books, in charact'ry, Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain; When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,         Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And feel that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour! That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love;—then on the shore   Of the wide world I stand alone, and think,   Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink. ---

Maybe you are not guilty of this but I have been known, on several occasions, to dismiss the rotten few because I am a staunch believer in the goodness of the majority. I became conscious of my attitude recently and I am still trying to understand it. An example, if you please, your friend exclaims "Men!" And in response you quickly say, "But they are not all bad." Then she tells you how awful her boyfriend has been treating her, and though you do not know him as well as you know her, you are quick to jump to his defense with words like, "They don't know any better," or "You cannot really blame them. They just don't get it." Why do some of us do this? It is incredibly annoying and unsympathetic. It feels as though we are not even listening, we are just eager to comfort ourselves. Perhaps we act this way because we are tired of hearing awful events and we need to convince ourselves that it is not all bad out there.  Hence we cancel out wh