Last week was a bit of a blur. First off, I finished my book proposal. Now, I may have said so before, but this is the real final version, which means I stayed up several nights editing painstakingly, before printing out a dozen or so copies and sending them to the next batch of would-be agents. Then I sent some e-mails to a few trusted friends and advisors to give me feedback on the storyline, since it's basically an outline of the book.
In addition to all of that, I was also working at my regular freelance editing gig last week, which, I now realize, I cannot do anymore. Now that I am completely invested in writing -- doing the work I was put here to do -- I am completely unmotivated to do anything else. It felt like I showed up at the office just to completely disengage from my passion. A terrible feeling! I realize that I can no longer submit my dream or energies to the whims of another. That was my last week freelance editing, and when I left the office on Friday, I went to a store and bought myself a new outfit to celebrate!
Cut to me in a sexy, gold tube dress at my housewarming party in Fort Greene on Saturday.
My roommate and I had been putting it off for a while, since we moved in on June 1st, but it was about time we got some people gathered together to warm it up for us.
Now, as per my lease agreement, I'm not even allowed to have parties, only get togethers
, because my landlord lives downstairs. I was fully aware of this when I sent the evite out to 70 of my closest friends, who in turn invited 2 to 5 of their closest friends (no joke), who all came to pack the house.
I grew up with so many people in the house that I typically seek out my alone time. But, every now and again, I love being surrounded by a bunch of people. Love to cook up a storm and set out some tasty food, let them eat and be happy. That was the most wonderful part of it. That and, of course, the wonderful energy of my guests.
Whenever I go to these "young people" parties I never see anybody pour libation. I think that it is seen as something our parents do and not us. When I presented Edinam, our magazine's publisher, with the task, he got weak in the knees all of a sudden and almost dropped his drink on the floor! Once he collected himself, he noted that he was not the oldest person in the room, but that he would approach the elder in such a way as to not cause offense. When he asked Ayo, another friend of The AFRican, he flat out refused! Ayo pointed across the way to Dapo, saying he would be much better at it, and I watched from afar as the latter readily grabbed the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black from Edinam's outstretched hand. When he finally heard what he was proposing -- which was not
to take a drink, as he had thought -- Dapo quickly passed the bottle back and shooed him away! Finally, Edinam accepted his fate and raised the bottle for libation.
I had an idea to immortalize the event, which was to set up an easel in the corner and ask my guests to help us paint our first piece of artwork for the wall. There was a drop cloth, various paintbrushes, acrylic, oil paints, even oil crayons. I wondered if people would be in to it at all. I went to my room for a minute to chill with my two sisters, one of whom is pregnant and not interested in standing on her feet for two hours, and when I returned to the living room, my girl Tambra had gone over and painted a bonafide masterpiece -- Sisters in the Struggle, Sisters in the Spirit
. I think folks were actually a bit sore that they did not get to partake because she painted the whole thing, but the room took on a whole new brilliance with that inspired artwork in the corner.
We had a great time and some great laughs. With such an awesome showing of support, I know this is gonna be a great year!
The AFRican Blogger
(Photos courtesy of Tambra Stevenson