"Stop apologizing for what you do."

Another excerpt from my story, another moment, another reason students join:

Alecia Gordon, an undecided sophomore in the College of Arts and Sciences, reads a letter addressed to God, filled with the anguish that comes with knowing you’ve disappointed. By the end, tears stream down her face. She lets out a small laugh, embarrassed by her moment of weakness and vulnerability. As Gordon walks back to her seat, Hawkins, her roommate, turns to give her a hug. The poet to Gordon’s right, Janel Sullivan, turns and says under her breath, “I’d want to hear it again, if you can type it up and send it to me. That was really beautiful.” Gordon still can’t shake the embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, that wasn’t supposed to happen,” she says. “I hate when that happens!”

“Can I say this one more time?” Bolton says in a stern voice. “Stop apologizing for what you do. It was meant to be.”

Gordon cried the first time she attended a Verbal Blend meeting, too. The power of the other poets’ words affected her in such a way she decided to keep coming back. Bolton credits poetry with having a therapeutic quality that many students on campus may need. “If they need to cry, they can cry and get it out through that poem," he says. "[The poem] will help to heal them."

Ayo Technology

Above is a picture from the "Ayo Technology" Skype open mic event--the same one depicted in my lede. Verbal Blend poets alternated with poets from Voices Merging (on screen), the group that Cedric Bolton started at the University of Minnesota before he came to Syracuse. It's quite a shame that not many people knew about it or had an interest because it was truly a unique event and I'm willing to bet the first of its kind.

"This is the element. Now you set up a stage, you're connecting two schools, faculty, community, students--the artists who are there with our artists who are here--through digital mediums." - Cedric Bolton

Tyler (above) is one of Verbal Blend's most dynamic members. He's a great poet and I plan to dedicate one of my future posts to describing him and his poetry in detail. Check the woman on the screen. She became a permanent presence during the event; as both Verbal Blend and Voices Merging poets recited from their phones, laptops, or memories, she stood in the background and signed in American Sign Language for deaf viewers. It was beautiful. Even the most vulgar of words looked delicate on her fingers.

Can y'all hear me?

The story itself needs a lot of work. I'm too ashamed to post what I handed in to my magazine professor (though it appears she liked it because I got an A- in the class?--still, I know it's not as good as it can be). But here's the lede; this still needs work too, thinking about changing the first sentence altogether:

Dim lights illuminate the 307 descending seats that lead to the center of the auditorium. Christiona Hawkins walks up to read her poem. The light shines brightest on her smooth coffee-colored complexion. But her eyes, instead of looking at the audience, focus for a moment on the Webcam resting on the orange plastic-covered podium set in front of her. “Can y’all hear me?” she yells. A few seconds later, an emphatic “Yes” emanates from the speakers, the voices of a group 1,000 miles away filling the room, their own stage at the University of Minnesota projected onto the large screen that hangs behind her. She begins to read, “A Warrior Out of Us,” from her phone. Her kind voice becomes firm, urgent, unwavering as she unravels a combination of metaphors expressing her observations of the African-American experience. The frustration overflows from her voice as she alludes to the false illusions of progress that plague the black community. Don’t be fooled, she says. I’ll let you think you’re flying high, but just like kites, I have strings attached to you. Snap, snap, snap. The audience appreciates her clever prose. We will really see what a disaster our people have become. An eruption of applause and snaps follow the last line. While Hawkins walks back to her seat, the host in Minneapolis says, “Someone in the audience has a special note for the young lady who was just on stage.” “Uh-oh, uh-oh!” shout men from the audience. But the message doesn’t come with the expected flirtation—just admiration: "You are an amazing poet," the person says.

Hawkins, a sophomore international relations and policy studies major, belongs to Verbal Blend, a spoken word program at SU.

###

"I'm pulling the dirt together"

Below is a moment I witnessed during my first two hours with Verbal Blend. It was so brief but telling.

Cedric Bolton brings two poems by Joy Harjo in honor of Native American Heritage Month to the last two Verbal Blend workshops of the semester. On the first day, only four poets showed up, two volunteered to read "The Creation Story," and "Equinox," aloud. Afterwards, they take turns sharing interpretations of the poems and decide that Harjo pulls inspiration from nature and the natural to form images of important themes and feelings in her life: creation, love, ancestry, war, guilt, fear. Bolton encourages the poets to use, if they need to, Harjo's words for inspiration during the routine 15 minutes of free write.

Katherine, one of Verbal Blend's newest members--the senior joined this fall, says little during the first hour but willingly stands to share her poem. For 45 seconds, she reads from her notebook, often stumbling over the words; she twice repeats two lines. The most noticeable part of her performance are her feet, which fidget from side to side, and her body, which on occasion seeks the nearest table for support. Despite her slight discomfort, the group loves the poem. Desperation has made me crave a murder of an innocent world that was self built inside my cage's walls. "I love that last line," Michelle says. "Can you read the whole thing one more time for me?" Ruthnie adds. Ruthnie, nicknamed Rae and affectionately called 'Rae Sunshine' by the group, often presents challenges to the poets. Tonight, "I challenge you to keep both feet flat on the floor. If you force both feet to stay flat on the floor then your body will use that energy." Katherine begins to laugh; her feet jitter in her acting class, too.

For the second attempt, the words flow fluidly--save for two times, when Katherine pauses as her body pulls the strength up from her anchored feet and through her diaphragm to force the words brick and crave out of her mouth, clear and unbroken. Not once does she stutter on a word, repeat a line, or move her feet. "Damn!," Bolton says after the last line. Rae, just as, if not more, impressed the second time, breathes out an awed "Gosh!" Snap, snap, snap all around the room. "How do you feel?" Rae asks.

"I feel mad," Catherine responds. "And I feel good that it's in here," she says, lifting her notebook with her right hand. She brings her left to her chest. "Not here."

"I created a separate identity."

This audio clip took me a lot longer to edit than it probably should have, and still it needs some work. But no matter. I posted it because one of the first things I noticed when I began attending Verbal Blend workshops was the way many of the poets transformed when they took the stage. All are students of varying disciplines and before Cedric Bolton (the director of the program) begins the workshop, they talk about their schoolwork, share anecdotes, and laugh. Normal. But after a 15-minute silence period designed for free-writing, one by one, each person volunteers to share. Some sing, sway, yell, cry. And some become different people entirely.

My final story: Verbal Blend

Verbal Blend is a spoken-word/poetry program on campus and the subject of my final story for my MAG 406: Magazine Article Writing course. I absolutely love Verbal Blend. The poets teem with talent and I look forward to every interview, meeting, or event. I am continuously blown away by each person's devotion to the words, the careful ability in which they craft them to convey a message. When I'm in their presence, I'm always pleasantly surprised by the community and camaraderie that exists among them.

The story is supposed to be 1,700 words. But I could write so much more! I could write a profile on each member, I'm sure. I could write about the events that they host and have hosted. I could write about the first ever Verbal Blend learning community in Boland Hall that started this fall. I could write about the efforts Verbal Blend makes to improve the poor education system in Syracuse. I hoped to update this as I conducted each interview and attended each event this month, but, as has become the norm this semester, time slipped away. So, I'm starting now.

The above clip is of a Verbal Blend poet named Christiona performing her poem, "A Warrior Out of Us," at Verbal Blend's 'Ayo Technology' Skype Open Mic on Nov. 17. (More on that in another post). I think I'm leaning towards focusing on Verbal Blend's work off campus, educating and inspiring young students in the city of Syracuse. Christiona will probably be one of my main faces. She's a sophomore who is in the process of creating a literary magazine for high school students in the community.

"We want the high school students to think about pursuing any level of post-secondary education. We feel that publishing them in a college publication with other college writers and artists will boost their confidence in themselves and get them thinking about college in a positive aspect."

Verbal Blend is a special group, so I'm excited to post more about them in the near future.

Till next time.

Gay Talese is my hero.

Gay Talese, The Art of Nonfiction, No. 2

I'm just going to go for it, try everything, stay curious, be fearless

with my career.

I have tons to say. Will try to write soon.