Tight-ink boxes.

My emotions are untamed, vicious, constantly whirling.

They poke, they pull, they jab at my consciousness.

The only way to protect myself is to force them into a word.

Words are like jail cells.

When I confine my emotions, I release my thoughts from unrelenting torture.

Memories, feelings, they can't hurt me--not in their tight-ink boxes.

So, I study them. I learn from them.

They can't hurt me again.

- Brandon

On Sunday, I attended the last learning community workshop in Boland Hall for the purposes of filming it for my Newshouse project (which, btw, will probably be more of a disaster than success, but we'll see). Before the workshop, I interviewed a few of the poets, and because I probably won't be able to use all of it for my project, I'll probably edit a few of them and post on here. I was taken by surprise because I had planned to film the workshop a certain way, but because it was the last one, Michelle (the RA), decided to do something completely different. I think I'll be able to work it out, though.

During the second half of the workshop, Michelle gave the residents index cards and asked them to write what poetry meant to them. A few explained in list form, but others wrote poems. Brandon, whose last name I don't know, hardly ever comes to the workshops but he decided to stop by because it was the last one. By watching him I gathered he's not necessarily a shy person, but when he stood in front of the group, he became sort of bashful and said, "I don't usually write poetry, I just come to listen." When he finished, everyone was stunned. "That was incredible," Cedric Bolton said. A look of awe appeared on Michelle's face. I think Brandon himself didn't expect to receive the response he did. I don't think Brandon himself realized until that moment the talent of the words he spoke. Honestly, it was the best poem read that night.

The only way to protect myself is to force them into a word. They can't hurt me--not in their tight-ink boxes.

Tight-ink boxes. Isn't that wonderful??

I was so bummed because I couldn't make it to the only slam competition of the semester yesterday, but I was occupied with Medley proofs (we sent the magazine to print today! I'm so excited, it's our best issue to date). One of those things--when you want to do two things you love at the same time.

I'm really going to miss Verbal Blend.

We're too comfortable for change

We're too comfortable for change--picking a name from a ballot is more than enough,

and too much sometimes.

We sit back and watch as the world is controlled from a place too far

from the television screen,

put trust in the knowledge of others, devils in suits,

No questions.

- Amanda Fox-Rouch

Quick Verbal Blend-related post. Last night I attended the weekly Sunday workshops held in Boland Hall, where the poet's learning community resides. The workshops run much like the ones led by Cedric Bolton, except Bolton doesn't attend these and the discussions are facilitated by the students themselves. This week, Michelle, the floor's resident advisor (I've mentioned her in previous posts), led the workshop; she chose Hate Crimes as the night's theme because last week she learned about James Byrd's murder and "couldn't stop thinking about it." For an hour and a half, the 9 students who attended, along with Michelle and Jaris (Boland's residence director) discussed hate crimes and other topics such as fear and hate (and whether one leads to the other), about government, misunderstanding of culture, Westernization, America's influence, money, and how political motives influence government decisions. Like a seasoned professor, Michelle sat at the head of the group and encouraged her peers to express their thoughts and ideas. Some were quieter than others, but all had something to say. I took so many notes and recorded the whole thing, I wish I could say more about it. All I'll say for now is that it was so refreshing to see a young group of students actively, willingly, engaging in intelligent conversation and freely expressing their thoughts while teaching each other, too.

Another idea that stemmed from the conversation was American apathy. A revolution like the one that happened in Egypt could never happen here, Amanda noted; Americans are too comfortable. Above is her poem, written in the 10 minutes after the discussion ended.

I mentioned I would find another way to get Verbal Blend on the Newshouse. I decided to do my final project for Web Journalism about them. The project consists of a story, video, photos, and an interactive component to be published on the site. A little nervous. I have a lot of ideas, I just hope I'm able to execute them.

They can write about anything.

"Write everyday. Regaining momentum takes three times as much energy as sustaining momentum." - Daniel H. Pink (via @AdviceToWriters)

I'm going to try and make writing my priority this semester. Really, really, really. It makes me so sad when I can't. Or that last semester I couldn't as much as I wanted to. For now, I'll just post another excerpt from my final story (which got an A, btw! I picked it up from my professor a couple of days ago). I ran into Cedric Bolton today, actually, and he said he found my blog during break, which I didn't expect, lol. I guess all it takes, though, is a Google search of "Verbal Blend" and "college." I'll be following up with him soon to learn about their plans for this semester. Anyway, another excerpt. At this rate, I should just post my whole story, right?

Within the past year, Bolton and Verbal Blend members have traveled to local schools to conduct similar workshops and provide a forum for young students to express themselves. Bolton collaborates with Marcelle Haddix, an assistant professor in the School of Education with a Ph.D. in literacy, language, and learning. Haddix moved to Syracuse three years ago and immediately decided to commit her time to community work. “One of the things I noticed right away was that there was a need for writing,” she says. “Parents and community members were really concerned with writing achievement, particularly of African American youth.” In response, Haddix created the “Writing Our Lives” project, an annual writers’ conference open to middle school and high school students.

This year, students and Verbal Blend poets rose early one sunny Saturday morning in November to go to Hughes Elementary School, a magnet school in the Syracuse city school district. The second annual “Writing Our Lives” conference attracted more than 120 students in the sixth to 12^th grades. Workshops provided guidance in topics such as journalism, comics, and fiction writing. Older students registered for “Writing the College Essay.” Bolton led “Discovering your Voice,” with four Verbal Blend poets, including Hawkins. “I always had a passion for the public education system because I grew up in it, so I know that everything isn’t always as it should be,” she says.

Bolton prepares large sheets of white paper on the stage. Time to brainstorm. “What are the things you want to give voice to in your communities?” he asks the shy students who sit around the red octagonal tables of the cafetorium. He waits. He sighs. “It’s going to be a long morning,” he says, when the students hesitate to answer. Slowly, they gain confidence and begin to raise their hands. Vandalism, gangs, racism, violence, teenage pregnancy, hip hop, bullying, hatred, drugs, single parent homes, sports, love, multiculturalism. They can write about anything, even the kind of men and women they want to be in ten years. Professor, Grammy winner, architect, business owner, forensic scientist, surgeon, lawyer, mother, father, responsible, independent, strong, happy.

###

To put the excerpt in perspective, the city of Syracuse currently not only suffers from poverty, crime, and underdevelopment, but from, like many cities in the US, a poor education system! This recent study, A Call for Change: The Social and Educational Factors Contributing to the Outcomes of Black Males in Urban Schools, applies; many African-American families live in the city. Many children from those families (and children who represent other minority groups) attend Fowler High School, recently reported to have the worst graduation rate in New York State--an astounding 33 percent, according to the Post-Standard. Lately, local groups and initiatives have dedicated themselves to mentoring and tutoring students in the nearby neighborhoods--including a few from Syracuse University. Verbal Blend is one of those groups. And though they can't fix the system, small gestures such as the one described above prove meaningful and worthwhile.

"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."