Ten.Nine Hundred & Fifty-Four

1. Drenched from night sweat.

2. Less of that needing to throw up feeling.

3. Gratitude for all the ways in which we’ve been supported. The ways in which he is feeling supported.

4. I am almost done. I am almost done.

5. The cows have shifted pasture. This must be why they were out here picking up trash earlier in the week.

6. I realize that when people ask where I am going and what I will be doing there, I get a little quiet. It’s a mixture of sadness, fear, imposter syndrome. I will miss this beautiful place. I will miss some of the people. But the timing is right. I didn’t even know how right it was.

7. I find the cloth for the hammock and drag the stand out into a patch of sun. I go back inside and grab the Ste. Michelle blanket and Vegetable Kingdom. I don’t know why I think I’m going to read. I just close my eyes and lay in the sun.

8. I tell her that what I really need is a break. That while Resistance Served fortified me in so many ways, it also let me emotionally exhausted. And I am still so deep in my feelings. Add to that everything else in life that has happened in a week.

9. What does sustainable labor look like in the context of my own life?

10. Bo Ssam. I could eat the ginger scallion sauce on everything. Already ready for bed. I can do hard things.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Fifty-Three

1. 4:45. Might as well get up now.

2. Weather? The same. Warm. But so chilly to start. Where are my slippers?

3. The sputter of the coffee maker. It’s on its way out.

4. I’m not hungry but I know I need to eat.

5. I ask him if it’s okay for me to post it to Instagram. He approves. I wonder if it’s a good idea or not but what I do know is that you won’t know if you don’t ask.

6. I feel like everyone is surprised to see me here. I don’t know. I guess I just plan to keep on doing my job.

7. A lot of DMs. So much gratitude.

8. She whispers “traitor” as she walks past. We both laugh.

9. Walking meeting.

10. I tell her that I constantly feel like I’m going to throw up in my mouth. Probably need a new kind of meditation practice.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Fifty-Two

1. Seriously?

2. I try to slow my breath and clear my thoughts so that I can get at least one more hour of sleep. Just one more hour.

3. Still uneasy.

4. I had forgotten how much worse traffic is earlier in the morning but I need to get there. I’ll be more productive without the distraction anyway.

5. It’s good to hear her voice. I’m grateful for the opportunity to vent. To not have any answers.

6. He says what I thought he would say. I am nothing but nerves. Shaky. I step outside. The sun feels good. I go inside. Inside does not feel good. I take a walk to the other side of the property. It’s still quiet. I lean against the wine barrel and stare out over the vineyard and the hills and the blue sky.

7. Just not in the mood.

8. Still nothing and that makes me even more upset, makes me feel even more justified in my choice.

9. It’s a cute play. Some of us are more into it than others.

10. His optimism makes all of this a lot easier.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Fifty-One

1. Monday. Throat doesn’t feel as rough. Maybe the voice will be back today.

2. Only a little raspy.

3. Seems like we’re all running just a little bit behind. Not surprised. I hate feeling so rushed. But I needed to bring the camera out. I needed to say something.

4. I just want to stay focused.

5. I miss my words. I wonder what it might be like to sit and write about new things in new ways. I’m still leaning on old language and ideas even though so much newness is present. It’s just time. I feel like there is never enough time.

6. I walk with her back to her car. She tells me what she’s worried about with all of the changes going on. It makes me wonder if I’m in the wrong field of work. People tell me things, lots of things, things I don’t ask to know and yet, for whatever reason, they continue to let the words fall out of their mouths.

7. Tedium.

8. Walking meeting. I wish the garden was unlocked. The sun is so bright. This is why we moved here: for 72 degrees in February. For so much sun. I think about the hammock at home. I won’t have time for it today.

9. We break the rules and let them watch the television. I just need them to not ask me questions while I make this. Pearl Couscous would have been better but the dittalini works just fine. Roasted tomatoes and herbs and chickpeas and feta and parmesan, fresh dill and fresh parsley. A drizzle of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Worth dinner being late.

10. So many tears.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Fifty

1. I wiggle my feet. No pain. Maybe it fell out after all.

2. I hear the wind whipping the palms. Then an alert on my phone for wind advisory.

3. Still no voice. Sore throat. Tired. He offers me coffee in bed. I go with green juice first.

4. I throw on my robe and boots and head to the backyard to get lemons from the tree. I smell the skin. These will make a good tea.

5. Meal plan and grocery list. Coffee. I break to help him sort through his papers. Just need to get it done. Almost at the finish line.

6. Still scrolling for Resistance Served pictures.

7. More tea.

8. I watch the wind blow sticks and leaves and the baseball net across the yard. I listen to the wind slap at the windows and walls.

9. Still no voice.

10. ”Are you a mammy?” - Krystal Mack

Ten.Nine Hundred & Forty-Nine

1. Still so tired. Still no voice.

2. He brings me coffee in bed. I just keep searching for pictures from Resistance Served. James has a countdown. I’ll make one for myself too.

3. If I can just get myself up out of the bed to clean.

4. A needle in my toe. I hobble over to the bed and see a piece of metal beneath the skin but no way to get it out.

5. They tell me to go to the ER.

6. The kid has a broken hand, a compound fracture for sure. He’s got bruising all the way up to his elbow and is crying. She’s irate. I want to walk over to the kid and tell him to breathe. The mother wants to cut in front of the line. There is only one person in front of her. She tells her husband to call 911 because they won’t treat her son. The security guard and I make eye contact and shake our heads a little. But I get it. No one wants to see their child in so much pain.

7. Three hours for them to tell me that there’s nothing in there.

8. Bright sun.

9. He comes home from practice with a sprained ankle. Two foot injuries on one day.

10. Stirring risotto.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Forty-Eight

1. At least it’s Friday.

2. Still no voice.

3. No breakfast. I grab cereal and then head straight for the juices and kombucha.

4. I don’t know. But I do.

5. He tells me I sound strong. I feel strong.

6. So much distraction.

7. I try to replay images from the weekend over and over in my mind so that I can stay tapped into the feeling of that experience.

8. Baby cows.

9. “What do you call a sad coffee?” “I don’t know.” “A despresso.” The waitresses laugh.

10. I want to go back.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Forty-Seven

1. Surprisingly not as tired as I thought I would be.

2. So much thunder and lightning. I give them more time which gives me more time. I lay and listen to the sound of the rain.

3. Quiet house.

4. I realize the restlessness is just anxiety about the return home. I busy myself putting furniture back where it belongs.

5. I know it will be hard to put into words.

6. No matter how old you get, it still feels good to lay down in your parents bed. She turns on the first episode of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.

7. Emails. Delayed flights. Familiar faces.

8. He says that the airport is the best place for making new friends and that if you’re not making friends at the airport then you really need to take a look at yourself.

9. I find a friend from the symposium and we sit and talk. We talk so much I almost miss the first leg of my flight. My bun tumbles down as I walk/run to the gate.

10. “No agua?” “No. No agua, por que tengo agua.” “Habla espanol?” “Un poco pero necesito practicar.” We speak a few a few more sentences and then he tells me that my spanish is very good. That feels significant.

11. I intended to sleep but we talk the entire flight. Our names begin with the same letters. Our daughters’ names rhyme. We’ll both be in New Orleans again at the same time next month. We do the same work and believe in the power of the ocean.

12. The familiarity of the dark roads.

13. Trying not to dwell on the work that needs to be done but on the experience that needs processing.

14. Tired.

15. Restored.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Forty-Six

1. If I keep this trend up I won’t be able to get up at my regular time.

2. Shadow play. Light play. Everything feels familiar yet also not.

3. Gratitude for the slow start to the day. Space.

4. We eat the last few pieces of the fried chicken with Crystals. I have coffee and water.

5. I will miss this house. It so quickly became a home.

6. Where is everyone? Was it something to do with whatever it was that happened the night before? Is it a result of logistics.

7. Murmurings

8. I have to stop telling myself that I’m not ready to go home.

9. This is going to be a thing.

10. I let the tears fall into the corners of my mouth, dab my face with my scarf, make sure to keep drinking water, allow myself to just listen and be present.

11. I continue to sit with it.

12. She did say it wouldn’t be wrapped up in a bowtie. Incomplete and yet, also it is.

13. Oysters. Abita Amber. Hot pink drinks. Laughter. Laughter. We all needed laughter.

14. I tell him to just get me in the morning. People are running behind and this feels important. It feels important to stay.

15. This was the way to end it-with release. With movement. With joy.

16. “You don’t live here.”

17. Why is your coat on? It’s actually already time for you to leave?

18. Good-byes. No. Not good-byes. See-you-laters.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Forty-Five

1. Quiet house. Still so many lights on from the night before. Start the coffee. Refill the water bottle.

2. The way light falls in the corners of this house. I miss having white walls. Everything just looks more peaceful.

3. Insta-story. Probably too long. Probably not the best way to do it. Probably no one will listen. But that’s okay. I really did it for me anyway.

4. Fried Chicken.

5. I walk quickly to the museum. Don’t want to be late.

6. Omar Tate. Light bulbs go off in my head. We have to make sure he gets to Oakland soon.

7. I realize that events like these with so many people are just plain hard for me. There’s this weird desire to connect but to also hide, to fade into the background.

8. Four!

9. How do you construct your identity as a black woman? Who are our icons?

10. Rublaison.

11. No little walking man signs.

12. Young Chef. Black Chef. From Jersey and New Orleans. He put sugar in the cornbread and that, to me, is the greatest thing.

13. Table talk.

14. “…know that there is someone, somewhere who believes in you.” - Randall

15. “On a scale of one to ten, how slappin’ was it?” - Rebekah

16. Sore throat from so much talking.

17. At the end of the day, it’s all about narrative.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Forty-Four

1. 1:45 am. So loud. But why? Full-on party. But it is New Orleans after all. And maybe they don’t need to get up in the morning. But seriously does it need to be so loud.

2. I get ready quietly. I’m the first one awake. I head downstairs and make the coffee, remeasure the coffee with the tablespoon.

3. The four of us walk to the event center. We don’t like to be late.

4. Black Women and Labor. Build your own table.

5. She takes us to church. I already knew by the way she talked that she was a preacher or the daughter of a preacher. There’s just something about the way she talks.

6. Unbought and unbossed.

7. Tears.

8. Motherhood and hospitality.

9. I realize that there’s no way for me to present any kind of notes because in order to share what I’m learning, you’d need to have context and I don’t think they will want the context. And I don’t think I’m capable of providing it. Nor should I have to do the labor.

10. So many people.

11. Who’s funding who?

12. Tears. I need to listen to the episode.

13. More tears.

14. Am I even in the right place do to the right things? What does it mean to work within the system I’m a part of to make change? Particularly change that affects black and brown bodies?

15. Owning a table and owning the tent.

16. “If a person doesn’t feel comfortable in my space, then I’ve failed.”

Ten.Nine Hundred & Forty-Three

1. 3:30 comes quickly.

2. So dark. So foggy. Pre-flight jitters.

3. She sits with me at the table and gets on the phone. When she’s done I ask her if she’s a doctor. She is. An Ob/Gyn. A black one. She says she taught at Wake Forest. I tell her that I went to Wake Forest too. Small world.

4. A whole row to myself. The stewardess is a little chatty for 6 am. That’s okay. Could be worse.

5. Only in California would I sit next to a black guy eating vegan jerky. Right?

6. Everything looks entirely different. I can’t figure out how to get out of the airport. But it’s nice. It’s really nice.

7. Mom and dad. Nitro. I feed him my leftover french fries.

8. Not enough time.

9. I pick a room at the back of the house, upstairs, away from the noise. I have a feeling I’m the oldest one, the only one in need of going to bed much earlier than everyone else.

10. I’ve been looking forward to this night for so long.

11. Omar Tate. Ashtin Berry. I see Chef Elle across the way. And Klancy Miller. And Krystal Mack.

12. So much people-ing. But all so good. So much to learn. Grateful to be in spaces with those who are willing to ask questions and have difficult conversations.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Forty-Two

1. 1:32am.

2. My eyes don’t even want to close, my head feels tight with thoughts. I tell myself to breathe and not freak out about being so wide awake.

3. Mental list of what to do for work before leaving tomorrow.

4. Fog so thick. Only scared because I don’t know these roads too well.

5. Both coaches are black. This one still plays in a semi-pro league. “We want to grow them into young men. I’ll be your biggest critic but also your biggest fan.” This will be good.

6. Yeah.

7. Second baseball practice drop off. Fog still low and milky. He tells me that he didn’t even want to play. Too late for a refund. He’ll be fine.

8. Car horns.

9. They give me a round of applause.

10. Never not anxious about travel.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Forty-Two

1. 1:32am.

2. My eyes don’t even want to close, my head feels tight with thoughts. I tell myself to breathe and not freak out about being so wide awake.

3. Mental list of what to do for work before leaving tomorrow.

4. Fog so thick. Only scared because I don’t know these roads too well.

5. Both coaches are black. This one still plays in a semi-pro league. “We want to grow them into young men. I’ll be your biggest critic but also your biggest fan.” This will be good.

6. Yeah.

7. Second baseball practice drop off. Fog still low and milky. He tells me that he didn’t even want to play. Too late for a refund. He’ll be fine.

8. Car horns.

9. They give me a round of applause.

10. Never not anxious about travel.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Forty-One

1. TGIF.

2. The sizzle of the oil. Out of coffee. Out of orange juice. No desire to make an egg. I forget about the potatoes. I could have made a hash.

3. No training takes place without a snack. I place an order for bagels, check google maps for traffic. 47 minutes.

4. The bagel lady has no smile. But I’m sure she’s been awake for too long already. I smile anyway.

5. Coffee on my clothes.

6. I tell the group that screw cap on a wine bottle is no longer and indication of a cheap or poor quality wine.

7. At the end of the day, everyone just wants more education. I think that’s fair.

8. It’s almost right. Almost exactly right.

9. They tell me that the fear is normal. The fear is normal. Change is always scary but you’re never stuck.

10. Still too much to do before I leave.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Forty

1. Today is only Thursday? Only Thursday.

2. The longest week. Longer than last week.

3. Funny/infuriating that he thinks he can just curl himself right back up and go to bed. Why does someone pretend to be angry? Preteens.

4. Everything seems rushed for some reason? Collapsed time.

5. I rotate my head slowly and try to meet her eyes as if to say, “Did you just hear what I just heard?”

6. I try not to laugh. Old, rich grandmas priding themselves on taking business class instead of first class, discussing how horrid their grandchildren are. “Would it be possible to separate the rice from the paella?”

7. Ready.

8. Easier than expected. Credit to Michael and all those podcasts I’ve been listening to in order to prepare for something like this.

9. I leave on Sunday.

10. Just tired.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Thirty-Nine

1. Remember that you need to be there early.

2. Enough bacon to share.

3. Making the lunch. Watching the light. When was the last time I took a picture? I won’t have enough time.

4. Bright orange sun. Thick gray fog behind the silhouette of the hill-mountains.

5. Stopped in traffic. I take a picture.

6. Scam Goddess.

7. But if there isn’t trust, what is there?

8. He says it’s just nerves. I try to separate emotion from fact, heart from logic.

9. He looks happy. They needed a win.

10. Already asleep. Just like a baby.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Thirty-Eight

1. Feeling a little more rested.

2. Have I miscounted the days? No matter. Or does it indeed matter?

3. I take off the sweater and put on a sweatshirt. Best to not go into the meeting smelling like potstickers. I know the aroma tends to linger.

4. Giggles are good.

5. Maybe too many beverages on the table.

6. Maybe too many questions? Maybe too many notes? I write a lot but it’s because it helps me remember.

7. A little bit of sun.

8. ”What’s your role here? I love your questions.”

9. Head — mush.

10. Why are we even here?

Ten.Nine Hundred & Thirty-Seven

1. Must get up.

2. I promise myself to go to bed early tonight. I don’t want to get sick before the symposium.

3. Big batch of nettle tea to get me through the morning.

4. My feelings about it still haven’t changed. Nothing has changed.

5. Early because I know there are things I want to do and because i know I need to be home early enough to get the kid to his game on time.

6. I miss writing in community. I miss my community. I miss having time to engage with folks I’m actually curious about and in relationship with.

7. So tired I can’t even think. Eyes barely open. I don’t think there’s enough coffee for this kind of fatigue.

8. Maybe it’s not as efficient as I had hoped it would be. They can go back to the old way once I’m no longer in charge of this. But how long will that be? Maybe that’s up to me.

9. Another loss. I guess I’m getting used to it.

10. I ask him to stop asking me those kinds of questions because my brain hurts. “What would your by-the-glass cost be?" $25?” “That sounds too high. Are people even buying by-the-glass at that cost for a brand they’ve never heard of and that has no provenance?” “That means we’d need to be making something close to ultra-luxury. But no more questions. I can’t talk about this now.” Too many dreams in the head. No clarity on which one to follow.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Thirty-Six

1. TIme to get up.

2. Long list of things to do.

3. Make the best of it.

4. It takes a really long time to hand-grate chocolate bars. Like, a really long time. Then I remember that I am getting paid for it so I must continue.

5. The different colors of light that filter through the windows. Peachy tones and blue tones and soft green hues. I think of the photo filters that give an image that Vintage California feel. I feel like I’m living in a picture.

6. A long line of cows on the crest of the hill.

7. The Four Agreements.

8. Just nerves, maybe.

9. How is it already 5 o’clock?

10. I write furiously, edit, have him read it, and then send it off. “Closed mouths don’t get fed.”