Ten.Nine Hundred & Sixty-One

1. 2:38am.

2. I can feel my heart beating in my throat.

3. 5:40. Heart still in throat. I laugh at how I’ve developed these physical manifestations of anxiety over these past few years. I am really understanding the mind and body connection through this experience.

4. Yes. Women do need to have more conversations about money and power. Let’s talk about the pay gap. Let’s figure out what it means to do the work of ensuring we have equal pay.

5. I see what he was saying now. I should tell him that he was right. I still think I was right too. I can be both right and wrong. Right in my anger, wrong in my approach.

6. So what is the best way to use whatever power and privilege I do have? This is not the best way. I can write. I can organize. I can be on panels.

7. The cow is awfully close to the wire, so close to the road.

8. I tell her that I’m grieving. I’m grieving the idea of a life that I envisioned for myself here in this place.

9. I walk and listen. No tears.

10. You can be both sad and happy, happy and sad.

11. I’m glad I came. I almost cry telling her what I told someone else this morning; I thought I’d be here longer. It’s just cosmic timing. But I thought I’d be here longer. But I’m doing what I came to California to do. it just won’t be here.

12. These two conversations are exactly what I needed to shift my spirit. Deep sigh.

13. My hand hurts from writing.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Sixty

1. Earlier and earlier.

2. Grind beans, fill pot with water, wait.

3. No. I will still go in early, still attend the meeting. I will finish the job. I think of what I’ll write, the people I need to thank; the amount of work I accomplished in such a short time; the ways in which I learned firsthand the difficulties presented to women returning to the workforce after choosing to be caregivers; the irony of being told that you’re over-qualified and yet under-qualified over and over again; sad to leave but also proud. Slow down. I haven’t even had coffee yet.

4. Debby Millman interviewing Lucy Wainwright Roche. I’m with you Lucy, I also like sad songs.

5. The last one.

6. I remembered headphones today. I walk through the parking lot and toward the vineyards where we tried to capture some shots of the vineyard team. I find two bluish cranes. Or are they herons? I can never tell. Blunt cuts on the vines, wires, green hills and golf carts off in the distance. Resistance Served Vibes soundtrack in my ears. I want to cry.

7. The last hour goes by too quickly. We’ll have more time tomorrow.

8. A 50-point win is a fun way to end the season.

9. This is ego talking and I know it but I also want to give it voice.

10. He will tell me to take it down.

11. I know he thinks I’m just afraid of the new thing. It’s not the work that I’m afraid of—I know I can do almost anything I want to do. It’s just the newness of everything I’m about to enter into.

12. I lean against the shower wall and think of what she said: “Nothing is subtractive.” Everything matters. All of this is important.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Fifty-Nine

1. The kind of dream you want to wake up from and don’t want to remember.

2. Cold feet.

3. He has a tear in his eye. He says it’s because he doesn’t want to go to school. My guess is that he’s just really tired.

4. I miss white walls.

5. I don’t buy flowers like I used to. I should change that. They always make me feel so much better.

6. It’s such a strange feeling to sit in a room and have everyone talk around you as if you’ve already left. Also, she’s not here today. I wish I had known. I forgot my headphones.

7. I try to steam the wrinkles out of the curtains but it’s not working. I pack up my things and head out. There’s no one to train, no one to help. I let him know I’ll be home early.

8. I can let this be easy.

9. They lose by three. I knew they would lose once they got back onto the floor after half time. I could see it in their body language; tired. An unsustainable pace.

10. I choose leftover soup and a caesar salad for my dinner. Everyone wants to eat all the croutons. Who knew they would become such a thing in our house.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Fifty-Eight

1. Up earlier than I wanted to be but I attribute that to an early bedtime. Before 9pm? Winning.

2. Not enough milk for drop biscuits so I decide on scones instead. How in the world are you supposed to accurately add half of a beaten egg?

3. Perfectly crisp scone bottoms and hot coffee. I finish typing up my responses. I hope that they make sense. The thing is, I still don’t have the most perfect words for it all, but hopefully this is enough.

4. She asks if I have time to talk today. My first instinct is to say “no” because right now I feel like hiding. But I know I will feel better if I say “yes.”

5. She asks me about community for myself. I tell her that I don’t have one yet. That I realize that I need one. That the places in which I thought I might find it have not turned out to be what I needed. I know it takes time. I am only 15 months in. It seems like a long time but it also isn’t. But I also wonder if we just need to move.

6. So grateful for a short week.

7. He uses the most perfect analogy about kitchens. Now, I actually understand. As he’s talking, I add up the dollars in my head. I feel uncomfortable. I realize I am uncomfortable because I know that I’m about to make a big ask. Still so much work to do.

8. New phone to replace the one that will be given back at the end of the week. I want a local number for this position. I’ll need something better than the 6 for what I’ll be doing. Still uncomfortable.

9. While the soup simmers step outside to swing in the hammock. The sun feels so good.

10. I worry about the dry winter and the breezes and wonder what it will mean for fire season.

11. The margarita is just okay. We could have made a better one at home and sat in the sun. Summertime goal: a well-stocked bar for patio drinks. Remember to ask Hilde about the cocktail book she used that one season.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Fifty-Seven

1. In the dream are familiar places and spaces but they keep morphing. I think of the dream I had a few nights ago where I was back at Wake Forest and trying to navigate Tribble Hall in the dark, wandering from classroom to classroom.

2. I want it to be quieter than it is. I stay in bed and stare at the ceiling.

3. Birdsong.

4. Meal planning. These glazed turnips look good. I feel like more tomato soup and homemade croutons.

5. I want to go but I also don’t want to go. I really need to work on this. But really, this weekend is about my own mental health.

6. I listen to the vibes soundtrack while I grocery shop.

7. Hammock. Clear blue skies. The hum of the hummingbirds. A pool pump? Lawn mower. Dog barking. I close my eyes and let the sun burn my face. Solar powered.

8. We’re going to have to figure out our wine situation.

9. “I think this is happy, I think this is sad / I think this is laughing, I think this is glad / I think this is happy, I think this is sad / I think this is laughing, I think this is glad” - Ravyn Lenae, “Moon Shoes”

10. To ice cream, or not to ice cream. That is the question.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Fifty-Six

1. I don’t remember falling asleep.

2. The very beginning of dawn when the sky is a faint indigo. Birdsong.

3. I yell for him to get up. He has baseball practice at 8 am.

4. I promise myself no cleaning for today. This weekend is just for rest.

5. I don’t know how I missed that detail. I could have gotten even more. How did we both miss it? Oh well. Best not to dwell. Just over deliver. Next time, I won’t make the same mistake.

6. Fear.

7. The librarian walks me over to a computer so that I can log in and pay for the book my daughter lost. I type in my name. “Are you the same Alisha that takes all the pictures on Instagram? I think we follow you. Your work is gorgeous.” I shrink a little. But I smile and say that yes, that is me.

8. Hammock nap.

9. I gather the ingredients. They look so pretty on the board so I photograph them. I miss the joy of cooking. I want to bring that back into my life.

10. The ice cream is soft. The fridge is probably about to go out. That’s great. What a week.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Fifty-Five

1. Not as sweaty as last night.

2. Friday. No one else has school or work but me. I pray the day goes by quickly.

3. I forgot Valentine’s for the kids. I’ll grab them on the way home.

4. Baby cows all over. Green grass. Blue sky here but I can see the fog off in the distance. The valley will still be overcast when we make our descent. But the sun will reveal itself soon.

5. The to-do list is much shorter than it’s been the previous weeks. It feels good to have some breathing space.

6. I stop her from talking. It’s my own fault for engaging. I know better.

7. I forgot my lunch. I suck on a cough drop to stop my stomach from growling.

8. I know my aura is janky today. I need to get out of here.

9. We find some sparkling, Nicolas Feuillatte. I think of New Orleans and Willie Mae’s.

10. Too tired to stay up and drink it.

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.