As in same ol’ procrastinatin’ me. I’m in Senegal! Working on a book. The book, as I tell everyone who cares to listen, is a heavy, overweight baby. Lil ol’ me is struggling! It’s been a dream I’ve had for a long time, so it’s great. I just procrastinate so much, I might as well channel my energy into managing this blog, eh?

I left NYCee September last year, after a teary farewell with Ms. C and all my loved ones, hangers on etc. It was hard for me to leave a place I had settled comfortably into. A place where I was 100% moi. A place of many firsts, many lasts, craziness, total awesomeness! I really loved that city. I still peek at my New York pics every now and then and get the hugest pangs of nostalgia. Sigh! One day, my love, I’ll come back to thee.

Now, to Senegal! I guess I blend right in, here too. I have a “Sahelian look” apparently - coffee bean colored skin, sticks for legs, quite height-advantaged. I’ll tell you the story of how I ended here another day. Let’s just say, I’m trying to still be myself, even though I live in a predominantly Muslim country. (Tough, huh?) I’m not too crazy, so, so far it’s working… Some people love that I have “napturally coily” hair and not the ever-present weaves or wigs most Senegalese women work. Others think I show too much skin. And here’s another, that I’m rude. “Impolie,” they say. I’m warming up to Senegal (and it, to me). I might start job-hunting here soon (mother dearest, pretend you didn’t see that), so that must say a lot for the country huh?

Okey dokey, must re-read a chapter… so have to cut off this lovely monologue. Toodles!

At several social events I’ve been asked the where do you live in New York question.

My response: Williamsburg.

Questioner’s usual reaction: Ooooh.

At a thing - can’t remember what - in Fort Greene, in Brooklyn, some man accosted me and told me I lived in Bushwick.  Not one to live such things down, I decided to do research. Technically I live in East Williamsburg, which is a sore point for locals who say the nabe is Bushwick, and its called E. Williamsburg to lure in developers yadda yadda yadda. I like the ‘Bushburg’ name I came across I think it was in the Brooklyn Paper.

Any way, so just as I am about to leave New York and Bushburg, I discover the cool places hidden in my nabe - in Bushwick (Morgantown to some). To many they’re probably ooold spots, but I feel like I’ve been cheated, after almost nine months of living here, I find out there’s a whole world of cafes - Life Cafe, Potion etc etc. And I found myself trekking into the city or Bedford ave. whenever my writer’s block needed curing - which was/is ALL THE TIME! (I’m not a hipster, but there’s something abt being around around other artists/creatives (wanna-bes and the real deals) that inspires me). Do I feel Bushwick pride now?? I dunno, but I’ll definitely be hitting up my neighborhood spots in the two months I have left.

Check out More Bushwick info /livin’ / lovin’…

Bespectacled architect type at random barbecue: Say something sexy in French

Self-proclaimed depressed one to french host peeing off his own rooftop: Comment on dit “depressed” en francais?

French host: deprime

S.P.D.O, obviously under the influence of something: Okay architect, je suis imprimee

French host: Non, DEPRIMEE. Et ca je ne croix pas

S.P.D.O: Oh ok. But I am depressed.

– overheard, and perhaps participated in, in New York

So, two years in New York are drawing to a close. I’m filled with mixed emotions. I’ve seen a lot in New York, but I don’t think I’ve really put my stamp on it. Big changes are coming on in the next months, and I don’t know where I’ll end up, but as a wanderer at heart, I’m not too worried. I found this article, haven’t read it completely yet, but the first two lines (yes that’s all I’ve read *blushing*) capture my present state of being: http://slate.com/id/2112812
I’ll read it and see if it holds true to my life… (update: so I’m so smart I posted the last page of the article… Any way that was the most apt to ma vie de present, so yeah… )

I have to find one of those “things to do in New York” lists and mark off what I’ve done and try to do as much as I haven’t in the next three or four months.

One of my feats (and I’m quite proud of this one), was satisfying my movie-watching thirst. As insatiable as the thirst is, I have tried. These are movies that New York introduced me to, which have seriously changed my outlook on life (listed in no order, some I saw my first week in the NYC in 2005, some I should have watched years ago, but didn’t, all I found beautiful, some disturbing others just so real…):

Igby goes down
Amores Perros
Volver
Last King of Scotland
Notes on a scandal
La mala educacion
Lost and delirious
Fire
Dave Chapelle’s block party
Claire’s Knee
Women on the verge of a nervous breakdown
Everything is Illuminated
The devil wears prada
Babel
The Departed
Crash
Hustle & Flow
Fanny & Alexander
Trainspotting
The dreamers
Sin City
Do the right thing
Taxi Driver
Chungking express
Wicker Park
Little Miss Sunshine
Interview with the Vampire
Sex & Lucia
The Other Side of the Bed
Shut up & sing
The Namesake
Transamerica
American History X
La Vie en Rose
Boys Don’t Cry
The Believer

….

I’ll be adding more as I remember. So much more to watch, so little time. recommendations welcome.

Here’s one Ghanaian bwoi doing his thang. Go M.anifest, go M.anifest, go:

The start of a travelogue on Morocco. That’s going to be the next place I visit - hopefully this year:

http://www.accra-mail.com/mailnews.asp?id=1001

http://www.tuaw.com/2007/05/01/igoogle-not-an-april-fools-joke-not-a-merger/

A peek of sunshine, and New York bares it all. It was fun trying to find a patch of grass to sit on.

Did I mention every one was out to play?

http://www.betavulgaris.com/gnotoriousblog/wordpress/wp-trackback.php?p=48

 Pretty kuul.

I was accused, a few days ago, of not staying true to my blog’s theme - which I guess should be a Ghanaian girl chronicling her moments in New York. Maybe why I haven’t been successful in doing that is in two years, I feel as much a New Yorker as someone who’s lived here all their lives. Do I experience culture shock, have I? Yes, like the moment when a girl and her boyfriend wanted to start a fight on a train leaving the Bronx for Manhattan, because the boyfriend overheard us (my friends and me) supposedly talk about her shorts. And then barely five minutes later, a group of inebriated prepubescent boys chose to maul some of us. Seriously not funny. Let’s see, how about New York’s messed up dating scene, which I won’t even go into. Yes, that was a big big culture shock. Or the city’s humongous rats Or the stark changes in bus demographics as one travels up 2nd avenue in Manhattan Or seeing people rummaging through a rusted metal container on the side of a Brooklyn street, picking up old computer parts, some still in intact packaging to add to the other knickknacks in their metal-framed carts (a ubiquitous object on the sidewalks of New York), while a sanitation driver passing by attempts to make a u-turn to investigate? and then changes his mind. But this is what is means to live in this city, and all these instances of culture shock become a way of life, and I still love it.