Eccentric Tea Woman

I noticed that she played with her hair every five minutes. I wasn't sure if she hated her long red hair, or perhaps she was just nervous. Yet, as we talked about her new book, Katherina continued to twist, pull, and flip her hair as I asked her question after question. She looked at me directly with a stare that said - I want to listen to everything you say. I want you to know that I am here, fully present for you and nothing else. Before I had this interview with her, I was engaged in a fight with my soon to be ex boyfriend, Paul. He was getting tired of me always doing things without him, yet I told him time and time again that he was more than welcome to come with me. He then stated that my literary friends acted all snooty around him just because he hadn't published a book. I quietly replied that he was still one of the best playwrights in the country, but that wasn't enough for him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to still live with me, and by then I needed to get out

  It seemed so strange that the British hired spies to watch him. Where could he go? The island, as someone once told me, was 10 miles by 5 miles. No one could leave undetected, least of all him. The spies were especially diligent when it came to how many times they found him in his garden. They called him the General, but I knew him as Emperor. Funny how an enslaved woman of colour knew more about Napoleon Bonaparte than the British who held him at St. Helena. Although I had my neverending list of duties to perform every day, I always made sure to take a small break of sorts to watch him in his garden. He loved that garden, as far as I could tell. The history books would later record that he enjoyed being in his garden - a place of escapism and relief from the horror of his final place of residence. One day, I made sure to walk by his garden when I knew he would be outside. I gripped my basket that hung on my arm and walked to my destination as though he was the farthest thing from my

  (Frederica artwork by J.W. Bullard) It's been a week of Frederica, my violin Muse, meeting with other Muses in order to find LOVE! However, it's not been so great . . . . .  Tea Muse: (running hands through her hair) Alright, so what was wrong with that LAST one? He was a Muse to a scientist and I thought you guys hit it off??? Frederica: He didn't know who Vivaldi was. That was enough for me.  Me: Well . . . that would have been a perfect opportunity to teach him about all things Baroque music, right? Not everyone, real or imaginary, knows who Vivaldi was. It's up to Muses like you to share the love for the Red Priest. Frederica: (smiling warmly at me) That's one of the many reasons why I'm your Muse. You call Vivaldi the Red Preist, which he was. I didn't have to tell you that bit of information at all. Tea Muse: This is why meeting someone who isn't knowledgeable in all things Classical music is a wonderful experience. Frederica: He also had short h

  When I was younger, I was not given the option to fail. No grades below a B, no low ACT/SAT scores. I was supposed to be a perfect child who was brilliant and did everything she was told. Now that I'm much older, I am finally learning to embrace failure and that's a good thing. Back then, everything I did had to be perfect. Listen to your elders, I was told, and that way you won't make the mistakes we made in our lives. However, with that constant reminder being driven into me, there was also a part of me that wanted to find out WHY I was told not to do certain things. Looking back, I realize that I needed to find out the hard way. And so, I did. I failed many, many, many times, and it turned my anxiety into a force that wanted/needed to control everything. In that flawed way, I could pretend to be perfect to the world. What bullshit.  My current violin teacher is one of the forces who changed my life. My previous violin teachers were fantastic in their own way, yet I use