Living/Something Like It

Talking real heavy to me...

2007-08-13T00:54:00.001-04:00

There are times that I'm completely oblivious to the signs, too caught up and comfortable mastering left when I should head right. Unforseen transitions can be hard because I want to be ready. So once I catch a clue and peep the change coming my way, I frantically start packing my mental,emotional and spiritual suitcase, hoping to cram every and anything in there that may help me on my next journey. But there isn't always time for all that. And that's when my Higher Power makes a housecall and stands in my doorway, telling me to step out on faith that I was given all that I'll ever need.

Overheard on the 4

2007-07-27T20:37:00.000-04:00

5 year old boy: When I'm 8, I'm going to be that tall (pointing to the ceiling of the train car).

Middle-aged mother: Mmmhmmm

5 year old boy: And you're going to be old.

Middle-aged mother: Mmmhmmmm

5 year old: When I'm 8, you're going to 25.

Middle-aged mother: MMMMMMMMHMMMMMM! (giving her son a huge hug).

I am so hearing you...

2007-07-24T17:51:00.000-04:00

She smiles, I smile
She walks, no she glides softly by me changing night into day
She opens her mouth to speak, and so sounds ring in my head
She speaks, and I want to dance to her rhythm
She moves ever so gently, increasing my desires,
As I place my arms around her waist,
Hold and squeeze unto me,
I want to melt into her body, and discover the base of her warmth
Her beautiful black body that, no human mind could ever conceive
Shes love
Shes truth
Shes real, as real as the stars that shine in the heavens
As real as the sun that bathes her body,
As real as the moon that glows and the birds that sing and the rose
That blossoms in spring for she is that rose
And not just any rose,
But a black rose,
Black rose stands tall and stronger than any other plant
A black rose, that stands as creator, of nations of
Black rose
That never loses her petals, and blossoms all year round
Black rose,
Sweet rose,
Thornless rose
Eternal rose
Please look my way,
Please look my way
Please look my way
Black rose

-- Dead Prez "Mind Sex"

Quote Unquote

2007-07-04T00:31:00.000-04:00

When asked to share a favorite tv show that he would love to star in for just one episode, one of my 8th grade students replied, 'I would like to star in the first episode in the miniseries 'Roots', 'cause it shows how we used to live before slavery'.

Nothing at all

2007-07-04T00:09:00.000-04:00

Back on July 5, 1852, Fredrick Douglas asked, 'What to the slave is the fourth of July?'

In 2007, I'm wondering the same thing.

2007-02-09T13:17:00.000-05:00

I'm sending up much thanks to God, 'cause I can look back and remember when...

I am grateful for the things that You have done
Yes, I am grateful for the victories we've won
I could go on and on about your works
Because I'm grateful, grateful so grateful just to praise You Lord
Flowing from my heart are the issues of my heart...

gettin' up, gettin' out and doing somethin'

2007-02-05T11:40:00.000-05:00

have you ever seen a ghetto bird?

sure, you say, of course.

there's dawn who lives down by lexington

with her 5 kids and deferred dreams.

oh, and don't forget mrs. ann's kim

who left here

only to come right back

with a habit

you're right, the kims and dawns

are ghetto birds too

but not the kind i ask of

i'm talking about that one ghetto bird

who always seems

to have its eyes cast

upward

while the rest of the flock

is busy pecking

at the fruitless concrete

have you ever seen a ghetto bird fly?

fly? you ask. they don't fly

i mean, not too far from here anyway.

there's a few that try

but wind up discouraged

and eventually content themselves

with only hopping

from perch to perch

i've seen a good number of

high flying ghetto birds, i share.

i've seen them soar

above the jagged mountains of

at risk

and through the stifling haze of

disadvantage

have you ever heard a flying ghetto bird's song?

no, you admit. can't say that i have.

well, once they're used to

trusting their wings

they sing a song

to the other ghetto birds

down below

it goes:

i'm soaring

reaching heights unknown

freeing my soul

as much as i wish

you could be up here

with me

i've realized it's

too hard to teach

someone with their feet

planted so fimly

in the ground

how to

fly.

soul that lives within...

2007-01-29T12:39:00.000-05:00

"Eventually I knew precisely what hair wanted: it wanted to grow, to be itself, ...to be left alone by anyone, including me, who did not love it as it was."-- Alice Walker, Living By The Word: Selected Writings 1973-1987

This goes out to you and you...

2007-01-10T17:47:00.000-05:00

Today, I’m really feeling like one of those rap stars accepting an award at one of them hip-hop ceremonies or artists who have five pages in the back of their album dedicated to everyone they’ve ever met.

Excuse me as I give a shout out to my peoples and ‘em.

Dad: Thanks for giving me your charm and your walk….which bothers me a bit, ‘cause either you had a questionable twitch or my stride isn’t as feminine as I thought.

Mom: Thanks for being the originator and allowing me to be your remix. I know, I know “mad” corny, right? Waking me up early every, single Sunday has definitely shaped my cooking skills. I’m honored to be considered a part of your fortune. Yup, more corn. But you’re a mom and love that kind of stuff.

Shirlgurl: Your text messages keep me going during the day. Though I’m not really down with all that “princess” stuff, I have to admit your boughetto ways are cute and very witty.

Junebug: I love all our late night catch-up convos, since you believe we don’t truly “know, know” one another. Thanks for laughing at my outrageous stories, which I promise are all unfortunately true. You're right, my life is a “poetic comedy” and I’m glad you’re interested in hearing alllll about it. Don't forget, your NBA contract is paying for my student loans. Everybody knows that pinky promises are just as valid as notorized documents.

Flojo: You’re the first best friend I’ve ever known and the co-star in a lot of my early memories/escapades. No worries, with a little time, we’ll get us back.

Jenny: The fact that we’ve never gotten into a fight in the entire 17 years we’ve been friends, says something. I love that we can spend close to 6 months with no contact, and start right where we left off. Thank you for accepting me how I am, smelling real good all the time, and sharing my X-rated sense of humor. I love that you make half wigs look so chique, so much so, you got me wondering if the Asians sell half ‘fros. Ummmm, nah, never mind.

Sawnee (said with a real heavy Brooklyn accent) aka Big Sis aka Mrs. Mike Black aka Sister from the Same Two Mothers by Spirit: Thank you for recognizing the woman I’m becoming – even when I don’t see it sometimes – and placing me on Crown Woman status. Thanks for conversations on God’s plan, finishing my thoughts, and putting me onto Arkansas 77's "no facts" reporting style.

Kindred: Thank you for being there when I laugh – hard and often – at the audacity of life, and laughing right along with me till our bellys ache and tears flow. This is just the beginning of not only a beautiful business collabo –our books will be best sellers, for sure—but a budding friendship. I think that we’ve officially discovered the cure-all for life’s mishaps: food, wine, and tons of laughter. Promise me, that if you ever get that newsletter inviting you to become an adult, you’ll throw it away. Psuedo grownups for life.

Jess: Even though you’re real brand spanking new in my life, you’ve managed to become one of the first people I seek advice from, and share my extremely hilarious and humbling experiences with. It’s wonderful to have someone who is genuinely enthusiastic for most of the things I do and want to do – no matter how small or out there. Thanks for all the email convos ,that we use like IM since the man likes to breathe down our necks. Your peach cobbler is sin in an oh so sweet pie crust.

Lis Lis: You’re mix of bitter sarcasm, dark humor, and love for poppin’ lockin’ and old school boy group R & B is always just what I need. Thank you for letting me see your tender side and understanding that ‘everybody needs some time away’.

2006: You’ve taken me from Ms. Pantene Pro-V, making the Dominicans a heck load of money, to psuedo Cape Verdean with the wet and wavy look, and now the ultimate earth mother rocking a fierce natural. You bought a lot of firsts, lasts, and change into my life. Every new year, I will recognize the impact you’ve made upon my life because, not only, did I survive you, but you’ve helped me to get so much closer to the woman I’m destined to become.

Last but not least, big ol’ shout out to G.O.D for giving me everything I need and not what I want, ‘cause sometimes -- depending on how the wind blows—I want some real off the wall stuff. Thank you for your patience. You gave me life and I keep you entertained as I live it --definitely not an equal deal, but it works. Something tells me you love me. I don’t know, just a feeling I have.

I know there are several folks I didn't mention and no one wants to be the "and 'em", but my wrist is tired from all this typing. To be continued.

some kind of wonderful..

2007-01-08T16:59:00.000-05:00

"The way you cook, makes a brother feel good about himself," said by Junebug, as I prepared food for a New Year's Eve dinner party.

Thank you, God, for all the wonderful men and men-in-training that you have put into my life. Amen.

Goodness gracious

2006-12-14T15:03:00.000-05:00

I was caught all up in my own mental-mind at the end of my break today. So, I didn’t feel like responding when a brother wished me a nice day, as I passed by him on my way back to work.

Big mistake.

"Sistah…Sistah,” he called, continuing his attempt at trying to get my attention.

I noticed more than a few people stop, in the middle of the busy city sidewalk, to see who in the world this man could be hollering at with such commitment, and why in the heck she wasn’t answering.

Occupied with my thoughts and slightly embarrassed, I tried to get lost in the crowd before the scene escalated.

No such luck.

“SISTAH! SISTAH!...... SISTAH, WITH THE BIG LEGS,…. HAVE. A. NICE. DAY!”

…………

Yes, I am sistah with the big legs and that’s what I get for being shady.

randomness...

2006-12-06T16:25:00.000-05:00

I spend most of my days on hold, while media relations people decide if they want to speak with me or not. Due to the classical or easy listening music that usually plays as I wait, I’m half asleep by the time someone decides to answer my call. If I ever have an office, when my secretary puts folks on hold I want callers to hear M.O.P’s “Ante Up”- probably the censored version. Regardless, of where I am or how I’m feeling that song never fails to get me amped and ready.

Yesterday, my thoughts fell upon my high school phys ed. teacher, Mrs. Gilmartin. With her long blonde hair and light colored eyes, simply by looks, she is the epitome of “all-American”. Out of the many people I’ve met in life, she is indisputably one of the realest. She is the same Mrs. Gilmartin who after asking the class to break into groups, noticed that a set of Jewish girls hadn’t budged. Without skipping a beat, she looked up from her clipboard and told Nicole to “stop being corny and sit next to those little Black children”. When it came to the swimming portion of her gym classes, Mrs. Gilmartin’s only requirement was that everyone had to fully submerge themselves into the pool at least once. Well, there were a lot of girls who tried to find creative ways not to get their hair wet. I remember one class Blair refused to put her head under the water. At first Mrs. Gilmartin paid her no mind; until the period was just about to end and she noticed that from her shoulder’s up Blair was completely dry. Twice she told her to go under and each time Blair refused. In a second flat, Mrs. Gilmartin jumped into the shallow end - clothes, sneakers, whistle and all – and dunked a shocked Blair under the water. Oh my goodness, I can’t forget one Bring Your Daughter to Work Day when a classmate asked Mrs. Gilmartin if the toddler with her was her daughter. “No, Tonya,” she said, “This here is just a midget I hired to follow me around all day”. All of my siblings have also had her as a gym teacher, and Mrs. Gilmartin told Shirlgurl that she felt sorry for our mother. My fondest memory of Mrs. Gilmartin is my senior year. A group of friends and I performed an African dance at the school’s Black Awareness assembly. Out of all the 2,000+ people in attendance, it was Mrs. Gilmartin who clapped the hardest. When we were done, she approached us with her hands clasped in front her face and a hint of tears welling in her eyes and told us , without her sarcasm or dry wit, that our performance was beautiful. Man, I need to pay her a visit.

I told a friend that for my birthday I want to go to some real illegal, sweaty, tight dance party in a concrete floored basement, underneath somebody's uncle's West-Indian restaurant. Monday, I got an evite inviting me to a weekend full of carnal exploits and hedonism, all in my honor. I love my friends.

Oh, to the brother who told me he loved my hair this morning and kept it moving – THANKS.

For winter fearing women when bubble jackets aren't enough

2006-11-15T21:37:00.000-05:00

Lately, I've noticed co-workers throw envious gazes at adolescent couples in Union Square, as they unabashfully radiate that pubescent I-can't-live-breathe-or-survive-without-you-and-even-if-I-could-I-don't-wanna kind of love. I listen to countless tales told by girlfriends who religiously hit up every happy-hour function, regardless of how many hours they've just put in at the office.

Winter is coming ladies and gentlemen, and all the single women around me are concerned with the impending season change.

Blouse buttons are released a little lower and sistergirl dinner plans are canceled two steps from the door, once a phone rings and a baritone voice is heard on the other end.

"Winter.Is.Coming," declares this fair weather friend, who seconds ago was starving, as she takes off her coat, gets comfy, and coyly coos into her cell.

Heffa.

You'd think that with all this fretting over winter, women would be running to buy BJ-sized bags of melting salt for the soon to be icy roads.

But the thirsty determination in their eyes, reveals the statement's true meaning: Ain't no female ,in her right mind, wants to trudge out in the numbing snow to any club, lounge, restuarant or the like to find a man. So, the hunt is now on and it's real. Cold weather snuggle buddies are wanted.

Jess said it best, as we waited on the subway platform for the A train:
'If you're trying to get got, you'll get gotten.'

Well, there's a whole lot of women praying that the gettin' gets good waaaaay before snow coats the ground.

Am I among them?

Ummmerah, it would be nice to spend frosty nights indoors with a brother- who loves Scrabble, eating, and Toni Morrison - shampooing my mini 'fro with peppermint hairwash, greasing every inch of my scalp (yes, Reg, with no gloves. LOL), and cuddling while reading Black classics. Yeah, nice indeed but I'm not beating those mean streets.

Good luck to all those ladies out there on a mission. I understand. 'Cause the cold and loneliness are truly real.

Treating tricks

2006-10-31T20:33:00.000-05:00

After declining Jess' invite to witness how folks from the Bay area get down on Halloween, I sat on the four train next to a 3-year-old cowboy and five-year-old angel. Needless to say, they were too cute.

By the time we reached 125th street, both the angel and cowboy collected quite a few dollars from our fellow passengers.

I didn't get a dime.

I guess no one was feeling my make-pretend-grown-up/journalist-on-the-grind costume.

This just in...

2006-10-14T12:28:00.002-04:00

Over a week ago, I ordered a book from Borders. I was told that if it didn't come within seven days I qualified for their " 7 days or It's free" giveaway offer.

As I still wait, I'm letting you know now....

*pulling out bullhorn*

BORDERS IS GIVING AWAY FREE BOOKS!

Thank you.

Welcome back fam

2006-10-13T23:30:00.000-04:00

My father, an old school West-Indian man, respected anything that required talent, hardwork and discipline. So from birth my siblings and I have been sport fans. We've spent countless school nights in our pjs , ignoring bedtime and the scolding of our mother, watching the rhythmic intensity of tennis , transfixed by the delicate elegance of figure skating, and getting riled up by WWF's Royal Rumble - dad's personal favorite.

Over the years, we've adopted several professional athletes into the family, referring to them by their first name and memorizing their stats. To these select few we've remained faithful. We groan, yell, and curse at unfair calls made by bias game officials, give standing ovations for glorious plays that require heart, and cheer till our voices are hoarse when our favorites win.

In our household basketball will always reign supreme. My lil' brother has said numerous times that it is absolutely unacceptable for me to date anyone who doesn't play basketball. He doesn't have to be nice or hold NBA dreams, says June, just a great appreciation for the sport is enough.

Every fall since 2003 , without fail, I've asked June about Jay Williams. We've followed his journey as a star Blue Devil, assistant to Coack K's third NCAA basketball championship, college graduate within 3 years, and second overall pick of the NBA's 2002 draft by the Bulls. We were devastated when in June of 2003, Jay lost control of his motorcycle and crashed into a utlity pole. With three of the four ligaments in one knee torn, a fractured pelvis, and a severed nerve in his left leg, there was little hope he'd ever return to the court.

Earlier this week, out of habit and genuine curiousity about his condition, I asked June if he heard any recent news. He shared that he thought Jay was a sports commentator now, giving up any basketball aspirations since his near fatal crash. A few days later, my little brother called me to see an article on NBA.com about Jay playing the preseason with the Nets.

Tonight, we watched in disbelief as the New York Knicks played a game against the Nets, who sure enough had our man Jay Williams in their lineup.

They didn't win tonight, and that's okay. None of us are wishing for a championship ring. I'm simply happy that he is able to come back to a sport that he loves and the family loves watching him play. There have been many who have died from far less, Jay is blessed to have a second chance.

**UPDATE**
Last I heard, Jay wasn't picked up by the Nets for the season.

We stay fly, no lie

2006-10-13T21:00:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, with my nervous hands, I pinned the visitor's tag onto my blouse and pressed the button for the sixth floor. As the elevator traveled to its destination, I said a prayer for my first interview after weeks of job hunting.

I tried to calm down and remember what my boy Reg said about everyone being people, who started out at the exact place I am now. When the doors opened at my stop, I quickly passed my hands through my hair and over my slacks, attempting to smooth out any wrinkles and self-doubt.

My nerves chilled, a bit, as I walked into the office of the publication's human resource director. Her easy-going banter and infectious smile were able to put me at ease, as if I was chatting with an old girlfriend who was glad I came by to visit. I taught her the meaning of diaspora and she shared with me pictures from her first walk against breast cancer, an illness that her close college buddy has battled for five years. But though I was comfortable, I remembered where I was and the position of the woman sitting across from me. I guess I passed the prelimiary round because within fifteen minutes of our meeting, she called a few editors to see if they wanted to meet me.

Our friendly conversation continued in the elevator, through the newsroom, and until we arrived at the office of the executive editor. With a quick introduction she was gone and so was my confidence. As the door closed, I had half the mind to call her back to save me.

There I sat, in his small office with several pictures of dogs and famous faces, as he grilled me on everything from my past experiences, last non-fiction book purchased, and feelings on 'skut work'. Under his critical journalist's eyes I felt like that little girl, who is more accustomed to wearing kicks and jeans, getting caught playing make pretend in her mother's business clothes. I tried my best to keep up with his quick, dry wit and prayed that my demeanor didn't betray the the flip flops that my stomach was doing.

At the end of our interview he offered to see me out. On our trip through the newsroom, I quickly scanned the workers that I hadn't noticed twenty minutes earlier. My eyes were met by faces, belonging to mostly white males, offering quickly disappearing thin-lipped smiles that followed my exit.

And that's when it happened.

At that moment, I ached for the false protection offered by conformity and the days countless Dominican hair salons helped my hair live the lye. Instead, my in transition strands seemed to sense their surroundings and defiantly stood on my head, reveling in all their naptified glory. With each step towards the elevator, the slacks, which were flattering when I left the house, tightened under the strain of my behind that was growing to monstrous proportions. My nose took over my face and my lips began to look like the after picture shown to hopeful patients before their collagen injections.

The executive editor offered a detached indifferent handshake, pressed the elevator's bottom button, promised to call within a week, and sent me on my way. It wasn't until I reached the city's sidewalk, that my body returned to normal and I was proud of the many months spent sticking to my natural headed aspirations. This morning, I immediately sent out my thank you notes and half-heartingly prayed that the position was mine.

A few minutes ago, at the top of my inbox sat an email from the publication's human resource director. Convinced that they were so incredibly unimpressed that they decided not to even wait more than twenty-four hours before giving me the bad news, I read her two sentenced email asking if I got her message and if I could start later this month.

I've been doing a non-stop victory dance that can rival any of Chad Johnson's post-touchdown celebrations.

My two youngest siblings, Shirlgurl and June, have been known to entertain the family and my close friends with hilarious catchy songs, that they write themselves. After hearing the good news, I can't seem to get the Dipset inspired, unabashedly braggadocious chorus penned by my little brother out of my head: Been through the fight (Can you feel me)/ Been through the hype/ Been up on top (Now I'm stuck)/ I can't get down from up.

Ballin'! HAHAHAHA!

True,you may need one but you won't find her here

2006-09-11T15:59:00.000-04:00

I am not your ride or die chick.
Leave that to the Charlies, Kims, and Trinas.
I refuse to be your down for whatever secret
while your wife/fiancé/girlfriend
keeps thinking that she’s playing half to a monogamous commitment.
I don’t do shapes
so take your love triangle elsewhere.
Oh, and forget what you heard
I.AM.NOT.THOROUGH.
Fights with women who hold your last name and your seed
is not what I do for fun.
How can one dare argue with a sister
whose anger is fueled by betrayal
and heart is broken from lies?
What did you say?
Ain’t no fun if the homies can’t get some?!
Are you hearing me?
Must I repeat myself?
I.AM.NOT.RIDE.OR.DIE.
Since you care about your boys and ‘em so much
why don’t you personally take care of their case of the blues?
And no, there isn’t any room in my purse for your glock.
Live out your Bonnie and Clyde fantasies with someone else.
I will not play Elvira to your pseudo Tony Montana.
It is not …
will never be…
that serious.

Thinking Outside the Box

2006-09-04T14:50:00.000-04:00

Much props to Saki and Trevis for recently opening up their All-Nite Upscale Apparel and Juice Bar and being featured in the recent Weekly Dig!

All those in Boston, make sure to head down to Grove Hall and give these brothers some support.

we all have something to give...

2006-08-27T12:39:00.000-04:00

www.worldonfire.ca/donations

Hindsight is Always 20/20...

2006-08-22T23:41:00.000-04:00

because sometimes my pride and I are too busy rehashing all the should of, could of, would ofs instead of sitting back and silently take the L.

Recently, I disappointed and vexed a friend and, though it was hard to not add my two cents as he verbally let me have it, I understood 100% where he was coming from. I sat there taking it all in and when he was done telling me about myself, I apologized.

I guess, now and then, I need the wakeup call of loved ones to make me see my mishaps.

No one said growing is painless.

A Must See For Sure.....

2006-08-17T13:54:00.000-04:00

My man Spike is at it again. I've already been called a hypocrit for wanting to see this and not "World Trade Center". Yes, both Spike's Katrina documentary and the 9/11 film tell the story of two recent American tragedies, but I'd rather hear the story straight from the mouths of those who lived it, not Hollywood.

HBO will premiere Acts I and II Monday, August 21 at 9pm, followed by Acts III and IV on Tuesday, August 22 at 9pm. All four acts can be seen Tuesday, Aug. 29, the first anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, at 8p.m. to midnight.

Headed for Self Destruction

2006-08-13T17:52:00.000-04:00

Summer days are melting away and I am coming to a semi-peace with the fact that, for this season, sleep and I have become distant friends. That's cool, for now, because rest hasn't been sacrificed due to idleness.

Though I have a dreamer's long to-do list, I'm satisfied that I've been able to put a check next to a few tasks. I'm especially glad that, after spending four years in the audience, I finally volunteered for this year's Roxbury Film Festival.

I not only saw several great films, that reinforced and slightly altered a few of my perspectives, but I also took part in a resourceful convo that has me 90% sure a master's degree in education is one of my future journeys.But I'm learning, from many past experiences, that while we make plans, God simply laughs. So I'm trying my hardest to leave all in the hands of the Most High and praying that we're on the same page.

The one thing I regret is not seeing the much talked about "Street Soldiers". Unfortunately, it was showing during the festival's last shift, we were severely shorthanded and hundreds of ballots needed to be counted.

About fifteen minutes into the documentary, as a fellow volunteer and I tallied, a woman exited the auditorium and walked out the front door without so much of a glance or word thrown towards our table. A few minutes later another woman did the same thing, leaving the building as if she was deeply offended. My curiosity finally got the best of me when a sister, I remember being pretty chatty when I sold her tickets earlier, also entered the lobby and prepared to leave.

I asked if something was wrong and the sister responded that the film was far "too bleak". She tried to convince herself to sit through it but instead decided after twenty minutes that she had to go. I knew that the documentary was on the emotional issue of the city's growing youth violence but I still didn't get it.

I asked her if she felt that the director could have done anything more to make the film better, in her eyes. She stated that he should have added an element to "Street Soldiers" that at least gave the audience a small bit of hope that the condition in our streets would improve. Frustrated and with her mind made up, the sister repeated that the film was too bleak and told us that she understood that the lives portrayed in the film were someone's reality, but just not hers. She declared that it was a bright, sunny day and she'd rather be out riding her bike
....................

To the white teenager in Byron Hurt's "Beyond Beats and Rhymes: Masculinity in Hip-Hop", profiling in his dad's shiny Escalade bumping Fabolous' "Keeping it Gangsta" during BET's Daytona Spring Bling, and the sister cycling on a summer day through the same Boston streets where countless young lives have been lost: it's everything but the burden, right?

Sister, was it discomfort that truly caused you to leave? Are having the realities of Boston's youth come straight from the source, instead of an emotionally-detached newscaster, far past your comfort zone? It seems like you're looking for the hope of fairytales when "Street Soldiers" deals with real life.

To the brother who, during the Q&A, asked the director of "Kilombo Novo" how the teachings of the ancient Afro-Brazilian martial art form could be implanted into our schools, so that more youth could learn about life and peace: I see you.

I see your question's urgency and how it was thrown out there for the educators, decision-makers and parents in the audience, purposely putting the weight of necessary action on their shoulders. Brother, you understand that we are in a state of emergency and advantage must be taken of any moment we happen to come together, even if it is for entertainment.

At the conclusion of "Street Soldiers" a woman dropped her ballot in my box, after giving the documentary the highest score possible. She expressed that the language in the film was strong but as a mother of a 21-year-old Black male, who she calls every night to hear his voice and make sure he's more than alright, nothing could have made her leave her seat.

I shared with her the opinions of the woman who left earlier and she simply shook her head. She knows that "no one is going to save Dorchester, Roxbury and Mattapan but Dorchester, Roxbury and Mattapan."

i'm not perfect but nothing is wrong with me

2006-08-04T15:38:00.000-04:00

Pushing over 250 pounds and with a Myspace page repping the infamous Castle Hill Projects, it’s understandable why the other teens don't mess with her.

But I know better.

I hear the excitement in her voice when she asks if he’s in the gym and quickly signs in so she can find him. Minutes later, I see her eyes slowly lose expression when she realizes he’s too busy flirting with girls who wear tight clothes over bodies shaped like old school Coca-Cola bottles, to pay her any mind.

Jaz knows that in order for big girls to get shallow teenage boys to like them they have to play one of two roles: the extremely funny big girl who hopes that laughs will distract attention from her size or the tough big girl who is, without question, down for whatever. She’s decided long ago to be that hard big girl, threatening to shoot the fair one with the girlfriends of her crew’s enemies and clap up anyone that dares question her gangsta.

Though her exterior seems rough and she takes pride in being the only female to know the crew’s exclusive pound, the Program Director and I both notice how she yearns for the hugs the guys reserve for the svelte girly girls.

Everyone wants to be liked in that special way.

Next weekend I’m starting a workout group for the ladies. I know how intimidating it is to exercise next to women who simply go to the gym for minor maintenance, while you’re trying to shed some serious pounds.

I won’t guarantee that her crush will return the same feelings but I do hope that,regardless if she loses weight, she gains some self-esteem.

love of my life you are my friend

2006-08-01T16:31:00.000-04:00

After almost two months of living under the Ghanaian sun my love has come back to me. She has returned in better health and with bit more meat on her bones (*rolling eyes*- "Yeah..yeah ...heffa you're butt got bigger"), both things Mom is definitely happy about.

My younger sis needed to leave because the world is meant to be seen, especially by one who craves knowledge and had never ventured too far from home. But I am more than happy to have her back because there are only but so many things that can be shared in emails, on IM or during five minute long convos on shady foreign cell phones and a Sam's Club phone card.

She's in Boston for a few weeks so one day, while I prepared myself for work, I tried my best to fill her in on all the goings on of mutual friends (Remember Rach from high school? The one with the beautiful voice? Mmhmmm. We're invited to the wedding") and the family ("Shirgurl is doing alright but I can tell she's sad he had to go"). All this said I knew the story she had truly been waiting for.

I braced myself and reluctantly dug into my memory, searching for every single unfortunate detail so that she could understand, and see the entire hurtful picture.

Her eyes widened and several gasps escaped her mouth as I shared with her the series of events that occurred before and after I decided to let go. Already late, I promised that I would tell her the rest that evening. But she would have none of it. She quickly put on some clothes and joined me on my commute to work.

As we rode the packed Red Line, she looked me in the eyes, in that personal way only loved ones do, and called the deaded relationship toxic.

No judgement passed between us because she knows we're from the same place. A place where folks give it their all, in faith, and sometimes hope, that things will work out and reciprocity is truly real.

I take pride in being the one who gets requests for birthday money and a few bucks to pay cell bills. I love giving advice on crushes, friendships, clothes, life and old high school chemistry teachers who simply refuse to retire. I'm used to being asked to talk to Mom ("Can you pleeeeease talk to her for me? You know she listens to you") and critique election speeches, and English papers over the phone. And though I embrace my role as the oldest, there are times that I too lose my way and forget how to get myself back.

My younger sis and I sat in silence, allowing the story to marinate.

As we neared my stop, she reached over and hugged me. Letting me know that it's okay for everyone's everything, to shed my armor and allow the unconditional love of my kin to protect and soothe my heart.

On Some New York Ish

2006-07-26T12:10:00.000-04:00

Mad random, but lately Kindred and I have been wondering why seeing grown men in jean shorts just doesn't seem right.

And it came to me......

It's because I'm so used to seeing them worn with Timbs.

Aha. Aha! (like the old Jewish man in "Coming to America")

Just some of the randomness that is me.

allow me to reintroduce myself.......

2006-07-16T23:21:00.000-04:00

In my ear: Jay-Z Live Unplugged and some Lil' Wayne

Perhaps it's my pheromones or because the vibes I'm throwing out there are completely off.....Who knows? Whatever it is it's getting frustrating as all hell because the absolutely wrong people continue to approach me.

Tonight, I worked with the teens and met one of my coworkers named X. My first impression was that he seemed standoffish and uninterested in making small talk. I figured he was having a bad day, so I continued setting up the night's dinner and movie.

Later on in the evening as I tried to rewrite a press release, X apologized for his shady behavior and explained that his fulltime has had him stressed out lately. I told him not to worry about it and turned my attention back to my work. But I guess he didn't notice or care that I was busy because he commenced to talk my ear off.

Now, I can be a chatty person. I love learning about people and what interests them but once I have my glasses on, it's all about the work in front of me. Also, if we're going to talk let's discuss something interesting. But noooooo all X wanted to talk about was himself. He went on and on about all the things he's accomplished and how wonderful he is.

Yadda yadda yadda.

I fell out of my bored daze when the onesided convo finally found itself on the topic of X once serving as a teen director at a local center. Okay,I thought,perhaps we have something in common. I asked if he enjoyed working with youth and without hesitation he responded with a deadpan 'No'. I even observed his interaction with our teens tonight and he gets definite negative cool points. His tone was harsh and abrupt, as if dealing with the city's youth is far beneath him.

As soon as X started to ask for my number I immediately waved my supervisor over to critique my work.

Definitely not.

I'm aaaaalllllll set.

I used to get offended when guys I have no interest in attempted to holler. But now I wonder if it's me. Perhaps my presentation says I'm pretentious and often have an affinity for cooning.

*shrugging shoulders*

Who knows?

Reintroductions are definitely necessary because folks obviously have no idea.

Do Right Men and What They Have To Say...

2006-07-15T15:57:00.000-04:00

Idris Elba, Hill Harper, Reggie Bush, Michael Ealy, Tyler Perry and 45 other single Black men, share with Essence why they love Black women. Definitely worth checking out.

Ashe, Ms.Dunham. Ashe.

2006-07-14T21:29:00.000-04:00

"We weren't pushing Black is beautiful. We just showed it".

"I wasn't concerned about the hardships, because I always felt I was doing what I had to do, what I wanted to do and what I was destined to do".

“I used to want the words 'She tried' on my tombstone. Now I want 'She did it' ".

Hip-Hop Tidbits

2006-07-11T06:56:00.000-04:00

So Long to Black Jesus and Tip Drills

Not sure if it's 100% true but supposedly, after 6 years, BET has let go of the infamously controversial "Uncut". Hopefully, this means they'll try their hand at better programming but that's probably a futile dream.

Back to Where it All Began

According to the The New York Sun, New York is planning to open a hip-hop museum in the Bronx. Folks are already making noise about $1.5 million in capital funding being spent on such a project. We'll see what develops.

Suge's Never Ending Troubles

After being sued and filing for Chapter 11, Suge Knight loses control of Death Row Records. I guess it all makes sense. With Snoop and Dre gone, and the rise of the hyphy movement, Death Row has long since lost its strong hold on west coast music.

Welcome Back Danyel

Lately, I've been wondering what happened to Danyel Smith's blog. I guess it has to do with her,once again, becoming Vibe's Editor in Chief. Congrats Danyel! Big things are sure to come.

Hip-Hops Founding Father Sentenced
---------------
In non-hip-hop related news: Cassey Weierbach needs to be put under the jail for life. Her cell walls should be covered with photos of the 1 million plus African children who are now orphaned due to the AIDS epidemic. Maybe then, she'll realize how foolish she is.

excuse me as I kiss the sky.....

2006-07-09T10:02:00.000-04:00

I met JaHipster aka Tonya Matthews a few years ago at a NSBE conference and her cd of poetry still takes me to that place...

black angel haiku #6

It wasn’t slavery that stopped us
from flying.
It was

amnesia.

Who's Bad?

2006-07-03T16:56:00.000-04:00

Last Sunday, a small group of us trekked out to New Hampshire for some fun on the beach. Our afternoon was spent splashing around in the ice cold waves, napping and building sand cities.

Sun kissed and satisfied, we cruised back to Boston with disc one of MJ's HIStory playing in the background. We snapped to "Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough" and got a bit sentimental with "She's out of My Life"(I get choked up everytime I hear Mike's voice crack at the end). As we sang along to "Bad", it struck me how much things truly do change.

Your Butt is Mine

I remember watching the "Bad" video and thinking Michael was the ultimate thug. I know, I know crazy, right? But to my 8-year-old mind, a black cropped jacket with shiny silver buckles, long silky waves parted to the side, tight black pants and a group of hard male backup dancers, meant danger.

The word is out, you're doin' wrong

Gonna lock you up before too long

Your lyin' eyes gonna take you right

So listen up, don't make a fight

Your talk is cheap

You're not a man

You're throwin' stones to hide your hands

As his limber gang performed choreographed moves reminscent of West Side Story and Fame in a dark dank abandoned subway station, Michael menacingly thrusted his hips and grabbed his crotch. My younger self was scared for whatever acid washed jean wearing crew that dared to step to them.

Fast forward........

You Say You a Gangasta

Put that knife in ya, take a little bit of life from ya

Am I frightenin ya? Shall I continue?

I put the gun to ya, I let it sing you a song......

Y'all garages for bullets

Please don't make me park it in your upper level, valet a couple strays

Nowadays, supposed musically inclined thugs don't dance. Nah son, that's wild 'mo. Instead they have video honeys that handle that department. Oh, cropped jackets, form fitting pants and ballerina leaps? Yeah right! Are you serious? White tee night gowns are the uniform and the only time they're jumping is over cars and fences when the block is hot.

N***** know, the lyrics molestin is takin place

F****** with B.I.G. it ain't safe

I make your skin chafe, rashes on the masses

Bumps and bruises, blunts and Landcruisers

Big Poppa smash fools, bash fools

N***** mad because I know that Cash Rules

Everything Around Me, two glock nines

Any motherf***** whispering about mines

Today's 8-year-old? Maaaaan, they'd scoff at Michael's past claims of being bad, call him a wangsta and tell him to shut the hell up and sit down before 50 makes him cry. Kids are mean.

I'm scared to think who will be considered "hard" and "bad" when I have children.

Too much?

2006-07-01T03:15:00.000-04:00

Parts G.Garvin, Malcolm, John Henrik Clarke, Ted Thomas, D. Wade, Will and Harry Belafonte.

you can't sow yam and reap casaba

2006-06-24T01:41:00.000-04:00

Have things ever weighed so heavy on your heart, that the pressure awakens you from your sleep? That's exactly what happened to me Thursday morning. I immediately recruited a friend to come along as I beat the streets and attempted to tackle my lengthy to-do list.

We ended up by Coolidge Corner, when a small, obscure art deco antique spot caught our eyes. As we explored the shop, we couldn't help complimenting the owner on his breathtaking collection. A sprite like older Jewish man with grand hand gestures, he told us that his store has existed at the same location for 39 years and how Luther Vandross once spent over $100,000 on his antiques.

Obviously, one who loves an attentive ear, Mr. Mark shared with us photos of his marvelous three-story South End apartment and stories of his youth. The story that touched us was how after repeatedly applying to the School of the Museum of Fine Arts, he was finally admitted on his ninth try. When I asked why he didn't give up, Mr. Mark gave me an incredulous look and simply replied , "Because I wanted to be an artist." Point. Blank. Period.

He graduated at the top of his class due to his perseverance and the financial support of a Black woman who believed in the importance of artistic expression. It is her generosity that has inspired him to offer annual full scholarships to students entering his alma mater.

On our way out he left us with the quote: Live for today and tomorrow miracles will happen.

Inspired, we headed to Ten Thousand Villages, a fair trade store whose purpose is to ensure that artisans from countries like Haiti, Sri Lanka and El Salvador, receive direct profit from their crafts. On this trip, we were in awe of a set of delicate colorful multi-sized boxes made by large sea shells. As the store manager explained to us the process, I wondered how we could ever consider creators of such marvelous artwork to be have nots. We in westernized society supposedly have so much but I have yet to see us produce anything half as stunning. Our growing dependency on technology has blinded us to the beauty and value of our natural resources, making us the unfortunate ones.

As cliche as it may be, I believe wholeheartedly that all things in life happen for a reason. And as we left Ten Thousand Villages I was overcome by all my blessings. The pressure on my heavy heart subsided and right on the sidewalk, tears almost escaped my eyes as I felt the humbling power of how good God is.

I was overwhelmed by the realization that all I ever need to be fulfilled and happy, I've already been given.

Meet me at the barn.....it's going down

2006-06-24T00:24:00.000-04:00

Last Saturday, Kindred and her folks threw a celebration in recognition of her graduating from college and her two sisters finishing middle and high school. So, with our overnight bags, a bunch of us piled into cars and headed towards western Mass.

Forget the artists on Cribs and How I'm Living with their extravagant million dollar fish tanks, refrigerators filled with nothing but Cristal and shiny poles in the basement. I am not impressed.

Show me a home with a barn in the back and that's when I'll ooooo and awwww.

Yeah, I said it. B-A-R-N.

Right in Kindred's backyard is a dark red wooden barn, the same size of a one level, single-family home, with a front deck that leads to an above ground pool.

We spent the evening eating good ol' homecooked Haitian food, laughing, taking tons of pictures and dancing in the barn to music provided by our boy Jose from It Bees Like That Entertianment. As the sunlight subsided so did the debauchery and mayhem. In the late night we warmed up by a bonfire, ate s'mores and enjoyed the good company until 4 am.

With sleep still in our eyes, on Sunday morning we trekked down the road for breakfast at a small country diner, whose patrons obviously never saw Black folks in such large numbers before. As the temperature rose, folks said bump it to going back to Boston and hopped into the pool, in an attempt to beat the heat. Wanting to preserve my freshly done do, I opted to take a cold shower instead. But once they managed to push the Back Bay Madame , who's violently allergic to fun, into the water and she didn't come up swinging, my ache to cool off grew stronger. I finally couldn't take it anymore and jumped into the icy water, with my relaxer, pajama shorts, t-shirt and all. The humid afternoon was spent playing a hilarious game of water basketball and splashing around like kids.

My boy B from back home came through for the weekend and all my friends welcomed him into the family.

That weekend I finally, kind of sort of, understood the satisfaction those who aren't in school and are unemployed get from simply chilling. Being care and worry free definitely has its appeal but I just can't live that life for long. Way too ambitious for that.

It's nice to know though that when I need a little vacation and don't have the funds to jet out to St. Tropez and see a a man play the mandolin like Puffy, there's always a nice cozy spot in the boondocks of Massachusetts where I can hideout and relax.

The only sour part of the two day festivities was Kindred's teenage sister's friend (get it?) who is unfortunately lost. While folks scoffed at her behavior, were appalled by her choice of attire and deemed her destined for videos, my heart couldn't help crying for her. Because I know that people in her life are quick to call her degrading names and promise her material gains at the high cost of her selfworth. But who's taking the time to teach her her value?

My 50

2006-06-20T21:08:00.000-04:00

Folks have definitely caught tagging fever nowadays. I'll be a good sport and go along with it.

So, here goes my 50:

1. How tall are you barefoot?
5′1″ and a half. I didn't realize I was considered short until my freshmen year of college. I guess being tall is a state of mind.

2. Have you ever flown first-class?
Nope and I don't yearn to.

3. One of your favorite books when you were a child?
Dag, I've always been such a bookworm so choosing just one book is hard. If I must, I'd say A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.

4. A good restaurant in your city?
My life is shared between two cities right now.

NY:
During Memorial Day weekend Kindred's family put me on to Silk Road Palace on the Upper West Side. That was hands down some of the best Chinese food I've ever eaten. To top it off the waiter continued to fill our glasses with free white wine during our entire meal. Kindred and I made sure to pour a little out for the homies who couldn't be there.

Boston:
Due to health issues my girl Ro has spent the past year on a strict eating regimen. In the beginning it was hard for her to hang out because we would often go to or order food from restaurants that couldn't cater to her dietary needs. Things have gotten much better and for her birthday we discovered Grasshopper in Allston. There isn't any meat, chicken or seafood on the menu but the dishes are so good that it doesn't matter.

5. What is your favorite small appliance?
Right now, my iron. It's been able to work wonders.

6. One person that never fails to make you laugh?
My family and friends. Definitely people who recognize the healing power of laughter.

7. What's your favorite Christmas song?
O Holy Night.

8. What was the first music that you ever bought?
I think it was a TLC cd.

9. Do you do push-ups?
Nah.

10. What was one of your favorite games as a child?
Kickball.

11.What is the one thing that you cook that always receives compliments?
The fam loves my scalloped potatoes, spaghetti and barbecue chicken.

12. When you were twelve years old, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Always an author.

13. Your favorite Soup of the Day?
My mom's soup joumou. January 1st doubles not only as New Year's Day but also the anniversary of Haiti's independance. Since that day in 1804, Haitians around the world drink soup joumou. It is also tradition to bring the soup to the homes of friends and family. We drink it to celebrate our freedom and foster unity.

14. What in your life are you most grateful for?
So many things. But the one thing that I'm consistently grateful for is my family.

15. Have you ever met someone famous?
Yeah but fame is relative. Those I consider famous others may not know or care for.

16. Date Of Birth?
12-09-83. Gifts are welcomed.

17. Top 3 thoughts at this exact moment:
Wondering if it's the truth.
How I can help my girls find what they're looking for.
Why folks can't allow things to be simple.

19. Name five drinks you regularly drink:
Water, apple juice and ginger ale.

20. From what news source do you receive the bulk of your news?
Mostly the internet but also newspapers. Nothing beats holding the actual news in your hands.

21. Current hair?
Jet black, straight and shiny.

22. Current worry?
That things may take awhile to work themselves out.

23. Current hate?
Nothing at the moment.

24. Favorite place to be?
In or by the water.

25. Least favorite place to be?
Anywhere with negative energy.

26. Do you consider yourself well organized?
I'm an organized mess.

27. Do you believe in a afterlife?
I believe in heaven.

28. Where do you think you will be in 10 Yrs?
Definitely someone's mother, maybe someone's wife and anywhere but here.

29. Do you burn or tan?
What? I guess I tan. Always trying to become more darque. ( that was for you Kindred)

31. Are you more optimistic or pessimistic about the future?
Optimistic. I'm in far too many people's prayers to fail.

32. Last time you had an alcoholic drink?
Last Saturday.

33. What songs do you sing in the shower?
Usually some gospel.

34. What did you fear was going to get you at night as a kid?
I don't remember. I do remember just being scared of the darkness.

35. What's in your pockets right now?
My sweats don't have any pockets.

36. Last thing that made you laugh?
Someone telling me tonight that Pat Riley can be the next great leader in the Black community.

37. Best bed sheets you had as a child?
The Care Bears.

38. Worst injury you've ever had?
Praising God for only experiencing minor scrapes and bruises.

39. Favorite song?
Far too many.

40. How many TVs do you own?
One.

41. In the last calendar year, how many people have you told that you love them?
So many people. Can't even count.

42. Last thing that made you blush?
When one of my boys said that everyone can't help falling in love with me.

43. Best Compliment received?
"Woooooow! That's my dream girl," said by a teen in Dudley Square.

44. What song is in your head?
"One Last Cry" Brian McKnight.

45. What is your favorite book?
Too many to list one.

46. Last meal you cooked for the opposite sex?
Spicy shrimp, mixed vegetables, rice and a cake for dessert.

47. What songs do you want played at your wedding?
My girl since childhood always jokes that my wedding will a be nonstop concert since I love music so much. There will definitely be some good ol' r&b, classic soul, kompa and something to electric slide to. Oh! Definiately some Cameo and Maze!

48. What song do you want played at your funeral?
Anything uplifting and rejoiceful.

49. What were you doing at 12 midnight last night?
Laughing and having good conversation at the Reflection Pond.

50. What would you like to accomplish with the remaining years of your life?
I hope to help others and myself to be fulfilled and genuinely happy.

What's your 50?

we've come a long way, a mighty long way

2006-06-12T16:38:00.000-04:00

Way back in March, my mother let me know that she'd allow me to miss Easter Sunday if and only if I promised to come home for the church's march. So on a dreary Saturday evening I caught a ride on the Fung Wah and headed home to celebrate.

As my mother prepared Sunday dinner, I peered out the kitchen window at the dauntingly stubborn gray sky and noted that my new suit and satin pumps wouldn't withstand the rain. She assured me that God knew what day it was and He would send the sun down on time. Always steadfast, my mother went back to humming as she lowered the fire under the brown rice and beans.

Word of the march reached far. Over two hundred congregation members and supporters stood under umbrellas in front of the former worship space, waiting for the march to commence. It seemed that I was the only person concerned with the weather because no one else bothered to look up and acknowledge the dark clouds. I guess they had waited far too long for this day and would march through even the heaviest of snow if it was necessary.

As usual my mother was right. Once the police escorts arrived the sun sensed we were ready and chose to take its rightful place in the sky. Its rays shined so brightly that the prior rainstorm seemed like a figment of our imaginations.

The deacons and deaconesses took their positions in front holding the church's banner and both the Haitian and American flags. Behind them stood a Haitian marching band from Brooklyn dressed in pristine white uniforms and a large white pickup truck carrying several guitarists and a drummer.

Jenny, my girl since the days of colorful hair ribbons, and I decided to hold up the rear so that we could get a good view of the celebration.

Congregation members dressed in their Sunday's best and sensible flat shoes feverishly waved their Haitian flags as we made our journey through the city's streets. The further we walked the more the procession seemed to embrace the spirit. Apparently moved, the band's conductor, a handsome deep chocolate wiry man with microphone in hand, hopped onto the rear of the pickup truck and commenced to get the crowd crunked.

Men and women who once intercepted my notes during service and told me I was a fresh child when I asked how they knew my eyes were open during prayer if they were actually praying, lost all their inhibitions. The band caught the spirit and they began to play old celebration songs from back home. Sisters lifted their skirts a bit higher making it easier to dance and the brothers pumped their fists in the air as the music's tempo quickened. They looked more like revelers in Jacmel during carnaval or folks on Eastern Parkway during NY's West Indian Day Parade than participants in a church march.

A joyful chorus of 'HALLELUJAHS!' and 'AMENS!' filled the air once we reached our destination and the ribbon was ceremoniously cut. Several times I found myself in deep warm hugs and my cheeks moistened by damp kisses from those who still consider me 'the church's first baby'. Their eye's were misty from 22 year old memories of the living room of my step-father's old bachelor pad serving as their first worship space and how it soon became too small as more Haitians arrived in the city.

Eyes turned towards heaven and tears flowed freely as all the church's choirs sang a soul stirring rendition of Give Thanks. Pews filled quickly and those who couldn't find seats within the sanctuary instead stood in the aisles, outside on the church's steps and in the parking lot.

No one wanted to leave. They'd come much too far by faith to turn around.

an apology to the real good black men

2006-05-23T23:31:00.000-04:00

Dear Black Men,

We as Black women have done you a great disservice.

There was a time when statistics had us panicking. We could be found lamenting on the pages of Newsweek and the couches of Ricki, Sally and Montel about how we couldn't find any desirable single Black men.

We complained that most of you were either some baby's daddy, locked up, jobless and/or without degrees. You heard us repeatedly declare that we were in active search of a good Black man amongst all the defaults . Our definition of this man was one with a clean criminal record, career, at least one degree, his own place, car and no kids. We wanted our equal male counterpart and felt that if we could finally find this elusive good Black man that our lives would finally be fulfilled.

A few of you saw this list and realized that you had every single quality that Black women, at the time, desperately desired. Your chest protruded a bit more and you stood a few inches taller because you understood that your degree, car, no baby momma drama and the bills in your pocket meant that you were top choice. With that knowledge you got your serious mack swagger on and I don't blame you.

Across the country Black women were sistergirl high-fiving because some of us had finally found ourselves the Black man we always wanted.

But unfortunately all that falsely glitters eventually begins to fade.

I've heard the countless sad tales of friends, family and associates who were devastated to discover that their good Black men were arrogant, cheaters, inconsiderate lovers, elistists unconcerned with the issues of our race, self-centered, dishonest, faithless and uninterested in Black women.

We created a list of what we thought we wanted instead of what we need.

We forgot that educated doesn't mean faithful. We forgot that no baby momma drama doesn't promise that problems won't exist. We forgot that a mortgage and car in the driveway can't guarantee morals. We forgot that money in the bank won't necessarily ensure happiness.

We overlooked the Black men with kids who are actually committed to being fathers and raising them. We ignored the brother who made mistakes in the past, paid his dues and is trying to right his wrongs. Our noses went up at the hard working blue collar Black man putting in long hours so that he can take care of his responsibilities.

I completely agree with having standards, there are certain attributes that we simply won't bend on. But perhaps some requirements on our lists need to be bumped down or revised.

Black women have made a mistake. To the true good Black men, I apologize.

You are loved for all that you are.

Sincerely,

A Black Woman

spiritual renewal

2006-05-23T21:24:00.000-04:00

Looking for peace.

Thinking of fasting.

Let's see what happens.........

I admit that sometimes pride tries to hide my view
And even this gift that you gave me, I forget it’s for You
And all the many days and many ways Your grace I’ve abused
Still you were patient and Your love loved me through
But the wind still blows and the flower still grows and one thing is still true......

Without You life’s a wound that won’t heal

Without You, nothing in this world is for real
Without You, we're just actors on a stage
Like a child who's lost his way
Wouldn't be here today without You

This World

2006-05-23T11:26:00.000-04:00

Another child is born
Another race is won
Another dream is shattered
Another day has begun

This past weekend was spent hanging out in the dungeon with Kindred and the reclusive Back Bay Madame.

One of the many reasons why Kindred is... well... my kindred... is because she hates being confined, is always down for whatever and loves the sun as much as I do. So once we saw thin rays of light peeking through the two pinholes that the Madame has as windows, Kindred and I caught a serious case of cabin fever and needed to breakout.

After a walk to Cambridge we tried to make it back in time to meet up with the Dutchess and Madame for a sexuality workshop in Brookline but that definitely wasn't happening. While I showered up Kindred hopped on the computer to research what we could get into. She found info about an independent film festival that was going on in the SoWa neighborhood of the South End.

We tried calling some folks in an attempt to up the melanin level of the audience but unfortunately no one came through. I truly wished they did because what we caught of the festival was incredible. The documentary "BALLOONHAT" was our favorite hands down.

This world is still afloat
No not in Noah's boat
We've only lost the vision
Of the stars we're meant to be

The film follows balloon artist, Addi Somekh and photographer, Charlie Eckert who are disheartened by our media's love for sensationalism. Refusing to view the world as hopeless, they set out on a journey to prove that humankind needs joy to survive.

What stands out in the documentary is not only the breathtaking images but also the beautifully inspiring tales of their travels.

Hopefully, the film does well and their second chance at a publishing deal works out.

Somehow the balloon hats show that at the humancore all we want to be is happy.

Another broken heart
Another lesson learnt
Another harvest eaten
Another night is gone
A new day's begun
Even your dreams they can be real

that good ol' new jack swing

2006-05-18T20:50:00.000-04:00

Summer is soon approaching and concert season is around the corner.

So far Stephanie and Corinne are already occupying my time. Also the ladies are thinking about having a mother and daughter day to see Anita. I may add some testosterone to the mix by seeing Michael.

The last time I went to a concert at the one-time Fleet Pavilion, was four years ago to see Angie Stone, Gerald Levert and Luther Vandross. My friends and I were the youngest people in the audience but that didn't stop us from spending the night on our feet, singing along to Luther's classics. At the end of the show we left wanting to be his backup singers. Those ladies were fierce in their bright sequined gowns and undeniable vocal skills.

Saw old Jon B. and AZ Yet videos today and it made me wonder where all the "beggars" went. What happened to the brothers who used to croon about true love and how a good woman made them feel?

Where are the all male R & B groups with the seamless harmonies and temptation-esque sharp dance routines?

Instead, we're bombarded by oversexed Pretty Ricky asking your little sister to playhouse so they can eat (her) body out like lunch.

What the heck?

damn, when it hurts so good

2006-05-18T15:00:00.000-04:00

Maybe it's because the sun decided to come back.....

or the things he said....

or what she shared that inspired and made me think.....

Who knows. It doesn't matter.

Regardless of who, what and why, yesterday I ran.

I ran until my chest constricted, my thighs throbbed and sweat gathered right in that spot where my back curves.

I forgot how much I love running. I forgot how on those just right breezy sunny days J and I would have our running dates around the Charles, and compete to see whose legs could last the longest.

When I woke up early this morning with slight aches and sores, it brought back memories of how good and alive the hurt used to make me feel.

Her revolution will be recognized

2006-05-14T00:07:00.000-04:00

Congradulations Sarah Jones! The best is yet to come.

-----------
Your revolution will not be me tossing my weave
And making me believe I'm some caviar eating ghetto
Mafia clown
Or me giving up my behind
Just so I can get signed
And maybe have somebody else write my rhymes
I'm Sarah Jones
Not Foxy Brown
You know I'm Sarah Jones
Not Foxy Brown
Your revolution makes me wonder

Where could we go
If we could drop the empty pursuit of props and the ego
We'd revolt back to our roots
Use a little common sense on a quest to make love
De la soul, no pretense, but
Your revolution will not be you flexing your little sex and status
To express what you feel
Your revolution will not happen between these thighs
Will not happen between these thighs
Will not be you shaking
And me, [sigh] faking between these thighs
Because the real revolution
That's right, I said the real revolution
You know, I'm talking about the revolution
When it comes,
It's gonna be real
It's gonna be real
It's gonna be real
When it finally comes
It's gonna be real
Your Revolution, Sarah Jones

this black seed was planted to grow...

2006-05-11T21:27:00.000-04:00

I need to escape.

I must go somewhere. Anywhere.

The entire world has officially lost it's mind and I ...maann, I just got to go.

Ever yearn to see the good but the bad keeps blocking your view? And do you ever sense that sometimes unfortunately inorder for situations to improve they must get 10 times worse?

There was a time when you could have called me Ms. Optimist. My glass was once half full.

Unfortunately my feelings run deep and the chaos of the world tends to weigh heavy on my heart. Due to all the wear and tear my glass now has an irreparable leak and all this craziness has clouded the clarity of its exterior.

To be honest, I'm not even too concerned for myself . It's my children I worry for.

How are they going to grow up in this?

I know, I know I'm only 22 and I don't have kids. But the fact remains that one day I will be a mother, so it's imperative that I now contemplate how and where I want to settle down and anchor my roots.

The United States is almost completely out of the question because when it comes to crazy, the USA is Public Enemy #1. Perhaps I should 'quit America' and head to St.Kitts like Randall Robinson.

I'm actively searching for fertile land y'all.

Land made to nurture my future strong, proud and culturally responsible Black seeds.

Any ideas?

----

From the time you were born, . . .

wherever that place may be, this beautiful black seed was
planted, planted to grow and be free . . .whether its bed of
soil was a city of cement and steel, coldhearted haven,
midwest middle of the road village site, big city bright
with glamour and hidden sights, a grit and grace
paradise, or a down home dirt field south of the border,
with the moon as the only streetlight.

This Black seed was planted to grow . .

this Black seed planted to feel the sunlight.

From the Time You Were Born, Charles McClain

feel like a child...wishing there was some kind of heaven

2006-05-09T23:21:00.000-04:00

the most innocent of victims have suffered the longest.

wicked and evilous

2006-05-08T21:58:00.000-04:00

these past few weeks have been interesting to say the least.

my sister is right: black folks, especially west indians, love to be 'scandalized'. we are definitely entertaining storytellers. no matter how small each tale is told with grand hand movements, animated facial expressions and varying accents to approriately acknowledge all characters involved.

some of the best storytellers i know are my girls. our ladie's breakfasts/lunches/dinners always turn into a ladie's day or weekend because everyone always has several stories to share.

our tales can range from the hardships of running a business from home, finally satisfying a curiousity, preparing for married life, arguing an eviction notice to an electrifying late night rendevouz in a not so discrete location.

in one another's company we are able to momentarily shed our sometimes cumbersome strong black women's armor and allow the entirety of who we are to be laid bare. together we share our passions, fears, insecurities, questions and desires. what cements our bond is food and laughter, which always overflows with abundance when we come together.

great food and great laughs is what heals the heart and fills the soul.

this summer there's sure to be much eating, sharing, scandalizing, building and adventures.

speaking of strong black women, i'm not too sure how i feel about this.

whenever someone who isn't black mentions black people i feel my ears perk up a bit and my back muscles tighten in prepartion of the possibilty of hearing something that may require me to duly check someone.

is it being sensitive or simply aware? can it be a combination of both and on somedays maybe more one than the other? i do admit there are some of us that draw the race card a little too quickly, while others are way too hesitant.

2006-04-28T19:03:00.000-04:00

call it what you will, but hate is hate.

2006-04-27T19:13:00.000-04:00

you ever hear something that you're just not ready for? and once it hits your ears and registers, you really can't believe that you actually heard correctly?

that's how i feel when my friends and i get together. i swear the things that come out of their mouths is straight up and down unbelievable. whenever and wherever we gather there's sure to be theatrical hand gestures accompanied by quotable remarks. most of the time i'm either crying and/or holding my belly from laughing so hard.

i spent the afternoon with one of my girls that i haven't seen in awhile. a few of us pack into my girl's car and she tells us about how ,as of last night, she let go of her most recent trifling bed buddy. she says that the guy has been 'baby baby pleasing' all day trying to get her back but she will have none of it. so i'm sitting in the backseat listening to one of the funniest stories i've ever heard and attempting to recover from some of her smart remarks from earlier this afternoon, when she has the whole car in hysterics with this one:

"I finally told him to consider us like edible panties: you can get one good use out of it but try regurgitating that sh*t and it's just not the same."

so today i got some much needed legal advice with a side of good ol' humor.

laughter is a definite cure-all.

first love, standing first in line

2006-04-24T19:30:00.000-04:00

i went home this weekend and spent time with my boy b. i've known b since the 10th grade and it's been interesting watching my first love find his way towards becoming a man.

i would have never imagined being with him in high school but somehow it happened and it made sense. we fit. grown folks would often comment on how mature our love was and how happy we seemed. from administrators to teachers to students, everyone was interested in our relationship. to this day whenever i go home someone wants to know how b is doing and whether we're still together.

though our relationship was definitely mature in many aspects, we were still teenagers and we definitely had our dramas. we joke now that back then we were on some serious black dawson's creek sh*t. there were strong emotions, public displays of adolescent affection, out of control hormones and too many tearful hallway episodes to count.

there were good times and bad and i wouldn't go back to change a thing.

though our romantic feelings for one another have dissipated, our love has manifested itself into something comforting and genuine. i've been there for the females who came after me, giving some a thumbs down and rooting hard for others. i'm rooting for the woman he's with now and i pray for his overall happiness.

b and i have gone from teenage lovers to semi-adult friends attempting to find our niche in life.

in the may issue of essence there's an article about a woman who was invited to her ex's wedding. though she was unsure of attending she finally does and is happy with her decision. she finds closure in witnessing her old lover exchange vows with another woman and in the end understands why he wanted her there and why she went-- "because there is comfort in having people around who knew and loved you back then, and who can find a way to accept and celebrate the person you are becoming right now."

how true it is.

just like a song in my heart......

2006-04-19T21:07:00.000-04:00

a few days ago my beautiful best friend/sister sent me a wonderful package meant to lift my spirits and make me feel loved. in it was a mix cd with music from corinne bailey rae. it's been in constant rotation at my place and i'm hooked. she is definitely what's up.

ashe

2006-04-18T12:28:00.000-04:00

Another life was lost this Easter Sunday and a close family friend is gone. His wife, 3 sons, community and business are all left wondering how and why.

We're taught it's only the "bad guys" and gang bangers who die by the gun and that living the life of the straight and narrow will keep you out of harms way. But Brother Estilian's death proves that's not true.

I pray for my dear "Fast", a Haitian immigrant who came to the United States in search for her piece of the American dream, who is now faced with the challenge of running a business and raising 3 young Black men on her own. I pray for 3 sons who are angry and searching for answers. I pray that they know that revenge ends in nothing but heartache. I pray that they continue to cherish life and won't be afraid to live it. I pray for a community who works diligently to shield their children from the dangers of a land that's not their own. I pray for us all.

no one, and nothing goes unchanged

2006-04-18T10:51:00.000-04:00

This past weekend was AMAZING! Aside from being oh so shamed by a 5 year old who wrote me a note to "STOP TALKING!"(HAHAHA!), there was a TON of reflecting, eating, sharing and laughing.

It's surreal the various yet to be experienced journeys that lay ahead for my friends and me. There are some of us that are taking our romantic relationships to the next level by cohabitating or tying the knot. Others who are applying for jobs in places they never thought they'd want to live. This is all exhilarating and scary. The things we say, the time we spend together, our feelings, our doubts, who we are .........everything now just means more real. Who knows what our future holds but we're all stepping out on faith in ourselves, each other and somebody bigger that in the end we'll be more than fine.

I'm making a lot of decisions nowadays and there's one in particular that I'm hoping my feelings are right about.

Ms.Nina Simone has it right. Everything must change.

Oh if you love fashion and helping out a good cause please hit up this up in support of Rosie's Place.

2006-04-13T21:53:00.000-04:00

what a difference a day makes....

2006-04-05T21:08:00.000-04:00

You'd think that I had a huge gaping bloody wound with my heart hanging out of it by the way men have been hovering around me like starving vultures. It's actually somewhat funny because a lot of these guys who have approached me recently do have this crazed hungry look on their face as if they're looking for a meal and I'm their favorite item on the menu. HAHAHA!

What kills me is that a few of them are guys that I have already told that I'm not interested. I mean damn! I know that my heart is hurting but I'm definitely not suffering from head wounds so my memory is fine. LOL! I can't front I have definitely been entertained. I guess I can't knock a few fellas for trying. It's been feeling good to smile.

I saw this yesterday and I'm starting not to be surprised anymore.

2006-04-04T05:50:00.000-04:00

Thanks to all those that reached out after my last post. I know as E said the entry was real cryptic but I truly appreciate all the love. It's definitely what made this past week somewhat bearable. It started off shaky and ended pretty well. Don't get me wrong- I'm still hurting but the tears have been gone since last Wednesday and sleeping has become a little easier. I've been productive and spent a lot of time with friends.

One of my friends, who has no idea what's been going on lately, asked me early last week to keep my schedule open Friday around 2. I wasn't allowed to ask any question. All I had to do was be ready by 2 o'clock sharp. We ended up at a day spa and wellness center at some random shopping plaza in Woburn. I was surprised with a chocolate pedicure and a 30 minute massage. It was explained that since my birthday the surprise was planned but because of the snowstorm that day everything had to be rescheduled. Part of me wanted to leave the salon because it's hard for me sometimes to accept gifts but I thought about all that's been going on and decided to let it go. Everything happens for a reason and the massage and pedicure came at the right time. I was touched because this friend didn't and still doesn't know all the things that has transpired as of lately but nevertheless wanted to show how much our friendship has meant.

This weekend I visited a girlfriend and her 1 month old son. It's been awhile since I've spent time in an actual home and not just an apartment full of random folks. Her mom made some damn good Haitian food and we spent the afternoon admiring the baby and talking. My girl's father joined us and we were all immersed in a 2 hour conversation on

Haiti

.

He expressed to us that Haiti

can not be saved. Being young and optimistic Haitians we argued that there's hope and the last thing we should do is abandon the island. He went into a story of how Haitians are still living in 1802, the year they defeated the French and took over the island. He explained that as African slaves we could no longer take the brutal treatment of our captures in a place that wasn't our home, so we revolted and overthrew them. He expressed the purpose of a revolt isn't to remain in a foreign land but to return to what you know but being slaves returning to Africa wasn't an option. So they were forced to make a home in the land of their oppressors.

It's like being kidnapped from your parent’s home and forced live and work at someone else’s house. One day shit gets real and you decide to be rid of your captors. You're unsure how to return home so you're forced to stay where you are and start anew. How can you genuinely care and upkeep this new home when there are memories of what occurred there? That is why he believes that Haitians misuse the land and can only care about what it can do for them.

He said that if there were two piles, one consisting of visas ,to get out, and guns , to kill all the wrongdoers on the island, that the pile of visas would disappear first and those who are left will pick up the guns.

No one truly wants to stay.

a labor of love....

2006-03-22T12:33:00.000-05:00

This Monday I was honored by a campus group called Brothers About Change with a Women of Distinction Ethel Payne Award of Excellence in Journalism.

While I was visiting my sister in Durham I recieved a message from the org's president asking me to get at him about the ceremony. Being that I helped with nominations the year before I assumed he was calling to see who I had in mind for this year's awards. When I called him back he informed me that I in fact was one of the women being honored. My honest and exact words to him were 'Why?! I don't do sh*t.' I said that not due to false humility but because I feel that I don't do much and always wish to do more.

Those who aren't close friends wouldn't believe this but,at times, I am a very shy person. Compliments and recognition aren't things that I'm comfortable with. I don't do things for the praise of others but simply because I figure if I didn't who will?

Though they admire my dedication people have often asked me why I've sacrificed many nights of sleep and chill time to produce a publication that some at the university consider irrelevant. And there have been many nights sitting in front of the computer when I thought I may be crazy and questioned my purpose. But I've realized early that there is a struggle out there and regardless how much Northeastern wishes to separate itself from the outside world, the university is a microcosim of the society which surrounds it. I may not be able to deliver thought provoking speeches or mobilize large groups to protest but writing is my passion, it is my small offering towards progress.

I remember earlier this semester I wanted to organize a small roundtable discussion with current and past members of the Onyx. I sent out an evite and recieved a response from a woman who regretfully couldn't make it since she now lives overseas. She shared with me how happy she is to hear that the Onyx is striving and told me that though working on the publication isn't always easy it's a labor of love that keeps it going.

In their short exsistance Brothers About Change has come a loooooong way. BAC is an organizatioin of Black and Latino men at Northeastern who created the Women of Distinction Award inorder to combact the negative and onesided images of Black and Latino women in the media. They use the award to recognize women at NU who strive daily to postively shape and impact those among them. I remember the obstacles their former president Johnathan went through inorder to make his vision of the award ceremony become a reality. Now he has graduated, works in the financial aid office and serves as BAC's faculty advisor.

He opened up Monday's ceremony with a speech on the 8 characteristics that his woman of distinction is comprised of. Each characteristic matched up to past and current honorees and he gave me the gift of creativity. The most touching moment was when Major, a student at Berklee College, sang a heart melting rendition of You Are So Beautiful. Though the songs lyrics are simple Major's blessed vocals made them resonate in my heart. I hope someone recorded it.

In Their Eyes Were Watching God Zora Neale Hurtson described women "as the mules of society" and it's refreshing to see a group of young men unapologetically recognize the tireless work of Black and Latino women. Not only was I touched to be the only student this year to recieve the award but to also be in the company of Alejandra Lombardo who is the acting Director of the Lation Student Cultural Center and especially Dean Lula Petty-Edwards of the African-American Institute.

I actually spent much of Monday afternoon interviewing Dean Petty for an article and she's always dropping gems of knowledge. She is definitely a force and to stand beside her as a fellow woman of distinction, I will do my all to uphold that title.

2006-03-21T19:08:00.000-05:00

I swear my life changes every second. When I finally get in front of a computer to update this thing so many things have already happened and feelings felt that sometimes I wonder what's the point of blogging at all. .... But no worries: I love to share and I LOVE to write so I eventually don't stay gone for too long.

Last Wednesday and Thursday I attended a youth worker's conference and I've been on a high ever since. I've attended plenty of conferences and far too many have dry impersonal icebreakers and for some reason put me in an antisocial place. But on Thursday I deviated from a workshop that was chosen for me and found myself joining Telling Our Stories which was facilitated by an amazing woman named Justice.

We started the workshop by forming a circle, saying our names and organization and sharing with the group the last time we wrote in our journals. Some shared simply the time of their last journal writing and others went into what they wrote about. What this icebreaker did was immediately create the sense of a safe community-- a place where our feelings and insights could be shared without fear and hesitation. One man from City Year shared that the last time he wrote in his journal he thought about his grandfather and his unrelenting commitment to service. At that moment an intense sense of self and purpose penetrated me. All my life I have always felt the need to help others and simply hearing the guy from City Year express his commitment out loud caused mine to become more real.

Justice asked us all to pick one ancestor card, internalize the word written on the front of it and share why we thought out of all the cards on the table we ended up with the ones in our hands. Many people in the circle were tripped out by the word the word they chose. One older woman had the word courage and shared with us that she always thought of herself as a courageous person because where she grew up being afraid and unsure wasn't an option. Receiving the word courage shook her up because she's in a place in her life right now where she is afraid and is facing various issues that she's uncertain she can rise above.

My word was serenity- something that I wish to truly reach one day.

Taped to the various walls of the room were large sheets of paper with the words: love, spirituality, power and I think peace. Justice asked everyone to gravitate towards the word that means something to them and to collectively create a poem. Due to various things going on in my life right now I was drawn to love. My group decided to simply write down whatever came to mind when we thought of love. In the end we created a free flowing poem that was perfection. One woman ended the poem by stating that "it's all we need" and spontaneously started to sing Mary J's Love is All We Need. We were all shocked to see this white teacher in her mid to late forties belting out word for word one of the Queen of R&B's classics.

I will be forever affected by that workshop and the people I met that day. It's rare to get a group of folks to step outside their comfort zones and that day we connected far beyond being youth workers and more as people.

2006-02-24T10:33:00.000-05:00

This time tomorrow I'll be on a plane to Durham, North Carolina to see my younger sis and best friend star as the leading role in a Duke University production. I know that in true sister fashion we're going to have so much fun it'll be illegal.

I have tons to post about but no time. When I get back I'll be sure to get on this blogging thing.

2006-02-15T16:53:00.000-05:00

I still don't know when Black.White will air but on tomorrow's episode of Oprah both familes will be guests. I don't watch Oprah religously but I will try my best to catch this episode.

my 4 things

2006-02-13T11:32:00.000-05:00

Folks are tagging all crazy so I guess I'll go along with it:

Four jobs I've had:
1. Intern at Koch Records ( one of the best and most profitable summers in my life)
2. Assistant Director for Westchester Broadway Theatre
3. Project Assistant for City Wide Dialogues on Boston's Ethnic and Racial Diversity
4. Retail - Armani Exchange, the GAP, United Colors and Grand Opening!

Four movies I can watch over and over:
1. Brown Sugar
2. Steel Magnolias
3. Bronx Tale
4. City of God

Four Places I have lived:
1. Boston, MA ( Hyde Park and Jamaica Plain)
2. White Plains,NY
3. Irvington, NY
4. Brooklyn, NY (whenever my mother was pregnant my dad would haul us to my Aunt Rita's house)

Four Shows I love:
1. Quantum Leap
2. Different World
3. Living Single
4. NY Undercover

Four highly-touted TV shows I detest ( I don't necessarily detest any show but there are some I don't watch):
1. Seinfeld
2. Friends
3. most of the shows on BET ( I prefer TV One)
4.

Four books I'd recommend to anyone, anytime:
1. Jubilee -- Margaret Walker
2. Song of Solomon-- Toni Morrison
3. What Looks Like Crazy -- Pearl Cleage
4. A Gathering of Old Men -- Ernest J. Gaines

Four places I have vacationed:
1. Spain
2. Virginia
3. California
4. Florida

Four of my favorite dishes:
1. BREAKFAST! -- I LOVE breakfast! eggs, home fries, grits, beef or vegeterain sausage links or patties, pancakes with strawberries or blueberries and a TALL cold glass of orange juice
2. Jerk chicken, rice and peas, sweet plantains and cabbage
3. Shrimp Pad Thai
4. My mom's spicy conch and brown rice. Actually my mom's anything is my favorite.

Four sites I visit daily:
1. Yahoo
2. Other people's blogs
3. Google
4. Dictionary.com

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. Home with the family
2. NY period
3. Ghana
4. Visiting my girl in Costa Rica

this, that, and the third

2006-02-01T23:13:00.000-05:00

Many new developements in my life. Things are getting realer then real right now. And though there are many changes I somehow feel an overwhelming sense of calm. I have been so blessed and I'm learning to let it go and let God. Going through a spiritual renewal right now guys and it's and interesting journey........

There's a lot going on in the world that's catching my attention right now.

When I saw the commerical for this I was on it. In this unprecedented four-part PBS series, African-American Lives, explores how many of us are unaware of the stories of our individual ancestors. Host and narrator Henry Louis Gates, Jr. helps his guests , which includes Quincy Jones, Oprah Winfrey, Whoopi Goldberg, Chris Tucker, and Bishop T.D. Jakes, trace their roots and history. Call me emotional but seeing the commercial caused prideful tears to swell up in my eyes. I'm going to do all I can to catch it.

Another tv show that I'm looking forward to seeing everyone's reaction to is Black. White. which is an upcoming originial series on FX Networks with Ice Cube as an Executive Producer. The premise is that a black family and white family trade races and are able to "really" experience how the other lives. I haven't wrapped my feelings around this one quite yet but what I heard last fall about it, and I already suspected, is that the white family are the ones who have the hardest time with their experience and the black family felt as if they didn't learn anything new. This should be interesting ...to say the least. Once it airs be sure to stay tuned I'm definitely going to have a lot to say on it.

I love BRAVO's Inside the Actor's Studio and I love Dave Chappelle. So when I heard that Dave would be on the show to dispell the rumors I was more than happy. Check out the video clips Dave definitely drops some gems of knowledge. It's scheduled to air Sunday, February 12 8:00 PM and again Sunday, March 5 8:00 PM. Dave's also on Oprah this Friday.

Coretta Scott King is one of our ancestors now and her passing hit me hard because during my research project for Northeastern's online exhibit I discovered that the university honored Mrs.King with an honorary degree during the height of the university's racial conflict. I was also deeply effected because slowly but surely our leaders are aging. As I get older I wonder who among us will pick up the torch.

I'm definitely going to catch my girl Sanaa's Something New. I support all of her projects and feel that she's one of the best actresses in the industry...black or white. period. Word on the street is that a lot of brothas love Sanaa but definitely don't have love for her character falling for a white man. Something New is another topic I haven't quite wrapped my feelings around yet. I'm going to save all comments and opinions till after I see it this Friday.

I signed up for this and I'm hoping that I get picked to attend. Boston in need of a serious intervention immediately.

Mr.West being Mr. West.

This is basically biting off of this and this. Tsk..tsk..tsk.

Question: Am I a trader if my darling is rooting for the Seahawks and I have a feeling that the Steelers will win on Sunday? Just asking.....oh and for the two of you who are faithful to this blog--lol-- Mr.Man is currently Mr. My Boyfriend.

Let's talk about....

2006-01-14T01:46:00.000-05:00

Everyone is talking about sex. Sex seems to be the popular topic of choice.

I was beside myself when my 16 year old sister told me she was interested in sleeping with her boyfriend. I know that she's in almost all advance placement classes, president of her class for three years, in orchestra and holding down a part time job but I still couldn't imagine my baby...my little Shirlgirl being intimate with her barely 17 year old boyfriend or anyone. period. But I knew that she told me because I'm the oldest and she respects my feelings. So I told her not to make any decisions until we could talk face to face. The next weekend my second oldest sister came up from Durham,NC and Shirlgirl traveled from New York so that we could meet up in Boston and have a uncensored sister's heart to heart. I wanted to tell her things that she couldn't learn in health class or read in the pages of Cosmopolitan. We talked about it again during Christmas break. And though I didn't "forbid" her, I let her know that it never hurts to wait. I'm thankful that her boyfriend is the sweetest 16 year old I've ever met and agrees that waiting is a good idea. So for now the two horny teenagers are going to hold it down and keep it in their pants. I don't know how long this waiting will last but I hope that regardless what she decides Shirlgirl will always feel that I'll be there for her.

Once again lets talk about sex........

New Year's day I went along with one my girls to our friend's house who disappeared on us on new year's eve. So I went to her apartment hoping to find out what she could of possibly gotten into to have her gone that night. Our girl told us how she met up with a guy she met a few months ago. On paper this brother sounds marvelous: he's employed (forgot where but it I remember the name sounding real important), he's owns a business and models on the side, has a car and is in the process of buying a condo. My girl was pysched to get up with him because they ran into each other again a few weeks ago and the chemistry was intesnse.

Long story very short they ended up back at his place on new year's eve and it was a disappointment. He was an inconsiderate lover and basically came up short. My girl tried to make the best of a bad situation but it just wasn't happening. She wouldn't have cared so much if he apologized or acknowledged his shortcomings but this guy basically saw himself as a well endowed Don Juan who laid it down right. As she told us the story I truly felt for her. I knew how badly she wanted to hook up with someone since she was leaving the country to teach abroad for several months.

I let her know that there were pretty clear signs that he probably wouldn't be a good lover:

He continuously talked about himself. He never was curious about her. This basically shows that as lover he'd be inconsiderate, only concerned with is needs and lacks communication which is extremely important in a satisfying sexual experience.
It's cool to have self esteem but this guy was gassed. Several times he referred to his material assets and how much women sweat him. I'm sticking to my theory that humble men make some of the best lovers. A man who's confidant but still feels that he can improve in certain areas usually is attentive and eager to please.

Sitting there I realized that if you're having sex how important satisfying sex really is. Great sex can put a little pep in your step and have you floating around on cloud 9. Bad sex on the other hand can cause you to become moody and dead a relationship before it even has a chance to start.

Speaking of sex, senior year is when you learn about who's been creeping with who, the girlfriend/boyfriend who had no idea they've been cheated on and the hearts that have been broken in the process. Perhaps I spend too much time in my own world or just don't care too much for other people's business but I had no idea how crazy things are here. But I guess when you live and work somewhere that eventually some playing goes down.

The connections on campus are so ridiculous that it's almost incestuous.I am SO thankful that out of the 5 years I've been here that I've never dated and/or been intimate with anyone at this school except for Mr. Man (who I'm starting to feel bad that I call him tha since our relationship is getting serious). If a new STD is discovered on this campus at least I won't be on line at the University's clinic waiting for a vaccine.

I have no problems with sexual freedom and I respect men and women who are honest about what they want. But all this sexing without protection makes no sense to me. While in college I've heard far too many stories of unexpected aborted pregnancies and the passing of STDs. I know the saying "we're just young, dumb and full of cum". okay. And "sometimes you get caught up in the moment". fine. But there should be a point when taking avoidable risks with your body is no longer acceptable. And hopefully that point doesn't come in the waiting room while you're praying that you aren't and hoping that you don't.

2006-01-10T20:47:00.000-05:00

I recently went to the doctor's to start the year off right and make sure everything is in tip top shape. Taking care of yourself is a great feeling. I figure if I make it a habit now to stay on top of all dental, eye, and physical exams that it will possibly spare me a lot of complicatons as I age.

I was a little uncomfortable during my physical because my usual doctor no longer works there so now I have to get used to a completely new one. I liked Dr. Arnold a lot because no matter how backed up with appointments she was you could never tell. She was always sweet and seemed sincerely concerned with everything, not just my health but also my school work and personal life. While she would check my blood pressure and heart rate we'd discuss the books we were reading and current events. We'd even continue chatting like two long time girlfriends while she checked my southern region. This new doctor is aight . There's just something awkard about her. Since she just started I'll chalk up her jitters to being new.

At the end of my appointment I had some blood work done and started chit chatting with the nurse in the lab. She was a middle aged black woman who seemed to be feeling the weight of her long day. I noticed that as when she stuck my arm with the needle that her touch was that gentle. Sitting there my mind began to wonder how she probably was when she first started. Most likely she started out wanting to be a nurse due to the genuine desire to help others and she probably handled her first patient with great care as if they were fragile. I guess after a long day and years of performing the same ol' job that everyone's arm looks the same. After awhile it's all a mindless routine done to pays the bills. Though my arm was sore I felt a little sad for her. Call me a dreamer, optimisitic, or just blame young and dumb but I want the career I end up with to fufill me. I want my work to be satisfying and to be secure enough that if I tire of one job that other options are still available.

what's my motivation?

2005-12-28T19:23:00.000-05:00

Last night a few of my girls and I went out to a Vivian Green concert. This was my second Vivian show and she definitely does not disappoint. Whatever man/men did her so wrong that she could make 2 albums about it... all I can say is daaaaaaaaaaamn!

I absolutely LOVE her first cd. It was one of the albums that became the soundtrack to the summer of my sophmore year, since my roommates and I kept it in constant rotation. I haven't bought her most recent work but from the songs she sang last night it sounds pretty decent.

Hearing her voice fill B.B. Kings last night reminded me that I don't sing anymore -- not that my voice has certified gold potential or anything but I've been known to hold a note. Seeing Vivian on that stage pouring out all of her heart made me realize that I've allowed many things that I love and make me who I am to dissipate out of my life.

I've been so caught up with simply living and helping others that all my side projects and hobbies have gone neglected. What's far far far far worse than me not singing is that I haven't really been writing much. Other than assignments and a few pieces for the magazine I haven't written anything just for me. I can't remember the last time I wrote a poem or worked on one of my several unfinished stories.

I'm feeling uninspired. I haven't really been on it like I usually am or like I can be. I have all these ideas and thoughts running through my head but my creative juices just can't seem to flow down to my fingers. Maybe when undergrad is all said and done I'll have more time and inspiration will comeback to me.

Oh another thing I was thinking about last night is that folks have a tendenacy of over thinking things and making it bigger than it needs to be. Sometimes things are simple and genuine--nothing more and nothing less. I know it's random but that's what was on my mind last night.....

missing you

2005-12-28T00:21:00.000-05:00

my father passed away december 26th, 1994. and though it's been 12 years sometimes the pain still feels fresh.

get ready--tonight is a night to remember

2005-12-19T11:14:00.000-05:00

December 9th I turned 22.

For as long as I can remember my birthdays have always been hit or miss. With finals, holiday season and the death of my father all in the same month my day of birth sometimes simply gets caught up in the mix.

Last Friday I had an 8 o'clock final and unfortunately ran errands in a crazy ass storm that consisted of snow and thunder. That night I ended up at a holiday party since I figured all my friends would be there but I was wrong. I knew only a handful of people because most of my loves ones were tired or just didn't feel like trekking through the snow. Being a light weight to the second power and feeling a little sad on my bday I ended up drinking too much wine. Lets just say that my sexy was definitely not preserved.

The next day I recounted my birthday night to my girl Mel. I told her that all I really wanted was good food, lots of laughs and to be in the ocmpany of friends. Mel asked me not to worry and promised to make it happen. All I had to do was be ready after work to go out.

Saturday, December 10th, 2005 was one of the best birthdays and nights of my life! We went to this place called King's and shut the place down. The food wasn't all that amazing but they made mojitos just the way I like them which means a lot because not a lot of spots can make mojitos right. Our waiter was named Benjamin but since a lot of us were New Yorkers we ended up calling him Benny all night. Benny was great and at the end of his shift made sure to find us and let us know we were his best customers.

What brought the night all together was the music. The music at King's was crazy! We asked Benny who the dj was and he told us that it was actually a mix of songs put together by all the employees. We were shocked because the playlist was absolutely flawless. It was a perfecrt mix of early 90s rap and r&b. We snapped our fingers and swayed to Biggie, New Edition and Mary as we ate our food. After awhile we couldn't take it anymore so we got up and started dancing - nevermind that King's doesn't have a dancefloor.

The laughs that night were endless. There was a lapdances, a soul train line, and dancing on tables. From the staff to the other folks there that night--everyone was included in our fun.

What I couldn't get over that night is that NO ONE attempted to kill our joy. In the almost 5 years that I've been in Boston there has often been a Joy Killer or Debbie Downer around. But that night not one single person told us to get off the tables or asked us to keep it down.

As we finally put on our jackets to leave I was struck by an intense sensation of dejavu and it some how felt comforting. We ended the night two stepping out Temptation style to Kweli's Never Been in Love Before.

I truly believe birthdays can only be wonderful when spent with loved ones and when everyone feels as if it's there birthday too. Mel said it best when she said that it was sincerely the best birthday party she ever had/went to and called the whole experience "spiritual". Spiritual meaning that feeling you get when all is right and every part of your being is content.

That night's joy spilled over into the rest of my week and had me floating. Since I'm getting older and this being my last year as an undergrad, I've decided to back track and close some things in my life. I want to leave Boston with a very small list of should ofs, could ofs, and would ofs. So I'm supposed to be getting up with someone when I go home for the holidays--we'll see if that happens and what transpires if it does. I know that I can't go back and fix everything but I'll try my best.

Mel, Nissi, and I hosted a grown & sexy holiday party this past Saturday. Since we served wine and champagne in red plastic dixie cups we concurred that we don't have the grown part down yet, so it was still sexy but more like young and sexy. We dimmed the lights, put up white christmas lights and had candles everywhere to set the mood.

The holiday party was another incredible evening. Since it was a dinner party all guest were asked to bring wine/champagne/a dessert and come dressed in cocktail attire. Folks truly did it up. The dresses were banging and there were some brothers definitely holding it down.

Thanks to the cooking expertise of Mel and I the guests kept smacking their lips after tasting the stuffed clams, shrimp, green beans and teriyaki chicken we cheffed up. And Ms. Barbara definitely made some serious Haitian rice and beans.

The mix of guests was perfect because Mel, Nissi and I have several mutual friends and associates. Towards the end of the night someone decided to blow out the candles, turn off the christmas lights, move the coffee table and get the party started. Several ladies took off their high heeled shoes and it was officially on. We electric slided it, soul trained it, and two stepped it up until we were all way too tired to move.

Though I'm happy for all these wonderful moments with friends, it's causing me to miss one girlfriend in particular. I feel as if I'm losing her and it's because she seems to want to be lost. I won't front I'm defintely hurt but what can I do? I love her and I know that relationships are like waves. Perhaps this is just one of our low points.

almost moments

2005-12-08T00:27:00.000-05:00

I've finally come to terms with the fact that my attraction to you is never going away.
Never meaning that no matter how hard I try to convince myself that these feelings have disappeared ...when I'm being real with me... I know that I want you now more than I did that night I first saw you.

Years have passed and you still cause my breathe to get heavy and my body to tingle with the wish of being near you.

You know what frustrates me? Is that we've had so many moments of almosts--times when it seemed that something could/would develop but never did.

Maybe it's because you're just not that into me or no matter how strong the feelings are perhaps we're afraid. Afraid of what could/would happen if we actually stopped fronting, stepped out of comfort zones and chose to be real.

Though I'm happy with Mr. Man...... I question what I would do if you decided to take a chance.

Maybe this is simply an intense lust. Maybe we're incompatible and a relationship between us would be unstable. Maybe it's true that everything we want we aren't meant to have.

Perhaps all there is are those moments of almosts.

MJB has my heart

2005-12-06T23:03:00.000-05:00

Mary has done it to me again. Her single 'Be Without You' is on constant rotation @ my place. The song is simply the truth. Mary hits notes that I never knew she had in her. The video is beautiful too. She even has Mr. Putting Woman Through It Terrance Howard playing her man in.

I forgive Mary for her sometimes simple lyrics and off key singing. I've overlooked those things because Mary has always delivered realness. She's been able to seamlessly blend b-girl forthright into R & B and at the same time take us to church.

When Mary was going down we were down there with her. And when she declared no more drama we too ignored the haters and negativity that threatened to rain on our happiness. How can you not love someone who has continously exposed her deepest pains and flaws and only asks that we accept her as she is?

Mary is the champion of all the woman who have/are going through it and the men who love them.Go into most clubs and at some point in the night 'Real Love' the remix with Biggie has the dancefloor jumping like it's 1992 all over again. That's a genuine testament to how much Mary touches us.

She's finally embracing that Mary that we've always seen inside of her.

Oh Ms. Blige how I love you so.

Sick & Tired

2005-12-03T22:43:00.000-05:00

When is it time to call it quits, pack up your things and keep it moving?

I don't even have the energy to go into what transpired the last 2 weeks. But I will say that the nonsense and inconsideration had me seriously contemplating stepping down for my post as the magazine's head woman in charge. My staff let me down to the second power and left me furious and hurt.

I felt/feel like an overworked underprivileged mother who is expected to make miracles out of scraps. On Monday I called a meeting and informed the staff that I'm completely removing myself from the process of producing this year's 2nd issue. I realized that I've done them a great disservice because they've been accustomed to me being around and doing more than my fair share. I needed something drastic to shake them up and make them realize that this is my last year.

So I shared 10 minutes of my disappointed 2 cents and left the office. I gave them a detailed list of the things that needed to get done for our next issue but I would not offer any advice or suggestions. As I walked away I prayed that instead of getting upset and defensive, the staff would come together and get the job done. Though I want them to be successful I also hope they finally understand how much I do and grasp that putting a magazine together doesn't happen with magic.

Well word on the street is that my staffers have been spotted in the library at all times of night and around campus taking pictures. And Wednesday I was asked to look over pics from the cover photo shoot. There were some things I liked and some I didn't but I tried my best to step back and allow them to find their own way.

It's funny to me how senior year is like last call at the bar. Everyone's in a hurry to accomplish all the things they neglected to say, do, or try in the beginning. Brothers I've known for a minute are now revealing their true feeling. Though I'm surprised and flatter I've been here since the beginning so what took you so long? But I guess that's human nature to spend time wondering what could be until it's too late.

I give Mr. Man much credit for taking a chance and finally speaking up. Though it took him 4 years to do it I'm glad that he did because I would have definitely missed out. I'm still enjoying our exclusively dating arrangement. He brings me a sense of comfort that's needed in my busy life and Mr. Man also has the 4 Cs down: cooking, cleaning, cuddling, and communicating. Don't get me wrong things aren't all good all the time -- we've had a few small spats here and there--but nothing too major. My girl Jackie put it best by stating that Mr. Man and I have reached our plateau. Things are still somewhat new but we're both passed the intense being all up under eachother stage. Feelings are still very strong but we're giving each other breathing room.

I'm constantly asked why, if I like him so much, haven't we made things official and what the hell does exclusively dating mean. Weeeelll in my world being in a relationship and exclusively dating are two different things. Dating is when two people are learing about each other and figuring out whether a relationship could actually work. A relationship is when both people are comfortable enough with what they've learned and are willing to make a commitment from it. So Mr. Man and I are exclusively dating. We've basically decided to get to know only each other. This may not make sense to others but we're completely satisfied with our little situation.

teach them well

2005-11-09T20:26:00.000-05:00

I was maxing and relaxing all up on cloud 9 yesterday. I was elated because the very much anticipated-sleep depriving-headache inducing-mad late first issue of the Onyx finally hit campus newsstands yesterday. And though sneakers and jeans have, unfortunately, become my unofficial senior year uniform, Tuesday I mustered up the energy to bring my old self back by doing my hair and strutting out in a pair of heels. So yesterday not only was I able to actually hold the product of months of hard labor but I looked damn good and felt great. There was pep in my step and no one could tell me nothing......

It's funny how a few hours can change a day.

There is a teen at the center who has special needs... I'll call him Keith. Keith's social, mechanical, and learning skills aren't like other boys his age. One thing he LOVES to do is his homework. On some nights he brings it for someone at the center to help him. I've worked with Keith a few times on his class assignments and I found helping him extremely difficult. I didn't know how to break down the homework questions in a way for him to understand. I figured that since I don't have any official training in teaching children with special needs I just didn't know how to truly help him without simply giving him the answers.

Proper training or not, yesterday it was immediately apparent to me that Keith's work is far too advanced for him. Last night he brought in a packet that is appropriate for someone who is at least five grades above him. At that realization I became infuriated. I was angry because he is yet another child who is haplessly drifting along this country's educational system. It is obvious that Keith has not learned much. I know that is partly due to his learning disabilities but it's also because people have constantly given him the answers which is basically equal to doing the work for him.

Not wanting to take the easy route out and not sure on how to help him learn the contents of the packet, I unfortunately told Keith that tomorrow he would have to talk to one of his teachers.

Once I told Keith, who is adamant about finishing his assignments every night, that he'd have to turn in his homework incomplete, he became agitated. I apologized to him several times and he frustratingly told me it was fine , though I knew it wasn't. When he quickly put on his jacket and left my heart broke. Tears welled up in my eyes as my mood unceremoniously tumbled off cloud 9.

That entire night at work my attitude was stale. I couldn't get Keith out of my mind. I have a severe Anne Sullivan/Miracle Worker Complex and it's real hard for me to turn a blind eye on someone in need.

Each youth worker at the center is given a case load. It our responsibilty to keep in contact with the teens in our load and stay up to date with their teachers and parents. My case load contains most of the teens that are considered "troubled". I guess it happened that way because the directors see my save the world mentality and know that most of the kids genuinely like me.

Recently Keith was added into my case load. I wont front, I am a bit overwhelmed and intimidated by the task that's ahead of me but I'm going to try my hardest to hold my kids back from slipping through the cracks.

it's more than just a shirt

2005-11-07T23:52:00.000-05:00

This and this is ridiculous! Since I now work with teenage boys I'm more aware of their choice of clothing and the issues that surround them. Young men today are living in a time where doorags, bandanas, hats, and t-shirts are no longer worn as fashion statements but as signs of affiliation and intimidation. Uniforms may be the way to go.

Back in Action

2005-11-07T00:00:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted in over a month and I was contemplating just giving up blogging all together. I've been so consumed with all that is life, that blogging didn't interest me anymore. But one of my fans has persuaded me to begin posting again so here I am, back in action.

Not really wanting to put all my business out there but tempted to share I'll let it be known that there's a special someone in my life right now. Everything is new and we're still in developement so there aren't any titles. I don't know where whatever we're doing is headed but what I do know is that what we have feels oh so good.

I've known him for 4 years but never really looked at him in the more than a friendly associate kind of way. We would say hi and have brief conversations but never anything exstensive. This summer he finally revealed to me how he's liked since the first time he saw me 4 years ago and I of course being Queen Oblivious had no idea.

It's funny how someone I used to see around every 6 months now occupies most of my free time. Though I try to keep my heart guarded, I must admit I'm so caught up in this new us. He is definitely woo woo wooing me and I'm enjoying it for as long as it lasts.

My weeknight job is at a youth center with 14 to 19 years olds. I love my job, the kids, and my coworkers but what's bothering me is how the majority of the boys are wearing those STOP SNITCHING shirts. Every single time I see them my insides boil. Those shirts perpetuate the mentality of: if you see or hear something act like you didn't and keep it moving. I do believe in the good old mind your own business but there are certain times when that rule definitely does not apply. What makes me even angrier is that one of the youth workers at my job cosigns with the shirts and feels that the sooner the kids learn to not snitch "they'll live longer". We started to get into a heated debate right in the director's office but I stopped myself. I know my co-worker's attitude comes from him having a troubled childhood marred by many run-ins with the law. He has definitely taken a few steps in a positive direction but unfortunately he hasn't completely disassociated himself from the old lifestyle. I'm holding on to the hope that the teens at the center aren't in too deep for me to reach them.

My mother turns 50 this month. I'm finally getting serious about beginning my autobiography and this Thanksgiving break I'm going to start recording our mother-daughter talks. It's funny how I spent much of my preteen years thinking she was my worst enemy whose sole purpose in life was to make me miserable and keep me away from boys. Now she's who I want to be. The older I get the more I see her as more than a mother but as a fellow woman.

When is Teairra Mari's 15 minutes up?

2005-09-20T20:52:00.000-04:00

[Chorus]
I ain't had no daddy around when I was growing up
That's why I'm wild and I don't give a f***
Y'all think cuz these jeans fit, I'll give it up
Don't let my cute face fool yah

[Bridge]
All, all my girls from a broken home
When you're feeling all alone
And you feel you can't go on
Call me
-- No Daddy, Teairra Mari

Wow. I almost have no words. I was catching up on music videos when I saw the Princess of the ROC Teairra Mari's No Daddy. The video isn't much to talk about it. Its theme is a mixture of Gwen Steffani's Hollaback Girl and Britney Spear's Baby One More Time. Teairra Mari struts around an all girl high school in khaki hot pants and a midriff baring top with a handful of fellow no daddy having teenage females prancing behind her.

What kills me is that in the bridge she urges other woman who are going through tough times and feeling lonely to call her.....hmmmm...ummerrah..Now I don't know about you but if I was sitting in my room feeling low and needed some encouragement, the celebrity I would like to have on speed dial is the one and only Queen of the Come Up, Oprah Winfrey. Oprah rose from a childhood marred by repeated sexual abuse and low self esteem to create an inspiring life filled with personal and professional growth, numerous Emmys, movies, and a successful television show that has been around for 20 years. Though she's been interrupting guest on her show more and more lately, Oprah's accomplishments can not be denied. Man, if I was experiencing a bad case of the blues not only would she give me the best advice but Oprah would also tell me to check under my bed and there would probably be keys to a brand new car or some other expensive goodie, that would definitely wipe my tears away.

Perhaps at 17 Teairra Mari has experienced some hard knock times. And getting signed to the ROC under Jay-Z's reign is definitely an undeniable accomplishment but I'm going to have to say no thanks to any advice she would give.

Jay-Z's plans with Def Jam are still questionable to me. Is he attempting to take over the music industry with barely legal female singers? I can't front Rihanna doesn't bother me but Teairra Mari rubs me the wrong way. I know that sex sells and that's unfortunate.

All female artist strive for longevity but don't realize that simply prancing around in skimpy outfits just won't cut it. When will they learn that showing all that you got will only temporarily compensate for a lack of vocal skills and stage presence? Teairra Mari's 15 minutes are ticking away.

Pieces of Me

2005-09-19T19:12:00.000-04:00

There's something I've been tempted to blog about for almost a week now but I haven't really figured it all out in my head yet. I don't want to post it without being sure that every words describes exactly how I feel about the situation...maybe I'll have it all together by the weekend.

Inspired by a fellow blogger I decided to post some random things about me that some may not know.

WARNING: Nothing- I mean nothing- in this blog can be used against me. If you read this post and see me on the streets-- act as if you don't know me. If you however do have the audacity to approach me and attempt to recklessly discuss my business on the streets I will act as if I don't know you and give you my worse evil look of death. You have been warned.

* Not only is reading fundamental but it is essential in my life. Though I've fallen in love with magazines, books are my first love. If a book is good I'll revisit it over and over again, like an old friend.

* I knowingly use my size and angelic features to get what I want. Trust me, when I poke out my bottom lip and give my best puppy dog expression, it's a wrap for anyone in a 2 mile radius. You won't be able to say no to me.

* I HATE when people are behind me. I can't stand having folks hanging around somewhere I can't see them. What the heck are you doing back there? That's why I almost never let anyone hold the door for me or get behind me on a stairwell. To all those gentlemen out there I'm sorry. I know that you're intentions are good and your momma raised your right but if you don't want me to tense up and black on you please just don't stand/walk behind me.

* Ice cold ginger ale is my cure-all. Be it an illness, sore throat or simply a gray day ginger ale does it for me.

*I have a slight Napolean complex. I learned early that if your short and look younger than you are, folks don't take you seriously so sometimes you have to demand that they respect you. I don't go around beating people up buuuuuuuuut I am known for stronging arming folks when needed.

* I LOVE to eat, especially reeeeeaaaaaaally spicy food. I don't even think that love adequately describes my relationship with food. I'm a sucker for a man who can work it in the kitchen or knows all the best local restuarants. Feeding me is a surefire way to get to my heart ....and other things. ; - )

* I don't put anything past anyone. It's hard to surprise me. I believe that everyone is capable of just about anything -- good or bad.

*I'm shy. A lot of folks are shocked that I can be shy but it's unfortunately o so true. Close friends have witnessed rare moments when I've turned a deep shade of purple and been at a lost for words.

* I love care free rainy days. Something about rain is so soothing and tranquil. If it rains and I don't have anything pressing on my agenda I like to stay inside all day in my pjs, cook a good meal, catch up on some shows, and fall asleep with the window open just a tad.

* Whenever someone is talking to me I try my best to look them in the eye. The eyes tell a lot and no one wants to feel as if you're not paying attention.

* I want to adopt a child once I'm professionally and financially secure, regardless if there's a special someone in my life. I don't like to hear women in their 40s confessing that they want children but are waiting for Mr. Right in order to start a family. Though I would love to be married one day, my desire to have children is MUCH greater and besides not everyone ends up walking down the aisle. I figure why wait for a Mr.Right, who may never show up, when there are plenty of children in need of a family? Sperm banks are definitely out of the question.

* I come from a touchy feely family so I can't help giving lots of hugs. It's in my blood.

* Saying that someone completes you doesn't sit too well with me. It sounds beautiful and I understand how hearing that can make someone's heart pitter patter but the notion of needing someone else to feel whole just isn't right to me. I would rather have someone who compliments me very well but I believe that before entering a relationship you should have a firm grasp of who you are or atleast acknowledge that you're a work in progress. I know a lot of folks that enter relationships because they need someone else to validate them. You should never use a relationship to define who you are because if that relationship ever comes to an end you would feel as if you've lost yourself and that to me is a great tragedy.

* I am endlessly entertained by people watching. I can sit in one spot for hours watching folks walk by. People do the darndest things when they think no one is looking.

* I own several memory boxes which store pictures, stories I've written in grade school, movie stubs, concert tickets, keepsakes from friends and past relationships, playbills and anything else I want to remember. Once a year I dedicate a night to reorganizing my memory boxes. I spread out on my floor and reminsce. I cry and laugh. Sometimes I do both simultaneoulsy.

* Random folks tell me random things. I don't know what it is but strangers love to talk to me. Maybe it's because they can sense that I won't judge them and that I believe everyone has a story to tell.

* I LOVE to laugh and tell jokes. Laughter is universal. To be able to laugh freely with loved ones is one of life's greatest experiences.

* I have a blessed life. I believe that my life's purpose is to be a positive impact. If atleast one person's life is made better because of my exsistance than I will feel accomplished.

* I love to cuddle. All my guy and girl friends now that if you share a bed with me I will cuddle you so don't fight the feeling.

* I know how to keep a secret.

* My pride and I are in a constant battle. I've always been taught to be self-adequate and never rely on others. My mother raised all of her kids to be givers and NEVER takers. So for a long time it's been difficult for me to allow people to help me out but I'm learning when my load is heavy it's okay to let loved ones make it lighter.

* I'm silly so I crack myself up ALL the time.

* I love surprises and rarely get them!

*I'm quick to playfully flirt and give someone a compliment. Everyone wants to feel good and attractive.

That's it for now. Perhaps more later.

falling in love with me

2005-09-16T13:15:00.000-04:00

"To love oneself is the beginnig of a life long romance" ~ Oscar Wilde

Recently I recieved an email from a dear missed friend and it was exactly what I needed. She reminded me of how much we're growing and coming into our own. My missed friend also made me see how much of me is still the same and probably will never change.

Nowadays I feel as though I'm truly seeing me for the first time ,which may sound silly because I look at myself everyday. But I guess I mean that now I'm seeing all of me and I'm in awe.

I'm becoming fond of the soft shape of my eyes and how they close up when I smile due to the chubbiness of my cheeks. I'm captivated by my rich honey coated chocolate complexion and the silkiness of my skin. I admire the strength of my thighs and my back.......

It has always been difficult for me to gracefully recieve compliments. When it comes to my work or writing, a few good words here and there are okay. But anything said about my phyiscal has always made me uncomfortable.

When I was younger my mother's female friends would fuss over my thick raven colored hair and jokingly ask me to fetch a pair of scissors so that they could have some. I would immediately attempt to satisfy their request because I wanted them to like me. My father's friends and male cousins would affectionately tell me that I would have every man proposing when I got older. To make things worse in 3rd grade my body started to develop faster than my friends. I wore baggy clothes in an attempt to hide my premature curves. The last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself because I experienced early how cruel females can be if they feel that you're getting more attention from the opposite sex than they are.

I think that part of my difficulty with accepting compliments comes from me not believing in them. It's not that I suffer from an extreme case of low self esteem, I simply never looked at myself that hard. I also never wanted to stick out. I learned early that sticking out brings unsolicited attention and hateration. But now I'm slowly beginning to say thank you to kind words and see myself the way others do.

For the first time I've fallen in love with every bit of me and it feels incredible.

Lifted

2005-09-16T12:04:00.000-04:00

I am on a high! Recently I've been feelings as if I'm floating on air and I don't want to come back down anytime soon. My insides are glowing.

The Onyx held our 2nd SOULSPEECH Live last night and it was a PERFECT ending to Onyx Week. We had some Jill, Billie, and Erykah playing lightly in background. Incense and candles burned, adding to the ambience. Around 7:45pm folks slowly trickled in and the vibes were positive. We purposely didn't have a sign up sheet or rigid program. The night was all about expressions from the soul, so we encouraged anyone who felt something on their hearts to come up and share. There were testimonies, jokes, poetry, and singing. Folks got inspired and began writing poems and thoughts down on napkins. My man Terry Gresham came through and blessed us all with his vocals. The Cabral Center got so packed that we ran out of chairs but no one complained. During the moments when no one stepped up to the mic we would all sit back, turn up the music, and enjoy eachother's company. Last night more than ever we were all family and the Tute was our home. SOULSPEECH could have lasted until midnight but campus police needed to lock up the building. We promised everyone that it will definitely be a monthly event.

Though the Onyx has been through more than its fair share of hard times, this week has proven to me why we're here and the reason I've been editor-in-chief for 3 years. In 1972, Ted Thomas, Ileen Dotson, Joyce Clark, Harold Hunte, and Barbara Ellis came together because students of the African Diaspora at Northeastern needed their voices heard. In 2005 that need is still present. Nowadays since some of our battles and obstacles aren't as overt many of us have become complacent and that's why the Onyx endures.

My Enemies: Procastination and Verizon

2005-08-15T20:19:00.000-04:00

I love the rush I feel when writing on deadline. For some reason the words seem to sing more when I'm racing against the clock. I love the feeling of how my muscles slowly begin to ease as I proofread the last word and ceremoniously press send with a bit of bravado because I know that the work I just sent was certified gold......

Basically--I'm the Queen Bee Procastinator. Last minute is my middle name. Though what I said above is all true, I usually get the bulk of my work done with only a few crucial seconds to spare. Sometimes postponing projects/papers/articles works out. I sit infront of the computer focused and words effortlessly fly from my fingers, coming out perfect the first time. But sometimes .... A LOT OF TIMES..... I spend hours infront of a blank screen wondering how I hustled my way into school. A LOT OF TIMES I'll also get distracted and start browsing the internet for killer sales, checking my email,browsing thefacebook, and reading who said what on which blog.

However, today, I did none of that and s**t still was crazy! Tell me why.... I had a few more expert interviews to do for my Journalism 2's final 8 paged article when Verizon up and disconnected my phone! See ol' Verizon and I have a love hate relationship-- I love conducting lengthy interviews so that I get all the necessary information for my articles and Verizon hates it when my broke ass can't pay the bill. What gets me upset is: if you're going to shut me down than shut me down completely. But noooooooooo, Verizon does this half ass s**t where you still recieve calls but you can't call anyone except for 911 or Verizon to pay your bill.

***fading to a few months ago***

I remember calling Verizon one night and speaking to a service rep. [Sidenote: doesn't it seem that anytime you call to speak with a customer service representative they're always located in the south or bumblef**k middle America? And I swear that they lie about their names. I think I spoke to a Jose Conseco and Bob Villa once. No lie.] Anyway I tried to sweet talk the rep into turning my service back on and he let me know in a I-ain't-having-it dry ass voice that back when Verizon and I were friends they used to turn my service on in good faith that the bill would be paid. And that I should be happy that Verizon is doing me the favor of not turning my cell off completely. Though I was pissed about not being able to sway him, I decided to let it go and ask him "how many people can I put on my restricted call list?". I figured that if I could at least call my mom, my siblings, my friends, my boyfriend at the time, and a few other acquaintances than having restricted service wouldn't be that bad. There was a moment of silence, a deep frustrated sigh, and than he let said, "Ma'am there isn't a restricted call list. You will temporarily be able to receive calls but you can not call anyone except for Verizon and 911". I couldn't believe what I was hearing! I forgot about being all sweet and resorted to getting straight up indignant. "What...what do you mean only Verizon and 911?! Are you serious?! I'm sorry but Verizon and 911 aren't exactly on my speed dial!!". [Sidenote: I actually do have 911 on speed dial. It ain't safe out there for a cutie like myself. ......Actually I have Verizon on there too......but the customer service rep didn't need to know that] Okay I understand I was a little late with paying the bill but the least they could do is let me call my IN friends. I mean damn those phone calls are free! Needless to say we shared a few more words and my service was still cut off.

***back to earlier today***

I only had 3 hours to spare and I had to figure out how to contact these experts for my final. That's when it happened. Right there in the middle of the library I had a panic attack. I've had them before. I'm used to getting worked up and having to take a a few minutes to catch my breath and compose myself. But today's anxiety attack was something else. It felt as if for a moment my lungs and heart stopped and then suddenly started up again attempting to catch up with lost time. My chest began to jerk with each breath because my insides were off beat. Each time I exhaled was painful and caused me to wheeze. So there I was a wheezing- cell phone service restricted- late paying wireless customer experiencing a panic attack. And do you know that some of the people at the computers next to me rolled their eyes as if I was disturbing them from studying? The nerve!

In the end thanks to two quarters, a pay phone [Sidenote: have you ever noticed that having a cell phone makes you now blind to payphones?], and a friend who has 3 way calling I was able to get my piece done! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAH!

I will admit that procrastinating does suck and that I'm a true antisocial heffa when I'm working on crunch time. Forget about what Deborah and RL said about us not being friends if we can't be lovers. Bump that garbage--we can't be friends if I'm on deadline!

To all my homie lover friends who were hurt today by my curt responses and dismissive email auto reply: I'm sorry. Don't worry all my hard work will pay off and in my autobiography I'll put you all down as the people I loved and cared about ...when I didn't know better. HAHAHAHAHAHA! Kidding. You know I love you.

Straight Up Gully & Just Dumb

2005-08-13T19:24:00.000-04:00

Okay...ummmmerah... Jennifer Hyatte will go down in history as the epitome of a ride or die b@%*$h! What on God's green earth was she thinking?

At first I wanted to think that perhaps she is simply crazy in love but now I realize that heffa is just straight up crazy!

The two love birds met while Jennifer was working as a nurse at the prison where George was serving time for robbery. Apparently George is a locked up casanova that swept her off her feet. What.Ever. The heffas own mother even said she's gullible!

George was already serving 35 years for aggravated battery and assault,when his down for whatever boo decided to open fire on 3 guards who were escorting him through the parking lot of the Roane County Courthouse. Needless to say Bonnie and Clyde were caught a day and a half after their great escape.

Here is what makes me upset with this foolishness:

Since her well thought out plan surpisingly backfired Jennifer will now have to spend time in jail probably never able to see her man again.
By going along with his wife's efforts to free him, George will most definiately get a few more years added on to his already lengthy sentence.

What infuriates me the most is that their downright stupidity ended a life. Guard Wayne Morgan was hit by 3 out of the 6 shots fired by Jennifer. He died 70 minutes later. Also Jennifer has 3 young children, 9,11 and12, who will growup without her in a town that will probably alwars remember what their mother did.

I know many women who have fallen head over heels for sweet talking criminal record having Don Juans. I,myself, have also had 1 thuggish ruggish experience. Some of us have a weakness for men who are slightly rough around the edges. Understood. But when that weakness causes you to do ridiculous things that negatively impacts not only you and your incarcerated Romeo but also innocent bystanders, that's when s@%ts gone too far!

They both need to be put under the jail!

reassembling the pieces and making a more complete me

2005-08-03T20:05:00.000-04:00

precious Lord take my hand
lead me on
let me stand.....

Last Wednesday I broke.

Every piece of me crumbled due to the impact of it all. A few days can change so much! I was left so dizzy from being overwhelmed that it felt as if my foundation sank from beneath my feet and shattered. Though it was the middle of the afternoon and my plate was overflowing with deadlines, I used every last bit of energy I could muster to curl up on my couch and cry.

And not just any type of cry. It was the disabling sort of crying that contorted my face and caused bitter dispirting tears to build in my soul and flow from my eyes.

Don't get my wrong, I have cried countless times before. But I've always done that brief resilient silent crying as I stubbornly trudged ahead attempting to immediately solve all my problems. I've learned a long time ago how not to feel too much so that no matter how bad the situation I would never feel defenseless. But this time, I, the Queen of Keep it Moving was crippled from the weight of life's downfalls and I simply didn't have it in to me to bounce back.

i am tired
i am weak
i am worn.....

I understand and have to come to appreciate the fact that sad and bad times come with living a life, and trust me I have experienced more than my fair share, but last week was too much for me to endure. I have never felt so helpless....... so exposed.

I realized that the pressure of all that is going on in my life was able to knock me down because for a long time now I haven't been centered. I've lost the spiritual part of me.

I'm not big on religion but I do believe in a higher power. And me and my higher power have lost contact. I needed a spiritual revitalizer so that I could get myself back. On Sunday I headed up to Cambridge for church and it was definitely the pick me up my spirit needed.

Not all churches sit well with me and I've been known to quietly walk out on sermons that didn't fit my beliefs but Union Baptist holds a special place in my heart. I found it 4 years ago when I came to Boston for school and was searching for something that would keep me balanced. I loved Union the moment I walked through its doors. It was the first place of worship where I felt that people were truly accepted for all of who they are and comforted by learning that it's okay. Though I hadn't come in almost 2 years it was as if I was being welcomed back home.

The part of church that I love the most is the singing. Gospel music has that divine power of seeping into you and causing your soul to resonate. Lucky for me EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON at Union Baptist can saaaaaaaaang--not sing--saaaaaaaaaaaaaaang! The church choir had my feet tapping and hands clapping as the soloist laid it all out in a flawless alto. When the choir was finished the minister of music kept the music going. It was obvious that the spirit had commenced to stir within us. Feeling moved the Pastor stood up and delivered a heart felt rendition of "Precious Lord", a familiar song I've always hummed whenever life had gotten the best of me. As his glorious tenor filled the room heads began to sway and tears flowed freely. With each compelling note I felt my despair begin to melt and hope reentering my heart.

through the storm
through the night
lead me on to the light....

I'm not back to 100% yet but I'm on my way.

take my hand
precious Lord
lead me home.

In Due Time

2005-08-02T12:40:00.000-04:00

I have a job!

And an exterminator is coming tomorrow!

Mice and no funds be gone!

Mice & Magazines

2005-07-31T14:52:00.000-04:00

In my ear: Cab Ride, Tweet -- Hello, Floetry -- Slow Down, Bobby Valentino -- U Send Me Swingin', Mint Condition -- At Your Best, Aaliyah -- There You Go, Johnny Gill -- I Wanna Be Where You Are, Jackson 5 -- Before You Walk Out Of My Life, Monica -- Jealous Girl, New Edition -- Let Me Love You, Mario -- Baby I'm For Real, After 7

I haven't slept in my apartment for about a week and some change. A mouse/mice has decided to move in and become my uninvited roommate/s. Regardless of how big and bad I may act I defininately have a phobia of mice. They are the nastiest intruders that live on this earth. They're dirty and carry all types of viruses. I feel violated knowing that Mickey and a possibly friend or two are getting comfy in my place and touching my stuff.

Since my landlord is taking forever and a day to take care of this mouse situation, I've been staying over at my ex's. Trust me I know. This past week has been extremely awkward to say the least. Though I'm the one who ended the relationship, he still offered his spot as my temporary home. At first I declined but took it back after remembering how close his place is to my apartment. I've barely seen him since I've been here. He's usually in bed when I get in at night and when he goes to work I'm still sleeping. I appreciate his hospitality however I'm being extra careful to keep all our interactions neutral in order to ensure that we don't revert to old habits -- if you know what I mean. Hopefully my landlord gets it together soon and evicts the mice so I'll be able to leave my ex's and return home.

Word on the street is that Free , former host of 106 & Park, is blessing the latest King Magazine cover. Hands down Free is looking damn good [though the pictures are most likely airbrushed]!

I LOVE MAGAZINES. Every month I religiously purchase the latest edition of Essence, XXL, VIBE, and King. Occasionally I'll also pick up Black Enterprise, Savoy, The Ave Magazine, Upscale, Newsweek, O Magazine, and whatever else catches my eye. I love magazines so much that I refuse to commit to subscriptions....instead I'd rather visit my local newsstand, bookstore or supermarket and pay full price. Though this does get expensive it still excites me to no end to visit the magazine aisle, pick up my usual favorites, and flip through any new ones. My girlfriends accuse me of being obsessed but I pay those heffas no heed. Everyone has something that brings them an unlimited amount of joy and in my life a lot of my joy comes from magazines. If I was ever stuck on a deserted island all I would need is a good pillow, few blankets, an unlimited supply of food, some music and pile of books and magazines ........Ummmmmmm and maybe a fine island man to stop by once and awhile to check up on me. ; - )

Speaking of magazines, Essence has found a new editor-in-chief. I wish Angela the best of luck though part of me was wishing that the position would have been offered to/taken by Suzanne Boyd. I was broken hearted when Honey magazine disappeared from the shelves and I was forced to revisit that sadness when Suede was axed. I embraced Suede the moment I saw the first issue on the newsstands. It was Suede's bold layout and unapologetic tribute to the original fashionistas of various shades of brown that initially attracted me. The magazine wasn't afraid take risks. Wherever Suzanne and the other 46 former Suede staffers may be I hope that they are working and happy.

deep sigh

2005-07-28T12:11:00.000-04:00

In my ear: Let's Wait Awhile, Janet -- Stingy, Ginuwine -- Who Can I Run To, Xscape -- All Night Long, SWV -- Forever, Jaheim -- If Only You Knew, Patti LaBelle -- I'm A Mess, Anthony Hamilton -- Stars, Kindred the Family Soul

Feeling some kind of way today; kind of like I'm running on empty. Sleep isn't the problem. I guess I'm just emotionally and physically drained. I've spent most of this week being my own personal pep squad pushing myself to simply keep going. It seems that everyday I work harder and harder to merely maintain and stay afloat.

You know what would be nice? To finally sit or lay somewhere and have absolutely nothing to do. To have no worries and the luxury of allowing myself to get lost in my thoughts.

And you know what else? I would love to be treated every once in awhile. I constantly give, and give and give some more that it would be pure heaven to be taken out. Wow, how great it would be to spend a carefree evening in the presence of amazing company. What ever happened to dates? People don't go out on dates anymore?

I honestly don't mind hard work. I like being involved and having a few things on my plate. But it would still be wonderful to have someone who realizes how crazy my life can get and feels that it's their purpose to help relieve some of my load, instead of adding on to it. I don't neccessarily want a relationship --persay--perhaps more of a special friend.

No one wants to be caught up in this thing called life alone.

naturally ever after is hard to come by

2005-07-25T15:37:00.001-04:00

In my ears [ I sat in front of the computer for a few hours doing other work while I wrote this blog entry. So the song list is a bit lengthy] : Can You Stand the Rain, New Edition-- Speechless, Beyonce -- Shake it Off, Mariah Carey -- Free Yourself, Fantasia -- Wishing On A Star, Rose Royce -- Number One, John Legend -- Piece of My Love, Guy -- Cross My Mind, Jill Scott -- Meeting in My Bedroom, Silk -- Superwoman, Karyn White -- Love Will Be Waiting At Home, For Real -- I Can't Stop Loving You, Kem -- I Like, Kut Klose -- All I Do Is Think You, Troop -- Always And Forever, Heatwave -- She's All I Got, Jimmy Cozier [what happened to him by the way?] -- Kissin' You, Total [ what happened to them too ? ] -- Blackberry Molasses, Mista -- Love Me In A Special Way, El DeBarge -- In The Rain, The Dramatics -- Stay For Awhile, Angie Stone -- Spoiled, Joss Stone

This past week I almost broke down. I was oh so close to succumbing to the pressure and admitting defeat. I felt as if I was at the end of my rope and simply couldn't take it anymore. But, with one foot already over the edge and the rest of me about to follow, I made a few last minute phone calls in hopes of reaching someone --anyone--who could talk me out of it. Most of my attempts went unanswered and I left messages that went a little something like this: " Girl [deep sigh] pleeeeeeease call me back as sooooon as you hear this. I can't take it anymore! I think I'm just going to do it. I know I'm going to hate myself when it's all said and done .....but this is really just too much to handle right now.....Call me back."

Ladies and gentlemen I...... almost.........got.... a..... PERM! [GASP]

To a lot of you this may not be a big deal but to me it sure as hell is!

Let me start from the beginning: this past December I made the decision to quit perming my hair and go the natural route. I do not look down upon those who do perm their hair; I have just reached a point where relaxing isn't for me. I am currently going through what natural heads call the 'transition period'. For many women caring for two different textures of hair during the transition period can be frustrating, so they opt for "the big chop" and cut/shave their hair down to what is known in the natural world as the TWA-- a teeny weeny afro. When I made the decision to go natural I knew that the TWA was definitely not an option. I just couldn't see myself going mid-back length straight hair to an itsy bitsy 'fro. I mean come on! How can I ever live with myself after chopping my locks down to a hairdo whose acronym sounds like a private part of a female's body? Stop. Think about it. Don't get me wrong, on some folks a teeny weeny 'fro is very becoming but on me -- it just ain't happening. So I decided to embrace both textures of hair until my new growth reached a length that I am comfortable with and can be done in adorable two strand twists.

During the winter transitioning from chemically processed hair to natural tresses wasn't so bad. Every other week I continued going to my favorite Dominican hair spot to get my curly new growth blown out so that it could blend in with the relaxed parts of my hair. I figured I could keep that up through the spring and summer. Simple right? WRONG!

First of all: the blow-dryer that they use at these hair salons are so strong that they require a license [so I've heard] and unfortunately the longer you new growth is, the closer they have to bring the industrial strength hairdryer to your scalp in order to ensure that they get every last kinky curl. It basically feels as if the sun came down and decided to rest right on top of your head.

Second of all: I realized that the good ol' Dominican blowout couldn't withstand the summer -- well my type of summer anyway. Unlike many women of the African Diaspora I LOVE water, especially in the summertime. I don't mean drinking it or sitting along the shore looking cute while watching it flow on by. I love swimming, running in sprinklers, having water fights-- basically feeling every inch of my body get soaked by some ice cold H2O. I know..I know: water is supposed to be the black woman's kryptonite but this black woman loooooooves it. And I realized that having a blowout meant that no amount of water should ever come in contact with my head unless I was washing it or planned on trooping to the hair salon right after. Also, though I'm not a sweaty person, I do sweat a lot during the summer from my head. It was a hell hot day in early June and I had just gotten my hair done the day before. In an attempt to preserve my do and keep my head cool, I tried my best to escape the heat. But it was so excruciatingly hot that day that even thinking and breathing caused small beads of perspiration to trickle down the sides of my face. Needless to say by the afternoon the front of my hair looked like I was channeling Don King and the ends looked like Cher circa 1970s -- trust me not a good look.

Sooo I racked my brain to figure out a hairdo that would preserve my sexy [thanks Diddy] during my transition, regardless of the season, and didn't mean I had to surrender to the TWA.

Ladies and gentlemen I ....... got ........ a ...... WEAVE! [DOUBLE GASP]

Trust me I know. Up until now I was mostly against weaves. I didn't mind them on other people but I always viewed them as an alternative for females that had trouble growing their own. I guess weaves becoming all the craze now and my current hair issues, has helped me change my mind. So now I'm rocking a cute wet and weavy chin length do that requires little maintenance, keeps my new growth tamed, and allows me to have fun in the sun without worrying.

The weave has gotten many compliments. It's cute and looks like it could be mine. Usually upon seeing the new hair do folks admit they love it but ask me why I decided to cut my hair again [the first big cut deserves it own blog entry. It some come, trust]. Since I'm not ashamed of my newly acquired tresses, I've been sure to let all complimenters know that I haven't cut my hair and that it isn't mine. After hearing this news most people have immediately come closer to me, closer meaning practically standing on top of me, in order to get a better look. Once they've examined, examined meaning poking/and or tugging, it efficiently, they've been sure to ask me why would someone with such beautiful long hair put a weave on their head. I get into a looooooong explanation involving TWAs, water, summer, blow-dryers that can melt metal, and my decision to go natural. As soon as the word natural escaped my mouth folks have reacted as if I said I loved William Hung's album and that my kids can stay with Michael at Neverland Ranch any day. A lot of folks roll their eyes and groan that "now everyone is going natural!". ....... I wonder if back in the late 70s and early 80s someone stood around the black hair care aisle, waited until some woman picked up a box of Dark & Lovely Relaxer System or TCB's No Lye/No Mix Relaxer Kit, and said, "now everyone is getting a perm!" as they stomped off sucking their teeth and shaking their afros in disgust. Just wondering. So what if a lot of people are deciding to go natural? Going natural isn't like jumping on the bandwagon and buying a popular pair of sneakers. You can't accuse someone of "biting a style" because they've chosen to wear their hair how it grows out of their head. I was never aware of natural going out of style.

I've heard it all. People have incessantly tried to convince me that I shouldn't go natural by telling me ridiculous natural hair horror stories that they've heard from a friend's mother's aunt, who heard it from her pastor's dentist. You'd think I was a devil worshipping heathen in the midst of the Southern Baptist Convention; the way folks have been trying to get me to change my mind. One person let me know that the reason why so many passionately reject my choice to go natural is because it's not often " you see a dark skin woman with long straight hair that's all hers". [Imagine that after this was said there was deafening silence on my part] Soooooo basically since -- supposedly-- not many woman with darker complexions have long straight hair that grew from their heads I should continue perming? Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigggggggggght.

Never ceases to amaze me how people can become so attached to something that doesn't belong to them. It's almost as if everyone is a stockholder in my hair, so they feel that they can rightfully tell me what I should/should not do with it.

Needless to say, the natural hair naysayers got into my mind last week and had me doubting my decision. I had a short lived breakdown and lapse of judgment. But I was eventually able to get back on track, thanks to good friends who know how badly I want this.

Sigh. I won't front. I too am victim to society's standards of beauty. Going natural is hard. It forces you to look at yourself with no enhancers and accept what you see. There will be days that I'll be tempted to run see Angela and ask her to slap some chemicals on my scalp. There will be even more days when I'll have to look in the mirror and truly love all of me. I'll get there though....one day and natural strand at a time.

laughter is a cure all

2005-07-22T23:33:00.000-04:00

In my ears: Ribbon in the Sky, Stevie Wonder -- Midnight Train to Georgia, Gladys Knight and the Pips -- You, Jesse Powell

I'm back home in NY for the weekend.

One of my closest girlfriends is having her engagement party tomorrow in CT, so I decided to hop on the $15 Fung Wah and visit home before the festivities.

Though I've tried to fight it, in these past 4 years, Boston has definately grown on me--kind of like that obnoxious but damn sure entertaining relative that you can't help but have a special place in your heart for. Boston is where I've spent my college years. The place where I learned--that just because you're an amazing person doesn't mean that everyone is going to love you as much as you love them, how small the world is, the value of a $1 and true friends, not everything lasts forever but that's okay, how oh so necessary music and laughter are in my life, that I don't break easily and that my silent strength comes from my mother, how little I need in life to actually be happy, some things are better left unsaid, and when it rains it pours but after a storm the sun shines even brighter. Boston is where I've danced until my wash and set was finished and so were my shoes-- where I saw Nikki Giovanni, Tracy Morgan, Vivian Green, Musiq Soulchild, John Witherspoon, Luther Vandross, Gerald Levert, Dave Chappelle, Nelly Furtado, Arnez J, Maya Angelou, and Dwele -- where I went here, here, here, here , here, and here--where I worked here, here, here, here and here--where I had friendship making conversations till the early hours of the morning--where I lost and gained so much--where I realized that my mother is and always will be my # 1 fan. Yeah..finally walking across that stage will be bitter sweet.

Regardless of where I end up in this world at the end of the day I'll always be a ride or die New Yorker. I LOVE HOME. My family is like a Haitian Brady Bunch. HA! We love, cry, and laugh hard. They are a riot! Everyone is a comedian. I think we value laughter because we know what heart piercing pain feels like. We have experienced our fair share of collective and individual battles. We laugh loud , often and together to prove that heartache doesn't last forever and how much we truly love one another. Anyone that comes over is guarenteed to leave with their bellies hurting due to the delicious food ( the way my mother throws down is sinful) and the hours spent laughing.

Tell me why the ringer of my 16 year old sister's cellphone is Lil' Webbie's Give Me That (I'm not even going to talk about how when I was 16 having a cellphone was definately out of the question..maybe in a later post)! Out of all of us Shirlgirl has always been the one with a slight "around the way girl" edge to her. She can do all the latest dances, knows the lyrics to almost every song, is taking AP and honors courses, and has been the president of her class for the past 3 years. She's growing up in a time where male artists are increasingly vulgar, we've almost become completely desensitized to nudity, and girls and boys are sexually active too early. I'm tempted to worry because I've seen young girls get caught up and lose themselves. But I know that if some Lil' Webbie wannabe rolled up on Shirlgirl and told her to 'stop playing games' so that he could 'beat it out the frame', she would most definately 'wop wop get loose' on his a#$. That's why I admire Shirlgirl. Because I know that no matter how old she gets she'll always have a NY girl's forthright. She serves the truth straight with no chaser.

My words as my sword..what I learned from Ida B.

2005-07-21T19:55:00.000-04:00

“[O]nly the southern white man’s misrepresentations are in the public libraries and college textbooks of the land. The black men who made the history of that day were too modest to write of it, or did not realize the importance of the written word to their posterity.” ~ Ida B. Wells Barnett

--------
Okay, so I've been contemplating for some time now on whether or not I should start a blog.

Close friends--and sometimes not so close friends--know that I'm open about sharing personal aspects of myself and the various hilarious/random/ thought provoking/ sometimes sad/motivating/interesting things I've been through.

Extremely close friends also know that regardless of how open I am there is still a part of me that is deeply shy and guarded. I decided to quit my hemming and hawing and start this blog, knowing that it's ultimately up to me to decide how much I want to share........

I chose to call my blog -Living/Something Like It -because often when folks ask, 'How are you doing?' instead of saying 'I'm fine' or 'Not so good' my usual response is, 'Living'. A lot of times people tell me that my answer sounds depressing and I'm always surprised because for me living life is a positive experience.

Almost every part of my life is in transition right now. I'm entering my final year of college and I haven't figured out what I want do post undergrad let alone what I want to do with the rest of my life. What I do know is that writing and people are my passions and I want to incorporate the both of them into a soul fulfilling career.

Since I was able to read I understood the power of words. Till this day I can almost always be found reading a magazine, newspaper, novel, or simple flier.

In first grade I started to write stories. At that time I wanted to be like Mallory Pike, a character in the popular The Baby-Sitter Club Series by Ann M. Martin. Mallory was a young aspiring writer who was white with curly red hair and freckles. At the impressionable age of 7 I thought that in order for me to become a writer I too would have to have freckles and red hair. My mother, a very proud Haitian woman, quickly let me know that there were writers who share my deep brown skin and thick raven colored hair.

Another memory that sticks out me is the summer between the 4th and 5th grade. The kids in my camp group liked to read my stories during our bus rides. One day on the bus my friend Melissa, who was wise beyond her years, handed me back one of my stories and asked, 'Are all your the people always white?'. I was taken aback by her question because the race of the characters in my story never crossed my mind. After thinking about it I told her that most of the people in my stories were white. 'Why?' she asked. I realized her question wasn't meant to hurt my feelings or make me feel uncomfortable. Melissa wanted me to think. Out of all the questions I've been posed in my life that one holds a significant place in my conscience. I truly believe that her question has played a role in shaping me. Though it wasn't said Melissa was asking me at the age of 9 to assert the purpose of my words and determine whose story I was trying to tell. It was that summer, on that bus that I became aware of myself and my voice within the African Diaspora.

After that summer panic washed over me because I was late. At 9 I thought that it had taken me too long to become interested in the stories within my history. Eagerly I wanted to find and devour the words of my ancestors. During my journey back I encountered Ida B. Wells and I would never be the same. It wasn't only her story that struck me but also her unwavering crusade to tell the stories of others.

Ida B. taught me the power of the written word.