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21 more things = 42

The last post was the 21 things I KNOW at 42. At the end I said I'd consider writing 21 more things to make it 42 in total & then ...


Catchin You Up

Hey y'all!! What's hap'nin? I'm back on that, "it's been a long time, I shouldna left you..." But hey, Life happens. & boy does it. I used to think the slogan when it rains, it pours was just some ridiculously obvious ish that Morton uses to sell salt. & I honestly couldn't make a connection between rain & salt, aside from the little girl carrying an umbrella on the packaging. Still, I learned all about that concept recently. I probably already knew but I must have grown cocky by the lack of typhoon-like experiences coming my way.

In the last month I've had my version of church (African dance) taken away from me due to a recurring back injury that was exacerbated by...African dance. There are 2 things that help keep me regular--& by regular I mean sane--& they're African dance & writing. Well, my back hurt me so bad that sitting up in a chair to write wasn't working for me either. Double slam. Following the back injury & the forced #SADDOWN of it all, I was introduced to another concept. I came up close & personal on that psychological disorder referred to as "postal." I found myself having murderous feelings, embroiled in an age old battle of wills. I think I suffer from PTED, or post traumatic entitlement disorder. Perhaps I've coined it wrong, but I don't deal well with grown folks who carry a certain sense of entitlement on the strength of immaterial things like skin color or economic standing. The biggest problem with carrying all of this is that I hold stress in my back. My injured back. Is where I held stress. I was auditioning for the Hunchback of Notre Dame, I was rehearsing to film those elementary school videos on scoliosis, I was doing impressions of camels. & to relax all of that, I had to get real familiar with muscle relaxers. This is about the time I realized that the other adults I work with freely peddle prescription drugs--the hard stuff. I managed to keep my right mind, turn down the offerings of white collar street pharmacists, & declined all actions that would lead me to a fresh pair of silver bracelets & a personal chaperone to some tight quarters.

Some other things happened but those were the majors. All around me are life altering occurrences that are telling me it's time to make some seismic shifts in the way things are moving. Anger always spurs me into action. & I'm excited about what comes next. 2012 isn't about to be anything like any other year I've known. Lines have been scribbled through my own personal data & I'm not even mad. I'm amped to answer the call. & it's even exciting that I have no idea who is calling on the other end.

So forgive me my absence. In the midst of it all, I didn't feel like writing about the wins raining down on The Help, the fact that Tyler Perry & Steve Harvey will soon be gracing the big screen once again with tomcoonery at its finest or the fact that D'Angelo is trading in solitude for studio dates. Only 1 of those things actually matters to me, but not enough to really do anything with it. The lights may be off in this neighborhood from time to time; not because I didn't pay the electric bill, but because I'm either choosing quiet or being forced into it. Either way, I'm not at liberty to say anything.

Off I go to keep listening to D'Angelo live & warm up these bomb a$$ tequila lime fish tacos I made last night for my family. I've been thankful to have B.B. & Ms. September on location.

Check y'all in a minute.

Watch me move.

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