Broken Silence

Shoe Personality of the Week: 1/23/2012

2012-01-22T15:24:00.001-05:00

Yesterday 1 of my friends created an album on Facebook of well-appointed Brothas who give us all a case of the fevah. You know...the kind Robitussin can't do a damn thing about. Aside from the unparalleled beauty of these men, such as Andre 3000, Idris Elba & Don Cheadle, the most evident thing about them is the way they put themselves together. It's their sense of style.

Following suit, I'm going to give up the ghost in today's Shoe Personality of the Week to cats wit' a mean shoe game. As my friend pointed out, it's time for US, the ladies, to raise our standards & our requirements. If you're out of pull ups, there should be NOTHING sexy to you about a boy or a man with the crack of his ass or even his underwear showing. Underclothing tells you where it goes: UNDER, as in OUT OF SIGHT!! Women are always told to save some things for the imagination. Well, fellas, I'd like NOT to imagine the sweat streak down your crack on your exposed UNDERwear because you've worked up butt-sweat from the hard work it takes to keep your pants suspended just so about your thighs instead of allowing the waist band to do what it do.

The power of a woman is tossed around often, men very much aware of how many changes they'd have to make if women expected them to, & thankful that too many of us don't know better to do better. If you are a grown woman, a man's pants should be at his waist. If you're a grown woman your man should own more kinds of pants than jeans. If you are a grown woman his whole shoe collection shouldn't come from Footlocker or stores like it. Why? Because I'd hope that you'd want your man to be versatile, able to go to places with dress codes (which also often translate to behavior codes), not always be profiled as the last cat who ran away from the scene of a crime, not slow down your travels through the airport & look like he's done more than work the baggage at 1.

In order to pull off all these grown up clothes, he's got to have shoes that make the cut. I hate to break it to you but Payless doesn't cut it. Women have more room to play with where they buy their shoes (though, I'm not a fan of low brow footwear) & can get away with going the cheap route. A man's shoes cost a little more for distinguished style.

In honor of my father who has always worn dope shoes, the men who've crossed my path, & Benetton Beau (who needs NO help with his shoes), I offer you the grown man starter. Gitchu 1'a these & you're off to a good start.

I'm going to refrain from going any further. I really can nut up about a good men's shoe. You don't need to know me that well so Imma gon' & chill out & keep this ultra short.

Now, run along & find a woman with taste to help you stop dressing like you're in a 90's rap video. That look's PLAYED OUT!!

Watch me move.

To View Or To Turn Up Your Tail On Red Tails

2012-01-19T16:00:00.000-05:00

Know who they are? Of course you don't. Well, they aren't Terrence Howard or Cuba Gooding Jr. Read on...

Living while black is such a broad topic these days. Once upon a time it mostly just related to racial profiling & how dangerous it was to exist anywhere outside of your home where you could be spotted by police officers & mistaken for a brown crayola, a brown streak, a brown smudge, a weed-laced brownie, a vodka brownie shot, or EVERYthing ever done wrong by a brown person or a person wearing brown. It really was just that ridiculous. I know I said "living while black" but we really do just come in a color wheel that features nothing but shades of brown.

Now, living while black extends to your entertainment. Well, it kinda always did but now it's a hot topic. No Wendy Williams. No, seriously...I'd like it if there were no Wendy Williams [show], but I digress. Everything we do is so politicized; from the ways we wear our hair to...the movies we view. I am admittedly a card carrying Tyler Perry hater who also screams loudly about how important it is for us to tell our own stories. Contradiction? Depends on what conversation & with what group of people. I think it's important for black people to tell our own stories because Da Man has built a country & several industries on our backs & in countless number of stereotypes & caricatures of us. It's necessary for us to tell our stories so that we can balance the perspective, impact the take-aways about our real or perceived experiences, contribute a more realistic view of the multifaceted people we are. Monolith we are not. I don't remember the last time I had dinner with a jiggaboo, a porch monkey, a mammy, a maid, a slave, a drug dealer, a basketball player, an illiterate child who'd been saved by a white person, a crack ho, step or fetchit, or any of the other ill fated characters we seem to play. Does this mean we've been none of those people in real life? Not at all. But we've been so much more & this seems to be the majority of not only what we see but what gets celebrated. Why? Because we still live in a country where the existence of Precious, an obese & illiterate young black woman who's a bit much on the eyes & even harder on the spirit makes many feel a lot better than say a Ms. Celie, who was an average black woman, who some also considered a bit much on the eyes, & who overcame the sexism that had held her down from birth, also showing her attempt at putting her family back together in love. In simpler terms--Hollywood is a racist tool. I got it.

Politics enters the picture now, when our stories are told on the silver screen, by people other than ourselves [read: Da Man] & we have no control over how we're seen, yet again. Some of us feel we're stronger than imagery & can withstand any covert or overt blow because we don't identify with caricatures. Others of us feel our collective psyche has been damaged by the subtle & not so subtle messages about who we are. Some of us just live lives so damn dark &/or damp that we will turn tricks for a laugh of any kind or some sort of escape into somebody else's world--especially if it looks worse or more absurd than our own. #therapy So, we battle amongst ourselves over whether it's right to support these films. We band together to boycott them or we band together to support them. We say that if we put no money in the pockets of execs off of these films that they'll go away. We say that if we boycott, black actors & actresses will get to be considered in the pool for more 3 dimensional characters who aren't necessarily written into the script as "black woman" or "black man" but chosen for real roles about real people doing real shit. There's a couple of problems with that. First, our account at the First Bank of Umoja is in the negatives. My bad. We ain't that unified. The second thing is, Hollywood ain't payin us no mind cuz...well...they don't have to, or we haven't found a way to make them. But lemme address this unification thing.

The biggest way to bish-slap anything in a capitalistic society is hit it in the pockets. Did anybody else just hear Tabbi Boney? Sorry. The pockets. We can't come together on this for any of the other reasons that have been suggested, so we won't do this either, but if we simply stop going to see these movies... Well, that's not true. We're talking about the movie industry. The WHOLE industry. & if we wish to make our own movies & be considered for all kinds of movies, we're going to have to collectively agree not to support the entire industry. If you want to stop George Lucas from making the latest incarnation of the Tuskegee Airmen, we're going to have to stop going to see ANYTHING Lucas makes. We have to abandon ALL of our favorite genres with casts of any race. We have to, dare I say it...STAY HOME. & while we're there we can't Red Box it, Netflix it, steal from abandoned Blockbusters or even watch this stuff on cable. You gotta put the DVD Dude at the barber shop down. We're going to have to eff around & go hit up a museum exhibit. Make some actual phone calls to the people we love. Visit an elderly relative. Hell...TALK TO YOUR OWN KIDS! We're going to have to shut down our viewership of all kinds & let the industry see just how many WE happen to be. What'd Jay say? Women lie, men lie, but numbers don't. A long attention span is required for this & y'all ain't got that. Sacrifice is often a long & arduous road & we left our good walking shoes in the Civil Rights Era when we were able to rally together around that which we agreed to be important. Remember, while this may not be at the top of the heap of important issues, we still can't agree whether it is or isn't so it doesn't matter.

In the meantime (though it should be in addition to the aforementioned prescription)...consider gettin' your Issa Rae on & create your own isht. Those of us that write can connect with those of you who know how to freak a camera. We can do crazy stuff like ask people to donate 1 month of their McDonald's or Starbucks budgets to PayPal accounts or donate to Kickstarter & plane train & automobile our movies to these film festivals or put them on the Innerwebs so they can go viral & force notice. Just the people I'm surrounded by alone are talented enough to create these dope artistic ventures. Multiply that by the talented people you know... It's impossible to fail.

But who am I? I'm just a crazy lady who doesn't find Madea funny, refused to read or see The Help, just learned to tolerate watermelon a couple of years ago & doesn't fry chicken. Oh, & I read. Makes me an unreliable source.

Go see Red Tails because you're going to anyway; but don't be mad about what it isn't. Somebody did the best they cared to do with a story they didn't live & gave some folks who like those of you reading who are brown a chance to eat for another few months. I've been told that I'm supposed to be satisfied with that so...

& just so it's clear...I will more than likely make a point to see this movie in the theater.

Watch me move.

Check out Issa Rae, if you haven't already.

Da Kang's Anglish: the contraction edition

2012-01-18T19:08:00.000-05:00

Yes..."p" is for Puffin, but it's also for punching you in the throat if y'all keep making these mistakes. More than that, it's my sworn duty to use this guy & these shirts that have been made for everything under the Sun because they bring me joy. DISCLAIMER: this is all in frustrated fun.

1st, lemme take a moment to acknowledge the latest followers to join the ranks. I rarely ever take the time to make mention of seeing y'all over there to the right, but know that I do & don't *contraction alert* take your presence for granted. Hope your time here is worth it.

Now, back to this butchering of the Kang's Anglish. Today I'm *contraction alert* going to focus on a slab of meat called contractions. I'll *contraction alert* be using contractions as often as possible here because they never get used in my 9 to 5 3:30 world & I miss them. I'm *contraction alert* really starting to question if they're *contraction alert* taught in schools at all. I remember my own invisible tears falling as I attempted to clarify apostrophe-s to 6th graders last year. I realized that they not only don't *contraction alert* write it, but they skip over it when reading & NEVER say it. I was hearing things ALL THE TIME like:

-Ms. T pen.
-Charlie seat.
-Her mama car.
-My daddy phone.
OR
-Kayla goin' with her.
-Darlene goin' witchu.
-K'ya lookin' for you.

It made my heart hurt in a way that really made me question whether I'd *contraction alert* eaten something bad for me. & I had. I'd *contraction alert* been served the steaming pile that's *contraction alert* left behind when children grow up either hearing other people speak incorrectly or just not being corrected as they're *contraction alert* developing their own understanding of their native language. I could've *contraction alert* perhaps found a way to swallow the lack of apostrophe-s til I also realized they don't *contraction alert* write the word "is." Say huh? How do you just eliminate most necessary verbs from a sentence?!? Well, in this new Anglish, apparently verbs ain't necessary &, according to 1 of my students, you can also have a sentence without a noun. You need a tissue to wipe those tears yet? I had to ask that student if they had any idea how many nouns were even in the sentence used to tell me none were necessary? I knew then that the lesson I was going into shortly thereafter on subjects was going to fall on Helen Keller type ears. Sigh...

It gets worse. As I said yesterday, the apostrophe has been misappropriated so if it's *contraction alert* not in a name, like De'ja (?) it's *contraction alert* eliminated. No one seems to even know what a real accent mark is. Shameful. So, while they can understand contractions that involve "n't" they, without fail, leave off the apostrophe. Why? Cuz "can't" ain't French. Get it? Anyway... The hardest part was to try to teach words that involve "'ve." Apparently there are parts of our community that have misheard or misunderstood, or both, the break down for these words. "Should've" has become "should of." Replace "should" with "would" or "could" & it's *contraction alert* the same problem. & this is a problem that causes me to reach for the Pepto Bismol or the activated charcoal. It gives my stomach a run for its money, making it sick to itself, barely able to eat or hold anything down. & it's *contraction alert* not just the kids. THIS egregious error I see mostly in Twitterville on the posts from grown folks who I respect for some reason or another.

You prolly make this mistake all the time & busy giving me a chinky eyed look not induced by that loud. You're *contraction alert* in a state of wonderment tryna figure out WHY this is a mistake. Well, lemme 'splain it to you. See, "of" is a preposition. That's *contraction alert* a word that comes before a noun--praying your remember what those are--that indicates a relationship or an association. Like, you are OF your parents. You are a part OF a family. Examples of relationships. Ya schmell me? The word you're *contraction alert* actually looking for is "have." Yeah. I promise. Have is all about possession, experience or responsibility. Such as: I HAVE 2 dogs; or I HAVE a feeling...; or I HAVE to go straight home after school. That means it's *contraction alert* not "I could OF torn out my hair every time someone wrote 'could of'" but "I could HAVE torn out my hair every time someone wrote 'could of.'" & because we all like a good shortcut--microwaves, back doors, public assistance--the English language has provided you with one. They HAVE given us permission to shorten "have" in contractions & make it apostrophe-ve. Looks like this: "I could'VE torn out a hair follicle every time someone wrote 'could of.'"

I know...it's *contraction alert* hard to keep up with all of this. But I really need you to try. As an English lover, a lover of reading, writing, & speaking, it makes my skin crawl when I go to professional meetings or read professional emails & the people responsible for gettin' out this information sound like they're *contraction alert* damn near illiterate themselves. I realize I just confirmed for you why it doesn't *contraction alert* have to mean shit to you to work on this. However, to know better is to do better. Why not just do it so you can be proud of how you sound? & then you can help revive the Each One Teach One movement & help pass this knowledge along because to care is to share. It's *contraction alert* because I care for you that I've *contraction alert* shared this.

Assignment: count the number of *contraction alerts* you see & get a gander at just how commonly they're used (there goes another 1) & how easily they get sprinkled in, saving time from typing out words like "they are." If you come here frequently or just drop by sometimes, you know I play with language. I can because, like I said the other day...I read good. I can make up stuff for fun because I am EXCELLENT with the code switch. Code switching is actually a rèsumé worthy skill. When they ask how many languages you speak, if you can speak standard English & that home grown, count it as 2. Who said Spanish & Mandarin are the only languages worth knowing? Get these skills! Pass 'em on to your kids! Help us help them & help them help themselves. Give a kid a fish & he'll eat for a day. Give him an apostrophe & he'll have a few more words in his vocabulary to impress his teachers with & help with the underground movement to abolish their use in names. Thank you in advance.

Watch me move.

Post Script--I SO wanna go into there, their, & they're; your & you're; & to, too, & two but I don't know if my presha can handle it.

Da Kang's Anglish...cont'

2012-01-17T19:14:00.000-05:00

"a" is for apple. Follow me...

When trolling Facebook statuses & tweets, it never fails that someone types something like “Alllll man!! Did you see her ass?!?” & then they launch into whatever exciting or trifling thing that the woman in question has inspired their 2 heads to think. At 1st it was only something I noticed on the updates of my middle school students. It was just 1 more thing they were confused on. I've come to discover that people apparently don't hear well. Or maybe it's that they don't read. In all the books & comics I've read, the sound for when something is cute or sweet, or even amazing, has ALWAYS been a-w-w...however many w's made the point of just how cute or sweet or amazing something is. That sound ends in “w” or “wh.” As in wind...why...what...will. “W-w-w-w, what begins with w?” Remember that Dr. Seuss moment, teaching all us girls & boys the wondrous words we win when letters are woven together? That's alliteration. Anyway. When you add any number of l's behind an “a” it's still just the word “all.” That means the innocent looking “allllll man” means every man. All of 'em. Each & every man. Makes no sense does it? Nope, none.

The entry of the word “every” & the word “sense” bring me to my next pet peeve: “every since...” It comes up in songs—thanks Timbaland--& in conversation more than writing, but I've seen it there too. & it's GOT to STOP. See, “every” means each or all in a collective or group. In this instance it would be all of the “since.” If you know anything about English--which I'm going to snobbishly assume you don't if you say this—then you know that “senses” can be multiples (as in the 5) but not “since.” “Since” refers to time, typically past to present, even if it was only a second ago. For example, it has been about 15 seconds since the last time I typed the word “since.” See how I did that?

Let me, if I may, take you to English class for just a moment. In the 1st case it was about the word representation of sound, or onomatopoeia. In the case of “since” & “sense” they're homophones. They're pronounced the same but have different meanings AND spellings. Those damned Europeans... Stay with me now. If you say “My girl been trippin' every since I lost my job,” you've said...well...nothing. Like I said, you can't have each of the “since” because there's only 1 & its meaning doesn't fit in a plural fashion. The word you're looking for is EVER. “Ever” references time just like “since” does. It's about the continuation of time. If I replace “every” with “ever” the sentence changes into something that...makes SENSE. Ha!! It becomes, “my girl been trippin' EVER since I lost my job.” That means that your girl ain't been ackin' right from the moment you lost yo' job til this very moment. A continuation of time that's been working every one her nerves, causing her to work yours.

For those of you that know a lil sumpin bout Anglish, you've recognized that in each of those sentences there was a lack of a proper apostrophe folowing “girl.” You were probably looking for me to say “My girl'S been trippin' ever since I lost my job.” This speaks to yet another problem I see AND hear in epidemic proportions: the lack of the use of apostrophes. My guess would be that the misappropriation of the apostrophe to represent the accent mark has got the kids all confused on what's what. Honestly, how do you know what to do with the crazy floating symbol that hangs between the “i” & the “a” in your name & then you go & freakishly find it written behind an “s?” You couldn't possibly know what to do or be able to remember how to use it...no matter what your teacher says or how many times it's written on the board (or on your lunch box, in books, magazines, newspapers, billboards, tags, name brands, stores, shops & other businesses...).

This has only been 2 examples but they are widespread & bring me grief. It's clear that they are born of some mutated listening disability caused by a lack of reading & well...listening. Now, that may not make SENSE to you, but I promise that the more you see words (when you understand phonemes & blends) the more they make SENSE. It's how you can encounter a word in its written form & recognize it immediately. You've heard the word often & then you finally see it & know right away what it is. Like the 1st time I read the word “milieu.” Now, right away, if you thought I wasn't gon' hit you with something mildly (cuz this is mild) educational, you was #allaway wrong. Imma leave you to reach for your dictionary but Imma still finish this story. I'd heard the word milieu in passing from 1 or 2 people. It wasn't a word I'd heard a lot because...well...once you look it up you'll see there really aren't too many occasions for its use in general convos. Still, the kindsa folks I come from & the 1's they're around at times don't blink when it comes to flexin' their vocabs, when it counts of course. Blah, blah, blah...I'd heard it like twice & when it came up in a book I was reading, I didn't have to look the word up in hopes of finding the pronunciation. I KNEW what it was. No question. & I was right. Because...I read good. I tickle me.

Anyway...

I ain't gon' disrespect your whole attention span while I'm also disrespecting you or your relations' lack of sight-reading ability gone wrong in a whole speak & spell train wreck kinda way. It all reads like I've bent over & spread 'em before you, all cheeky (double entendre...you wit'me?), but it REALLY IS a PSA (public service announcement for those of you also not up on your acronyms) to help us all get better with this communication thing. It's important. Your paycheck might depend on it.

Watch me move.

Horrendous Holiday Mistakes

2012-01-16T17:55:00.000-05:00

This has been on my mind since midnight January 1 & I've got to let it out before I run up on 1 of you & just throat chop you.

When the New Year rolls in...there's only 1. None of that happy new yearS business; it really is just ONE new year. I see where you got confused. It's that whole New Year's Eve business & the complete misunderstanding of the apostrophe. Seriously, someone should make the album. I have more than enough examples to cut 10 solid tracks that could all go triple exclamation point--but that's because I know how to use punctuation. Back to the clarifying.

When it's New Year's Eve it just means that the Eve is of the New Year. It's the day before, not the day itself. When you get to the actual day, it is New Year's Day because the day itself is attributed to the New Year, being the 1st day and all. But that only refers to the days, individually. A year, in & of itself, is a collection of days. 365 to be exact. Therefore, the days have already been pluralized into 1 singular year. Are you with me so far? I hope so, because this needs to fall by the wayside & not happen next year.

As I was saying, when the new year rolls around, on January 1st of any year, it's just the 1 year. This year happens to be 2012, not all the years that came before it, or even the most recent past year. It's really just the 1. I promise. So, when you greet friends & family, all exuberant (loogidup) about a fresh start, the proper greeting is HAPPY NEW YEAR!! & then you can proceed to clank all the glasses of champipple you choose.

That said, I feel like it's early enough for me to address another holiday mistake that many of you make.

Sweet Baby Heart Shaped Choco Jesus sent down his angel, Cupid, to bestow upon you the gift of love. & how do you repay his chilly diapered self? By mispronouncing the holiday that sets him free to flutter about shooting arrows legally & with good cause. I speak of ValenTINE's Day. Yup...that's an "N." The word is not Valentime's Day, Valentom's Day, or even Valentahms Day. It's tee-eye-EN-ee. The holiday was named after Saint Valentine, the Catholic patron saint of love, young people & happy marriages. I could just imagine that in order for your prayers to a patron saint to be recognized, it kinda helps that you at least get his name right since most don't even know he's a Catholic saint. I don't know how the saints get down as far as denominational fidelity but every little bit helps. Enunciate with pronunciation to make happy your fornication & unification. #Imjessayin

I feel so much better now that I've cleared that up for you. I'd really like to go into a few of the commonly mispronounced words but I just don't know if I have the constitution to eff witchall on these words that you butcher worse than prepackaged lunch meat. Get your lives right. Stop saying folks "talk white" & get some friends who enunciate properly pronounced words so that you too can learn to speak the language. Then we can eradicate things like hood-rific on site news interviews, Black athletes turned commentators, adult invented spellings, the need for The Dumbest Tweets, & my ears bleeding. Thank you in advance for your support.

Watch me move.

Shoe Personality of the Week: 1/15/2012

2012-01-15T20:14:00.000-05:00

1st, let me just be honest about how I've been more than negligent. So many things are happening in the world that I've found it difficult to focus on any one thing. Then there are so many things happening in MY world that I've just wanted to feel them evenly & not alter the experience trying to rewrite it in my mind or in this blog. That has led to a great deal of dead space here & for that I apologize. Many of you have reached out to me about being your favorite, or 1 of your favorite bloggers, & I feel a certain responsibility to you. At the same time, the responsibility sometimes feels more like work than expression & breaks become necessary.

Blah blah blah...lets get on with it.

So...last weekend the world welcomed Jay Z & Beyoncé’s baby, Blue Ivy Carter. I didn't have a party, blow any confetti, or pop no bottles on behalf of the couple. Like with any new life, you wish that s/he is born healthy & into circumstances that are suitable for a child. We all know, aside from the digs Willow & Jayden Smith live in, there are few aesthetically or financially better circumstances a Bouncin' Baby Brownin' can be born into. However...I don't know any of those people. &, again, aside from hoping they have what it takes to raise good kids, it's not my business. Which also means that it ain't yours.

The Innerwebs were all a tizzy over this baby. I've seen some of the most ridiculous status updates & tweets EVER around this baby born to 2 people NONE OF YOU know & a baby you will NOT meet. Y'all don't even qualify to be that child's nanny or man-servant. The closest you'll get to these 2 is through ticket sales & album releases making you feel like they're speaking your soul. But they're not. At all.

This is why I can't imagine why y'all feel you have a right to weigh in on Blue Ivy's name.

We all know that celebs have been naming their children after cartoon & book characters, fruit, sodas, theme parks, tennis shoes, boats, military units, malt liquor, & any other such nonsense. It's en vogue to wild out & try to make their children's names mo' uniquer than yours. & they're winning. Sorta. Blue Ivy is a helluva lot better, in the opinions of most, than the random arrangement of vowels with hyphens & apostrophes masquerading as accent marks for those of you pretending you know anything French other than kissing & onion soup. In the words of Ed Lover, getthefuggouttahere!! No...really. Get the fugg outta here. I had a conversation with a student just the other day in which his name, that I've heard before as part of a Nigerian name, had actually come together as the joining of his parents' names. His mother's name is LaToya, but they call her Toya. His father's name is Danny. Just know that whatever name you come up with right now is NOT it; as he explained how "the oi come together to make the y-sound." Yup, Ok Blessed Angel, they sure do. The point? The names for your children don't make no cotdayumb sense either.

Now, we all know that I ain't no Beyoncé fan & while I've been a Jay supporter, I ain't no all out fanatic over the dude. I have never been worried about them as individuals or a couple. They make me feel all #kanyeshrug. But they don't strike me as random people who'd just pluck a name out of feathered sorting hat dusted off from B's Creole grandmother's attic in search of baby names. They don't strike me as a couple who trolled through naming books to see what the top names are right now to avoid naming their daughter some ol' commoner's BS. As people who have fattened their pockets on the power of words I don't suppose they overlooked that when coming up with their child's name. Allow me to philosophize for a moment, if I may.

I've heard/read that Baby Girl was named after Jay's favorite color Carolina Blue. I could even see some nutbucket naming their child Carolina 1st, & Bleu (spelled like the cheese for "originality") as the middle to be cleverly shallow & unfunny; without that being the goal of course. When I consider what the Knowles-Carters have to offer a child I considered that vast thing above us. The Sky. For a child who comes from people who haven't bought into the concept of "No" it would make sense that they'd want to remind her that the whole world IS indeed in her hands. Even the piece that belongs to Willow & Jayden. Please forgive my snark. Give her the great blue sky. Sky's been done. Even the versions with 2 k's, 2 y's, 2 i's, a cq, & an ai. #imjessayin Why not go left & name her Blue? Is this the rationale? Dunno, but it could be. As for the name Ivy...I looked that up. 1st it's old school. I haven't heard it used in about 15 or more years. Now, it could be the name of a relative who means a great deal to 1 or both of them. Or it could be based on the properties of ivy. Ivy is a plant that climbs. Up. & takes over. Do you smell what the Rock is cookin?

Let me be clear. I ain't worried about this couple or their baby. A'tall. But the shade some of you have thrown a baby is incredible. So I figured I'd engage in an exercise similar to the kind that YOU as a parent should be going through in naming your own child--assigning him or her some purpose from the door. Stop putting these random syllables together, recognized or new creations, & passing them off as your child's empty ass future. You have no idea how many students I work with who have names with no meaning who behave as people without purpose. There is, IMO, power in a name. Empower your children from the womb. Speak positive thoughts to them. Use affirming language. Be firm but loving. But more than anything else, assign them some purpose. They'll thank you later. & so will my colleagues.

Welcome little baby, & ALL the babies born on January 7, 2012. & a happy belated birthday to Du'Shawn Williams, wherever the world has taken you.

Watch me move.

Shoe Personality of the Week: 1/2/2012

2012-01-01T23:12:00.000-05:00

I said I would do it...for those of you who care. So...

Unique.

On this, the 1st day of 2012, I have examples all around me of what sets so many apart from their peers. I have a great group of wonderfully talented people in my circle who are moving & shaking in ways our parents wouldn't have dreamed were possible. What we do comes out on phone calls, over cocktails, breaking bread, riding to & fro, & through social networking. My friends are educators, writers, artists, jewelers, musicians, dancers & choreographers, actors, photographers, media moguls, physicians, trainers, spiritualists, stylists, chefs, organizers, facilitators, & intellectuals. They have presence in multiple arenas, making a living off of their multiple talents; go-to experts in their fields.

As this year opens, I'm acutely aware of the talents I possess & the need to do something an artist friend recently said & that is to stop being so humble. It's OK to be amazing...it doesn't negate how you too are or can be amazing. It is time for me to say out loud that I AM an educator with valuable experience that can help shape not just students but other educators. I need to affirm that I AM a writer who really needs to be vacating this space for bigger & better digs that are all mine. I AM a dancer who lives & breathes dance, even when my body disagrees with this passion. I AM a nurturer & a healer, with the powers of compassion & empathy that often help me see past the person to their circumstances & sharing the tools necessary to overcome challenges. I have a knack for creating conversation space & facilitating the sharing of ideas. I'm a halfway decent MC--master of ceremonies. I ain't no slouch in the kitchen. I can draw a few things. I have style--despite lacking the preferable budget.

How those things translate to the betterment of my Life is what needs to be looked at so that I can cultivate my gifts & thrust them into the forefront for the purpose of sharing. As we all know, sharing is caring, & we all benefit from stirring our talents up in the proverbial stew pot.

Look inward & tap into what you carry, how you can contribute to the stew & shine a light on them. Don't be ashamed to be good at something because their are too many people who lack obvious skill & talent who've figured out how to market their simple existence. Kim Kardashian much? There's gotta be a way to turn her name or the family's name into a verb that = living at the height of mediocrity or being contrived. Work on that & lemme know what you come up with.

Imma gon' & affirm today that I'm shooting for a higher mark than last year, setting my sights at surpassing myself & worried about no other. I intend to stand proudly & firmly in my uniqueness, taking no backseats for other's comfort. Love me or leave me alone. I'll do the same for you.

Watch me move.

7 Days of Holiday Blogging: Imani

2012-01-01T10:22:00.001-05:00

First, the Shoe Personality for the Week is being suspended in order to complete this 7 Days of Holiday Blogging in honor of the #OccupyKwanzaa movement. Depending on how this day flows, I may just do a double post & take advantage of the 1st day of 2012 falling on a Sunday. In the meantime, lets go...

Habari Gani, Villagers?

It's Imani, the 7th & final day of Kwanzaa. Today's principle is all about Faith, & is specifically defined

To believe with all our heart in our people, our parents, our teachers, our leaders and the righteousness and victory of our struggle.

As Kwanzaa got in full swing this year I've had more than 1 friend identify their favorite principle & what it means to their lives. As a child, my favorite days were as follows: Ujamaa, cooperative economics, featured the annual marketplace with all kinds of great handmade goods. After Ujamaa, my favorite would have to be Kuumba. It is not only my sister's birthday, but also 1 of the more exciting days of events. Naturally, with the day belonging to creativity, folks would show out & show off in grand flair. It would be assumed that any kid's favorite day would be Imani because it's the day the gifts are distributed. As much as I love the wonderment of opening beautifully wrapped bags & boxes, the whole of celebrating Kwanzaa was as much a gift as any table full of Zawadi. With others making note of their favorite days, for the 1st time I've actively thought about what day has the greatest effect on me. This year, it would have to be Imani.

Though I am an adult, I still enjoy receiving gifts. Though I'm an adult, my mother still makes a point of picking out unique gifts that bring broad smiles & great joy. This, however is not what stands out for me. This year in particular I'm able to see the enormous role Faith has played in my Life. The day before yesterday, as I stood in a line with friends at a Kwanzaa celebration, I was informed that 1 of my former students had been shot & killed last month. I've not seen this student in 7 years but his face is still etched in my memory. He was too young for my group, with the oldest kids in Freedom School, but wouldn't go to be with his rightful group. I kept him, making room for him in the family that my classroom had become, & by the end he was like my son. I loved his sweet face, his beautiful eyes, & the way he both sought my approval & tried to get away with murder. He was small for his age but had a big presence. Old enough to be his aunt, even his mother under more tragic circumstances, I loved him best of all in that group of children that I loved like I do all the children I work with—as though they're my own. The news of his death literally hit me in my gut, taking my breath away & relieving me of the ability to form coherent sentences. I stammered & gaped & stammered some more. I fought back tears. & then it was all replaced by a calloused outer shell, wondering how many times I'd have to feel those emotions & trying to steel myself against them early. He, Ercell, loved me because I had Faith in him & now I must find something to have Faith in as I return to work in a few days to work with children who have a 50/50 chance of meeting the same or similar ends. Though it is hard at times, I have to have Faith that someday the value of Life will finally ring true in the hearts of these babies who don't love themselves enough to love another.

It is these same children that make me question the future. I can proudly boast the experiences crafted to build my critical thinking skills, making my classmates & I among the best & the brightest as we left the safety net of our independent African centered school to attend public schools. We read early, delivered speeches, & won science fair categories that our ages should have disqualified us for. We skipped grades & got accepted to the colleges & universities that merit the positive nod. We've pursued careers in noble fields that contribute to the betterment of our communities, many of us working for &with children. Many of the children we work with, however, do NOT come from parents who've had the experiences we've had, who've had their minds intentionally cultivated to be intellectual contenders. We fight to pass on the beauty of learning to children who could give a shit about us, what we're “selling,” or themselves. They are ill prepared to be Employee of the Month at places that feature registers with picture on the buttons. They are ill prepared to speak in complete sentences with proper subject/verb agreement & can barely tell you what either of those things are. They are ill prepared to show up for interviews & convince anyone that they are worth the time it takes to learn on the job because the ways that they speak & dress are negative distractions. They do not know that success is subjective or that it takes time, effort, & diligence. When meals can be heated in seconds, products purchased on virtual streets with dollars they've never actually seen or had to account for, why should they believe us when try to tell them that knowledge is power & that they DON'T know everything (or anything...or enough of anything)? As an educator, it is my job to have Faith in children. As a human being, concerned for the plight of us all with the fast food generation behind us to take the reigns, it is my challenge to continue to find sources for that Faith. I have to have Faith that 1 day the direction we're headed will cause the parents who don't quite get it yet to wake up & do better. There is too much information at our fingertips for not knowing to be an excuse. There's a tutorial, a YouTube video, a website devoted to every topic real & imagined under the sun. If we don't know something we have to be courageous enough to admit we do not & seek information. It's a [quality] of Life or death situation here. When some more of these households start assisting us, the teachers, then you will see what teachers are able to do & have more Faith in us. Right now, our hands are tied & things look bleek. Help us help you.

& then I look at my mother. A couple years shy of 60, my mother's mobility is at times comparable to my grandmother's, who is 82. A woman who wore strength like a shield, my mother has been backed down by an illness that has changed her into a woman at times I don't recognize. They have the same face but 1 of them stands erect & moves with fire from her heels while the other walks assisted by 2 canes & other times zips around on a motorized scooter. My mother moves in slow motion through a reality I cannot imagine. She worries me with her inability to feel, her slow reaction time, & the potential target on her back in this society that devalues children & ignores elders. My mother sits tall now, instead of standing tall[er than me]. Even with these changes in her that I struggle with accepting, my mother smiles & laughs, a lot, & does the things she wants to do, even when it requires her to push through some of the same fears I have for her. More my Shero now than she ever was as the tough as nails, no nonsense woman who could carry a refrigerator on her back & tune up a car, I am learning to have Faith that it is possible to overcome ANYTHING. When we are not faced with maladies, we take for granted that we won't be & make assumptions about what we can & cannot handle. Watching people maintain their will to live after having their face removed by wild animal; finding ways to keep getting up when the parts of the body made for standing are absent or non-functional; watching a child play basketball with his hand permanently burnt into a claw...living is about the spirit within overcoming the shell that encases it or helps it travel. I am not interested in debilitating diseases or other infirmities, accidental or physiological, coming to test my abilities, but I am sure that these things are able to be overcome. Watch any elder go about the business of living while old[er] & be inspired by the possibilities.

I often say that Life will kill you, but along the way we learn some great lessons that assist us in navigating this terrain with a little more aplomb. I am thankful that I have been taught the value of reflection, or that this is something that is naturally a part of who I am. I love having the good sense to assess my experiences & take away the lesson, getting better at leaving behind the rest. In order to even get here, I had to have Faith that the direct kicks in my ass would prove worthy of something positive in the end. There is a lot happening in the world to test our Faith, but ultimately most of us have cause to rejoice in what we have—whether earned or given--& our ability to continue in forward motion. Whatever you believe in or pray to, connect to that on this day & fortify your Faith.

All of the things I've recently set out to do have been done. They may not have happened exactly according to plan, but they have been done. The power of words & intentions have propped me up as I move along my personal journey toward my Nia. With Kujichagulia I chase the source of Imani so that I may find reason to continue to participate in Ujima. Ujamaa is something I must work on, but something I will work on as those of us a part of this community understand more & more about quality & customer service. My Kuumba is developing, working toward finally cranking out bodies of work that benefit us all, adding to our Umoja.

Asante sana, thank you, for coming on this personal & educational journey through Kwanzaa with me & the ladies who so graciously shared themselves with me & you. I hope that, whether you choose to celebrate Kwanzaa in the future, that you have at least been given food for thought & a reason, if not reasons, to respect what the holiday is about. While you've been quiet, asking no questions & leaving no comments, I have been able to track the readership & know that you've at least read the words. Moving forward in 2012, I hope to provide more occasions for you to think a little deeper on what's happening around us all, as well as to laugh at the absurdity of the things that happen in Life. I look forward to you finding your voice & sharing it, guiding some of the conversation pieces that land here. I wish you & yours a safe & peaceful ringing in of 2012, henceforth referred to as the TwoZeroOneTwo in a voice that is dead wrong but near & dear to some of us. May the new year bring you all that you desire & that you work toward having.

Happy New Year!!

Watch me move.

7 Days of Holiday Blogging: Kuumba

2011-12-31T20:07:00.001-05:00

Habari Gani, Villagers?
Kuumba, Habari Gani?

YAZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!! You've been Google'in!

The rare weekend post has come along again. & for a special treat, I have found an African who celebrates Kwanzaa, something/one else you all think is rare. I'm so excited about her participation. One, because I LOVE engaging my sisters in the things that they do well & there are quite of few eloquent writers in my ~~mist~~. More than that though, is the sharing of perspectives, our personal stories & insight. I think it's important to hear from her, now, because it helps to further validate that everything starts from somewhere--a seed gets planted--but when it grows, its fruit can feed more than the who or whatever originally planted it. Kwanzaa has wide arms able to embrace you all. Even if you don't embrace it though, I hope we've shown that it is at least worthy of your respect at the table. So, I give you the words & experience of Mavhu Farai.

I am a first generation Zimbabwean American woman, married to an Afrikan man in America, we have three children two of whom are halfricans, as I call them, half African and half African American. They, being raised by a Pan Afrikanist father in his community, see themselves as Afrikans who happen to have a Zimbabwean mother which is interesting seeing as I, their Mother/Mama/Amai, don’t believe that there is such a thing as an Afrikan. I am not Afrikan, I am Zimbabwean/Shona/Zezuru and even more specifically Muhera, you can call me Vachihera. I was raised Christian, my husband was raised in a traditional Afrikan religion. He believes I am not in enough touch with my roots because I have no idea what it is like to have been cut off from them. I think he is at times grasping too tightly to his roots because your hand has to be a little open to receive. With all of the complications of self determination going on in our household one of the few things we all agree on is Kwanzaa. Kwanzaa reinforces who we are and the basic principles we want our children to have. Kwanzaa is as simple or as complicated as we, the family celebrating it want it to be.

I was asked to write this by a friend who called me “one of those unicorns--the African who celebrates Kwanzaa (no matter how it came to be or why).” She is right, I am that unicorn and I do celebrate Kwanzaa with pride. I am not going to go into the details of how Kwanzaa began or why, I will happily take the liberty (so easily taken by those who celebrate other major holidays worldwide) of assuming that everyone knows what Kwanzaa is and that if they don’t they will take a minute to open another tab and Google it.

Today my husband, children and I celebrate Kuumba, the 6th day of Kwanzaa. I chose to write about Kuumba because it’s the principle that brings to my mind the women in my family. I think of my oldest daughter, the one we are coaxing, cajoling, threatening and encouraging with the help of loans and couponing through her third year in Art school. She thinks she is just in art school getting a degree in fine arts but when she makes some crazy looking wall hanging that weaves over and under itself hundreds of times she is my paternal grandmother memorizing and perfecting tiny and complicated crochet doily patterns that she sells at the market to put my father through school. When she can’t stay away from shades of red in her paintings for weeks on end she is my maternal grandmother who at the end of a long day in her fields finds time to maintain neat rows of bright pink flowers on either side of the entrance to the hut that serves as her kitchen because she always understood what I am now just learning that every hardworking woman needs a little bit of something pretty just for herself every day. When my daughter is trying to figure out how to stretch the money she earns between her transport to school, her cell phone bill and her art supplies and then turns our recycling into a piece of art that gets her the only A in her class, she is my mother successfully executing one impossible business plan after another to stretch the families income because she does not see moving her four children from private school as an option. From intricately crocheted lace to flowers outside a kitchen door, creativity for my foremothers, and now for my daughter is not just a part of life it is a way of living. Habari Gani! Kuumba!

There were a few messages in there. You may need to go back & read it again. But through her Kuumba, her creativity, Mavhu spun them in with the ease of a spider. This is the time for you to assess how you creatively express yourself? What contributions do you make to the lives of those around you through your talents? If the answer, thus far, is nothing--how will you change that moving forward? The ways in which we express ourselves, through our creative talents, are like prayer. Each time we use them we say thank you for having them & affirm their value to ourselves, families & communities. Nurture the creative spark you see in a child. You never know what that child will do with it. Go back & 'Kofa (Sankofa) your own. Revive it & do it to death. Learn something new & explore its every possibility. & then share it with others.

In the meantime, check out www.swradioafrica.com to learn more about what's going on in Zimbabwe. Knowledge is power. Gitchu a piece.

One more day to go y'all. We're almost there. See you then?

Watch me move.

Post Script--I MUST shout out the ladies of 5 the Hard Way who have always & continue to use their Kuumba to perpetuate African traditions through West African dance & song, as well as the brothas who drum for & with them. You all teach, inspire, perform & amaze!!

7 Days of Holiday Blogging: Nia

2011-12-30T14:14:00.002-05:00

Habari Gani, Villagers, Habari Gani!! You know what it is by now. So, I'll get right into it. Today's feature is from my girl Yaa Enum. Her story is very personal & 1 I think many of you can relate to, whether it's directly related to Kwanzaa or not. The value of Kwanzaa for Yaa Enum:

Nia (Purpose): To make our collective vocation the building and developing of our community in order to restore our people to their traditional greatness.

Ahhhh it’s Kwanzaa time!! Habari Gani??? Today actually is the 5th day which is Nia. I am not going to give a history lesson on Kwanzaa. It is day 5 and by now you’ve already heard it at LEAST 5 times. If you haven’t then Google it. I’d pretty much have to Google, cut & paste to give it to you (Note: that’s how I got the definition of Nia).

I was actually happy when asked to write this because it really made me reflect on the reasons that I celebrate Kwanzaa. My history of celebrating Kwanzaa started when I was a single mom. I was 21 trying to figure out life with a 4 year old child. I worked very hard for us and made many sacrifices to ensure that she had everything that she needed. I also always went the extra mile to make sure that she had the things that she wanted. Christmas was no exception. I’d start around October purchasing, laying items away and putting money aside just so she can have a good and plentiful Christmas. Also, being the only little person in the family, she’d receive a bounty of gifts from my family.

That year was extremely challenging for me on so many levels so I was looking forward to the end of the year, spending time with family, Christmas and her getting gifts. Christmas morning I watched her rip thru wrapping paper tossing aside those gifts that she didn’t like, giving attention to those that she did like for only a few minutes and finally asking if “that was it” (I felt deflated). In her defense, she was 4 years old and I understand that it was totally age appropriate but it was at that moment that I realized that I had to do something different! We weren’t religious folks so… JC wasn’t the reason for the season. I wanted her to understand that things have to have meaning. I just wasn’t sure what meaning I wanted to instill.

That following Fall while at a book fair, I happened upon a children’s book about Kwanzaa. I shared the book with my daughter and I decided that we would incorporate/celebrate it. IMPORTANT TO NOTE… I’d never seen a Kwanzaa celebration and had only heard mentions of it. THIS book was all the information that I had. The book was illustrated…it didn’t even have real pictures but THIS book was going to be my reference for celebrating Kwanzaa.

As the holidays approached I was very nervous. I felt like I was doing something wrong! I only knew that I HAD TO DO IT!! I can’t really explain the feeling. I dodged shopping invitations because I’d decided that I was only going to give my daughter 2 or 3 gifts. I wandered around Christmas tree lots with my Mom pretending that every tree was sparse and leaning so that I didn’t have to purchase one. I just didn’t know how to announce it to my family and friends. At home in secrecy my daughter and I (well more ME…she wanted a damn tree w/lights, candy canes etc) “decorated” for Kwanzaa. I had scented candles lined up (I had no idea where to get a kinara or candles) on a kitchen towel near a bowl of fruit (which was also part of her lunch…so by week’s end it was gone). I also had the 3 gifts that I’d purchased on the table (looking back this was quite cruel…making her watch her gifts for 6 days LOL). I remember my Mom coming to visit, seeing at my “decorations” and looking at me like I’d lost my mind. (The following year she showed up at my house with a tree. I took it in protest and propped it up with no tree stand in a corner). I can laugh about it now but I honestly was a nervous wreck that year!! Years following I did find celebrations in the community, I got better with my decorations as we established a way of celebrating at home. I still attended Christmas celebrations with my family and eventually they began to come celebrate with us as well.

If you know me then you know that I don’t wear anything on my sleeve (I CAN WRITE ALL OF THIS BUT I’D NEVER SAY IT OUT LOUD). I am a very private person when it comes to beliefs. I strongly live by “to each his own” and “what ever moves you to being a better human being then go for it”. The principles of Kwanzaa are quite affirming for me. Many years ago the appeal of that children’s book wasn’t about being anti-Christmas it was about the principles. I wanted to teach my child (and future children) about living well, self awareness, the hard work that goes into giving & receiving, living righteously and following their destiny towards those things. I personally found those lessons in the Nguzo Saba & in the spirit of Kwanzaa. Whether they continue to celebrate it is their decision. It is very fitting that Kwanzaa means “first fruits” because through my connections with Kwanzaa, as a mom... I was able to plant the seed in them.

It is sort of appropriate that I’d be asked to contribute this on Nia because not only was this the ONLY principle that I could pronounce that very first Kwanzaa (I AM VERY SERIOUS!), but it was also the principle that sort of moves me the most. The realization that you have PURPOSE. I can now appreciate the decision to follow my spirit the year that I decided to celebrate Kwanzaa. It actually lead me to becoming more interested in African traditions & culture. It lead to me becoming more aware of my community. It has lead to connections with some of the most amazing people that are out here trying to make change in our communities through whatever means (PURPOSE) that they’ve been given. We all have a mission in this life. We are born as individuals with an individual plan that even those that gave birth to us can’t control. Your purpose and your mission might be contrary to what EVERYBODY around you is doing but you have to follow and trust the spirit that is guiding you.

Medase Paa for letting me share!! Blessings to all!!”

--Yaa Enum (aka Big Al from All over the place ☺ )

I'm so excited that this has turned into such a community effort! Ultimately, community is what this is ALL about. I am so very pleased that my friends in word & deed have been willing to share their perspectives with you this year! If you haven't figured it out by now, Kwanzaa is a holiday celebrated during the same Winter season as 2 other prominent holidays, but Kwanzaa is bigger than that. The Nguzo Saba, 7 principles, is a foundation for LIVING. & we must--all of us do this--assess how we're living & what we're living for. I doubt there's a coincidence that this all coincides with the start of a new year. Yaa Enum has shared that this celebration has broadened her Life & its purpose for her & for her children. This is B.I.G., folks. Please believe it. & the 40 million people worldwide who celebrate this holiday only grows annually. You haters can keep hating, but you can see we have so much more behind us than your minimally funny jabs.

Two more days to go.

Watch me move.

7 days of Holiday Blogging: Ujamaa

2011-12-29T14:07:00.000-05:00

Hey y'all, hey. So, it's still Kwanzaa, & I'm still inviting guest bloggers to kick their feet up on my couch & share in the celebration of Kwanzaa through edutainment. So, I bring to you, this day, a friend & my Sistren of the Traveling Quills (just made that up seconds ago), Maisha Hyman Sumbry:

Ujamaa - Cooperative Economics

First of all, I gotta thank Ms. NdygoSunshyne for allowing me to contribute to her amazing blog. I am truly honored to have been allowed to force myself into the fray!

Alright – so on to the point of it all:

HABARI GANI AFRIKANS!!!

Since this is the fourth day of Kwanzaa, I trust that three times was a charm and you’ve got this Kwanzaa greeting thing down pat!

UJAMAA!!

Yes, folks, it’s the fourth – and one of the most important days of Kwanzaa – Ujamaa: Cooperative Economics – a concept on which us black folk could definitely use a primer. We need a refresher course on what it means to take care of our own and support our own.

My family has always ridden hard for Kwanzaa – all year. As a wee Afro-wearing, lappa tied youngin’, Mommy used to take me to the black owned ice cream shop on Hamilton in Highland Park, Michigan – where I got my fix of double-dipped Superman on a sugar cone. And then she’d hop across the street to Varsity Cleaners, and pick up her freshly Martinized slacks that were “done in four hours or it’s free”. Our car mechanics looked like us. We ate at restaurants owned by people who looked like us (shout out to the Muslims at Aknartoons on Woodward and those banging barbequed beef ribs). Back then, there was no shortage of black-owned businesses that thrived in our communities. My life was surrounded by black folks who had their own and took care of their own.

Perhaps it was the genocidal cocktail of Reaganomics and crack in the early 80s, but suddenly, shit got real ill. Storefronts grew weeds, the paint peeled and the windows were soon either broken out or boarded up. Neighborhood services dwindled. Jheri curls began sprouting up. And it all became about the dollar. No longer was it important to buy black. It just became important to be able to find a place to buy SOMETHING. The fourth day of Kwanzaa admonition “to build and maintain our own stores, shops and businesses and profit from them together” began to ring hollow. There were no stores, shops and businesses in my neighborhood anymore. And in the tough economic climate of the 80s, everyone was trying to save a dollar. Heading out to West Jablip for an ice cream cone just didn’t seem sustainable.

However, as tides are sure to turn, we are in a different time now. Many of us are making more than our parents ever thought they’d earn. We’re also making much worse financial decisions with our resources. A rack of us can read, speak, and write so well – but are financially and economically ILLITERATE. Though we have black-owned institutions, we still continue to run them as if we don’t want them to be functional enough for us to pass down to our children. We don’t demand accountability for services, and we are loathe to accept constructive criticism about our sometimes shady business practices.

Not only do we gamble with our financial health – but with our physical health as well.

Warning for the sensitive: It’s about to get real in the field right now so if you’re easily offended, log off.

I’m about tired of receiving the email from the family of the community elder about how s/he is suffering from an incurable disease and does not have health/life insurance or the funds to continue to have access to basic health care services and medication. What are we really doing with and to ourselves? Are we truly building a legacy when we leave the burden on the next generations to take care of us and rehabilitate our dying institutions?

My challenge on this day of Ujamaa is for us to start being really honest with ourselves and with our families – our children and our elders. If we don’t have our financial houses in order, they’re going to crumble around us.

Let’s sit down with our parents and ask them what their plans are if they get sick. What funds are available to access should they need long-term medical care? Let’s assess our own funds to figure out if we’re really in a position to care for them ourselves or if we need to make adjustments to ensure that our elders are comfortable in their sunset years.

Let’s ask ourselves how we can run our businesses better. Let’s understand that it’s okay to place a dollar value on our services! It’s okay to say “it costs money for my drum and dance group to come and perform at your event.” It’s okay to say, “Mama/Baba, I’m gonna need that tuition payment by the fifteenth of the month or you’re going to have to make some arrangements for your child.”

Let’s start being better with our resources so that we can leave something more for our children and their grandchildren.

In the spirit of Ujamaa – pull seven strong Harambees on that!

Well! There you have it. This IS a communal ill. We are not well versed in dollars & cents & the ways in which we ensure wealth for our future generations. Half of us (if not more) aren't making our bills now, living beyond our means. Understanding the value of our dollars, educating the children on that value & the WORK involved in securing them & making them work for us are NECESSARY lessons that MUST be taught sooner rather than later.

Thank you, Maisha, for your words today. You can check out more of her thoughts on "this & that from sneakers to hats" over at retiredsuperwoman.blogspot.com

Stay tuned for tomorrow's guest blogger contribution to Nia!! All about that purpose, Man, all about that purpose.

Watch me move.

7 Days of Holiday Blogging: Ujima

2011-12-28T17:22:00.000-05:00

Habari Gani, Villagers & Lurkers?!? What's the news?
Ujima, Habari Gani?

Excellent. You're getting it.

Well, lets get right to it shall we. Every year the Kwanzaa Grinches poke out their lips & fold their arms & pout against Kwanzaa. Then they take to the Innerwebs to bash a holiday they really know nothing about. Truth be told, most of you celebrating Christmas don't REALLY know what it's about. But because people prefer to move in groups, the larger group celebrates Christmas. All to the good. As you pout about what you consider to be Xmas Lite, we're busy celebrating everywhere & some of us celebrate everything. Usually this barrage of negativity doesn't phase me any. I don't really care what people choose to celebrate or if they choose to celebrate anything. I'm not trying to force anything down anyone's throats. It just began to irk me the ignant comments being made on mostly satirical blogs--though we all know we tell our truths thru humor--without context. I decided to take to these virtual streets & pull together some other folks who DO celebrate Kwanzaa so I could add more than my voice to the conversation. So, I'm gonna back up & let the 1st of the guest bloggers do her thing. I give you, Negarra Kudumu.

I am always amazed by the nature of criticism leveraged against certain concepts. In this case, I refer specifically to recent musings on Kwanzaa which only scratch the surface when it comes to a substantive analysis of the holiday's merits and faults. As someone who was raised celebrating this holiday and who only sparingly celebrates it as an adult, I am the first to acknowledge the challenge in widespread intellectual and practical adoption of the holiday. That however doesn't invalidate its cultural relevance, particularly given the historical backdrop upon which it was created, and the fact that the principles were and still remain relevant in a 21st century world. That someone would devote an entire blog post - myself included - suggests that minimally it matters enough to merit even jocular criticism.

Many form their basis for criticizing the holiday on their personal dislike for the founder, Dr. Maulana Karenga. Just as we have conveniently separated Christ from Christmas and labor for from Labor Day, we can also separate Dr. Maulana Karenga from Kwanzaa. He was the creator and remains an avid promoter of Kwanzaa, among other things, however Kwanzaa isn't him and he isn't Kwanzaa. At some point Dr. Karenga will make his transition, as we all eventually will, and Kwanzaa will remain. To limit this holiday to its founder misses the mark completely and ignores the historical context and cultural relevance of the concept. Kwanzaa was created in 1966 by Dr. Maulana Karenga who has been a long life activist and advocate for the preservation of African-American culture with a view towards connecting African-Americans to their historical origins on the African continent. Dr. Karenga was not the first to advocate such ideas. If you are familiar with the work of Marcus Garvey and various negritude intellectuals such as Frantz Fanon and Leopold Senghor among others, you will find very similar concepts and ideas.

What makes Kwanzaa unique is that it is one of the few sectoral holidays which sets out and advocates basic principles intended to serve as guidance for action in every day life. These principles, the Nguzo Saba, speak specifically about collective action which in a world oriented around the needs and wants of a choice few political and economic elite, rather than the masses of the people who actually make the world go round, was and still is - dare I say it - revolutionary.

In fact there is a specific principle that speaks to collective action and that is Ujima. Ujima stands for collective work and responsibility. To quote the official definition:

To build and maintain our community together and to make our brothers' and sisters' problems our problems and to solve them together.

2011 in retrospect has been the year of collective work and responsibility and also Kujichagulia (self-determination). We have seen the rise of CELAC a new political and economic bloc uniting the countries of Latin America and the Caribbean. Since the the beginning of the year we have witnessed the various uprising cum revolutions in the Arab world not to mention the Occupy Wall Street network of protests which has completely and totally transformed the global conversation on political and economic inequity.

In the spirit Ujima and the Nguzo Saba I urge you to enter into discussions with your community about the relevance of Kwanzaa and other cultural practices you honor. Be critical and be balanced.

For more information and perspectives on Kwanzaa please visit:

The Official Kwanzaa Web Site
7 Whole Days of Holiday Blogging: Umoja
7 Days of Holiday Blogging: Kujichagulia

You can check Negarra's musings out on her site negarraakilikudumu.com

So, like my sister said, it's time to pay attention to everything going on around us. The powers that be don't give a mili-damn about you OR me. As you can see with what's going on around the world. Things are changing & faster than you can spell Cee. Enn. Enn. It's time for all of us to figure out who we are banding with & to what end. What are we working for & toward? How are we preparing ourselves for when these folks burn this empire to the ground? We are all in the same boat. Those with yachts think they're doing better than the rest but discovering they can't fuel it will remind them that a yacht & a canoe are virtually the same. The difference is, the group in the canoe can use man power to get to the next destination while the yacht is up the proverbial creek without the literal paddle.

Whether you celebrate Kwanzaa or not, the concept of collective work & responsibility is very real!! What does it mean to you?

Now lets lighten the mood a little. Enjoy.

Watch me move.

7 Days of Holiday Blogging: Kujichagulia

2011-12-27T17:38:00.004-05:00

I told you yesterday this moment would come so, are you ready? Lets try it out.

Habari Gani?
Now you say...
Kujichagulia, Habari Gani?

Excellent.

It's Day 2 of our 7 day celebration of the fruits of labor this year; with Kwanzaa meaning first fruits & all. Today's principle is 1 that we can all get with: the concept of "do you." This isn't a random "do you," however. See, Kujichagulia is defined specifically as self-determination.

To define ourselves, name ourselves, create for ourselves and speak for ourselves, instead of being defined, named, and spoken for by others.

As a little girl, on this particular morning, my sister & I would get up & come to the table with our mouths open like little birds waiting for the worm. As we waited to be fed 1 or both of our parents would greet us & we would respond in kind with "Kujichagulia." We'd listen to or recite the meaning with them, & then they'd ask us what it meant to us. Clearly as a small child, it was mostly about what I wanted to be when I grew up. We were able to articulate the importance of not allowing others to govern our paths, decide our futures.

This message is especially crucial to me right now as I try to figure out, still, what I want to be when I grow up, but more importantly because I work with children...who often haven't the faintest idea what they want to be or what's even possible. I've told this story or parts of it in here before, I do believe, but I'll share it again because it's relevant.

When I was just shy of 4 years old I saw my little sister born at home. It was the most incredible thing my bug eyes had ever witnessed & I decided then & there that I too was going to deliver babies like the incredible midwives who were there with my mother. Unbeknownst to me it would involve gynecology, which I rebuked as an option, so I had to move on in my head to other things. At 12 I became the unofficial counselor to my friends & decided that child psychology was the way to go. Along the way I wanted to be a model, a female dj, a social worker, a dancer, & summostuff. While I was seemingly all over the place with my goals, the point is that I had interests that helped me pinpoint directions I may have gone in. The children I come in contact with, when asked what they like/like to do/wanna be/etc always respond with the same answer: "I'onknow." This isn't entirely their fault. Some of them have parents who don't talk to them or expose them to anything & the THINGS they've been given don't really expand their mind or hip them to their possibilities.

& that, folks, scares the shit out of me. How will these children eventually define themselves? Because we all do at some point. For my Kwanzaa-haters out there, this is where I help you understand the value of the Nguzo Saba or the 7 principles of Kwanzaa. Crazy thing is, the principles are designed to be a way of life. They serve as reminders for how we can live positively with self, as well as others. Now that a lot of children don't attend church to receive Christian values, it is still necessary for children to be given some kind of guidance, a code to live by. The Nguzo Saba is all about leading by example though, & no one represents the 7 principles better than children who've been taught them.

This day would be about reflection. We'd spend most of it, if not all of it, at home with family. We'd assess what our own goals are & discuss them openly, even write about them & then shared. This would be a day of decision-making for the coming year: who will I be? How will I contribute? By the time the candles were lit--black for Umoja & the 1st red candle for Kujichagulia--I/we'd need to be able to articulate what we'd come up with. & by extension we would also have read about & presented some person in our history who had done something positive for his or her people. Black people. & by extension, all people.

See...through the celebration of Kwanzaa we are steeped in positivity & the necessity of perpetuating the best of who we are individually & collectively. It's bigger than lights & tree trimming. It's in addition to whatever else you believe in, no matter your religious affiliation. It is not a replacement. It is not a bootleg version of anything. It is not substituting rice for potatoes. It is reveling in the beauty of Black people & sharing that beauty with everyone. Our PR in the U.S. & around the world may lead some of you to believe that we ain't working with much. Head to a Kwanzaa celebration & see just how much. & on your way there, consider how you define yourself & if perhaps your definition could use an edit.

Furaha Kwanzaa (Happy Kwanzaa)!!

Watch me move.

Now, check out a friend & some of the children I know & love & their contribution to your education this holiday season.

7 Whole Days of Holiday Blogging: Umoja

2011-12-26T13:13:00.001-05:00

Habari Gani?!?

For you newbies, that means "What's the news?" The appropriate response would be the principle for the day & then to ask what's the news as well. It looks like this: "Umoja, Habari Gani?" It's a lil call & response--you know--the African way. On your block it looks a lil like:

What's happenin, Man?
Ain't nothin. Y'all good over there?
Yeah, fam. Solid.

You know...depending on the age of the participants in the conversation. I'll skip the translation for my own generation (& younger) since it might not sound all positive, & Kwanzaa ain't nothin' but positivity.

So, in case you missed the implied message, today's principle, principle moja (1 in Swahili), is Umoja. Umoja means unity. & who doesn't need some of that? The official principle broken down means to

Strive for and maintain unity in the family, community, nation and race.

I know you don't mess with Kwanzaa cuz it's all bootleg to you, Christmas bargain basement & whatnot, but does that sound like a concept that doesn't work for, oh...I don't know...EVERYDAY?!?

I'm not here to proselytize, not looking for converts; I'm just tryna share.

Anywho...If you were me, when I was growing up, this afternoon or evening you would go to a common place like a school, a community center, the home of friends or family & have a candle lighting ceremony. There would be this really big kinara (candelabra to you) & there'd be 7 candles, 1 for each of the principles. We had 7 day candles that stayed lit (major fire hazard in hindsight) in my mind the whole time. I'm thinking perhaps the mamas & babas just relit it before people started showing up. #shrug Back to the memory. We'd gather at said location & libation would be poured. For those not in the know it's the equivalent of pouring out a lil likka for the dead homies. Only here, we commemorate not only Uncle John, Pookie n'nem, but prominent ancestors that have paved the way for us. Naturally you hear Brother Malcolm's name, Dr. King, & then it becomes almost a trivia addition of who studied more about Black History. Ida B. Wells & John Henrik Clarke get dropped too for the folks who read. Not sure who else you may or may not know so I won't waste time with that right now. Following libation is usually the children reciting the day's principle as the candle is being lit. Today would be the black candle in the middle. Then the mamas & babas allow the children to break down what Unity means to them before expounding on it themselves for what, in a child's mind, felt like FOR. EVER. RAH.

Discussion done & the drumming & dancing would start. If you don't know 'bout African drum & dance & how rousing it is, then you haven't lived. Seriously. In the TwoZeroOneTwo, you need to #gitchusome post & haste. The children from whatever independent schools are around or hosting would put on plays & skits all related to Unity & Kwanzaa in general. Everybody loves watching the babies do their thing & there's nothing more precious than precocious 3, 4, & 5 year olds dressed in red, black, & green, or kente from 2 lifetimes ago stumbling over their lines in a play they co-wrote with their teacher. Really! It's great stuff. Then the teens come out & do a dance they learned from the local African dance troupe & the sons & daughters of the folks who everyone knows can dance upstage the other unfortunate babies who've been given time steps to keep from messing up the choreo. Somebody will then sing an original song & challenge the audience to NOT get up & take a bathroom break in the middle of it. Why? Because we must strive to endure the song together. Umoja, people. People like me fight hard to keep from laughing out loud. In these days, of the Smart Phone, I would busy myself tweeting about how ridiculous the song is. But it's not because it's a Kwanzaa song but because NONE of us have the patience for untested, unproduced, raw, unconfirmed talent without an exit strategy. American Idol, anyone?

If you're at someone's home there'll be some food & we get to do what we love to do--break bread. After the meal the adults get into heated discussions about Pan Africanism...OR, they play cards & turn the music up. The kids are downstairs or in another room or off away from the adults talkin trash (in the ways we've learned from our parents) & playing games. Around 1 or 2 a.m. parents pack drowsy or sleeping kids up & drag them home. Then we get up refreshed & prepared to do it all over again. 7 days of practicing purpose, 7 days of living the 7 principles of the Nguzo Saba out loud, & 7 days of discussing how you will continue to live those principles in the coming year. Affirmations.

To my friends who celebrate Christmas (only), we have no trees & no tinsel. There are no neighborhood lights contests & no carolers. However, we do have the spirit of community that extends beyond family, & for 7 whole days (no Toni Braxton, again) we celebrate the fruits of our labor in the past year & prepare to do it better in the coming year through the sharing of ideas & love. It's not religious, but it does have a value system. We are not heathens. We are not bootleggers, & in the end, we party harder than you.

Sorry...summa y'all ride our backs so hard I had to stick my tongue out at you for a second.

Again, not trying to convert, just trying to share the spirit (which doesn't include that last comment).

Stay tuned tomorrow where you'll learn all about day 2, the 2nd principle, & the hardest to pronounce. Lemme get you started now.

Kujichagulia (koo-gee-cha-goo-lee-yah)
So tomorrow when I say "Habari Gani?" you'll say.....? Ok, see you then.

Watch me move.

Shoe Personality of the Week: 12/26/2011

2011-12-25T12:49:00.000-05:00

It's December.
How do I know? Because today is Christmas & I learned in school that Christmas is in December. I certainly, & thankfully, can't tell based on the weather.

Can I get a "HAH. LAY. LEW. YAH!!"

#Enneweighs, the only trouble with this warm-ish December business is that I've finally been knocked down & dragged under by the power of the Almighty UGG. The fight has been long & arduous, but UGG is a sneaky opponent with its minions wearing them all year round with shorts & corduroy minis. An obvious effort at confusing the masses.

I set myself up though. I prepped UGG for the perfect sucker punch. I got curious why people care so much & went on the official Aussie website. Wait, that didn't happen 1st. I was in Nordstrom's, the top floor with 2 escalators between Brass Plum (teens & play dollars department) & what grown folks with money are doing. The baddest pair of boots in there were by UGG & looked nothing like those round toed monstrosities that make everyone look like cartoon characters drawn by preschoolers. They make feet look like they're wearing mittens. I HATE THEM!! & yet...

So, the Nordies trip led me to the website which led me to trying on my sister's pair that she got last year that looked NOTHING like the aforementioned boot. More proof that to rock the brand did not mean to succumb to the trend & buy a ticket for the bandwagon.

Now, on this day of gift giving, I must admit that I'm a little sick that I have no cause to wear my latest obsession. See, Sweet Sherpa-lined Baby Jesus knows that I love sheep skin. He knew that UGG makes a sheep skin boot. & so he has removed the cold weather so that I do not fall all the way down. UGG got my mind but Baby Jesus sent Donnie McClurkin to pick my body up off the ground.

It was a close call. & I've been rescued from my wayward soul before it took over my pockets.

Now, if the cold weather should come, I'm prepared to make a different UGG decision, to keep me up off the trend. I can be grown AND warm.

So, on top of the never ending guffawing with family, sharing them with B.B., the slow cooker, the grapefruit hand soap, the sock change purse, rediscovering The Deele's "Sweet November," (though I prefer Troop's version) & the Jackson 5 dedication, I have also been regifted my sanity.

To those of you it matters to: Merry Christmas!!
The celebration of Kwanzaa begins in these streets tomorrow (trying to commit to posting the WHOLE WEEK).

Watch me move.

Post Script--this is the last shoe of the TwennyLeven. Thank you to those of you who have said to me that this is your favorite, that you love this feature. You too are a gift to me. I just do this for fun & I'm glad it's fun for you too.

A Holiday Lasso

2011-12-22T18:08:00.000-05:00

It's Thursday & the last post til Sunday when it's time to step into the virtual shoe closet. I'm about to get my cliché on & get all blah blah blah about the holidays. I just feel like it's my duty, right quick, to brings things back to what's supposed to be the overarching theme of all of this:

LOVE!!

Hanukkah started yesterday. While I am not Jewish, don't knowingly have a lot of Jewish people in my circle, I do recognize that this is also a special time of the year for them as well. The fact that I don't celebrate Hanukkah doesn't mean that I should disregard its importance to the Jewish community. Oddly enough, I used to work for a Hillel Center & was responsible for planning some of their holiday celebrations. Slightly different set up but about the same things everyone else's holidays are about--sharing, caring, & respect for who they believe in as their higher power.

Christmas is around the corner. I don't celebrate it either. I wasn't raised in the church, don't come from parents who believe in organized religion & have seen no need to embrace it myself as adult free to make my own decisions. However, my extended family WAS raised in the church, are Christians & DO celebrate Christmas. Out of love & respect for family, my mother raised us to have the same respect. Much the same way we don't support the history behind Thanksgiving, we DO support any day that's freely given to bring families together when the hustle & bustle of Life often gets in the way & lessens those opportunities. In short, we go to dinner with the family & enjoy each other. I don't recall a time the Bible was ever mentioned, can't recall a carol sung, but just enjoying being around people with replicas of your face & who knew you before you did.

Kwanzaa starts the day after Christmas & I WAS raised on it. I'm admittedly less gung ho about the way I celebrate the holiday but I DO still celebrate because of my belief in the value of the 7 principles. T'is the season for Kwanzaa bashing & the bastardization of Kente & mudcloth all over things they were never suited to cover--like toothbrushes. Some of the bashing is done in such a funny way that I can't help but laugh. I DO have a sense of humor & love to laugh. Still, I hold near & dear to my heart this holiday that seems to be the fodder for many jokes. I'll get into that once Kwanzaa begins. I think I'm going to devote 7 whole days (no Toni Braxton) of blog space to it so that you can perhaps see it through the eyes of someone who doesn't continue to celebrate Kwanzaa for the reasons others seem to ridiculously feel it exists.

Whether it's Jesus, Jehovah, Jah, or the "J" equivalent of nothing, we should all be consumed with the celebration of family--that includes anyone who resides in your heart as such--& enjoying the allotted time to come together & bask in each others' smiles & laughter. Cuz whether it's a fish fry, a honey baked ham or a dry ass turkey, it's about who is sitting at the table with you more than what's on the table (though we all pray it's been prepared with love & consideration for our taste buds).

Happy Holidays to you all, enjoy your loved ones, &...

Watch me move.

Foreplay: End Game!

2011-12-20T18:50:00.000-05:00

Pandora's Box.
Double Entendre. Sit widdit a minute...

Anywho, Imma get at this in a minute, but do know that I found THE BEST flick for this post. But the content alone is enough to create enough mental flicks in the movie theater that is your mind. No need for me to put images there. I'm doing you a favor & toning it down. Read on...

Before I blew this pop stand last week, I had gotten started exploring a series of emails from 2001 all about the power of the pee.you.ess.ess.why. Going threw the proverbial boot into the mix & busted up the flow. It would be ~~udderly~~ utterly ridiculous to try to recapture the momentum I was feeling & there certainly was little poppin in the comments though there was a squirrel who came through to get a nut, while the rest of you just lurked or holla'd at me direct-like. I don't like dangling things, loose ends if you will, so I'm still going to wrap this up the way I had intended to.

A friend of mine, my astrological brother, a dude i spent a great deal of time writing with in these cyber streets--the 1 who the original conversation was had with in the 1st place--hit me off with the perfect scene closer. To tie this all up with a nice neat bow, here are his contributions to this conversation:

gud pu$$i is that isht that dont jes lay there
that ish that wurks wif u
it slow grinds. hard piles. kwik churns.
girations.
got u wukin pa nub in all da wrong places

gud pu$$i speaks ta u. digs inta ur back. bites u in tha ass.
makes u bleed. sweat that beads & breaks off tha bottom uv tha chin inta tha small uv tha back
gud pu$$i remember u like an old fren. fits u like a glove. calls u by name. wont let u rest.
cant jse stand there in tha door. pretendin ta be uninterested.
gud pu$$i is already whet befa u chk fa whetness

gud pu$$i seys yes. even when tha lips sey no
gud pu$$i u can't be left alone in a room wif
its sweet
got ur teeth hurtin & guaranteed ta give u lock-jaw
not careful. U'll rip sumfin.
gud pu$$i does not respect condoms.

eye mean they aven't invented or patented one that cud outwear it
eye mean u cant even tell ur frens
cuz u dont ave wurds fa that ish
plus u wann keep it ta urself. greed.
got u walkin home wearin her underwear
gud pu$$i ave u takin dinner breaks right at tha side uv tha bed. then like. round 15.

it always goes inta overtyme.
u forget urself
call in late ta wurk.
call back ta call out sick.
call back ta ask how many vacation days u ave left.
gud pu$$i ave u slidin in ta the left side uv tha hip
blendin inta tha tunes cumin out tha ole soul station

ave u spittin shit pepul neber hear u say in public
gud pu$$i puts u unda a spell
ave u stutterin.
shudderin
loosin rhythm every nah & then.
gud pu$$i takes u straight ta tha head
wearin tha same clothes undawear three days in tha row.

smellin ur fingas when u du go ta wurk
gud pu$$i will give u epileptic flashbacks
thinkin bout normal everidey shit
gud pu$$i goes gud wif syrup
strawberries.
mangoes.
caramel.

honey.
oatmeal
yes muthafuckin oatmeal.
gud pu$$i. takes a lickin & keeps on tickin. Wont let ur hard on cum down
long afta u came three tymes & its hurtin.
ish be like. & what.

gud pu$$i dont care where.
be like on sum ole high school tip.
staircases.
bus/stops.
basement laundry rooms.
closets.
park trips wif mama ___________

ave the bus waitin like 20 minutes jes waitin fa ur horny asses
gud pu$$i
dont age
u be like 72 & pinchin tha ass uv that shit...
hobblin after it wif a cane

gud pu$$i ave u forget about tyme
15 minutes becum 5 hours
& five hours becum 15 minutes
gud pu$$i can hit & split
role play

cross dress
spank yah
gud pu$$i ave u runnin on empty
forget ur name.
where u were.
what u came fa.

ave u goin home cookin up new ways ta prepare ur gud pu$$i. serve it up.
a la mode. raw.
freakaseed.
nibbled.
poached. boiled.
gud pu$$i ave u runnin back thru bloodhounds. back ta tha plantation, fa one last piece.
gud pu$$i keep yo ass a slave. cus u can't leave.

& regular pu$$i. church mouse pu$$i. gentle polite pu$$i. inoffensive pu$$i. no personality pu$$i. dont give a phuk pu$$i. is plain whack.

What y'all don't know is that this was ALL on MSN Messenger. You also don't know that there are PAGES & PAGES more. The conversation literally lasted 1/2 a day. I was a student...his job was lax. Clearly, my brutha is passionate about that gud gud. I'll spare y'all all of that, though I promise you don't want me to. I also did you the favor of removing my parts of the conversation, instigating him to keep the flow cuz I knew he had a lot to say on the matter.

Days later he wrapped up his contributions to this conversation in 1 email that simply stated, "gud pu$$i clears up ur complexion."

Now that's power.

I ain't Drake. Thank me now.

Watch me move.

Shoe Personality of the Week: 12/19/2011

2011-12-19T17:56:00.000-05:00

I have just returned from a most glorious family vacation, something we haven't had in almost 12 years. It was a beautiful experience with a most beautiful backdrop & an incredibly timely trip for a number of reasons.

1st, we needed to reconnect. While we see each other fairly regularly, we don't truly spend time with each other. Adult living can be hectic, tiring, adventurous, and selfish if we aren't careful. Those aren't bad things, individually (including the selfish piece), as long as they're kept balanced & in perspective. Two very difficult things to find & maintain. 2nd, I needed to know that it's OK to walk away from work on occasion. A good girlfriend STARTED her teaching career with these week-long built in breaks that became her annual gift to self. I struggled with the idea of guilt eating me alive & have instead settled for stressed out days, restless nights, & being laid on my ass forcefully as a result. This year, for the 1st time, I've not only taken a mental health day but a vacation. I've been promising to do better by Me & I'm finally living up to my word. The last reason I'll share, though not the last reason, is S.A.D.'s had just started to sit on me heavy & I haven't done such a good job of resisting the weight. Getting a little sun, a change of scenery, & the removal of the regular sights & sounds of my Life was necessary, even when I didn't know it.

& now I'm back. Back in the wrong temperature with not enough sunlight or any of the benefits, but it's not all bad. I've come home with a renewed sense of self & a couple of epiphanies that will guide the goals I set in the coming year. It seems as though, under clearer skies, I was able to see things a lot better from afar. Being above the grass makes it easier to see the snakes in it. They're an easy fix but some other issues will take a lot more work & diligence.

I'm excited!! I'm beginning to clean house physically, which will lead to the emotional & psychological cleansing that will also take place. Renewal is generally associated with Spring, but beginnings bring new & the #1, as in the first day of the new year is a good place to take advantage of newness. Right now I'm selecting the seeds to be planted & prepping the soil.

As with each new step in my Life, there is another level of sophistication added. My brain is getting new wrinkles & my expertise continues to grow. Making bigger moves with that expertise will require me to be sophisticated in ways I've not been up to now, but I'm ready.

If I can find this shoe in real Life, I hope to step into my next incarnation, prepared to share my expertise with new audiences & affording me the currency to purchase the next bricks to lay on this journey. I am thankful for what the TwennyLeven has provided. It has been an amazing year & I walk with Springtime in my step into the New Year.

Watch me move.

Time Off

2011-12-13T13:02:00.003-05:00

My bad homies; I forgot to let you know that it's gonna be quiet around here til next week. I'm taking a break of several sorts to--in my Whitley Gilbert voice--relax, relate, release. Thank you to those of you coming thru as newbies, & those digging in the crates. Your readership is still the greatest gift & I don't take you for granted.

While I didn't post a Shoe Personality, just know it would've been a flip flop.

See you on the other side.

Ndygo

Foreplay: The Squeeze

2011-12-08T18:20:00.005-05:00

It appears that there were more than a couple of fellas tryna wax intellectual on this here topic. After yesterday's feeling all unnecessarily cerebral (while not crazy deep or anything), I decided to spare you some of what I just pulled up with all kindsa unsexy "dude, what is we talmbout?" type words in it. The point is not to turn people off, but perhaps to turn you on so you can pay it forward & turn someone else on in the process. As we teach the children, sharing is caring.

This time around I'ma share a take on the pee. you. ess. ess. why. that comes from a gentleman who qualifies himself as bisexual. I figured it might be interesting to thrust in--pun possibly intended--the perspective of a cat who knows both sides of the coin.

Here ye, here ye, lend me your eye:

pu$$i. warm, wet, smooth. in general. it depends tho'. Is she moving with you? does she have a sense of her body/spaces (as in "work that pu$$i!!!") Been exercising the kegels? ( The "tightness" of the muscles of th pelvic floor argument.......the ability to squeeze a penis.... some cats say they like this/need this...I find it's overrated....I've only really been able to tell a woman was doing it to any significant degree when I was inside her, and thats usually involuntary response, i think..theres much more stuff, more important to pay attention to.

its MUCH easier to tell with fingers,the natural tightening that occurs towards orgasm- which is why you won't find many men who even have an idea...as 90 percent of women don't get off through "intercourse"; or even care.

ah a break through.

"good pu$$i" is very much related to the accompanying histrionics ( screamin "ohdaddygimmiethatbigdickfuckmefuckmeyeahheretakemycarkeys"). A proficient attentive gymnastic woman with The Hong Kong uckF Muscles of Life will get called "bad pu$$i" if she isn't constantly feeding the ego of a guy while she's getting "dicked" (and not trying to be academic here, but remembering the "dicked" part, and that manner of relating is important.)

i hope that helped a bit :)
peas

What say you? & don't be scared if you agree with a man whose orientation is a lil different from yourn. Remember, these were written in 2001; ain't nobody paying that no mind. Speak your piece on the pieces you done had. Join in. Lets make it a conversation ~~lurkinazzmofos~~!!

Watch me move.

Foreplay: Connecting the Dots

2011-12-07T17:32:00.005-05:00

...the beat goes on. Not of the meat, but...the topic. You know what I mean.

For fun we're gonna keep looking at this sex business. Imma keep praying that my parental units ain't playin' on this playground right now--not that I'm puttin' MY business in the street--cuz I'm admitting that I do human things with other humans in ways that... Never mind, this getting uncomfortable.

Lets get into Response #2 on what Good Pu$$i is. Keep in mind, this is from 1 of my friends who pretends to be intellectual sometimes, despite bein a true heathen (before he got married, recently). This man put me on to the truth of Dave Hollister's music & that hood love, which I think Tyrese schooled y'all on at some point, if you weren't already in the know. Egghead approach or no, it's still worth the read. Check him out:

Well lets see. The question is what distinguishes pu$$i and good pu$$i. It is a combination of things. I'll put it in a broad category first then dissect it from there. Everything I write here is strictly my interpretation. First of all sex is an emotional act. Two things a lot of men are not in tune with. Some more so than others but none the less they have no clue. When it comes to emotions and sex, men have a way of separating the two. It is a behavior that goes back centuries. It has become buried deep within the id. Therefore, it is about a nut. It's a social thing, it is what is cool in society, it makes you look good for your friends. How dare you show emotions when talking about sex with your boys and act like you really cared about her. It shows weakness, tenderness, your soft, a punk. So you have to detach the two. It's cool for women to be emotional when they talk about sex in a group because for one, women are very emotional creatures and two it cool. It's acceptable for women to show that they really enjoyed every moan and caress. For men, "yo when I was hitting from the back she was screaming shit, yo I was waxing that ass". That is the nature of the beast.

Now having said that pu$$i and good pu$$i. What makes it different is your mind mostly. There are also physical attributes that distinguishes them but mainly it's in your mind. For instance, in my own experience I have had what I consider pu$$i and goooood pu$$i. But it all boiled down to the person I was with. It was a certain look they had or a certain way they made me feel from just being around them. Or it was something during the actual act itself that made it good instead of just okay. From the tricks to the wetness, how freaky the person is all of that factors in. Bottom line, each male interprets what he feels is pu$$i and good pu$$i differently.

Now why is it better when you are digging the person? Because now you are letting your emotions and feelings get involved. Once a man has decided that this is the person he wants to be with then at that moment he is putting a little more feeling and emotion into it. Not all but some. To some degree emotionally and psychologically it becomes more than just the mere act of sex. Yes to some it is a game. The challenge of conquering new pu$$i has been a national past time for ages. Ain't nothing better than pussy but some new pu$$i. Yeah, masturbating is a lot easier but what's the fun in that. For that moment it is satisfying a current need/ a release, but there is nothing more enjoyable than sex itself. Hopefully this provided some insight.

As Grown Folx, we should all know these things by now, but in case you weren't aware of the connection between a man's emotions & his peen then consider yourself schooled. The point: all of We are connected to what our bodies do when we're dirty dancing. How much of us is connected beyond our bodies is usually attributed to women, but please believe men get all emo about sex too. The end (for tonight.)

Watch me move.

Foreplay: It's Not a Game

2011-12-06T18:03:00.004-05:00

Yesterday I let you know that after diggin in the crates, so to speak, I found some of my old email correspondences in my old email addy, asking questions that I felt would help me out on this journey toward becoming an old pro. Not to be read "an old ho[e]." I had such a good time reading the convos that I decided I'd share. We's all growed up 'round here & should be able to speak freely about things of a segzual naycha. If we can't, well...like I told some girls once, "if you can't say the word penis outcha mouth, there should be none in it." I know...I know...but they understood that & got it together.

Anywho, so this is how it all started back in 2001:

as a female, i often get the impression that sex is
all about the nut for
men. they enjoy the act cuz it feels good. and
little else. now, you all
say it's that much better when you got feelings for
the female involved, but
most of the time there are no feelings. so that
makes me wonder what is the
attraction to this thing called pu$$i. if it simply
were about the nut,
you'd get comfortable w/a bottle of lotion and go to
work. it would be
drama free, and a whole lot cheaper. and you
wouldn't have to tell any
lies.
i know there are levels to this game called sex. we
know the 2 major
categories are pu$$i and good pu$$i. so, what
distinguishes pu$$i from good
pu$$i?
inquirin minds *mine* wanna know.

Ignoring the fact that I wrote everything like it was a poem back then, lets address what was really going on. As a young woman (which I still consider myself to be; 30 is the new 30) I was trying to learn what it is that men see/taste/touch/smell (& even hear) when it comes to the jays of vay that rank the highest on their lists. Every man has 1, & while I'd assume the classifications/ranking system would have some variations, they'd be slight. I was looking for the greatest common denominators so I could be about perfecting my...craft. Needless to say, I got some great responses that have been uber influential--now that I think about it--in me working toward being unforgettable. Plus, I'm competitive & will dangerously find ways to compete with the Ghosts of Coochie Past in order to get my 1-upsman on. I would say that practice is a little off but I have male friends who can't recall the names of some of my girlfriends that they've...uhmm...played with & never wanted to be them. I don't know a soul out here working on being forgettable unless they've done some things they're trying to outrun. But now I'm running my mouth too much. Lets get into these responses, 1 or 2 at a time. Whatchu think?

**Note** All names have been withheld to respect privacy. If you recognize yourself in here & respond in kind, that's on you. But please feel free, whether you were a part of the 1st sample or not, to join in the conversation. We all love "the love below."

i would love to sit here and write a novel about
why i love pu$$i but none of our computers carry that
much memory. but ill give a sample. I personally love the
naturalness of this thing called pussy. dont need it
dressed up ,shaved, perfumed. but its gotta be wet,
bathed and groomed. ya dig. for the ni**as who smoke
and say weed is better than sex,... uckinf amazin. The
feelin of that warm, moist .... just..... slidin
and..... SHIT, i just.... sike, but really, beleive it
or not i'm at a loss of words. had some bomb pu$$i, had
some not so bomb pu$$i. but the bestest is the kind
that moves, and make you feel like makin a baby with
this chick. fo real. ill probably have more to say
tommorrow, right now im gettin horny, peesh out.

Needless to say, the conversation got him a lil worked up. The next response had to be cut short too cuz Broham was bout to go there...he kept his cool though:

it has to be warm
it has to grab you
good pu$$i is inviting &....

ok...thats enough

What say you, good people? What makes that "good good" that good "good?"

MAKE me move.

Sex & Seduction: I smell a theme

2011-12-05T22:52:00.005-05:00

Recently I was playing in my folders over in my Hotmail account, rummaging through old thoughts & exchanges. While I was in there I rediscovered the folder I named Sex & Seduction. Apparently 2001 was a really good exploratory year. Get your minds out of the gutter. That doesn't mean I was chasing behind every Tom's harry d!ck (you saw that, right?) but that I was busy asking questions of all the penis people in my world. From what I can tell, I was searching for realism & mastery. A young grasshopper's search must be focused to be fruitful, right? Like I said, I was busy questioning this crazy partners game called sex & trying to reach some general consensus, even if only with my self.

I had a ball reading the things I'd archived, reaching back into my mind at the age of 25/26, full of curiosity & skepticism. Somewhere along the dust tracks that is my Life, I've been damaged. I didn't get enough of something or received too much of something else because I don't readily accept compliments well. I can always think of someone who does something better than me, wore something fresher than me, had hair more creative, danced with a cleaner nuance, expressed an idea more clearly...so forth & so tragically on. Needless to say, I think too damn much. I managed to think my way right out of believing anything a man said to me related to sex. After all, in my mind, it seemed that based on a man's construction, it would be really hard not enjoy just about ALL sex, so no need to blow smoke up my ~~naked~~ arse to be able to come back for seconds. If I enjoyed it, we was gon' do it again. Plain & simple. Still, I wanted to know if there really was something that qualified 1 woman's jay-of vay as a mo' better than the next. So, figurative knapsack on my back, I set off to find this out.

Now, my hypothesis--scientist that I am (wink)--was that boys/men just aren't that deep. The hole, or box, could be my warm hole, the warm center of a blue light Krispy Kreme, or even a hole in a wall if it was heated, & a man wouldn't really care. I had to know if this was true or not & went about sending out a series of questionnaires to the men I thought would participate with some honesty. Cuz see, if there was actually a difference, I needed to know what it was so that I could...perfect my craft. Nobody wants to be out here doin' poor work. I'm an artist & I'm sensitive 'bout my isht.

Anyway...

Over the course of the next several days, I'm going to share with you some of what was shared with me. This way, this erotic mood I'm in can be sated through the art of sharing, in a language that uses a mouth that's safe for me to talk to the masses with. It also prevents me from having to share any true personal experiences & get myself in trouble, perhaps receiving some lopsided glances from my parental units. I don't need that kind of attention. In fun, I'll share the words of others, sprinkled in with the occasional anecdote of my own. But that won't be til tomorrow.

Sit tight &...

Watch me move.

Shoe Personality of the Week: 12/05/11

2011-12-04T17:06:00.005-05:00

1st, to any who care, I offer my sincerest apologies for the irregularity of posts these days. Right now I'm trying to take into my permanent memory things about myself that I've resisted accepting as truth, leaving room for adjustment or change if I simply don't state them as fact. It's a losing battle. Instead of the emotional fight I'm having with myself, I'm working towards honest acceptance.

My name is Ndygo & I'm a hibernator.

I've already mentioned that I have S.A.D.s & that I struggle with the approach of the Gloomy Guses. While I'm not feeling what I'd call gloomy, I'm certainly moving in the direction of lethargy. Just as scary. T'is the season for my sofa & I to get reacquainted, for books to be read in relay style, & for my presence in the outside world to shrink to work & little else. Sounds dull, right? Hhhmmmpphhh...

Anyway, more--or less--about this another time. Lets get to this shoe.

It's almost time for that glorious time of the year called Winter Vacation/Break, for those of us in education. We're living by tally marks on the wall like prisoners counting down their bids. Our conversations are NOT about the day we're in but what we're going to do with the time coming. Few have mentioned travel, most are discussing a moment to...sit. I have SO MUCH that needs to be done & I'm ready to strap on my track shoes if they'll help me fast forward to 3:30 p.m. the day the children go home & grant us reprieve.

I look forward to extended Cuddle Bunny time & a chance to read from wake up to go to sleep without caring whether I've showered. I look forward to the concentrated laughter of the holiday season, able to stand still long enough to call back & link up with friends & family who've gotten back burnered because of the physio-emotional demands of working with other people's kids...& those who supervise that work. Perhaps I'll make a To-Do List & attempt to feel good about being unsuccessful due to being devoted to learning how to effectively chill out.

The other exciting thing is the coming change of the calendar year. Another fresh start is coming soon to a theater new us all. It's time for me to do some very focused reflection to decide how to proceed in the TwoZeroOneTwo. I'm looking to dub the year, as many do, with some positive goal to reach for. I want to return to school. Perhaps it'll be 2012, where my genius swells. Or 2012, where the right buyer sells, as I look into taking on home ownership. I welcome your suggestions on this 1. I have no complaints against the TwennyLeven; it actually gave me quite a few treasures. I'll hash those out the closer we get to noise makers & confetti. The goal, however, is to take the gifts of this year & rise to the top of my own personal pyramid, expanding my gifts exponentially through hard work, study, & sharing.

I absolutely can't wait!!

Watch me move.

Yesterday Still Applies

2011-11-29T18:04:00.004-05:00

Note: this was written yesterday & these issues are still maddening, but I must acknowledge that today was much smoother. Carry on.

It's been 1 of those days. For the last...3 months. I feel like I'm living Groundhog's Day, continuing to wake up in the same zoo cage every morning that classifies as a weekday. Any number of events have taken place causing me to reassess, damn near by the minute, whether I need to hang up on my calling. So, you guessed it, I'm about to vent.

1 of the things I'm confused by is the new-aged child who stands in the faces of adults as though s/he is 1 & commences to read said adults like the books they don't bother to pick up. I was present yesterday as a young man blatantly disregarded the instructions of a teacher, & when his entry to the classroom was blocked, the child bucks & says, "GET OFF ME, BOY!"...to a grown man. A big grown man. A big grown man with a lot of bass in his voice & who has clearly put a foot or 2 in the asses of his own sons. I, as a teacher the student likes, was able to corral the situation & get him back under control, but beneath my cool was the horror that a child just had NO CLUE how you talk to an adult--even 1 you're mad at.

For the last few weeks I've been listening, from the other side of my classroom door, to the sounds of 10 & 11 year old children shouting all kinds of random expletives up & down the hall. ...The same hall that is never clear of children who haven't figured out, nor taken heed to reminders, that they belong in class. I began cursing in the 6th grade, flexing my muscle, pretending to be grown & minimally independent. But I knew very clearly who my mother was & made sure that it was only done on the back route to school with friends, in ear shot of NO ADULTS. I keep that in mind as I tell these children that it's not so much wrong that they think & say certain things as it is that they're oblivious to time & place appropriateness. Apologetic gasps followed by, "oops, I'm so sorry," does nothing for me. & I remind them that they aren't, those words were pointed, they're simply sorry they've been busted. A difference. Am I doing a disservice with kind of honesty? Dunno. But I have to pick my battles & trying to tell people not to do something they do is a waste of time. Getting them hip to where things definitely shouldn't be done is a lot easier to do. Awareness. Can you grow that?

I've had a conversation that needs to be held, suppressed barely beneath the surface of my composure. Thin as the membrane of an onion is the restraint I have, keeping me from speaking to 1 of my supervisors. This membrane grows thinner by the day as I amenably stretch in a million & 1 directions, but the grime left on me after a ridiculous year of mudslinging is becoming too heavy for me continue to prevent breaking. Know thy self is my thing. As a reflective person, I'm very clear about what I do & getting better at identifying how & why. While sitting & listening to what I'll just refer to as genuine bullshit (as in people believe it when they say it), I was trembling with the remembrance of this same person, now trying to do damage control, contributed to the very climate in which me & my colleagues work. I know that when I cannot guarantee self control that it's best to keep my mouth shut. By I only tremble when the truth is scary but MUST be told. Not all membranes break, some shrivel & dry, but either way, exposure is imminent.

Worrying over things you cannot change is a waste of time. Even in knowing this, I am embarrassed to admit that I am guilty of this. I'm still connected to the students I had last year & feeling responsible for their success or failure this year. They're gone from me, somewhat more narcissistic than before, & I can't seem to shake the notion that they are mine & therefore my work isn't over. I take personally every truth told about their abilities, as though I alone birthed them, reared them & taught them...& perhaps failed them.

This exercise is ridiculous. I'm feeling beat up & beating myself up at the same time. My sensitivities have me feeling as though people who may NOT be throwing jabs, are. All I know is that my emotions are swollen & I need the next couple of weeks standing between me & a break to move along at a good clip & get out of the way. Cuz this madness is making it hard to hang on to my golden moments.

Dusting off some lounge chairs. It's time for some people, places & things to SADDOWN, but I want them to get real comfortable so they stay seated & let me be.

Watch me move.

Shoe Personality of the Week: 11/28/11

2011-11-28T17:08:00.006-05:00

As a coworker put it today, this is supposed to be "the most wonderful time of the year." Some of We are grasping at anything to help us get through right now so that we can continue to do whatever work that we're committed to. Some of We are finding it difficult to wake up with a smile, despite this beautiful Fall we've been experiencing on the Right Coast. Some of We are reassessing one or many areas of our lives, trying to figure out what stays & what goes, & sometimes tossing in a Who, here & there.

Everything worth having is worth working for. Or so I've been told. While some of these old addages seem like smoke blown up our collective bums in order to keep us in order, there really is rhyme & reason to them. Everything I have, that I can clearly point to & say that I worked for, is appreciated more than anything else. I'm proud to survey my visible & invisible landscape & know for certain that I've put in the hours, in work, play, emotions, etc, to make what I have happen & work for me. Everything I have IS indeed mine.

Recently I did jury duty & saw examples of people who don't know more than handouts, begging as a profession, comfortable with the notion that they are owed something from everyone. I work with children daily who, per their age & stage in Life, feel entitled to everything, but who also have NO UNDERSTANDING that the sun does not rise & set for them. It is only when you have crafted your world that you can decide how your sun rises & sets or if you choose to only have moons. That takes work, & these children are not being guided toward the true value of work. I can't lose sight of the value of the work I do & the work that needs to be done.

At this very moment, I'm assessing what will make it through the next month & a half & beyond January 1. I'm removing old energies, making space for new. I'm decluttering & being honest about what is TRULY necessary in my Life space. & yes, that also involves some Who? I'm pushing up my sleeves & preparing to get dirty in the process of cleansing. It's such a great feeling & somewhat scary, not knowing what will be on the other side of the horizon.

Whatever is over there, I will walk up to it wearing comfortable shoes, that are oh so cute, but ready for real work. ...the real work of identified purpose, the real work of family, friendship, & the real work of Love.

Clear the way.

Watch me move.

Shoe Personality of the Week: 11/21/11

2011-11-20T14:32:00.004-05:00

I believe I have a clog addiction. I really have to set limits on how often I can post them. They ARE appropriate for today. I promise.

Rock wit' me.

Obviously, Thanks~~taking~~giving is a few days away. No matter what you feel about the the history behind the holiday itself, a reminder to take stock of the good we have in our lives is more than welcome. Plus...I appreciate days off & especially those that have a family theme built in, just in case there are some gaps in the visits due to being busy or plain ol' neglectful. #realtalk

This time of year, no matter that I don't celebrate wholly, or believe in fully, the premises behind the holidays, always reminds me that "no [wo]man is an island." I am where I am because I stand on the shoulders of those who put in work before me. I stand next to those of like mind, sharing ideas that are propelling us ever forward & increasing our service to our communities through the work that we do. I would be remiss if I didn't take a moment to pay my gratitude to those who are responsible to & for me in some way.

I considered doing a list of names or monikers & attach their contributions to my Life in the past year. That's boring & you know who you are. If you don't, perhaps you'll find yourself in the generalities of what's been special/unique/welcome this year.

2010 & 2011 have brought new experiences that I was caught unaware that they were even possible but discovered that I WAS prepared for them. I've spoken often of the way Life tries to sneak up on me, but I'm ready for it. This isn't because I've anticipated what ways it would try to get me, but somehow just making divine movements in the direction that is all mine. When you walk YOUR path, it's hard to get knocked off. When you try to walk the path of others, the shoes don't fit & you get bunions, the path twists & turns too much for you to keep up, or the person whose path it is keeps stepping on your toes because you're in the way. I only receive more & more confirmation that I am walking as I should be & with the company I'm meant to keep. That means you...& you...& you too.

Speaking of company, this last year has been so very interesting. With each meeting, there was 1 more brick laid on my path, keeping with the journey I feel so very confident in. The odd experience of wondering why a particular face in a crowd feels so familiar, only to find out that it is & form a relationship that not only takes me further outside of myself but helps me with developing my current actions & future goals for service. The power of conversation has become so much more evident. All of the conversations I have seem intentional, helping me to flesh out my thoughts & help me solidify my plans. It could be a friend I haven't spoken to in months or years who'll send a very pointed email or have a very pointed phone conversation, even chance meetings on the street, to deliver the very words I need to hear in THAT moment.

As all of this occurs, that calm feeling that comes over you when you don't have to fight to control everything takes over & it all feels right, like it will end up where it should, as it should. Even as I re-learn to navigate this territory that is love & loving, I am generally calm as we take our twist & turns. I have my moments but they occur far less than they once did when adjusting my grip to keep from losing was the main focus, even without me seeing it at the time. I may get frustrated but it settles faster, easier, & I'm able to reason through it & reconnect with patience. It's an incredible feeling & process...1 I don't remember before.

& through it all there is so much laughter. I crack up daily. Life is so funny, with her practical joke playin' arse. The people around me either provide great fodder--sorry, it's true--or have a classic sense of humor. Situations that would once bring me to tears really do give me the giggles. That doesn't mean tears don't creep in from time to time, but those times are slim to none, & that's a far cry--no pun intended--from what it used to be. Lawd knows... I have great people, often experiencing my same trials, who have locked arms with me trying to #getby, as Talib Kweli has encouraged us to do.

None of this was achieved by myself. I have been picked up, lifted up, carried, & even dragged when necessary, to who I am today. I am humble. I am grateful.

Watch me move.

What's Rape Got To Do With It? Part II

2011-11-15T17:50:00.003-05:00

See...this is why...

1st, I think I'm in some way required to say that Jerry Sandusky is alleged to have committed "indecent acts" against children, but is innocent until proven guilty. But then...we're all familiar with R. Kelly & how that can go, so...#enneweighs

I'm gonna ask you to donate close to 9 minutes of your Life to this video. Bob Costas interviewed Sandusky via telephone & it's actually incredible. I know I'm supposed to still afford this man the benefits of innocence unless or until proven guilty, but uhmmm...errahhhh...yeah. Just watch it & we'll rap a taste afterwards.

1. When someone asks you if you're completely innocent & have been falsely accused of the charges against you, & you start your answer off with, "Wellll...I could say..." 0__^ You go on to say you've horsed around & showered with children & touched their legs but that wouldn't be accurate. So, are you saying that it wouldn't be accurate that you did those things, despite saying you did those things, or it wouldn't be accurate for us to pass judgment & say that those things are inappropriate because they ARE inappropriate? Or would it just be accurate to say that you're too nervous to make sense of words & you're just stringing things together without the assistance of legal counsel or a PR person? Help a sista out cuz I'm #confucious

2. Ok...so...sliding across a wet floor of the showers & slapping a towel on each other clearly looks a lot like a grown man behind a young boy, with his penis inside a young boy's anus. I could see how the intern would've gotten those 2 things confused. Wait, are you feeling a little sick yet from reading those words? You should be. I feel sick having typed them.

3. Alrighty...so in relation to the mom calling you to task on showering with her son but you "can't exactly recall" what you said, but what you did say was that you're sorry he felt that you'd done something wrong. Wait...WHATTTTTTTTTT?!? So did you remember what you said, or did you forget, or did you forget that you remembered & it came to you on the spot because of Bob Costas' excellent probing?

4. Jerry Sandusky is bout the cleanest dude out there & he should be lauded for upping the hygiene game of the poor at-risk colored boys he was working with 'cuz Lawd knows d'ey mamas didn't bother with keeping them clean. I'on'tknow. I'm just tryna explain how in the hell there's all this showering going on & why this showering is always so..."supervised" cuz, I swear I just don't understand.

5. So now we wait for children to be discredited, right? & I can certainly imagine that out of thousands (according to Sandusky) of children, Sandusky didn't have time to rape & molest them all. Wait, so, is that being spun as satisfactory or Un? This is hard to keep up with because it just makes no sense. Well, it does, but it makes no inno-sense. At least not yet. Sandusky's legal team will see to that though. Funny how Jerry doesn't remember a lot, but he remembers specifically what happened & which boy, in order to give his legal team the name of the kid so that they could find him & bring him forward to clear Sandusky? The police & the prosecutors must not have known it was as simple as, "Hey, Jerry. So, what's the name of that boy you didn't rape? No, not that 1...that other 1 you didn't rape. I could see how you might get confused because there are at least 8 boys saying you did something to 'em. Ha ha ha! Kids. Go figure." #shrug

6. When Bob Costas asked does he feel culpable, did that bamma say, "I'm not sure what you mean." ??????????? IS THAT WHAT HE SAID OUT OF HIS MOUTH!! ((jumps up & down & searches for my Oil of Elohim...)) This is why Bob makes the big bucks & I'm just out here playing on keyboards for fun. There's no way in FO'HELLS I'da been OK after he a. asked that question; b. required me to give him a synonym; & c. denied that he's guilty but "played a hand in it." Would that be like the hand that perhaps touched some folks inappropriately but only if they thought it was inappropriate 'cuz he didn't mean for it to be construed as such? Sir...Sir...

7. Jerry Sandusky has learned from all of this that in retrospect, he shouldn't have showered with "those kids." That, apparently is a hindsight kinda wisdom. He hadn't seen an example of how these things can go dastardly wrong in the past? Is he the 1 white man in all of America who managed to miss Michael Jackson's life from the 90's on? People stopped doing natural things with THEIR OWN children as a result of Michael Jackson's indiscretions. Many children got kicked out of their parents beds. Parents stopped letting their children's friends sleep over on weekends. Children starved for touch from their parents because they didn't want to go to jail for accidentally loving & nurturing their children. Remember, spanking went from discipline to child abuse on the strength of 1 kid's phone call to a child abuse hotline or the police. Now we're all stuck putting kids in that ambiguous place called Time Out. Why?? Cuz e'rybody's scared of how quickly the rules change to engaging children so we just keep them at bay for safety. How did THIS dude miss all of that?!?

8. Bob Costas hits him in the jugular, goes for the journalistic throat chop & asks, "Are you sexually attracted to young boys, underage boys?" Sandusky takes us on a trip to the lands of Hemm & Haww. 1st, he repeats the question. Next, he restates the implication. Then, he gives some redirection before finally saying "no." Have you ever been asked if you were attracted to someone or something outside of your sexual orientation? When friends have played with you & called you out of your identified preference/orientation, was it difficult to get your retort off? Nahhh...it wasn't. Before they even finished saying that mess, you hit 'em square between the eyes with a good country-fied "Hayalllll NAWL!!" You didn't have to ask if you heard correctly or could they repeat the question. You didn't waste time checkin to see if it was a joke. You cleared that isht right up & pressed on.

I love that Bob Costas has all but said, "Fluthamucka, GETALLTHEWAYTHEFUGGOUTTAHERE," cuz you're embarrassing white men everywhere. He slipped that monster business in there at the end & he doesn't leave you questioning that it's his personal opinion. Sandusky must not watch TV ever because he didn't realize he isn't smart enough to dance with Costas. & for some reason there's no one in his camp who has removed all phones from his possession & shut down his high speed Internet to prevent him from speaking on his own behalf anywhere & to anyone cuz...Lawd...he might don't make it.

There's no need for me to cast aspersion here. The man has done a good enough job of that on his own. I'm no more saying he's guilty than he's saying he may or may not have been wrong for laying towels...or hands...or penises on young boys. #imjessayin...or not.

Watch me move.

What's Rape Got To Do With It?

2011-11-14T18:28:00.006-05:00

Such soft sounding charges.

A'ight soooo...this Penn State business is hovering in the forefront & the background begging for attention. I've been avoiding it because it's just not an easy subject & honestly I haven't felt like being heavy. It's the reason I try to avoid watching the news past the weather forecast.

This is honestly going to come with no real background information because I refuse to watch this whole thing unfold. I'm going to approach this completely from a snatch & grab--no pun intended--standpoint. Lets get to it.

Ok. So, it appears that Jerry Sandusky, former assistant football coach at Penn State, came up with the pedophilia version of a cash cow. Under the guise of service to the under served, Sandusky offered children things & opportunities that would be difficult to come by under their normal circumstances. In the hood we refer to this as pimping. In the workshop I sat through Saturday, it's officially trafficking. No matter the name, it's sick. & if you read slow or comprehend even slower, by under served children I meant black children. They tend to be synonymous with [scrupleLESS] philanthropists. This is not a bad thing...unless or until it becomes a bad thing. Such as this particular instance.

Second Mile is the name of the organization & I'm sure Sandusky is wishing it were called Second Chance, because he's sure to need one. However, while we're all deserving of forgiveness, I'm not into too much forgiveness when it comes to the lives of children. But he was not alone in this. See, somebody actually WITNESSED Sandusky ~~having sex with~~ raping [at least one] a young boy. & then spoke on it, but not loudly. & even that sounds wrong. See, if I were to encounter an adult, of any gender, having sex with a child of any gender, said adult would know RIGHT AWAY that they were seen. All kindsa WTF's would be flying alongside a bunch of "you sick fluthamucka!!" which would have to be heard over my windmilling arms as I come straight for him/her. Yeah...you WILL KNOW that I know. & then, I'm gon' #runtelldat immediately to everyone who will listen & even those who don't, whilst dialing 911 on that ass. None of this "oh shit," & creep quietly back out of the room to go meditate on which ONE person I should go alert & then pray that person figures out what to do type business.

Noise.

Apparently, this made no noise. It was a rapey whisper in the showers that somehow made it to the wrong ears or the wrong moral barometer or...

As parts of this story creep in to my personal space, I've noticed that the word rape is seldom used. I can't figure this out. & there seems to have been too slow a move toward firing, lest we upset the great football empire, because that must be preserved. After all, what is America without its pig skin? I hesitate to call race, just 'cause, but me thinks this just may have something to do with the fact that these men are white. So, some of the white men have been & will be fired to calm the public & others will be allowed to quit & get the hell out of dodge, wait out the heat & then recreate themselves somewhere where no one remembers or this just isn't that important. Cuz really...who gives a shit about poor ~~urban youth~~ black children? They're used to being abused right? This is NOT to say that white children, or any other children, do not suffer abuses at the hands of adults, but this particular set up seems prime for the...dare I say...taking.

You know what? I think it may actually be time for me to ease up off of this. I can feel myself stamping my boots down into my skis & preparing to take on that place known as the Slippery Slope. There's still so much to say but it's probably NOT a good idea for me to go on. I'm going to put on my penny loafers & moonwalk right on outta this topic. You get the point though. This is sickening, on so many levels. I'm going to end with the hope that Jerry Sandusky gets help, instead of the option to simply admit he has a problem, be quiet for a few months & then change careers with the promise that the next venture would have nothing to do with children. That's usually how it goes. Unless you're black, & then they hold you to whatever Scarlet Letter gets slapped on your cardigan. No Isaiah Washington.

See how hard it is to shut this down. Cutting myself short before I go IN.

Watch me move.

Shoe Personality of the Week: 11/14/11

2011-11-13T17:28:00.003-05:00

Simply put--I'm about my business.

That can mean several different things, & does but there's no real need to outline all of that here, now. I'll only get into a lil bit of it.

Are you familiar with that feeling when things start to switch up & move in some other direction you thought you weren't ready for? I used to have that happen to me all the time. Life would come & !BUCKUP! (onomatopoeia) all upside my head & splay me on my Life's ground with some newness I wasn't prepared for. That doesn't happen anymore. These days I move with so much intentionality that it's hard to blindside me. Yes, it happens on occasion but it's rare. & when the dust settles...I'm usually able to see VERY clearly that it too was a part of the grand scheme.

I don't believe in mis takes.

So, to some, the randomness of coming from an early childhood/elementary background to middle school would have seemed random. My entry, however, was through 1 of the things I love most: words. English to the laymen. Changing schools within the same community has allowed me to engage the last in the 3rd set of educators in this community & has really beefed up the belief that I know what I'm doing. I never felt like I didn't know or that I couldn't know but now I'm SURE. Just like each move prior to, this move has put me in touch with people who would become key in my life. Friends, wonderful co-workers with a lot to share, & people who are knowingly or unknowingly laying the next bricks on my path. It's beautiful.

Last year I wrote that I would be preparing for grad school in 2012. & now, not only am I preparing for it, but I'm CLEAR what I'm studying. I've also chosen to study not 1 but 2 areas, & in education. I thought I was ready to walk away but I have since realized that I'm just ready dig deeper in. It's time to shake things up & do some new things. New for me. I'm so excited. The shift in direction at work & in my personal life are aligning, prepping me for the next big bubble to drift into my atmosphere. When it pops, piñata style, nothing but goodness will fall out of it. That wasn't a riddle. Based on the charm bracelet that is my Life, it doesn't matter what falls out of it, it WILL be goodness because it's the path I walk. Know dat.

So...I'm pullin on my sling backs & tippin into phase...well, who's counting. Confirmation is all around that now is my time & it shan't end anytime soon. Unlike the loser chick driving machinery too big for her abilities, I'm the captain of this ship & I will arrive at my destination in grand style & on top of my game.

Watch me move.

Fall Guy

2011-11-09T19:15:00.003-05:00

Warning: this post may contain opinions that you do not agree with. I ain't worried about that.

Michael Jackson passed away 2 years ago now. Passed away. Depending on who you ask, Michael Jackson was killed. I chose to write passed away on purpose.

Two days ago, Conrad Murray was convicted of involuntary manslaughter for the death of Mike Jack. The collective psyche of the Jackson family, Michael Jackson's fans, the music industry & anyone else suffering silently from guilt, REQUIRE someone to take the blame for this. Without someone to pin this on, folks might have to take some responsibility, at the very least, for their role in his death.

According to things I've read & watched, Michael Jackson's been suffering from various kinds of pain since his 80's jheri curl fiasco when his activator didn't mix well with some pyrotechnics. We could blame that on whoever the fire starter was or the person who measured & mixed what would become the gelatinous goop used to help black people suffering from self hatred escape the...man in the mirror, so to speak. We could also blame Michael for buying into the trend of the time, getting rid of 1 of the most famous afros ever, & beginning his own journey away from blackness. But why would we do that?

The point is that apparently Michael Jackson's pains began almost as many years ago as I've been alive. I would assume during the healing process the highs got a little good to him & he couldn't shake the habit once anything even remotely resembling healing was completed. But that's only if you listen listen to the media. The family both confirms & denies a prescription drug habit. You know the kind--1 in which he may or may not be taking pain killers & sleep aides for things other than pain & insomnia.

In the meantime, while we're either pretending he did or did not have a problem, staffs were being paid to ensure the drugs he either needed or didn't were supplied. Or weren't. If this is the case & he was...not hooked on drugs of any kind, then Conrad Murray DID murder Michael Jackson, administering chemical substances to him without his permission & causing him to die. Whether under oath or commitment to lifestyle, Conrad Murray made a gross judgment error. It's an error that's been afforded him not only by Michael Jackson's payroll, but by the pharmaceutical industry itself. He is an agent of the people who, during every commercial break, peddle narcotics to us for depression, weight loss, high blood pressure, sexual malfunctions, birth control, restless leg syndrome, etc. We've been told it's OK to rely on these as long as you have the money to do so. Many of these drugs don't even require YOUR doctors approval or 'script, but just your ability to dial an 800-number so that you can access this health nirvana where you aren't actually responsible for your own well being. You've been relieved of that. & no one else has picked up the responsibility.

It's not just pharmaceuticals. Elective surgeries have skyrocketed. Once upon a time we avoided hospitals at all costs, praying to whomsoever you believe in to look after you so that you may never grace the halls of a hospital for care. Hell, we didn't even want to have to visit others in it. Now, we set appointments. We schedule c-sections for the births of our children. We volunteer to have parts of us removed & then stuffed into other parts of us so that we may feel better about ourselves. We can even come back multiple times for the same features to be worked, re-worked, undone, & tried again until our self-esteem & our self-image are so confused that neither could ever be right...leading to more surgeries.

The medical profession in this country is the son of capitalism. Why make people well when sick people are the 1's that continuously pay for treatment? & Michael Jackson was sick. & everyone around him knew it. Including his family. Who did even less than Conrad Murray to save him. So...who's to blame for the death of the biggest music icon the world's ever known? E'rybody--responsible to his person, career, finances & health.

While he should NEVER practice medicine again, Conrad Murray can't do the time for the moral deprivation of the society in which he lives. & yes, this can be applied of misapplied to any number of societal ills. Still, the only reason anyone cares who this gets pinned on is because of whose Life was lost. If it had been you or me, you would have never heard of this & "Conrad Murray" would most likely either remain free & still find a way to regroup & practice some form of medicine again. This is a medical malpractice case, not 1 of murder or manslaughter.

But that's just my opinion. & nobody asked me.

Watch me move.

No More Bounce: The Loss of Heavy D

2011-11-08T19:15:00.003-05:00

I came out to a dark parking lot & reached for my phone before turning the car on. A text from B.B. It said Heavy D died. Then I saw a missed call. Knew it too had to be from B.B. It was. I knew then that Heavy D is really dead. Dead.

& I don't understand.

Hip Hop is fairly young, compared to other music forms. While I am aging along with Hip Hop, & many of it's godfathers were older than me when it "started out in the park," it's still young. Hell, I'm still young. As 1 of my students said, "30's not old anymore." Heavy was 44. Was. That's past tense. But today he counted as "is" until about noon, on the Left Coast.

It's been a long time since Heavy D was musically relevant. His reggae album--that I'm sure most of you didn't even know exists--came out last year, if I'm not mistaken. He hasn't been too visible on the things that I watch, but from time to time you could catch him on a sitcom or TV drama. The man was versatile. He was the teddy bear with the lazy eye & the wicked smile that made you kinda crush on him even if you don't like your boys big.

Heavy's lyrics were never gangsta. He was a fun loving big boy who got it in with his dancers, killin' the choreo. He invented "light on your feet" & "was more bounce to the ounce." We bounced into better collective self-esteem as black girls, feeling like he truly loved us & would be responsible for convincing others it's OK to love us too.

I feel like I'm at the sputtering stage now; where disbelief that a man of 44 would be stretched out in his driveway unconscious, & then gone. 44 is too close to 36 & as per usual, death makes us reassess Life. Heavy D had been fairly invisible until recently, resurfacing for awards shows, blowing all of our minds with his ability to still be light on his feet. It gave me hope that those who held me down in my development are still around, still viable, & able to recreate themselves. That's a necessary skill, now more than ever. What are we without examples? Heavy D, Dwight Arrington Myers on his birth certificate, was an example on many levels. Classy & articulate. Fun & fun loving. Talented & open. We should look to him to emulate those traits now & let that be the celebration of his life.

I leave you with 1 of my favorites. It's reminiscent of LL's Around the Way Girls with a little less "hood" reference, making it open to sistas who may have come from some other ways than the 1's James Todd posted up on.

Watch him groove.

Shoe Personality of the Week: November 6, 2011

2011-11-06T16:27:00.005-05:00

A'ight...so it's been like a month since I've graced this space with a SPOTW. I was trying that disciplined focus thing to see how that went & for the most part I was successful. Now that October is over & Sunday is back in the 7 day rotation, it's time to get back to this shoe business. While this feature was on hiatus, I even purchased a few of the shoes I've been eyeing. I finally got around to those saddle shoes that I was eyeing last year & did them in the classic color from my childhood--black & white. I'm so excited! I can't wait til they get here.

Getting on with it...

A year ago yesterday marked a fantabulous day in my life. It was a Friday night & I shared it with the man then known as The Crush. It was our 1st outing, & while not our 1st conversation, it certainly opened a ~~door~~ gate to things I had no idea would be coming around the bend. I was doing something I've always done, but with a different purpose. In the past, I've always been very honest with those I'm feelin, but only bothering to open my mouth if I intended for something to happen. It was me waving my flag & letting it be known that if we're on the same page, come on & lets see what it's hittin' for. If I just kinda dig you & know I ain't interested in anything besides enjoying seeing you when I do, then I keep my truth to myself & smile inwardly. This time, I spoke my truth with no expectations of a response, & especially not a nod in agreement. That night I found myself in the confession box, singing my feelings like a bird & feeling great just to have had the courage to be honest without thought to possibilities, having already assumed there would be none. All that after a comedy show.

A year later we still laugh heartily together. I still lay my truths at his feet. I still guard his like fragile eggs. The greatest joy is that I wasn't looking for him & wasn't really sure when I started crushin' that I had anything to give. I really felt like I was entitled to some selfish time all to myself. I didn't want to share in any way. Well...that's not entirely true. I wasn't prepared to share emotionally. & then there he was. & while I didn't expect him to have any such time as tomorrow, he looked a lot like what I wanted my tomorrow to look like. All kindsa perfect coincidences (which I don't believe in, by the way) were laying down like baby hair & Vaseline. The perfection was damn near frightening but certainly couldn't be ignored. I decided to settle in, feel it out, but swallow it quietly until we had the opportunity to speak openly about where our hearts & minds were. & he sparked the convo. Even better.

Somehow or another I knew whatever mojo he was workin, wasn't gon' be all slick like grease. It was gon' be some work. I was gon' have to work at quietly having these feelings or swallowing my pride or accepting that he wasn't gon' swing my way or that I was gon' have to step my game up or that I was too far outta the game or that I was too much or he was too little or vice versa. Whatever the case was gon' be, I was clear it wasn't gon' be easy; that's the point. & it hasn't been. While it's been different, it has been smooth, things falling where they seemed destined to land. I question it all & have faith in everything. Everything feels possible.

What's this got to do with shoes? Well, does any of this ever directly relate? No. But the shoe is a representation of where my heart & mind are--reflecting my reality or the 1 I wish to create for the week. This 1's real. I'm in a state of celebration. The distance from Crush to Boo was measurable but from Boo to Beau has been less so. It's like tryna get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop. Eventually you forget the count & just enjoy the flavor & savor it til you reach the stick. No pun intended. I'm busy enjoying this. The days don't matter except that they do. & the seconds are beautiful tally marks on the journey of moments shared. So, I'm celebrating this week. This is the celebration of the inception of something wonderful in my Life. To be here at all was a bold move, never expecting it to have a pay off & our story in & of itself is 1 that would have most count us out as even being a possibility, let alone a reality actively working to understand our joint path in this space & time. The shoe must be as bold as We are. & it is.

With the crazy platform putting me up on top of the world...cuz that's where I am.

Watch me move.

Intro: Fall Fevah

2011-11-01T18:16:00.004-04:00

We gon' keep it #allaway light today. It was a good day full of sniggering & chortling. No need to ruin the mood by talking in any great depth about all the nonsensical things happening in the world. Cuz while I have an opinion on Kim Kardashian's sham of a marriage & debauched living arrangement with Chris Whomsoever, is there any real reason for me to go on about that today? Nope. My favorite bloggers have already done so, yesterday & today, & I haven't even bothered to read them yet. I know I said I would somehow reach a 10 ft pole out on the Amber Cole issue, no pun intended, but I'm just not in the mood. Instead, Imma go real superficial & touch on something else in my life.

So....it's Fall. Typically, this time of year gives me the blues because the wishy washy thing gives me whiplash. Is it warm? Is it cold? Is it cool? This past Saturday I was caught in every kind of precipitation there is except hail. There was a 30 degree dip from the temp the day before & I didn't know whether to wear galoshes or snow boots. I'm not generally good with people who can't make a damn decision so when Mom Naycha starts actin' all ugly, flexin' her muscles & stuff, then I got beef. I want her to see me on the playground & duke it out for dominance over the sun's appearance. I'm even willing to compromise. I'm down with chilly because chilly inspires dope wears. What woman doesn't like sweater & boot season? I mean, really?

In honor of the only things that get me amped about this season besides the clichéd beauty of the leaves changing colors, I must share what moves me this Fall.

Sweater dresses are EVERYWHERE but a good 1 is often hard to find. I'm sorry. I mean a BAD 1. & that's bad meaning good but gooder than just regular good. Yeah...I said it. You want 1 that ain't gon' wear you but that YOU wear, that sits just right on all ya good parts. The 1 that keeps you FLY & warm. Like this:

& did they really cinch it all about the waist with a bow? In gift giving season? Is the symbolism reaching you? I ain't gon' spell it out. If you're with me, you're with me. If you're not...well, you just think it's a cute belt.

Now, if you truly wish to give a gift, we must make sure that the wrapping paper is attractive. Most of us like bright & shiny when it comes to this. The color of the season is orange. So, if you're trying to inspire...gift giving...I would take this neutral stunner & pair it up with these:

Are you still with me?

We won't do too much with this here today. But if you're looking to spark a lil something, make a suggestion that you & your Cuddle Bunny dress up to go somewhere, anywhere. Put on something that's subtly HAUTE & make him rush you through dinner so y'all can get to sweeter treats.

Make stylistic mischief &...

Watch me move.

Fresh Out

2011-10-31T17:35:00.006-04:00

It's my 1st day without constraints & I'm already at the end of my:

I barely know where to go with this. You may have to forgive me now 'cuz it could get all rambly up in here today. Seriously. If you had any idea ALL the places my mind is traveling right now...

1st, I'm listening to Ghostface's Apollo Kids but I got nothin' but love songs on my mind. Actually, I think I'm playin' Apollo Kids to drown out the love songs but it ain't working.

My gag reflexes are working off the memory of being licked by my old, drunken neighbor on my way in. This is where being raised to respect your elders goes wrong. See, the man showers nothing but "love" on me, enamored since I moved in 4 years ago. I wave, I smile. I trade "hellos" & try not to blatantly disregard the dude just cuz he ain't 'bout nothin'. I try really hard to treat people as people. As I pulled up he saw my car & parked his stumblin ass in front of my gate to wait me out. I borrowed some time & walked some trash to the trash can & gave myself another angle to approach the gate without having to cross him. Craig aN'em wanted to shake my hand. Not wanting to respond to him as though he was a lower life form, I extended my hand. What could it hurt? Every COTDAYUMB thing. Dude kisses my hand--YUCK--& then kisses it again. I go to pull away & he licks me before my hand is all the way free. My upbringing did fail me because my immediate response to being licked ~~without permission~~ was to swing on him. I punched Craig aN'em dead in his old bird chest. & despite my rearing, I was forced to tell ya granddad that he goes too far & I WILL fuck him up. It almost sounds dumb to be threatening to beat down the elderly but if you're coherent enough to think you gon' talk greasy man-whore shit to me then you can take an ass whoopin' like a peer. Equal opportunity beat downs for disrespectful behavior. #Imjessayin

That madness was just what I needed after a day where children completely turned their tail feathers up in our faces & gave us their asses to kiss. I ain't got time to be yellin' at kids, or chasin' kids, or breakin' up fights or beggin' back stolen technology so I tried my damndest to stay my arse in MY room & get some much needed work done. I'm almost ready for tomorrow but spent all day wondering when someone was going to hit the reset button on this whack ass day. The wild part about it is that there is somebody's deluded mama out here feelin' like her child's teachers don't do enough or give enough to her student who spits venom at adults all day, shows his or her behind--literally & figuratively, steals from the very people who do the job of a parent & then some all day. Hell, today I can officially add security guard to my resume. There's too much involved that I didn't sign up for & I'm the 1 who's gotta ride the blame for anything that goes wrong. Two other people played alphabet soup with their DNA & I'm the 1 who's gotta clean it up on daily basis? Man...GTFOH!! This free babysitting business that is public school has got to stop. As Older Sister says, they ain't hungry enough. For this education, that is.

This is the kinda day where you come home & reach for a bottle of something. Which...is precisely why I don't buy any bottles for the house. I'd have my feet up RIGHT NAH tossin' back a glass of something with adult contents. It would be a good day for a kick boxin' class. Just kick the shit outta a bag, straight mollywhop something with sand in it in the name of "I wish a muthafugga would" when you know to actually lay hands will have you wearing new bracelets. #BadLook.Com It's the kinda day where you should be able to come home & strip Cuddle Bunny's fur off & make him know what warmth really is. But then...it's also a day without Cuddle Bunny so I'm holding all this stress in my ~~neck~~ face & my back.

Lemme get up from here & sign up for a class or something that requires me to be outta the building soon. Cuz...iCant do too much more of this. Humanity is failing me.

While I wait for y'all to get your acts together or put ya ol'ass pimped out grandpops & ya practicing juvenile delinquent arse chirrens on leashes til they grow some sense...Imma contemplate what topics will come up this week. I'm feelin' like some fall fashion, a lil something related to--but not on--this Amber Cole business, perhaps playing over in Xtra Normal to turn my thoughts into a cartoon, & maybe do a little Fall cleaning. I need to make room for some better people, places, & things 'cuz this right now...is more than a little disappointing.

Happy Monday.

Watch me move.

Music Challenge: Day 30

2011-10-30T19:58:00.004-04:00

Day 30- your favorite song this time last year

Well, kiddies, it's the last day for me. Yes, October has 31 days but the challenge only had 30 & this is it. It has been quite the adventure but I'm glad it's over. & ya know what? I'm too distracted by today to remember what song moved me a year ago. However, I do remember WHO moved me a year ago. I remember just what I was doing around this time (give or take a week or 2). I remember being stuck in a Target parking lot, battery dead, & completely at peace with it as I waited for AAA to come with the jump. I was warm in my "nose wide open" state. & ya know what? It's still wide open.

While I was in the car that day I kept thinking of the song Angel by Anita Baker. But my battery was dead so I was clearly listening to nothing. Once the kindly AAA man got me charged & ready to go, I sat in the parking lot a little longer & did turn on the radio to see if it was safe before plugging up the iPod. I just wanted to scoot deep down into the warm, glowing feeling. The 1st song I heard was this:

You canNOT front on this man's voice & the silky smoothness of THIS song. This is by far 1 of my favorite Luther songs. & the words, 1 year later, are still appropriate to where I am. & while I have a lot on my heart that I want to scream, shout, sky-write, etc, I'll let Luther sing this 1 right now. My dedication, of sorts, to...myself. & kinda to Him, but mostly to Me.

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 29

2011-10-29T23:27:00.003-04:00

Day 29- a song from your childhood

To this day, when I think about my childhood & music, I always think back to my FAVORITE song when I was a little girl. I don't know what it is about this group, but The Emotions sang something in or on my spirit. When I hear them now, I still get transported to the way I felt EVERY time Best of My Love came on. Pulling up the video for you just now brought me so much joy. It's another piece to the puzzle that this challenge has helped me piece together. I've apparently been all about Love since Day 1. Something in me came here ready for what this Love business is all about. Self Love--had to grow into that. Familial Love--continues to unfold. Girl on Boy Love--forever a mystery.

This song 1st spoke to me when I was 3 years old. That's right. THREE. Nearly four score later, it still speaks to me. & much like any good song that stands the test of time, the lyrics are like an onion & the layers keep peeling back. The idea of the "best of my love" swirls around heavily right now. It gives me pause to contemplate who I've loved over the years & the ways in which that love manifested. No 2 relationships are the same, or shouldn't be. Despite being pre-programmed do to be deeply connected to Love, I really do wonder WHY this song meant so much to me as a little girl. I hung onto it as my favorite song for a LONG time.

I don't know if you know this 1 or loved it, but here's your chance to be introduced to it or dig into it 1 more time.

& a bonus track by the ladies. I loved this 1 too. I spent a lot of time staring at this album cover along with Dr. Buzzard & The Sunshine Band. These were indeed the days.

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 28

2011-10-28T17:06:00.005-04:00

Day 28- a song that makes you feel guilty

Before I reveal my song, I must apologize for yesterday. It was too much like the day before, which I also didn't care for soooooo...I skipped it.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Guilt is an emotion I toggle with very rarely. If I told you what ridiculously heinous news that crossed my path made me smile yesterday you would expect me to feel shame but the truth is...it brought me joy. Now, I'm FULLY aware that this should leave me feeling guilty, but it just doesn't.

This particular song...I feel guilty because the person who penned it (we assume she did) ain't have no business writing these very specific words down in relation to herself. Perhaps I'm simply blinded to her beauty by the drugstore two-tone dye job & missed out on viewing a most excellent female specimen to pattern myself after. Stranger things have happened.

The other reason, if i were to feel any guilt at all, is that I ROCK HARD with the lyrics personally. I don't carry myself in this manner (I don't believe) but I am my 1st fan...even when I'm busy flaw-finding. If I don't believe my own hype then you damn sure shouldn't. Guess that's the rationale for the song in the 1st place. Girlfriend ain't worried 'bout whether me or we is feelin' her. She's feelin' herself, bish, & dares you to find something wrong with her. Brava, Sister, I take back what I said in the above paragraph. So, me & Remy, Ma that is, stand together in feminine solidarity, in FULL APPRECIATION of who we are & what we're working with. & the only reason I may ever feel guilty 'bout that is because you need me to, not because I do.

Have a lil' self love on me today. Be conceited. You got a reason!

Watch me groove.

Post Script- it's not that Remy's unattractive, she's just #hooddenamug & shops at the worst hair hatteries.

Music Challenge: Day 26

2011-10-26T18:27:00.003-04:00

Day 26- a song you can play on an instrument

Honestly, if I were to tell you what I play on an instrument, you wouldn't even know what I was talking about. Well, most of you wouldn't.

I can play rhythms that I dance to. I do West African dance. I've learned to play some of those rhythms. This is unique in that it's mostly men who play the drums in the orchestra. It was a natural step for me, as a dancer, & helped to connect the music & the dance on a deeper level. The drums I play are the 1's in the back that are played with sticks. Slapping a djembe just ain't my thing.

So, I'm sharing this video for a couple different reasons. First, it has people I know speaking on an aspect of my culture that I love. Secondly, it breaks down some of what I said & gives you a little background. Third, it goes into the importance of this thing I love. Fourth, it also includes a little piece of the dance as well (a very little) & opens up a couple more windows into my world. Infotainment.

Tomorrow goes back to songs you may know & love

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 25

2011-10-25T18:03:00.004-04:00

Day 25- a song that makes you laugh

So...

My real song is Ghostface's Stapleton Sex. The dude is ignant as hell but keeps the laughs coming. HOWEVER...I've already pressed my luck with that raunchfest earlier in the month, while crossing my fingers & hoping my father didn't kill me if he didn't follow my instructions not to linger that day. No need to risk that conversation (yeah...I'm 36. AND WHAT?!?) right now. I'm just not in the mood.

Instead I'll leave you with another song that makes me laugh. This joint was like the most basic-est rhyme pattern ever. The lyrics are damn near as empty as the concept is superficial, but it's so much fun. I even bought the t-shirt, that I'm almost 'shame to wear because even when you feel this good about yourself (which I do), it's just rude to throw it around like extra weight.

I'll even do you the favor of giving you the remix version if you just give me 3.5 more minutes of your time. Laugh wit'me.

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 24

2011-10-24T22:18:00.001-04:00

Day 24- a song you want to play at your funeral

What a somber thought. If you let it simmer. From living a short while in New Orleans & becoming completely fascinated by, totally in awe of, & appreciative of the concept of the 2nd Line brass band send offs, I’ve decided that I too want to celebrate on my way to whatever becomes my final physical resting place.

See, I hope to have danced my way out, so I hope that there’ll be enough of you to high step 1 last time on my behalf. Send me out with a party. Revel in my contributions; remember the sound of my laughter & my broad-cheeked smile. There are always tears but I want them to be replaced by joy, sooner rather than later. Before the 2nd line, however, I want that old family vibe. I want the feel of folks talkin’ smack ‘round a card table & a kitchen or backyard full of food (of which the menu WILL be provided) pleasing your palettes & your hearts all at once. Sway wit’ me a lil bit. This song gives me that feeling:

Just keep each other close after I’m gone. (Wow…that was weird…)

After you sway though…you know it gotsta be a bop. Here’s a taste. Gon’ split ya pants on my behalf. You know it’d make me smile!!

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 23

2011-10-23T01:10:00.004-04:00

Day 23- a song that you want to play at your wedding

Much to everyone’s chagrin at bridal showers during those ~~typically God-awful~~ shower games, I have NOT spent my entire life planning my wedding. The concept just never made any sense to me in isolation. It could be that my parents, who were never married, split before I turned 8. There were no wedding photos in my house, they’d never been discussed, even on the occasions that we went to the weddings of friends and family. Back then, weddings were a lot more realistic, not these grandiose princessian affairs that require everyone, including the families of the bride & groom, to hawk all of their prized possessions to create a few hours affair that involves lifetime payment plans. Ri-damn-diculous.

So, it makes it a little difficult to contribute some flowery antidote of the wedding I've planned for myself in my diary when I was 17 & in love with… Cuz it never happened. As I got older, all I wanted to know about was this crazy thing called marriage. How do you make that work? Didn’t nobody have anything to add to that conversation. I am, however, still a girl, a chick, a woman. & I’m a romantic, in love with love. This means that at least once in my life I’ve heard a song that has made me think it would be a beautiful testament to share with the 1 I love in front of a supportive audience. I’ve got 2 songs. 1 is a squeeze-in, though still a genuine entry, so that I can satisfy my girl’s expectation for Whitney Houston to make the challenge. But stay tuned for the song that really plucks my heart strings when I think of the incredible feeling of taking on another as part of your Life’s work.

Whitney:

Maybe this 1 gets played at the reception, just before we excuse ourselves. Cuz you know it's got a sexy feel to it...unless I'm just confused by the hot pink spandex unitard in the dark club. #shrug

Now for the true wedding song. Sing along if you know it:

Rest in peace Ms. Vesta Williams.

Watch me groove.

Post Script--I think I'd take voice lessons to sing either 1 of these to my betrothed.

Music Challenge: Day 22

2011-10-22T10:31:00.003-04:00

Day 22- a song you listen to when you're sad

Sadness....hhhmmm...

Unfortunately for me, sadness has been like a shearling blanket, pulled up close around my neck. I felt it so deeply, so intensely, that I literally wore it around me. Sadness was such a constant in my life that despite the trend ending years ago & that I'm smiling & laughing ALL THE TIME, people are still asking me if I'm OK or telling me I need to smile. Don't y'all see all these teeth I'm baring?!? Now, even when I get a little down or the S.A.D.'s season walks up on me & punches me square in my mouf, there is still the ability to smile & laugh. If only I could work on my motivation during that time, but I digress.

I used to have play lists--we used to call 'em mixtapes/CD's--devoted to various moods. When I'd get in a mood I'd run 1 of these lists to damn death until I, or the mood, snapped out of it.

Like I said, the trend is over so I'm not doing any wallowing these days. At least from the inside out. It may look different to you on the outside if you experience it with me. The point--I ain't got no song I reach for when the blahs are upon thee. A song that lifts my spirits no matter what, which I suppose could be applied to sadness as well, is Ledisi's Higher Than This.

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 21

2011-10-21T19:57:00.004-04:00

Day 21- a song you listen to when you're happy

1st of all, the girl crush I have on Erykah Badu is enough for me to have to toss her into the mix at some point. More than that though, she's just an incredible artist & woman to me. & this is coming from someone who wasn't #allaway in when she 1st dropped. Yeah, I liked the music & all but the monumental gelee (gay-lay) (=headwrap) & the wallking Triple 5 Soul ad of it all was just a bit much for my spirit. She was everything folks assumed I was, on some Pseudo Mama Africa type business. Not me. Sorry to disappoint. & it seems that YeYe was only the stage she was in then. YeYe has grown up, had some BeBe's (bay-bay if you ain't know) & expanded her artistry. I honestly thought the sista was limited in range & ability upon her debut. She has since proven me W.R.O.N.G. on so many levels. I appreciate being proven wrong in this instance. It means I benefit.

I Want You is just so funky. & it has all kindsa 1-liners that completely match me or how I've felt about something or an approach I've had to wanting some You out there. What does this have to with happiness? Well, when somebody gets you open enough to even say some of these things, it's generally a happy feeling. I sometimes need to reflect on what this feels like when I'm in a state of selfishness, allowing myself to be the only 1 who showers me with love, or when I'm TOTALLY underwhelmed by the Hims that are out there vying for my attention. Last Summer was such a season, in case you missed it here, here, & here.

As I was saying...

This song makes me happy & I play it when I'm feeling happy. Now it's your turn to enjoy (about 6 minutes shy of it's actual length on the World Wide Underground album).

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 20

2011-10-20T18:46:00.002-04:00

Day 20- a song that you listen to when you're angry

This is easy. I don't. When I'm angry & need to change my mood I just turn music on. There's no "go to" song. I just need someone else's thoughts & words to be the centerpiece for a minute, & not mine. & it needs to be loud. However, I WILL flip this concept, if you should be so patient. When I think of anger I immediately connect the dots to motivation. Don't know 'bout you but when I get mad I get movin. So, when I need a little motivation, sometimes I play this (but not the live version):

You hype now? Well, maybe not, but it does it for me.

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 19

2011-10-19T18:51:00.001-04:00

Day 19- a song from your favorite album

Stumped again. Directionally challenged. Totally unsure. I honestly love music too much for this day’s challenge. 1 album? C’mon Son!! I’d have a hard enough time breaking it down by genre. In my mind I’m thinking, if it was Hip Hop it would be something like whether to go with De La Soul’s Buhloone Mindstate, Redman’s Whut? The Album or Dare Iz A Darkside, Ghostface’s Bullet Proof Wallets, The Roots Illadelph Halflife or ATCQ’s The Low End Theory or Midnight Marauders… It’s just too hard. Seriously. That doesn’t even move into the other genres I listen to. If I cain’t pick an album, I certainly can’t pick a song. Seriously, I feel like I should just throw darts or something. Maybe I will.

Eenie…meenie…minie…

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 18

2011-10-18T18:53:00.003-04:00

Day 18-a song you wish you heard on the radio

Once I accepted that I liked some of the music played on the "Adult" stations that advertise things like 35 & over cards, I was able to occasionally have a good radio experience. There are certain occasions when you turn on the radio & it does you jesssss right. Whatever's on your mind is eased, slowed down, & then gingerly put aside for a song that takes you back...way back. I love it when I'm driving & take a risk on a Sunday evening & catch 1 of Whitney's songs off of her 1st album or some classic Luther or Freddie Jackson. When those songs are on, I'm reminded yet again of being a little girl & vibin' soooo hard with the words like I was actually the old soul the adults around me claimed I was. "She's been here before." Maybe I was channeling heart love & heart breaks from other life times. I'on'treallyknow. But I felt those songs at my core...my 8, 9...10 year old core. I'm transported back to my grandmother's basement, playing in the bar with the beaded curtains, fingering all the old 45's & the album covers in my mother's record collection. It was my own little world, just big enough for me to stretch out comfortably or for the Baby Sis & I to sit up in it together.

This song, Share My World by Mary J. Blige, didn't even get released as a single, so it never made it to video status. Actually, the whole album, named after the song I'm sharing, managed not to give a lot of singles, but it offered a few nice surprises--because I was getting off the MJB wagontrain by this time. It's 1 of those songs that, while I love the way it reminds me of lots of love felt & shared, it doesn't make me feel like it's specific to any one Him or period in my life. It makes me wanna be at a basement party holdin' on to whoever He happens to be at the time. Not grinding, but slow bopping in the warmth of the love--we hope--or great like you're sharing in that space & time. The song is both declaration & offer. I know the feeling well....

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 17

2011-10-17T08:13:00.003-04:00

Day 17-a song that you hear often on the radio

I can’t stand the radio for the most part. It’s what plays in the time it takes to turn on the car & plug up the Red Velvet Lounge, aka my iPod. It also occasionally plays on a Friday afternoon, between noon & 1 pm for old skool mixes, or during quiet storm hours for those songs that take you back to a time when….fill in your own blanks.

Whenever I turn on the radio there are like 3 songs playing.

1. Wale’s That Way (which I happen to like) despite Ricky Rozay’s existence on it. Or the existence of the name “Jeremih.” I’m just a sucka for the boy, Olugba.

2. Miguel’s song, Quickie, which I may or may not sing along with.

3. Anything by Drake.

Since I would really rather not be exposed to 4 minutes of too many songs played on anything with call letters, I’ll play something from 1 of these artists that you may NOT have heard on the radio. Sharing is indeed caring. So, if we must listen to Drake, we should know he has other ish in his catalog besides the Top 40 tracks. Here’s 1 of my favs, which was never a single so...:

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 16

2011-10-16T10:11:00.003-04:00

Day 16-a song that you used to love but now hate

Finally an easy 1.

When this song 1st came out I was like, "YES!! Somebody finally reps for the chicks who aren't breaking their necks tryna be video ho-fessionals." I don't have time to be out here tryna outdo every chick on the block like it's for pay. Even going out got to be ridiculous because I didn't want to dress the part but then you get the "fugg is she goin?" side-eye if you don't look like you're at least tryna be a part of the Beautiful People. All I wanted to do was dance.

Da Mudda, & El Padre, raised us not to try to squeeze into prescribed boxes. Some things were forced on us & we've since grown to love them. India.Arie's declaration was timely for many. & then she didn't seem to grow beyond it. Album after album she seemed to be trying to remind herself that she was OK while seemingly providing the voice to others. I grew tired. My #selfofsteam isn't in I.C.U. I don't have to surround myself with anthems For Colored Girls Who Don't Shave Their Pits Even When Deodorant Crystals Aren't Enough. Or some such nonsense. My point is...I ain't this fragile, damaged, or in need of rebuilding. In fact, I have many who'd like to knock me down a couple of pegs, with my uppity arse. Whatever... Imma do me, but it won't be with this song in my personal soundtrack. I'm over it. I'm over her.

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 15

2011-10-15T23:12:00.003-04:00

Day 15-a song that describes you

A'ight so...I've assessed that over the last few days I've been playin' this wrong. I've been cheating. The rules basically require that I pick ONE song for each day. As the music lover that I am, this is beyond difficult. Plus, who has 1 of anything that quantifies them? I'on't even know what to do. & clearly, I'm 1'a those folks who doesn't do well with rules. I'm what you call a side-stepper. Imma keep stepping around the barrier til I get to where I WANT to be. I don't believe #allaway in no.

This particular day though...this would be better for someone else to make a suggestion. It's very hard to describe yourself through 1 of anything, which I've already stated. That means I'm gon' have to disregard the rules again. & you know what? No matter what I post, I'm still gon' be dissatisfied 'cuz Imma feel like I left something out. Lazily, I feel like if I just run through a variety of E. Badu songs I will have met the challenge. Why? Because I feel a great deal of kinship with my Piscean sister. We are so much alike on so many levels that I won't bother scaring you with them right now. She's definitely a dope artist but sometimes a hard pill to swallow as a woman. But for me, she's so far left that she's #allaway right. What some deem as her insanity makes perfect & complete sense to my double fish ~~filets~~ ways. Now, to figure out which songs...

After sharing that, with the lyrics so you fully feel what I'm talmbout, I've assessed that this song does actually do a good job of describing me. Not sure it's necessary to address this topic any further.

For fun though, I'll toss in 2 other songs that have been attributed to me over the years. & if you actually know me, you'll know why:

& can't forget this 1 (forgive the quality)

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 14

2011-10-14T21:49:00.002-04:00

Day 14-a song that no one would expect you to love

So, this whole challenge may lead you to believe that I'm musically 1-dimensional. I can't control folks' assumptions & won't begin to. However, there is more to me than meets the eye or slaps the thigh. #Imjessayin

I like A LOT of things, many of outside of the realm of 1st glances. That ain't unique, it's how most of us are. Sad are the people who really are only as they appear. iWeep for them. I like things catacorner, not straight. I prefer sundresses & sandals but will freak the shit outta a dope sweater & some haute boots. I haven't had ice cream in 5 years. While I love art, the art in my home in some ways manages ONLY to celebrate women in their various forms & personalities. My favorite color is red because wild women wear it. & yes, I can be a wild girl. I'm funnier than I look & I laugh wayyyyyyyyy more than you can imagine. At everything. I love horror movies for the comedy. Men with locs are NOT my favorite. I've eaten ostrich, quail, 'gator, turtle, frog, elk, boar & kangaroo. Very little makes me squeamish. I have a high tolerance for pain. Cucumbers make me ill but sour pickles are the salt lick of Life. I love frog everything & both enamored with & disgusted by animal print. I could go on. Basically, you can't look at me & tell these things, any more than you would know I would just as soon play Colin Monroe as Ghostface & that I try to live in an Alicia Keys-free environment.

& while I'm out here busy throwin' you off with the fact that I'm actually a sensitive person, no Ralph Tresvant, I be listenin' to this from time to time:

Lesson: we're all greater than the sum of our visible parts. & NO...I don't love Sista Souljah.

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 13

2011-10-13T21:41:00.005-04:00

Day 13- a song that is a guilty pleasure

1st--DO NOT PRESS PLAY on any of this if ya kids are around or if you're at work.
2nd--if you are my parent, real or community, PLEASE EXIT STAGE LEFT!! This information is not for you & will surely spoil your image of me. So uhmmm...yeah, go watch the news...read a book...play the Temptations...

This is another toughie. I have SEVERAL guilty pleasures. It's like still having a few ahRah Kelly songs in the collection after having enough proof that he's a nasty summamabish. #Mattafack, I just had something of a confession 'cuz I do. My saving grace is that none of what I own was made after speculation turned sure facts turned judicial errors.

Since I started this off with Robert Kelly, you can assume that my guilty pleasures are mostly because they're the kinda songs my parents certainly didn't raise me to have an appreciation for but that I'm grown enough to love (even when I wasn't) anyway. I'll start from the way back & work us forward. That was the indicator that there'll be more than 1 song in this post too. Kick back.

Track 1- 9 years old. Summer 1984. Pops took me to see Purple Rain with the big kids. & I fell in love with THIS song (actual movie clip not available):

What I knew about a sex fiend at the age of 9, I can't tell you. But my favorite song around this same time was Atlantic Starr's Secret Lovers...so, perhaps it was all foreshadowing of what kindsa ratchetness may or may not have been in my future. & by maybe, I mean probably or probably not. I won't confirm or deny. "If you seen it or you heard it maybe probably I did it/maybe or maybe not/I ~~won't~~ admit what I committed."

& since I brought up Da ahRah, I #minuswell include him in the mix. He has several ratchet choices to offer but I'll share with you my favorite ridiculous track:

Daddy...seriously...if you're still here you should go play Wii.

I LOVED this next song because of how uncomfortable it made chicks who were already on the dance floor. You wanna see a chick perp & scram fastly? Put this song on & watch 'em scurry.

I know you're either nodding your head in agreement, throwing me mad shade, erasing my number from your cell or hoping nobody else knows these are YOUR guilty pleasures too. Don't judge me & I shol' won't judge you. But I ain't done.

For real, Daddy...you shouldn't go this deep in my mind.

Now...this chick I actually thought might 1 day be a contender on the female MC scene. That never quite curled but I still 'speck her skills a lil bit. THIS song did it for me:

Wait! Do you even understand how hard this is to reveal? I actually know summa'y'all & Imma have to live this down. I'm not even sure it's possible. Sigh...This is what happens when you challenge yourself to have ~~mostly~~ full disclosure. I'm SO SURE I've just hipped some to like wayyyyyyyyy too much of... Lemme just wrap this up.

This last 1 should class the joint up a lil bit. This song's so damn segsy. The original was sexy too but this is sexier to me 'cuz this sista just ain't nobody I even equate with sexy. I think she's a beautiful woman, in a not so classic sense, but sexy to me she is not. Still, she does the damn thing on this remake & I LOVE IT!! In case you ain't know this song existed, or if you love it like I do, let this take you out for tonight. Grab somebody that means sumpin' to you (& who makes you moist) & set the stage. Thank me later. #Drake

Thanks for playing. Remember: don't judge me, &...

...watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 12

2011-10-12T22:13:00.004-04:00

Day 13- a song from a band you hate

I'm SO SURE summay'all are 'bout to pull my Black card right now. Not the 1 that gives me unlimited access to damn near anything in the world with a price tag but the 1 that ensures my entry to da block party, da cookout & da spades tournament.

See, confessions of a Light Skint Black Girl: I don't live for fried chicken. I just learned to tolerate watermelon like 3 years ago. & iHate The Elements, aka Earth, Wind & Fire. It's true & I ain't 'shamed at all. Not nar'bit.

That makes this part of the challenge hard. WHICH 1 of this band's songs that I can't stand shall I post? I'on'twan' hear NONE OV'EM! Ya dig? Lemme eenie, meenie minie moe...catch an annoying arse song by it's toe... Lets see what it gets me (& know that I'm posting this for the glowstick fever their 'fits have just caused me):

Now...my girl called me out yesterday on posting a "band" & not a band. So, I gotchu, Girl.

I used to run this tape ta deaf!! Loved these dudes. & please believe I know EH. VER. RY. song on it backwards & forwards. They play their own instruments to this day. You good now? The Roots? HA!! Gitchu some:

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 11

2011-10-11T18:32:00.002-04:00

Day 11: a song from your favorite band

Soooooo...does that mean Hip Hop?

Cuz if does then I gotta go De La Soul. But what song to share? I really could do like a De La tribute page unto itself. I ain’t got time for that & neither do you. I wanna post a song that may be obscure to those of you who haven’t been true to the band in the last few years, but I’m torn between exposure or bobbin’ our heads together over an old favorite. What to do? What to do? Imma assume you got short attention spans & do what you may know.

or R&B?

If it’s R&B, it’s GOTTA BE New Edition. & while I have a plethora of favs by them, I HAD TO post the expected because BeyHova, proud mama to be & lover of all things Popeyes™, is releasing a video this week completely biting off of If It Isn’t Love. While I’m slightly annoyed, I must remember that biting is a common form of admiration. It’s her own personal Thank You card. & even if it’s not, it’s what I need to believe to keep from being pissed off. Please enjoy the originators.

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 10

2011-10-10T12:24:00.002-04:00

Note: Reserving the right to focus on the challenge & cancelling the Shoe Personality…at least for this week.

Day 10: a song that makes you fall asleep
This is going to be short. It’s a holiday Monday—for me--& I really am not going to waste too much of this beautiful October day sitting in this chair. Imma hit you with 2 songs though.

I don’t remember which friend, but somebody put me on to Adriana Evans, raving ‘bout how good the sista’s CD is. I got it & swear I couldn’t stay awake through it. So, what’d I do? I started putting it on at bedtime. End of story. Pause for a 2nd selection & then you can judge for yourself whether it’s snooze worthy for you as well.

The 2nd song comes from an obvious choice: Corinne Bailey Rae. WHO HASN’T fallen asleep to 1 of her songs? When she & John Legend toured together a few years back, Baby Sis & I nicknamed it the Insomniacs Tour. Well, while I was busy trying to avoid her music, The Ex was all into her. This dude don’t even love R&B (or whatever category she falls under) like that. He & I are both Hip Hop Heads & vibed really well on our love of the boom bap. So for him to come home with Corinne Bailey Rae’s CD was a little more than shocking. Even more so was the fact that he ran it day & night. If he was home he was playin’ it & I was resisting the move toward narcolepsy. I was finally able to get him to only play it at bedtime to make it more judicious for us both. He enjoyed falling asleep to music & I enjoyed music that made me sleepy at sleep time. This sounds like an easy fix but The Ex would just as easily put on Mobb Deep for bed. I had to fight for logical choices.

Here’s your opportunity to sample my former nighttime soundtrack & perhaps incorporate it into your own. These days…I choose to fall asleep to the musical sounds of silence.

Watch me groove.

& then

Music Challenge: Day 9

2011-10-09T10:21:00.007-04:00

Day 9- a song you can dance to

THIS 1 is hard. As much as I like to dance, I can't really focus here. Should it be a song I used to love to dance to? A song I’ve confessed to pulling together some ratchet choreo for at a house party? Something from my childhood that still makes my hips move? Is it the song I cranked hard over the last year? A New Edition or BBD song I know ALL the choreo to? Should I choose a song that would surprise you that I even know or love? Perhaps a song that if it came on & I was at a red light, I’d get out & dance?

When I 1st decided to do this challenge I’d come up with a song already: Jazmine Sullivan’s Holding You Down. The 1st time I heard that song I latched on like a barnacle & rode it out!! It took me back to more than 1 time in my life. The lyrics spoke to the ridiculousness of the way chicks forgive dudes their indiscretions, teaching them to treat us in such craptastic ways. That “you act like this ‘cuz I let you…my bad, I won’t let it happen again.” I’ve been there. & The Guru has been reminding me to “teach them how to treat you” for no less than a decade. But that beat? Yeah, it’s recycled, but that’s the beauty of it. The nostalgia makes it so that ~~you~~ I can’t help but get the eff up & ROCK!! Then the video came out, all reminiscent of the movie House Party & sealed the deal for me. It was ALL ME!!, you know…minus the asymmetrical bob & the doorknocker earrings. But I posted that video in relation to Goin In Circles over a dude/relationship/concept, etc. No need to post the same song twice in the same blog so…I gotta choose something else.

Right after I moved that song out of the way in response to this challenge, another 1 came to mind instantly. No thought required. Charmed Life, remember?

Back history: My good friend Auburn Ave was in town visiting for the weekend. We’d gone to grab some escovitch & festival (loogidup if you’on’t know what dat is & then git you some post haste). As I parked the car to go in the iPod landed on My Sweetie by Wale. Growing up with all kinds of Africans & West Indians, this is the kinda song that transports me to the house parties my mother went to when I was younger, with the kids in a bedroom or some other part of the house. Those grown folks GOT IT IN!! They set the standard for me for how a house party is supposed to feel. & I’m proud to say I’ve thrown at least 1 in my day. My Sweetie channels that because Wale clearly lived through the same in his Nigerian upbringing. Naijahs love to party too!!

Anywho…the song came on & the next thing I knew I was drummin it out on the steering wheel & Auburn Ave had gotten out of the car to wind his waist a likkle bit. Well, I wasn’t gon’ let him wind by himself in the parking lot & have people thinking he was crazy, so I joined him. 1 is crazy. Two is a party. When the song went off we regained our composure, grabbed our fish & then proceeded to take our party back on the road. But not before runnin back My Sweetie. Thanks for this 1, Wale!!

Now, enjoy the video, that includes appearances by a couple ladies near & dear to me.

Watch me groove.

Post Script--I'll make the Shoe Personality of the Week a separate post later.

Music Challenge: Day 8

2011-10-08T09:42:00.003-04:00

Day 8: a song you know all the words to

I don’t know what bets were placed between label execs or how many bottles were passed between “crooners” after a lounge set but the likelihood of Keith Sweat, Johnny Gill & Gerald Levert coming together to create anything more than potentially a well-attended cook-out are still slim to none to me. I don’t know how this happened & swear I don’t remember but 1 other song on the album (My Body), but MY cut was All The Times.

It was New Years Eve 1998. I had just returned from Chicago for my shameful last return “home” for Kwanzaas done RIGHT. No disrespeck to how y’all do it where you’re at but you haven’t experienced Kwanzaa til you’ve grown up doin it in the Chi. Inteeweighs…when I got home, the Big Sis’s best friend, & by default my other big sis, was having a New Year’s gathering at her new-ish home. It was exciting for me because the other big sis was always an example of perseverance & NEVER give up-edness. She lives with Lupus, doesn’t suffer from it, & has had her life altered by it. Still, she is out here living many aspects of “the dream” & being just a couple years older than me, showed me what was possible. & the woman can cook, grown out of her Louisiana roots. ((fannin’ myself…Lawd))

So, me & Sista Jaffi (not her name, but my roommate & sista friend) went with the rest of the crew to The Other Big Sis’s house. We ate well & laughed lots. We also crushed hard on the star male in the crew, the Sexy Trini, who was never far away & always near to our youthful lust-filled hearts. We got to sit on the steps, in our early twenties & barely holding down our 1st apartment, watching the Big [Kool] Kids interact with all their worldly, college graduated, masters pursuing, home & car owning ways. Whatever “doin it” was, they seemed to be doing THAT! Me & Sista Jaffi were just glad to be welcomed.

As me & my girl sat quietly on the steps watching the dynamic between 2 friends who liked the Sexy Trini discover that 1 of them had one-upped the other & made a move, & me knowing the secret that someone on my side had already been there & done that, & us fantasizing about being there & doing that, the music switched up. The Other Big Sis had LSG’s unheard CD playing in the background & we all pretty much breezed it until My Body came on. The Big Sis’s mother made a comment that made us all laugh & broke the tension of being too many chicks in a room perspiring over the same dude. Not long after, All The Times came on & I literally fell into the words. The mélange of unexpected voices, the easy ebb & flow of masculine to feminine perspectives, the unexpected introduction to Missy Elliot as a woman who could actually SING… There was too much goodness all in this 1 song. I fell in love. Bump Sexy Trini!! I was all in this song.

On the drop-off came the surprise kiss Sexy Trini planted just off the corner of my mouth. He let me know that while I was the lil sis of the crew, he recognized that I had grown up from the 15 year old I was when he inherited me with my sister's friendship. I hunted that song down!! It eluded me for some time & I finally got it & kept it in my collection to sneak up on me as a surprise remembrance. & when it comes up in the shuffle, I sing soulfully right along with the memory of that night & all the Life that has brought me closer to the meaning of the lyrics.

You have no idea how hard it is to find a version of this song to share. So, I’m sharing a link to the lyrics that if you so choose, you can read & listen to the song. Enjoy.

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 7

2011-10-07T19:04:00.006-04:00

Day 7: a song that reminds you of an event

If you know me, you've probably guessed my event ain't gon' be prom or a favorite birthday, it's gon' be a lil abstract. If you don’t know me or haven’t frequented this blog, you aren’t aware of how SERIOUS Summer is for me. I’m in FULL BLOOM in the Summer. The Summer is important to me for several reasons though. The 1st is that I was born in February but Can. Not. Stand. The. Cold. The 2nd is that the colder, darker days of Fall & Winter have adverse affects on my demeanor. Sometimes it’s just not cute & it can ALL be avoided if I spent 365 days a year in a warm environment. I’m not completely unreasonable, so I’ll allow for sun showers because they’re beautiful (& B.B. loves the rain)!! The other reason I loved Summer was because they were all about family. I spent most of them between Chicago & Baltimore or wherever else my family & family friends happened to be.

The Summer of my 14th year I was in Baltimore fallin’ in like with Boo & Juicy respectively. Boo was an adorable teddy bear-ish type cutie whose best friend was Juicy. Juicy was less football & more basketball in build & a cutie in a different way. He was more segsy than adorable. I was not well versed in the ways of boys but it seemed that they both liked me, were both open about it to me & each other so I was all about the more the merrier. I haven’t thought about this in a long time & I’m seeing how…open-minded & ahead of my years I was then. Anyway, they’d both come see me on my grandmother’s stoop at the base of Callow Ave & at my Uncle John’s stoop at the top. For a while this arrangement worked, until Boo kissed me & my WHOLE FACE was left wet. Now that I think on it, he must’ve been fairly new to kissing (as I was too) because I can’t imagine the intention of his technique was to make me sick after being licked from cheek to cheek, left smellin’ like saliva. That took him right out the running & left Juicy, with his lanky cute arse. Wait, I’m s’posed to be weaving in the song.

So, that Summer, as the cars that go boom drove up & down the block, Soul II Soul’s Back To Life (the remix) cranked day & night. Me followin’ behind my Aunts to the store for Hawaiian Punch (which I actually hated but drank cuz they did) & pickles. Back To Life was playin. Me playin jacks in the hallway & spanking girls at it. Back To Life was playin. Me kissin’ Juicy on Uncle John’s “patio.” Back To Life was playin. I think when I got busted for havin’ Juicy in the house playin’ Uncle John’s video games…Back To Life was playin. The suspense of waitin’ on Caryn Wheeler to lazily lead me to the music… Nothin’ thumped like when the bass finally drops in that song. That thang CRANKED!! & let it come on somewhere…please believe Imma still lose my mind like it’s the Summer of 1989!! Yeah…Summers used to be major events for me (& still are)!

Watch me groove.

Post Script--I ain't used to postin on Fridays so Imma be lazy widdit & edit NOTHING! Charge it to the work week. I'm tired.

Music Challenge: Day 6

2011-10-06T19:05:00.003-04:00

Day 6: a song that reminds you of somewhere

Well, if by somewhere I can make it an era in my life, then lets have at it. I started to define this time as Jr. High School but I would be remiss if I didn’t include the 6th grade, which was still elementary for those of us who didn’t go to that silliness called middle school.

I am watching the video and typing this at the same time & I have to say that I’m almost embarrassed to even share this with you. What saves me is that I was not alone with what I’m about to reveal. Now, these jheri curl juice drippin’ bammas, Ready For the World were BY NO MEANS attractive, but you couldn’t tell me nothin’ ‘bout the whispery lustful sound of the lead’s voice. I let this tape rock til the tape popped & then replaced it. & I STILL have it. Judge me not.

Ready For the World was the soundtrack of my life from ’85 to ’88. In the 6th grade when we did Jump Rope For Heart & got to jump rope all night long at school…I played Ready For the World. Actually, damn near all the music that got played that wasn’t the radio was brought from my house. I guess I’ve ALWAYS been a music junkie. We ran this tape over…& over…& over & jumped our hearts out singing along & practicing our pelvic thrusts in a school function chaperoned in a cafeteria appropriate type manner (aka—in the cut out of the sight of the adults).

When I got to Jr. High, I met boys who seemed to me the 7th grade version of these dudes who were master & commander of all my fantasies with boys. Down to the white suits with floor length dusters. Mind you, I can’t remember what occasion at 12 & 13 years old even required a white suit with a floor length duster but…yeah. I wanna say this dude’s name so bad cuz it might actually send summa’y’all to check out his music but I don’t have his permission. Anyway, OJ—as he shall be referred to here, had me all crushed out on him enough to forgive him his activated hair. I tremble with the very memory of liking anyone who participated in that moisturized madness but it’s a sign of the times. OJ could do no wrong in my eyes, despite how much he actually did. It wasn’t cool to like the flat-chested chick with the natural hair & the long African name. So he chased chicks with “regulah” names by day & rapped me up by phone at night, enjoying my conversation. I’ve already spoken of this madness before, so I won’t go all into that fiasco again. Needless to say, we’re all grown now & he’s busy having Jenny Jones moments (remember that ridiculous show?) where he apologizes to me from time to time on Facebook for not being mature enough to ride hard for the dime he knew I was. Cuz Baby…look at me now.

Uhmmmm, I think I’ve gotten away from the soundtrack. Anywho, OJ aside, hot to trot was the underlying theme of my tween to teenage world & I was all caught up in the rapture of boys who warmed empty promises over low embers with me on the phone at night. & don’t let 1 whisper in my ear. GOOD LAWDT!! Thank goodness Da Mudda really did put the fear of Mamas in me or I mighta been 1’a those chicks lovingly referred to as “out there bad.”

You know what? I ain’t gon’ ‘barrass myself no mo’ with this confessional of a teenage allaway turnt up on love & romance. I’on’t need to keep thinking I hear soft chuckles & have arced eyebrows thrown at me like boomerangs. I’m good. So, at my expense, please take a moment to enjoy 1 of the mainstays in my youth from a group who managed to come back around & shoot me with another arrow when they did Sweet November (which I couldn’t find for you) that reminds me of a skate party I went to when I was 14. Have at it.

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 5

2011-10-05T18:53:00.003-04:00

Day 5: a song that reminds you of someone

Once upon a time…sangers could sang! They used get all up in ya craw & make you feel Every. Word. The music used to be a lot simpler & the lyrics did all the work, floating on the easy flowing river of some songstress or troubadour's voice. This is back when love songs were still about love & not about hickies & quickies. No Miguel. That’s not to say that a well placed hickie, out of the view of parents, kids & pets, isn’t a good time for all, & a good quickie betwixt & between events of importance can certainly help move the day along. Honestly though…I’on’t need to hear no songs about ‘em. #imjessayin

In the days of yore, when singers had to be able to—oh, I don’t know—sing; Anita Baker was on top. Auntie ‘Nita’s voice was all simultaneous silk & rasp. Not the kind of raspy where you might want to offer her a Ricola™ but where you get a sense of just how serious she is & how she understands of what she sings ‘cuz she’s GROWN!! I couldn’t wait to know THAT feeling when I was younger. & I didn’t, but that’s neither here nor there either. Wait, I’ll clarify. It was the love I hungered for, the lust—if that’s where your mind went—wasn’t the soup de jour. Da Mudda said not & I believed in the fear she instilled in me. I’m straying, lemme reel it in.

I love Anita Baker’s catalogue but 1 particular song stands out for me now, more than ever. Since the introduction of B.B. into my world, I’ve been feeling lighter about the chest area. My heart, if it were to have feet, could be described as having a little spring in its step. & that was all before I ever said a word to him ‘bout feelin’ him somethin’ serious. For those of y’all who are regulars, I made mention of trying to keep it to myself, but it didn’t work out. One day, a ways down the road, but prior to today, I was cleaning house & Angel came on. The song has always moved me but this time around it took on another meaning. Just as my friend, ‘cuz we hadn’t moved from Boo to Beau yet, B.B. had really stood up & started making things smoother about the edges. He stepped up in places I’d not asked him to, put things in place I didn’t recognize I needed, & no matter what the request, he came through. I was plowing a field of struggle & he came & replaced my stubborn mule with a tractor (or whatever farmers use these days). He made me feel safe & secure, making space for me to set my troubles down without embarrassment that he could see what was in my bags.

That day, as I cleaned & Anita sang, all I could think was his name. “everytime you’re near me my poor heart just won’t keep still/…ask me to go with you, you know I will.” After 1 of our very early conversations, post confession, I knew if he made a move & asked me to go, I’d be there in a heartbeat. I felt secure that with him I could figure anything out & be alright. So, to B.B. I dedicate this song that reminds me of someone, & offer my gratitude to who or whatever brought you into my world. I’m so very thankful to be making room for you.

Sway wit' me for a minute.

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 4

2011-10-04T19:23:00.003-04:00

Day 4: a song that makes you sad

I remember the 1st time I heard Fantasia’s Free Yourself. She was singing on some awards show & must’ve brought every shard from her broken heart to the stage with her. She kicked off her shoes, literally—a la Mama Patti, & set about the business of sorting out just what had led her to that song. I didn't care about another song on the album, I bought it JUST for this song. I’m gonna be allaway lazy & not break out my CD jacket to see if she penned it or just fully identified with the lyrics. It don’t e’em much matter ‘cuz that night…on that stage…Girlfriend did that. It was 1 of those Roberta Flack moments where I felt the sista was singing my life with her words, killin’ me softly with her song. It was serious! By the end of the song I think me & ‘Tasia Mae were both in tears. Wild part was I was happily engaged at the time but still so thoroughly in tune with that feeling that I couldn’t help but go there with her. We walked barefoot, together, from the 1st note to the last.

Who among us hasn’t been there, hoping the other person would stop taking us through the motions & just admit that “here” wasn’t where they wanted to be? When you love it’s hard to walk away, even when every part of you but your body has already vacated the premises. Then we just stand still, in each other’s way, & block the good on the horizon. I know I’ve had to free myself before. I know I’ve had to encourage others to tell the WHOLE truth & free themselves too, even if it was from me. Now, as sad as the song makes me, taking me on a trip down memory lane, it still makes me feel GREAT by the end of it. Finding the courage to release your self from something painful, or just stagnant, is exhilarating. Difficult, yes, but exhilarating. When Fantasia gets to the final lines of the song, I’m all caught up in remembering the moment freedom became a reality & that weight was lifted. Free Yourself is a song I’ve listened to on repeat to remind me of what I need to do, what I’ve needed to do, what I hope not to need to do again because I’ll be more honest with myself as the signs of The End present themselves.

I’m glad not to be traveling this path currently, but Fantasia reminds me how possible it is to free myself should I ever need to again. It’s OK. So, here’s my little piece of sadness, turned empowerment. Enjoy…or…whatever it does to you or for you.

Watch me groove.

Music Challenge: Day 3

2011-10-03T16:11:00.004-04:00

Day 3: A song that makes you happy

Saturday mornings, & sometimes the afternoons, were cleaning time in my house growing up. My parents played whatever got them through during those times. We all know the power music has to help us get over the hump. There's a huge difference between cleaning with & cleaning without music; hell, there's a difference between doing just about EVERYTHING with or without music.

Well, Da Mudda had a thing for Dr. Buzzard & the Sunshine Band. I used to sit for what seemed like hours staring at the album cover as the record--YES, the record--played in the background. There were a few songs on the album that I would go & lift the needle to play them back, but Sunshowers was my favorite. I don't know what kind of little girl I was, unable to describe myself in retrospect, but I had a serious thing for relationship songs. Wait, every song is a relationship song, just about. Love songs GOT ME!!

The sound of the rain & the intriguing voices opening the song always grabbed my attention. I can see myself laying on my stomach holding the album cover singing along. & I knew ALL the words. I lay there listening to this woman sing about making everything she does be in order to glorify some Him. Now that I think about it...it's kinda the predecessor to BeBe & CeCe Winans or Mary Mary & artists like them, singing to some other more omnipotent being than a random dude. The sun...sunshowers...incredible acts. "Sunshowers/ just the sign of the power/ of loving you/ oh Bay-bee." Yeah, that definitely sounds a little praise-worthy. There were no white gloves in this video but somebody's being worshiped for their good lovin' & that can apparently be taken any way you need to.

All these years later, we won't bother with exactly how many, this song still makes me happy. Have a piece.

Watch me groove.

Shoe Personality of the Week: 10/01/2011 (& Day 2 of Music Challenge)

2011-10-02T13:08:00.004-04:00

It’s Sunday & that means a shoe gotsta represent how I’m feeling. So super simple cuz shoes are MY THING!! I can’t even wear the shoes I fall in love with, most of the time, with these ol’ arthritic knees but the love never dies.

How is she gon’ tie shoes & music together? Silly you! They’re TWO of my favorite things. Watch me move.

So…today is Day 2 of the challenge and the song has to represent my LEAST favorite song. Well, at first that seemed simple because the answer, simply put, is The Radio. It drives me insane with its incessant repetition of whack tunes. The Top 40 stations play the same 10 songs ALL DAY like they’re BET programming. The Adult stations are like an endless lullaby, making me sleepy at times of the day when it’s just not safe or productive. Well, I can’t post the entire radio on here so I had to narrow it down further. I had to consider who makes me cringe whenever s/he comes up on the radio & I can’t get to the tuner or my iPod fast enough to erase him from my moment. EASY. Kem!! His music makes me want to hurt people & destroy things. His voice is literally my pass to insanity. Ain’t nuttin’ positive ‘bout that. But how do I choose just 1 song of his as my least favorite? Damn near impossible. & who the hell is tunin’ in to listen allaway thru a song I can’t stand? Yeah, so Imma put a twist on it. I’m posting the ONE Kem song that doesn’t cause my ears to have diarrhea.
Now for the shoe…

If I were out with B.B. & this song came on, I’d hope I have on something a little flirty so he can be opened & reminded of the possibilities later...or not so “later” depending on where we is.

If you choose to check out Kem’s If It’s Love, you can do so here.

Watch me groove.

30 Day Song Challenge: Day 1

2011-10-01T22:51:00.003-04:00

It’s October & Fall has swept up in here like a dust storm, catching me off guard & inadequately covered. My A/C box is still in the window like I’m expecting some kind of Indian Summer heat wave. It’s still like to occur but I may have to just suffer the heat in favor of beating back this chill that has descended upon dat azz.
With Fall comes a great many challenges for me, including not wanting to get out of bed in the morning, trading in all beverages for tea—sending me to pee more often than I already do, never having enough dough for all the haute boots, being constantly underwhelmed by my transitional weather jacket/coat collection, & hermit-ism. This is when I essentially go underground & disappear from public sight aside from showing up to earn my keep on the plantation. In simple terms, it’s called hibernation. I’m a cat in spirit & a bear at heart.

To make the onset of these days a little more bearable, & to add a different kind of challenge to the mix, I’m going to pick up 1 of these ever so common 30-day challenges. Summa y’all like to try to kill yourselves in new ways with the latest fitness craze, summa y’all are cuttin’ out sugar for 30 days. Once before I tried the 30-day letter writing challenge but I was too far out of practice & too ornery to be tryna write to people I no longer give to fuggs about. This time? Imma try to tell you who I’m is through music. Music is 1 of my drugs of choice & to even narrow down my identity to 30 songs (out of 7100 in an incomplete catalogue) is going to be tough but fun. & even though I don’t believe in posting on Fridays & Saturdays, & have a tendency, depending on my schedule, not to make it through past Monday, I’m going to ride this 1 all 30 days. Feel free to chime in through this process. Lets get started…

Day 1: My favorite song

I LIVE for Anthony Hamilton to come up in the shuffle & on the Shuffle. This man’s voice just… I’m a romantic. I’m the chick who’s in love with Love long before I’m in love with an actual man. & when I get there with a man…oooooh, it’s so warm all up & through my heart. Anthony tells you why his love with his lady is the reason for everything. Y’hear me? E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. Do you know how serious it is to be the reason someone makes damn near every decision on a daily basis? He said you’ve become so integral to his very being that the point of it ALL is simply that he loves you. In the words of Larenz Tate in Love Jones, that shit’s “urgent than a motherf%@ker.”

Whether I’m in Love or simply in love with it on any given day, I understand how crucial this kind of love is & cherish its very existence. To ever know love like this is the reason so many maintain faith in Love. There are few things more beautiful than that.

This is for you, Sweets.

Stay tuned tomorrow to see if I can successfully blend Shoe Personality of the Week with the day’s song.

Watch me groove.

FASHION WEEK: DAY 3!!

2011-09-29T18:36:00.004-04:00

TRACEE ELLIS ROSS WEEK!!
DAY 3!

& sadly it's the last day, but that's 'cuz I'on't come through here on the weekends; which for me are Friday & #Surdee.

Purple is the color of royalty & check out Her Royal Badness. I love the comfortably urbane look of this toga-esque dress. & what does she add to it? Tracee sets it off with a burnt orange or copper toned (can't make it allaway out) strappy heel. Not what I would've thunk up but I certainly ain't mad at it.

Effortless. That's the overall theme of Tracee Ellis Ross's personal panache. Pick it out, put it on & work it before it works you. The. End. It's that kind of breezy, uncomplicated elegance I try to epitomize when I'm steppin' out. I'm all about casual comfort on the regular but I clean up real well. My eye is naturally caught by brought colors, & I tend to put them together adeptly. I can only hope I look as straightforward once I finish waving my wand, so I can mirror her "ennhh...this ol' thing" look.

I don't do a whole lot of red carpet affairs or black tie socials [yet], making the look below a little bit more accessible, as in--it can be rocked on the 'morrow.

A woman in a dope lid, on a slight lean practically epitomizes feminine confidence to me. We see men all day everyday in hats, almost universally accepted among men that they don head gear. Women, on the other hand, tend to be more hair fanatics. The irony is males' hair, when left to do what it do, usually grows more lustrous, longer & faster than females in most mammals. Somehow, we bipeds have gotten things confused & decided women would be the 1's losing their ever loving minds over their follicles. That means some women just ain't gon' be bothered with covering up all that effort or length or body or bounce, or whatever they happen to love 'bout their locks. A woman confident enough to wear a hat--& WELL--is telling you something about herself.

You can tell by the flick (& perhaps the intended direction of the photog) that wearing a hat brings out a lil sumpin extra in Mz. Tracee. There's an added air of mystery when a woman's eyes are hooded. & who doesn't love a good mystery? The look is simple & classic, like damn near every shot I've ever seen of this woman, including the paparazzied shots of her coming from Starbucks™ or strolling the boulevard.

Ms. Ross's fashion finesse moves me most because it's accessible. She looks like a woman who enjoys the same thrills & suffers the same pains, not someone who's pretending to be above the masses. You too can do what she does, with different dollars of course, & express your inner urban fashion goddess. You don't have to be over the top, arriving to events wearing blocks of cheese on your head or pretending to be a walking manifestation of communicable diseases in order to stand out. It is not necessary to have plastic surgery to hide your flaws; in fact it's more liberating to embrace them. Tracee Ellis Ross looks like a whole lot of self love, trusted personal routines, & trust in knowledge of self.

Read up on her if you choose. She sets a good example of a 30-something woman aging gracefully both intellectually & spiritually. & she knows a thing or 2 about clothes. My kinda girl.

Watch her move.

FASHION WEEK: DAY 2!!

2011-09-28T16:15:00.003-04:00

TRACEE ELLIS ROSS WEEK!!
Day 2!!

I love a woman in tuxedo pants. I mean...like to see a woman wear them...who can pull them off. Since I was a little girl I’ve been in awe of woman who can take a garment so masculine and put a feminine spin on it. I assume we’ve all been visually turnt out by a man who’s wearing slacks that appeared to have been handcrafted just for him, made out of pride and love. They land on his ~~hopefully~~ narrow hips just so & fall gently toward his shoe game (men’s shoes coming soon to a Shoe Personality nearest you). There’s a lil something extra in his glide, well past strut, signaling his confidence in his talents, both apparent and not.

Women’s slacks can be a bit of a tight rope; you can easily fall off & land in a pile of poorly constructed slacks. To be able to take something like a tuxedo pant, a pant many of us rarely get to see on a man past prom—before these strange days of “who ran it?” amongst boys—in a tuxedo anything, jacket or pants. I happen to love the jackets too, but y’all ain’t #axe me that.

Tracee Ellis Ross, in all her Classic-Meets-Bohemian style, has even added the cummerbund to the mix and managed to keep it all 100% WOMAN. There’s no mistaking this as an Ellen DeGeneres moment (though she does get her stylistic thug thizzle ON). Tracee Ellis is a woman’s woman, with curves & a walk that doesn’t try to deny what she is. Her ensemble, finished off with a backless ~~sequenced~~ sequined halter makes this look fun and sophisticated. Those two elements are often hard to marry successfully. Only a true fashionista could pull this off, & Tracee has.

Kudos to Tracee Ellis Ross for having the style sense to make things happen & make it look so effortless. She never looks like it took a team of people to get together. Instead she looks more like she yawned awake &, in the ways of Pinky & the Brain, wondered how she’d take over the fashion world today. Certainly her budget helps, but innate style is the cauldron in which she stirs up her aesthetic self, her body the canvas, & we are all privy to the unerring results.

Her, perhaps unintentional, message to Me is to know your body type & find what works for it. You don't have to wear what everyone else is wearing or follow fads/trends just because they exist. Be yourself & accentuate your positives. Find your "It" factor & work that like it's what pays you.

Appreciated.

[lets continue to] Watch her move.

FASHION WEEK...mine

2011-09-27T18:20:00.005-04:00

I was asked not too long ago who I would say is my style icon. It was an easy enough question to answer, much easier than I expected. The woman who mirrors my inner style maven is none other than Tracee Ellis Ross, bug-eyed & bootylicious daughter of Dirty Diana. I think I’m going to dedicate this week to her. Yeah…It’s TRACEE ELLIS ROSS WEEK guys & dolls. Pop something! Twist something (you know…if that’s what you do)!! Lets celebrate!!!

Anywho…like you, I hadn’t paid her much attention before the show Girlfriends™ hit prime time. As a lawyer she took fashion risks that were truly unexpected in such an uptight atmosphere and profession. She wasn’t afraid to stand out, something I’d assume is actually necessary as a black woman part of any law firm, though perhaps not through switching up the A-line skirt game.

Tracee reminded me of Me, never quite conforming to the standard uniforms for my job. I don’t mean the khaki pants & blue button down type uniforms or making rogue decisions like painting graffiti on my apron. No disrespect to those who’ve worked those jobs, but I’ve not actually had to don those particular uniforms. I’m speaking of the kind of unspoken (or even spoken) expectation that we will ALL come to work as starched carbon copies of one another, wearing our reminders of our role as drones. No thanks, I’m good.

Past Girlfriends™, I haven’t seen a spread of this woman where she wasn’t flawless. It’s not that I would rock all her combinations but I’d like to think that if I had the duckets to spread over the individual pieces that move me, I’d be a fashion force to be reckoned with, my biggest & most common accessory being the attitude that I wore it, therefore it’s RIGHT. On top of all the unapologetic “love me or leave me alone” that she & I have in common, the length of our legs is NOT the same but what rests a top those legs IS. She feels my pain, finding bottoms that adequately fit , perfectly drape, & accentuate the rotunda we’re both truckin’.

What she’s wearing in the above flick is how I wish I felt right now: spry, carefree, flirty & playful, & girlish. I’ll even forgive how her jacket is giving me horrendous flashbacks of a woman I know whose style (word used looser than “bowels after collard greens”) choices & hair struggles point in the direction of trailer trash playing at being employed in the big city. This jacket isn’t as bad as all that, but the structure of it reminds me of this person. I apologize for taking you on that ride. Inteeweighs…the red bottoms definitely bring this look all together, & I typically don’t like ankle booties with skirts or dresses.

I won’t bother to tell you what I’m ~~not~~ wearing right now, but it certainly belies what I’m capable of. You may wanna look that word up before you jump out there assuming you know what it means. & like I said…if anyone ever gave me the chance to ~~stack~~ make a couple of liquid dimes I’d be all over collecting more side-eyes of the green contact variety. Never fear though…I’m not doing any better than you right now. But if ever…

Watch me move…in Tracee’s shadow.

Shoe Personality of the Week: 9/26/2011

2011-09-25T19:10:00.004-04:00

My friend Big Slim, in the spirit of being the Ultimate Sharer, put me on to an unfortunate website that showcases an unfortunate "designer's"...craft(?). & in the spirit of the insane time that I always have when I'm with her, I'm posting this insanely bad...funny...ridiculous bootie. Yes, I'm clowning the isht out of this trashedy's very existence. I don't believe in it's right to Life. This shoe below should've been aborted at the idea stage. But it is STILL funny & ridiculous.

& sooooooo....???

Glad you asked. My life has turned WAY serious within the last few years or so. The things I've experienced, the things I've endured, the positions I've been in, thoughts had, questions left unanswered, answers hovering closely on the other side of a HUGE leap of faith...the fun had been removed. That isn't to say that there was no light or laughter in my world, but the frequency has been greatly diminished by this sometimes whack video game called Adulthood. My parents told me not to rush out & buy this BS but like every other yout' d'em, I grabbed my copy as early as possible. Being the uber responsible child I've always been, I morphed right into a line towing adult. I still managed to have fun. Now, as I cut the line up into bits & pieces, it would seem the fun quotient would raise itself with the removal of all that predictability I had goin' on. If either of us assumed that, we'd both be wrong. Quite the opposite has happened. The result: all this seriousness is making me sleepy. Translation: my life feels tired (read: dull).

**NOTE** this is not the time to remind me of all I have going on. This is subjective. This is how things feel to Me, despite mostly knowing "good & hell well" that my Life is actually quite the opposite.

In efforts to reverse the lullaby affect my life is having on my Life, I'm reaching for as much ign'ance as possible to keep the smiles & laughter allaway turnt up!! I don't know that I'll ever be able to match the ign'ance levels of this daffy, farcical boot, but I can sho' try. I was told earlier today that I'm being too hard on myself, that YES things are tough right now, but my own perfectionist qualities are only further exacerbating my personal trauma right now. Prescription: more fun ("like the kind you used to have.")

Last night I took another dose of the prescription, channeling the good ol' days & participating in a dance battle to the tune of Slick Rick's A Children's Story, complete with faux gold teefes & dookie ropes (not on me). I bobbed my head hard to "jams" from once upon a time, line danced with the latest black twist, & got my new jack on--swing that is--& learned how to do some country arse dance called The Squirrel. They asked how low could I go & dropped it low, allaway to the flo'. I laughed hard & remembered just how much fun it is to be around an entire ~~basement~~ room full of folks completely committed to cuttin'a fool. In order for me to make it through this current phase of my Life, I'm going to have to chase this feeling like a junkie chases a high. It should help substantially.

But if you ever see me out in the street actually wearing the above atrocities, know that my plan has backfired & that I require an intervention.

Watch me move.

Post Script--to all my prayer warriors out there, please put a few in the air for the woman who makes this madness. Pray that either her friends will finally be kind enough to tell her the truth or that she is suddenly struck by a little something we like to call taste so she can move into crocheting things that are actually possible to be warn in public. Thanks in advance.

What Is The State of Black Television?

2011-09-22T15:10:00.005-04:00

The other day I was reading those Very Smart Brothers & was introduced to THIS feces of bulls:

I personally didn't like the movie Why Did I Get Married. I don't like ANY Tyler Perry movies, but they clearly aren't made for my taste buds. Of the characters in the movie, this chick was my favorite because, despite how hood-tastic she was, she was the most believable. Don't get me started breaking down how unrealistic the characters felt to me, especially Tyler playing somebody's straight husband. You didn't #axe me all'at. Still, I just can't see how this couple sparked "brilliance" leading to an idea for yet another T-Pain TV show.

The very premise behind this show, from just the 2 short minutes in the above clip, make me wanna escort T-Peezy to the door & invite him to get all the way the hell on. Why? Glad you asked. According to the media, black women can't buy a husband. That means, either black folks ain't gettin' married (depending on which stats you follow) or black men who DO marry are all marrying women who classify as Caucasian or "Other" on the census surveys. According to this clip, those of us who are...lucky?...enough to get married & play at building families, really don't have a damn clue what we're doing. The end result: negativity, cheating, lies, yelling, emasculation, tears, & resentment. I may have left something out but I haven't been in this type of relationship, doing silly shit like trying not to shred people's feelings while together or in the process of separating. I'm obviously alone in this because the examples on Tyler's sitcoms, & in his movies, are all broken people searching for someone else to heal them.

Do you know how many of my students LOVE Tyler Perry shows & movies? Do you know how frightening that is to me?

I'll resist the urge to step up on my soap box. I will say this: While I don't dig Tyler Perry ~~at all~~, I do recognize that there is an audience for his ~~trash~~ work. That is not the issue, so much as there is no balance, providing material for those who are elbow to elbow with me, consumers with a different palate. Not a lot's happening on the prime time front, but BET is offering THIS:

It's supposed to be a millennium twist on the Huxtables, taking into account the blended family, reversed roles in the home, etc. You know...all the stuff you haven't positively experienced with the husband you can't find & the kids you ~~must be~~ are raising on your own. I don't know if it's the counterpart to the futtbuckery that Tyler Perry keeps slipping into your cart but perhaps this will be the thing that makes you put down some of those empty Perry calories & opt for something ~~I hope~~ with a little more nutritional value. We shall see.

As this all unfolds, Imma keep my bags of books near in case it's not such a good idea to have my TV on. I'm enjoying devouring books again anyway. It's been a long time... (just started book #6 since June) But y'all stay tuned & tell me what the word is on bof'a'dese shows. Thanks in advance.

Watch me move.

Post Script--I feel like perhaps this is trivial in light of the execution of Troy Davis, & that I should be offering something on this topic. However, I don't feel that I have anything enlightening to say that hasn't already been said for decades upon decades in this Post Jim Crow era we live in (still). I'll not bore you trying to work through my feelings about this before your eyes as I'm sure you're already attempting to process it. I will send positive energy to the Davis family, those who rallied & called on his behalf, & others like him who sit on Death Row awaiting unfair & unjust execution. Perhaps 1 day there'll be no need to even entertain this topic except from an examination of history, not directly linked to the present. I can only dream...

Post Post Script--I may have lied. I do feel something...though it still may be unoriginal. & I may flesh it out in this space. I may not.

Shoe Personality of the Week: 9/19/2011

2011-09-18T10:29:00.003-04:00

If there were EVER an exact shoe match to what I’m feeling RIGHT NOW…it’s this.

I’ve done this before but Imma run down a list of adjectives that cross my mind as I look at this shoe & then apply them to my situation.
• Unusual
• Peerless
• Provocative
• Caged
• Blunt
• Two-toned

Nothing about this shoe, save the round toe, is common. I suspect this woman is probably 1 of 2 people on the streets with this shoe. In this way it is both unusual and peerless. The wearer has no cause to fear Payless Shoe Source™ will come out with it’s knock ~~down~~ off version & reduce her find to a passing fancy. Right now, I am the only 1 like me in my environment. It’s a position I both treasure & abhor. Having no peers with similar experiences to bounce your thoughts off of is often very lonely. You can never tell if your mind is a spin-doctor or if you’re really experiencing what you thing you’re experiencing. I’m essentially riding dolo, the only 1 of my kind in a lane full of people who have more shared experiences. I share some of their experiences as well, but the parts of me most visible are those things we do NOT have in common. I am a council of 1 who can seek the counsel of none.

The shoe is provocative. It causes a strong reaction. You either find it to be the business or you want it all the way out of your sight. I rather like it. I dare say I love it. Love is a strong reaction. I am provoked into loving this shoe. I apparently provoke strong feelings as well. It hasn’t mattered what my hair looks like, so I won’t blame it on the “low boy” I am presently rocking. My nose has been pierced since I was 19, but these kinds of reactions began well before that. My earrings are big & bold, & I’m sure that says a great deal about me, especially in concert with the “low boy” & the nose ring but it’s still something of a limited scope. I don’t know. Maybe I look like I read & people hate books so therefore… Maybe I walk too tall for a shorty, with my head held too high like I have the nerve to…be OK with who I am. Who does that? Honestly, it’s not for me to say what emotions I provoke, but I recognize that I provoke them.

The leather strips encasing the black shoe inside reminds me of a cage. I feel caged. Right now I’m trapped in my mind, shackled by my heart. My mind is in fight mode, wanting to best those that stand against me for reasons that are totally unreasonable & based on active imaginations. I feel like I must bite my tongue—a most uncomfortable feeling—while also feeling the need to carry a bullhorn & point out all of the ridiculous inequities that are occurring right now. I feel caged by my inability to decipher a plan of action that makes sense for the long term & that is beneficial to the many (despite that feeling of being peerless). Right now, I feel like the lit match ready to land on an oil slick. No bueno.

Everything about this shoe is blunt. It basically requires you to love it or leave it alone. It offers you no middle grounds. This concept is essentially repetitive the 1’s revealed by what feeling caged is doing to me but there’s more to it. When trapped, I have 1 style—FIGHT. Flight is considered not an option because the assumption is that I’m trapped & subsequently able to move. However, there ARE spaces that 1 can squeeze through in order to get free. You may not squeeze through unscathed, but you can squeeze through. Right now, I feel the need to invite folks in through the spaces. Come inside & underestimate me. Step into the prison you feel like you’ve designed for me & then let me put you to sleep. #KnuckleUpGuardYaGrill Essentially, once you enter, you will be very clear what’s goin’ upside your head, & I’ll be giving LOUD commentary to those on the outside so they can fully understand how I got you splayed.

Two-toned. The shoe is neutral. In color only. It’s doing several things at once, most notably in color. That’s where I am. I am able to laugh & smile through my day, no matter how tenuous things feel around me, because this shit IS laughable. It’s so absurdly unbelievable that laughter is really the only thing left other than tears. Well, I ain’t got time to be crying over this nonsense; at least not yet. The fire hasn’t even begun to lick at my heels, I’m sure. Why waste good moisture so early in the game? As I’m laughing, my mind is racing, processing what the hell is going on. I’m taking it all in, & then making use of the tools of a good reader. I’m making predictions, asking questions, going back & summarizing, & then drawing conclusions (shout outs to good lessons). All. On. The. Fly. & then the application of my newly acquired knowledge base begins, informing my next decisions. & folks need to start praying I don’t decide they’re in my way. #Imjessayin

Ugly or beautiful? You decide. It’s the decision that gets made about me daily. Like this shoe, I’m going to stand alone ~~irregardless~~ regardless of the way the votes get tallied. I’m gon’ strut pride FULL in your face because you do not decide my worth. I don't come from no head hung low type women. The sooner you know that the easier this goes for us all.

Watch me move.

Why Come We Gotsta Be So Mean?

2011-09-14T18:15:00.004-04:00

Note: This baby don't look nut-ting like the childrens I'm fixin'a talk about but rock wit' me.

Forgive me as I have a TMI moment but we’re all friends in here & friends keep it 1 hunnid…right? So, I think I’ve mentioned it but I’ve developed a work allergy that seems to only affect my gastrointestinal tract. Every morning I’m uncertain just how the idea of going to the place of my employment will cause my body to respond. Usually, just as I’m approaching the door to leave I’m struck by the BG’s (see your Dave Chappelle manual) & have to go racing back to the restroom. Mind you, on days that are NOT related to work—ie weekends, summertime, mental health days or vacation days—my body works just fine as it always has. You do the math.

Inteeways…as I was going about my general routine this morning, purely unrelated to work allergies, I remembered a story about a student who was emotional because students were clowning her name & turning it into something that actually does occur in bathrooms—assuming you can make it. Let ya mind run free. Needless to say, that got me to wondering WHY do summa us give our childrens such ridiculous names?

Depending on who you are, you could make the assumption that my name is ridiculous. All 4, yes I said FO’, of my names are of African origin. & while they may not be easy to pronounce, they do have MEANING. They are not a random wheel spinning or dart throwing on letters & playing Soul Train Scramble Board to come up with somethin’ mo’ uniquer than what yo name is. That ain’t how it went down. I was named with purpose & intention. Even with all that thought put into it, my name was still mispronounced by my PUBLIC SCHOOL teachers all the time. My name became the world’s largest & most populous continent. Which led me, as I showered, to another thought. Summa the stuff we as colo’d folks do is as a result of being displaced people. This concept becomes most apparent to me during the World Cup when a lot of brown people in the U.S. don’t have the slightest idea who to root for because there’s no country we can actually claim a true sense of belonging. You don’t know pride til you see the Italians riding around the city, taking over bars, in the name of Italy on the field. & most of ‘em have never been. Still, they have that sense of pride. We ain’t got it.

What do we do, in search of a sense of home? We name our children after places we’ve either never been or the only place we’ve ever been. How many girls with military parents are out there named Korea? Have you ever met an Asian woman name Asia? Any takers on a little Mexican girl name Mexica? Run across any Russian women named Russia? EN. OH. How many little brown girls are there named after the entire continents of Asia & Africa? We name our daughters London & Paris. Thank you, self, for the perfect segue-way to the other insane thing we do. Shata’Naylédaziä ain’t French just cuz you tossed around some accent marks and apostrophes like bacon bits on a salad. We OD on accent marks. Parlez vu Francais? NO!! So stop it!! & just in case you were unclear, an apostrophe & an accent mark ARE NOT THE SAME, & you use both incorrectly. Choosing actual ethnic names tends to be OK but the sounds used to spell them are typically phonetic, except for the occasions you run into things like “dz” sounding like a “j.” These things, however, are a rare occurrence. What’s wrong with choosing from the plethora of names already in the rotation, assigned meanings in other cultures, & that meet the rules of the language you speak?

Come on people. Work with us. As a teacher, I can’t pronounce the names without assistance because they follow NO PHONETIC rules for the language we speak. I can’t protect your child from children teasing her about her name sounding like a function of the body…in the bathroom…when it’s what I came up with as I tried to sound it out. I cannot assist in building confidence & pride in something that has already caused me to give you, the name-giver, the kind of side-eye that eventually leads to them crossing.

Even with ethnic names that have meaning it can be difficult. The up side is that when you are eventually old enough to understand how it relates to the person you are & are becoming, there is a sense of pride (& purpose) that you can identify with that allows you to say your name with head held high & voice unwavering. There is no such possibility with a name that’s reminiscent of the mud butts (again…consult your Dave Chappelle manual).

Can we love folks enough not to assign them such hateful names that they must carry their whole lives until their old enough to race down to a courthouse & change that mess to something that makes even a lil’ bit of sense? Spread love, not war.

Watch me move.

Speak Now Or...???

2011-09-13T19:17:00.003-04:00

These days social networking is the “it” thing. We’re all linked together by no less than 13 friends on some social media site or another. Our names are Google-able based on the contributions we make to the foot-prints skating around out here in these WWW dots. We’re often warned about what those prints look like to outsiders, those considering you for the next best thing in your life, be it personal or professional. In the Innerwebs we’ve all got a platform. How we’re using it can be what makes or breaks us. Or so we’ve been told.

At first, however many moons ago, the idea of these footprints was frightening for me. I made sure not to say or do too much of anything so that I left no trails. Now? I’m all over the place. My face can be found under Followers on popular sites. My blog is listed as Followed by writers I’m a fan of. My comments pop up everywhere under my name & other names I go by. I have pages on more than 1 site & more coming. In short: I’m conspicuous out here.

My biggest fear was what people in my field would say about the things I write that are field related. How would those things affect me? Taking care not to mention any names & never actually writing them under my own…technically, there is nothing anyone can say about me on that tip. In this land of “free speech,” I’m entitled to my opinion. So, what about the picture it paints of me for people who stumble across me in the future? What does what I have to say actually say to them?

Welllllllll…funny thing is I’ve ALWAYS been opinionated & vocal. People have been making decisions about who I am on sight & getting it all the way wrong. I don’t have time to be fearful about that kind of stuff anymore. It’s actually part of the reason I started the blog anyway, to be able to free my voice from the constraints of other people’s needs & expectations of me.

While I can’t control what people take away from anything I say or do, at least through the eternal life of words, I can attempt to properly sculpt my image for folks. I am a thinking woman, & I am also thoughtful, though those things are not necessarily synonymous. I have a sense of humor & more than caring about being funny, I am proud of my ability to find the humor even in things that would cause others to crack under the weight of the madness Life can heap on us. It’s not always appropriate, but it prevents me from breaking. I am serious & passionate. Those things that matter to me really matter. & if you are of my heart you will ALWAYS be taken care of. I am consistent. I am not a fearful waffler, changing my position with the times, the trends or acceptance. I am not afraid to be alone with my opinions. I am honest. You can count on me to speak my truth for sure & The Truth for certain. When I don’t know, I’ll let you know & then I’ll ask questions. I know how to apologize. When I’m wrong, I say so. While there are other things, I’ll end with this: I’m fair. I respect your opinion & don’t expect that you should always agree with me. I appreciate the lessons learned in conversation, helping me to grow my perspectives. Everyone should have the space to speak their peace. #NoTypo

It is my hope that when my children run across my words that they are either moved to laughter or to thought. That’s the point of it all. & it’s best when you’re moved to smile while thinking. How do you use your voice?

Watch me move.

Love Without _______________

2011-09-12T23:34:00.003-04:00

Saturday the most unfortunate scene unfolded outside of my window. I was comfortably nestled in the pillows on my sofa, enjoying the Latin lilt to the language in The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. Voices approached my window long before any bodies passed. A young man & woman walked hand in hand discussing something burdensome. Clearly taking place outside of where I sat, which should have made it easy to disregard them in favor of the joy of reading my book. The look on the young woman’s face struck me as odd, a look that signaled she may need some kind of help sooner rather than later.

Through my window wafted the words, “the baby’s mine…” The words hung in the air & her chin hung low, mouth agape as she processed what he was saying to her. Her cheeks went slack & her eyes got really heavy. Her face was in full plead as mouth searched for the words. Before she found them he asked, “uckf am I s’posed to do? It’s mine, I’ma handle my business & pay for it before she come for me.” Days ago I posted how I felt learning that a man I wasn’t even with was expecting a baby with another woman. My heart went out to her as hers turned to powder & crumbled onto the sidewalk. Many more words were spoken from her, falling on his deaf ears & meeting his blank stare that was 30 degrees off from where she stood begging for his attention. He stood in that classic post that young black men often rest in when leaning against fences & walls. It’s the 1 that says the block is his, daring anyone to challenge that. The poor young woman couldn’t see it, or didn’t want to, that he was there in body only. She’d been left.

A few things struck me about this scene, more than just the sadness of it all. First, I was concerned about this very private matter being hashed out on concrete & iron. The conversation was so public that another young couple walked by, with the young man asking for a light for his cigarette. Driving & pedestrian traffic was all in their mix. I wanted to tune them out from my window but couldn’t because they were loud enough, with their very private business, for me to hear from the 2nd floor. Neither 1 had enough sense or dignity to take their conversation back inside wherever it had started. She was opened up to not only to be hurt by what he was saying to her but by having herself exposed as she exhibited desperation unlike any I’ve seen in a long time before strange audiences.

Where has our dignity gone? Him in a skull-cap & baggy sweat pants with his boxers showing. She with her disheveled weave, wearing a tank top & shorts a la bedtime in the summer with print socks & dirty pink Croc-like shoes. They both looked like each other’s last resort, though he clearly had options. This trend of going out as though you intend to remain in for the rest of your life concerns me; people finding no importance in the places they’re headed or personal pride in their appearance. Couple that with the loud & wrong conversations folks are comfortable having on the street, yelling all kinds of obscenities & embarrassments at the top of their lungs. Is this all for shock value? If it is, it’s working because I AM shocked. Slippers are not shoes & pajama bottoms are not pants. Street corners are not where relationships should typically begin or end.

In the end, he literally RAN away from her. She walked behind him, weeping, & looking lost. I wondered, impotently, what I could do for her in that moment to at least get her to see the waste in being so…low before him. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to wipe her tears. I wanted to tell her, in my mother’s words to "SHUT THAT NOISE UP!,” & get herself together. I wanted to tell her to take off that raggedy hair hat—at least replace it with a better 1—put some clothes on & go get some of this sunshine on her face so she could lose the gray hue of desperation she wore like foundation. I wanted to whisper the secrets to loving her self so that I never had to see her outside my window again, or drive by her on the streets, so that she could carry the message forward & prevent at least 1 other girl from being her.

Neither of them walked, or ran, back up the street & apparently the arrival of an ambulance & a squad car were gifts of her 911 call, though her pain was only of the internal sort. The look on her face lingers. It’s a look that even in my worst moment I refused to wear before the eyes of the person whose actions I allowed to take me there. Never let ‘em see you sweat…or rain, such as it is. I hope she’s OK, though I know she’s not. More than that, I hope that in a day or 3 she’s not legs akimbo & waving in the air like flags with this same lame dude thrusting his disregard for her into her naïve body. I’ve read this story. I know how it ends. I wish I could advance her a copy of it so she could skip living the ending. Keep her in your hearts. & every girl out there like her who isn’t clear of her worth & is busy seeking for everything she believes she isn’t in the arms of a dude who never will be.

Watch me move.

Shoe Personality of the Week: 9/11/2011

2011-09-11T08:35:00.003-04:00

THIS is a celebration!! Why? I’m glad you asked.

You’ve heard the adage, “What a difference a day makes,” right? Well, I’m looking back 372 days. What a difference a year makes.

1 year ago I was bloodied & bandaged, wearing the ugliest shoe I’ve ever had the displeasure of wearing, & at the beginning of my journey as a 6th grade English teacher. I was minus a toenail on my left big toe, a representation of the confusion I was unknowingly harboring in my heart & mind. I was suffering & didn’t even know it because I hadn't been robbed of my smile.

A year later, I’m not just posting an open toe shoe, but I can wear them again. It took exactly 9 months for my toenail to grow back & a little longer for it to return to normal. Gestation. During that time I was also experiencing the addition of wrinkles on my brain & long pulls on my heartstrings. I was busy falling in love when I really wasn’t looking for it & kinda imagined it may not happen again for a really loooooong time. I was also busy falling in love with a group of children who many find far from lovable, mostly because many of those children ~~didn’t~~ uhmmm ~~don’t~~ uhmmm... didn’t love self & certainly not each other or anyone else. I was being stretched & pulled, shaped & molded. I was learning faster than ever, taking stock of EVERYTHING!! I was learning more about my worth.

Able to put polish on my new toe, I’m looking back to celebrate where I’ve been, & I’m starting the party early on where I’m going. Even though I can see some of the writing on the wall, I am also learning to slooooow down & take my time getting there. These shoes are by no means of the leisurely stroll type but they’re sling backs & can easily be kicked off & carried over my shoulder.

This New Year, the academic 1, promises to be full of challenges I’ve not faced before & perhaps have nothing in my memory banks to guide me completely toward successful navigation. I expect that I may scrape my knees once or twice. My 1st aide kit is in my clutch & I’m prepared for it. I'm without doubt that I'll have to get comfortable asking for help. Ultimately, I will, as I always do, walk away more fortified than when I began this ~~battle~~ journey & better prepared for what comes next. These are all stair steps in the walk UP toward my purpose here. It is both exciting & scary as a muthafu—shut my mouth—but I cannot stop this train if I wanted to. This ain’t Bedrock & these aren’t the kind of shoes you put your throw against asphalt to stop the flow. No need anyway. I’ve also learned that I WILL get where I’m supposed to be, even when I don’t believe it’s where I want to go initially.

The party begins now. My toenail is back. My heart is full on new ~~& improved~~ love. My eyes & ears are wide open. & my fears are getting backed down. I don’t even need these heels to elevate me.

Watch me move.

Shoe Personality of the Week: 9/04/2011

2011-09-04T23:24:00.004-04:00

I haven’t checked in EVERYWHERE, but most places I have teacher friends, school is officially IN session. Nothing says back to school for those of us of the female persuasion, & raised by parents with any decorum, like beginning EVERY school year with a fresh pair of Mary Janes. Well, Mary done growed up right along side us & though I rarely see them anymore, they’re still symbolic to ME.

Re-entering the school building was interesting, to say the least. On the 2nd day we were shaken right out of the building by a random Right Coast earthquake, followed by the potential for water damage & power outages thanks to Hurricane Irene. Natural disasters aside, this past Friday marked our 1st full week back in the building. Being back has reminded me just how much school doesn’t have to happen IN school, just like the concept of worship doesn’t require a church.

The last few days or so have been about my own schooling, not taking place in the building. Life is reminding me that with each passing day, I’m adding another layer. The problem is, I’m so used to being Me that I’m not constantly taking stock of what that truly means. As I go about my Life, because the opposite is death, I feel like this is all par for the course. Everybody must be where I’m at, past it, or creepin’ up on it. What that does is waste time negating my own greatness. I am in the most involved evolutionary process to date & having an incredible time charting my own Becoming.

As this process is rolling out, I’m noticing how many people DON’T take notice of the patterns they’re in, often leading them to remain in them. Bogged down by the day-to-day, to many don’t seem to be taking notice that today doesn’t have to equal tomorrow. If what you’re doing right now is not making you feel lifted…plot & scheme on your next high. If you spend a lot of time blowin tree you may have missed the analogy there & gotten stuck in the literal translation. Keep walking toward your best self. That’s the point.

Watch me move.

Planned Parenthood

2011-08-31T18:02:00.005-04:00

SURPRISE!!! Beyonce’s face is in the place & not a cup of haterade in sight. Why come, you may ask? Well, I keep tryna tell y’all I don’t hate on this chick, I just ain’t out here praying to her throne or nothing. However, she checked & mated allayall the other day when she announced her pregnancy & I’m gon’ speak on it.

Beyonce & Jay Z did what we rarely get to see black people do in the media…hell, in Life at this point: they PLANNED! I don’t know how often I’ve said this in my mind, out loud to friends, & perhaps even here (I hope even here) that planned parenthood is NOT a place you go for free condoms & after you get yourself all in a sexual quandary.

Some people call it traditional, some people call it old fashioned, some people call it antiquated but I say BRAVA to a young woman who—whether you believe in the relationship or not—found her dude, dated him without a buncha folks in her business, kept her personal goals in mind, MARRIED the dude, continued pursuing her goals & increasing their bottom line, & THEN decided when it was OK to sacrifice her body, time, & Life to become a parent. That shit’s monumental. I know I’ve said THIS, but I only know of like…one couple who successfully planned their children. Like down to where they were going to live while those suckaz grow up so that they can be afforded whatever they deem important for children. That’s not to say some others of you haven’t planned but most seem to be taken aback when they find out they’re expecting & then work it out on some few choices type business.

Women are given a hard time these days for being career driven. Women are given a hard time for being faithful to their goals. Women are given a hard time for having high standards. It’s as though we’re being cautioned that looking out for our own needs & wants is counterproductive to coupling. Honestly, at times, I feel like my own decisions don’t inspire coupling, only because I hear it so often that getting more degrees & buying homes sans partners & wanting to live abroad are things I can do BECAUSE I’m single. It suggests that these things will also KEEP me single.

Instead of wondering whether the heir to The Throne will look like Jay Z, you should be studying how Beyonce made all’is happen. The sista is driven, if nothing else, & she leaves no stone unturned. It suddenly made sense why damn near EVERY video necessary for singles to be released has been made & dropped in a short period of time: she ain’t tryna be out here on her usual grind with a child en utero. She is carrying the kid that will eventually make y’all go “Willow & Jada WHO????” (though I’m already there). & watch the Knowles-Carters go one further & NOT give their kid no random arse name like Solid Gold Carter (which might actually be appropriate for THEIR kid) or some hood-Creole mash up that cain’t nobody pronounce using standard phonics.

I congratulate the ECSTATIC couple for doing things on their own time. I applaud them for not waiting for some TMZ fool to fall off a dingy trying to catch photos of the baby bump from some yacht off the coast of You Don’t Make Enough island. & I absolutely love that Jay Z gave men everywhere appropriate face behind the news so that you understand how glorious it can be once you’ve decided that you want children, are trying to have them, & you’ve been blessed in your decision & efforts. It’s far different from the Maury excitement when one finds out he is NOT the father…or sometimes the equally unfortunate face when he finds out that he IS.

This is not to say that the “traditional” route is for everyone, but if you are thinking that you wish to have a husband & children, you might wan’ pay attention to something called the order of operations & know that it doesn’t just apply to math…unless you’re trying to make 1 + 1 = 3.

Watch me move.

Post Script--family planning doesn't have to involve marriage unless YOU want it to. But even if you collectively don't believe in a piece of paper solidifying your love, it MUST BE agreed upon how you plan to do things. So, you might not go the rings & altar route but you can still DECIDE TOGETHER when & how you intend to further your lineage. The key word being TOGETHER!! If bein' a Baby Mama ain't yo' twist, then make sure you take all the necessary precautions not to become 1 or allow yourself to be treated as such. If havin' a Baby Mama ain't yo' twist--makin you a Baby Fahvuh--you too may wanna make sure you take the necessary precautions not to become 1 or allow yourself to be treated as such.