June. Even More Amazing.

I know; after such an amazing Mayo, after the wonderful experiences and all the love, how could June be more amazing a mere 11 days in? After going on my first cruise, my first experiece out of the country, my first real vacation in ages, how on earth could a-little-over-a-week-into June be that much better? Well, for one thing, I got to see my favorite band, The Legendary Roots Crew, live again. This time was a little different from the others. This time was something like a hip-hop fairy tale.

I had been discussing going to Philadelphia for this year's Roots Picnic for months. I love hip-hop, and as mentioned in previous posts, I love seeing The Roots live and ?uestlove is among my favorite people alive because of his talent, drive, intelligence, and contributions to the music world. It's all respect. (Admittedly, my post from last year's show was a bit of an exaggation on my crush. I read back on it and realzed that my sarcasm doesn't always shine through clearly in my writing. D'oh.)

After coming back from the Bahamas, and spending far more money than I intended, I actually worried that going to Philadelphia was not feasible. And quite honestly, had my travel companion not already purchased her tickets and made arrangements to go, I'd have talked myself out of it. You only live once, though, and I decided to go for it. In the interest of saving money, we decided to fly to Philadelphia. Neither of us had ever been on an airplane before; and the day before the trip, we both got butterflies.

The flight was fine. It was smoothe. It was beautiful. It was..short. We landed in Philly about 45 minutes after take-off. We shuttled our way to the hotel, and went to a casino for a while before retiring for the evening. Let's just fast-forward to the show, shall we?

12pm. Saturday, 6/4/11. We walked around, and bounced from stage to stage. We networked and spoke with Phillyfolk.

We bought t-shirts for the music festival. Duh.

We noticed that okayplayer was having a contest. To enter, one either tweeted or signed up for their mailing list. I'm not one for things like this; I don't gamble because I'm not fond of the disappointment you feel when you've not won. However, the winners of the drawing won the opportunity to watch The Legendary Roots Crew and Nas from onstage. We'd be foolish not to try, right?

So we tweeted. And signed up. And had people retweet.

And enjoyed the show. Saw some people I didn't know of. And some people that I did. Some soul, rock, rap. Donn T. Yelawolf. Oh, and did I mention Esperanza Spalding performed with The Roots? With all apologies - I was so excited, I didn't get a much better photo than this:

Sometime during the course of the day, my companion and I tweeted about how amazing we thought Amanda Diva to be. And she tweeted us back. I am fully aware of how nerdy that sounded.

The performances were great. Wiz Khalifa had several special guests that included Freeway and Beanie Sigel. Wiz's set was over at 8:30pm. Once that was over..the winner of okayplayer's contest would be announced.

They only picked two winners.

Amanda Diva came on stage to announce the winners.

My companion wanted to listen. I didn't want to get my hopes up.

Questlove snare roll..

She announced my companion. And I was excited! But I won't front like I wasn't a little salty. I mean, we came from NC together. We signed up on everything together. I know that it was a supposed random drawing, but it didn't seem likely that the odds were in my favor. So I stood. And waited for the announcement of the second winner.

Questlove snare roll..

Me. I won. I froze. I screamed. I waved. People rejoiced for me. RIGHT HERE. I WON. OH MY GOD. THAT'S ME. IWONIWONIWON. I ran to the side entrance of the stage.

Nas rocked. The Legendary Roots Crew rocked. As expected. They are my favorite live hip-hop act. They're utterly and always amazing. Did I mention that I met Kamal Gray and James Poyser as they walked to their keyboards?

And that Questlove and I kept making eye-contact during his set? Which, I know is probably a typical fanatic thing to say since he was lookign in my direction and I wanted it to happen. I know that it sounds ridiculous. I'm a very rational human being and I don't feel the need to defend myself. I know what happened.

Great show. We hung out, excited, processing the events of the day, when my comrade pointed out Questlove leaving the stage. My thought was, "damn. My only chance to meet him." Yet, who could even be mad after such an awesome day? Not me. Not at all.

Then we saw Black Thought. And talked to him. And took a photo with him. I'd be ruining my no-photos-of-myself-on-the-blog rule if I posted it. And then we saw Yelawolf. And talked with him. And took a photo with him. And I got felt up by him. There was far too much energy for me to process what was going on.

I was hot and sweaty and wanted to go back to the hotel to change clothing before attending the official after-party.

I was tired from standing up all day long. While I pledge allegiance to the fashion, and am quite flexible in what I wear, I'm generally a dress wearing gal for parties. However, I wore ripped jeans, a tank-top, and Converses to the show.

And our hotel was on the other side of Philadelphia.

And we'd been having the time of our lives.

So, screw it. Let's go to the official after party wearing the same clothing that we wore to the festival. We'd be fools to miss the party because I wanted to get pretty! Onward we went.

We sat and ate fish and grits with Phillyfolk. We talked about our excitement.

We watched Questlove walk right into the venue. And I respect the artistic zone, so I was not going to be that girl to disturb his music high while he was on the way to the dj booth. Nope.

We entered the club to party. We intentionally moved near the dj booth. And I lost my five-foot-tall protege among the people inside. I'm standing by myself, listening to the music, just a few feet from Questlove. And a guy unintentionally bumps into me and I nearly fell. I was caught. He was face to face with me and apologized. It was Captain Kirk Douglass. Guitarist of The Legendary Roots Crew. I was stunned. He apologized and moved to talk to Questlove; on his way out, he bumped me and apologized again.

We partied. We went outside for air. We went back inside for a moment, and I danced with a guy from another state for a while, while my homegirl had to handle some business. And while this guy is in my ear, my friend comes back and grabs my arm and takes me over to Questlove. She introduces herself and explains that we took our first flight ever to see him. And that I love him.

And then he grabbed my hand. And I blushed. And he smiled at me, and made his way out.

I wish the story ended with me losing a glass slipper, but I wore Converses to the party. I didn't give him my phone number or scream out my level of devotion to him. Instead, I was civil. Classy.

And it was the best weekend of my entire life.

April Showers bring...MAYCATION!

With the winding down of my incredibly active April, I was quite satisfied - and exhausted - with all of my groundwork and advocacy for Sexual Assault Awareness Month. Though, May was very busy and quite lovely because my best friend/cousin turned twinny-five. Yes, that's right. We're reaching a whole new realm in adulthood.

To kick off her birthday, we saw Mint Condition and Raheem DeVaughn and it was a fabulous show. Raheem-the-dream just don't know!

The next night, we partied. Hard. A bit too hard. I'd bore you with the details of our club hopping and all that but...some things stay just 'tween us girls. It was a success. A very wild and exciting success.

A week later, I traveled out of the country for the first time. That's right folks; she and I went to the Bahamas. And it was an amazing trip.

We bummed. We learned. We tanned. We shopped. We partied. We ate. We had the time of our lives.

There are no real words, but there are photos worth thousands.

To top it off, cousinbestfriend got engaged at the end of the month. It was a good one.

Peace, love.

Coming Up!

Over the last thirty days, I've been incredibly busy. I've seen a few live shows. I've traveled out of the country. I've taken my first plane ride to a state I've never visited. I've seen my favorite band again - except this time, things are different.

I think that the best way to handle this is to break my last thirty days into many mini episodes over the course of the next few days. Be very afraid.

Suicide Prevention Song

I found this video to be just a little graphic, but I enjoyed the song. Certain issues are avoided in discussing within the Black community, and I feel like suicide is a very important issue that tends to be overlooked. Hope that this helps someone; even if you aren't going through a tough time, share it with someone who may be. Note: I do not own any rights to this video.
Be Righteous

Hang On Little Tomato by Pink Martini

The sun has left and forgotten me
It's dark, I cannot see
Why does this rain pour down
I?m gonna drown
In a sea
Of deep confusion

Somebody told me, I don?t know who
Whenever you are sad and blue
And you?re feelin? all alone and left behind
Just take a look inside and you will find

You gotta hold on, hold on through the night
Hang on, things will be all right
Even when it?s dark
And not a bit of sparkling
Sing-song sunshine from above
Spreading rays of sunny love

Just hang on, hang on to the vine
Stay on, soon you?ll be divine
If you start to cry, look up to the sky
Something?s coming up ahead
To turn your tears to dew instead

And so I hold on to his advice
When change is hard and not so nice
You listen to your heart the whole night through
Your sunny someday will come one day soon to you

Sister Inspirations: Alexis Pauline Gumbs

Not so long ago, when I was doing research for my undergraduate independent research thesis, I was so very fortunate enough to come into contact with many inspirations; sisters livicated to the same causes, devoting the same volume of activism to change, making moves: inspiring. My chosen topic for the project was historical contexts of sexual assault toward Black women in America; with that, I wrote about the transition through the major movements in America, and about the deficiencies in current crisis centers where culture and cultural competency are involved. My passion (and what I believe to be my life's work) is healing Black women where relationship (sexual, mental, emotional, physical) violence as a gender issue and a cultural issue intersect because they are issues that cannot be divorced in the issues faced by women of color.

Among the several of my inspirations that I was introduced to in the interest of research and reflection is a Sister writer/activist/survivor/scholar/everything-I'm-working-toward by the name of Alexis Pauline Gumbs. She is amazingly talented and incredibly intelligent, resourceful and inspiring. Moreover, to me it was so refreshing and motivating to know that there are sisters in my generation who are speaking out about Black womanist thought. I truly enjoy her presence and I hope that we are all successful in the journey to change the world that we live in and know by reinforcing the strengths that sisters of color - bisexual or lesbian or queer/questioning or straight or trans - formally educated or working to better the community in different ways - religiously affiliated or not - or whatever other qualities (because there are many) we may bare.

Alexis is just amazing. She recently received her Ph.D in English, African and African American Studies, and Women's Studies - and if that does not get any of my sisters and brothers, younger or older, motivated and worked up then I don't know what will do it!

Lex maintains a podcast: Eternal Summer of the Black Feminist Mind. In a recent edition entitled "Still Brave" was her graduation gift to the Black feminist world and I know that everything that she involves herself with will succeed without question. It already has.

Eternal Summer of the Black Feminist Mind: Still Brave - listen here!

Lex, you have truly been an amazing Sister-Inspiration of mine, and I hope to touch other sisters the way that you've touched me. Congratulations on all of your successes - I know there are so many more written into your future! And kudos for putting this podcast together; very well composed and the message and music are amazing.

Be Righteous...and inspired!

Real Love: I Am Not a Groupie!

I was going to write a late post on Earth Day and the festivities on the National Mall a few weeks ago, but I'm having a difficult time writing something well-rounded and informative. While I'm sure I got more of a message out of the activities meant to encourage stronger climate legislation and environmentally responsible practices than the majority of the potheads people in attendance, I can't really see past the man (men?) of my dreams that were there. So, in lieu of writing something incredibly stimulating, I'm going to have to discuss the man I'm pretty sure is my soul-mate. Yes? Cool! I took these photos from the Earth Day festivities.

I fell for Ahmir Khalib "?uestlove" Thompson when I was ten years old. I can't name an exact instant; I just remember overhearing my pops playing The Roots around the house, and being the music snob that I am, I was into it. Kids in junior high didn't understand, and it sucks to be closeted when you're the only person that's into something real-real. Tariq "Black Thought" Trotter has probably given me a very high percentage of my all-time favorite quotes. The music is so real.

It isn't his fame or musicianship though. I swear. I know that groupies try to rationalize their infatuation of whichever celebrity that happens to be the object of their affection, but I promise. He's a real musician: capable of acknowledging, dissecting, respecting, and overstanding the different layers in different types of music. I enjoy fellow music geeks; I read music and I, again, began school as a music major. I love the minds of musicians, especially ones who actually play an instrument. Yes, that sounds silly of me since I began school as a vocal music major. While I consider my voice to be my best instrument, I play a little guitar and piano and I probably have a minor version of synesthesia.

Aside from that, he's well spoken and read, and a technology nerd. Plus he's politically active and confident. I love hearing him speak. Whenever I see him, I get butterflies! Whenever he plays a really bad ass solo? I go crazy! I love reading his tweets (thaaaaaat sounds groupie-esque, I'll give you that). Everything about what I know of him just makes me want to sing; and...in my sometimes warped mind, he's my soul-mate.

Now all I have to do is convince him of that so that we can fall in love together, wed and have a dozen evil genius musically inclined children. Anybody wanna help? Any takers?...whatever then!

Be Righteous.

Am I Trippin'?

I often find that, in relationships, I try to see the good in people. I loathe excuses and I don't settle for less than I feel my worth to be. Yet, once I decide upon "liking" a person, I'm convinced that they will always consistently maintain the positive qualities that I initially saw in them. Call me crazy, but I hold people to the same expectation that I try to hold myself: remain sincere and change for the better.

I don't think that good people change for the bad (or exhibit their lacking) overnight; and as a matter of fact, I think that more often than not, the changes are unintentional. Of course, this begs the question of how "good" they really are since they spiraled to a real of this different persona, but I'd prefer to see the light in people. I also think that, in relationships, some people put on a facade and exaggerate their better qualities (or the qualities that you want to see) and it fades because it's difficult to push yourself to be a person that you aren't. Na'mean? Anyway, call me crazy but I like to be real-real all the time. Sometimes relationships don't work. They don't have to end negatively. And they can certainly be resolved by two responsible adult persons amiably if both people are upfront and direct, yet respectful.

Despite whatever way my last relationship ended (and without ultimately blasting my own business and appearing disrespectful), I'm well versed in the art of letting people go and moving forward. I'm risiliant; and I have always been able to weather any storm. As a matter of fact, I was explaining my new job to a friend of mine, and explained to him that some people were just born to deal with trauma. And I'm that person; I've dealth with every end and aspect of it and I'm built for it.

I went on a literal trip today, and eased down the road and away from the city to a cozier, more familiar city states away that I am proud to call the place of my origins. I figured it was an awesome opportunity; my uncle happened to be driving down for the weekend and I had a free-99 free ride. My uncle and I have a wonderful relationship; he is like a father to me. I do have my own father that I love very much, yet if I should ever take the plunge get married, I want them both to walk me down the aisle. Though I am very private, I can confide in him. He knows my attitude and origins. He knows who I am, without needing the unneccesary details about most of my relationships. He does know a few exes, and doesn't care of them but he (usually) respects the fact that I can fight my own battles.

So what are the odds that over an hour south of the place where I currently reside, my uncle decides to stop in a town I hadn't heard of until a few months prior to get coffee. The town where my ex works. Where I first met him. Where I was convinced that, though I felt as if I had been duped, I could grow to enjoy being with him. When I just knew he was a wonderful, relatively "perfect" guy, even in his imperfections. I closed my eyes for a second and pictured the moment I met him. I could feel that instant. It was a happy moment. I can hear him in my head, "what are you doing driving this big truck?" I remember the butterflies I felt. And the blushing. I can tell you what he wore. I can tell you, with confidence, that he was happy.

It was different before the change, whenever or however it occured. Intentionally or unintentionally. It was a different time, a time before the mine fields and repeated forgiveness of neglect. I was over the relationship, having removed myself from it. I was totally over it, but when we got off the highway, I could only think of him. Of a different version of "us".

My mind raced. The second we pulled off at the exit, the good I saw in him, the transition to the bad, the sour taste he left in my mouth after unfulfilled promises, the dissatisfaction with more personal situations. These thoughts all came to me, swirled in my mind at once and created a quilt of unusual emotions: I wasn't confused a bit. I don't want him after how he regarded me for attempting to be respectful about his shortcomings. I don't want him after all the nights I sat in the house on dates that were broken. I don't want him after he backed me into a corner so that I would break up with him. Yet and still, the thoughts swirled, mixing the amazing qualities I saw in him initially with the way things were.What if I run into him. What if he took a Starbucks run at the exact same instant I decided upon a latte? No Starbucks for me then, I'll have coconut water. What if, in the second I dashed through the supermarket, trying not to miss my ride to the good old Dixie, I bumped into him on the foreign foods aisle? How would I feel? Would I want to kiss him? Would I want to break his face? Would I be able to ignore him? What if, when we stopped for gas at the station he once directed me to, he was also pumping gas? If I saw him would he ignore me? Probably. Would I be pissed at him for not being able to behave as an adult and discuss an issue with me? Would my uncle, always ready to challenge an opposing fraternity member, be ready to jack him up for leaving his favorite niece bitter? Would he push me to the dark side with his refusal to remain real with me? I can probably see his car from here...would he respond if I sent him a message?

While this seems as though it would have been drawn out, it wasn't. These thoughts all hit me for a split second and I took a deep breath and traveled on for coconut water. Being the initiator, I wasn't upset by the break-up, but by the change. I wasn't crying or caught up, and my bounceback only took a minute: instead of sitting in the house miserable for a change, I was out and enjoying life. It was a beautiful Spring in the District and I was enjoying it with good company and family.

I'm not crazy. I don't like dramatic break-ups or unnecessary performances that draw more attention to a situation than is required. I don't believe in focusing on the bad; I never once muttered all of the bad to my best girlfriends, even. What's the point? I'm only human. I want to believe that he is too.

We pressed on. On through our journey, our trip to the South. And in that instant, I pressed on through my trip. I'm glad it's over.

Lovely Song Quotes: Erykah Badu

"I'm a recovering undercover over-lover."

...why didn't I think of that first?

My First Love/Love of My Life

Few people besides my classmates know that I began college as a double major in Creative Writing and...vocal music. Music has always been a very important part of my being. As a matter of fact, allow me to explain:

Back in the day, in the late 70s and early 80s, my pops was a DJ. Before they were Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five (link for all the peeps who don't know music), my pops did a little DJaying for them. Also, my first cousin was Big DS in the group 90s rap group Onyx; he would go on to leave the group and he passed away when I was in high school because complications with Hodgkin's Disease. I have New York roots, which might be why it's so hard for me to give up on hip-hop. When I was born, my father named me. My nickname from him (and often my alternate ringtone) is D-Nice ("takin' out you suckas and you don't know how I did it!"). My middle name, and the name that only a few people with the exception of my Mom refer to me as, comes straight from a song; though originally a Paul McCartney song (Michelle), my pops heard my name is Slickk Rick and Doug E. Fresh's "The Show" and...there you have it - MeChelle was born (andyabetterspellitright)! I was born music.

Before I could talk, I was wailing music. I've heard stories of my screaming and crying in the crib when my dad would sing "Roxaaaaaaaanne" to me, because he wasn't singing it right! I've heard stories of my singing Keith Sweat while in my carseat. I sang in choirs from the time I was able to be in public until my sophomore year in college. I was in the top choirs in my high school (and we sang at Carnegie Hall); I sang for Bill Clinton and Bob Dole in college as well. I can read and write music; I can play only a little piano. I decided, though, that you can love music and be talented at it without spending thousands of dollars in a music program at a school that isn't specifically known for their music program. That you don't have to study music in university to have a career in it; and so, I decided to go into a more "professional" program so that I could actually get a job.

At any rate, you can always tell when I'm in an exceptional mood because I sing.

This morning, I jumped in my truck tore it up searching for my "Miseducation of Lauryn Hill" cd. It's one of the only albums I can listen to straight through without interruption. When I couldn't find it, I popped in a number of other cds and I sang myself an hour away to an interview with my incredibly bright mood.

So, I figured I'd share five of the songs I sang as loudly as I could up I-95. Ready?

Couldn't find the original, but I listened to both and Alicia rocks out on hers..

The version with my twin Jill Scott is my favorite version of this song.

No subliminals; it was a great musical morning.

Peace.

My Convalescent Leave.

I might love this.

Black Woman.

Before I begin my post, isn't Alek Wek (pictured) gorgeous?

I love poetry. While I've always wanted to be a writer, I am typically too long winded for what people consider "poetry" to be. I used to perform (and did so on one occasion at an event with one of my poetess idols Queen Sheba when I was 14..and maaaaaaad nervous). I love words, I love being able to express myself in words. I love slam poetry, but somehow lost my voice for it along my growing process.

At any rate, I was doing some African history reading (because that's what I do in all of my new-found free time) and I started thinking about one of my all-time favorite poems: "Black Woman" by the former President of Senegal, Leopold Sedar Senghor. I had an ex-crazy-boyfriend recite this poem to me and while memories of him make me want to vomit tend to be unpleasant, it's a deep poem.

It was originally written in French, but the English translation is moving.

Naked woman, black woman
Clothed with your colour which is life,
with your form which is beauty!
In your shadow I have grown up; the
gentleness of your hands was laid over my eyes.

And now, high up on the sun-baked
pass, at the heart of summer, at the heart of noon,
I come upon you, my Promised Land,
And your beauty strikes me to the heart
like the flash of an eagle.

Naked woman, dark woman
Firm-fleshed ripe fruit, sombre raptures
of black wine, mouth making lyrical my mouth
Savannah stretching to clear horizons,
savannah shuddering beneath the East Wind's
eager caresses

Carved tom-tom, taut tom-tom, muttering
under the Conqueror's fingers
Your solemn contralto voice is the
spiritual song of the Beloved.

Naked woman, dark woman
Oil that no breath ruffles, calm oil on the
athlete's flanks, on the flanks of the Princes of Mali
Gazelle limbed in Paradise, pearls are stars on the
night of your skin

Delights of the mind, the glinting of red
gold against your watered skin
Under the shadow of your hair, my care
is lightened by the neighbouring suns of your eyes.

Naked woman, black woman,
I sing your beauty that passes, the form
that I fix in the Eternal,
Before jealous fate turn you to ashes to
feed the roots of life.

The Light

I might intentionally be avoiding discussing the drama with health care and other politics. I'll leave that up to my good buddy RiPPa at The Intersection of Madness and Reality. I'm tweeting plenty about it though, and other random banter (@iamMEchelle).

As a hip-hop head and all around music lover, I sometimes sit back with my feet up, listening to the jams that people hardly think about until they're thrown in some random mix on the radio. Today was a day that I turned on Common -- and turned it up. I have all of his albums. As a matter of fact, when I mentioned this fact a few years ago to my brother (who is as much a hip-hop enthusiast as I), he replied "he only has like two albums out." I was embarrassed to claim him as my brother after that. This, of course, meant putting him on to early 90s Common Sense: "Can I Borrow a Dollar?", "Resurrection", "One Day It'll All Make Sense", and the other albums that aren't "Like Water for Chocolate". After that, we moved forward to what the mainstream now knows as the man named Common.

I did recently become giddy in a movie theatre when I saw Common is going to be in two new films in the near future. My favorite thing about him, besides the fact that he is soooooo fine, is his rhyme style. I can't say "The Light" is my favorite song of his, but it is certainly one of my favorite non-ballad love songs.

No doubt, "The Light" might be the only song of his that most people that have heard of Common (the rapper, not the foinnne actor) know him by. It's so sincere to me; it's the letter that women like me crave to hear, put to the beat. It doesn't seem like he's trying hard...we can relate to it. It's deep. It's how I want someone to feel about me one day. Have a listen.

I never knew a luh, luh-luh, a love like this
Gotta be somethin for me to write this
Queen, I ain't seen you in a minute
Wrote this letter, and finally decide to send it
Signed sealed delivered for us to grow together
Love has no limit, let's spend it slow forever
I know your heart is weathered by what studs did to you
I ain't gon' assault em cause I probably did it too
Because of you, feelings I handle with care
Some niggaz recognize the light but they can't handle the glare
You know I ain't the type to walk around with matchin shirts
If relationship is effort I will match your work
I wanna be the one to make you happiest, it hurts you the most
They say the end is near, it's important that we close..
.. to the most, high
Regardless of what happen on him let's rely

There are times.. when you'll need someone..
I will be by your side..
There is a light, that shines,
special for you, and me..

Yo, yo, check it
It's important, we communicate
and tune the fate of this union, to the right pitch
I never call you my bitch or even my boo
There's so much in a name and so much more in you
Few understand the union of woman and man
And sex and a tingle is where they assume that it land
But that's fly by night for you and the sky I write
For in these cold Chi night's moon, you my light
If heaven had a height, you would be that tall
Ghetto to coffee shop, through you I see that all
Let's stick to understandin and we won't fall
For better or worse times, I hope to me you call
So I pray everyday more than anything
friends will stay as we begin to lay
this foundation for a family - love ain't simple
Why can't it be anything worth having you work at annually
Granted we known each other for some time
It don't take a whole day to recognize sunshine

There are times.. when you'll need someone..
I will be by your side, oh darling
There is a light, that shines,
special for you, and me..

Yeah.. yo, yo, check it
It's kinda fresh you listen to more than hip-hop
and I can catch you in the mix from beauty to thrift shop
Plus you ship hop when it's time to, thinkin you fresh
Suggestin beats I should rhyme to
At times when I'm lost I try to find you
You know to give me space when it's time to
My heart's dictionary defines you, it's love and happiness
Truthfully it's hard tryin to practice abstinence
The time we committed love it was real good
Had to be for me to arrive and it still feel good
I know the sex ain't gon' keep you, but as my equal
it's how I must treat you
As my reflection in light I'ma lead you
And whatever's right, I'ma feed you
Digga-da, digga-da, digga-da, digga-digga-da-da
Yo I tell you the rest when I see you, peace

There are times.. when you'll need someone..
I will be by your side..
There is a light, that shines,
special for you, and me..

(I'll) take my chances.. before they pass..
.. pass me by, oh darling..
You need to look at the other side..
You'll agree..

...then YOU must write it.

Sunday, I set out to the bookstore to pretend interested in applying to work, all though I was most excited about checking out new reads; I know this seems like backward logic for the passive aggressive, who tend to masquerade as shoppers and then seek the job, but those things where words are stored, books, are among the most wonderful objects the world takes for granted.

When I arrived, I noticed a lady promoting her book and I scooted past her, marching onward to the sociology selection. After browsing through cultural studies, I literally stopped at every single section to see if anything tickled my fancy and then, in another backward notion, hit the bargain books. After grabbing too many items for my quick-shrinking budget, I put some things back, settled on one bargain book - mainly for my collection - paid and stopped at the author's table to speak with her.

She was fairly young, and I will say that part of the reason for my stopping was because her purse caught my eye. We talked.

I asked her about her book; whether it was her first or not. What it was about, what inspired her to write. About her publishing company, which immediately gave away my ulterior motive as a writer. We talked about my book.

I told her the premise for the book that I have written and yet to publish, and how my thought process did a reverse-and-back-peddle upon speaking to other (published) authors and publishers. I am a very determined individual, and it is not discouraging to me that no one will read my writing and thoughts; however, it intimidates me that people may read my thoughts, my feelings, my stories whether true or false, and not understand. (Tell me that ain't insecurrre) Given my activism and internet writing (on my blog and commenting on other people's) I know this sounds like a silly insecurity, a worry of the weak, and I have no "but..." that will justify it beyond my writing being my experiences and inner-most feelings.

The author gave me information, immediately facebook-friended me, and introduced me to the book store's manager who knows people like she knows people. I was encouraged by these strangers who don't know me, but my passions and goals in a ten minute talk. And, in the final words of the conversation, they both agreed that they would see to it that I put my work out there.

Toni Morrison said "if there's a book you really want to read but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it." I've written it. I've lived it. And maybe, just maybe, I'll share it.

Uplifting. Be Righteous.

All My Single Ladies...!

I promise you that this is not another Beyonce post. It looks like I've mustered up the motivation to do a follow-up on the former posts I've worked on about love and relationships! I'm no expert and I can only express the thoughts that swirl through this mind of mine (and I have a five-head, so there's room for many thoughts). I woke up feeling ultra-inspired when I was speaking to my aunt about how self-accepting I have become since my younger years. Yet, in my "this is who I am" rant, I began wonder silently if my uniqueness makes others perceive me as a diamond or a black sheep?

It would seem that as of late, everyone is concerned with strong and successful Black women; our dating habits, our success rate in relationships, our so-called "sacrifice" of a family for a successful career. I don't think this scrutiny is necessarily "new", but I think the focus of it has shifted. Instead of media outlets having Black women discuss how a "good (Black) man is so hard to find" and essentially demonizing my brothers (and this has been done for hundreds of years here), it's turned the page and made Black women into victims and, essentially, given a nudge that we should become more open to interracial dating. I don't necessarily see a major problem with this beyond the fact that it seems to be a major worry of members in other communities, and the fact that my conspiracy theorist mindset has noticed that this increase has only been since we have a Black/biracial President and Black first lady.

At any rate, I've expressed who I am in regards to relationships here and there and every where. I'm single. And I enjoy being single. I'm very focused on so much more than love, and while I've not entirely been busy here lately, I'm certainly used to having my very special form of organization going on in my life (many people refer to it as chaos though). I know I have a lot of positive attributes: I'm intelligent and free-minded, perfectly capable of forming my own opinions and able to vocalize an "I don't know" where necessary. I don't have children (not that that is a negative attribute at all), I'm interested in so many different things and I love to do a lot. I enjoy learning, I enjoy working, I enjoy being happy and loving myself. I don't have a problem with relationships. The thing about me that most people interested find appealing is this: I am not perfect, and I don't try to convince people that my positive attributes are the entire me. If a great guy comes along and is interested, I am open to seeing where it goes (even if that's unbelievable from my encounters I've documented in my new city thus far).

I know that people don't always "mesh" no matter how much you want. I'm not into genderalizations, but I do know that the human thing to do is to shape opinions based on the experiences that we have. F'rinstance, I was seeing a guy that I thought was pretty amazing. I do still think he's a great guy, though my girlfriends may be a little less forgiving than I. Everything was going great, and he just disappears without notice for a week. Come to find out, he also thinks I'm pretty perfect for him but the long and short of it tends to deal with the conditions in either of our lives: he's very busy and has things going on so it's poor timing for him, and I'm currently in a huge state of metamorphosis. But, daaaamn...how many times does someone find their counterpart and are able to maintain something genuine without (many) qualms? Further, are there ever "perfect" conditions for a relationship, despite whether or not the other person is the "perfect" mate for you?

Another issue that I feel plagued by is my overall (lack of) a religious situation. Being a Black Woman non-theist is difficult; I've met many good guys, interested or not, but they all seem to have in common one major desire: a belief in God. Or, more specifically, Jesus. I've dated Muslim men, Jewish men, and even a Christian guy who was a son-of-a-preacher-man. Sadly and very sincerely, religiosity has, historically, played a major role in Black America. And you know, from a historical stand-point, I can totally respect that. I don't harp on a good man being hard to find because I'm not looking for a good man; I would like to think that good people get the love they deserve eventually. But I have to admit, I've not met or dated any Black men who were non-theists, and only a handful I've met have been open to dating someone with a different religious affiliation.

So, there..my two major issues are questions concerning the difficulty of Black women who are non-theists/non-religious finding "true" love, and why even the good guys tend to move away from good women -- even if they find them to be perfect.

Be Righteous.

Also, side note: I began this post wanting to elaborate and "go in" on aspects of relationships and other factors of Black dating that the media has yet to identify, but I took a break in writing to do real-life stuff. I typically create my posts in one sitting, as it is less difficult for me to stay on task, and I lost track of my original point (can't you tell?). And I'm currently under the influence of alcohol. Surprise.

Deep Purple Ride

Your kisses taste like the pale violet blues
of midnight on a city street
It reminds me of the Renaissance in Harlem
I move, motivated, migrating to the north
The northernmost point of my affection, directly
Deep, and meaningful, and precise. Black.
Black as in deep, long. Juicy.
And sweet. Honey-like, mellow sounding
Let's take our desire, delight to the Cotton Club,
Beloved.
Let's get dark, darker than the blues
Warmer than jazz dipped in chocolate
Closer.
My soul scats, stronger than Satchmo and Ella,
the near perfection of
Our flavor's motivation enough
for the tangled rhythms of romance.
Let your naked mind paint shaded pictures
of me
with purples undiscovered
and deep strokes.
Our hearts are the art of our own culture
deep
slow
beats.
Our individual dark-skinned selves
a dancing spirit.
A new route, old fashioned
Let's both take the A Train! To
a new root
a revived Renaissance.

Love.

She's Just Not That Into You...

Happy Friday!

So far, however, in my newest adventures in wonderland, I've met a few guys. Well, more than a few: wherever I go, I get some guy, sensing I'm not originally from the area, looking to give me their number. Having been kind-of seeing someone for a little while though (and guessing the depth of our relationship all the while), I haven't called any of them. All though, even if I wasn't involved-ish, I'd likely not call any of the competing contenders, for the following reasons:

Guy at grocery store: you can't follow me around the specialty market that I drive twenty minutes to and follow me around attempting to get personal information from me. I don't care if you choose to share information about you and your ex-wife, or not wanting to live in the area that I currently live in because of your disdain for Black people. I'm not calling you because I've only met you twice and you've come on way too strong. Waaaaaaay too strong. Now I have to find a new location to go to.

Guy who repaired my computer: you kept asking awkward questions about who I am, and every time I tried to ignore you (taking phone calls in another room, turning the TV up) you just kept trying. While you did a heck of a job on my computer, you told me it would take two hours. You stayed an extra three just trying to talk to me...and I needed my computer to handle business.

Guy at gas station: you were really cute. I walked to my car, you honked the horn and I got in my car...and you walked up and said "Oh, I'm not gonna hold you up, you can just take my number." Charming. I must confess, I considered calling you. Okay, I did...and didn't get an answer. I wasn't sweating it since it was two days after I moved; but since my call wasn't returned I won't call back.

Guy at 7/11: every time I walk in, you ask if I'm seeing someone. And every time I say yes. To which you reply "well, just stop seeing him." Uhh..that's respectful..

Guy on train: You started the conversation with "I didn't want to interrupt you, since you were listening to music..." Well then, why are you interrupting me while I'm trying to listen to music?

Guy #2 on train: "Damn you're sexy." You look like you're twelve, and you're drunk. Please stop looking at me, it's making me uncomfortable.

Guy I talked to last night: I asked what you did for a living. You said "I'm a mack." Uhh..insert nervous laughter. You said, "you're laughing, I'm serious; I can put you to work." Please don't talk to me again. Ever.

This post might seem jacked up, but it is for sheer amusement, and I'm human. Dating is funny because people have certain standards, and I'm really patient with my own standards. I'm also equally patient while in a relationship (or something like it) and am always willing to compromise. I love myself enough to be firm in knowing what I deserve, though. The person that I've taken a liking to isn't included in this post because I do actually like him.

I'm not one of those girls that gets bitter and swears off relationships. I've opted to be single for a couple of years to strengthen the relationship with myself, and I'm glad I did because I've learned that I can (and am obligated to) fulfill myself in ways that another human being cannot. Still, as alluded to in the previous dating posts, everyone wants love. I met a guy in a club not too long ago and we began corresponding shortly after and he told me that the odds are against me with finding a mate because I bring too much to the table and it's intimidating to men and that was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. I don't have any gripes with where I am currently; I really can't wait to start working again though.

Be Righteous.

Sigh II.

Growing up without my grandmother living in state wasn't too difficult. By the time she moved to North Carolina, I was off at college and still only saw her occasionally but I talked to her all the time. She was one of my inspirations, even through our tough times (there were times that we didn't speak at all, but every family has issues). I talked to her on the phone all the time, especially when she was ailing. When something began to bother me, I'd have to talk to her.

After she passed last year, it just didn't dawn on me. I was devastated after coming home post-graduation to help take care of her, and was locked away for quite sometime. It hurt; she was one of my best friends and I certainly got my fashion sense from her. After a while, though, it was like she was just was still in New York or I was still off at school -- especially with my hectic work schedule.

...until I just picked up the phone and involuntarily began dialing her number. It's been a crazy last few days. I think I'm going to have to take a brain-break from everything and just relax.

The Safe Negro Match-Maker

Well, I know it's quite silly to take a (two?) month haitus from a blog that just started, but my life is seemingly a perpetual state of chaos. I did think of quite a few things to share with the blog universe, but the opportunity to sit and unload my mind was just too far buried under the long work days (and nights), and the moves that I've been making.

The good news? I'm back!

Well, something that I've been most interested in sharing with the rest of the internet is a series of incidents that occured between myself and a white woman that I worked with at one of my several jobs. While I understand that "2010" doesn't necessarily translate to social intelligence any more than "1910", it always befuddles me when people make racially based assumptions about a person they barely know. What's more is that in "post-racial America", people are losing sight of what's actually appropriate .

So, said lady is an intern, actually, and an older woman. She was sent to various local restaurants in search of donations for an event, and when she came back, the conversation was as follows:

Intern: I found the perfect man for you.
Me: (awkwardly) oh?
Intern: Yes. He owns the Zaxby's around the corner, and he is...well -- just a really attractive Black man.
Me: (Not feeding into it) Umm..oh.
Intern: I mean, just an attractive Black man.
Me: Um, well. i'm..not...really...looking for...anything.
Intern: Man! I didn't look to see if he had on a wedding ring. I've been married for twenty-somethin' years, and so I just avoid peeking at that finger at all.

Pause.First set of assumptions: I'm young and single (and likely discontent with being so), and as such, I would love anybody to hook me up with any Black man they can find. Because I only like men, and only if they are Black.

Me: (Ignoring intern and completing notes)
Intern: (to nearly everyone in my part of the office) Guys, I found the perfect guy for Livication!
Me: (long sigh)
Intern: (to me) He drives a really nice SUV too.
Me: (trying to avoid being rude) Oh?
Intern: Yeah, a Jeep I think. None of those rims on it or anything.

Pause.Second set of assumptions: She should be praised and glorified for having found my soulmate, since all you have to do is put a Black man and woman in the room together for them to fall in love. And no rims? He's a safe negro and not a thug, so I'll love him. Regardless of my upbringing or general taste, my having a college education automatically makes me more attracted to Blair Underwood than Lil Weezy.

Me: Please...stop...
Intern: I mean, I'm telling you...he's got money because he owns a Zaxby's.
Me: Isn't Zaxby's a fastfood restaurant?
Intern: Yeah, but he's the owner of this one.
Me: (long sigh, and then under my breath) Well, you know how us coloreds love chicken..
Intern: Oh, and his name is Samuel; a good, strong, Biblical name.

Pause. Third set of assumptions and major fuckeduppedness: Fact - Black people enjoy chicken. They can enjoy free chicken together. Also, those Coloreds are intensely religious; I'm quite sure that the fact that his name is Biblical will sway her toward him. Religion is okay to discuss in the work place because we are all Christians! For the record, I am without any formal religious affiliation.

After this, I walked out of the room for a while. She did, however, encourage the rest of the (white) volunteers to discuss this because she felt she had done something great. Telling her to lay off didn't help, and going off on her would have encouraged the angry Black woman to come out.

I could not have made up something more bizarre. It was completely surreal in the most awful and awkward way. I mean, what the hell? What part of any of that was appropriate?