Another excerpt from my journal: Miles and Magic.

Date: Three Elevens

12 years later and I'm just bringing myself to listen to Cassandra Wilson's "Traveling Miles". Not because I didn't think it would be great, but because I feel for Miles what I feel for Stevie, Marley, Nina, Donnie. Underneath the notes of their genius is something inexplicable, almost spiritual. So while tributes, nods and homages are usually a sign of respect, I think the tampering of certain works are the musical equivalent to sacrilege.

Begrudgingly, I listen. I'm not impressed on a whole, but track # 1, her rendition of "Run the Voodoo Down" instantly sends me into a sorta protective state, like she had stolen something. Carefully, intentionally, enters Olu Dara's cornet. They (Wilson and Olu) channel Miles' ability to make the music, so full of itself that it should explode, whisper. It was sensual.

When the song is over, I've unknowingly let down my guard and I could see Miles dance beneath a Bahia sky around magical wild fires. Intoxicated. No big sunglasses. No sharkskin suit.

Today, I Chose...

Log off from work, call Kori and text Chris...

Start dinner and get Jelly from the bus and check Facebook while he walks up the street...

Clean the kitchen and have the "how was school" conversation over some Capri Sun and Oreo's...

Sneak to watch a YouTube video while checking Jelly's book bag and waiting for Mums to burst through the door singing the song she learned today at school...

*Dammit, I forgot the rice was on*

Run to the kitchen to check the rice. Whew... It's not burnt...

Mums is home swinging all 7, 000 of her clear beads and singing-pausing in between verses to tell me how hungry she is (a hint to slide her some Oreo's and a Capri Sun) and that she needs Benadryl because she's "skitchy". Jayson waves and turns around and heads to Subway...

Jelly and Mums are fighting over who's eating the left over mashed potatoes versus the almost burnt rice...

Bathe and feed the picky kids... Damn, it's only 7? *rolls eyes*

Grab wine and laptop (so I can watch House) to head to the bathroom to secure some me time while ordering the kids to go to my room, turn on The Wiz and stay there...

*Damn, damn, damn! I forgot the stopper on the tub is broken!!!!*

Go to the kitchen and grab a cup to put over the drain so I can draw a much needed bath<--- something I learned years ago when I lived in Baltimore and the stopper was always broken. (See below)


Run hot water, turn on House, pour Chardonnay... Breathe... Listen for kids doing backflips off of my bed. Choose to let them flip in peace... Step into the tub and not kick over the cup that's doubling as a stopper... Breathe... Sip... Reflect...

~~~~~~~~

This is the first time in, I can't remember when, that I have taken a bath. I shower everyday-but having time for an actual bath has become but a memory. We moms don't always have the luxury of bathing, let alone, being in the bathroom without hearing the frantic cry of a child who has lost their favorite blue crayon and finding it cannot wait until shower time is over. I started to relax... Between the wine and the hot water (and being border line exhausted), I suppose that was pretty easy to do at this point. It seemed like everything that had bothered me leading up to this point, suddenly didn't matter.

I looked down at the cup in the bottom of the tub and shook my head in a little irritation. But then I thought about this time last year and the cup suddenly became something that I was happy to have as a problem. You see, this time last year I was sleeping on my parent's living room floor. So being in a tub that's in a place that I can call MY home, even though it didn't work properly, was something to be thankful for. I was super tired and feeling drained from the complications I was having from Crohn's this week and I thought about the times I landed in the hospital over the past 2 years and the prognosis wasn't good. So, being tired was something to be thankful for because I could be gone.

I was beating myself up for falling off of the fitness wagon and I started to feel unattractive and almost worried that people would notice and mention it. I started thinking about how closed off and shut down I can be and it irked me because I wanted so badly to know why I am the way I am. But I looked at myself in the reflection of the bath water and I told myself how much I liked me. I like me. I'm not perfect, but my imperfections are what makes me different and that's okay. I don't wear make up everyday... I don't desire to comb my hair everyday... I like housedresses... My toenail polish is chipping... My boobs sag... I have stretch marks... I don't like to talk about feelings and express too much but I LOVE love... I'm a geek... I say bad words that I tell my kids not to repeat and they love me with the purest love anyway... I have big feet... And you know what? That's who I am. And I'm okay...

Today I chose...

I chose to relax for a change. I chose to not worry about my doctor's appointments. I chose to not be upset about the rice. I chose to not be worried what anyone would think if they saw me without perfect hair and make up...

I chose to be okay...







Hey! You crazy kids... =)

Have ya'll been over to the "Dear Ebby" (http://www.dearebby.blogspot.com/) blog? That's where I'm answering advice questions and stuff. So, check it out and feel free to get your fake fake Dr. Phil on too. LOL...

Ciao... Muah!

A Star is Born (Clap for 'em)

This morning I was listening to Jay-Z's "A Star is Born" and it made me think of a FB status a friend posted the other day. She said the issue with some of us is that we don't know how to support each other, especially when we're in the same industry or when one of us sees that success in any area of our lives for that matter. How come we can't celebrate that person and share in that moment, genuinely and sincerely? Wow...

We all have to admit that there are the times that we start second guessing ourselves and our own abilites because somebody else's star seems like it's shining brighter than ours and we hate on the low. The last blog I posted was about me proving points and I shared that I was tight when someone else got the job I wanted. I was so consumed by my emotions, including self-doubt (doubting my abilites and qualifications) and envy, that I couldn't be happy for the person that did get it. How corny and childish was that?! Then one day, I got over myself and had to remember that there's enough shine for all of us and that God orders my steps and if it wasn't mine, then it's on to the next. Besides, if I would have gotten that job, I wouldn't have been able to get right for the new business venture that God is opening so many doors for! (Caked Up coming soon!! Woot Woot! LOL)

Or have you ever been interested in someone and they turned around and found interest elsewhere? Then you probably asked yourself, "what's so wrong with me" or even started comparing yourself to that other person? Yeah, me too. LOL... Well, the answer to that is, nothing is wrong with you! Maybe that person just found someone to better suit their needs and that's cool too (and that's not to say that you're not going to feel some type of way at first. We're human, it happens...) I remember talking to someone and we hadn't made anything "official", but we really cared about each other and in that time, they found someone else who could give them what they wanted. And all of the things that they liked about the other person, I thought I was; Smart, funny, creative, etc. So I was hating on this person that I didn't know on top of feeling like maybe I wasn't smart, funny, creative, etc. But eventually I got over it and reminded myself that I don't have to be these things for anyone else anyway. I'm cool with being me just for me. At any rate, that situation just wasn't for me and I wished them the best in all sincerity.

Listen, the point is that our function in life is so specific and tailor-made to this time that there is no time and no sense in hating. (Sidebar: I think the word "hating" is so corny, but it fits here. LOL...) We all get our time. There are over 70 SEXTILLION stars in the universe and they all have a place there (and that's just the stars that we can see), just like we all have a place and purpose here. So even if nobody ever noticed you, you're still a star baby!! How dope is God that He made us all so distinct and wonderful that we all can shine individually and still exist in the same space? Niiiice.

-Everyday a star is born... Clap for 'em, clap for 'em, clap for 'em... Eyyyyy!!!

A peek into my journal...

10/1/09- “The motivation for me is them telling me what I could not be… Oh well…” – Pharell (So Ambitious)


So, where should I begin? I guess I’ll start at the point that the trajectory of this day went left and that would be the minute I sat down to work and received the call from Terry, the recruiter for J&J. “Hi, Eb” (greeting as if we’re friends) “It’s Terry. I wanted to let you know that the team considered you for the position, HOWEVER (the conversation was officially over) they chose candidates who have been with the company for a bit longer than you. But the feedback from your interview was nothing but positive”. I have to say that at this point, I was over it. I was over it because it took so long for them to conclude that I wasn’t qualified. I actually wanted the job. In some ways I felt like I needed this job. I needed it to fulfill my incessant need to prove the point that I’m good enough or smart enough. Sure I needed it for financial reasons, but in addition to or maybe even more than that, I wanted it to prove that I was in some way better than the other dimly lit candidates whose lack of common sense, I decry. Not that I, myself, actually believe that I’m better, no. But because proving a point has become part of me.

I think it started after I was compared to my sister and cousins (who are beautiful caramel skinned women) one too many times… “Why can’t you dress more like a girl like Tasha? Do your hair like Tiara’s… Don’t you wanna dance and sing too?” See, the thing is, to my family, I never felt beautiful, only funny… never the one with a beautiful voice, just smart… never the one with the cute pink shirt, only bigger than the other girls… I felt like the bootblack darky whose ambition in life should be driven by being the funny chunky girl. And maybe, not to this extreme, my mother agreed. She started auditioning me for commercials and plays whose lines were comical at best. One day she took me on an audition for a play in black theatre and I had to recite some lines as well as sing. So, I go in with my big gravelly voice and belted out a gospel song and relished in the applause and standing ovay. I remember being so proud of myself and feeling like this time, I was good enough. That was until they told my mother that I was perfect for the part (with the nerve to pull her aside as to pretend they didn’t want me to hear) EXCEPT (again, conversation over) I was too big, but there was a McDonald’s commercial that I’d be perfect for. 10 years would pass before I auditioned for anything else. I said all of that to say, I’ve always had to a point to prove. Proving that I was smart, beautiful, capable of, just as good, if not better than, talented, witty...perfect… Otherwise, my family and the rest of the world would only see me as the funny fat girl.

I needed reasons to be noticed other than my ability to tell jokes. I needed my father to be proud of me, even when he couldn’t be proud of what he was or where we lived and even now, I still do. It crushed him that I never finished college. I needed my mother to have a reason to call my aunts and brag. So here I am, full grown and I’m still proving points… Some to myself, some based loosely on what others told me I couldn’t be or what I wasn’t or what I wasn’t qualified to do, some based on wanting approval…

I Cheat Because...

I had a conversation with some people yesterday about why people cheat and a gentleman in the group says, "I cheat because I like to be in a relationship with a woman that's corny, not into much and not too freaky because if she's doing me like a porn star, all willing to do whatever, I'm sure I'm not the only one that she's doing like that PLUS I'd be looking at her differently, almost like my flower was defiled. So I cheat on the good corny girl with the freak".

Pause...

So I asked, "If she were your wife, would you still feel the same way?" He paused and thought about it and finally he said, "Probably". Okay, I have a few problems with this. First of all, that has to be the lamest reason that I ever heard as to why a man does what he does. This is what I believe: I believe men cheat for 2 reasons: 1. Because they want to and 2. Because they can. Now there are a million reasons they may give as to why they do it like: 1. I wasn't getting what I needed at home 2. I was seduced 3. It just happened. But ultimately it's because he could (and the men that I asked about that all agree). Now, women cheat for different reasons that are tied to some emotional explanation, but at any rate... Another friend of mine believes that dude must have gotten played and hurt one too many times by the "freak". Well that's what happens when you keep trying to turn a _____ into a housewife. I don't care for that cliche', but I'll be if it ain't true. But, I digress.

Secondly my friend, you already came in the relationshsip with the intent to cheat!!! You can't even use an excuse at that point. You courted the corny girl on purpose just to say that her uber-corniness in the bed was the reason that you cheated. You didn't even give her a chance to prove you wrong.

Another thing, you should know that if you're not taking care of her somebody will (if she's willing to let them) and from his own admission she has that "go both ways potential". Listen, I am not here to judge I'm just putting some things out there for him to consider. They're supposed to be getting married soon and it would be bad business if you look up after the nuptials and little mama is sliding off with another little mama. Keep playing. This girl is already making mental notes and you can appreciate that she's on to you baby! Even if she doesn't know for sure that he's skating, she has a feeling. And guess what, if that's your wife, you better do helicopter man before she's playing it with some next dude AND his chick! LOL.

Anyway, I'm off of my soap box for now! Please feel free to add your take on it.

Ciao!

If They Point Down...

So, I was chatting with a very darling friend of mine, Cassandra, and we got on the subject of UNDERGARMENTS and that a lot of women are wearing the wrong ones or none at all. So I thought of all the undergarment faux pas that we women commit regularly and here are the ones that absolutely slay me:

Numero Uno: Going braless

-If your boobs sag, even just a little, and/or your nipples point down, you need a bra! (by the way, did anyone not tell her that her dress was sheer and that her boobage was totally visible?) Now, if you're kicking it in your white tee and shredded jeans at home or with your closest gal pals, hey take your bra off and liberate the girls. But if you are at a public event, or in public period, this is a No-No!!!! (And is it just me that hates to see random nippleage? I mean sometimes we get cold and we can't help it, but there's nothing wrong with a bra with a little cushion is all I'm saying.)

BTW: Girdles were made for days like this! LOL. Now, I'm a victim of "mommy pouch" and I don't know what I'd do without my Spanx or a girdle to such that in! And not for nothing, but a belt that cuts you right between the bulge... Which brings me to my next point.

Part Deux: Please and Spanx!

-Okay... If you have a pouch or a roll that you have to tuck in, like some of us do, may I suggest Spanx? What are Spanx you ask? Spanx are something like a girdle and pantyhose all in one. They smooth out the belly, butt, hips and thighs. You know what, I have another issue with this lady. Not only does she suffer from dunlap, she is clearly in denial about what size she is. Did she not know that shirt was too small? Just a thought...

- Below is another example when an investment in Spanx should have been made. Even for those of us who are a size 4, if your underwear cause you to have two butts, your rear has either become a vicim of gravity or it's bigger than you think and your drawers are too small! And another thing, if you have the kind of cellulite that you can see through your pants... I digress.

And just because I feel like it:

Say NO to hose and open toes! (<--My new campaign slogan) Unless of course you are the dancer Ginger Rogers. =)

I hope that I have enlightened someone today. Please let our quest to decrease VPL and the unwanted appearance of hard nipples and saggy breats not be in vein. Won't you join me on this campaign trail?

(collective chant and fist pumps)

"NO TO HOSE AND OPEN TOES...NO TO HOSE AND OPEN TOES"

"WHAT DO WE WANT? SPANX! WHEN DO WE WANT THEM? NOW!"