A funny feeling happened on the way to...

Resolution, Revelation...Revolution

2012-01-09T20:43:00.000-08:00

So...I'm finally back to work now. I can't tell if I feel good or if I feelbad. Actually? I believe I justfeel. That's it. I just"feel".

Nothing special one way or the other. I guess I'm glad to be back just to be surethey haven't given my job over to somebody else. Yeah... I just needed to be sure it was stillthere (and to just "feel"). Ear's better though. One more appointment and I will be all shoredup.

And now... on to the subject of today's entry: You know how each year we resolveourselves to do something? You know, we resolve ourselves tolose weight or save more money or make our beds everyday- even. There is always something.

The new year looms and we make up a half-assed resolution to make ourselves feel better. Don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't believe in resolutions,it's just that I believe deep down that we don't actually believe we'll achieve them when wemake them.

In some strange, warped way, a resolution it not really agoal in our minds (eventhough technically in it's truest form it is). We have made them (proclaimed may be more appropriate)then broken them so often that the actual "tradition" of theresolution is to make it, then break it. No one ever really carries through with a resolution. I've come to believe it's psychological.

We are conditioned. It's the word "resolution" itself that's the culprit. We subconsciously associate "resolution" with quitting or not following through. We are conditioned (bless our little hearts).

Now, if we were to call them goals and set target dates,that would be a different animal altogether. A goal implies accountability. You may let someone down if youdon't achieve your goal. Whereas if youbreak your New Year's Resolution- no one would really give a shit nor would they holdyou accountable.

You would be scotfree. Invariably getting by unscathed. And quite fortunate to nothave the judgmental - you failed gaze of friends and family. They would all understand. Afterall, it was merely a resolution. You getno condemnation for breaking a resolution- you're expected to.

So why do we make them? Tradition. That would be the proverbial long and short of it. We make New Year's Resolutions because it's just what ya do at the beginning of a new year. We make resolutions because everybody elsedoes. And we break them becauseeverybody else does. Both are equallyexpected.

True goals are left for planning in the latter part ofthe year (or worse yet when we're pressed for time and/or need to make othersthink we've changed). Which brings me tothe "Revelation" portion of today's entry: I have discovered that if we make ourresolutions quietly, within the confines of our own heart that we would fare much better at seeing them through to fruition.

Our secret (unattainable) resolutions would be safely tucked away in our psyches. We would be free to make, break and start anewas freely as we pleased. Liberating huh? This is the revelation of the resolution - keep it to yourself. It's easier that way.

Which brings me to the revolution of this entry: In order to really be successful when it comes to resolutions - one must take the bull, that is your life, by horns (with a firm grip) and not let go. You have to scream at the top of your lungs, say you're mad as hell and that you're not gonna take it anymore- then start your own private revolution to create change in your life.

The drama of your own private revolution will stir something deep within. And maybe, just maybe your resolution will be transformed into a goal with a real focus. Thus rendering it attainable. The year is still young. You have time. Get ta steppin'!

Be Well

Random Thoughts 2012

2012-01-08T20:57:00.000-08:00

Life really is what you make of it.
If you treat people shitty, the shittiness will most definitely come back on you.
Your cat really does love you. It just shows it differently than dogs.
The "Man vs. Food" Guy eats way too much. When did eating extremely oversized portions become something to be proud of?
Believe in something. Because, in this life, you'll need something to look up to and directly at.
Giving up is an option as well. And although you'll be doing it your way- it won't get you to your goal.
People who think too much of themselves are probably overthinking the subject.
The mute button should work on humans.
Strive to be kind to others.
Laughter really is the best medicine.
Everything will be alright in the end. If it's not alright, it's not the end.

Be Well

The elephants...

2012-01-05T22:08:00.000-08:00

You know? The elephants really are showing their true colors - yet again. It's sad to see, pretty tiring and highly effective. I thought it was patently clear that the America we live in TODAY is not just black and white. There are many shades of gray in between.

The simpler times of the 40's, 50's and 60's have all but gone the way of the buffalo. We live and breathe in the Matrix these days. The elephants are making like ostriches, sticking their heads in the sand- when convenient.

It seems the elephants are always using people of color as scapegoats when they want to get elected to office- praying on the fears of the elderly and "fringely" (for lack of a better term) and leaning on age old stereotypes.

And what's more amazing is the fact that:

1. They thinks it's okay to be two-faced and crooked
2. They think the people in the room are the only ones listening

             ***************NEWS FLASH***********
There is always someone listening that the elephants either dismiss or think is not paying attention.

           ***********END OF NEWS FLASH*********

Watching the elephants back peddle and side step is comical. The sad part is there's a segment of our society that actually believes all that double-speak (That's PC for bullshit).

                      **********NEWS FLASH #2**********
What's done in the dark will always come to light and in most cases, when least expected (Thankfully we have the light).

          **********END OF NEWS FLASH #2*********

Look at what happened to Herman Cain. Look at what happened to Jerry Rice and former President Clinton. Look what happened to the guy who played Kramer on the Jerry Seinfeld Show. Micheal something or another (Yeah...that guy).

Okay, so the Kramer guy WAS a bit more out there and his antics and racist slurs were recorded by more than just one person but, let's face it... in this technological day and age you can't just say whatever your crooked little evil heart desires and get away with it. It doesn't work like that anymore.  Because there are more good hearted people interested in things being fair and equitable.

I never cease to be amazed by the elephants.  They should not be allowed to come to power until they have sufficiently come to grips with the following:
1. Gay Marriage
2. A woman's right to choose (otherwise known as abortion)
3. Interracial Marriage
4. Equal pay for equal work
5. Fair housing practices
6. Healthcare for all
7. Fair taxes for all

This is not an exhaustive list. It's merely a start.

If the elephants were in Kindergarten, the note sent home from their teacher would read:

Runs with scissors
Talks too much in class
Refuses to take naps at the appropriate time
Throws tantrums and says things like "You're not the boss of me"
DOES NOT PLAY WELL WITH OTHERS

Honestly? They really should look into getting a different mascot. But what animal could they pick? I'm leaning towards the snake but even the lowly snake has a modicom of redemptive value.

Be Well

The Storyteller...

2012-01-04T11:14:00.001-08:00

If you've been paying attention, you know that I have been out sick this week. I've been keeping myself occupied between doctor's appointments with movies. Movies that I have in my collection that I haven't yet watched.

I love the muppets and some years ago I bought "The Storyteller" collection by Jim Henson. The first DVD is on Greek Mythology and the second is based upon tales from Russia, Germany and England. The technology, though cutting edge at the time of the films creation, seems a bit crude and out dated by today's standards but it was entertaining just the same.

When I started the first DVD, I was pleasantly surprised to find a very young Michael Gambon as host. If you know your actors and you're a Harry Potter fan, you know he played Albus Dumbledore after Richard Harris passed away. It's funny how things go huh?

His voice sounded the same and as he hosted the Storyteller I imagined him speaking to Harry. It was neat. Now I know I can come off as being cranky at times and a bit cynical but I do believe in the magic of things. And I do believe in the good in people and the triumph of the human spirit- in general.

It just seems lately that I'm surrounded by people who just do not believe in the magic of things. That's taxing on a soul such as myself. It's hard trying to lift 102 spirits (while keeping your own above water).

Okay, so that is my explanation for going off on a Harry Potter/Dumbledore tangent. I did it because I can. And because I believe in the magic of things. Now... back to "The Storyteller".

Did I mention that I think Jim Henson was a genius? The Muppet Show was a favorite of mine. I never missed an episode. And now when I watch it, I get the adult humor more (which makes is even more fun to watch). If you're a Jim Henson fan I would suggest you pick up "The Storyteller" for your collection.

It's not the Dark Crystal (which was way before it's time) but well worth adding to your collection. The best place by the fire is reserved for the Storyteller...

Be Well

Starting off slow...

2012-01-03T15:19:00.000-08:00

So today I was supposed to return to work all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Unfortunately, it was not to be. An ear infection coupled with TMJ has thrown me for a loop. The doctor didn't seem too concerned when he handed down the diagnosis so I won't worry either.

It's a bit more painful than I expected and I can hardly chew my food (which is a real bummer). Talking isn't much fun either as I am having to give up certain expressions altogether for the time being (which is a real bummer). Luckily, I still have my thoughts (which go unhindered) and the ability to type.

It's not a bad deal but, I do have to say that I have effectively ruled out
Spa World and it's Bade Pools. The prospect of any kind of liquid (yuck) getting into my ear canal other than the water from my own bathroom grosses me out. Not to mention the fact of having to administer 4 drops, every 4 hours, 4 times a day. So here I sit, hungry, wondering what in the hell I'm going to eat, head tilted to the side as I type.

This kinda sucks. And the very last thing I feel like doing is dealing with people who just don't get it (otherwise known as dumb asses that make dumb requests and ask dumb questions). I know this is going on at work because I have checked my email. You know? No matter how many times you tell a person - "Hey, I am NOT the POC for that particular thing that you're asking me about." They still keep coming back with the same question- as if they're stuck in a groove and your name is the only one they know.

This is doubly irritating when you're not feeling well. It just makes me want to go off in about 10 different directions. But then you can't say that kind of thing without burning a bridge, hurting someone's feelings or making yourself look like a complete jerk. This is why I blog. I can tell you anything.

Thanks for listening...Be Well

It's January 2012...Do you know where your life is headed?

2012-01-02T14:21:00.000-08:00

So, it's January 2012. This is the Age of Aquarius and the year of the end of the Mayan Calendar. I think people may be losing their minds this year too. But doesn't history repeat itself? Haven't we been down this road before? It seems folks are always looking, searching for something. Some thing to explain what happened to them in their lives. We're always looking outside ourselves for the answer- any answer other than the one we know to be true.

Why do we do that to ourselves? Maybe that is the question we need to be asking. Why does it always have to be something or somebody elses fault for why you're so fucked up? Can you (for once) look at yourself in a mirror and say "I have some responsibility in all this shit"?

I know it's hard but, things might start getting easier after that. You may not even believe it initially but remember Grasshopper, practice makes perfect. But then again, if you take responsibility or blame of any kind, that would technically make you less of a victim. Then who would you be?

God, you've been telling your story to yourself and others for so long that you actually believe that shit. Newsflash...the people you're telling your story to have heard it so many times that they can predict the precise moment you're about to launch into telling it - yet again. That's code for - they're damn sick and tired of hearing it. You have a label. A neon sign if you will. They see you coming when you're a mile away. You and your story.

Any plans on switching out your tape soon? If the Mayan Calendar can end this year, maybe, just maybe, a change in your story might be in order.

It's January 2012... Do you know where your life is headed?

Be Well

It's all in your head Mr. Tweedy...

2011-11-12T11:26:00.001-08:00

Have you ever had one of those days when you start off with one, maybe two things to do and end up overwhelmed by all the shit that actually has to be done? I mean don't get me wrong...this is ALL self imposed but still daunting nonetheless.

You know what? I want 20 fucking million dollars!!!! There, I said it. That felt really good. I am so done with putting up with a "yearly" salary. I want unlimited amounts of money and I want it now.Call it a bad case of Veruka Salt-ism. She wanted an Oompa-loompa and I want 20 fucking million dollars!!! There...I said it again.

I am sick to death of pretending that what I have is enough. It's not. I WANT MORE. I want to rise from my bed each morning thinking... "Now, what is it that I want to do today?" Think of it, then go out and do it. I also want my fucking neighbors upstairs to SHUT THE FUCK UP. Honestly? They sound like a herd of buffalo upstairs.

You know what? If I had 20 fucking million dollars I wouldn't have to put up with this shit. I would take 2 fucking million (this is getting good...) and buy myself a nice estate (thank you very much )and enjoy the quietness of it all. Don't get me wrong. For the most part, my life is good. But more money always helps (unless of course you don't know how to be honest with yourself and others). Having more money gives you options. I want more options.

Just think...more options. More choices. More opportunities. The reason I titled this post "It's all in your head Mr. Tweedy" is because he knew something to be true but his wife insisted that he repeat that it was all in his head...a mere figment of his imagination. Actually, the imagination is where we really need to be. We need to be in our heads in order to make things happen outside our heads.

So Mrs. Tweedy was right, only she was wrong. The truth of the matter is this. If I truly want 20 fucking million dollars (I actually want more) then I will have to keep the thought of it in my head, at the forefront of my thoughts- until it becomes a habit, second nature even, to speak and think about it.It's just like Kanye said in his song The Good Life: "I always had a passion for flashing, before I had it, I closed my eyes and imagined it."

That's the Law of Attraction in action. Closing your eyes and imagining the things that you want - believing that you can have them and that you deserve them. Yesterday I went onto a website : www.luxuryportfolio.com to look at listings for homes costing in the millions of dollars. Come to think of it? I would actually need more than a mere 20 fucking million dollars to be able to afford some of the properties listed.

It's actually unbelievable how some people live. Absolutely unbelievable. Whatever the mind can conceive it can achieve. If you go there in the mind, you can go there in the body.

Maybe what we should be saying is "It should all be in your head Mr. Tweedy." Wealth and its creation are a mindset. Abundance is a mindset.

Wouldn't you rather have more options than you have in your current state? Of course you would. It is in our very nature to want more. People who say they don't want more or that they have enough are denying a basic human desire - that of increase.

To want to increase is to be human. To want more than what you currently have (whether it be to live in a mansion or downsize to a log cabin) is uniquely human. It takes money to do and be both. It takes money to set yourself up so you don't have to consume so much as well as to go on endless shopping sprees. Money affords you the freedom to go green as well as be extravagent in your consumption.

It begins in your head Mr. Tweedies...it begins in your head. And I want to start a revolution! So... Raise your hands (and your glasses) if you want to be RICH!!! It's far better than being poor.

Just something for you to think about the next time you have to pass something over because the money isn't there. If you were rich, you'd have more options. Let's agree to be RICH. Are you in?

Be Well

It's been a long time...

2011-11-10T20:17:00.001-08:00

Okay...so it's been sometime since I sat down to write- about anything other than work. Seems I'm always writing something at work but not at home. I need some "me" space so, it's back to the laptop I run. Back to myself and my imaginary audience of readers. I imagine you captive, hanging even on my every word. I imagine that you (the blog reader) think highly of me. In my world you think I'm clever and can turn a phrase "oh, so well..." You get all of my musings, no explanation needed and silently thank me for giving you something unexpected.For instance...I am currently watching "Woman on Top"- a favorite movie of mine - not because of the acting but because of way it mixes music with the storyline and because of the colorful characters. I can watch it anytime of the day or night. One of my most favorite scenes in the movie is playing just now...the water and the color of the sky...melancholy blue. I think my blood pressure just lowered. That is the hallmark of a good movie. If it makes you feel better, then it has done it's job. I suppose. Who cares about Oscar? There's also a copy of the latest Oprah magazine and the latest edition of Veranda. I like to read Oprah and Veranda because it helps me to dream big. I haven't done it in a while and if I plan to draw luxurious things to me, I need to be thinking about them all the time (so says the Law of Attraction). I'm also watching copious episodes of House Hunters, House Hunter's International and Million Dollar Rooms. It's absolutely amazing how some people live. I want that for myself. I don't need or want to take anything from anyone else...I just want a slice of the pie for myself. I will have all that I want. Ask, Believe, Receive...

The Power of One...

2011-10-16T11:57:00.000-07:00

So...I'm in Stein Mart of all places and I run across this wall plaque that has the following quote: "One shoe can change your life..." - Cinderella.

I jumped at the chance to buy it. God, truer words were never spoken (even if she is just part of a fairy tale). One shoe really did change her life forever. I suppose that if we were to apply the Law of Attraction, we could say that Cinderella drew the Prince into her experience because she really wanted a better life. Sitting amongst the soot and ashes she launched a rocket of desire like no other.

The appearance of her Fairy God Mother gave her the pivotal shift that she needed (from a vibrational standpoint) and it had to happen for her. That's the Law at its' finest. And now for the part that makes you go hmmm… If we were to take this "one" theme and expound on it, I suppose you could say that one of anything could change your life.

I went to see the movie "Precious" over the weekend and one teacher made a huge difference in her life, after having lived with one sorry assed excuse for a mother. That one movie had a profound effect on me. After having watched it, I knew it must join the ranks of movies only to be watched once by me.

The list is a short one but here it is: Beloved, Brokeback Mountain and now Precious. One viewing of these movies is enough for this current lifetime. When I return, maybe, just maybe I will endeavor to watch one of them again.

One shoe...

One experience can also change your life. I was in a car accident once. My vehicle flipped not one but seven times. I was fortunate to have been wearing my seatbelt. Flanking me (while driving) unbeknownst to me were one doctor and one emergency medical technician. Not one bone was broken and I walked away from that accident with one scratch on my left arm.

I learned one big lesson that day. A car is just a car. It doesn't matter the make or model. You are not your car. Your car is not you. You are separate from your car. It's just not that important. So, to all the nay-sayers out there I say the following...Princess Diana died from injuries sustained when her driver lost control of a Mercedes Benz. Her car couldn't save her. No one could. Prioritize while you still can.

One shoe...

Years ago I began working with an Indian woman by the name of Ganga. She invited me to her home, fed me roti and curried mutton with potatoes and fanned a flame deep within my soul. One woman, one small, modest meal…one great big desire. I would go to her home many more times before she and her husband eventually relocated to Washington state- children all grown up with lives of their own. Little did she know that she was not just offering me a meal that day. But she was offering me the possibility of our world and all that it had the offer if I would but open my heart and mind and embrace what was before me. One woman, one meal. I will forever be indebted to her for her kindness and unwillingness to leave me on the sidelines but to draw me in as a participant. It has made all the difference in my life.

One shoe…

In 2006 a very young and vibrant coworker of mine went home early with a headache and 3 days later she was brain dead. Two days later her parents consented to turn off the respirator. She was gone. The day they broke the news they allowed us to go home early if we felt we needed to. Oh, I needed to alright. I felt my mortality that day and thought to myself - life is much, much too short.

I cried for her and her family; then I cried for myself. Vowing not to waste anymore time, I drove straight to the post office and completed the application for a passport. One life gone and one conclusion derived from all the sorrow: Tomorrow is not promised. Do your thing (whatever it may be) today, right now if need be.

One shoe…

I used to really be in to white guys. Hey- I’m just keeping it real. Wasn’t sure I’d ever find a Brother that would be interested in me- a Brother who would “get” me. Consequently, I was always looking outside my race for that perfect guy. I was always intrigued by the interracial connection. Ooh, let’s all just get along and make this world a better place. Let’s mix and mingle (with a jingling beat).

I was convinced there were no Brothers out there for me. Then…one night I was flipping channels and came across a promo spot for Dhani Tackles the Globe. Oh…my…GOD. I was smitten. In fact, if you scroll to my very first blog you will read about how I was feeling about him and about his show.

Suffice it to say that this one Brother single-handedly brought me back over to the dark side and restored, renewed and refreshed my soul (on so many levels). And if I may quote my sister who pointed out with glee: And he’s a real black man too! All I can say is- I’m so glad I saw him on television when I did.

While I don’t have anything against interracial relationships, it’s just pure joy seeing Brothers with fresh eyes. They truly are the Kings to our Queens. India Arie said it best in Yellow. “Together me and you are purple because we are so royal. And whenever we’re this close, I never want to let go…” One “oh- so” delicious black man. Right now I’m smiling.

And to reiterate… One shoe, one movie, one car accident, one woman, one meal, one death, one “oh-so” delicious black man.

One…

Be Well

Wondering What's Next...

2011-10-16T11:51:00.000-07:00

I just spent the last 40 minutes trying to locate the manual to my gas fireplace. My pilot went out and I thought to myself...self...you must light your own pilot. No use being a baby or looking for someone else to fix this problem. You can do it. So I managed to get it lit because- although it's 2:12am- I would not havee been able to sleep, knowing that the pilot light was out. It kind of gave me an uneasy feeling. They say it's better to just leave it lit. So I wanted to abide by that rule and just leave it lit. But alas...it simply died out. I'm not sure why. I guess these things just happen.

Tomorrow I have a painter coming over to paint over some drywall patches he did. He was a nice gentleman and I'm hoping this will be the beginning of a long and happy relationship. He may know someone who can help me with other things. I will be on the lookout. My cat is laying at the foot of my bedd grooming himself and no doubt wondering "What in the hell are you doing still up?" I guess I should just go to bed. But...before I do, I'm gonna get happy. I want to sleep with good thoughts floating around in my head. Life is so ridiculous. I should've just made myself a bowl of triple chocolate ice cream and called it a day hours ago.

Sitting Here in This Chair...

2011-07-09T07:10:00.000-07:00

So it's Saturday morning and I'm sitting here at my dining room table with the morning paper spread out before me (breakfast plate empty of my 5 Points Plus English muffin sandwich) and I'm contemplating my day and a second cup of coffee. God...I live for moments such as these. Oh yeah...I have goals and things to do but there is something to be said for, what I call "positive" idleness.

You don't necessarily have to stay in this state for too long to feel the feelings of bliss, comfort and true relaxation. Don't get me wrong. I would much rather be doing this in a more tropical clime. The sound of ocean waves and the faint smell of salt in the air with seagulls flying in the distance. Yeah...that would be nice.

Oh well, I will just have to settle for the steady hum of my oscillating fan and the gentle stirring of my cat as he repositions himself on his chair (well it's my chair, but it's HIS chair- you know cats).

Everything else is quiet. No TV, no radio...just peace and quiet. It's in these moments that you can start to find yourself and in some cases actually form a thought. If you allow it, you can become the observer of the thought. How often do we take the time to realize that we're actually thinking a thought? My guess is, we're so busy that we never get to that level.

The quiet offers us that. It's so beautiful. Lovely and amazing. Restorative. Yeah...restorative is a really good word for the effect that quiet can have on a soul. I' m grateful for right now. And I think I'll have that second cup.

Be Well

One Day After Thanksgiving...

2010-11-26T11:21:00.000-08:00

It's the day after Thanksgiving and I'm not sure how I'm feeling. Luckily, I can say that I don't feel particularly irritated or exasperated, which is usually how I am feeling one day after Thanksgiving.

It's always the same...you get together with your family (that you really do love despite all the crap) and you eat too much and expect people to be right where you last left them. The problem is that folks don't usually stay in the box you put them in. They are prone to wandering around and going on with their lives. This comes as quite a shock when the two come crashing together next, because the wandering calls for an adjustment and the realization that we can't always have our way and the only person we truly have control over is ourselves- NO ONE ELSE (this can be quite uncomfortable and unnerving).

I believe the best thing to do when you get together with family is to practice the art of saying "I'm sorry" early and often (when we are wrong). It makes resolution a whole lot easier and takes the wind out of the sails of so many that would choose to argue a point beyond death. What else is there to argue about after one has apologized? Just apologize and get the hell out of there as fast as you can.

In looking over the past - what 2 days? Unbelievable...I have been baited more than once and took the bait while simultaneously losing sight of the bottom line (to my shame). It really irritates me when people don't seem to "get it." But then again, "getting it" is really relative, isn't it? We say other people don't get it because they don't see things our way. That's how the arguement started.

Then you end up all pissed off and mad at the world. You say things like: "I should just get my shit together and go home." or "What the fuck just happened?" or "Why am I always the one left doing this, can't you do it for a change?" It really gets old after a time and then you want to just scream at the top of your lungs. Only screaming doesn't really get you anywhere. It's not really all that productive and it impedes progress. The only way the act of screaming can be justified is if there is some sort of plan or productive action attached to the scream. Otherwise you're just wasting your time.

So, I'm sitting here at my mother's kitchen table, deciding not to scream because I feel too overwhelmed to do so. There are about 4 major things that need to be done and I don't feel like doing any of them. But I press on because, well...that bottom line compels me to. I really hate it when people don't do their fair share and just weasel out of everything. Life's so convenient for them.

Abraham would say I need to pivot and reach for a better feeling, feeling. That I should focus on what I want. What I want is to have Samantha Stevens pop by and take care of those 4 major things that need to be done. Than I'd like to take a rreal vacation to someplace nice, see something new instead of coming home to the same shit every holiday. To be quite honest, after the initial hugs and kisses, there's really nothing to look forward to. No new traditions are started, no one has a desire to do anything different and ultimately, I'm left wanting during the holidays. God...I sincerely hope Christmas is different.

Be Well

A regular day at work...

2010-06-17T09:34:00.000-07:00

Okay so today is a garden variety day- so to speak. I started out blogging on the travel side but realized that I need my pictures and all my notes in order to get through it. That's frustating because I've only completed part one. I still have so much to say on the matter. But anyhoo...I was getting involved in this entry when along came a spider that sat down besider her...
Did I get to finish this entry? Uh...no. Note to self- never bring your netbook into work thinking that you'll be able to blog during your lunch hour. Ain't gonna happen! Someone will always come by innocently thinking that you have time to talk. Speaking of talking during lunch - why don't they add celery seeds to chicken salad anymore? This has got to be the blandest chicken salad in all of creation.

Speaking of creation...I may have put my foot in my mouth today. I started having a conversation with someone during our health fair (about weight loss and eating habits) and this person's responses caused me to raise my eyebrows. It seemed that he was "conscious" the way that he spoke about food the habits and the like. Then he went off on a bit of a tangent and started intermingling religion and I was like...uh oh. So there will be more to blog about on that front in the days and weeks to come. I may never get back to my travel blog (yikes!).
So the Health Fair was pretty good. They had a few good vendors there, namely the Vienna Health Improvement Center. It's supposed to help you find out why you're not releasing weight when you've tried everything. And it's an all natural approach. No meds. I'm intrigued by that so...that is the only brochure I'll be keeping. The rest will most assuredly go into the trash before days end.

Why do we do that? We go to these "things" and we act like we're sooo interested in what they have to say about "whatever" and we take their cards, pamphlets and fact sheets- knowing damn well that we're not gonna read it and that we're gonna throw it slam in the trash the first chance we get.

You know? We would save them a ton of money if we just made a conscious effort to not take the literature. Just saying "no thank you" would go a long way, and might just be the equivalent of saving one tree over a lifetime. I think we do it to try and mask our disinterest. They can tell when we walk up that it's all a bust. Killing time...before lunch. I mean really? Once I got the bookmark on Lupus then read the symptoms on Ovarian Cancer I was like- these are practically one in the same (with a few specific symptoms). No wonder people are misdiagnosed and they tell you to see a specialist. Yikes!

Okay - I have just finished the worst Chicken Salad sandwich in the world. Not one piece of celery in it I tell ya...not one. Too much mayo and to top it off I bought pretzels instead of chips so you KNOW I'm ticked! I didn't even have the benefit of enjoying a side order of chips. That really bites. I should just warm up my coffee from earlier (Grande Soy Misto from 'bucks) and wait out the digestion of the thing.

Tonight is Bikram Hot Yoga night and I can hardly wait. I'm totally ready to have my ass kicked by the instructor. I haven't been in a while so I'm hoping to see him there. The class wouldn't be the same without him. He's a powerhouse. If you've never experienced a hot yoga class allow me: You're in a 105 degree room with 20 other sweating bodies and a tyrant posing as an instructor. He will push you and encourage you all at the same time. You will hate him yet love him for kicking the shit out of you (figuratively). There will be no escape and should you leave the room for fear of asphyxiation you will be subconsciously thought of as a weak link and a loser (though he would never tell you that to your face).

Suffice it to say that you'd be better off shooting yourself than walking out of a Hot Yoga class. Speaking of hot yoga - it's fucking freezing in the office today. Ugh! I didn't where socks today - damnable leather mules!! But wait...I have footies in my gym bag!! Ain't life grand?

Be Well

Notable Quotes with notable translations...

2010-03-28T13:05:00.000-07:00

You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. Translation: You are the master or your own universe. Whether you know it or not- you are well equipped to navigate the waters of your life. Go out and live it!

Never walk into or out of a meeting without a clear agenda
Translation: Have your shit together when you walk in and make sure you recap before you go.

Life is crazy, there are only two things you can control: attitude and effort. Make today an awesome day.
Translation: Shit happens all the time- it’s never ending. So, get over yourself. You are responsible for your own reaction to things and only you can truly make you move your ass. Try and make the best of it each day.

It requires a life of selflessness to endure others’ differing opinions while remembering their merits.
Translation: It takes much work and focus on the other person to hear what they are saying (when we think they’re wrong) and respect them as equals. Subtranslation: I think this person is a complete dumb-ass. But hey...they're right. Damn...that means I have to accept the fact that I'm really not always right. Excuse me while I go kill myself- for having failed me.

Only we can save ourselves...

2010-03-28T13:00:00.000-07:00

So, I stopped tweeting about women taking their weaves out, opting for a more appropriate forum to air my subjective views. I don’t purport to express the opinion’s of others. This is just me having my say because I can. For women to say that Chris Rock’s movie “Good Hair” opened their eyes is really a cop out. Really? You didn’t know on some level that there was something fundamentally wrong with desperately wanting to have long flowing hair- so much so that you were willing to pay upwards of $1500.00 to have it sewn on top of your own hair? REALLY? Okay. I feel some clarification is in order here. I am speaking specifically to black women. No offense to others who may be reading and are not black women. You may sit back and continue to read the rant - or not. Actually, if you're a black woman and feel offended you may stop reading at any time. So, "or not" equally applies to you.

In my opinion- (because I wasn’t there but have read and seen enough to believe it’s true) since the time of slavery the black woman has been told (and made to feel) that she is not beautiful, that her hair is unruly, kinky, nappy and unmanageable. So what did we do? We began to hate ourselves. We began to devalue our self worth and we turned that self hatred onto each other. During slavery times our heads were covered so that ‘massah and them” wouldn’t have to contend with those beautiful, strong, black strands growing naturally from our heads. And as massah slinked down slave row snatching and grabbing what he could and would- leaving a seed trail a mile long- something new emerged…the House Niggruh. She was lighter skinned than her African mother and darker skinned then her Eurocentric father. She represented the crossroads of two very different worlds- colliding. With her fair skin and curly hair she was deemed more acceptable than the other slaves and so she was brought into the house to work.

She was easier on the eyes of massah and them and so the rift was firmly established. Our self hate, despair, desire and longing for something better (along with a large dose of envy) was transferred onto our fairer-skinned sister. Because she was light- she was treated better. Because her hair was of a different texture- she was treated better, desired more. She stuck out like a sore thumb against the dark chocolate background of her ancestors and although she may not have wanted them- the advances toward her were numerous. In the years to come she would (in some instances) pass for white; even fooling the white people around her. Being white would be her ticket to the good life. Out of this quest for a better life emerged something new… the Tragic Mulatto. Ever in limbo- never truly belonging to anything or anyone, basically hated from both sides. Hated and adored- the ultimate irony.

So what does all of this have to do with weaves and the present day hot mess we find ourselves in today (you might ask)? Well, for starters ,we are still stuck. Now more than ever we want to have the long flowing hair- the European look is what we call it now. But that’s just being politically correct. What we’re really saying is that we want our hair to be long and flowing like white women. Ooooooh! No you didn’t! Yeah…I did. And don’t think I haven’t been there. I have 12 whole credits and I’ve been through the program on that one. We’ve been bombarded with images of white women our whole lives. It was rare to see yourself on TV much less in a movie theatre when I was growing up so the long term damage is quite extensive. Everywhere you turned you were constantly reminded of how beautiful white women were. And you? Well, since you weren’t white and yours wasn’t the face you saw on TV or the big screen – you had to be the opposite; the antithesis of beauty if you will.

We had so few choices growing up. Everything was geared towards whites. Honestly? I’m amazed that we actually made it through all those years of totally being ignored, scorned (yet secretly adored). But then again that's what we did and have continued to do to this very day. We get by- we do what we have to do and we keep it moving. Be that as it may, this hair thing has really put one over on us. What I deem to be the issue of our hair and why we want it to be straight is the 800lb elephant in the room. And no one wants to actively address it. We make jokes, glazing over a mountain of unconscious self-hatred and loathing. Don't get me wrong, I’m grateful for the changes and progress we’ve made but damn...What the hell??? Somebody ought to start raising money for research. Kathy Hughes? Suzanne DePasse?? Debbie Allen? Maybe Chris Rock himself could be an anonymous financial backer. One can only hope...

Back in the day Barbie’s little sister (or was it cousin?) Skipper was as close as you could get to having a black doll. Skipper had that California tan thang going on… you know. AnyHOO… we grew up with the same mentality that our parents grew up with…If you were light skinned with “good” hair you got more. And so it goes. From that day to this many of us still believe it. We may not want to believe it, but for most of us – it’s our truth. That’s why Chris Rock’s movie hit so close to home. There were black women who were actually mad that he revealed our “secrets”. No- he didn’t reveal any secrets, he just lifted the veil and showed us our collective selves (only this time we had no choice but to look).

Yeah, we laughed, chuckled, snickered even but I know I wasn't the only black woman who left the theatre thinking..."Oh my god...I am so embarrassed by this." We looked like a bunch of desperate, lost souls just looking for the next woman with long hair to cut hers off so we could sew it onto our own heads. No matter the price. Really?? It's as if we don't give a damn about our real hair and will do anything to cover it up- never letting it see the light of day. It's little wonder that it doesn't grow the way it should. We don't take care if it and we don't love it. Have you ever known much of anything to flourish in those kinds of conditions? Right.

Now-a-days we say things like “A black woman has the right to wear her hair any way that she wants.” And to that I say “To what end?” We weave because we don’t feel beautiful unless our hair is long and flowing. It’s sad to see. Each track takes us further and further away from our authentic, beautiful selves. Don’t get me wrong I’ve had braid extensions but had never worn a weave until last year. I had one for 2 months. I good friend of mine kept encouraging me to get one and so did my hairdresser. So, I caved and got one. It was a real mistake. It was a good thing that it was curly hair instead of straight because I ended up having to cut the tracks at the base of my hairline (including my own hair) because it was too tight. It was sewn in so tight that I couldn’t rest my head on my pillow nor could I fully turn my head to the right or the left (so it hindered me while driving). I had a throbbing headache for the first 2 weeks until finally I had had quite enough. It was 3:20 am and I couldn’t stand it anymore. With tears in my eyes, I had my roommate clip the bottom track- what a relief.

I resolved myself that my own hair would grow back in time. During the remainder of the two months- the curly weave covered over a multitude of “track sins”. It was so tight that I had little bumps at the base of my neck, all in the name of having some long curly hair. It was really torture. And I don’t want to even get into not being able to thoroughly wash my hair and scalp. Double yuck. And let's just be honest- you know (if you have a weave right now) that it's been a minute since your scalp has seen the light of day. Girl you need to quit- your scalp is crying out for a good scrape. Get the gunk off your scalp girl! My head was a freaking tangled, trackie mess up under all those flowing, Indian Remy curls. Like the roots of so many banyan trees, a big, fat lie. Not to mention that some poor retched soul may have donated it to a temple. I'm grateful her blessing (and the blessings of all those other Indian women) is not dependent on what happens to the hair after it's donated at the temple. That would be tragic indeed- wouldn't you agree? They give their hair to receive a blessing. How much did you pay for yours? Hmmm...

Back to my weave ordeal...once I had it taken out, I vowed never to get another weave. It’s too high of a price to pay. My hair does not, nor has it ever been, nor will it ever be the texture of the human hair that I bought to have weaved onto my head. Again, one big, fat lie. When you look at the images of black women today- you’d be hard pressed to find one who doesn’t have a perm, a weave or both. Tackling the perm issue is definitely something we have to contend with as well. Again…we want the hair to be bone straight- no naps or beady-beads for us! The kitchen needs to be tamed, all edges super smooth. And we’re willing to slather on gobs of extremely strong chemicals to coax our precious strands into dead, lifeless, straw that easily breaks off and has curls that fall at the first sign of a hint of water. Not to mention that our lives become high jacked by our hair once it’s permed/relaxed. Whole activities are cut out of the black woman’s experience because they involve water and she is not about to get her hair wet. We do it to ouselves and to what end I ask? Honestly- we don't feel pretty unless our hair is straight and flowing, blowing in the wind. If this is the normal texture of your hair then more power to you. If it is not, maybe, just maybe, you should join the grass roots campaign to save your strands then consider some healthy hair alternatives.

After a little soul searching I decided to go natural. It wasn't really a hard decision to make. I believe the hardest part of going the natural route for most black women is getting past what all the "other" people in her life say and think about natural hair. Again...the indoctrination runs deep and counter to all things natural when it comes to hair. I kid you not, when I announced that I was even thinking about locking my hair, I was met with comments like "Why do you want to do that?" and "Oh hell no, I wouldn't do that to my hair!" "Beauty is on the inside" I retorted. And quick as a flash my aunt replied "That's right. Beauty is on the inside and pretty is on the outside and you gettin' ready to get ridda all uh yours!" We laughed until we nearly cried on that one. I have to admit I come by my wit honestly as it runs in the family.

My second sister who now has her hair locked admitted that she wore a wig during the "ugly" phase of locking her hair. My eldest sister used words like pickaninny when she described how some people looked with their hair locked. Harkening all the way back to slavery times, she unearthed the term "pickaninny" to describe showing and growing our own natural hair. It's a well know fact in the black community that you'll look more African than not when you decide to lock.

Afrocentricity has always been frowned upon in this country. It's as if black people that wear their hair in natural styles are plotting against the governent or planning some sinister act of violence or are uneducated (because why else would they wear their hair like that?). It's a shame on so many levels. I read somewhere that the first law suit involving natural hair style discrimination was back in the 80's. The eighties. Unbelievable. All I can say is thank you to the sister who had to wage that war. Thankfully we are making strides in the natural hair arena.

I recently attended the Baltimore Natural Hair Expo. It was so awesome to see so many people (men, women and children) with natural hair styles. So beautiful. So Natural. I reveled in the glory of it all- like a flower soaking up the noon day sun. Only our hair can do that- I thought. How wonderful is that? How special and unique is that? Our hair is like an endangered species that must be guarded and protected. But...only we can do it. This isn't about opening a museum to showcase Jazz- the original American art form or saving the quilts made by the women of Gee's Bend, sending them on tours around the world. This is about us preserving, protecting and showcasing our own artform. Something that is as close to us as the very breath we exhale from our bodies.

No one can do this for us...only we can save ourselves on this one. Until we can accept ourselves, we'll never be accepted and our seat at the table will remain empty. So, stop hiding behind that weave girl. Come forth and be your big, bold, beautiful self.

Be Well

Your Situation Could Always Be Worse...

2010-01-22T10:08:00.000-08:00

I am currently in North Carolina sitting in a doctor's office waiting room listening to a lady spew her "medical" life story to a room full of complete and utter strangers...hence the title of my blog. I arrived here overnight and will be here until early Sunday morning-when I take my leave and return to Virginia. Even though I am originally from NC it never ceases to amaze me how "country" everyone sounds down here. I never really had an accent (must have been that light bulb that came on in 5th grade - another story).

Right now two ladies are laughing loudly (they are immersed in their own conversation and whispering quite loudly). It's all so "down home". It's that southern hospitality thang. Point in case...as we were coming into the door (my sister and I) a gentleman stepped out to let another lady know that she had left something on a chair inside. She smiled broadly and said "Yes I know." Then thanked him.

In VA that NEVER would have happened. People don't concern themselves with the affairs of others in VA. Hell, you would be hard pressed to have someone hold an elevator door for you. God...that's kind of sad and funny all at the same time. Wow, I may have to change the title of my blog to "It's a Southern Thang". The "Ooh sit down let me show you how open I can be with my medical history" lady has been called back to the back to be with her husband (I guess that's who he was).

Gawd (getting into character), her story was pretty intense. She layed out all her medical misgivings and the details rolled off her tongue as if she was just taking a leisurely stroll or slinging chicken feed out in the yard. It was uncanny. She had no sense of propriety and no doubt has retold her story on countless ocassions. Unbelievable. She even mentioned something about being cut from "here to there" along with anal cancer and a new rectum. It was little gross and whiney all at the same time. Sensational even. I don't get it and suppose I never will. But I guess that's just the natural progression in the South. If you live long enough down here you will have ailments, trials and tribulations to tell (brag) about. A badge of honor if you will. Everbody's got a story to tell- some better then others.

Listening to her spin her tale helped me to realize that in any given situation the circumstances could always be worse. Plainly put...I don't really have any problems. My life is peachy. Good even. I'm in a comfy spot and the better it gets...the better it gets (so says Abraham). I'm lucky and glad to be in my own skin. I'm not perfect by any stretch but I do alright. It's just me, my twists and I.

I think I'll let that sink in...

Be Well

2010...already???

2010-01-01T18:04:00.000-08:00

God...I have managed to make it through Christmas and New Year's Eve unscathed. Despite this major feat, I still feel a bit cheated. By all accounts I believe I did things right. I bought gifts early as to avoid the rush of traffic and strange bodies rubbing up against one another in departments stores. I served and served then served some more. I washed freakin' dishes till the cows came home (but my brother washed some too). I weaved two heads of hair, twisted three heads of hair, handed out a million gifts during the family exchange, hooked up a PC and bought yarn and knitting needles. Yes, dammit! Knitting needles!! I took my netbook home but I only managed to use it once and not to blog.

In ALL that time that I was off I never once managed to carve out any space for myself and I'm really kind of bummed about it all. God. I had such high hopes and lofty plans about making goals and preparing myself for 2010. What a f**king joke. I only have the weekend left before I return to work and I haven't made plan the first. Me thinks I should start my NEW year by stating the following: THIS SHIT IS GETTING OLD!

I'm rushing, half packed on my own ship. It's leaving port and it feels as if I'm running with all my shit in an oversize paper bag. Hold up...I should be cruising into 2010. I should not be taking the crumbs, saving the best for last or giving my all to anybody else! I should be getting the best cuts of meat, the best that I have to offer and my "all" should be reserved for me -dammit!! Did I mention that this shit was getting old? Oh...right. I did. Keep that thought, I may refer to it again.

Thankfuly, there is time to redirect. It's still early yet. There is hope and the proverbial monkey on my back shall be expelled -post haste! I'm sick to death of doing things the same old way. When I come back from my 2010 Cruise, I am going to be a different woman. I have 364 days left to cruise and I am going to enjoy as much of what is left as I can. I will explore each deck of my ship, enjoy fine dining and take advantage of the massages being offered at the Spa. I will climb the rock wall, order room service at 2:00am (if I want) and sing at the Karaoke Bar.

I am the Captain, Cruise Director, Executive Chef and crew all rolled into one. I refuse to disembark without having had the time of my life. I am desperate to have, do and be the new and improved me. I want adventure in my life. I want to be rich. I want to travel to exotic places. I want to expand my mind and take in the scenery of a different and beautiful setting. Hell, I want to hug trees in the Red Wood Forest and wiggle my toes in the black sands of Hawaii! Only this time, I will not ask Calgon to take me away. I will rely on myself to take me away. Afterall, I am the only one who can do it.

Wow...it's sobering to wakeup and realize that you are the only one who has kept you from self actualizing - no one else. Damn it all...it always comes back to that doesn't it? Ultimately it's no one else's fault but mine.

Geez, do we have time for an intermission? I feel I need to powder my nose and pull my collective selves together. Act One of this play was a m****rf**ker. A girl can only hope that Act Two will be better with a new cast of characters.

Act Two is 2010.

Ooh...I hear the audience clapping. My life awaits me...better get back to my seat.

Be Well

Jingling and making merry like??

2009-12-09T20:09:00.000-08:00

Breathe...breathe. That is what I have to keep telling myself. I feel as if I'm traveling 100 mph. So much has transpired in the last 30 days. My big event is OVER and I'm currently basking in the afterglow. It unfolded as expected with minimal surprises along the way. This is a good thing; one that I attribute to the LOA. Ask and it is given. The universe will bring you what you focus on. And so it goes. So in that arena I suppose I'm no longer going 100mph. I've slowed to a comfy 50mph.

Nevertheless there is still all this damnable Christmas shopping to do. Actually, I've not done too bad in that area either. I have managed to buy early and am nearly done with it all. Now I just have to wrap and decide whether to go home the weekend before to take all this stuff. I still have a few peeps to buy for but all in all it's been a good experience.

You know...people spend way too much money during the holidays (myself included). And I'm not just saying that because I don't want to spend the money. On the contrary, that is totally not the issue. I'm speaking more about expectation. It's little wonder people get depressed. Especially people that have children. Poor children get the "okie-doke" every year. All year long they are told to be good and "Santa Claus might bring you that for Christmas." They deserve to be told the truth. Hmmm...maybe that's where the depression comes in. Adults don't really know how to handle the truth so how in the world would (or should) we expect them to properly convey it to their children?

When I was younger, I couldn't conceive of anyone being sad, depressed or otherwise angry during the holidays. It just didn't compute. Now that I'm older I get it. Our society says "buy all these things and you'll be happy. Come on...does your child really have to have the latest game or game station? If we cultivate restraint and interest in other things during the year maybe, just maybe the "blow" of not getting all that stuff won't be such a big deal. Maybe. They still have to contend with their peers in school and let's face it, those are some trying times. It get that.

Wow...our society is semi- f*^%$d up and yet we make up society. Oh god...we're semi-f*^%$d up! Okay, I knew that. I'm sure you did too. We are the reason for our problem. It's just that we don't believe we have a problem. Worse yet, most don't even know we have a problem. I suppose the best we can do is get behind the whole global warming cause and all buy ourselves hybrids. Yeah...think, eat and live green and maybe by modeling desirable behavior on one subject we can make headway on another. I'm keeping the faith in humanity. Plus, if we focus on the bigger picture it gives us all a bit more room and time to get our collective shit together.

AnyHOO...the flipside of telling the truth and working through not being able to "be all that you can be" in the way buying stuff - is to turn to crime. I bet more unsuspecting folks go to jail around the holidays more than any other time during the year. That's just sick and wrong. Robbing banks and quick marts. Sticking up people for their bags in mall parking lots. Snatching purses and worse still- kidnapping people and driving them from ATM to ATM. That's just plain stupid. And the worst kind of example to set for children. Oh god...we're more than semi-f*^%$d up. I think we're just plain f*&^%d (on that one).

All in the name of keeping up with the Joneses and not being left out. I suggest reading A New Earth. Maybe if more people read that book, we might be able to heal ourselves and get some of this materialistic "ick" off. Don't get me wrong. I like stuff too and am in need of intervention as well. I'm already in the program and each day I'm closer to my cure. Universe...thank you for my healing.

God. I could go on and on about this topic but what I'd really like is a cup of coffee. No sense in beating the preserved, dead horse any longer. The moral of this story is simply this: Don't be a slave to the holidays.

Be Well

The Power of One

2009-11-15T20:06:00.000-08:00

So...I'm in Stein Mart of all places and I run across this wall plaque that has the following quote: "One shoe can change your life..." Cinderella.

I jumped at the chance to buy it. God, truer words were never spoken (even if she is just part of a fairy tale). One shoe really did change her life forever. I suppose if we were to apply the Law of Attraction to this situation we could say that Cinderella drew the Prince into her experience because she really wanted a better life. Sitting amongst the soot and ashes she launched a rocket of desire like no other.

The appearance of her Fairy God Mother gave her the pivotal shift that she needed (from a vibrational standpoint) and it had t0 happen for her. That's the Law at its' finest. And now, for the part that makes you go hmmm… If we were to take this "one" theme and expound on it, I suppose you could say that one of anything could change your life.

I went to see the movie "Precious" over the weekend and one teacher made a huge difference in her life, after having lived with one sorry assed excuse for a mother. That one movie had a profound effect on me. After having watched it, I knew it must join the ranks of movies only to be watched once by me.

The list is a short one but here it is: Beloved, Brokeback Mountain and now Precious. One viewing of these movies is enough for this current lifetime. When I return, maybe, just maybe I will endeavor to watch one of them again.

One shoe...

One experience can also change your life. I was in a car accident once. My vehicle flipped not one but seven times. I was fortunate to have been wearing my seatbelt. Flanking me (while driving) unbeknownst to me were one doctor and one emergency medical technician. Not one bone was broken and I walked away from that accident with one scratch on my left arm.

I learned one big lesson that day. A car is just a car. It doesn't matter the make or model. You are not your car. Your car is not you. You are separate from your car. It's just not that important. So, to all the nay-sayers out there I say the following...Princess Diana died from injuries sustained when her driver lost control of a Mercedes Benz. Her car couldn't save her. No one could. Prioritize while you still can.

One shoe...

Years ago I began working with an Indian woman by the name of Ganga. She invited me to her home, fed me roti and curried mutton with potatoes and fanned a flame deep within my soul. One woman, one small, modest meal…one great big desire. I would go to her home many more times before she and her husband eventually relocated to Washington state- children all grown up with lives of their own.

Little did she know that she was not just offering me a meal that day. But she was offering me the possibility of our world and all that it had the offer if I would but open my heart and mind and embrace what was before me. One woman, one meal. I will forever be indebted to her for her kindness and unwillingness to leave me on the sidelines but to draw me in as a participant. It has made all the difference in my life.

One shoe…

In 2006 a very young and vibrant coworker of mine went home early with a headache and 3 days later she was brain dead. Two days later her parents consented to turn off the respirator. She was gone. The day they broke the news they allowed us to go home early if we felt we needed to. Oh, I needed to alright. I felt my mortality that day and thought to myself - life is much, much too short.

I cried for her and her family; then I cried for myself. Vowing not to waste anymore time, I drove straight to the post office and completed the application for a passport. One life gone and one conclusion derived from all the sorrow: Tomorrow is not promised. Do your thing (whatever it may be) today, right now if need be.

One shoe…

I used to really be in to white guys. Hey- I’m just keeping it real. I wasn’t sure I’d ever find a Brother that would be interested in me- a Brother who would “get” me. Consequently, I was always looking outside my race for that perfect guy. I was always intrigued by the interracial connection. Ooh, let’s all just get along and make this world a better place. Let’s mix and mingle (with a jingling beat).

I was convinced there were no Brothers out there for me. Then…one night I was flipping channels and came across a promo spot for Dhani Tackles the Globe. Oh…my…GOD. I was smitten. In fact, if you scroll to my very first blog you can read about how I was feeling about him and about his show.

Suffice it to say that this one Brother single-handedly brought me back over to the dark side and restored, renewed and refreshed my soul (on so many levels). And if I may quote my sister who pointed out with glee: And he’s a real black man too! All I can say is- I’m so glad I saw him on television when I did.

While I don’t have anything against interracial relationships, it’s just pure joy seeing Brothers with fresh eyes. They truly are the Kings to our Queens. India Arie said it best in Yellow. “Together me and you are purple because we are so royal. And whenever we’re this close, I never want to let go…” One “oh- so” delicious black man. Right now I’m smiling.

And to reiterate… One shoe, one movie, one car accident, one woman, one meal, one death, one “oh-so” delicious black man.

One…

Be Well

Just Waiting...

2009-10-24T16:25:00.000-07:00

Today has been a day of waiting. Nothing too big- just annoying is all. I don’t think I hate waiting as much as having to “depend” on someone else AND wait for them to respond. Wait a minute…is that not what waiting is all about? When we wait we are consciously or unconsciously depending on somebody or thing to do something before we can act or move on with our lives…
Oh hell naw! I thought this was gonna be an easy entry. Now I’ve done it. I’ve embarked on an ocean deep subject purely by accident. WAITING…WAITING…

Geez, when one waits they are not in control. When one waits they are beholding to whom? God, what would you call them? That person or thing that makes you wait. I suppose I would liken it to the person who holds the remote control to a toy. The toy only moves when the “Holder” pushes a button or flips a switch.

So what types of things do we wait for? Buses, spouses to come home from work, kids to get home from school, taxis, paychecks, places to open for business and for our lives to begin. We wait to get that cute outfit before joining the gym (gotta be cute right?).
We wait till the last minute to do our taxes and we wait for somebody to make the first move. We even do the absurd thing of waiting till the end of our meal to eat dessert. The list is endless. I would venture to say ('cause I haven't done any scientific research) that we spend way too much time waiting for shit. I had a friend who used to always say that her Grandmother would always say "Wait? Wait for what?" I like that. And I think I might have liked her Grandmother as well. She definitely had her head screwed on straight, even if it was the 40's.

Yeah I suppose we do have to wait for some things to come full circle but we sometimes play the waiting game when we should otherwise be moving on. Take for instance that boyfriend of yours that you're waiting on to change. You might as well forget it. He ain't gonna. He was like that when you met him. What makes you think he's going to change now? It's been too long and you've tolerated his bullshit too long. You now have a couple of choices and a motivational speaker said it best: "Never complain about what you permit. Do something about it or shutup about it." Those are your choices.

What about waiting for someone to make the first move? This can be so tiring. You know what you ought to do and are seemingly ready to do it but, you hesitate because you'd like someone else to make the first move. This type of waiting is born of fear. Fear of scrutiny and rejection. The former is also born of fear only it's coupled with denial. This is the worst kind of waiting because it involves a diminishing of self in the process.

To wait means to remain inactive in one place while expecting something. Golly. Inactive is a strong word and it also doesn't conjure up any positive images either. And, the mere fact that the definition states that one remains "in one place" is also very telling about the state- that is waiting. It is little wonder after 15 minutes or so of waiting for you, your friend leaves your ass.

It's because the very act of waiting is unnatural in many respects. It suggests a time of stagnation (albeit short lived). But ahh...technology is here to ease our pain. These days people fill up wait time by catching up on email via their "Crack Berries" and by sending endless loops of tweets via Twitterberry, Tweetdeck (and a ton of other applications that complement Twitter).

I suppose your wait time is what your make it. We do have choices these days whereas before we did not. I for one am waiting for the love of my life to be manifested, for my millions to be deposited and for my assistant to phone me with the details of my trip to Europe.

Now...that is something worth waiting for...

Be Well

Just My Thoughts on why Men Cheat...

2009-09-30T19:04:00.000-07:00

So...I'm having this convo with my coworker about why men cheat and I was really trying to be objective too. You know, get inside their heads and really empathize. Steve Harvey said men cheat because they can. Wow, that's simple and profound at the same time. They cheat, because they can. Let that sink in for a minute. Because as simple as that statement is, it is worth a thousand words worth of comments.

I think I've come to a conclusion that men cheat because it's "just sex" to them. Cheating because they can implies that they do the shit on purpose, with malice if you will. I don't honestly believe they do it for that reason. It's just sex. Not only is it "just sex" to them but it's free, easy, no strings attached sex. Which makes it infinitely more appealing- I'm sure.

But alas... under all those layers of adjectives lies the truth of the matter...they cheat because some mother's daughter is always willing to offer up the free, easy, no strings attached goods. They don't just cheat because they can. They cheat because we let them. They cheat because we don't respect each other enough to leave that "taken, spoken for" man alone.

Alright! Alright! I hear you...sometimes they lie and you don't know they're married or dating exclusively. I get that (and that is a whole other blog topic). I'm speaking about the ones we know- beyond a shadow of a doubt are taken. You know, the ones that have on a ring and junk. You know...pictures of the same woman on their desks and in their cubes. You'd better act like you know- 'cause you do! Okay so the foundation has been erected (no pun intended).

And away we go...

I can just hear the conversation now..."Giiiirrrrrrrrrrl I just got to give him some! I don't care if he is married. He is fine!!" What she don't know, won't hurt her..." Hmpf!

Now see? That's just sick and wrong. And there you go falling all over yourself 'cause he's so fine that when you see him coming- you die and reincarnate as Jed Clampett from the Beverly Hillbillies: "Weeeeeeeeeeellllll Doggie!" or better yet EllieMae, "Paw? Can I keep this critter???"

Let's just get it out on the table shall we? It's much , much easier to cheat (excuse me- cause to cheat) with an attractive man. For some odd reason we get it twisted as if his being fine is a more reasonable excuse for violating the laws of matrimony, common law marriage and/or committed relationship ties (take your pick). Yes, he is fine- I'll give you that- but it's still wrong girl!

Would you want some other feline purring around YOUR man??? If not, I suggest you retract your claws and scratch on your own post at home. Nuff said? Awesome- you are a smart cookie, worthy of some sort of award (how about your OWN man insted of somebody else's?).

So, getting back to the "just sex" part- 'cause I got side tracked. He's just wandering along, at work, at the grocery store(where ever) then suddenly he finds himself in the web of a tiny orb weaving spider. Thought I was gonna say BLACK WIDOW SPIDER didn't you? Right! She would be waaaaay too easy to spot. Thusly, he would stay away from her because he might get caught.

No, it's those quiet, well meaning "orb weaving" heffas that dole out the free, easy, no strings attached sex. His "friend" at the office that he eats the lunch you made for him with. She had it in for him from day one. And when he does get involved with her, he's dumb enough to think she feels exactly as he does (This is "just sex" you and I are having. Nothing more).

God... this is starting to sound like a freakin' comedy... a body could drown in all his naivete' or lack of planning skills. Guys are very linear in their thinking and they compartmentalize things well. His wife/girlfriend/partner/family is in one compartment and the Orb Weaver is in another and never the two shall meet. He's just having sex with her as a courtesy and...AND because she made it super simple and easy for him (G. Garvin reference).

The thought of his significant other EVER finding out, let alone being upset regarding his infidelity does not cross his mind. Hence, he is genuinely shocked when she does find out and is equaly dumbfounded when she declares : I'm leaving your ass for cheatin' on me!"

And away we go...

Ahh... I can just hear the convo now: "Baby, it was just sex. She doesn't mean anything to me. It was just sex. Please believe me. I love YOU!!!" Poor, unfortunate soul...

Men (in my opinion) really do think of the act of having sex outside of a relationship as being separate and apart from their otherwise committed relationship. However, this only applies when they are the ones doing the cheatin'. This little exception clause is a luxury not afforded women. The Glass Ceiling raises its ugly hand in the room-yet again.

What they fail to realize is that we connect the act and the feeling together so when we are cheated on- we feel betrayed and when we are cheated with- we feel entitled. So not only is he losing the woman he really loves, he's gaining the Orb Weaver (and he doesn't really want you Orbie- he just wants to take advantage of all that "free love" you're dishing up). He never intended for things to end up this way. From his vantage point this shit is a disaster!

Just keep saying...it's only a movie, it's only a movie. Click your heels 3x and you'll be home Dorothy. Maybe that will help. Golly, he almost appears innocent in a warped, twisted kind of way. Afterall...he is fine. Right? There is nothing new under the sun and this scenario is cyclical in nature. That's the baffling part. You would think they would talk each other out of doing this shit over and over again. If the lesson is not learned you are doomed to repeat them mistake. See below:

Man is in a committed relationship and homelife is good, man gets a new coworker, man starts talking more to coworker, coworker begins weaving in an orb-like fashion while simultaneously showcasing free, easy, no strings attached sex, man is enamored and, not looking both ways when crossing eats of the forbidden fruit. Everything goes well for a time, THEN the Orb Weaver begins to look and ask for more. More (That's the entitlement reaction I mentioned earlier). Orbie wants more and the man is not prepared to give more because - THAT WAS NEVER HIS INTENT. His expressed intention was to just have sex. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was not his intent to hurt his wife or significant other (they're in a different compartment remember?). Again, from his vantage point: "How in the hell did this shit happen???" My guess would be that he really is sorry that he cheated (with this girl) and he really is sorry that his significant other found out. In short, he's really sorry that he got caught because it was just sex. It didn't mean anything to him. He was merely "relieving" himself of some mild sexual buildup. Kind of like going to the bathroom- is all.

So in his mind all this fuss about cheating does not compute. What's the big deal afterall? To reiterate:
He committed this heinous act because of the following:

1. Because he can (Per Steve Harvey)

2. Because we let him (Me)

3. Because it's just sex (Me)

Might I suggest that if there were no number 2 we wouldn't have to worry about 1 and 3? Hmmm...you do realize where I'm going with this right? RIGHT. If we as women would band together to eliminate No. 2 there would be no need to discuss this topic ever again.

You have powers beyond measure. Use them.

Be Well

Whacky yet candid thoughts...

2009-09-20T17:22:00.000-07:00

OK...so about 3 hours ago I swore (on Twitter) that I was gonna blog because I'm practicing becoming a writer as that's what I want to be when I finally grow up. However, it has taken an additional hour for all the dust to settle in order for me to do so.

Whew! I'm so glad to finally be at my desk hammering away at said keys- off loading my chest (as it were). Albeit there is a lot to be offloaded where that is concerned (to know me is to love me- ALL of me figuratively). Gawd! I love being me... (ting!)

OK...back to blogging. The Verve Remixed version of the song "Manteca" by Dizzy Gillespie just ended and I am currently listening to the remix of "Sinnerman" by Nina Simone. All I can say is O-M-G!!!!!!! So freakin' awesome. It's like being drawn into a vortex. The repetitive loop of her keyboard hook and her powerful, haunting question "Oh, Sinnerman? Where you runnin' to?" with that techno, house beat behind it is "trance"-forming. Yep, it's that kind of night for me.

I need this so desperately. To be drawn into another world of my own choosing. To just be free to let the music take me where ever it pleases. I imagine myself in a ruffly Senorita dress (all satin and lace) with a rose clenched between my teeth, smoky, alluring eyes...I slowly but pointedly walk over to him and say "Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets!! You're no exception to the rule! I'm irresistable you fool- give in..." Wait...that's song #3.

Today was a strange disjointed kind of day. I didn't have anything planned and that wasn't a good thing to do. A body should plan to do at least one thing each day (even if it's to do nothing). Even doing "nothing" takes planning- in the sense that you actually "speak" your aspiration to do nothing into being. When you say I'm am not going to do anything today except lay around and waste time- at least you have a goal in mind. But to spend an entire day wandering around the house is kinda pathetic.

Wait, I did plan to sleep in today but didn't do it. Now I really feel like a loser. Oh well. It is what it is. Is it not? Ha! What the hell. Happens to the very best of us so I won't sweat it. It's 8:45pm and I have nothing left to do except talk to you and listen to music. Oh, I have been contemplating locing my hair. What do you think? I know, I know- think long and hard about it. I was told that about braids. Come to think of it, I was once told that I'm not a "braid" person but I had to prove them wrong on that one too. What's a woman with braids look like anyHOO??? Freakin' stereotypes is all that is.

Amazing is all I can say. We are so quick to slap labels on others, then drop them in "our" carefully labeled boxes. Eckhart Tolle was right. The minute we put a label on something, we think (and falsely believe) that we know what that thing is. The danger in that is when we label something and falsely believe we know what the thing is, we cease trying to understand or learn anything new from the said thing.

We arrogantly believe that there is nothing more to be gained from something we have already defined. How sad that is. How limiting and stifling that is. So I already know there will be a steady stream of peeps equally surprised, shocked and bewildered when I make that leap from the safe haven of societal hair acceptance into my own loving arms of self acceptance. There will be no explaining it to the nay sayers UH-Gin (again). Felt a translation was in order there.

I have a poem glued to the back cover of my vision book that goes like this:

The time will come

when, with elation,

you will greet yourself arriving

at you own door, in your own mirror,

and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel you own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on you life.

God almighty...I pray in earnest that I have the courage and strength (the backbone) to greet myself at my own door and become the woman that I am on the inside (writer, cheerleader, raw foodie, world traveler, visionary, motivational speaker, artist, encourager, philanthropist, dream home owner, Mini Cooper driver, pianist, guitarist crafter and lover of lap cats and books).

What I am learning, as I look at my life, is that my life- me goes on. It is continuing to happen with or without my expressed participation. To not participate is to waste valuable time. To not greet myself at my own door, leaving me hanging and desperate is rude and inconsiderate. I wouldn't do that to someone else so why, why do I do it to myself?

More importantly, why do you do it to yourself? We're knocking at our own doors. And WE aren't letting US in. Interesting concept huh? I know right??? Geez... I will open my door to myself, invite me in, and offer myself a large serving of "Fried Neckbones and Some Home Fries"- that's cut #10 by Willie Bobo. It's folkin' infectious!! It has a Latin beat to it with a solo trumpet to die for. Sorry- it was getting heavy and I think you get my meaning (dead horse to be beaten at a later date). Smile. Be happy my dear- it's your time.

This was a good musical choice to blog to. Verve does a lot of remixes and their website is worth checking out. They have quite a few cutting edge things to offer. You can find good stuff outside of iTunes (contrary to popular belief). Okay my music is winding down and I my TweetDeck is chirping. I am ending my blog session with a funky, time warpy remix of "Mama" by Hugh Masakela. Ba-Pa- Baba- Daaaaaaaaaaaah!! (that's how the horns sound).

Be Well

A Quick Jaunt to NC...

2009-09-18T18:54:00.000-07:00

If you read the blog regarding surgery you will know that my mom had hip replacement surgery just a few short weeks ago. I am happy to report that she is doing Grrrrrrrrr-eat (as Tony the Tiger used to say). Her doctor gave her a “get-out-of-jail” card today and we checked her out of In Patient rehab for the day.

She was so happy to be home. She stretched herself across her bed and simply soaked it all in. I believe luxuriate would be a good way to describe what she did. Mom will be fully discharged in 2 days and we are all grateful for her progress and tenacity to get well. I wasn’t aware that Mom would be discharged while I was home but am so glad that I can be here for her. It’s what you call “bad” perfect timing.

It’s bad because I currently have a negative 12 hour leave balance and it also happens to be very busy at work and it’s perfect because I am home and can be here for her. God…I have to ask for another day off. You know what? It is what it is. I can’t avoid it so I’m not even going to try. The truth stands alone just like the cheese. I will call my boss tomorrow. I have in my favor that I told her boss that my Mom had surgery and that I would be traveling to NC. I think he’ll remember. He’s a good egg- as they say.

Mom’s “get-out-of jail” card has expired for the day and so my brother has taken her back to the facility. Until tomorrow… We will pick her up before lunch just after her morning therapy session. The house is quiet now. My brother is off to visit friends and I am left to my own devices. I am having a cold Michelob Ultra (not my usual choice of beer- but it serves the purpose) and am about to watch the pilot episode of “The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency”. I can hardly wait. I read the book and really enjoyed it (I recommend it) I’m told that season one was soooooo good (even India Arie said she loved it) so, I plan to savor every scene.

All in all it has been a good day and the end will be just as good. I want for nothing as I sit here upon this bed, in these familiar surroundings. The porcelain dolls, the green letter holder, the whir of the ceiling fan. All of things make up home and serve as an endless supply of inspiration and comfort.

My quick jaunt to NC is turning out to be a mini vacation of sorts. “Head clearing” comes to mind. My own little oasis- right here at home. Life is good.

I’m digging in for a large slice of “The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency”. Get your copy on DVD or better yet- read the book. No wait…do BOTH (cause my girl Jill Scott is the lead character- and we need to support a sister).
Be Well

My Image is in a Strange Frenchman's Camera (and other things that happpened today)

2009-09-18T18:50:00.000-07:00

It’s 12:37 pm and all is well with me in the world. I have just returned from picking up takeout from what is fast becoming my favorite restaurant in the area. I am feasting on Ginger glazed carrots, Spicy Brocolini, Saffron rice and Grilled Asparagus. I am in veggie heaven right now. Aside from the fact that it is delicious it is also nutritious.
While I was waiting for my food, I noticed a group of 4 people sitting at the bar- three men and one woman. They looked a little disheveled and I couldn’t help noticing that the two men on the end were both staring at me. They smiled when I placed my order. My first thought was that they were judging me-maybe trying to figure out what I was doing there. It wasn’t until I noticed the taller of the two get up and take a picture of me that I realized they were tourists from France. I gathered this bit of information listening to them converse back and forth. Of course, the fact that a picture was taken got my attention as well.

How bizarre. My image is on the hard drive of the camera of a strange, disheveled Frenchman. I’m not quite sure I know how to take that. It’s not really anything I can control is it? I suppose it’s no different than paparazzi taking pictures of celebrities. We just expect it to happen to them- not to “us”. After all, why would a complete stranger want to take a picture of “us”? When I say “us” I mean the rest of all of “us” – minus the celebrities. We are all in the same boat on this one.

Now I am thinking about all those pictures I have of Dhani Jones in my cube at work. I have 4 pictures of Dhani Jones hanging in strategic locations (I might add) in my cube. I wonder how that would make him feel. It would probably weird him out. He must feel like a piece of meat when he reads all those comments that women leave him on his website and Twitter (Dhani- if you’re reading- please follow me- puh-leeeeeeeeeez!). Okay, I’m back. Where was I?

Yeah- the whole stranger taking pictures of you syndrome is kind of unnerving. So… that’s what it feels like to be a celebrity. You walk around in a daze and nutso-crazo people follow your every move, take photographs of you and get paid lots of money for it. Hmmm…my experience wasn’t quite like that but you get the picture. No pun intended…(god- I crack me up).
My coworker says it’s illegal to take photos of people in public places and then my mom said he may use your head on another person’s body (oh that made me feel really good). But then, I thought about my pose at the time the photograph was taken. He would be hard pressed to use that head on anybody else’s body but mine.

I prefer to think of him as a famous photographer from France, here on holiday that can’t stop himself from taking pictures of fabulous, gorgeous, American women (who just happen to walk into restaurants and order lunch at the precise moment he can no longer contain himself).

A girl can only hope. In any case, if you see a photograph of an unbelievably beautiful woman (with her chin cupped in her hand, looking up at a TV, in a restaurant setting- holla back- cause it’s your giiiiiiirl!

Be Well

My Mom's Surgery...

2009-09-07T16:44:00.000-07:00

On August 25th my Mom had hip replacement surgery. It was a pleasant (if you can say that about surgery) experience. I arrived the day before. Both my brother and one of my sisters were already at her house. Mom seemed to be in good spirits but I could tell that she was out of sorts. Her hair needed to be redone so, in an effort to cheer her up and lift her spirits I offered to do it for her. Doing her hair always made her feel better but I could tell that she was still feeling out of sorts.

I worked as fast as I could and we were able to get a full head weave done in about 3 hours (counting taking out the old weave, washing her hair and weaving the new stuff). She was happy about the way it turned out but needed to go to bed (considering the circumstances). It was 11:30 or so before she finally laid her head down.

She was the first one up on the day of the surgery. I would say it was about 5:15am when she awoke. She woke me up at 5:30 and I managed to drag myself from the bed at 5:45. She was due to arrive at the hospital at 6:30am and since the hospital was close there was no need to rush. She managed to get a few minutes of her favorite soap opera in (The Bold and the Beautiful) before we left(she records them via DVR). Funny how something so small could be so comforting at a time like that. I watched with her- not wanting to miss a moment with her. Just wanted her to be okay.

Once she was prepped for surgery they allowed us all to come back. I, my brother Tony and my sister Pamela sat with her in a small room where we laughed and talked about universal healthcare and a myriad of other topics. We also didn’t pass up an opportunity to discuss our President. He is and always will be a source of great pride and joy-particularly for my Mom.

When they came to take her back to the OR waiting room it was decided that I should go back with her as they could only take one person back there. It was good to make her laugh before the surgery and Bernadette (her pre-op nurse) was great- what a wonderful bed side manner she had. So aside from the IV, mom received something called a “Symphony”. Since she was having hip replacement surgery she would need some of her own blood to coax the little cells around the new hip to grow and rejuvenate. They took blood for that.

The Anesthesiologist explained that they would be doing a spinal block on her as a standard procedure. She would also have a few electrode patches on her hip to counteract pain. We discussed briefly how this “little” electrode machine probably cost the insurance company a small fortune but she was covered for it so we didn’t question it or worry about it. Yet another reason why we need universal healthcare so that all people can be covered. We used the hospital’s new surgical tracking system to follow Mom through surgery to the recovery room. Cape Fear Medical Center (formerly known as Café Fear Valley Hospital) has come a very long way indeed. In any case the new tracking system helped to cut down on a lot of worry and questions.

People sent texts as I sat in the waiting room- waiting for my sweetie to get her new hip. As time went on I began to fiend for coffee and soon made my way down to the Starbucks kiosk for some brew ski. A grande soy latte and a pack of fig newtons would have to suffice until lunch. My brother and my sister forsook the waiting room in search of something more substantial to eat. I returned planning to meet them later once #5307 changed to PACU IN or PHASE I (ORANGE).
In the new color code system that meant she would be in recovery and I could rest a little easier.

The waiting room television was showing the local news. “Mr. Food”- on Channel 11 was giving us a recipe for Doubly Chocolate cookies. The thought of “God, we eat sooooooo unhealthily in our society. Our self indulgent ways are gonna do us in“ crossed my mind. I was getting sleepy and would have loved to eat one of those cookies right then (truth be told). Go figure.

It wasn’t long before I was summoned by a nurse. Mama was doing fine and she was surprisingly alert having just come out of major surgery. No pain but I was convinced she would be hungry. I had a chance to speak with her and as she smiled at me she said I'll see you upstairs. Mom in able hands, post surgery, I headed off to the cafeteria to find my sister and brother to give them the good news: Mama is a-okay and on the way to her room. I was able to eat then. I settled in for a lunch of broccoli and rice with a vitamin water. It was good and I was in good company with my brother and sister.

We sat outside to soak up the sun and breeze after lunch before returning inside. It was early still and Mama had not yet made it to her room. My siblings stayed outside for a smoke and I opted to head for the 7th floor to meet Mom on the way to her room. When she finally did arrive she was in good spirits and wide awake.

She was hungry as I supposed and since her food was on the way, I gave her the piece of fruit that was in my purse. She looked great and said she was relieved to finally be done with the surgery. My Mother is one of the bravest women I know.

She faced down her fears at the tender age of 69 and got her hip replaced. She had both knees replaced 4 years earlier. She meets her challenges head on but she has one of the softest hearts I know of. She is my rock and the crown jewel of our family. She is Mama. And I love her with all my heart. May she live to out last her new hip.

Be Well

A Dream Deferred...

2009-09-04T21:35:00.000-07:00

Langston Hughes said it best when he asked what happens to a dream deferred. What does happen when a dream is deferred? Onelook.com defines “deferred” in the following manner: “To submit or yield to another’s wish or opinion. To hold back to a later time. Hmmm…despite its bleakness there is some hope in being deferred. You’re just being put off until sometime later. Your ship will come in afterall, it just might take you a wee bit longer to take that cruise. God…MY ship will come in. My dream is only deferred, placed on hold by some divine intervention. Maybe placed on hold by my own intervention.

I am the master of my universe so says the teachers of the Secret and The Law of Attraction. I can have, do or be anything that I want. I just need to speak it up and out to the Universe. Because I believe this is true, I will speak my deferred dream up and out into the Universe. I will declare that it will be so and I will move forward and live my life as if it were so. I’ll have my cake and eat it too. Hell, I’ll bake my own cake. What sense is there in waiting around for someone else to do it for me? I will have Zen moments enough to tame to most savage of beasts. I will be happy and healthy and rich. I will have my house, my car and my bling (and my timeshare).

My dream is no longer deferred. It is happening right now. I want it so bad I can taste it. It is my goal to want it even more. I will turn up the intensity and be more focused. I am feeling free to want what I want how and when I want it! Damn everybody who tries to stop me. Why are people trying to stop me? It’s as if they think I don’t deserve it or shouldn’t have what they have or that my ideas are way too lofty; that I just need to get my head out of the clouds. They are nay-sayers and they don’t even realize it. Forgive the Father for they know not what they do. As stated by the first definition, deferred can also mean to submit or yield to another’s wishes or opinions.

To that definition I say hell to the naw! At least not lately. No one seems to have my expressed best interest at heart so why should I yield to them? Right. That shit just doesn’t make any sense when you look at it like that. When it comes to your future- you are the only one truly vested in it. All the other people should be considered as incidentals. Sure, some help more than others but ultimately it’s your life and your decision.

OMG…I think I might be unhappy right….now…for just this tiny space of time. I feel a great loss. I feel angry and I want to scream until my throat hurts regarding my dream. No one will take it from me. I will self actualize and be everything that my heart desires that I be.
I will drink my wine at my leisure and my assistant will make travel arrangements for me. I will dine on fine vegetarian cuisine at the best restaurants and my driver will take me there. I will never have to take a cab or depend on the subway. I will explore exotic places and my nuclear family will want for nothing. My brother won’t have to work and my sisters won’t have to work and my mother can enjoy a full retirement. My dream is not just for me but for my family too. I want for them what I want for myself. Financial freedom and stability. I want to be rich.

Golly, I just had an epiphany… I must re-read “The Science of Getting Rich” by Wallace Wattles. If you have not read this book I suggest you do. In it he states the following: “There is a thinking stuff from which all things are made, and which, in its original state, permeates, penetrates, and fills the interspaces of the universe. A thought, in this substance, produces the thing that is imaged by the thought. Man can form things in his thoughts and by impressing this thought upon formless substance, can cause the thing he thinks about to be created.”

Thoughts become things. Man becomes what he thinks about. I want to be rich therefore I think about being rich. I think about my dreams and aspirations. My dream is no longer deferred. It is alive and in living color. I will reach for it because it is my own.
Be Well

Thoughts on being a woman...

2009-08-16T19:38:00.000-07:00

Being a woman means that at times one willingly (if not begrudgingly) takes the back seat. The ability to do this comes in handy once she gets married and when she has children. Those two acts single-handedly, with one blow, effectively end her time in anybody’s “front” seat.
Maybe I’m a little biased because I’m not married but, I’ve seen enough evidence just lying around to know that this is true. It is what it is. Now, they (the misguided) may call it something different and refer to this high jacked time of exile as a complete joy but I’m not exactly convinced that they’re telling the truth. I mean really. Who would welcome, and be a party to their own personal demise (on a psychological level)? That’s just plain crazy! God, I do want to have a husband some day but to really think what I would be giving up gives me pause for thought.
No more coming home and savoring those hours after work. They would be filled with cooking dinner for possible ingrates, washing untold mountains of dishes and picking up after little insolents who constantly talk back and refuse to do their homework or clean their rooms because it’s just too hard or they otherwise have better things to do with their time.
As the silent partner to all this madness the woman usually ends up picking up the slack and accepting the shortest end of the stick possible. What does she get in return for all her hard work and toil? Mother’s Day. Yep, I said it. Mother’s Day. Excuse me but WTF??? She gets a day in exchange for her privacy, quiet time, mental health, personal appearance and self esteem? I’m no math whiz but something’s not adding up here.
Okay, so- again I may be being just a little harsh as I am not a wife nor am I a mother. It just doesn’t seem fair to the woman. It’s little wonder that we “come into our own” in our 40’s. That’s the time that the nest gets emptied out and we can take up where we left off. Suffice it to say that’s when our men decide to come home as it were and roost and we’re just getting started. Can you say younger man??? Ta Da!
Being a woman these days means you have to be ready for almost anything and that includes an empty nest, a new career and a sleepy, boring husband. What choice does the woman have? All our lives we’re told to fix ourselves up and “the same thing it took to get him is what will keep him” and a whole lot of other dumb assed shit. We keep drinking that saaaame Kool-Aid. Might I ask at what point the man kicks in to do anything?? May I be so coy as to inquire what in the hell does he do to keep us? Nothing. Being a woman means we pick up the slack on that one too. Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?
I feel like picketing somewhere but who would listen? Even with all the technological advances we’ve made the “role” of the woman (or shall I say the lot) is basically the same. It has managed to morph itself into a kinder, gentler role; but scrape down to the bone of it and you will find the same old sinister stereotype.
When we try to change we are labeled as being selfish or strange. We are judged for wanting what we want and not what is unknowingly shoved down our throats- the real deal behind door number three is not what it is portrayed to be. Wifedom and Motherhood. You might as well say WTF and Motherf*&^%r. It’s really the same thing in many respects.
Your husband that you waited sooo long for, leaves his underwear on the floor and won’t take out the trash in time for trash day. And you say (under your breath and to yourself) WTF???? Your child is constantly whining about something, won’t go to sleep at a decent time of night, always needs SOMETHING and won’t let you have a moments peace- not even to use the bathroom or take a shower (meanwhile your husband is asleep on his easy chair). And you saaaaaaaay (under your breath and to yourself of course) Mother f*&^%r. Do you see where I’m going with this? As a woman- in those situations you’re damned if you do. Now, if you don’t then you end up lonely making up excuses for why you’re not with someone or worse yet dating on the internet. Hit or miss at best.
I’m not really against marriage and motherhood I just believe the playing field should be leveled just a bit to compensate for all the impending losses on the woman’s part. Practically speaking she begins her “journey” to wifedom by firstly giving up her name. Now, let’s pause here for just a moment. She has to give up her name. This name has served to define her, has framed her if you will for the entirety of her life. She is now asked to give it up, forsake it for another. Just like that. She goes into a sort of witness protection program. She will never be that maiden again. The funny thing is everybody is in on it. No one protests the demise of the maiden. She is thrown to the trash heap.
If you ask me, that is where the trouble begins. With the stroke of a pen and the press of a notary republic’s seal she “seals” the fate of her identity and autonomy for at minimum 18-20 years. Go figure. Who knew? OMG! Why me? Can I phone a friend? You feel me?
Be Well

Keeping up my momentum...

2009-07-09T18:05:00.000-07:00

So I'm back from the Outer Banks and all is well. I'm patting myself on the back for a long weekend well done. This is a time of discovery for me. I am branching out in all sorts of ways so why should the Monday after the break be any different?

It was Monday and I was at work and I didn't want to be there. Let's face it. No one wants to be at work the Monday following a holiday. It's sort of a collective rebellion, a kinship that all workers share. We could think of 256 other places we'd rather be than work. In fact, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone that was actually mentally prepared to come in on 7/6/09.

AnyHOO...my boss and I had been planning to find a yoga class and drop into it and fate would have it that we would end up going on Monday...the 6th (Uh... mini shout out for my spiritual birthday. I was baptized in a big, blue plastic tub on 7/6 all of 12 years ago in 1997. But that's another story).

Okay, so I have been to yoga classes before and even have a subscription to Yoga Journal. I have my own yoga mat and carrier and have read books on the subject. I truly believe the art and practice of yoga is super beneficial. I even have a pair of yoga socks (bless my leetle heart). So one would think that I know a little bit about the subject- a very little bit.

Hmm...did you know that "knowing" is relative? A casual aquaintance if you will. A fleeting recognition. These may all be classified as "knowing" in some small nebulous way. That is all well and good when you're having small talk at a cocktail party. (Nobody ever really tells the truth at those). But now's the time to turn the said knife into the said back, a veritable "Put your money where your mouth is" kind of thing.

Enter Bikram Yoga taught by Dan Ambrogi in Alexandria - Can you say Kick Ass/Whip Ass 5 times - really, really fast??

If you've never endeavored to take a Bikram Yoga class I would highly recommend it. I must first tell you that being a part of this class was probably the most challenging thing I have done in a substantially long time. After having just one class under my belt I can see how some get hooked on it and why others give up on it. It is not a practice for the weary or faint of heart.

First off the temperature in the studio is 105 degrees. Yes, that's what I said,105 degrees and you do multiple sets of the same 26 poses. No Downward Facing Dog in this class (thankfully)There are no true beginner's classes- one works at his/her own pace. Did I mention Kick Ass/Whip Ass? The class is 90 minutes strong and you sweat like a pig. Wait...do pigs sweat?

I wonder who started the whole sweating like a pig saying. At any rate you sweat, a lot. Suffice it to say if you have a pore it will pour (pun intended). The instructor was tough, attentive and loving. I'm reading the book written by Bikram Choudhury and it's little wonder my instructor was so tough that first class. He gets his chutzpah straight from the creator of the practice.

Not only was he tough but he had a New England accent. Not to mention his Speedo that he taught in. Did I mention the 105 degree temperature in the studio? Okay so now you understand the Speedo. It looked quite normal and the instructor was so completely and utterly comfortable with his body that one didn't mind being bossed around by a short, attitudie, hairy bodied guy with a New England accent. I stuck it out for an hour but found my mind beginning to get the best of me and so I bailed on the last 30 minutes of the session. When I tried to return to the class I was met with resistance from the instructor. My body temperature was too cool. The instructor was paying attention and I have to say that I like that.

So, I just sat outside in the waiting area thinking of how challengingly awesome it all was (and how proud I was of myself for sticking it out so long). My instructor told me that I was pushing myself too hard and that's why I crashed and burned. He suggested that I only do one set of the poses; that way I can make it through the entire class. He's attentive and I like that.

In fact, I like it so much that I plan to go back for more yoga, heat torture on Saturday morning at 8 am. Dan Ambrogi will be teaching (I called and checked). It wouldn't be much fun without him. Plus, I need a motivator to get me going and he is definitely a motivator. His love is tough and he knows his stuff! I'm looking forward to the class.

Be Well,

Breakfast at The Jolly Roger...

2009-07-07T19:04:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I am back on the beach. It’s 4:45pm and the beach is full of whales. And some smaller fish. The waves are still as beautiful as ever but this time their sound is just a tiny bit drowned out by the sounds of India Arie. I am alone now. Sans OBX friend; it’s just you and me and India.

I bought a small bottle of cabernet sauvignon and have happily poured it into my “African” themed cup (that I bought from Starbucks- remember?). What can I say? The cup is down right versatile! It holds green tea AND wine.

Insert sip of wine here -> (Sip)

So to bring you up to speed... we got up and decided to go have the free breakfast this morning as opposed to tomorrow morning. God…this breeze feels incredible. I'm listening to “Same Grains” by India and it all seems to just fit. AnyHOO…we decided to go for the free breakfast but were unaware of the visual surprise that awaited us. Uhhh... the décor was unlike anything I've seen in an eating establishment ever. It was akin to something taken (kicking and screaming) out of your trippiest dream. There was a 20-25 minute wait to get a table so I resolved myself that it was either the ONLY place to get breakfast or the food was REALLY good.

Our “free” pass gave us the following choices: 2 eggs any style, hash browns or grits along with bacon and toast OR pancakes/waffles and bacon OR fresh fruit, etc. From all accounts this place appeared to be serving up a good ole’ fashioned country breakfast. The only thing missing was the country ham. I’m assuming they sold ham but it was not on the free card so we didn’t get any.

We entered the eatery and I kid you not it was decked out in the absolutely worst décor I have ever seen IN a restaurant. No wait... ON an restaurant. The name of the place was The Jolly Roger. It had (among other things) a Pirate/Year ‘round Christmas theme. Horror of horrors!!

There were waiters and waitresses dressed up in campy pirate outfits- Arrrrrgghh! In the front waiting area there was aluminum foil taped to the ceiling with hundreds of multicolored Christmas ornaments hanging from it (this motif carried over into the dining area). The life size Pirate in the waiting area looked like he was on his last leg (and that he could use a stiff shot of Capt. Morgan’s). His eyes were as blue as the sea though..

The captain from the Gorton’s fish box was there too along with one of those money stealing stuffed animal machines. You know the ones that take your four quarters but can't manage to retrieve a stuffed animal because they're too packed in there? Oh yeah, there was wood paneling and mirrors (no doubt to make this tiny hole in the wall appear larger).

I gave my name for our table and we sat down and waited to be called. As previously stated, the psycho Christmas-Pirate theme continued into the dining area. It was a hot mess. I suppose that is to be expected in a beach town. But, beach town or no some things just should not be allowed. Santa, Mrs. Claus and Pirates should not be mixed. The little old lady in the first free credit report .com commercial is about as close as it should get. That far and no further.

Cut to our hostess. Bless her heart. Should I tell you the truth or let sleeping dawgs lay? She did compliment me on my dress. So, out of respect I shall spare her. I will pardon her transgressions. Afterall, she was merely a pon in this twisted Christmas-pirate game. Plus she was much older and by all accounts would be considered an elder. Yikes!!

Cut to our waiter. Now that was a real oddity as he was from Pittsburgh. You’re now thinking what I was thinking. What is a guy from Pittsburgh doing working (mind you) and not vacationing down here in on the Outer Banks??? He could have easily fit into a corporate setting somewhere in DC or VA. Oh, he wasn’t wearing that crazy pirate garb. He looked quite normal. Kind of cute actually and I’m not just saying that cause he was cute. I think the word I’m looking for is normal in the crazy mixed up world that is “The Jolly Roger”. Hmm...I suppose he could be called "abnormal" there.

Now, cut to the food. It finally came and we were spared from reading the complete history of bee caps whichwas printed on our paper placemats. There were even pamphlets on the table extolling the wonders of Bee Caps. What the hell is a bee cap? They were also selling proba something or another. Don’t the Drones secrete this from their salivary glands?? Maybe I'm thinking about Royal Jelly. Double yuck. Count me completely out on that delicacy. I don’t care what or how much it cures. In my humble opinion, that Proba stuff ranks right up there with Bird’s Nest Soup. I would prefer to eat the animal rather than something the animal literally spit out. Triple yuck. That’s just nasty. Alas, I digress… back to the meal.

It finally came and when it arrived I was pleasantly surprised. It was hefty and good. It still did not qualify as a “country” breakfast but it was close enough. The bread was a little different (fronting as toast) but soon assumed its role once I added the marmalade. The hash browns were actually home fries and the bacon- well it was bacon. All in all I would say it was worth the wait considering the circumstances. I believe the situation to be a combination of what I originally said. It’s pretty good food and it’s the only place to get a hearty breakfast. Uh…we did get our breakfast for free but the final cost was a whopping $11.57 or something very close to that figure. Suffice it so say that our hearty, hefty, semi-country breakfasts were less than $12.00 bucks combined. That’s the southern style for you. Even though it’s a beach town there are still pockets of southern charm and hospitality, no matter the gawdiness. I’ll post a picture (on Twitter) of the infamous ceiling of the Jolly Roger Restaurant when I have a chance. In this case a picture truly would be worth a thousand words and seeing is believing and whatever other famous saying regarding visuals comes to mind.

Oh yeah, the coffee was fairly decent and there was literally a basket of assorted creamers and half and half pods. I kid you not. The Jolly Rancher- no wait. That’s a candy. The Jolly Roger did not skrimp (is that a word?) on the creamer!!! We were not wanting for cream. Nor were we wanting for jams, jellies or marmalade. The salt and pepper shakers were replicas of Corona Bottles and they were full as well. So as the story goes, we were not wanting for S&P. As we were leaving the Jolly Roger, I turned to take a photograph of the Jolly Roger (I’m assuming that the weary Pirate in the front waiting room would be him). Arrrrrrrrrgh!! I’ll share that picture on Twitter as well. More to come on my adventures here. Can you say exciting????

Be Well

2009-07-04T12:01:00.000-07:00

Thoughts regarding the 4th thus far…

Okay so this 4th of July weekend was supposed to be boring for me. Namely because all my friends were doing other things so, I was to be left alone to my own devices. Not that this is something I’m not used to, it’s just that I was especially feeling like company but none was to be had. My cousin was having a cookout but she lives so far away I wouldn’t (shouldn’t) want to be driving after drinking and shit- talking (which is primarily what we do when we get together). We also talk about being present and the like but a cookout is really no place for the latter. So the cookout was an option- just not a viable one for how I was feeling.

So, here’s how it all started. I went for a reflexology session (Stay with me. It will all tie together eventually) on Monday the 29th. And, it was great. I always have a good time when I’m there. Well, on the way home I started pausing and reflecting, as one tends to do after a Mother-Sister session with Dayeena. I thought to myself that I should treat myself. I should go to a Spa or something. God! Why hadn’t I done it sooner? I am rich after all and can afford it. So…I made up my mind and started calling my friends. One was heading to Florida, one to New York and the other to the Outer Banks. Right. I forgot. They all had things to do. Left to my own devices. Hmmm what to do?

My coworker was open to hanging so I started surfing the web for a spa. I found a really great place called McLean Facial and Day Spa. Ta-da! Suddenly I had plans. I would do the spa thingy and clean both my room and my bathroom. Life was good again. Okay- so the reflexology was Monday. Cut to Wednesday, I’m bowling with the Summer Sizzlers (my team is called the Bowl-ivians) and the Outer Banks friend calls and asks if I can fill in for someone who can’t make it. Dude! I leapt at the chance to go.

Hmmm… suddenly I had more plans. Uhh… that just cut out the room and bathroom piece altogether. So, I started doing laundry and packing my bags. I was going to the Outer Banks for the first time (and on a dime). My New York friend was a little peeved at me for not going with her but I did that last year and had long decided that I didn’t want to go this year.

So, I got up on what was Friday morning and met my coworker-girlfriend at the spa. GAWD. It was utterly wonderful and the couple that run the place were very sweet and extremely professional.. Hit me up for all the information. My appointment was a whopping 3 hours. We took advantage of the “Zen Package” for two which included a full body massage and a facial which also had a hand and foot massage. Just awesome I tell you. You know, it was so good that I didn’t even question myself about why I hadn’t had this pleasure before. I just decided that I would go again and that was that. I left with a small bag of products for my face and then it was home to meet my OBX friend and hit the road.

I didn’t even have to drive so you know I was stoked. The drive was mildly trafficky and we arrived in good time. It was one of those- Hey if you listen to our pitch- we’ll let you stay in this hotel for a fraction of the normal rate. Which brings me to right now- I am currently sitting on a blanket listening to the steady and beautiful roar of the waves breaking on the shore. The sun is shining on my face and a breeze, heavy with the scent of salt (and a promise of seafood to come) is gently caressing my entire body. I’m in my moo moo and my OBX friend just signaled to me that she’s gonna take a little snooze. We’ve been out here since 6:30 am. I ‘m sipping on my Yogi tea from my new “African” mug that I bought from Starbucks yesterday and all is good.

This stretch of the beach isn’t crowded. There’ve been a few walkers but for the most part we’re on our own. Wow this has been a week of firsts: First spa experience, first time at OBX, first time at the beach on a 4th. I’m sure there’ll be more. I’m gonna go for it and I’ll keep you posted. Happy Independence Day peeps!

Be Well

All things to all people...

2009-06-26T18:02:00.001-07:00

Did you know that striving to be all things to all people is a mistake? You'll only wear yourself out. It's better that you try to be a thing or two to a couple few people. For instance, if you're the baby of the family, you can be the baby sister, the wee one and Mama's baby- to your Mother and your siblings. If you're smart and efficient you can be the "go to" person for questions of just about any nature. If you're wise you can be the person everybody goes to for support and good, sound advice. And on and on. I think you get the point.

Truth be told- you're not being a "thing or two" as much as you are being labled by others then simply slipping into the role. The story goes that we act and respond according to the way people treat us. Ok, so I suppose in the above examples one would more or less be acting "in kind"- based upon how they were treated. The baby assumes the role of baby. The brainiac assumes the role of know it all (so to speak). And the all powerful, wise one assumes the role of sage.

These are all well and good roles to assume. But what I'm talking about falls into a different category. I'm speaking more about trying to please one hundred different people while simultaneously making sure all one hundred don't collide. What I'm talking about is everybody else feeling just fine in their emotions (thank you very much) but you're uptight and irritated. The "Others" don't mind an emotional display and will have theirs at your expense. But you- why you are not afforded as much.

The old saying : "You can't win for losing." comes to mind. You feel me? These days I'm learning that each moment that I live I need to strive to learn how to let go, to own myself and my thoughts and feelings. Is this selfish? Maybe. Do I care? Hmmm..not as much as I used to. The common denominator in the above types of situations is this: Uhhh...pay attention now, I'm about to drop some knowledge on ya: Everybody else is fine and getting their needs met. You're the dumb ass that's feeling short changed.

Did you get that? Yep. It's true. All you have to do is stop for a minute and take a good long look at the people around you. Not the person passing by. Come in a bit closer. Riiiiiiiiight. The person that expects too much. The person that hurt your feelings a couple of days ago. The person that you always seem to clash with but you can't seem to tear yourself from. THOSE are the people I want you to focus on. Okay so, you're feeling all hurt and upset. Hot and bothered. How are they faring? Do they seem to be the least bit concerned about you and your wellbeing?

Insert a resounding NO! here -> (NO)

They couldn't care less. You see, they have no worries because everything is in check for them. Their needs are being sufficiently met at your expense. And you know that shit ain't right. Cut to the present... So I ask myself, "How can I call myself rich when I allow myself to be short changed?" Being rich and short changed at the same time is an oxymoron is it not? This situation can no longer be allowed. I'm calling a moritorium on all bullshit related to the aforementioned topic.

You know what? The fact of the matter is this: on a cellular level (oh yeah babe, I'm going there) I just don't want to deal with the vibrational frequency of this twistedness. An old coworker of mine once asked: "Why can't people just be people?" That's a pretty deep question if you really analyze it. Why can't people just be people and stop trying to shape the person closest in proximity to them into the perfect little "whatever".

Uhhh? On the other side of that coin should be the resistance to their affront - you. Ahh... if only you had the guts to stand up and be counted. God- to say they things you think. That would certainly clear your path of dandelions and an assorted sundry of weeds. Right. I understand. You will, just not now. Be wise, just don't wear yourself thin and stop doubling as a doormat for underserving peeps. They don't do that to whatchamacallit and there's barely any difference between you and them. So WTF?

You are one person. You have one life. Your thoughts are your own. You are an individual and your thoughts matter a great deal. Your needs and desires matter. You have to remember to tell yourself that. But you have to believe it in order for it to be your truth.

I have to admit that it's very hard to settle into this new role of "Hey you- I don't give a shit." without coming off like a real, genuine, 100% Bitch. I prefer "High- Riding Bitch myself (as described by Vera in Delores Claiborne). But give yourself some time ( I will take my own advice). You might be an old dog but you are capable of learning at least one new trick.

For your own sake and the sake of your psyche- stop trying to be all things to all people and just be someone to yourself. You'll have a lot more to give in the long run. And you'll be a lot more successful at it.

Be Well...

A Wine and Jazz Festival on the fly...

2009-06-22T17:59:00.000-07:00

I got up at a decent time Sunday morning. The plan was to clean my room and tackle the laundry in the corner doubling as Mt. Everest and maybe pay a few bills online. That was the goal. At least that was the goal until I received a call from a girlfriend regarding the Wine and Jazz Festival in Manassas.

Say what?? You mean to tell me that for a mere $20.00 I could sample wines from across VA, enjoy some absolutely fabo weather, be in good company, sample wares being hocked by various vendors and listen to Marcus Johnson play live? I was so there and only too happy to leave my room in disarray. Fresh linen for the bed could wait. I pulled my new frock from the recesses of my closet (or was it the top of Mt. Everest?) and hopped in the shower. Oh, I ate and did a few other things before hopping in the shower but all told 2 hours had passed by the time I reached my girlfriends place.

I was looking and feeling flirty and too cute. And- no slip either. I suppose you would have had to be there for the "slip" conversation; so allow me a few seconds to explain: I have this thing about slips, in that I absolutely hate to wear them because they are too freaking hot. But, I feel bound by the "female, don't be nasty code" that I have to wear them. I'm not sure, but there's something about the sun shining through the thin material of your dress and the silhouette of your body showing and you have to be modest, blah, blah, blah. The pressure to conform and be a good girl is truly deep seated wouldn't you say?

AnyHOO... my girlfriend advised me to "get with the program" because nobody actually wears a slip anymore. So, I threw caution to the wind and allowed that wind to whip right up my dress and around my legs. It was pure bliss... I was also pleasantly surprised to find that she was right. There were several women allowing that same wind to whip up their dresses too. I was in good company.

My girlfriend had the perfect set of lounging chairs and two very feminine shawls for us to wear. I chose the light pink one because it matched my new "frock". We threw the chairs in the back seat of her car (I agreed to drive to her place and she agreed to drive to the festival) and we were off. On the way we talked about men and clothes and speed dating (flashback to a day or two ago).

The square was packed with peeps on the lawn and many standing in clumps under the main pavillion sampling wines and buying wines and generally enjoying themselves. God, the weather was incredible and I was soaking it all in. It was good to be out for a change. We did a once around, checking out the vendors on the outer perimeter of the pavillion, then made our way inward to sample the wines. There we were... wine snobs, wine novices and posers who wouldn't know a Rose' from a bottle of cheap Boonesfarm, all bunched together, hoping for more than just that little taste that they give you.

Don't be fooled. A girl can get her buzz on at a tasting. Because before you know it, she will find herself increasingly frustated by the sips they dole out. This "frustration" is most assuredly followed by the "purchase" of a bottle of wine she found appealing somewhere along her tasting travels. And the rest is, shall we say, wine festival history.

This girl settled on 3 bottles of Rkatsiteli from Horton Cellars in Orange, County, VA. Then mozied over to their competition The Peaks of Otter Winery. The Peaks had every sweet wine known to man. The wines were tasty and fun but I couldn't help thinking that the Gallo's, Mondavi's and Turning Leaves would not be amused by all their mixes and infusions of chili peppers, chocolate and mangoes. My girlfriend found these wines especially appealing (she doesn't really drink wine).

Did I mention that the weather was PERFECT? Well, here it goes again...the weather was freakin' PERFECT. By the time Marcus Johnson started his second set- we had picked up burgers from Foster's Grill (I'll forego the bug story) and were sitting pretty, enjoying the atmosphere.

Then Marcus told the crowd that he wanted to be close to us and invited peeps to come to the front. My girlfried and I looked at each other, picked up our chairs and headed for the front. We were 10 feet away from him and although I'm not a real fan I enjoyed the show immensely. We even took pix with him afterwards. He's a real cutie. As the festival wound down, we took another turn and I landed at a jewelry vendor where I bought the gawdiest, most beautiful, yellow & gold flower ring EVER! I can't wait to build a new outfit around it dah-ling!!! (smile).

And so it goes... and here comes the philosophical part: In the midst of all the chaos of your life just keep telling yourself that it's good to get out and that you deserve a break. Treat yourself- don't cheat yourself (Marcos Montalvo once said). And, if you have the chance, be sure to check out a local wine festival in your area. You will have a good time.

Be Well

Thoughts on Speed Dating...

2009-06-21T07:39:00.000-07:00

Hmmm...where does one begin? So I ventured out and attended a speed dating event last night. The original layout was supposed to be 15 men and 15 women. The women showed up (true to form) and the men? Well let's just say about 5 guys showed up. Incredible. How are we supposed to meet you if you don't show up?

Let me preface everything I'm about to say by saying that I did have fun. I was with my girls and we kept it on the light side with a few drinks and some happy conversation amongst ourselves. So all was not lost on the evening.

Now, having said that, I don't intend to let the Brothers off the hook as it were. If they took the time to buy a ticket they should have at least shown up. Granted it was Father's Day weekend but today is Father's Day- not yesterday. Okay, so I am willingly acknowledging that the event organizers should have paid closer attention when they set the dates for the event. AnyHOO... Speed Dating reallyis a great concept.

Here's how ours was set up:

We each were given a name tag and a number (our tickets were worth 2 free drinks- which was a nice perk). The women were stationery while the men rotated from table to table. Each participate had a sheet that they would use to record the name of their date and the date's number, along with notes. Dates we were interested in received a check mark. Each "date" lasted a mere 4 minutes so there was no time or space for heavy conversation or bullshit - sweet.

You really can learn a lot about a person in 4 minutes if you ask the right questions and you read between the lines. It's not so much what they say as what they don't say. You look at the face more- the expressions, the eyes and the shape of their nostrils (going weird here I know but stay with me). It's a 4 minute date people! You have to pack it all in. The smile really comes into play if your date is only 4 minutes as well. And even if you feel awkward it only lasts for a brief moment in time and then it's on to the next date. You can only get better at it as the evening progresses.

I'm totally convinced that it takes all kinds and if you buy a box of assorted cookies- your cookies had better not all be the same. You'd want your money back otherwise would you not? Right. The evening ended with no checks on my roster. That just means I didn't really connect with anyone in particular. Maybe the evening would have been different if all the men had shown up. We'll never know. The excuses for why they didn't show up are no longer needed. They are forgiven for the transgression of not appearing in what they may have deemed as court. Maybe next time things will be different.

I did meet someone that I thought would be perfect for someone else I know so, I will play Yenta to their loneliness. Wish me luck- I'd love to be the catalyst for somebody else's happiness. I want for others what I want for myself (That's my new mantra).

All told, I will definitely do this again. It's kind of like making Mac and Cheese from the blue box. Everything's already there for you. All you have to do is add add a few ingredients, some heat and stir.

Be Well

It's just like being tickled...

2009-06-20T07:53:00.000-07:00

Have you ever been so in love with someone that you put pen and paper in their hand and asked that they write down everything they wanted you to do (from the sublime to the absurd) vowing to do it?

Has the sex ever been so good after a Friday night that you lie in bed from then till Sunday reveling in the scent of the sheets? You could literally have an orgasm alone- without touching yourself thinking about him and what he did to you. Yeah, that kind of sex. All the while desperately trying to understand what happened to you? Your confident, independent self is nowhere to be found. All that's left is your true essence and questions. Questions that aren't meant to be answered right away. One must not look for the quick answer when dealing with these types of questions.

They are to be pondered and replayed over and over and over again in the head. You are forced to reflect on your current situation and your future. You are forced to go deep within, if only you would let the thing just happen to you. Let the feeling wash over you.

What is it about the human connection that stirs us so? What is it about men that drive us wild and make us jump from proverbial cliffs, towers and bridges? They are so beautiful. And true to form, like moth to flame, we are drawn to them.

We would do anything for our Kings. But a willing subject is just that: subject to the King. It makes you wonder whether they're really looking for their Queen or if they're just confused and caught up in a sea of "ladies in waiting" that are becoming increasingly aggressive and agitated.

Still the feeling of possibly being the one is so intoxicating. It feels so good that it hurts. It's like being tickled and laughing until you cry. The continuum of the emotions is cyclical. You laugh, you cry and then you get angry at the person for tickling you- yelling for them to stop. Then you're right back to laughing again- all from the same action, tickling.

So you have this deep, abiding affection for someone else and then the unthinkable happens. They leave. God. They weren't actually under your control, spell or influence after all. They leave and suddenly you realize that you were one of a pair; that you weren't actually joined at the hip.

You sit for hours, again. Only this time you are trying to make sense of why he left. Trying to make sense of what you might have done, what you might have said to make him leave. A terminal illness has nothing on a broken, anguished heart. At least with a terminal illness you know the hurt will end with flowers and loved ones around. Dealing with a broken heart, you're not sure. The only glaring truth is that you aren't going to physically die from your broken heart but you have to live and wade through all the shit that accompanies it.

Your mind can rattle off 100 reasons not to take him back (if he looks your way again). The list is long and pointed. The mind has no shortage of accusations and justifications for its current state. All the while the heart sits listening, wringing its hands. "I don't remember any of that!" it decries. "Please let him come back. See here? There's plenty of love left in me for him. Please let him come back. I think I'm dying, it's hard to breathe and things are getting dark."

Enter picture of heart sitting in a puddle of blood; it's own blood. You know you want him back but you don't take him back. Why don't we take him back? We don't take his ass back because the shit is just too twisted. Plus it hurts on both ends now.

It hurts to so good thinking of taking him back-meaning you want him back so bad that your insides ache but it also hurts knowing if you do take him back that you are being a fool. So at the risk of having your "Giiiirl, Honey-Chile, Fuck Him" card revoked, you do nothing. There you go being who and what you're expected to be.

Enter picture of you saving face, broken heart in tow. You have no choice now. You cocoon and the process of metamorphosis begins. You become three different people. One of you goes into work, the other cleans up around the house and writes poetry and the third you ponders, cries, plots his demise (and that of the new bitch's) and strategizes.

When it hurts so bad, you are not yourself. You cannot be. And that is okay. Once you cross the burning sands of that kind of hurt and despair and realize you can go no further (the place where residual hurt merely puddles) you have your epiphany. You say to yourself "This hurts really bad but I can't hurt anymore than this. I have reached the end of my emotional spectrum and am on the way around to laughter again."

You see? It's just like being tickled, only you're able to keep things in perspective- reasonably knowing what to expect the next time. Your laughter returns- it has no choice.

Be Well

On being rich...

2009-06-03T15:33:00.000-07:00

I have often asked friends, family and coworkers if they would rather be rich or "comfortable". Many have answered that they just want to be comfortable. Hmmm...I know what it means to be rich but what exactly does it mean to be "comfortable"?

There would have to be varying degrees of "comfort" I assume. And a person who has never had more than $50.00 at a time in his or her wallet is bound to think that $5,000.00 makes them rich.

Given the choice- I choose to be rich. I figure if I'm rich then I will be "comfortable". Rich would be the umbrella that comfort takes shelter under. Rich over shadows comfortable the way paper trumps rock.

Rich lets you travel whenever you want to- comfortable will maybe afford you a yearly, family vacation. Rich let's you have a personal assistant to handle business- comfortable does not. When you're rich (if you're not self indulgent) you can help so many people. If you're merely comfortable your primary focus will more than likely be on building yourself up and your family.

Don't get me wrong- the rich should build up family as well and I'm not getting down on the comfortable here. I'm just saying being rich gives you space to do all three.

Rhonda Byrne of "The Secret" says that we need to focus on our thoughts. We should be in a state of gratitude then speak and feel our futures into existence. Okay...Let's give it a whirl:

I am rich.

I can afford anything that I want.

New money is being printed for me right now.

I am not stingy or foolish with my money

I invest my money wisely

I use my money to help my family and closest friends

With the money I have- I can travel and see the world first hand

I want what I want when and how I want it. Being rich and having money will get me there. Some may say that money isn't everything. They are right and will get no arguments from me.

Now what?

Wondering...

2009-06-02T16:36:00.000-07:00

I sometimes wonder if things will be different, quicker

quicker than the usual time it take for things to happen fast

that would be pretty good I suppose

there are a number of things I'd like to see get over and done with

like eating ice cream before it melts

and building my savings into a small fortune

traveling the world, meeting new people

and learning how to say "hi" in their native language

that would be swell

and it would happen fast

because I would want it to

Sitting up in my room...

2009-05-30T05:48:00.000-07:00

So it's a beautiful morning and I'm about to pour my first cup of java and pay a few bills. My roommate is out of town and so I have the whole, entire, house to myself. It's just me and the hum of the oscillating fan, a great cup of coffee and the prospects of what this day holds.

Mani, Pedi, Farmer's Market, DSW and black Italian leather (whoo-hoo), UP!, testing out green drinks and maybe a dvd guitar lesson with Esteban. You know? I don't have all the things that I want in life but at this very moment I am so happy, so fortunate to be in this place surrounded by my own altars- physical manifestations of my inner being.

My coffee mug says "Deja Brew: The feeling that you've had this coffee before." Only this "feeling" is more like something I've done in a past life. It's too normal and comfortable for my soul not to have done it before. The restfulness and peace that accompanies this simple act of being has been felt before. I'm grateful for the continuity, even if I don't fully understand the continuum.

Be Well,
mmmpossible

A funny thing happened on the way...

2009-05-28T18:28:00.000-07:00

A funny thing happened on the way to finishing my evening routine. This happened a few weeks ago and I couldn't be happier about it (well- I could think of a few more things that could happen relative to it and that would rate in the ecstatic category).

Okay so, I'm flipping through channels and I come across a commercial spot for a show starring Dhani Jones. My first thought was "Wow, there's a Brother on the Travel Channel and he has his own show." My second thought was "I wonder who Dhani Jones is." My first instinct was to watch it no matter what. In an instant, I vowed to watch this new show and give him my support. It's hard to really explain it but I felt protective of him. Right, wrong or indifferent, that's the only way I can describe it. I just wanted him to do well and to be alright.

There are some out there who will understand my feelings and others who won't. I'm not here to justify it. It is what it is. So, I'm tuning in to watch this show (Dhani Tackles the Globe) and I'm checking out the Travel Channel website, then I'm going to Dhani55 (his personal website), following him on Twitter and I'm saving pictures from the Travel Channel website. Whew!

That's a lot. Needless to say the show is great and the concept is greater. It is the freshest thing I've seen on television in a really long time. Leave it to the Travel Channel to come up with something like this. As a network it never ceases to amaze and Dhani Jones, as the Freshman of the lot truly delivers. I received a tweet that Season 2 of the show is in the works. Martha Stewart would call that a "Good Thing". I concur.

Dhani- I can tell someone who truly loved you and had great influence over you- rubbed your head and stroked your brow when you were a baby. That same person maybe sang songs to you as well. They imparted something special to you. You don't get to do what you've done (and no doubt will continue to do) without an internal compass that has been directed at "True North" by the ones who love you most.

Be Well,
mmmpossible