It's Time (Part I): "Dream Hoarder"

Awards season.

Golden Globes. SAG. Oscars. 

I enjoy watching the E! Red Carpet coverage and tweeting about my favorite looks of the evening.

Dior Couture. Armani. Christian Sirano. Ellie Saab.

Each gown artistically and aesthetically inspiring.

I rejoiced hearing some of my favorite shows like Orange Is The New Black and Downton Abbey took home wins.

I teared up with Uzo Aduba as she gave her acceptance speech.

I felt a sense of pride when Viola Davis walked the red carpet with her natural hair glowing in the clairvoyance of her crescent moon.

I felt an array of hope seeing Laverne Cox elegantly maneuver through her promise.

(A hope I haven't felt in a long time...)

But I couldn't help but feel an immense pain. Pain that guards the area where my dreams are stored. Packed away. Hidden. Safe.

I've become a dream hoarder.

Acting is my gift. So I'm told. 
I know it is. I know it is.

Somewhere along the way I hid it. Hid from it.

I knew as early as Elementary school that my journey towards realizing my dreams would be harder than most.

My acting teacher in high school told me, "You're gift is rare...you are going to change the face of Broadway and Hollywood both. I see it."

I took her words with me as I stood in line after line at audition after audition in every major city. To no avail.

I remember after I finished my audition at Julliard, I was in the hallway and I heard: "damn she's really good. She's just too fat. What can we do with her?" Those words stuck with me too.
I've hated NYC ever since by the way.

But I still want it. I do.

I still yearn for it. I do.

I still dream...

I...still...

It's time to unpack...

It's time to purge...

It's time to move...

It's time to progress...

It's time to realize...

It's...time...

Anatomy's Philharmonic

Today I had a great day!

Got up early, went to the farmer's market, bought peaches, apples, and raisin walnut bread. Sat on a bench with my Mommy in an artist's cove of sorts, drank fresh squeezed lemonade, and people watched. Later we went Uptown and had brunch accompanied with an iced mocha. I felt like a really earthy, artsy, white woman. I almost made it all the way home without a glitch and then World War 2014 happened. I began hacking and my lungs began to fight, my throat continued its battle with Tourettes, and my nose felt like a really hot summer day in a Black neighborhood, with an open hydrant and all the kids are bare chest and feet drenching in my snot.

For months (more like years) now I have been struggling with the worst "sinus infection" known to mankind. I'm not sure at this point if that's even what it is. I've been to several doctors several times. The diagnosis has ranged from an inner ear infection to walking pneumonia. Most recently, I was told I have acute bronchitis. The symptoms, very irritating to say the least, are violent coughing, isolated migraines, retching, post nasal drip (more like down pour), post nasal drip reflux, sore throat, wheezing, restricted breathing, chest pain, dizziness, and my all time favorite clogged ears. Neti Pots, Z-packs, Claritan D, Albuterol, Fluticasone, and a whole heap of other prescribed pharmaceuticals have invaded my body to no avail.

But there is a silver lining (always).

With my ears being clogged most of the time I find it hard to hear externally. It feels like a barricade blocking the external from the internal. As a result I have been upper respiratory bullied into listening to what's going on internally. Internally I can hear all sorts of things like my heartbeat, calm and steady while I'm relaxing and quick and rhythmic when I run up the stairs. When I take a sip of water I can hear a rippling sound as it travels down the esophagus. But if I drink something with more acidity in it then it sounds like Rice Krispies dancing down my esophagus. I can hear haunted house noises in my stomach when I'm hungry and every creek and crack of my moving joints and bones is amplified. Headaches, though they feel intense, often have an alto lightsaber sound and every deep breath and exhalation fills the inner ear with a zephyr euphony.

If it wasn't for my ears being clogged I may not have ever had these orchestra seats to my anatomy's philharmonic.

That's life and lesson. Siamese twins.

For every block, pause, delay, obstruction, and hinderance there is always something you are meant to receive from it. GOD is a GOD of calculation. He has pre-planned and forethought every millisecond of our being. When things get heavy, when things get hard, when things get out of control…

Block out the external. Find retreat in the internal. He is waiting there.

Meet Celeste

Ah yes. My dear blog. I know, I know. How I've neglected thee. So much has happened since we last dialogued. I've missed the feeling of my fingers appropriately resting in their place at ASDF JKL;. No longer imprisoned by MLA standards. Just me, you, a large bottle of water (or some other spirited beverage) and my thoughts. I've missed the freedom. Nevertheless, here I am. Ready to talk. Did you miss me?

Where oh where should I begin? Personal? Political? Social?

Let me go back a bit. In 2010 I first started my blog out of frustration with my life and how I was not only being perceived but also how I perceived myself. "The Purse Carrier" I called myself. Read more about my theory here: Purse Carrier Theory.

Four years later this theory is still very real. But there have been some changes.

I have been possessed by my 30 year old spirit. Her name is Celeste.

Celeste seemingly has her ish together. She no longer desires to hang out in clubs and bars so she avoids those purse holding nights all together. She works hard, loves GOD, goes to church, volunteers, and is an upstanding citizen. She still lives at home with her Momma, which in the minds of the moronically opinionated is a red flag, but she actually enjoys being with her Mother (most of the time). On the surface and on paper she's a woman headed to greatness. But…there is a but...GOD help her...she's a pistol.

Since I have turned 30, Celeste was born. She rocks a big mean afro underneath her ombre blonde
colored weave. Celeste is a Black Christian-ist, Black feminist, Black womanist, Black Youth-ist, and Black equality-ist. All Black erythang! She's the type to wear her Jesus sandals in the rain and dare you to say one word. Celeste has an extremely low tolerance for nonsense. Someone said something about her, her family, her friends, her OBAMA? She's confronting them, right away! Head on! She always prays for the right words to say but is frank and straight forward. She doesn't entertain "he say, she say." By the end of whatever "they say", you can bet Celeste is headed right to the source. Celeste believes she is Stokley Carmichael and Miriam Makeba's love child. She will stand on top of any furniture…well wait she's a big girl so let's retract that statement. She's not about that "Scarlet takes a tumble" life. She will stand out in the middle of the street yelling "Black Power", "Amandla", "Ready for a revolution", unbothered by your opinion of her. She's a 30 year old activist and she is ready for a change!

I don't know if this is a good trait to have or not but I do know it feels good. Damn good. I've let go of grudges and I am able to say my peace and go about my business. This being 30 thing is beauty marked.

I know the stages of life differ and by the time I'm 60, GOD willing, I will have evolved into an older woman with more idiosyncrasies. As long as I'm not introducing Cruela I will be fine. But I love this journey I'm on and I am proud of the woman I am becoming. As for now…

Viva la 30! Viva la Celeste!

THANK YOU GOD (for NOT giving me what I wanted)

Have you ever thanked GOD for not giving you what you wanted? Or at least what you thought you wanted?

I am at an age where my friends are starting to get married and have kids...or just having kids. Now, its normal for young adult women to feel the pressure of wanting to be married to their soulmate and have a family of their own.

I was in that place of pressure one day after work when I stopped at the Shoppers to get me a single serving of Friday's Spinach dip, Tostitos, Lemonade and pack of Drumstick ice cream bars and ran into a girl I went to high school with. She was pushing a shopping cart with an infant snuggled in a carrier with one hand and holding the hand of a 3 year old with the other.

"Hey Girl!!!" she exclaimed.

I hate seeing some people from High School! They ask the same questions and they are extra hype for no reason. Especially when you ain't like my ass to begin with. But that's another post for another day.

"Heeeeey" I replied. You know like in a dry, oh no GOD why me, that's what I get for coming down the candy aisle kind of way?

She went on to introduce me to her two kids as "Auntie Cynthia"...*side eye* then grabbed my hand to touch her stomach to feel the new biscuit a baking in her womb. She went on to say she was engaged and marrying the love of her life. After several kaw kaw and key keys, yelling at her 3 year old for running up and down the aisles, and my restless leg syndrome flair up she ran down her list of questions for me:

"You married?"
"Engaged?"
"Got kids?"
"Talk to anybody from high school?"

After I answered "No" to all of the above. She replied "Oh". You know like in a dry, Oh GOD this bitch lame, that's what I get for coming down the candy aisle kind of way?

She then said "Well, it was nice seeing you boo, take care of yourself..." and dragged her cart and clan down the aisle. I can't stand when people say "take care of yourself", UH DUH, thats what I've been doing!!! The squeaky wheels from the cart provided the perfect Minuet to accompany that awkward moment in time.

After I got home. I started thinking am I behind in life? I'm not married, I have no kids...am I riding the short bus of life? Well, this contemplating gave me a gust of energy and I started to look up all my exes on Facebook and Instagram. I wanted to see what they were up to, some Inspector Gadget snooping...I mean "research".

Now, I won't call any of them out because at one point and time I really wanted to be with them. Snotted and cried when the relationship didn't work, and contemplated "what if" many times over. Today, they all are well, healthy, and vibrant based on their posts on social networks.

As I conducted my research I found:

Ex #1: Married, clearly cheating on his wife, who is clearly supporting him because he's unemployed. Ex #2: Seemingly straight to the world but likes every half naked and naked pic of men on Instagram he can find.
Ex #3: Good government job but is stuck on "Every girl in the World Wants Me" Land
Ex #4: Church goer, holy, hallowed be thy name, holy ghost filled, Bible toting, weed head.

After I was done I immediately dropped to my knees and said: "THANK YOU GOD FOR NOT GIVING ME WHAT I THOUGHT I WANTED!!!!!!!"

Just because I am not married or squatted out some babies yet doesn't mean I am not blessed. It's just not my time and I most definitely want GOD to only give it to me if it's time!

And to the high school classmates whose questionnaire is always so narrow, here is an update on me:

BA degree (CHECK)
MA degree (CHECK)
Worked for YOUR POTUS (CHECK)
Traveled the world (CHECK)
Established a non profit (CHECK)
Employed (CHECK)
Blessed (CHECK)
HIGHLY FAVORED (CHECK)

If you need more I will email you my resume.

MORE: Evolving My Worship (A Song Review)

I've always wanted my blog to be diverse with the type of material I post. Hence the reason why my posts range from short stories, poetry, movie reviews and more. I haven't however written a review of any music. Which is kind of strange because music is a major part of my life. In today's post I want to switch it up a bit and review a song that I have had on repeat for the entire week: "More" by Lawrence Flowers & Intercession.

Gospel music to me is rhythmic accounts and testimony that chronicles how amazing God has been in your life and celebrates the love and adoration one has for Christ. I simply love Gospel music.

Oh the worshipper in me wants to be free/from the cares of life that seem to weigh me down/Yes the worshipper in me needs consistency/to lift my hands to give you praise when  no ones around.

The opening lyrics of the song "More" by Lawrence Flowers and Intercession spoke to me immediately. I grew up in a very old school, family oriented church. It wasn't uncommon for Sister Johnson to tell me to sit down even though she wasn't my Mother, and I listened because I knew my parents would not stand for me being disrespectful to an adult. As a child, I always had moments where my entire body wanted to jump up in worship because even as a child I knew how much I loved Jesus and was very aware of His presence in my life.

Oh the worshipper in me wants to break free/from the intellectual mentality/like when I should be up I'm seated in my seat/I should be lifting my hands, giving you praise, and glory.

I even recall one time during the children's choir rehearsal, I had to be about 12, I came up with these movements for the soprano section to do while we were singing. One of the choir's coordinators had a fit! Dancing in church? A big NO! Dancing at the time was considered to be too secular. I often felt stifled in my worship as a child. Children just didn't get up out of their seats and worship during this time. I desired more from my worship experience.

PROCLAMATION: I want to give my best to you/I want to do what you ask me to/I want to go wherever you say/Just say the word and I'll obey/I want to live a life that's real/I want to serve you Lord for real/Lord you deserve all this and more/so I give you...more

As time progressed, and I got older, churches around the world began to change. Churches began ministering through dance, surrendering their bodies as a living sacrifice as they worshipped God. Today, I am proud to have witnessed this change in the church I grew up in. I am equally as proud that I along with some of the ones I grew up with, who also desired more, fought for this change. With any change people are hesitant and don't understand, but they are slowly but surely becoming more accepting. Not only that our dances are touching people spiritually and have brought people to Christ and back to church.

Seeing God move in my life, my family, my church I want to give Him my very best. He deserves all I have to give and even then I would not have given enough to repay Him for what He has already done and will continue to do for me.

I have vowed to follow this PROCLAMATION: I want to give my best to you/I want to do what you ask me to/I want to go wherever you say/Just say the word and I'll obey/I want to live a life that's real/I want to serve you Lord for real/Lord you deserve all this and more/so I give you...more

You're deserving of MORE...I give you MORE...

God deserves more of my time, more of my trust, more of my service, more of my love, more of my prayers, more of my respect, more of a relationship, more of my adoration, more of my obedience, more of my service, more of my sacrifice, more of my worship. When I think about the goodness of Jesus and all He's done for me...He deserves more.

This song truly awakened a testimony in me.

I surrender all/I surrender all/all to Thee my blessed Savior/I surrender all.

The Anecdote to Betrayal

"Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him. Even so, I will defend my own ways before Him." (Job 13:15)

A story and lesson I feel is worth sharing:

I recently found myself face to face with someone from my past who thoroughly betrayed me and I strongly believe tried to sabotage the completion of Master's Degree. No this is not an opening to a Grisham novel, this is real life. Let me get you caught up without completely disclosing names, dates, or social security numbers.

In 2007 I was at the end of my tenure as a Master's Candidate and I was getting ready for my Master's Thesis defense. Everything dealing with the thesis process up until this point had been extremely smooth. I knew God had a plan for me to finish my degree and graduate on time because my other classmates were all having a tough time. A couple of weeks before my defense I got a call from one of my Professors asking me to meet her at the school. I get to her office and she tells me that a "friend" of mine complained that I was fraternizing inappropriately with undergraduates and had taken her to a party where she felt uncomfortable. My Professor told me to be careful who my "friends" are and focus on defending my thesis. Flabbergasted I had a whole heap of emotions. I felt betrayed, undermined, lied on, and wanted revenge. I never said anything to this "friend", I prayed, cut all ties and never spoke with her again, until recently when I was face to face with her.

Now, it is human nature to defend yourself against falsified accusations and defamation of character. Those of you who know me personally know that I take pride in and work hard at being a woman of moral character. Those of you who don't know me I will say this: The heffa lied on me.

My situation was unique in Graduate School because I went straight to Graduate School from Undergrad. So I was a young graduate student. My Undergraduate Institution was different than many because it didn't have a formal campus the city was its campus. So when I got to Graduate School I took full advantage of the typical college life that I missed in Undergrad. I pledged, went to parties, step shows, joined campus organizations, and made friends who were both undergraduate and graduate students. I was 23 years old and having the time of my life!

Now we all know our "friends" the ones who like to party and the ones don't. The judgmental "friend" and the down for whatever "friend". On the night of the party I was at  this "friend's" house. She was hosting a dinner party. When her party ended and everyone was leaving she started asking everyone where they were going? Hesitantly, I said I was going to my friend's birthday party. My "friend" said "can I come?" I told her, that she may not like it because it was an undergraduate party. I also warned her that my friend throwing the party is gay and she may be uncomfortable because she had expressed being uncomfortable around gays in the past. She still insisted on coming. So we went and she left within 5 minutes of being there. But then goes and complains about me? Something is not right!

OK now that you have the background info, let's fast forward. After years of not speaking to her I was faced with having to be around her in a social gathering of mutual friends. I honestly, tried to divert my attention to the unlimited mimosas but just being in her presence brought back that same feeling I had in the pit of my stomach the day I met with my Professor. I wanted answers or maybe I just wanted to take my hand and wring her neck...I'm not sure. But I prayed, the entire time I spoke to God. And every time I speak to Him He reveals himself in some way.

I listened to this girl talk about her life and I realized she's struggling with something much deeper than what she did to me. And what she did doesn't matter. I have my degree, I am successful, and my life is fulfilling. People are going to lie on you,"friends" will betray you, and you will be hurt because of it, however, realizing the blessing and the lesson through the hurt it is the anecdote. Besides, our version of betrayal is nothing to Jesus' story.

I choose the anecdote.

"The Audacity of a Ninja"

Long time no blog....yes, yes, I know. The urge to write is always there but I just haven't put forth an effort to capture and post my thoughts. There have been so many things disturbing my spirit for the past few months from the Trayvon Martin case, the questionable Stop Kony 2012 movement, the blatant disrespect these elected members of Congress have shown my POTUS, Mitt Romney's ever growing, gray side burns that are channeling the parasites in Ignorantville who are encouraging him to be the lead ignoramous, Global warming's clear mission to have us confusedly sweating during the winter months and burn us all to ashes this summer, and of course The Real Housewives of Atlanta acting like pure grass-fed, free-ranged, coonish hens in South Africa.

There's so much I could cover today but my thoughts have been consumed and I even lost sleep over one thing and one thing only...

Before I begin to dissect whats bothering me I do want to preface this post by saying I have been taught "to whom much is given, much is required." God's continuous blessings and favor over my life has been abundant. With these blessings and favor comes a responsibility. Now, its easy when the responsibility involves doing something for myself, or my family, but its when God places you in the uncomfortable situations smack dab in the middle of controversy and challenges you to live up to your responsibilities is when it can be difficult. You can lose friends and loved ones. Martin and Malcolm were killed living up to their responsibilities/callings. But when God says, "do it" in my life He stops everything until its done. So I had to get up early today and write this post. God has blessed me with so much artistic talent and this is the venue in which he uses me to live up to my responsibilities.

With all that being said I call this post "The Audacity of a Ninja".

I have made a conscious effort not to call Black folk the "N" word anymore. No matter how we camouflage the word as a term of endearment, add the "a" or "ah" to the end of it, or pop it for Daddy when we hear it on our favorite tune, it was once a word used to chastise my Grandmother and I'm sure when I walk into a room full of Wonder Bread they still whisper it under their breaths. So I have been really trying to reprogram myself to not say the word.

I now say ninja.

Ninja is a Japanese term. A ninja is a member of a feudal society, highly trained in martial arts, and is usually hired to sabotage or assassinate. Now, I know the question will be: "Well, are you saying Black people are always trying to sabotage something?" DING! DING! DING! 100 points for you Lacreesha! YES! Not all of us but a lot of us. The next question I'm sure is: "Well, why is this only specific to Black people? Don't other races of people sabotage things?" And to that I say, you are absolutely right TaeQuan, they do, but I'm not talking about them today I'm talking about you!

This crabs-in-a-barrel mentality is tearing up families, friendships, social groups, and churches. Ninjas conspire before seeing what transpires. From the most educated to the welfare Mom. Some parents are teaching it to their children. It is out of control and I can't figure out why. Why is it that we will tear each other down, but march and rally against people like Zimmerman while we are killing each other literally and figuratively? After decades of having to endure racism and degradation towards us from other races we turn around and do the same thing to one another.

What makes it worse are statements like these:

"Obama doesn't do anything for Black people!"
"As long as all my kids are born two years a part I'll always get a check!"
"Light-skin girls/guys are cuter."
"My babIES daddies aint shit!"
"I get high everyday all day."
"You got that nigger hair."
"You going to college, you bourgeoisie."
"Oh, no girl, I don't go on that side of town, they ghetto."

Need, I say more? STOP IT! RIGHT NOW! It's time for us to STOP IT NOW! No more ninja behavior. No more perpetuating stereotypes. We need to rise above whatever circumstance, neighborhood, job title, financial status or achievements and start respecting and supporting one another. If we disagree, do it respectfully. Stop buying the drugs and guns that are wiping out our communities. Stop moving to the suburbs and not giving back to our poorer communities. More importantly stop killing each other! There are too many issues we face as a race daily and I am tired of dealing with the same exact issues from people who look just like me.

STOP.