7 posts tagged “jill scott”

So I've not long finished watching tonight's episode of The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency. Each week the show seems to get better and better. However, tonight's was pretty deep and a bit of a tear jerker as Jill Scott's character investigated the disappearance and possible death of an American volunteer worker and hints of a discussion about HIV/AIDS was obvious towards the end.

Aside from the case itself and the brief mention of "The Sickness" (I'm guessing the name called for HIV/AIDS in Bostwana) a particular scene had my radar going. At some point Jill Scott's character is talking with her friend (who happens to be romantically interested in her) about the case. In particular she mentions how she felt a wind and that it spoke. One what struck me, but really shouldn't have surprised me too much, was how they discussed the wind talking as if it were no big there. Try that here in the states and the average person may call the other "crazy." But it's stuff like this that I love. It actually reminded me of a class I had semesters ago with author E.R. Braithwaite (To Sir With Love) He would get on us for not really trusting ourselves with our writing and would often call upon the class to be in tune with there senses. Then he would go off on a tangent about how our ancestors would talk to trees and they would talk right back.

Well back to Jill and her friend...

So as Jill is telling her friend about what the wind spoke on and what everything meant, her friend was advising her on not to tell the mother of the American who is missing. In a nutshell he broke down a difference between Americans and Africans (at least in relation to those in Bostwana) in regards to listening to the wind. I can't recall the exact quote, but basically he talked on how we Americans are clever and how we use science to move about the world. However when it comes to things of the spirit, we don't listen to and for things like the wind. When nature or the environment is trying to tell us something we simply it ignore it, especially when it's right under our nose.

I couldn't help but chuckle cause it's pretty much true. 

This morning I was reading the front page story of the Washington Post on the case of a shooting death of a 14 year-old. The incident took place in 2007, but there was so much controversy surrounding the case because the boy was shot in the head by an off duty police officer that accused the him of stealing a mini motor bike.

Though the case is pretty much closed and a federal grand jury as ordered a secrecy restriction on the case, today's article examines a few facts that proved there were missteps or inappropriate actions taken on the part of the police department. There are still a few unanswered questions, especially one asking was the (said) boy the one involved in the robbery all along or at least the same boy that fired first at the police officer when first approached?

From the start my question has always been, what gave the police officer the right to go on this vigilanty justice hunt after finding out the property was stolen from his home? Why didn't he just stay home call his fellow dept. and report a crime instead of hoping in his SUV to go looking for trouble?

Yet I digress...

As I read through the article and took in every detail I kept saying to myself "If only the dead could talk. Only the 14 year old lying in the ground now knows."

But as I watched tonight's show and listened to the discussion about the wind...

Whose to say that the boy hasn't been speaking all along? Perhaps the truth is right under everyone's nose, but we are ignoring it.

The wave has hit me again.  I know what it is and what causes. It’s mother nature during her work. Still somehow I feel grateful when the wave hits. The wave of emotions that cause me to pull into myself and dive deep into an abyss of introspective thinking.  My truths are revealed, but what I do with them in the end varies.

This time I see a lot of things.  For starters a few people have reminded me that no one is perfect. Flaws and scars are mixed in with the make up that makes up so “great”  A homogenous mix.  The thought or reminder came has two people I’ve had several conversations with shared their break down. One flashed a melancholy status line on her internet page, a far cry from the confident and fiery chic I had gotten to know. The other, a model/single, shared her weight story in the current issue of Heart & Soul Magazine.  Later I told her I appreciated her honesty in her article.

From this I thought how just about everyone has some kind of judgment about everyone and/or everything. Though I try not to judge, I’m sure I do. I hate being judged or even judging.  With the two persons from my above paragraph, it’s pretty safe to say I did have some kind of judgment about them. It wasn’t negative.  I just saw them a certain way based on the conversations I have had with them and knowing what I already knew about them. Yet, in the past couple of days my judgments didn’t matter.

Instead I wanted to shed a tear or two, because I realized they struggled with something in their life just like me.  They aren’t perfect.  Who was I to judge them as if they were?  One of the things that I’m glad LAF opened up about was the fact that during our friendship she placed me on a pedestal, causing her to be judgmental towards me.  That was such a relief to hear because for most of our friendship I as if I were being judged, which made it hard for me to be real with her.  Just like me, nobody is perfect….

Just like me….

Since Jill Scott has opened up about her pregnancy I’ve been feeling weird. Like kismet weird. Maybe it’s because most people that know me have always compared me to her on so many levels that it just stuck. So it’s not unnatural that when I listen to her or read her poetry that I find myself in the “amen corner.” Yet reading her pregnancy story makes me want to shed more tears.  I cry because it’s me all over again. Mainly the whole being told that I may never conceive or if I wanted to I would have to try fertility drugs and “out of the blue” a seed is planted…that’s me.

I know I wrote about Jill’s pregnancy before, but this time, after reading her cover article in Heart & Soul, I ended up flashing back.  I began to feel shame, because the one thing I was trying to get rid of in the heat of desperation, anger and confusion, many women (and men) desperately want. I knew I was thinking selfishly at the time, only seeing how MY life would be ruined, and failing to realize that the Snickerdoodle is basically the ultimate blessing.

Towards the end of the article, Jill offers advice to women struggling to have a baby.

“Until God grants you the blessing of a child, be grateful for what you have, remain open for what you want and be thankful for the blessings when they flow.”

Monday, March 30 will be exactly two years since the Snickerdoodle made her earthly appearance. It’s been a rough ride.  There have been plenty of smiles, but just as many tears (for both happy and sad).  Having a kid brings on so much, especially when you are being the parent alone. It’s rewarding, it’s think less (if you are responsible enough) but it’s challenging.  Again, I’m not the perfect mom with a good list of first-time mommy faux pas under my belt, but I can’t even begin to imagine life without the Snickerdoodle.

The letters. When I go back and read the letters I had written to her, then as an unborn with sex unknown, I tear up. My pain was very real. Deep down I didn’t want to let her go, but I felt I had to.  Thought then it was more selfish to keep her around in the midst of a loveless god forbidden relationship. But of course her existence was bigger than me, bigger than her dad.  She has a purpose.

Purpose…

Push: A Novel

Sapphire

I started reading Push by Sapphire. I committed myself to reading the book before the movie comes out later this year (the name of the movie was changed from Push to Precious).  I knew what the plot was about before reading, so I went in knowing what to expect. Still my heart got heavy a few times.  I want to look up the back story on the book and find out more about Sapphire. Was the plot based from a true story? Was some elements her?  Even if it is fictionalized it speaks to so many truths for young girls everywhere.

Push is about an illiterate teenage girl, Precious, who has endured sexual and verbal abuse from her mother and father. She ends up pregnant, twice, by her father. During the birth of her first child (a girl born with down syndrome)  Precious encounters a “Spanish” man who is one of the EMS crew that helps her deliver. He is the one constantly telling her to push during her delivery, and this has been Precious’ motivation. She “pushes” pass her limitations to seek a better life for herself and children. She slowly begins to see that she isn’t stupid and invisible as she thinks. She does have a purpose.

 In reading about her abuse, especially from her father, lumps have been forming in my throat. It’s a fear that (perhaps) may never go away. It’s something that I’ve mentioned in my blog before, that I’ve told Brandon about, JM and even Papi. It’s a fear I have for the Snickerdoodle. It’s something that I just can’t even let my guard down about, especially as a single mom with a daughter.

It takes a certain evil kind to do something so horrific to a child. My closest friends that have gone through, I grew to hate their mothers more than the (step) father that did it, because the mothers lived in denial and refused to accept the truth (in one instance the mother stayed married to the guy.. still is) and didn’t protect their child/my friend(s).  Still, I made a vow that I would not be that naïve mother. I would not be the mother crying on the news because some man looked that damn good so good that it is beyond belief that he would touch my child.

Papi I trust. He was once married and raised two step children. He was their father more than their biological. They still call him for everything. Though he wants to cut ties because he is no longer with their mother, he doesn’t.  Honestly, I don’t think he can. Probably feel as if he is neglecting is own children.

Still being a protective mother I can’t help but to have some kind of caution when it comes to him and the Snickerdoodle. I hate that I have even an inkling, because it is a matter of trust.  We’ve been going “on” for two years and some months. He was there before the Snickerdoodle and after. So why do I fight?

I’m a fighter.

I fight life hard. Funny thing is, things or maybe even people I don’t want, still come after me. More like a magnetic pull.  A couple of folks have hinted that I’ve met my husband. I reject it. I fight the notion. I pull out my mental dry erase board and begin the pros and cons of life, formulate a hypothesis, create formulas and theorems to make it make sense to me, when it reality it doesn’t.

Because the reality is, when I wake up in the morning for class, I see that red light to my blackberry blinking. I know it’s him. I know it’s him leaving a message to say “good morning, have a good day at school. Can’t wait to see you.”  My heart will feel heavy because I refuse to release, accept or admit that this is real and my eyes will form tears for they won’t fall because I’m too much in denial to let them.

Yet I don’t see all of this when mother nature is not around. Like the confrontation bitch she is, she shows me when she is on the horizon of arriving.

In all honesty I should be working on some things. However I thought I'd interrupt my regularly off schedule self to give some sort of public service announcement or observation. The last 24 hours have been very reflective for me, starting with the good news about my tuition being paid in full this time around. No sooner after my moment of joyous praise I logged onto the website for Essence Magazine. I was really there looking for an update or follow up to something specific when I came across their online article on Jill Scott.

It's official. Jill Scott has finally confirmed her pregnancy. In reading the article she's really around six or seven months pregnant as she is due sometime in April. Also in reading the article I can appreciate why she waited so long to reveal to the world her wonderful news. It was more of a health concern, especially since she was once told that she couldn't conceive.

It's odd that I don't know Jill Scott on a personal level, but I feel connected to her - based on what I know, read, etc. Aside from folks comparing my physical, personal and writing style or persona to that of Jill's (flattered but I would like to think I have my own) I feel connected through her music, poems and even in reading about the various volunteer work that she does (I'm hoping to up the ante on my end with this). Have you been to one of her shows or a show with her in it some kind of way? The woman is amazing. She'll go from spoken word, to soul singing to a jazzy tune to opera in a heartbeat.

Even more, as I read further into her article I almost wanted to cry. Her pregnancy journey pretty much parallels mine. Only difference is, she is about to marry the father, the drummer of her band, [Lil] Jon Roberts. However, her emotional wave that she is riding...that was me all the way. I too was told that I couldn't conceive. Correction - my OBGYN at the time told me that if and when I decided to have children more than likely I would need the help of a fertility drug/method. My hormones were inbalanced and a large part as to why my menstrual cycles were practically non-existent after a time. Bascally, it was looking as if it would be very difficult for me to conceive. Not that this gave me an excuse to have [unprotected sex] with my mate at the time, but really pregnancy was really the last thing on my mind.

When I found out that I was pregnant the shock of it hit me more than a ton of bricks ever could. Slowly I revealed to my circle of family and friends what was going on; relying more on my older sister and my aunt for added support. For a while things seemed crazy, out of control as to where do I go from here. Eventually I pulled back, not totally, but enough to have my space to think, plan, talk to God and my baby.

There were highs and some lows with my pregnancy, but as each day passed the experience always put in awe of what was going on with my body.. of what was inside of me. As it sounds like with Jill, it was a day to day process with me.. of me claiming the role as "mother." Obviously the excellent thing about Jill's pregnancy is that Jon is there going through the same thing with her. They are hand in hand in this experience. Me? A lot of times I felt really alone. Though I had/have a few friends with children, they had gone through this slightly different than what I was going through. The other portions of my friends were like how I once was... single and child free. So in a lot of ways I felt like the odd girl out.

The Prisoner's Wife : A Memoir

asha bandele

No sooner had I finished reading the online article of Jill Scott, I was flipping through my copy of the current print edition of Essence. I came across a short interview with Journalist/Author Ashe Bandele. Long time ago I read her book, The Prisoner's Wife, her memoir of falling in love with an inmate to a prison she regularly visited with a poetry group, marrying him and eventually conceiving a daughter from the union. Unfortunately I didn't finish the book to the end and didn't have a chance to pick other works by Bandele. However, in her short interview she speaks on her latest memoir which is on her experiences of being a single mother(the marriage between her and the inmate eventually dissolved.).

One quote in particular arrested me. For it captured in essence all that I have been feeling about being a single mother.

"Single motherhood is not to be defended or excoriated; it just is. I don't think most people grow up saying 'I want to raise a baby by myself.' I grew up with a 1950's ideal...I'm offended by notions that everyone should get married, but I don't disagree that having a supportive, loving partner makes it easier." (Bandele. Essence February 2009 p. 68)

I was grossly offended when I told my parents I was pregnant and the first thing from my father's mouth was I should consider marriage to the father. During my pregnancy I paid close attention to parenting and pregnancy publications. I loathed them at the time because none of the advertising campaigns, articles or even photos to go with the articles represented me. The single mother. Everything celebrated family, which is fine and dandy, but the reality was.. is and probably will continue to be, not everyone is in the nuclear family mindset or actually living it.  

Of course when the Snickerdoodle actually made her entrance into the world, things changed. I too had to take that same "Big Girl" pill that Jill took and others before us did. Priorities and responsiblities changed instantly. Every life altering decision I had to make and continue to always figures in the Snickerdoodle.. especially in the realm of meeting new people, establishing relations. Not everyone will be priviledge to meet my daughter. It's strange. In reading about the "Big Girl Pill" it almost seems like a bitter pill to swallow. Yet, literally and metaphorically speaking it is the most selfless act and perhaps easy for the go-zillion of us who have. Call it nature, but it seems stronger than nature or instinct. It has to be, because unfortunately there are those aren't equipped (ready) to take care of their children (for whatever reason).

In terms of my own experience in being a mother, I think in a lot of ways what happened was fate.  In retrospect, considering everything I had went through before the Snickerdoodle, in a way it feels that her presence was right on cue. As I said in previous entries, I find it funny that God really was listening and I must be careful of what I ask for. For a long time I figured it would take a child to bring stability to my life. Lo and behold, my life is geling. Sometimes it's easy to try and wonder where would I be if she hadn't been here? Would I even be back in school now? Would I'd be so far down and out and wallowed out in my own pity that I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel? Would I even be on the tippy top of the world right now with no real peronsal growth, just the same ol'?

Either way, it wouldn't matter. What matters is the here and now and how much growth I've experienced and continue to embrace. Motherhood has definately forced me to grow up more..along with age. Granted it has tried my patience, even to the point where I did have a flash of the thought "Am I really cut of this?" but when I look at those brown eyes that stare back at me on the daily, it's all the motivation to keep going and making a way for her.

Granted, more than likely I have it easier than the average single mother, but it's still no simple task. Yet in almost the two years that the Snickerdoodle has been in my life, everything feels like a breeze. Like I'm floating. Even if I'm down to my last dime, I make sure the Snickerdoodle gets what she needs from that dime and I wouldn't have any regrets about it.

FutureSex / LoveSounds

Justin Timberlake

It's a little past 11 at night. Nothing in particular is on my mind as I sit back and listen to my Justin Timberlake cd. Yes, I still buy cds. Yes I like Justin. I think this album is a step up and a lot better than the first, even though that song "Summer Love" urks me for some reason. Maybe it's too bubble gum-ish for me.

I'm happy to report my father is 95% normal. The bactera infection is clearing. The swelling in his hands and feet has reduced. He's able to walk without a cane.

My mother checked on my grandmother today and she is just about back to her normal self. My day with her yesterday was a bit of a riot as she was being a bit stubborn. I was that nice-firm with her, so she paid attention to me much better than my aunt - that is until she was refusing to take some medication that cost $87. She figured if it was costing her $87 she wanted to know what it was and what would it do for her. I'm shocked that CVS doesn't provide an info pamphlet on prescriptions. I thought all pharmacies did that. I guess not. Nevertheless, after a threat to "Shady Pines" and a firm "YOU WILL TAKE YOUR MEDICATION" she did.

I'm a bit at ease at the moment. My feet are bit cold, but that's because I don't feel like going back into my room to get my fuzzy wuzzies... or this furry socks I wear around the house to keep my feet warm.

My Aunt VJ called this evening to verbally invite us to Christmas dinner. (by the way Chuck.. if you see this you're invited as well HA!) However, I believe we are going out of town again, so we'll miss out. I actually had a nice conversation with Aunt VJ. I got a brief summary of how things are going on that end and I gave her one as well.

For some reason I like that breakdown at the end of Justin's "Lovestoned." Something about it..make me reflect a bit.. I don't know.

Remember the days of a cassette player or the turntables? Ever just rewind or place the needle on the exact groove of a certain part of a song.. the breakdown.. a verse.. the bridge.. just because it was the most important part to you.. it was the be all and end all?

Lift Your Head Up High
And Scream Out To The World
I Know I Am Someone
And Let The Truth Unfurl
No One Can Hurt You Now
Because You Know What's True
Yes, I Believe In Me
So You Believe In You
Help Me Sing It, Ma Ma Se,
Ma Ma Sa, Ma Ma Coo Sa
Ma Ma Se, Ma Ma Sa,
Ma Ma Coo Sa
- Michael Jackson "Wanna Be Starting Something"

Maybe after Justin I'll pop in Jill Scott's newest CD.

I'm inspired to write at the moment. Full ..complete thoughts, that make sense, haven't rolled out yet. Just fragments and some run ons.

Something like...

The room fell silent and all that was left was our synchronized breaths. In an instant as if the loudness of silence was killing her, she turned to him and urgently spoke, "I'm a silly girl."

Tonight I'm starting my search for something that is coming up in February. Other than my birthday, my cousin T's birthday is the day right after mine. While I won't quite make the 30 year mark (I'm pushing it though) T will be 30. So she is having an old style cabaret with a 1920s theme.

Billie_holliday

I'm not sure what I'll wear. I keep thinking the simple "little black dress" that was started by CoCo Chanel in the 1920s, find a nice wig that reflects the 20s/30s and do a Billie Holiday with a flower pinned in the hair.

If I knew I had enough time I would have probably asked T to make me a dress. However I figured she is swamped with her designs already for school and God knows whatever else.

I need to call T and bounce some ideas off of her.

Speaking of turning 30.. I'm not sure what I will do when I get there. I keep thinking of an anthology themed party... some like my friend Kel had a few years back. Her party reflected all of her 35 years of living, especially within the music - house music that fused music she grew up with. It was truly unique and I loved her party.

Right after Feb I have to gear up for my daugher's birthday... her FIRST! Who knows what I'll do for her.

My Goodness... she's nearing the homestretch of her first year!!

I think I babbled enough. Think I'll go on this 1920s hunt.

Last night I had a dream. My memory about it is a bit sketchy since I don't remember the full thing. I just remember one particular part in which I was with my old friend Nikki (that I still speak with from time to time) and a couple of my cousins, mainly T and Tam. Some other folks were in the dream as well....yanno some faces I saw were from high school, but they didn't have a major role. The part that I can rmember is with Nikki coaxing me to jump off this bridge like platform into what seemed to be the Potomac River. Hell it could've been the Anacostia River really.  What was interesting is my raw and outward emotion of being blantly scared to death to do so.  

Whatever I was on , that Nikki had jumped off wasn't too far from the water. The water was calm, but I could somewho measure the depth by the current and the action of the small rippling waves. I felt my heart, in the dream and in reality, pumped faster than its normal speed. I was petrified of the water. It's not that I couldn't swim. I don't think all those years of swim lessons were in vain. Yet, in my fear I though mainly of my daughter and the what if of my untimely death. I was scared of sinking. I had no life support of any kind. Yet, Nikki was already in the water doing fine, swimming around and encouraging me to do it.

What's interesting to note that at some point I look back and I see my mother. It was if I needed her approval to jump before actually doing so. However, when I woke up from the dream, I don't know or even remember if I had jumped or not.  The funny thing is, I didn't really think about the dream until later this evening as I was cooking dinner. I wondered what the heck am I afraid of now. What is it that I'm afraid to do? Maybe in some ways it's all related to me working and writing. Maybe I'm still shaking cause of some fears about going into business for myself. It's not that I'm notopen to the idea. I really am, but I'm struggling with a starting point and even on how to build a strong clientle.

Maybe that's not what I'm fully afraid of?

Maybe motherhood is still so brand new to me and in the back of my mind I do feel overwhelmed with things. Hell today I looked into this elementary school for Taylor and almost had a panic attack about what's to come when she reaches school age. My child is just 6 months old! WHY AM I TRIPPING ABOUT A SCHOOL NOW???

This can't be what I'm afraid of? I seem to be doing this motherhood thing with ease, even though there are a few hiccups.

I thought about my grandmother and all that she has been enduring since her husband had his stroke about four years ago. I thought about how my mother has always said that my grandmother has NEVER lived alone. Someone has always lived with her. I do fear for my grandmother's life, because lately I do feel she feels as if no one truely cares what happens to her in this point of her life. She gets these depressed moments and I think she sees herself as a weak woman. Maybe this is why she is doing what she is doing.

Maybe I partially fear loosing my grandmother right now, because of the after affects of what her death can and will do.

I caught Jill Scott's new video today. It's actually to the song "My Love." Though I love the whole album, "My Love" is my absolute favorite followed by "All I" and "Wanna Be Loved."  When I listen to "My Love" I don't think of any particular man. I mainly think about those that have accused me of not loving them enough or giving all of me, when I basically did only to get hurt, disrespected and .

As the chorus goes:

"My love is deeper, tighter, sweeter, higher, fire. didn't you know this?"

Yo I'm Trippin Right?
I Heard You Got Married.
You Got Married?
That Don't Really..
It Don't Really Make Any Sense.
I Mean,
It's Not Like I Didn't Think You Were
Seeing Other People Or Whatever
I Mean,
I Was Seeing Other People You Know What This Is
You Know What It Was
I Can't Say I Really Understand Though..

You Chose Her Cuz She's Sweet As Pie
Take What You Give Even Your Lies,
But Baby Are You Happy, Without Me?
She Scrubs Your Back, Washes Your Clothes,
Gives You Everything That You Ask For..
But Don't You Ever Want More? Cuz, My Love..

My Love Is Deeper, Tighter, Sweeter, Higher, Fire..
Didn't U Know This? Or Didn't You Notice?
My Love Is Deeper, Tighter, Sweeter, Higher, Fire..
Didn't U Know This? Or Didn't You Notice?

What We Had Don't Need No Words
Deeper Than Anything You Ever Heard
I Ain't Reachin Baby, I Know I Should Be Your Lady
You Say You're Happy,
You Say You're Great,
But You Know And I Know You Really Ain't
You Need To Come Be With Me
That's The Way It's Supposed To Be..

My Love Is...
Deeper.
Sweeter.
Ooh Oooh Ooh
My Love. You Know Know Know...
Didn't You Notice?

Cuz All...All I Ever Do
Is Think About You Baby.
I Hold You In My Arms, Inside My Dreams..
And I Know What I Know, And What I Know Is
That No Matter Where You Go, You Will Always Think Of Me, My Love.

You Know Baby You Know
My Love Is Deeper
Wider
Didn't You Notice Baby?

Deeper
Tighter
Sweeter
Fire Babe...
 

This poem was posted in one of my writing groups today. I believe it is taken from Jill Scott's book of poetry. This is soooo on point for me at the moment.

The Moments, the Minutes, the Hours: The Poetry of Jill Scott

Jill Scott

What celebrity do you most often get told you resemble? 
Submitted by Leets.  

 

For the longest time people have been telling me that I remind them of singer/poet/actress Jill Scott.

 

 

The first person to ever call me Jill Scott was my old coworker, Mr. X. for the most part I think it was because at the time I was sporting really "au natural" hairstyles....

Twists...afros....etc.

 

Mahoganie circa 2002

However, it was also around that time that I started to share my writings a bit more with others. Jill had been on the underground and had just exploded onto the main scene around the time of my own "opening." I was introduced to Jill's vibe waaaay before mainstream got a grasp of her, but I never saw myself on her level per se. I admired her from the start and always felt humble when listening to her.. as I do with any other talented writer.

 

 

 

Mahoganie June 2007

Somehow, when folks read my stuff, they immediately thought of Jill. When they looked at me.. round in the face, with curves, hips, thick thighs, brownskin, natural hairstyle.... they immediately thought of Jill.

No I wasn't trying to immitate or "cop" her style.

Before I even knew a Jill Scott I was pretty much doing the nubian, neo soul bohemian thing... or whatever you want to call it.

Actually I was just being me.

I must admit, it felt damn good when Jill came on the scene, because actually... I thought I was staring back in my face.

She is truly "Beautifully Human"