Stiff by Natalie Dee 7032008

My mother never lied. Having a kid does change your body.

I'm inching closer to 30. It doesn't "snap back" like it use to. Trust, I still have the curves and the strut to match, but it takes me a bit longer to get it together when going out or even getting out of bed.

Though I still feel young and spunky, my mornings and sometimes late nights may suggest otherwise. I really haven't been sleeping well at all. I'm so like my mother or at least how she use to be. I don't function well until late evening into the night. When normal mammal species have sense enough to knock off to bed no later than 11, I'm up as if it is broad daylight. I'm starting to sense the Snickerdoodle is picking up this habit as well. I TRY to keep her on her sleep schedule; basically in bed no later than 9 pm.

What bugs me, I go to bed late and wake up early as if I do have a normal 9 to 5 to rush to. Granted, some days are chock full of errands, motherly things, a couple of writing projects to start or complete and lets not forget whatever duties I have to contribute to these renovations; i.e. more packing and bubble wrapping.  Still why do I not like not to sleep or can't sleep?

So here it is, almost fifteen minutes after four in the afternoon. I'm dragging. My feet are aching from standing on non supportive shoes while packing up the rest of the kitchen. My back aches from lack of sleep or sleeping wrong. My side muscles even ache a bit!  I'm yawning, cause I didn't get to spend the required 8 hours in "La La Land."  I've had no bath today, so I'm covered in 1970's and 80's dust. My hair is a mess and right now I don't seem to be getting any help from my folks. Mom is out running errands and my dad is on a retired-dad-union-break, which roughly translates to having a cold beer or two while watching that horrid Cleopatra movie on cable with Elizabeth Taylor.

Sorry, can't get down with Liz Taylor playing an Egyptian Queen, a woman of color.

My cousins are asking if the Snickerdoodle and I will make a recital in which another little cousin is performing in. I highly doubt it. I just want to be in my corner of the world for a while. Only the Snickerdoodle is invited.

I lost another cousin a couple of days ago. I keep wanting to call my cousin "J" to see how he is holding up amidst the lost of his grandfather. Hopefully, I'll get around to it tonight. Damn why did this have to happen so close to the family reunion - which is in another month or two.

Right now I long to be with Nisha as she traveled back to her native New Orleans. She went back home to participate in and enjoy the Essence Music Festival. This will be the first year that she has ever gone to a concert during the festival. Even more lucky, she's going to the show in which Jill Scott will be performing - lucky chica.

I haven't been in New Orleans since pre-Katrina; once in 1992 and again in 2002 or 2003? The city never struck me as a must-come-and-stay place, even though there is a certain charm to it. I am curious to see how much progress is being made since Katrina. I still shudder at some thoughts about the whole event.

It's getting close to five and near the time I should be making the Snickerdoodle's dinner.

I need to take her on more play dates as well. Just this past Monday, we spent time with my cousin T and her niece and nephew. T and I took the kids to a nearby park. While the other kids went up and down the slides, the Snickerdoodle held her "court" on the swings. She didn't want to get off. I spent the whole time pushing the Snickerdoodle and watching her giggle herself silly.

On another note, my mother showed me the few pictures from her conference she attended last week. Needless to say, my work I did with her social organization's chapter and the group of 6th grade boys was on display. More reviews. I can't wait to join up with this project again for next year. Maybe I should think about joining this group and stop being a shadow or ghost.... aka consultant of some sort.

I'm seriously dragging today.

Noooooooooo. Not another email.

I am expecting at least one email concerning an article I pitched. I was told it's usually a four week turn around for a response. This has only been like the third week.  

Hoe hum.  

In a way I'll be glad when the computer and internet is disconnected until the phone lines are moved. I've been too wired lately; literally and figuratively.  I'm starving to get get back to basics.

Just me, some paper and a pen.

hoe hum

On a seriously real random note.... I think I've developed a small crush on Keith Olbermann. I REALLY need to stop watching MSNBC.

WOW.. Olbermann is an Aquarius... no wonder. 

*big smile* 

This Water Barer is ....out.

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Tadoodles for the Snickerdoodle

Of writers they (whomever they are)  say, once you find and claim a spot of your own you can successfully sit down and let your thoughts flow. Most of the time I find this to be true, but lately it seems that every corner or spot I claim it's cluttered with boxes of stuff or furniture that has been covered with heavy duty construction plastic. No sooner then I claim it, the whole family claims it as well as we are pushed to one corner to the next in the midst of the renovation. Normally I'm able to push pass such disturbances, especially when I can't contain my thoughts. I just let it spill. However, lately I've been letting the noise win. Perhaps it's the procrastinator in me or that small inner insecure voice whispering doubtful lines.

I gotta get rid of him...it...that doubtful voice.

The drilling, banging, sawing, Spanish conversations flying loud and fast, the Snickerdoodle discovering things, the parents needing me to do something, the electricity tripping on and off - overload, the telephone ringing, the thunder storms.....the need for quiet.

It's no wonder I end up with dull headaches by the end of the day.

Yeah I could pack up the laptop and take a breather at a coffee shop, but there is still the very active Snickerdoodle and the fact that both my folks are tied up some kind of the way during the day. So the little one would have to roll with me. She's a busy 1 year old. How come no one REALLY warned me about this stage?

Maybe I'm making up excuses. After all I haven't even asked if my parents could watch her for a few hours nor tried such.  I still managed to complete a few things I needed done via writing, including a pitch to a magazine.  I've been attempting to take another "gander" at my manuscript. This time I'm more determine to have it completed by the end of August. After some searching, I believe I have found a literary agent, but of course I have to complete the manuscript before any soliciting.

Not much else has been on my mind lately.

I'm excited about next Saturday as Papi and I are going to see Rahsaan Patterson and Kindred - The Family Soul at the Carter Barron. One thing I love about summers in DC since I was kid, concerts at the Carter Barron and at Fort Dupont Park. Sitting under the stars and listening to good music still feels like I'm part of a hidden gem or secret in the city. Though people come to these shows, still a LOT don't know about such. I sorta like it that way.

One thing that has been ruffling my feathers lately is the growing trend of people claiming to be Washingtonians and are implants from another city. Even worse (to me) they make such a claim and have lived here less than ten years OR they really been living on the outskirts in the neighboring suburbs still claiming to be Washingtonians. I noticed that a lot as I've read through this month's issue of Washingtonian Magazine, DCist, Living Penn Quarters blog site and other so-called DC sites that happened to be founded and started by implants to the city.

It makes me wonder about people like me, true DC natives who were born, raised and are still here. We take pride in our city no matter what quadrant we're from, but where are we? How come we weren't bold or creative enough to have these sites about DC that the implants have?

Maybe I should seek to start one. Maybe I should raid DCist and other sites like it to let folks know.. you aren't writing about the REAL Washington.

I'm not sure when, why or how I ended up with so much love for my city. As ass backwards as the leaders in charge can be, there's still a lot of good and beauty to this city mixed with the distasteful and bad. Sometimes, I'm afraid that the implants may not get the whole picture.  No, I'm not a hater towards non-DC natives. I just hate how some act as if they have been here their whole lives and don't have a clue about the old DC vs. the new and ever changing DC.

Surely, this city isn't "Chocolate City" anymore.

I wonder if this is how a true New Yorker feels about the millions of implants in their city?

How many years should constitute you as a "native" of a place?

In other news, I've been contemplating about joining a social networking group for mothers of color. It's a national organization with a few chapters in DC. Though the organization as a whole focuses on the principle of sisterhood and community activism, each chapter is sort of tailored with its own added concepts to the circle of sisterhood. The particular chapter I've been mulling over intertwines an alternative motherhood lifestyle with the main principles of the organization. By alternative, I mean; breastfeeding over formula, home schooling over mainstream schooling, holistic healing over medication (drugs), organic and vegan diets over the carnivorous and/or unhealthy diet.

As Brandon often teases me about - the "SELAH" kind of life (Think Erykah Badu or afro-centricity)

I've been communicating with the president of the chapter via email. After reading through the introduction letter and some other materials it is made clear that while they do promote and advocate the alternative, it's not mandatory. I even had a chance to read over the blog the president has kept on the birth of her pre-mature son. It was very insightful to say the least.

I never knew such things as a milk bank or donating your breastmilk even existed.

Nevertheless, based on what I've read from her blog, I can see that the members of this chapter are very thoughtful and supportive. I feel like I need that in my life right now. Not that there is anything wrong with my personal circle. I just feel I need a little more support from people who are more like me at this stage in my life. However, I'm just not sure how open (if at all) to the idea of an alternative motherhood lifestyle I can be. I'll admit, I was a bit selfish with the decision about breastfeeding vs formula. At the time I was more concerned about me returning to a full time job. I couldn't see that with leaking boobs; pump or no pump.  

As for home school, I would rather have my child socialize and experience everything there is to in a classroom and a school setting. While I do deem education as highly important, I want her to participate in school activities and socialize with children her age as she develops and is able to problem solve life situations. I'm not knocking anyone who does homeschool their child(-ren). My sister is currently doing this and my nieces are beautiful and intelligent little women. I just don't think it's the right fit for what I want for my child.

Granted, the introduction letter did mention that the lifestyle isn't mandatory, I just worry about sticking out like a sore thumb at a meeting or potluck gathering. I'm the mom in heels that loves a good martini. I occassionally sport a curly 'fro, but lately a more straight look so I may not always come off as afro-centric as some of the other members. I'm not that much of a meat eater, but I will tear up some salmon, chicken and a good steak if you slide it my way. I do cook fresh foods, especially FRESH GREENS - I HATE the frozen or can stuff. I just can't do organic or sugar free chocolate. That's outright inhumane to me.  

I'm still considering giving the group a go. I do think it would be a refreshing change. I'm in need of one.

Still... we'll see.

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Perfectly Imperfect

It seems that I've been forced to do some introspective thinking these past couple of days. It's pretty ironic, since I already feel as if I do anytime I put a pen to paper or even tap the keyboard to see my thoughts appear on a screen. Yet as take a breather in life I feel as if I have to have a conversation with myself and God concerning what's next for me or more importantly what is this phase in my life's journey about. What is there for me to learn, gain and possibly loose?

Granted, such thoughts have been in my head since the day I gave birth, but they seemed to have reappeared during this renovation process as I witness the house and my family go through a change. I laughed at myself the other day when I recently accepted an invite from a blog lurker on Yahoo 360. After accepting his invitation, it seemed in a matter of 24 hours he sent a message asking me to tell him something about myself.  My response to him was,

"All you need to know is right there on the page."

At the time all I saw was a lurker turned virtual "friend" looking to be a potential reality confidant. Honestly, I don't have that kind of time nor energy especially with strange men trying to enter into my life with nothing more on the brain than scoring a potential booty call. What made me laugh after the fact was me asking myself the same thing.

"Tell me about yourself now."

Just the other day I was listening to Erykah Badu's latest CD, New Amerykah, in depth. I love Badu's music to death, but this latest really had to grow on me. It wasn't until Papi took me to see her last month that I now have a real appreciation for this new album. I loved it (better) live. However, there is one song that I've kept on repeat ever since I paid closer attention to the lyrics; the song "Me."

Everything around you see
The Ankhs, the wraps, the plus degrees
And yes even the mysteries
Its all me
Sometimes it hard to move you see
When you growing publicly
But if I have to chose between
I chose me

The same evening in which I was grooving to Badu, I logged onto Vox and saw the question of the day or a prompt.  The prompt called for bloggers to revisit their first entry on Vox and reflect on any maturity between then and now.  At the time I didn't jump at the chance to flip back through many blog pages on Vox to get to my first one. I knew what it was about and I knew EXACTLY what was going on in my life during the time I started writing in Vox.

My first entry was a mere introducing. Indeed  I was no stranger to the blog world as I described myself as a blog whore. I was keeping several blogs (still do) as I felt lost at the time. I was "lost" because the one which I kept daily, held my thoughts from my hellish early 20 years and did some growing with was dead. It died thanks to a technological malfunction. Thankfully, I did have a majority of my writings from the site, but it was only what I had downloaded a year prior to the site death. So I had everything except that very last year that held my breaking point in which I did a major change. 

The time when I joined Vox I was calming down from that major life change, but little did I know that another wave was on the way. Only a few entries in, did I learn I was pregnant. Perplexed and feeling a bit alone I felt even more lost than usual, but I managed to pull through.

Had 2 babies different dudes
And for them both my luv was true
This is my last interview, oooh
Hey there's me, ooh
This year I turned 36
Damn it seems it came so quick
My ass and legs have gotten thick yea
Its all me

Two years later, that second wave of change did occur. I'm in new territory. I became a single mother of one. Though it's been an internal battle, I'm a stay-at-home mother.  Yet, I use my time wisely as I continue to write, consult and pitch freelance ideas or work on projects. I'm inching closer to 30. I'm definitely not 21 anymore, but a young and vibrant spirit won't die in me. My love for music fuels my fire or my hunger to be in the underground spot with the complex DJ venting through his mixes; where the gathering is all about the music. I'm a city girl who will get restless in the suburbs aka the fake city. I crave and live in the urban.

I use to pray to God above
But now Im filled with so much luv
But even if the world cant see
Its still me
Will I escape this vanity?
Or will I keep on smoking trees?
But I'll just let it go and be, be, be Me

Over the last year or so I've noticed how my friend/relationships have changed. I've gained new people. Lost a couple. Some friend/relationships may have become enhanced while others stayed the same or slid back to neutral. There were various reasons for each change in the dynamic, and I can guess that my growth may have affected each one in it's own way. The old me still lingers as it wants to dwell in the past to do its usual of analyzing the situation. Yet, the new me fights to keep moving. The new me seems to always win. However, each person that has come across my path does hold a special place in my heart; friend or foe.

The new me is "mommy conscience" as I take in who or what is and isn't mommy friendly. The old me still speaks to me when I contemplate on what to wear; heels a fashionable outfit and diaper bag. The new me gets scared when she sees her daughter crying and wanting relief from her eczema breakout. The old me comes through to make me act silly to make the Snickerdoodle smile. The new me realizes that dating isn't just for fun anymore. The new me embraces the thought of having a life long companion while being open to marriage.

The old me is my reminder of where I once was.

The new me is my light to help me see where I am going.

The old and new have merged, but for the greater good.

I still love God, Langston Hughes, Lynchburg Lemonades and girlie martinis, chocolate, the Tiffany & Co. Blue Hue, sex, falling in love, walking in the rain, watching Homer make an ass of himself, being in the midst of city foot traffic, being and feeling feminine, making my own way, brightening a stranger's day, making people feel special, picking the underdog, seeing things in a different light.

I'm learning and have developed a love for home decorating, tending to my daughter's ever changing needs and watching her grow, being domestic, and everything that will follow. 

Physically I may have gained a few inches; slight buxom spillage, rounder tummy, slightly thicker thighs, but it's me.

As each day passes, I've been loving me a bit more.

I'm still imperfect yet it's me.

It's all me. 

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Dear Raheem aka R&B Rock Star,

It's been a couple of years since I had any contact with you. At the time MySpace was still a bit personal where you could easily reach out and connect with someone. Nowadays, superstars, aspiring stars and wanna be stars aren't even too personal there anymore. During the time of our brief virtual communication I approached you about a short story I had written that wove in some old lyrics of yours.

Indeed, I've been a fan of yours since the dawning of your underground days. I didn't become fully smitten by your music until a friend of mine from Baltimore hipped me to a mix tape by her close friend DJ Karizma. The mix included the song by Soul Fusion with your vox as the main/lead vocal; to which you were known simply as "V". The song, "I Got Rhythm" instantly made me giddy and want to dance. Your voice was beautifully haunting as seductive. It took me a minute to put two and two together after hearing your vocals with the Urban Ave projects and on Jazzy Jeff's Magnificent album - which I couldn't get enough of the song "My People" and strangely I feel a bit urked that within the recent year Michael Baisden is playing the song to death on his show as if it is brand new and he should have BEEN known about it (I get this way about anything that surfaces from the underground and gets its due late.) - to realize V and you are one in the same.  I further fell in love with your music when I finally heard you live one summer at the Carter Baron when you opened up for Amel Larrieux. I even stood in your face after the show as my same friend from Baltimore talked business with you. Though I never said I word as we stood there in your presence, I took in such a small wonder with a booming voice that is perhaps larger than that amphitheater.

P.S. I hope you got some kind of rest before your flight to Barcelona the next day.

Nevertheless, listening to "I Got Rhythm" always took me to a place that was different from the comfort of my walls in Southeast, DC. One night, as the tune played in my head, I scribbled my thoughts. A sentence became a paragraph. A paragraph became a prose. The prose became a full blown short narrative. It wasn't until a few years later I sought to have the story published within an anthology. That's when I contacted you as I was seeking your permission to use the story with your lyrics. You were open about it, but of course wanted to review what I had written. No problem. You referred me to your assistant Brooke - to which I realized she attended my old high school, but was few years younger than me. I contacted Brooke, attaching the story. However there was no response. I even did a follow up with Brooke. Again, no response.

The deadline for the final edits of the anthology were upon me and I made the decision to remove that particular piece and replace it with another.

I didn't think to contact you again, because like you and other artists, writers, creative misfits, etc. I moved on to other projects and captured many other thoughts on paper to keep on adding to the collection. Yet I feel compelled to dust off the old story as I have a (pirated) copy (sorry - how much I owe ya?) of the song posted on Imeem. I keep receiving private messages about the song from folks who never heard it and love it. Also, a couple of folks who have read the short story have asked if I found a home for it yet (has it been published) out of the blue.

I'm not sure what all this means... if it's time to seek publication for the story or not. Yet, I'm leaving it to chance and by Divine Rite! If you should happen to a break in between performing, recording, writing..whatever.. and you happen to pop online for a break, maybe even feel compelled to Google yourself and you come across this blog... feel free to read and even comment. Hopefully we can discuss a business agreement in which I do have your permission to use your lyrics if I should choose to have the story published.

Thanks for the music!

Tiffany "Mahoganie" Browne.

Genre: Fiction (short story)\

Word Count: 536

Copyright 2003

Rhythm Play

By: Mahoganie

*Words in italics are from the song "I Got Rhythm" by Soul Fuzion featuring Vee (Raheem DeVaughn).*

Now…how would you like… if I got… CLOSE UP
Now... how you would like ... if I made you… SWEAT!!!
I got rhythm... YES
I got rhythm ... OH...
I got rhythm... YEAH
Rhythm

I felt the presence behind me get closer. The smell of cloves made its way to my nose. My mild hypnotic state transformed into a full blown trance.

The seduction had begun...

Tell Me… would you mind If I got close up
Tell Me… would you mind If I want your body just like this song...

I got rhythm for you baby if you have the time...
I got rhythm for you baby if you have the time...
I got rhythm for you baby if you have the time...

The presence was strong. It merged with my existence. We were one silhouette, joined at the hip.  We had become a subservient infinitive lyric to a superior rhythm.

Tell Me would you like…If we danced longer
Tell Me would you like… could you hang if the rhythm never ended
Oh, the RHYTHM....
Yes, Rhythm…

Our lyric was coming to life. It was bold and abstract against the rhythm. It was telling a story of two becoming one and questioned the longevity of the creation.

My silhouette to his presence...our lyric.

Tell Me would you like if the DJ brought it back
Tell Me would you like if the DJ brought it back

I'm a slave. I'm disciplined to want nothing but the rhythm. I'm told that without the rhythm there is no lyric.

Bio:

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The day is done. I'm phsyically tired, but I'm emotionally charged. Mentally... I'm 90% there.

Divine messages have once again interjected into my life. Perhaps in the most usual form, but I believe I got the memo.

I finally finished Jennifer Weiner's Certain Girls late last night.  Again, my hats off to her for such an excellent work. I will admit it was in a bit of shock towards the end when she decided to write off a character. Honestly, I pretty much grieved last night with Cannie Shapiro, because like her, I too had grown accustom to the character that was killed off. The person was a permanent fixture in the fictional world of Cannie - so I thought.

Nevertheless, my revelation didn't come with the character's death as it served as an culminating event to the plot. It was more so Cannie's reclaiming herself in the aftermath of everything - her true purpose in life... her Divine purpose in life. What was it? Naturally it was to write. The calling was there ... been there... for Cannie to write something sincere from the heart. From her gut. Not out of anger as she did with the first novel that eventually caused her shame and made her hide under a  psuedo. Though she was good at it (apparently) and found her comfort zone in writing under another name, it wasn't the REAL Cannie.

The way Weiner summed up Cannie's fears on writing again or just writing a book in general hit home for me. It was all about protecting the ones she loves in the midst of her own madness (true or made up) and releasing in order to let go..or maybe just coast along in a comfort zone.  Yet deep within, because of whatever insecurities her real life's work or purpose in life was obscure of foggy.

This morning I arose with thoughts in my head on finishing my work/manuscript as I scrambled around prepping my daughter for her big day in church. She was dedicated today and for a time I felt as if I were going to cry. Actually I did most of my crying last night as I read through Joy's bat miztvah and her message and even made some comparisons of my own daughter's life. Like a bar/bat miztvah a dedication is very much indeed an important milestone. It's a process or MY commitment as a mother... a parent... to "offer" my child's life back to God. It's up to me to guide her through life and raise her in the light of God until she is old enough to say "Mother I want to fully commit to Him."

As I listened to my pastor's words today during the dedication and during the sermon (from which he preached on the widow in debt with her empty vessels and filled it with oil as Elisha instructed her to do and further told her to sell the oil in order to repay her debt - 2 Kings 4:1-11) the tears filled the corners of my eyes.  Today, I was not only being charged with the duty of motherhood, but also my purpose. my writing...my oil.

Are my vessels (of life) empty?

I probably still have some cleaning to do, which is something that I may need to serious sit down think and pray on.

If anyone who reads my blog doesn't hear from me in a while.. don't worry... more than likely... I'm behind closed doors working with my oil to fulfill something that I do feel is calling me.

I have a story to tell... somebody's needs to hear it.

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It's obvious. I got work to do.

My day has been a little off today. I didn't feel like venturing out. I've been a bit irritable. The contractors came by today to take some extra measurements, and all I wanted them to do was leave me alone in the process. My sister and her little women are in town, but I promised myself to meet up with them tomorrow. There is a family function tonight, but I didn't feel like going. I can easily blame my shut-in-ness on PMS, but really....I just hear Ron Isley crooning from afar in my head...

"I'm taking care of business, baby can't you see
I gotta make it for you, and I gotta make it for me
Sometimes it may seem girl I'm neglecting you
I'd love to spend more time
But I got so many things to do
Ooh, I got work to do, I got work baby
I got a job yeah I got work to do"

Feeling a bit rejected and almost dejected from a single email, I managed not to wallow in my pity. I kept thinking and seeing the situation in a positive light. 

What happened?

Well, a few weeks ago a fellow journalism buddy help me revamp my resume and craft a cover/pitch letter to a major news publication. They were looking for a shopping columnist within their "Source" (wink - hint hint) department. The position seemed perfect as it was part-time and the subject is right up my alley. Yet, I believed I screwed up a bit in applying. In my hast, I applied for the position without running it by any one for a look over. I was confident enough to send my materials over as is. I showed my buddy what I sent after the fact and basically we came to the conclusion, it was pretty much a disaster for this particular go around. Things could have been spruced up, shorten and tightened a bit more.

We stayed up a bit late hammering out a new cover letter and revamping the resume. I resent my materials, beating the deadline, and awaited a response. I finally received one yesterday, to which the assignment editor wrote that I didn't have enough experience for the position.

*insert my deep inhale and tears ready to ball*

Of course I shared the news with my buddy and she suggested that I respond with a thank you and ask specifically what would have qualified me for the position. At first I was just going to let the issue go. However, my emotions (PMS) got the better of me. I sent the assignment editor a three liner, thanking her for the consideration, asking what would have qualified me and thanking her for any advice she could give me for future pitches.

A couple hours later a response. Without giving any further advice, she simply stated that the position calls for someone who has experience in writing about fashion and the arts.

Duh!

Shit!

I sold myself SHORT!!!!!!

I've done this before! Maybe not for five to ten years and granted it was for my college paper, but I basically spent almost two years writing on such subjects! I went to gallery/exhibit openings throughout the city. I've interviewed curators, artists and etc and reported back to campus.

In talking with my journalism buddy, she suggested that since the lines of communication are open that it's really up to me to not let it go stale. I've made the decision that I will be contacting the assignment editor in the next couple of days to pitch an idea to her for a freelance article. Perhaps that will be my chance to audition to show that I CAN do this!

What's interesting, as I was clearing more room for the renovations the other day I came across an old pitch letter I had written up. It was addressed to Fader Magazine.  I had full intent to pitch a story concerning the house music scene here in DC. My angle for the story was straight - pun not intended. I had interviewed a couple of underground DJs and was on the path to interview more.... then a distraction hit. I believe it was during the time my mother had her mild stroke. I put everything to the side.  Fader never got "the memo." Story.. nonexistent. Story...defunct.

I still may pick it up again, but I have to investigate to see if my angle will still work. If it is still fresh.

As for the idea I want to pitch to Ms. Assignment Editor...... I need to go WORK on that.

I Got Work To Do.

"It is not the man of great native talent who wins, but he who pushes his talent, however small, to its utmost capacity."

- From the book "Things Your Mother Always Told You But You Didn't Want to Hear" by Carolyn Coats

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Retro Is Sexy

Yesterday I received an unexpectant review.

I was in the midst of ditching, packing and cleaning for more renovation work when the phone rang. It was the project manager/lead for the volunteer work I did with the group of sixth grade boys. The culminating event for the project was this past Monday. However, I missed it as I had to take care of some things for the Snickerdoodle.

Apparently I made a lasting impression on the boys as they were excited to see their name in print. The final project for the boys included an anthology the project manager and I put together for the them. The book featured the work they did with me and even a few written things from their regular classwork. It also - in keeping with the theme of creativity and business matters/sense - the book also featured their professional profile (what they wish to be in life). The boys also had business cards  as well that told their "desired" profession.

"Believe me when I say, your name is gold in that school. The teachers were impressed, the parents and the principal loved it."

I was given praise for the work I did during my short time with the boys. Honestly, I didn't know I had introduced or encouraged whatever creativity they had within them. Some weren't use to speaking in front of their class. Because I had them stand in front and present their poems, they were eager to share their work to all by Monday's event.  What I'm most happy about is the fact that the boys actually learned something!

The whole time as I held the phone to my ear and listened to Ms. S go on and on about how what they experienced through the program has changed them, I couldn't help but wonder if this is part of my purpose - basically just inspiring and enpowering through writing. Nisha use to ask me ..or tell me rather.. that I should thinking about teaching. I don't know about that kid! As I tell Nisha all the time, ESPECIALLY TO HER, teaching is a special gift. I saw this in my mom and all  her close friends who are now retired from the school system. I see it in Nisha as she is a high school English teacher in the Miami/Ft. Lauderdale area.

Me? I never wanted or even considered being a teacher. I don't have that much patience to deal with an ill school system, parents who act worse than some children or being over worked and under valued.. even though the most rewarding part is watching a child mature with knowledge and molding them for the world. I guess what made it "easy" for me with these boys is the fact that it  was a small group - easy to manage. The other thing is - as with most sixth graders - they were very impressionable. As I prepared for my presentation I made sure I was on their level with some things, while exposing them to something they may come across is in junior high school.

Ms. S went on to say how the boys gave her suggestions for next year, which proves the point that children want to learn when you take your time with them and make it interesting. I hope to be around for next year's project. I really did have fun doing this. I'm actually sorry to see it end.

As for my purpose and my gift... I honestly do believe this writing with worth more than gold. Thank you Lord for such a gift.

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Kimora and daughters fashion week 2008

1. Viewing Kimora Lee Simmons' reality show.

I cried.

Last night's (Sunday) episode was a part two to Kimora and her production team staging the Phat Fashions fashion show for New York's Annual Fashion Week. A segment of the show features Kimora giving her oldest daughter, Ming Lee, a pep talk about her hair. Ming Lee, 8,  was about to take part in a rite of passage that all little girls of color (or perhaps any girl) goes through at some point. In prepping for the fashion show, Ming Lee's hair was about to be "blown out" or straightened via the blow dryer. Kimora's pep talk was more of handing out "the law" in how to keep up with such a hair style, plus bumping up Ming Lee's chores around the house - to washing dishes.

After a kiss to seal the hair and chores deal, and Kimora's daughters asking her how old was she when her hair was blown out - to which Kimora responded "at the age of 13 when I was hitting the runways in Paris" - an emotional mommy began to break down and cry. Ironically, I was crying right along with Kimora as she (maybe with a little bit of dramatic overtones) talked through tears of how her babies are growing up before her eyes and it was all too much for her.

I thought about my own daughter. How she is a little over 13 months now. I look at her now and compare pictures I took of her last year when she was a few weeks old. She's definately older. She has her own personality.  She is starting her journey of becoming her own unique spirit.  I'm anxious, scared and happy at the same time to the different rites of passage she will go through - menstrual cycle, first bra, allowed to have boys call her, wearing stockings, wearing high heels, makeup and of course hair permed/straightened.

I was roughly 12 when my hair was processed. My mother was furious. At the time I didn't understand what the big deal was. I just knew I was tired of the hot comb. I had enough war wounds  (hot comb scars) behind my ears to plead my case. My grandmother agreed and "ordered" it done. Aunt P, who worked as a beautician at the time, commenced with the order. PCJ (as it was/is called) or Pressing Comb in a Jar did the trick. Funny thing is, all those years I spent with processed hair, I finally let the chemicals go. It's been eight or nine years as I've returned to my "au natural" roots (which do need some professional work here and there), and began a regime of washing my hair every two weeks and either letting it air dry into a bush or finding the patience of pressing my own hair with the hot comb - only to make it managable to comb and not bone straight.

However, back to Kimora.... 

It was at that moment of her "breakdown" that I truly gained respect for Kimora as a business woman but more importantly as a mother. Though she is demanding and a bit of a diva with her over the top ways, the love she has for her daughters is not for show for the Style Network cameras. It's real. In all that she does, she always makes it a point that no matter what, when her babies need her she is there.

I can only hope that I am doing just the same for my own daughter. I'm always careful to continue to let my passion for writing and all that I want to do drive me, but making sure it doesn't leave my daughter in the dust somewhere. Whatever I achieve in life I want it to be for us - God, my daughter and myself.

Certain Girls: A Novel

Jennifer Weiner

2. Reading Certain Girls

Since I began reading Jennier Weiner's latest novel, I've been happily entralled in Cannie Shapiro's world again AND her daughter, Joy. Ironically, I laugh when I read Joy's thoughts, because like any adolescent in this world what "tween" doesn't think their mother is a little "off." As I've been reading I have noticed that I see myself in both Cannie and Joy this time. Joy represents my "ugly" teen years, but she also represents something new in my life... yes my Snickerdoodle. Though Cannie is a little older than me in this book (she's in her 40's where as in Good In Bed she was right on the bullseye as my current age - late twenties) I still related to her on some level as she flashes back to her twenties to relive some horrid "single mom/writer" moments.

What's funny here.. in keeping with the theme of rite of passages...Joy is obviously about to go through one with her bat mitzvah on the horizon. However, as I keep reading it seems that her rite of passage is coming in another form as well..learning the real truth of how she came to be and beginning to understand her mother's intentions, ways, persona...etc.

Part of Cannie's past deals with a book she wrote that was based on her life. However, she fictionalized it with a hyper/over sexed heroine as she told a tale of how she over came some of her issues with the men in her life; a father that didn't want her and a boyfriend that was a pile of....shit.  Not to mention a mother that eventually admitted that she was a lesbian. Naturally Joy ends up reading the book and at the moment is seeking answers, on her own, about her mom and dad's relationship and her existence.

When I initally started blogging (in 2002) and decided that what I wrote would eventually end up in a manuscript or book form, a lot of it did sound like a broken record. That was because it was during the time when I was in my depression and part of my solace or my comfort zone at the time was through sex.  As I began to put the pages together, I didn't like what I saw. Granted it was my truth. That shit hurt. Still, I always worried about who would eventually read my truth if in fact it did get as far as being published. Who would it help? Who would it hurt?

My manuscript has been changed so many times because

1) I'm never going to be happy with it until my brain can finally say "STOP!" That's just the writer perfectionist in me.

2) Though I did fictionalized it, those who are close to me will know it's about me. So what will my mother think, especially in some of the mother vs. daughter scenes?

3) Since becoming a mother, I now feel it's my duty to use it (or perhaps anything I write) as a tool to teach my daughter a (few) lessons in life.. for when she is older and is able to comprehend what I went through.

In reading about Cannie and Joy, it's also bringing up a couple of the same issues I had.. umm HAVE... with my mom.... the over protectiveness and the broken communication line. Where I am currently in the story I do feel as if the crap is about to hit the fan. I'm just anxious to read about it and see where the two Shapiro ladies will go from there.

Another rite of passage...being able to face your truths, the whole truths so help you God.  

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Forgive me "father" for I have sinned it has been several days, maybe weeks, since my last confession.

I've been on a slight mission ever since I purchased a dress a week or so ago. 

My mission...finding the perfect black patent leather clutch purse.

After my free oil change (thank you Mazda), I ended up at Target today and was very disappointed in their selection. Really... how hard can it be to find a nice black patent leather clutch bag without big silly bows? I know I'm a child of the 80s but DAMN!

COOOOOME OOOOOON!

I steered the cart away from that department, picked up a few items for the Snickerdoodle and landed in heaven. 

My eyes lit up when I saw the stationary/card section.

Greeting Card Whore

Okay, I don't know what it is about me and greeting cards or stationary exactly. I don't even know when this addiction started. I have a fetish for pretty paper thingys.  I literally have a collection of greeting cards that I have not given to anyone, because they are too pretty to give to just anyone.

Hey some people collect stamps.

Me....

I'm a pretty paper person.

I did manage to pick up a couple of Mother's Day cards that I will be giving to my mother and grandmother. I still have May birthday cards to pick up. oye! 

Eventually the cards I have in my collection will go to someone... well.. I'm not too sure about the card with the glamour high heel (as pictured above). I simply adore that one. So if anyone gets it, they better damn sure appreciate it.

Anywho....

Needless to say, I caved to my greeting card addiction right there in the middle of Target. To hell with the clutch purse...for now.

On to Barnes & Noble.

My original mission with B&N was to pick up the May issue of Allure Magazine (I actually got the last copy! Did everyone know this was the annual "naked" issue?) 

Again, I was in heaven.

1. I was in a freaking bookstore. I miss buying a book or two.

2. B&N has just about any pop culture and sub pop culture magazine you can think of.  I'm a straight up glossy, airbrush, feature writing, artistic photography, quirky article, inspirational and motivational, 1,000 word count..... WHORE!

Today's Picks from the Newsstand aka Barnes & Noble (4/29/08)

Along with Allure, I picked up two of my favs.

Black Book and Fader (oh I missed reading Fader!)

I also picked up the 2008 edition of Writer's Market! Oh how I NEED this as I scope out who to query for freelance projects and even further my search for a literary agent!

(Big Score for me!)

Also, I could not resist another Jennifer Weiner book.

Gnb cover

OK! Stop! Hold it! The last book by Weiner that I actually own, read and loved was her first, Good In Bed. I could relate to that book on so many levels - and probably even more so now. Ironically I thought about that book last night. I had the urge to re-read it, but my butt was too lazy to get out of bed to hunt for it in my maze of boxes and such thanks to renovation inconvenience. I never got around to reading In Her Shoes, which I'm mad at myself for - since I wanted to read the book before seeing the movie. I didn't bother picking up Little Earthquakes, because after reading the synopsis I wasn't interested. However, today I just couldn't refuse her latest, Certain Girls. The story picks up where Good in Bed left off. So yes... if you are a Jennifer Weiner reader... Cannie Shapiro is back!

With nothing much more to say I would like to be excused now from today's confession.  I'm eager to do some self assigned homework in drumming up some ideas, reading a chapter or two in The Purpose Driven Life and skim through my magazines while drinking some ice tea and wiggling my toes under my covers.

If there shall be a penance for my addictive ways let it be the Snickerdoodle refusing to sleep unless she curls up with me. I can handle that.

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I'm utterly speechless right now. I almost feel like crying. I feel like I'm experiencing another epiphany.

For the past couple of days, in light of  my conversation I had with my aunt ,  I've been mulling over pushing myself (even harder) out of my comfort zone.  As I scoped out a few more frelance gigs on journalism job boards, I almost felt intimidated. A lot of the freelance gigs that are up for grabs are based in New York. I thought back to one of my old writing & reporting professors and the journalism logic he shared; a journalist my have to be a nomad from time to time. So I'm not a full fledge journalist and most of the freelance projects I'm doing are more so on the creative side now. However, a lot of the "cool" projects I see are outside of DC. I STILL have this mindset that I can find a freelance gig or two in DC (or at least in the area) - one that I LIKE! It would accommodate my lifestyle and be convenient.

I often complained how creativity is often underground, hidden in the cracks of this city. It may not be as prevalent as in New York, maybe Philly and perhaps San Francisco or Chicago, because politics is the mother load here. So yes, I've been trying to carve out my own niche. However, today I took a look at what some of the projects from New York are looking for. Guidelines seems simple enough, but there goes that pain-in-the-ass self doubt. Am I really an expert on fashion? The woman who just put some pink and white poka dot sheets on her bed?

(don't ask)

I even considered posting a profile on another journalism site under their freelance section.  That other pain in the ass set in, intimidation. I began to feel really small when browsing the other profiles and taking note of how many years they have been at this.

I started reading emails and clearing out my inbox. I came across one of those weekly gossip thingys that Ms. C always sends me. To be fair, the one she sends is really the most truthful. She actually sent it a week ago, so I'm a  bit late on the latest.  I skimmed through not caring much about Star Jones and Al Rynolds' divorce, Eddie Murphy wanting the engagement ring back from Tracey Emmonds or even Whitney Houston and Brandy's brother, Ray J, dating again (yuck!).  My eyes locked on a small paragraph about Jill Scott.

Jill Scott, along with actresses Angie Harmon and Gabrielle Union, go nude for Allure Magazine's annual "nude" issue.  I did a quick search on the net and there is was, a pre posting of what to expect in the May issue of Allure Magazine.

Jill For Allure May

I got a chance to read the inset attached to her picture. Jill talks about how nervous she was. She couldn't sleep the night before. She didn't think she would feel comfortable in doing this. Her comfort zone of being her naked size 16 self is usually in her home, when she is alone. Yet, she did this to join up with Allure's cause - to celebrate EVERY woman no matter her size. Basically Jill pushed passed her comfort zone. The end result; a liberation she never felt before.

(see photo shoot in video below)

I

I feel inspired.  Being naked in front of strangers, let alone to have your "beauty" posted for publication is not the easiest thing to do - unless you just that damn confident about yourself. My writing and my professional experiences, creative or journalistic, are me; EXPOSED.

My self doubt and intimidation are going to have to take a back seat. I'm on a mission as I seek my liberation.

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