Wow! Time truly flies...

Wow... I can't believe my last post was in November. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, King Day, Valentine's Day and the entire Black History Month have come and gone and I haven't dropped a sentence?!?!?! Well... it's good to come back "home".

Let me share what I been up to over these few months...

My nephew returned home from Iraq in December YAAAY and drove up to spend Christmas with his New York family - that brought so much joy to my heart. He is well, mentally and physically, and that's my answered prayer.

I am not busting moves... I long to call up or send a text to my Ole Thang for ole time sakes - busting a move that could temporarily end my lonely moments - but I remember my "neverlution" at the beginning of the year to leave the ole things in 2011. So far I'm enjoying my singlehood and I know when the time is right, "he" will materialize in my life.

I've been listening to... Fred Hammond, Marvin Sapp, Kirk Franklin and J. Moss since giving up Dwele for Lent. Can I tell you that Dwele's voice - for me - is addictive! I can listen to that man mo'nin, noon and night plus go to sleep while he serenades me. I deleted him from my mp3 player and avoid him entirely on Windows Media. Giving up Dwele was my last lenten sacrifice, a throw in, to show that I'm for real in this season of surrender.

Lent...  While people tend to give up chocolate, meat, caffeine... I'm realistic with myself. I don't eat meat, so that can't be my sacrifice. I love chocolate and caffeine and truthfully neither of those things have hindered my spiritual relationship. So what I gave up was shopping for anything other than necessities, lateness and as I already mentioned *sigh* Dwele. I spend a lot of time shopping and online window shopping - A LOT of time! Not shopping gives me back awareness, plus time to read and pray. Lateness is self explanatory... by being prepared and on time for EVERYTHING I stress less. I do plan on shopping after Easter and listening to Dwele again but hopefully being on time and prepared will be a habit I stick to.

I've been reading... Daniel Black's "They Tell Me of a Home" and for some reason I am not drawn in. I'm currently on page 60 but I've had this book for 3 weeks! If it was written by Walter Mosley or Tananarive Due, I know I'd be done and on to the next one. Since I read this author before... "Perfect Peace" I know it will get better towards the end.

I've been watching... Netflix is so good because there are no fees for not returning a movie promptly. I finally watched The Help this week after having it for nearly a month. The movie really made me mad but other than that, I enjoyed it. I have another movie in the house but I can't remember what on earth the title is.

I've been socializing... Sorta. I went to a fashion show/clothing line launch thingy. I had a blast. The designer, Emilio Sosa, was previously on Project Runway, season 7. Unfortunately he didn't win. He's the cousin of one of my good friends... that's the only reason I would have been there. My only problem was that I was expecting a fashion week kind of fashion show... The one with the rows of seats and the real good goodie bags. Not this time. We stood in a room at the Alvin Ailey Dance Theatre here in NY while the models wore his wares. That wouldn't have been a problem had I worn flats but I loved his designs and hope that clothing line rises through the stratosphere. I have a really funny story about that night that I'll probably blog about later.

Well that's about all for now... I'll be back soon. This time away was much too long and I just realized while typing that I really do miss blogging.

Here's a pic from the night at E Sosa's Clothing Line Launch...

That's me on the left side, my friend and her sisters flow all the way to the right...

 

My Name Is...

When starting this blog four years ago I wanted to remain as anonymous as I could. Then came Facebook and Twitter and since I use my real first name for both of those accounts, I figured I might as well change it here too.

I've been wanting to change from Ms.KnowitAll (I also used Ms.KiA) for a while now. That was a nickname my ex used to call me and well me and my ex broke up long ago. I enjoyed my time using the pseudonym and now it's time to use Kel or for the sake of this blog Just Kel...

My full first name is Kelley.

I struggled with "Kelley" when I was younger. I grew up with Tamikas, Shaniquas, Keishas, Tashas, and Tanyas... and I wanted one of those names too. I had to be about seven years old when I told my mother I wanted a name change... Ok so what really happened was my brother was eighteen and he asked my mother if he could change his name and she said yes. I figured I could ask and she'd say yes to me. She didn't. If I could have changed my name it would have been Barbara, Diana, Tina because to me, those are sexy names.

My mom didn't choose Kelley because she researched the meaning or because it flowed so nicely with my last name. She chose my name because my aunt knew a woman who knew another woman and she had a niece named Kelly and my mom wanted to name me something "different". Plus my brother's name began with a K and my mother wanted to keep to her trend.

My first name tends to fool people. I know that both, my first and last names are Irish and English respectively. I just recently I met a colleague I had been communicating with via email. As we shook hands, he said Oh you're Kelley. it's nice to put a name with a face, I've seen you before but I never you were a Kelley. I really wanted to ask Did you think I was an Aisha? But I didn't of course because I'm not a nut and my perception could have been off.

A few years back when I looked up the meaning of my name. It was then that I embraced it fully.

"From the Irish Gaelic name Kelly, Warrior Woman, is bold and daring in all she does; someone who makes every minute count; has a classic strength and beauty; compassionate and patient with others; someone who is held in high esteem; a smile like a beam of light at night; a woman who is proud of her old-fashioned ideas; an individual who is very adventurous."

"Kelly — from the Gaelic word for "warrior woman"; "farm by the spring". At an ancient shrine of the goddess Brigit at Kildare, there were sacred priestesses and warrior women called kelles, and its possible the name and surname came from them."

So I've come to learn and accept my warriorism... my courage and even my aggressiveness. I am a warrior while defending and protecting the people and the things I love. I was a warrior when I endured abuse, rejection, all types of hurt and life's side swipes. I'm sure that given the choice, a lot of us would not have chosen our names - a side of me would still choose Barbara, Diana, Tina and even Sheila - but just as a middle name or even a nickname. While I still find them to be sexy names, Kelley is the name my mama chose and it fits me just fine.

I Remember...

Sometimes something so small can bring evoke a memory. For me, it's the smell of Nag Champa or Egyptian Musk or Sandalwood or whatever scent it was that Armstrong wore.

And whenever I smell that pungent body oil I remember how I met Armstrong, a friend of a friend I met one day while cutting school. I remember how deep his voice was. Too deep for him to call my house since I was thirteen and he was seventeen. I remember my mother forbidding me to see him since he was older and most likely sexually experienced.

I remember how I ignored my mother's warning and saw Armstrong anyway.  We lived in the same neighborhood, he went to my neighborhood high school and I was bound to see him again anyhow. I remember how cute he was... light skin, curly hair, big brown eyes, full pink lips, and dimples.

I remember how he invited me to his house one Sunday. I ate my first vegetarian meal since his family were strict vegans. I remember how I met every one in his home since they all sat down and ate together (My family only did this on holidays.) I remember this was the first time I heard Black people speaking German because his grandfather was German. I remember after the meal when we sat in front of his house and kissed. I remember sitting in between his legs. He lived on the same block where they shot the opening scene of the movie Maid in Manhattan. I remember how he removed the earrings from my left ear, all three earrings. I remember how he whispered in my left ear with that deep voice of his. I remember how he licked my left ear from the lobe to the helix, the scapha, concha, external meatus, tragus and everywhere in between. I remember how he bent my ear and licked right in the back... you know... right there. I remember how he blew on my ear to dry it. I remember how other parts of me could not be blown dry. I remember how he put back all three of my earrings. I remember thinking that my mother's concerns of me being thirteen and dating someone seventeen were on point.

I remember asking one guy who wore that same fragrance what the name was but for some reason I cannot remember that - just its sweet, lingering scent. Every time I smell it, which is every once in a while, I remember that Sunday afternoon. That was over twenty years ago and I remember that like it was yesterday...

I began to doubt...

God.

Just recently. I truly went through a period of days and months doubting, thinking and wondering if God is really real. I never stopped going to church. After all going to church, for me, is just like getting up daily and going to my Monday through Friday, 9 to 5 - it's a ritual, a routine. So not going to church would be like quitting my full-time gig. In addition to that not going to fellowship would be like cutting out a big piece of what I do.

BUT going to church and believing that God is real are two different things.

I don't know what happened, what words were spoken to me, what I had watched on TV... Perhaps while I was in bible study someone asked a question and the answer offered didn't have any weight to it. Maybe it was while reading the paper or witnessing evil shadowing this world. The "God Seed" was planted in me by my mother long ago... I do not remember a time in my life when I did not believe yet somehow my faith was breached.

I am known to overthink. I mean I pensively rip things a-part. You can't just tell me to believe and I do. I cannot just have faith. Not me. I need some proof, intangible proof, in order to believe.
And believe in what exactly... Cosmology? Religion?

I did not stop praying. I did not stop studying. I didn't give up or throw up my hands but those actions can be considered habits and not true acts of faith. So I asked God if He was real, prove it to me. Give me a sign that You are out there, You hear me, and You've got all sides of me.

This past week two events happened to me. I asked God for proof of His existence and he gave me two. One sign nearly made me piss my pants, literally. I won't go into detail about it but I will say it was one of those "that could have been me" incidents. I suppose I needed that. That jolt, that shock, that fear that stunning experience where the words "God! Help! Me!" naturally fell out of my mouth. The other event was something mild and sweet, something where if I blinked I would not have noticed. If God didn't already astound me, He would not have been able to wow me - which is what He did. I would have taken this second experience for granted.

Is God really real? I am sure we've all asked that question. And truthfully, unless we simply believe and have faith - unless we see a sign or have a Daniel, Jonah, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego experience - perhaps we'll just have to live out this life until we close our eyes and wake up some other side to shall receive our answers.

As for me I do not believe in coincidence and I don't think that those two experiences were unrelated events. I believe God is real. He proved His God Self to me and I realized that I had taken God for granted.

I know that rainbows after heavy rainstorms are God's sign that he's keeping His promise to us. I saw two of them last month but still I doubted God's reality. I've seen prayers answered and breakthroughs happen and still I wondered if God was just a label for all unexplained happenings. God saw that my faith needed to be shocked and stirred to the point where when I think about what could have happened to me my heartbeat increases and when I think about what He did for me a fullness fills my heart.

Post Cemetery Visit

I went to the cemetery last weekend -- not in observance of Memorial Day -- for a different reason.  When my mother told me that she was heading out to Jersey to visit her parents, my first thought was “Have a good time!” but I ignored my inner voice and said “I’ll go with you”.  After all it’s been about 15 years since we’ve been out to the cemetery and my brother was meeting us – Oh happy family day!

Saturday was hot and what made it even hotter was the fact that we caught the wrong bus. Any other time this would be my fault because I’m always late but this was my mother’s fault for: 1. Not reading the ticket and the number of the bus; 2. Not asking the driver if she was getting on the right bus and; 3. For getting on the bus that arrived at 9:50 and not the one we were supposed to get on at 10:10.  See my mother is a ball of nervous energy and I knew better than to trust her judgment, that day, but I had been ignoring my inner voice for a few days already…  We discovered our error almost at the end of our trip.  The bus driver, instead of letting us ride out with him and double back for a transfer, put us out in the middle of nowhere and we waited for him to return for us.  Long story not so long, a trip that would have taken 60 minutes took 3 and a half hours.

We finally get the right bus, meet up with my brother and head to the cemetery but we have no clue where we are going.  There are about 5 cemeteries in that part of town and when we asked for directions no one seemed to know where our destination was - except this one young lady who probed us a little before giving directions.  She said “No offense, I hope y’all don’t take this no kinda way, but ummm are you referring to the Black Cemetery?”.  I wasn’t fazed by this.  Reason being, the first time we went out there me and my brother went into this pizzeria for a slice and not only did we not get served, the folks inside the restaurant stopped eating the minute we entered.  This was not 1955 but more like 1985.  I answered “yes” and got the directions while my mother and brother were paralyzed by the question.  As I repeated that directions to my brother, he in turn asked my mother why did they choose that cemetery out of all of the cemeteries in the tri-state area?  My mother explained that in the 70s when they buried her mom and sister they weren’t given choices and it was economical.  We buried my grandfather there in the late 90s because his wife and daughter are there. We had no idea it was filled with Black folks.

We get to the “Black Cemetery” and my mother is complaining about the grass not being cut but water is constantly running from the cemetery’s office which I’m sure is the reason why the grass is overgrown.  While in search for my grandmother’s grave which has a marker, we are stepping all over people’s graves and in mud.  I’m talking ankle deep mud.  My feet, my pants, my sandals are wet!  I hate wet feet.  That is uncomfortable and unnerving to me. ILL wet feet!

We find my grandmother and my grandfather who are buried separately. Grandfather does not have a marker because right about now we can’t afford it but we locate where he is because he’s on the edge of the grounds and his is the only grave, in that area, with flowers on it.  Which leads me back to the reason for this venture… to see if they placed the flowers that my mother paid for and to see if the grass was cut. 10 minutes into our visit and my mother is ready to go back to the Bronx.  My hair, once beautifully coiled is now a jagged fro.  My feet are muddy ashy.  My clothes fit like I sweated in them because I had.  We’re all a shade browner from the sun and my mother doesn’t even want to sit and chat with her parents and sister for a spell.  I vowed to never ignore my inner voice again!

Closing Thoughts…
I’m grateful for the trip because I simply love cemeteries.  Ever since my first visit to that particular cemetery I have enjoyed the serenity and the nature so it was a joy to visit my grandparents and my auntie, even for a couple of minutes.  Plus it was a segue for me to tell my family what my plans were in the event of my death.  I realize this may be morbid for some but it’s truly a part of life.  I tell them that should I pass before they do, feel free to burn me a day later and place me in whatever container they wish!  My mother hems and haws and tells me she’s not doing it.  My brother is all silent and I know he’s thinking the same and so I tell them both – "Look, my insurance just lapsed!  I don’t know how y’all are coming up with money for a funeral, a burial and a marker!"  So then my mother says… “Well how much would I save on cremation? And you said “any container”?”  Money changes things!

Do You Know What Today Is? It's My Anniversary!

Today while sitting at my desk, doing a face check in my hand held mirror... I spotted 2 knots in my hair and a split end. I said to myself, "It's time for a cut" and that's when I remembered what excited me so about May 2nd...

May 2nd 2009, in the wee hours of the morning, I took my last set of cornrows out, grabbed my hair shears and commenced to clipping my relaxed hair off.  I was nervous.  I had not cut my own hair since the age of 15 when I chopped off 5 inches of hair for a short bob.  My natural hair was not as easy to maneuver as relaxed hair and I was sure that even though I successfully cut off all of my relaxed hair, my hair was most likely uneven.  Sure enough when I blew my hair, I knew my next move would be the barber to even my afro.

Relaxed hair, for me, was easy. I went to the hair salon every 2 weeks for a shampoo, condition and doobie wrap. Every 6 to 8 weeks I got relaxer applied to the roots of my hair and my ends trimmed. I wore my hair out most of the time and in a pony tail other times. Simple. The longer it grew, the lazier I became and I did very little to maintain it.

I cut my hair because I really liked the natural look.  I noticed that my relaxed hair which was always full was beginning to thin - more than I was comfortable with.  I was also experiencing some damage in the crown of my head. But truth be told I did it under the urging of a man. I admit it.  I did.  But the desire was within me long before he showed up.  What I worried about most and what delayed my hair transition was my career - how I would be accepted and possibly promoted - and of course how I would manage daily.  I knew my natural hair was no where near as straight and silky as relaxed hair.  I never wanted to look crazy and unkempt... never.

Well I have looked crazy and unkempt a time or twenty.  My 2 year journey has not been as easy as I would have liked but I have loved my decision from the very beginning.  The man who urged me is no longer in my life.  Some folks have chosen to share their opinion of my hair and tell me they like me better before.  Fortunately I work for an institution that is diverse and within my 2 years I have been promoted.

I have always loved hair, doing hair and especially braiding and styling natural hair.  I have experimented with my hair, keeping it mostly in his naturally coarse state but I recently blew it out for a banquet I attended.  I tried something new with my hair new just this weekend.  After taking out my 2-strand twists, I rolled it with satin covered sponge rollers and released after about 7 hours... I like it!

This is my 2-day hair, Monday hair, slept on...

Today is my natural anniversary!  Something as small as embracing the natural me was such a great feat.  I love my freely, natural, sometimes curly, always unruly, very coarse but totally me hair! And yes it really is time for a cut!

An Afternoon with Walter Mosley

A couple of years ago I wrote a "Dear Walter" post to Walter Mosley.  In it I said that if I were to ever see him on the streets of New York I'd probably run up on him and slap his ass or wrap my legs around his waist.  It was right after I read his book Killing Johnny Fry and I just realized that Walter Mosley was a cross-genre writer par excel lance who has written an excellent piece of erotica...

Well on this past Sunday as I was leaving the Brooklyn Public Library auditorium after listening to Walter Mosley in conversation I walk directly to Walter.  And what did I do...

I smiled.

I looked up at him with the biggest 2 row, possibly some upper gum, smile.  I refused to speak because I knew my voice would betray me.  I'd speak with unnecessary vibrato and I would probably babble...

In my head, during the question and answer period, I was imagining this post with a pic of me and Mr. Mosley smiling it up.  But as I walked past him, I knew this post would not look anything like my imagination.  I figure not only should I anticipate my pics and posts but my conversations too!  Nevertheless I had a wonderful time listening to him speak of how he created his characters, how he writes daily (even while on tour) and his many inspirations.  I listened as he read from his latest Leonid McGill series "When The Thrill is Gone" and how he read his work with the rhythm of a poet.  If he was not wearing his uniformed black fedora, I would have envisioned us in a dark smoky theater, him wearing a black beret and after his reading all of us would give our reactionary hand claps and finger snaps.

He's nothing how I imagined he would be... he's witty and funny and he's what my mother calls "quick with it"... that means he has the right answer for every question and it comes right on time.

I don't regret walking past Mr. Mosley without asking for a photo... I guess because when I looked up and smiled at him, in passing, he gave me a big ole, wide ole gap-toothed smile right back...

Fine Man Friday...

I've been writing and re-writing this post for months... I started it about 6 months ago, the moment that he called to tell me that my fears were soon coming to pass.

"Aunty... I'm being deployed to Iraq."

Today he is leaving to go to Fort Hood.  He just called to tell me that he loved me.  I'm typing while crying y'all... In about a month he's flying to the Middle East. 

He joined the military against the wishes of everyone and he did it so innocently.  He's not a scholar, he's not good with his hands, he was working at some chicken joint and really wanted to do something with his life.  I remember when he called to tell me he was enlisting. 

I asked him not to, begged him not to, reminded him that we're in the middle of a war - it's like straight Revelations right now! - he said, so sweetly, made me think he was 5 years-old again... "but Obama is about to be elected and he's going to end the war".

I realized that I was not going to stop him.  My brother, his father, who was in the military tried to stop him but couldn't deter him.  I remembered how my mother told me that she begged my brother not to enlist.  "Go to college", she said - that was back when the City University was free - but he was following behind a friend and decided to go anyway.  With tears in her eyes she signed him up because at 17 he was too young to do it himself.  I remembered how my mother broke down every time we drove him back to LaGuardia or JFK to go back to his stationed state.  I knew the minute that my nephew enlisted, he wouldn't be traveling the world as my brother did, he would be trained and traveling to one destination...

He spent the holidays with me and we brought in this new year together, purposefully, before his deployment.  I love when my nephew visits because I put him to work.  He's been cooking for me since he was 8 and during this visit, I also made him clean.  While sweeping the floor, he looks at me innocently and asks when was I going to have children.  I told him that 22 years ago I had one son and he's enough.  Thank you Aunty, he said, "But I'm not your son and besides you were only a teenager when I was born".  With bass in my voice I told him that I said he was my son.  I reminded him that I was there when he was born, one of the first faces he saw was mine, how he used to call me "Mommy", how I was his first babysitter, how we'd play and how I used to pick him up from school and do his homework with him.  He recanted and said, "Well now that you say all that, I suppose you are my second mother...

Here's my Fine Man Friday... my 22 year-old baby... my nephew

then

and  now

May he be completely covered during his deployment... May he be strong and wise and connected... I am believing for and claiming his safe and speedy return.  Amen.

Fine Man Friday... Order of Merit

My love of music came early.  My parents listened to everything under the sun.  Disco, R&B, Salsa, World Music (ala Fela Kuti), Calypso and Reggae...

Not only did we relax, kick back and listen but more often than not, we'd dance.  We would push the coffee table aside in our livingroom, turn the lights down low, kick up our legs, jump-up jump-up, dance and prance to the sounds of great calypsonians such as Mighty Sparrow and Short Shirt.  Other times we'd groove, prance around and rock to lazy reggae beats.

Robert Nesta Marley... I thought the man was family.  

We had pictures of him in our photo albums.  A large portrait of him hung in our hallway (right next to Jesus).  Even now I have a Bob Marley picture on my desk at work and a small collection at home.  On any given Friday or Saturday night we'd play, listen to and dance to Bob Marley and the Wailers for hours.  It wasn't just for enjoyment, it was like religion, a form of release.  

Later me and my friends would throw one of Bob Marley's vinyl's on the record player, march around the living room all the yelling "Woy Yoy Yoy Yoy Yoy Yoy Yoy, Woy Yoy Yoy Yoy Yoy Yoy Yoy Yoy!" singing right along with the record "Buffalo Soldier".  I remember listening to "Positive Vibration" and thought "this reminds me of church"!  Or when I heard the soulful organ shuffle on "Who The Cap Fit" and learned a life lesson... the ones closest to you can be the ones to betray you.

His words are brilliant, prolific and timeless.  The message that resonated through my parents then, resonates through me now.  Not all music lyrics are cross-generational.  Surely I forget half of what I heard just yesterday but some words stand the test of time...

"The road of life is rocky and you may stumble too / So while you point your fingers someone else is judging you" ~ Could You Be Loved

“If you get down and quarrel everyday, you’re saying prayers to the devil, I say / Why not help one another on the way / Make it much easier"  ~ Positive Vibration

 "Life is one big road with lots of signs / So when you riding through the ruts, don't you complicate your mind / Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy! / Don't bury your thoughts; put your vision to reality, yeah!" ~ Wake Up and Live

There are the words delivered at his eulogy by Jamaican Prime Minister Edward Seaga :

"His voice was an omnipresent cry in our electronic world. His sharp features, majestic looks, and prancing style a vivid etching on the landscape of our minds. Bob Marley was never seen. He was an experience which left an indelible imprint with each encounter. Such a man cannot be erased from the mind. He is part of the collective consciousness of the nation." 

And this quote from Bob Marley, OM himself. OM stands for Order of Merit and the order of merit's motto is:

"He that does the truth comes into the light".  However controversial his life was or is documented to be, he has left a musical legacy continues to stir up and unite.

“My music will go on forever. Maybe it's a fool say that, but when mi know facts mi can say facts. My music will go on forever.”

Fine Man Friday...

I'm drained.  Mentally, physically... I have just been so fatigued.  Besides weathering the elements, climbing over heaps of what was snow but is now ice... looking like something straight out of  a sci-fi movie... I have helped my pastor to finish his doctoral thesis.  I have toiled through many nights of writing and then worried about him completing his part.  We crammed what should have taken 8 months to complete into 3 weeks.  I. am. burnt. out.

That explains part of my absence...

I am in need of therapy, physical that is... I'm thinking massage (deep tissue) or perhaps vacation therapy (Bahamas) to escape the cold and the busyness...

I have heavily relied on my trusty companion, the MP3 player, which never leaves my side, nor does it fail me.  I've been soothed, consoled and even wooed by the soulful sounds of my Fine Man Friday who has been on heavy rotation.

He's a Detroit singer, songwriter, producer and his vocals gets me through my days and comforts my nights... I smile when I listen to him sing Possible:

Question, can your smile, lead to my hello?
And my hello, lead to a first date?
And a first date lead to a "Can't wait to do it again!"
Ain't no pressure, we can't just let love develop
Get to know one another, from a sister to a brother
I'm just wonderin'

At work I bob my head and dance my "cubbie dance" to I'm Cheating or I Think I Love You or Find A Way and during my evenings I listen to Old Lovas or The Simpleness of Passion.

My Fine Man Friday for this week is:

Andwele Gardner

Also known as Dwele

Here's a song I found on YouTube... and it's simply adorable... "Trust that trust is the only thing that will keep your love from seeing rain" L.O.V.E

 

Fine Man Friday... A Drum Major

I wanted to title this post The G.O.A.T... because my Fine Man Friday is one of the G.reatest O.rators of A.ll T.ime.  I have read all and have listened to most of his speeches and his sermons... I love them, absolutely love them all.  Sitting in church 52 Sundays a year (well almost 52) and some mid-week services too, I hear plenty of sermons.  Some of them are soul stirring, soul reviving and some of them ...

But what I love and admire is that this man dedicated his life to ministry... the ministry of service, of encouragement, of unity, of equality, of hope.


I heard "The Drum Major Instinct" sermon years ago.  Not sure exactly when or who the blogger was who posted it yet it rings true today.  The Drum Major Instinct can lead to tragedy, particularly when it comes to relations... political, racial, economical... And recently we've seen The Drum Major Instinct at work... "I must be first." "I must be supreme." All the while spewing hatred and violence.

That's one facet... but should anyone choose to exercise their Drum Major Instinct, they should listen or read the words of a King...

Martin Luther King Jr.

I'd like somebody to mention that day that Martin Luther King, Jr., 

tried to give his life serving others.

I'd like for somebody to say that day that Martin Luther King, Jr.,

tried to love somebody.
I want you to say that day that I tried to be right on the war question. 
I want you to be able to say that day that I did try to feed the hungry.
And I want you to be able to say that day that I did

try in my life to clothe those who were naked.
I want you to say on that day that I did 

try in my life to visit those who were in prison.
I want you to say that I 

tried to love and serve humanity.
Yes, if you want to say that I was a drum major, 

say that I was a drum major for justice. 

Say that I was a drum major for peace.  

I was a drum major for righteousness. 

And all of the other shallow things will not matter. 

I won't have any money to leave behind. 

I won't have the fine and luxurious things of life to leave behind. 

But I just want to leave a committed life behind.

 

And so he did.

Mary Christine Brockert (March 5, 1956 – December 26, 2010)

I ain't gonna let you go that easy...
You've got to say you love me too...
I ain't gonna let you go that easy...
I'm gonna give it all to you...

Sleep in Peace Lady Tee...

his royal highness...

i have seen plenty of artists in concert in my lifetime.

none of them could touch prince.

of course there is no comparison between all of the artists i've seen. each of them do their thing and do it well but prince is who he is and brings it as he does and there are just no words to describe how remarkable and talented he truly is.

he danced. he wowed the crowd. he shook his cute little ass. he told us when to and how to clap. he was engaging and oh so sexy.

he performed "adore", "insatiable", "scandalous", "if i was your girlfriend", "the bird" & "jungle love" (by the time). sheila e. joined him on stage and performed "glamorous life" and "love bizarre". he started with "let's go crazy", "1999", "delirious", "little red corvette", "kiss" and "take me with you" oh and i can't forget "beautiful ones".

prince performed purple rain, of course, and during his guitar solo, close to the end, i started thinking...

i love my profession.  i love my job. i work at my church and i love that too. my 9 to 5 work comes easy to me. my church work comes very easy for me too. i have found my niche and my work simply flows out of me. sometimes i get a thank you, some show of gratitude, but most times i don't. and it doesn't bother me. i know that i do what i do because i offer service - in both of my jobs - and i do it well. millions of people are helped and blessed by what i do for my job and i enrich my community with my church work. i feel uncomfortable when people thank me for that sometime because i know what i offer is so beyond me and my capacity - it truly comes from God.

back to prince singing purple rain... the guitar is riffing, he's walking up and down the stage and playing.  and he comes back to the mic and sings "you say you want a leader, but you can't seem to make up your mind, i think you better close it and let (not me) God guide you to the purple rain". i said to myself... he's doing it. he's living and doing what he has been called to do. he touches people with his gift and sound and words. his gift truly is God-given. no wonder he's so shy when people praise him. he can't possibly take all of the credit for that!

and then i cried. truthfully i wanted to let my bottom lip hang and allow my face to contort up uncontrollably as it does when i ugly cry, but i didn't.

there was something so soul-stirring about hearing purple rain. i love that song so much. but seeing it performed live. seeing prince perform it live. seeing prince play that guitar. hearing the strings and cords... i got chills and the 2 people next to me shook with chills too. there's a healing to be found in music and there's certainly a healing to be found in prince's music.

i hated to see him leave the stage. i was so upset that the house lights were up. i can tell he wanted to sing "nothing compares 2 u" for me. i know he did. and he wanted to perform "pop life" too. he actually came back while the house lights were up and performed another 4 songs. it was one of the most beautiful things i've witnessed.

i cried when i saw maxwell. he was performing the hell out of "pretty wings". but when i saw prince, i saw the one who inspired maxwell and that was freaking awesome!

fine man friday... he is legendary

this man must be a slave to his craft... it is embedded in his very being, in it he lives, moves and breathes... he is one of the most talented men and for that he has earned the status: legendary...

i was introduced to him in 1979. and since then we have had an unwavering commitment. he is an artist that i love to love. he continues to write, record, produce and play... for me... and i continue to enjoy and hang onto every note, cord, word.

he feels for me, he told me that i'm the marrying kind, he wants to be my lover, my mother and my sister too... he has promised me that until the end of time, he'll be here for me, i own his heart and his mind, he truly adores me.

there is not a genre that he cannot capture... i believe the world is his influence and his inspiration. he's not just a funk or r&b or rock and he's more than simply a pop artist... last year as me and my friend DC drove from pennsylvania back to new york he serenaded us along the highways... out of my left eye i caught her laughing and i asked her why. she said, damn i didn't know he was a rapper too! yes my man, he's all that and then some.

when i heard he was coming to the north east i threw my request to the universe... well it was more than a request, i staked my claim when i said, "i am going to see prince in concert".  that was back in november. sure enough one of my friends called me last night to tell me he and his wife bought our tickets and tonight i will scream and sing right along with prince at the izod center. i scoured my drawer to find the perfect pair of purple panties to fling at him... i didn't have any :-(

 Prince Rogers Nelson

tonight is gonna be a good night for slow love... i did a post last year, If Prince Gave Me a Private Concert... and tonight... well the concert won't be private... but an experience i will be sure to remember for the rest of my days.

here is where i would post a prince song that i love... i love so many and it's hard to choose. i would put purple rain, anotherloverwholenyohead, or adore or do me baby or if i was your girlfriend and i cannot not put i wanna be your lover but i choose "g.o.d". love theme from purple rain. i chose this because my mother bought this because i loved prince even more after purple rain (the movie and the album) came out. i watched that movie a total of 96 times in one year. i have every line memorized and i could do that iwouldie4you move so good! this was something my mother probably stumbled upon... and the little 45 is even purple. i still have it though i don't own a turntable...

i am...

HARD

at least i've been told that i am. i've been called brutish, mannish, mean. i've been called cold, harsh... a bitch. at times i curse like a sailor and sling insults without guilt. i can muster up all of the grit from my bronx streets in my vocals and unleash.

and i am surrounded by women just like me... my mama is hard, my friends are too. we have been told that we're mean, nasty... aggressive personalities.

yet a couple of weeks ago, while in a business meeting at my church, me and two other aggressive women sat in a circle grilling, mean-mugging and surely intimidating a potential employer,a male potential employer.. only to be punked.  i thought for sure my poker face and cold interior would get us what we wanted. i knew that the older woman among us, the negotiator, would surely lay down the mandates and we'd win. i was convinced that the more aggressive woman, the louder and physically larger one of us would compel this man and he'd fall in line. he did not. what he did was he gave us his final terms, flipped his hands at our negotiations and was just about put his coat on and walk out of the meeting until we were forced to give in...

i won't go on to talk about how us three women and most of the women in my circle are single... i already mentioned how people and especially men call us mean... i was even called an alpha male by one prospect... now before i continue and conclude this post... this is not a whoa is me, i need a strong man who can handle this strong woman tirade... instead i recognize and aim to relinquish the need, want, desire, compulsion to be something i was not created to be. i admit that i am not always mean, sometimes the softer side of me shines through but i've been tough for so long. i've had to handle situations, assert myself in places, make decisions and a sturdy exterior has been produced... this recent incident made me realize that you can catch more flies with honey, not vinegar. we probably could have worked out a deal slightly skewed in our favor had we been a little more sweet tempered. and most of all, i realized that aggressive, to a real man, i really, REALLY a turn off - and this is not just to men. this tough girl can relax herself, the yin, can allow the yang to create balance...

this is one of my favorite songs... by a former "tough girl" mary j. blige...
here is "father in you"...

fine man friday... i've got a jones

i really do... and you know what? joneses make you do things you don't normally do... make phone calls, wear certain types of clothing, go all kinds of places, do all kinds of things...

well this jones of mine... he's an older man. distinguished and debonair. he likes cognac and expensive cars and jazz... we have some things in common... some... but what moves me and what moves him are different... yet... i like that he likes what he likes... feel me?

some days me and my jones barely speak... and then other days we're talking and laughing endlessly... he is someone i feel for deeply... we are connected... we are friends... we haven't crossed the line of intimacy... and we probably never will... but then again heaven only knows... it's not necessary... like i said, we are connected... in a our phones are both busy because we're trying to call each other / we feel each other's gazes across a crowded room / we greet and talk with facial expressions and eye movements kind of a way...it's... special...

there is not much i can offer my jones... he already has everything he needs and he's picky about his wants... but every now and again i think of him and gift him with a little something... i was buying natalie stewart's floetic soul and a suggested choice appeared on the screen... amazon allows you to send mp3 downloads as a gift and i knew my jones would appreciate this...

my fine man friday is none other than...

Will Downing

my jones and will downing actually resemble each other... it's the dark skin and the bald head and they both seem to have a nice soothing baritone voice... below is a link for "a million ways"...

i'm listening to... the floacist

*i recently downloaded some new music and so i've been listening all week....

i went to an open mic night back when malik yoba of new york undercover had a restaurant on 42nd street... all of the artists were seated around the restaurant and i sat next to one... the floacist i believe... she handed me a flyer right before they took to the floor - there was no stage... they tore the place up...

i loved the duo... i remember purchasing the 1st cd for cheap! had to be about $4.99... because it didn't do well... at first... and then they released "say yes", the radios started airing it and the cd price went right back up...

i thought that the songstress was the one who brought the flavor, the softer side... after all she is the singer... but i have listened to her solo venture and while i love her vocals still, there's a little something missing in the music...

the floacist has released her solo project floetic soul... she features artists raheem devaughn, musiq soulchild and, my favorite, lalah hathaway on three songs... the entire cd really is poetic and soulful... without the featured tracks this still would be good but the addition is just the seasoning this project needed...

what i like is that she kept true to what put floetry on the map... she has a song or two that features her rhymability and she's definitely skilled... and then there are some some songs that are really after9 tunes... the ones you throw on when you and your man or woman are done watching tv and talking...

here are 2 favorites below... "come over" featuring lalah hathaway and "need you"...
let me know what you think...

i'm listening to... georgia anne muldrow

i first heard her vocals alongside erykah badu's on "master teacher" on the new amerykah part one release... and then i found out she is a songwriter, producer, and musician...
her music doesn't fit the bill of most songs, some are three minutes, some are only a minute and a half... some have hooks, some don't... most are spacey and dizzying like she might smokethatstuff and then bust out her pen and paper... i say that she is an acquired taste... those who dig georgia like jazz and funk and heavy beats and free-form... she's not your average soul singer...
when i need my balance back... i listen to georgia... when i'm tripping over someone or some issue and i find that i'm about to weaken... i put on georgia... there's something about the hardness of her beat or maybe it's her lyrics that speak to the heart of issues...
her "early" album, in my opinion, is her best! i have to say that if i were to introduce her to anyone, this is the album i would play. her essence is presented but it's softer and easier to digest while her older work is slightly more complex... i read that she recorded most of her tracks on the "early" album when she was in her late teens... i don't know why she has recently released them but as with most things, it was done right on time...

searching...

one day while sitting at my desk... bored... tired of facebook... having read all of the current posts from my favorite bloggers, i set out to search for something new... what better way to find a fresh blog than to look at your own profile, click on one of the interests and see what comes up...

well... i did that very thing and found me... i found an alternative blog i created two years ago. i have very few posts on it because i was a little unsure of what i really wanted to do with it, what i wanted to say. it was supposed to be my raw, peeled back, uncut version... my heart lies within thewordsitype... i created this blog three years ago... out of sincere interest and free time and to have a venue to write freely... to vibe with other bloggers...

i have been journaling but i seldom revisit what i have written... sometimes i throw out my journals (after destroying them) because i feel that i have grown and there's no need to hold on to those thoughts... if i do come across a journal and i read it i feel slightly embarrassed to have had those thoughts and experiences... as if it really wasn't the true me experiencing them... so it was surprising to look back on the blog i created 2 years ago. it's interesting to see how i changed and how i really haven't changed... how my truth is really etched into my being and not just sitting on my surface, easy to be erased or rearranged... i still desire the same things...  and the things i wanted to change, i did...

i suppose the reason why the other blog dropped off, it wasn't too much different from what i post here... just a parallel post with a slight bend to it...

Roy Ayers' "Searching"... you see my friend and i need someone / who feels and needs the same as i... i'm searchin'

post thankful day....

*** i bought food... i was gonna whip up an elegant non-turkey thanksgiving feast with fresh fish, roasted carrots and potatoes, string beans, cornbread stuffing... but my laziness overcame me.

*** i went out wednesday night and brought home leftover chinese food so i had vegetable mei fun, spring rolls... along with some moscato spumanti!

*** i can't recall the tv program i was watching... i am sure the memory will return to me later but i do recall listening to the music backdrop and hearing corinne bailey rae singing "is this love". i didn't recall how i knew the song until a couple of minutes later. i've said this before, that i do not like remakes... yet this one almost fooled me... her version of bob marley's original is nice!

*** i made 2 moves on thursday... from the bedroom to the livingroom... it was a solitudinal day. i spoke with my friends and relatives but i wasn't motivated to move and it was just what i needed... in my quiet time i took a moment to reflect over the 11 months of 2010 and all that i had to be thankful of... food i didn't want to cook, shelter, a closet spilling with clothes and shoes, steam from the radiator, and lastly but certainly not least my loving family... i'm so blessed....