The other day while driving with the kids to pick up my mother from the train station, the radio was playing softly in the background as we chatted about teenage stuff. Don’t ask me what compelled me to turn up the volume. Couldn’t tell you. The last few seconds of a song was playing. The voice sultry, the music melodic immediately touching, tugging and connecting with some part of me. Seconds later, I asked the son or the daughter to Shazam the song and give me the deets. To my surprise, and pleasantly so, it was Anthony Hamilton. I tried to tuck this information away for recollection later in the evening when I’d have time; of course, that time never materialized.

Fast forward a few days, the song was on the radio again and, once again, I asked the kids to Shazam it and tell me who the singer was. ‘Mother’ and ‘forgetful’ are synonymous in my book. Son doesn’t get that. Son was like, “Mom, you asked this question just a couple days ago. It’s Anthony Hamilton.” Dang! Sorry. No need to be so brutal. Anyhoo, it was the end of the song, but from what I heard I loved it.

Like a splinter, this song stayed with me. Yesterday, I purchased it from iTunes, but didn’t get a chance to listen. Why? Was off running crazy errands and a spare second was not to be found during the day or night. This morning, however, the song popped in my head. I played it, swaying as the music began. Anthony sang. I froze.

“What did he say?” Pressed rewind. Pressed play and listened. The first two words Anthony sang said it all, as does the entire song.

I see you, Anthony. I see you and I say thank you!

Violence is not the solution nor the answer. The effect of which is only more violence. When will we, sentient beings, learn the lessons and say enough to the senseless killings? We are the only group of living creatures on this planet that kill for sport, to convey a message or advance an agenda. How sad.

Ever have someone tell you what you couldn’t do? How your dreams were too big? How what you wanted to accomplish was a veritable impossibility? How did what they share about your dreams, your aspirations make you feel? Did they empower you or did they make you doubt your ability? No matter what was said nor the message conveyed or who said it, those words had an impact. All words do. How you choose to allow those words to effect you is of importance. It is a matter of cultivating the graveyard of dreams or nurturing the birthplace of the greater tomorrow you envisioned.

This is one of the primary reasons why it is important to protect your dreams, your passions. It is also one of the reasons why many choose to keep their dreams private. In sharing, there exists the opportunity for someone to utter words that will snuff the kindling passion birthed in your gut, creating a mountain of doubt were only peaks and occasional valleys originally existed. Yet there are others who, upon hearing the naysayers list of reasons for caution or redirection, use those words as further motivation. Instead of snuffing out, the contrary occurs — the spark to succeed in spite of.

Regardless if whether the comments are external or from the internal monologue that, at times, plagues each of us, the internal response should always be the same: watch me.

Some people in their sharing of advice or counsel, honestly believe they mean well. They believe they have your best interest at heart. Cull through their words, determine what serves you. If there are words of truth, keep them. Analyze and see what adjustments, if any, are necessary. All words which do not serve you nor your intended purpose, shelve or dismiss.

When others put limitations on the heights we can attain, there is a moment of defiance each individual feels. In those moments, you believe in the possibility of your dream. So much so, you can taste it and may have even imagined what it feels like to walk in it. Remember these moments and set out to bring your dream or next greatest achievement to fruition making it your reality. Develop a plan, endeavor to accomplish something every day that places you one step closer to your goal. Outline your steps. Your intention will drive your outcome.

By sheer will, perseverance, hard work and determination, with eyes set on an what can be, move forward and walk into your tomorrow. Enjoy every success of each completed phase. When you’ve accomplished your task, achieved your dream and are able to live in its reality, there is a no need to gloat. Your success will adorn you and will serve as a catalyst for shifts in the lives of others you, directly and indirectly, impact. Make sure to listen to the stirrings of a new dream, a new height and move forward blazing a trail for yourself and others. And if you’re ever privileged to hear another’s dream, be on the receiving end of a ‘Thank you’ and not a ‘Watch me’.

So what do you wish to accomplish today? Tomorrow? In five years? Ten? Think about it. It isn’t selfish to desire a better life; it is disheartening to deny yourself the possibility of experiencing one. In receiving and achieving, you’re able to give and inspire.

* Originally posted on BlackHairKitchen.com March 29, 2013 *

Say it ain’t so!

I’m not a fan of guns and violent flicks glorifying scandalous occurrences, but from the looks of this three-minute trailer, I anticipate a damn good film. Is it August yet? Truthfully, it doesn’t hurt that Bleek Gilliam is in the movie. “Who’s Bleek?” you ask. Can’t help you there. Do your research.

“You saw that move coming?”
“That’s correct. Gimme the keys.”

Classic!

This year I’ll be attending the Black Authors & Readers Rock Weekend in Bowie, MD, October 18 and 19, 2013. The event will take place at:

The Comfort Inn of Bowie
4500 Crain Highway
Bowie, MD 20716

Tickets for this event can be purchased through Eventbrite. For more information, visit the hosting book club ReadingDivas.

Looking forward to seeing you there!

You know I love this chick, so it’s really no surprise that I was happy dancing the moment I saw a tweet from this songbird debuting her new single, “Cocoa Butter” from her forthcoming album. India is one of the baddest in the game. Lyrically and in every way that matters, she, Jill Scott and Rachelle Ferrell do it for me.

You were missed lady. You were missed.

Press play. Listen, bop, dance, sing, sway and feel. Hit replay and do it all again.

As mothers we knew this thing called motherhood would consume every drop of our free time, but what we, or at least I, didn’t know was that the ride would be a hilarious one. A sistafriend of mine captured some of the hilarity in emails she’d send us periodically and now she’s created a blog to share those moments with you.

So mothers around the world, unite and read the musings of one mother who is lot like each of us. I promise, regardless of ethnicity and cultural differences, the stories are quite similar to your own. Merely change the faces, insert your crew and voilà, it’s your life reflected in these posts.

The onhavingOvaries forum provides a platform for sharing. Read, comment and let’s see if we can truly figure out these little people with stubborn minds and mulish wills who believe that everything warrants excessive amounts of drama.

Just take a look at OnhavingOvaries logo. Doesn’t that say it all? Every time I see those faces, I can’t help but smile because children are truly hilarious without trying to be. Click the image to visit the site. And, remember to share with family and friends.

• Did you see her last night? I can’t believe she allowed herself to be filmed wearing that?
• You got a mirror? I suggest you look in it, because clearly you did not have an opportunity this morning.
• Wait? Tell me she isn’t wearing white after Labor Day? Who told her that was acceptable?
• She lip-synched the National Anthem? And with all that pageantry. What the hell? Chile, puh-leez! She needs to go sit down with that foolishness.
• She should just slap a perm on that crazy mess of hair! Walking out the house looking like that. It’s embarrassing.
• You know she should just go on and BC. Remove all that chemically processed hair and embrace her natural beauty.

The verdict has come in. The gavel has come down.

We are GUILTY.

What’s sad? It doesn’t matter if we don’t know the details, or perhaps we have a few or we know the entire story, we (me, myself and you) render ourselves judge, jury and issue a scathing verdict, broadcasting worldwide via Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and some other social media site sharing our judgment on the matter. Sometimes it’s regarding a primetime reality show and sometimes it’s our relationships with each other.

In Los Angeles and New York, media moguls are reclining around the table in a boardroom brainstorming possibilities for the upcoming spring and fall season television line-up, hoping to bring to market the next big reality show. Armed with data reflecting the viewing habits of certain demographics they know that cattiness and bitch fests are slam dunks. Their bottom line is increased because cattiness sells and bitchiness sends the ratings into the stratosphere. Female viewers are more interested in watching women gouge out another woman’s eyes, tug hair, kick arse or speak words that incite rage, fury and are blatantly disrespectful.

With all of our daily chatter, I do believe we make their jobs easier. We provide them with the narrative and from this they storyboard, focus group and package to the masses. Do we object? Or do we subject ourselves to hours of watching? What’s worse? When the show is over, we cut a side-eye at a sister on the street and wonder what her objective could be.

What was once man’s ultimate fantasy has become our own: Women wrestling in mud, slipping and sliding all over the place in bikinis and the like. When did that become something we actually enjoyed? The catfights? The name calling? The neck rolls? The eye rolls? The ridiculousness of it all?

Now I know I probably stand alone on this limb — with a few million women — but watching that is not my idea of entertainment. Regardless of race, I do not want to watch my sisters treat each other in disrespectful ways. Granted, reality dictates there will almost always be someone who aggravates us and steps on our last good nerve, but why broadcast the fallout in such grandeur. What’s the objective? To hurt? Or perhaps laugh at someone’s pain?

You want more responsible programming? We have to be responsible consumers. I still believe in the power of the people. Television programs require viewers. These programs require financial backing from advertisers. Advertisers remain vested based on numbers. With dwindling numbers, programs are cancelled. It has been proven throughout history, when there is enough of an outcry or demand for change of any kind, the most beautiful thing imaginable occurs: revolution.

Once upon a time, we moved mountains, changed laws, redefined a people and that’s only in this nation. Don’t tell me it cannot be done. The world over we’ve seen proof that mountains of impossibilities are scaled by perseverance and determination of a united people.

I don’t judge you, my sister. Here’s my hand. I stand with and walk along side you because you are a reflection of me.

The revolution must be televised! Let’s script it.

* Originally posted on BlackHairKitchen.com March 12, 2013 *

I do not recall what serendipitous happenstance or celestial alignment led me to LV Lewis, but all I can say is I’m glad it did.

Before I continue, I must issue a bit of a disclaimer:

I’m a member of a small subset of earthlings who fall into the category of not liking the original bodies of work.

That said, back to LV. Just typing those two letters has me smiling and happy dancing in my chair while humming the chorus to Steve Wonder’s “Jungle Fever” (I kid you not).

To rephrase a portion of my Amazon review: I’m hooked, I’m a fan, I’m all in! Chick had me at the Kente necktie featured on the cover and kept me with a female protagonist who is no slouch and despite the “ghetto” label in the series, she is anything but. Keisha is an intelligent, gifted sister who ventures into the music industry as co-owner with her college BFF, determined to succeed.

The man blessed to catch her eye and tug at her heart is an intriguing fellow, but not because of wealth or bewitchingly, mind-numbing good looks. Tristan brings to the table confidence that oozes from their initial run-in to her abrupt departure. He appears sure of himself and what he wants. Nothing deters him … not even Keisha’s initial reluctance to his offer. Also endearing are the strokes of vulnerability LV uses to paint Tristan. His is a heart carefully tucked away from himself and Keisha, although it becomes quite evident to the reader.

Both characters, it would seem, appear to hide from the truth of their emotions based on issues in their past. Interesting dynamics also arise in this D/s relationship between a caucasian man and an african-american woman. Just how will that work? I’ll tell you this much, LV does not shy away from addressing the basics. Love that.

The chemistry between Keisha and Tristan is sizzling from the opening pages until the end. I shall refrain from going into any further detail. Read for yourself and enjoy.

My rating:

My recommendation:

Grab a copy today.

By the way, the story doesn’t end there. Here’s the cover for Exit Strategy, which is due to be released shortly. Can you say fiyah? Click on the sexy cover to visit LV’s website and read the first two chapters of Exit Strategy.
 

Writing is one thing, speaking into a microphone and recording my voice for my novels is something entirely foreign to me. Although I am no novice to public speaking, I say again, this is a different animal, but I shall cross my fingers and do my best.

Don’t fall asleep, kay? And if you do, perhaps I’ve provided enough material for an interesting sequence of dreams.