You're Supposed To Write This

I’m having a dry spell. A really, really longstanding drought. If you know anything about me, I’m emotional. I like to express my feelings. I’m a smiler. A crier. A feeler. And as of lately, I haven’t been able to connect to anything at all. I’ve never felt so detached from… stuff. Yesterday, I had a lot going on in my mind... It’s hard to get the thoughts out now because of how major of a blockage there is. A disconnect. None of this is going to make much sense to you. Hell, doesn’t make sense to me either. But anyway, yesterday. Yesterday was the closest I’ve felt to being connected my desires to flirt. To sympathize. I won’t address the former too much. I’ve been dead to the whole courtship idea for a minute now. Perhaps that’s what’s been hindering my true Piscean nature. Alas. The sympathizing. After that moment passed, a couple of friends and I headed over to the candlelight vigil in Union Square commemorating one year since Trayvon Martin’s death. The air w...

It's the last day of 2012. Zamn. Zamn Zamn. Right now, as I sit in my mismatch jammies, my father's tube socks and a haphazardly tied head scarf, sipping hot tea with milk (THE BEST), I can't help but feel overwhelmed by what an amazing year 2012 has been. For some reason it felt like double the length and 10 times the impact. It was no doubt a year of extremes. I can't even properly recap it all in the mass media scheme of things, with all the goods, the bads, and the uglies. Look at this year compared to 2011 ( Oh Gawd , 2011 was for the most part poo. crap. sugar honey iced tea). 2012 was better by a landslide. Even with the little things. There was soooo much good music to listen to. Like seriously. History was made (shoutout to Gabby Douglas and Keija Minor !). All my friends made major moves and received so many blessings. Including me. I was surrounded by so much love in all forms: in the form of support, in the form of physical love (unions and proclamations...

*Before you read my letter, read the news . I'd like to make it clear that I am not racist, colorist, whatever-ist in any sort of way. Just an opinionist. Dear Blackfacers, Hi. Hello there. How are you? How's mom? Oh, that's wonderful. Tell her I said hi! Okay, now that all of the formalities are out of the way.... What in the hell is wrong with you??? ( The F-bomb is actually a better choice of words, but I'll refrain. I have a little bit more class than that.) I barely even know you personally, yet I keep hearing about you fools over and over and over again. I am a journalist, and at my office, we filter through news everyday no matter how big or small, no matter the region, no matter the race. I have the extreme displeasure of seeing your faces pop up across my screen, smeared in dark and cakey substances, pursing your lips in combination with the peace sign, hauling your shoulders around, flailing your Bloods and Crips fingers and purposely butchering every...

I've noticed a little trend. Kendrick Lamar and his good kid, M.A.A.D city are getting a really big whoop. In the eyes of many music critics and aficionados, it’s well deserved. Off the bat, comparisons to Nas’ Illmatic were made in countless album reviews. So far, he’s been dubbed the “magnum opus of a generation” and “an anointed-by-acclamation savior” by The Washington Post and The New York Times, respectively. He’s bulked up on some hefty cosigns for the most part (let's all just ignore Shyne calling the album “trash”).  Game called him the “West Coast Nas” and earlier in time, K-Dot teared up as he, Snoop and Dr. Dre symbolically passed him the torch. His first week projections serve as his accolades, boasting sales of over 240,000 units in his first week alone even without a real hit single (Swimming Pools was nice, not viral).  Kendrick even joined the ad-lib/twitter quotables Hall of Fame (Ya Bish!) alongside the likes of Rick Ross’s hea...

Why, hello there. Let me share my thoughts of the day with you: 1. Someone overdosed on their sodium intake today. 2. Kanye West doesn't smile. 3. White dress is not about kim. 4. Patience is a virtue. Going shopping tomorrow. 5. Train stare downs (and stare dodges) are always epic. 6. *laugh-cry emoji* 7. I can't let #oomf get under my skin. but more importantly............ 8. WHY IN THE HELL DO I NOW ONLY THINK 140 CHARACTER LONG THOUGHTS??? Damn you twitter. Damn you.

Whoa. *Big Sean voice* It’s been quite the minute. I sincerely apologize for that. Between my last post and now, a myriad of thoughts have been swirling around my mind. I’ve been exhausting notepads, post-its and napkins writing down germs of thoughts for what I could write about next. But somehow, I’ve never gotten to it. And as I listen to Adele’s new Bond movie anthem “Skyfall,” I’m prompted to write. You ever felt like everything was going in your favor that it scared you? That it’s too good to be true. You spend every day smiling at all that’s happened to you, but tip toe around like you’re on eggshells because you don’t want to mess it all up? I feel like I’m trying to dodge tetanus thumbtacks.

For most New Yorkers, Friday morning was like every other day. Of course the N train was crowded. Big and small arms stretched across more big and small arms in search of a pole or a corner for balance. A mother tickled her infant’s chin as it cooed and squealed in the stroller. Neighbors looked on and smiled at the sight of such maternal bliss. A sprinkle of daydreamers throughout the car gazed out the window with glassed over eyes, lost in their own thoughts. Everyone else was buried in something. Nose in book. Eyes on phone. Ears jammed with personal melodies. The air appeared still, normal and silent. The train was in perfectly harmonious order as it made it’s descent from Queens down into Manhattan.  Then, one nose curled from a young woman whose eyes wouldn’t normally part from Jay-Z’s “Decoded.” She was forced to look up. Her eyes met with another young woman who winced at the same moment. Other eyes in the slowly clearing out car nervously met others, faces scowling in r...