You're Supposed To Write This

Note: I was over 30,000 feet in the air when I wrote this. And I felt so much better after I did. If she had a watch, she’d probably be counting the seconds. Her phone was off because it had to be, so watching prayerfully as each digit increased was impossible. An hour and forty-seven minutes of terror. “Either pray or worry, but don’t do both.” She could hear her grandmother’s voice now, pensive and heavy with wisdom. Usually grandma’s words rung true, but right now they were extremely difficult to believe. How could she? She felt every jolt, tremor and turn. Turbulence . She made a mental note to look that up when she got home; if she got home. She pressed her lids together hard, exhaled and shook her head, trying to free her mind from her dad’s trademark pessimism. Why did the “worst-case scenario” trait have to be hereditary? she thought to herself. Her stomach suddenly lurched in discomfort as the craft fought through the deceptively innocent fluffy clouds and made a dip. ...

Today, I had to shake my head a lot more than usual. Black people, we have to do better. Somewhere in the world, a white person is sitting behind his or her computer marveling at the prospect of “Black Twitter,” trying to master the twerk performed by ebony honeys and bookmarking an epic community melee on WorldStar .   Meanwhile, instead of trying to counter the ratchetry constantly on display (simultaneously for our entertainment and our exploitation), we’ll picking petty battles with EACH OTHER over the digisphere. Look, I’m all for playful boasting and a healthy competition never hurt anyone, but when our negative words overshadows the mission of us functioning with a sense of camaraderie IN FRONT of those who doubt us, that’s just a shame. I say I love my school (HU, You Know!). You throw shots about how we ain’t sh*t and how your educational upbringing makes you superior to us. Honey, you're reaching for low-hanging fruit in the form of ruffling feathers for page ...

Sure I’ve explored the southern shores of Florida before, but it was just fooling around. I never really got my feet wet. It’s always been a transition spot for a cruise, an airport pit-stop or a family trip. It's never been an intimate experience; never hung out there for more than a few hours as a post-21 adult. Until Memorial Day weekend, that is; possibly the most daring weekend to get a little frisky with Miami. Winnie said it best: our first night in Florida was one big knock-knock joke. After almost 48 hours of madness, confusion, the runaround, anti-sobriety agents and a couple standout memories, we sat piled in a hot Volkswagen after getting a jump from the bouncer at the first club we tried to get access into (and clearly failed). At almost 5 am. It was Memorial Day weekend in Miami (and Ft. Lauderdale) and it felt like the hangover in Vegas.

My mornings always wind up entertaining in some way or another, today especially. This morning -- at an ungodly time of 9:20am -- I was diverted from my usual dollar van Jamaican banter by a text from one of my most inquisitive comrades: "Aren't I like an onion? You ever heard Shrek say that? 'Like an onion, I have layers.'" Honestly, my initial response included a couple of blank blinks and a nonchalant, "No, Bink." No one looks for deep and mind rousing discussions before the heaviness of last night's sleep leaves their eyes. But being the Bink that she is who gives no damns about the time of day, she continued on with the mini fireside chat. And it made me wonder a little about myself. Am I an onion? I feel like I've heard so many one-liners about my elusive nature that I should, in theory, feel that way. Not so much that "I'm an onion," because that verbiage is uber corny (sorry Bink). More so that I'm this person with...

You know, I have to laugh at history. I know it makes for some good reading and reflecting material, but for comedy? I never thought America’s history would give me such a giggle. For work today, I had to put together a slideshow of various Sambo images. Now, you know me. At first, I was instantly annoyed. It was the passive kind of annoyed that only merits an eye roll, but it’s annoyance all the same. My eyebrow spiked every time I embedded another image of a bug-eyed, tar skinned, ape-faced, cranberry & swollen-lipped “coon.” This one image that read “All Coons Look Alike to Me: A Darkey Misunderstanding” baffled me the most. Is this seriously what they saw? Like, seriously? I know the intent was to hurt us, but c’mon son, you’re reaching. My crowd is usually a positive thinking, semi-progress assembly of friends – my the-world-is-so-great bubble – so I have occasional lapses in judgment where I forget what a messed up place America was (and still is) and what assholes peop...

If you haven't seen Janelle Monae and Erykah Badu's new video for "Q.U.E.E.N.," please readjust your life. When I heard the song, I wasn't married to it. But I love me some Monae, so I looked forward to the video. I was not disappointed. At all. I mean, I'm still not fawning over the song, but if this video is their way of selling it, I have emptied my wallet. Oh, why you ask?" Everyone is fly down to the “extras.”   If you can even call them that. The whole video setup is brilliant. As all the members of her crew hold their places in statuesque form, they are all flawless and crisply styled. It’s all in the details.   From her elaborately decorated pinkie nail to the gold tooth on the skull record player to the tuxedo shoes perched on a pillar, little glimmers in the video set up stand out in a good way.

Okay, I'm about three weeks late (sue me), but here's week 3 of the #AprilWritingChallenge for ya... Day 15:  “I’m selfish when” is a hard phrase to get used to, because more often than not, I’m never selfish. And I need to me. Nothing’s wrong with a little me time. A little pampering and TLC. A little time where I turn off my phone and concern myself with my thoughts and my thoughts alone. I have to allow myself to say “I don’t care about you right now.” I’m such a giver and a carer and love to see when everyone else has a smile. It really does bring a flutter to my heart. BUT I often find myself wearing everyone’s burdens but my own, and don’t have time to sort through my own baggage. I check mine at the door and try to figure out how to make myself work for everyone, when I really need to figure out how to make sure life’s good for me. Maybe later on, I can actually continue to statement: I’m selfish when…