One Sorrow.

There are many things that I would change had I been allowed to write the story of my life. My mom would not had died when I was 20. I would have loved someone who was truly capable of understanding what love is. I would have beautiful, astute children of my own. I would have had a successful singing career and transitioned into some other arena by now, with millions to show for it.

However, as it is none of that can be changed and I find myself sitting with many regrets. Some of those regrets are for things that I have or have not done. Others are for things that were done to me that made it impossible for me to make a different choice.

I am an intensely private person in many respects. Unless, of course, you look at my trail of paper. I have recounted every hurt, every thought, every dream and every wish I have ever had on sheets of paper. Paper has often been my only friend. It has captured my tears and smiles all the same. Unspoken apologies lay between the pages of journals and notebooks, written in the most sincere penmanship. Hopes are inked there also. As well as the anger, disappointment and angst that I dare not speak of with my own tongue.

If you peered into my notebooks you would, no doubt, fully understand how I have come to be so guarded. You would be able to see how I can relish being alone in a world filled with so many wonderful people. You would grasp why some things cannot be changed no matter how I might wish them to be so. There are some relationships that cannot be mended no matter how much love is there. There are some places that I must go that no one can follow.

When my mother died, so much of me was changed forever. The life that I had thought would be mine was no longer possible. There were people who were a part of me that would never be again. I was powerless to stop it. I often look at that period of my life and wonder how so much went so badly; from a childhood full of wonder and folly to an adulthood full of loss, pain and confusion. It was a stark and abrupt transition. One day I was carefree and open to all the possibilities of live and the next there was no life left. My mother's death brought so much darkness and since then there had been flashes of light. There were some really great days but there was mostly darkness. First, it was reflected in a recklessness that almost willed death to claim me. Then, it was reflected in a hopelessness that allowed me to be uncommitted to everything; living only so that others would not have to mourn another death. Then came the period of searching; searching for pieces of my mother to make the whole again, trying to find her in old corners of the life she had known. Finally, came the period of pouring myself into things and people that probably should not have received my attention, yet, they filled a massive hole and kept me from having to feel pain.

Now, into my life has come joy. It is a sense of being overjoyed. Sometimes, though, it is tinged with the pain. Every time that I look at my niece, the granddaughter that my mother will never know, I am so glad and sad. I watch her grow and take shape and regret that she will never meet the beautiful woman who raised me and know the silly, funny woman she was. When she makes me laugh and smile I wish that my mom could have been there to see it. I realize that there is no one that I can ask if my niece's characteristics match something that her mother or I did as a baby, for who knows these things better than a mother?

However, my journey is uniquely mine and no matter how it has hurt, I would not be who I am had I not gone through it all. Still, I have so many things that I regret. I regret not giving myself to the people who have truly loved me and guarded me. I regret not indulging myself more, not valuing myself more. I regret spending so much time not acknowledging how much I want my mommy, to feel her hug me and hear her say it will be okay. I regret all of the conversations she and I never got to have and the experiences we never got to share. I regret losing all of the people that she loved and held dear. I could go on and on but none of that will change what is...life filled with loss and hope and joy and sorrow. Life all the same. It goes on whether we regret it or not.

Wisdom of the Elders.

I had an interesting conversation with my aunt recently. She and I spoke about how parents often want to intercede in their children's lives; how they often want to step in and shield them from failing relationships and ill-fated decisions. The thing that was interesting, and startling, was her recollection of my relationship with David.

I knew she did not approve of him. What I did not understand was why. Now, I get it. My aunt was forecasting, foreshadowing and prophesying because she was looking at him through the set of eyes that anyone not blinded by his charisma could see.

As young people, especially in the hope of our early adulthood, we tend to see most things in life with a limitless amount of optimism. We approach our relationships with exuberance and zeal, thinking that they can survive against all odds because we see potential. We approach our jobs with excitement and vigor because we see the opportunity. It takes a while for the disillusionment of the truth to settle in.

In my own quest to be happy I see missteps and mistakes that were necessary for my growth. Yet, when I look at them I can't help but wonder what or where I would be if just once I had done something more with the advice my elders had given me. If I had never entrusted my heart to David, perhaps I'd be married to a partner who had a vision and direction. Perhaps we'd have kids in prep school, speaking Espanol or Francais. If I had held on a little longer in any given situation perhaps I'd own the yacht I dream of and be able to spend time sailing to and fro. Perhaps vacations in exotic parts of the world would take less financial strategy and more spontaneity. If I had gone right when my elders suggested it perhaps I'd have friends that I can go skiing with during winter and cruise with in the summer. I'd be connected with the types of people that I had once envisioned knowing.

I would love to say that I have no regrets about the life that I have chosen. The truth is that I have quite a few. Those regrets are embedded in the details of my existence; small things like being a few minutes too late arriving at a decision, deciding to bypass a certain activity, not giving something my full attention. However minute those things appear, they are things that I can hear the elders of my world chiding me about. The knowledge of that nags at me from time to time. It is especially troublesome when I see a youngster refusing to heed the wisdom of the older generations. These young people who think that they are smarter than the system and anything that can be thrust at them, optimistic enough to think that the world will never conquer their spirit make me smile. So, I walk away praying for them to listen to the wisdom their elders have to impart. One day it might save their lives, at the very least, save them some pain and discomfort.

My Michael Jackson Tribute.

It has taken me a while to get to this blog. There are several reasons; the state of affairs in my career these days finds me extremely focused on my new opportunities, my family keeps me on my toes and this is a blog entry that I NEVER thought I would have cause to write. Yet, I sit contemplating so many emotions and unanswered questions. I sit here with part of my identity emptied out and no means of replenishment.

On Thursday, June 25th, I sat in front of my television having completed a wonderful That's My Word show with Rob Murat. I was actually euphoric! I closed the browser windows that were devoted to the show's chat room and switchboard and opened Tweet Deck. It was buzzing with activity. I was struck by the name in a lot of the tweets. Michael Jackson. Michael Jackson? Then I kept seeing the words dead and unconfirmed. I immediately turned the TV to MSNBC and restored the volume. Sure enough, they were talking about my childhood hero. They were saying he had collapsed and efforts were being made to revive him. I hoped for the best but my gut felt the worse. My mind immediately had the thought, "I don't know how to live in a world without Michael."

Now, before you call me a nut ball let me elaborate. I cannot recall a time when I did not love music and breathe it. I started singing at an early age and took wonderful joy in singing for others. My mother and aunt were devout Motowners. My grandparents loved their Nat King Cole and such. I first fell in love with the voice of Deniece Williams at about 7 and knew music was everything for me. Then I heard a man named Michael Jackson burst on to the scene singing Billie Jean and Beat it. I was nine. He was the first man I was ever in love with.

Beyond the flash and good looks, I could see he was intelligent and talented. To be close to him, I had to beg my parents to buy me the Thriller album. Everyday I would come home from school and do enough homework to have done most of my homework. Then I'd grab my Thriller album, unfold the flaps to reveal the picture of Michael in the white suit with the tigers. I'd prop Michael against the chair and dance and sing around him until dinner time. I'd only take a break to study the words or his artwork. I played both sides of that album as long as I could. I don't know how my family put up with it.

I wanted to be a part of Michael's world. The best I could do was get a jheri curl. A jheri curl that I got on July 6, 1983, the night before my grandfather died. I sat in a beautician's chair for some 4 hours trying to get a small piece of MJ. Of course, later I got the Beat It watch and the MJ doll. I never got the glove but I learned to improvise.

As the years pasted, Michael Jackson was never far from my mind or heart. I was not as excited whenever he dropped an album but I had an unfailing belief in him. I think that his ever-changing appearance caused distance between us. He looked less and less like the Micheal Jackson that I had come to love. However, I never stopped feeling and caring for him. He was like the old friend that you no longer spoke to but thought about everyday.

I never believed that he sexually abuse anyone, either. In my mind, he loved children too much to hurt any. He always appeared to me to be very naive of such matters. So, I prayed hard for his acquittal and often cried for him on the inside. I hated that the media made such a spectacle of him and, worse, he gave them so much ammunition. In those times, I wish I had known him personally to reach out and lend my support.

However, I did not know him. I knew a feeling that his music gave me. I knew that I never expected to have to see him die. Yet, I never imagined him getting old. I could never envision a white haired MJ, wheeling his tired body to and fro. I could never see Michael Jackson the grandfather, wrinkled and frail. I somehow figured he would just always exist as who he had come to be.

I don't know what I will be or how I will feel once the headlines fade away. That is when it will finally be done and Michael will only exist in music that sits in my cd cabinet and plays on my radio, videos that I'll likely have to surf for on YouTube. I wonder if I will be able to shed the overwhelming sadness I have whenever I think of how his death did not need to be. At least, now I have ceased thinking about him in the early hours of every morning when I am unable to sleep. Maybe that bodes well for my sanity. Whatever the case, I miss him. I somehow feel empty knowing that he no longer physically moonwalks this earth. I pray, though, that he is finally rested and the words of compassion I was unable to give him in life can now transcend.

Rep Yo City!!

Okay, I was born and raised in what I term Sou Caribamerica. It was a place where you were certain to find collards next to a bed of pigeon peas and rice underneath some fried conch. You could be sure any time you had a craving for it, you could roll up on somebody making some souse. Moreover, it wasn't a roll of luncheon meat, it was a brew of the very finest of pig parts seasoned with some lime juice, some crushed red pepper, simmering to a thick, satisfying stew. There was never a hunt for some snapper or grouper steamed to perfection and swimming over a bowl of grits. Churrasco with chimichurri, looking colorful, laid on the side of a healthy helping of paella was common place. I knew the taste of plantains before I had ever had my first hot dog.

Miami was, and still is, its own little world. You could get there and get lost in the mix of Latin, Caribbean, Eastern European and Southern influences. The weather is always right for someone to have a festival to showcase their culture; Goombay, Calle Ocho, Martin Luther King Day, Art Deco, Food & Wine. You name it, Miami's got it!

Personally, my upbringing was pretty characteristic of those in my 'hood. My family was a mix of the Bahamas and good old Georgia. I paid more attention to the Bahamian side only because my great-grandparents, with their thick Bahamian accents, lived right around the corner. Visits to their home yielded an interesting dichotomy of what it meant to be American. Cousins frequently came over from Nassau to shop. They'd load down their rented cars with everything from clothes to meats. Over a two day period they'd stock up, capitalizing on our country's never-ending need to have a sale. Those were good times; chilling with a cup of conch salad and some lemonade, finding the right mango to slice up and cover with vinegar and pepper, waiting for the Peanut Man to come around.

However, that's all most people think Miami is! Any time I mention the place I grew up people automatically think about beaches and palm trees. "I hear it's absolutely beautiful there!" My response, "it can be." Miami, like any place else, has its horrors. We've had our share of race riots, tourists' killings, execution style murders, gangland shoot outs and domestic murder/suicides. People can't fathom that in a "paradise" like Miami an uncle that shot his wife in a heated argument, three cousins died at the brutal hands of deranged lovers/husbands and former classmates died in shoot-outs with police. In all its glamour, Miami's underbelly is just as grimy as the rest. You can make a wrong turn there and end up in a body bag.

This is nothing that any Miamian is proud of. We just know the truth. It hasn't been til the last few years that you could even hear about the grime in our rap. We fought hard for that right. In a genre where cappin' fools had become the norm, all we had been known for was Bass and Luke. Nobody was checking for anything hard coming out of "the bottom". We ain't bragging but hell we want people to know that we ain't soft. All Miamians ain't trotting to the beach with the damn top down every other day. There are plenty of Miamians who have never seen the beach any closer than a drive by on their way to a crappy job. We ain't all trippin' to Bal Harbor for a day of exclusive shops and spas. We can't all swim either. Close your mouth, we aren't shocked about it.

When I was younger, I romanticized cities like LA and New York. I came to realize that if I had grown up there, I would have had a record deal in my teens. I would have been down with the right cliques and made the right connections to go straight to the top! As a Miami girl, I met Luke once, in my early years of recognizing I wanted to sing. I just could not bring myself to be a part of what he represented at the time. I have always been conscious of my image. I never wanted anyone to think that they were going to get me to be or do anything that I was not down with. So, the Luke image wasn't one I wanted the connotations of. I just knew, though, had I grown up in LA or New York I would have had other routes. Don't misunderstand me. I can appreciate that Luke put us back on the map in those days. However, I was more on the Betty Wright tip and I just wish that had been an option then.

I guess what I am saying in this entry is that with all the options I had growing up in the city I adore, I had so few options. My people listened to all types of music but when it came down to it none of it gave us the credence in the rest of the country. I was once told by a record exec that no one would buy my music being an R&B artist out of Miami. Miami R&B had no true relevance at the time. I look around now and I think, he could have been right. I mean, who's the hard hitting crooners and R&B divas coming from the MIA these days? We stepped up our rap game, sure, but if you want a crooner from "the bottom" you're looking at a Latin music star. Let's just be honest. I don't even reside in the MIA anymore!

Miami is my dream, though. I would love to live there, in the paradise that everyone thinks it is. However, I have found, like a great deal of my peers, that sometimes you have to leave home to come back again. We all deeply love and rep our city. We even get "jiggy wit it" when we here that retarded ass Will Smith joint. We just don't live under the illusion. We appreciate knowing we can go home again but we gotta make our billions out here in the States. Sou Caribamerica is where we're gonna take permanent vacation, though. Star Island, Watson Island, Fisher Island here we come baby!! And when we come, we're bringing some more options!!

Ex-Factor

There is something extremely liberating about revelations. There is a cleansing that comes from finally realizing that which had previously eluded one's understanding. Finally, one's mind has clarity and the spirit has peace.

I had already started down a path of knowing long before this weekend. One day around Christmas, I decided that I was no longer going to focus on negativity. I had resolved that I was no longer going to give my energies and compassion to anyone who did not know how to receive it. So, I had simply stopped. I had stopped talking. I had stopped listening. I had stopped visiting. I had stopped giving away my smiles. It was time to begin anew.

I did, essentially, what he had asked of me. I had been asked to live and not concern myself with him. I had been told that my courtesy was wasted on him. It was explained to me that he neither needed nor desired my kind of attention. I guess it sounded wonderful while he was saying it. Perhaps, he had not quite thought out what that really meant.

At the moment that I began to follow his instruction, the real problem arose. Until a couple of days ago, I did not understand how much of a problem it was. I get it now, though.

"It could all be so simple, but you'd rather make it hard."

I don't question that there is love there. I know it. I see it as plain as I see my own self. The love is not the problem. The problem is that he is insecure. I know that now. I never saw it before. He hides it well. It is neatly tucked away behind the need to be the hero, the need to speak the loudest, the need to be the best at everything. I see it now as I never have before.

"Loving you is like a battle and we both end up with scars."

In loving him, I have been constantly spurned. I used to think that it was something wrong with me. I finally had to assess everything as an outsider. Anyone who can't accept the unconditional love that is being offered to them is a fool. There is no other explanation. In a world where so many are looking to be loved, someone who turns their back on love for no reason is unwell. No one should have to fight to give love. That is past insanity.

"And when I try to walk away, you'd hurt yourself to make me stay."

I have reckoned that the only freedom for me will death. I am certain that his will come before mine. However, it is definitely a "til death do us part" event. Wherever I am in the world, he will find me. Wherever I am in spirit, I will not shun him. As it is now, God will not have us be seperated. I came into 2009 prepared to never say another word to him. As God would have it, I am confronted with daily interactions. I am confounded by daily contemplations and temptations. I have learned to better handle myself despite his tantrums.

Which leads me to my truest revelation. It is the knowledge that he is angry with me. Whatever I have, or have not, done has made him feel slighted and insulted. So, now he seeks retribution. His objective has become to hurt me. Now, this would have previously startled and concerned me. However, at this point in my life, I can do nothing but feel badly for him. Maybe it means that I am beginning not to care. Maybe it means that I am placing my focus on other things. Either way, I finally understand that he is only hurting himself.

"Give to me, give to me. Why won't you live for me?"

When I say this I am speaking directly to him. Whatever it is, let it go. Don't miss out on the best things in life by holding on to the worse. I have forgiven you for the past. I don't even think on the things that we did when we were too young to know what love was. Today is a new day! Embrace it and LIVE! Tomorrow is not promised and I hope that you would not try to meet it with malice and disdain. I apologize for whatever hurt you feel. Give me your burden, your insecurity and your fears. I'll give you my unfailing hope and perhaps somewhere in the middle we can reconcile the anger and just live.

The Stranger Downstairs.

Seems like instantly, we became one. I don't mean one as if we were fractions of a fracture before we connected. I mean, we were two entities that could exist seperate and apart from one another but our union sprung forth that something extra. We were a Salvador Dali painting, a picture within a picture only distinguishable when you train your eye to look deeper.

My spirit was calm in that space. My spirit thrived in that place. I loved the feeling of free falling yet know where I would land I'd be standing next to my better self. I was constantly inspired, energized, emerged in the feeling that not only was I invincible, but I was unlimited. We existed in a place where nothing could touch us and nothing could constrain us, but us.

Then something changed. I can't put my hand on it. There was a disjointing, cataclysmic jolt. Suddenly, I was only half the things I was meant to be. Giving more and more until I had nothing left to give. I felt like a leach was sucking the very life blood from me. I held strong though; trying to wade and sift through the sludge that was fastly forming in my spirit. I tried to talk out my heartache, hoping that my words were falling on the sympathetic ears of my better self. I tried to stand firm in the belief that the monster I was fighting would soon yield and give way to the shining figure of comfort I once knew. However, it did not.

The more I fought to save what once was, the more it was eaten away. The more I gave to try to insure tranquility, the more hell was raised. I could do no more than turn it loose, let it go. Now, it sits there, in a place once reserved for my happiness. It lurks, quiet yet menacing, in the forgotten rooms of my palace. It taunts me every now and then, asking why I have no more attention to give. I have no reply. Anything I say would only agitate waves of rage. Sleeping monsters should sometimes be left to rest.

What was once so beautiful to me has become something that I no longer recognize. I try to look away because it pains me to see it's demise. Something my spirit once understood over miles of land and sea, is now just the stranger downstairs.

To A True Friend.

In January, I sat down at my computer with a determination to change my life. I wanted to activate all of the faith that I had garnished in 2008 and I did not want to be consumed by stagnancy any longer. I came across a profile on iseecolor. The profile picture was a black and white, said she did voice over work, looked professional enough. The lady in the picture looked like she was savvy. "We'll add her, see what she has to say." Who knew that she would be instrumental in changing my person so profoundly by forcing me to confront myself and stretch the envelope, daily.

Her welcome came in the form of an Eyejot video and I thought, "that's different. Did she say that she hoped to get the opportunity to KNOW me? Felt real enough. We'll see." Then came an invite to an accountability group for "scatterbrains". Sounded like me, so I joined. Maybe that was what I'd been missing, a group of people to kick my ass into shape. On the first conference call, I was extremely nervous. It was like going to your first AA meeting. I was even more nervous as the intros were being said and I thought, "I have no place here! These people are doing real, serious shit and I am trying to be a voice over artist. These people have tangible proof of their work. I have two songs on a Myspace page. Damn." Then came a one on one call with the architect of the accountability group. Gulp. She was cool, down to earth yet energetic. Her advice was simple. Live life as though I already am that which I wish to be. The thing that was even more encouraging was the fact that she was willing to teach me what she knew. She held out her hand and offered to pull me up to her level, without ever having met me face to face. She didn't act as though she was better than me because she held information I needed. Not once did she make me feel inferior for seeking her knowledge and expertise. Immediately, she made it known that she sought to be instrumental in the achievement of my dreams and desires. I exhaled, "Thank you Lord, I'm on the right track. God you led me to someone I can trust. Someone who knows and is willing to share."

I didn't have to beg. I didn't have to offer her my first born child. She never asked me for a dime. She never tried to make me feel bad because I didn't have a dime. She sat next to me and opened her mind and told me that I was privy to everything that was within. That meant more than she will know. I admire her spirit. She is my mentor, though she may not even have the knowledge that she is so. She is my friend, though she has never shaken my hand. She is my sister, though we don't share mother or father. She is now part of me. I shall carry her with me always. Thank you, Mari!

What Love Can Do.

I am in such an awesome place right now. It's been coming for a while. All of 2008 was a preparation for this moment in 2009. Amazing.

See, as 2007 came to a close, I had faith that 2008 would begin a whole new life for me. There were a lot of things that happened as 2008 unfolded that could have led me to believe that I was failing. There were more than enough reasons, as 2008 rolled on, to despair and feel like a was floundering. However, I fought to keep the faith.

Now, in 2009 I stand poised to have everything that I have ever envisioned, professionally and personally. I am waking up inspired and ready to take on the world. I am full of an energy that I haven't had in a long time. I could tell you any number of reasons why I feel so good but I think the major reason is LOVE.

I am in love again y'all!! I'm basking in the glow of my greatest muse. I feel like writing songs again. I feel like writing poems again. I feel like sangin' every single day. I feel like sending up some praise! Even better than being in love, is that fact that I am being loved in return.

Let me tell you something!! When you spend a lot of years loving and emotionally investing in people who don't know love, it drains you. When you spend day in and day out trying to show people that they are worth being loved and they don't know that for themselves, it can suck all your positive energy. However, when you put that to the side and realize that people have their own learning curve and you can't be responsible for their redemption or salvation, you can focus on your own purpose and happiness. You can find those who embrace you just as you are, don't want you to be anyone else, see your worth and want to elevate and appreciate you. That's where I am!!

I have found someone who loves and appreciates me for the wonderful me I've come to be. I'm not being asked to feel different, think different or act contrary to my nature. I am being celebrated because I am beautiful, smart, funny, compassionate and creative. Someone is taking the time to say, "hey, I see you and I want us to take this journey of life together." That feels wonderful because I can stop holding up the banner all alone. Someone wants me to relax, relate and release; resting assured that they will keep watch while my head is bowed. That's what love can do.

I hate to preach about it but it feels mighty good! If you don't know what I'm speaking about, then my suggestion is that you change your focus. "Stop making someone a priority when they only make you an option." Start thinking about what you have been annointed to do and start categorizing people as to whether they are holding you back or thrusting you ahead. It might be time to shake some trees and get rid of some dead limbs. Start dealing with people who challenge you in the spirit of building you up, rather than tearing you down. Stop spending all your energy on people who don't know how to love themselves, trust me they will not know how to love you! Get back to loving and nurturing your spirit, it needs you!

He Calls Me Beautiful.

There's something completely inspiring in the way he calls me beautiful. When he says my name in that low, soulful moan I feel like I'm floating on air. We've known each other a lifetime, but every time he's near feels like the first time.

I would be dishonest if I said I have any degree of surety around him. I mean whenever I know he is calling my heart skips a beat. I have to swallow hard, check myself to be certain that my words are coherent. I get butterflies in my stomach and my breath quickens. My palms sweat. Then he calls me beautiful and I know that this is what I want for the rest of my life.

I want a life in his love of my beauty. I want to hear him say my name in that low, soulful moan. want him to smile upon me and make me feel young again. I want to laugh with him about awkward silences. I want to curl up with him and do nothing. I want to walk on sidewalks with him and feel something, magical.

I know my giddiness will soon evaporate into the atmosphere of responsibilities. I am fine with that as long as he is there to share them. I've looked at the future and I know that we can make it because when he calls me beautiful I know it's forever. I know that whatever may come he sees deeper into my soul than even I do. He acknowledges that which everyone else would have me bury.

We are comfortable. Even in our difficult newness, we are sympatico. We've known each other for a lifetime and, though much has changed, enough has remained so that we have something to build on. There is no false pretense, no misleading communication. Yet, there's plenty of room for new discovery. I want to know all the ways he finds me beautiful.

I am prepared to go the distance as long as he continues to call me beautiful. As long as he is there to point out the things in me that I sometimes have difficulty seeing, I am prepared to stand by his side. I am prepared to relinquish butterflies and incoherent sentences for a life of loving him. I am ready to give him my best self until breath is no longer a filling me. All I ask is that he continue to acknowledge what we are together; that is beautiful.

Behind the Camera.

I don't know who may feel this but it's been put in my heart to write it. How you ever lived your life on the fringes of someone else's? Loving them in the background? Being the person who takes their snapshots, never being invited to be a part of the picture?

I was actually on one of my social media sites looking at pictures that a friend had posted recently. There were some that I will never get credit for having taken. The thought even occurs to me that they are photos that my friend probably does not remember how they acquired. To me, this is symbolic of the nature of our relationship.

I am the unheralded substance and foundation. I am the unsung hero. I am the unacknowledged partner. The sad thing in this is probably not what you are thinking. More than likely you are reading this feeling bad for me because of the roles that I have assumed. You shouldn't though! You should feel bad for my friend who has yet to understand what love actually is and who their allies are. My friend has not yet learned who is worth their investment and commitment. Sadder still is what my friend will experience when there is no one behind the camera any longer.

It amazes me how people like my friend approach their relationships as a series of free passes, clean slates and do overs. The truth of the matter is that eventually people grow tired of standing on the fringes of the lives of others. They soon find that life is better served by getting from behind the camera and stepping into the spotlight.

Life can be a lonely place for those who have not learned to value and treasure true friendship. One day you look up and realize that there is no one left to turn to. After you have used everyone up, you come to understand that perhaps it was not so much an inconvenience to give someone your last because they were in your corner when you had nothing to give. You begin to understand, when no one comes to your aid, that the cost of selfishness is that you will be left by yourself. No one in life ever gets anywhere worth noting alone. We all need each other.

Who is consistently standing behind the camera in your life? It might be time to make sure that they are in just as many pictures as they have taken.

For Anybody Who's Chosen LOVE.

I am happy for anyone who has made the choice to hold on to love. The world is a lonely place without it. I see the loveless trying to make things happen, thinking that somehow they can do it all alone. At the end of the day, love is all we truly have to give to one another, and far too many just throw it away.

Most people look at love as this state of emotion that we fall into. They think it is this thing that leads us around, forcing us to act irrationally. I beg to differ. Love is something that empowers us to reach down and uplift others. It compells us to look beyond our own needs and serve the needs of others. It demands that we look beyond someone's faults and see their beauty. Love requires us to grow stronger in the face of doubt, walk taller in the face adversity, be patient in the midst of confusion. When we have real love in our lives we know that we can soar.

I've been fortunate to be surrounded by a family who truly loves me. That has translated to being someone who can give love freely and openly. To me that was the greatest gift in the world. I learned that love is something that we should give without fear or expectation. I got to see what unconditional love looks like, understand what it feels like and know that I wanted to draw more of that into my life.

Those of you reading will hopefully understand me. Yes, there will be those souls who enter into our lives having no clue how to love themselves, let alone anyone else. Yes, they will try our patience and test our commitment to live up to the best in each of us. Yet, when it's said and done and we have chosen to love them despite themselves, we'll smile because it has cost us very little but we have gained everything.

The Land of Waste.

All around me appear the remnants of waste. Wasted time, wasted relationships, wasted energies. I never knew there was so much debris until I started to want different things and ask different questions.



The people that I have known and devoted my life to in the past few years are good people. Do not misunderstand me, they are wonderful people. However, they appear to want nothing more than what they currently have, mostly, because that is all that they know.



I have seen a wealth of possibilities that are far beyond the limits of their imaginations. I have seen hills and valleys and vast open places that they don't even know exist. What's worse is that they aren't even trying to see them.



As a result, I am most certain that I am beginning to set myself apart from them. I am finding that, with each passing day, I have fewer conversations with them. There is less for me to say to them and I don't feel like listening to frivilous chatter. So, we are drifting apart. Perhaps life will again find us on the same plane someday. As I said, they are good people. They just don't have any clear vision or ambition at this time; and I am not willing to spend the next few years of my life wandering through the desert of life. Each day needs to be a day that I get closer to the place that God has designated for me.

Today someone posed the question, "If you hang around nine broke people will you eventually become the tenth?" Emphatically, my answer is yes. Either you will deal with people who seek to uplift all around them or people who are stagnant in the face of evolution. Attitude is infectious and eventually you will develop the attitude of those you associate with. Therefore, I am aligning myself with people who are forging new paths and blazing new trails, hoping to catch a tail wind that can assist me in lifting off the ground and soaring. I wish to fly!

I Could Have Gone In Either Direction...

I started the day with one state of mind. I end it trying not to succumb to another. Within a span of 13 hours, what was so positive has now become this fleeting speck of happiness. Life curves that way sometimes.

Without a lot of specifics, I'll give you a break down of this day in my life. I began feeling wonderful! I opened my eyes and saw promise all around me. The weather was great! The sun was shining. With the sliding glass door opened, I could hear the chirping of birds and feel the rustle of the breeze outside. My future stretched out in front of me like a huge yellow brick road. Then a truck pulled up across the street. A man got out of the truck. He walked into my yard. He and I had a conversation that lasted about 30 seconds. He was a schmuck. Then the downward spiral began. The day took a sharp turn at that point, all that was clear to me then was problems.

Those problems seemed to come one right after another. Schmuck, car not running right, unforeseen errands with strict time restraints, car stops running, figure out how to get car back to house from fives houses down the block and uphill, no one answering their phone. They seemed to jump on my back to the point that I felt like Neo in the second Matrix movie. You know the scene where he fought all those Agent Smiths on the basketball court. I, unfortunately, don't think that I was able to throw my Agent Smiths off and continue to fight the good fight.

It's very easy to talk about remaining positive in the face of challenges. The minute you start to talk about how positive your life is becoming and how close you are to a breakthrough, that's when negativity tries most urgently to take hold of you. I have spent the week, until today, talking with a good friend about how everything was shifting and we were just around the corner from the greatness that God has planned for us. So, I suppose that is why, today, my faith had to be called into question.

The good news for me, right now I have chosen! I am not doubting. I am still believing God for all that I know He can and will do. I am still grateful for all that He has done and everything He is currently doing. I still plan to give God the seed of my faith. I plan to stay the course with those things that He has anointed me to fulfill. I am undeterred by the few things that transpired today. I am choosing to hold on to that fleeting speck of happiness and pull until it stretches into a blinding array. I have been chosen to fulfill a distinct purpose. I accept that calling, knowing that some days will be painful and dark. However, I am ready because my best days are yet to come.

When Did Sh*t Change?

I think it changed when he called me an "easy target". Until that point, he could have gotten any and everything from me. I would have followed him to the end of the earth because I thought he was intellegent and God-fearing; until then. When he made that comment, I saw him for what he truly was, a real retard. You ever watch these movies where demons or aliens are disguised as human beings and it takes someone special or special glasses to discern them? Well, with that statement, the guise he was wearing fell away.

How could a good person look at anyone who has been a constant source of encouragement and support as an "easy target"? That's like spitting in a someone's face after they have taken a bullet for you. How could someone who's motives were pure think of someone else as something to be taken advantage of? Certainly, the person who views their blessings in this way will no longer continue to have favor.

Eerily enough, since making that statement, his life has been met with challenge upon challenge. From the outside, it looks like it is in a downward spiral. Ironically, the "easy target" is in position to make it worse. If I were to do that thing which sits in my mind and I know comes from the least Christian part of my soul, I know it would be devastating. I am tempted, by the evil I know exist in me, to do it just to see the fallout! However, daily I pray for God to keep me grounded and focused. I pray that he does not allow me to think on how I was disrepected for trying to love someone who does not know what love is. I ask God to keep my anger from swelling, so that I do not do something that causes this stupid man to lose one of the best gifts God has ever given him; a friend.

Therefore, he can smile, feeling that everything is right in our world. He can enjoy cordial conversation, thinking that tomorrow will be as it was yesterday. I, however, don't think I can go back. I am just biding my time until the day that God would have him depart my life and I never have to say another word. He's resilient and I know that he will claw his way through life just fine. Someday, though, when his mind is quieted and he is able to really reflect, he will see what could have been and cry out. I may not witness it but he will pray for forgiveness and try to to answer the question, "when did sh*t change?"

The Intricate Art of Denial.

Okay, okay. Before we get too far into this thing; I am not about to talk about denial in the sense that you might be thinking. I should start by saying, I deny myself a great deal. I tell myself that there are things that I am not going to access for a myriad of reasons. (Okay, let's be truthful, the only real reason is money but I who wants to be that frank?) I tend to make a great argument for why I should not do things that will give me a feeling of joy. I regularly practice bypassing things that will make life happy in small ways.

I love to watch people who make no excuse for doing things that they love, though. I don't know that many of them right now, but I love to watch them. Life is never this negotiation of whether it's purdent to buy that pair of shoes or ditch a day of work to have a lunch with a distraught friend. To a degree, I envy that.

I grew up as the oldest of two girls in my household. From the time my younger sister was conceived, I was trained in being responsible. I was reared, from that day forward, to be a caregiver. As such, my life has largely focused on things I should not do. It has been about doing things so that others are appeased rather than pursuing my own fulfillment. It has been about doing the thing that present the greatest example, not leading people into ruination. Therefore, I have come by force to this place in life.

Now, let me say this, I'm not miserable or unhappy about having lived denying myself certain things. The problem is more of being at a point when I need to be more indulging and not finding the comfort to do so. I am at a point in life where I should be able to declare what I want and not come back with 30 justifications why I should NOT have it. I'm not talking in grand terms either. I'll give you an example. If I walk into a store and see a pair of shoes that I like and can afford, I should be able to say "I'm getting these!!" I should not walk around the mall for two hours contemplating whether it's a wise buy. Nothing should be that painstaking. I mean, how am I going to live this life of lounging and decadence if I can't feel good about buying the shoes I want from the mall?

Okay, well maybe I am just one of these people who will always care about whether I'm setting the right example. Maybe I'm this person who's doomed to care about other people for the rest of my life. Perhaps I'm that somebody who can't live decadently knowing that someone in the world is freezing to death or starving to death.

However, I do sometimes envy those who don't care and just get what they want, when they want it. I wonder what it is to live a life so free of the responsibility of love and humanity. It's got to be somewhat liberating. Or maybe it's just lonely and self indulgence is a cover. I think, though, that once in this life I'd like to find out. That I just can't deny.

I Am What I Say I Am

I've heard a million times that perception becomes reality. Of course, since I am like most people, I don't truly contemplate a statement in depth upon first hearing it. I must be forced to think on things after a series of events. Recently, I have begun to think on the concept of self-perception. More directly, the question of how my view of self has bearing on my circumstances.

This past Sunday, I had a conversation with a colleague in which we were able to discuss the belief that everything we do and experience flows out of our inner desires and visions. More specifically, the concept that you can not outwardly manifest anything that is not already existing in you. Now, this conversation became extremely personal because for years I have been striving to be something. However, that which I have been striving to become has never been who I was. For some reason or the other, generally my own preconceived notions, I could not reasonibly claim a title that I could not identify with. I mean, I could not call myself a doctor if I have not done the proper training and study for the job. So, that is how I have looked at my career in music. There is a vast distinction, though! I HAVE trained and studied in my field. I have taken the stage and stepped into the studio booths and laid down vocals. I have had the rehearsals necessary to hone my craft. I have studied the masters that I have sought to emulate. I have spent years doing the work, despite the fact that the compensation has been more miniscule than I had hoped. However, because I have never perceived myself as a professional singer, I have never placed it on any resume. The question, after evaluating this stance, became whether this inability to declare myself as a professional singer has kept me from becoming a professional singer.

My answer...I think it has. I think once we declare what we are, our actions then turn to living up to the declaration. Whereas, I have spent the entirity of my adult life trying to decide what I am going to be, largely due to the views and influence of others. Therefore, my attention has never been fully devoted to being what I already am. I know, I'M CONFUSING SOMEONE.

Okay, here's the long and the short of it...until you properly define who you are and what you want, you cannot actually live by your own terms. If you don't declare your role in life, you are just blowing whichever way the wind takes you. You are ultimately allowing things to just constantly happen around you, while you try to adapt to them all. Once you declare what it is you are, you begin walking a much narrower path. You don't get taken in by every little thing that happens. I have been a singer since I was six years old. That was when I started studying my craft, singing for people, practicing everyday. My inability to declare myself as such has put me in a place that I haven't taken myself seriously. As we know, if you don't take yourself seriously, no one else will!

So, what have I learned? It is time for me to live the life that already exists inside me. All the things that I already am are the things that I must be. I don't need anyone's approval or permission. I've been endowed with certain talents and visions that I need to utilize right now. Things just got serious!

Sleep is upon me.

I just took 3 minutes to set up my account and felt compelled to say something after the effort. So, I just want to make this a quick "hey, I'm here!" Now, I'm going to bed.

Over and out at 1:49am EST...