GRATEFUL

Today we get to share with everyone a project I’ve been working SO hard on. ‘Everybody’s Haitian’ is something I am personally proud of for so many deeply personal reasons and I’m so grateful this story chose me to tell it.

HEARTBROKEN

This morning I awoke to news that my grandmother has lost her battle with cancer.

TORN

I need to go to three different cities, in three different parts of the country, for three very important reasons all by the end of next week…And I still haven’t found a place to move to…Which has to happen by the end of next week.

ANGRY

I’ve allowed myself to love someone who isn’t capable of returning the feelings…

RELIEVED

Today we officially go into pre-pro on another music video…And although I spent years trying to get away from production, I was born to do this. I’ve never loved anything else.

OVERWHELMED

No further explanation needed…

*Pic courtesy of Estelle*

To You,

Stop trying’, those were your exact words. For some reason, after everything you said, after all the ugliness you let fall onto my screen, ‘stop trying’ hit hardest. It got through.

I’ve always believed that there was nothing that was beyond repair – because if you couldn’t fix the original break – you could still make the best out of the pieces that remained. Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe sometimes, you just have to leave things broken.

The last 36 hours was both character defining and revealing – for more than just me. Having your stomach pumped will do that to you. But as I laid there, sweating yet shivering, with a heart rate exceeding that of an infant – fast enough to kill you – I kept thinking to myself, ‘what do you want from this situation?’

It took hours to find the answer. It took plea’s that went unanswered, sedatives, IV drips, court dates, preemptive calls to my attorney, it took looking into the officers eyes and saying ‘I don’t know his name’ – for me to finally touch the answer that’s been eluding my grasp since last fall…

I wanted to hold on to the intimacy.  I loved what it felt like on the inside of the private joke, the one to be shown your consideration, the target of your subliminal sweetness, morning greetings, to share the secret and not just its protector.  But instead – in what coincided with one of my most vulnerable moments – I was cast out.  A connection I’d come quickly to cherish, withdrawn, taken away, snatched from me in anger.

Maybe I wasn’t ‘easy’ enough…Maybe I was too easy, too soon.  Or maybe, just maybe, you’d collected all that you wanted and all that remained wasn’t worth the hassle. ‘Stop trying…’

Loyalty is unconditional. Period. It’s not predicated on the behavior of others. Real loyalty has nothing to do with anyone but you. It is a character choice. And although some might call me foolish for the loyalty I’ve chosen to hold onto, I know it was and is the right thing to do.

I wish you nothing but the best and sincerely hope you find the happiness we all deserve.  I don’t believe in burning bridges, or closing doors. So I will leave the pieces on the floor where they fell and let time do with them as it sees fit.

with Love,

Me.

What are the odds that you are everything that you say that you are?

You’ll bring me flowers, smiles, tender kisses

Through near and through far?

What if I trusted you to be all the being you say that you can be?

Would you give me more smiles than tears

Would you be careful with me?

If you get the benefit (No doubts)

What will you do with it (Slow down)

Could you even handle it (Right now)

Or would you just gamble it (Turn around)

And fold…..

Just walk away, there’s too much on table

There’s too much at stake

I know it’s cold…..

If you get up now, you still got the house

You haven’t gambled it all away

What if I’m not as tough as I think I am or I pretend to be?

What if its all a front, a façade, a wall

There to protect the gentle me

Wonderin why I want to let you in, when all roads lead to mistake

You’ll make a mess, leave it there

And that I could not take

If I hand you the keys (Cards up)

Would you choose unselfishly (Don’t touch)

Or am I acting foolishly (It’s tough)

Could I trust you with me (Not enough)

Or do I fold…..

Just walk away, there’s too much on table

There’s too much at stake

I know it’s cold…..

If I get up now, I still got the house

I haven’t gambled it all away

I’ve been thinking a lot about this day…To me, my birthday has always been a very private thing. I rarely celebrate on my actual date of birth because for some reason, to me that’s not what it’s for. For me, it is my day where I simply take a moment and reflect on what I know now…

I’ve learned a lot in this first year without my mother. The biggest lesson I believe is I’ve learned exactly how strong I am. I knew one day she would leave this Earth – but I was never able to see past that. I genuinely had no idea how I would ever survive without her…And now I know that I would not only survive, but thrive.

I’ve learned that if you are good to the world, the world will return in kind…

I’ve learned that being who you are – holding fast to your own beliefs, goals, missions, needs – In a world that constantly wants you to conform to trends, is probably the most difficult and the most fulfilling things you can do.

I’ve learned that eating large amounts of cheese pizza will cause my booty to jiggle in ways that only dudes from the hood can appreaciate…This was not a pleasant lesson.

I’ve learned that trying something – and failing is SO much better than never attempting it at all.

I’ve learned that leaving to fulfill a purpose isn’t leaving, it’s reaching.

I’ve learned that fear and distrust are one and the same.

I’ve learned that while I may not be there in person – those that I love, know I am there in their hearts.

I’ve learned the power of a hug, a smile and a simple ‘hello’.

And most importantly, I think I’ve learned this year that my life will be as good as I allow it to be.

I am so BLESSED. And I am SO grateful.

I gave some tears to Brother Michael this morning,

It wasn’t my intention

As I steadied my mind to do battle against the world

My heart plucked intentionally from my sleeve

Placed with care deep inside my chest, just behind my nerve

Right before the place where I hold my dreams

Having grown weary of the world

Finally wise to its devilish trickery

I readied my scowl of earnest that

Masquerades daily as a smile

I looked to the sky and The Creator for my sword and shield

Then drew back my armor - with unknown aim

Towards what waits,

“Why? Why? Tell’em that it’s Human Nature”

The tender falsetto weighed my tracks and weakened my grip

“If they say why? Why? Does he do me that way?”

The thump inside of me quickened

The swell within my throat called forth and released

The King is gone…

It was now real.

The tears I’d given Thursday afternoon were of disbelief

I knew nothing else of what to do

The tears I gave Sunday were for the rhythm

As it pulsed through my body asking for celebration

The salty streams that flowed freely yesterday

Carving peaks and valleys in foundation down my cheeks, staining my blouse

Those were for Paris

Whose childish candor reminded us he was not ours and ours alone…

But this morning,

On this glorious morning of God,

Those tears were for the first crush I ever had

Those tears were for my earliest memory of 1138 Dodge Ave.

Wondering of this ‘Billie Jean’

Watching in amazement at the red leather coat walking on the moon

I loved him first.

Even as we both grew…and changed

I loved him still.

Angry at the physical that was beyond my understanding

This morning I gave tears the Brother Michael

To the glove,

To the floods/white socks/loafers,

To the bandaged fingertips,

To the crotch grab,

To the innocence,

To the wisdom,

To the small place buried deep inside of me that’s pulsing with shame

At the jokes.

At the ridicule.

At the outward abandonment.

This morning I gave tears to Brother Michael for everything I don’t yet know to say

I gave tears

“Why? He asked why does she do me this way?”

I gave tears because it’s Human Nature…

THEflyGIRL – July 10, 2009

‘…A life perfect ain’t perfect if you don’t know what the struggles for, falling down ain’t falling down if you don’t cry when you hit the floor, it’s called the past cause I’m getting past and I ain’t nothing like I was before, you outta see me now…’

The last time I posted here I was almost at a point of burn-out. I was at the point where I found myself questioning why I was working so hard – in the long run would it even matter? The last time I felt like this I simply put my head down and told myself to keep working, thinking inspiration would find me. BIG mistake. Instead I found ruins and a shift in my life so great, I am still feeling the aftershocks.

So this time around, I went looking for inspiration.

Last weekend I went digging through my boxes of storage – most of which hadn’t been touched since I left LA. But I had a pretty good idea what I needed was in there – My old diaries. I think I’ve always been a writer (I wrote my first screenplay when I was 9) but I didn’t start keeping a journal until my cousin gave me a beautifully bound blue book when I was fifteen. Off and on for the next five years, three volumes would emerge as the sole witness to some of the most fulfilling, tumultuous and often bizarre moments of my life. And in times like these, they would be my reminders.

So I sat on my back deck – in the sun, with Charlie Murphy at my feet – and I started at fifteen and worked my way forward. Three hours later, I was a little sunburned, Charlie was looking for shade and I realized one very important thing, I wasn’t hungry enough.

I remember being 13 or 14, riding in the back of my friends mother’s car and looking up at the moon –  see growing up we fluctuated between times of monetary excess and praying the lights would work when we flipped the switch and eating day old donuts cause that was the only option – And I remember clear as today, looking up at that bright full moon and understanding clearly that my life was meant for more, that my journey would take me far as long as I was willing to work for it.

Years later, as I kissed my mother goodbye, gave away all my worldly possessions, ignored my father’s disapproval, and with $800 to my name, moved across the country to live with cousins I barely knew in Compton. I’d leave the house at 6am and ride three busses each way Monday through Friday up to Beverly Hills to a 10-hour a day unpaid internship at a Production Company. Why? Cause I wanted a life so much bigger, and I knew my chance would come and I would do whatever I had to, to make sure I was ready. In short, I was consumed with hunger.

But over the years, that same comfort of knowing that I would be alright – that feeling in the pit of my stomach – the very faith I’ve come to rely on to see me through some of my darkest hours has somehow made me…Soft. Complacent. Stagnant. Ego has replaced learning. I’ve come to cherish ‘things’ over experiences. I’d begun to confuse pats on the back with winning…

I still hustled, but my hustle was from a position of safety, from a place of calculated risk. And it occurred to me, all of the things I’d been experiencing as of late – the challenges, the adversity, the exhausting never-ending uphill battles – Perhaps this was God’s way of saying, ‘Remember when you believed enough, that you would do anything?’

A big fish has never been caught from the shore. And anything worth having that’s ever come easy, has never been kept. I set out looking for inspiration but instead found something greater. I found purpose.

Now don’t get me wrong, the struggle continues. But at least now I will fight knowing I will risk my life to win it because now I remember what it feels like to have something to fight for…For the first time in a long time, my hunger outweighs my fear and I’ve got more on the line than just proving to myself I can do something.

My ribs are touching and it is a beautiful feeling…

Roc with me.

There’s no playbook to life. Not real life anyway.

What’s  funny is about a month ago I said I was going to start updating this blog every week  - Each Sunday. And then I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to write about.

The truth is, there’s been SO much going on that at times it’s felt somewhat overwhelming. And it’s an interesting mix of really good things and really bad things. And at any given moment I feel like if I linger too long on any one thing…

I began work on my webseries. This was something that’s been a longtime coming. And what started out as a small idea is now a full-blown beast complete with three writers, two producers, three directors, 3 camera men,2 soundmen, a casting director, a stable of actors and me…with my name, face and brand plastered right in front.

If that isn’t scary enough, I’ve taken a leap of faith and decided to step out in front of my brand and try the ‘personality’ route. I’m on my 5^th acting lesson. The first two were interesting. Let me begin by saying I HATE acting classes…But I’m actually a very good actor. So imagine my surprise when I walked my cocky ass into class, delivered my monologue, watch as my fellow actors stared in awe and amazement…And then my instructor boldly walked up to me and says ‘You don’t believe you as an actor, so why the fuck should I?’ Good question…

There’s LOTS of family stuff going on and for the first time in my life I’m not in a position where I can just pick up and move away from it and that’s weighing on me…

I’m starting to realize just how un-professional some people really are. I know that sounds somewhat naive. But keep in mind these are people that I’ve built relationships with – broke bread with- had drinks with – collab’d with. I’m thinking I should stop expecting people to live to their potential…

I’m ready to leave Chicago. I’ve been here almost two years and that honestly feels like 6-8 months too long.  I’m in a very different place in life than my friends here. Perhaps it’s a mid-west thing but although we’re still very much in our 20’s I swear they’re all married with kids/damn-near married with kids/trying to get married and have kids. And they don’t understand my life. And there’s a tension bubbling just underneath the surface that I’m too chicken to admit is really resentment from one of them…

I’ve got my first on-camera red carpet gig…I’m both excited and nervous. And now stylists and publicists and all these things that never mattered 6 months ago are now daily phone calls and emails…

There are more people in my life taking than there are giving. When I realized this some while ago, I begin to make a point to set-up boundaries. But you’d be surprised how much of you people think they’re entitled to…

So here’s the thing, I’m not one that really likes to complain. I’m very grateful, I really am. I know how blessed I am. In fact I almost never say shit about everything that’s going on anymore. Now I just deal with it. But every now and then…

The point is this: It ain’t all fly, all the time.

*Hopefully the next post will be cheerier.*

When I was in third grade there was a group of ‘popular’ girls that I really wanted to be friends with. I worshipped them. I did everything they asked, I kept their secrets, I started their rumors, and followed every instruction all in the hopes of getting these girls to like me. It didn’t work. In fact all that did come of my desperation was a call home to my father from a concerned teacher.

Truthfully I was relieved when The Rev found out about the girls, since nothing else seemed to work, perhaps his call to their parents would finally force them to befriend me. What he did instead both shocked me and years later would change the way I see the world. My father didn’t call their parents nor did he go talk to my teacher . Instead he sat me down and told me quite frankly, ‘Not everybody’s going to like you.’

This past week VIBE magazine put out a list of what they considered to be the top 50 rap blogs on these here innanets. It’s an interesting mixture of predictable favs, surprising darkhorses, page-view heavyweights and bold newcomers. I liked it. The list makes you want to discuss it. And that’s the point of it.

I must be honest though, I’m surprised at the reactions of some that didn’t make the list. While others were congratulating, discussing and even debating placements, some were openly pouting. Through blog posts, twitter updates and facebook notes, grown men were pulling the internet equivalent of Kanye jumping on stage to question why he wasn’t given the award. It was silly when Kanye did it. It’s silly now.

There’s two perspectives here that must be looked at. The first is of those that made the list. They should feel honored, proud and humbled. But they should also be cautioned that they were awarded placement based on their work up until this point. Bask in it. Talk shit, take a few victory laps, then realize somebody respects your work enough to honor it. So figure out a way to take it to the next level.

Then there’s those who didn’t make it. If the first thing you did was immediately condemn the list, then chances are you probably aren’t worthy of being on it. Because if you were as good as you think you are, the first thing you would’ve done was look at your own work and ask yourself ‘what am I missing?’ And to take offense to someone else’s bragging just shows you may not get rap as much as you think, either. Rap music was created on the backs of both our sorrows and our egos. So to be upset over the boastfulness of someone who did make the list is not only childish but also ironically dumb.

Blogging is a thankless job. In a crowded marketplace, it’s hard to find sites that are as original as they are accurate. And sometimes asking your crackhead cousin to borrow $20 would be easier than getting blog readers to leave their comments on your posts.  But if you’re blogging for the recognition or the glory, or to make some list that a month from now will only really matter to those that created it, and those that made it – then perhaps you should move on to something else. On the other hand if this is what you love to do, if sharing your two-cents about the music and the culture that pulses through your veins is as a pure as the air you breathe, then who cares what list you made? Do what you love.

Now stop the bitch shit and get back to work. 

There’s a strip in Chicago that for a lack of a proper name, we just call ‘Up On Wilson’. It’s a 4 block stretch of wholesalers. Purses, jewelry, t-shirts, whatever you need, it’s there. They have everything – except parking.

So one day I ventured Up On Wilson and after circling for almost thirty minutes, decided I would park in the huge Walgreens lot across the street. Big mistake.

I was in the store for all of ten minutes, just long enough to grab a new Burberry (faux) umbrella and to come back to find a blue Taurus where my black Nissan 200sx was parked. Having been a three-time victim of car theft, my first reaction was ‘great, not again’. But as I looked around, I noticed two other drivers with the same befuddled look on their faces. I’d been towed.

After some light investigation, I learned that there was a guy who sits in an unassuming car and waited for people to park in the lot, then cross the street off the premises. And just like clockwork, the tow truck would swoop up the trespassing vehicles. This lesson cost me $125 to learn.

I was 21. That was an expensive lesson. But I learned it.

I avoided that area at all costs for over a year. Then finally one day, needing desperately to pick up a belt on my way to an event, I decided I’d take my chances and headed up on Wilson. And of course, after spending 20 minutes I didn’t have – in the rain – looking for parking, it occurred to me what I needed to do.

I entered the Walgreens parking lot and immediately found a space. Grabbing the very umbrella that got me towed in the first place, I went looking for the unmarked car that housed the Tow master. I found him within minutes. I knocked on the window and I could tell by the puzzled look on his face, he didn’t get approached often.

“Listen, I’m running REALLY late and I just need to run across the street to that store right there and pick something up. It’ll take all of five minutes. Can I just leave my car here and NOT get towed.”

He started laughing. He said in all of the four years he’d been doing this, I was the only person to ever come talk to him before I left the premises. Everyone else comes to him asking to get their car back.

I learned a lot from that day. Something so simple, changed me. I became the person that believed in thinking far enough ahead, to prevent the avoidable from occurring.

And I learned the power of simply asking. You’d be amazed at the lessons/benefits/rewards I’ve come across for simply having the foresight to ask a question.

It may seem like the most elementary thing. But in fact, it is how not to get towed.