Discovering Greatness ... A Little Too Late

I didn't know the Undercover Black Man, but I wish I did. I was only vaguely familiar with his blog, but I've been going there reading the archives quite frequently after learning that UBM, an alter ego for TV writer David Mills, died from a brain aneurysm this past week.

His name didn't ring any bells with me as I read the various obituaries and tributes that ran in different newspapers. It's surprising that I wasn't familiar with him, since he did go to my alma mater, worked with David Simon, another distinguished alumnus, and was a writer for both Homicide: Life on the Streets and The Wire, which was one of my favorite programs. He was also set to work with Simon on Treme, an HBO show that seems to deal with life in post-Katrina New Orleans. He wrote his last blog post about the show, along with several others.

I'm ashamed to say that I've only been perusing the blog after learning about his death. But I do have some favorite posts, like the one where he lists recording artists who were convicted of murder; 'Run, N-gger Run', where he lists the lyrics of a catchy old time tune; and one where he calls out folks for pretending to be Indian. He also provided little known historical data, like giving a bio on the country's first non white vice president.

I've been late in discovering greatness before. I was an adult before I read 'Go Tell it On the Mountain' and 'Giovanni's Room', the latter helping me realize how much I loved James Baldwin. And just last year, my guitar teacher has got me playing songs by the Beatles and their tracks are in constant rotation (John Lennon was THE TRUTH). I'm now learning 'Don't Let Me Down', which faces stiff competition from 'My Life' for being my favorite Beatles song. (I've become so enamored with them that a friend has nicknamed me The Ladybug)

I had already known I was going to watch Treme when it premieres in a few weeks. But now I'll do so with the UBM, or David Mills, in mind. Rest in peace, Mr. Mills.

Today's Lesson: Work Hard, Nap Harder

I don't go back to work until Wednesday, and I've truly been enjoying my time away from the office. That doesn't mean I haven't been productive. In the past few days, I've managed to do my taxes, work on my thesis, plead to get reinstated into the grad program in the fall, pay bills and get my daily writing tasks in.

But there comes a time when you've just got to lay back on that bed and let the sandman take over. Most of my life, I didn't like naps. When I was a kid, I never wanted to go to bed. I mean, who did? As an adult, I thought naps were a waste of time. I was usually too wired up to nap anyway. And if I were to nap, I was the rare person who needed to fool myself into believing it was nighttime in order to go to sleep. That meant putting on some pajamas, closing the shades and getting under the covers. I'm so glad I got out of that foolishness.

Nowadays, the only thing I need to put me into a coma is my cat. There are times when I'll be watching television and The Animal just hops up beside me and closes his eyes. That makes me jealous and next thing I know, I'm out for the count. That happened at least twice today. I had a good night's sleep, mind you. Then I took a nap at 4 p.m., followed by another one at 5:15 p.m. All because of my lovely pet. And because his latest game is to follow me where ever I may go and cuddle up to me, naps may become an increasing part of my life. I can't say I'm complaining.


Photo from http://www.babble.com/CS/blogs/strollerderby/2007/07/16-22/nap%20time.jpg

The Sunday Spin (Or, "They sleep; I grind"**)

1. I had a FABULOUS birthday weekend

2. It started with seeing my homie in a play (she did a FANTASTIC job, I might add)

3. And it ended just a few minutes ago, with some delicious sushi

4. That was almost enough to make me forget the meeting I had with my professor

5. The one where she told me she wanted to nominate me for a significant monetary award, but couldn't, because I haven't been enrolled in the program

6. My response was to enroll in the fall, get back on my thesis grind and hope upon hopes that this money becomes available in the fall (apparently that is a possibility)

7. Now I'm sitting back, flipping between Celebrity Apprentice and How to Make It in America (Bryan Greenberg + Victor Rasuk = YUM) and am so glad that I don't have to work tomorrow.

Have a good week everybody!

**Quote from Erykah Badu, via Twitter, at 5:28 a.m. February 24, 2010**

Celebrate World Tuberculosis Day (Or, Celebrate My Birthday)

So today was my birthday and what did I do? For the first time EVER, I went to work. I only did that because I've been taking homeownership classes which are right near my office, so I figured I might as well work. I am off the rest of the week though, so that's good.

I have a coworker who said she always goes to work on her birthday, just to feel special from all the people who wish her a happy birthday. I thought she was pretty pathetic until this year. Now, I can be pretty obnoxious about my special day, but I'd like to think I'm only that way with friends and family, NOT the coworkers. If it weren't for Facebook, alot of folks wouldn't have known today was my day. But they figured it out, and here is how they made me feel special:

-A friend hand delivered to me a breakfast from Whole Foods -- French toast, eggs and bacon, along with my favorite Kiwi Strawberry drink
-Coworker tied a HUGE 'Happy Birthday' balloon to my chair and gave me a happy birthday pin, so I got more than my fair share of happy birthdays
-My immediate supervisor made cupcakes -- WITH 33 CANDLES ON EM!! -- and brought them out to me. I even managed to blow them all out. There's still some air left in me!
-My supervisor also gave me a snazzy pink scarf and a card from Hoops & Yoyo at Hallmark
-My aunt wrote my a birthday poem

So yeah, it all made me feel warm and fuzzy inside! And that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of the number of phone calls, texts, emails and Facebook messages I got for my special day. Now I'm sitting back, waiting for my birthday pizza to arrive, and thinking about how I'll celebrate this weekend, because, as you know, birthdays are a weeklong celebration. =)

Random factoids about March 24:
-Tommy Hilfiger, Peyton Manning and Alyson Hanigan all share my birthday (So does Star Jones, but I don't brag about that one)
-The movie 'The Breakfast Club' takes place on one of my birthdays. It opens up with the line 'March 24, 198---' I can't remember which year, I think it was 1987. Shrug
-March 24 is also World Tuberculosis Day
-March 24, 1980 was sadly the day Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador was killed. I remember learning about this in Spanish class and being traumatized that such a horrible event could happen on such a wonderful day

Anyway, 33 has been treating me well so far. I look forward to having a healthy and prosperous Jesus year!

(Photo from http://www.thelifeofriley.org/uploads/images/birthday_33.jpg)

The Sunday Spin

1. I'm so happy the weather has finally broke, time to unleash the skin

2. I'm borderline OCD, so each March I'm faced with the same challenge -- to do a bracket or not

3. This year, I took i there: I've got three brackets going, two paid & one unpaid

4. Let's just say it doesn't look like I'll be winning any prizes, monetary or not (Big thanks going out to Kentucky, Georgetown, Maryland)

5. I have to spend the day after my birthday chatting with a professor I greatly admire, and greatly fear

6. The United States of Tara comes back on tomorrow and I'm too excited about that!

7. My local Blockbuster closed, so I switched back to Netflix. Now watching Damages Season 2. Glenn Close plays evil so well!

Have a good week everybody!

For Dreadlocked Girls Who Have Considered Scissors & Relaxers When The Hairdresser Has Had Enough

My world stopped last week when my hairdresser called. She was having an emergency and wouldn't be able to do my hair that evening. The situation was so dire, that she didn't know when she would be able to do my hair again. So I did what I could do, I comforted Hairdresser, offered words of support, then I hung up the phone and ....

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!SCREAMED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You see, Hairdresser is a close family friend. Ok, ok, she's family. There was a time when she had her own shop and I was comforted by the nice, easy banter among us women. Sure, I was often abused ('How long are you gonna make me stay here tonight & deal with your wool, Strength?'), interrogated ('Do you have a goal for this hair? Your locs are already down your back!') and teased ('Is this a gray hair or is this your cat? Oh, it's a gray hair!'). My favorite part of the shop was the way said Hairdresser would greet me, with a hand on her hip and a firm "What do you want?"

But all good things must come to an end, I guess. Economics forced Hairdresser to close up shop and start working at The Hair Shop and Salon. Things are different there. For example, someone answers the phone with a robotic "Thank you for calling the Hair Shop and Salon, where we experience beauty and wellness. What are your wellness needs today?"Each time someone washes your hair they say something like "It was my pleasure to service you." Have I mentioned how much they charge? I mean, I expected to pay a pretty penny for this thick head of hair. But they charge extra for EVERYTHING. An extra $10 just to cut the strands off the locs? Seriously?

So when The Hairdresser couldn't do my hair, that left me with few options. I could either go to The Hair Shop or do it myself. (Or obey my mother and get a relaxer) Clearly, I chose the latter. I've washed and styled my own hair before, but I try to avoid doing it because it's such a time consuming process. Thankfully, I did a lot of googling and youtube research to find the best way to get through this head.

Things actually went well, especially since I'm madly in love with my shampoo. I washed, I twisted, I oiled, I blowdryed, I cornrowed. Boy, it took some time! But I managed to get this head in one big ole braid and got nothing but compliments the next day. Hooray!

But I truly need my Hairdresser to return to locking form, with a quickness.


Photo from http://www.naani.com/contents/media/6fd42c7c0.jpg

The Sunday Spin

1. It has been a great week, which started out with the birth of Baby Extreme!

2. Baby Extreme was originally supposed to be born on my favorite holiday, but she just couldn't wait.

3. I guess I'll forgive the little tyke, since she was born on Robin Thicke's birthday, and ya'll know how I feel about him.

4. It's a three-day weekend for me, since tomorrow is a furlough day, so I spent today hanging out with my girls

5. Corey Haim's death has saddened me, and it makes me want to see 'Lucas' once again

6. A purse caught my eye at the Kenneth Cole store this weekend, and even though I left it there

7. I'm gonna go right back and buy it. That purse has been haunting my dreams, and hey, it's my birthday month! Time to spoil me!

Have a good week!

The Sunday Spin (or Your Screaming Orgasm vs My Stereo?)

1. I'm happy to report that I finally took the comprehensive exam that will take me one step closer to my master's degree
2. A 6-hour test ain't no joke, ya'll
3. Once it was over, I literally cleared my table of all my notes and dumped them in the trash. So I better have passed!
4. My loud upstairs neighbors had the nerve to report me to our leasing company, saying that I WAS TOO LOUD
5. That forced me to have a chat with them where I let them know everything I hear -- snoring, footsteps, the TV, whole conversations, them having sex
6. Dude finally understood where I was coming from and we shook on it. I'm so glad it didn't get ugly
7. I need to go clothes shopping in the worst way, but I'm not finding anything. Sigh.

Have a good week!

So Long. Farewell. Auf Wiedersehen. Goodnight

Well, February, you were the best of times, you were the worst of times.

You brought epic amounts of snow to my little patch of home. You caused me to eat much more than I thought humanly possible. Your winds shook my apartment, rattled my little car and whipped through me as I headed off somewhere to eat or sleep.I reached a level in my Seasonal Affective Disorder that I didn't know existed. February, you were brutal.

However, there were some bright spots. You did bring back the return of my much awaited Lost. I did have good music this month – Sade and Corinne Bailey Rae. And some of your epic snowstorms actually prevented me from going to work on days when I really didn’t want to go. For that, February, I thank you.

But I do think my biggest accomplishment this month is the new lease I signed on my apartment complex. Now, I no longer have a yearlong commitment to the lovely people who run my complex. That means, for a rent increase of nearly $40, I am on a month to month policy. I can give these mofos .. errr, lovely people, a two month notice on when I’m vacaating the premises and they can like it or lump it. This simple move is one of the many steps I’ve taken toward homeownership. I checked out a pile of library books on the subject – I’ll get to them after my exam this weekend – and I’m signing up for weekly homeownership classes that meet Wednesday evenings this month. Good times.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty I’ll miss about my apartment building. We’ve been together since 2006. Hanging tough. I like the fact that maintenance can come and fix any serious problems (albeit leave the door unlocked when they do). I like that my neighbor’s 5-year-old daughter feels comfortable enough with me that she can bang on my door when no one answers the door at her place. I can enjoy the soothing sounds of my upstairs neighbor’s snoring and constant passion with his woman, almost as much as I enjoy his coming downstairs to to tell me when my music or television is too loud. I can’t begin to express the gratitude I feel for that person/people who smokes on the steps, goes through my newspaper and tosses it around, or leaves our conrolled entrance door unlocked so that the entire town can come in and have a good time.

So, dear February, it’s been real. But like with my current place of residence, it is time to say goodbye.

Photo from http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/01/0f/39/c2/lawn-in-winter.jpg

The Sunday Spin

1. Look at me. I'm exhaustion.

2. Exhaustion is having to read/study nonstop in order to take a big time test this weekend

3. Exhaustion is trying to study, while working non stop

4. But I'll get through it, 'cause soon as I write this post, I'm going to bed

5. And then I'll be up at 5 a.m. so I can do more studying and work on draft 3 of my own book

6. In my test reading material, I'm now reading Virginia Woolf's 'To The Lighthouse,' which is pretty good in a crazy, stream of consciousness kind of way

7. And for those of you who were paying attention to last week's #7, my favorite movie is The Last Dragon. (I've mentioned that before) Anyway, they're trying to remake it with Rihanna. I do like her, but I've got mixed feelings abut her playing this part. Ah well.

Have a good week!

Happy?

I was always the type of kid that got into stuff I shouldn’t have. By stuff, I’m talking about books. I can’t remember a time in my life where I wasn’t able to delve into my mother’s massive book collection. No subject was off limits – I read novels with their fair share of violence, cursing, sex and anything else that most folks want to shield from a kid’s eyes. But I was lucky to have a mother who was just grateful that I was reading, so she never censored anything I’d read.

So I was particularly young when I started reading Terry McMillan. At the time, she was the only contemporary black author around that I felt comfortable reading. Toni Morrison was too far over my head; same goes for Alice Walker. (things have changed and I’ve learned to love their work) I was more comfortable reading about the dysfunctional family in Mama, the on-again, off-again lovers in Disappearing Acts and the friendships in Waiting to Exhale.

Waiting to Exhale wasn’t my favorite Terry book; I thought it was just okay. But I was pleased to see it being made as movie and went to see it opening weekend, if I do remember correctly. Disappearing Acts was my favorite book – actually that’s in a close tie with Mama – and I still have the HBO movie version of the book on a VHS tape somewhere. I learned recently that Terry has written a sequel to W2E and that’ll be released this fall. ‘Getting To Happy’ will revisit the women 15 years from where they left off in the original book.

Let me just give that a big fat no. Albeit, I have an immediate bias against sequels that come like hundreds of years after the original (i.e. Back to the Future 2; Sisters & Husbands, the sequel to Connie Briscoe’s Sisters & Lovers, etc). I mean, if it takes the writers that long to figure out the plot, what makes me think it’s going to be any good? So already my expectations for W2E 2 are low, very low.

The thing about it is, I can’t think of many characters in that book with a storyline worth revisiting. Maybe Robin, who wound up pregnant and abandoned by her married lover, yet in the book was giving overweight Michael a second chance. (the latter was overlooked in the movie). Gloria (Loretta Devine’s character) seemed like she was getting the happy ending she was looking for and Savannah was being open minded about dating again. Bernadine (Angela Bassett) had started living with a new man (portrayed by Wesley Snipes in the movie). I wonder if a sequel to the book will mean a sequel to the movie too? Hmmm.

I’ve been proven wrong before, I’d be happy to be proven wrong again. In all honesty, I think W2E might have been the last Terry book I’ve read. I loved the movie version of How Stella Got Her Groove Back, but I never read the book. I do remember that the movie helped me realize that Angela Bassett is THE TRUTH. Generally, cigarrettes gross me out, but I desperately wanted to smoke one with her when she set her husband’s clothes on fire. There was a lot of passion behind those puffs.

I do remember W2E being one of the few times back then where black folks were on the big screen and there was no gunfire. I enjoyed that. It was also the first in a long line of examples I saw of somewhat similar stories that portrayed black woman as being unhappily single because all black men are gay/on drugs/in prison/dogs/into white women/etc. I didn’t enjoy that.

But I’m interested in seeing what the new W2E will bring. Listen to Terry talk about it here.

Photo from http://blogs.bet.com/entertainment/whattheflick/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/angela-bassett-waiting_l.jpg

The Sunday Spin

1. I didn't have to work my part-time gig today, so this has been my Overindulgence Day

2. That means I got 12 hours of sleep

3. I cooked and consumed a massive breakfast -- eggs, turkey bacon, oatmeal and tea

4. I also ate a massive amount of oatmeal raisin cookies on the Eve of Overindulgence Day

5. Now I'm forcing myself to go to the gym and study

6. March 6 is D.Day for me -- as in I have to take a comprehensive exam that is required for me to get my master's degree. Then I'll have to focus on that pesky thesis.

7. Did you hear that Terry McMillan has written a sequel to Waiting to Exhale, and it will be published this fall? And did you hear about what they're trying to do to my favorite movie of all times? If the answer is no to either one of these questions, best believe I will be providing my thoughts in upcoming posts.

Now it's off to the gym! Have a good week everyone!

"These Hips Are Magic Hips ..."

I was saddened to hear about the death of poet Lucille Clifton recently. Poetry is very hit or miss for me. Generally, I enjoy it, alot, especially when the writer is the one doing the reading. But I don't go out of my way to read poetry collections (Langston Hughes, Nikki Giovanni and Georgia Douglas Johnson are the exception) or attend readings. This could be a side effect from a few years before when I thought I was dropping in on a brief spoken word event, which, instead, turned out to be THREE HOURS of someone screaming, then whispering their words. I'm still recovering.

Anyway, I was familiar with Lucille Clifton because she lived in my old neighborhood. However, I wasn't exposed to her poetry until maybe a year or so ago during a fiction class. My professor gave us a copy of her poem 'Here rests', which basically summed up her sister's life and personality in a few lines. The poem resonated with me because in some ways her sister reminded me of my Aunt BG, who is now in a nursing home raising all sorts of hell. (Let's just say that one nurse learned the hard way about telling my aunt to put out a cigarette.) Here's the poem:

here rests

by Lucille Clifton

my sister Josephine

born july in '29

and dead these 15 years

who carried a book

on every stroll.

when daddy was dying

she left the streets

and moved back home

to tend him.

her pimp came too

her Diamond Dick

and they would take turns

reading

a bible aloud through the house.

when you poem this

and you will she would say

remember the Book of Job.

happy birthday and hope

to you Josephine

one of the easts

most wanted.

may heaven be filled

with literate men

may they bed you

with respect.

With poetry, I'm a big believer in hearing it READ by the writer, versus reading it yourself. So here's some audio of her doing a 'Homage to my Hips', which is where the title for this blog post was taken. But don't stop there. Please check out 'Miss Rosie', 'Blessing the Boats' and 'Wishes for Sons'. And take a moment to see her in action. Rest in peace, Miss Lucille.

The Sunday Spin (or, The Ice Age Is Melting)

1. Apparently, I'm not the only one who was hit with cabin fever this past week

2. Every place I attempted to go -- Potbelly's, IHOP, the mall, anywhere even NEAR the mall -- was jam packed with wall to wall people.

3. I guess that snowstorm helped us all realize what's really important

4. Money, and spending it

5. The large crowds were enough to sway me from spending a significant amount of cash

6. Let's just say I managed to eat well and watch Four Christmases, which I thought was hilarious

7. Happy Valentine's Day everybody!

The Quiet Storm (or All My Single Ladies ...)

When news spread that my region was going to be hit with a record-breaking storm, everyone crowded their grocery stores, gas stations and prepared to lock themselves in with the bare necessities. God forbid you be trapped inside without toilet paper. Or eggs. Or popcorn. Or movies.

But then an even bigger fear arises – what are you going to do, if you are trapped inside *gasp* ALONE??

A few people asked me what I’d do during this period, since I live alone. Was I going to stay with my parents, establish a bunker with some friends? How would I survive? Just fine, thank you very much. And here’s how you can too.

So, All My Single Ladies, listen up. Here’s how you to can make the best of being inside by your lonesome as the Snowtorius B.I.G. knocks on your door:

-Remember the important things:
Look around and realize that you have everything that you need right there, most importantly, POWER. That means you can blast Sade, Corinne Bailey Rae, your Bob Marley 3-disc collection as loud and as often as you want. Who’s gonna complain? Let’s face it, your neighbors are too busy shoveling, having sex, beating the hell out of their kids, or screaming at each other to worry about the noise you’re making.

-Shovel, girl. Shovel: The first day of the storm it was myself and two other women shoveling ourselves out of our parking spaces. Mr. Bad Element walked by several times to tell us we were doing it wrong, that it would take forever and to make fun of our shovel technique. Yet by the time he returned from the liquor store, he and his drunken entourage of delinquents marveled at how much I cleared off of my space while their cars remained immersed in the white stuff. Yeah, my back, leg, arm and a region in my left hip/lower back/butt cheek are sore, but Mr. Bad Element was shamed, and that's all that matters.

-Never forget that you’re a lady: That’s my golden rule. No matter how much snow has fallen, I have remained true to my fashion plate status. On my first day of working from home, I was dressed in what I call my sexy outfit. I’m talking about my wife beater (I know I shouldn’t use that term, but you’ll just have to forgive me. I have cabin fever), blue leggings and white head rag. I showered, then switched it up to my Detroit t-shirt, BLACK leggings and RED head rag. Today, day two of working from home, I’m wearing gray sweatpants, a fuschia cami and NO head rag. Gotta keep it interesting. And sexy. Also, remember to shower and/or bathe often. You’re only as good as your last stick of deodorant.

-Don’t crack under pressure: After days of being indoors and only being able to socialize with your neighbor – and your cat, who may or may not be tired of you, depending on his mood –you may feel the heebie jeebies settle in. Just the other day, I was in my bed trying to get my beloved pet to play with me, but he just sat there and stared. I was hurt. I put on my glasses and realized that I hadn’t been talking to a cat, but a box! Which leads me to my final point ….

-Never let the snow turn you into a slob: Seriously. If the laundry must pile up, keep it in the hamper. Don’t spread it out on the floor into intricate piles that you intend on handling. Those clothes you plan on sending to the Salvation Army? Pack em up, don’t leave them on the floor simply because you paid way too much for that coat you boat in the ‘90s. That’s not vintage, bitch!

*Steps off of soapbox*

I hope my guidelines help. And rest assured, this epic blizzard will be over soon, despite *gulp* a forecast of even more snow this weekend. In the meantime, I’ll leave you all with the same desperate plea I shouted to my mother after she left me for my first day of day care: “GET ME OUTTA THIS DAMN PLACE!!!” Hopefully you all won’t give me the whoopin that she did.


Photo from http://www.csmonitor.com/var/ezflow_site/storage/images/media/images/1228-snow-shoppers-east-coast/7160509-1-eng-US/1228-snow-shoppers-east-coast_full_380.jpg

It's My 4th Blog Day!

Today marks the fourth anniversary of the day I started this blog. And what a coincidence, Sade's latest album made its debut today as well, almost as a blog day gift to myself. Hooray!

So aside from listening to the Soldier of Love cd constantly (get it, it's worth it! she kills me with every track), I'm sitting here watching the snow fall. Yes, I'm still in blizzard territory and yes, the white stuff is putting a hurting on all of us mere minions. It started snowing after work and it has let up a little bit now, but it's supposed to get worse in the morning. I've already decided that I'm working from home tomorrow, if I even work at all. Of course, my car made that decision for me, since it's stuck in it's spot. Fun. And right now, all I can see is the driver side mirror of the car parked next to mine, since that one is almost totally covered in snow.

Anyway, such a wild and crazy way to celebrate being four years old! I know I haven't blogged much this past year, but I'm slowly trying to change. Thanks for sticking in with me for these last four years. Something tells me that 2010 is gonna be a great one!

Movie Alert: Temple Grandin

Like anyone else, I have my biases. There are times I feel strongly about one thing or another and I can't really explain why. For example, I cringe anytime anyone uses the R word (shame on you, Rahm). I tend to avoid movies where celebrities are playing someone who is mentally challenged -- haven't seen Nell, I Am Sam, The Other Sister, just to name a few.

But the other night, I was laying in my bed waiting for my dosage of cold medicine to kick in, when I stumbled upon the HBO movie, Temple Grandin. In it, Claire Danes is Temple Grandin, an autistic woman who overcame her disability to attend college, earn a master's degree and a phd. Her specialty was animal science and in the 1970s, she helped farmers develop a more efficient way to slaughter cattle. She studied the animals and realized that in alot of ways, they were like her and there were certain things about the existing process that freaked them out, long before they were killed.

It's amazing that the entire process of slaughtering the animals didn't bother Temple. But she said "I'd rather be slaughtered than have my guts ripped out by a lion, if it's done right."The real Temple is now a professor at Colorado State University and has written several books about autism.

Overall, it was a really good movie and Claire Danes did an excellent job. The movie was also inspiring, because this was a woman who had a door (there's a recurring theme with doors in the movie) slammed in her face each and everytime, but she remained determined. All of us could use that perseverance from time to time.

Yes, I'm Alive

It's been a busy few months. One that's been filled with working, writing, tweeting, facebooking, working, writing ... and all of the other stuff that does not include blogging. Sorry that I've been neglectful ya'll. In short, I've been doing great and 2010 is off to a great start. Here's a longer rundown of what I've been up to:

• Writing: I'm up to draft three in my new novel. The pieces are slowly coming together. I think I've found a title and I've finally committed to names of some of the major characters. Maybe it's just me, but naming folks is one of the hardest parts of writing for me. I guess that's just cause I feel like names and nicknames should have meaning. *shrug*
• Reading: I've become totally obsessed with the Clan of the Cave bear series. I finished book one quickly and nowI'm approaching the end of book 2, Valley of the Horses. There are six books in all, and thanks to my obsession, I own all six!! And I hear that the writer will be releasing another book sometime this year. Hooray!
  
• Tweeting: Yes, I've discovered Twitter. But I'm more of a Tweet watcher than a tweeter myself. The thing I like to do is follow celebrities on there, because I just often imagine what there lives are like. I'm following Erykah Badu, Aisha Tyler, Questlove from the Roots, Rainn Wilson, Chrisette Michele, etc. Erykah Badu has the most entertaining tweets by far, like -- "Whose baby is this, on my chest? Oh yeah, it's mine."
• Facebooking: Yes, it's that website that I both love and hate. I love catching up with old friends, but all the site is is a high school reunion 75485748 times a day. On my friends' list, there's been what I've dubbed a 'love war' in the status updates. One friend is going through a pretty nasty divorce, so each day there's an update about that. On the other spectrum, there's my madly in love friend. He recently got engaged, so each day I have to hear about his Beloved (yes, he calls her by a pet name that's similar to that) did this or that. She calls him Smooches (again, a name equally similar) and responds back in love haikus. It's interesting.
• Bobbing my head: I continue to keep my cd collection up to date, and I've been waiting patiently for the release of !!!SADE!!!! But I've been enjoying the latest releases from Mary J. Blige, Robin Thicke, Mariah Carey and Corinne Bailey Rae. My buddy Tbyrd hipped me to St Germain's Tourist cd, which has several smooth tunes.
  
• Shoveling: My region of the world was hit with a massive snowstorm recently. I'm talking 20 inches and up. Although I enjoy the snow when I'm tucked safely inside with no place to go, the fact is that eventually, I will have a place to go, and in order to get there, I need to shovel. Ugh. But it was a true bonding experience for myself and my three or four other neighbors who came out to get the job done ahead of time.
• Being neighborly: I had the pleasure of shoveling beside my favorite neighbor, I'll call her Dana, because I don't know her name. She has a little girl and she's the only other single woman living in my building. We've commiserated when Mr. Bad Element moved in, and made subsequent complaints to management. So I couldn't help but laugh when Dana was shoveling her car and Mr. Bad Element walked in the path she just shoveled. She gave him a firm cussing out and told him not to even THINK about walking anywhere near where she just shoveled. He grumbled, but he listened. Tee hee. He deserved that and so much more. But more about him later.
  

Anyway, that about sums up my life story at the moment. Be sure to tune in next time when I'll be sure to add more blogging into the mix.

(Photo from http://www.snowcrest.net/pine/shoveling.jpg )

One Queen & A Baby

I agreed to this godmother duty a little over a year now and my tasks had been pretty easy. The hardest parts have been the inquisition that the Catholic Church subjected me to, and then attending the baptism ceremony, which was literally 574574574574 hours long. Other than that, I'm more than happy to pop in for any birthday parties the godchildren may have, where I shower them for gifts, get them in trouble, and promptly go home. (Fyi, when I say godchildren I'm talking about my friend's two kids: 'P', her toddler, and 'B', her teenage stepson)





So I was in the throes of unattached happiness when the phone rang and my friend gave me the 10 words that literally made my knees buckle: "Would you mind watching the baby for a few hours?" Now, I knew this was bound to happen, since my friend had been involved in a nightmare of a childcare situation. She knew I had the day off, she and husband had to get to work and they needed someone to watch the baby 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. and would I do it? 'Sure thing!' I said without hesitation.





Now, it's been a looong time since I've been unattended with a little person. The last kid I had babysitting domain over is now 13, so I'm a bit out of my element. Dear P is a 1 year old chubby cheeked ponytailed bundle of energy. She came with a bag of toys -- two teddy bears; Lulu, a doll who counted to 10 VERY LOUDLY; a 'Happy birthday' dvd and a couple of books.





However, P’s favorite activity was running around in circles and laughing. Yet that didn’t compare to the sheer joy she felt when she came up to my entertainment center and promptly threw all of my dvds on the floor. She quickly put them back up, only to knock them back down again. This went on for awhile and it was quite amusing. Whenever she’d get agitated, I’d try to get her to say my name. My name is a mouthful for any tyke, so I decided to teach her to call me Queen. That was much easier!


Once she bored with my dvds, P got to my magazine collection. I tried to steer her toward the magazines I didn’t care about – the Shape with Jennifer Love Hewitt on the cover, the Cosmopolitan featuring Kim Kardashian, etc. I had to do some serious interference when she lunged for my special Vogues – those featuring Michelle Obama and Jennifer Hudson. Finally, she settled on my Victoria’s Secret catalog. Hey, the girl’s got good taste.



No evening with a tyke would be complete without a sudden strange smell and the dirty diaper that follows it. And let me tell you …. THAT WAS SOMETHING. But we survived. P’s dad picked her up promptly at 6 pm, just like he said he would and the family thanked me hundreds of times.



After P left, this strange feeling fell over me and I realized how quiet my home really is. So I jumped on my couch and took a nice, long nap. I truly earned that bad boy.

Photo from http://i245.photobucket.com/albums/gg62/witchyhoy3/thetruth.jpg

The Sunday Spin

1. Working seven days a week is a true study in mental illness

2. All I ask is that I be allowed to decorate my padded room

3. Nevertheless, it was a pretty good weekend

4. I mean, eight hours of sleep, so what more could I ask for?

5. I would've liked some free time to go see the Princess & the Frog

6. But I did finish my Christmas shopping!

7. And I only achieved that goal because I wanted to beat my super organized friend, who is behind this year. Tee hee!

The Phone Booth

It always amazed me how innocent looking Clark Kent could jump into a phone booth (you know, those extinct buildings that once held phones?) and come out as the Man of Steel, a.k.a. Superman.

But for awhile now, I’ve been doing my own Phone Booth routine. By day, I sit at a desk, answer phones, write and do all kinds of other stuff that comes with my responbilities for the X Company. And at quitting time, I go into our handicapped bathroom stall (my version of the phone booth) and transform into Retail Woman.

These are the changes I had to make when I started a part time job at a retail establishment eight months ago. It took me awhile to get adjusted to my new life. For example, Corporate Me can wear whatever she wants in terms of business attire. It’s a loose environment, so she can either chat loudly (about work matters, of course!) or have her head buried in work and no one will raise a brow. As long as the job is done, that’s all that matters. The most horrible thing she can do here is spell a person’s name wrong.

Corporate Me can be quiet. She can be loud. She can be comedic. She can be shy. She can be introverted. She can be disgruntled.

Things are different for Retail Woman, who has to dress up in the gear that her Retail Job sells. She can’t wear earrings that are larger than a dime (I’m still cursing over that one), can only wear sneakers and flip flops and must always have a smile plastered on her face. It’s a small store, so whenever a customer enters, it’s Retail Woman’s job to greet her immediately. She must quickly highlight the current sales, usher her into the fitting room with no less than a dozen items and make sure she buys at least three. At checkout, Retail Woman absolutely MUST remind customers of her name, as well as the store’s upcoming promotions. The most horrible thing she can do at the store is not say “tell your friends” at the end of every single transaction.

Retail Woman is perky. She is a people person. She can dress a headless mannequin in record time. (I can’t, though) She is fluent in Small Talk and takes frequent trips to Extrovert Isle and Too Hyper country.

So now I finally understand how difficult it was for old Superman to switch his personalities at any given time. It is truly a study in mental illness. Luckily, this switcheroo only happens about 10-15 hours a week. I’m slowly getting adjusted.

The Isle of Me

I've had some vacation time to burn by the end of the year, so I'm getting in one week now. Where am I going? To the enchanting exotic Isle of Me. From the comfort of my couch, I'll be mentally taking in the sunshine, waves and fattening food that comes with being on a real vacation destination. Actually, I've already reached one of those goals, so a big fat RIP to my Thanksgiving leftovers. =)

So far, I've been semi productive on my vacation. I've reached the 50,000 word mark in draft 2 of novel #2 and I'm still plugging away. Today I woke up early, did a work out and ran a few errands. Now I'm about to take a nap before I head into Job #2. That's the unfortunate thing about these part time gigs, they don't come with paid vacation!

The Sunday Spin

1. Vacation is officially over. =(

2. So that means I should try to get back in a regular sleeping pattern

3. I've committed to working out again, specifically running

4. this time the goal is to do it at least four days a week

5. and that's easier said and done

6. I have this strange fear that daylight savings time is going to mess me up this year

7. I want to see Good Hair. I kinda want to see Precious, but someone will have to see it for me first and let me know how graphic it is. Deal?

The Return From Paradise

I'm back from the beach, and it was just as wonderful as I thought it would be. This particular locale is just a four-hour drive from my home, but four hours certainly makes the difference. The weather was WONDERFUL -- practically reaching 90 degrees on one day -- and the ocean air was seriously therapeutic. During my four days there, I ate and ate and ate and ATE, and slept and slept and slept, walked and walked and walked, and a did bit of shopping that led me to purchase my very first Christmas gift.

It was interesting visiting this beach in the off season. It wasn't crowded, but it wasn't a ghost town either. And most of the people who were there were white, but they didn't seem to look at my group sideways. So that was a good thing.

The last time I visited this beach I was a teenager, celebrating the sweet 16 of another friend. This friend was the daughter of one of my mom's friends, so you know how that goes -- "I have a daughter your age. Her name is M. You guys should hang out!" So over the years, I spent quite a bit of time with M, whether I liked it or not. (For the record, I did like M, who was about a year younger than me. We spent many an evening at her family's drunken gatherings trying to sip from the adult punch. Most times we succeeded)

For her 16th birthday, M's mother arranged it so that M could have a hotel room on the beach with three other friends. That wound up being me, M's best friend Erica, and an older girl I'll call Courage, since her first name was my middle name. We were all in awe of Courage -- she was 19, tall, shapely and beautiful. She had a daughter at home and was the only one among us who seemingly had a clue of what to do in that mysterious ritual of make up. We'd stay up all hours of the night, running to the beach, laughing on the streets and meeting strangers on the strip of road that ran right next to the beach. We'd sleep until 1 or 2 in the afternoon, and our only meals -- including breakfast -- came from Zero's, an excellent sub shop in town.

We did meet a couple of guys while we were there. The ones that stayed with us the longest were these older dudes that were in the Navy (they were 19 and 20, if I remember correctly). Most of the girls in my group were oohing and ahhing about this one guy, cause he looked like Prince. But I was more interested in his Cousin, who looked nothing like Prince, but was just as good looking. They hung out with us the rest of the time. The most memorable part of the week was when the seven of us -- they brought a friend along -- got together to play strip Uno. Now, anyone who knows me well, knows that my part in the game consisted of me taking off my watch, my earrings, and my shoes. And NOTHING else. But Prince had no shame, and got down to nothing in the end. Fun times.

We all promised to keep in touch after the vacation, but you know how that goes. My mom got a new job and eventually lost touch with M's mother. My mother was my main connection to M, so that fell away. Prince's Cousin and I wrote letters for awhile, but that didn't go anywhere. Through our exchanges, I learned that dear Cousin couldn't spell -- for example, "you're my Miss Wright", etc -- and a pet peeve developed. I went into my senior year of high school, met the first love and stopped answering Cousin's letters. Eventually, he stopped writing them.

So going back to this beach recently was truly a trip down memory lane. I'm an adult now and truly can't stomach the thought of eating a cheesesteak for breakfast, even though it crossed my mind often as I passed Zeroes. I crossed paths with quite a few cuties, but I wouldn't even dream of inviting them up to my place for strip Uno. (for two reasons: 1. I was with my parents and 2. I'm just not that crazy anymore) It was truly relaxing. Still, there was part of me that missed the traffic in the streets, the car horns, the "hey shawty"s and the illegible phone numbers scribbled on ketchup-stained napkins. Ahhh, youth.


Photo from http://www.youthblog.org/archives/teenagers%20hiphop%20cartoon.jpg

Back At It

Been gone for a loooooong time, but I’ve got no reason for it, really …. Things have been good, REALLY GOOD actually, I just haven’t had a moment to blog …. I could blame it all on the fact that I was without home Internet access for at least a week (**grrr, Verizon!**) … Or that I’ve found other things to do in my spare time (working, novel #2, the three books I’m reading) … Or that I’ve had Blogger’s Block (that’s kinda true) … So you’ll have to bear with me as I think of some things to write about …. In the meantime, I will say that I’m excited about the upcoming fall colors, even if it means a little chill in the air .. I’m happy my crazy boss is on vacation for a week … And when he gets back, I’m GOING ON VACATION!!! … Yes, I’ll be at the beach …. It’ll be a family vacation, my first in about 10 years … That’s what happens when the funds are low and someone offers me a free trip … Who am I to say no? …. Let’s just hope I don’t kill anyone … Or get killed, Mamasan can be kinda scary when she wants to be … I do plan on getting some sun, fun, and lots of laughs ….

Photo from http://www.boracayisland.org/frontpagepics/beach01.jpg

Squirrels -- Too Cute!

I'm posting this video because it's just adorable, and I have to share! A more significant post is coming sometime soon, I promise. In the meantime, please check this out:

The Facebook Fast

I am on the 22nd day of my self imposed Facebook fast. That means I have not been logging onto Facebook, at all. That’s right. My Lexulous games have fallen by the wayside. My status update is blank. Chatting has been unavailable. And I haven’t poked anyone in a very long time.

The reason for this change is that as lovely and wonderful as Facebook can be in the beginning, it can be a bit overwhelming. There was a time I was obsessed with it; I couldn’t start my day without logging in, checking folks’ status updates or updating my own. And the games, oh the games! Those were the best part. It was quite beautiful.

But as time went by, I realize that this website is nothing more than a 24-7 high school/family reunion. In the beginning, it seems like a good idea to invite everyone you’ve ever met to your space for a little get together. Yet it doesn’t take long to realize that might not have been a good idea. Do I really need to hear about High School Friend getting her tubes tied? Do I need to be tagged in photos of me playing in the sandbox with Mr. (Suspected) Serial Killer? Does dear Aunt Irene really want to know what Sex and the City character I am?

Yes, it can be that bad. I have just over 200 Facebook friends and quite a few of them are friends in Facebook only. Whenever someone sent me a friend request, I would accept if this was someone I knew. It got a bit dicey when people from high school, folks I didn’t particularly care for, sent me requests. I tried to move past being an immature teenager and holding on to grudges, so I’d accept the request and consider a new day. But the teenybopper inside me would rear her ugly head every so often, forcing me to examine their pages to make sure they were suffering for whatever wrong they may have inflicted on me back in the day.

On my friend list, there are a few types I’ve noticed:

The Oversharers: Status messages about their bathroom habits, arguments with significant others, etc. My particular favorite is an old supervisor who took a quiz that announced that she’d like to have sex at least three times a day and bragged about it in her status update. My brain will never recover from that image.

The Political Causer: I’m glad you feel some kind of way about Michael Vick, President Obama, Michael Jackson, health care reform, animal rights, abortion, etc etc etc, but please don’t try to pull me into your debates. In fact, your constant mentioning of your cause, or sending me invitations to your groups, is leading me closer and closer to eliminating you from my friends list. (See also News Analyst)

The News Analyst: I read a newspaper daily, but what’s missing from this consumption is your opinion on whatever article I read. Thanks for providing this missing link in my life! Double thanks for doing it 57485748573 times a day!

The Non Speller: I mentioned before that I can be quite anal about spelling and grammar. That being said, I’d be pretty embarrassed if I told everyone on my friend’s list that I was “trying to help my son deal with his great grandmother’s deaf.” Same thing if I realized “their aren't enough hours in the day.”

The Throwback: “Hi, Strength! Remember me? We were best friends in third grade! What have you been up to since then? Are you still collecting Garbage Pail Kids? I am!”

I could go on and on, but I’ll stop there. These are just a few of the problems I’ve run into with the infamous Facebook. My diet will end on August 27, at which time I’ll see what kind of tomfoolery I may have missed while I was gone. Probably nothing. And if I did miss anything, it is probably for the best.

I’m not saying my entire Facebook experience has been bad, it just can be a bit much. And what can you expect when you have a list that’s a mix of family, friends and past/current coworkers? Drama. From the outside looking in, I’ve seen relationships both start and end on this teeny little site. (At the risk of being even more longwinded, here's a funny video of the site's impact on relationships)

In the end, Facebook has left me with one important lesson: Sometimes, it’s okay to lose touch with folks.

(Photo from http://www.weblogcartoons.com/cartoons/facebook.gif)

'Some days you’re the dog. Some days you’re the hydrant.'

I use the above phrase every now and again to deal with the times when I’m having a bad day. Which can happen to me every now and again. Hey, I’m only human.

A true testament of being the hydrant came this week. I should mention that the demographics have started to shift slightly in my department. These changes make me the only one in several categories, especially with the women. At 32, I’m the oldest. I’m the only sistah. And I learned recently that I’m the only one lacking something that every woman in their twenties and thirties tends to desire.

That’s right. I’m the only one without a ‘Dog.’

It was cool for awhile, being without a Dog. A coworker and I, Gabby, would go to the movies and for the occasional drink, while the rest of the chicks would be home tending to their Dogs. We’d laugh at them for their life choices. Surely they’d rather be with us, than with some mangy old beast that does nothing but eat, poop, and watch Sports Center. Surely they envied our independence, the fact that we could go out on a moment’s notice without worrying about what the Dog would eat for dinner or if it would be upset with us. We didn’t have to worry about phone calls in the middle of the day that documented whatever crisis the Dog may have gotten into. Gabby and I knew we had the upper hand. We chatted about Dogs a lot. We had our fair share and for a variety of reasons, we'd been solo for quite awhile.

Well, things started to change. Gabby started dressing nicer. She began laughing more. And her giggle, which is already a bit loud, got about five screeches higher. Then I learned through the rumor mill that it was true – dear Gabby had gotten a Dog. I congratulated her, then I thought about how the tide had shifted. All around me, there are women with Dogs. Some of the Dogs are good, some of the Dogs are bad. Some of the Dogs have officially been made members of the family, some of them (very few) have yet to make that step. Gabby is in the latter category, but things look promising.

There have been times when someone has asked me why I don’t have a Dog and I’ve been able to laugh it off. But with me now being the oldest woman – and the only one without a Dog – it’ll be interesting to see how I cope.

This week was a true testament to that. Another coworker – Phoebe – had a big announcement. Her Dog popped the question, so they are on their way to happyhood. I congratulated her, but I knew this would only be the beginning. I should mention that Phoebe is already unbearable on her birthday, running around every five minutes literally shouting “did you celebrate meeee today???”, so I knew she’d be particularly insane when it came to this. And I was right. She answered the phone several times to talk about how wonderful her dog was, her plans, etc etc. Between that and some other work challenges, I pulled a Ferris Bueller. I told them I wasn’t feeling well and I rushed to the mall and the movies. What’d I see? The Proposal! (But it was very funny, I might add)

I don’t like to compare my life to other women’s lives because that’s an impossible battle. I know we all have our personal struggles, whether our names be Michelle Obama, Oprah Winfrey, Florida Evans or Miranda Bailey. But dang it, I can covet with the best of em! There are times when I want nothing more than a good looking, fun loving Dog. One that won’t run away. One that won’t be impregnating all the other bitches in the neighborhood. One that will lick my face and nobody else’s. Then again, I wonder if I’m so set in my ways that a Dog wouldn’t fit well with my lifestyle. Another thought occurred to me recently: do I really want a Dog, or is it just that everyone’s pressuring me to get one? Deep thoughts.

Either way, I am genuinely happy for Gabby and Phoebe and I’ve told them so. I’ve even gotten used to Phoebe’s constant recounting of her popping the question story. I managed to give kind words with a smile. I can only hope I’ll be able to do the same the next time someone asks me when I’ll get a Dog.

Photo from http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1242/548558715_c2b3c4e992.jpg?v=0

The MJ Coma Continues

So yes, I've been listening to my MJ tunes at a constant rate. I'm singing at the top of my lungs at home and in the car. And don't let 'Dirty Diana' come on. Cuz that is when I completely LOSE IT. I loved all of Michael's music, but if I had to pick a couple of favorites -- notice I said 'couple', cuz I can't pick just one -- 'Dirty Diana' would easily make my top four list.

I started thinking about Michael's music videos and how amazing they were. Nobody did music videos like Michael did. Folks always talk about how he changed the game with the vids for 'Smooth Criminal', 'Remember the Time', 'Scream,' 'Black or White' and with 'Thriller', which I count as a movie. But the video for 'The Way You Make Me Feel' is one that I also appreciate. It's so raw, so real. I mean, it's MJ seriously flexing his mack daddy vibe. It is also a stalker's wet dream. I can't even count the number of aggressive pelvic thrusts he did in this video. Let's take a look, shall we:

Michael Jackson - New Music - More Music Videos

If this were to happen in real life, can you imagine the 911 call that came afterward? Or how ole girl described the situation to the cops? I can!

Girl: I was coming home from the club, and these guys started yelling at me. This one guy was really aggressive and he shouted out, 'HEY!'
Cop: Yeah? So what'd you do?
Girl: I was shocked. Scared to death. So I just stood there and he said something about me knocking him off his feet. Then he started screaming.
Cop: Screaming?
Girl: He was screaming, then he was singing. And he and his friends started following me. Umm, why are you looking at me like that?
Cop: I'm sorry, but you look a little like Mariah Carey.
Girl: Who?
Cop: Mariah! You know her. She's got that song, 'Vision of Love'. It was a big hit in the 90s.
Girl: Sir, it's 1987.
Cop: Oh, right. Forgot about that. So he's singing, screaming and chasing you, then what?
Girl: He and his boys corner me at one point, and then ... and then ... and then ...
Cop: WHAT??
Girl: They start humping the ground! The fire hydrant broke and there was water flying everywhere. He ripped off his shirt and the water fell all over his body. And uhh .... You stopped writing.
Cop: It's your hair! That's what makes me think of Mariah. I'm trying to remember the last time I saw it curly. Why do you think she started straightening it?
Girl: Look, I'm trying to report a crime here! Keep up with me.
Cop: Ok, ok. There was humping. There was water. What next?
Girl: The main guy -- the ringleader -- he kept yelling "GO'ON GIRL!! EEEE-HEEE-EEE! OW!" But there was something about him, something so spectacular, that I suddenly felt myself drawn to him. So I let him hug me and he disappeared.
Cop: Did you want him to touch your body?
Girl: WHAT?
Cop: Never mind. I've got to wrap this up. We've got a disturbance at the cemetery, then I have to get to my bodyguard detail.
Girl: You're a bodyguard?
Cop: Somebody's gotta make sure Annie's okay. So did you have anything else to say about your floor humping, screaming, singing attacker?
Girl: No, that's it.
Cop: According to the description you gave our artist, your attacker looks alot like Michael Jackson! Was it him?
Girl: Well, yeah. But I didn't say want to rat him out. He kept saying 'ain't nobody's business.'
Cop: Oh Mariah. I do believe you're a looney tune. I suggest you get your mental illness in check. It can only hurt you down the line.
Girl: I AM NOT THIS MARIAH PERSON!
Cop: Sure thing, honey. How 'bout you sign this autograph and I won't charge you for filing a false police report?
Girl: (sighs) Fine.

He's Out of My Life

This was going to be a post about all the other cds I stumbled across while searching for Michael Jackson’s HIStory Book 1 cd. I have a ton of cds and there are some that I haven’t played in years. I flipped through the entire Jodeci collection, Boyz II Men, Shai, SWV and a copy of Xscape (fyi, this group includes Tiny of Tiny & Toya fame). I thought about writing about my thoughts on each of these groups and muse about 90s music in particular.

That was what I planned. But as luck would have it, I found HIStory Book one placed in a pile of cds that I looked through the previous day. MJ released HIStory years ago and it’s a two-disc set that includes old and new music. On disc 1, there are hits like She’s Out of My Life, I Just Can’t Stop Loving You and Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’. Disc 2 has newer (well, they were new then) tracks like Scream, They Don’t Care About Us, Come Together (John Lennon’s tune) and Money. Good stuff.

I’m happy to also have the cd booklet, which contains lots of valuable information. For instance, did you know R. Kelly wrote You Are Not Alone? Or that Teddy Riley wrote Remember the Time for an old girlfriend? There’s tons of information in there, including lots of pictures of MJ performing or posing with other celebrities. There’s also a scan of a 1994 letter from 7-year-old Dominic to the president that reads: ‘Dear President Clinton – Please make guns against the law. Make there be no pollution. Make countries stop fighting. Make there be lower taxes. Stop the reporters from bothering Michael Jackson. Make there be more laws. Sincerely, Dominic.’

Now that I’ve located my HIStory music, as well as MJ’s Invincible cd, I’m going to go into an MJ music coma for who knows how long. I can only hope that my neighbors will complain. Then I can point out that I hear the sounds of their love(?)making several times a week, so they can at least cope with my constant playing of Dirty Diana and Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough.

Fervor (!!!!MAXWELL!!!!)

Michael Jackson's death came as a shock to me. This was a man whose music I loved and I'd been a fan of his throughout my entire life. But when he die, as upset as I was, I didn't go into an emotional frenzy like some other people did. I mean, some dedicated fans went to the ends of the earth to go to his funeral. Men, women and children took to moonwalking in the streets as they dissolved into tears. My mom had to call my aunt -- a diehard fan -- to make sure she was okay. My stepfather purposely avoided any contact with his sister, who is a tad bit on the emotional side and has always loved herself some MJ.

All of this fervor about the man got me to thinking about what celebrity (or celebrities) could turn me into a knee-wobbling shell of a human being. A coworker mentioned Bruce Springsteen, but she said she didn't think she'd reach the level of the MJ mourners. She'd probably mark his death with a few beers and a gathering of other like-minded fans. The death of another MJ -- Michael Jordan -- would probably be hard for me to take. For years, I've had an illicit, passionate ... okay, imaginary ... affair with this man. We've broken up, but I still have mad love for the man. My close friends know it and call to check in on my mental state whenever he does something of note, i.e. gets divorced, leaves the Bulls, is seen with another woman that is NOT me, etc.

But I don't want to talk about the MJs in my life, I want to talk about another person on my Fervor List. I want to talk about Maxwell.

Yes, I've mentioned before that I'm quite devoted to Mighty Max. I'm so devoted, that I had July 7 in the back of my mind for weeks. That is the day that my dear Max was putting out his first cd in eight years. An ordinary person would wait until July 7 to buy the cd or download it from iTunes. But I'm no ordinary person, I'm a fan. I have fervor! So on July 6, I waited until after midnight to log onto iTunes and purchase BLACK Summer's Night.

But because my life tends to act a bit like Murphy's Law, there were a few glitches. My computer froze and I blame that on the fact that I've been trying to download season one of Burn Notice. I stopped the download and fiddled with the machine again before going to bed. The idea was that I'd wake up the next morning with the new music in my iPod and it could accompany me on my drive to work.

Well, when I woke up the next day, the download still hadn't finished. GRRRR. So I had to go to work without it. And because it was a day of working at both jobs, I didn't get home until 10 o'clock to finish my download. That being said, I know have Maxwell's latest release and I haven't stopped playing it.

Overall, I have my favorites on the cd ('Bad Habit' & 'Pretty Wings' -- CONSTANT ROTATION), but I'm not completely blown away. I also wish there were more than nine songs available.

But in the end, it doesn't matter, because I am a fan. And Maxwell gives me Fervor.


Photo from http://www.aolcdn.com/ch_bv/bmmmaxwell400.jpg