Dear Kobe,

I never thought I would be writing to you in my lifetime, and yet here we are.  On January 26, 2020, the world lost a hero.  I’m not a basketball fan, however, I am familiar with some of the greats of the game, Jordan, Magic, Lebron, A.I., Dr. J., Bill, Kareem…and you.  To be honest I never really paid that much attention to you, I came up in the Jordan era. It seemed like that dude was born with wings and he could do wrong on the court. And besides, he did a movie with Bugs Bunny, it doesn’t get any better than that.  I remember when you entered the league in 1996, young and fresh-faced with that wide and bright grin.  I never followed the game, but the kids who did marveled at your talent.  You and Shaq were the one-two punch on the Lakers and you guys electrified the game.  As time went on, Shaq left the Lakers and you remained and carved out an IMPRESSIVE career there.  You were L.A’s superhero, a superhero to a lot of black boys and young black men who would exclaim “Kobe!” when they did a jump fade with a basketball on the court or a wadded paper ball in the trashcan.  Like Jimmy Kimmel said in his tribute to you, you were almost like a fictional character. Your talent was unreal and unmatched.

You retired from the game back in 2016 and was totally at peace with your decision. In your Academy Awarding winning short film “Dear Basketball“, you stated your heart and mind were still in the game, but your body was saying otherwise.  You gave so much of yourself to the game and to your fans, although both scoffed at seeing you go, they understood.  They understood because of the five championships, 18-time All-Star, 15-time member of the All-NBA Team, 12-time member of the All-Defensive Team, being named the 2008 NBA Most Valuable Player, the two gold medals in the Olympics as a member of the U.S. national team and the list of accomplishments on the court go on and on.  Your work ethic and your drive are things legends are made of….and Kobe you established yourself as a legend.  Even to people like me who don’t follow the game, your drive and talent were so monumental that you transcended the game.  You didn’t need to be a fan of basketball, you just needed to have eyes.  Eyes that could see you racing up and down the court, eyes that may have casually caught a highlight or two that made you say “Damn!”  Eyes that saw your competitive spirit and determination.  It looked very familiar.  But this wasn’t Jordan….this was Kobe.

Being a Gen X’r, I’ve had some pretty amazing “You knew where you were” moments in my life.  The first time I saw Michael Jackson do the moonwalk on television.  The Challenger explosion. 9/11. Prince passing away.  Now this.  I can tell you where I was and what I was doing during the previous events.  On January 26th at around 2pm, I was sitting in my family room and the reports started coming in.  I couldn’t focus.  My mouth had gone dry and everything seems to be simultaneously spinning out of control and screeching to a halt.  I watched news story after news story waiting for them to say this was a mistake. The correction never came. A helicopter crash?  But he’s only 41!  Then before I could catch my breath….Gianna, your 13-year-old  daughter.  I can’t.  I. Just. Can’t.  A total of nine souls were lost.  Damn.  As news anchors were reporting the unthinkable, many were choking over their words, hesitating, looking at each other and at us through the tv in utter disbelief.  Social media was in a panic.  People were screaming everything from “No it’s not true!” thinking some sick ass troll was spewing a detestable lie to “Please God, not his daughter too!”  But it was true and we’re left here in tears. We’re angry, sad, confused.  Our hearts have burst into a million pieces. People outside gathered at the Staples Center to mourn because it just seemed like the right thing to do. They needed to be near you, feel you, honor you.  Damn.

It took me just about a month to finish this letter to you.  I would start, then stop, then start again.  Still in disbelief, still a bit sad.  But then I thought about you and how hard you worked and how you made it look effortless.  How the work ethic is a huge part of your legacy and that I need to honor that by pushing through and finish what I started. Thanks Kobe for the highlights, the drama and magic you brought to the game, the championships, the joy you showed us in doing something you loved, the competitive spirit, the work ethic and that smile.  I don’t want to dwell on you transitioning so early in your life, especially since you were settling in to be the very present husband and father, philanthropist, coach to Gianna and her team and just plain giving the world more of the awesome that came after basketball.  As we continue to mourn your passing, I’m thanking God that He is also giving us the grace and strength to celebrate your life and legacy.  It’s also my prayer that we individually and collectively do our part to make this world a little better than we found it just like you did.  Rest in peace knowing your family will be loved, supported and cared for and that you left an indelible and powerful mark on this world.  Damn, I still can’t believe it though.

 

How do you mourn an absentee parent?

On November 12, 2018, I celebrated my 50th birthday.  There should’ve been a post about it, however, I was suffering from “Oh my God I’m about to be 50 and my life is a shitty mess and what have I done to deserve to make it this far??!!”  Yeah.  A 50th post is coming though.  So yesterday I turned 50 and today I found out my father died.  He was an absentee dad.  So how do you mourn for someone who you have no emotional connection to, but had a hand in your existence?

I look just like my father.  When I was little, 3 or 4 years old, I remember going almost everywhere with him.  I looked so much like him that everyone called me “Little Earl”. That’s his name, Earl Parker.  My mom and dad divorced I believe when I was around 7 or 8 years old.  After that, I saw him less frequently.  I remember always having to call him so my sister and I could go spend weekends with him.  He lived in a one bedroom ground floor apartment that he shared with his brother, my uncle. My sister and I slept on a lumpy mattress that sunk almost to the floor in the middle and had a big rusty spring poking out that you had to dodge in your sleep. My father slept on the couch with his Colt 45 always on the glass coffee table.  Sometimes he had a car, most times he didn’t. We would walk to the store to get our meals for the weekend, which included some sugary cereal and cans of Chef Boyardee.  Oh, and he always had a Playboy centerfold picture hanging in the bathroom. And you know what?  My sister and I were in heaven! We didn’t care about the deadly mattress, having to walk wherever we went or the super inappropriate pictures in the bathroom, all we cared about was being with him. That’s ALL kids care about.

When I was 12, I was about to make yet ANOTHER call to ask to come and spend the weekend with him.  I stopped dialing the phone midway and put down the receiver.  I went into my mother’s room and told her I’m not calling dad anymore.  Why does the child have to make the first move?  Why am I always making the effort?  When we were with him everything was cool, but it seemed as though when we weren’t, we were out of sight, out of mind. It made me mad, and at 12 years old I made the decision to put the ball in his court.  The ball never got picked up. I’m not saying my dad didn’t love me, but actions speak louder than words.

Of course I went through the whole “Why doesn’t he love me!  Why am I not good enough for him!” phase.  Started looking for love in all the places and faces.  Textbook. I was angry, sad, frustrated, confused.  It was hurtful to grow up around friends who had both parents. That’s no dig on my mother, but as a kid, you don’t want to seemingly be the outcast.  My friends never treated me differently, but I still carried that weight of not having a dad around.  It wasn’t until I was in my late 20s/early to mid-30s that I started having conversations with God about it.  I kept holding back forgiveness because I felt forgiveness lets him off the hook.  Forgiveness, as we know, isn’t for the person who hurt you, forgiveness is for YOU.  To release the pain and give it to a higher power.  It releases the weight, a physical weight that you can feel.  Forgiveness is for your healing and your sanity.  Too many people are walking around with aching backs, arthritis, cancer, all that manifested from carrying around years of unresolved hurt and anger in their physical bodies.  I said a prayer, I screamed, cried, and released that pain and at the end I said “I forgive you.”  I forgive you for not being the father I thought you should’ve been.  I forgive you for abandoning me.  I forgive you for not trying hard enough.  I. forgive. you.  He was the father to me with the knowledge he had, and that baggage I could no longer afford to carry.

God is funny.  About a year ago I started having thoughts of “how would I feel if my father died?”  Came out of the blue, or did it?  Would I cry?  Would I be angry? Would I feel guilty?  I hadn’t seen my father in about 15 years.  My sister kept in touch and was very close to him. I started including him in my prayers.  It doesn’t cost a thing to pray for someone.  Still, I was wondering why these thoughts starting coming to me all of sudden? Was he thinking about me and maybe the universe was trying to cross our paths?  Would I have been open to the idea of seeing him? I honestly don’t know.

So this morning I get the call from my mother and my aunt that my father passed away. My mom is so dramatic.  “How are you?  Are you sitting down? Is anyone with you?” Mom, what’s wrong?  Your father passed away this morning.  (dramatic pause).  I was standing and I plopped down on the bed. I muttered “Oh.”  My mother and my aunt were waiting for the agonizing wailing and the rending of my garments.  It didn’t come. They started offering the little information they had.  I asked about my sister and of course, she is a mess.  They kept talking and waiting for a grieving reaction, never came.  After I got off the phone I just sat there, waiting for something to happen.  It didn’t.  I felt a sadness for my sister but not for me.  It took me about three hours to call my husband and tell him because I honestly felt no sense of loss.  I was numb. I thought I would shed at least one tear, but nothing.  I went about my day waiting for a reaction.  I purposely didn’t play music in my car as I was driving because I didn’t want to feel as if I was trying to stifle a reaction.  I talked to God about it as I drove, I guess trying to make something happen.  Nothing.  I haven’t told any of my friends because I don’t want to come across as being a “grieving child”.  It’s weird.

So now comes the next part, do I go to his funeral?  Am I obligated to be part of his death when he wasn’t part of my life?  To me, that seems hypocritical.  But a life was lost.  A life that was connected to me by blood.  I wished him no harm, I prayed for him and forgave him.  Do I need to see him in a casket? Do I need to show up so other people can say “I know your father wasn’t always there, but he loved you.”  (side eye).   Then there are the people who will say “You need to go because he was your father.”  Why?  There’s no law that states you have to attend the funeral of a family member.  It would seem cold and cruel to some folks.  “If you forgave him, then you should have no problem going to the funeral.”  People are great at minding your business, aren’t they?  You didn’t make this trek.  This wasn’t your journey, this isn’t your experience and it’s not your call to make.

Since I wasn’t in contact with my father I didn’t know what was going on with him, health or otherwise.  Apparently, he had deteriorating health over the years and not actively taking care of himself didn’t help matters.  As I was told, he died alone in his home.  A thought crossed my mind today as I was wrapping up my errands.  My birthday is November 12th, my father died on November 13th.  Maybe him holding on one more day was his way of trying to make up for him not being there.  That at the very least, he wouldn’t allow himself to die on my birthday.  Rest in peace Earl.

 

 

 

 

Enough Is Enough

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*WARNING, LONG OVERDUE RANT*

The year 2016 was a rough one.  We lost a lot of phenomenal people, most notably to me was Prince on April 21st.  My heart still weighs heavy from that loss.  But the biggest loss, however, happened on November 8th, when America lost its mind and voted Donald Trump for president. President of the United States.  Not president of some racist, monochromatic, goofball boys club.  No, president of the multicultural, multiracial, multi-religious and just plain MULTI United States of America.  If you’ve been living in a crater on the moon for the past two years, you may be wondering why I am stressing that point.  Well, here you go.

When Donald Trump initially announced his candidacy for president, he STARTED by calling all Mexicans rapists and murderers. If you don’t see anything wrong with that, you’re an asshole.  People weren’t really taking him seriously because after all, it’s Trump.  His rallies were basically made up of poor blue-collar white people who he galvanized to perfection.  He constantly spewed hate, pointing mainly to people of color, immigrants and those of the Muslim faith, and telling his base they were the reason for their lot in life.  He even came up with a catchy racist slogan “Make America Great Again”.  Which era does he want to restore?  Slavery? Holocaust? Internment of Japanese Americans? Lily-White Movement? Jim Crow? Civil Rights Movement?  None of these times in history sound “great”.

As time rolls on, Trump continues to reveal what a vile, despicable bigot he is.  At one of his rallies, he mocked a disabled reporter, offered to pay the legal fees for a white rally attendee who punched a black man in the face, basically called all people of the Muslim faith terrorists, bragged about how he grabs women by the vagina (though he used the p word on a hot mic that I guess he didn’t know was on, or maybe he did), and followed that up with him saying he just leans in and kisses women whenever he wants and they let him do it because he’s a celebrity.  No, you’re a sexual predator.  He barked at the African American community for votes by saying  “You can’t find jobs, you can’t leave your house without getting shot, you’re poorly educated, you live in poverty, vote for me, what do you got to lose!”  And to top that shitty sundae off with a pearl onion, at the LAST POSSIBLE MINUTE Trump decides to publically announce that in fact, President Barack Obama is a natural born U.S. citizen after starting that disgusting birther lie. HEAVY SIGH.

THIS is who 63% of white men and 52% of white women put in the office of the presidency.  The fact that he beat out career politicians shows how royally FUCKED UP this country is.  Donald Trump was supposed to be the answer to Barack Obama. A handsome, eloquent, intelligent, diplomatic, graceful, compassionate, likable, humorous, cooler than the other side of the pillow specimen of a man who swept us off our feet and engaged us in the most magnificent love affair that has left us sweaty and breathless. A smile as bright as the sun and a walk that rivals Denzel’s, President Obama is the epitome of excellence.  Then there’s that other guy.  The orange entitled fascist, who has the temperament of a spoiled two year old, a middle school type fixation with Twitter, has the eloquence of a slug and the vocabulary of a second grader. Wait, I shouldn’t insult second graders like that.

There is NO WAY this guy was supposed to win, but he did.  And he won against Hilary Clinton who should have been a shoe in for this job.  Her fatal flaw, she didn’t galvanize her base. Her campaign was basically “Anti-Trump” but wasn’t FOR anything regarding her base. Yes, we despise him, but like it or not, ol’ Donny boy got us with the okie doke by speaking the language of his base.  Whenever you get a chance, watch the “He’s Alive” episode of the Twilight Zone.  Keep in mind this episode originally aired in 1963. Check out how it eerily mimics the current political climate.  Trump pretty much used this format to win the election.  You have to ALMOST give him credit for being sly like a fox. However, that orange box of rocks isn’t that clever.  There was a puppet master in the wings and his initials are V.P.  Which brings me to my next point.  Russia.

Yes, Russia.  Seems ol’ Donny boy may have colluded with Russia and got in bed with a foreign adversary to win the United States election. Oh and let’s not forget he never submitted his tax returns like every other presidential candidate did. No, he’s so special that he decided he’s not providing that information. That right there is called white privilege.  You can do or not do certain things on the “strength” of your whiteness.  It’s so pristine, elite and apparently without fault or flaw, that some white people think they are ironically walking Black American Express cards and can go anywhere and do anything without being questioned.  Let’s also bring up the fact that he never served public office, so he unequivocally doesn’t know what he’s doing. Leaving the country in a free fall.  The United States was once a super power, now we’re a super joke. A laughing stock around the globe.  Other countries have held parades mocking Trump and constantly question WHY the U.S. put this idiot into power. Racism. That’s it. That’s all. No other reason.  A lot of racists were SO UPSET that a black man was the president for the last eight years, they figured ANY white man would do to try to sterilize the White House and make it “great” again.  As Dr. Phil would say “How’s that working out for you?”

Keep in mind it’s only been seven months, SEVEN MONTHS since he took office and it feels like eight thousand years. Republicans are sitting on their hands, whispering to each other how shocked, disappointed, in awe and taken aback they are by this petulant psychotic child they ushered into office.  They refuse to admit they made a mistake. They refuse to speak up on behalf of their constituency.  They refuse to put country before party.  They bought a rabid dog and now instead of putting it down, they look the other way hoping it will go off and die on its own. Taking no responsibility for putting this country in harm’s way.

Now, with all that has happened in just seven short months, we had to endure yet another tragedy.  Two weeks ago white hate groups descended on Charlottesville, VA to hold a cry baby rally because they were taking down a statue of Robert E. Lee. Yeah, that one. The one who was a confederate and lost the Civil War.  Neo nazis, klansmen, white nationalists, I lump them into one category, white domestic terrorist hate group.  I refuse to use the word supremacist because there is nothing supreme about them.  They carried torches, tiki torches mind you like they were in some damn Frankenstein movie. Yelling “Jews will not replace us” and other despicable chants.  This was supposed to be a protest, however, they came armed with guns, chains, torches, bats, shields etc. Fully weaponized.  And the police pretty much stood by and let them have their way.  I don’t have to tell you that if this was a Black Lives Matter rally there would have been militarized police, water cannons, rubber and real bullets, tanks, dogs, bazookas, Gatlin guns, crossbows, the works!  But I digress. In the middle of this madness, a cowardly domestic terrorist ran his car into a crowd, running over and killing a young lady who was there counter-protesting the hate.  Yeah.  What a horrific event. At times of crisis like this, a country looks to its leadership to bring calm to the situation and bring the country together.  Well, remember Trump is the president. So what does he do? He blames BOTH sides for the horror, never denouncing the white domestic terrorist hate group, not until two days later when he is forced to do so. And when he does, it’s with all the compassion and empathy of a colonoscopy.  He read it like a class clown would read an apology note to a teacher for disrupting the class.  What a dark day for this country.

So we have a “president” who has never held public office, is a racist, a sexual predator, didn’t provide his tax returns, possibly colluded with Russia to win the election, has filed bankruptcy multiple times but is supposed to be a great businessman, admitted to not paying taxes, refuses to denounce white hate groups, is thin skinned, has the temperament of a toddler, is petty, narcissistic, disrespectful, unhinged, unfit, unethical, and a self-congratulatory school yard bully who needs constant validation. And this contemptible megalomaniac has access to the nuclear codes.

Well enough is enough.  We have suffered seven long months of this atrocity. We have suffered the ridicule, the hatred, the bigotry and the NONSENSE!  Republicans keep going on news shows talking about how disappointed they are, how shocked they are, how they can’t comprehend this type of incompetence. But yet they do nothing! When asked point blank what should be done about this creature they let run loose, they just wring their hands, bite their lips, shoulders drooped and eyes glazed over looking exhausted and defeated. STAND UP TO THIS MONSTER!  You created it, now it’s time to take away its power.  Stop saying it’s time for him to start acting like the president.  He’s not going to because his punk ass never wanted to BE president!  He figured if a black man could be president, surely he could too!  No.  It’s time for the Republicans to awaken from their stupor and smack the shit out of ol’ Donny boy, tell him he is no longer welcome here, strip him of the office of the presidency and get some REAL leadership in the White House.  It’s time for the school yard to confront the bully!

This is an intensely crucial time for this country and the leadership is failing.  However, the people are standing up and fighting back.  We are tired of the rhetoric, tired of the hatred, tired of the absence of leadership, tired of the hypocrisy, tired of looking at an unqualified, Twitter obsessed, raging bigot get away with shit that President Obama could NEVER EVER NEVER EVER have been able to get away with.  There are people walking around with their stupid ass rose colored post-racial glasses on.  If President Obama and ol’ Donny boy have taught us anything, it’s that there is absolutely NOTHING post about the racism that still grips this country by the throat with its talons.

The hoods have come off and so now should the gloves. The bigots have been emboldened by ol’ Donny boy and it’s time to take this country back.  We’re no longer waiting for him to be president.  We’re no longer waiting for him to become a decent human being.  We’re no longer waiting for the punk ass Republicans to do their job and serve the people.  He’s shown himself to be a monster.  Sometimes the only way to defeat a monster is to BECOME a monster.  Let’s rise up, bare our razor sharp teeth, our blood red eyes and our knife life talons. Let’s get up close and personal to him and singe his thin orange skin with our breath of fire and sulfur.  Let’s press our leathery lycanthrope snout against the side of his face and let our low guttural growl reverberate in his ear and watch that motherfucker piss his pants as we show him what a REAL monster looks like.  Draining the swamp starts with Trump. DRAINING THE SWAMP STARTS WITH TRUMP!  DRAINING. THE. SWAMP. STARTS. WITH. MOTHERFUCKING. TRUMP.!!!!!!! That’s how you make America great.

 

 

 

Reclaiming My Time

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On July 27, 2017, Congresswoman and Auntie for the Ages Maxine Waters gave us a power statement that reminded us that time is a precious commodity and we must care for it fervently.  During a hearing, Congresswoman Waters was grilling the Secretary of the Treasury, Steve Mnuchin, about a letter she and other high ranking Democrats send to him that he failed to respond to.  Instead of outright answering her question, Secretary Mnuchin tried to song and dance his way around the issue.  Well, Auntie Maxine was having NONE OF IT! As Secretary Mnuchin was tap dancing, Congresswoman Waters repeated “Reclaiming my time. Reclaiming my time.”

Apparently, there is a rule in congressional hearings when a representative presents a subject and someone isn’t getting to the point fast enough or is droning on and on, you get to reclaim your time and get the hearing back on track.  What a capital idea!  Reclaim your time!  Of course, the internet went bonkers over this and congratulated Maxine Waters yet again on giving us something else to be proud of but also gave us a phenomenal life lesson.

How many times have you stayed in a situation past the expiration date?  A job. A relationship/trying to figure out if it is a relationship. Have you let someone’s awful behavior ravage your time? Have you allowed YOURSELF to be the disrespecter of your time? Letting social media, the tv or constantly hitting the snooze button eat away your valuable time?  Raising my hand. So let’s get transparent.  I let Facebook and television take up too much time. Scrolling and channel surfing for hours, avoiding getting anything of value done because I feel my work won’t be good enough. Naps eat up my time. I figured sleeping will help me avoid the feeling of dread because I’m not creating. I’m an introvert so I don’t tend to let people infringe on my time.  However, I have family members who need way too much attention for my taste.  So when I saw the video of Maxine Waters, of course like the rest of the world I thought it was funny but then the lesson kicked in.  This isn’t just a congressional hearing rule, this is a rule for your life! Reclaim your time!

So I say to Facebook, reclaiming my time!  Most of what’s on there are people creating a land of make believe trying to impress people they don’t like in the first place. Television, reclaiming my time!  Anything I really want to watch I can catch on-demand after I’ve done my important work.  Snooze button/gratuitous naps, reclaiming my time! The snooze button is a mechanism of the devil to lull you into obscurity. And while a good nap is refreshing and necessary at times, don’t do it INSTEAD OF being productive. We often take naps under the guise of being tired, when actually we’re just being lazy. Again raising my hand.  Needy/negative/passive aggressive/selfish/just plain annoying ass people, reclaiming my time!  I am no longer interested in explaining myself to you, trying to get you to see my point of view or making space for you in my life for the sake of “keeping the peace”.  Whether you are family or friend, if you are trying badger my time with your nonsense, you will be escorted to the balcony area of my life. Orchestra seating is reserved and given at my discretion.

I thank Auntie Maxine for telling us to reclaim our time, reminding us that time and life are far too precious to be wasting. No more asking for permission, walking on egg shells, being overshadowed, sidetracked, unproductive, overlooked and under appreciated…no more! RECLAIMING MY TIME!

What’s your ‘Sunken Place’?

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A couple of weeks ago I saw the movie “Get Out”.  A GENIUS plotline from the comedic and demented mind of comedian and master storyteller Jordan Peele.  The movie is about a black guy named Chris who has a white girlfriend named Rose. He’s meeting her family for the first time, who live in an isolated and curious nook upstate.  A peculiar chain of events leads Chris to the “Sunken Place”, which is a mental state of paralysis, oppression, and hopelessness.  He gets there by becoming hypnotized by Rose’s mom who is a therapist after she delves into his psyche and taps into a traumatizing event that happened in his past.  Chris is summoned into the sunken place by a ‘command’ given by Rose’s mother when she taps a spoon in a teacup she’d been stirring during the therapy session.  If you haven’t seen the movie I don’t want to be a spoiler, but if you have seen the movie you know what I’m talking about. Essentially Chris’ mind is separated from his body and he’s temporarily left a shell of a person at the mercy of this villainous family who has a sinister plan to sell him into slavery.  Yeah.

We all have a sunken place.  A state in which we feel marginalized, stuck, hopeless, oppressed, out of sorts or paralyzed.  It could be the tense relations between the black community and law enforcement, how white America profiles people of the Muslim faith, how the wealthy marginalize the poor, or how the current administration is shitting all over this country.  There are plenty of examples of this place of dejection and despair.  But what’s your sunken place? What pit of hell have you consciously or unconsciously cast yourself into?  A financial sunken place where you continue to spend more than you make? A professional sunken place where you go to a job every day that sucks the life’s blood out of you like a vampire?  A relationship sunken place where you’re settling for less than you deserve from a person who doesn’t deserve you at all?  A personal sunken place where you’ve given up on pursuing your dreams because you think the shit is too hard, yet you just can’t let it go?

Are you currently going through life stirring your tea cup succumbing to a constant state of hypnosis? And when a glimmer of progress of any kind rears its head, do you tap the tea cup and resign yourself further into a catatonic existence?  What are you afraid of?  Why are you holding yourself back?  Or maybe someone else is holding you back, an overbearing mother, a needy friend, an ungrateful child, a micromanaging boss.  WHATEVER your sunken place is, acknowledge it, confront it, talk to it,  DEAL WITH IT.  Life is meant to be lived and is far too precious and wonderful to be relinquished to the dreaded sunken place.  *FLASH*  (people who’ve seen the movie know what that means. HA!)

We’re here, now what?

It has taken me a long time to process what has happened to our country. To the point that I just couldn’t bring myself to write anything.  Just when you think it couldn’t get any worse, it did.  Donald Trump became President of the United States.  Yes, you read that right.  And now we are in the middle of a shit show.

I wrote about him running in a post titled It’s coming… and warning the American people that this monster they are letting run slipshod right now is going to be the veritable death of this country.  He ran on a platform of bigotry, divisiveness, xenophobia, sexism, and fear. He honed in on the imaginary concerns of racist white America and how anyone who didn’t look like them, talk like them, worship like them or lived like them is the reason for their lot in life.  Trump talked about how he was going to “drain the swamp” of all the special interests in Washington and give the people back their country. Wrong. Brass tacks, he never wanted the job.  He only pushed so hard and became more sensationalized because a black man held that office for the past eight years and did a phenomenal job.

Let’s flip to the other side of this coin.  Hillary Clinton was the Democratic nominee and seemed to be a lock. She’s an attorney, has been in public office for more than 30 years, was First Lady twice, Senator of New York and Secretary of State. It doesn’t get any more qualified than that.  But alas she didn’t win. 53% of white women voted for Trump. Even though he is a flat out sexist and has shown his disrespect for women time and time again. Was even recorded saying he would grab women by the pussy and they would let him do it because he was a celebrity. Gross.  But that’s who they wanted to run the country. A raging bigot with no public office experience and holds an enormous amount of contempt for women, people of color, Muslims, the disabled and pretty much anyone who isn’t white, racist and wealthy. By the way, the kkk (yes, all lower case to indicate the ignoble life form they are) endorsed him and he never separated himself from them.  That’s a whole other post.

On November 8, 2016 I thought the American people were going to do the right thing. Given everything this racist slimy unqualified, unfit and unstable bastard has said and done, which by the way includes him calling all Mexicans rapists and murderers, mocking a disabled reporter at one of his rallies, stated he would ban all Muslims from this country and decided that all black people live in poverty, have no jobs, aren’t educated and can’t leave their homes without being shot. Still, with all of that toxic sewage he was spewing, on November 9, 2016, American did the wrong thing. America essentially took a scalpel to its throat, slit it from ear to ear and is bleeding out. Oh another little tidbit about this horror show of an election, turns out Russia hacked the U.S. elections to get Trump to win. Hmm, still haven’t seen or heard when he will be brought up on charges of treason. Guess you get to do that when you’re a white privileged billionaire bigot.

So now here’s a guy who never wanted to be President, ran on a platform of fear and divisiveness, doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing because he comes from the excrementitious world of reality television and is about to burn the fields and poison the wells to distract us from the fact that he’s actually scared shitless right now.

So Russia and racism picked the current President of the United States, our nation is in a free fall right now and the Republicans are doubling down on their horrific decision to back this imbecile even though he’s going to destroy their party.  As the title of the post asks….we’re here, now what?

 

 

 

 

 

Prince

I am just now emotionally able to write this post. Sixty four days ago my world as I knew it changed forever. On April 21, 2016 the musician, artist and entertainer who I adored since 1978 transitioned. I refuse to say the ‘D’ word. This man who came into my life when I was 10 years old, crawled into my soul and made it his home.  At that age I didn’t know what to make of him other than he was beautiful and his voice was angelic. The man who played more than 20 instruments, self taught. Who burst onto the music scene determined to make it on his own terms. Whose look and sound defied any category that dared to confine and define him. A man who had 10 year old Kristina singing “Soft and Wet” and had no idea what he was talking about. A man whose play on words had you in a constant state of blushing, “I wanna be the only one that makes you come (pause for effect) running!”  A man who had us thinking that the year 1999 was the year the world would end, so we better party like it’s the last time. A man who gave a whole new meaning for  “Little Red Corvette”. A man whose name is synonymous with the color purple. He hijacked the color and made it his own. You can’t think of the color purple and not think about this man. A man whose diminutive statue seems to be in complete contrast with his prodigious talent.  Prince.

I was driving when I heard the news and it felt like someone hit me in the chest with a battering ram.   I screamed in horror. Tears immediately started streaming down my face and it seemed as if I was laboring for each breath thereafter.  For the first 28 hours after hearing the news I couldn’t eat or sleep.  I watched tv non-stop consuming all of the tributes from VH1 playing Purple Rain to MTV playing a barrage of his videos and all of the news outlets doing interviews. I figured if I keep watching him, looking at him, finding his face and his voice then it won’t be true. I am still waiting to wake up from this nightmare.  Prince has been apart of my life for 35 years. Through the good and the bad.  My room as a teenager was a shrine to him. Posters, concert ticket stubs, album covers.  I even bought a toy little red corvette and hung it from my ceiling light fixture.  And yes I managed to find a raspberry beret and wore it every chance I got.  In junior high and high school  I was known as the “Weird Prince Girl”.  I was a Prince fan long before Purple Rain. I had the poster that came with the Controversy album of him in the shower with his black bikinis on. Why did a 13 year old girl have that on her wall?  I remember being in the front row during one of his Controversy concerts.  I STILL don’t know how that happened! And seeing the Purple Rain concert at 16, to this day is the BEST concert I have ever been to.

But as the days, weeks and months have passed and as I listen to his music, watch his videos, read articles about him and watch interviews, Prince has taught me one big lesson, to be responsible and respectful when it comes to the gift God has given you.  It was extremely obvious what Prince’s gift was, music. To play it, sing it, write it, produce it, arrange it and seduce us  with it.  To merely say Prince was a musician is like saying Michaelangelo was just a painter. That Mozart was just a  composer.  Yes there were many before him that laid the groundwork for his genius. Jimi Hendrix comes to mind of course. I’m pissed that I will never hear that collaboration. But then again the world just wasn’t equipped to handle an event of that magnitude. Prince was a bonafide genius. He was responsible when it came to his gift. He nurtured it. He knew how precious it was. He was honored to have been given such a task to share this monumental endowment with the world. And he did it with such vigor. We’ve heard the stories of how he would work for days at a time, writing new songs daily, giving concerts that were more epic than the last. And the  infamous “vault” that contains probably 500 years worth of music. Singing, screeching, writhing, and pulling us into this wild, wonderful, whimsical world of Prince.  And how hard he fought to regain and retain ownership of that gift and helping other artists do the same. Seeing him perform you knew he wasn’t in it for the money.  He did it for us. He was relentless in pursing his gift so that he could share it with us.

When was the last time you were relentless in pursuing your gift?  When was the last time you even acknowledged your gift?  God gave us all a gift, whether it’s music, writing, teaching, skipping rope, basket weaving or raising turtles. We ALL have been given a gift. Just because it’s not big as someone else’s or perceived as glamorous doesn’t mean it’s not as important.  God gives gifts according to our willingness to share them. He gave Prince the humongous gift of music because He knew Prince would pursue to the point of exhaustion and create a body of work that will ensure his legacy will be forever etched in history.  Do you think you could have handled Prince’s gift? Probably not, because you weren’t meant to. What’s your gift and are you being responsible for it? Are you taking care of it? Are you nurturing it? Hell, have you even said ‘hi’ to it?  I am so glad I was given the privilege of living in the same time and space as Prince.  I saw him at least 25 times in concert.  He is to me the ultimate example of pursuing your gift and leaving  your mark. I must apologize to God for not actively pursuing my gift, writing. That’s my gift and I must pursue it at all cost. The first step is admitting what your gift is and proclaim it at the top of your lungs.

Thank you Prince for 35 years of scintillating, sexy, outrageous and over the top music. Thank you for making me blush. Thank you for letting me know it was ok to be known as the Weird Prince Girl. Thank you for the hours upon hours that I sat in my room and just lost myself in you. Thank you for creating the soundtrack to my life. And thank you for teaching me the invaluable lesson of being completely and utterly responsible for my gift. May u live 2 see the dawn.

It’s coming…

Embed from Getty Images

There is a dark, sinister toxic cloud that is engulfing our nation now. It has been brewing for just under a year and has gone virtually unchecked until now. It spews hate, discord, divisiveness and racism. It’s pugnacious, intolerant, bigoted and is creating a subset of repugnant storms throughout the states to spread it’s xenophobic propoganda. It judges and categorically dismisses anything that doesn’t resemble it or agree with it’s pre-civil rights views. It labeled an entire race of people as rapists and drug dealers. It labeled an entire culture of people as terrorists and has stated it will ensure they are not allowed in the United States. It wants to build a wall and arrogantly orders the people that the wall is suppose to suppress to pay for it. It pays the legal bills of those who blindly follow it for committing unprovoked crimes on its behalf. It cowardly avoids anything that dares to challenge it. It embraces separatism. It breeds contempt. It encourages violence. And this dark and poisonous cloud wants the power to rule over our nation.

This nation is a melting pot of races, cultures and religions, not an alabaster monolithic fraternity of entitled Hitler worshipers. It is an indictment on this country and how incredibly racist it is that this noxious blowhard is still relevant in the race for the presidency. I have heard people state that they will move to another country if this toxic cloud wins. This is NOT a time to create an exit strategy, lower your heads, tuck your tail between your legs and retreat. This is not a time to cower in fear and think this storm is too far gone. Now is the time to stand up, be counted, register to vote, and use the power that God gave you to cast this Luciferian spirit back to the deepest pit of hell where it belongs.

This toxic cloud is feeding on the fears and bigotry of a percentage of the people in our nation to make it bad for the entirety. Other countries are looking at the United States with shock, awe and complete disbelief. How could we let this happen? How could we have let this infection fester into a full on cancerous abscess that has burst and is oozing it’s thick putrid hatred across this country, trying to set us back one hundred years. Come November you have a choice to make, you can eradicate this caustic vapor with your vote and ensure the safety and sanctity of this country or you can cowardly look the other way, spouting this matter doesn’t pertain to you and allow the devil personified who has proven he will destroy race relations and abandon our country’s allies to dictate the future of your children.

Non-Millenial doesn’t equal loser

Looking around in society today, you will notice that a lot of businesses, apps, inventions and pretty much anything cool is being created by someone who was literally in high school ten years ago.  Upper management at your job now looks like a sorority or fraternity row.  The job that you applied for at that new startup is being run by 25 year olds. How does that make Boomers and Gen X’ers feel?  Honestly, like shit!  Sometimes millennials can come off  as entitled and condescending to the same people that laid the groundwork that gives them access to so much today.

It seems now whenever you see anything about following your dreams or someone who is doing the next big thing, it’s someone under the age of 30.  There have been a lot of late bloomers who have done great things and changed the game:

• Toni Morrison published her first novel at age 40
• Alan Rickman was 42 when he got his first movie role
• Kathryn Joosten moved to Hollywood at age 56 to become an actress
• Susan Boyle was discovered on Britain’s Got Talent at age 48
• Anna Mary Robertson Moses aka Grandma Moses didn’t start painting until she was 75 and is revered as one of the most famous American painters

Seeing the millennial landscape can be disheartening and frustrating because it seems the world is only spotlighting their accomplishments.  It’s almost as if you have the “middle child syndrome” fighting to get some attention.  But if you look at the accomplishments of the above mentioned “late bloomers” it can give you a shot of confidence and reassurance that it’s never too late.  You have access to the same technology the millennials have.  Hanging your shingle is a a few clicks away.  The gatekeepers of yesterday are virtually non-existent today due to the worldwide web.  Whatever product you want to sell or service you want to provide can be shared with the entire world within a matter of minutes.  Like Nike continues to tell us, “Just Do It”.

You don’t need to have a phone full of selfies, know every Drake song or wear a hipster hat to start the next big business, write the next soul stirring book, or spearhead the next revolution of change, you can do that right now at age 47, 57 or 107!  Going after your dreams isn’t reserved for the young, it’s open to all those who are willing to go after those dreams and make them a reality. Change Agents aren’t specified for the 18 –  25 year olds. Just because AARP is starting to send letters to you doesn’t mean you can’t open that coffee shop you’ve always dreamed about, start that non-profit for single parents that’s been needling at you, finally put your name on the list for that open mic, or enroll in school to finally get that degree you want.  It’s waiting for you now.

Boomers, your generation represented the Oval Office through our last three presidents, Presidents Barack Obama, George W. Bush and Bill Clinton.  Gen X’ers you relished in a world where Michael Jackson and Prince were the titans of music going head to head against each other back in the 80’s…it doesn’t get better than that!  So it’s time to rise up in your vintage greatness, stop letting your age dictate your path in life and show the world how AWESOME 40 and over is.

 

Mission Statement. Manifesto. Mantra.

February is coming to a close (although it’s exciting that we get a Leap Day this year!) March is the last month of the first quarter of the year, how are you doing on those awesome goals you touted about in January?  Just to be clear, this is a NO JUDGEMENT ZONE. This post isn’t to haggle you about your goals, I’m just checking in and to possibly present a solution that my help.

The other day I came across a wonderful quote while I was reading that stated:

“Respect your life enough to pursue a meaningful mission. Respect yourself enough to give yourself something to do.”  -Iyanla Vanzant     

This quote really struck me because often we just drift through our lives working, paying bills, working, paying bills, working, paying…well you get the gist.  And every year you vow to do it differently and yet we somehow slip right back into our safe and unproductive zone.  We were definitely created to be more than worker drones. I’ve referenced Beyonce’s song I Was Here before and if you’ve never heard it I suggest you give it a listen.  This isn’t a command from a Bey-hiver (I like a few of her songs, but that’s as far as it goes) however it is worth the listen to ingest the message of doing something significant to show the world you were here. It would be a shame to have lived and no one knew it.

To help you leave a mark on this world it would help if you had a mission, something you you want to pursue. It would be even better if others were well served by your mission. So let’s start with a mission statement, which is defined as “a formal summary of aims and values for a company, organization or individual”.   This statement identifies your mission, briefly describe how you will carry it out and who will benefit from it.  This mission statement can be for a company you’re starting, a book you’re writing or simply a statement by which you’ll govern your life. I co-founded a non-profit for single parents and our mission statement is “R.O.K.S. – Raising Our Kids Solo is charged with assisting single parents by providing emotional support and tangible resources to help them manage family life without a partner.”  Short, sweet and to the point. It states who we are, what we’re doing and who benefits.

Next is your manifesto. This is the emotional counterpart to the mission statement. It talks about your core values, emotional priniciples, what differentiates you from what others are doing, what you believe in and what you’re willing to invest to accomplish your mission. It’s basically a written pep rally created to excite, ignite and get you energized about what you’re trying to accomplish. Dig deep for this but have fun with it.

The last thing is your mantra. This is your statement or slogan that you repeat to keep the mission before you. Don’t be overly clever with this, make sure it’s clear, concise and impactful.  For example, the mantra for my single parent non-profit it “Single by circumstance, Parents by choice”.  Straight and to the point.

So whether you’re starting a revolution or rebranding your life, come up with a mission statement, manifesto and mantra to help you get clear on what you’re doing and why you’re doing it.  Type them up on pretty stationary, laminate them and post them prominently where you see them every day.  Don’t waste another minute not working on your “I Was Here”.   Pursue a purposeful mission. Respect yourself enough to give yourself something to do.