I Ain't Said Nothin' But A Word...

I got played. By an eighteen-year old. An eighteen-year old who was out to prove a point. Navigating college applications, acceptance and rejection letters, scholarships and financial aid has been the bane of my existence for months now. Since the day the boy was born I’ve had dreams and ambitions for him that didn’t necessarily mesh with the dreams and aspirations he had for himself. And that was okay because I was the MOMMY and I knew best and Mommy’s word was law. There were three colleges the boy felt would be an ideal fit for him and his goals, all of them top notch institutions that any parent would be proud to have their child attend. Knowing my son as well as I thought I did I felt only one of them would truly be the ideal. As fate and the college-gods would have it, he was rejected by two and accepted by his Mommy’s first choice. Not only was he accepted but he received a substantial five-figure academic scholarship toward some extremely high out-of-state tuition. His Mommy’s

I haven’t been sleeping well lately and it’s starting to show. In fact, I’m starting to feel like the walking dead as I hover over my keyboard. I’m averaging maybe three or four hours per night. Friday night I didn’t sleep at all. Saturday night was better. I slept for two hours straight. I doubt that I’ll get into my bed before three tonight and I have to be up and out of the house by eight o'clock tomorrow morning. There’s too much noise clouding my head. My peace and quiet is being disrupted, the weight of it pressing harshly against my spirit. I’m running on borrowed energy and I imagine when it comes time to collect payment I may well have to steal something from Peter to pay off Paul. Part of my problem is I’m cold. Summer weather came fast and hard, temperatures rising hot and humid. Other folks can’t take the heat and so I suffer under air-conditioning that blows ice twenty-four seven. I’m bundled under coats and blankets and I hate having to wear so much clothing inside wh

Danita hasn’t had much to celebrate lately. She’s ending a relationship, a marriage that had lasted all of her adult life. Danita doesn’t regret her decision to let go of what’s not working in her life but she hates that she has to walk through hell to do it. Both Danita and her husband agree that they should have let things go years ago, but children and responsibilities will do that to you. Keep you beating a dead horse even though you know the carcass isn’t going to get back up and walk no matter how hard you hit it. Danita had anticipated the road to divorce would be easy once the decision had been made but she’d forgotten about the abuse, the anger, and the frustration that had brought them to this place to begin with. Letting go of each other would seem to be the easy part. Letting go of their baggage is another story all together. Danita had a rough weekend. The husband is hurt and angry with his lot in life and he wants Danita to hurt as well. The woman is tired of the battles

A dear old friend had an art show this past Friday where she was exhibiting her new work. She hasn’t had an exhibit in one year and so I donned this too cute little black dress, got my hair did and nails done and I went to show her some support. Now, I’m attending this very high brow art exhibition, schmoozing with the big wigs, glass of champagne in hand, when my friend comments to the crowd gathered that I’m an author with a new book about to be released. And as expected one of the folks there asks me what it is I write. “Contemporary fiction,” I answer. “I’m published in the romance genre.” Well, this heifer, and I use the term only because I won’t be so rude to call the cow what I want to call her, rolls her eyes, grunts loudly and says. “Oh, Lord, my daughter reads that ‘trash’. Every time I see her with a book in her hand I’ve got to ask her what kind of ‘ghetto love mess’ is she reading now!” Trash? Mess? Ghetto? What damn projects was she raised in to be passing judgement on so

I am so loving me some Smokey Robinson! The man spins a mean piece of poetry, whether he's singing it, or not. "The Black American" by Smokey Robinson Courtesy of Poetology.com "I love being Black. I love being called Black. I love being an American. I love being a Black American, but as a Black man in this country I think it’s a shame That every few years we get a change of name. Since those first ships arrived here from Africa that came across the sea There were already Black men in this country who were free. And as for those that came over here on those terrible boats, They were called niggah and slave And told what to do and how to behave. And then master started trippin' and doing his midnight tippin', Down to the slave shacks where he forced he and Great-Great Grandma to be together, And if Great-Great Grandpa protested, he got tarred and feathered. And at the same time, the Black men in the country who were free, Were mating with the tribes like the

I breathe him in, the air between us our only link for the moment. I crave his touch and tell him so with my eyes, a gentle caress that flutters along the length of lashes I bat in his direction. He only smiles, saying nothing and saying everything in the look he gives me back. But his arms remain tight to his sides, not a finger reaching in my direction as I long to be held. Laughter teases the curve of his lips and I remember the touch of my mouth against his, the warmth of his kiss sustaining and joyous. I can’t help but wonder if he can see what I feel and cannot say, if he knows the words that line my heart and warm my soul. But it is not the time or the place to be held and touched, the moment far from perfect. But perfection is the scent of him that warms my spirit and nourishes my soul and gives me reason to believe that in the end it will all be well worth the wait and so I breathe him in. I breathe him in, inhaling love that lingers like life in the air that links us. I breat

I’m not gonna lie. I love me some reality TV and every one of my shows seems to be in finale mode this week. The little speed skater guy took the crown on Dancing with the Stars but can’t a soul fault Miss Laila Ali for her stellar performances. Girlfriend was dropping it like it was hot, burnt, and overcooked the way she shook and shimmied the goods God gave her on that dance floor. I’m ready to climb into the ring and take up boxing if I can get my curves to look half as good as her curves. Then of course there was the American Idol spectacular tonight. Jordin Sparks took the crown and I collected on my bets. I’ve been saying from day one that folks shouldn’t underestimate that young lady. She was a fast learner, growing every week until she found her comfort zone, then she truly let loose with her vocals. That infectious smile and the fact that she appears very comfortable and confident with her not-a size-two frame made her a standout for me. She was just cute as a button! I also

The black romance community is mourning the loss of one of our own. Renowned author, Katherine D. Jones passed away unexpectedly on June 17, 2007. I never had the opportunity to meet Katherine in person although we exchanged an email or two over the years. She was very much a kindred spirit, sharing the same journey that I was. She was a wife and a mother and an author trying to keep things balanced as she held tight to her sanity and her humor. She was a woman of amazing grace and those who knew her personally have shared wonderful anecdotes on the kindness and the generosity of her spirit and her heart. Katherine was charmed and loved and the wealth of her extraordinary talent abounds in the romance novels she gifted to us all. Katherine's husband posted a banner on her website that reads: Live Your Life...Follow Your Dreams...There Are NO Guarantees. We would honor her memory to do just that. Katherine is survived by a loving husband and two adoring sons. She will be missed dear

I watch a lot of movies. Some of them are really good. Others are extremely bad. And every so often there is one that moves me so deeply that I can't get it out of my mind. Constellation , written and directed by Jordan Walker-Pearlman is one of those movies. It is just a brilliantly touching work of art. When the beloved Carmel Boxer ( Gabrielle Union ) passes away, her entire family returns to Huntsville, Alabama to celebrate her life and legacy. As the Boxer family comes together for the first time in many years, revelations of Carmel’s painful past begin to force each person to address their pent up emotions and true feelings for one another. The story chronicles the lives and loves of an African-American family in the deep South as they are forced to come to terms with a tumultuous past marked by an unrequited interracial affair. The film explores the way in which the family patriarch, Helms Boxer ( Billy Dee William s), must confront his demons amidst the changing racial fabr

I had an unusually rough week. It was an emotional rollercoaster of highs and lows like I've not experienced in a very long time. I was so moody that I could barely stand to be in the room with myself so I can only imagine what other folks had to be thinking. Never having been a woman who needed or wanted a lot of attention, I found myself desperate for it this week and there was absolutely none to be found anywhere. I was struggling with some issues and feeling like I had no where to turn because the people I would normally rely on were too busy dealing with their own stuff to be bothered with mine. And so I turned to that one thing that has yet to fail me - my writing. For as long as I can remember writing has been my greatest comfort. Manipulating phrases and paragraphs and spinning the sliver of a thought into something eloquent and coherent is the most soothing balm I could ever wish for. Words are so powerful, so magnanimous that they energize and empower my spirit like noth

Miranda’s not seeing straight. In fact, her vision is so skewed it’s a wonder she hasn’t been declared legally blind. She blames everyone else for her bad choices and girlfriend has made some seriously bad choices. The first penis that broke her heart left her with a child and no support. She was only sixteen at the time. He was well in his late twenties. I’m still wondering why he didn’t do some quality time in a state penitentiary since she was fourteen when they first became involved, but I’ll leave that alone. For now. Penis #2 came via an Internet connection. He had her instant messaging so fast that she lost her mind, moving herself to West Virginia to claim her a man. She left her child behind for someone else to raise, so not only did her baby lose his worthless daddy but his mother as well. But hey, love requires sacrifice, or at least that’s what Miranda would have us all believe. Wasn’t until she became pregnant with baby #2 that she admitted her sacrifice came at penis #2’s

A therapist person told me once that I needed to fully own my emotions. It had been my nature to push my feelings down deep inside to deal with them as I saw fit and only when I felt it absolutely necessary to do so. All that pent up frustration and bottled aggression made for some quality writing and so it served me well. The stories that were manifested from all that anguish will soon be shopped around after having received some very favorable responses from their initial reads. Taking heed to the advice that I’d been given I opened myself up, facing my issues head on. For the most part that opening up was quite liberating and has made from some interesting moments, hard frank discussions, and an occasional confrontation or two. Unfortunately my writing has suffered. It hit me today that not only did I open myself up, but I’ve also been wearing my emotions on my sleeves. This has left me exposed and vulnerable. In fact, I can’t remember when I felt so susceptible, and to be honest, I

An acquaintance asked me for a favor. What they wanted required more of my time and patience than anything else, but I was struck by this person's assumption that since I'm a writer that I could complete the task with relative ease. "You'll know what words to use", is what was said to me. This acquaintance would be surprised to know that I really don't. Most times I don't have a clue what words would be the right words to say or use. In some situations I am so fearful of saying the wrong thing that I tend not to say anything at all. Even worse, I have an annoying habit of being so careful to chose the right words that the message I hope to convey gets completely lost in the translation. Right now someone I love dearly is going through a trying situation with family. And I am struck by the fact that I don't have the words to convey how much I want to be there for them. I'm not sure what I should say or even if I should say anything at all. But I wan

My mother was a woman with rituals. There was a place for everything and everything had it’s place. Certain behaviors were expected and to go against the grain of her expectations was not an option. We ate dinner religiously at four o’clock every evening, exactly fifteen minutes after my father arrived home from his day job, finishing no later than five o’clock before he had to depart for his night job. And she cooked every meal, breakfast, lunch and dinner without fail. There was no takeout, no fast food, no nothing other than what was put on your plate or in your lunch bag that you would finish without fail. She did all this while working both a factory job and doing day’s work on the side. I didn’t understand until I was well into my teens that her doing day’s work involved other people’s children and their dirt. Mom did all of this, bowled on a league team and played softball like a professional during the spring and summer. With a schedule that would rival any working mother’s, my

Although there is no denying the paternal presence that hovered over me as I was growing up, I have to acknowledge the gathering of women who helped raise me. I was definitely raised by strong women beginning with my grandmothers. Both were unique, headstrong, fiercely independent women who had a major impact in my young life. My maternal grandmother, the late Lillie Mae Addison, was a woman I try diligently to emulate. She was a gentle spirit, full of kindness and grace. An exquisitely beautiful woman who raised twelve children and many a grandchild. Late in life she decided she wanted an education and she put many a college professor through their paces to get one. Her family was her stronghold and she sacrificed much in her life to give to them. She lived a long and full life and her influence in mine continues to inspire and move me. My paternal grandmother, Musethal Fletcher, was a force to be reckoned with. Granny girl could move mountains with one look and she has never been one

I hate having those knee-deep conversations where the truth leaves you feeling out of sorts. I had one of those recently where I had to admit that my delusions of grandeur weren’t necessarily everyone else's delusions. In fact, it became clear rather quickly that the other party was in no way thinking along the same lines as I was. It was one of those moments where I walked away trying to figure out exactly where I’d taken my wrong turn and how I could have been so blind. One minute I was like a helium balloon waving high up in the sky and just like that I was deflating fast. Despite my feeling a little discombobulated I understand that no matter what the situation or the relationship, when there is one ounce of doubt, that’s a big red flag that needs to be addressed. If you’re confused and unsure, trust that there’s some little voice sitting on your shoulder whose advice you might need to heed. In my case, intuition is screaming loud and clear that I need to take a big step back t

I've been searching for all the right words to tell you what's in my heart and my head. I wanted you to know and understand just how much you mean to me. How excited I am when we're together. How much it hurts when I can't be with you. You complete me and I was already whole. You've become that large fraction of myself that would be empty and cold were you not here. I feel extraordinarily blessed when we are together. I can't thank destiny enough for bringing you into my life. I adore you. I relish your intimacy, the sweetness and delicacy of your kisses, your touch and all the pleasure it gives me. You are everything I have ever wanted in my life. You have given me a feeling of fulfillment that no one else has ever given me before, like nothing else in this world ever can. With each day, each shared moment, I want to bring you the same joy you have brought me. I want to give you the best of who I am and all that I could be. I want to walk by your side and be th

Quit bitching! No one said life was going to be a piece of cake. There were no promises that everyone was going to love you or even like you so stop boo-hooing when they don’t. Life’s too precious and just too damn short to sit around bemoaning the fact that stuff ain’t going your way. It ain’t going my way either but I’ve chosen to focus on what does work rather than what doesn’t. Since there’s no shortage of advice out here to help you be better, live better, try harder, and do more, take some of that advice and put it to use. You’re responsible for you. There is no one else out here responsible for you and your happiness. So, get over yourself. You’re the only one dancing at your pity party and your reality is that no one else is really interested in partying with you. You blame every wrong thing in your life on your sex, your race, your weight, your job, your education, or whatever else floats your boat at the moment but bottom line the blame lies totally with your attitude. Negati

It's hot outside. Close to 90 degrees if not hotter. My kind of weather. For some reason, the day, the heat, just the mood wafting through the air reminds me of that 1970's song by the Starland Vocal Band, Afternoon Delight. It's one of those old catchy tunes that if you ever knew the lyrics to it, you can easily sing right along if it were to just start playing on the radio. Remember.... Gonna find my baby, gonna hold her tight, gonna grab some afternoon delight. My motto's always been; when it's right, it's right. Why wait until the middle of a cold dark night. When everything's a little clearer in the light of day. And you know the night is always gonna be there any way. Sky rockets in flight. Afternoon delight. Afternoon delight. Thinkin' of you's workin' up my appetite looking forward to a little afternoon delight. Rubbin' sticks and stones together makes the sparks ingite and the thought of rubbin' you is getting so exciting. Sky ro