God and Wine

"But there's something in me birthing on the horizon and nobody wants to hear me lament about the contractions I'm experiencing." One of the reasons why I hate engaging with new people (besides the fact that I'm an introvert) is that, predictably, the "What do you do for a living?" question pops up. Sometimes it's camouflaged as, "What brought you to the city?" or "What industry are you in?" The answer to those questions is so complex, so layered, and so multi-faceted that I have to take 3 seconds to chose whether I want to tell the long story or the more acceptable abridged version of my life events. I often don't know where to start. Do I lead with my career as a professional performer, going into detail about my extensive acting, singing, and dancing training? Do I give them the modified "I'm a teaching artist who sometimes performs Off-Broadway" schpill? Or do I tell them that I actually make thousands of

[ Read "Way to Freedom" HERE ] I had a conversation with myself last night, re-imagining a previous conversation I had with God about 2 years ago. God was like, "I'm gonna sit here with my arms wide open, while you seek refuge in people and things that were not meant to shelter you, and I'll wait patiently for you to come back home to me." That moment with God 2 years ago was the beginning of my real relationship with God and my relationship with my purpose(s). As I watched things fall into place, in awe of the matchless moves of the universe pushing me toward my purpose (or myself), I never quite committed to the purpose; I never quite committed to God. I walked around God--around my purpose, around myself--but never stepped in. Maybe this is you. This has been your life for years...going in and out of the revolving door that is God's arms. And God still loves, even when you're outside of the door. God still loves, even when your head is pressed

[Read the Dating Chronicles: Part VII Here] Hey y'all! So I don't usually Vlog, but I'm trying my hand at it for this topic. Dating the "Church Girl" is one of the many conversations I have with myself, especially when preparing to have "that talk" with a man who's interested in me but not quite sure what he's getting in to. Hope you enjoy and do comment below if you feel it in your spirit. :)

[Read The Dating Chronicles Part VI Here] Note: I think it's important to note that the experiences I write/tweet/blog/instagram about are a collection of experiences that have happened to me, and others, over time (so not just yesterday). If I've dated you and you're reading this, feel some type of way if you want. As I always say, "If the shoe fits..."-Thanks, management. In dating, I've often encountered the guy who's like, "you're so sweet, but..." or "you're such a phenomenal woman, but..." It took me a while to realize that the "but" was not about me. I mean I've heard the list: "You're amazing," "you're awesome," "you're incredibly intelligent and sexy," "you're talented and beautiful," BUT... It even goes beyond dating and into our professional lives. And most times the "but" is not about us. The "but," a powerful conjunction that

You've been sleeping for years. It's time to wake up and go somewhere. It's funny how success can disguise your slumber. When you're not doing what you've been called to do, it never quite feels right.

Every once in a while I need to remind myself (and others) why I blog. I'm a writer, a facilitator, an artist. I post things about my life and it's not a cry for help or an invitation for prayer from others. I post my truths with the hope that my vulnerability will give way to someone else's breakthrough--that my humanness will let someone else know that they are not alone in this amazingly tumultuous journey called LIFE. Be well folks.

[ Read The Dating Chronicles: V here ] Note: I think it's important to note that the experiences I write/tweet/blog/instagram about are a collection of experiences that have happened to me, and others, over time (so not just yesterday). If I've dated you and you're reading this, feel some type of way if you want. As I always say, "If the shoe fits..." -Thanks, management. ---- So today (yes, June 1, 2015), I was walking down the street in my neighborhood (Harlem) and a man with a long white tee on (we'll deal with his fashion in another blog...I just can't) started walking beside me. Him: Pretty as you is, I'm sure you gotta boyfriend. Me: Uh...Yea (lying, as usual. You know how we do, ladies. I haven't had a "boyfriend" since I ended things with my ex-whatever months ago, but moving on). Him: I know you gotta someone special. Me: Yea. He proceeded to walk beside me, attempting to make small talk about how the police car tha

I've been trying to write a letter to you since you visited me in my dreams days after to you left this earth. With all of these emotions, I struggle to find the words to express what it's like to lose a giant. I worshiped you, in a way. God gave you to me before I knew I needed you. He knew  and you knew, and it seems that now, more than ever, you cross my mind in infinite ways. Is this what losing a parent feels like? I don't desire to do this again, although inevitable. And I think about the mortality of my two remaining parents, and I beg God to spare me- to just give me a little more time to prepare myself for the kind of indefinite and sporadic pain I'm bound to feel. And these moments of grief cut so sharply, so suddenly... the unexpected tears flow and all I can really do is just let it rain. I rain for you. Even in the sun, I rain. And I'm embarrassed and ashamed, sometimes, to tear up in a bar or while walking down a crowded street or to just sob for you

Explicative & candid accounts of the tumultuous dating and relationship experiences of me and my girlfriends. --- [ Read The Dating Chronicles: I-IV here] V.  There are 4 types of people on dating apps and websites that I don't understand:  A) --a person who has huge grammatical and spelling issues in his online dating profile. Like, bruh, this is my first impression of you! Can you at least TRY to not write in all caps? Can you TRY to send your bio through the spellchecker on Microsoft Word before repeatedly posting "your" when you mean "you're." We all make mistakes, but you didn't even TRY to use punctuation! If your bio is one giant run-on sentence, I'm not interested. Looks like you need a tutor, not a girlfriend. Oh, and maybe curb your use of "u" for "you," "4" for "for," and "2" for "too," "two,"or "to," provided you know (not "no")

Explicative & candid accounts of the tumultuous dating and relationship experiences of me and my girlfriends. --- I. You talk about you're feelings with someone with in-depth vulnerability and they call it "emotional regurgitation." You don't talk about any of your feelings and they call it "emotional unavailability." Well, what do y'all want then? II. One man told me what he wanted...kinda.  I went on a date recently with an educated, self-absorbed, self-proclaimed nigga. Yes, he referred to him as half nerd-half negroid. His behavior was jarring and completely unattractive, and he expected me and everyone around him to accept his loud and obnoxious mediocrity. In the midst of his intelligence lay so much ignorance. Apparently, according to him, most men want a fat ass that doesn't talk back. So, he basically wants a chick that'll hold him down, as long as she doesn't share her true opinions on his emotional and social impot

I think women hide behind hair. We have been taught that our hair is our crown. I think that's part of the reason why I began cutting my hair when I was 12, and why I recently went bald. I never quite believed that my hair was my crown. I never believed that my hair length or style determined my femininity (or the lack thereof). I never believed that wearing jewelry made me more of a woman. I never believed that makeup and overdrawn eyebrows determined my beauty. Since cutting my hair off, some people have made it their job to remind me to wear earrings so that I "look more like a 'lady'" or to make sure my makeup is on point at ALL times, as if those things define me, my beauty, and/or my womanhood. I never cared much for the opinions of others and I can be a bit crass and nonchalant when it comes to displaying my lack of affection for another's opinion of me. Because I'm a performer, I've been living for other people (onstage) my entire life. I&#

1. I've learned to assume the worst about people. That way, you set yourself up for the disappointment and you assume that the pain will hurt less. You are wrong. In fact, what actually hurts is the fact that you've lost the ability to love --love like a carefree child, with innocence and vulnerability. That's what makes you human. You've, therefore, lost your humanism. 2. I knew love, once... or at least I think I knew love--a twisted, unrequited love that reminded me of my humanism, of that organ in my chest that refuses to harden, and despite my desire to shrivel up and die, keeps pumping fluids to the part of my brain that forces me to feel things against my will. 3. I finally made it through the tunnel. People say that you'll look back on your dark moments and laugh, but I won't laugh. Every time I cried, the pain was real. There's nothing funny about the pain that I felt when my "boyfriend" moved away when I was 6, or when I got sto

I always knew I was different. As a kid, I vividly remember watching the other kids play outside from inside my living room window. I was kept inside for a myriad of reasons. Perhaps, my mother was afraid that a serial killer would come and snatch me away if I were to play in the backyard alone. Afterall, a man did put a gun to my head in front of my home when I was five years old. Mostly, I believe that I was kept inside because there was always so much to do--so much to prepare for. If it wasn't piano lessons, it was practicing for piano lessons. It was dancing school, gymnastics, violin lessons, choir rehearsal, and by age 10, I was rehearsing and performing for something at least 5 days a week. The older I got, the more responsibilities befell upon me. The busier I got, the less birthday parties and social events I could attend. I remember being so disappointed when I had to tell the most popular girl in elementary school that I couldn't go to her sleepover because I had vi

we lay here naked  in front of our dreams waiting on a sign from God subtleties go unnoticed as we wait for  giant fireballs to fall from the sky her move, not spectacular, yet, still miraculous and while we're waiting for God God's waiting for us

1.20.15 - 2:09 am The range of emotions I experience in one day is mind-boggling and disturbing. I've gotten to the point where I shed no tears. I think my body is over that...for now. My smiles are met with sorrow. My great audition counters a relationship setback. Enemies outnumber friends, and that quest for happiness becomes elusive. My daily assessment of myself? I must be bipolar. And this happiness thing? ... My mom says, "happiness is fleeting" and that finding joy is the real journey. Thus, I commence: My extreme moments of joy are mostly connected to music. Writing music, arranging a dope rendition of an old 60's song, lyric painting, and rehearsals for church choirs and bands. In fact, my church life has been my greatest joy since my return to New York City. There's no greater feeling than walking into the sanctuary of First Corinthian Baptist Church, on a cold Tuesday afternoon, and hanging out for 2 hours with some awesome pastors and congregants. Th

It occurred to me that some people find my vulnerability problematic. They don't like that I talk openly about real problems...I mean, real life. They are uncomfortable with the ugliness of the journey. I started doubting the significance of my writings-hence, why I haven't blogged in a while- but my daunting thoughts have been clogging my arteries, disturbing my peace, and preventing sleep. I will continue to write, and I insist on only writing truths, as I have always done. Today, I feel unworthy. My mood is so indeterminable it almost feels indifferent. But it's not indifference. I know indifference. I don't do indifference. I'm feeling frustrated, disappointed in myself for abandoning my sobriety, and uncertain of what the future holds for my careers, my relationships, and my spiritual growth. There are good days and there are bad days...today's an ugly day. My sleeping pills have run out, I've given up relying on alcohol for companionship, and it&#

Welp, I made it through New Year's Eve sober and was completely fine with that. At midnight, my friend, her 3-year old son, and I toasted to 2015 with a glorious glass of bubbly ginger beer! Ha! I woke up this morning in my right mind and without a hangover headache! It’s weird, still. I didn't realize until this week how much of a friend alcohol was. I feel like I lost someone close to me, and by choice; it's as if I murdered my best friend. I'm determined to complete at least 30 days of sobriety. My relationship with alcohol hasn't been extremely problematic. I mean, I used to drink before working at the restaurant sometimes, never before a rehearsal, sometimes during a late night singing gig, never before church, sometimes after church, always on dates, sometimes during writing sessions... I don't think I'm an alcoholic. Then again, does any alcoholic think he or she has a problem? I am mostly on this journey to test my self-control and move through