Yap, Yap, Yap, Talk It Up!

B iz like a flower, growing.

In the past few hours I’ve learned a lot of important lessons.
Numeral Uno: Being poor makes you smarter.
Numeral Deuce: Talk for networking and saving everything.
I’ve been sitting in my p.j.s on the corner of my driveway learning.
I’ve figured out that when you are poor you have to be smart in order not to be poor.
It’s easy to get money but its hard work to keep money.
Like everyone else, I too sometimes wish that my parents were rich so I can be an airhead. I’d walk around just doing dumb things just because I can afford to do dumb things. Poor people can’t afford to do dumb things.
Yet, I did some dumb things.
For the past few months I’ve been paying over $190 on health insurance out of my own pocket. I had a real job that provided extra health insurance. Many people told me to drop the plan I had on my own. I refused because I knew my real job wasn’t stable for my future. I figured if I didn’t sign on for next year with the job, at least I can still have my health insurance. It was a half-way great idea.
Today, I have no job but I have health insurance. Yet, sitting on my corner in my p.j.s haven’t brought me a lot of money, so I had to figure out how to keep the health insurance. I just refused to sit in the charity line for health. I have been there. I have waited hours to see the free doctor. Only to be called thinking I’d see the doctor but I had to sit behind lonely walls to wait some more for the doctor to come see me. When you get free health care, I’ve learned that nothing’s free. You pay for that with your time. I’m tried. I don’t want to be common. Yet, without a job I still needed to find the extra 200 bucks to pay for my insurance. I took to using my iPhone. I figured that I could make million dollar deals from that phone. I just needed to be creative or listen.
After about an hour of conversation with my provider, I found an inexpensive plan, that gave me the same services, just written up differently.
I’m now paying half of what I paid. I feel better about the whole health insurance situation. This is what I learned.
I can pay a lesser amount, but just pay a little more when I go to the doctor. And that’s it!! No more, no bills no nothing.
When you’re rich you’re comfortable. I don’t want anyone to fall into the things I’ve did. I made a lot of money.
My friends will tell you, I’d buy any kind of exclusive shoes I wanted, clothes I wanted, go anywhere I wanted, whenever I wanted. It was like, hey Brandi you want to go here?
“Yeah, book me a plane ticket and I’m on the way. Book that five-star hotel too while you’re at it.”
I was on the road. I didn’t care about reading the fine lines. I paid that money for health insurance because I didn’t have time to hear what the providers had to tell me. I figured hey, what’s an extra 100. This is just something small but I’m glad I made it through.
Young, dumb, rich and stupid. In college things came to me and I made something. No matter how much money you have, always remember it’s not what you get, it’s how much you keep. Now, as I sit in my p.j.s on my corner I’ve learned how to hustle again.
I can take nothing and make something.
Its not what you know, it’s who you know.
With a little phone conversation, I became a few dollars richer, just like that. I also got a new writing job. That’s detailed below.

Oh you guys, I have a list of things I’m absolutely loving right now.
1. T.I.’s new CD “Paper Trail”
2. James Morrison’s new CD, “Songs for You, Truths for Me”
3. Robin Thicke’s new CD, “Something Else”
4. The fact that the sequel to the Coldest Winter Ever is coming out in November
5. Progress on my own book, Crumb Snatchers. It's coming along great!
6. PERCEPTION
7. Chattting with Karrine Steffans
8. Learning Sales and Advertising
9. Your Facebook Updates
10. Baby pictures and Albus Dumbledore

About that new job, I’m a writer for www.emediabr.com.
Fred let’s me write feature stories. So check them out, I’ll let you know when they post. I just wrote one on The Joan, owner of Mo Hair, a hair salon. She’s talking about owning a business and keeping it. It’s a great piece! Check It Out!

Don't Worry Be Happy

I wrote a song.

La. La. La. Laaaaaa…..

We are broke,
And FEMA sucks,
We are broke,
And FEMA sucks,

The nation is falling,
And Bush will not bail us out,
While McCain is balling,
Obama will hear us out,

We are broke,
And FEMA sucks,
We are broke,
And FEMA sucks,

La. La. La. Laaaaa….

If anyone wants to co-write the song, feel free to add on. And don’t complain because I never said I was poetic.

But you know what, I once heard a guy say that money is the root of all evil. That may have been the Temptations. Then I heard a smart guy come along and say, “The lack of money is the root of all evil (Rich Dad, Poor Dad).”
I agree with the latter. Either way, I guess we will find out.

Lost

Arthritis crippled her hands a few years back. It forced her to keep them in a permanent balled up, crooked position. When she said she had problems with the condition, I figured that she had to be in real bad pain. I felt for her. I’d want her to quickly take a Tylenol.
Her hands, dark and aged, they held a many of her babies and wiped a many of counters.
She’d look at you with her brown eyes and you could see a caring soul. At home she would feed anybody passing.
We would sit in church every Sunday, side by side. She would make a special spot for me to sit underneath her as if I were her own daughter. Matter of fact, I did move her own child to the pew in front of us. As if I knew how to love her just right too.
She had a warm heart and as kind. When the collection plate came around she would always reach her hands into her purse and give me money.
“Here Bran, some money for the collection plate and some money for you. God put it on my mind to give this to you,” she’d say in a low voice so others around us wouldn’t hear that she was extra sweet to me. Folk could get jealous, in church too, let me tell you.
“Thank you, kindly,” I would return in a whisper. The choir sang in the background and people got up to put money in the basket. I put my money up and walked back to my seat. I’d smile at her and she’d just nod her head. I knew to further hush because, like I said, we didn’t want anyone to know I had extra money.
I’d take my money and buy some much needed stuff for my room at school.
She came to church with treats like that for me all the time.
Now, you know a woman loves you when she wakes up with you on her mind. And church started early. That old lady loved me from a baby. I loved her too.
I did whatever she said to do, without ever a sass word. We sat in the same spot every Sunday, our meeting spot for worship and catching up on each other.
I’ll look out for her boy like I said I would.
Because she died yesterday. The news spread quickly around town. Everybody knew her. Tommorrow’s Sunday.
I’ll go to church and sit in our same spot. They say you never know what you got till it’s gone, but I knew what I had. Yes sir, I knew.
I had A…um…let me see, how can I say it? You know you read up top, That real love’s gone.

For Barbara.

B For Mankind

Obama for Mankind
I watched the Presidential Debate. As I expected, Obama still proved he’s the best choice. Before I even watched the debate, I think comedian Chris Rock said it best: “Vote for the guy with one house.”
CR talked to Larry King. Rock made great key points. Let me give you a quick rundown.

ROCK: I introduced Obama at the Apollo Theater not too long ago. I think Obama would be great. I mean, just look the big thing right now is the economy. And people are going broke. And here: The choice isn't Republican or Democrat. The choice is you got a guy that's worth $150 million with 12 houses against a guy who's worth a million dollars with one house.
KING: Well --
ROCK: The guy with one house really cares about losing a house, because he is homeless. The other guy can lose five houses and still got a bunch of houses. Does this make any sense? Am I the only one that sees this?
KING: It's unique way of ...
ROCK: I'm just saying, John McCain could lose half his houses.
KING: You got a point.
ROCK: And sleep well.

(Source: CNN)
http://www.cnn.com/2008/SHOWBIZ/09/26/chris.rock.lkl/index.html

I do have a simple solution. Kids taught me this on the playground with their candy. Its how they made friends.
Maybe McCain should give 11 of his 12 houses to 11 homeless families.
I’m just saying…

(Side note: When did Alisha and Obama get so cool to where she can call him B!) :p

What They're Talking About

Bush finally said what everyone knew. “The economy is in danger.” As if we needed a news flash. The little things gave us the signs. I thought that he’d figure something out when gas hit $4.50 a gallon. I paid $5.45 for a loaf of bread (Texas Toast). To my knowledge, that’s just wheat, flour and water. If I knew how to mash it together myself without making a mess, I would. Someone send me instructions.
I’ve tried to keep my complaints to a minimum. But now, like everyone else I’m looking for a new way of dealing with things. Bush out, Obama in, may save us.
A soothsayer told me so.
If things go rough though, I’m keeping a bag packed and going to Tokyo, or Italy.
I’ll write about the trip.
I usually don’t even do news posts like this one. But I felt like it today. I’m putting things into perspective.


There are things in this old world that’s bigger than me.

1. An Obama victory
2. Perception
3. Albus Dumbledore

Shopping for…. Gasp. Don’t Say It…..

Three years ago on a trip to Houston I turned into a baby. I can remember sitting slouched in the backseat of Joe’s car pouting that he chose to go to Ikea, the boring, stupid furniture store over the Houston Galleria.
I was highly upset. For two weeks before the trip I had waited and anticipated going into the mall because I had never been in a mall so big and grand in my life. I heard stories of the luxury shops. I dreamed of the shoes I would find. I wondered about the shirts I would pick up. I even saved money.
We went to Houston a day early to cover a noon football game. We had the time to visit the mall. I really wanted to go to that mall. Joe, a decade or so my senior, could have cared less about the mall. He practically jumped up and down at the fact that we just made it to the parking lot of the furniture store. In the back of my mind, I thought of him as a dork. He dragged me into the store. I looked around, bored. We must have walked around for two hours. And all he picked up was a few small supplies for his kitchen, a noodle strainer, a salad bowl and something else. Joe left happy, I left upset. He even beamed at how proud his wife would be of him.
Now, fast forward today. Joe called me and asked me what I was doing. For the past week I had been looking for bookshelves. Sounds boring, right. Usually, I have an exciting tale to tell him about my day or adventures. This time, I told him that I had been looking for bookshelves and that I met with the carpenter. I spoke with excitement in my voice. I pictured my new shelves hanging in room 2A with my books neatly organized. A way better option than the deep plastic blue bin I bought from Wal-Mart and just stacked my books in as I got new ones. I get new books in every other day so they were starting to pile up. And I’ve always had bare walls, wondering what to put on them besides an old clock. Since my trip to Africa, I brought back some cool trinkets, like a wooden carved mask that I would love to hang, and I thought that they would go perfect on my bookshelves with the books.
I imagined that the shelves would really give my room that Barnes & Nobel look that I always wanted. I already have a dark green love seat in the corner against soft green walls, small fully stocked refrigerator in the other and queen-sized bed, equipped with comfy pillows. I fixed up the place better than B&N. And the thought of getting those shelves had me just as excited as buying new shoes.
As I told all of this to Joe, he chuckled on the other end of the phone. He left me with these words, “See, I told you that you’d grow up and find that buying furniture is the most exciting thing in your life.”
I sighed. I always thought that adults were overrated. I didn’t tell him but he was half-way right, furniture shopping was fun. Three years later.
I just couldn’t believe myself.

Creative Money

For the past few weeks I’ve followed the same routine. Wake up early, get out of bed, take a chair out of the kitchen and drag it to the corner of the driveway.
From there, I’ll commence to sitting in my p.j.s and watch all the working people drive by. I wave insanely and smile. Some people wave back or honk their horns. Sometimes, I even get a visitor, Boon, a smelly, toothless drunk.
Boon’s practically homeless. He walks around aimlessly, begging for money. I don’t treat him to cash because then I’d be supporting his habit and I have my own vices. I do entertain him. He calls me Lil’ Bran’.
For some reason, though I’ve went to college, graduated, moved on to new things, he still calls me Lil’ Bran’, as if I’m still five. I let him get away with it.
He walked up to me one day and asked me if I was still looking for a job.
“No, I’ve stopped,” I said. I told him I was writing my book.
“Well Lil’ Bran’, I’m going to read anything you write,” he said. “You just write a paragraph and I’m going to read it. Oh, you’re a good writer.”
I smiled and nodded my head in appreciation of his encouragement.
He knows everybody’s business on the block. As I have come to find out information from my house sitting as well. I know when people leave, when they come back, when the delivery man comes by, what he drops off, who’s getting cable, who’s going to their dr.’s appointment. I know everything. I feel like the kid on the movie “Disturbia (2007)” except that, I’m not on house arrest. Unemployment keeps me at the house.
I find that its nothing wrong with sitting at home, though, it would be nice to have money coming in, while sitting at home.
Like every sane person, the first thought of unemployment put goose bumps on my arms and had me kind of down. At first, I wished that I had a job. But then I stopped wishing and got creative. Folk started asking me what I was doing. I told them, I’m working on my book. Everyone got the same answer.
“Bran, what are you doing?”
“I’m writing my book.”
“You’re not getting paid!!!”
Some in my family even came to me and badgered me about getting a job.
As if being a writer is not a good enough job, I thought.
One said, “Well you’ll need money.”
I didn’t answer. I figured she was half right and half wrong. I’ll need money for what? So I can shop? So I can look good? Eat well? That’s all I did with my money anyway.
I remember one day I sat in the bank (I was working a “real” job then). The lady told me I would need $9,000 for an old shaq I wanted. The notes on the home cost $200 a month. But if I had gone to them about a car, I would have had a 2009 fully loaded 40,000 whip off the show room floor, with no money down at $350 a month. Would you like rims with that Ms. Worley? The same cost of the house.
Now, my rationale was, I don’t need a car, nor do I pay a note so let me get the house. They say, no, we want nine grand.
The man will give me anything to keep you ignorant.
But that’s another story I have for you guys another day.
Boon and I sat on the corner and we watched cars go by. I actually liked getting up early. I had a point to my madness. I wanted to see my last boss pass me by on his way to work. Despite my great efforts on the job, he let me go. After that one, my little heart hurt.
As I sat outside, I thought about everything. The smell of Boon’s spoiled body brought me back. I had figured things out.
People always go after what they want and not what they need. I’ve seen people who know their kidneys are on dialysis, they need water but they want that liquor. By the end of the day they’ll be drinking a 40 oz.
Yet, in going after dreams or making it to the top, sometimes you have to let go the things you need to get what you want.
I had a dream - a dream to become a best-selling author. I put it aside for a job. Now, I’m sitting outside with Boon. That job put me aside. I guessed it might not be my time to get that well paying job, but I’ll finish my book.
They knew I could have used the extra cash.
To all the people who wouldn’t hire me, thanks. I don’t have a chance to be seduced by success in another field. (Rose, Golden Girls)
I may run into Struggle. I may face Rejection a couple of times. And Roadblocks. Heartache too. It’s risk I’m willing to manage. I got up from the stoop and told Boon bye.
He said, “Oh, you’re going to finish writing your book, hun?”
“Yup,” I replied. I once stressed about finding a job. With close to zero dollars in the bank I might as well become what I want to be.
I left him with a smile.
I figured that there are people who work all day, everyday and they still don’t have money.

So I guess we’re even, for now.

------Crumb Snatchers, Coming December 2008------

Farewell

As I left to board my plane for home, I looked around the airport. People crammed inside the small terminal, waiting for their next flight. There were only three shops open, two Duty Free stores where you can buy electronics, candy and small gifts and a breakfast shop. The small menu at the breakfast shop served pizza and breakfast bites. I was really hungry but decided to eat my pre-purchased meal on the plane. Mauritian food started to get on my nerves.
I sat part relieved and part sad. I didn’t quite want to go home. Yet, I had experienced enough of the island and I was anxious to get off just to go to more places. I wanted to see our next destination, Johannesburg!
Most of the trip I had to hurry up and wait to see things. I rushed to see new people and places then I rushed to leave because I wanted to see more new people and new places. Everything was exciting. Plus, I heard tale that Johannesburg was really nice. My anticipation grew. I’d be in more modernization too. Plus, I could say that I touched Nelson Mandela’s country. Just because. That thought on its own made me feel cool.
Then I thought. You know, its one thing to be in your home in America, with running water, working lights and convenient food. Matter of fact, everything in America is convenient. There are entire aisles in supermarkets solely dedicated to just cereal or cheese. Even the pets have their own aisles. You can go anywhere and do anything, in legal means. You can buy anything.
You say to yourself as you read books on comfy pillows or watch a show about other cultures, “I want to go there one day. I want to see the people.”
All cool. But I do want to let you know that you have to be great in-shape and prepared.
Like it’s cool to see a woman skilled in washing clothes on a huge rock in a canal. She pulls the garments out of the water so clean.
Or watching a hunter accurately put a spear in a gazelle, while barefoot, after running two miles, at full speed to catch him.
Or be a little schoolgirl who fetches her family’s fresh water for the day.
You think its cool.
It’s just another thing when you’re living it.
None of my family or close friends could imagine me beating clothes against a rock to get them clean.
My clothes would come out of the same canal looking tie dyed and muddy. My hands bloodied and probably scarred from hitting the rock. While the lady’s fine hands and garments are the cleanest in the land.
Chasing that gazelle would have me out of breath and hungry a many of days. And I wore Nike Trainers.
The gazelle would just probably come around my hut, graze and stare just to taunt me. If I made a move to get up he wouldn’t run either.
My poor arm strength and aim wouldn’t hit him standing 20 feet away. I couldn’t wrestle him to the ground. He’d become my pet because even then I wouldn’t know how to slit his throat correctly. And I love eating meat.
I’m not accustomed to carrying a barrel of water on my head all the way back to the village. After I’ve spilled all the water, persons in my hut would be thirsty.

As I sat, waiting on my plane, Kell and I looked at each other and for some strange reason we both decided that Nigeria and Ethiopia were two places we didn’t want to stay. We could go and pass through. Take a ride through the countries, but no overnight stops.

When you live these things it becomes Experience.

I'm Coming Home Again

I’m back after that little drama with Gustav!
And #1, Genese is writing and me too! :D

I’m Coming Home Again

Well I’ve brought you guys on my trip around the world. You watched me complain, laugh, cry, anticipate, climb mountains, meet new friends, try new food and run from monkeys.
What you all didn’t know was that I became a punk on the trip. What I didn’t know was that my little sister (who didn’t attend) took a bet with Kell, my older sister on who would get on whose nerves first!
The bet was that Kell would get on my nerves first. I denied she ever did.
Yet, had evidence. Three days into what was a planned two-week stay, I demanded our plane tickets be moved up. It sounds so mean.
Its like, Kell’s nice enough to bring me to Africa with her, I go, complain, then cut her vacation plans short. The conference was held the first week, Kell booked our stay for two weeks, one to work and the last to play.
She clearly told me before we left the States that I would get the most enjoyment out of the trip because I didn’t have to work. I figured I would too.
And I know it sounds mean, maybe a little selfish. But three days into the trip I wanted to leave after the first week. She became sad and slightly regretted bringing me along, because she really wanted that vacation.
But here’s my rationale.
1. On the third day was also the day I saw that second iguana in my room.
2. I had to move into hers. That decision came loved and hated. I loved to get away from the mini zoo that occupied my room, but I hated to have to share a room with Kell because I knew she’d snore in my ears and I’d never get rest.
3. I’d also met a great deal of people at the conference and figured out when everyone else planned their departures, which was at the end of the week. I figured if we had terrible service with people now, that without other people we would be treated worse.
4. To top things off, I felt comfortable with the two Americans, who also said they were leaving at the end of the week.
5. I figured that the island was so small, we could experience it in three days, I already had.
6. I wanted out too.

She consented to my pleas to leave early. We left the hotel that morning and flagged down a cab. The cab driver agreed to bring us on the hour long ride back to the airport to change our tickets for $80. We made it to the airport, thru security and to the desk. It took two hours for the ladies to find us an earlier flight. As they searched I paced the airport’s floor in nervousness. I wondered what I would do for another week on that island if we were denied. Then finally, the attendants found us some seats. For $211 apiece, we moved our leave date up. Kell looked at me with disgust. Relieved, I picked up my ticket and smiled to myself. If she had seen that she really would have been mad. We left the airport and headed back to the conference. She didn’t talk to me much during the ride. She really didn’t talk to me that much at all that day. It wasn’t until night fell and the “organizers” told her that she wouldn’t be able to get a refund on some of her money, or a receipt and in addition to her project she would have to take the day she set aside for touring to stand at a board for two hours. The fact that she still was washing out her underclothes and hanging them around the room that she turned to me and said, “Bran, you were right.”

Ice, Burgers

There were two things I longed for while on the island. I didn’t miss home much. I didn’t even miss watching television. My wants were simple. I missed ice and hamburgers. Every time we walked into a restaurant my mouth watered at the thought that I may get them. All I wanted was a large cup of ice and a good old-fashioned hamburger.
It took me a few days to figure out that Mauritius wasn’t a beef-eating nation. I saw no cows grazing in anyone’s pasture. Though I saw skinny horses. That were so malnutrition that their ribs showed. And I only saw horses like that on cartoons.
No one on the island had beef burgers. I went to some of the fanciest restaurants around but had no chance of even getting an imported burger. Not even a beef patty. I would have settled for that.
They served grilled chicken burgers but no beef.
Then I thought ice would be easy to get but it wasn’t. I ordered some of the most expensive drinks, in the Euro, by the way, and the most I ever received in my glass were three to four cubes of ice. Of which you had to ration to keep your entire drink cooled. You didn’t want to stir your glass too much.
After I ate my three pellets of ice, I wanted more. I’m used to sitting at a table, eating a full meal, drinking my entire drink then sit back to crunch on the ice cubes.
I became let down every time I spent beaucoup monies on a drink with just a taste of ice.
Even behind the bars I didn’t see any tubs filled with ice where the waiters could just grab a bucket and pour endlessly. I didn’t even see them ice down meats in the market.
Can you imagine, getting a tall glass of lemonade and there’s no ice. You wish you had some ice just to enjoy the sound of it clinking against the glass.
Eventually, I got used to No ice. No beef.

(Sorry I’ve been out for a min. Gustav cut the power off.)