It started out innocently. It was a normal Sunday morning in church. Like everyone else I waited in the lobby while Rev said a prayer. When he finished, we walked in and just to be appropriate Brother Blu, an usher stretched out his hand to mine for a handshake. I politely returned gesture with a friendly, warm handshake. Quick. Then I leaned my head to the right and smiled. I hadn’t walked but five steps to get to my regular seat when a stench hit me. I prayed a prayer. Then sucked my teeth in disgust. After shaking Brother Blu’s hand, mine reeked of stale urine.
Now, I’d vowed before to never shake a man’s hand again. Or hug one, unless he’s my kinship or boyfriend for that matter. People sneeze. And don’t wash. People eat. And don’t wash. People use the restroom. And don’t wash. That’s about a million germs. Festering.
Brother Blu caught me off guard. I woke up feeling great and looked forward to service. I planned on being nice that day. Besides I figured that since I was in church it couldn’t have been that bad.
Yet, I sat upset in my nice, cream tailored suit. Not a string or button was out of place. The stitching was flawless. As the overhead fan spun my hair flowed in the breeze. I looked like I’d stepped straight out of the pages of Vogue. I wore a light perfume to bless anyone who came close enough to me for the scent to touch them. I woke up extra early to prepare for church. Did all of that for Brother Blu to come and put a blemish on my design. I frowned hard. I was almost Heaven until he came along. Normally, I am cool. But when I made it to my seat, my hands started to perspire. Rev started to preach again and it would have been rude for me to get up and wash my hands. I sat stuck and disgusted. I didn’t want to hear anything Rev had to say. From time to time I’d smell my hand to see if the funk died down. It didn’t.
Then I took to looking at Brother Blu out of the corner of my eye to see who had sat next to him on his bench. It stayed empty. He nodded to the sermon. And clapped when the choir sang songs. The whole time he’s totally oblivious to his offense. Up until the end of church, a woman sat next to him. She was trying to sneak in, hoping no one saw her late so I guessed she didn’t care if Brother Blu needed a bath (with about a capful of bleach). She looked to be in bad need of one too.
From then on I’m a mean girl.
If you see me don’t shake my hand. Don’t even try to give me a hug. I don’t deserve it. Pass me over. I will not be upset. Just think, B is snobbish. I’ve got funny ways, only speaking and smiling to certain people.
And the meeting of a guy I hadn’t seen in a long time in Blockbuster made me write this blog. He felt dissed that I didn’t shake his outstretched hand. He shouldn’t be.
I just had a bad case of Sunday Blues. I had an unfortunate contact with Brother Blu.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Saturday, November 03, 2007
I Am the American Gangster
Finally!
After waiting a full year of seeing the teaser previews I saw the movie, American Gangster. The events are based on (New York) drug-king pin Frank Lucas’ life.
Like everyone else, I wanted to see the action. I looked for entertainment. I am a movie buff and lately I hadn’t been satisfied with what Hollywood is doing.
While I was waiting, I read articles on Lucas. My anticipation grew as my eyes raced across the stories of him. I had to see what made Frank so potent. Frank’s haunting. He had a kill everyone and take never collect names attitude. I guess hard living made him that way.
When the movie came out I just couldn’t wait to drag my best friend along with me. Before the movie started I felt odd. I knew I probably was the only person in the theater (besides my bff) who was against Frank Lucas. I don’t care if he was played by Denzel.
Usually people cheer for the main character. For more than a year a lot of hype surrounded the movie. But, I think maybe people forgot what Lucas did. He masterminded the corruption of Harlem. That’s H.A.R.L.E.M. Ya'll They got flavor! I went once, and it will forever be in my heart. He killed a part of my city. …in the 70s, when everything was real. For once, I cheered for the white guy, who brought him down.
But this isn’t our fault. Hollywood is ‘the man’. And forgive me for being silly, but I forgot they do pick our Black heroes. Shout outs to Martin and Rosa, you know they were the only ones who saved us. Du Bois, Angelo, Langston and the gang never did anything for for the world. ...and I bet Denzel gets an Oscar for this one (any part currupt).
Now, You want an American Gangster. I am the real American Gangster. …getting up in the early in the morning to face my professors (who hold a key to my future), that’s gangster. …spending hours studying for that exam, then acing it (and I’ll never need the information again), that’s Gangster. Spending time in clogged traffic, without losing my mind, that’s Gangster. Respecting my elders, that’s Gangster. Paying my bills on time, legitimate, that’s Gangster. Going to the dentist and being cavity free, that’s Gangster. And I love candy. I’ve got a stash in my room, car, bags, everywhere. Having credit, that’s Gangster. Shopping for a piece of land and property at 24, that’s Gangster. Graduating as a Master of all Arts, that’s Gangster. Penning my own book, that’s Gangster! All of this is a small part of my Gangster!
Course though I ain’t gonna get my props. That would be too like right. They would give Frank’s idiotcrocy glory and more. While I’m the real Gangsta! Young, Black and Gifted. As for Frank, he needs to be under the jail.
After waiting a full year of seeing the teaser previews I saw the movie, American Gangster. The events are based on (New York) drug-king pin Frank Lucas’ life.
Like everyone else, I wanted to see the action. I looked for entertainment. I am a movie buff and lately I hadn’t been satisfied with what Hollywood is doing.
While I was waiting, I read articles on Lucas. My anticipation grew as my eyes raced across the stories of him. I had to see what made Frank so potent. Frank’s haunting. He had a kill everyone and take never collect names attitude. I guess hard living made him that way.
When the movie came out I just couldn’t wait to drag my best friend along with me. Before the movie started I felt odd. I knew I probably was the only person in the theater (besides my bff) who was against Frank Lucas. I don’t care if he was played by Denzel.
Usually people cheer for the main character. For more than a year a lot of hype surrounded the movie. But, I think maybe people forgot what Lucas did. He masterminded the corruption of Harlem. That’s H.A.R.L.E.M. Ya'll They got flavor! I went once, and it will forever be in my heart. He killed a part of my city. …in the 70s, when everything was real. For once, I cheered for the white guy, who brought him down.
But this isn’t our fault. Hollywood is ‘the man’. And forgive me for being silly, but I forgot they do pick our Black heroes. Shout outs to Martin and Rosa, you know they were the only ones who saved us. Du Bois, Angelo, Langston and the gang never did anything for for the world. ...and I bet Denzel gets an Oscar for this one (any part currupt).
Now, You want an American Gangster. I am the real American Gangster. …getting up in the early in the morning to face my professors (who hold a key to my future), that’s gangster. …spending hours studying for that exam, then acing it (and I’ll never need the information again), that’s Gangster. Spending time in clogged traffic, without losing my mind, that’s Gangster. Respecting my elders, that’s Gangster. Paying my bills on time, legitimate, that’s Gangster. Going to the dentist and being cavity free, that’s Gangster. And I love candy. I’ve got a stash in my room, car, bags, everywhere. Having credit, that’s Gangster. Shopping for a piece of land and property at 24, that’s Gangster. Graduating as a Master of all Arts, that’s Gangster. Penning my own book, that’s Gangster! All of this is a small part of my Gangster!
Course though I ain’t gonna get my props. That would be too like right. They would give Frank’s idiotcrocy glory and more. While I’m the real Gangsta! Young, Black and Gifted. As for Frank, he needs to be under the jail.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Beggars
Within the course of a week, two beggars approached me. Fast. Like I was a magnet. Or smelled like money. The first came by foot and asked for whatever change I had. I sighed. Out of all the people outside the gas station he selected me. I saw men and women, older than me and probably with considerably fatter pockets.
He looked dirty and desperate. I guess he picked by age.
“Hey, do you have any change? …Please. I just need gas,” he said.
His old dusty red truck blocked the gas pump. I felt for him. Then I dug into my pockets and unfolded $5.
“Awww, thanks. God Bless,” he said then hustled off into the store.
I figured that the five would get him a little more than a gallon.
The second fellow came by boat. Literally. I stood on the Ferry when he approached me. He looked the part of a pauper. He wore an ill-fitted business shirt; dusty khaki pants with a hole bore in the knee and 1980-styled high-top dark Reeboks with the straps across the ankle. Under that get-up he carried a toned and sculpted frame, not from working out but malnourished. His hair hadn’t been combed or cut in months, and curled then matted to his head. Like he prayed to God before approaching me, I did the same. But mine went a lot different from his.
Me:
Dear God,
Please. Don’t let this man come bother me.
Bum:
Dear Lawd,
I jus need some money.
In that instant, he thought the words of a thousand men.
He looked dirty and desperate. I guess he picked by age.
“Hey, do you have any change? …Please. I just need gas,” he said.
His old dusty red truck blocked the gas pump. I felt for him. Then I dug into my pockets and unfolded $5.
“Awww, thanks. God Bless,” he said then hustled off into the store.
I figured that the five would get him a little more than a gallon.
The second fellow came by boat. Literally. I stood on the Ferry when he approached me. He looked the part of a pauper. He wore an ill-fitted business shirt; dusty khaki pants with a hole bore in the knee and 1980-styled high-top dark Reeboks with the straps across the ankle. Under that get-up he carried a toned and sculpted frame, not from working out but malnourished. His hair hadn’t been combed or cut in months, and curled then matted to his head. Like he prayed to God before approaching me, I did the same. But mine went a lot different from his.
Me:
Dear God,
Please. Don’t let this man come bother me.
Bum:
Dear Lawd,
I jus need some money.
In that instant, he thought the words of a thousand men.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Phunky Blu
One thing though, you could walk into a crowded room and if its musty, its not necessarily everyone in the entire room. It’s really usually just one strong person. And it’s hot. So the funk from that gross individual has fermented under their hairy pits.
Under the pits, there are sweaty glands working overtime because it’s heated and the pubes hold in the funk, which festers in more germs. The cotton shirt on his back can’t retain sweat and funk too. That one person fouls up the entire room, making you think it’s everyone in the room moving. When in fact, it’s one culprit -- the guy having the most fun.
Under the pits, there are sweaty glands working overtime because it’s heated and the pubes hold in the funk, which festers in more germs. The cotton shirt on his back can’t retain sweat and funk too. That one person fouls up the entire room, making you think it’s everyone in the room moving. When in fact, it’s one culprit -- the guy having the most fun.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Book Slut
Can you guys believe that I bought ANOTHER copy of Harry Potter (book # 7)?
It’s a special limited edition book. Its full color and have more drawings inserted in the back. I have planned on not opening this book. I want to save it. It will be a collector’s piece for when I open my own library.
I have also decided to start a book section. Like my own book club. I want to review the newest books that I read and love. My book club will be cooler than Oprah’s. Yes, I said it.
About two weeks ago I asked you guys for suggestions and they poured in. Thanks. I have a stack of books next to my nightstand. And I plan to stay up many hours of the night to complete them.
On my list of books to review:
- Time Taught Me to Fly by Russell Nichols (FAMU Graduate and my friend, so pick that one up at Amazon when you get a chance).
- Lessons From the Fall by D.L. Carpenter (another FAMU alumnae, very special lady. I had the privilege spending an entire summer with her and she is going to do more great things in the future. Very inspiring. Pick that one up too.)
… One of my main goals is to support other HBCU grads, students or anyone Black who is trying to do something positive. Whether you are a video game designer (Ivan) or trying to peddle your new perfume. I usually buy two copies of these books and things. One to keep and one to give as a gift. By the way I am ordering Black Sheep by Black Ivory Toldson, (Thanks for the look Enitra)
Back to the book list:
-The Art of Seduction by Robert Greene
-What Your Mama Never Told You (True Stories About Sex and Love), edited by Tara Roberts
- And the Walls Came Tumbling Down by Ralph David Abernathy
I will be posting reviews soon. Check back.
~b.
…I believe that I am going to change the entire world one day.
It’s a special limited edition book. Its full color and have more drawings inserted in the back. I have planned on not opening this book. I want to save it. It will be a collector’s piece for when I open my own library.
I have also decided to start a book section. Like my own book club. I want to review the newest books that I read and love. My book club will be cooler than Oprah’s. Yes, I said it.
About two weeks ago I asked you guys for suggestions and they poured in. Thanks. I have a stack of books next to my nightstand. And I plan to stay up many hours of the night to complete them.
On my list of books to review:
- Time Taught Me to Fly by Russell Nichols (FAMU Graduate and my friend, so pick that one up at Amazon when you get a chance).
- Lessons From the Fall by D.L. Carpenter (another FAMU alumnae, very special lady. I had the privilege spending an entire summer with her and she is going to do more great things in the future. Very inspiring. Pick that one up too.)
… One of my main goals is to support other HBCU grads, students or anyone Black who is trying to do something positive. Whether you are a video game designer (Ivan) or trying to peddle your new perfume. I usually buy two copies of these books and things. One to keep and one to give as a gift. By the way I am ordering Black Sheep by Black Ivory Toldson, (Thanks for the look Enitra)
Back to the book list:
-The Art of Seduction by Robert Greene
-What Your Mama Never Told You (True Stories About Sex and Love), edited by Tara Roberts
- And the Walls Came Tumbling Down by Ralph David Abernathy
I will be posting reviews soon. Check back.
~b.
…I believe that I am going to change the entire world one day.
Friday, August 10, 2007
No Hyphen
I was reading an e-mail from my cousin. It was about something funny. I can't remember because the thing that stood out to me was my cousin's name. She signed her name: Treva Mitchell.
And I just thought that was sooo AWESOME!
Plain and simple, this is a note for Black women.
I loved the way she wrote her name. Treva just got married a little over a year ago. I thought it was a great look the way she wrote her name. She did not write in her maiden name: Treva Green Mitchell or (the way I see a lot of Black women write) Treva Green-Mitchell.
Black women have this bad habit of using a hyphen in their new last name. That's not right, if you ask me. I told her Mitchell is a nice ring. I think Black women should drop their maiden name and acknowledge whoever they marry as the Head. We know Treva is independent. If we as Black women continue to do that we will continue to slow the progress of OUR Black males in this European society. Because little boys look at that and grow up thinking, well I will never get her to accept me for all that I am if she continues to bathe in this society's mentality of "Independence." But at the same time I understand that you gotta survive, and that's a way to do it. Its also wrong.
Now, while she was engaged she battled with the decision to use a hyphen or not. And she was also wise enough to know that she was going into a marriage to become ONE. If you are using the hyphen, you are probably planning on getting a divorce and not letting the marriage grow from the start, she said.
So, I asked.
"At your wedding, who gave you away," I said.
"My father," she responded.
OK!!! "Great your father gave you away, so it’s OK to drop the name because you are now apart of a new family."
Treva's family loves her. She will always be her mom and dad's child. At the same time, her father gave his blessings to start a new family.
At the end of the conversation we laughed a little just at the thought that great minds think a like.
Then she said, "If the guy was a ballplayer, who made millions of dollars Black women would be quick to drop their name and take his."
Probably.
just a thought,
~b.
And I just thought that was sooo AWESOME!
Plain and simple, this is a note for Black women.
I loved the way she wrote her name. Treva just got married a little over a year ago. I thought it was a great look the way she wrote her name. She did not write in her maiden name: Treva Green Mitchell or (the way I see a lot of Black women write) Treva Green-Mitchell.
Black women have this bad habit of using a hyphen in their new last name. That's not right, if you ask me. I told her Mitchell is a nice ring. I think Black women should drop their maiden name and acknowledge whoever they marry as the Head. We know Treva is independent. If we as Black women continue to do that we will continue to slow the progress of OUR Black males in this European society. Because little boys look at that and grow up thinking, well I will never get her to accept me for all that I am if she continues to bathe in this society's mentality of "Independence." But at the same time I understand that you gotta survive, and that's a way to do it. Its also wrong.
Now, while she was engaged she battled with the decision to use a hyphen or not. And she was also wise enough to know that she was going into a marriage to become ONE. If you are using the hyphen, you are probably planning on getting a divorce and not letting the marriage grow from the start, she said.
So, I asked.
"At your wedding, who gave you away," I said.
"My father," she responded.
OK!!! "Great your father gave you away, so it’s OK to drop the name because you are now apart of a new family."
Treva's family loves her. She will always be her mom and dad's child. At the same time, her father gave his blessings to start a new family.
At the end of the conversation we laughed a little just at the thought that great minds think a like.
Then she said, "If the guy was a ballplayer, who made millions of dollars Black women would be quick to drop their name and take his."
Probably.
just a thought,
~b.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
New Respect
Shaq has always been respected. He towers well over 7 feet and weighs more than 325 pounds. Whether off the basketball court or on the court, a guy of his size just commands respect. Everyone who runs across him, probably just part ways to give him room. He wears custom made clothes. I would hate to share a plane seat with him. I would feel like the entire time my side is lopsided or something.
It has always been easy to respect the physical aspect of a guy. But I really like what Shaq has done lately. He has his own show, Shaq’s Big Challenge. And it focuses on helping pre-teens lose weight.
Personally I think the program is Awesome! America has so many choices of food. Children have access to more food that’s unhealthy for them than in the past. Add in video games and television and it’s a path for self-destruction. We have all heard older people say “it was better back then.” Sure, they are right. They had exercise. Now, there were fattening foods, but they had exercise.
Times have changed. And which is why I think Shaq is great. He has had his own battles with weight on and off the court. Then the NBA provides him with experts to keep him healthy. So, Instead of him saying, “Oh, it was better back then,” or just “get out an exercise.” This guy took his own personal trainer and chef and hand picked the kids who he felt needed the most help then he helped them. He showed them. He worked out with them. He encouraged them. This mega SuperStar took his off-season and spent time with kids who really needed it. The kids looked so much better. They gained confidence.
I used to just think Shaq was just this talented basketball player who joked around a lot. Now, I have an entire new respect for him. I respected him, but it’s different. No. 32 has great personality. He’s not entirely perfect, but he took what he knew and made it work to make others feel better.
As a world class winner should. I guess that’s what this life is for. Now I’m motivated.
by example,
~b.
It has always been easy to respect the physical aspect of a guy. But I really like what Shaq has done lately. He has his own show, Shaq’s Big Challenge. And it focuses on helping pre-teens lose weight.
Personally I think the program is Awesome! America has so many choices of food. Children have access to more food that’s unhealthy for them than in the past. Add in video games and television and it’s a path for self-destruction. We have all heard older people say “it was better back then.” Sure, they are right. They had exercise. Now, there were fattening foods, but they had exercise.
Times have changed. And which is why I think Shaq is great. He has had his own battles with weight on and off the court. Then the NBA provides him with experts to keep him healthy. So, Instead of him saying, “Oh, it was better back then,” or just “get out an exercise.” This guy took his own personal trainer and chef and hand picked the kids who he felt needed the most help then he helped them. He showed them. He worked out with them. He encouraged them. This mega SuperStar took his off-season and spent time with kids who really needed it. The kids looked so much better. They gained confidence.
I used to just think Shaq was just this talented basketball player who joked around a lot. Now, I have an entire new respect for him. I respected him, but it’s different. No. 32 has great personality. He’s not entirely perfect, but he took what he knew and made it work to make others feel better.
As a world class winner should. I guess that’s what this life is for. Now I’m motivated.
by example,
~b.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)