OK Ok OK - I've relasped. My girl Heather emailed me to yell about how this hasn't been updated in eons - and I must say you guys, I pulled up the page I was all ready to type some words into it - but I couldn't do it. Why? Because I've been gone so long - and so many things have happened it was hard to start up again - hard to find my way back. So this is how I'm going to do it. I'm going to take it from today and work my way backwards. Now I can’t guarantee I’ll remember everything so this may come off a bit random...

February 2^nd  - I got an email from my agent, Jenoyne Adams. She says my manuscript is being sent out next week!!! Yeahhhhhh. I am ever tweaking the manuscript and a co-worker of mine (Latia Blackwell) I have to shout her name out because she is fabulous and is going to get even more fabulous and I just want to put it on record that I knew her when... Anyways she's even offered to read it and give me feedback and editing and all that good stuff. This is great because she has editing experience and has even edited works for authors whose books actually sit on the shelves at major bookstores. (All Black Girls Ain’t Got Rhythm is still sitting in my trunk – but at least it’s an upgraded trunk now [see Jan 31^st entry] – so we are moving in the right direction)

I've started another novel. The thing about novel writing is this...while you're writing a novel - a gang of ideas for other novels - follow-up novels - and all kinds of novels pop into your head. And then you finish the novel at hand and realize that all the ideas you had might sustain a short story - maybe a poem but in no way is the idea strong enough to write an entire novel on. And then it happens! Somewhere between picking up your sister's baby's daddy from a 2 year stint in the penitentiary and looking at the tattoo on your other sister's neck - a helluva story jumps into your head and the next thing you know that feeling is in your stomach and this idea you know is an idea that will not only sustain an entire novel but will excite you the entire time.  I introduce to you all Halfway - a novel about the halfway of things. And that's all I can say about it for now - Because the other thing about it is novel writing is mainly done while the novel is being written. But trust me ya'll I can tell some good and exciting things are going to happen in this one ya'll.

January 31st – Now this day started off bad. It put me down in the dumps so much so I couldn’t bring myself to go to work (not that I was going to go to work anyway.  I was having car issues but that’s another story). I woke up and checked my email and it was there I learned that my submission for this amazing anthology wasn’t accepted. My assignment was to write about love. So I did. But the thing about it is my sense of love is really warped (Hey, they should have first asked me what I knew about love). I got to writing about this girl getting her neck tattooed (hint hint – my sister) and this other girl on her way to pick up her boyfriend from a stint in jail (hint hint – my other sister) and I knew that someway somehow all of these things had something to do with love but 1500 words into the story Love hadn’t made an appearance. The deadline for my assignment was drawing near so I revamped something I had already written about a girl who wants to be loved by her abusive father and started cutting herself while her father was beating up her mother (it’s good trust me on this) and I sent that off.

It was rejected. In my rejection I was told that that story wasn’t in line with the vision of the anthology …. They actually wanted something about a more healthy – well-balanced love – and even if it wasn’t all that healthy the love had to have some redeeming qualities.  I was depressed – and I didn’t go to work and because I was having car problems I went out and bought a brand new car. A car I love even though I am trying to find peace with the car note that comes along with it… Hey that’s a form of love isn’t it. I wonder if I can write something about that?

What kind of car did I buy??? A Lexus RX400H (a hybrid) I’m trying to get my environmental responsibility on.

Also at 1pm on this day I was invited to go to the WMET 1160 AM studio where I recorded a commercial for All Black Girls Ain’t Got Rhythm with novelist and host Karyn Langhorne. It was a great experience and great interview. Thanx Karyn.

This was the second commercial I did with this radio station. The first one was in December with Poet - writer - host - renaissance man Kwame Alexander. This one even came with its own White Man in the Sky announcer dude. Karyn heard that one and liked it and asked me to do one for her radio show not only to be aired but to be used as an example of what the Author Spotlight segments would and could sound like for writers who would be interested in using this service as another way of promoting their books.

Funny thing is about 2 months back I did not know Kwame or Karyn personally - today it seems like I am talking with them, running into them or working with them 4 - 200000 times a month. And it all started when a co-worker purchased a copy of All Black Girls and gave it to Karyn who in turn passed it on to Kwame. and in this small world we live in my hair stylist had a copy of my book and to find out she is Kwame's stylist as well. She showed him a copy of my book but by that time he was already familiar with it. And as they say the rest is history - check out the January 4th and January 27th entry to see why... (Uh, I can't promise when those entries will be posted).

Saturday I saw The Bluest Eye - Toni Morrison's novel turned play. All I can say is wow - well, that's not all I can say but it's night time and I'm not a night time writer and I worry that if I wait until morning this will never get done - so wow it is.

First off I had mixed expectations for the play, which is running at Theater Alliance until the 19th of November, for two reasons: 1. You never know what you're going to get when go to the small theater. 2. Beloved. What this means is Morrison's work can be hella-hard to interpret, never mind adapt. 

So here's the set up... The room is rectangular -- the stage - the center of the floor. And we, the audience, are the long sides  of the rectangle. This means that both sides of the floor-stage are made up of the audience's mostly brown faces. The short sides of the rectangle are two walls plastered with the alabaster faces of heavy lashed "beautiful" women with eyes that are light and pupils that are black. And this is how we, the brown hued audience and the white women, boxed in the stage that was the floor.

And the play begun with a cacophony of sound and motion and movement and harmony and stuff. I was sucked in and wondered if Morrison knew she was penning a stage play when she wrote the novel all those years ago. I was surprised because the actors acted out much of the narrative and it worked. There was one moment when I was pulled out of the play - that was when Cholly played by Jeorge Watson made his entrance in gray long underwear. Oh-my-god! I looked close and then closer trying to figure out if "it" was a prop. Now the expression on my face was blank - I didn't want anyone to think I was having impure thoughts - my mind could not possibly be in Pecola's dirt laden flower pot while everyone else was so engrossed in the story unfolding before them - then Angelica (my play-going friend) elbowed me. What a relief to know I was not the only one momentarily distracted.

And I have to admit I watched "Cholly" the entire time he was on the stage in those indecent underwear. Even as he was beating down his wife - I watched the motion of "it" - I mean... uh, you had to be there.

This play was really really good - the actors were on point and there was the cutest bed scene with Pecola (Carleen Troy), Frieda (Jessica Frances Dukes), and Claudia (Erika Rose).  After the play we got autographs from the cast and Lia LaCour who played Maureen Peel/White Girl (that's the way it's written in the program) talked with us for a good minute about the intricacies that went into making the play. Let me say that the movement of the play was very rhythmic and lyrical much like Morrison's writing. I mean they had to have he timing of the sewing (scene) and Lemonade drinking (scene) down. It was really beautiful to watch.

Oh and if you go see it - you must stay around to see the transformation of Pecola back to Carleen. That girl deserves a Tony (are Tonys for plays). I mean, she made Pecola so real I even wondered if she had a hunch in her back for real (she doesn't - and she's a diva [the good diva]).

Hats off to both the director David Muse and Lydia Diamond who adapted the novel. I am going to see this play again and maybe the second time around I won't be so distracted by Cholly's "cholly".

I'm totally addicted. There's just something about living your best life (or being told to live your best life that makes a 2 hour 1 way commute to work bearable) - I mean 2 hours after listening to Jean - Gayle, Mehmet, Robin, Maya and 'em (yes we are on first name basis) makes you feel like you did something good for the day - you're all ready to pass out hugs - say all the right things - and make decisions without fear. Hey did I ever tell you guys how Oprah convinced me to drop out of grad school ...

In May of 2005 I went to see Oprah Winfrey on her Live Your Best Life Tour... This is my journey.

6:50 am

I arrive at the Naylor Road Train Station.  It’s not opened yet.  I assume it opens at 7am.  People are standing around reading books - flipping through newspapers -  listening to iPods; trying to appear pre-occupied.  If you look, I’m the one writing.

6:52 am

The gatekeeper opens the gates.  We mill in.  Still a train won’t be here until seven at least.

6:55 am

Damn it’s cold!  And the escalators are noisy.  Are they always this creaky?  They sound like they’re unraveling themselves – tired of moving people up a level when the steps beside them will do. 

A bum ambles up the staircase ignoring the perfectly good escalator.  He chooses to sit on the ground between two bystanders when there is more space anywhere but there.  The electronic board announces the train will arrive in 4 minutes.  It is now 7:01.

7:05 am

The train is here sparsely peopled but still with more than I was expecting on a Saturday.  This early.  I choose a seat facing the traveling direction.  I get car sick at times.  Even on trains.  My stop is Gallery Place/ Chinatown.  I know this stop well enough.  This makes me comfortable.  The train has heat.  Thought they said this weekend would be nice.  Well, let’s see how the sun handles its business today.

The bum may not be a bum.  He’s on this train too.  Needs a metro pass to be here.  Do bums buy train rides?  Who am I in my assumptions?

7:20 am

The train stops at my stop.  I exit the train in search of the 9^th street exit.  I’m going to 999.  Korn and Bubbie, my childhood friends, are staying there.  They’ll probably still be sleep.  What will I do ‘til they wake?

Shit!  I went the wrong way.  I’m going to stop and wait for a minute then casually stroll the other way.  I have to; people are watching me.  I know they are, hell – I’m watching them.

7:25 am

I make it out of the train station.  $1.35 later, I pull my burgundy overnight bag over my head readying myself to walk in any random direction.  Don’t know where I’m  really going.

7:31 am

A little after the escalator delivers me from the subterranean, my cell phone rings.  It’s Korn.  She ask me where I am.  I tell her.  She faces me in the right direction and I walk.  She tells me I have a red bag.  I see them waving at me.  We agree to meet in the lobby.  I’m glad they are up after all.

7:48 am

We sit for breakfast inside of the hotel restaurant.  It is a really nice hotel.  The Renaissance.  Bub and Korn order the $15 buffet.  I’m sitting here pouring over the menu feeling like Chris Rock in I’m Gonna Git You Sucka; what can I get for 2 dollars and a nickel?  I order the eggs any style with homefries for $4.50.  I ask the waiter for cheese in my eggs then have to back track to get the cost for the cheese.  He says the cheese is free with a chuckle.  So I go on and add it.  This is a really nice hotel.

9:30 am

After much primping and preening and weave combing – no you really should have seen the weave combing – we are off to the convention center.  The doors open at 10am.  Even if it wasn’t just across the street it would have been easy to find.  All we have to do is follow the crowd. 

I almost fall trying to write and walk. I don’t have rhythm, remember (I have a book about it)?  But the things I see are too funny to wait for a more convenient time to write.  So I write and I walk and I trip and I laugh.  People are everywhere.  Well dressed people and homeless look-a-likes alike are touting homemade, just made and roughly made signs.  These signs are made from construction paper, notebook paper, and the cardboard boxes they, for all I know, live in.  the signs read:  NEED TICKETS!!!.

No, they are not trying to scout tickets.  These people are prepared to buy.  200, 400, 550 dollars – it doesn’t matter.  Whatever price someone is willing to sell their ticket for the sign holders are more than willing to pay.  No wonder some look like they live in card board boxes.  Clearly, this is the rent money they are prepared to give up.    

9:42 am

We are in line.  This line wraps the Washington Convention Center twice.  Not fully understanding the length of this line, some way some how, we end up in line in the middle of the line and not at the end of the line where we were suppose to be.  It’s a blessing.  I think. 

Screams and cheers go up.  No, Oprah wasn’t sighted.  The doors of the center are opened.  People at the front of the line start going inside.  We are not moving yet.  We still have an entire building to lap before we make it to the front.  But its ok we are being entertained. 

Staff are walking around and a man is blowing up balloons.  I think he is making animals and puppets and other circus treats. I find he is instead making flower wrist bracelets and rings.  Out of balloons he is doing this.  And he even makes them to coordinate with the outfits.  So cute, I want one too. 

And the outfits!!!  Put it this way, no matter what you have on you fit in.  Let me clarify and say that no one is hoochie (well except the one girl but…) and I figure this is because we watch enough Oprah Shows to know better.  Hell, if you can afford a $185 ticket (well in my case $405) you should be able to afford to look decent, unless you’re the homeless people look-a-likes still trying to cop a ticket to get in.  But all in all the women are dressed real well.  I feel all I need is a cart because I could go shopping in the line.  Just about everyone has on something, from the earrings to the shoes, that I would not mind buying.  All three of us agree on this.

And speaking of threes, another trio of women  are carrying placards protesting.  One sign reads: 

"Hey Oprah, Did You Know That Tickets Are Being Sold On-Line as High as $1300!!!"

annnnnnnnnnd?  I mean really, what can Oprah do?  And if this is really a big deal why’s it just three of them?  Obviously they were on-line too and still did not get tickets.  They find a way to be part of the event anyway –they’re protesting. They just want attention I figure.  News channel 8 is here.  The picketing trio will probably get an interview.  The balloon guy will probably too.

10:10 am

We get our first treats. Lunar Lemon Zest and Smores bars from the New Balance team.  They are in a spot on the back side of the building. As we pass them they give us handfuls of bars.  There is a lag in the line here.  Everyone loves free treats and don’t mind slowing down to get them.  After I have my eight bars in purse, I have to run a little to catch up with the rest of the line.  Why run? Because the girl in front of me is.

10:16 am

We make it through the pearly gates of the Washington Convention Center.  While in the will call line I notice one lady getting her wrist banded for re-entry.  I overhear that she is a doctor who just got paged.  She hopes she can make it back in time for Oprah’s speech.  Oprah will be speaking at 1.  I think – damn she’s serious about that Hippocratic Oath business.  If that had been me – May 7^th would have gone down in history as that patient’s unlucky day.

Seems the scouter (Oprah and Picket Trio know this – I do not support scouters – really I don’t it’s just that…) I had got my ticket from is well known.  The lady with my ticket says they should not have agreed to hold the ticket for him.  She gives the ticket to me anyway.  Bless her now or sue her later, I’m glad she made it easy.  And boy am I blessed.  Aren’t I?  When I purchased my ticket on-line it was for section eight.  The one she places in my hand is for section three.  This is the first section center stage.  Clearly its better than what I had.

We make it through security, stuffing our pockets with toilet paper for the weepy moments, and long lines that were much ado about nothing without incident.  I can point out some not so high and tacky moments with the sponsors – but this is Oprah so I got to keep it positive. 

For lunch I choose the boxed grilled vegetable option simply because there were fewer boxes on the table.  To me less means everyone is choosing this because it is better than the other selections of tuna or turkey sandwiches.  First lesson learned:  less does not mean better – it means they obviously didn’t have to restock the grilled vegetable boxes.  Korn and Bubbie are pretty satisfied with their tuna salads.  As we sit picnic-without-the-blanket style on the green carpeted floor next to a designated lunch area, I pick my way through unrecognizable vegetables on even more unrecognizable bread.  I soon give up the effort of trying to chew through both rubber mushroom looking slabs of eggplant and freschetta bread and just eat the bread.  Mind you I never had eggplant or rubber mushrooms so I am just assuming that this is what these vegetables are through process of elimination.

12:48 pm

The voice over the speaker announces the 1 o’clock show time is near and we can proceed to the stage area.  I go to take my seat.  I stroll down the aisle and pass sections 21, 18 and 11.  I note section eight, the section I was supposed to call home.  I stroll until I find my section.  Section three, right up front and center stage like the ticket promised.  I had a great view especially being section eight was floor level too.  I couldn’t imagine being back there and trying to see over the sea of heads before me.  In my current section I sit in row Q.  This means I only have 16 rows ahead of me.  16 seems like a big number but it’s actually small when there are four sections behind you with an alphabet all their own.

Wow, even in our seats the place has such energy and no one is even on stage.  The audience is singing and clapping along to the Patti Labelle, Luther Vandross, and Stevie Wonder pumping over the speaker system.  In a Coming to America moment I find I’m very happy to be here.

12:54 pm

Everyone starts standing sooooo I stand too (‘til this day I do not know the reason why).  Since I am up I start dancing and singing by my lonesome.  There is a lady to my left.  She’s not all that friendly.  As I lean in to say something to her, she leans away.  The chair to my right is empty.  Good my notepad will rest on it.  Bubbie and Korn are in section 2.  Their legit tickets sits them in the section to the right of me.  But it doesn’t matter that we are not seated together.  The whole audience is my friend (besides the lady beside me) so in their company I dance.

12:58 pm

We sit.  Don’t know why but we (the entire audience) do.  The stage background is beautiful - teal green and shades of violet.  Yellow sits on the sides.  A huge, bigger than your body ‘O’ is at its center.  The stage houses a single velvet plush sofa chair.  It is colored in a light purple.  There are mahogany colored coffee tables on both sides of the chair.  On one table sits a vase (pronounced vaas when in the Oprah aura) of white roses and a glass (could be crystal) pitcher of water.  There’s a single glass too and it too could be crystal.  To the rear of the stage stands statuesque arrangements of white flowers.  Two of these arrangements are on both sides of the stage.

1:02 pm

We stand up again some people scream, as for me I see nothing so I clap to the music.  Hell obviously we are celebrating something.

1:03 pm

Screams begin again.  This time the three huge jumboTrons above the stage light up and I see Maya Angelou.  I cry.  No longer that girl in the subway, I cry.  And this time I don’t care who is watching. 

A montage and slide presentation is flashing across the screens – the life of Oprah is being narrated by a big voice from the sky.  It could be God for all I know.  The people who know Oprah the best are giving us what we want – snap shots of Oprah, the Oprah they know and the Oprah of who we are in awe.  And this is so surreal to me not only because I love Oprah and Maya Angelou but because I am here – in this place with… no one because right now only I exist and this is the message that is made for me. 

Maya Angelou is back on the screen in what could be her living room.  She recites Phenomenal Woman and as she ends it Oprah begins her walk to the stage from the back of the auditorium.  The people go crazy.  They are reaching to touch her, leaving their seats – they are running to feel her hand, her shoulder , her sleeve , her something.  Anything, even if it’s just the hem of her skirt – if touched, they know they will be changed.  And I, I’m standing on my chair.  Why not – she is not coming down the aisle closest to me so there is no way I’d be able to get closer to her. For now all I want to do is see her, this beautiful side of God, I want to see her make her auspicious entrance and so on the chair I stand. And I swear we make eye contact – and in that contact she sends me a telepathic message – she passes me a baton (not her baton – but a baton) and says run.  I hear you Oprah, I’m running!

As she makes her way up the steps on the right side of the stage she is reciting Phenomenal Woman and she even acts it out as she taps her hip at that part, yeah that part.  The first stanza completed she greets us and her presence is amazing.  She is so beautiful – and her body looks so tighhhhhht.  I mean nothing is jiggling.  She is wearing a fitted yellow sweater and her skirt looks bedazzling – this is Oprah so the skirt could have diamonds in it for all I know.  She looks elegant and casual and rich at the same time. 

She starts off by saying that even at every salary range she’s made (because she’s made them all) she doesn’t know what she’d spend $185 dollars on.  She reminds us that she can’t sing – can’t dance – can’t rap so what is it that we think we’d be getting for $185 dollars when all she can do is talk – and motivate perhaps. (that’s it Oprah, I’m in need of some serious kick me in the butt motivation).

She lets us know immediately that she isn’t getting anything from the ticket sales and in fact the Angel Network is donating $25,000 to the DC non-profit organization WEAVE (Women Empowered Against Violence).  She tells us the reason she is taking her Saturday off to be with us is she has a desire for all of us to leave empowered to be who we were meant to be.  I hear you Oprah, I hear you!

She tells us that every life has been called for a reason – a purpose and we are on this planet to heed that call.  Imagine Oprah’s NAACP speech (Google it if you can’t imagine), now imagine her talking like that for three hours straight (in three inch heels and standing the entire time).

She shares with us a lot of anecdotes, life stories and pearls of wisdom.  I feel like I’m at a church revival but its better than that – like I’m in the audience of a Def Comedy Jam show minus the cursing but its better than that – it is really ‘O’mazing.

Overall she gives us a lot of inspiration.  She is motivational speaking at its finest.  Know that these are not direct quotes for I am writing as she is speaking but this is a gist of what she is saying.  She says there is a flow to the universe and it is our job to find a way to move with the flow;  the energy greater than us.  She says to find the flow – the frequency – the rhythm that moves with the current of our lives and we will be the most powerful and greatest people we were meant to be.  When we live our life on purpose we are supported by the entire universe – the universe supports those who choose to live their truth. 

She quotes Gary Zukav, “The alignment of the personality with the soul is the creation of authentic power..: .”  She says it is our job to find a way to do more of what we love then what we don’t and then surrender it to that which is greater than ourselves.  She tells us about her obsession with the Color Purple and how it created an energy field of its own (if you ever see her – ask her to tell you this story.  It’s really good – it really is).  Yet it was only when she surrendered it did things start to happen for her in a stress-free natural way.  She explains that surrender means release the desire that that thing will define you.  She says to say if this thing is meant for me it’s alright and if it is not – it’s alright. 

Oprah says she wants us to leave knowing what our intentions are.  She says intentions are one with cause and effect – the third law of motion.  Know that the energy you put out into the world is the energy that’s going to come back.  As an example she uses when a person says “Lord, I just want enough to make it to the end of the month.” And that is exactly what that person gets – enough to make it to the end of the month.  She goes on, but if a person has a dream that goes beyond the end of the month – the year – that person will see the Lord can dream a bigger dream than that person ever could. (And immediately after she says this I have an ‘aha’ moment and know that my intentions for getting a master degree in information systems is impure.  Come next semester I’m dropping out of school.  I’m a writer dammit). 

About marriage and relationships she gives a great way to look at it.  She says to think of it as you are there (in that relationship) to have yourself mirrored back to yourself through your partner.  The partner you choose is the energy force you need to help you heal from your past life (or the things that’s happened in your past).

Other pearls she drops are you become what you believe – what you believe is manifested and whenever you exceed other people’s expectations of what they think you’re suppose to be – it forces them to have to do better.  It forces them to have to challenge themselves and a lot of times they do not want to do the work and will resent you for this.  She says it is a form of self-hatred.

Change what you believe is possible for yourself – surrender it – go to the source of your creation and ask the source what is possible.  She says our life is speaking to us and all we have to do is listen.  She says God first speaks to us in a whisper and when we don’t hear it or listen that whisper becomes a problem – the problem  becomes a crisis and the crisis becomes a full blown disaster – and still it is our holiest moment when we can stand inside of ourselves and say no this (problem, crisis, disaster) is not who we are – this is who we are. we are not our circumstances – we are our possibilities. 

She says what she has is sun rise faith (and remember I am paraphrasing).  She defines sun rise faith with the analogy of being in an airplane on a stormy day and when the plane flies above the clouds it is then we see it’s still sunny and beautiful and we realize that though it is still raining below the clouds that the sun has always been there.  She says the miracle of life is when it appears that there is no sun and we still have faith and see the sun anyway. We know that the same force that created the sun – dependable and always rising – created us.  The same God that allows the sun to rise in the morning can rise up in our life.  She says that God and the universe love gratitude.  She says surrender and show gratitude – in everything you do – be thankful.  She ends this with those of us who feel we can’t find anything to be grateful for – take a breath.  And then take another.

She says if you look in your wallet and say I only got five dollars you will feel the dearth of that.  But if you say well at least I have five dollars your mind set of that changes to one of gratitude and gratefulness.  Then when you find an extra dollar or ten dollars it will feel that much more the blessing that it is.  She says that if you find you can’t get further than where you are it’s because you do not appreciate what you have.   If you concentrate on what you don’t have you will always be a person who never has.

She quotes Mary Ann Williamson:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate - 
our deepest fear is that 
we are powerful beyond measure. 
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. 
We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be 
brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?"

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.
Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking
so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.

We are born to make manifest 
the Glory of God that is within us. 
It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. 
And as we let our light shine, we unconsciously 
give other people permission to do the same. 
 As we are liberated from our own fear, 
our presence automatically liberates others.

Well she didn’t actually quote this entire thing right here – she breaks it up and quotes it in sections.  She tells us, after a woman from the audience ask her a question in which the word fear was used, that fear is trusting in your own power.  She says if she has to trust in herself she would be afraid too.  She says for us to understand there is a higher power and surrender to it.

A woman in blue in the audience asks her if we are to leave and share one thing she told us with others – what would she have that one thing be?  She said for us to leave here with the intention to live our life on purpose.  She says she is not special, no more special than any one of us, she says what she is is obedient.  She reminds us to listen to our lives.  She says that nothing happens out of order with us.  Everything – every action – every interaction – every moment is happening in a way to show us to our best selves.  Our lives are talking all we have to do is listen.  I hear you Oprah and I hear you life.

3:56 pm

Oprah closes reciting Phenomenal Woman, and she reminds us – the women of DC (or wherever you happen to be – that we are all phenomenal women too.  We hear you Oprah, we hear you.

(Okay the question part actually came after the reciting, put on paper – this is the order that looks better).

Until another time – another event,

Ciao ya’ll

June 3^rd, 2006 would have been the 100^th birthday of Josephine Baker and guess what…

There’s a celebration!

In commemoration of   the Centennial Anniversary of the Birth of Josephine Baker the Washington, DC Humanities Council in partnership with The Smithsonian National Mueseum of African American History and culture and The Embassy of France presents:

IN VOGUE

Black Culture and Identity in the Jazz Age

Saturday, November 18, 2006 10am – 5pm

Location: National Museum of Natural History Smithsonian Institution, Baird Auditorium

Now you ask, what could they possibly have planned for 7 hours?

Let’s see, They’ll be musical performances – panel discussions and POETRY!!!

During session III of the program (3pm to 5pm) myself and some of my fellow poetry homepeople (Derek Weston Brown – Busboys and Poets very own poet-in-residence, Ava Wilson – HU’s pint-sized Dick Gregory in training [be sure to ask her about the topic of her thesis], Abdul Ali – editor of Howard University’s literary journal Amistad)  will perform a poetic tribute to Ms Josephine and the Jazz Age. Come see us.

This program is FREE and OPEN to the public, however, space is limited. Please reserve your place by completing the information found at http://www.wdchumanities.org/programs_invogue.htm and returning it to the Humanities Council of Washington DC no later than Monday, November 14th. Registration may be completed by email by sending the information on this form to:

InvogueSymposium@wdchumanities.org

Or by mail at:
Humanities Council of Washington, DC.
925 U Street, NW
Washington, D.C. 20001

Or fax to: (202) 387-8149

For more information, please contact Jennifer Foley at:

jfoley@wdchumanities.org, or by telephone at (202) 387-8391. ext.15

This season of Survivor Cook Islands the tribes were divided by race. Tribes of five were sectioned off into a team of Asian Americans, Hispanic Americans, White Americans and Black Americans.

And as ways go this caused some sponsors to pull out - hardly any others to jump on board and whole slew of publicity was stirred up - good and bad (and indifferent). As for me, I was really "who cares" "so what" about it. I'm a reality junk TV fiend. It doesn't take much thought behind a show to make me happy (Being Bobby Brown - Flavor of Love - Amazing Race) I Tivo it all. I hate to admit this, but I don't care what you show me just give me drama. I'm shallow like that.

But here's the thing with Survivor - the division by race thing only lasted 2 episodes and then the tribes were melted together. And I got to tell you I'm having a real Halleluiah moment because this is the first time in reality show history that the cast is majority minority!!!

2 people went home - 1 Black and 1 Hispanic - but that still left 4 Blacks - 4 Hispanics - 5 Asians and 5 whites. See, the big complaint (self included) of reality shows is only 1 or 2 Blacks/minorities make the cut. And usually the most flamboyant/militant/angry/confused Blacks are selected to rep the race (or at least editing cuts it to make it look that way).

Why is this? Show producers would say because America is majority White and minorities still make up a small percentage of the population - casting reflects the American population.

Now let me jump to another point (simply because this is the way my mind works) - A friend of mine (Abdul Ali) said something interesting to me the other day. He goes to Howard University but before that he went to a majority White school.  At that school - being Black was a big part of your identity. You hung out with other people or was expected to like other students simply because they were black like you - but now that he's at Howard and everyone is Black mostly - you have to find other ways to define people. Simply - I like you because you Black too doesn't cut it. The other students are now examines a little deeper and defined a little more colorful.

And that's exactly what I have to do watching this season of Survivor. I can no longer root for the Black "one" or the Hispanic "one" or the Asian "one" or the "one" who's the most brown - Hell, most of them fit that bill. Now for the first time in reality show history (Flavor of Love doesn't count) I have to base who I root for on gamesmanship, integrity, personality - the content of their character - - and that is what I think Martin Luther King, Jr could have been dreaming about - right?

I wonder - if White people across America are now rooting for the White "one"?

It’s a little after 1 in the morning and what a great time to announce my upcoming book signings – after all, I am a morning person. So with all of that said and done, for the month of October this is where you’ll find me.

October 7 – From 10 a.m. to 7 p.m., I will be at the Capital Bookfest '06 at the Boulevard at the Capital Centre, located in Largo Maryland!  I'm excited because writers who I’ve been following, reading and learning from for years will be there. Lucille Clifton, Edward P. Jones, Lori Bryant Woolridge, Omar Tyree, BernNadette Stanis and Michelle Singletary to name a few.  Shoot, not to brag but I just had lunch with 2, 3 maybe even 4 of them – Marita Golden, Celeste Norfleet, Wil Haygood, and Karyn Langhorne to name a few (and I'm taking literary license to use the word lunch liberally – lunch could mean dinner, breakfast, partying with or talking on the phone).  Man, there are going to be so many good people there I might have to brush off my stalk-a-writer skills. And you know I got skills.

I will have a booth at the Capital Bookfest – and for the first five people who visit me and mention this email (or blog entry) there will be a prize. I am the queen of fabulous prizes.

At the book festival, I will also be on a panel discussing publishing and my collection of poetry All Black Girls Ain’t Got Rhythm inside of the Borders bookstore – tentatively from 3:30 to 4:30 p.m. So please come by and see me – I promise I won’t persuade you to buy a book (if you bought one already).

For more information, visit CapitalBookFest.com.

October 28 – 2 p.m. to 4 p.m., I will be at the Karibu bookstore at Iverson Mall in Hillcrest Heights, MD. I will be a part of the "Write NOW" Inde Pen Series. I am sharing a panel with fellow author and friend Tahira Chloe Mahdi author of How to Be Queen of the Universe. Again come on out and support because it can be lonely at the top (of the table speaking to an audience of zero). Visit www.karibubooks.com

Too-da-loo peoples – I'm on my way to Kinkos. Why Kinkos – why now, you ask…because you get your best hook-ups in the wee hours of the morning. I mean what else do people who work these kind of hours have to do but figure out creative ways they can hook me up? They’re tired/bored and I'm on a budget – it’s a perfect combination!!!

Actually I finished the manuscript (as far as the story is concerned) about a week ago. But today most of my major edits are done - this means that everything is in the right tense - I annihilated most of my adverbs and adjectives and am pretty much satisfied with the project. Now of course in doing this I discovered two things I am going to redo/rewrite that is chapter five and nine (or is it eight) of part three of the book. But until then the completed manuscript is off and in my agent's inbox.

So here are the numbers:

1 book

3 parts

21 or 35 chapters (depending how you look at it - 1 part isn't written in chapters but is sectioned off)

284 pages

89,271 words (and that's the end number even after I cut tens of thousands of words).

And I'm going to celebrate - not tonight got class - not tomorrow or the next day - I close on a house - not this weekend - gotta prepare for a signing - I'll celebrate - uhhhh - sometime soon. So until then...

At the National Congress of Black Women's Brunch I was able to meet some of our civil rights activists who were on the front lines with the greatest. Unfortunately some of them I never heard of. This got me to thinking about how the people we know - hear - see (Dr Martin Luther King, JR - Rev Jesse Jackson - so on and so forth) are the ones who have been approved for us to hear - see - read about. They are the ones someone else (usually a white man) has deemed important enough - safe enough - and even charasimatic enough for us to want to know - watch and ultimately follow.

All I know is ignorance ain't cute.

During the brunch I was fortunate enough to be introduced to Reverand Willie T. Barrow - earlier that morning I heard her referred to as "warrior of the civil rights movement." Who is this lady who came up to my chin (and I'm 5'4")? With the help of google - I sought to find out. And this is what I learned - The History Maker. I strongly recommend you watch the videos.

So Friday - Sept 8th I did the radio show.   Lamont Carey - met me and my sidekick Gwen outside and escorted us into the building - long story short - I was on air with Dick Gregory. I sold books. I took pictures with the who's who in Black America Power - to name a few, Jesse Jackson - Cicily Tyson - Sheryl Lee Ralph - Marion Berry (funny being I just posted about him) - senators - congressmen - civil right leaders - the whole shabang!!! and a million other people - I'll post pictures in the Photo Journal. I know this is a crappy post - especially being I'm suppose to have this writing thing on lock.  But really the evening and the experience is so special to me I hold it too sacred to put it on full blast.

Just know, as a result of the radio show, Gwen and I were invited to more of the exclusive Black Caucus events on Saturday and Sunday. We were the special guests of someone who I've always heard about and now I know and in a matter of 2 and a half days - he (actually they) have become a special part and motivational force in both of our lives.

Saturday - Sept 9 - I spoke at American University about the in's and out's - pro's and con's - mistakes and in-betweens on Independent Publishing. Marita Golden, novelists - poet - writer, hired me and I was recieved well - I was in my element - and I did a good job if I say so myself.  I really enjoyed the experience and wish I could have stayed for agent, Shoshana Jackson's, portion of the program. But it was pushing 3:30 and I had to get to my hotel to change into a gown for the 5pm Caucus reception and dinner.

Monday  - Sept 11 - I was called by Abdul ALi - a fellow poet and Hurston Writer's Week Alumni to join him and 2 other poets for an event in November sponsored by the DC Humanities Counsil. We are putting together a performance poetry show - the theme is based on the black urban experience. I'm excited about that too.

Tonight, Sept 12, is my first class at GWU with Tayari Jones - yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! I'm excited about that too too too. I will keep you posted.