Napolean

This prose was written in one of my enraged moments last year around this time. I am going through the vault of writing that has brought me to this point and feel like I should share some of them. Being in dark places, is a beautiful and shaping experience because you always come out more refined as a person. So... don't worry about me. I am just sharing.

He stood so short.

Insincere but warm. He made his way into my life.

With presumption and war in his eyes. And arrogance in his stride. And audacity in his little make up.

He lied. He lay with me. Beside me.

Caressed me. Manipulated me.

But he never held me.

Belligerent and angry to the point of no reprieve and all the puffed up manhood only defined by panic and circumstance. It did not make a man. It made a child lose his freedom and scramble in irresponsibility. Napoleon.

He stepped in their shoes and lied. To himself, his friends, his lovers, his child, broke homes, slept with peoples' wives and listened to punk music that was no longer an organic escape. Instead he explored other peoples pain rather than his own. And gave some more pain to every life he ever touched.

We had no business loving him. He was not deserving and as the black devil tries hard to hold on to this era he possesses these weak ones under the Taurean Sun. Makes us believe them, trust them and consort with them while they create the havoc necessary for the insecurity of time.

And I reckon one lifetime ago, I said the same thing.

With those many rivers to cross ahead, the "man in transition" line will no longer cross these rivers... no bridges left. They all went up in flames with about 1500 reasons as to why the bridge will never be built again. There is no bike to carry him over. No electricity or gas to light the way. No hat to weather the snow and the rain. No money to catch a plane.

Don't look back...because you are already a pillar of salt.

Don't look back...because you have already missed so much of the good things.

We can't look back...even though it hurts, every day it hurts a little less.

Its never just a one night stand

The conspiracy of circumstances that bring two people together.
At a specific time.
In a specific place.
With two open hearts and minds.

What planets had to shift so that you would feel confident enough to buy a drink or shake a hand or smile in the right direction?

What kind of cosmic relevance is the idea that the feelings we share are all compounded into a few minutes of tangeable/intangeable things.

Feelings.
Heat.
Passion.
Desire.
The rising and falling of our chests. The breathing.
Arms, legs and lips.
And a freedom to feel and to love.

And then...like none of that ever mattered.
Like time warped our closeness and made a liar of my desires to have you.
In your entirety.
This conspiracy has no value,
This conspiracy of circumstances never mattered!

We walk away.
Both of us with a little less than before.
As we have left a piece of our souls in the limbo
of this one-night stand.

And sometimes, I would have rather you left the money on the night stand
than take a piece of my soul.

Yeah.

My Dwele article in Groove Korea

Dwele, the neo-soul artist from Detroit, Michigan, who is known for his smoothed out vocals and solid hit records, recently toured Korea. Crooning in army bases from Uijeongbu to Ulsan, Dwele’s visit to Korea was about boosting soldier morale by giving them and army affiliated expatriates a taste of universal soul music, with a talented taste of home. The concert was definitely set apart from other ordinary Korean musical experiences.

Appearing on the scene in 2002 with the debut album “Subject” and releasing his Grammy nominated sophomore album “Some Kinda…” in 2005, Dwele’s third album release called “Sketches of a Man” comes at a time when there is so much to be said about the music industry. With the rise of downloading, the downturn of record sale dollars and the revamp of the artist tour, having a music career is not just about being hip or having swagger nowadays. It’s more about having passion and dedication. Dwele has proven to have brought talent, dedication and passion to a high point on his latest self-produced record.

“Sketches of a Man” has both classic and contemporary elements of hip-hop, jazz and soul. But what makes this a great album is the combination of great musicianship and solid song writing. The song “Body-rock” has a club vibe, where we seem to witness Dwele in a pop-star-ish, ‘built-for-the-radio’ arena. Even with this deviation from the normal soul sentiments, the experiment to try something new with his music worked out well. Another standout recording was the cover of Bobby Caldwell’s “Open Your Eyes” that highlights Dwele’s breezy vocals over the hip-hop base and delicate piano. The record consistently had a chilled out vibration that we can depend on soul artists for without losing the fun-loving, conscious, poetic musical flows of today’s popular social climates.

“Our job as musicians is to make good music and take the time to express the feelings of the people. Unfortunately, not a lot of artists are doing that right now. It’s almost like it’s too stressful to be political, but musicians should document the times,” says Dwele, who feels that his third album is culminating and conclusive in content as opposed to the musings and exploring he did in his previous records.

When asked to comment on the passing of musical icon Michael Jackson, Dwele was sincerely affected. “I really couldn’t believe it. I had 20 texts messages on my phone. I heard it, but then it wasn’t real. It got real, though. I woke up the next day and the news was still the same.” Almost everybody who is even remotely connected to the music world has been influenced by the art, stardom and innovations of Michael Jackson. “He has a song that everybody can relate to. There are only a few people in this world who were meant to be immortal, and Michael was one of them. He was, without a doubt, one of the biggest musical trailblazers of all time.”

Although Dwele’s musical career does not deem him as a pop star, his successes are built on an unshakeable ground of artistry. From the horn sections in “Travelin’Girl” and “Vain”, the piano mastery in “I’m Sorry”, to the subversive lyrics of “Cheating” (where he is actually singing about dating a girl and cheating with her alter-ego), what we hear is pure talent. For Dwele, making music is also about knowing when and where to put a song. “There is a time and place for everything. I don’t go to the club and expect to hear gospel music or when I want to relax, do I go ahead and play some Gucci Mane either. Location is everything.” The entire album is formulated for certain kinds of environments, yet it completely fulfills one’s expectations of a great soul record.

From album to album it seems like “Sketches of a Man” is the strongest one yet. Released on KOCH records, which is an independent label housing other musical powerhouses such as Sinead O’Connor and RZA, what seems evident is that Dwele’s talent has been unleashed with strength and passion that makes his musical journey an exciting course to follow. Even to Korea.


Copyright 2000 ~ 2009 Groove Korea

Dealing with my ego. Age 28.

Having too big of an ego can put you in a multitude of negative scenarios.

• Like being lustful and denying yourself the opportunity to be alone.
• Like being used as a doormat just so you can feel special or relevant.
• Like seeing people you love do exactly the same things that other people who have hurt you have done, and then think it was a reflection of you this second time around.
• Like seeing people you love exclude you from monumental moments in their life and then think it was a reflection of your character.
  
• Like living a lie.
• Like being completely non-monogamous and lying about it.
• Like quitting a good job so you can struggle for a lot less and still be miserable.
• Like being too black that you can't see the beauty in purple, yellow, green, and blue.
• Like being so smart that people don't know how to talk to you. 
• Like being in a perpetual state of self-consciousness and but not at all being self-aware. 
• Like pretending.
• Like being so outwardly forgiving that you really keep hoping that every sheep you meet is not going to turn out to be a wolf even when the sheep has wolf tendencies.
  

I am going through a spiritual, emotional and personal metamorphosis. Meaning that I had one version of self that worked for me but it wasn't perfect and now I feel like God/universe/self are insisting that I mirror-up (or should I say man up) and change.


My tarot came the other day and said that I have self-accepting and self forgiveness to embrace before true change can come. With that noted, this is how I embark upon an ego driven or ego maniacal analysis of my state of affairs.

My ego is not just the negative thoughts that make me think I am better than other people, its also the thoughts that make me believe I am irreproachable when dealing with other people and their issues. But I am not. My mother used to say to me that my EGO was an acronym for "Edging. God. Out." And I think purposefully so, ego is exactly that when you worship yourself and your own built up ideal of who you are. The reality is that it can be destroyed so easily, which is why I am where I am.

When my heart got broken earlier this year (repeatedly), I kept praying about it because in my life, there is no deeper love than the one I receive from my creator. My abundant life is a testimony to God's love. The excellent parents, family and friends I have are a testament to God's undying brilliance in my life. These amazing expressions of life and the lessons and beauty they share with me are no accident and I appreciate every life like it was my own. Yet, that pain was/is so unbearable at times that I have wanted to die and leave everything and everyone behind. But in understanding the truth of this life and its variety, its seasons, its highs and lows, its expression and its destruction, on some very simple and complex vibrations, I am still here.

Relativity is a huge thing too. There are only so many people to call, so many prayers you could say or songs you could sing that irreverently make a difference, but nothing eased my pain but time.

I am ready for death though or some form of it. I am ready to embrace the idea of not living like this anymore. I started to see myself as a joke or a pawn or a tool.  I started to see myself as completely invaluable and capable of murderous actions and crimes. I started to see my anger and rage that are rooted in years of misunderstandings, disrespect, mishandling and abuse and have decided that I am/was not entitled to do or be anything outside of this time of anger and frustration.  To be ugly for ugly sake is pointless too.

Letting it all go on account of God's grace and mercy is a completely selfless act. My pain is subsiding and all that is left is the will to be better. Be completely solitary. And better.

I am hoping to forget most of 2009. I am hoping that my tear ducts will only respond to joy. I am hoping I will die daily and live in the sun where I belong.
I am leaving it all behind and embracing my left hand and my right hand for the comfort they can give and receive.
But most of all...
I am accepting that being a fool is a part of life. For now, I'll just have to let the pen cry.

Ramblings

I have been trying to write a new blog for a few days now the flow has been off and on.
Well things are always flowing, just want to make sure I articulate them correctly.

I figure today is a perfect day to break the silence on my other half.

He is everything I want in a good friend.
He always does his own thing.
He is happy to be with me, and totally excited to see me when I come through the door.
Yet, he gives me just enough space.
We go on walks together, and he does the funniest things to make me smile.
His kisses are tender and he has a personality that has grossly enriched my life.

His name is Toots Kingston and he is my miniature pinscher puppy.

Now, he was an impulse buy but it seems that we are dedicated to each other. Psychologically, things have improved. I go back and forth in reasoning's as to why I have a dog?
Well, its called discipline love. I wanted one in my life. And I am not ashamed to admit that.

Plus I've always wanted a dog. However.. the only thing is that he's a bit of a pip-squeak. He is so little but he is so cute. The native Korean people see him and say in a high pitched voice, "Chincha Quiupta" (which translates "REALLY cute").

Toots and me...
We "gets on" just fine.

They want a Korean...ting!

I am in Korea, and I can't get a date.
All my other ethnic friends in the place seem to be getting some. I had a discussion with a sexy Chinese teacher, a beautiful Italian teacher and an attractive African-American teacher, who all told me they were trying to see what Korean women were "saying."

Now, at no other time in my life would I have found this normal, but in this setting, I just can't be mad. The cultural melieu that is my social reality right now, does not extend beyond certain forms of carnal, simplistic, chauvanist and honest foolishness. I just can't be angry at the abundance of Korean "opportunity" around me. When I think about it, we are all here for the same reason. My physical and mental attributes are not necessarily meant to be compared, but lets just question that if one had the option to explore the planet, its resources and its humanity to the fullest, could one really deny the chance to know...What is it like? I am here to teach English, earn some money, have a good time and learn about another culture. And this is not limited to embracing romance if it comes, but it might not come. Others are here to teach English, "protect democracy", earn some money, have a good time, learn about another culture and chase Korean girls. Let that not be limited to embracing some enlightening self-revelations about personal space and aptitude for change.

For this reason and this reason only do I shake off the rejection that pervades me. I reckon that this be the only time in my life that I can feel and look A-sexual and embrace the lack of opportunity to confuse sex, love, lies and circumstance.

I am not opposed to any love. I am just opposed to faking it.

Nothing gained...thereof (I hate that I can be so literal in poems)

I have too many stories about falling in love,
But nothing gained in what I ventured there of,
Facing the fact that I lack wisdom of heart,
Because trusting these feelings is time wasted in part.

They could call me bitter now because bitterness appeases,
The feelings I've had for all the wrong reasons.
I have grown in spirit but my heart is still faint,
And now in all reasoning I sing and write and paint.

This life was purposeful and full of intention,
But over thinking myself is a chore into oblivion...for most.
Some loves tear apart these pieces of gold
And I walk like an Egyptian with less than before.

So honestly...
Honestly speaking,

I don't really know what to do about these scars.
These keloids of relationships that have now left some marks.
Stains on my soul
Bathing in possibility that one or two years will go by and I will feel brand new.
I want to be able to love without fear and look with promise and feel safe in you.
I learned to love from the best example in practice,
The covenant we have broken but the love/rain still falls on the just and unjusted.
Sanctified by commitment to teach the world new love
Nothing gained in that which I ventured there of.

So we can stop fighting, you won
But I broke the mold on possibility.

The guitar I play,
The lies they say,
The acceptance of wrong intentions
And walking away.

The kisses I bring
The melodies I sing
The kitchen I slaved over
Walking away with that sting.

The strain in my voice
The reputation destroyed
My strength is a marker
For conquest and ambitions void.

No feelings
No dealings
No wasting my time
No reason to continue living a lie.

The cop, the bassist, the singer and his friends,
The banker, the rasta, the teacher make amends,
The Muslim, the Christian, the Athiest all see
The beauty, the judge, the fire in me.

They call me crazy, psycho and head case.
They venture there not seeing how vulnerable I am but would rather spit in my face.
They get there and see how open I love
But agree that nothing is gained from those ventures there of.
And then called me selfish because I broke the mold on possibility.
I broke it to the point that things seem to straighten out after me.
It all becomes clear what you want and don't want,
Finding versions of me with weaker and calmer fronts.

Its so funny.

I don't think its harder to love someone like me.
And now after all this time.
Don't say hi to me.
Don't try to be pleasant.
Don't wish me Merry Christmas.
Let me disappear.

Because that is all I want to do... without you.

You broke my heart.

My hair story. (I only want to do this once!)

I am in a time where I, clearly and unequivocally, am disenchanted with so many things. As a black woman, I realized that there are certain things that you will never be able to expect people to understand. Some of them relate to race, some of them relate to money, some of them relate to gender and sexuality education/exposure, some of it has much to do with tolerance. And when you get up in age, travel and become part of a global village, there really are some things that don't translate. EVER!

One of the things that rarely translates is black hair. And this particular scenario, is not something that we all experience. Since my trans-continental identity has me dealing with it, I figured I would talk about it. Its different, I'm different. And here is why...

I will start out by saying that black women's hair care can be a beautiful story. We can have a relationship with our hair that is strong, proud, and sensitive to our feelings of belonging. But then there is me... My hair story is just so..weird. I don't have a nice relationship with my hair at all. As I try hard to cultivate it now, to change my mind, I start to realize all the damage I did in the first place by assuming my hair had to be a certain way for people to accept me. This is not a lie or a misunderstanding. Caucasian and Asian people have been very direct in telling me that they did not like my hair or my hair texture and asked me if there wasn't anything I could do... to make it look like Tyra Banks or Beyonce or just not so...so...so...(use your imagination). Why does their hair look like that?  I try to explain. I really do. I try to tell them that these women have hair that naturally looks like mine and the process that they go through to keep it looking "acceptable". I found it problematic that they felt comfortable to even say that to me when they clearly do not know what kind of racism or physical/cultural disrespect is attached to it. (Colonizing of my mind where even I have had to look at myself and wonder if I was wrong for being natural). I also try to explain that my hair never really grew from my head for more than a year or two with out me doing something chemical or heat-oriented to it and could they imagine having something chemically treated every 6 weeks, attached to them their whole life?

Here in Korea, I question the many discrepancies I witness in cultural identity. This is a culture that is clearly psychologically disenfranchised, but are extremely nationalistic and self-reliant. Its like a dichotomy that is increasingly hard to explain. An analogy: An old world meets a new world but the old world only likes certain things about the new world. Mainly the aesthetics because the old world lacked the gift of being "shiny".

So eurocentric features are really only better if you are Korean. Because to be anything but the status quo in Korea is co-signing yourself to a very sordid reality of plastic surgery and heavy make-up. Men and women alike.

And then there is the topic of value/values. I am an acceptable black woman because, "I am pretty.".. "I have a small face"... "My legs are long". Oh... the friends I have made, because my legs are long. Its funny but true. I am valuable because of my appearance and because I speak English. And in a way, this is troubling, but I am here and I can't help but wondering if it has anything to do with this punishing ideal that looking the part is better than being the part because you can always be the part later (with the assistance of a make-up artist and some acting classes). In Korea, I truly am trying to grow into my own beauty, but not the outside one. So organically growing my hair, in order to feel more 'me'. Organically growing my hair, in order to feel more authentic since my sincerity is always under fire (along with my passions). This may be the only time in this life that I can look in the mirror and appreciate the fact that who I am is (emphatically) amazing. No if's, but's/burns or lyes (pun intended), about it.

Now I could go into the geo-neo-race politics of why black hair care, specifically black women's hair care, is systematically irresponsible. I could talk about the 'why', the 'who' and the 'how' of what is means to be so disenfranchised that we bleach our skin and straighten our hair because of "jacked-up" ideals. I could talk about it all. But I realize that this has been done and done again.. and again.. and again.. In class rooms, in ciphers, in homes, in beauty shops and on screen (both TV and film). After a while we resign to what works for us as individuals (and I see a bald-headed future myself).

The conversation continues to bother me. It continues to be a sore spot, unless you are praising what is naturally mine and beautiful about me and other black women who out of sensibility and pride, wear their hair naturally.

I realize that at the end of the day it takes an increasingly strong female to be who and what she is without the pressures of the world. It takes an extremely strong female to be a foundational, unwavering soul on what is right, or to be a smart uncompromising individual with very little dependency on public opinion.

Solitude, my friend.

Just yesterday my mind raced into oblivion and I barely caught the end tale of this thing called "solitude". We go through life responding and reacting or not. But being still? Like really being still and trying to make use of that emptiness is special.

When I think back on the moments where I had time to spill my heart, I did, but now, I question what amazing things could have come from just being a bit more silent and conscientious. How many loves would I have kept? How much more feeling would have been spared?

In that silence we hear all kinds of things. Some negative, some positive, some encouraging, and some spiritual. In growth, I think this must be the secret place of the most high and I doubt that I could stay there forever. I started to miss connecting with people and I plugged back into the internet the moment it became uncomfortable. However, I felt refreshed and renewed at the fact that I had spent something like 9 hours awake without saying a word to a soul. Walking the streets, taking in the sights, brave to the world and completely muted by thoughts, memories and experiences.

I dare you to try it.


Laslty, this wouldn't be a blog without some form of promotion. So one of my (many) brothers, has a record coming out and you all need to listen to it, support it, buy it. On this here 999 aka number of completion and manifestation (read:http://www.calleman.com/content/articles/999_and_the_mayan_calendar.htm) the September 9 MIXTAPE by Ian Kamau is important, warm and insightful. Unlike his records that have come before, this one has its roots in what is classic yet still strongly appealing to the evolution of musical sounds with his own fusions of hip-hop, spoken word and RnB.There is fire and healing in its content and compilation. Its solid.


http://www.zshare.net/download/64980421079eb4df/

Enjoy.

What to Expect.

This is my personal blog to relax, relate and release all forms of expression the creator deems fit to inspire. Through experience, common sense and reality, we will journey in and through my mind. Sometimes a video, sometimes prose, sometimes a poem, sometimes a written or verbal rant. I want to share it all.

My motivation:

We should speak on this lightly, because I feel that sometimes, people may take things personally. I can be funny and serious. I can be extremely flaky (which many of you know) and superficial, but also incredibly reflective and prolific. So...this is just expression. I am sharing this for my growth and yours. So vibe on it, respond to it, embrace it. Its my humanity, my rage, my wisdom, my immaturity, my sensationalism...but most of all, my honesty.

Your motivation:

Sincerely-

• Vibe with...
• Embrace...
• Constructively criticise...
• Engage...
• Love...

ME!