Calling All Native Brooklynites!

I'm over here making moves, son. Either get on board or get the fuck out of the way. I'd rather you get on board, though.

Spread the word, mmkay?

*smooches...prepping myself for a busy winter*
----------
can't stop, won't stop

30 Days of Yoga: A Healthy Jaded Update

So I'm back at it again, trying to take charge of my health and wellness, and I thought I'd start with something that always made me feel good when I did it: yoga.

One day she'll be my personal yogi.

I know a few of my friends are like "Nah, B" when it comes to yoga but for me it helps build my physical, mental, and spiritual being.

Sorry if that got all new-agey. Hope I didn't get any on you.

I started my 30-day challenge on Saturday with a nice gentle flow video by Tara Stiles on The YouTube (because I overslept and missed class), and it wasn't what I wanted to be doing but it did feel good to do it. On Sunday, however, I did make it to the studio (Yoga People in Brooklyn), and first of all SOMEONE FAINTED while we were still in tadasana (mountain pose) practicing our yogic breath. Part of me wanted to leave. Also, I was sweating the minute I got in there and already knew downward dog was going to be a problem, what with my wet palms unable to keep me steady on the mat.

But the good parts were the chanting and super tiny talk the instructor started with; something along the lines of seeing yourself in others in order to be more understanding, patient, and compassionate--all things with which I need help. So it was good to receive that message. Another plus was having options and modifications for each pose. I was never made to feel like I shouldn't be in the class, even though at every step I wanted out because my stupid body won't do what I say. The instructor was great about coming over to help correct your pose and gently guide you into a more challenging one if she felt you were ready.

Fainting girl aside, I was able to fight through the "I'm the fattest, blackest chick in here" fear and just complete the class to the best of my ability. Fuck all those hos, I was there for me.

And although I'm writing this from home because I had to take a personal day because OUCH ALL OF MY MUSCLES ARE AWAKE AND THEY'RE ANGRY, I'll be at the noon class for Day 3.

This is finna be a long ass month...

*smooches...wishing I could just be fat and happy*
----------
unfortunately that combination doesn't work for me.

You're Invited.

Really hope you can make it!

*smooches...keeping busy*
----------
if I stop, I die.

Hello Brooklyn.

Your eyes do not deceive you. This is a photograph of a shopping cart, filled with someone's earthly possessions, parked in the bike rack.

Really, though? Okay...

Just another day at work.

*smooches...thinking your Monday couldn't have been better than mine*
-----------
how was your weekend, though?

Tunes Always Work

In the midst of one crazy-ass emotional roller coaster, I downloaded a CD--"Ella" by Brooklyn rapper ScienZe--that featured the homie Kit Luxx, just to show my support. It's what I do for other artists, you know, because I know how hard it is to create and release it and hope people get it. I was just going to save the playlist in a file and listen to it whenever, but something told me to actually listen.

And wouldn't you know it? I loved it. Every song. There's no need to skip a track. Ever. In fact, the 20-song CD ends too soon, if you ask me.



My favorite song is "Steam Boat" but I couldn't find it anywhere to play it for you. You'll just have to download the CD and hear it for yourself. But I warn you--once you do you'll never want to listen to anything else.

It feels good to know that good music is still being made out there.

*smooches...while on an imaginary steam boat*
-----------
also, you ain't heard this from me, but old boy ScienZe? he FOINE.

For My Trini Massive

I won't be partaking of the Labor Day festivities in and around the Parkway, but trust that my soca fascination is still going strong. Here's the fun mix I listen to at work when I'm in heavy editing mode:



You all be safe this weekend; don't let any Guyanese gang members shoot at you during the Parade. Trust me- it's not as fun as it sounds...

*smooches...jumping and waving in solidarity*
---------
I'll be sure to make up for missing this weekend by attending the very next soca jam that comes my way; you're all invited to join me.

"It Was All A Dream..."

Just the other day, I had what I consider a premonition dream about winning an Oscar for my original screenplay. It was so vivid that when I came to I was smiling and reaching around for my award, only to find I was not on a stage. So what you're about to read is what I wrote as soon as I woke up, edited for grammar and spelling, and filled in with details I remembered later or added because it sounds nice.

I'm sitting in the audience with Mari, my producer and some of the cast members. While Rita-freakin-Moreno is on stage reading the list of nominees on screen is a shot of all five of us. I look into the camera that's in my face and I do one of these:

Then...Rita calls my name. MY. NAME! All of a sudden I'm overcome with emotions- everything I've worked toward and here's my reward: an Oscar for my kick-ass storytelling abilities. I walk up to the stage with my face in my hands because of course I'm crying Thug Tears at this point. Oh, and I'm wearing a dress similar to this Halson beauty:

So I get to the mic and listen- I'm sure I had the best intentions of being classy and dignified and all that, but even in my subconscious mind I'm ratchet and inappropriate. I look at Rita and tell her how much I love her and ask if I can hug her. Right. Then I go to the mic and say, "WHERE BROOKLYN AT?!?!" and after the crowd of Brooklynites that were sprinkled throughout the audience dies down I add, "Rita Moreno just gave me my first Oscar. There's nothing more to say!" and then I walk off. I don't thank anyone or anything.

THEN I'm escorted to the little press room, where a bunch of reporters are all in my face with the "How does it feel?" and "Did you know you were going to win?" questions. One asks about my hugging Rita Moreno and I get indignant. "Don't you know who she is? Don't front like you don't know Tuptim and Carmela and Anita and Sister-fuckin-Peter Marie from OZ. I know y'all bitches AT LEAST watched OZ, right?!"

And then it got worse. Someone asked why people from Brooklyn always shout out the borough, to which I replied "Because Brooklyn is the shit and we're proud to be from there." Another reporter quickly followed up with "So do you know Spike Lee?" and CHIIIILLLLDDDDD...I shot her the evil-death-stank-eye and retorted "Right, because we all know each other? Bitch, sit down!"

After an awkward pause someone asks when my next film comes out and I reply that I'm really busy writing for my hit NBC comedy (shut up it's MY dream!) and that I have a new book coming out so the movie stuff is on the back burner for now. So the guy next to that reporter gets this snarky-ass look on his face and says, "A book? What kind of book are YOU writing?" like I didn't just win a major prize for writing and shit. So I invoked the power of Tina Fey/Liz Lemon and said, "Your mom. I'm writing a book about your mom and all her lesbian affairs." Then I left that room because how do you come back from that?

Folks, I wish that was where my dream ended but it's not. I continued The Jaded Ratchet Tour the next day on The View. During our live chat, my age came up and the ladies couldn't believe I was 39 (YES. I'm winning the Oscar in TWO YEARS!) and Elizabeth innocently says, "There's no way you're 39!" And my thug ass replies, "What- you want to see my birth certificate? It's not like I'm running for president..."

Basically, it was the sweetest of dreams for me but honestly, a publicist's nightmare. Can't wait!

*smooches...looking through my notes to find the winning script*
------------
this needs to be written and sold YESTERDAY If I'm gonna win the Oscar at 39!

Freedom To Choose Means Freedom To Choose

Many women have come before me, fighting the good fight against all odds to ensure that I'd have equal rights in this country and beyond. We're not 100% there but we're definitely a long way from where we were. Women head corporations, small businesses, adopt children and own property, all without having their dads, husbands or brothers cosign or vouch for them. Hillary Clinton even came close to getting the Democratic National Committee to select her as their candidate for president of the United States.

I applaud all the women that were harassed, terrorized, jailed, spat on, abused or humiliated so that I, and my daughters, could have a fair shot at a good life, free of prejudice. I'm definitely grateful.

But with that freedom, some of us women (and men) have forgotten that what was really being fought for was to not be seen as a second-class citizen. To have the power to choose our paths to happiness. And that everyone's happiness does not look the same.

I recently read a blog post by Quiana Stokes entitled "How To Survive As A Stay-At-Home-Girlfriend" where she proceeded to describe how she keeps her and her boyfriend's home tidy, prepares his meals and makes herself available to him sexually whenever he wants. It was nothing shocking- a lot of Stay-At-Home-Moms do pretty much a lot of that stuff, too, with the noted difference of a marriage license and one or two rugrats traipsing about. However the people in the comments, as internet folks are wont to do, trashed this woman, and blamed her for setting women back hundreds of years. It all made me sigh heavily.

Listen, suffragettes and feminists battled for our right to be whomever we wanted to be. If what the author is choosing is to be the woman behind the man then let her be! She's not setting anyone back by choosing this path of happiness. She's just exercising her freedom to choose. The Equal Rights Movement wasn't about making us all CEOs and Presidents and Boss Hogs, it was about opening the doors to that life for- are you ready? THOSE WHO WANT IT.

It's not fair to force your ideology on others because they're not doing what YOU would do. If she's happy being this guy's live-in girlfriend then let her! Have a tall glass of Shut The Fuck Up and let her enjoy her choices! I'd hate to think that anyone would talk sideways about me if I decided to be a housewife one day. What business is it of anyone?

It's not illegal to bypass a corporate life or to forgo being Super Independent Feminist. It's not the life everyone dreams of. It's just one of the many choices we're lucky to have. All the Judgy McJudgertons need to sit all the way down and get their life. Quiana Stokes already got hers.

*smooches...wishing I had a Quiana in my life*
------------
I'd love to come home to a clean house and a hot meal, shooo! y'all just jealous of her stee-lo!

It's Not NYC, It's You.

When I was younger, my cousin Minnie had caught an attitude with someone who had talked smack about my mom, which I found odd because Minnie and Mami were nowhere near being BFFs. But she said to me, "It's one thing if I talk about her because she's my aunt, but I'm not going to let some outsider say shit about my family."

That's how I feel whenever I hear derogatory or inflammatory comments about New York City.

Everyone feels a certain connection with their hometown whether or not they had a good childhood. I can understand if someone grew up in Key West, for example, moving to NYC can be a shocker (winter, questionable beaches, high stress environments) and that person will start lamenting having to wear shoes instead of flip-flops all day, or our high cost of living or the fast pace of the City. I get that.

HOWEVER... There is nothing wrong with this City. New York is New York. It has always been this place that never sleeps and every other thing you've ever heard about it. Midtown traffic is always crazy. Rats ABOUND in the streets and subways. It IS a concrete jungle with less green and more gray than many have ever seen. You might get stabbed to death while jogging in the park. So don't move here and then talk shit about it because you should have known this coming in. And frankly, we're dirty, congested, stacked on top of each other, squished into meager-yet-expensive living quarters and consistently stuck in traffic because a gazillion people keep moving here!

Manhattan is but five miles long- how else did you think we were gonna fit all you out-of-towners longing to make it in the bright lights of the big city? And the outer-boroughs are quickly filling up, too. Don't suck up all of our resources and then shit on the very place that provides for you, son! That is not acceptable.

I've lived in other places that are very un-New York-ish, and I get that it's hard to live in the unfamiliar. The first time I saw the farm country backwoods of Pottersville, New Jersey, and realized I had to call that place home because of family obligations, I cried real tears every night for a week. But after that I sucked it up, made the best of it (friends with cars are AWESOME!) and plotted my eventual escape.

Realize that you made a conscious choice to set up shop in one of the greatest cities in the world. YES, THE WORLD. No one forced you to come into my backyard and mooch off all the barbecue, so I'll thank ya kindly to either love it or leave it alone. Amen & God Bless.

*smooches...giving NYC a great big booty grope*
------------
that means I love you!

We Were Already Civilized. Thanks.

A while ago, The F$%k-it List sent me this comment she read somewhere regarding gentrification in BedStuy:

"There is a general Brooklyn blog media/press fascination with white 'hipsters' and other perceived 'gentrifiers' versus the stable, moderate earning black people who own the majority of the residential real estate in parts of Bed Stuy and Crown Heights. The implication seems to be that these neighborhoods are finally being "civilized" by trendy, wealthier white folks. It's truly tiresome."

Look here, I hope this person was mistaken and that this isn't what people are thinking about BedStuy, but just in case, let me explain something to you.

BLACK doesn't automatically equal uncivilized. The neighborhood may have been poorer with only a handful of businesses and services here and there that only catered to inner-city tastes (take-out Chinese joints, laundromats, bodegas on EVERY corner) but it wasn't uncivilized. There was (and probably still is) a huge drug problem all up and through the 79th Precinct's jurisdiction, but it wasn't uncivilized. There were many more abandoned and overgrown lots back then, but we were NEVER uncivilized.

We had jobs. We cared for our families and knew our neighbors- even the criminals- if not by name then by face, and they'd never let bad things happen to good people. Our kids played outside (well, not me...) and decorated our windows during the holidays. We had block parties that lasted from sun-up to sun-down every summer (or so I heard...you know I wasn't allowed to go, right?) with great music and fun and food.

To say that all of that was uncivilized because there were no wealthy white folks buying up shit and opening quaint little coffee shops and Ethiopian restaurants would be to call us folks from BedStuy animals, and frankly, I pity the fool that would have the audacity to call me an animal to my face.

So to the people that think the new white residents of BedStuy make the legendary (yes, motherfucker, LEGENDARY) Brooklyn neighborhood more habitable because FINALLY THE ANIMALS ARE TAMED, let me introduce this size 10 Doc Marten to your anus.

*smooches...beaming with pride for my neighborhood*
----------
it was a tough place but I'd change NOTHING I experienced growing up there. BK STAND UP!!