God and Wine

I think women hide behind hair. We have been taught that our hair is our crown. I think that's part of the reason why I began cutting my hair when I was 12, and why I recently went bald. I never quite believed that my hair was my crown. I never believed that my hair length or style determined my femininity (or the lack thereof). I never believed that wearing jewelry made me more of a woman. I never believed that makeup and overdrawn eyebrows determined my beauty. Since cutting my hair off, some people have made it their job to remind me to wear earrings so that I "look more like a 'lady'" or to make sure my makeup is on point at ALL times, as if those things define me, my beauty, and/or my womanhood. I never cared much for the opinions of others and I can be a bit crass and nonchalant when it comes to displaying my lack of affection for another's opinion of me. Because I'm a performer, I've been living for other people (onstage) my entire life. I...

1. I've learned to assume the worst about people. That way, you set yourself up for the disappointment and you assume that the pain will hurt less. You are wrong. In fact, what actually hurts is the fact that you've lost the ability to love --love like a carefree child, with innocence and vulnerability. That's what makes you human. You've, therefore, lost your humanism. 2. I knew love, once... or at least I think I knew love--a twisted, unrequited love that reminded me of my humanism, of that organ in my chest that refuses to harden, and despite my desire to shrivel up and die, keeps pumping fluids to the part of my brain that forces me to feel things against my will. 3. I finally made it through the tunnel. People say that you'll look back on your dark moments and laugh, but I won't laugh. Every time I cried, the pain was real. There's nothing funny about the pain that I felt when my "boyfriend" moved away when I was 6, or when I got sto...

I always knew I was different. As a kid, I vividly remember watching the other kids play outside from inside my living room window. I was kept inside for a myriad of reasons. Perhaps, my mother was afraid that a serial killer would come and snatch me away if I were to play in the backyard alone. Afterall, a man did put a gun to my head in front of my home when I was five years old. Mostly, I believe that I was kept inside because there was always so much to do--so much to prepare for. If it wasn't piano lessons, it was practicing for piano lessons. It was dancing school, gymnastics, violin lessons, choir rehearsal, and by age 10, I was rehearsing and performing for something at least 5 days a week. The older I got, the more responsibilities befell upon me. The busier I got, the less birthday parties and social events I could attend. I remember being so disappointed when I had to tell the most popular girl in elementary school that I couldn't go to her sleepover because I had vi...

we lay here naked  in front of our dreams waiting on a sign from God subtleties go unnoticed as we wait for  giant fireballs to fall from the sky her move, not spectacular, yet, still miraculous and while we're waiting for God God's waiting for us

1.20.15 - 2:09 am The range of emotions I experience in one day is mind-boggling and disturbing. I've gotten to the point where I shed no tears. I think my body is over that...for now. My smiles are met with sorrow. My great audition counters a relationship setback. Enemies outnumber friends, and that quest for happiness becomes elusive. My daily assessment of myself? I must be bipolar. And this happiness thing? ... My mom says, "happiness is fleeting" and that finding joy is the real journey. Thus, I commence: My extreme moments of joy are mostly connected to music. Writing music, arranging a dope rendition of an old 60's song, lyric painting, and rehearsals for church choirs and bands. In fact, my church life has been my greatest joy since my return to New York City. There's no greater feeling than walking into the sanctuary of First Corinthian Baptist Church, on a cold Tuesday afternoon, and hanging out for 2 hours with some awesome pastors and congregants. Th...

It occurred to me that some people find my vulnerability problematic. They don't like that I talk openly about real problems...I mean, real life. They are uncomfortable with the ugliness of the journey. I started doubting the significance of my writings-hence, why I haven't blogged in a while- but my daunting thoughts have been clogging my arteries, disturbing my peace, and preventing sleep. I will continue to write, and I insist on only writing truths, as I have always done. Today, I feel unworthy. My mood is so indeterminable it almost feels indifferent. But it's not indifference. I know indifference. I don't do indifference. I'm feeling frustrated, disappointed in myself for abandoning my sobriety, and uncertain of what the future holds for my careers, my relationships, and my spiritual growth. There are good days and there are bad days...today's an ugly day. My sleeping pills have run out, I've given up relying on alcohol for companionship, and it...

Welp, I made it through New Year's Eve sober and was completely fine with that. At midnight, my friend, her 3-year old son, and I toasted to 2015 with a glorious glass of bubbly ginger beer! Ha! I woke up this morning in my right mind and without a hangover headache! It’s weird, still. I didn't realize until this week how much of a friend alcohol was. I feel like I lost someone close to me, and by choice; it's as if I murdered my best friend. I'm determined to complete at least 30 days of sobriety. My relationship with alcohol hasn't been extremely problematic. I mean, I used to drink before working at the restaurant sometimes, never before a rehearsal, sometimes during a late night singing gig, never before church, sometimes after church, always on dates, sometimes during writing sessions... I don't think I'm an alcoholic. Then again, does any alcoholic think he or she has a problem? I am mostly on this journey to test my self-control and move through...