The Comfort Zone: Why I'm Coming Back

The comfort zone is not only my favorite song by Vanessa Williams, but what this blog is for me. It is my safe space. A creative haven. The only place where for the past seven years, I have written like no one is watching.

I started this blog during the first semester of my senior year at Yale. Back then, I wasn't sure what I wanted to be. I just knew I wanted to be fabulous and in love. So I blogged about my daily struggles as a college student, the pitfalls of my love life, and budget beauty baubles and DIY tips I swore by. Honestly, I  can say, I was blogging about DIY beauty before it became popular. Now evvverybody is doing it! No shade.

I digress. Before  I knew it, I was on to something. My blog started picking up speed in 2008, but something happened. I graduated. And I started working as a television reporter. Working on-air is a unique occupation because your likeness and your public opinions aren't really your own. You represent the call letters your recite every time you sign off. And so, out of fear of revealing to much, and a desire to focus on my career, I stopped posting. Almost.

In 2010, I was still working in tv when I felt a familiar itch. Really, I needed an escape. I'd fallen for an elusive figure that I call *Miles. Miles was everything I ever wanted in a man, and in retrospect, he represented everything I wanted for myself. He was good looking, successful, smart, and well-off. He was young with a high profile job as head of company he'd built from the ground up. I admired his independence, his cocksure attitude, and the way it seemed that everyone wanted a piece of him.

Maybe that's why I fell so hard. Deep down, I wanted to  be just like him.

Nonetheless, I think Miles sensed my inner restlessness. I think he caught the glimmer of utter fascination  in my eyes whenever I looked at him. I couldn't hide it. After the first date I was hooked. And over the course of two years, every time he disappeared without explanation, I didn't give up. I resigned, with foolish hope, that one day he'd complete me.

You know how the story ends. I figured out how to complete myself.

But nonetheless, during that time, and every other major romantic or professional hurdle, I wrote myself through it on this site. No holds barred. Yes, an alias, or several, but for some reason, I've always been able to be honest on this blog. It is home for me.

And for that reason,  I am coming back home. I don't know how this will pan out. I am trying to complete a fiction (inspired by Miles, go figure) and my career is all types of crazy (more on that in the future). Plus, I try to update my official site regularly. Nevertheless, I will be making it a point to return with more heartfelt stories, observations, DIY tips, and commentary that pertains to Black women. I hope you will rejoin me for this adventure and provide feedback too.

Also expect to sneak peeks from my upcoming work of fiction. I'm super excited about that.

When you don't know where to go, let your heart lead the way.

Flyness and funk,

SPOTLIGHT: Bailey's Cream With Spirit Commercial

Every once in  while there comes along  a commercial that does more than entice us with a product, rather it makes an artistic statement that remains with us long after the spot has aired. The J'adore Dior commercial starring Charlize Theron was a classic, and the Bailey's Cream With Spirit commercial is a classic in the making. Meant to be a celebration of modern womanhood, it features beautiful woman dancing in billowing beige gowns to the fabulous music of Blondie's Rapture. Take a look. Enjoy!

Life is like a Jigsaw Puzzle

"Life is like a jigsaw puzzle without the picture on the box." -Anonymous

I’m vacationing in Martha’s Vineyard with mom and dad. At the same time I’m reflecting on a major turning point of my life. I have decided to not resign my current television contract which means I’ve got about 3 months to secure a second television job, preferably in Big City, North versus Medium City, South. That task alone comes with serious trepidation, but I’ve also been trying to make sense of where I am headed, and where I want to go. I wish I was published by now, but I am not. I’m questioning if television journalism is really the career for me. I don't want to punk out and duck out early. And then there’s the possibility of law school looming over my head as it is the logical finale many BAP educations. Anyway, suddenly I’m adult, and time is ticking, and I have these humungous dreams and the SHIT IS SCARY.
It started to rain on Monday. The cable is crap so I found this jig saw puzzle in the closet. It was Monet’s Summer broken up into 500 little pieces. If you are familiar with that painting you’re aware that it is like 95 percent blue and white, so putting it together was a mother. Speaking of moms, after the first day she saw that I didn’t have much finished so she lent a hand. It took the both of us four days but we did it and in the end… I realized completing the puzzle was a valuable lesson for me.
Life is a lot like a (difficult) jigsaw puzzle. It comes together piece by piece.
You have to start with the edges. These are the only pieces you know for sure. Your character, your values, your knowledge, and your passions in life. The edge pieces are the framework you need in order to complete the puzzle.
Sometimes you’ll find the next piece by searching for it by color or by shape.
But even then, you may over look it. So when you get stuck, you move on. Try something new. You start working on another section of the puzzle.
Sometimes you get lucky and you stumble upon pieces. That helps you out a lot. But luck only takes you so far.
Jig saw puzzles take patience. Sometimes you’ll feel as if you’ve reached a dead end but you can’t give up. You just keep trying different pieces until something works. Sometimes it helps to take a break, come back and look at the puzzle through fresh eyes.
In jigsaw puzzles you can’t connect one piece, without the other. So even though by luck or technique you may move quickly through a puzzle, there truly are no short cuts.
Jig saw puzzles are far easier when you have someone (like mom) or a group of people to help you. They’ll help you find the pieces you may have over looked on your own.
Jig saw puzzles are hard. But with patience, diligence, and determination they are possible.
And finally, you can’t enjoy the picture until you’ve completed it--- so you might as well have fun working on it along the way.

Misty Copeland Blackberry Bold 9780 Commercial

It's fantastic to see ballerina's in popular culture. Black Swan, though grossly an overstatement, was adored by fans that would have never stepped foot in the theater. And then I was blessed to see Prince at Madison Square Garden (first row!) and out comes Misty Copeland, African-American soloist with American Ballet Theater. Their performance was out of this world. I always knew ballet had the potential to cross cultural and socioeconomic lines. It is a beautiful art form and I was privileged to train as a ballerina for most of my life.

And now this Blackberry commercial which shadows Misty Copeland. I love that it spotlights ballet, but more importantly a Black ballerina. There is still a supreme dearth of African-American women in the ballet world. That's my few cents. Enjoy.

CHURCH, The Sims Sitcom on Youtube, Comedy!!

I have to give the creator of "Church" serious props. The comedic writing, the voice over, the anime like Simcharacters.... it is all brilliant. Church is a a homemade sitcom just gaining steam on Youtube. It's a satire about the Black church starring "Black Preacher", his wife "First Lady", his daughter, the ever-ready key board player, and a flamboyant choir director. I've posted my faves in the series. But please enjoy, laugh your head off, and link to your pages. And please DO NOT get offended. It's just satire, and well done satire at that.

Timbuctoo: A Freed Slave Community in NJ

Archaeologists have discovered the remains of a freed slave community in New Jersey, thought to have existed some 45 years prior to emancipation. What interests me most is that the community shares the same name of the ancient intellectual metropolis, Timbuktu in Mali. It's a demonstration that significant African ties survived even the blade of slavery. Check out the article in www.theroot.com.

Vanity Fair's International Best Dressed List

Secretly, now not so secretly, there are two things that will signify I've made it. They are being included in Vanity Fair's International Best Dressed List, and making the cover of Essence Magazine! Needless to stay, I'm still working on it. Vanity Fair just released their coveted 2010 list. Click here to see who made the cut.

Congrats to First Lady Michelle Obama for being featured on the list for the 4th consecutive year and for representing for stylish mocha ladies everywhere!

Flyness and international fashion,

Ike

Smoking With Cigarettes, A Fine Boondocks Parody

"Then I stole it and had my friend come in and he smokes with cigawettes."

So... I didn't know who 7 year old Latarian Milton was until I watched Sunday's episode of the Boondocks 'Smoking With Cigarettes' (Season 3, Episode 6) . In 2008 Latarian Milton stole his grandmothers car and took it for a joy-ride, damaging four other cars and nearly killing several innocent people. Then a few months later, he struck again, hitting his grandmother in a Wal-Mart during a temper-tantrum he was having over some fried chicken.

Here are the news stories from the two events... and yes they tried it assigning this story to their resident Black male reporter!

"... But did you know you could perhaps have killed somebody?....Yes. But I wanted to do hoodrat stuff with my friends."

In the Boondocks episode 8 year LaMilton Taeshawn picks up Riley in his grandmothers car and they go on a joy ride. The episode takes on a sociopathic turn when LaMilton forces Riley to accompany him on his violent rampages at gun-point. "It's fun to do bad things," he says to the Black reporter. All through out his grandmother apologizes for his violent behavior, blaming it on society and the fact that LaMilton "really likes chicken wings".

I think McGruder's parody is also a biting commentary on raising Black boys , and the propensity for many Black single mothers and grandmothers to spoil their sons. What do you think? Feel free to respond in the comments section.

After watching this cartoon, when I discovered the real news story about Latarian I fell out laughing. But trust-- my soul was weeping at the same time.

Here's the link to the Boondocks episode Smoking With Cigarettes on youtube.

-Flyness and funk(y but whoopins)
Ike

Whoomp! There's the President...

According to reports, President Obama ALLEGEDLY appeared in the music video for the 1993 'quick classic' "Whoomp There It is". He also made a cameo appearance in Boyz In the Hood, Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing, and a lost episode of Soul Train.


Flyness and funky look-a-likes,
Ike



Update: After further investigation, it turns out this was Al B. Sure. Another case of light-skinned mistaken identity.

A Lady Sings The Blues

A Lady Sings the Blues

I don’t wear
A gardenia in my hair.
But baby,
I sing the blues.
Thank you, dear, for this heartache.
And a special thanks for my new attitude.

When you first laid eyes on me
You were like Billie Dee
(And I Miss Ross)
Swooning for your dizzy charms.
So thank you for that sweet gesture.
(short and sweet)
And thank you very much for my song.

How could I ever resist,
Your honey suckle kiss,
Tumbling down my bare spine?
(You know I loved it when you kissed me there)
Baby, thank you for those tears I cried.
And thank you for the bitter wine.

Good morning heartache Hear I go again Good morning heartache
Can’t no other song spin.


Me and Billy got this thing
And it’s more than the swing
that I do when I hear her croon.
“I cried for you” She sings!
And baby,
I cry for you.


Finally someone gave me something to pout about,
Something to shout about
Something to wail out loud about!

You put the b flat
In my tune
So thank you for the heartache,
Yes, I thank you for the heartache!
I said, I love you for the heartache!
And a special thanks for my new attitude.


Can’t you hear me singing the blues?
All of me
Singing the blues,
Why not take all of me
Singing the blues?
Can’t you see
Blue.
I’m no good without you…?

copyright 2008

Midnight Stream of Conscious: A Meditation on Rain: In the In Between

A stream of conscious writing excersize that I do at year's end. And then I post it.... hmmm... I think that helps it be cathartic. Nevertheless, feel free to skip or better yet, try yourself.



I am exceptionally vulnerable to heartbreak because I want the world, and I am a romantic. Yes. I want the world and all of the love within it. My life has been lead with my heart more often than with my eyes. In fact my eyes have been but a silent witness to all the places my heart has lead me.

With love I feel I can move mountains and perhaps, I’ve come to see that love is my deepest motivation. To be loved. To be in love. To know love. To write about love. To embrace love. To celebrate it. To give it. To experience God’s love because there is none greater. He is the love supreme.

I live my life in the public eye but I appreciate my solitude more than ever. I think the buzz of quiet, the gentle whir of the heater, a car passing by, the refrigerator’s hum is Zen. A meditation on the emptiness of life, and sometimes we need to just exist in the stillness and back away from the everything, the good, bad, and the goodbad that is the universe.

I am experiencing a renaissance, a spiritual awakening that delves deeper than prayer several times per day. I want go beyond supplication, praise, and request… I want to be intimate with God’s love within the world and identify the spirit that moves within me.

I am learning that the world is not black and white. Good and bad. Male and female. We don’t live in a world of opposites. We live in a world of everything. I’ve struggled with the question of whether or not we are powerless, the mere actors of God’s will, or whether or not we have any form of power over desires. I am learning that true desire is God’s will coursing through the body, begging us to listen and obey. I am learning that there is power in vision, faith, work and feeling but like all worldly power, but our human power is always checked by the Supreme.

In life you have to choose a role and stick to it. My role, a glamorous bon vivant with an old spirit and a flair for the dramatic. A diva. A goddess. However you spin it, I have learned that we do wear a mask and even when we want people to peer behind it, and we desperately want to reveal ourselves, we can’t always. Sometimes we have to take deep breaths and just stay in character. And we have to learn how to love ourselves with clothes on and naked.

I love pearls and things that shine. I love being a woman who walks with a sway and whose legs perform a ballet every time she sits. I adore yoga and I love the unity of mind, body, and spirit. Perhaps that has been the goal of this entire year; to unite my trinity—to form a foundation, to liberate my spirit from negative energy, and to encourage positive outcomes. And while I’ve learned to experience pure elation, I have also learned how to breathe through pain, whether if it’s a contorted yoga position that distorts my ligaments and diaphragm or heartbreak. Breathe. In and out. Life is about tapping into the greater self, pursuing our truths, and praising the Almighty for pleasure and pain because both are the necessary ebbs and flows of life.

It has been a glorious year, but a year of rain. Sometimes low lying clouds obscuring my sight. Sometimes thunderbolts and gloom. And sometimes summer rain. Either way, water cleanses washes, baptizes, changes things, and makes it possible for growth in nature. Rain is the poet’s equivalent of hope. I am not quite sure where I am, but I know more now, what I am, and that my spirit is in a totally different place than it was 12 months ago, though still moving towards awareness, fulfillment and the spotlight. I became a woman this year.

On the eve of the next year, and the day after my birthday, I must admit, part of me still mourns for dreams deferred. For pain. But part of me rejoices. The sun is on my back. My disco ball earrings are sparkling as are my eyes and my smile. This will be a year of love. Maybe not romance. But I will touch people this year with a spirit of love. I will write about love. I will continue on my spiritual journey. I will honor the love in my life. And I will love myself. Fall in love all over again. Love myself long and hard and make a vow to never let go.

Gap Comfy Sweaters, Best Holiday Commercial for 2009

This commercial was so darling I wanted to go out and immediately by a little girl a comfy sweater!

LYRICS: Formal attire, officially retired. Hey mom and dad, guess what? 1,2,3,4 I'm not going to wear it anymore. I love my comfy sweater, I love my comfy sweater. How cute are these boots? How cute are these boots? Forget those pearly dresses. Forget those pearly dresses. Or talk to the moose!

FLY FUNKY DIVA'S BIG COME BACK!

Divas,


First, please excuse the drama and extranesss in the title.

I started this blog during my senior year in college. That was in 2007. I'm a television reporter now, I've since transformed from a northeastern metropolitan diva to an honorary southern belle, and I'm wrapping my first literary project (published in 2010, hope so). So... I really don't have time to be an ardent blogger of style, sass and class.

But I really want to!

What I loved best was being able to blog about cute little styling tips and beauty tricks that don't cost a bundle, but can make a woman feel and look like a million bucks. Well, as a young tv personality, whose fame far outweighs her paycheck, I've stumbled on so much stuff I can share with you all. This blog is calling me back. And here we are, a year after I called it quits, and people still visit it regularly--- and leave comments.

So I say this all to say-- I think I'm breaking my hiatus, just in time for the New Year. But don't expect crazy, crazy posts. A sister has a full time job. A literarybaby on the way. And another blog that I sometimes do (Noni Jones in Harlem).

Cheers-- to new posts,

Ike

Publish Post

Where you been girl?!?!

So as my loyal readers may have guessed, I took a hiatus. Six months ago I began my foray into broadcast journalism, working crazy hours as a reporter in medium-town Florida.

As I have begun doing free-lance work and a hefty non-fiction venture, I assumed I would put FFD down. But I can't. Readers have yet to abandon me (which makes me feel great), and I'm reluctant to abandon them. And all this writing I do-- I need to let loose!!!

So---

I'm coming back. At least weekly, with the random commentary you know and hopefully love.

Flyness and Funk,

Ike
Also-- you can stay up to date on my blog posts, articles, random thoughts and if you're in my neighborhood appearances by following me on Twitter: http://twitter.com/flyfunkydiva.

Fierce Files: Remembering Our History Through Fly Women of Color

"Jeanne Duval" was a creole dancer and singer of Haitian origin, who relocated to Paris in 1842 where she began her infamous twenty year romance with French poet and literary critic Charles Baudelaire. Jeanne was an icon, however, of style and well-known through out the Bohemian world and aristocratic circles. She is the subject of Monet's famous "Baudelaire's Mistress". (Do note that Monet portrayed her as a Caucasian woman, perhaps he was concerned with selling the painting, but by all accounts she was recognizably of African descent).


She is best known, go figure, as Baudelaire's "Mistress of Mistresses" and his muse, and this is of course during a time when interacial love was deemed "gauche". So imagine, what confidence... what swagger, Madame Duval must have exuded. I love it.

In spite of the snubs of his peers and constant turbulance, Baudelaire was hopelessly in love with Jeanne and his "Black Venus" was the subject of many of his love poems. While it is clear that she held him spell bound, his fascination with her percieved exoticism and sexuality courses though the poetry.

Below is one of my personal favorites, "Sed Non Satitata" or "Never Satisfied". It is from his anthology "Fleurs du mal" or "Flowers of Evil", much of it a commentary on the women in his life, real and imagined. This translation from French is one of many variations, but I like this the best.

Sed Non Satiata

Strange deity, brown as nights,
Whose perfume is mixed with musk and Havanah,
Magical creation, Faust of the savanna,
Sorceress with the ebony thighs, child of black midnights,

I prefer to African wines, to opium, to burgundy,
The elixir of your mouth where love parades itself;
When my desires leave in caravan for you,
Your eyes are the reservoir where my cares drink.

From those two great black eyes, chimneys of our spirit,
O pitiless demon, throw out less flame at me;
I am no Styx to clasp you nine times,

Nor can I, alas, dissolute shrew,
To break your courage, bring you to bay,
Become any Proserpine in the hell of your bed!

— Geoffrey Wagner, Selected Poems of Charles Baudelaire (NY: Grove Press, 1974)

Your First Resolution: Get Over, Get On

"Before the clock strikes 12, or at least before you get started on your new resolutions, first resolve to get over those who you feel have gotten over on you."

As we look toward 2009 we are inevitably setting new goals. This will be the year to find true love, drop ten pounds, finish that novel, and move forward in your career. I'm sure of it. But amidst your anticipation of a brand new year, have you closed the book on 2008?

The film Waiting To Exhale chronicles the journey of four single women through bouts of twisted romantic relationships, toward self-love and peace of mind. If you recall, it begins and ends with a New Years celebration. In the final scene they sip champagne and rejoice over a bond fire. (They also sing Roberta Flack's 'It Might Be You'... gotta love that song) But, that fire symbolizes the destruction of their anguish over failed relationships. It is their choosing to move on from slights made against them and past dreams unfilfilled. It symbolizes them taking back the pieces of their dignity that those men once took from them. And in the midst of those ashes is a fresh start.

Do note, I am not suggesting that you light a fire or that you light your ex's car on fire with his things in it. Think theoretically.

We tend to convince ourselves that we are ready for change when we really are not. Before we can venture closer to our ideal selves we have to overcome the pain that we have caused others and those that others have caused us. Before you can welcome sweet love into your life you have to accept those past heart breaks and grow from them. Before you can progress in your career you have to evaluate your past failures, recover, and then strategize for the future. And before you can move on with your physical goals, you'll need to amend any negative thinking and understand that the outer you is ultimately a reflection of what's going on inside. It'd be wise to love both.

You can not move into this next year still feeling like a victim of the past. 'Now' is a precious opportunity.

Before the clock strikes 12, or at least before you get started on your new resolutions, first resolve to get over those who you feel have gotten over on you.You don't have to like them, but don't allow these people, or their memory, to keep you down. I departed 2007 still sulking over a heart break, and you know what... I carried that entire burden through out 2008. Thoughts of him and what could have been clouded my decision making certainly put a damper on my love life... Until recently, I compared every man that I dated to him, fatefully, deciding to be miserable. I choose to leave those thoughts in 2008.

So as Erykah Badu once sang "Bag lady, you gon' hurt your back, carryin' all those bags like that..." step into 2009 knowing that "all you must hold onto is you". Learn from the past, realize that life is an eb and flow. Our lows guide us to our peaks. As the seconds tick toward midnight, live in the moment. See the blessings that are bountiful in your life right now! Leave all your sadness, drama, and baggage in 2008.


May your new year be filled with health, love, blessings, sass, soul, and all that your heart desires.

Love,

IKE

Midnight Stream of Conscious: A Love Supreme: A Dénouement

* A writing ritual I do at each year's end. Personal, cathartic-- and for some reason I feature it on my blog. Feel free to skip. Or better yet, try it yourself.

First off, I don’t know how smooth this will be or how writer-like. I was prompted to repeat this yearly ritual when I entered Starbucks today and saw that the red holiday cups were back, as was the gingerbread loaf that I adore. Oh, I ate so much of that at Yale because I used pastries to lift my spirits amidst dizzying rounds of depression. As they say, stressed is ‘desserts’ spelled backwards.

My life has taken an auspicious turn, and I’m seemingly light years away from the wet streets of Elm City, where I meandered during awkward hours of night, munching on croissants and piping hot coffee, anxious about cramming a 30 page paper into 48 hours or how my demonic Arabic professor would love to fail me. Yale is over. Shove a fork in a really dry, over-cooked piece of filet mignon.

To be honest, it does not feel like an incredible accomplishment. It just feels done. Sort of like I ran so hard to finish that I’m too winded to smile for any pictures at the finish line. But having had seven months to reflect, it is a tremendous victory and I should not overlook that.

As a student, I was unfulfilled. I felt that I’d made a huge, incorrigible mistake for the first three years. In spite of having an opportunity to study at one of the world’s finest institutions and a fellowship with a media company that some students would kill for, I wasn’t convinced that I was walking along my gilded path, the term I have coined to mean destiny. I tussled with the idea of dance, and longed for those yesterdays of skinny legs and freed point shoes but I would learn through trial and error that the life of a ballerina was merely an avenue not a destination. If I can compare my relationship to the ballet with a torrid love affair, it was and always will be the most difficult lover with whom I’ve had to part. But I did. And when I look back I smile.

Somehow it was my journey to Africa during the summer of 2007, right before my senior year, that put the sequence of events, also known as my life, into pristine order. It’s awesome how part of a blessing is the ability to know when one has been blessed. I believe that my indifference toward life came from that failure to see.

Today, I understand that the knowledge I gained, the camaraderie I shared and the mistakes I made in college were part of a long-term growth process that I needed to endure in order to be the woman that I am. When I see my reflection, when I entertain my private thoughts, I am so proud. Diamonds are formed under pressure, and one only gains that type of sparkling bearing, scintillating wisdom, through life’s horrific challenges. This I believe to be true.

I endured a hellish senior year. At no point did I know how or if I would finish until I did. I felt like I was stepping through thick brush in pitch black darkness, hoping the end was near. And that was only half the battle.

After graduation, I had a clear goal. I wanted to be a television journalist—let me be clear. Not a producer, not a writer, not an assignment editor, but a reporter. And I would go anywhere and accept any amount of pay to do so. This in my heart I felt was the only job at that moment that I could be passionate about and what is life without breath and passion?

I was insecure about how this goal would be realized. For months I sent out dozens of demo reels to no avail despite a few broken promises. Everyone told me that I was crazy to be entering the industry. It was too hard to start off as on air-talent and even if I did, I’d be in the boonies and broke. I should be reasonable. Sensible. Safe. I’d be wise to go to law school or settle for job similar to what most Yalies do post-grad- what ever that is. The economy was bad. "Nobody's hiring" they warned. They said my aims were entirely too high. It seemed as those around me were trying desperately to break my fighting spirit but even in the absence of promise, I held onto my will for dear life.

In July, on a whim I decided to travel to Chicago for the Unity Conference of journalists. I would use my charm to hustle some new opportunities. This is where I met a news director who told me she believed I had great potential, but I needed just a year in small market before she could consider me. I had to lose my being ‘green’. The problem was my feverish search for a job in a small market had turned up nothing.

Months later, after several ghastly disappointments, it happened. It was Ramadan. I was fasting and praying every day, exercising my faith excitedly and entering new spiritual terrain. At this point it was coming on four months without an offer but there was a peace that had blanketed me. Somehow I knew that in my midst was an open door and I would not stop until I found it.

It was during this month that that same news director got in contact with me. A reporter had quit, there was an opening. She explained that her instincts told her to give me a shot. To remind you, this is a lady that had met me over two months ago at a conference with about a thousand journalists. I’m convinced that instinct was God. Within two weeks following that phone call, she’d checked with my contacts, I flew down for an audition and landed an incredible position.

I was suddenly a reporter and not in a small market either, but a mid-sized market where most reporters were on their second, third and fourth jobs. I had surpassed the vision that I formed for myself and that is an exhilarating feeling. You know what it feels like? Like with faith and iron-clad fortitude anything is possible. And it is. We have a new president, my degree hangs on a wall at my parent’s home (they can keep it) , and five days a week folks turn on their tv’s and see yours truly! How lovely. Really, through God all things are possible. That maxim says it best.

So during this holiday season I am most grateful for how closer I have grown to Him. Certainly it is a sign of my maturity.

I think about love and how It’d be nice, but not necessary. I remember how while in college I so desired that affection and felt that amidst a few half-hearted liaisons, I was missing out. Reflecting, that search was not for love but rather validation. It can be confusing.

I think I was another fly girl that did not understand her inherent value. I had the grace, but not the dignity that accompanies that. So when I cried over Prince Charming’s dashing disappearance or put up with Scorpio’s madness, I was really appealing to these men for confidence. When I felt as if I were stumbling in the dark, their affection seemed like a bough to grab on to, if only for a moment.

But today I am experiencing total self love. (Many of us are in partial). And that feels like the smile that spread across my face when I see a baby laugh, when the sun shines in my face, or when I slide into a warm bubble bath and sip a glass of sweet champagne. And it feels like prayer, because to know God and to love self is to feel—complete. Blithely complete.

Sometimes, I must admit, I still think about the craziest instance of kismet and the man who went away but I no longer take pity or punish myself over this unfortunate turn of events. Nor do I still try to make sense of the nonsensical. I can only let my light shine. I can not dim it for others or allow others to dim it for me. The wind of serendipity never stops blowing so perhaps he and I will meet again on a chilly day. Perhaps this time, with me a complete woman and him a more complete man. Or perhaps, we shall not. I realize that these matter, like all matters, don’t happen on human account. We just convince ourselves that they do.

It is Christmas time and I feel the joy of the holidays running to the end of my garnet tipped fingers. After work, I remove my disco ball earrings, wipe my face clean of all the glamourous make up, the concealers, powders and the high lighters and I still glow. Walk past my house and you may hear me belting Diana Ross’ “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” at the top of my lungs or possibly John Coltrane’s ‘Love Supreme’ simmering. Truly, I have found my Love Supreme.

The last time I wrote holiday manifesto I secretly hoped that a certain someone might read, it, but this evening I wrote this all for me.

Cheerleading Dad Commercial-- Fatherhood.gov

This PSA commercial by fatherhood.gov warms my heart. Not only does it remind me of my own father, but this is a slick way of articulating what it is to be a 'dad' and really a 'man'. And to my SINGLE DIVAS-- this should be the standard for selecting our future husbands.

FFD Honors Rep. Stephanie Tubbs Jones

Rep. Stephanie Tubbs Jones of Ohio's 11th District was the first African American congress woman from Ohio. Popular amongst her constituents, Jones was easily elected for four consecutive terms and also served as co-chairwoman to the Democratic National Committee. Her achievements are an inspiration and source of pride for Black women, Black people, and Americans. She will be dearly missed.

Patent 5676977: The HIV/AIDS CURE???

AIDS, a disease that since its 1979 appearance has lethally exposed the socioeconomic inequalities of society, has had a patented cure for over decade. Patent number 5676977 describes a method for disabling the retrovirus with the use of inected tetrasilver tetroxide. This is the formal patent:

Title:
Method of curing AIDS with tetrasilver tetroxide
molecular crystal devices
Document Type and Number:
United States
Patent 5676977
Abstract:
The diamagnetic
semiconducting molecular crystal tetrasilver tetroxide (Ag4 O4) is utilized for
destroying the AIDS virus, destroying AIDS synergistic pathogens and immunity
suppressing moieties (ISM) in humans.
A single intravenous injection of the
devices is all that is required for efficacy at levels of about 40 PPM of human
blood. The device molecular crystal contains two mono and two trivalent silver
ions capable of "firing" electrons capable of electrocuting the AIDS virus,
pathogens and ISM. When administered into the bloodstream, the device electrons
will be triggered by pathogens, a proliferating virus and ISM, and when fired
will simultaneously trigger a redox chelation mechanism resulting in divalent
silver moieties which chelate and bind active sites of the entities destroying
them. The devices are completely non-toxic. However, they put stress on the
liver causing hepatomegaly, but there is no loss of liver function.

I will venture to say that not only is the HIV/AIDS Virus engineered to disproportionately affect people of color, but I believe the cure is being suppressed. This treatment has been ignored by government, the CDC, and all other global health organizations. It has never garnared attention from media outlets. Even if it doesn't work, why were we never even informed about the idea and perhaps subsequent tests? Why were never informed about the successful treatments that the creators of the patent performed on 5 Honduran AIDS patients who were in terminal condition? We are always kept abreast about success encountered in the treatment of cancer. Why was this so discretely swept under the rug?

Instead we are presented with a money generating, FDA approved cocktail and are told to be grateful. Millions of people in the poorest inner cities and countries of the world are living with death sentences. Many people will not have the money for treatment. Millions of men will enter the criminal justice system and contract it there. Women in chauvinistic societies will be raped or forced to have unprotected sex. Women will unknowingly contract it from their partners. Babies will be born to AIDS mothers. And let us please not forget that the fastest growing demographic to contract the virus are AFRICAN AMERICAN WOMEN of all socioeconomic backgrounds.

We have a responsibility to take care of ourselves by using protection, good judgement and education. We have that responsibility to protect our bodies, our temples. But we also have a responsibility to educate our sisters in this country and in the diaspora. We are their keepers too. And now that we know that there could be a cure, this responsibility really should be taken one mighty step forward. We need to demand the implementation of medical trials that may ultimately lead to the release of this treatment as a viable cure. People point to drugs as the number one menace to the black community. They look at the criminal justice system, the school system inequalities, and the media. And while our problems certainly can't be examined in isolation, at the end of the day we can keep young brothers educated and off the streets with community effort. We can take back our sons. We can boycott channels that don't serve us. We can pool money and biuld our own charter schools. But AIDS... is almost inescapable. Where as psychological war fare has been wielded against Blacks since the beginning of chattle slavery, this pandemic is killing our bodies, not just our minds. It is time to organize politically and perhaps economically, and demand that the course for a cure be treked because it is primarily our sisters and brothers who suffer.

-Ike

This a tape of Dr. Boyd Graves discussing the origins and cure for the disease. I can't believe that as I write this, only 800 have viewed this. Let's change that.

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