The Voice: I’m Addicted

They say that the first step to recovery is to admit that you have a problem. I am standing in this imaginary The Voice Addicts Anonymous group and saying it loud and proud. My name is my name and I have a problem. A really real problem. I am obsessed with the genius that is The Voice. I discovered the show along with the rest of America four seasons ago and immediately fell in love. Back then, I watched and voted just like any normal fan. This was before that fateful day when I read about plans for The Voice UK. All downhill from there. I found streams of the show online and that was all she wrote. I knew the schedule, yes for the UK, and knew exactly when new episodes would be available for my online viewing pleasure. As if there wasn’t enough for me to watch, Australia decided that they had to get in on the fun. If you think that I wasn’t up on every single episode in the land down under, you haven’t been paying attention.

Yes, I have a problem. No, I do not want to solve it. There are hours and hours of amazing voices coming from people who are singing because they love to sing and want to share their gift with the world. I can hear the sincerity, even when they contestant doesn’t sound all that good. That feeling, that love that is transmitted when they open up their mouths, is amazing and addicting.
In an effort to make you understand just a little bit more, here are a few great examples.

Ryan Innes has a voice that sounds like gravy. Picture gravy sliding over a sausage biscuit. The good thick gravy; the kind that you wouldn’t mind mixing with your hash browns. Now listen to Ryan sing. His voice is gravy.

Whew!

Cleopatra coming atcha!! This is the chick from the Disney group!

I’m not looking to be cured. I’m not looking for 12 steps. I’m quite fine resting comfortably in my addiction. I invite you to join me.

Expect Less? Naaah

On Instagram  and Tumblr, there are always posts talking about the keys to happiness. They all seem to included this rule:

Give More…. Expect Less

This seems like the perfect motto to follow, right? Allow me to explain why this “key to happiness” irritates me, with a series of questions.

1. WHY, do I need to expect less in order to be happy?

2. WHO/WHAT am I expecting less from? People? My job? My environment? The President? Strangers?

3. HOW is not expecting the most, or any good amount, of anything and from everyone going to make me happy?

Oh yeah, it’s going to help me avoid disappointment. *Insert exaggerated eye roll here* LIFE HAS DISAPPOINTMENTS!!! Expecting less isn’t going to prevent you from experiencing them. And what good is a hard heart?

Want to know something crazy? I used to live by this “rule”. I was basically a walking billboard for this school of thought. I honestly believed that expecting little to nothing would help my avoid troubles, stress and heartache. I just knew that my sweet victories would be that much sweeter. Not true. Not true at all.

My reality now? I expect Everything. I expect more than my mind can currently conceive. Why? Because I live with a God inside of me who can give me everything that I want and more. Why, oh why, would I limit my blessings? Why would I limit God by expecting less of Him?

The only key to happiness that I know to work 100% of the time is God. Keep the Insta-wisdom. Try God and see how it works out.

The Higher Learning Tour: Nunu’s First HipHop Concert

Since I’m documenting my live show experiences, I figured why not share what happened when we took my nephew to his first hiphop concert. I wrote this a few days after the show, but of course it hung out in my drafts until now. My pictures from this show kind of suck. We were far away.  Enjoy!

A couple of  months ago, Lecrae and Dee-1 came through Nashville on The Higher Learning Tour. If you haven’t heard of them, but enjoy rap and love God, I suggest that you give them a listen. I, being the hiphop head that I am, knew that there was no way that I’d be missing this show. My sister and I also decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce my nephew to the world of the hiphop concert. Reginald, affectionately called Nunu, is forever singing in the car and we’ve had to be mindful of what we play when he’s around. It’s great to have rap artists who can be played at obscenely high volume in the car without worrying about what my eight year old nephew is hearing. Needless to say, he loves Lecrae and I’m pretty cool for playing his music.

The day of the show, Nunu runs into my room after school and jumps on my bed. “Are you going to the concert?!” I, in a nap induced haze, have no idea why he’s asking me such an obvious question. I forgot that my sister never tells him when she’s planned something just in case he acts up and plans have to change. Mothers are slick like that. He was on pins and needles until it was time to get in the car. We get to TSU’s Gentry Center and there are no signs of life, let alone a concert. Apparently, the venue that was advertised was not where the concert was being held. Mind you, the advertising was close to non-existent. Nashville has to do better. But that’s another issue for another post. Back to this story, we found the building and were ready for a few hours of fun.

Nunu chooses a spot on top of the closed bleachers where he could take in the entire room. The opener was Propaganda, a former teacher from LA. We, and most of the people in attendance, had never heard of this guy but he was super hype. I love to see an artist on their first tour because their performance is so organic. They love what their doing so much that they will rock on that stage alone and enjoy every second. That love is what makes the crowd eventually rock with them. It’s contagious. I loved the way that Propaganda mixed spoken word into his set. It wasn’t gimmicky. Nunu, on the other hand didn’t seem to be impressed. Uh oh.

Next up was the comedian/host. (I forgot his name) Now, this guy was a hit with the kid. Brandi and I weren’t as impressed, but Nunu was cracking up at every joke. Every time I looked up he was doing the knee slapping belly laugh. While the comedian was on, I noticed the next act, Dee-1 on the side of the stage. It’s normal for artists to be off to the side before their set, but I thought that it was kind of cool that he had his notebook out and looked to be drawing. Now, I’ve quit paying attention to the stage and am watching Dee-1′s process. The pacing was never-ending, probably due to the fact that the comedian obviously ran over his time and then kept going. Oh, and how much can one person have in their pockets? I’m almost positive that Dee-1 had them beat. And after spending what seemed like forever handing his pocket contents to his homeboy, he still had to stop at the dj booth to unload one last item. Do all artists go on stage with empty pockets? I’ve met and seen him perform before, so I kind of knew what to expect. I was pleasantly surprised to see how much his stage presence has improved in a year. He was comfortable on stage.

Check back in with Nunu, he’s bobbing his head, but Brandi and I are obviously enjoying the show more. By this time I’m a little worried. This kid, who dances all the time and makes up a rap version to every song, is sitting still. He’s not jumping. He’s not even standing up. Was this a mistake? Were the lights and sound too much? Does he really not like hiphop as much as we thought? But there was no turning back because Lecrae was up next.

Lecrae hits the stage and I see a whole new side of Nunu. He’s jumping and rapping along and having a ball. He’s even come down from his perch to enjoy the show beside Brandi and I. His hands are up, he’s smiling. Lecrae is performing all of his favorites. It looked like all was perfect in his little world. I’m so happy that I could be a part of that moment.

Thanks to positive artists like Lecrae and Dee-1, I can share my love for hiphop and live music with my nephew at such a young age. They are dope lyrically without cursing and negativity. They are men of God and great role models for young men. The type of “cool kids” that I want the little men in my life to look up to. We had such a great time.

I found out later that Nunu loved all of the artists who performed that night. His reason for not acting like it: he was saving his energy for Lecrae. The logic of an eight year old. I love him.

 

 

New Direction

As I’ve continued to change, I’ve avoided my little corner of the internet. There’s no reason why, other than God. I think this period of life didn’t require me to write. I not only took a break from the internets, but from my notebooks as well. My crutch was set aside, and I learned how to talk to God. With my mouth. I don’t know why I was so intimidated by closing my eyes, looking to the heavens and talking to the Lord. Maybe I didn’t feel worthy enough to talk to him without a buffer. Yeah, that’s exactly what it was. But that’s the beauty of God. He is all for listening to us imperfect people down here on earth. I can’t explain how much this breakthrough has changed my life. It sucks that it took so long for me to get it, but now that I got it I’m oh so good.

Now, let’s get to what I’ve been up to lately. I’ve made new connections, am involved in an amazing new church (shoutout to Nashville Life Christian Church) and have been to a few amazing shows. I’ve also decided which direction that I’m going to take this blog. It’s no secret that I love me a live music experience. I love music in general. I’ve been asked what my dream job would be on multiple occasions, and I’ve given the same answer. If I could get paid to do anything at all, I would choose traveling the world and listening to music. Who says that I can’t do that now? Well, I’m not in the position to travel the world but I can make a few stops across these United States. And why not tell people about my experiences? Sooooo yea, most posts over here will be music and show related. I might even finally buy my domain name. Maybe.

I’m excited to finally get back into sharing. Stick around. This is going to be good.

New Day’s Resolution

Why wait?

There are less than 30 days until 2013. Now is the time when most people start thinking long and hard about their New Year’s Resolutions. Not I. Any day is a good day to make a resolution and stick with it. What’s the point of wait until the beginning of the year to make a healthy and necessary change?

My New Day’s Resolutions for Thursday, December 6th:

1. Be more financially responsible.

I’ve been working at this for a while now, but today is the first time that I’ve put my foot down and decided to make it a requirement. I can be a bit impulsive and am seriously lacking in the patience department. The “I want it now” bug is real in my life. As of today, no more buying now and dealing with the consequences later. I have to stick to my budget no matter how tempting the item/event/adventure may be. I have goals for 2013 and the only way that I’ll be able to meet them all is if I’m responsible.

2. Shut Up And Be Positive

This is such a general statement, I know. But I need to practice these things in more areas of my life than I’d like to share. So generally speaking, from this day forward, I will shut my mouth and be positive. I will chase away frustration, anger, and all of the unnecessary commentary that takes up far too much space in my brain with positivity. If I can’t seem to be positive, I will be quiet. There is too much power in the tongue and in my thoughts. I look forward to reaping the positive benefits of the thoughts and words that I sow into my life.

This feels great already.

Hi, I’m Just Visiting. What’s Cool Around Here?

*dusts off Macbook* *waves*

Hellooo!! Anybody there?!

It has been quite some time since I’ve visited my little space on the world-wide web. It’s been almost as long since I’ve written anything other than my prayers. Much has changed about me and my surroundings. But that’s not what brought me back here. Well… Yes, it is, but that’s not what I’m going to talk about today.

Last weekend I received a random direct message on twitter from a fellow Bison. She was in town and invited me to the 12 South Winter Beerfest, something I had never heard of before. No way was I turning the offer down. After assistance from my trusty GPS and a few wrong turns (I have no sense of direction, even which technology handy) I found myself in a part of Nashville that I had never seen before. Mind you, I was only about 7 minutes away from home. It hit me. I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT MY CITY ANYMORE. *hangs head in shame*

I’ve been back here for over a year, and am totally happy, but I still feel like I’m visiting. Pitiful, I know. I could write a laundry list of excuses for why I spend the majority of my time between home and work, but none are worth me wasting the word count. Truth is, I’ve been unmotivated and lazy. And I have the nerve to complain about having nothing to do like it’s not my own fault. Alas, there’s an easy solution to my problem. I’m going to start living like a visitor.

One of the best things about going to visit friends in an unfamiliar city is that you have a tour guide. No need to wander about or only venture to the über famous tourist attractions. Local restaurants and hot spots are at your disposal thanks to your in-the-loop local buddy. This is how I want to start treating my city – it may be unfamiliar to me, but I have the inside scoop necessary for an amazing journey. Where will I get this information? Anywhere. Everywhere.

I don’t know why, but people love to write Yelp reviews a about Nashville and everything here. Not tourists, Nashvillians. I am currently sitting in a coffee shop that received rave reviews from plenty of Vanderbilt University students. Yelp is about to become my best friend. I was also told about a cozy bar in Inglewood that I should visit, and met a few people who perform at a spot right down the street from my house weekly. This happened while standing under a tent surrounded by strangers this weekend. Who would’ve thunk! I also plan on utilizing local blogs that post the happenings around town.

My ultimate goal is to make this place my own. I need to find where I fit  and flourish. So I’ll be venturing out (and probably getting lost), and I won’t stop until I feel at home. I’m open to any recommendations.

*Raise coffee mug* Here’s to the journey!

MY God Wouldn’t Send Me A Gay Man

The polite/politically correct thing to do would be to start this post with a disclaimer, but I’m not too much of either. My beliefs and opinions on sexuality are irrelevant, which is why I haven’t posted them. Want a disclaimer? Read it here.

Throughout my 25 years of life, I’ve witnessed many a marriage end in divorce for a myriad of reasons. I’ve seen more than I’d like to admit end because the male in the relationship liked men. Some were more “I’m leaving you. I’m gay”, while others were a “I’m going on ‘business’ trips to pride weekends” type of guys. All were gay.

I started thinking about these women that entered unions  in which one person was homosexual. In the past I’d heard the vast majority say, on numerous occasions, that their husband was sent to them by God. Heard them talk about how He placed this wonderful man in their life when they were least expecting it. How grateful they were for such a blessing.

And this is the face that I make on the inside when I hear of their terrible divorce.

 Now, I know that God is always in the blessing business, but didn’t he say somethings in The Good Book about being equally yoked? Something about hetero and homo just don’t  seem very equal. Maybe it’s just me.

There is the argument that could be made for the unfortunate victims of divorce, that they didn’t know. Very much a possibility. For some. But hasn’t God also given us a spirit of discernment? We can even take God out of the equation for a second. Women have gut feelings. Did not nary a one of these women have a feeling that something just wasn’t right? NONE OF THEM?! Of course not. God sent them the man. He’s perfect!

No. Let’s be real. MY  God doesn’t just send out alley oops of complete failure for entertainment purposes. You can’t tell me that he plopped a man who likes men in front of you and said “here is the man who you are supposed to love and marry”. Just… NO. Here’s the way that I imagine these mismatched marriages come about:

Women live their lives in fear of being forever alone. As they get older, this fear become much more real. So what do they do? Find themselves a man, duh. The problem is, their determination to win over their impending forever aloneness overshadows everything else. They have blurry vision. They don’t see all of the signs. They’re too busy listening to the ticking clock to hear anything else. They’re too preoccupied day dreaming about having a gut full of baby to notice the tug in their gut letting them know that something isn’t quite right.

Do I believe that God does indeed place people into our lives for various reasons? Yes. Do I believe that the man with whom I will enter holy matrimony will be someone who The Big Guy has placed in my life? Yes. Do I think that the gay men that women marry and give all sorts of testimonials about were sent to them by God? Absolutely not. MY God just wouldn’t do that. I don’t know about yours.

I Do Not Have A Diary

Negro, Please

 

I met a very intelligent old man this weekend. A doctor of history and latin, this man was pretty much a walking encyclopedia. I spent much of the weekend learning about all types of stuff that I won’t remember, but was cool in the moment. Dr. SmartyPants was good in my book, until he looked at me and let the most offensive sentence cascade out of his mouth. I was sitting on the couch, minding my business, writing.

“Oh, I see you’re writing in your diary there.”

*record comes to a screeching halt*

I don’t think I’ve given an eye as evil as the one that little Mr. I Know Everything About Everything recieved in that moment. This look was followed by an icy “This is Not a diary. I don’t have a diary.” What I really wanted to say:

Bruh, I’m 25 years old, and I write. I write everything. Notes, plans, thoughts. I write everywhere. Any paper at any time that I have words that need to be written will work for me. I prefer a notebook. I am currently writing in a notebook. This notebook is not pink, or purple or decorated with some freakishly feminine design. This book that I’m writing in does not have a little lock, nor do I need a key to access the pages. I’m a grown ass woman. I do not have a diary. Fall back. 

 

I write. It’s what I do, and a big part of who I am. It keeps me organized. It has kept me sane at times. It has prevented more bad decisions than I can count. It has assisted in the birth of ideas. I do not have a diary. I have a little extensions of myself.

 

The Healthy Chronicles: I Bought A Juicer

In my last post, I mentioned my new found interest in all things healthy food. No I’m not about to swear off everything that’s not a a vegetable that’s name has at least two syllables. I will not be “that girl”. I refuse. And I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to live with myself if I gave up certain delicacies. Like bacon. So even though I’m exploring the world of health, I’m not going to completely desert my soul food roots.

I’d been looking at juicers for a while now, and the sister and I decided that we were going to hold off for a while. It wasn’t anything that we needed at the moment, and I didn’t want to buy just any juicer. I wanted a big fancy one that will strain the living daylights out of whatever I placed in it’s path. Then I had a day of from work, and was left to my own devices after lunch with the sister. I decided to go stop by the bargain store down the street. Low and behold, they had all kinds of juicers in that place. Some where in the $100′s and I walked right passed them. My will power was strong. Until I stumbled on a juicer for $30 bucks. THIRTY DOLLARS!!! No way that I could have passed on that. I knew that it wouldn’t have the best blades or extract as much juice as an expensive version. But what it would do is get me some juice. It would be the practice appliance. I’d be able to work out some recipes  and see what friuts and veggies taste well together. And since I don’t want to do a complete juice fast or anything, there was no way that I was going home without that juicer. So I bought it.

My first attempt at juicing involved an assorment of fruits and veggies from the Farmer’s Market. Kale, collards, peaches, an avocado, a plum. I learned so much in that first juicing session. First of all, my juicer does NOT like kale. or maybe the kale I had just wasn’t juicy. The collards, definitely rendered more juice than the kale. I think I’ll stick to blending the green stuff for a smoothie. Also, who told me that you can juice anything? Huh? You lied. There is no juice in an avocado!!  The fruits gave me all kinds of goodness, though.

My plan is to have a smoothie in the morning, and some sort of juice before bed. I realized that I can’t just throw whatever into the juicer and expect greatness. I’ll get juice, but I want it to taste good as well. So I’m now equipped with some recipes and will give this juicing thing another go.  Trying to be healthy is complicated.

Tidbits From My Blogging Hiatus

I know, I know. I said that I would post twice a week. I said that I wouldn’t disappear for long periods of time. I’m human. I had the best of intentions, yet weeks have gone by without so much as a click in my corner of the WordPress world. I’m a work in progress. I’m only human. All of the above. I have a few tidbits that I’d like to share. Some of these things were meant to be full posts of their own, but my brain and my pen wouldn’t cooperate.

- First, a couple of  things that I’m not here for. (Since it’s the new online trend. I do find the statement quite catchy, and find myself saying it in real life on occasion)

1. The universal conversation of lil Gabby’s new growth. I don’t care what her mother’s hair looks like. I don’t care how easy it is to slap a perm on. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. That child trains day in and day out in West Bumbleboondocks *enter rural state where we don’t think black people live*. That child runs, flips, and tumbles in chalk. She sweats for a living. She crossed the pond for one reason. To be crowned the baddest lil lady in gymnastics, by winning Olympic gold. Her mission has been accomplished. And *gasp* she did it with nappy edges. Her hair was not a factor in nary a score. Her form was near perfect, and that smile is infectious. That girl is a world-class athlete. Leave her be.

2. My face breaking out like a middle schooler. Recently, I’ve notice that my skin has decided to rebel against my face. They are engaging in a war that I was neither notified of, or would have given my consent. I’m 25 years old. I went through puberty quite a while ago. I don’t know what I did to deserve this awkward 8th grader’s skin. I keep telling myself that this is simply toxins leaving my body due to my recent incorporation of green smoothies and my new obsession with vegetables. I have so much more skin on my body. These toxins need to find another exit route.

3. My allergies. Food allergies. Nature allergies. Skin allergies. None of them .

 

- I’m slowly turning into a healthy eater. I feel it. I’ve been trying to fight it, but my vegetable cravings are no joke. For some reason I want to eat broccoli and carrots all the time. A smoothie and a banana for breakfast, apple for snack and salads for lunch. I don’t know where this came from. My snack drawer at work was infamous. Now, there’s fruit and sunflower seeds. These are the things that I crave. Also, I’ve developed a fascination with juicing. I want to buy an amazing juicer, and eventually make all of my own juice. Of course, I’m going to start with a juice fast, just to see how much crap that it forces to leave my body. There is a down side to this uber-healthy change. I don’t want meat very much. This wouldn’t be much of an issue if I wasn’t allergic to fish. Yes, one of the allergies that I’m not here for. Not being able to eat anything with scales eliminates so many great meal options.

- I’m never boycotting the magical deliciousness that is Chik-Fil-A. I don’t care who they donate money to. They gave me my first job, and I thoroughly appreciated being able to have Sundays off for church. Not to mention, they have the best chicken nuggets and waffle fries ever. EVER. When that craving calls, I will forever answer.

- I need a name for people who I call friends, who aren’t really friends. People that I connect with on specific levels and nothing else. They are not qualified for overall life involvement, but they’re dope people nonetheless. What do we call these people? I needs to know.

Here’s to the hope that this post will kick-start a steady stream of ideas and words.