Perseverance is a great element of success. If you only knock long
enough at the gate, you are sure to wake up somebody. -- Longfellow
Friday, October 2, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Confession: Maybe fame isn't all its cracked up to be. Pun intended.
"I love you! Have a good day, Ma."
Every morning when I send Isayah off to school, those are his last words to me. I have no idea what the day holds so, theoretically, on any given day, those could be his last words to me, PERIOD. Before two days ago, I took that for granted. Two years ago, being the kind of person/parent that enjoys that sort of thing gushy, maternal, Leave It to Beaver send-off..well, it annoyed me, to say the least. That mom who gets up and gets her child ready for school, "sees him off" with a kiss and a hug as she hands him his lunch bag and scoots him out to the busstop. Me? Never. No way. Lol. But once I became that person/parent who does it, it annoyed me. I secretly felt I wasn't cut out to be a good parent such as that. I aspired to be more, do more, see more than a domesticated life has to offer. Simply put, it was a chore that I much rather would've had someone else get up at the crack of dawn to do. I had WORK to do and did not have time to be Keisha Homemaker. Hmph. SOMEBODY had to work and get up these funds cuz it sure wasn't his other parent. And for 2 long years, someone did: his great grandmother. Her house was his place of residence, she was his primary caregiver. I visited him often, but I left to come home to my own empty apt at the end of the day.
Two days ago, after watching Whitney Houston's "revealing" interview on The Oprah Winfrey Show, I discovered a secret about myself. 1. I used to be INCREDIBLY selfish, and I actually don't like that idea like I thought I did. 2. I'm not half as grateful for my life as I should be. There's something about hearing someone else's testimony that has a way of helping u put ur life into better perspective. It also has a way of expanding ur sense of awareness about the world, and how u fit into it.
I've been a Whitney Houston fan since I was 5 years old. Hers ("Greatest Love of All") was the very FIRST favorite song I ever had. It was the song that made me aware of music and its power to invoke strong emotion in its listeners. Yes, I too was one of those little girls in cornrows tipped with colorful beads who wandered thru my mama's house, arms outstretched, feet twirling, eyes closed, screaming the lyrics into an old hairbrush, trying desperately to hold that last long ass note on "looooooooooooooooooo*voice fading*QUICK DEEP BREATH*ooooooooooooove" as Whitney (in the video) walked off stage to hug her mom in the wings. That song made me feel like if I could hold that last note like her, I could do anything. Shit, I WAS Whitney Houston when I was 5, and nobody "bet not" try to tell me differently. Hmph. Her voice and that song alone made me feel I could do ANYTHING, it moved me so much. Everywhere I went, I sang it. When people came over to the house, my dad let me sing it for his friends and relatives and they threw money at my feet. I LUUUBBED me some Whitney Houston and to me, she was IT.
Over the years, of course, I followed her music and her life, bought each and every album/cassette/CD, saw all her movies (true story. Waiting to Exhale was the very first movie My high school sweetheart and I went to see.I was 15. Bad move, but great movie.)I even bought her 2001 greatest hits double CD--the one with her on a ladder pulling all her gold records off the wall-- knowing full well it was just a collection of songs I already had. Bought it anyway, paid full price for it at the K-MART in Oxon Hill. And when someone stole it, I went and bought another one. Okay, u get it: I'm a fan.
I didn't see her Barbara Walters Interview where she proclaimed the wackness of crack. I conveniently forgot it was coming on. Ppl talked about it for MONTHS,but to this day I've still not seen it. And don't plan to. I think I was in denial about how rough her life may have been at the time, and was secretly terrified that she might become one of the world's great fallen music idols, gone too soon...lost to a life of hard drugs, hard love, and hard living. Not WHITNEY! Not MY WHITNEY!! I couldn't deal with it. It was just easier to ignore the writing on the walls.
During the interview, Whitney spoke of a time years ago when she wanted out. Out of the business, out of the lights, out of the life. She wanted to be able to get up in the morning, make Bobbi Christina breakfast, get her ready for school, kiss her cheek, hand her her backpack and lunch box, and scoot her outta the door with the words "I love you, have a good day, Ma" ringing in her ear. But, because she's Whitney, she wasn't able to do that. Something that the average woman on the grind trying to make it to the top--like myself--once took for granted as a trivial chore, Whitney--WHITNEY HOUSTON-- was dying to be able to do. But couldn't. It is astounding to think, in hindsight, of all things I take for granted, the peace I can indulge in on any given day based simply on my anonymity. And Ironically, I once envied celebrities their fame...not so much their fortunes because I don't hunger for money...but I do hunger for that limelight, I cannot lie, lol. I definitely like to get recognition. But the more and more I listen to celebrity stories, stories told by the real talents...not "fauxcialites" (Paris, Kim, any reality tv star)...the more I'm convinced that fame is not for me. Not Rihanna/Beyonce/Lindsay/MJJ, paparazzi hounding, can't walk into Target and buy panties kinda fame. I kinda like that I can hang out in Starbucks and blog while enjoying a strawberries and cream frappacino. I love that when I'm between paychecks and can't afford to buy new hair, I can just throw on a cap and tuck my hair up into it without it being blasted all over the blogosphere within minutes of my departure from my apt. Two summers ago, I lost someone very special to me. I heard that I was that ignorant black person at her funeral, but I don't recall because I blacked it out. And I love that I was able to do that in peace; to grieve the loss of a loved one in complete and total solitude without worrying about having to wear dark shades and keep it together gracefully when I really wanted to scream at God for taking away what felt like my lifeblood. Can you imagine? I truly took those things for granted. Hmmmm....Maybe I should be more careful what I ask for. Perhaps I havent' become famous yet for a reason. Am I really willing to subject myself and Isayah to that type of scrutiny? Live under such a microscope? Hmmm...it's definitely worth rethinking.
This morning, Isayah tried to hit me with the "Aight Ma, I'm gone. See ya later..." My head whipped around like Medusa and I said "Uhhh, I'm sorry, WHAT??" Mumbling a quick "oh, sorry, lol" he darted over to tell me he loved me, to have a great thursday, and kiss my freshly washed cheek. Hmph! I don't know who he thought we were for a second, but he better know that since we CAN do that, we will.
Beautiful and Loved,
Beautiful Day
Every morning when I send Isayah off to school, those are his last words to me. I have no idea what the day holds so, theoretically, on any given day, those could be his last words to me, PERIOD. Before two days ago, I took that for granted. Two years ago, being the kind of person/parent that enjoys that sort of thing gushy, maternal, Leave It to Beaver send-off..well, it annoyed me, to say the least. That mom who gets up and gets her child ready for school, "sees him off" with a kiss and a hug as she hands him his lunch bag and scoots him out to the busstop. Me? Never. No way. Lol. But once I became that person/parent who does it, it annoyed me. I secretly felt I wasn't cut out to be a good parent such as that. I aspired to be more, do more, see more than a domesticated life has to offer. Simply put, it was a chore that I much rather would've had someone else get up at the crack of dawn to do. I had WORK to do and did not have time to be Keisha Homemaker. Hmph. SOMEBODY had to work and get up these funds cuz it sure wasn't his other parent. And for 2 long years, someone did: his great grandmother. Her house was his place of residence, she was his primary caregiver. I visited him often, but I left to come home to my own empty apt at the end of the day.
Two days ago, after watching Whitney Houston's "revealing" interview on The Oprah Winfrey Show, I discovered a secret about myself. 1. I used to be INCREDIBLY selfish, and I actually don't like that idea like I thought I did. 2. I'm not half as grateful for my life as I should be. There's something about hearing someone else's testimony that has a way of helping u put ur life into better perspective. It also has a way of expanding ur sense of awareness about the world, and how u fit into it.
I've been a Whitney Houston fan since I was 5 years old. Hers ("Greatest Love of All") was the very FIRST favorite song I ever had. It was the song that made me aware of music and its power to invoke strong emotion in its listeners. Yes, I too was one of those little girls in cornrows tipped with colorful beads who wandered thru my mama's house, arms outstretched, feet twirling, eyes closed, screaming the lyrics into an old hairbrush, trying desperately to hold that last long ass note on "looooooooooooooooooo*voice fading*QUICK DEEP BREATH*ooooooooooooove" as Whitney (in the video) walked off stage to hug her mom in the wings. That song made me feel like if I could hold that last note like her, I could do anything. Shit, I WAS Whitney Houston when I was 5, and nobody "bet not" try to tell me differently. Hmph. Her voice and that song alone made me feel I could do ANYTHING, it moved me so much. Everywhere I went, I sang it. When people came over to the house, my dad let me sing it for his friends and relatives and they threw money at my feet. I LUUUBBED me some Whitney Houston and to me, she was IT.
Over the years, of course, I followed her music and her life, bought each and every album/cassette/CD, saw all her movies (true story. Waiting to Exhale was the very first movie My high school sweetheart and I went to see.I was 15. Bad move, but great movie.)I even bought her 2001 greatest hits double CD--the one with her on a ladder pulling all her gold records off the wall-- knowing full well it was just a collection of songs I already had. Bought it anyway, paid full price for it at the K-MART in Oxon Hill. And when someone stole it, I went and bought another one. Okay, u get it: I'm a fan.
I didn't see her Barbara Walters Interview where she proclaimed the wackness of crack. I conveniently forgot it was coming on. Ppl talked about it for MONTHS,but to this day I've still not seen it. And don't plan to. I think I was in denial about how rough her life may have been at the time, and was secretly terrified that she might become one of the world's great fallen music idols, gone too soon...lost to a life of hard drugs, hard love, and hard living. Not WHITNEY! Not MY WHITNEY!! I couldn't deal with it. It was just easier to ignore the writing on the walls.
During the interview, Whitney spoke of a time years ago when she wanted out. Out of the business, out of the lights, out of the life. She wanted to be able to get up in the morning, make Bobbi Christina breakfast, get her ready for school, kiss her cheek, hand her her backpack and lunch box, and scoot her outta the door with the words "I love you, have a good day, Ma" ringing in her ear. But, because she's Whitney, she wasn't able to do that. Something that the average woman on the grind trying to make it to the top--like myself--once took for granted as a trivial chore, Whitney--WHITNEY HOUSTON-- was dying to be able to do. But couldn't. It is astounding to think, in hindsight, of all things I take for granted, the peace I can indulge in on any given day based simply on my anonymity. And Ironically, I once envied celebrities their fame...not so much their fortunes because I don't hunger for money...but I do hunger for that limelight, I cannot lie, lol. I definitely like to get recognition. But the more and more I listen to celebrity stories, stories told by the real talents...not "fauxcialites" (Paris, Kim, any reality tv star)...the more I'm convinced that fame is not for me. Not Rihanna/Beyonce/Lindsay/MJJ, paparazzi hounding, can't walk into Target and buy panties kinda fame. I kinda like that I can hang out in Starbucks and blog while enjoying a strawberries and cream frappacino. I love that when I'm between paychecks and can't afford to buy new hair, I can just throw on a cap and tuck my hair up into it without it being blasted all over the blogosphere within minutes of my departure from my apt. Two summers ago, I lost someone very special to me. I heard that I was that ignorant black person at her funeral, but I don't recall because I blacked it out. And I love that I was able to do that in peace; to grieve the loss of a loved one in complete and total solitude without worrying about having to wear dark shades and keep it together gracefully when I really wanted to scream at God for taking away what felt like my lifeblood. Can you imagine? I truly took those things for granted. Hmmmm....Maybe I should be more careful what I ask for. Perhaps I havent' become famous yet for a reason. Am I really willing to subject myself and Isayah to that type of scrutiny? Live under such a microscope? Hmmm...it's definitely worth rethinking.
This morning, Isayah tried to hit me with the "Aight Ma, I'm gone. See ya later..." My head whipped around like Medusa and I said "Uhhh, I'm sorry, WHAT??" Mumbling a quick "oh, sorry, lol" he darted over to tell me he loved me, to have a great thursday, and kiss my freshly washed cheek. Hmph! I don't know who he thought we were for a second, but he better know that since we CAN do that, we will.
Beautiful and Loved,
Beautiful Day
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