Someday, if I ever win an award, I won’t be thanking my mother—I’ll be thanking Jay-Z. Oh sure, I’m grateful to my mom for giving birth to me and many other things--like how to cook, my olive complexion and my cute tush--but it was Jay-Z who truly provided the guidance I needed to survive in a cold, harsh world:
State Your Purpose.“I told you in ninety-six that I came to take this shit and I did, handle my biz.” The only thing you have in life is your word. Do what you say you’re going to do. Commit to something. Follow through. Don’t commit with words if you can’t back it up with ACTION. Follow through is everything.
Be Yourself.“No matter where u go u are what u are player, And u can try to change but that’s just the top layer, Man u was who u was ‘for u got here.” Any mother can tell you every child is born with an innate personality. It’s just who you ARE. The trick--in a world constantly trying to tell you who you are or who to be—is to REMAIN that enthusiastic soul. It sounds so simple—but it is one of the single hardest things you will ever be called to do.
Never Settle.“Foolish pride is what held me together through the years/I wasn't felt which is why I ain't never played myself/I just play the hand I'm dealt, I can't say I've never knelt/before God and asked for better cards at times to no avail/But I never sat back feelin sorry for myself/If you don't give me heaven I'll raise hell/'Til it's heaven.” Never settle for less than you deserve. Never quit. Never let anyone slow you down. Never wait for the phone to ring. Keep moving. And brush that dirt off your shoulder, folks. It feels good.
The Hustlin’ Way.“Hustling's still inside of me, and as far as progress you'd be hard-pressed, to find another rapper hot as me.” This is the basic theme of every Jay-Z song. & it’s the predominant way I’ve made it this far. Fake it ‘til ya make it, but make sure you can back it up.
Warrior Spirit.“Came from bottom the bottom-to the Top of the Pops” I don’t know about you, but I love a rags-to-riches story. Who doesn’t? Because it takes a strong spirit to be able see through your dismal surroundings and imagine something greater. Something bigger than you. A vision that compels you, drives you, pushes you to carry on when the odds are against you, the world is against you & the Gods are plotting your assassination. Find a vision that moves you & hold on to it for dear life.
Make Moves.“What the hell are you waiting for?” Goes without saying. Take action. We live in an increasingly fast-paced competitive world. It’s Darwinian out there, folks. While you sit around second-guessing yourself, hesitating and waiting for something to happen to you-- someone else is hustling an opportunity, taking a chance and creating their own luck. Get off your ass.
Confidence/Self-Esteem.”When you think back, you thought that/you would never make it this far, then you/take advantage of the luck you handed/Or the talent, you been given/Ain't no, half steppin, ain't no, no slippin” Prior to the age of 30, I consider the “years I had no self-esteem.” It’s true. I had none. I was just an insecure girl; searching for love, approval, self-worth, affirmation & a host of other things I was unable to give myself. But the HOV gave me hope. Hope that someday I could look back & be proud of woman I had become. Every centimeter of self-esteem that I have, I’ve earned the hard way, over many years & through many jackasses who never deserved to lay a hand on me. Ladies especially, guard your self-esteem, protectively, like a father would his little girl. If you don’t believe in yourself, no one else will. If you don't set standards for yourself, they will be set for you--& I promise--you will be low-balled.
Determination/Focus.“Record companies told me I couldn't cut it Now look at me, all star-studded” Never give up. Never, never, never, never, never, never, NEVER give up. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you can’t do something. That kind of energy is useless. Rid your life of toxicity & the people who spread it.
Honor.“I never asked for nothin I don't demand of myself Honesty, loyalty, friends and then wealth.” This is one of about a million examples from the Jay-Z School of Life. I like his school. I’ve attended it. It’s honest, straightforward & realistic. Most importantly, he doesn’t apologize for who he is, where he came from, how he got here & how much money he's made doing so.
Best Revenge Is a Life Well Lived.“I’m not lookin’ at you dudes, I’m lookin’ past ya.” My mantra for the past decade. Have a vision. Stay focused on it. Don’t get distracted by petty shit. Look past all the haters and keep your eye on the prize. There is only one way to go--and that's straight for your destiny.
Self-Reliance.“Niggaz pray and pray on my downfall/ But everytime I hit the ground I bounce up like roundball” All of us are going to experience up & downs, loss & profit, joy & grief. What differentiates the strong from the weak is how they respond to life’s challenges. All of Jay-Z’s lyrics in one way or another usually touch upon this theme. So does my favorite poem in the world: Rudyard Kipling’s “IF” (which if you haven’t read—read immediately).
Self-Defense. "Let me tell you dudes what I’d do to protect this, shoot at you actors like movie directors.” He’s made it clear not to fuck with him. And he’s made it clear if you stand in his way, he will destroy you. That’s not ego. That’s called being a real man. And when it looked like Rihanna might go back to her scumbag boyfriend, Chris Brown, it’s no secret Jay-Z intervened. Good for you Jay-Z!! Thank Fucking God!!! That’s the example that HAS to be set! Every. Time. LADIES: YOU CAN’T GO BACK TO A MAN WHO HIT YOU. EVER. Whether you are famous or not, putting up with abuse sets an example, whether it’s for little girls everywhere, or little girls under your roof. My mom would still be with Chris. Wait a minute…in fact…
...but that’s neither here nor there. From the bottom of my heart, thank you Jay-Z, for everything…now quit retiring and never stop throwin’ it down. You save people. You definitely saved me…and continue to...lately, I’m hangin’ on your every word.
Okay. So this woman hands down, takes the fuckin’ cake. A virtuoso performance, she sings, she dances, she’s gorgeous, her energy is infectious, she has a message, she created a brilliant alter-ego/sci-fi character and story to go along with it, she started her own label, did I mention she can fuckin' DANCE?—brilliant, BRILLIANT, BRILLIANT!!!
Watch out world…here she comes. Janelle Monae.
It takes one to know one. Rumor has it, Sir P.Diddy (or whatever the hell he’s goin’ by these days), Himself, blessed the Priestess with a million dollar budget for her “Many Moons” video based on what he saw at her performance alone. I don’t know if this is true, but if it is—mad props to Diddy for giving genius a chance to shine. And I can understand it just based on this video:
If you live in New York and haven’t seen her, you should be ashamed. If you live in BROOKLYN and haven’t caught her live show by now, you should just quit calling yourself a hipster and move back home with mom and dad.
My friend and contributor to Phetasy introduced me to Janelle the week before I went to Comic-Con. I kid you not, I ran around San Diego with my Ipod making people listen to her. I even made a dude dressed like Batman in a cab next to me, repeat her name twice so he would remember it.
Miss Monae is about to go big. And she deserves it all and then some. Check out her website! It's sick.
"It's not just in some of us. It's in everyone -- And as we let our own Light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." --Nelson Mandela
As I’ve mentioned, I moved a lot as a kid. The ongoing guilt-trip I laid on my parents was that they should have just named me “New Girl” because that was my permanent title for the better part of my elementary school years.
When I was 13, I lived in a quaint fishing village in Connecticut. Another one of many small towns, filled with many mean kids. My desire to fit in ran deep--deeper than just normal teenage angst because I had NEVER fit in. Anywhere. A sense of stability or any idea of a comfort zone was (and still to a large degree is) completely foreign to me. I desperately longed to be accepted and popular.
One story from this time in my life completely epitomizes my struggle. I was in 7th grade. I had braces. There was a 50’s Dance at my Junior High, the social event of the spring. For the moment, the popular 8th graders had accepted me into their very elite clique. (The 7th grade girls recently ostracized me after I committed a serious social faux pas on the bus—another great story for another time) The 8th grade girls felt I was being unfairly persecuted and took me in.
God, I worshipped those 8th grade girls. Idolized them. I wanted to learn how to do it. How to be one of them. They had it all--boyfriends, good grades, big boobs, endless party invites, cheerleader outfits and fancy cheers, names that ended in “Y”; they were wildly popular and most importantly, they had moms who would make them awesome poodle skirts with cute, felt poodles, sewn on with a white pom-pom for the tail and everything...
In a momentary dream come true, they invited me to be seen with them and said they would meet me there! Well, of course I needed a costume! At this point, I was only 13, but when your mom goes nuts, you’re pretty much on your own when it comes to things as trivial as Junior High dances. Desperation set in when I realized (alas) I had no poodle skirt or a mom who would make me one. So I did what I learned to do best, improvise.
Being the giant dork that I was/am, I had a massive collection of porcelain animal figurines. You know what I’m talking about? Those little, 1” animals that old ladies collect? Yeah, I collected them. Spent HUNDREDS of hard-earned babysitting dollars on them in fact. Well, I happened to have a poodle in my assembly.
(hilariously enough I think this is EXACTLY the poodle figurine I had)
I found the only skirt that looked remotely (nothing) like a poodle skirt and I sewed that baby on. First of all, I can’t sew a button on a shirt, so the sewing of a porcelain poodle on to a flimsy JCrew summer skirt certainly wasn’t pretty. Of course, I didn’t have any ruffles to wear under it either and hadn’t really considered that fact until it was too late. The skirt had an elastic quality and--due to the weight of the porcelain poodle--the last thing it might have EVER been called, was puffy. The whole, flopping mess hung awkwardly and crookedly. I looked downright ridiculous.
Determined to laugh it off and still go to the dance, I admired my creativity and off I went. The popular girls all looked smashing in their perfect, homemade costumes. And if my memory serves correct, when I arrived, they were all dancing perfectly in unison, straight towards me, right out of a scene from Grease.
In the middle of twirling about to “Shout”, my poor sewing job finally gave way (I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did), sending my precious, porcelain poodle flying into the middle of the dance floor, smashing it to pieces and with it, my dreams of being one of them. It’s impossible to hide the sound of porcelain smashing. I think the DJ might have even stopped the music. Everyone turned from the site of impact to stare at me—awkwardly collecting the pieces of my shattered fantasies, fighting back tears. I loved that fuckin' poodle. The adolescents twittered amongst themselves:
“Who's that?" "Oh her, she’s that New Girl…” "What on Earth is she picking up?" "Who knows! What the heck is she wearing?"
Somewhat Daily Whoroscope: It's the day before a long weekend which means everyone's mind has already checked out. This downward spiral started early this week with everyone talking about the long weekend and daydreaming of vacation-time. Most of our rich bosses left last weekend for their two-week frolic in Europe, a fact that left most of us lay-people stranded with work to do, but no one to make sure we were doing it. Any business you try to get done today is going to be a frustrating exercise in patience. That also goes for anywhere you try to drive this weekend. Either way, don't get your twat in a knot...you have the FREEDOM to do and be whatever you want. Choose to be a happy, friendly person to be around. Now go celebrate** and be grateful for that freedom (before we are occupied by the Chinese).
**Always drink responsibly or risk losing your freedom.
When a path has no heart, leave it. ~Carlos Castaneda
A brief history of my love/hate relationship with basketball:
I was born and raised a New England fan, especially when it came to the Red Sox and the Patriots. I stood by my grandfather and cheered like most of Red Sox Nation through the bad years. He waited 80 years to see the Red Sox win a title and died the year before they did it. I like to think he pulled some strings up there for the Sox.
My family however, wasn't that into basketball for whatever reason and so I didn't really start watching the game until I moved to Minnesota in high school. I spent many years watching Garnett struggle to carry his entire Timberwolves team.
Then one day, I ate some mushrooms and went to a high school basketball game. All I could hear were the stop and go squeaks from the sneakers and it traumatized me from the game for quite some time. For years I just couldn't bring myself to watch basketball; the only thing I could focus on was that dreadful sound.
In 1999 I moved to Los Angeles and got over the basketball flashback syndrome. Because this was where I started watching the game again, and L.A. was my new home, I became a dreaded Lakers fan. And because I consider myself to be a devoted fan once I have chosen a team, even when I moved back East for 6 six years, (and despite protests from friends and family and the fact that I was cheering for the Sox and the Pats), I still maintained my Laker loyalty.
When Boston got Garnett at the beginning of the season, I called that they would win the championship. And although it was a tough decision for me because something just didn't feel right, I still stood by the Lakers.
Until last night.
When I was getting ready to go over to my friend's house to watch the game (he and his whole family are born and raised Los Angelans and obviously die-hard Lakers fans) I kept putting on my Red Sox hat and then taking it off.
What was going on with me? Deep inside my heart I felt like a traitor for even rooting for the Lakers and knew that my actions were showing me who I truly wanted to win.
But I left my Red Sox hat behind and stayed determined to cheer for who I thought was my team, ignoring the cries of my heart. By the second quarter of the game, after a couple of beers and shot of Patron, my true colors started to show. And they were green.
"This is why I hate the Lakers and their fans! This is why you don't deserve to win. It's not even the 3rd quarter and you and your team have already collectively thrown in the towel! You might as well be cheering for the Celtics right now!" I found myself yelling at the people around me. Like their primadonna team, they had already given up.
I wasn't angry at them though, I was angry at myself.
"And this is why I love New England!" I yelled. "Because they never give up! Never give up! Never ever, ever, ever, ever give up! Even when the odds are against you. Even when you don't have the advantage. Especially when you are losing."
The Lakers however, looked defeated in the 2 quarter. And that's exactly why they were. Because losing is a mentality. And the Lakers are sore losers. Crybaby, whiny, bad sportsman. They start losing the game and just throw in the towel--so here comes the inevitable blowout. The Celtics fought hard until the last play and they were winning by 30. Because unlike the Lakers, who are all ego and all talk, the Celtics have heart.
When a path has no heart, leave it. Immediately. Don't hesitate and don't look back. So right there and then, I abandoned ship and returned to my roots.
I could no longer help but cheer them on. As they continued to roll over the Lakers, my heart was screaming and despite the fact that I was surrounded by bored, sleeping Lakers fans--the hoots, hollers and claps came bursting forth. It felt good. Most importantly, it felt right.
It's hard when you move all the time. You become like a ship with no anchor in a sea of options. And although I am ashamed for ever even thinking I could root for any team other than a New England team, I learned a valuable lesson: home is truly where the heart is. And although I might be based out in LaLa Land, my heart will always be in New England.
