Little Pink Houses For You And Me.

I live in a country that says it has the most powerful military in the world, yet it has trouble defeating a bunch of rag-tag Middle Eastern rebel "terrorist" who are armed with war machinery and gunnery that pales by light years to my country's.

I live in a country that claims to be the leader in medicine, yet the nation's Center for Disease Control has known of an impending worldwide epidemic, Ebola, since 1976 and it hasn't lead the way in developing a serum or easy-to-apply protective garments for health care workers. Nor has this department of world leading researchers figured out a way to stop a mysterious virus that has effected the lives of children in 46 states - killing at least 6 children thus far.

I scratch my head in wonder of how this country I live in has a government that is "supposedly" elected to represent its people, yet it fails to truly hear the voices of the people, as the ears of those elected are trained on the shouts of lobbyist making purchases of legislature on behalf of corporations - that are, according to the Supreme Court, people too. However I have yet to see any corporation handcuffed and sent to jail for breaking the law.

We-the-people just keep standing in our neutral corners yelling across the ring at each other - about political, religious, and racial issues - as opposed to meeting in the center of the ring to touch gloves and unite to beat the hell out of a government that has and continues to bamboozle us with propaganda and poor representation.

Ha! Go ahead, pick this apart. Decide which angle you're going to take to attack me, and while you do, I'm gonna tell ya this - I don't care what religion, race, or political group you claim, we-the-people of these United States of America are in deep trouble and nothing, I mean absolutely NOTHING is going to change until we realize that our likeness is the fact that we are different and migrating towards those differences allows us to learn about each other and grow stronger together with an understanding that we have got to do something to right this ship...because it is way off course.

                             

Love And Hip-Hop Atlanta Cable TV At Its Worst.

On my way to the Food Channel, I happened by VH-1 and stopped, because I could not believe what I was seeing unfold before a studio and broadcast audience.  The show Love & Hip-Hop Atlanta was having a reunion and the entire cast was in an all-out-brawl!  Fists were flying, weaves were being yanked, profanities were being shouted, the set was being destroyed, security was being overpowered, and the audience was being...entertained?

Is THIS what entertainment has become?  Is this the new reality?  I was completely appalled and totally embarrassed by the actions of these people.  Yet, I stayed glued to the channel!  And believe you me, it wasn’t for entertainment quality, but only because I wanted to find out why these people were acting-the-fool on TV.

After doing a quick dig for information about the show, I discovered Love & Hip-Hop Atlanta made it’s debut in 2012 recording the lives of several women who are tied to Hip-hop, and it’s now in it’s 4th season.  The show is one of VH-1’s highest rated programs and is the #1 cable show with 18-49 year-old adults, women 18-49, and women 18-34.  Seriously.  Estimates show that 5.1 million people watch this show regularly. 

Clowns to the left.  Jokers to the right.  Tomfoolery abound!  WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?  Does this behavior deserve respect;  adults using vulgar language and fighting –

actually throwing punches, men and women – on television?  So, if it’s on TV does that mean it’s to be expected and accepted in and by the public? 

The entire cast of Love & Hip-Hop Atlanta is black.  Their vernacular is laced with vulgarities, words that if spoken about them by any other race would be considered racist.   Double standard?

This show is not representative of all black people or all hip-hop.  

This show is just like that accident on the highway that has stalled traffic because people are rubbernecking to see it – when you finally arrive, just keep your eyes focused straight ahead and keep driving.  There is nothing to see here.  Move along, move along.  There is absolutely nothing to see here.  (But if you actually want to rubberneck...here's the video.)

That's What She Said.

Right in the middle of telling me about finally meeting this amazing woman, on-line no doubt as a growing number of single adults are doing now-a-days, Derrick’s cellphone vibrated alerting him of a new text message.  Without missing a beat, he grabbed it, read the message, and gently placed the phone back on the table.

“That wasn’t her.” He said, but without the same smile on his face and in his voice like minutes before as he boasted about her love for animals, dream of owning her own horse farm and doing a lot of rescue work for all sorts of animals, and her dedication

to her three children – two boys and a girl.  As a matter of fact, Derrick had dominated the conversation describing how amazing his new interest was.  I knew about the ink on her various body parts – the blue rose is his favorite.  On and on and on he’d talked about her.  I understood his enthusiasm because he’d been so cautious about meeting people on the internet.  As a matter of fact, Derrick hadn’t dated anyone seriously in five years.  As a single dad he’d concentrated on nurturing his son and also adjusting to a career change. 

They met via a inquiry she sent regarding a comment he’d made on a mutual friend’s Facebook page.  That was 8 months ago and he has yet to hear her voice because they have only engaged in conversation via text and direct messaging.  He says he’s enjoying the journey of getting to know her with the hope of developing a solid friendship.

His cell vibrated again, and once again...it wasn’t her.  “That was work.  I’ve got to be at a meeting in the Village in an hour.”, he said as he gazed off into the distance.  I may have just as well been speaking Ursprache as I inquired about the meeting, because his thoughts were elsewhere.

As I signaled the waiter to retrieve our check, Derrick mumbled that the meeting was to provide support for his team that was presenting for a new client.  He insisted upon paying for lunch, because his company’s per-diem covered it. Heading for the 8^th street rail, I asked him how much she knew about him.  If she’d indeed been as curious about his life, as he was

of hers, for I truly believe in order to fuse a relationship both have to exhibit curiosity.  And this man, who had just filled our hour long conversation with exuberance about his delight of a newfangled relationship, was now...silent.  And he remained that way for several blocks, until the ominous blare of the horn of an approaching cab shook him out of his meditative state, and he replied, “You know, she doesn’t ask much about me at all.”  He swore to me it wasn’t the next episode of ‘Catfish’, because he’d been provided plenty of evidence she is real via constant photo and conversation updates on Facebook and Instagram. And even though she said her schedule was full with work and the three children, she still managed to avoid replying to him at times she suggested they would chat. His last correspondence from her had been 72 hours prior and it was in response to his request that she contact him when she wasn’t busy.  Her reply...

“Ok.  I will.”

When a direct response is required, for some a brazenly honest reply could seem callous, whereas with Derrick and me that was the only answer expected.  So, when he asked what I thought about the situation, her not asking questions about him nor keeping her word to reply, I looked him square in the eyes and said, “My friend, she’s just not that into you.”

As his train arrived, prior to boarding, he thanked me for meeting him for lunch and said he’d be in touch in a couple of days to let me know how the meeting with the client went, and if he’d heard from his new-found-friend. I assured him the client would be impressed by his team, and asked him not to get his hopes up about the i-girl. 

I walked to the nearby bench and took a seat with hope that I was wrong about her for the sake of my friend’s happiness.

UPDATE 48 hours later:

Derrick called to share the exciting news that his team had closed the client which helped them exceed their third quarter goal.  And upon inquiring about his i-girl, I was left intrigued by his response, “Ah...the perils of the mystery known as woman.”

The Soul's Adrenaline.

You can't stop believing, it's something you should refuse to allow. You laugh in the face of adversity and bask in its un-comfort now. Courage is the soul's adrenaline, as knees buckle and back bends. Ears strain to hear the silence amidst the echo of worldly noise.  A shouting whisper of everlasting joys. Hold fast. Hold true. Patience's reward is awaiting you.

What Would You Do?

Been down this road before, seeking an opportunity to join a team that is the right fit for me, my shoes are worn, yet I push on.  So many companies claim to be the best, but are they really?  Because if they were the best, I’d certainly be on their team.

It’s not pride or ego.  It is modest arrogance.  My time is valuable.  I have more years behind me than I have in front of me, so investing my time properly by working with a team that’s dedicated to successful accomplishments via excellent time management is essential.  Working beyond 8 hours a day for someone will be because I have acquired employment doing something I love.  8 hours of work, 8 hours of rest, and 8 hours of “play” – family and friends...THAT is the life I deserve and the life I will live.  That’s modest arrogance and I’m quite comfortable with it.

We’ve been told to “think outside the box”.  But who’s box are we to think outside of?  The one they assume we’re constrained by as individuals?  The one that has locked us into thinking in one particular fashion?  So, once we’re “thinking outside the box”, are we then confined by the limitations of the box they have us in by the direction of which we’re instructed to think?

I enjoy meeting people who are doing what they love and loving what they do.  Joy exudes from every pore of their body, as they share what it means to “be your own boss” doing a job that doesn’t seem like work because it’s an extension of who they are.

What would you do if someone paid you to do whatever you wanted to do for the rest of your life?  As you think about that answer, let me add, isn’t that what you should be doing right now.

Focus forward.

The Fuzzy Stuff On It.

When I was in the second grade I had to learn and recite Christina Rossetti’s poem "Who Has Seen the Wind".  My mother helped me study and practice it.  She also said that she thought it would be a nice touch if I held a dandelion while reciting it.  As she drove me to school on the day of the recital, I

peered out of the window of the backseat looking for a dandelion, yet there were none to be seen or found. Upon entering the classroom, I was additionally saddened by the site of each of my classmates holding props to accompany their recites.  When Mrs. Blackburn requisitioned my presence before the assembly, I rose to my feet with sudden dismay, caused by my concern for lack of a much-needed prop.  Just as I approached the massive staircase to encroach the stage, Debbie Snipes appeared from the shadows with her arm extended to reveal her tiny, little hand, with perfectly manicured nails painted like tepid ladybugs, holding the most gigantic dandelion I’d ever laid my beady eyes upon!  Her gesture of kindness completely shocked me and I was illuminated by her gentleness even more as she smiled and said, “I picked three of these things this morning outside our classroom window.  I blew the other two away and as I was just about to cast this one into oblivion, I remembered you were doing a poem about the wind.  So, I held onto it for you.  I hope there’s enough of the fuzzy stuff left on it.  Would you like to have it?”

My heart forced as smile on my face that spoke the words of gratitude Debbie must have understood, because before I could say anything she said, “You’re welcome! Good luck! And don’t forget your words!” And with that she spun on her heels and was engulfed by the shadows almost as quickly as she’d appeared.

Debbie and I become best of friends and were practically inseparable until my family packed up, three years later and moved 800 miles away.  Although I don’t know whatever became of her, each time I see a dandelion Debbie does cross my mind, as does the poem that I recited as eloquently as a 6-year-old could holding a gigantic dandelion with just enough fuzzy stuff left on it.

Who has seen the wind?Neither I nor you:

But when the leaves hang trembling,

The wind is passing through.

 Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I.

But when the trees bow down their heads,

The wind is passing by.

Christine Rossetti  1830 - 1894

Cyra Morgan Modern Folk.

The unusually cool temperature, with minimal humidity, made the 7 block jaunt along 5^th Avenue to Bryant Park seem more like a leisurely stroll on the latter half of this mid-week July afternoon.  I hummed along with the tinkling melody of the park’s infamous roundabout and took notice of the young woman sitting on a bench just across the pathway, with her eyes fixed like a curious child, watching the elderly statesmen engage in a passionate game of Chinese Chess.  She is Cyra Morgan, a resident of this Metropolis, and when she’s not at the beach,  often she finds herself here, people watching, or just taking in nature – it’s her way of connecting and finding inspiration for another verse to add to her growing repertoire of intimate acoustic folk songs.When she was 5 her father would invite his musician friends over for jam sessions and Cyra was often asked to get on the microphone to sing.  The delight of those moments led to her penning her first lyrics and performing them to a sold out imaginary audience in her bedroom.  In 8^th grade, she wrote a song for her teacher and taught it to her classmates, who performed it as their end-of-year swan-song.   Only a few years ago, her father taught her to play the guitar, it’s the only instrument she plays, and it has unshackled her from needy dependence upon another musician to help her get the songs out of her head.

This would be only our second meeting, yet she recognized my face as I approached, and waved me over to take a seat.  A self-proclaimed Instagram addict, she said she’d captured several moments of the day and proceeded to show me her latest exhibits on her iPhone.  I asked if I could scroll through her music playlists and was delightfully surprised to see an eclectic mix of artist – Regina Spektor,  Damien Rice, Ray LaMontange, Mumford and Sons, The Black Keys, The Artic Monkeys, and The Beastie Boys.

“Regina Spektor is such a huge inspiration and influence for me.  I tend to be a person that feels deeply, and life sometimes guides me to places where my emotions are too big to contain. I feel like if I can capture it, whatever it is I’m feeling, as authentically, as truthfully as possible in my writing, it helps to bear the burden of the vulnerability, the fears, the love, the heartache, the hope.” 

15 months ago, Cyra was one of the top 10 finalist in the Guitar Center’s Singer – Songwriter Competition, and this past March she was one of the featured artist on the SoundCloud stage at SXSW, both she professes have been highlights in her budding career.

“I owe so much of my success thus far to SoundCloud, so it was kind of a huge honor for me to play on their stage. But generally, meeting other SoundClouders or fans is always really meaningful for me. Maybe it’s because I share so much of my soul in my songs, it means the world to me that people want to listen.”

She’s definitely a dream seeker with professional aspirations of a world tour, performing on all of the late night talk shows, and Saturday Night Live.

 ” I’ve always had this little dream of playing little pubs in England, Scotland and Ireland…. kind of random but I’d love to do that.”

The potrait of Cyra’s future will also be accented with highlights of what she believes will be the richness of life’s adventure.

“Personally, my goals are to be an amazing mother and partner, to shower my children and family with love. To appreciate, to be grateful for every beautiful moment that I am given.”

Discover the acoustic folk intonations of Cyra Morgan now on SoundCloud and an intimate stage setting soon.