Friday, January 30, 2009

Invincibility

So I was driving home weighing my options. About my life. About books. About the hustle and grind of promotion, the uncertainty of publishing, the disappointment of representation, the merry go round of authorhood.

And Lauryn Hill's voice came over the airwaves. Actually, it was Lauryn and Tonya Blount, but Tonya is one of those heavy singers I can't quite tune into. I normally tune her out (I am so so sorry if that is rude to admit). So anyway, Lauryn's voice in The Eye Is On The Sparrow swept through my car and across my heart. And it reminded me of that late '90s time period, when Sister Act came out, when the Fugees first dropped. When I first encountered Lauryn Hill.

Bear with me if you have heard this story before. My then boyfriend, now husband, was part of a hip hop group named Arctic Circle and they were the opening group for a little one hit wonder hip hop trio called The Fugees. The one song was the knock, no one knew much else about The Fugees. And Lauryn was rocking the Sister Act braids on the cover of the album, so that was the female I was looking for when I met the band. During sound check, we met the other band members. I didn't see the little girl with the long braids. But this other young lady, maybe a year or so younger than me, with short afro puffs, was listening to The Arctic Circle's sound check and dancing in the middle of the club. By herself. With her arms wrapped around herself, eyes closed, and a magnetic smile. Charming. She just seemed special. I remember, standing there talking to another band member, noticing her and feeling inspired. Trying to figure out who she was and why didn't I know her, especially since I assumed she was someone from my small home town. An hour later, when she and The Fugees ripped the stage in one of the livest shows I have every experienced, I realized who she was and what they were going to be, without doubt. And there energy bounced off of me, spreading a feeling of invincibility.

Today, that memory sprang upon me. That feeling of inspiration. That was a time in my life when my husband and I really believed we were going to conquer the world. There was nothing in our way, but opportunity. The rapper of the Arctic Circle, Mike, was, and still is, a creative genius, and we would sit around his apartment for hours brainstorming, creating, strategizing. I remember when my husband and I went to Home Depot and, on a dime and desire, built an entire music studio. Developed a line of greeting cards with Mike. Created entire albums. We were laying the way for a future paved with gold.

What happened to the person I was then? When did living life become an obligatory thing wrapped around expectation and dreams became something secondary to fiddle with and tap into when time permitted. I have let my dreams down. I have let me down. I have succumbed to the desire for stability instead of courageously stepping on faith's principles that what God has for me will be for me.

Today, I longed for inspiration. And I am listening to His Eye Is On The Sparrow over and over again as I type this. I might trash signing with a publisher altogether. I am probably forever through with the agent search, the publishing search, the author search. I might simply write, self publish, promote, and let the chips fall where they may. I might just get back a touch of the inspiration I had in the'90's, a sprinkling of the determination and strong belief that I could conquer the world. Maybe if just a drop of that falls on me I will be content to use my gift however I can and let it touch who it may, even if it is only a handful of folks. Maybe that's all I was ever meant to be. Maybe that's all I was ever meant to do.

The dreams may have only been dreams, designed to tempt the soul but always escape my grasp like vapors in the night. Maybe my writing will be that small, barely noticeable scratch along the glossy paint job of the literary world. Maybe it's time I accept that. But I have to move forward - even if its just me, myself and I, me-agent, me-publisher, me-promoter.

The yo yo effect, the back and forth, the hope and damning disappointment, the staying still is killing me...

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

At Last

I am smitten, in love with my first family. Our first family. The United States of America's first family. At Last, thank you, God, At last. A sight I didn't even know would amaze me, a miracle I never realized would overwhelm me - I am so blessed just to be able to behold this, to be able to be alive on this day. The day Barack Hussein Obama became our 44th President of these United States.

At his side, a beautiful, well educated, hard working black woman - being loved before millions. Michelle, how many little girls lives will you change? I modeled my future after Claire Huxtable, my dreams of who I could be defined by a fictional character (and I will always adore Phylicia Rashad for giving life to my dream). But you, You are real. You are the truth. You really do exist. A black woman of professional ranks with dignity and grace to raise Tell me something, when have you ever seen a black woman being loved by a black man like this.

Thank you, God.

Beyonce', whom I also adore, gave a rare emotional performance that summarized love, hope, fatih, belief and overwhelming joy. Yesterday was a day beyond days. At last. At last. At last.