Last night, my guy and I watched “Drumline”. We laughed as quotes about “hot butter biscuits” and “one band one sound” slid off our tongues and marveled over the young Nick Cannon and Zoe Saldana in the 13-year-old film.
“She hasn’t aged a bit,” he awed. It’s true. The love interest with the faint accent and hint of spice looked exactly the same. Same slender dancer frame, same big doe-like eyes, same slightly jutted chin. In hindsight, one can say that chin alone signaled her refusal to let her role in “Drumline” be her hit, her determination not to be relegated to the cinematic cemetery so many promising “Blacktresses” get buried alive in.
Who knew the fresh-faced dancer would one day defy color and culture to reach audiences far beyond even Cannon’s grasp? Continue reading
Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.” Perhaps the best example of the law will be on display tonight in Cali. Every yard, tackle, fumble, interception, Omaha and dab will trigger a corresponding series of events towards the final score. Talk about pressure. Continue reading
I cheated. Yep. I’ll admit it. Monday, Jan. 4 was the first of a 21-day fast limiting my diet to only things that come from the ground. No meat. No dairy. Nothing “pleasurable.” That first day, after ordering a very sad chopped salad from Subway, I raced home and grabbed a handful of cookies. Continue reading
Change doesn’t normally happen all at once. The stroke of midnight that marked 2016 didn’t magically change anyone’s carriage to pumpkin or heels to glass slippers. Change happens one decision, thought, word and action at a time. I’m excited to see what the woman in the mirror looks like this time next year. Continue reading
For the first time in a year, I rode the train last night. Clad in a short sweater dress, knee high boots and thigh high fishnet stockings, I should have known better. As soon as I crossed the platform to nab a ticket, a man approached. Hs words I don’t recall: I just remember the sense of my personal space being invaded. I summoned my toughest sass and asked him to back up. He complied and began to ramble about how he wanted to know my name so he could tattoo it on his neck. Continue reading
Before I even reached the cash register, I stared at the items cradled in my arms: black leatherette lace-up gloves, golden lace gloves, suede feathered elbow bands and a ginormous bag of Pirate’s Booty I planned to devour as soon as I left the store. I’m not sold on the black gloves, I admitted before “Mommy! Mommy!” interrupted my thoughts. I glanced towards the basket where she sat. Plaits swinging, head twisting side to side with arms uplifted, her “Mommy, mommy” song continued even though her Mom stood inches away. As soon as the mom took a step or two away, her chorus resumed. Continue reading
Stolen is such a strong word. When it comes to pens, I prefer something a little less evil. Certainly the theft of a little writing utensil is on a different scale than the theft of a purse, card or car.
Especially if the owner never realizes it’s gone. I first realized I had a pen problem nearly three years ago when I was working at Paul Quinn College. Continue reading