I Knew Beyoncé In a Past Life


No this is not another Illuminati theory. (They won't get mad that I wrote that, right?)

I have reason to believe that Beyoncé and I may be soul sisters...knew each other in our past lives... need to be besties in this one.

Proof of our connections discovered while viewing her pregnancy pictures on her site today.



Back to the topic at hand, though!  Every conspiracy theorist worth her salt has proof so I give thee

"Parallel Lives: The Why and How I Knew Bey In a Past Life" :

As you can CLEARLY see we both have an affinity for backdrops and flowers. 

Tina, pregnant with Bey, writing her unborn daughter's name in the sand. 

...And BAM! Me on a beach with Zoey's womb name written in the sand. 

Not to mention I listened to her album throughout my entire pregnancy and Blue was playing when Z was born.  

I don't know how we've become disconnected in this lifetime, but I see you soul sister. I see you. 



Some songs remind me how much I love love. They cast their spells and the trance begins.

I dare you not to float.

An Ancient Love Letter


An Ancient Love Letter
by: Tish Arana

Yesterday I was sugar tobacco cotton and gold

Still I saved breast milk for my own child, a move they called bold

I was the woman who learned letters by the light of the moon 

I was the man dancing, training via secret fight tune

I chose to love and jumped brooms; embraced words as our rings 

And with that same honest love drowned my precious offspring

I buried both hammer and hair pin simply to mess with their days

And put oleander laced tea on missus’ morning food trays

I ran through the night; found my freedoms in tracks 

I escaped from the monsters who grew roots on my back

I gathered my stories; swallowed all of it whole

Let it seep in my blood, absorbed better than coal

Asked Oya to protect it, to bind the magic to bone

For a new generation to remember and own

It took all of my lives, all the grit all the fight

To bind the spell, let new magic take flight

So now my sweet children you must remember my gift

You must remember each struggle that I carefully stitched

The stories in your veins are a roadmap to hope

Stories that will help you do more than just sit by and cope

You resist in your own way but you resist all the same

You remember that no one can take your damn name

Life is not easy. And there are dark days ahead

But like all the mothers have told you a closed mouth don’t get fed

Read. Speak up. Hide hammers and fight

Show them who you are; show them your darkness and your light.  



I grew in Texas. I'm Texan grown.

I am programmed to recite isms such as "The stars at night are big and bright deep in the heart of Texas" as well as phrases like "Everything's bigger and better in Texas."

Texas enthusiasts (aka teachers) are good at their jobs.

Texas was life as a kid. It was my everything. I remember the day I learned Texas wasn't our country. You read that correctly. As a child, I literally thought we lived in the country of Texas. California was on the west side of Texas... you get the drift.

I always chalked up my crazy Texan thoughts to Texan influence, but then I watched the below interview with the beloved Zadie Smith and now I'm thinking it's not so much a Texas thing. (Although they still could make a case.)

I love the idea of children centering...creating the boundaries of their worlds...creating geographic cushions of comfort. Thought I'd share the warm and fuzzies. I'm on the wait list at my library to read NW so I'm in Zadie mode right now.

Babe Ruth Moments


Here goes my Babe Ruth moment for 2017. (Explanatory comma moment: when you, like Babe Ruth, point to the sky and alert the Universe that you're about to score a home run and then you, indeed, score the dang home run.)

So, yeah,  2017 this is what I have planned for you:

You're gonna work with me and the Universe and together we're gonna book 20 commercials. I've already got one down for 2017. We can do this.

You're also gonna find me some beautiful magical story and I will become the actor/story teller for said magical story. It shall be Moonlight, Atlanta, Insecure, Hidden Figures, Stranger Things, The Get Down, Queen Sugar, This is Us and Chewing Gum all rolled into one unicorn-like film/show and it shall be magnificent.

I shall have my *Whoopi moment. 2017, I have plans for you.

*A Whoopi moment...like in How Stella Got Her Groove Back when she stands and faces the ocean and says "God's here."  or one of the million moments from Color Purple or Ghost... You feel me?


Ain't I A Woman?


Why am I JUST now reading Angela Davis' work? I took a slew of women's studies classes in school. Why was this woman not once mentioned?

I'm gonna remain salty with KU on that one.

I'm in the middle of Women, Race & Class and I swear my head is about to explode with all of this amazingness.

Let me be clear: This is a classic academic textbook read. Ms. Davis came to school. So being that I'm just now getting back into reading...and have been tiptoeing back in with captivating nonfiction to keep the momentum going... you might question my choice, but only if you've never read one of her books. Or if you weren't aware that reading is the only way we're going to solve this hot mess we've found ourselves in called The United States of We're Screwed For a While.

This shit is giving me LYFE. (Blue peg. Starting college first.)

I know basic ish about Sojourner Truth (like she was a feminist...that's it.)

Davis devotes pages to Truth's triumphs at the first National Convention on Women's Rights. She single-handedly rescued the Akron women's meeting from the bullshit hostile men (read: the original trolls.)

The men used a tired argument that it was ridiculous for women to desire the vote since they couldn't "even walk over a puddle or get into a carriage without the help of a man." and that's when Sojourner Truth hurt 'em.

She reminded them no one had ever helped her over a puddle or helped her out of a carriage. Then she asked a question that caught fire: "And ain't I a woman?"

"I have ploughed, and planted, and gathered into barns and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man--when I could get it--and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children and seen them most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?"

The men were shook and desperately reached in their trusty tool belt of misogyny  and pulled some Bible bull out. She came with the best answers that frankly we should be memeing the hell out, y'all:

"Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with him."

Then they mentioned the whole Eve committed that horrible sin bull spit and she came back with, "If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to get it right side up again! And now they are asking to do it, the men better let them."

Ladies and gentlemen, I have found my "new" shero! I need a shirt damn it. Plaster Ain't I a Woman on it in bold letters.  (Yes, damn it. I know I'm late to the damn party, but you don't know what you don't know. I'm patting myself on the back for finding a list in the first place.)

December: Brain Farts Return


December 15th

I was supposed to finish writing my pilot on December 15th. I haven't touched the thing in weeks (maybe months...)

I've been exhausted, but for good things. I've been working a lot. I've been auditioning a lot. I managed to shout to the universe I wanted to book three commercials before the end of the year and this week I booked my third one.

There's something very surreal about actually getting what you wish for. I've never pulled off a Babe Ruth before. I've never pointed my bat to left field and actually hit a homer out of the park. I'm a tiny bit scared...a tiny bit superstitious and paranoid, but also extremely thankful and proud AF.

The amount of energy these auditions take...the driving and juggling of schedules and nights I miss seeing my kid. The fruits of my labor are magically delicious.

So I'm still on page 11 of my pilot. I have moments where my thoughts drift to the women I've created and I frantically grab for my phone to record the thoughts I know will fade just as fast as they came if I don't speak them aloud. Soon I'll have a quiet night and I'll compile all the random notes, the recordings and the emails I've sent to myself and finish it.

New deadline in the works.

The Broad

I FINALLY did it. I told Mark to take a day off. I reserved tickets and off we went to be cool art folk.

Revenge Fit For a Frenemy

A friend of mine came over the other night to watch corny holiday films, but we never got to the actual film watching. It's been so long since I've sat down with a friend and just gabbed about things that don't involve a kid. I'm pretty sure I rambled on--a manic spiral of "what the hell?!" but she humored my enthusiasm (read: thirst for adult conversation)  Somehow we got on this one social media public figure and the woman who made her.

Let me explain: Friend no. 1 had an impressive platform. She saw this young cat (we'll call her friend no. 2) receive a smidgeon of celebrity and saw that she was sinking in stupidity so she took her under her wing...started giving her talking points and help her polish up her thoughts. Friend no. 2 blows the hell up and people start gassing no. 2 and forgetting about no. 1.

No. 1 grew super salty and started dragging no. 2  (for the record she still drags her and calls her out and tells her personal business)

When my friend was telling me about this public scandal my heart went out to friend no. 1. I get it. You've created your own distinct voice. You've created something out of nothing and made a name for yourself. You've decided to help and build up those around you only to see those people use your powers to become super duper fabulous and leave you in the dust. It sucks. The worst part...all that ill will she harbors for friend no. 2 is only going to hurt herself. When you hold contempt for someone and you see that person doing well each success ... each moment of good fortune destroys the soul little by little. It's poison.

I've been friend no. 1 before and it wasn't simpatico.

"The best revenge is massive success." --Frank Sinatra

Podcasts to Love

Making Oprah

Woke With Kids

Code Switch

Octavia E. Butler: She Knew and I Shall Now Have to Call Her Moon Child


This is basically how I rolled while reading Octavia E. Butler's, Parable of the Sower...

Me: Babe! She predicted everything. EVERYTHING!

(goes back to reading)


For the record, that man has never been screamed at so much. Okay, he's never been screamed at that much... while I'm reading a book. 

Can y'all please read Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents? And if you have read it can we please talk about it? I need to talk about this with someone. 

I'm just sitting in all these thoughts on damn global warming, new slavery, water catastrophes, walled communities, illiteracy issues, druggies who burn things and eat people (can we say bath salts?) and I am freaking the hell out. This woman knew too damn much. She wrote this in 1993, y'all. 

Before Mr. Evil Cheetos Chinchilla Head started acting a fool... before the Dakota Access Pipeline and Flint's water crisis...before we started looking at prison labor as slavery 2.0 and folks being elected to positions of power who could do some scary ass shit to our educational system as we know it (google Betsy DeVos and cross yourself.) 

Octavia knew things... She knew. 

This taken from her second book of the series, Parable of the Talents

"Jarret insists on being a throwback to some earlier, 'simpler' time. Now does not suit him. Religious tolerance does not suit him. The current state of the country does not suit him. He wants to take us all back to some magical time when everyone believed in the same God, worshipped him in the same way, and understood that their safety in the universe depended on completing the same religious rituals and stomping anyone who was different...

...Jarret's people have been known to beat or drive out Unitarians, for goodness' sake. Jarret condemns the burnings, but does so in such mild language that his people are free to hear what they want to hear. As for the beating, the tarring and feathering, and the destruction of 'heathen houses of devil-worship,' he has a simple answer: "Join us! Our doors are open to every nationality, every race! Leave your sinful past behind, and become one of us. Help us to make America great again...His opponent  Vice President Edward Jay Smith calls him a demagogue, a rabble-rouser, and a hypocrite."

Y'all... Donald Trump read these books. I know he did. I got chills y'all. Frickin' damn chills. 

So who's read the book? Come on Cletus. Right. This. Minute. Speak up!

I kind of feel like Sebastian from Never Ending Story. I'm just reaching the point where I'm chillin' under a blanket and I'm figuring out the author has been talking to me the entire time.  I see you Octavia. I see you... 

So yeah, if you've been looking for a great book...or you're finally waking up and just now realizing our world is stupid, jacked up (welcome, new woke folk) and you're thirsty for some new perspectives...this is the book for you!

It features a black feminist heroine (who you most certainly will relate to and want to be like.) She sprinkles legit history amongst a crazy dystopian society. So you get sci fi and historical nuggets. It's the perfect introduction if you're down with finally getting that minor in the POC Experience. 

Consider this book club hour. I'll be waiting. 
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