My Grandma Nana Would Always Say...

2011-10-13T09:05:00.000-05:00

Womanifesto

It is no secret that I love Jill Scott.

She writes the life and love soundtrack for the substantive woman of color’s biography. Her songs cross all spiritual, sensual, emotional, political, and socio-economic spectrums. If the black woman was to be comprehended by notes and lyrics, I would forward all inquiries to her anthology.

There’s a Jill Scott song for ever watershed moment in my life. Her most recent album proves to be no different.

This year, God told me that the sky would open up in my life. A number of the things I had been patient with His process on, would finally come to fruition. By the same token, a number of the things I needed to change about my life would be exposed, namely those things where my faith needed to be stretched and tested.
Over the last few months, I have been “released” literally and figuratively from things (and people) that held me in grossly expired bondage. To be exact, that bondage lasted for almost 10 years. I’ve been forced to confront my demons and secrets. I’ve been forced to take an honest look at myself naked and make up-less in the mirror. God pointed to my issues and trusted me to correct them.

I planted my feet and battled.

And when I woke, everything I went through was beautiful.

2011-06-20T09:46:00.001-05:00

My Dad is a Verb
Yesterday was Father’s Day.

Sentimental oratorical tributes were in abundance on social networks. Secretly, I wanted to pull a Kanye and say, “Imma let y’all finish buuuuuuuut Stephen Bernard Hines is the best Dad, hands down, ya feel me?”

Maybe I’m biased.

Recently, I discovered that my dad reads my blog (what up, pop!). That would scare most girls at any age but my father knows his daughter and more importantly, knows what gene pool she came from. He understands my lady-like, often sarcastic, three dimensional personality. He knows that I drink and swear. But he also knows that I have a great heart and the best of intentions. I am blessed to have parents who never had any expectation of me other than to be myself. If anyone didn’t accept that, it was their fault.

I am a daddy’s girl in the best kind of way one can be a daddy’s girl. I am extremely self-sufficient and independent. I haven’t asked my father to help me financially in over 7 years. I turned out this way even though I can count on one hand the amount of times my father has told me, “no”.

My father was 20 when I was born. As you get older and live more kid-less years, you realize the gravity of that. Twenty. With a kid and a bonus 9 year old kid. I can’t say I’d be leaping with joy to enter into such situation but my father did. I’ve never asked him outright but I’m sure my father forfeited a lot of wild nights and dreams to support his family. And although quite mild-mannered and reserved, this fact has never caused anyone to question his ability to provide or his manhood.

When I was 7, my parents separated. Funny, but I wasn’t upset. I was relieved. I was a diplomatic and extremely observant child. I knew they weren’t happy. I knew that they married too young and because my mom was pregnant. I knew that outside influences had pervaded their union. I just wanted them to be at peace and happy. And if separation was the answer, it was the answer. And I also knew that my father’s physical separation from my household would not change his emotional or mental connection to his daughter.

I don’t mean to brag but I was right.

From 1980 – 1998, my father courted me.

We had a whirlwind father-daughter romance. And I adore this guy. He’s pretty fuggin’ awesome. It’s the type of stuff chick flicks are made of.

There was never a day I didn’t feel loved by my father.
My dad took me on dates until I was 18.
He opened doors.
He ordered my entree.
He brought me chicken soup and meds when I was ill.
He waited for hours after school in the car so I could have a social life.
He’s bailed me out.
He was rarely late.
He hugged me.
He kissed my forehead.
His eyes always told me I was beautiful, talented and smart.
He always caught my fall.
He disciplined me.
He counseled me.

He was everything a good father should be.

And he did all this with about two words a day. No, seriously, bruh doesn’t really talk.

I’m 31 years old now. I don’t necessarily “need” my father for these things anymore. And I don’t “need” them from any man I date but it is important that I see one quality about my father in them…

An insurmountable level of selflessness.

Selflessness takes years to develop in a relationship though. People aren’t typically selfless with you until they have reached a level of emotion in the relationship. But that doesn’t mean he can’t exhibit this in his relationships with friend and family members. Because of my dad’s more than redeemable qualities, I had a bit of a stepiphany yesterday.

I have NEVER seriously dated anyone who would not have made/is not a great father.

My father’s example of love, although coupled with minimal words, worked.

I guess what they say is true. Love is an action word.

And my dad is most definitely a verb.

2011-04-26T09:48:00.001-05:00

Don’t Be No Fool, Pauline.
So my grandma nana had some pretty elaborate stories from when she was a young woman. Some seemed to stretch the truth a tad bit but I can imagine that when I tell my granddaughters about my misadventures, they’ll be seasoned with a little extra, as well. My nana would have these very open and transparent conversations with us about men and relationships. One of her favorite subjects was infidelity.

I won’t go into detail about my grandparents’ relationship but with a marriage that lasted until both of their deaths and started at the young ages of 15 and 19, respectively, there wasn’t a clean slate or the lack of eraser use. I think that’s why she constantly emphasized to us to keep God first and trust in man to be and do exactly what’s in his nature to be, Human. Likewise, we were to be honest and transparent with our own human nature. I’ve seen her counsel many a family member on how to move on from scars and failed expectations. Dare I say it, she was a much stronger woman than I. Trust, women from that era were cut from a different cloth. But that’s another blog for another day.

My Nana had this friend named Pauline. Pauline was married to a nice, young man who took great care of her as a provider. Pauline stayed home with the kids while he worked long, laborious hours. You could tell from Nana’s glare when she told Pauline’s story that she was quite fond of Pauline’s husband. She’d say he came from good stock. After a few years of marriage and a baby (or two), Pauline began to complain/ a lot, not pay much attention to her appearance or her housekeeping duties. Pauline’s husband, in turn, began to work longer hours. *side eye* So on a hot, summer morning in July, my Nana gets a call from Pauline saying she wants to “ride out” on her husband and needs reinforcement. Nana, Pauline and a third friend, Gertrude, hop in the car to catch Pauline’s husband in the act. As Nana would put it, “we went looking for something and we found it.” Pauline, indeed, finds her husband in the arms of another woman (referred to in this story as a nasty woman…interpret that as you wish). A huge domestic dispute erupts in the middle of the street. Pauline is frantically crying. Pauline’s husband, who Nana repeatedly refers to as a good guy who made a mistake, is distraught and apologetic. The nasty woman doesn’t say a word but Nana tells me that she recognizes her from a previous incident. My Nana and Miss Gertrude had witnessed this nasty woman beat the brakes off a lady at the market a few weeks prior, Orange Mound style. Pauline, loose with her language in the heat of the moment, says she’s leaving her husband and begins to berate the nasty woman. In an effort to defend herself, the nasty woman had quite the rebuttal. She began to tell Pauline about how Pauline had left the door open for her. The “nasty” woman made a decent living, cooked almost everyday, kept herself up and above all, had become a listening ear for Pauline’s husband. Naturally, Pauline became infuriated and began to take off her earrings and shoes. The nasty woman readied herself for the brawl. As Pauline began to walk toward the woman, a hand grabbed her elbow and pulled her back. It was soft spoken and gentile, Miss Gertrude.

“Don’t Be No Fool, Pauline.”

And just like that, it was over. That’s how my Nana always ended the story. No details on if Pauline and her husband reconciled or if Pauline and the nasty woman had it out in the streets. The story has and will always be open for interpretation.

But I will say, that every time we were reluctant to admit our own faults or were faced with inevitable emotional or physical defeat, my Nana would grab our hands and with a smirk say, “Don’t be no fool, Pauline.”

And in moments were we had the right to forge ahead with a decision even when faced with the above, she’d say, “I know I said don’t be no fool but I know you won’t be no damn fool,” and let us go.

Fool vs. Damn Fool? That is the question.

*smile*

2011-03-03T16:13:00.003-05:00

MESSAGE
I recently purchased Death of Pop Star, a creative collaboration of David Banner and 9th Wonder. As a music junkie and a bit of a lyrical snob, I love the concept and the product. Unlike most, I still buy real CDs because I like to tangibly read the liner notes. Banner's sentiments struck such a chord in me that I had to share. Powerful message. Much respect. Sadly, this won't be televised or shouted from the mountain tops but it definitely served as self-edification.

Who you are at this very moment…who you have the potential to become…is being systematically threatened. Social networking, reality TV, and undisclosed rating systems have widened the invisible stage on which most of us live our lives. These “technological advances” herd us like sheep…silencing our voices, telling us what to think, and defining what is now considered social acceptable. Everything we say, everything we do, is played out before a not so visible crowd. Their applause, or lack thereof, plays to our vulnerability…it counts on our need to be liked and accepted, as a means on control…

When do we decide? When do we take a stand against the killing of our authentic selves…against the murder of our development? Our children are watching. They are studying us...imitating us as we glamorize the death of true manhood…rehearsing our stillness as we embrace the death of love, relationship and human decency. When do we decide to get off the stage, if only for a while, and evolve? When do we stop merely existing and live? There is something that each of us was created to do on this earth. Know that it is impossible to fulfill that purpose when consumed by who is watching and who approves. Don’t let the crowd kill the things that make you different…don’t participate in a self induced genocide with your silence. In the end its so much more that our music they’re after…Its our future…

2011-02-28T10:43:00.001-05:00

Go girl, Its your birthday!

31 Favors: A Sweet Celebration of Giving

I am grateful that God has blessed me with another year to fulfill my purpose. And if I am being honest, I struggle everyday with exactly what that purpose is. However, one thing I am sure of is my ultimate goal: to embody the biblical definition of a virtuous woman.

Proverbs 31 is an important passage to all Christian women. So as my 31st birthday approaches, I felt my spirit move me to challenge my virtuosity with a selfless initiative. For the 31 days in March, I will challenge myself to do a “favor” for someone every day. Whether it’s a kind word, a hug, a small monetary donation or a chore, I will selflessly offer myself to the world for an entire month. I invite you to join me.

At the end of this month, I know my life will undoubtedly change. I’m anxious what lessons God may teach me through this initiative and how “paying it forward” will reverberate through my network of family and friends.

In celebration of my 31st birthday and in the spirit of Proverbs 31, I present to you 31 Favors: A Sweet Celebration of Giving.

Won’t you join me?

Love Conversation - José James feat. Jordana de Lovely

2011-02-24T16:18:00.000-05:00

2011-02-07T17:30:00.001-05:00

This. Right. Here.

2011-01-31T17:28:00.003-05:00

Anyway...

If you ever need a reminder of what GIVING is for, please tape the following to your desk, dashboard, forehead, etc.

ANYWAY
(Mother Teresa's adaptation of Kent M. Keith's Paradoxical Commandments)

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered;

Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;

Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;

Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;

Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;

Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;

Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God;

It was never between you and them anyway.

2011-01-27T12:36:00.002-05:00

Pet Peeve #523
When people fail to understand the difference between discernment, judgment behavior and stating fact.

I work hard to not be what most would refer to as a “hater”.

It took a while for me to get to this point. But I am at the point in my life, that when I come to a conclusion about how I feel about someone, I must place a sort of checks and balances on my self. Not only do I not want to be labeled a “hater”, I also want to make sure I am seeing people how God sees them. It’s a daily struggle to walk in your spirit when coming to conclusions about how you feel about people. With the popularity of social networking, drawing those conclusions based on fact becomes a little harder. Twitter and Facebook will have you thinking that either a person is picture perfect Beyonce’ and a cracked out Amy Winehouse. Either people care too much about how they are portrayed or they don’t care enough. Those of us left in between are prone to judging them one way or the other. One of my biggest pet peeves is when people judge someone based on what they choose to watch on television. Pseudo-intellectuals will have you thinking that they only watch CNN and C-Span while they tout Blitzer quotes. The “deep thinkers” will have you thinking they only listen to music that never reached the Top 40 while they burn incense and quote themselves. The bourgeoisie social networker constantly dispels their angst of less than savory brands and products.

Then, there’s the other side. The blatant cursers, hurling expletives and raunchy messaging every ten seconds. There are the homophobes, the pessimists, the constant drinkers and smokers. The clubbers and the groupies.

As a person with a PR brain, I am always cognizant of one thing. No matter what you put into the atmosphere, you must treat your persona as a brand. If you never show the balance of the two extremes, you put off an inhuman stinch and it becomes irritating. This would be when I mute you on Twitter for your self-righteousness or vulgarity.

And I’m so wrong. Three hundred and sixty degrees wrong for it.

We all are.

So I’m going to let you in on a secret. When I have these moments of “humanness”, I take a step back and give myself the following three prong chin check.

*Ding Ding*

Are youuuuuuuuuuu ready to rumble?!

The Sucker Punch aka Judgmental Behavior

No doubt, I was raised by women who constantly drilled me about presenting myself as a lady. No cursing in public. No drinking out of a beer bottle. And it wasn’t until college when I learned that no matter how you present yourself, it only takes one person or one incident to leak a fact (warranted or not) and you’re stuck with a label. This is when I learned that the absence of transparency with your flaws will leave you in quite a conundrum when a secret flaw is revealed. I have to keep in mind that no onE is perfect and no one is all bad either. Those who present themselves in the former way are, often times, lying to themselves and those who present themselves in the latter way, have often times been lied on. And its not until you’ve been on both sides of the fence that you understand the idiom “never judge a book by its cover.” So every time I decide that I am coming to a conclusion that Person A is self-righteous or downright classless, I remember when I was judged as one or other. I didn’t like it.

The Upper Cut aka Presentation of Facts

So if I still have the lingering conviction that someone is overdosing on their own kool-aid, I move on the checkpoint #2: The presentation of the facts. There’s a thin line between Hating and Truth. When Katt Williams told people that having haters is confirmation you are doing something right, I cringed. That’s not always true. Sometimes you have haters because you’re simply an un-likeable person.

So here’s this person I have decided I don’t like. If they make it past the sucker punch, it is time for the The Upper Cut. I ask myself what factual, first hand information do I have to make this judgment call. For instance, there is a person in my mind right now who I will refer to as “Cameron”. I have known Cameron for a few years. When I met Cameron, Cameron was a regular person, living a regular life, very humble and sweet. As the years went on, Cameron acquired an advanced soci-economic status. Cameron doesn’t seem as humble as he once was. His social network pages support that fact. Its almost as if Cameron doesn’t remember where he was a few years ago. But the truth of the matter is that I don’t have factual information to back this up. So am I still wrong as hell for how I feel? Yes, I am. Does it change the fact that Cameron’s antics irritate me on the highest level of irritation? Not at all.

Time for the third and final checkpoint.

The Gut Punch aka Spiritual Discernment

By the time I get to this point, I realize that its what I should have relied on to begin with. Spiritual discernment is calling on the Holy Spirit to lead or give direction on a matter. It is how the Spirit shows the church or its people what God wants them to do and be.

This is when God judges me for judging someone else. Who the hell do I think I am? SMH

Discernment is a powerful gift not to be misconstrued with checkpoints 1 and 2 but a lot of “Christians” use this word to mask their true conclusions. And so I begin to pray when I have the raw emotion of dislike for someone. And God ALWAYS places me in the mirror and drills me with questions.

And ends it with…what right do you have for judging MY child? Did you not have to grow yourself? Aren’t you happy that there wasn’t any documentation of your ‘status’ when you were how you were before I changed you?

*crickets*

Pet Peeve #524
When I fail to use my spiritual discernment FIRST.

2011-01-25T15:53:00.002-05:00

Happy Birthday, Mrs. Swanigan!

So tomorrow would have been my Nana’s 76th birthday.

I miss that little old lady.

She was sassy. She was wise. I loved her point of view ‘cause she held no punches.

So on this day, I reflect on the many nuggets she left me. I’ll grab a banana and a Pepsi for breakfast, drink too sweet coffee all day and possibly break out in her favorite personal tune. She’d sit in her favorite rocking chair, rail back and play her imaginary banjo.

I loooooooove to go fishin’.
I play Bingo too.
I loooooove to play Tonk.
And get your money from you.

She’d end this song with gibberish (something like “adukie doo adukie doo adukie doo doo) and do some old inappropriate dance created in somebody’s jook joint on 1951.

Yeah, I couldn’t make that up if you paid me.

SMH

NANA-ISMs: Random Words of Wisdom from Mattie P.
(Revised and contemporized by her fifth granddaughter)

1. A man don’t want to smell you in three places. One is your breath, the other is your arms, and the third? I don’t have to tell. Nana would most assuredly be a fan of the Always personal wipes.
2. Don’t ever borrow money from a person who’s known for loaning money.
3. Nobody likes a dumb woman but a dumb man.
4. Be a lady until you hit the address your bills come to.
5. No one should know what your figure truly looks like but your husband.
6. Do your own daubing. (This is a bingo reference. The dauber is the ink you use to mark a number after it has been called. Her translation: pay your own fare and manage your own business so you leave owing no one anything.)
7. I’m a half pint but 100 proof. (Nana’s way of saying Real recognize Real, no matter the packaging.)
8. If you can cook, clean, go to church and understand sports, you have absolutely no excuse not to have a boyfriend, unless you’re certifiable crazy…..or you got bad genes.
9. Spend all that money of clothes if you want to. Women care about what you wear. Men care about your hair and hygiene. Keep that up first.
10. I don’t raise suckers, liars, thieves or quitters.

Last but not least:

Men and friends come and go but Jesus is always with you.

2011-01-14T15:31:00.000-05:00

How I Got Over?

I would surely love to lie to you all and tell you I’m so absolutely immune to heartbreak but I’ve met figurative cardiac demise a few times in my life. And since we’re being so honest, I unfortunately carried the residuals of it through my 20s. I have a fantastic memory and a horrible case of resentment from being made a fool of.

The first boy to ever break my heart was my boyfriend in 1st grade, Corey. If you’ve followed my writing over the last few years, you’ll also know that this is the same Corey who I made “fight for my honor” in kindergarten. Well, as dear old “karma” would have it, Corey ended up kissing my best friend in the mouth the following year during lunch.

(One tear falls) SMH…how could you Corey?!?!

Corey tearfully apologized via a passed note when we returned to class and as “karma” would have it again, this was also the day Corey found out he had failed the 1st grade. This is my first recollection of how powerful my tongue was when it is driven to be uncouth and tactless. This is when Che’von began to emerge. I passed dear Corey a little reply and the note read, “I forgive you. I don’t date dumb boys anyway.”

Check. Mate.

The remaining years in grammar school are what I would prefer to as the chubby chronicles. I got a little baby fat and the fact that I made all A’s every six weeks didn’t help my hotness factor. I was still a cute chubby chick but not “fast” enough to garner any major attention or nag a boyfriend. I did have a Dewayne Wayne (Curtis Taylor) to my Whitley though. Over Christmas break in the sixth grade, my baby fat dissolved. I came back looking like the fifth member of the Voices (Reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voices_(singing_group))

Curtis REALLY took notice.

But grammar school was coming to an end. Curtis would move on to the neighborhood junior high school and I would move on to an honors school in Midtown. I was crushed. We put in all the kissual tension for naught. I mustered up some tears on graduation day and learned how a good sad love song was the best way to drown my sorrows. I listened to “Cloudy with A Chance of Tears” for the rest of the summer or up until I met Eric, my new crush, at BJHS.

Thing with Eric didn’t work out but I did end up with roughneck Jeff. Our love affair lasted for two years until Jeff wanted the goodies. I wasn’t having it. So it broke things off cold. I, once again, drowned my sorrows in song, particularly, Mariah’s “Can’t Let Go.”

Eh, but eventually I did let go. And one thing I learned was that hearts do heal after time and someday, ooooh, someday, the one you gave away will be the only one you wishing for. (Forgive me, I was a Mimi Fanatic for a long, long time).

I won’t go into grave detail about my heartbreak from high school and adulthood. I must protect the innocent. And the innocent have access to this blog. *giggles*

The point I am trying to make is that music has healed my heart in so many ways and when I reminisce about my past love lives, I also reminisce on the fantastic songs that got me over. I decided to be benevolent and share. This soundtrack may heal a few broken hearts out there.

Holler if you hear me.

DefStef Soundtrack – Cure For A Broken Heart

Another Again – Justin Timberlake
Can You Help Me – Usher
Unanswered Questions – Amel Larrieux
Boy Without a Heart – Jo Jo
I Don’t Know Why I Love You – Stevie Wonder
Officially Missing You – Tamia
Smile – Tamia
Brokenhearted (Remix) – Brandy feat. Wanya Morris
Boston – Lalah Hathaway
Say You Will – Kanye West
Glitter in the Air – Pink
Dreaming With A Broken Heart – John Mayer
Out of Goodbyes – Maroon 5 feat. Lady Antebellum
Misery – Pink feat. Steven Tyler
Sittin’ By The Phone – Vivian Green
Disappear – Beyonce
This Love – Glenn Lewis
Gravity – Sara Bareilles
Anytime – Brian McKnight
Come Back To Me – Janet Jackson
We Were Two – Lalah Hathway
Giving Up – Donny Hathaway
Just To Keep You Satisfied – Marvin Gaye
Come As You Are – Eric Benet
Rocket Love – Stevie Wonder
If Its Over – Mariah Carey
Free – Destiny’s Child
Lesson Learned – Alicia Keys feat. John Mayer
I’d Die Without You – P.M. Dawn
I swear there’s nothing like a good ol’ sad love song.

Sounds a bit morbid, eh?

*shrugs*

2010-12-14T00:33:00.007-05:00

These are a few of my favorite things.

I know you're worried. You spend your nights tossing and turning. The anxiety is sickening. What, of what, can I get DefStef for Christmas? Why, oh why, has she not posted her annual gift guide.

Well, you've squirmed long enough.

I present to you, DefStef's Christmas Wish List.

On a serious note, I am not a "gift person" and I am regularly chastised by family and friends to indulge and spoil myself. I took great consideration this year and attempted to make my list equal parts practical and pretentious. It was suggested I lean toward the latter. I hope I obliged.

I would like to feel my toes.

I can’t believe I am saying this but I want a pair of Uggs. Let’s be clear. I am anti-trend. I think Apple is the devil incarnate. I rarely wear anything with a label stamped all over it and I don’t want to look like the next great fixture of the Real Housewives series. But Uggs have grown on me. And after my toes went completely numb at a football game last week, I was sold. My friend’s toes were wiggly and still had color because she had on the furry goodness. I wants the furry goodness.

UGG Extra Tall Chestnut
Price: $225.00
Where to Buy: www. Zappos.com

I would like to reacquaint myself with Marc…by Marc JacobsClassic Q Hillier Hobo
Price: $398.00
Where to Buy: www.shopbop.com

I love a purse with classic lines because my frugal ass plans to keep it for a while. I love most of the purses by Marc Jacobs. He’s everything Vuitton without being Vuitton. He speaks to me and if he wasn’t gay, we’d be passionate lovers.

I would like to be reintroduced to Marvin. Here, My Dear (Vinyl)

I love the way vinyl sounds. I have a player. I’m proud of my collection. And I needs this.

Price: $28.48
Where to Buy: www.HBDirect.com

I would like to feel my face!

The Viper 5901 Responder LC3
Price: $190.00
Where to Buy: Best Buy

As I type, its is somewhere in the single digits outside. Today, I wore 3 layers of clothes and I was warm every damn where but my face. I plan on buying a home with a garage but until then, I need a great alarm with remote start. Blame it on the Hawk.

I want to see __________ Live in Concert.

My love of live music is deeply rooted in my blood. My parents are both musicians and consquently met and procreated because of it. I grew up attending studio sessions and live rehearsals. I adore live music. So whether it be Bonnaroo, Essence or a live acoustic set in an intimate venue, I would be in absolute heaven. And since I listen to everything except folk music, you’d be safe buying tickets to almost anything.

I want money. Since cash is slightly passe, God bless the person who invented the gift card. Govern yourselves accordingly.

I would like luscious lashes.
I keep hearing this mascara is great for the lash deficient. That would be me. Its $27.00 at Sephora. If you don’t get it, I will.

I would like to add to my collection.

Nike Air Max 90
Price: $95.00
Where to Buy: www.drjays.com

I want to go outside in the rain.

Oh lovely rain boots. Let’s be clear. They don’t have to be Burberry. I just don’t want my feet wet.

I want to cook…fast.
Surprisingly, I don’t have one of these. And since college, I seem to have forgotten how this little appliance save my life. Please come back to me George.

Price: $49.00
Where to Buy: Target

I want to know that you know me. Any of the following is excepted all year and Christmas is no different:

Martinelli’s Apple Juice
Anything Favre
Books
Music
Caramel Apple Spice from Starbucks
Gas
Hugs
Good deeds to strangers
Going to church with me
E-cards
Free food

=)

2010-09-30T15:57:00.004-05:00

30 Things I Learned by 30

1. Be careful with dating men who do not have any married/committed male family members or close friends.

2. Never argue with a fool.

3. Treat your body with respect and regard it as a “temple”. Be careful with what and who you let take residence. That includes substances and people.

4. Read everything. The smartest people I know spend more time reading jargon and propaganda than books and theses.

5. Listen to everything. Observation is the cousin of logic.

6. The heart can change the mind but the mind can’t change the heart. The more you fight your natural emotions, the more screwed up your head will be.

7. The supernatural cannot be explained. Therefore, except it without question. This includes Spirituality, Love and the Universe as a whole. Men have tried for years to debunk the supernatural….and it still hasn’t worked.

8. If you are a Christian, read Ecclesaistes, in its entirety, at least once a month. Number 7 will make so much more sense to you and you’ll find stress comical.

9. Do not neglect your family. They may be ratchet but you only get one family.

10. Confront generational curses and work to kill them.

11. Be transparent with those you love and expect the same in return. When there is an issue, get to the root. Cutting the branches won’t help. For example, a friend told me her boyfriend cheated on her and said he did it because he was drunk. I asked her did he wear protection. She said yes. I told her that if he was in the right mind to protect himself, he was also in the right mind to protect her. In the same breath, I told her he is human and we all make mistakes. Remember: Logic with compassion.

12. Spend money of moments, not material. Driving a nice car is nice. Brand name clothes are nice. A luxury vacation with loved ones or a surprise visit to a close friend are moments of investment and concrete memories made. These do not age or go out of style.

13. Learn that some people are best to love from a distance.

14. Love is an action word, a verb not a noun.

15. Never do good with expectation of reciprocity. Expectations are the root of bitterness and hate.

16. Treat your relationships as a covenant with God instead of with that person. God assigns people to you to physically imitate His unconditional love (as much as humanly possible). When your covenant is with Him, you get better results.

17. Always have a plan and some vision of where your next step could or should be.

18. More money. More problems. Its not just a song. Aim for financial independence with comfort.

19. Trust your gut. It’s a God-given barometer of truth.

20. If you pray for only two things: pray for discernment and grace. It goes a long way. It increases good decision making and forgiveness for bad decision making.

21. Friendship is essential to the Soul.

22. Know the layers and finite levels of friendship. Keep a small circle.

23. Strive to be “pure of heart”.

24. Perform at least one act of kindness a month and give back to the community.

25. Good people have to learn and put the “Power of No” into practice. If you don’t, a hell of a lot of people with take advantage of you.

26. Treat yourself but don’t overindulge. Drink and be merry. Laugh and Love as much as your heart can stand.

27. Pay your bills on time. Don’t spend money you don’t have. Don’t invest in anyone or anything that may not be able to maintain. Don’t drive drunk. Don’t text and drive.

28. What other people think of you is none of your business. Live your life so that if someone speaks ill of you, it immediately sounds fabricated.

29. Never negotiate what your spirit needs in order to remain fed and make sure its organic.

30. No one will ever love you like God does or like you love yourself. We make mistakes to further show how perfect He is. Trust that He will never steer you wrong. Go out and LIVE.

2010-08-03T01:38:00.000-05:00

Be still. It’ll come to you.

This was the message firmly placed in my spirit when I woke up on last Sunday morning. For about a month now, I had been struggling with patience regarding a number of situations in my life based on an eerie dream I had. I have a wonderful gift, that can sometimes be a curse, of wanting to know the finite details of any and everything. Some may call it nosey. I call it informed confirmed intuition.

Potato. PotAto.

Meh. I just like to always be in the know.

So in my dream, I was hovering over familiar territory. Lets just say they were some residences. As I’m hovering, I land before a door. I hear familiar voices. I hear unfamiliar voices. I cannot make out any words, only mumbles and sounds. What is behind the door will either confirm my gut feeling or completely obliterate it. With either decision, I will end up vulnerable…either to myself or to the world. As soon as I made the decision to either enter the door or leave…I woke up.

Damn. Damn. Damn. James.

Quite frankly, I hate the feeling of being in the dark. I guess you could say I’ve always micromanaged my life. I always have my hands, eyes, and ears open. You never know what might happen. And if I’m caught off guard, I run the risk of looking like a fool. One of my biggest fears is being a fool.

And God said, “you need to get the hell over that.”

So I’ve been peaceful and patient. I’ve taken small steps not to lean into my preconceived notions without haste. I’ve let things go my mind’s desk without any contemplation or investigation. Why? Because God said he’ll reveal things in His time.

I liken this to what would happen if you got lost in the mall in the 80s. There were no PA systems, cell phones, pagers or social networks. If you got lost, you were pretty much out of luck. You had two options: you could walk around aimlessly until you found your party or you could sit in one place until they found you. With option A, you could be searching for forever and never find them because they’re searching for you too. With option B. you could sit and wait, albeit looking dumb as hell, but you run a higher chance of finding what you’re looking for.

It’ll come to you.

(Insert Aha Moment)

I’ve come to realize that in the right season, in the right place and time, God will reveal things to us.

Or maybe He won’t.

Either way, we have to be still until closing time. Often times, your “ignorance” is God’s protection or something that will later develop in a testimony. I’ve realized I can’t do things my way. The results just aren’t worth it. But I will tell you that when your answer comes…when the revelation comes…the peace that follows is bar none. He just may have saved your life.

So (pardon my French) but sitcho tail down. (in my Ochocinco voice)

Til next time…Be Easy.

2010-07-14T17:14:00.002-05:00

The Power of a Name
I spent nine months in my mother’s room being referred to as Jada.

Yep, my name was supposed to be Jada.

As soon as I made my grand entry into this world, my mild mannered and soft spoken father (Stephen) decided I should be a Stephanie. And hence, I was stuck with one of the most common names in America.

I often imagine how different my life would have been as a “Jada”. Ironically, a number of people have compared my personality to the most famous Jada of them all. I’m a small little tink of a girl with a BIG attitude but a softie to those I care for.

As we age, we get a host of nicknames, typically based on what we look like. As a kid, I had fifty hundred eleven nicknames. Dad called me Boo because he said I always looked afraid of him when he picked me up as an infant. Mom called me Angel (Pudding Pie) because I was such a “good” kid. Nana called me Butterball because I was a little plump. My Aunt called me Fats for this same reason.

Aside: Damn, my family is evil.

I had an uncle who called me Molly as in Molly the Mole from the children’s series ‘Pinwheel’ because he said I had an answer for anything. By junior high, I lost my baby fat and never really grew into another nickname until I was 26.

And then, DefStef was born…

So here’s my deal about nicknames. I think I could have had one that stuck during the 14 years I went without one but my nana told me something that stuck with me.

“You make sure that YOU are the one to tell people what to call you.”

Nicknames often become a second persona of sorts. People have become a celebrity in their own minds based off a nickname that “stuck”. But as Nana would put it, the person who names you, owns you. Sometimes these personas can take over the real you and have you living a double life. It gets harder to distinguish who is who. But if you’re the one who named you, you never lose sight of the person you were born as.

Its something to think about.

2010-07-12T15:20:00.000-05:00

I am having a really bad day. Just an absolute emotional wreck. She’s who I would go to right now to put the brakes on my mind racing 150 miles a minute.

Realized it’ll be 2 years this weekend.

FYI: Even the people who seemingly always have it together, don’t.

This is one of those rare weeks that I need others more than they need me.

RIP Nana

Now Playing: “Nobody Not Really” – A. Keys

2010-06-22T11:35:00.000-05:00

So I’m in bed last night and I couldn’t sleep. Insomnia ingratiates me because I literally LOVE to sleep. I’m not narcoleptic or anything but my fascination with sleep is slightly abnormal. If I am hungry and sleepy, I will choose sleep. Sleep provides a peace like none other for me. And rarely have I lost sleep over stress of any kind. I will fight someone over getting sleep.

No, seriously. I will.

Typically, when I can’t sleep, it is tied to one of three reasons: my body temperature is too high, I’m anxious for something or….God wants to talk.

Last night, the latter was in full effect. My flesh was screaming, “You couldn’t schedule a conversation at 1 p.m. instead of 1 a.m., homie?” But my spirit let it flow because I knew the more I fought not having the conversation, the longer I would stay up. It freaks some people out to hear someone say they “spoke” to God. I don’t know your experience but when I talk to God, from a natural standpoint, there is no real voice speaking except for mine. Although it took me a long time to get this point, I talk to Him like I talk to my friends. At times, I have had to catch an expletive here and there, because I have a level of comfort with Him that is completely naked. (Its not like He doesn’t already know the deal.)

So I start talking to Him last night and it was literally like He was sitting in the bed next to me. It was such a warm feeling of comfort and love. He laughed at my jokes and told me how beautiful I was. It was the best pillow talk I’ve had in a long time. To be real transparent, there are nights when I get extremely lonely and all I want is to spoon. (FYI: I love to spoon. Its like the cherry of top of the sleep sundae.) And on those nights, I ask for God to wrap his arms and around me until I fall asleep. He graciously obliges. My loneliness recedes and I’m in Heaven.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, I have a dangerous love affair with God (and not in the rumored Mary Magdalene kind of way). And although I love my friends and loved ones with an intense love, nothing compares to the way I love Him.

About 9 years ago, Jill Scott performed her hit song, “He Loves Me (Lyzel in E Flat) on Oprah. Oprah, obviously moved by the Eros poured into the lyrics, asked Jill why she wrote the song and why she gets so emotional when she sings it. Jill began to explain how on the surface, the song is about her romantic love for her (then) husband but after she began to perform the song numerous times, she realized that she was really singing to God. Ever since then, when I hear a love song that moves me, I immediately exchange ‘him’ for ‘Him’. I have had the most booger snotty, ugly faced moments of praise singing secular love songs to God. I’ve been doing this for so long that I now have a long list of “praise” songs but there’s one that rocks me to my spiritual core.

Everybody knows of Beyonce Giselle Knowle’s passionate love for her spouse through songs like, “Dangerously in Love”, “Crazy in Love”, and “Déjà vu”. These songs really evoke her romantic love for Mr. Carter. But any Christian woman wants her husband to love her like God does. I think of this everytime I listen to her performance of “Flaws and All”. It is a very human and transparent example of being loved by someone who sees beyond your insecurities. We all want and deserve to be loved this way. I pray that the love songs I sing to God have that duality. When you are blessed with Eros that mirrors your love affair with Him, you would scream it from the mountain tops, too.

But you should always remember that you sing it to Him first. As a note, Jill is no longer married to her husband but I bet she has no problem with still singing that song to God. (wink) His Love never fails. He loves me “Flaws and All”.

Flaws And All

I'm a train wreck in the morning
I'm a bitch in the afternoon
Every now and then without warning
I can be really mean towards you

I'm a puzzle yes indeed
Ever complex in every way
And all the pieces aren't even in the box
And yet you see the picture clear as day

I don't know why you love me
And that's why I love you
You catch me when I fall
Accept me, flaws and all
And that's why I love you
And that's why I love you
And that's why I love

I neglect you when I'm working
When I need attention I tend to nag
I'm a host of imperfection
And you see past all that

I'm a peasant by some standards
But in your eyes I'm a queen
You see potential in all my flaws
And that's exactly what I mean

I don't know why you love me
And that's why I love you
You catch me when I fall
Accept me, flaws and all
And that's why I love you
And that's why I love you
And that's why I love you

Don't know why you love me
And that's why I love you
Catch me when I fall
Accept me flaws and all
And that's why I love you
And that's why I love you
And that's why I love you
You, you, you

2010-06-17T14:01:00.003-05:00

I was having a delightful and substantive conversation with one of my girls last night after bible study. We discussed a myriad of topics but one lingers with me today: the pervasiveness of “Group Think”.

According to all-knowing Wikipedia:

Groupthink is a type of thought within a deeply cohesive in-group whose members try to minimize conflict and reach consensus without critically testing, analyzing, and evaluating ideas. As defined by Janis, 1972 “A mode of thinking that people engage in when they are deeply involved in a cohesive in-group, when the members' strivings for unanimity override their motivation to realistically appraise alternative courses of action”. Individual creativity, uniqueness, and independent thinking are lost in the pursuit of group cohesiveness, as are the advantages of reasonable balance in choice and thought that might normally be obtained by making decisions as a group.[citation needed] During groupthink, members of the group avoid promoting viewpoints outside the comfort zone of consensus thinking. A variety of motives for this may exist such as a desire to avoid being seen as foolish, or a desire to avoid embarrassing or angering other members of the group. Groupthink may cause groups to make hasty, irrational decisions, where individual doubts are set aside, for fear of upsetting the group’s balance. The term is frequently used pejoratively, in hindsight. Additionally, it is difficult to assess the quality of decision making in terms of outcomes all the time, but one can almost always evaluate the quality of the decision-making process.
Group Think is a helluva drug.

And I think our generation desperately needs Rehab.

If you took your focus on the enormity of E. Badu’s hind parts in the “Window Seat” video, you will see that she, as well, has grown frustrated with where our sisters and brethren are headed. Take one part pop culture, one part generational curses, one part historical degradation and you’ll get a recipe for disaster. Group Think has us out here believing that guns < butter, we’ll never get married, spirituality is an option and our health is not a priority.

My Nana used to always tell me to watch who I spent my time with. After recycling a few cliques here and there, I think I am finally at a point in my life where I have a solid “front row” or “circle of friends”. My friends aren’t afraid of challenging each other. Some are married. Some are single and have no desire to have children. They come from different backgrounds and have chosen a wide array of career paths. Effectively, our kinship is rooted in the passion to be good women who lead good lives. Things weren’t always this way for me. I fell in and out of cliques my whole life because Group Think was so pervasive. Being friends with someone just because they’re cute, cool or trendy is so 1999.

How do you know when you are in this kind of situation? My best answer (coming from personal experience) is when you begin to abandon the values you once had for yourself and start to question any and everything that will positively feed into you life due to the allure of temporary satisfaction.

For example:

Monica goes to Big Blue University, a powerhouse basketball school with deep tradition. She goes in a bright and beautiful girl who is more concerned with a MS than a MRS degree. She gets recruited (based on her looks) by the Spalding Groupies and abandons her friendships with the women who shared less of a physical kinship but shared a mental and spiritual one. As she spends more time with these new girls, she changes her major to University Studies and road trips to every All Star game possible. She “lands” a baller only for him to leave her in the dust for one of the other chicks in her “circle” once he got called up. Sound familiar?

Michael is good guy from a good family. Its not self-proclaimed because everyone sees it. He came from a good family and wants the same for his future. He graduated with his law degree and moved to Atlanta. Because of some networking, he starts hanging out with the movers and the shakers in the city. Wild nights of partying and drinking, he sees his new friends (committed or not) with a different chick every day. Pop culture dictates their every move. They pop bottles. They got plenty money. They fall in love with strippers. Michael looks up and 15 years has gone by. He’s left alone because he put about 5 good women down because he couldn’t give the fun up. His non-committed friends are now married, even though they talked so much trash against it. Sound familiar?

In both situations, the person allowed Group Think to virtually eat away at their being. Part of it is that you have to know who you are before you enter into any kind of relationship with another person, friendships include. True friends will never allow you to dispel what they know you really want for your life.

Want to test your clique’s Group Think?

Irving Janis devised eight symptoms indicative of groupthink (1977).

1. Illusions of invulnerability creating excessive optimism and encouraging risk taking.
2. Rationalizing warnings that might challenge the group's assumptions.
3. Unquestioned belief in the morality of the group, causing members to ignore the consequences of their actions.
4. Stereotyping those who are opposed to the group as weak, evil, biased, spiteful, disfigured, impotent, or stupid.
5. Direct pressure to conform placed on any member who questions the group, couched in terms of "disloyalty".
6. Self censorship of ideas that deviate from the apparent group consensus.
7. Illusions of unanimity among group members, silence is viewed as agreement.
8. Mind guards — self-appointed members who shield the group from dissenting information.

Still want to represent your clique?

I found that the key to ending my own Group Think was diversifying my friendships. Because I want to be happily married with children, I have a same sex friend that I speak to frequently to call for advice. I’ve learned that if you want to be married but all your friends are single or unhappily married, you probably won’t ever be. Because I want a successful career and spiritual relationship, I have a friend to go to for each.

Don’t take my words as judgment because TRUST and BELIEVE, I’ve been there. I just wanted to make you think…

2010-06-03T16:49:00.002-05:00

It Feels Good in The Shade

throw shade
v. phr. to take a superior attitude; to criticize, demean, or insult; to diss or derogate. Subjects: Black English, Slang

I am not a hater.

I was quite chubby as a child and extremely studious. It took me a quite a while to come into myself. However, I wasn’t unattractive or unpopular. I stayed just below the radar. I was never one to brag or boast. I hated being the center of attention. I chose to be respected over being liked. I basked in the brilliance of intellectualism versus physical prowess. I was (and am) a nerd trapped in a pretty cool body. Since my external presence does not fit the standard of my inner geek, I historically attract mean girls. I don’t stay friends with them long because truthfully, I’m a hater of haters.

So I guess I rescind my opening line.

I can’t stand for anyone close to me to throw shade. At some point, I realized though, that if you don’t throw shade, you live in shade. And when you grow up in the city where they love to hate, you become a bit of a shadologist. Shade throwers are not overt haters. They can turn a nasty comment into a seemingly nice one, throwing a “lil”, a “cute”, or a “that” in the mix.

She ain’t THAT pretty.
I like your LIL’ shoes and purse.
Aww, that’s (pause) cute.

And so on and so on.

Care for me to be transparent?

My shadology degree was initiated in my own backyard. There are nothing but women in my family. And while I was constantly paid compliments as a child to build my self-esteem, I watched the same women cut other women closer than Miss Celie fixin’ to shave mister. I grew accustomed to it as a black woman from Memphis. You get stared at. You get talked about. You get ridiculed. It happens. But what I’ve discovered is that there is no shade darker than the shade that is thrown at a woman of God.

Say what now? You heard me.

You know that woman of God, don’t you? She the co-worker who looks like she has it all together. Calm in the midst of a storm, a prayer warrior, a nurturer. She stays fly, never revealing too much. Classy not trendy. And her secret is intangible. The hardest shade is thrown at women who have a thing called Favor. And Favor, my pretties, ain’t fair.

A woman of God can feel Favor when its on its way. And she must brace for its impact because her humbleness will be used as a sign of weakness. I’m at that place right now in my life. Got my knees bent, shoulders squared, vaseline slathered, game face on.

It’s the kind of shade that I expect to feel real good but I won’t ever allow it to block the light of the Son.

Now Playing: God in Me – Mary Mary

2010-06-01T10:12:00.000-05:00

When someone recommends a movie to me, I am always hesitant to view it. Typically, I have happened upon great movies by happenstance. I have a “don’t believe the hype” mentality when it comes to literary and cinema recommendations because people typically become biased by sensational journalism and entertainment media. They’ll have you believe that Revenge of the Nerds should be nominated for an Oscar if group think begins to take over.

So when a few associates recommended Revolutionary Road, I nodded but was in no rush to rent or purchase it. On a random Saturday afternoon, I noticed the Hollywood Video in my hood was going out of business. Not an oddity these days due to the customer-friendly (also known as lazy) access to movies that Netflix and iTunes provides. People don’t rent no more, all they do is this.

I walked in the door and Revolutionary Road was perched atop a stack of other seemingly “deep” movies. You know, the ones meant not to entertain but to make you actually think. Damn them for taking away your escapism, eh? So being the individual who relishes in the occasional permeation of the epidermis, I purchased it and brought it home.

It sat on my movie stack for nearly 4 months.

On the surface, I was too busy to watch it or just wasn’t in the mood to dissect the script and get what the director was trying to purvey. Honestly, a part of me kind of knew that something in the movie would shift me into an uncomfortable space. Call it my woman’s intuition or the Holy Spirit. Either way, the shit scared me. Four months after the purchase, I found myself in deep thought about some challenges I had been facing (see previous blog entry) and I was supernaturally moved to sit my ass down and prepare to be un-entertained.

Revolutionary Road is a real love story. If The Notebook is Beyonce, Revolutionary Road is Sasha Fierce. It’s the alter ego we try to suppress. It’s the story of love that we don’t want to admit to ourselves because we want to believe that the fairy tale is possible. The reality is that you fall in and out love, people cheat, people lie, people hide who they really are in order to obtain what they perceive as the American Dream. Love can be a facetious façade if you don’t know who you are and where/who you really want to be. The reality is that we are all taught to go to college, get married and have kids. Then, teach our children to do the same. We retire with our soulmate and die peacefully. That’s the perfect life, huh? But what happens when you find out that that’s not really what you want?

Marriage isn’t for everyone, just like a traditional educational experience or career track. Not every woman wants to be Betty Crocker and not every man wants to Heathcliff Huxtable. But we are conditioned to believe that that’s what we should want. So we suppress what our heart and soul really yearns for and that is what leaves a number of people alone, hurt and confused.

By the end of the movie, I was in tears. I cried because there so many relationships and marriages that fail because people aren’t honest with themselves about what they want in life. They hold on to this fleeting promise of happiness with one person for the rest of their lives when its just not in the cards for them. And those of us who do want this kind of life barrage them with sneers because its not the status quo. Some women (and men) are not meant to be tamed. And sometimes you may be the one to push them out of the nest and let them know its ok to fly. Sometimes you have to be the one who takes a long, hard look at yourself and ask, “What do I really want? What is going to truly make me happy?” If the answer is off the wall and non-traditional, that’s ok. If the answer is the fairy tale, that’s ok too. There should be no apologies or hesitation for being you. And pray to God that you know who that person is before you make life altering decisions that will affect others.

In short, watch the damn movie. LOL

Now Playing: I Can Only Be Me – Stevie Wonder

2010-05-26T16:41:00.001-05:00

Stef's Anatomy

“To be a good surgeon, you have to think like a surgeon. Emotions are messy. Tuck them neatly away and step into a clean, sterile room where the procedure is simple. Cut, suture, close. But sometimes you're faced to a cut that won't heal. A cut that rips its stitches wide open.” (Grey’s Anatomy)

Dare I say, I am a pretty faithful fan of Grey’s Anatomy. I think the writing is fantastic, the way it juxtaposes humanity with medicine and surgery. One being supremely scientific; the other innately flawed. One of the major themes of the show is how humanity always trumps finite methods. No matter how educated or informed, how acclaimed or respected we are, a surgeon still can make a life ending mistake and is left with facing their humanness on the outside of the operating room. No surgeon is as perfect as God.

I’ve been figuratively sick for a while, lying in a hospital, refusing to ask for healing. It feels like God has put me under anesthesia, albeit involuntarily, and started to cut away the disease before it attacked my heart completely.

I simply let the toxicity fester and it began to infect other areas. He had to intervene.

I’ve been dealing with the loss of loved ones for the past couple of years, none (with the exception of the physical loss of grandmother) have rocked me as hard as the ones that have occurred the last few months. The final blow happening just days ago.

I used to think I was invincible, truly able to separate my emotions from reality. Move on without tears and pain. If anything, God has reminded me that I have the capacity to feel and love without limits. As I heal, I am most thankful for that. I thought I’d be angry if friends or lovers broke my heart but I’m not. I’m actually not even bitter. My gut tells me that this is part of God’s plan. This is a learning experience. No one really knows that blood is under their skin until they’re cut open and its exposed. And you really never know your propensity to love until you’ve felt pain.

I imagine I will emerge from these experiences a stronger person, with a better heart and clearer mind. Right now, I’m thanking God. I’m glad he didn’t leave me on the table to be a victim of my own self-medication.

I began this year, knowing that God would take me to another plane. Unfortunately, there’s only room for one carry-on bag and maybe no fellow passengers. With open arms, I accept whatever losses that may occur, as they make room for new beginnings and a fresh perspective. I’m ever so grateful that He’s not done with me yet.

Now Playing: Just Like The Water – Lauryn Hill

2010-03-08T23:43:00.002-05:00

I am secretly hoping that today’s blog entry will hasten some young chap to stand up and take notice of the small things that may be keeping him from the good woman of his dreams. I don’t claim to be an expert or anything but if I may toot my own horn for a second, I am proud to say that I attracted some mighty fine gentleman in my 20s.

Were they perfect? No. Were they always the man, some girls thought of as handsome? Hell No. But to my heart, they carried the key. (At that special moment in time.)

*There’s a song reference there, in case you missed it.*

Let me be Frank (literally) because it seems that men will only take quality advice from another man. I don’t care how I.N.D.E.P.E.N.D.E.N.T. a woman claims she is, ALL good women want to be courted. And a damn good woman needs to be wooed. WOOED, I said.

woo
[woo]
–verb (used with object)
1.
to seek the favor, affection, or love of, esp. with a view to marriage.
2.
to seek to win: to woo fame.
3.
to invite (consequences, whether good or bad) by one's own action; court: to woo one's own destruction.
4.
to seek to persuade (a person, group, etc.), as to do something; solicit; importune.
–verb (used without object)
5.
to make love to a woman; court: He went wooing.
6.
to solicit favor or approval; entreat: Further attempts to woo proved useless.

Courting, at minimum, can be perpetrated by any con man with a slick tongue, charm and savior faire. Wooing is not as easy. You can’t really fabricate “the woo”. You know why? Because a man who woos does it effortlessly and it never “turns off”. He woos everyone…from his new female boss to the old, crotchety neighbor with the blue beehive. And to top it all off, the mofo has the nerve to be genuine.

Dangerous.

And I’m feeling benevolent tonight so I am going to key the fellas in on five things that will woo a woman. Some have been done to/for me. Others, I have witnessed and nodded with the DefStef stamp of approval.

Warning: This is for adult men who have grown out of the resistance to spend money or time on a woman. Suffice to say, if you are under 30 and never been love, this will not apply to you for another five to fii-teen years. Nothing to see here, youngin’.

1. Learn how to kiss

I have a shit load of female friends, so my life is a living, breathing daily focus group of sorts. I’ve heard women bash a man’s sex game, scoff at his ineptness, ignorance, thuggery, f*ckery and lack of funds. But I have never met a woman who forgave a bad kiss. A bad kiss can break up a happy home. A bad kiss could make a fine man look like Gary Coleman within seconds. Bad kissers make a woman’s stomach turn. I wish there was a tutorial on how to properly kiss a woman, particularly one with full lips like myself. What’s worse? No one wants to tell a bad kisser that he’s a bad kisser. Too much spit, too much tongue, a pointy tongue, a hard kisser, an overzealous mouth….will all keep you single. Remember that old song, “Its in His Kiss.” It wasn’t popular because it was catchy. Here’s the tip: Take your time with soft, swift motions and please let the girl lead. Most girls are better kissers than guys anyway. Trust me on this. A bad kiss could end your life.

2. Set yourself apart

So you’ve met you a damn good woman. Well, sorry to break this to you but if she’s a damn good woman, she’s probably seen every trick in the book. The typical gentleman steez won’t work quite as well on her. You must take things a step further. I once asked a friend of mine what the sweetest, most chivalrous gesture a guy ever did for her. Her answer: “He boxed up my meal after dinner.” Sounds simple, huh? Must not be. After 15 years of dating, only one man has ever done that for her. Find a “thing” that you do that no other guy would really think about doing. This could be your moment to shine.

3. Follow Politics

When I say this, please don’t take me literally. Too much C-Span and Meet The Press jargon will make you come off as obnoxious. What I am saying here is that politicians are masters at making bad news sound good and good news sound like the Hallelujah Chorus. There is a wonderful way to say any and everything, without coming off as an ass or a pushover. For example: Your girl is putting on some weight and asks you if you noticed. As “real” as you may like to keep it, you have to put your “realness” in perspective. Something as simple as saying, “Don’t worry babe. Girls are supposed to be soft. I like you the way you are. But if you want to work out with me, we can do that. Whatever it takes to keep you happy.” End this with a genuine face. If you love her, you really meant every word of it. “Yeah, girl, you are getting a little thick” just doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as sweet. A way with words will also keep the door to communication open. If she sees this, she will always know that you will attempt to work at or solve any problem that arises.

4. Make a damn fool of yourself
I think this could possibly be the hardest thing for a man to do but one drastic, spontaneous decision could seal the deal. Remember Dewayne Wayne’s “please, baby, please” moment at Whitley and Byron’s wedding? As crunk as you got (and still get) when that episode of A Different World airs, could you have done that? Life isn’t fairy tale. Any grown woman knows that. But most women would kill for just one fairy tale moment. This requires you to be open to making a damn fool of yourself. Fly miles to see her for five minutes (or fly her miles to see you). Surprise her with her favorite things. Kiss her in front of your friends. If she’s worth it, you’ll make it happen.

5. Be Good to ALL Women

Most secure women are appreciative of a man who is good to all women. This guy is sweet and kind to the waitress when dining. He probably has a few platonic female friends that he helps move out of apartments or takes them to lunch when they’re down on their luck. This is a sign of a good man. My nana told me a long time ago that women waste so much time worried about other women, that they don’t have time for a man. Respect for all the women in your life will get you a long way. It shows that you believe that women are the world’s most precious commodity. And its damn near the sexiest attribute you can have.

That’s all I have for now. If you need some one on one advice, I’m your wo- MAN.

Giggles.

Be Easy.

2010-02-28T22:01:00.001-05:00

Today marks the last day of Black History Month.

If you blinked or were distracted by the Grammy’s, the Super Bowl or NBA All Star Weekend, you missed it completely.

I’m a little bewildered and befuddled because Black History Month was a pretty, big friggin’ deal at Alcy Elementary. This is where I learned about Martin Luther the King, Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, Fredrick Douglas. To the upcoming generation, those names are just geographical. The corner of Parks and King is undoubtedly in the hood and only found in a GPS, and most certainly not in a history book.

Just fifty years ago, I couldn’t have gone to Panera for a Panini or be guaranteed a place in a state school’s freshman class. I couldn’t publicly profess my love for white quarterbacks or bump “My President is Black” in my Nashville suburb. This was just 50 years ago. Pardon my French, but who the phuck do we think we are?

I had lunch with a friend on Saturday in the area I work in. Manicured lawns and Starbucks sprinkled on every corner. I said I couldn’t live in a place like that without needing to get away and be around real people ever so often. He said, “You’d never be that person. You’d never forget real people.” I said, “You’d be surprised.”

How many of us have already forgotten? It could start with being bussed out to a “better” high school. In an effort to assimilate, you lose your “black accent”. You trade in your Nike Dunks for Birkenstocks or Uggs. You go off to a state school and are afraid to tell your friends that your parents don’t live in a two story home or have an investment fund. You get knee deep in student loans, just trying to survive. You graduate. You get a job. You shop at Banana Republic and spend $5 on coffee. You scoff at your family because now, the aunt or uncle you adored as a child has lost a little bit of that gleam. You’re no longer impressed by Cadillac. You’re thinking Audi, Infiniti, Rover. You think you’re an example to the kids in the hood that you’ve made it. All they see is a nigga who talks white, acts white and forgot the hood that birthed him.

I don’t ever want to be that person.

The acquisition of things is what does this to us. We develop this superficial premise that we are just like them. We went to their schools and we work side by side with them. We shop and gather at the same places. But they don’t go back to the same hood that we do. And every person from my “hood” who followed the path that I’m on, forgot about South Memphis along the way.

It’s a national epidemic to me. The black divide is eating away at our communities. How many of us college educated house negroes think about how we are one paycheck away from no healthcare or food stamps? How did we unplug from real life? We ride around in our luxury cars, live in our condos, go on vacations in exotic places, and never once think about how our people are living and what we have a responsibility to do? We want them to be like us but we won’t do anything to help them get there.

I don’t ever want to forget.

And I think that’s why I struggle every day to stay humble and why I never wanted to be rich. Because the acquisition of things is nothing compared to the spiritual and intellectual knowledge that lets you know it means absolutely nothing. Rich internally before rich externally.

I’ll leave you with my favorite bible verse that took 29 years of misguidedness to comprehend. It’s the secret to staying grounded and never forgetting your roots.

Philippians 4:12
“I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.”

Can you say the same?

Happy Black History Month.

Be Easy.

2010-02-25T22:50:00.001-05:00

I’ve often wondered how different my life would be had I been born a boy.

Would I have been a man-whore? More outgoing or shy? Would I have chosen the same career path or been more athletic? Would I have nurtured my creativity and delved into the arts? Would I have been gay?

I wonder if my father’s features would have been even stronger as male. This oval shaped and strong jaw, more pronounced? Would I have a darker complexion like my father and his brothers or keep my maternally inherited Indian Summer skin tone? Would I have been tall or still vertically challenged? Hmmph.

I can definitely procure an image of how my personality would be or even my physical characteristics. When I think about how I’d be as “Stephen, Jr.”, the irony of it all is that I’d be the kind of guy I’d undoubtedly date but not so sure, I’d want to get serious with. I imagine I’d be a little too nonchalant, only mildly aggressive and quite frankly, a bit weird. That weirdness is a little charming as a chick but no so much, as a guy.

Would you have dated me?

I know I’d be a Christian
God is obviously at the forefront of my life. I don’t think I go one blog without mentioning my spirituality. So I know I’d be the guy, praising God mid-service…maybe even on the praise team. Ironically, that’s not the kind of guy that girls go for.

I know I’d be a Gentleman
This, I would have, no doubt, learned from my father and the women on my mother’s side of the family. Under the tutelage of my father, I would have learned to open doors, rise from my seat when a lady gets up from the table or needs a seat on the bus. I would have learned the correct side of the road to walk on while strolling with a lady. On the other hand, under the tutelage of my aunts and play aunts, I may have been stifled into thinking that money would keep a woman. I watched so many of the women in my life accept gas money, beauty shop money, bill money, etc., that I am sure “Stephen” would have accepted this as gospel and possible allowed some chick to make him into a schmuck.

I know I’d be a Sports Fan
I’m pretty serious about my football and I can only imagine how I would have been as a guy. I imagine I’d hero worship and have a man crush on Brett Favre. I’d spend an insane amount of money of tickets to big games. I would have rushed the field my freshman year when Tennessee beat Florida. I might have even painted myself to get on ESPN College Game Day. This is all pretty damn cool on a chick. Not so much on a dude.

I know I’d be an Asshole
I, most certainly, have my bitch moments so I can just imagine how much of a total ass I could be as a man. I have the keen ability to say the meanest shit when I get angry. No fumbling over words or sugar coating, I have been known to say some pretty effed up comments when pissed. Forgiveable as a chick. Damn near arrogant as a dude. I’d be cheap at the wrong moments and never want to really spend any money on a “random” chick. Epic fail.

I know I’d be Afraid of Commitment
Yes, I said that out loud, dammit. I am afraid of commitment. Admission is the first step. I can only imagine the enormity of this if I were a boy. I’d probably have a bunch of girl “friends” who I let get just close enough without causing any major damage. I’d probably pine away from one exceptional being but keep myself of a safe distance. I’d probably lose her because I never told her I truly felt. I’d go through several failed relationships until I admitted my own faults at around age 35 or so. I’d go through some sort of mid-life crisis around the age of 45. I’d be a damn good husband and father though.

I say all this to because I have come to the conclusion that life is so much better as a chick. Thanks to Stephen that his little spermy sperm created a hamburger and not a wiener. Kind of crazy that, come to think of it, Stephanie would probably really dislike Stephen.

Go figure.

2010-02-22T20:45:00.002-05:00

What do I know, at 29? I know that "things" are what we seek, but "love" is beneath that. If "love" isn't the foundation - then, "things" will fall. For even if they stand - they mean nothing. I've had both - and if given a chance to choose...Soberly, I choose love. Humbly, I choose love. Wisely, I choose love. (Credit: Pink)

Lent always stretches me.

And boy oh boy, do I need to be stretched. (Get your mind out of the gutter.)

I need to be stretched physically, in order to keep Ebenezer Pudge from creeping into my waistline. I need to be stretched mentally because my one book a month rule left me sometime in November. I need to be stretched emotionally because ever so often, my flesh overrules my spirit and causes me to be a total bitch. I need to be stretched spiritually because my prayer life has faltered. (Praying, laying down in bed, halfway asleep is NOT total submission. It is total laziness.)

And with stretching comes transparency. A big ass mirror that exposes your faults and flaws. Lent is always a chin check for me. God puts me in my place. All the flowery language in the world doesn’t work with Him. He knows the ‘me’ that no one else knows.

Recently, He has charged me to with something I, admittedly, have tried to ignore for years.

God wants me to write a book….a book on my life, nonetheless…straight, no chaser. A detailed account of all the stuff that made me who I am.

I shared this with a close friend a week ago and likened it taking the funkiest, nastiest dump in history with the bathroom door WIDE open. You know? The kind of shit where you sweat and literally have to come up out your clothes.

Yep, that kind.

(Sorry, kinda gross but it got the point across.)

He is revealing things to me daily. Some things make me smile, others make me laugh, and a few things make me cry. I really do have an amazing story to share with the world. The Favor over my life is evident to me but maybe not to everyone else. I’ve survived so many things because there is a gigantic purpose for my life.

Everything I have ever really wanted in life is within reach. The husband, the children, the house full of love, the career, the joy are all hinging on me doing exactly what He wants me to do right now.

I’m excited about the road ahead. I am ready to expunge the guilt and pain of the past and create new memories and new love. Its nothing but love from here on out for me. I’m releasing bitterness, anger, jealousy, hatred, depression, unhappiness….I’ve got my “happy face”.

Ironically, my birthday always falls within these 40 days of Sacrifice. And as I usher in a shift in my age group, I subsequently usher in a shift in my life cycle. There is something so beautiful on the other side of 30 for me. Everything is beginning to make sense. There will be a few goodbyes, a few “hello again”s….but lots of forgiveness and FRUITion. Its almost like I am beginning to feel absolutely free. That’s how I know the Spirit of the Lord is here with me.

My hope is that my words will help someone in their journey in discovering self and spirituality. My grandmother’s wisdom seeds are finally starting to grow, now that I’ve got this nourishment thing down. (Smile) And it was as simple as choosing LOVE over all else.

Peace and Blessings,

DefStef

2010-01-26T17:01:00.000-05:00

No.

I can specifically remember the first time my father told me, “No.” He had said ‘yes’ to so many of the things I needed and wanted when I was a child so when I asked him for one of his Hershey’s Minis one hot, summer afternoon, imagine the horror when Steve refused to share.

Straight up, Pops?! Over a Hershey’s mini? That’s how you do your girl?

He proceeded to tell me that I didn’t get to hear “no” enough and that he didn’t want me growing up to believe that everything I asked for, a man would give me. He eventually got me a whole bag of my own Minis a few months later.

I never forgot this lesson.

Recently, I purchased a car. When I researched the car I thought I was going to buy, I admit I chose cars that I felt were comparable to my friends’. Most of them drive luxury vehicles and I knew I could afford it, sans a few perks here and there. So I ventured out into the land of auto sales, a single woman and alone, on the hunt for what I thought I needed. I went to a faith-based dealer that was recommended by a co-worker. And here is where a testimony happened:

Earlier that day, I loaned a friend x amount of dollars. When I arrived to this particular dealership, they had NONE of the cars on the lot that I thought I needed. I almost walked away until I heard God tell me NO. The owner offered me exactly 10 times the amount of what I loaned my friend earlier that day which equated to about 30+ percent off a car of my choice and car note that wouldn’t stop me from weekly hair appointments, splurge shopping, manicures, pedicures, nice meals, etc.

Sing God’s Tryna Tell You Somethin’ (ref: The Color Purple)

And thus began the struggle between my flesh and my spirit. I’m frugal (cheap by some people’s standards) but I also like nice things. Why should I be the only friend riding on cloth seats? Why me, Lord? Why me?

God said, “Its not your time. I have a different path for you. Stay on my schedule and watch where I take you.”

The enemy began to go in overdrive, telling me that my friends would talk behind my back and that this was just another sneaky, slimy auto salesman out to prey on some vulnerable woman. You deserve better, Stephanie. Who carries Marc Jacobs and wears D&G perfume but drives a Nissan?!

So….

I chose to be blessed. Above all else, I wanted the best so I chose to be BLESSED.

My little Nissan sure has nice pick-up.

Til’ next time. Be Easy.

2010-01-06T12:25:00.002-05:00

The best thing that ever happened to me was your refusal to love me. The best thing.
Sincerely, Chevon Hines (From “The Nostalgia Chronicles”)

I knew at the strike of midnight on January 1, 2010 that this year would be one of infinite reflection.

The preceding decade was nothing short of God’s intricate masterpiece in the making. Ten years ago, on this very date, I was a naïve and insecure wreck. My head was in one place while my heart was in another. I was dealing with a live-in ex-boyfriend who unbeknownst to him (at the time) was emotionally and mentally abusive (a learned behavior he has since recompensed). On the other hand, a very innocent romance with a friend was bourgeoning, yet pre-maturely. My mother was sick. My father was obviously struggling with coming to terms with my bad decisions. I was trying to keep up with the collegiate Jones’, desperate to prove that my pedigree and familial income was above threshold and matched my counterparts. I began to abandon all things presumably ‘ghetto’, an internal battle of assimilation brewing.

My life began to spiral out of control.

I will never forget the year 2001 in particular. It was the year that God literally and figuratively kicked my black ass. I failed classes. The love triangle turned pentagon painted me in a horrible light and the person I romantically loved the most despised me. I was broke and broken. My mother’s health succumbed, resulting in cardiac arrest. And even after all of this, I still fought God…until…

A hot, July night in Memphis, post-nightclub. A black Escalade merged onto the highway and pushed my car into the median. My car ping pongs and skids across the highway. Its 3 a.m. on I-285. My car lands in a ditch. I nearly escaped wrapping myself and my best friend around a pole.

And God said, “Wake up.”

The remainder of that year and the following year was painful for me. I walked away from everything. I stopped dating. I left school to complete my senior year at home and help my mom recover. I took time to heal the broken heart that I knew I was solely responsible for.

And as I look back, I can’t say I would do one thing differently. The events that took place and my actions have had some good and bad consequences. There are people who still hold me responsible for the shell of a person I was at that age. And I take every inch of that responsibility and bear the brutal brunt of it because without my past, I wouldn’t be the person you are reading about right now. More than anything, I learned to ‘learn’ and to relish in every moment and experience. I am not bitter or angry at myself or anyone who cursed my name. From my desperately broken heart, emerged an amazing person I am so proud I have become.

A number of the people who played major roles in my experience are still a part of my life but I see them as their present self and not who they were then. I’d love to fall back into the days of old and reminisce on what could have been but what is present was God’s plan. And His plan has led to me this: I thank every actor for their performance. For, it has led to the blessing I will be to a husband and child. I was saved from being a statistic. I was saved from being someone’s punching bag, someone’s baby mama, a greed-driven manipulator, a heartless and empty person…saved from not being everything that God intended me to be.

So Bravo! Thank YOU for not loving me so I could see how much HE would.

2009-12-18T17:31:00.000-05:00

Album Review: Element of Freedom by Alicia Keys

There is absolutely no secret that I have a girl crush on Alicia Keys. Either she was well marketed and a beautiful liar or truly a beautiful person, surviving by the sheer genius of her talent in an industry of superficiality and greed. She was perfect until…..she was given the license to be free.

Enter: The Element of Freedom

You’ve been hiding under a rock if you haven’t been exposed to the rumor mill involving her now alleged beau, Swizz Beats, and his wife/ex-wife/separated wife, Mashonda. And my, oh my, how our human nature jumps at the revelation that a beautiful but substantive woman has a chink in her armor.

But guess what? That’s what love does to you.

She refused to comment on the scandal and in my opinion, her response is hidden in the 14 tracks on her newly released project, The Element of Freedom, or as Che’von would call it, the soundtrack to a NY tale called “I could care less what ya’ll think. I’m happy. So who you gon’ check, boo?”

She opens the album with a great quote by French novelist Anais Nin.

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

Freedom comes with a price, I guess. Freedom to love someone who from our point of view was unavailable to love. Freedom to venture from the style of music that has made her so popular thus far. Freedom, even, from the depression she suffered when her grandmother passed and she subsequently recorded the album, “As I Am”.

One thing I am a big fan of in music is raw emotion. And though “Keys in A Minor” and “Diary of Alicia Keys” were packaged and perfectly R&B, I felt they lacked raw emotion. As a lyricist myself, I didn’t feel like her words came from real experiences but flowed from the fact that she had the talent to make it come to fruition. And this is why, “As I Am” is my favorite Keys album thus far in her career.

Element of Freedom also provides that raw emotion juxtaposed against an obvious fight for no boundaries in her music and her love life. Very few tracks on the record are what you urban music snobs would refer to as R&B. (“Un-Thinkable”, “This Bed” “Put It In a Love Song”. The album features less raw instrumentation and more synthesizers and fabricated sound. I can’t say I am a huge fan of this in general but I commend her on stepping away from the piano, which ironically, is the ‘box’ the customer wanted her to stay in. Her vocals are up to par as usual but the absence of instruments may have caused some to say her voice sounds different. Same voice, but a different background. (“Try Sleeping With A Broken Heart”, “Wait Til You See My Smile”)

Truth be told, its not an album that you can pop in your player and ride out to. Depending of your mood, you may skip one track or the other. Tracks 1-7 fare much better than 8-14. The duet with Beyonce Knowles (“Put It In A Love Song”) seems a bit out of place and quite corny, which means it will be a favorite amongst the Soldier Boy Generation. The standout track of the album is “Wait Til You See Me Smile”. The heavy drums and strong rhythms have an arena or stadium vibe. Her team should campaign it to be the official song of the summer Olympics. An extra special treat is the Aubrey Graham penned track “Un-Thinkable (I’m Ready)”. The man better known as Drake can be heard singing background vocals. Hip Hop fans should pick up on his inclusion on the track because its sounds way too similar to his mix-tape hit “Successful”. Recycle, much.

Overall, the project does lack the cohesiveness that has been prevalent in her previous work but isn’t that what being free is about? It’s a decent album and definitely won’t put a chink her career armor. She’ll recover from the rumor mill once the smoke clears. She didn’t need it to keep her relevant or sell her album. (*cough* Rihanna *cough*)

It’s a good buy for those who listen to all genres of music because you’ll appreciate where she was attempting to go. Much like Kanye West’s “808 and Heartbreak”, I imagine the majority of the music will sound amazing in concert.

Overall Rating: B-

2009-12-17T21:55:00.014-05:00

These are a few of my favorite things...

After the devastating news that Kris Kringle was fictional came via the sinister bully that was my older cousin in 1987, I was left in a bit on a conundrum. Who gets this list I ardently work so hard to craft? Ah, I get it. The old jolly fat man, in actually, was really this lanky 30-something year old chocolate brother, also known as my father. This explained so much, you see. My mom swears that my dad is the typical male shopper. You send him to the store for one thing and he gets it almost right but not quite. This explained why when I asked for a Barbie doll, I didn’t get the hottest Barbie of the season. He needed specifics. I’m sure my dad was quite pissed off at the cuzzo after I discovered he was really shoving those presents under the tree. Post 1987, my smart ass pulled out the Service Merchandise catalog and detailed every gift I wanted, in order of priority, with extended options and packages. He’d created a monster. (Evil grin)

As I got older, I grew out of making lists. I simply asked for cash and to be dropped off at the mall. And as I entered my 20’s, I got more joy out of giving. But lately, I’ve been feeling nostalgic. Maybe the blog deserves a good ol’ fashioned Def Stef Christmas Wish List.

Ahem…

In no particular order, I present to you “The List.”

1. Air Max 90
Yes. I collect these. Even though I don’t quite read to the average individual as a sneaker head, there is something about the Air Max 90 that is tom boy couture to me.

Size 4.5 (Boys) = Small Feet discount
Found at DrJays.com.
$75.00

2. Louis Vuitton EPI Leather Speedy 30

Not really a fan of the whole pew automatically knowing what kind of purse it is that you carry nor am I fan on carrying a purse that even when its real, people will assume is fake because its replicated so much. This LV is my favorite. Its simple and classy. And it just screams “Milf”.

Found at louisvuitton.com.
$900-ish

3. Shell Gas Gift Card

Gas ain’t cheap. I’d be pleased as punch if I got this. No lie.

Added value: A gift card to Miles Auto Spa. Yep, it’s a spa for cars over by my job. (I work in the suburbs.) But Miles will have you car super clean. And those who know me, also know my struggle with keeping my car clean. I liiiiiive in my car.

http://www.milesautospa.com/

4. Nikon CoolPix P90 12.1 MP Digital Camera

This is the first digital camera I was ever exposed to while taking a digital media class in 2003. This is the 2009 version and its lovely. Although I’d pretty much go for any digital camera at this point since my old one is on its last legs, I still gotta thang for the P90.

Found at overstock.com.
$366.99

5. A new LCD TV with built in DVD player. No particular brand and even, not too big. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable. This one right here is only $398. Hell, I will even go half in with you. 

Found at walmart.com.

6. Blackberry Bold 9700

According to AT&T, if I sign two more years of my mobile life to them, I can get this phone for $99.00.

7. Yummy to my Tummy…nothing compared to my Martinelli’s.

Ahhh yes, it like drinking an apple. Add a little Henn to it for a night cap. This would make me real happy. A 24 pack is $34.50 at amazon.com.

8. I am an 80’s movie JUNKIE. You may purchase any one or few of the following and I will love you for life.

All for less than $10.
Found at amazon.com

9. Free to be a nerd, wherever I go. The Travel Scrabble.

Just $13.49
Found at Restoration Hardware.

10. My baby Brett. Yes.

Nuff said.
Cost: $64.99
Found at eastbay.com.

Til Next Time…

Be Easy.

2009-12-17T16:49:00.004-05:00

THE EVOLUTION OF CUTE

Flashback a few months ago.

I was having an interesting conversation with my girls when my friend “Leeann” started to express her frustration with the way she is usually described by men.

“She’s a cute girl.”

Womp. Womp. Womp.

Now, truth be told. No grown woman wants to be called “cute”, especially by man she is interested in and especially not by a man she is falling in or already in love with.

“Puppies are cute.” (Leeann)

At first, I immediately tried to see this situation from both sides. A male friend told me a while back that the best thing a guy could call you is ‘cute’. If he calls you sexy, it means that he just wants to bed you. If he calls you hot, usually he only thinks you have looks to offer. (Hot is interchangeable with ‘bad’ for the browner persuasion, by the way.) If he calls you pretty or beautiful, he probably secretly thinks you’re way out of his league and you can do better. SMH

But cute is not really what a chick wants to hear, especially if you describe your kid sister the same way. *le sigh*

Cute is not a compliment.

On the flip side, I really don’t think most women want to hear what guys describe you as when they are with their boys, either. You can go from cute to hot to pretty to sexy on any given day. Barbershop conversations will have you wishing you had never complained about being referred to in the same vein as his dog, Booger.

What’s a girl to do?

I struggled with this scenario in my early 20’s. My unintentionally emotionally abusive boyfriend would go on and on about how ‘fine’ certain girls on campus were, even some of my sorority sisters and close friends. But when he talked about me, we were back to ‘cute’. Thanks so much, jerk. (We’re super cool now so I can talk about this with ease. LOL)

Yet, in still, it hurt. It also made me constantly feel as if I didn’t measure up. I wasn’t exotic with long, naturally curly hair or bi-racial. I didn’t have much of a banging body other than my 3Ds. I didn’t fit what his standard or the mainstream standard of beauty was, for that matter. Somewhere in my mid-20’s, after bad weaves, butt pads and way too much make-up, I realized that the thing that would make me most attractive was being comfortable in my own skin. (Enter: the DefStef years…) And I started to notice that the very women that men referred to as fine, sexy, beautiful, bad, pretty, etc….weren’t comfortable in their skin at all. Most of them lack any depth or consciousness. Essentially, they were surface. And the ”baddest’ part of ME was internal and couldn’t be seen by the naked eye.

So the next time, a guy calls you cute (when you know you’re more than that), accept it as a compliment. Its probably his way of saying you’re amazing and layered and so fantastic that he doesn’t want to overdo it.

Or you could just be cute.

LOL…

Ain’t nothing wrong with that. You’re better off than half the world. Ha!

Ironically, the cute girls are the ones who get the rings and lifetime love. Think of how many of the baddest chicks you knew back in the day, who now are divorced and/or single and unhappy. Hmmmm…

Special note to the fellas: If she IS more than cute, make sure you let her know every once in a while, especially if you're dishing out better compliments about other women. Compliments never get old. Drake's "Best I Ever Had" was a hit for a good reason.

Til’ next time.

Be Easy.

2009-12-04T10:23:00.001-05:00

How’s your love life?
This is an increasingly annoying question the closer I approach the age of 30. Everyone wants to know why I am not married and/or popped out a few crumb snatchers. My uncle swear ‘fo sweet baby hay-soos that I must be crazy and that’s why no man in his rightful wants to marry me. Then, when I explain that I am not married because I hadn’t wanted to be and not for the lack of serious interest from suitors, he looks perplexed.

“All women want in life in their 20’s is to get married.”

No, sir, not this one.

I’m reminded of my youth, playing M.A.S.H. with my cousins. That big box in the middle at the top of the page never had a consistent number. For those of you unfamiliar with this game, the first entry on the page was the “how old will you be when you get married” box. It, in essence, it controlled the whole game. You used this number to count down the page and eliminate the potential baby names, potential number of children, potential mates, potential cars, etc. Without this number, you couldn’t even play the game. My number incessantly jumped for 23 to 28 to 25 to 19. My cousins’ numbers were so much more consistent.

I guess this should have been a dead giveaway.

Now, at the ripe age of 29.8, I can finally say that I am ready to get married. And granted, this is not for the lack of dating good men. I thank God that I have never dated a jerk and I have walked away from every romantic experience, having learned something and given a lesson or two in return. I just think I had to come to terms with all the love in my life before I could walk into that Ruby Dee/Ossie Davis type ish. I wanted to make sure my love life was in tact every else first. People focus way too much on gaining romantic love in order to make them happy when they haven’t accepted the platonic love that makes romantic that much more sweeter.

What other type of love could there possibly be, Def Stef? Well, I’m glad you asked.

Agape Love:
There is no greater paradigm for the love you should give and receive romantically than the love that God has for humanity. The sacrifice, the forgiveness, the grace, the mercy…prompts me to say I want someone to love me like He does (as much as humanly possible). Because I know the depth of this love on a personal level, I know the humanness of marriage won’t deter me from breaking the covenant I will make with God and with my husband. Once you get that personal relationship with God, you don’t evade marriage because people cheat or people lie. You don’t evade marriage because statistics say it won’t last. The weatherman uses statistics everyday to predict the weather but God still does whatever He wants to do. Why? Because nature is His creation and nature knows this. YOU are His creation. Know that He is in control. He won’t lead you into a love that’s second rate.

Storge Love:
Let’s be real. My family, just like most of ya’ll, is all jacked up to be damned. We have former inmates, crackheads, pimps, snooty, bougie, decepticons, the prideful, the good, the bad, the ugly. And for a long time, I wanted to hide these things from everyone I knew. People meet some of my family members and are a little taken aback that I grew up in the same household or was reared by the same bomb a** nana. Truth be told, is that I have a little piece of all of them inside of me. And all the good that can’t be extrinsically seen when you meet them, was deposited into me as I matured. My grandparents, uncles and aunts were always adamant that they wanted better for us and that’s what they gave. It took me a long time to appreciate all the things I previously wanted to shield. Because of my family’s jackupness, I try not judge, I can get along with almost anyone, I know how to pinch a dollar, I know how to carry myself as a lady, etc. Because of their sacrifices, big and small, I have learned what it takes to really love your blood. Blood is thicker than mud.

Philia Love:
Truth be told, I love some of my friends more than I love some of my family members. I must say that my “tried and true” TOP 3 are really ride-or-die. They may grate my nerves at times but they know me better than any of my “new” friends do. They know me on the inside. There’s no pretension and no façade. I can be open and honest, my eccentric and quirky self. They accept that I am frugal, moody, weird, nerdy, passionate and stubborn. They are non-judgmental and there’s absolutely nothing I would hear said behind my back that was never said to my face, in the same manner and attitude. They have become my extended family. There have been times in my life that I have placed my “new” friends above them, yet they quietly accepted this phase because they knew I’d be back. That’s true philia. They have taught me the true meaning of friendship.

Eros Love:
It’s the stuff that love songs are made of. It’ll make you beat your husband with a golf club. *side eye* It’s what little girls dream of all their lives. That knight in shining armor that rides up on the white horse and saves you. But I think we want it too early. We want it before we need it. One thing I have learned in my 20’s is that I couldn’t even recognize genuine eros without first coming to terms with the agape, the storge and the philia. The love of God, family and friendship is what prepares you for marriage. The unconditional nature of them is essentially paragons. You take all of these into marriage. What’s a marriage without God, family and friendship?

A statistic.

I’m determined not to be one.

Are you?

Til’ next time,

Be Easy.

2009-09-14T19:51:00.002-05:00

“Don’t leave your sugar for sh*t.” (Credit: Nana)

I would make up something flowery and eloquent as to why I haven’t written in so long but…I don’t have the strength. Bish has a new job, a new place to lay my head, a new lease of life…pretty much a new everything.

What’s ironic is that I have always had this fascination with things that were new. I like the way newness smells and feels. (Don’t confuse new with clean. Clean is on some obsessive compulsive tip and I certainly have my messy moments.)

But also with newness comes the necessity to be transparent. You become susceptible to changes you may or may not be prepared for. And while things are all shiny and brand new, you still have to deal with the realness of transition.

All new things don’t come with a warranty.

Oh, how I wish it did. Why isn’t everything new refundable? You get quite pissy when you buy something that seemingly is user-friendly, then you get home and the instructions are in Memphlish. This certainly applies to people. You invite someone into your world, with the intention that what’s on the outside is in direct correlation of what’s on the inside.

Negative.

And its not just new people in your life. It could be old people who get “brand new” on that ass.

New sh*t changes people.

(Insert MJ’s “Human Nature)

But dammit, we are just that…human. We get comfortable. We get used to what used to be new. How dare we cop an attitude when the newness wears off and all that lovely surface begins to rub off?

Then we have quite a situation on our hands. Do we go back to the old thing because we kind of miss it, now that the newness of the new thing wore off and do we stick it out with the new thing because, hell, it IS a damn upgrade? If we go back to the old mess, we risk losing the new mess. If we stick with the new mess, we may find out the old mess is really what we wanted all along. (That made complete sense in my head and if it doesn’t to you, go play in traffic.)

Decisions, Decisions.

Well, let me say this. I have been in this situation a time or two, kiddies. And sometimes I stuck with the new and sometimes I went back to what I knew. There’s no formula on what’s right or wrong. All I can say is that I’ve always based my decision on my ultimate happiness.

Or as my nana would say: “Don’t leave your sugar for sh*t.”

Just make sure you know the difference between the two.

Be Easy.

2009-07-20T14:26:00.000-05:00

Wait for it...

I’m sitting here blogging naked. It has been scientifically proven that people are more transparent when they are naked and/or their body temperature is warmer than normal. Hence, the wonderful phenomena that is “pillow talk”

I’ve been feeling quite overwhelmed with the certain uncertainties in my life so I haven’t been in the mood to spread my word seed. Sometimes, I tend to forget that writing is what keeps me sane. It keeps me from popping off on folks and keep Che’von at bay.

Crazy heffa.

I will be completely honest and tell you what subject has really been on my mind over the last few months.

Love and Marriage.

Blame it on that good ol’ biological clock.

I’m totally in observation mode. I’ve been watching friends and family members fall in and out of love…play games with it…run from it like it was the Swine Flu on crack…get their first taste of it or throw in the towel. Lately, I’ve been coming to some conclusions as to why marriages and relationships fail. I realize God is showing me these things so that when my earthly “king” is revealed to me, I won’t make the same mistakes. Prime Example.

Homeboy calls me yesterday and tells me he met a girl. He likes said girl. She’s smart, attractive and they get along grand. But homeboy says he can’t date her because (1) she lives with her folks and (2) she has a baby. He says that ‘either or’ could be acceptable but both is a dream killer.

Hmmmph.

So perfect person with temporary issues…and you pass?

Next week, he’ll meet a bi-polar, needy heffa who “got her own”. No temporary issues but a permanent problem.

I don’t understand it.

Why do we go for the partners who have together on the surface but are so permanently messed up on the inside? Because we are selfish and don’t want to be inconvenienced. How many of us independent women have passed on the blue collar brother because he has on a uniform and not a Brooks Brothers suit? If we had a conversation with him, maybe we’d learn that he’s working on his MBA while working full-time. He’ll have that suit in two years, if we can be patient and wait on it.

But we don’t want to wait. In a microwave society, we want it now. Think about how many blessings we pass over because its not wrapped in pretty paper with a bag ass bow on top. Most of the people with the most genuine of hearts and spirits are riddled with temporary issues that we view as just too much “work”.

I think I’ll follow Michells Obama’s lead.

On their first date, her husband showed up in a dated vehicle that didn’t even have a footboard. Now they fly first class to change the forecast.

Wait for it…

2009-05-24T22:18:00.001-05:00

She’s baaaaack.

Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Stef. D to the E-F.

So much has happened since I’ve been on hiatus. I became what some may label as a “victim of the recession.“ Yep. I lost my job. They eliminated my position. But they sent me home with a nice parting gift…almost as good as the second place prize on Jeopardy. In true Def Stef style, I admit I’ve been kicking it…may as well enjoy not having to answer to the man on the daily. Ironically, this all occurred in the midst of my Lenten fast. I’m sure the homey J. Christ did this on purpose. I’m putting things in perspective. He’s preparing me for the next level.

I’ll be 30 in 10 months. Cue the music…

“Age ain’t nothing’ but a number. Throwing down ain’t nothing but a thang…”

I tell you one thing. I thoroughly enjoyed my twenties. I experienced real love, fake love, real friends, fake friends, debauchery, experimentation, heartbreak, romance, mis-education…I look at my friends and family members who may have the husband, the nice house, the nice car and the kids and sometimes, I feel the regret pouring from their eyes. I’ll have stories to tell my daughter about how her mama shook it like a salt shaker and lived to tell about. I wouldn’t change one iota of my twenties experience…save a few dramatic moments…

I’m on the cusp of the next level. You know. Housewifery and mini-me’s running the show. I’ll enjoy the last few moments of the 20-something years, TRUST and BELIEVE. I’m starting to reflect already. I learned so much. And I’m finally happy to stop lying to myself about a few things.

You: What you lie to yourself ‘bout, girl?

I’m happy you asked.

Ten things women lie to themselves about in their 20’s.
Dirty Thirty changes everything.

10. I will have this body forever.
The closer you get to 30, the less time it takes that 3 a.m. Krispy Kreme donut to attach itself to your arse. Gravity starts effin’ with your head and your body. You start understanding the need to a body shaper and a bra with industrial strength underwire. You start reading nutritional labels and isht…googling wtf riboflavin really is. You start heaving after a few flights of steps and realizing that you can’t drink Jose Cuervo no more. You mean, I have to start actually working out, Def Stef? Uhm, yes ma’am. Goodbye, high metabolism and cheap, unforgiving fabrics.

9. I can wear anything I want.
No more Wet Seal, Rave, 357 and run as fast as you can from the Juniors section of the department store. Because of #10, you can’t afford to put anything on your body but a quality fabric that is age appropriate. The dawn of 30 also makes you realize your body type. For example, I can’t wear a shirt that has a titty pocket. The DD ain’t gonna fit. Its like OJ and the black glove…and I ain’t going to jail.

8. If I get in real financial trouble, I will call the ‘rents.
Negative. They don’t care. They halfway won’t pay for a wedding after you’ve turned 25 and/ or have an IRA. Their money is their money. Pay your own fare.

7. One form of birth control is enough.
There’s power in numbers. Condom AND the pill. Folks kill me how they are more afraid of getting pregnant than contracting a deadly virus. I will take 18 years over LIFE anyday.

6. I only have to go to the doctor when it hurts.
This is a lie from the pit of hell. Proactive not Reactive.

5. My girls are down for me…whenever, whatever, wherever.
I’d like to tell you that your ‘clique’ will ride with you no matter what but I’d be lying. This doesn’t mean you need to ostracize yourself but you must be real honest with your friends’ roles in your life. Some friends are just there to go out with, some are just there to listen to you cry, some are just there to help you whoop arse. That’s the way it is.

4. I’m not the average chick. I’m different.
Sigh.
Yeah, God made you special. Sure. But you are still an average woman unless you are excelling at what your individual God-given strength is. And it won’t be rooted in how much money you make, how much booty you have, how good your hair is, how exotic you look, how fast you can run…It’ll lie within your spirit, your giving, and your true purpose.

3. I can change him.
No, you can’t.

2. I’m only responsible for myself.
You are responsible for every life you touch. You are assigned to a person for a reason and if you find yourself on the receiving end 90% percent of the time, you may need to learn a lesson in selflessness.

1. I got that good-good.
Super sigh.
By the time you are 30 and the guy you are dating is as well, chances are he has had every brand of vajayjay on the shelves. Good-good won’t keep him there for longer than it takes for the “love to come down.” You got make love to more than his piece. Make love to his mind with your intelligence. Make love to his appetite with a home cooked meal. Make love his spirit by worshipping with him. And most importantly, make love to his ego. Men need that just as much as we do.

So what does it all boil down to? Sucky as it may be, sometimes it takes us to get damn near 30 to finally achieve authentic style, substance and sensibility.

But didn’t we have fun?

LOL that’s all that matters.

2009-02-04T12:14:00.000-05:00

Inside the Actor’s Studio
James Lipton sits down with Miss Swanigan, Def Stef and Madame Che’von…

1. What is your favorite word?
Miss Swanigan: Omnipotent
Def Stef: Fly
Che’von: B****….haha…I guess that makes us one omnipotent, fly b****

2. What is your least favorite word?
Miss Swanigan: Can’t
Def Stef: Sorry
Che’von: Perfect

3. What turns you on?
Miss Swanigan: Seeing a man on his knees praying.
Def Stef: Just seeing a man…
Che’von: Seeing a man on his knees…period.

4. What turns you off?
Miss Swanigan: Negativity
Def Stef: Dishonesty
Che’von: A small one. (Don’t want no short…lol….itty bitty teeny weeny…)

5. What sound do you love?
Miss Swanigan: Laughter
Def Stef: Donny Hathaway
Che’von: A V6 engine

6. What sound do you hate?
Miss Swanigan: Expletives.
Def Stef: The sound of any living thing crying.
Che’von: A whiner

7. What is your favorite curse word?
Miss Swanigan: Hell
Def Stef: Phuck
Che’von: Bastard

8. What profession other than yours would you like to attempt?
Miss Swanigan: Stripper
(The room is in shock.)
Def Stef: (To Miss Swanigan) I knew you had it in you. (To Mr. Lipton) A Pilot.
Che’von: The first lady of a church. They are always fly as hell.

9. What profession would you not like to do?
Miss Swanigan: Stripper
Def Stef: A school teacher
Che’von: Michelle Obama

10. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?
Miss Swanigan: “You won the battle of good and evil”.
Def Stef: “Enjoy your promotion.”
Che’von: “Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-a-a-alcohol.” Lol…

***THE END***

2009-01-29T17:14:00.001-05:00

Boughetto Jeudi

Word of the Day: Arse

Arse
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Arse is an English term referring to the buttocks, first recorded circa 1400 (in arce-hoole) and is commonly used in English speaking countries such as the United Kingdom, Ireland, Australia and New Zealand, parts of Canada and former parts of the British Empire. In the United States and other parts of Canada the variant form ass is used.

I’m in an odd mood for lists. I don’t know from whence it came but carry on…

Top Ten On Screen Characters Whose Arse I Have Wanted to Hand to Them

Ahem…

10. Laurence Fishbourne as Ike Turner in What’s Love Got to Do With It?

“You trying to help IKE!?!” I don’t know how accurate the movie was but Larry’s strong backhand and snort method make it hard to conceive that he was once Cowboy Curtis on Pee Wee’s Playhouse or Young Wilford in blaxploitation classic, “Cornbread, Earl and Me”.

9. Vanessa Bell Calloway as Yvonne Caldwell on All My Children

How dare she break up Angie and Jessie’s happy home? Ooooooooo, she made my momma mad and in turn, curdled my fresh pre-pubescent blood. Premium homewrecker. It was scandalous.

8. Bill Bellamy as Hollywood in Love Jones

Every man you’ve ever dated has that slick homeboy who tries to get at you when your man looks away. Sometimes he doesn’t even say anything. He just looks at you wrong. Ugh! I hate this type of guy. And when he refused to take Nina Mosley home after his sneaky behind took her to that party KNOWING Darius would be there. Hmmmph!

7. Sanna Lathan as Andrea Pratt-Bennett in The Family That Preys

This heffa right here. When Rockmond gave her that swift “Ike Turner” and she flew across that counter, I wasn’t even mad.

6. Blair Underwood as Chip Hightower in G

Everybody knows that I have been a swooning fan of Blair since LA Law. I used to beg my mom to let me stay up and watch my two favorite black male actors who brought color to p.m. drama in the 80’s- Mr. Underwood and St. Elsewhere’s Denzel Washington. I don’t know if Blair was trying to show his rough side but Lawd Haw Mercy, he was so evil in this urban version of F. Scott’s “The Great Gatsby”.

5. Denzel Washington as Alonzo Harris in Training Day

Denzel, I guess, was trying to prove a point as well.

Point.
Taken.

“King Kong ain’t…..”

You know the rest.

4. Tupac Shakur as Bishop in Juice

This is how we all knew that Tupac was crazy and had a dark side. I’m a firm believer that people have severe demons. And if they continue to ignore them, they feed and grow and mature. Bishop wasn’t fictional. At all.

3. Wesley Snipes as Nino Brown in New Jack City

Nino suffered from megolamania aka delusions of grandeur or as we would say, he was on a power trip something awful. He didn’t have to do the light skinned brother like that.

2. Terrence Howard as Cameron Thayer in Crash

I can’t believe that this man did not get gangsta with Matt Dillon after he molested his wife. Are you serious?!? You have got to be kidding me?! Is that not worth going to jail for?! Under NO circumstances, should a grown man allow his wife to be disrespected in such a manner. You MUST take a “L” on this one. You MUST.

1.Susan Kohner as Sarah Jane in Imitation of Life (1959)

I will never….ever….ever get over her screaming at her mother that she was “white, white….whiiiiiite” and watching that poor lady on her death bed, dying of a broken heart. That moment at the end when she runs through the mass of people at her mother’s funeral, crying her heart out, I am filled with so many mixed emotions. I don’t know whether to empathize or slice her.

If you haven’t seen some of these characters, go to a Blockbuster near you or You Tube it. They say actors are most proud when a fan hates them because of a character they portrayed. To the above, I say, well done.

Til next time.
Be Easy.

2009-01-27T13:35:00.001-05:00

Ten Lessons We Should Take into Adulthood by Che’von
(Because them other two heffas work a 9-5…)

10. Don’t talk to strangers.
When a man or woman disappears on you or become consistently inconsistent…when you feel as if you don’t really “know” a person or for some reason, they cannot be transparent with you…they are a stranger. Don’t talk to them. I don’t care how much candy they are offering. Save the Butterfingers and Red Hots for the next unaware chick.

9. Keep your legs crossed---at the ankles as a child…at the knees as an adult.
Keep your “Judy Monkeyhouse” to yourself. Yes, you read that right…your Judy Monkeyhouse. (I had a fantastically perverse aunt that came up with random names for private parts.)

8. One day, you’ll love that (insert physical feature you were once teased for having).
I hated being the girl with full lips and the only 3rd grader already in a training bra. Haha. Not anymore.

7. Stop Snitching.

6. Go to your room and think about.
Moms always did this when there was a lesson to be learned. There was no conversation about why I did what I did until after I spent 2 hours in the bedroom, sitting under that horrid “Thiller” poster my sister hung over my bed to torture me. Now, I usually think long and hard about my actions and my words.

5. “What are your intentions with my daughter?” – said Momma, to potential boyfriend
You know why you didn’t know he was married with two kids. You didn’t ask. You know why you didn’t know he liked boys that liked boys that liked boys that liked girls. You didn’t ask. Get all up in his isht on that first date. This is your life he’s trying to penetrate…not just your Judy Monkeyhouse. My nana would always bless me out for being on the phone with a boy at 2 a.m. She’d say, “ain’t but one thing a little manish boy want to talk about this late night.” If he’s calling you at 2 a.m. to come over and “spoon”, get a grip!

4. Go ask your father.
Your earthly father and your Heavenly Father have some mighty good advice for you. Listen.

3. Stop running.
Please refer to India Arie’s “Slow Down”.

2. Stop staring.
Get the hell up outta other folk’s business.

1. Say your prayers.

2009-01-15T15:31:00.002-05:00

Bourghetto Jeudi: The Incomparable “Coug”

The Definitions
Cougar
Noun
-an aesthetically pleasing woman frequently approached by suitors who are old enough to be her own child. Fictional Examples include Angela Bassett as “Stella”, Phylisha Rashad as “Claire Huxtable”, Pam Grier as “Jackie Brown”.

I met this cougar last night. She was bad. She has a doctorate, a six figure salary and back for days.

Couging
Verb
-to purportedly accept the advances of a suitor old enough to be one’s own child.

Rochelle is out couging tonight at Club Nocturnal. Its college night.

SMH

If you know me or have read my blog for any length of time, you know that I have aspirations of cougardom.

Why for, prey tell?

Well, I’m happy you asked.

You see? Its not because I get off on some pre-pubescent kid staring at my hoo-hahs. Its more of a goal rooted in maintaining a certain standard of physicality for the future life partner. In general, I am not a competitive person but when it comes to pleasing the person I love, I will make sure the effort is evident and acknowledged. More importantly, if one makes it to Cougar status, it means she has successfully reinvented herself and not allowed life or her social environment to control when and where she “peaked”. Such a sad and silly case when someone has prematurely peaked.

You know the ones I’m talking about. The large posterior having high school homecoming queen who’s hey day has come and gone. (Eventually, all women’s bodies catch up.) The college star quarterback who couldn’t master the next level, still living in College Town, USA just to gain some semblance of a celebrity status. Cougars are forward thinking, switching up their game as their “peak” approaches.

That’s gangsta.

And I respect that.

In approximately one year and two months, I will be bidding adieu to my 20s. The fortitudinous nature in me is preparing for a game changer that ups my ante. I likes to refer to it as “The Road to Cougardom”. Blink, and you might miss it. Ha!

I study Cougars because they are effortlessly relevant through strategic planning and acute observation.

They understand that there’s always room for growth. Always another level to be reached. Cougars are experts at forecasting, so that no “passengers are on [her] plane.” She understands that’s its far more important to hold attention than to get attention. Life is a game of chess and she definitely makes her “next move, her best move”. A Cougar started out on Similac at birth, Jungle Juice in her teens, Hard Lemonade in her collegiate years, Stella as a young professional, Shiraz as an official adult…casually upgrading to Louis XIII. She understands that at age 28, she didn’t have the taste buds to truly appreciate the latter. She felt no need to fake it until she made it….understanding that she should never carry a purse that’s worth more than what she currently has in hard cash and assets. (Insert Ving Rhames’ excellent speech on guns vs. butter in “Baby Boy”.)

Simple put…Couging ain’t easy.

But its worth it.

2009-01-05T16:40:00.002-05:00

Slept On Like A Red Eye

With all the ‘Cassies’, ‘Soulja Boys’, and ‘Pleasure P’s’ of the world, I am continually befuddled. Why? Because there are undeniably talented artists that the public’s untrained ear falls deaf on. I recently acquired a vinyl record player, a gift initially meant for a special someone who decided a GPS was more appropriate. I muddled over returning it the store but decided to keep it. Next step was to secure some records. This excursion turned out almost better than shopping for clothes. As I rifled through the vinyl section at Memphis’ own, Spin Street, I came across a few albums that smelled of nostalgia on wax.

Back Story: I regularly played “Kid DJ” to my mom and aunts while they had card parties. Those moments are definitive to me. They fine tuned an ear for a good sound and a viable recording voice. Aretha….Stevie…Earth, Wind & Fire…the Emotions…the Whispers….Sam Cooke…Jeffrey Osborne….The Swanigan household was the Mecca of old school soul and I was a willful and capable student. (My mom’s stint as a background singer for Al Green and Dionne Warwick didn’t hurt either.)

So what’d I buy:

Diamond Life LP by Sade
Love is Stronger Than Pride LP by Sade
Donny Hathaway Live LP
Close to You LP by the Carpenters

I know your next thought. You’re thinking “….wait…the Carpenters?!”

Yep.

I loves a rich alto vocal and Karen Carpenter delivers. Bish could sang without effort! Don’t get it twisted.

You see? I don’t really fancy bullshi**y artists. I never have. I like raw and real talent. Popular or not. I want to hear, taste, and see the soul in the blue notes.

And unfortunately, not all the artists to show us their souls get to the top of the Billboard charts. I give you five that are seriously slept on. I don’t know if its bad or minimal marketing, the fact that three of them are Canadian or that Americans don’t like to listen to good music.

1. Deborah Cox.

How….did…youuuuuu….get HERE!?!

That’s what Deborah needs to ask Cassie next time she see her!

2. Tamia

Once again, no effort! None. No rolling around on the floor. No diva. No stilettos. Just voice.

3. Glen Lewis

*SIGH*

4. Nikka Costa

You can’t buy FUNK!!!

Damn, Damn, Damn. I just don’t understand why she is not a household name.

5. The HONORABLE Lalah Hathaway

FABULOUS vocal genes perfected at Berkeley. It’s just not reasonable that chick has not been given her props. I’m banning the Grammys until she does.

Well, not really.

But what gives?!

Her voice runs so swift like Florence Griffith.

I’m beat.

Til’ next time….be Easy.

2008-12-31T10:56:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year!

These kids ROCK!!!!

Thanks for the link, GCH!

2008-12-27T15:47:00.001-05:00

Comes the Dawn by Veronica Shoffstall
...my goodbye to 2008...

After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today,
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong,
And you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn...
With every goodbye you learn.

2008-12-12T16:42:00.005-05:00

Freestyle Friday from the Vault of Che’von Hines (& the Nostalgia Chronicles)

“I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my sh*t.” (Source: E. Badu)

I like to share my work with you guys. This blog serves as an outlet, just in case there’s some latent mental disorder in my genes I have no clue about. I write short stories, screenplays, song lyrics, poems, etc. And I welcome feedback. In addition, I have an immense respect for other artist's work. But I will always give credit where credit is due.

Quote:"...if you threw it up in the air, it would turn into sunshine." (Harlem Nights)

Nuff said.

My sunshine melts the ice.

Haha

Happy Weekend.

2008-12-11T16:01:00.003-05:00

Bourghetto Juedi (aka Bourgeoisie de la Ghetto Thursday): Volume 1

I make up words all the time. I likes to do that. And sometimes, I like to get semi-intellectual and bless the world with a word that is uncommon to the upper crust and/or my hood figgas of the blogosphere. Either way, I will give you a word, its definition, and expound upon such definition (according to Def Stef of course.)

Word: Denouement

I have the oddest ability to remember class syllabi from years past.
Circa 1996, I sat in Mrs. Carr’s Honor English course, my junior year of high school.

Aside: I’ll be completely honest, that woman single-handedly is responsible for me respecting my ‘voice’. Without the lessons I learned in her class, her reverent push to expand my vocabulary, her inability to reference me as the quintessential teacher’s pet I had been until that point….just may the be reason I am here writing this right now.

I digress.

Mrs. Carr’s lesson on that day was the eight parts of a plot.

(1) Point of entrance – boy meets girl.
(2) Exposition – boy likes girl.
(3) Defining event – boy and girl date.
(4) Rising action – boy and girl love.
(5) Crisis – boy and girl quarrel.
(6) Falling action – boy and girl make-up to break up.
(7) Denouement – boy and girl cry.
(8) Closure – boy and girl are over.

I immediately thought about how all the great love stories, in art and in life, have terrific plots. And when you think about the greatest love(s) of your life, the story really isn’t over until you have closure.

Many of us are just teetering in the denouement.

The denouement symbolizes the tragic inevitability of a love story. We like to cling to this part of the plot because it allows us to believe that there is one last “Hail Mary” that will bring us back to the rising action. Yet, if your story has made it the denouement, the party is over.

It’s a lovely word for a sad time.

If you’re there…get you a nice bottle of Chablis and throw on Hathaway’s “Giving Up”. Pop a Benadryl and run a boiling bubble bath. Get in fully clothed and let the tears run, forgetting to invention of combs, mascara or a tissue. Wake up ugly as hell and grab your closure by the horns.

The End.

2008-12-09T11:16:00.002-05:00

Inside My Head:
Tuesday Tea with Def Stef, Che’von and Miss Swanigan

The intimate conversations of three strong personalities commences over a spot of tea.
green tea and honey for Def Stef
a shot of amaretto for Che’von
decaf and shortbread cookies for Miss Swanigan.

Setting: High Noon in the Sun Room at Hines Estates, enveloped by the vocal sounds of B. Giselle Knowles-Carter (or Beyonce’ to you). The ladies are attempting to learn the succinct choreography from the “Single Ladies” video.

Scene 1

Miss Swanigan: Arrrrghh! This is way too hard. Why can’t we do an interpretive dance to “Halo”? Now, that’s an amazing song about real love, agape love.

Che’von: (Sigh) Nobody wants to hear that sappy sh*t. Men are sick. And Sasha Fierce is letting them know that we are not taking this crap from them anymore. Go hard or Go home ‘cause… (singing and grinding)…”If you liked it then, you should have put a ring on it. Oh Oh Oh ---Oh Oh Oh –Oh….Oh-Oh…Oh Oh Oh”

Miss Swanigan: See, that’s the problem. Women are always focused on what a man is doing. My King is preparing my ‘king’ so that when we do become one, nothing will separate us. And I won’t be a fool, running to the dance floor when this self-deprecating song comes on, shamelessly attempting to imitate Miss Sasha Fierce. AND how in the heck is she even relevant to a single lady with that big rock on her finger. She’s married! He DID put a ring on it.

Che’von: (snarling) Whatev.

Def Stef: No, no. The kid’s got a point.

Che’von: I mean. I guess. (sliding off her stilettos)

Miss Swanigan: (clapping) Yay! Gold Star for me.

Che’von: (To Miss Swanigan) Kill it!

The claps cease.

Def Stef: I think Beyonce’ is making a huge point but the single ladies out there are not getting “it”. She sings, “If you liked it, then you should have put a ring on it” but she means, “If he liked it, then he would have put a ring on it”. Otherwise……..

All: HE’S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU!

Def Stef: Exactly.

End Scene.

2008-12-04T13:33:00.001-05:00

Here ye Here ye

In an effort to obtain some semblance of decorum around these parts, I have decided to theme blog on Thursday, Friday, and Tuesday.

(There will be special reports in between that will “interrupt your scheduled programming”….depending on when and if the moment hits me on the other four days.)

SMH

Henceforth, you may check the blog on the following days for updates:

Bourghetto Juedi (aka Bourgeoisie de la Ghetto Thursday)
I make up words all the time. I likes to do that. And sometimes, I like to get semi-intellectual and bless the world with a word that is uncommon to the upper crust and/or my hood figgas of the blogosphere. Either way, I will give you a word, its definition, and expound upon such definition (according to Def Stef of course.)

Freestyle Friday from the Vault of Che’von Hines (& the Nostalgia Chronicles)

“I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my sh*t.” (Source: E. Badu)

I like to share my work with you guys. This blog serves as an outlet, just in case there’s some latent mental disorder in my genes I have no clue about. I write short stories, screenplays, song lyrics, poems, etc. And I welcome feedback.

Inside My Head: Tuesday Tea with Def Stef, Che’von and Miss Swanigan

I realize that the written dialogue of my internal conversation with my two alter egos is quite popular. I have learned to embrace my inner “crazy.” On every Tuesday, I will present to you the intimate conversations these three strong personalities have over tea. Please bring green tea and honey for Def Stef, a shot of amaretto for Che’von and decaf and shortbread cookies for Miss Swanigan. Ha!

That is all. Be good.

2008-11-26T02:24:00.002-05:00

The heart is a fascinating organ to me.

The heart does not move. The heart does not think. It knows its function and performs sedentary, in one place. And when functioning at its best, it produces a gut emotion that is nothing short of supernatural.

This natural phenomenon freaks out the thinkers and the doers of the world.

They need an explanation for everything. How dare the heart try to override the mind?

They need a place to run when answers do not add up. How dare the heart stop the feet from moving?

There’s no scientific explanation for that. There is also no scientific explanation for the greatest gift God has given us---the ability to love. How ironic is it that this gift of love is tied into our hearts?

My morning reading was entitled ‘Good Grief’. The author wrote about God immobilizing her through a sickness. She lay in pain everyday until she felt a shift. She stopped praying the “I want this/that” prayer to the “have Your way” prayer. She gave up her brains and feet and only offered heart.

When pain and grief cripples you, the brains and feet become immobile yet your heart keeps on pumping. You know? Tears and emotion emerge without thought. You lie in one place, unable to function “normally”.

Why does it take a watershed moment for us to “go with our heart”?

This year, grief caused me to trash the brains and feet that had gotten me into so many sticky situations and relationships. All I have left is my heart. I’ve quickly found out that my heart is all that God wanted to see in the first place. He wanted to see it in its purest state…almost childlike…unable to critically think itself out of raw emotion.

I emerge from this year, ready to love as unconditionally as humanly possible. Unconcerned with who may hurt me, what may come my way, where the road will take me… After each prayer I say: Your will. Not mine. Why? His will defies all logic and you simply can’t run away from it. But thinking and doing your own thing, will definitely postpone it

There’s no reason for us to be afraid. No reason to be bitter or angry. Forgiveness can become easier. Loving can become easier. Life can become easier…if we would just surrender our heart.

2008-11-17T13:03:00.026-05:00

The Pink Boyz

So G-Money hipped me to Phonte's (from the group Lil Brother) podcast where he highlighted his Top 10 women in every shade, dimension, and color. I thought it was novel idea. Those of us who can appreciate the absolute fineness that God rested among the melanin challenged to the darkest berry, must break down our 'favorites' into categories because we have just that much love to spread. My affinity for pink boys started at a young age. (Don't get me wrong, I love the Wesley Nestles of the world, too. That list is soon to come. )I remember the first time I laid my eyes of my favorirte QB of all time. I was in heaven. I knew from that day forward that I had a non-discriminant heart, the best kind of heart to have. When you have a heart that can love like that, the world truly is a box of chocolates.

These chicks really know how to appreciate the fantastic season that is upon us. Scruffy Pink Boy season...you know? Don't you jump for joy when you walk outside and see them with a 5 o'clock shadow and a scully? Isn't it remarkable that my heart skips that same beat when I see a brotha in a hoodie and Tims, smelling like Issey Miyake. SMH

So in honor of a world that one day will truly appreciate the utter beauty of a swirl union, here's my top 20 pink boyz of all time:

Vintage Venom

Mr. James Dean's loveliness proved too much to be contained to this world. His untimely death cemented him as a true sex symbol whose star sheened for only a moment before he became a sexy pink boy martyr.

Mr. Marlon Brando was introduced to me in "The Godfather" so imagine my chagrin when I found out this is what he looked like as a young lad. I almost threw my J.Crew flip flop at the silver screen. Zoinks!

Eff what you heard, Mr. Paul Newman, was the epitome of class, style, and hubba hubba. He was the prototype for the boy next door turned hollywood royalty. He never lost his soul and remained married to the same woman until God called him home earlier this year. He is the coup de grace of vintage venom. I'd smack my momma over him. (Not really, but look at them abs.)

The Good Guys

Oh, Mr. Gosling. "The Notebook" was on TNT last night and I tried to look away but his boyish charm was....calling me. I couldn't deprive myself. He played the hell out of Noah Calhoun and showed his soulful side in my Indie favorite, "Half Nelson", and as a puny football player in "Remember the Titans." Don't sleep on his swag. He just hasn't 'filled out' yet. (That's what Nana would say.)

As strong as Ally and Noah's love was in the "The Notebook", the casting had to be meticulous in securing someone swexy (definition: swirl sexy) enough to make it believable for Ally to really be in a conundrum. Mr. Marsden proved to be that tough alternate choice. He's a cutie. He's like that cute guy in the cubicle next to you at work with the corny jokes that you slowly develop a crush on.

I'm just a minding my bid-ness watching Grey's Anatomy last Thursday, when the ghost of Denny Duquette keeps following poor Izzy that it made me almost cringe. But it made me really pay close attention to this dude. He was posted up against a wall while she was with a patient in a smedium (definition:smallish medium) gray Banana Republic-esque cotton t-shirt and it hit me...Dayum....Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Just Dayum. Put that away. That smile, that laugh, that scruff, that senstive eye thing you do...put it AWAY!

Keanu...proof that swirling produces some mythical proportions. That is all I have to say. Cowabunga, indeed.

The Bad Boys

Ok. So I am not a huge Tyler Perry fan but I did go see "The Family that Preys" because I *heart* me some Kathy Bates (fellow Memphian) and I love Alfre Woodard as a mama in a movie. Cole Hauser needs to get the hell on. He plays bad so damn good. Like if we dated, I could forgive him for almost anything. He just looks like he puts it DOWN! (blushing)

Mr. Clive Owen also deserves some attention in the next category but he's a bad, bad man, especially in one of my absolute favorite movies about love triangles, "Closer". His swag is in his sneer and foul mouth, I think. I hate the f-bomb but he makes it sounds so un-dirty.

Depp. Johnny Deep. Aside from his roles as Edward Scissorhands and a Michael Jackson-esque Willy Wonka, he is just nice to look at...period. He could recite the ABC's and a group of women from 50 different countries who no speaka ingles would sigh a big sigh.

The Imports

Colin had a special tape with that brown girl Playmate so he likey the sistas, obviously. Half the time, I can't understand what he says and he holds that cigarette in his mouth like somebody's shade tree mechanic but...somehow...that doesn't matter.

Halle Berry ain't stupid. Mr. Gabriel Aubrey, ladies and gentlemen.

Just google the Armani ad...just google it. The fabulous Mr. Beckham. I almost forgive him for being whipped by Victoria...almost.

The Ballers

Listen to Brian Urlacher talk for five minutes and its evident that he likes women of all races. And if you're really in the "Lach" fan club, you also know that his baby mama is a brown chick. I almost forgive him for dating Paris Hilton...almost.

Ever go to Wal-mart dead set on looking for something and then you get so distracted by something else that you leave the store completely forgetting what you came for. Well, this is how I happened upon David Carr. I was watching the 2002 draft to root for guys I knew who were getting called up, but then I saw David. He sux as a football player but should definitely consider modeling...wherever he is on someone's bench right now.

I'd like to say I brought attention to Kevin Love as a diaper dandy before he bourgeons as the white chocolate I know he will be. If you've been reading my blog for a while, I felt borderline pedophiliac for liking him. More baby weight being worked off of him like Memphis did in the NCAA semifinals last season may get him in prime condition for a cougar on the prowl. (wink) And any brown girl knows that a pink boy in a goatee is more likely ready to swirl.

The Crooners

Ok. I know you're like WTH. Its Kid Rock. He's kinda rough around the edges but he's my wild card. I think he's cute. Its my blog and my perogative. He's dirty in a good way...like Method Man.

Robin Thicke aka Jason Seaver's real son aka Paula Patton's husband. He can write a damn R&B love song. Can you imagine if you were Paula having a stadium full of women singing along to a song written about you?

And last, but not least, my favorite Memphis...JT. He can be annoying at times and downright nasally and whiny when he sings but he wants to be "down" sooooo bad. He tries...a little too hard sometimes and I'm still not forgiving him for leaving Janet in the cold over Nipplegate. But he's a bonafide cutie with soul.

There it is. My favorite pink boys of all time. Add or delete. Agree or turn up your nose.
But I'd trade them all for my baby, Brett. LMAO

Til' next time. Be Easy.

2008-11-06T13:34:00.000-05:00

Do you know what you signed up for? Thoughts on November 4th

When I say I love my first lady, I am not just speaking about my pastor’s wife. Hallelujer!

There is absolutely no way in God’s green earth that we can explain how it feels to be a minority in this country and why we have reacted the way we have regarding our new President. Being called a nigger for the first time in your life is like being told there is no Santa Clause, Tooth Fairy or Easter Bunny at the tender age of 5. Tuesday was like having dinner with all three of them, then tea and crumpets with Tinkerbell, 200 years later.

I witnessed a positive historic moment…One of the big ones that my children will endlessly probe me about. On a cold winter day in 2018, I will curl up in bed with the twins and tell them they can be anything they want to be…and how I made my vote count.

My nana always voted and worked the polls. I cast my vote in her name. She remembers Jackie Robinson and MLK. She remembers when she wouldn’t dare look a white person in the eye. The last time I heard her voice, I asked her how she felt about Obama. She said he was ‘good-looking’ and had a good heart. She didn’t think he would win. When I heard that Obama’s grandmother had passed, a part of me smiled. It takes the supernatural to do what he did. When God is ready for you to step into your destiny, he sometimes needs a special angel to help you get there. I imagine “Toot” and “Nana” have made good friends in Heaven….watching their babies shine.

Its time to shine. This victory was ours. It gave us hope. It makes me work harder and live harder. Mediocrity is just not enough. President elect Obama is not our savior but he was placed in a position to move us into another dimension. Get off of your tail and WORK! The results of this election not only served as a burial of old politics but a burial of complacency and laziness….a burial of the good ol’ boy system and the 5-finger discount….

Now that we know better, its time to DO better.

Nurture your relationship with God. Commit to having a family. If a man who grew up without a father can be a good father and husband AND the President, you have no excuses. If a black girl from the south side of Chicago can be the First Lady, you have no excuses. So while the tears are wonderful and the brand new “my president is black” swag is in full effect, remember who you voted for and what he stood for. You voted for a responsibility of self and to be your brother’s keeper.

Do you know what you signed up for?

Time to SHINE!

2008-10-29T13:31:00.001-05:00

Rhetoric (on the act of giving up and walking away)

I read this somewhere and found it poignant and beautiful yet selfish and insane. Enjoy.

(Read it while imagining Keira Knightley’s voice…lol)

Don’t let your soul be lonely, Child.
Its only time.

I can’t sleep.

Into my soul, you crawl. I touched a man’s soul with my lips. He held my heart, naked, in his hands…I was once held by arms that encompassed all of my being.

Tears fell, draining me of everything I tamed.

Am I one of the lucky few who have known love like this? Am I one of the damned who have lost you? Am I ever going to feel whole again?

I will carry you inside of me. Take you to hell and back. Never forgetting what we had. I will look at the moon, knowing you can see it too. I will dwell on the loss of our love. I will never forget….never love like that again.

As you said, “No one will ever take your place. No one could ever erase what we had.”

Life will go on, years will pass. Children will grow and spouses will come and go,

But I will forever be [here] with you.

I will always kiss you goodnight and ask God to keep you safe. If only for a moment, everyone could feel what we did….the world would be a much sadder place. Maybe we were the chosen two… warriors sent to experience a love greater than anyone has known, and we survived it. I feel you next to me in the car. I feel your body at night. I feel you in familiar songs. I feel you inside my soul.

I have not lost you, nor have you lost me.

We'll hide inside till it's time to come out.

I have crawled inside a man and saw the most beautiful soul.

I have walked away from the one thing I've wanted most. I've met my soul mate and loved him with all my being…kissed his spine…tasted his blood…ate his heart.

I have consumed my lover, inside of me, he lives.

2008-10-27T13:47:00.001-05:00

Please, won’t you be….my…neighbor?

[Mister Rogers' Neighborhood won four Emmy awards, and Rogers received one for lifetime achievement. During the 1997 Daytime Emmys, the Lifetime Achievement Award was presented to Rogers. The following is an excerpt from Esquire Magazine's coverage of the gala, written by Tom Junod:

Mister Rogers went onstage to accept the award — and there, in front of all the soap opera stars and talk show sinceratrons, in front of all the jutting man-tanned jaws and jutting saltwater bosoms, he made his small bow and said into the microphone, "All of us have special ones who have loved us into being. Would you just take, along with me, ten seconds to think of the people who have helped you become who you are. Ten seconds of silence." And then he lifted his wrist, looked at the audience, looked at his watch, and said, 'I'll watch the time." There was, at first, a small whoop from the crowd, a giddy, strangled hiccup of laughter, as people realized that he wasn't kidding, that Mister Rogers was not some convenient eunuch, but rather a man, an authority figure who actually expected them to do what he asked. And so they did. One second, two seconds, seven seconds — and now the jaws clenched, and the bosoms heaved, and the mascara ran, and the tears fell upon the beglittered gathering like rain leaking down a crystal chandelier. And Mister Rogers finally looked up from his watch and said softly, "May God be with you," to all his vanquished children.]

(Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fred_Rogers)

Let me tell you this.

I loved me some Mister Rogers.

He was original gangsta…so fresh and so clean (clean) in his cardigan sweaters, he would make a Nupe blush. His hair always perfectly tapered. His voice always calm, but authoritative. The truth of the matter is that when I saw Mister Rogers, my six-year old brain thought he was God-embodied. You know? If Jesus was on earth in 1986 and talking to me through the Public Broadcasting Station, he would look, walk, talk, act like Mister Rogers.

The thing is…

I didn’t have to wiki search Mister Rogers to find out that he was a Christian. It was clear and evident. From the story above, Mister Rogers was well-liked but not necessarily respected by Babylon aka Hollywood. He probably never visited Studio 54 or knew what a coke spoon or a glory hole was. He was given a message by God and he made sure he did whatever it took to minister. His audience was not only children but adults. Mister Rogers had a hand in raising all of us…his skits and puppetry teaching us to be non-judgmental, to always do what’s right, and to not close our ears and mouths to our God-given barometers of morality----- conscience and gut.

So here’s to you, Fred Rogers. We are still learning from you.

Table your ignorance, bigotry, idolatry, envy, gluttony, hate, selfishness and judgmental behavior and simply, be a….

Neighbor.

It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood,
A beautiful day for a neighbor,
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?

It's a neighborly day in this beautywood,
A neighborly day for a beauty,
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?

I have always wanted to have a neighbor just like you,
I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you.

So let's make the most of this beautiful day,
Since we're together, we might as well say,
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Won't you be my neighbor?

Won't you please,
Won't you please,
Please won't you be my neighbor?

Spoken: Hi television neighbor, I'm glad we're together again....

2008-10-20T15:32:00.000-05:00

Sixteen Things About Def Stef‘cause its Monday

4 Things I Did Today
1. Listened to incomparable, Elton John. I *heart* Elton John. I am addicted to “I’m Still Standing”. My favorite line is: And if our love was just a circus you'd be a clown by now. I know ya’ll can name at least two ex-lovers with Bozo swag right about now. Foolery…

2. Ate a chili cheese coney. I know it was bad for me but it was calling me…and I caved.

3. Sent a genuine and heartfelt email to a friend with a directive from God. It felt good. And I hoped it helped.

4. Admitted to someone that I watch “The Real Housewives of ATL”. (Please see guilty pleasures.)

4 Things on My To Do List
1. Send a thank you card to my friend’s boss for exposing me to my first professional hockey game experience. Go Predators!

2. Find a sponsor for some ideas and desirables…professional and personal. 

3. Get my passport so I won’t miss out on the budget friendly trip to Barcelona.

4. Read The Miracle at St. Anna.

4 of My Guilty Pleasures
1. Reality TV…it reminds me of how blessed I am to be young, fabulous, and broke in a physical sense but rich in a spiritual sense.

2. Cartoons. Backyardigans, Dora, Spongebob, etc.

3. Watching Ace, the wonder daschund, hunch everything imaginable. Why take away a puppy’s simple pleasures in life before he can’t do it anymore?

4. Singing “She got a donk” when Michelle O. walks across the stage. Homegirl is country thick. Mad love for the thick chicks!!

4 Random Facts About Me
1. My 6-year old cousin Madison has a boyfriend, Jayden. Jayden holds her hand at recess and stands at the bottom of the slide to catch her when she falls. I disagree that chivalry is dead, ladies. You must present yourself as a lady to warrant a gentleman.

2. I can find out just about anything about anybody. If I was crazy or gangsta, there’d be trouble…trouble.

3. I have no sympathy for people who procreate with people and have unattractive kids. You got a big nose. He got a big nose. Why are you complaining about the shnauz on your kid, ma’am? You should have smelled seen that coming.

4. I hate the F-bomb. If I use it towards someone or about someone, it’s a lost cause. If someone uses it toward me…trouble…trouble.

2008-10-17T12:08:00.001-05:00

Scene 1 – The intricate brain of one, Stephanie Che'von Swanigan aka Def Stef

Che'von: Me thinks I'm about to have a cocky moment…..I must admit I'm a baaaaad….b****!

Stephanie: (Shaking head) *Sigh*

Che'von: I don't need nothing from the peanut gallery, Sandra Dee. Shouldn't you be somewhere trying to turn water into wine or feeding the 5000?

Stephanie: Whatever. (Walking away humming, "Hold my Mule")

Def Stef: I'm not one to always voice my humble opinion unsolicited but at some point, the arrogance has to cease.

Che'von: Honey, I am in no way arrogant. You have to have qualified haters or invalid proof to be arrogant. To be cocky and confident, you can run a statistical analysis on site to validate the truth you speak. And the truth is, that I'm a baaaad b****. Resolved. Ha!

Def Stef: I heard you the first time. So what are you tooting OUR horn about today?

Che'von: Well, my dear intellectual and fiercely fly compadre, I was just thinking about how we have had quite the luck in the boys department. No horror stories. Lavish gifts. No stalkers. Romance. Adoration. Love from the Family. No Ike Turners.

Def Stef: With three personalities in one body, no man in his right mind would attempt that life sentence.

Che'von: (laughing) Agreed. I just get so tired of hearing these weak a** b***** complain about never attracting the good men. We haven't had that issue. I just think there has to be a plausible explanation.

Def Stef: There is….there is…

Stephanie: (Yelling from the back room) Praise the Lord. There is?

Def Stef: Must you two always distract me from my flyness. Good grief. Ok, ladies…here's the secret….

To Be Continued…

2008-10-02T11:00:00.001-05:00

I’m an artist...and I’m sensitive about my shhh...

Average Joe (Lament for Lost Soul)

I met Joe

Not Long Ago

He was listenin' to the radio

I think it was Marvin Gaye

Donny Hathaway

We in love

Then I felt a shove

Our hearts fit like a glove

But I needed to breakaway

He said it would be ok

So now I'm searchin'

Lookin' in cracks and spaces

And familiar faces

For my Joe, my Average Joe

Oh Where, Oh Where Could He Be?

Has anybody seen my Joe, my Average Joe?

Has anybody seen my Joe, my Joe?

Where he at, Where he at, Where he at? (My Joe)

Where he at, Where he at, Where he at? (My Joe)

Where he at, Where he at, Where he at? (My Joe)

Where he at, Where he at, Where he at? (My Joe)

I met Joe

And the rest of them

Starvin' for attention

But that was years ago

Guess I just had to know

I saw Joe

About a month ago

He was listenin' to the radio

I think it was some Jeezy

Maybe some Weezy

So now I'm searchin'

Lookin' in cracks and spaces

And familiar faces

For my Joe, my Average Joe

Oh Where, Oh Where Could He Be?

Has anybody seen my Joe, my Average Joe?

Has anybody seen my Joe, my Joe?

Where he at, Where he at, Where he at? (My Joe)

Where he at, Where he at, Where he at? (My Joe)

Where he at, Where he at, Where he at? (My Joe)

Where he at, Where he at, Where he at? (My Joe)

I hear him in Raheem, I hear him in Jilly, I hear him in Erykah, What's wrong with America?

I hear him in Andre, I hear him in Kanye, I hear him in Lupe, 'Cause they really got something to say

Che'von Hines & The Nostalgia Chronicles: Volume One

In Stores Fall 2009

P.S. I'm copyrighted. Don't even try it. :)

2008-09-22T11:53:00.000-05:00

I will never understand…

The evolution of silly women.

Men.

Why people would rather be certain they are miserable rather than risk being happy.

Why sociology is not a required course in college.

Why white privilege is ignored.

Why black privilege is ill-defined. (The true privilege lies equally between the black bourgeoisie and the ghetto…can you survive in both?) I don’t care about your Jack & Jill or your street cred! What are you doing to lessen the gap?

Why people are running scared when they’ve read Revelations. (There’s nothing we can do to stop the inevitable from happening.)

Why people make the world their stage instead of their stage, the world. (Think about it.)

Why more people don’t consider therapy. Your pleas for attention should be directed to someone who can really give you appropriate spiritual and medical attention.

The difficulty in forgiveness.

Why people spend offensive amounts of money on weddings…if they can’t afford it. (I think I may elope)

Pseduo-intellectuals…I’ve read Robert Greene, Machiavelli, and Freud. I’ve watched Zeitgeist. But Jesus’ words are so much more credible.

The utter acceptance of the lack of joy in people.

Why Elizabeth Hasselbeck hasn’t been shanked in an alley somewhere.

Why anyone would actually ‘want’ to be rich and famous.

Why Phillip Fulmer still has a job.

Expecting more than you deserve.

Taking away people’s choices to live the lifestyle they want to live…especially if it doesn’t affect humanity-at-large or cause you to lose sleep.

Why women are more afraid of getting pregnant than getting a life threatening disease.

Passive Aggressive behavior.

Fake people.

How people carry on ‘healthy’ relationships through social networking sites and IM. Pick up that dang phone.

Cramps.

Why people would rather believe a rumor than validate a fact. (If you’re going to talk about someone, make sure it’s the truth. People can’t get mad at you for telling the truth.)

*Sigh* I’m Sorry. I’m just irritated. Its my blog so I’m sharing.

2008-08-26T09:18:00.002-05:00

The World According to Def Stef.

I have the oddest of personal statistics and qualitative beliefs. They hold no rationality to some and are pure genius to others. I can't provide you with some sort of MLA documentation. Life experiences and wisdom from older cats stand as research. You can agree or disagree…laugh or shake your head in shame…

1. I cannot, for the life of me, comprehend why people feel so much "entitlement" to the good things in life. If I hear one more man or woman say they want a good man or woman, I am going to scream. Aaaaargh! As trifling, low down and dirty that you have been in the past (or still are)…..why should God bless you with a person so pure of heart? Why would God allow you to taint something so beautiful? I've met many men who foam at the mouth at the thought of being his chick's "one and only". If you're a whore, you deserve a whore. And if by chance, God blesses you with a woman who slept with a fourth of the women, you've slept with, consider yourself blessed. Geez! Likewise, gold diggers make my flesh crawl. You're broke, ma'am. Why do you deserve a "baller". Why? This would explain why professional athletes end up with gold diggers or marry a housewife and divorce an s--- bucket. You get what you deserve!!!
2. I don't care what you, yo mama, or your cousin say. You have at least one person in your circle of friends who has the potential to like…uhm…what looks like them. Yeah, I said it. You'd be amazed at what people will do behind close doors, and sometimes, even, without being inebriated. Just think. Which one of your friends would be the first to surrender to Big Bertha/ DeeBo if he/she got locked up?........Didn't take you too long, huh?
3. People buy nice cars to impress other people. Because, if they bought them for safety and cost efficiency, everyone would be driving a Toyota, Honda, or Volvo. I am a firm believer in driving a car until the wheels fall off, which is why I still drive the car that got me through my senior year in undergrad and through grad school. I haven't had a car note in two years! (Input a tremendous SHOUT right here.) And guess what my next car will probably be….a Volvo. Said Volvo will be driven for at least 8-10 years.
4. All women in business should learn to play tennis and/or golf.
5. I truly believe that the maintenance of your office correlates to your quality of work. Dirty office = sub par work output.
6. Class is a lost art. Whatever life throws at you, the hardest and best lesson you should learn is how to handle it with class. To handle things with class, it requires pre-meditated thought. Thinking begets class. Class begets respect. People don't have to like you or love you, but when you exhibit class, they have no choice but to respect you.
7. At some point if your late 20s, you must stop shopping in the Juniors section. No. Really. I mean that. Seriously.
8. You should invest in a set of pearls (fake ones are a good start). They can take a business suit to the next level.
9. Choose getting your hair and nails done or quality skincare over buying clothes. Those accessories deserve an investment. You can't replace them after they are damaged.
10. Never leave the house sans some kind of make-up or in something you wouldn't want your boss to see you in. You just might see your boss at Wal-mart at 3 a.m.
11. Black people can't get away with the same things that our counterparts can in a business environment. We can't get drunk in front of the office crew. We can't use excuses for why we didn't do this or that. Yes, you represent your race. That's just how it rolls sometimes.
12. Never act uppity towards black people at your job who are hourly workers (i.e. maintenance staff or housekeeping) You never know whose ear they may have.
13. While we are on the subject, be nice to any and everyone you meet. You never know when you will meet them again.
14. Never allow a man or a woman to disrespect you. Take no mess from anyone. Why should someone respect you if you don't respect yourself enough to make them respect you?
15. Never give anyone solid proof to a rumor about you. Speculation is your best friend regardless of if its true or not. People will believe what they hear first anyway. Some battles are not worth the fight.
16. Choose who you share yourself with wisely. Kim Kardashian is labeled (that) because she shared herself with the wrong people. The five wrong people trump 20 right people in a heartbeat.
17. If you're a business man or woman, use the standard ringtone for your cell phone and never leave anything unprofessional on your voice mail message. You can lose major points for "bust it baby" ringing at lunchtime. (rolling eyes)
18. Find out who you are and don't forget her.
19. Accept people for who they are, no matter how screwed up they are. For every reaction, there is an action that predestined it. That girl you know that is such an s.bucket, may be looking for the love she didn't get from her father. That mama's boy who seemingly has an Oedipus Complex? That's why he acts like that when he's sick. You can't change that about that person. Only they have the power to. The most you can do is accept it and decide to deal with or move on.
20. No matter what you pray for, what you feel you deserve, or what you think you want or need….always remember "not mine, but Thine." His will for your life is perfect.

Til' next time.

Be Easy.

Honorable Mention: "If you want to know how God views money, look at the people He gives it to." Hmmm…The meek shall inherit the earth. J

2008-08-25T20:45:00.001-05:00

It ain't tricking if you got it...

A wise and severely talented (and ambiguously paederastic) writer by the name of Oscar Wilde once said, ""Life imitates art far more than art imitates Life." And when I take a gander at the contemporary hip-hop culture, I have started to develop a smirk or as my nana would call it----a sh!t eating grin on my face. I've began to notice that our poor misguided followers of the neo hip-hop (?) movement are taking art and imitating it, but with consequences that last far longer than a 4 minute and 57 seconds bangin' track….not thinking about what happens when the song ends.

I gather that since "urban" music has historically pulled from personal experience, lyrics and song have always mirrored male-female interactions. Yesterday's "Endless Love" is today's "Bust it Baby"…maybe since we've lost our substance in the way we love each other, artists have lost their substance (and tact for that matter) in chronicling love through song.

So what is it? Is Art imitating us? Or are we imitating Art?

Either way, I truly believe that the smaller minds among us rely on hip hop culture to give the 'go ahead' on how we treat our mates or potential mates and ultimately, how we treat ourselves.

In the 60's, everything was about loving one another. Women and men were lyrically treated with the utmost respect even when the subject of the song was about being grimy (see Its Your Thing by the Isley Brothers.) Everything was subtle and innuendo had to guide you through the song. With the onslaught of blaxploitation films in the 1970's and the pre-eminence of casual sex and even more casual drug use, the flagrant use of the words b*tch and ho* killed that innuendo. We saw that and wanted to live that Dolemite and Supafly life. We wore afros in the name of Cleopatra Jones and let leisure suits hug our Foxy Brown curves. We let the movement move us. The 80's brought much of the same. Interracial love affairs became more public and so did a greater awareness of our heritage and overall blackness. I think, in the 80's and the 90's, the black community was the most at odds with what we wanted to be "labeled" as….not knowing if we wanted to imitate Jodi Whatley or Queen Latifah….quickly relating to either a jigaboo or a wanna-be…there was no in between. Yet there was still a remnant of respect of relationships, respect of the male ego and of the wonderment that is a woman. Then, something happened in the new millineum. I don't know if we had always cheapened ourselves and did extra duty to hide that fact or what, but now, all we hear on the radio is a conglomerate of masochistic and egomaniacal garbage that would make Sam Cooke and Otis Redding roll in their graves.

And it really makes you think.

L.Boogie (when she was still of this world and educating us through her own miseducation) said it best. "Come on baby, light my fire. Music is supposed to inspire. So how come we ain't getting no higher.)

We're drowning. And artists like Kanye West, Common, Lupe, Alicia Keys, and Nas have to dumb down their music in order for us to buy it. We are more concerned with T.I. and Jay Z finally acknowledging what a real a** man should do for his woman anyway.

So now since Clifford has told you that Tiny can have "whatever she likes", you have public permission to let your boys know that you are buying your "bust it baby" the new Louis Speedy for her birthday. What gives?!?!

Is music not supposed to inspire us to do better rather than serve as a puppeteer, stringing us along with a devilish grin upon its face? What else will we allow the travesty of hip hop order us to do? Why do you need the thumbs up from T-Wayne to buy your chick a mansion in wis-cansin? And next thing you know, it'll be back to "leaving her a** for a white girl" in '09 and calling every sister you know who dare not want to marry a man with a little bit of personal wealth, a gold digger?

I'm just saying. We are supposed to make art imitate us…but art has the driver's seat. When will we man up and take it back?

Or are we so shallow that our values flip flop with the sands of time?

Til Next Time.

Be Easy.

2008-08-14T12:19:00.000-05:00

"I'm a half-pint but 100 proof".

Its been difficult to write.

No easy way to say that.

The woman responsible for my "voice", my "everything", took a new role in my life on July 19, 2008…that of guardian angel.

I've written here how she was a fighter and how she wanted to live.

"She's not ready to die." That was the echo of my family. I muted that sentiment a few weeks prior to my grandmother's passing.

It was somewhere around Independence Day. I fell asleep to the usual, Nick at Nite lineup. I fell into a deep sleep, allowing my mind to dream.

I was in my nana's house….the only place I've ever called "home". I was surprised to see her trot up the hallway until I saw the tubes in tow behind her. She smiled and motioned for me to sit on the couch. She caressed my face and called me her "pretty girl". She held my hand. Nana said, "I love you. You know that. I'm proud of you. You're so strong, so beautiful. I wanted to sit you down to tell you I'm ready…I'm ready to go." At that moment, I sat silent as she walked backwards toward the front door. She grabbed her heart and fell backwards. I dialed 911 on my blackberry. No service. I attempt to dial from the landline. No service. I glance at Nana, so serene lying at the threshold. She whispered to me, "Let me go." I dropped the phone. My knees buckled and the tears flowed.

I woke up crying. That's when I knew it was coming. I didn't share it with a soul. That supernatural instinct that cannot be comprehended or explained to anyone was me and Nana's odd connection…it was "our thing"….and maybe that's why she felt so comfortable to visit me for the last time in my dreams.

Fast forward two weeks. The doctors shared with us that they would send Nana home under hospice care. We knew what that meant. But my family still held on. "What do the doctors know?", they'd say. My mom marveled at how remarkably calm I was. I replied by telling her I'd be home soon. My class reunion would be that upcoming weekend. My sister would meet me in Nashville and we'd drive to Memphis and arrive on Friday night.

I didn't want to go to Memphis but I had to. I knew what would happen while I was there. I can't explain to you that instinct I inherited from this tremendous woman. You'd never understand. I got the call while I was at my class reunion BBQ. Nothing can prepare you for that call but I knew. I knew.

As I listened to the nurse tell me the story of my nana's last hours, I smiled. The nurse said she had a "rough" night and it started around 9 p.m., ironically, the same time my sister and I arrived in Memphis. As she spent her last night in ICU, I imagine that she earned her "wings" by visiting all of us throughout the night as we slept….content in knowing that her work on earth was done.

I'm not going to tell you that I don't miss her. Or that on some days, its hard to believe that such a vivacious and vibrant woman no longer has breathe in her small frame. But I'm at peace. So many things have given me peace. I watched as grown men broke down at her funeral and how the church overflowed on that hot, summer day….with the many "children" she'd adopted over the years. Everyone had a story of how she had touched them. I can only wish to inspire and encourage as many people as she did. I can only pray to have half the spirit that she had.

I have a legacy to carry and I hold on to it tightly.

"I'm a half-pint but 100 proof".

That's what she'd say.

She taught me to respect myself at all times and taught me to never apologize for who God perfectly fashioned me to be. That I own every piece of myself…every emotion and every triumph…because no one can fight for me better than me.

How wonderful it is to have her everywhere at once. Her spirit now lives in each one of the women (and men) she "raised" on 2520 Sparks Rd. It is my joy to share it with you.

RIP Mattie Pearl Swanigan

2008-06-18T10:59:00.000-05:00

No greater Love… This one’s for the Ladies

Presuming that your ladyship is giving 100% to becoming a virtuous woman (see Proverbs 31), you can keep reading.

If not, don’t quote me or use this as context when your boo ain’t acting right or you’re boo-less.

I try not to drop spiritual nuggets by shoving it down your throat. I know most of the ladies (and gents) who read my blog are a “work in progress” with the Lord and know Him like I do. Its always my hope that someone will take something from what I write and use it for the betterment of their journey. Sometimes Dude whispers sweet somethings to me in the middle of a work morning that move my spirit faster than Michelle Tafoya yanked the microphone away during KG’s expletive filled moment of sure joy last night.

(That was funny.)

I’m sitting at my desk…minding my own business. I’m thinking about my pessimistic view of this growing trend of meaningless marriages and planned unplanned babies. Then, I thank God that I didn’t just marry Boo X or Boo Y because I ‘thought’ I was in love. Deliverance is mine, indeed. I thank God for saving me for the special one. (wink) And I start asking God how He decides who that “one” is and how we, as women, can discern who he is. (Pray for discernment EVERYDAY, ya’ll. It makes decisions so much easier.) And God said:

“Measure the validity of a man’s intentions by how close he comes to the way I Love and Cherish you. There’s no better paradigm of real love.”

Hold my Mule! That’s it, Dude? That’s it? I feel like I just got the golden ticket. 

Imagine the wonderfulness of a man who loves you like He does. Imagine how much more you will appreciate the Love of God when you receive this man.

He loves me despite myself…

We all have our vices, annoying character flaws, and physical inadequacies. But God made us perfect in His eyes. The man who God places in your life as your mate will see past those faults and see your needs. That’s not to say that one morning his flesh may not scream, “Take off that head scarf! That ain’t sexy!” LOL…just as long as his spirit loves you and all your shortcomings.

Love him because he first loved you…

I don’t care how I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T you are. God loves you first and so will your mate. Then, your love will follow. Man is the “head” for good reason.
He will make your enemies your foot stool…

Ya’ll remember that scene from “Crash” where Terrence Howard let the po-pos R.Kelly his wife? I was madder at him than I was at the racist of racist at that moment. God is a protector and keeps your enemies at bay for you. Never coddle a man who won’t fight for you when someone or something comes against you.

….my cup runneth over…

One of my favorite N.E.R.D. songs is “Provider”. The premise of the song is that a man will do whatever he can to provide for his family. But there’s a difference between excess and abundance. God will always bless us with abundance but not excess. That’s why its important that we view “riches” in the spiritual realm and not the fleshly realm. A husband will provide for you in every way possible and meet your individual needs as God sees fit. Not everyone can drive a Bentley and live on Star Island. If its your stock in life to park a Honda in front of a two-bedroom condo, love it and live it. Your real blessing will come in Heaven.

He is my refuge…

There’s nothing like having someone to come home to and pitch a conniption fit over how your boss stole your cookies at lunch….someone who will take you in His arms and remind you that our greatest calling is to show others how forgiving God is through our actions. He will caress your forehead and spoon with you, then give you the ammo to kill your boss with the “love of the Lord”.

He just “is”….
It is said that the most beautiful of secular songs are really about God’s love for His children….suspending somewhere between heavenly and earthly love are songs like, “He Loves Me” by Jill Scott and “He is” by Brandy. If your heart’s vows to a man mirror your vows to God, he must be the “one”.

Til’ next time…

Be Easy.

2008-06-02T14:53:00.002-05:00

Notes on SATC, compliments of the tan version of Carrie Bradshaw…and what we can learn from it

Yep, you got it.

I was there….Amidst 500 giggly women in tense anticipation of Carrie and her crew’s big screen debut. Stilettos, bad hair, atrocious make-up, and awesomely befuddled style misnomers were all around me. Women amaze me…when we’re committed and emotionally invested in someone (or something), we have the tendency to overdo ourselves in grandiose fashion. It was clear and evident that 99.9 percent of the women in attendance of the SATC Friday night opening were completely and utterly in love with Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte.

And even though I came in a tee and flops, I was just as much as in love as they were. I just didn’t wear it outwardly.

Lesson #1: Whatever you wore or did to prepare for the SATC premiere is probably how you portray yourself in a relationship. There were women who tried way too hard and then, there women like myself who just didn’t try hard enough. I didn’t want anyone to know how excited I was, I guess. Or maybe it didn’t matter to me who knew how much I adored SATC. It was just me and the show, our own private, intimate relationship. Hmmph.

I get seated. Previews roll. Factions of goo-goo eyed cliques laugh and flip their hair. Four inch pseudo manolos tap the linoleum. I sigh. “Let’s get this on already.”

The movie begins. And for the next two to three hours, I simultaneously ate every word on screen and wrote this blog in my head.

I won’t necessarily bore you with details. All the real SATC fans were there faithfully and anything I write from this point forward will not spoil the movie for them. If you get lost, get a life and subsequently, dig a hole. Its my blog, homie.

At the onset of the movie, I found myself quite…erm…shall I say? Bored. I wanted some action. But I guess they needed to play catch up, eh? But let me tell you this. I saw this Big thing coming right away. I could tell he wanted a simple wedding. And as is the detriment of most brides, Carrie let what others wanted for her wedding get whisked away by what others thought her wedding should be.

Lesson #2: If and when you get married, the only people who need to be happy are God, you and your boo. Eff everyone else.

So Carrie gets stood up at the altar. Sure Big was wrong for letting things get that far with some hesitation still broiling. Sure Miranda was wrong for effing up the pre-wedding zen with her man-hating arse comments. But can someone tell me who in their right mind would let the cell phone go MIA on their wedding day for a good five hours, especially when your boo vocalized his hesitancy just twelve hours prior? Jesus, be a cell phone glued to my ear. Sure it was mayhem. I felt every flowery blow to Big’s decadent tuxedo. And I shutter to say that when Charlotte yelled, “No.”, a tear bordered falling. She meant that.

Lesson #3: Never forget the power of having a down arse clique. As manicured and posh as Charlotte is, she got real gangsta, real quick when it came down to her friend’s heart. I feel that. I really do. “I curse the day you were born!” Roflmao

As with any movie chronicling the lives of four women, there would be some infidelity in the mix. I couldn’t believe (at first) that good ol’ Steve had it in him. But then I realized that…its good ol’ Steve.

Lesson #3: No good man…I mean NO GOOD MAN should be subjected to pencil in intimacy with his wife, wrestle with a bush to get to the berry, and make all the effort in the world to deb****ify you. Women always want to “ring the alarm” when someone cheats on them. If he’s a good, genuine dude and you know he is, chances are you need to look inwardly to see what you might have contributed to the situation. On the other hand, some dudes (and chicks) are just downright trifling. You know what you got. I ain’t gotta tell you.

I do commend the screenwriters and executives for depicting the scope and depth female friendships in a positive light. Its not too many times I can recall, (post-Steel Magnolias) a movie embracing a group of strong, successful women who drop their lives to care for a friend in need. We are always inundated with women backstabbing one another and sleeping with each other’s men on the big screen. Or if there is some remnant of a true friendship, its always between two women….never three, four or more. I also commend the team for depicting the reality of relationships and how forgiveness is probably the hardest virtue to conquer. I didn’t leave there hating Big, Steve or men in general. I left with an accurate depiction of the hard work love puts you through…even if it takes 10 years to come to fruition. Your story won’t be like your homegirl’s story. But in the end, all that matters is your happiness.

So to all the men out there who chalked the uproar of SATC to frivolous female frenzy, dig a hole. SATC rules! And there’s a lot to learn from those ladies. I’ll be buying it on DVD.

Til’ next time.

Be Easy.

2008-05-29T10:47:00.000-05:00

Moving Violation

Q: Hey Stef…I have a topic for you to ponder on…when is it ok not to move b/c of your “boo”? Is a ring the only reason to stay? I think this is blog worthy.
-Anonymous

A: Blog worthy it is, sir.

Let me tell you this. I can’t fathom staying somewhere solely for a significant other, especially when a fantastic opportunity is presenting itself in a different locale. If you S.O. really cares about you and your upward mobility, they will support your decision to “grow”.

That’s the short answer.

So many factors could throw a monkey wrench into the situation. Some people cannot do the long distance thing. Take myself for an example, I am a person who likes my space. I’m not all up under my “boo” when he lives in the same town and I even need a little space during long distance relationships. The optimal situation for me during marriage is a partner who is busy with work or travels a lot…well, that is…until we have kids. (How selfish of me, right?...but whose blog is this? LOL) Point being, if you can’t do long distance, a move is going to be an issue…

Another factor is if you have even had a one-on-one with J.C. and Daddy about this person. Maybe He is removing you from this person for a reason. Maybe your relationship needs a test. Maybe you’re not ready individually for what you will be or could be, together. And would God’s natural order of things really put you in a situation where you have to even ask about a ring? If the “ring” or the “acceptance of said ring” is remotely in question, you need to operate as if you didn’t have the S.O. Let’s just be real. Because if that person had a medical emergency that could be the subject of Grey’s Anatomy’s season finale, you wouldn’t get to see them before they croaked. You gets no insurance love. You gets no love from the hospital. Period. End of sentence.

I grow so tired of people equating a relationship to a marriage. If you aren’t married, unfortunately, anything goes. You have no entitlement to that person so stop with the pseudo-marriage expectations. God leads you in different directions for a reason. It takes a strong and effective connection with Him to understand what He is trying to do. Stop talking and start listening. Watch Him work.

And if your partner can’t understand that, you have a problem, my friend.

The answer lies here: Always go where God wants you to go. Everything else will simply fall into place. You can’t box with God. It’s His way or no way. Let your S.O. argue with that one.

2008-05-27T15:04:00.001-05:00

Jesus, Be a Fence...

So…

I’m mildly addicted to this reality television show that airs on TLC.

Jon and Kate Plus 8. That’s what its called.

Premise: Non-fertile couple gets treatments, ends up with twins. Couple decides to go for one more baby, sextuplets appear.

Can
You
Imagine
The
Horror?

Eight futha mucking rug rats, crumb snatchers, brats….

And somehow I STILL smile on the inside.

What the hell is wrong with me?

You see? I have this fascination with multiple births. Merge this with my curiously strong intuition and naturally maternal ‘wooga wooga’, and you get a seemingly psychotic yearning for more than one or two babies at a time.

I ask again. What the hell is wrong with me?

I mean, I freakin’ love the thought of having two or more little niglets who are the same age, maybe even identical. The pitter patter of six same size turtle toed feet really makes me smile.

Commit me.

NOW.

=)

Nana told me I was destined to have twins. She has twin brothers. My aunt was preggers with twins once but sadly lost them. Three out of my four serious boo-ups were with the descendants of twins or a twin themselves.

Jesus, Be a Fence All Around My Womb, Sanity, and Soul.

Just though I’d share.

Its been a while.

Til’ next time.

Be Easy.

2008-04-24T12:13:00.000-05:00

Nana

On Friday, April 11, 2008, my life was changed.

Its not a change that you can physically see. I mean…I’m still Def and I’m still Stef but I’ve dropped a few pounds.

For those of you who have not followed the life of my blog, my nana is my muse. Her wisdom throughout my child rearing years grossly affected the way I think, the way I act, the way I feel and therefore, the way I write.

Well, my muse has been sick. She was diagnosed with severe anemia and congestive heart failure about a month ago after a few years of “something just not being right”. Once the doctors finally got her diagnosed, it was inevitable that she would have to undergo open heart surgery. On Friday, April 11 at 7:00 a.m., I departed for work and the surgeon arrived for her surgery. I, in Nashville. Nana, in Memphis. I prayed all through the work day without really relishing in a moment of selfishness. Around 3 p.m. I grew terribly tired so I went to visit my roommate at her office. I laughed and joked with her co-workers…stole a Gatorade from their fridge. The Stefberry rings. Its mom.

She won’t stop bleeding. They can’t stop the bleeding.

People will tell you that they’ve felt time stop.

I mocked them.

I retract that mock.

Profusely.

“I know its past visiting hours but
can I please give her these flowers….”

I don’t remember really anything about driving the three hours to Memphis. I talked to a few friends who called with concern. The fact that I hadn’t eaten anything all day didn’t matter. Neither did the fact that I am usually so adamant about not driving long distances in the dark. I just became focused on the simpleness of breathing, making sure that my chest was moving up and down….the simpleness of driving a car….no twists, stops or turns.

I meet my cousin and my mom on the elevator. They take me straight up, leading me to think that maybe she’s in a regular room. But no. I then, remember, that a member of the clergy (my cousin) can go into ICU at anytime. I also remember that when its life or death, visiting hours don’t matter.

I see her. I cry. I tell her that I love her. I leave.

“Outside of the emergency room, room
You can feel my heart beat, beat, beat
If she gone pull through
we gon’ find out soon
but right now she asleep, sleep, sleep
My mama say, they say she could pass away any day
Hey chick, what these doctors know anyway?
Let me see the X-rays
I ain't no expert, I'm just hurt”

My nana’s roses sat in the waiting room, consoling one another. My mom puts my closest cousin on the phone. Talk to her. She thinks its her fault. Rain storms hit Memphis the day prior and nana told her not to come to the hospital. She said she’d see her after surgery.

I kid you not folks. I was in a daze. Nana is invisible. She’s like Bebe’s kids. I looked down at my brand new Marc Jacobs bag that my aunt just commented on and it looks like a Wal-mart special to me. I love that bag. But I love my nana more.

Shit don’t matter.

I started to think of the people and things that I had given glory to in my life. I had put off going to see my family for work. I had maintained friendships that were dead. My focus had been on the material things. But this rocked me. It shifted me. You, it, she, he, they, them…didn’t mean anything to me at that moment.

“When they said that she made it
You see the eyes gleam
I think we at an all time high
To get there we run, we fly, we drive
Cuz with my family we know where home is
So instead of sendin flowers
We the roses...”

The bleeding stopped and I got to see my nana’s multicolor eyes open before I came back to Nashville. She smiled at me and squeezed my hand. I swear I get my fight from her. She fought to live for me…her family. She fought to live for the people who now return the love she’s showered for so many years. She’s still in ICU but she’s getting better day by day. That’s just like “Miss Kitty” to teach me one more lesson without even saying one word to me.

God first. Family Second. Love with all your heart and those who matter will love you back.

I can't describe the sincere love and support I felt from my true friends through solicited and unsolicited prayer requests. In contrast, a number of false friendships were revealed to me through this experience as well. Maybe that was God’s plan anyway. I’d always suffered with the “gift of goodbye”.

In closing, I admonish you all to walk in love and in line with God's will for your life. Say "I love you" at every opportunity. Don't hold on to petty disagreements and bitterness. Eliminate those things and people who have you emotionally "bankrupt", always making withdrawals and no deposits and allow real love to come into your life.

I pray that God brings you even closer to Him.

Be Blessed.

2008-04-23T00:40:00.002-05:00

Public Service Announcement
In related news, please pause for the utter bitchassness of female friends…

I'm going to pose a question to all ye who read this here blog:

Is there a correlation between platonic female/female relationships and female/ male interaction in romantic relationships?

I ask this question because my friend has this friend. Said friend and her friend are very different as far as personality, growth, and character but have "roots" nonetheless. (Firm friendship roots explain why Da Brat and Mimi are friends for those who are lost. Roots explain away the "wtf" expression on your face when you pause to wonder why girl x is friends with girl y. They have history. They have roots.) So my friend "Tracy" text me recently-----with more frequency-----to vent about her friend, "Natalie". Her venting included Natalie's neediness, overly affectionate behavior, inconsideration and overall female "bitchassness". Tracy feels like Natalie treats her friendships like she treats her romantic relationships. Natalie, for the most part, could be classified as the clingy girlfriend when she's dating someone. Natalie gets upset when Tracy doesn't call her back or answer her texts. Natalie gets upset when Tracy doesn't want to share what's going on in her life.

In Tracy's frustration with Natalie's behavior, she lamented, "Damn, she is treating me like I'm her n****!"

I responded by asking Tracy, why doesn't she help Natalie find a man.

Tracy lamented, "What man wants to deal with this?"

Oh my.

What friend does either, huh?

This got me to thinking. Is it safe to assume that a woman's interaction within friendships is a clear indicator of their interaction with their lover?

Hmmm.

I suppose there's some truth to this hypothesis. The same crazy friend that would fight in the club with you because someone stepped on your Pumas is probably the same crazy friend who bleached her man's clothes. The same nosy friend who looks over your shoulder when you're texting, probably snoops in his underwear drawer. I guess the lesson we can take from this is to start looking at how your homegirl is with her man. It could be the clue to how she'll be as a friend.

Addendum: Please note that this theory is relevant ONLY when this friend is not in a relationship. When the friend is in a relationship, particularly in the Tracy/ Natalie situation, all focus is on the man, not the friendship.

Which leads me to another question….

How utter bitchass is it when a friend's interaction with her man, starts changing the way she interacts with her friend?

We've all seen it. All of us have those normally loyal and devoted friends. She'll bail you out of jail, babysit your kids, put gas in your car….as long as HE doesn't need her first. Because when it comes to him, the buck stops there. Now, I'm all for standing by your man….don't get me wrong…. but when you look over the history of your friendship and your relationship and your friends have been more loyal than your man….you may want to get your priorities together. I've never been that chick to throw my friends under a bus for a "boyfriend". (A ring changes all of this but no ring, no status. If homeboy died tomorrow, you wouldn't get squat. Not even priority seating at the funeral. Remember that.) Your friends were there before him and they will be there after him. Hell, some were there after him and will still be there after him. Don't choose your D over your B! (You'll get that in 5,4,3,2,1….)

So we've discovered that bitchassness is rampant with your homegirls but what should you do to change it? Now you're faced with the hardest part. You must re-evaluate whether there should be a friendship at all. I heard someone once say that everybody that comes with you, can't go with you. If you really care about the friendship, you have to make the effort to curtail the bitchassness. That's a part of being friend. Sometimes you have to be the "bad boy" -----go straight Diddy on your friends who display traits of bitchassness and Check 'em! Call them on their bitchassness and see what happens. We are getting too old to chalk it up to, "That's just how she is." A real friend won't say that. A real friend should call her bluff. It's a friendship gamble that's worth it.

Who knows? Maybe you will change how she deals with romantic relationships by you curing her friendship bitchassness. Then she'll have a man and you will no longer serve as the substitute.

Til next time…

Be Easy.

P.S. Tell me your stories of friendship bitchassness and how you handled them.

2008-04-03T11:15:00.013-05:00

You missed my Birthday…

For shame!

But in case you wanted to send me something…say…priority mail or FedEx, DHL, UPS to the little hut in the village.

Here’s a little birthday wish list I compiled. Don’t be shy. =P

1. Do what you do…but watch my shoes.

Nike Air Max 95’s…I have two pair but I’m shooting for a collection.

Badu, Longoria, and Jada P all have these shoes. And they are straight fiiiiire. Def Stef written all over them. Damn you Yves Saint Laurent!

2. Charmed…I’m sure.

Maybe it’s the Irish in me but me loves me Lucky Charms.

Dolce & Gabbana in gold….

and in silver…

Disaya Boudior Bear Necklace

3. Before you label a brand mongrel, I really appreciate the simple things…like…

Some Stella

Martinelli’s

Heaven in a Cookie, slung by the girls in brown and green

Marvin’s Lament (my first copy was stolen some years back)

My girl…in print

A True 80’s Baby’s Idea of a Rainy Day at Home

4. Because Jesus is my homeboy

5. If you can’t hug me, hug somebody. Spread the love. =P

Happy Birthday to me!

2008-04-03T10:41:00.000-05:00

Ghost of Boyfriends Past

Its brilliant.

Really and truly brilliant.

Matthew McConaughey stars as a freewheeling libertine who's haunted by the spirits of girlfriends of the present, past, and beyond at his brother's wedding, awakening long-lost feelings for his first love.

The Ghost of Girlfriends Past.
In theatres, 2009.

I can’t get over how utterly fascinating this plot is to me.

You see….I am an effin fabulous girlfriend…

…when I’m a girlfriend (that is).

And I’d be lying if I said that no one has ever wanted to change my last name.

It sucks to be haunted by boyfriends past. But I’ve warded off the spirits for far too long, afraid of what they may say to taint my self-effacing image of the quintessential girlfriend. In truth, I’m not married now because, for the first 20 or so years of my life, I didn’t know what the hell I needed or wanted in a mate…..which would explain why the line up of ex-boyfriends looks like a casting call for Married with Children meets The Hills meet Sex in the City meets Love and Basketball meets…

You get the gist.

No two men alike.

I guess you could say I spent my early 20s searching, hoping that Mr. Wonderful would appear out of sure, perfect luck…destiny…fate. My Jake Ryan meets Darius Lovehall meets Edward Lewis meets Lucas Scott. (Yes, I watch One Tree Hill….dammit.)

God apparently didn’t like what I was doing. So He whispered to me…

Stephanie C.…your jar is open.

Over the past few years, I’ve learned a few things about myself.

I’m not the perfect girlfriend. There is no perfect girlfriend. But I’ve been four mens’ first love for a reason. My weakness is a gentleman. I’m intolerant of un-spirituality. I like to be pampered. I’m selfish and spoiled. I need my space. I want affection at all the right moments. I have a strong mojo…and whatever mojo wants, mojo must get. I like to spoon all weekend and shut out the outsiders. I’m a home body. I need to feel needed. Neglect is a misnomer. I want a bit of competition…not girl competition but passion competition. (I want him to abstractly love some ‘thing’ possibly more than he loves me.) I want a big family…possible twins. I like forehead kisses and to be tucked in. I want to remind him of his momma but not be his momma. I want to chase and be chased. I want him to take care of himself. I want him to be himself. I want him to be honest about what he wants and what he needs. I want a confrontation of generational curses. I want to pour myself into him and be absolutely drunk with love. No inhibitions. I want to accept him for who he is but love who he is. I want to feel safe and cry more than he does. I want ambition…even if its ‘next week, I’m on fries”…because manhood and masculinity are two different animals. (Machismo is fighting in the club. Manhood is fighting to feed your family.) I want him to know that Manhood has nothing to do with how much you cheat, how much money you make, what kind of car you drive…its about who looks at your life, and calls you a “man”.

(sigh)

The specters knew what they were doing, I guess. The problem always lied with me. Taking on relationships that I thought would last but didn’t because I didn’t know what I wanted. So that guy with the mini bone was a NO. That guy who couldn’t keep his bone to himself was a NO. That guy who didn’t have a life of his own was a NO. That guy who wouldn’t spoon longer than 5 minutes was a NO. That guy who carved his own religion was a NO. That guy who didn’t take his health seriously…NO. The momma’s boy…NO. The liar…NO. The cry baby…NO.

I know there’s no one perfect out there but there is someone perfect me as I am perfect for him.

He won’t neglect what he has when he has it.

Gotta love a man who knows what he’s got while he’s got it. (wink)

Til’ next time.

Be easy.

2008-03-20T11:10:00.003-05:00

Open Letter

In the grand scheme of things, I may be a peon. A small, insignificant voice.

One vote.

Yet, you tell me that you can place my significance in your much larger schemes and initiatives…since I will be affected by your impending policies as a woman, a minority, a middle class citizen, a college graduate, a tax-payer, etc. I sincerely thank you for your concern.

To be frank, I hate politics. I hate discussing it. It has never been something tangible in my humble opinion. It’s a subject most scrutinized and verbally wrestled by pseudo-intellectuals and those who just like to hear themselves talk. I am neither.

I’m probably the least analytical person I know on most fronts (except regarding relationships and men). I only get analytical with matters of the heart. Politics haven’t struck such a chord with me…until now.

Mr. Obama, you scare me.

I liken my fondness to you to a situation a close friend is confronted with now. She met this guy. She didn’t think he was capable of being a potential suitor, because he was already taken. But things magically fell into place, and now he is pursuing her. He’s everything she could hope for. In a world of unhopefuls, he’s a beacon shining bright. I’m scared for my friend. I want to protect her heart. But I also know what could happen if this risk is worth taking.

Mr. Obama, are you worth the risk of falling?

I pegged you a few years back to be the first black man to run for President. It was either you or my homeboy Harold Ford, Jr. I knew you had the best chance. I liked you enough but I didn’t think America would embrace you. When you declared your run, a part of me smiled. I watched as America patted you on the head and said, “Good Job!” The other part of me knew that Hilary would prove to be your demise. The media became infatuated with you. You were in pursuit mode and I ran…ran like my life depended on it. Friends would ask, “ who are you for?” I would say, “I haven’t made my mind up.” I shunned your speeches and only watched you in debates. I knew that was your weak point. I wanted to watch you at your lowest. I wanted to watch you struggle. I wanted to see how long it would take you to turn that weakness around. It didn’t take you long.

I was starting to fall.

I then took a hard look at Michelle. Who a man chooses as his life running mate say a lot to me. She’s stellar. When I look at her, I see myself. The girl from the hood who don’ good….quoting Nietzsche over a troth of chitlin’s and collards. She has impeccable style and grace yet she’s not afraid to pull off the pretentious pearls and slather the Vaseline on the right places….when someone comes against you. I began to think that if you treasured her, someone so kindred to myself, you could do the same for me.

I couldn’t avoid you anymore. Those primary victories were everywhere. A little old brown lady in the airport who has voted in six elections told me that I just needed to listen to you….”hear the man…he’ll move your spirit”. I did just that. And now, Mr. Obama, I am smitten.

I’m a scared girl who has fallen in love, and it’s a fresh love, the hardest kind to get over yet the best kind to be engulfed in.

Please don’t disappoint me. Please don’t hurt me.

I believe in you. You have given me HOPE.

-Obama ‘08

2008-03-04T15:55:00.002-05:00

Head of Household?

I have been commissioned….

So its Tuesday morning, and Mother Nature is having a field day externally (raining Skaters and Ques outside) and internally (PMS ain’t no joke). I’m logged on to Google Chat as I am everyday. And I get commissioned to blog…The conversation went a little like this…

Friend: why don't you write a blog on Head of household and what all does that entail?
what are the duties of a man
Sent at 11:56 AM on Tuesday
me: and what prompted this?
Sent at 12:08 PM on Tuesday
Friend: i was reading this article
and i have been thinking
i hear so many men talking about how a woman need to do this and that
but, in my opinion some of them aint doin what they need to be doing
so why should a woman do all the wifey things
and the man who is supposed to be head of household...isn't really in the true sense of the word
i look at my family
like my uncles
cousins who just feel like a woman's duty is x
and they not holdin up they end of the bargain
Sent at 12:12 PM on Tuesday
me: Yeah I feel that
Ok
I'll blog on it today

Friend: YES!!!
i can't wait to see the male responses
Sent at 12:15 PM on Tuesday
me: lol
Sent at 12:17 PM on Tuesday

Its tax season folks and we all know that the government has a few requirements for this all mighty title of “head of household”. They take it seriously. You can’t just claim to be a head of household. One must show and prove such claims.

Now, I am not a hater. I agree when men say that domesticity is a lost art. I know poop loads of women who can’t cook or don’t like to, can’t clean or don’t like to, can’t wash clothes or don’t like to, etc. To find a woman who likes to do all of this and stays fly is dang near impossible. My problem is moreso….(here in lies the hateration)…is men who don’t deserve this type of woman, just complaining with no leverage to bank on.

There are three types of men who complain for naught. I hope you, my reader, are not one of them. If you are, you have officially been served your shuttheeffup award for ’08.

1. The Baller

When I say Baller, this title is certainly not limited to ball players, entertainers, etc. Quite a few “regular” fellas are doing quite well for themselves. And I’m proud of that. The doctors, the lawyers, the entrepreneurs….do it big, my brothers, do it big. But I need you cease all this tomfoolery about how you ‘deserve’ a certain kind of woman. Or how you can’t trust women as far as you can throw them because you can’t find someone who loves you just for you. I hear you complain about how you want someone beautiful, articulate, strong, intelligent AND domestic. And yes, contrary to what you would like to believe, this woman does exist. But while you are so worried about her pulling a Juanita Jordon on you fiscally, have you ever considered how your lifestyle will bankrupt her mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally. No amount of money in the world has a price tag on that. So I don’t want hear no bullchet about money hungry women. Let me strip you of the money and see what hides behind that CLK and 401K. Would you love your own damn self?

2. The Mama’s Boy

There are two types of mama’s boys. The best type of mama’s boy is waiting on someone to replace his mama. He wants someone just like her. However, his mama also taught him to be self-sufficient in the midst of showering him with all that love. The consummate mama’s boy is the type who will cook you dinner when you’re sick He’s attentive because you’re attentive to him. It’s a give/take. Mama taught him well and that’s why she’s the best prototype to have. The worst type of mama’s boy is waiting on someone to be his mama. His mama got the showering with love part right but homeboy can’t do a dang thing for himself or doesn’t like to. He feels entitled. Mama slaved over a stove. Mama cleaned clothes. Daddy took the garbage out and brought the garbage in. Daddy cursed and cheated. Mama forgave. Mama’s boy saw this and thought his mama was the best thing since sliced bread because she survived through it all. The latter mama’s boy wants another mama. Someone who will take, listen and clean up his chet.

3. The Caveman

To all the Al Bundys of the world: kiss my grits. No matter what they do in life, they are dead set on gender roles. A man could take care of his family and the woman should be domestic. A man could cheat and the woman should still be domestic. A man could beg, borrow and steal and the woman should still be domestic. Cavemen are lowlifes. They didn’t necessarily have to be raised that way. It could have been a fascination with Al Bundy or Archie Bunker that threw them over the ledge but when all is said and done, they’re cavemen….highly unintelligent and asinine. They don’t deserve a woman. All they need is a game, a good domestic beer and a dog.

I say all of this because I tire of the war of the roses. A man should do this and a woman should do this…its all poop….poop in a three piece suit.

When it comes down to it, the best marriages work when there is no delineated gender roles….no checklist of who does what and when. It’s a compromise. When you are truly in love and in line with how God views marriage, there’s no need for the discussion. The exchange works beautifully. The man provides and the woman serves.

Yes, I said it. The man provides FIRST. Then, the woman serves. A real man understands that. Its in the tradition and its in the good book. God refers to the church as His bride and He is the Alpha and the Omega. He provided first and we, as His bride, serve. Men give rings as a symbol of commitment first…a promise to provide. And when that happens, a good woman will in term serve with the best of her ability. Step it up, guys, and we’ll accept the challenge.

Til next time.

Be Easy.

2008-02-14T12:42:00.000-05:00

Everyday is the 14th….

Oh, if I was only ten years younger….

I have a burgeoning crush…sort of like how all ya’ll was looking at Rihanna before she got legal…

You won’t make me feel guilty for this!

I digress…

I kept forgetting throughout the week that Valentine’s Day was approaching.

Maybe its because I haven’t done much shopping so I haven’t been inundated with those gosh awful gorillas holding hearts and that gold Russell Stover Box that gleams on the Walgreen’s counter. I did, however, go to Walgreen’s once this week….on a mission for some Carmex….windburn on my precious puckers is not what’s hot in 2008.

I’ve never been a huge fan of Valentine’s Day. Up until age 13 or so, my dad would buy me a heart shaped box of chocolates. Afterwards, I guess he turned over the reins to come unsuspecting fellow. Sophomore year of high school, this guy named Bubba got me this big arse balloon and a stuffed animal.

Did I tell you that his name was Bubba?

And my small minded 15-year old self replied by saying, “you’ve got to be effin’ kidding me. I don’t like you.”

Womp. Womp. Womp.

Of course, my girls gave me the once over and set me straight. I had been leading Bubba on for a few weeks….letting him buy me lunch…or sit next to me in the quad. That wasn’t right. So I was admonished to accept said big arse balloon (that read To: Stephanie. From: Bubba by the way) and carry said big arse balloon around the school….

All
Damn
Day

…leading most folks to believe that Bubba was my man.

Yikes.

But that’s what I deserved for leading poor Bubba on.

So on this Valentine’s Day, I suggest you choose to spend it with the one you genuinely love or just curl up alone with the gorilla and Russell Stover. What’s the point of just having somebody there just to have somebody there?

Everyday is the 14th.

Til’ next time.

Be Easy…

2008-02-04T16:14:00.000-05:00

Things I Collected…on my trip to Chicago (and a short trip to Milwaukee)

Clearly, the whole goal was the possibility of running into Brett…

Well, I came close…

=)

Snow is gorgeous…until it delays you five hours from flying back home and you don’t get in your bed until 3 a.m.

Delays are much easier to stomach when you accidentally booked your flight mid-Super Bowl.

I truly dislike airports and hospitals. Neither is much fun after a couple of hours.

Why would it surprise a man that in my 3 inch black boots and a cashmere blend cowl neck sweater that I would stop in the middle of the terminal to check the score of the Super Bowl? I don’t “look” like a football fan, eh? FYI: Lil’ buddy’s game was full of whack juice.

I’m a tourist no matter how many times I visit. Yes, I shopped the Mile, snatched cashew kettle corn from Garrett’s, and delighted my taste buds with true Chicago Style deep dish pizza from Giordano’s. Funny Story from Giordano’s----long story short----I wonder why butch women mistake my tinker bell pixie cut for a slight possibility of carpet amore? Nah, I’m good, dude lady. Keep it movin’.

I despise department stores and snooty sales people. I imagine that when I am rich(er) and famous(er), I will still prefer the warm and fuzzy greetings from the Target girl in her faded red shirt and khakis over the posh pretentious valium pumped princess at Nordstrom’s.
Really…The ostentation is for the shallow and misguided.
I’d prefer to buy that Marc Jacobs hobo online nee’ the pomp and circumstance.

I *heart* boutique hotels. They are usually the best kept secrets in major cities. Cookie cutter five-star is just so boring and….well, rather predictable.

I got the best manicure and VOTE for Obama speech in BNA from the sweetest middle-aged black lady named Miss Delores.

Upgrading your scarf swag is what’s really good for Winter ’08. I’m on the hunt for a heavily discounted cashmere Burberry classic….any takers?

Til next time...

Be Easy

2008-01-30T16:02:00.000-05:00

A Peace of my Mind

"Give you a chance? Wanna know something funny? When you first left, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to live without you. Yeah, I used to sit in this room and wondered if I would ever get through another second. Can you imagine a person so unhappy? To not know if they'd live through another second? I got through the second, Stix. Minutes, days, months, weeks. I'm doing fine without you. Just fine." (Sparkle, 1976)

Dang, I love that movie.

Sparkle is a classic.

I watched it for the first time as a pre-teen. My cousin and I, dressed in red bed sheets and my mom’s pumps, with teased hair and microphone hair brushes, stood in front of the mirror lip syncing En Vogue’s new single, “Giving Him Something He Can Feel”. I was in mid-blow…

“…to let him know, this love is real…eeeeyeeeah-eah-aaaawwww-wwooo…all my lovin’”

…when my mom and aunt had to sit us down for the original. Yes, En Vogue was good but nothing compared to Aretha’s version and the movie that went along with it.

Enter “Sparkle”…

If you’ve never seen it, it’s a must see. I imagine if they remade it, it would star the likes of Alicia Keys and Beyonce as“Sister” and “Sparkle”. Maybe Common as Stix. The possibilities are endless. Nevertheless, Sparkle was head over heels in love with Stix and he left her. He comes back and the aforementioned quote is her decadent response.

Have you been there?

I have.

The quote engulfs every emotion that is felt when you’re in love and you lose. Regardless of the steps that lead to heartache, when you’re in the midst of it, it feels like one breath takes enough energy to run a 5K marathon. Its not pretty.

But I don’t regret it. Not an ounce. If I had to go through it again, I would.

I’ve had my heart broken, and I remember praying so hard that God would just purge me of this person, every memory, every thought, every moment…and then, at His best, God showed me something.

I loved this person the way I should have been loving Him.

Hmmmph…

The best song that describes how this epiphany felt is Lauryn Hill’s heart wrenching unplugged performance of her acoustic song, “I Gotta Find Peace of Mind”. Everyone else thought she was crazy but I knew exactly what she meant, what she said, and how it felt.

See song lyrics here: http://music.yahoo.com/Lauryn-Hill/I-Gotta-Find-Peace-Of-Mind/lyrics/2021179

Its so amazing.

People complain all the time about not being able to find love…jumping from one bed to the next. Yet the answer is so simple, fall in love with the only One who has the ability to love you despite your faults and insecurities and the rest will fall into place.

Quite truthfully, there is no one on earth that I can live without. My friends could leave, my family could too…

In 2002, God showed me that He truly is the way , the truth and the light. With Him, I can have it all. I don’t worry about having a Valentine or how loud my clock is ticking.

God is my forever Valentine. His love is unending. Agape…

And whom He has blessed me with to be my husband and nurturer will be His love manifested on earth. I will accept nothing less. Neither should you…

Til’ Next Time…

2008-01-29T13:39:00.000-05:00

When a Weed Whacker Just Won't Do...

“If you cut your grass every day, you will always know where the snakes are. Remember to cut your grass every day!”

Yeah…so what?

I know that quote came from Lil’ Kim’s reality. I promise something of substance follows…real talk. LOL…

So I have this situation that was presented to me by an anonymous friend.

Said friend has a friend who is clingy.

You know what I mean.

The friend who takes it personal if you don’t call them back. The friend who expects you not to like a person if they don’t like a person. The friend who calls you pet nicknames and hugs you, even though you are the least affectionate person on the planet. The friend who is like the hetero female version of a boyfriend.

We’ll call this type of friend: My Buddy.

Unfortunately, every social butterfly I know has one or more friends that are like this. But its different than a clingy boyfriend. You can let a clingy boyfriend go pretty easily but a clingy friend? That’s a problem.

Friendships are not my area of expertise. I prefer male friends because I really don’t get into cattiness or jealousy. And I tend to believe that most female/female friendships end based on Venus envy. Women don’t expect other women to change. You expect that the same conversations you had in 5th grade are the same conversations you will have at 50. Some women don’t understand the life cycle and that sometimes, one day you wake up and who’s loving who or who’s gaining weight, just doesn’t seem as important anymore.

So how do you wean a friend off or politely let them know where they fit inside or outside the circle? How do you know when to open the door and let a friend out of the circle?

You know I had to ask Nana.

Five things:

Why are you friends with the person in the first place?

You have to think about why you became friends with this person. Its sort of like two people who are cell mates. You wouldn’t necessarily be friends if you weren’t forced into not having any other options. Or maybe you became friends by association. This could be dangerous as well. Because friends by association can cause you to lose multiple friendships when loyalties don’t lie with you. But you have to ask yourself, if I remove the reason why I became friends with this person, would we have even crossed paths?

What have they done for you lately?

Peruse the history. Are you the one who’s always been there for them or vice versa? What value has the person added to your life? If they vanished, what would you miss, immaterially?

What’s their friend track record?

People who hop from clique to clique with high turnover rates are dangerous friends. Likewise, people who run in the same clique they did since elementary school are as well. And if they did have a fallen out with a friend, research the trend. Are all the friends they dismissed attractive? Did they dismiss them when they were becoming more successful than they? Likewise, do they cling only to people they have “girl crushes” on to make themselves look better?

What’s missing in their life?

How are they as a friend when they are in a relationship? Do they shoot you the deuces when they are booed up? Likewise, are they just flat out unhappy with their own life? Unhappiness is contagious. People who always have something negative to say about others can rub off on you quickly. If you have rarely heard them compliment someone (off the record), something is in the water.

Has the friendship been tested?

All three of my closest friendships have been tested. True friendships survive tests. There is always a conversation and never a façade. Friends who purport nothing is wrong when there really is something wrong may be not a friend at all. Its difficult for a real friend to be fake to you. Just like they’ll tell you when your man is a dog and those shoes look insanely inappropriate. But they’ll tell you in way that shows that they care.

If nothing else, Nana says to pray about it. We’ll all have seasonal friends who are only used as vessels to show you something God wants you to see and learn.

You just have to learn to accept people for who they are and place them where they need to be. I guess that’s the most difficult feat of all.

Just remember to keep your grass maintained in all aspects of life. Ironically enough, the same questions should be asked of the potential mates in your life. Hmmm....now that got you thinking, huh?

Til Next time.

Be Easy.

2008-01-19T20:25:00.001-05:00

No Homo

Ask any of my male friends or ex-boos and they will tell you that I am not "that chick"...you know the one who hates on women and gives every semi-attractive female the once over a la Bernie Mac's description of his snapforthekids nephew in Kings of Comedy.

That ain't me.

The reason why that ain't me is because of a little something Grandma Nana taught me at a young age. Not only is coveting a Jesus no-no but nana says that if all it takes is a bug butt and smile to take your man, he is not worthy of a woman of substance. "There are millions of other attractive women in the world. What will you bring to table above and beyond the physical? That's what gets you and keeps you a good man. Whats in you that he can't get anywhere else?"

Go 'head on Nana.

So yeah...

If I'm walking in the mall with my boo and I see an attractive woman. My voice will beat his quick on-the-low glance. I am not afraid to say, "Dang her butt is big" or "She's really pretty, isn't she?". Why? Because as a woman, you know what your man likes and his fantasies (or at least you should). You know he's going to look. So let him get his sneak peak in because he knows that ol' girl probably don't go to church, can't cook and is weaved up all to be damn. Or she may even be Halle Berry crazy. So I have learned to comment on and appreciate the beauty in all women. Women are amazing physical beings.

No Homo.

So since I appreciate one of God's greatest creations the way I do. I'm going to share my list of woman crushes...a top ten list of sorts. Most men would want to bed them but I just want to swagger jack them for a part of their aura that has that certain je ne sais quoi.

So Def Stef, who would you swagger jack?

10. Break yo self, Miss Eartha Kitt, I want your effortless sex appeal.

Eartha Kitt, the original Cat woman, was really not that hard of a bang for Marcus Graham. She's a cougar and no matter how old she gets, (She has to be like 150 in Moses years by now) she is still "tight". P.Diddy should use her as a guide on how to truly preserve sexy. She can't even really sing but her rendition of "Santa Baby" oozed sex appeal.

9. Break yo self, Diahann Carroll, I want your effortless and timeless class.

When you are a class act, you can make any man fall for you. Even pink men who are not down with the brown tout her as hot, indeed. She can have on a sweatshirt and still look like the black Jackie O. She's put together even when she's not put together. She's bougie without being offensive. Like she wouldn't even take her pearls off to whip your arse...but she WILL whip your arse. What other brown woman could get away with whooping a white woman's arse on primetime TV but Miss Carroll in the 80's. I still remember my momma's chest swelling with pride watching that episode of Dynasty. Ha!

8. Break yo self, Vanessa Williams, I want your effortless bounceback ability.

Somewhere somebody grab Kim Kardashian and make her shadow Vanessa Williams, queen of the bounceback. I only recently saw the pics of Miss Williams' infamous Playboy spread and I am still wondering how the hell she made America still believe she's a sweetheart.

7. Break yo self, Jada Pinkett Smith, I want your effortless whip appeal.

Will is whipped. And clearly (if you have seen Tupac's The Resurrection), Mr. Californa Love was too. I don't know what Jada did but ever since she whipped Will, his stock has tripled. She ain't from Lousiana so she's not cooking special spaghetti or handy with Brown Sugar, so what are you doing Jada?

6. Break yo self, Beyonce, I want your effortless...everything.

Chick does no wrong. Hating on her won't make you better.

5. Break yo self, Tamia, I want your effortless MILF factor.

Amazing voice, check. Baller husband, check. Poltical powerhouse in-laws, check. Gorgeous face and body, check. Cute kids, check. Dream career that you control, check. All of this and the ability to evade gossip blogs and the flashing lights.

4. Break yo self, Lalah Hathaway, I want your effortless voice.

You know her pedigree. She is truly a female version of her pops. (Please listen to "We Were Two, Left My Heart in Boston, and Forever, For Always, For Love.) Berkley trained and an incredible live performer. She makes me want to throw my flip flop at the stage. Yes, I would pit her against Whitney, Mariah and (gasp) Aretha.

3. Break yo self, Oprah, I want your effortless business sense.

Chick now has her OWN network. Oprah, if you're reading, I am up for adoption at any moment. My momma won't mind.

2. Break yo self, Jayne Kennedy, for your effortless breakthrough into women's sportscasting.

Before there was Kolber, Tafoya, and Kremer, there was Jayne Kennedy. Beauty pageant winner turned credible sportscaster. Respect her swag.

1. Break yo self, Michelle Obama, I want your effortless nottobeeffedwith ability.

Somehow I think if she ran interference during these debates, the race would be won by now. She would make it rain.

And there they are.....my women crushes.

That'll be all.

Til' next time.

Be Easy.

2008-01-07T16:55:00.000-05:00

Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I have always wanted to somebody's wife and somebody's mama. Sure, I have CMO dreams and Ph.D hopes but they pale in comparison to my impending domesticity. It's my belief that being a wife and mother is the hardest job in show business, especially with the standard set so high by Mary and Mary. Imagine giving birth to the Man who would save all humanity or being the only woman mildly considered to be booed up (according to some contemporary writings of Christian Theologians) with Him.

Mary M. was definitely a looker in The Passion movie.

I mean, it's possible.

Maybe a little hand holding or something.

I digress.

But imagine the burden.

None of us will ever have that large a mountain to climb. Yet in still, the role of wife and mother is no joke. I was raised very old school. My grandfather only had to take out the garbage and write checks. Although my nana had a part-time gig, she cooked, cleaned, ironed, etc. We couldn't even eat dinner without Pops getting his plate first. To this day, if a male friend comes home with me for a holiday, his plate shall be fixed for him, coupled with a cold drink and a napkin.

Old.

School.

I have many female friends who aren't really on the crumb snatcher kick. To have kiddies or not is just not relevant. But I can't think of one female cohort who doesn't want to wifed up. And as I survey all of the possible types of men one can encounter and marry. There are a few marital situations that are not for the faint at heart.

I think I'll share.

The Preacher's Wife.

Good Googly Moogly. This is one of the most difficult wife assignments to date. You can't even ask God why he did this to you. You were obviously hand picked and "called". Being a preacher's wife forces you to share your husband with his congregation 24 hours a day. You gets no holidays or vacations. No casinos, no public alcoholic libations, no cleavage, no days when you don't feel like putting on make up. You are expected to be on point at all times and always have a Word. You have to bite your tongue when women throw themselves at the man you sleep with every night. They don't call 'em The First Lady for nothing.

The First Lady

Michelle Obama is a G. No bones about it. Obama may not make the White House gray in the '08 but I'll be more upset that we missed out on probably the dopest First Lady since Jackie O. Being a First Lady in the political realm starts at birth. You have to be born into the right family, attend the right schools, have no buried dirt ( i.e. naked pictures or public drug use). You have to be perceived as strong but passive. You're held under the microscopes of microscopes. Even your gyno is called in for questioning every once in a while. Politicians are always working even when they're not working. People made this huge hoopla over the Lewinski situation but the truth is that politicians only have time for a "lewinski". If that ain't what you do, you needs not marry a politician.

Paging Detective Dr. McDreamy, Esq, part-time Fireman with an M.Ed.

The Professionals are what makes the world go around. They save lives in every facet whether its keeping someone out of jail or performing a Triple Bypass. And since so much rests upon their shoulders, they don't have much time at home, which also makes it easier for them to cheat. Go ahead. Survey a hospital, doctor's office, law firm or fire station and see how many wedding rings exited stage left.

Are you not entertained?

Sex, drugs and rock n' roll just scratches the surface of what goes on in the lives of women married to the lights…action…Hollywood. Can you imagine watching your husband fake-make love to another woman? Can you imagine someone claiming that they shagged your hubbie on Page Six? What about the droves of gorgeous women waiting on him at the hotel after the concert or the premiere? Its stressful being famous and even more stressful being married to someone famous. How many times have you heard someone at the salon bad mouth Pauletta Washington...about how "average" she looks? What in the crackhead hell is his wife supposed to look like? Do you even remember what Mr. Great Debater looked like pre-dental work on them choppers. Puh-Lease!

Hoop Dreams. Pigskin Nightmares.

Big Ups to Cookie Johnson and Posh Spice. They should write a guidebook on how to be and stay happy as an athlete's wife. You should see these wives at the games...looking like zombies with their Speedies in one hand and their Dior Shades...all masking some isht homeboy brought home that they can't get rid of. Imagine watching beautiful women throw themselves at your husband right in front of your face and not being able to go all Jackie Christie on their arses because you will embarass him and yourself. Makes you wonder if the Rover is worth it. Not to say all athletes are dirty and cheat but...uhm....I ain't the only one who watches "The Game" and if you even remotely attended a big time NCAA sports school, its ten times worse than it was then. Yowzers!

I truly commend the women who make it work in these situations.
I think I may just add them to my sick -and -shut in....

Amen.

Til' next time...

2008-01-04T17:58:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year!

…and all that good stuff…

Prior to December, I had grandiose plans to spend New Year’s Eve partying like a rock star in one of the following three places:

Option A: Chicago…in arms reach of Urlacher…and more celeb sightings like Sanaa and Gabrielle. Me and the Gerbil kickin’ it. (wink) Skateboard P would have taken wonderful care of me, for sure. But life happened and the trip to the windy city was denied. Sooo…

Option B: Throw a soiree at the crib, meaning I could get frunk as duck and leave ’07quite spirited. But work happened and planning was chunked. Sooo…

Option C: Experience Nashville nightlife on one of the rarest nights where Nashvillians actually take a break from being booed up. (Nashville truly is a “couple city”.) Plan defunct as well with no time to shop nor prepare. Plus it was frigid and windy. Sooo…

How did you bring in the new year, Def Stef?

Enter Atonement…

That’s right. When the clock struck midnight and you were belligerently screaming Huppppeee Nuuu Yeeaaa!, I was at the movie theatre, slurping a coca cola and intensely watching the Oscar contender that is Atonement.

And I was happy…content…I mean…genuinely un-bugged out about the whole situation.

Why?

Because I’m a grown woman.

One of my favorite shows from the 90’s was Allie McBeal. And I remember the little odd man (you know who I’m talking about..hmm..he was in Ghostbusters and Breakin’ All the Rules…yeah, him!)…so that little odd man was needing some confidence (as he is always typecasted as someone who needs help in developing his swag), so the little office whore (you know who I’m talking about….she’s like the anglo version of the girl who plays the freaky friend in Love Jones…pink version was in Alfie…Jane Krakowskie, yeah, her!)…ok…so the little office whore was telling the odd man that he needed a theme song. And to develop your swag, you need to walk like the theme song is the soundtrack in your mind. His song was “You’re my First, my Last, my Everything” by the late Barry White (Sho’ you right). So ever since I saw that episode, I thought, “Self, you need a theme song.” And in 1998, I adopted “Baby, I’m a Star” by Prince.

1,2,3,4
Hey, look me over
Tell me do u like what u see?
Hey, I ain't got no money
But honey I'm rich on personality
Hey, check it all out
Baby I know what it's all about
Before the night is through
U will see my point of view
Even if I have 2 scream and shout

Baby I'm a (star)
Might not know it now
Baby but I are, I'm a (star)
I don't want to stop, 'til I reach the top
Sing it (We are all a star!)

Yeah, that song.

For ten years, that was my theme song. In moments of un-surity and insecurity, Prince would be sanging in my head as I strutted.

But as 2008 approached, I had to trade in my good old standby. And none other than the Queen of Hip Hop Soul delivered me my new decade anthem.

Michael Kors Gear OnAnd Valentino
Yves St. Laurent
Platforms? Malandrino
Full length sable Way downTo the carpet
Look good on The mannequin
But wait until I rock it
I got'cha Lookin' at me
Wanna pat me, Like the police
NYFD
Can't put out The fire on me
I got what you want
What you need
Is all in me
I'm a grown woman
Baby, can't you see
Keep callin'

‘Cause I’m a grown woman.

And because I’m a grown woman, I had my grown arse at a grown movie and didn’t care.

I really didn’t care.

So in the ’08, I really have no resolutions other than the fact that in all aspects of life, I need to be grown. ’07 was the year of change. ’08 is the year of completion.

Spaceships don’t come equipped with rearview mirrors so I hope all of ya’ll are coming with me.

(wink)

Til’ next time,

Be easy.

2006-04-06T18:32:00.000-05:00

Its been a while...

At any rate....

I'm sitting here at work...the part-time gig at Simon's healm...pondering a number of things but one thing in particular strikes me as relevant to expound upon...

The evolution of the word Single.

As a child, when I heard the word "Single", it was usually uttered from a primary educator attempting to get wandering kindergarteners to file in a straight line. Single meant by oneself but not alone,since a friend was in front of you and behind you. A "single" crayon was at least accompanied by a table full of eager miniature artists bound to sketch greatness.... within the lines. (To color outside the lines meant death or even worse, a frown face on Ms. Bynum's Star Wall.

In middle school, the word single still retained its original meaning but was on the cusp of becoming synonymous with one's love life or the lack thereof. Single meant you were on an off week. Boyfriends were as easy a score as Matt Leinart facing the dissipating Vols' defense. Everyone dated everyone else at least once. Short lived relationships were usually spurred by a Truth or Dare game in the back of the yellow bus en route to the football game with the best kisser. And no one held grudges. There were no cat fights. It was a free for all. Woodstock minus acid and sex. If you were single (for longer than a week), you were either awkward looking, too smart and smelled funny. (I knew a guy who was all three. He may be a sexy beast by now. Karma pulls pranks like that.)

High school welcomed the most serious of serious definitions of single. Single meant I do not have a boy/girlfriend AND no one is remotely interested in me. Long term sweethearts were rampant and letter jackets were today's matching tattoos. When you broke up with someone, you weren't really broken up. Thats why people look forward to class reunions and still refer to "Jeff and Karen" as "the" couple even though Jeff's a transvestite now and Karen has a kid with two moms. (you'll catch that in a minuto). Ah, single was irrelevant in high school because you were either crushing on someone, having two minute sex with someone or maintaining a pseudo marriage a la Saved By the Bell's Zach and Kelly.

In the realms of college life, everybody is single. If you're married...Hell, no one is married in college. If you're engaged, you're still unmarried and therefore single. If you're "dating soneone", you're single when drunk and/or after midnight. And if you're carrying the tag of actually being single, you may participate in all things unmentionalble (especially on Spring Break in Miami). The college definition of single has no definition. Its Freudian and should be discussed in Philosophy 101. Its a hidden truth and unspoken, the antithesis of monogamy. Its damn near an expletive, far worse than any four letter word or racial epithet. Aristotle once said in reference to a college love life....Everyone is single and single is everyone.

Enter adulthood, where orgies and menages are a thing of the past. You're not quite as flexible since your ramen noodle diet has been replaced with real food. In a nutshell, everything is real including relationships. Single means unmarried, not dating, no having sex, living the life of a nun. Single means every life cycle definition roled up into one because you're older and wiser and feel obliged to contrive your own definition of single.

So am I single? Using Ms. Bynum's definition, Yes. At Bellevue Junior High School, I'm never single. High School? I'm single except on prom night. By Dorm room definition, I'm as single as single can get since I ain't getting any action. But as an adult, I'm never single because my definition of single means alone. I refuse to let anyone tell me that being single means being unhappy and unmarried. Marriage will come gracefully and in God's time because single is as single does in my book.

2006-01-31T14:40:00.000-05:00

My name… Stephanie
childhood ambition… ‘Save the World’ with my superpowers
fondest memory… weekly “dates” with my father
soundtrack… Kind of Blue/ Myles Davis
retreat… My mother’s voice/ My father’s arms
wildest dream… to star on Broadway
proudest moment… my baptism
biggest challenge… accepting perfect imperfections
alarm clock… inability to reach the snooze button
perfect day… talks with God/ the day with family / the night with friends/ sports & beer/ shoe shopping
first job… Nana’s kitchen intern at age 11
indulgence… cute shoes
last purchase… lol…cute shoes from DSW
favorite movie… The World According to Garp
inspiration… the innocence of children, God’s little angels
my life… is meant to be celebrated
my card… Delta Sigma Theta, Sorority Inc., my lifetime commitment

***Courtesy of American Express’ ad campaign “My Life, My Card”***

2006-01-24T16:25:00.000-05:00

I've been neglecting this place. But lately, I have realized how much I need it, to vent my frustrations, to share a piece of joy I witnessed. The next few months are a juxtaposition of joy/relief/anxiety...My last semester of coursework will be pretty easy but I also have oral comps in March. I have to finish my practicum over the summer but I am at odds over where I will be placed or if one day, after all of this education and experience, I say to myself, "Self, you do not want to do this with your life". Will I have wasted 7 years pursuing this career?

Yesterday, God (yes, he does talk to me) asked me, "what do you want to do?" And until then, I had this long soliquoy of an answer when its been so simple all along. No matter the career choice change in my quarter of a century life span, I have always wanted to simply, "Change the World"...I want someone to say I changed their life for the better. Looking at the lives of those I have touched thus far, I think I am on the road to success. I have been chastised often for keeping in touch with exes or people who have wronged me in the past. But my reason for staying in touch is the latter word of that phrase. I want to "touch" them in an intimate non physical way that brings them closer to themselves and more importantly, closer to God. I want to be a confidant. I want to enjoy their triumphs, sing at their weddings and cry at their funerals because I know God blessed me with them for a reason and not just for a season. I don't need seasonal beings in my life and as long as I stay in His will, the 'seasons' will always change and move on but those who are meant to be with me forever, will be.

Love.Me

2005-12-16T15:18:00.000-05:00

My exams are complete…I ended the semester with a 3.8…only because, at the last minute, I went above and beyond the norm. I wrote a 25 page sample grant proposal to get an A. I took an optional final exam to boost a B+ to an A and I studied for 8 hours in order to reel in a B in Statistics. It has always been my theory that when it comes to grades and education that there should be some sense of balance between your social life and academic success. I forfeited the former to put that extra effort in and it made a difference…a .06 difference…. and I wonder what if I put that same effort into things I’ve done, people I have met? Would the difference have been significant? I’ll never know the answer to that but from now on, I will push myself to the limit and not settle for mediocrity. Mediocrity is so, blatantly, average. Average is just not attractive. Oh, the things I could have excelled even better in if I knew this five years ago. Hindsight, they say, is 20/20. At least, I still have the important things to look forward to with a new outlook on going above and beyond. I marvel at how great a Christian I will be, how great a friend, how great a mother and a wife. Thank God all of this other achievement-based experiences thus far in life are only preparing me for what truly matters.

Love.Me

2005-12-06T12:01:00.000-05:00

There's a meeting in the ladies' room...

Ha. Ya'll remember that song/ true essence of an 80's baby. I loved me some Klimaxx...I digress...I just arrived back from a road trip to Chicago. I had a great time. VIP treatment, end zone seat at the Bears Game, free edibles, etc. In the midst of all of this, I still like to "keep it real". Friday night upon arrival, I enjoyed a wine tasting and took home a bottle of the smoothest Pinot Grigio and ventured out to bask in Chicago nightlife. Long story short, I have a confession...when the ladies room line is long, I, in all my bourghettoness, take the shortcut and utilize my resources. I quickly and nondiscreetly I might add, use the men's room in lieu of waiting. I know you're thinking, Gross!!! Ew!!! So not lady-like but I only do this in emergency situations. See, I gave my comrades two options, get me to the nearest restroom or suffer embarassment with me as I wet my pants in the middle of Lake Shore Drive. Needless to say, they did not opt for the latter. So once again, I owe life for saving me from a kindergarten-like catastrophe and placing closed door toilets adjacent to the stalls in men's bathrooms for those of us who have emergencies when there's a meeting in the ladies' room.

Love.Me

2005-12-06T11:30:00.000-05:00

People,

I met "blogging" for the first time about a year and a half ago, on the brink of delving into graduate school. Swanigan.Blogspot.com was my haven, my home, my domain that enabled me to vent my frustrations in life. If you knew me then or rather read me then, you'd know about Beezlebub, the Boss from the inner lurkings of Hell, and my progress toward progress in deciding to go back to school. You'd know about my life in general, my likes, my dislikes, my fallacies. You'd also know that I firmly believe that change is underrated and that change challenges your being and molds you into what God beckons you to be. My life has changed much since I last spoke here but details are irrelevant. Just know that I Owe Life, hence the title of this new venture. I Owe Life for keeping me centered and grounded, for surrounding me and drowning me in love and happiness, for allowing me to create mis/takes and learn from the creation of them, not just the mis/take itself. Life is becoming so much clearer to me now. Relax and enjoy.

Love.Me