Princess and the flippin Frog!!

Princess and the Frog made its premiere in theaters Friday, December 11. A friend and I caught a matinee show on Saturday and remained misty-eyed as we watched our twenty year old childhood dream unfold right before our eyes. As I took in the fairytale of an African American princess I couldn’t help but analyze this critical moment and the images that flowed from the screen to the tune of a typical Disney screen play. The first Disney African American princess fairytale was woven with your usual villain, a dreamy prince, and array of colorful characters.

What seemed like a dream come true fell short of perfect with the Indian Prince, instead of

African, and the depiction of traditional African religion and practices. The villain was called the Shadow Man and he provoked the spirits to carry out his evil deeds. With each scene involving the Shadow Man, obviously “African” mask would dance back and forth across the screen with red and black eyes. Dark smoke flowed from the mouths of the singing mask as the Shadow Man, practicing voodoo, which was blatantly implied but of course not stated as such, caused conflict and brought misfortune to the main characters. Disney’s first African American princess movie and Africa gets the short end of the stick, figures.

What is really sad about getting stiffed is that Disney KNOWS that they could do this to Black people and not hear any flack about it. They would rather have an interacial relationship (the first that is not historical) than have an African prince. WTF!! And, why is it that what is obviously African is seen as negative!? And one could argue that they did show the positive side to the practice, but no way no how could anybody tell that that was African. I am angry!

If I had a daughter, I would not allow her to see this movie because I do not want her to think an African prince is not possible and African religion is bad. This was an ugly attempt and I am disappointed in what Disney is attempting to tell our Black children. I wish I did my homework before paying 5.25 for the early show.

I've finally seen it! Have You!?

We waited and waited. I remember previews for the movie as early as April 2009. The date was finally set and anticipation brewed. I read the book and watched all the trailers. Then a date was finally posted; November 7th! The seventh came and went with no movie, then it finally opened and the place was packed. I and a girlfriend of mine got free tickets and we “rushed” down to the best movie theater in Sac and caught the 10:15 pm showing of Precious. Yes I have finally got to see it and it was simply AMAZING!

I could honestly say that I have never been in a theater that was so involved in a story that we have seen so often. We laughed, cried, sniffled and yes, even screamed. If you have been living under a rock, the movie is basically about a girl that is going through some really tuff, leveling, and thick stuff. She makes friends and finds support outside of her home and finally makes it from out of the mouth of the beast, her mother. This is a story I have seen plenty of times, but this was the most “real to life” I have seen it. There was no sugar coating, no fairy tale happy ending, and no straight-up go home happy mood. If anything, it forced the audience to go home thinking through shock. Just straight raw and boy was I waiting for a movie like this! I have to give Tyler Perry and Oprah their props, but greatest thanks to Sapphire.

As the last scene started to dim and the music quieted for the transition to credits, all I could hear was sniffling. There was no talking and not many people moving. It was almost as if the audience had to process what they’ve just experienced. I cried. And I’m not talking about that soft “aww” cry. I’m talking about that “my sister is suffering” cry. We walked out and eyes were being wiped, but the feeling was a good one. My friend told me that she cried so much that her head hurt.

Simply amazing and a must see!! Would I add it to the DVD collection? Hell yeah! Would I watch it as often as possible since it was awesome? No because I don’t think I could take it. Lol

NO BOOTLEGGIN PEOPLE!

Now Lets Think About This

So I was reading the New York Times National section and came across this article by Ian Urbina titled, Neighbor Says Police Did Little About Reports of Violence at a Rapist’s House. Yes you guessed it, Anthony Sowell. It appears that there were multiple reports made about this registered sex offender and his possible ties with assault and rape reports within the neighborhood. But, surprisingly, nothing was done. Shocked? I’m not.

Anthony Sowell, arrested October 31st after six bodies were discovered in his house, lived in a Cleveland neighborhood that was “predominantly black and very poor.” The article reports that one neighbor, recently, spotted Mr. Sowell “in the bushes alongside Mr. Sowell’s house naked and standing over a woman who was bloodied, beaten and also naked.” The same neighbor was then later approached by a woman, bruised and bloodied claiming to have been attacked by Mr. Sowell. Even as far back as December 8, 2008, “another woman filed a report accusing Mr. Sowell of stopping her on the street in front of his house and forcing her to the back door, where he punched, choked and tried to rape her.” Did the neighbor and the women make police reports? Well of course they did! Did the police do much about it? Well, that is where it gets a bit ugly.

Where were the police? According to Lt. Thomas Stacho of the Cleveland Police department, they were doing their job. The neighbor went to the police, but did not hear about a follow up or even if the police had did anything. The others also made reports with not much justice, if any at all, served. The Cleveland neighborhood where Mr. Sowell lived wasn’t even aware of the fact that a registered sex offender lived amongst them and their children. It wasn’t until a September 22, 2009 report of a woman accusing Mr. Sowell of rape finally moved the police to investigate which then turned up six decaying bodies.

Now let’s put our thinking caps on for a second and assess the situation. Mr. Sowell lived in a predominately black and very poor neighborhood, multiple reports were made against him, the community knew very little about his residents within their neighborhood, and police did little about the accusations. It also took several weeks “to assign an officer to the case and to obtain a search warrant” that eventually turned up the six, now ten, decaying bodies. This is so obvious and disgusting that it hurts. All bundled into one story we have the lack of police work on missing reports of minorities and neglect of protection by police within predominately black neighborhoods.

While watching the news in Sacramento, I occasionally hear a story about outraged residents in Carmichael or Elk Grove protesting the registered sex offender moving in. Police are interviewed to secure safety and flyers are passed out to all the residents. They express their fears and eventually, convince, or squeeze, the registered sex offender to leave the neighborhood. If not, the sex offender is watched around the clock by volunteers and men in cars painted with signs. What made their encounter unfold so much differently than that of the Cleveland neighborhood? These are predominately white neighborhoods with a higher socioeconomic status. Also, why is it when a white woman goes missing, we have a story on the Today, CNN, and Fox? There is publicity and the whole shebang about her life and how tragic the situation is. Granted, it is always horrible to have a person disappear, but why is there more energy put into finding a white woman as opposed to finding a Black woman or even a Mexican woman, or Latina?

The fact that there were multiple reports against Mr. Sowell is what makes this so scary for the Black community. If Anthony Sowell would have moved into a predominately white neighborhood, would we be hearing about ten bodies being found in his home? We have to remember that Mr. Sowell is a registered sex offender meaning that he had to make all his check-ins with police. According to the article, he followed all the rules and did all he had to in order to remain from under heavy radar. Also, the man charged with kidnapping in California and keeping the young woman prisoner for years also checked-in regularly with police. There is obviously something wrong with the system here. Two huge issues that could have possibly saved the lives of the women found in Mr. Sowell’s house if they were addressed. If the women were white and lived in a better socioeconomic status neighborhood, maybe the police would have paid more attention and would have saved some lives. Maybe the police would have acted upon the cries of the neighborhood and somehow preserved the lives of those women. Regardless of their skin color, occupation, level of education, gross income, or address, these were not only women, but humans that deserved the same protection and humane treatment of any other. How dare they?!

You’re Such a Moron

Sitting, minding my own business and enjoying the natural warmth, I am chill and just relaxing while waiting on the train back to Sacramento. The weather is breezy and the skies are wide open revealing a near breathtaking, mid-day blue. The soft smell of pine occasionally visits my sense of smell as the wind carries it with a gentle, refreshing breeze. Just the right amount of warmth caresses the back of my neck, concentrated on the spot right below the hairline on the back of my neck and right above my right shoulder. The mood is incredibly soothing.

In my own world, I am at ease. Then here it comes, corruption in the form of yet another one of these little water head boys from Richmond. Well, I can’t exactly say he is a young boy, because he could have been about my age. He stood about two inches taller than me. His clothes hung off of him like end of the day clothes tossed on the end of a chair after a long day. His dark colored, pink and purple striped button up hung off his narrow shoulders and looked two sizes too big. Underneath he wore a dingy, wrinkled, white t-shirt that hung on him like a night-gown. His jeans were baggy and raggedy. He walked up with a swagger that I’ve seen a thousand times before; swaying side to side with the appearance of being relaxed and cool.

With a posture uglier than his outfit, that he thought he was doing something with, he stood sloppy blocking my sun ray. “Hay, how u doin’,” was his way of breaking my ignoring of him. Eyes squinted, forehead wrinkled with obvious irritation of his presence, I slowly raised my head. His face was scruffy and teeth were positioned in his mouth like prison bars. The brothah had the nerve to have on a wave cap that looked like it was hanging on by a thread. He went through the usual questions about where I’m from and if I had a man then made the usual propositions of becoming my man on the side or becoming the better boyfriend that I’ve never had. I gagged a bit as I tallied up his penalties. Not only was the presentation pitiful, but he stood incredibly too close and touched my hair. EWWWW!!!

Then he said something that made me roll my eyes regardless of how much priceless game he thought he was poppin. “Richmond stays in the news. You ain’t know?” he asked proudly. “Yeah, for killing yourselves,” I answered while giving all the obvious body signs of “step the hell off.” While saying good-bye and trying to rekindle any slight chance he had at getting my digits, he finally walked away.

What’s so sad about it is that this is not the only time a young Black man from Richmond or Oakland has said something about being in the news and being proud about it. Since most of the news I have heard has been about the self inflicted genocide, I don’t see what one has to be proud about. A documentary aired on the History Channel not too long ago. I believe it is a series about notorious gangs in America. One night while browsing the tube, I came across one done on Oakland. I though immediately about how those young fools probably feel proud instead of ashamed. And oh how I was right. This attitude is disgusting and would make it much harder to fix the issue and end the genocide. If only those fools could see it. More and more Black men are dying each year. Like what Chris Rock said, the African American is going to be an exhibit in a museum. Without Black men, how can one have Black women, Black children, or even a Black future? I once heard that America was perceived as a melting pot, but all I see is the melting of the African American into non-existence.

Ooo! Tackay, Tackay!

I'm going to start something new... This is going to be my "aww hell naw" list of my blog where I say the shit you wanna say, but can't or think you are just too nice to say. I see too much of this shit to remain silent. I'm starting the battle and I'm starting here and now!

Anywho... My snook'ems and I were strolling through Wal-Mart. *gag* And seen this in the movie section next to the other typical "black", straight to DVD, movies. You know... The gospel movies, the "mama please save em's", and the "she/he trippin's." Now, all of those are usually enough for me to roll my eyes. I'm not even going to lie, sometimes I think, "huh, maybe I'll find it on the Internet and try to watch it." But the day I seen this damn movie was when I said enough it a fuqqin nuff!

My boyfriend seen it first. We were in mid-conversation. I was listening to mid-word when all of a sudden there was a pause. Silence followed for a few seconds. "Bloodz Vs. Wolvz? You gottah be f@#kin kiddin' me," blurted out my boyfriend in his heavy New York accent. I couldn't help but bust out into uncontrollable laughter while reading the garbage. The movie is about two groups that run Brooklyn. One runs businesses in the day and the other group runs the night scene. Runnin businesses, great... Tacky premise... Booooo I'm done!!

Really Black movie writers, this is what we are going to allow to let be on the shelves at Wal-Mart? Now, there are crazy movies out there by White folk that just need to be burned, but damn playah... I'm going to start a petition against this type of coonery. Can I get some variety please!? But there is another side to all this.

I have been getting a look at some independent Black movie makers and could admit that I am impressed. But the question is, why isn't this on sale. Well, according to the forces that be, the positive sh!t doesn't sale enough. The different doesn't sale enough. Look at the Black movie section at your local movie spot and see what you see. Yeah, you might get some old-school flicks, but your definitely going to see the typical stuff. I'm not saying its all bad, but be aware of what is being sold and why.

Now If I Slap a Bitch, I'll be Wrong: EDD Blues

With unemployment in California being among the highest in the nation, it should be understandable to anyone that EDD will run a lot slower than usual. Once I became a part of the statistic, (unemployed) I started the claim process with this in mind. Snail service and processing was expected. Ten days is what they told me, but weeks are what I prepared for. Those weeks turned into months. I remained calm and called the EDD office and listened to a long-winded recording warning me that checking on my filed claim would delay the process. “Understandable,” I thought, while quickly hanging up the phone. Then out of the blue I get a voicemail telling me about a letter I should have received about an interview I should have known about. My blood started to warm.

I decided to try my luck and call again. This time, I listened to the entire message and found out that damn message was the end of the line. There was no live voice or somebody I could cuss out, excuse me, voice my difficulties with. Then I called again for the automated voice assistance. The automated voice told me to call back the first number to speak to someone. Circle, circle, circular freakin’ process!! My blood is now boiling.

Online assistance is just as dizzying. Links, that take you to a link, that take you to a link, that takes you back to square one. I almost hulked up!! I would have been a muscular, green, sistah with a lil afro wearing ripped pajamas. Finally, some light was discovered this morning. I sent a message online and should be expecting a call in 24 hours, or so I’ve heard. But if they don’t call me, I swear I’m slappin the shit outah somebody. Now if I do that, I’ll be wrong. Thanks a lot Cali…

Dang! No E-Cigarette either!?

Nothing like a few comfortable hours at the mall shopping. A girlfriend of mine and I sat at the food court about to round up the day when, out of the corner of my eye, I see smoke. "Girl, I think that guy is smoking inside," I lean over and whisper. We both became immediately intrigued. I literally started to believe that a law was passed that I had no clue of. "Hell, if this is a smoking mall, then I could light up right now!" We walked over and was given the spell binding sale's pitch of a century. I smoked inside!! Safe, tasty, smoke anywhere, pure nicotine, none of the disease causing tobacco leaves; sounded pretty convincing.

I have been smoking, off and on, since I was 19. The ugly habit is something I picked up from my ex and a few old friends. Now, at the tender age of 23, I could notice that my lips are a little less pink. My demon is not the cigarette, but the sweet smell of the Black and Mild. I have tasted flavors like creme, apple, wine, and even wood tip. Smoking an entire Black could have never been done in my earlier years, but now I could chain smoke a couple of them while writing and doing homework. Many warn that a Black and Mild is worth 10 cigarettes. I've never gotten proof of such craziness. But I have been convinced to quit. The E-Cigarette was going to be my way out of this addiction.

Well, this morning my bubble was busted as I listened to NPR. Debbie Elliott's article, E-Cigarettes: The New Frontier In War On Smoking, holds the sharp pin and is enough to make me spend my E-Cigarette money on a new pair of shoes instead. It pretty much debunked all of the wonderful things the sales man said at the mall. First of all, it does contain some of the same things put into regular cigarettes. Second, it hasn't even been approved by the FDA. Then to top it all off, it has been banned in other countries. Dude!! What da hell!!?? Can't have nothing!

I have cut down a lot since I started working out and taking care of my body. I guess I gottah do it the old fashion way, cold turkey or gradually.

You could get the full story at:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=111578997

Read BEFO Seein the Movie

Sapphire did her mutha fudgin thing with this book, PUSH!! My golden rule is to always read the book before seeing the movie and it is a must do with this book. When I heard that the movie was coming out and looked at some previews, I yearned to read the book. The trailers were too juicy and just enough to put catching it opening day on my 'to do' list. So, for a while, I searched for it and finally got my copy last Sunday during my vacation in San Luis Obispo. Ever since, I did not, no, could not leave the house without it!

Reading like a forbidden memoir, PUSH grants insight into the life of an invisible person. All the devastating aspects that perhaps one would catch if Precious was white, skinny, attractive, light skinned, or well to do go sickeningly unnoticed. She seems to slip through the cracks of inner city society and ultimately lives the life of an invisible person unseen by her mother, father, and school officials. And one knows there are so many, not only young black girls, but young black boys in these communities that suffer the same; visible enough to suffer, but not visible enough to be thrown a life line.

Sapphire does a wonderful job at allowing Precious to tell her story first hand with exceptional vernacular that is genuine enough to be believable and unperceivable as overdone. What I truly loved about Sapphire's attention to this detail was the fact that Precious' sentence structure and word choice gradually improved with her educational achievements. It was a realistic improvement, meaning she did not go from speaking straight up Ebonics to conversing like a college graduate or high school graduate for that matter.

I love a gooooood memoir, fiction or non-fiction and this is another to put on the list for repeat. I laughed, teared up, rolled my eyes, and even "aw hell naw" while on the train during my usual commutes. Buy the book or get to your local library and give it a read before the movie comes out. Release date has been set for November 6, 2009. Write it in your calenders or punch it into your Blackberry. Please support and don't bootleg.

One More Sip?

So I read this article on MSN Health and Fitness that discussed 2009's unhealthiest drinks in America. Of course one of them came from one of my highest temptations. Born of a family that loves fast, delicious, crack coffee, I was doomed when one popped up on every corner and in damn near every mall. As soon as I became apart of the working force, quick coffee based beverages became a must have.

MSN listed a hot chocolate item from Starbucks at 760 calories. Now this is only hot chocolate. While reading the article, I laughed at the weakling whom went to Starbucks for child's play and got duked on the calorie intake. Then my laughs turned into a sad realization. If hot chocolate could pack on 760 calories, could you imagine what a flippin venti Caramel Macchiato could do?! Damage, I know.

I used to consume a total of three Caramel Macchiatos a week. There to administer my fixes were Pete's Coffee, Java City, Starbucks, and Ambrosia. I hardly ever did Pete's, but I used to love Java City for the quickness, Starbucks for the familiarity, and Ambrosia for that small downtown feel. Java City actually had only 410 calories for its Caramel Machiatto. But coupling that with a scone or a chocolate filled croissant and there goes a huge amount of calories allowed to me for that day.

One knows that coffee and a pastry is not feeling enough. I would do this around 8am and then need a snack by 10am to only have a huge lunch by noon and then at least be able to wait for dinner around 7pm or later. And I sometimes would have the nerve to be hungry after that.

Goal is to stay away from the crack coffee's and stop drinking my money away, consuming products that would only hurt me in the long run.

This Song Says It All

Groovin’ in the back ground, the sounds of Chris Botti and Jill Scott give testimony to how I’m suffering. The creamy sound of Chris Botti’s trumpet lustfully smoothes over a deep, but graceful base line like butter milk. The effortlessly beautiful percussion saddens my mood to the relieving sensation of a much needed cry. Words finally make their appearance, intertwining with melody to perfectly aid like a midwife to the birth of this sobby state of mind.

“Good Morning Heartache” was Billie Holiday’s confession that bled with the pain of a faithful drug addiction. Going to sleep with the hope that the rejuvenation of night would somehow erase the troublesome behavior was her wishful thinking. Truth be told, it is mine as well. Some would agree and argue that her heartache were the drugs while I know that my heartache is my weight of course. I wake up in the morning having to say good morning to it, acknowledging its presents. There is no running from it or taking a break. Every time I wanted to forget about the extra 75 pounds burdening my frame and masking my sexy figure, it would be glaring at me in reflections; faithful until I decide if it’s going to be me or it.

Unfortantly for the talented and beautiful Billie Holiday, it was her. "Good Morning Heartache" sometimes finds itself into my subconcious, coming from my lips in the form of a hum. Chris Botti and Jill Scott's cover of this beautiful song only gives me another reason to love it even more. Cover could be found on To Love Again: The Duets. Enjoy

Weight: 235 lbs.

Height: 5'4

Age: 23

Cause: Addiction to everything that tears my guts apart but taste freakin delicious!

Issues: Muffin top, RITZ (Raw Inner Thighz), Spending all my morning time lookin for something to wear that would hide the muffin top and give me a cute shape.

Damn! Look at that sexy sistah! She's even pretty down to her perfect sized thighs. And the look in her face is flippin fierce! Go head gurl! That fine young woman I often find myself drooling over is me. Those trips down memory lane could be so painful. Back to the days when I was 20 and a perfectly shaped 160 pounds; muscular thighs and nice arms. As I listen to Sade's "Is It A Crime," I find myself feeling the same way about my body before husky boyfriends. Is it a crime that I still want her and I want her to want me too. I mean even down to Sade's description of how deep her love was matches the love I have for my shape at the time of this pic. I think I was even proudly conceded. "Well why did you leave her then, if you loved her so damn much?"

I would have to say it was my love for food that broke us up. I cheated on her with bread, butter, donuts, fried animal flesh, and chocolate. Blowing up my conscious like a neglected baby mama in need of diaper money, I ignored her. Friends and family warned me that this beautiful union would end. They kept reminding me of how much I would miss her if she left. One could say I was a food hoe. Not that I gave up my body for food, well... Yes I did!! I fell victim to the goodies and the eating habits of the big men, the thick football players, the "stuff it for fuel" lovers. I woke up a month ago disgusted with myself. Disgusted with muffin tops and crying every morning because nothing fits. I woke up unhappy and alone, alone in the sense of not having love for myself.

This is my confession and commitment to her; the confident woman that made me feel oh so good about myself. Her and I would be one again damn it!!