Los Angeles! Arrivederci e Grazie!

As I leave Los Angeles for a new and exciting adventure, I reflect and give thanks for my 

3.5 years in this awesome city! 

Thank you!

For the Sun, Ocean, Mountains and never ending beauty...

For wonderful friends

 Thanks for four hours a day commuting to and from a job that was only 17 miles away 

from my home ~sarcasm intended~

In Los Angeles I had my first ever Stand-Up Comedy performance and I finally learned how to swim (without my floatie!!)

In Los Angeles I received sight! Without glasses...

Thanks to Assil Eye Institute.

Thanks for the food!

Ramen burgers, In N Out, Roscoe's, and the best Mexican food I have ever had in the 

United States (I see you Peacha's).

Although pizza is not quite the same as in NYC, I still had fun trying to find the 

perfect pie (thumbs up Settebello and Provo).

Thank you for allowing me to get in touch with ME. 

Your geography lends itself to isolation which seemed to be a curse but ended up a blessing. 

As a result, I figured out what is truly important in life and what I want for my future.

Thank you for proving how strong I am. 

NYC was tough but you are tougher. 

But through it all the sunshine made everything OK

Thank you for slowing me down and allowing me to enjoy life a little bit more.

Los Angeles

Thanks for the memories!

Ciao bella 

xoxo

A Full Year - Blog Free

A full year off from blogging was completely unintentional.

I have been caught up in work and figuring out life. Taking care of goals that have been put on the back burner.

I think I am on to something, something that speaks to my title Eat, Sing, Pray even more closely. That speaks to my purpose!

It takes straying from the purpose to return to it in a new way. I suppose such is life. Such is the way of our journey.

Until next time...

Ciao!

Hasta la Vista Baby!

My first trip to Europe occurred in 1999.  As a flight attendant, I had the opportunity to fly to Paris for $50 round trip, in business class! What can I say; it was one of the major perks of the job since I barely made 18K that year.

Somehow it felt like I belonged there, it was a supernatural feeling. It felt like home. But then I traveled to London (half a dozen times), then Rome, and Berlin and Switzerland. They all felt the same, like home. I had the opportunity to travel to other parts of the world including Asia but no other place tugged on my heart like Europe.

The tug on my heart inspired me to put in a base transfer to Paris and London. I steadily advanced towards the top of the transfer list but I was laid off in 2001. All hope was lost. I was counting on a working visa with the airline. My plan; establish roots in the new country, learn the language if necessary then establish citizenship.

After years of moving around, from my hometown in Michigan to Philadelphia to New York City to South Carolina back to New York City and now Los Angeles, my heart continues to feel the tug. But why?

I found comfort in my conundrum while reading Tina Turner's life story . She experienced the same feeling when she visited Europe for the first time. Now she is a citizen of Switzerland. I also found camaraderie in a post on the Black Women in Europe blog. The author brings up the subject of the increasing hostility in the US towards people of color, despite our so-called Post Racial Society. At the same time, many African Americans throughout history, especially artists, moved to Europe to flee racial discrimination. Obviously, I am not alone...

Sixteen years since I landed in Paris for the first time, I find myself in the same boat, trying to figure out a way to move to Europe. I have a few ideas brewing in my mind. And I narrowed down my country of choice to Italy. But the HOW is still to be determined. I have to trust that if my heart is in it, the universe will make way! Here's to possible changes ahead!!

Dating Los Angeles Style

This article was originally submitted to the Los Angeles Times but they didn't publish it. 

I could have used the $300 bucks. 

Oh Well... Here it is for you all to enjoy!

**names have been changed to protect and respect their privacy**

I started to cry in my doctor’s office after our discussion about getting pregnant at my advanced age. I wasn’t the only one, as I admitted my embarrassment she let me know she kept a box of tissues on her desk for that very reason. According to statistics, as a 42-year-old black female I have a better chance getting hit by lightening on Venice Beach than getting married. It seems that catching Ebola is more of a possibility than catching a man for me. As old fashioned as it may seem, I want to be married before I bring a child into the world. And at this point I am past the proverbial biological clock ticking, soon the biological clock alarm will sound.

I moved to Los Angeles from New York City in 2013. Surprisingly, I have found it incredibility difficult to connect with people in general let alone connect with possible guys to date. Some guys will agree to coffee or drinks and never confirm. The few that do confirm to meet up are looking for a friend with benefits. To complicate the dating issue even more, I am very open to dating interracially.  Even though I keep an open mind when considering a guy to date, some aren’t so open to dating a girl of my hue. However, not to be discouraged, I have continued to “put myself out there” and make things happen.

I have tried online dating countless times with no success. I have been on pretty much every popular and not so popular online dating site there is. But I decided to try again when I moved to Los Angeles. I joined Tinder after my sister sent me a link to the app. That was a big mistake. My time on tinder was short lived when several ‘gentlemen’ suggested a two am drive over to my place to ‘talk’.  I am not interested in a one-night stand. Thank you.

I started to reassess my situation. Could I be playing the dating game wrong? I had to reconsider what is important. Countless advice columns suggest single women over 40 should lower their standards to improve their dating options.  Unfortunately, I happen to be attracted to smart, funny, fit guys. Generally guys my age aren’t so fit. Despite my youthful and fit appearance I started to look out side the box and this is what happened...

I met Todd a 38-year-old sales executive on OK Cupid; we are both East Coast transplants and had a great phone conversation. I decided to meet him for drinks at an awesome place, The Bowery in Hollywood, which reminded me of New York City. I wore flats but towered over him at 5’4”. However, as much as I tried to force it, there was no chemistry between us.

I met Randy a 55-year-old software engineer at a Speed Dating event. During our five-minute speed date we had a great conversation. I wasn’t attracted to him at all but felt I should at least try. We met up at Perch with a table overlooking the beautiful DTLA skyline. This could have been a potentially romantic environment but it went south very quickly.  His insecurity seemed to get the best of him, he became a bit controlling and possessive, and it made me uncomfortable so I did not pursue a second date.

I tried a Lock and Key event at El Cid in Silverlake. The venue was excellent and so were the hors d'oeuvres provided with the price of admission. Every girl received a lock for the guys to unlock with their key. During the course of the evening I talked to as many guys as possible to see if they had the key to my lock and perhaps my heart. By the end of the night I had enough guys to open my lock to win two tickets to the Laemmle Theatre. Unfortunately I didn’t find a match so I will be going to the movies with me and myself.

As I began to think outside the box I realized the MeetUp groups I already frequented had plenty of single men. Since I started learning Italian recently, I joined an Italian conversation group. At one of the meetings I met Antonio, an avid soccer player, born and raised in Italy who was willing to help me practice speaking Italian. We met up for wine and cheese at Luna Vine Wine Bar. We had a lovely time and met up again. But all good things seem to come to an end as it relates to my dating life. He had to return to Italy indefinitely to help his family.

Ironically, it seems I have more luck with long distance dating. And I don’t mean dating a guy who lives as far away as Long Beach (I’m a Valley girl). I started dating a few guys who live across the Atlantic. The time zone difference alone makes it challenging to communicate. But as my biological alarm is soon to sound, I may need to consider the possibility that love could lead me away from Los Angeles. But the guy will have to be pretty special to tear me away from the city I have grown to love.

My Holiday Gift!

My Wish: Reflection and Gratitude

After the year our country and world has endured. I wish the world peace, kindness and love!

This year has been a difficult one. 2014 has had its ups and downs. 2014 mirrors 2013 in a lot of ways. I wonder what I am not learning about life. Apparently there are lessons I still need to learn.

The only thing that's different is how I have chosen to react to the ups and downs. I don't react perfectly but I try. Very hard. 

My reaction. Thankfulness.

I am thankful for what I have in my life. Thankful for friends, very dear friends. For family, because many aren't blessed to have present family members. Thankful for health and a wonderful place to live. For all of this I am very thankful. 

Whenever I feel rejected or disappointed or long for all my dreams to come true, I try to think of what I am thankful for. 

As hard as it may be, my 2015 goal is to be thankful for the downs as much as the ups. Hopefully the ups will outweigh the downs this year.

Here's to a happy and healthy 2015 to all of you!

Victim Blaming and Shaming

My last post discussed my response to the Cosby rape allegations. But another news story brought up some unpleasant memories from my past once again.

A New York Times article discussed recent recommendations regarding the sexual abuse cover up affiliated with my alma mater Bob Jones University. 

According to the article...

"Bob Jones University told sexual abuse victims they were to blame for their situations, some of which took place for long periods of childhood; report says university actively advised victims not to report such incidents to police; respondents to confidential survey detailed hurtful, often startling treatment by the evangelical Christian institution"

I may need to explain the reason I attended BJU in a separate blog post since I get questions whenever I am brave enough to actually admit to attending the school. But I did go to BJU and what the article states is not at all surprising. 

I attended an Independent Fundamental Baptist Church (IFB) while I lived in New York City from 1998-2003. When I first arrived I felt the people to be loving and kind.  But soon, the extreme doctrine the pastor preached was taking over my life. I was a dancer, musician and actor but gave all of that up to serve God. I wanted to go into the music ministry and since my former pastor attended BJU, I decided to get my Master's degree there. 

Before I left for BJU in 2003, one of the elders in the church was acting inappropriately towards the women in the congregation. Both single and married. To shed some light on what is regarded as inappropriate in this environment I need to explain the male and female dynamics in an IFB church.

Men and women who are not married are not to touch beyond a hand shake. IF that. Depending on the person a short side hug may be appropriate. But hardly. Especially between an unmarried man and woman. The picture below illustrates my point beautifully. Or you can watch a couple of episodes of 19 Kids and Counting to get an even better idea.  

The elder in the church would continually flirt with women. It got to the point where there was a competition between the single girls in church over who would get his attention each week. At the same time I hung out with him at a mutual friend's home and communicated with him via email regularly. Thinking his flirting, emails of a sexual nature and winking was an indication of interest I began to follow his "lead". After 6-8 months of this cat and mouse chase, I learned I was just another conquest. And it was pretty devastating. I guess I was expecting the men in church to treat women with more respect and care than when I interacted with men outside of the church. 

After I got over the situation I realized what he was doing was not only harmful to individuals but to the church as a whole. The pastor constantly preached on the purity of the church so I thought that this situation was detrimental to the health of the church. I knew it was really bad when a fellow church member called me crying about how she was sure he was coming on to her but then he later said he didn't mean it. 

So I went through the steps in Matthew 18:15 

1- If your brother sins, go and show him his fault in private - I went to him in private to discuss the situation. He said he had issues with sexual thoughts. OK.

2- If he listens to you, you have won your brother. - The behavior continued. 

3- But if he does not listen to you, take one or two more with you, so that by the mouth of two or three witnesses every fact may be confirmed. - I went with a friend, still the behavior continued, we finally went to the pastor.

What was interesting is that when I told the other women I was going to the pastor, none of them would come with me. Only one faithful friend did. But there were at least 3 other women who could have joined me. But didn't.

The final word from the pastor in this entire ordeal? "Well, he is an attractive man." my reply..."What is THAT supposed to mean"

You have to understand this was only 2 years after the ordeal surrounding the director exposing himself to me at Second City. So as a result, this blow to my trust reopened the wound. I was admittedly suicidal and I lost a lot of weight, nearly 15 pounds. By the grace of GOD I did not throw myself in front of a subway train. 

After graduation I returned to New York City and told the pastor I would not be returning to the church because he tolerated sinful behavior from one of the elders. His response... "He is a good friend of mine and he seeks to glorify God"

This elder did not act out on any of these sexual conversations, at least with me. But who knows if a woman is hiding a sexual assault incident because she knows the pastor and congregation would blame her for it. Or do nothing about it. 

It happened to Tina Anderson

The folks affiliated with the IFB want to distance and distinguish themselves from the Orthodox Catholic Church and Fundamental Islam. But they are really the same. They cover up sexual abuses in the church and stone victims of abuse, perhaps not physically but emotionally and spiritually. 

May God have mercy.

It's Not Rape

Cee Lo Green's twitter rant, It's not Rape if the woman is passed out and the recent Bill Cosby assault allegations re-opened an old wound of mine.

I was an eager 24 year old performer hitting the pavement in my hometown outside Detroit, Michigan. Following graduation I was determined to make it in the business so I auditioned like crazy anywhere and everywhere I could.

Following a contract at a summer stock theatre in Augusta, Michigan I got a call from Second City - Detroit to join their touring company and understudy the main stage show. I was SO excited. I wanted to be on Saturday Night Live and I was certain this opportunity could open the door.

Our director was an unstable individual, at his own admission he was mentally ill. He regularly drank liquor at rehearsals and had awful mood swings. At the same time, a fellow cast member and I struck up a somewhat flirty friendship. The two situations came to a boil on a night in October. October 30th, Devil's Night.

During rehearsal a few castmates and our director went to the bar for a bottle of vodka. Towards the end of rehearsal our director became increasingly angered by our lack of imagination during the improv games. He started to focus his anger towards me and proceeded to unzipped his pants and show me his penis saying "is this what girls like?". I screamed, told him to stop and covered my eyes. But he continued. I ran from the room, he followed me, grabbed me and kept me from going to the lobby for help. He started to cry and tell me about how no one loves him and how he wanted to help us become better performers.

After we were 'released' from rehearsal my flirtatious friend who I thought was there to comfort me furthered my terror that night. He took me to his apartment and proceeded to undress and initiate sex with me. At that point I was in no position to fight physically, I was drained and in shock from what happened at rehearsal. All I could say is "I don't want to" over and over. He finally stopped. But from that moment on it has been near impossible to trust situations where I am required to trust others during times of weakness.

I later found out two of my castmates were sober enough to see what was going on but did not do anything to help. I was very young, very impressionable and eager. I didn't want to make a scene, I was intimidated and afraid that my career would not be furthered if I disclosed what happened to me (even though half the cast witnessed it). I was also shocked and ashamed that a person who was trusted with the safety and creative growth of a group of performers could do something so awful.

A week later we convened for more rehearsals and everyone including myself tried to act like nothing happened until months later when word got out. It's interesting how people are into gossiping about stuff but don't bother to reach out and help. Our producer gathered the cast together and confronted us about the situation. Still, nothing was done to the director. No charges brought against him or any punishment rendered. I didn't say a word throughout the entire ordeal. I was numb, hurt and ashamed. He was transferred. And we were all let go from our contract.

I understand why these women are coming forward. I feel foolish for not saying anything back then. The now me without a doubt would say something. But I was not the woman that I am today. If telling my story can make a change or help another victim then at least something "good" can come from it.

It's really a shame that victims are blamed and questioned. Time and time again a woman is put on the spot about her role in rape. What she wears, how she acted, what she said, what she did or didn't say. The man? He's supported and defended.

Can we please agree that the only time it is ok to initiate sexual behavior of any kind is if the person says yes. Only YES! That a person will not drug or coerce or use power and position to force anyone into sex. I pray those pointing their fingers will never have to be in the position these individuals (including myself) found themselves in.

Am I Funny?

I grew up watching a lot of comedy, I touched on this in a previous post.  Outside of music, watching comedy or funny stuff in general was a saving grace in my life. 

News of the unexpected death of Robin Williams really got me thinking. Especially this article about why funny people kill themselves. It's sad that many of our most beloved entertainers are in so much emotional pain. It doesn't seem fair really, we enjoy their talents yet THEY are in pain.

I recently started performing stand up comedy. I honestly do not think I am funny but people seem to laugh at me (or with me?). I was never a class clown, instead a really quiet and sullen child. 

Here I am at like 3 being silly in front of the camera...

But then life happened and I started to become a serious girl. This was me at age 8 or so. Sad :-(

I tried stand up out of curiosity and now I am actively dating Stand-Up comedy. But along the way I have been discovering for myself...

1- Comedy is therapy - I have been able to tell stories about some pretty painful experiences in my act, people laugh and I get to laugh too. And start to confront those demons that haunt me. But in a funny way.

Through humor, you can soften some of the worst blows that life delivers. And once you find laughter, no matter how painful your situation might be, you can survive.

--Bill Cosby

2 - Comedy is ownership - I write my own material and present it in the way I want. No director telling me it's wrong, or no auditions (other than open mics that are really less like auditions to me)

I started doing comedy because that was the only stage that I could find. 

--Robin Williams

3 - Comedy is fun - Who doesn't love to laugh or get laughed at. 

I don't trust anyone who doesn't laugh.

--Maya Angelou

4 - Comedy is truth - There is a book called Truth in Comedy that talks about the obvious. Truth in Comedy. I tell folks that all my jokes are based on true stories. And that's the truth. Sometimes truth is funnier than fiction. At least mine is. 

"The truth is funny. Honest discovery, observation, and reaction is better than contrived invention." 

- Del Close & Charna Halper

5 - Comedy is male dominated - Men comics outnumber the women comics and that should change. Or maybe they don't outnumber us, they just get more recognition. 

If someone is willing to make a blanket statement like “women aren’t funny,” they probably have some issue relating to or stemming from a woman in their past, probably mom 

-- Jessica Delfino

6 - Comedy is subjective - Not everyone finds the same things funny and that is ok. I have personally laughed at some stuff that no one else in the room is laughing at. But I laugh LOUD so hopefully that encourages the performer on stage.

In black neighborhoods, everybody appreciated comedy about real life. In the white community, fantasy was funnier. I started looking for the jokes that were equally hilarious across the board, for totally different reasons.

--Will Smith

7 - Comedy is change - As I learn and grow, I realize I can address issues through laughter. Several comics have made light of societal ills in their acts. And they do this extremely well, making people laugh AND think.

The human race has only one really effective weapon and that is laughter.

--Mark Twain

FOOL

I was a fool to think I could prove to you how smart and intelligent I am

I was a fool to think you could want more than my body

I was a fool to think you would stop when I said no

I was a fool to allow you to become my friend with emotional benefits

I was a fool to think a man of God would be different than the others

I was a fool to think you would marry me, instead of her

I was a fool to believe my kindness would make you stay

I was a fool to think being good, sweet and kind would draw you closer

I was a fool to think you would stay after I gave you what you wanted

I was a fool to think I was good enough when one woman could never be

I was a fool to wait for your texts, your calls, emails 

I was a fool to think you would wait for me

I was a fool to think you were different than the others

I was a fool to think you wouldn't disappear 

I was a fool to think that passionate kiss meant something to you

I was a fool to trust you, and you, and you, and you, and you, and you, and you, and you

I am a fool to hide my own heart unwilling to trust again...

....so I won't be a fool.

 again.

Rescue!

I am such a sucker for animal rescue stories. One particular group I follow closely is Hopes For Paws.

Here is a video from one of their rescues...

If you watched the video you noticed that the poor dog was so afraid of another human hurting her that she growled and snapped to protect herself. She thought her rescuer was like all the other humans, mean and abusive. 

Those of us looking at the situation from the outside know this particular human is going to love and care for this dog. But how is the dog to know? Especially when that's all she knew? 

But then at the end of the video you see her running, playing and socializing like she had never been hurt before. The happy ending is my favorite part.

I feel like that scared dog. I have been hurt over and over, I distrust other humans. Specifically, male humans. But female humans are pretty mean too. I growl and bite on the inside. I have a nice shiny steel plate over my heart. To protect me from the bad ones, and the good ones too.

It's sad because I really would like a happy ending like this dog but I have no idea which human is going to be the nice one. They seem charming, respectful and kind. But they turn, leaving me like this poor dog. Scared and distrustful.

This human needs a Hopes For Paws. Or maybe Hopes for Hands and Feet since I don't have paws...

I want a puppy.

Through the Pain

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. Psalm 56:8

The bottle is huge, the book is thick. My share of sorrow is expansive. I'm sure a lot of yours too. There's an ocean of tears. None of us are immune to pain, sorrow, disappointment, hurt, and betrayal. 

It's what we do through the pain that matters. The pathway between the initial "strike" or "infliction" and the joy on the other side. It's a murky and foggy time. The light peeks through the dark long enough for temporary relief but then the wave of pain and remembrance returns. 

The bounce from one extreme to another never really ends. But there is the other side. The side that allows a new beginning. The new normal.

Just like a physical wound, the healing seems all done from the outside, but we soon realize the scars are deep. Very deep. Fragile. If we aren't careful another strike can re-open the wound. 

But then there's the scar tissue. It never goes away completely. But we get stronger and stronger. We learn from the pain or simply accept this as part of our journey. 

We grow.

To finally burst through takes courage, it takes work and energy. To stay in the pain may seem the only option for awhile, however that state isn't how life was intended. 

Through the pain is the way. 

Past the pain is the way. 

Beyond the pain. 

To joy.

Allow the journey through the pain. Your Creator takes note and knows. 

Know Your Worth!

This awesome site Baggage Reclaim has helped me immensely these last few months. Today I read this...

"People don’t always value others or even their things. That doesn’t mean that the person or the object lacks value – it just means that the person doesn’t value it because of their own relationship with themselves and their value system".


And...

"Don’t make judgements about you based on a perspective gained from being treated in a less than manner – spend more time regaining your sense of self and nurturing you, than you do trying to legitimise crappy treatment by ripping your character apart".

I have crazy expensive taste. It never fails, I manage to pick up the most expensive item at the department store. It can be quite frustrating being on a tight budget. At the same time I often shop at Goodwill. Not long ago I found a Barneys New York blazer. To the unaware shopper the blazer probably looked like any other. However, the blazer retails for close to $400.00. I bought it for $7.99.

Just like the blazer, I find others may not recognize my worth. But I know my worth. I also know there are a few that can identify my worth. Those who identify my worth are in for a treat.

YOU are invaluable, know your worth!

I'm Coming Out...

I thought we had come a long way since Loving v. Virginia until I heard that two high profile women Lanisha Cole and Tamera Mowry experienced backlash as a result of their interracial relationships. The backlash was primarily from African Americans which was especially disappointing.

With such a high percentage of unmarried African American women, why not look outside the box? And why blame them for doing so? Most important, why question the power of love which reaches far beyond race, culture or creed.

Perhaps there isn't an attraction, I will give them that. But for me that isn't an issue. I simply find myself attracted to Caucasian men. I have dated men of various races/cultures of course but somehow I cannot deny my attraction.

This picture below represents my "type". Put these guys in a blender and you have my dream come true! So there you have it, I'm out of the closet.

Happy Birthday! To ME...

A girl never tells her age, but...

2014 is the year I head into the 7th cycle of my life. The theory states that all humans go through changes in 7 year intervals. If you count from age 0-7 that would be one cycle and so on. 

It didn't seem feasible until I did further research in relation to my own life. I found that I could pinpoint the changes in my life at every 7 year cycle. For instance, the last cycle that will end on my birthday this year was a cycle of Spiritual awakening. This is absolutely true, these last 7 years have been a journey into who God means to me.

The coming cycle is one of continued individuality, specifically living life on my own terms. The next 7 years may bring decisions that would seem contrary to my personality or character. Instead it's the culmination of all my life experiences, observations and lessons informing these decisions.

What some would call a mid-life crisis, I call a mid-life awakening.

Here's to the journey...

Can You Hear My Voice? Part 2

Can you hear YOUR voice?

I recently completed a meditation called "Finding Your Voice". During the meditation we were asked to make sounds in a state of relaxation without judgement and without regard for what sounds we created. I heard parts of my voice I never knew existed, the sensation was indescribable. It got me thinking further about whether or not my voice is authentic.

The only true voice I ever knew was the voice I used to make music. It was the only way I could express myself freely. And initially it was instrumental music that I used to express myself, specifically through the piano.

However, I desperately wanted to sing but my school choir directors didn't regard my voice. I went through all of my musical education thinking I could not sing. When I was finally chosen to sing the choir directors would put me in the alto section because I could read music. I believe the alto label was incorrect, but it followed me and I complied.

During my teens Madonna, Whitney Houston, Janet Jackson were all the rage (I'm dating myself here). I remember singing along trying my best to sound like each of them, and many of my peers did the same. As I started to work in Musical Theatre, I had to adjust my voice to appease the various musical styles. It was usually done in an unhealthy way. Nevermind throwing dancing in the mix with the singing.

I was attracted to classical singing later in life so all of the confusion I already had about my voice was compounded by expectations. Instead of letting my voice be what it was it had to have a label. And once it was labeled there were always the questions about what it was.

To further confuse my voice were the folks who thought I needed to sing like a black person (whatever that means). I already experienced judgement because I didn't talk like a black person (again, whatever that means). It just never made sense to me. I speak like ME and I sing like ME too.

Incidently, the singers we all know and love are those with a unique or authentic voice. Someone who speaks their truth in a way no one else can. Yet we rarely pursue that on our own, instead we try to copy those voices that do not belong to us.

So in conclusion, perhaps learning about ourselves can reveal more about our voices. The alternative is to let others define them for us. This can go a long way in not just singing or talking but also truly listening to our intuition and inner spirit.

Can you hear YOUR voice?

I Do, So I Teach

I've been undergoing a career transformation of sorts. After being let go from the third office job in a row, I started to feel a shift. This shift was encouraged by a visit to The Actor's Fund for career counseling. It is clear that right now performing doesn't pay all the bills so having a job to fill in the blanks is a necessity.

During my conversation with my career counselor she presented some options. She asked me with all sensitivity if performing is something I still wish to pursue, I said yes. Next, she offered a possible option. I know it should have seemed perfectly obvious that a parallel career is completely normal for performers but I was so sucked into the 9-5 vortex that it didn't occur to me.

Since 2007 in addition to the 9-5 job I teach a fine arts course online part time. Of all the 'non-performing' jobs I have had, this one doesn't leave me with fits of despair. Instead, I feel a sense of joy and fulfillment sharing my love for the arts with my students.

As a youth, teaching seemed undesirable largely due to the lack of positive teacher role models. I have had some pretty unsupportive teachers, with a few exceptions (whom I am extremely very grateful for). Because of those few exceptions, I try to pass on the gift they gave to others. It also didn't occur to me that I could be any good at teaching. As teaching began to cross my mind, I applied for a Teaching Fellows program twice, no luck. After graduate school I was accepted into a second Master's degree program in Early Childhood Music Education at Columbia University, but despite a $5,000 scholarship the tuition was still too high to absorb.

Besides, how does the saying go? Those who cannot do teach? I beg to differ...

I can do, and I do too! This is why I love to teach. If my passion for what I do as an artist wasn't apart of my life I wouldn't be able to teach at all. My love for the arts allows me to be passionate about what I teach. Believe me, they get it and thank me for it.

Thank you Sina!!! I started slow, but I ended up LOVING this class and started really getting interested in the arts!! - Scott S.

I just wanted to tell you that I have really enjoyed this class.  I'm bummed it is coming to an end! My desire is that I walk away from a class feeling like I gained new knowledge and I can really say that for this class! Thank you so much for being a part of my personal and academic growth!  - Elizabeth D.

I would like to thank you for being so understanding, I think you are one of the nicest instructors that have taught me how to open myself up to more culture.   - Renee L.

Within the last few months I have added two more online schools to my roster so I'll be doing alot more of my new or not so new parallel career. If only I was getting the 9-5 pay. Hopefully that will work itself out. Perhaps by doing more doing?

Black History IS American History

I always thought of myself as Black until my freshman year in college when people started calling me African American. I still find this perplexing as I know there is such thing as a Japanese American, a German American, or a Mexican American. In my opinion an African American is a person who  immigrated to America from Africa.

Black Americans did not immigrate here. We were brought here against our will. We built this country from the beginning. At the same time Native Americans (who are really the only ones who can truly call themselves Americans if in fact that is what they called this - their land) were here before any of us.

Since we built this land, in many cases were care givers to the early presidents, and have the same blood as the "founders" of this land through the forced or mutual sexual activities between slave and owner.

Why is our history segregated?

Why is our history squeezed into one month in the year?

Our history IS American History. Slavery IS apart of American History. The Civil Rights Movement IS apart of American History.

It seems that there could be or should be a re-thinking of how we teach our youth about history of all types. Music History, Art History, World History. Instead of focusing on the Western side of the story, can we integrate all of the stories? Can we see history from the point of view of the Native American, South African, Chinese, Brazilian?

During my education it was made clear that the only valid history was that belonging to the European and their descendants (even on this side of the pond). When I studied Music History in college and graduate school it was focused solely on Western tradition with a splash of World Music. If a student wanted to learn about World Music it was a separate class. Lumping all the rest of the world into a single class. As if to say this isn't the "real" or "mainstream" Music History. In fact, I'm really not sure why American schools focus so much on the European tradition anyway since our Music History is reflective of World Music with all the influences due to immigration and slavery.

I really wish we could stop segregating our stories. I wish we could see each of our histories as reflective and inverse to one another. A history of our people includes all of it. All stories. And not just a story to tell one month in the year.

Steal My Heart?

In honor of Valentine's Day month, I am coming to you in the flesh...

xoxoxo

Can You Hear My Voice? Part 1

It occurred to me that many of us may not know what our true voices sound like. How many times have you recorded your voice, heard the play back only to say "I sound like that?" Of course there are many physical/auditory reasons for that but bear with me as I explore this idea...


It is my opinion that the only true voice we ever possessed was at birth. That first cry. It was authentic, unrestrained, even welcomed with enthusiasm "hooray she/he is alive." But then things start to change. Mom and Dad start to "hush" the baby, start to wonder what each cry means, assign roles to each cry. As we get even older we are taught about the inside and outside voices and when to use them. Then we are told never to use a certain tone with our elders. As we age even further into puberty the girls are encouraged to keep a girly voice and boys will lament for not having bass in the voice at age 12.


But our literal voices are not the only thing we alter. What we say with our voices starts to become taboo. In my household I rarely had a say. Shut up and/or stupid. These words met my ideas. So I started to keep things to myself. "Quiet my voice."School wasn't any better. I remember writing a paper on date rape in the 8th grade. Don't ask me how I knew about something like that, let's say that I was mature beyond my years or perhaps clairvoyant. My male teacher didn't seem to like the paper and gave me a C without any red markings. When I inquired his behavior was so ill a meeting with the principal was warranted.


My former church was an extension of family and school. When I tried pointing out a sin by an authority figure it was met with silence. Thankfully GOD hears my voice otherwise I would have ended up in a coffin over all the ill in the church I attended for many years.


I'm sure most of you have stories to tell about not being heard, taken seriously, or plain told to shut your face.

After years of silencing, molding, and controlling the voice, where does that leave us?

Can we recognize it anymore?

Can we even hear our voice?

Can anyone else hear us?

Really hear us?