Black Girl In The City.


Guess Who’s Got A New Home?
March 19, 2010, 12:49 am
Filed under: Writer's Log | Tags:

Me! 🙂

www.black-girlinthecity.com

{Many thanks to each and every person I’ve connected with through this blog.  Our discussions, bitch sessions, and  your open willingness to follow and contribute  to my everyday thoughts has been the fuel that’s kept me writing.  You are my inspiration.  Thank you.  -bg.}

Advertisements


the power of perspective.
September 4, 2009, 2:28 am
Filed under: Chapter Next, Writer's Log

5813_139704959121_556314121_3369803_5953439_n

Music: Jay-Z // History

Things are finally somewhat back to  normal.   I say somewhat because so much has changed within my life and within me.   The world just looks different if that makes any kind of sense at all.    Boy I tell you.  There is so much power in perspective, and I love how life’s lessons have a way of showing up in the most peculiar and unexpected places just so that we may know how to look at things a bit differently.

-black girl.



the re-intro.
March 15, 2009, 8:00 am
Filed under: Writer's Log | Tags: , , ,

hellomynameissp

So, it’s been a minute since I’ve updated but a necessary break I needed to take. Instead of typing a mile long mini-series on where I’ve been and what’s been happening I’ve decided to begin right here. Today and now. I’ll admit I spent a couple of weeks trying to figure out how to jump back into this and a couple more obsessing on what to say once I actually did.

Things have been happening quickly so it’s been quite a task to keep up with myself let alone the blog spot. Narcissistic perfectionism? Probably but I accept that lol. Eventually I picked up on the fact that my personal campaign for over-thinking had gotten me nowhere, literally. So my only logical solution was to get back in here and pick up where I left off, swag turned on of course. 😉

-black girl.



expect a solution & let it rock.
October 14, 2008, 6:42 am
Filed under: Inspiration, Writer's Log | Tags: , , ,

Megan G. (this if for EB!) | Sexalicious

Ok so I’ve been on this whole, positive is as positive does and so on kinda gig, just making an effort to pay attention to the positive. Glass always full kinda thing. Honestly, I really feel corny being so chipper and happy but I had to ask myself why that was so. Why it felt so AB-normal to be happy for no other reason than for the sake of being happy. Odd but real.

Thinking on The Flip Side.

“Today’s going to be an awesome day isn’t?” M, ingenious little one #2 was trotting behind me to the car with two fluffy pig tails, a pint-sized violin and a smile on her face.

“Yep,” she smiled, “Today we select the designs for the student council T-shirts.”

“Right. You’re Vice President now. I’m so proud of you,” I said unlocking the car door.

Despite the fact that I had a million and one things to think about, I chose to think about the best and declare that my day offer something good back. Instead of snarling at the fact that I’d be stuck carting my mom to work for the next two weeks – listening to her bwah bwah about much of nothing, I drove thankful. Thankful that I have a mother alive and well that cares for me even through the fog of her own struggles. Instead of shrugging off the notion, I embraced my young black girl’s ambition to step up and be a leader by teaching her how to win her school election. There’s a flip side to everything and I’m beginning to think that I may need to spend time over there more often.

Expect a Solution.

“It’s gonna be a nice day today,” I said. The car was silent while we rode.

“Oh really, its not going to rain then?” Mom assumed I was referring to the weather.

“There’s a chance but there’s a chance it won’t,” I smiled, “I was talking about the day in general mom. It’ll be nice, you’ll see, I said.”

Sure I sounded like some kind of prophetic wannabe but my point was, why the heck not? What does it hurt to speak aloud how you want the next few hours, moments, even seconds of your life to be? I figured I’ve sounded like an ass saying worse and besides, I haven’t played this practice with focus and was curious as to what would happen if I actually expected something good consistently.

—-

I got into the office a little before nine to find one of the housekeeping ladies rummaging around for her earring in the hall near my workspace. Her face said horror, like this earring was her left lung and if she didn’t find it…

“Are you okay?” I asked. Dodged around her cart that held some typical housekeeping essentials that I’ve always secretly dreamed of stealing.

“No. I lost an earring. I have to find it, my daughter gave it to me.” She was breathing a heavy pant and I felt really bad for her.

“Well,” I glanced around my feet along with her, “I don’t see it here but listen, it’ll be alright. There’s a solution to everything. Expect the solution. I’m gonna go put my stuff down and help you trace your steps.”

The woman nodded and I ran off. As bad as I wanted to stay and sit on my bottom to devour egg whites I felt like helping her was something I should do. So I go to my desk and toss my things and when I walked back out, I look down outside of my work area to see the woman’s earring.

The look of relief on her face when she saw I’d found it was priceless. I could tell it meant a lot. She thanked me and said, “You are right. There’s a solution for everything and we should expect it. God bless you.”

Talk about a way to start your day…

The Rubik’s Cube. My great friend and helper when critical thinking is necessary. I call him my brain buffer. He sits on my desk or on top of the TV – always within eye’s shot to be called upon whenever heavy thinking rings. Most visitors can’t resist the urge to pick up the cube at some point during a conversation. And just like me, none have been able to solve the puzzle. Or so it seemed.

Aside from my good deed of the morning my day had been a typical busy one, offering little room to breathe. Came up for air when my phone rang. Mom dukes. “Hey, it didn’t rain today. You were right. The day has been nice and I got two new accounts today,” she said kick-starting an afternoon ramble. She goes on to say how she’s learned a lot from me in learning to think positive etc. etc. while I’m thinking to myself, shoot, my brain is just as phuked up as the rest of the world’s, I just learned how to control and tame the beast and even then I still lose it lol.

“Thanks,” I said reaching for the Rubik’s Cube on the desk. Didn’t even look down at it.

“So, what are you going to do about your writing? Did you decide on a solid direction?” There she goes.

Suddenly my eyes began to hurt and I wanted to hang up the phone. In fact I hadn’t made a decision on what to devote my attention to for the next sixth months. Everything is still so new. Not having time to focus on finishing up my novels AND work the journalism world is a reality I have to face and in turn I gotta make a decision. Pick, stick and commit to one or the other until writing can become my full-time dominion.

“Well,” I sighed, “I’ve been thinking about it still but I gotta decide soon because my writing commitments are filling up. But there’s a solution to everything though. I expect one.”

Just as I said this I looked down at the cube in my fingers and low & behold, the puzzle had been solved! My mouth dropped in awe as I examined all six sides grouped by color. Perfectly semetric, symbolizing an end to my thinking trap. Now, I could have gotten really pissed off that someone had secretly come on my turf and conquered the very obsticle course I’d yet to write my name on but I didn’t. I didn’t because whomever it was may not have known it but they’d given me a gift by solving my personal puzzle.

“Mah you won’t believe this,” I laughed.

“What?”

“Someone solved the Rubik’s cube on my desk.”

“Ha! Are you Serious? Who?” she said

“Don’t know. It was just sitting here. Solved,” I shurgged still in a puzzle myself.

“Maybe one of your angels did it.”

“Maybe so. Whomever it was just helped a sister out though,” I smiled.

“A solution?”

“Yep. Journalism it is.”

(Time to let it rock.)

-black girl.



writer’s log: hearing my voice.
October 10, 2008, 10:00 am
Filed under: The Fact of the Matter..., Writer's Log | Tags: , , ,

Rosario Dawson | Sexalicious

Mic check, one-two-one-two. Hello my name is black girl and this is my voice…

Since I’ve been putting work out there, a majority of feedback I’ve been getting from editors, publishers and peers is that they like ‘my voice’. “I can literally hear what you’re saying,” one editor commented, “you have a way with stirring one’s senses. Good stuff.”

I’ve written all of my life because that’s just my way. That’s how I made the world clear enough for me to make sense of. From the day I could write my own name I’ve had a love affair with the art of written expression. A passive-aggressive internalist to the say the least, writing made me the great puzzle solver and riddle ruler. The diva of enlightenment and one of much wisdom. Only because I took the time to figure it all out. And if there’s anything in this world and my life that needs sorting through, best believe you’ll find written record of the process somewhere in close proximity. But only if it moves me.

Game’s a little different now. I’m in the batting cage and have begun the conscious effort to strengthen my craft and strengthen my voice. Studying different styles. How other writers express themselves and assemble their thoughts into packaged meaning. Impressive writing floating around out there. I’ve seen others try, struggle and actually pull off a great piece. Others obviously don’t read their own shyt before putting it out there (I’m good at doing that). The rest of it…well it’s either prima material or it just is what it is. Though all of it art, I see that an understanding and respect for aesthetic writing makes the point that much more delightful and the expression of voice that much hotter.

Even though I’m my own worst critic and can attest to shredding my own words to bits, I still find what I do amazing and certainly won’t let a drop go to waste. My struggle of the moment is focusing and channeling something I’ve allowed to run haphazard, pulling it out whenever I felt like it. Having to write on cue and organize my thoughts isn’t always a walk in the park, but its vital for creative survival. Gritting my teeth but digging the lessons and skills gained all the same. In fact, it’s a nerve wrecking but necessary eye opening experience. Interpreting the world in what I’ve come to know as my own voice is a turn-on so I’m with this process of making my voice harder, faster, stronger. Besides, you’re only as good as the last thing you’ve written right?

Right.

-black girl.