A Sneak Peek
Excerpts
Here are some representative samples from the books:
From Where I Stand, It Is What It Is
So you think you got game?
Just Tell the Truth
I have always been confused as to why some people choose to lie,
Like when a woman decides she wants to date more than one guy.
Men do it all the time, but we treat them like they’re dirt.
If we would all just tell the truth, there would be fewer feelings hurt.
Do you ever feel like you’re being pushed around because you have to tell lies?
Does it make you the least bit irritated to need so many alibis?
If you let people know where you’re coming from, it keeps you in control.
And you don’t have to worry about remembering exactly which lies you told.
If you’re not ready for commitment, but you want to have some fun,
Just tell the other person exactly why you’re not ready for one.
If he or she has any sense, they’ll slow their roll or walk away.
If they try to force the issue, you don’t want that one anyway.
I just cannot understand why people keep getting stuck.
This is your life we’re talking about; only you get to say what’s up.
The best part of having game is being the one to make the rules.
All that lying, ducking, and dodging is for rookies and fools.
I will warn you ladies that telling the truth can be a blessing and a curse.
A lot of men don’t know how to handle a woman pulling the reverse.
Some dudes think womanizing is all fun and games.
Until we flip the script on them; then they want to call us bad names.
Whatever with the haters. If my game bothers you, then dip.
Because I refuse to let you take me on some bogus head trip.
I want you to know where we stand, so you don’t come at me wrong.
If you cross my line too many times, you will not last very long.
Vice versa; I want you to tell me where I stand with you.
It’s okay to bring new issues to the table if that’s what you need to do.
I can make my own decisions; I’m an intelligent adult.
If you want to be down with me, the truth always gets the best results.
A Sillier Side
I Am A Superhero
As I ran for the train on this icy morning, the wind took my breath away.
I sat on the train thinking, “If I had bionics, it would never go down that way.”
I’d just jump from my side of the platform, over the train, and to the other side.
That would save me from freezing my lungs out and panting the entire ride.
Of all the super powers I’ve seen, I would love to be telekinetic.
The ability to move things with my mind would be the ultimate rush, I’ll bet.
Now X-ray vision with laser beam eyes is another power I might like.
I could blow up anything with just a glance if it’s in my line of sight.
Adrenaline is not considered a super power, but it helped me save the day once.
I risked life and limb to retrieve my mother’s truck from this little car-stealing punk.
It was early one morning and freezing outside; that’s usually when I have the most grief.
I had just told my mother to get a spare key for her truck so as not to enable some thief.
We just had the one key and she parked behind me, but I needed to warm up the cars.
So I started them up, and went to put my daughter’s coat on; the living room wasn’t that far.
I didn’t get both arms in her sleeves before I heard what sounded like the truck changing gears.
When I looked out the window, and saw it moving down the driveway, I realized my worst fears.
It took about a second to figure out whether to call the police, or to take matters into my hands.
Then I took off out the door, down the steps, into my car, chasing behind the man.
Instinctively I knew which way to go; I had him in sight at Greenbelt Road.
Fortunately there was a stop sign at that corner, so I caught up to him as the truck slowed.
I darted around him so I could be in front, and maybe I could cut him off.
The road narrowed a few feet ahead, so I knew if I didn’t stop him, all was lost.
He must have recognized my car from the driveway, because he tried to go faster.
But I stopped in the middle of the street in front of him, not thinking that could cause a disaster.
He stopped the truck, got out and ran into the woods. He looked like somebody’s son.
Now I was stuck on the street with two cars to move, but I could only drive one.
I moved my car to the side of the road, locked it and drove the truck instead.
When I got to the house, the door was still open, and my mother was sitting on her bed.
She was talking to my daughter as if nothing happened. I asked her if she knew what went down.
Of course she had no clue, so I explained it to her and said, “Would you take me to get my car now?”
When I got to work, I told my friends the story; they laughed and made jokes for hours.
To this day, they say my superhero name is “Ghetto Girl,” and ask me if I have any new powers.
Workplace Observations
It’s Alive
Every time I come to work here, I witness your blatant disrespect.
Forget policy and EEO provisions; I know who they’re really meant to protect.
It’s a law that you have to hire me without regard to sex or race,
But that same law protects the employer, if I wait too long to file a case.
You have forty-five days from the date of the alleged incident,
To speak to a counselor, file an EEO complaint, and actually sign the affidavit.
Doesn’t that seem like a pretty weak statute of limitations,
When we’re talking about people’s career situations?
You think I haven’t noticed how some of us work for all our dollars,
While that chick makes the same money for printing documents in pretty colors?
You delegate tasks supposedly based on directives you are given,
Where I get to do all the grunt work, and that broad gets top billing?
Please; you must give me all my credit where credit is due.
Otherwise, what good is it to me to make things easier for you?
Personal satisfaction is supposed to be my reward for a job well done?
Maybe in some arenas, but around here, I need compensation from someone.
I will not play the game, bide my time, or let it go.
Slavery was abolished a long time ago.
Well, one kind was, anyway.
I say it still exists to this day.
It looks a lot different; in theory, I can do what I choose.
Yet people are still giving Affirmative Action the blues.
The thing that bothers me is the pretending some people do.
When I call you what you are, you turn red because that’s taboo.
I do realize that it’s not all people who are so wicked and primitive.
But there are always some in power whose intent is discriminative.
Then there are some who ask no questions, and do as they are told.
It takes all kinds to make a world; even those whose honor can be sold.
Into battle I go daily within this bureaucratic lion’s den,
Armed with my brain, education, communication skills, and a pen.
My struggle pales in comparison to those who have gone on before,
But like their accomplishments, it is my hope that I can open a door.
Though it angers me to know that I am judged by my exterior,
I am strengthened from within to know that in many ways I am superior.
It’s not about being haughty; it’s about having confidence, which I should.
That’s the key to unlock the greatness within, and begin using your powers for good.
But Sometimes There's MoreFrom Chapter 7, Inside Out:
As I sit listening to Jaheim’s new song, I can’t help but sway with the music. I love his voice. It’s so sensual to me. And his lyrics are so real. I just feel his music; it gives me a sense of nostalgia and euphoria. Dave Hollister’s music has a similar effect on me. Their music styles are different, but they remind me of my time in the ‘hood. I recently saw Raheem DeVaughn perform, and I like his style too. He’s from around here, so I can really dig him. See, in DC we have our own way and our own style that is very simple and rather conservative. We have our own music styles too, like go-go and go-go soul. It’s not at all unlike other cities that have a signature look or sound of music.
I made reference to my husband earlier based on his dress. It is actually embedded in me to recognize how people carry themselves and how they are dressed. No matter how much somebody claims the city because they live or have lived in the area, it’s not the same. Folks from DC can always spot an imposter by his attire. There is literally an entire culture here among the natives that I have not found anywhere else. I was talking to a coworker and we reminisced about our youth here in the city. We even talked about the almost paranoid way we behave everywhere we go because of the instincts we have developed. There are plenty of phenomena like how we react when amongst a group of strangers, and how we case out everywhere we go looking for things like the nearest escape route and familiar faces. Or the way we observe other people in our space. This is where I’m from, and all that comes with the territory.
It used to upset me when somebody called me ghetto, because it just sounded so degrading the way they said it. But I don’t care about that anymore either. I’m real, I’ve seen hard times, and I know what it’s like to see a shootout up close. It’s not all grand and wonderful on the surface, but it is what it is. If that makes me ghetto, so be it. I think the ‘hood keeps people grounded. The more time you spend in it, the more real people you meet, and the more opportunities you get to see how people who are not considered fortunate live. It’s not a spectacle by any means, but it’s a fact that life wasn’t always peachy by any stretch of the imagination for most people I know. It takes all kinds to make a world. I wouldn’t trade the block parties in the court or the many ice cream truck runs for the world.
When we were young, my brothers and I would spend a lot of time at Aunt Mary’s house in Southeast, DC. We still do but mostly on special occasions; my kids love going. It’s so different where we live; the atmosphere is just not family-oriented. But I want them to see how I grew up, so we spend a lot of time in the city. I am not ashamed. My cousin deejays in the middle of the court for all the neighborhood to hear. The way the kids gather ‘round and dance is electric. The older people sit around in their chairs, playing cards or whatever while everybody is eating, drinking and being merry. That is the kind of party I like. There could be four or five different families in the same court cooking out at the same time. The parking lot is so full of cars, movement is difficult, but who’s moving—there’s a huge party going on. One of my brothers is a local celebrity, so when a TCB song plays, everybody gets even more hype. I think it’s beautiful.
Speaking of ice cream trucks and such, I remember seeing those several times in a day during the summer. Sure we had corner stores, but the ice cream truck came to us. The pumpkin seeds in the red box and Lemon Heads were favorites. And you could get a pickle in a pouch, or straight from the jar in a plastic sandwich bag. It was all good. Hot sausages came from a jar too. Those were the best ones. My daughter actually eats pickled eggs, but I have never been so bold. Pomegranates were another favorite when I was growing up. We called them Chinese apples. The caramel apples or the red candy-coated ones were good too. I don’t think there was anything we couldn’t get from the ice cream truck. Well, they sold ice cream, but we didn’t get excited about that for real. There was a distinction, though. There was a soft serve truck that only served soft ice cream cones, and there was the real truck with the sodas, junk food and ice cream on a stick or snow cones. We thought we were into something when Pop Rocks and Nerds came out. You could get those from the truck too; all right there in the housing development or apartment complex outside the front door.
I was talking to somebody the other day about corner stores and how people are moving back into the city buying up all this million-dollar real estate. I miss the city. I still have lots of relatives actually living in DC, but I don’t live there myself. There was something about the tall row houses with all that sidewalk out front for my cousins and me to ride bikes and roller skate. The corner store was just an added treat because there was one on every other corner. Some had groceries; others were just junk food spots. Then you had the carry-out nearby too. A chicken wing special could carry you and two friends through lunch. Those were the days when a kid could be sent to the store with cash to pick up a couple of things for Grandma or for himself and nobody would bother him; getting exact change wasn’t a problem either. Those were my good old days.