Mother Dear

Mother's Day should be everyday. I love my Mom, she's the best. Not a typical Mom in the sense that she baked cookies and made dinner every night, wore an apron and cleaned in her heels and pearls. No, she was the modern Mom--cool, independent, worldly, understanding, confident, ambitious, bold, creative, funny, stylish, intelligent, well read, sophisticated, the original MILF (sorry...)--just the kind of Mom you could only make up, and she was that Mom. My Mom. Is my Mom. And she's still all those things and some. She supported my dreams and encouraged me to be whatever I wanted to be. If only I could be half the mother she is.

Yesterday, I realized, on the eve of yet another Mother's Day, I am in many ways like my Mom--the one all my daughter's friends think is cool, until they forget I am someone's mother and say something perhaps reserved for someone half my age. Like they did yesterday. I guess I've lived long enough to understand that they don't know any better, or maybe they just forget. But I am a Mom and in many ways, I am half the mother my Mom is. So I made stoup (that's stew that thinks it's soup) for my daughter and listened to her rave about having found her passion. I'm proud to be her Mom. Happy Mother's Day to me.

Unstoppable

EIF Run Walk for Cancer was this Saturday and I participated. 40,000 strong and I was part of it. Alone and determined, I laced up and headed up 7Th Ave to Central Park. Half trot, half power walk and a full sprint through the finish line, I did it. For me. For my Mom who didn't sign up for cancer, last I checked. For my niece, Coki Tai who was booted from the race too soon. For my daughter, who'll one day be a doctor and find a cure for her own disease, MS. Moving. Empowering. Invigorating. Next year, I run all the way. For now, I'm doing my part and going to find a way to make real contributions.
What a week.

Living the right life

Jeez, been a cool minute since I sat down and pumped something out. Not that I don't think about writing or updating, just get sidetracked, or better yet, I allow myself to be sidetracked. And here I swore to never let that happen again. There goes that resolution. Could be, because it has been the same resolution since 1998. See, there I go again, off track.

And like I declared in 1998, I was going to find the truth, my truth, live the life I imagined. I rolled out of bed and set out to do just that. But somehow, I got relegated to being a basement boo (more on that later), and making someone with no vision's dream real. Spent the better part of 2 years back in the bed, eyes wide shut, dreaming once more of what I could be. Maybe I needed a stronger pair of glasses. So the kindred spirit that I have been declared to be, once again has spread her energy thin, and once again has needed to shut her eyes and dream again about what I can be.

So after some nearly 4015 sometimes fitful, sometimes fruitful, sometimes frigid, sometimes fearful and sometimes fantastic nights, I'm finally doing my thing. And when I say my thing, I mean my thing, my way, regardless of what others may think my thing is or should be. It's my dream. Get your own.

The Old Rules

In life, love, business--the old rules no longer apply. At least not for me. Who set the rules in the first place? Parents? Teachers? Preachers? Politicians? Some old biddy down the street who needed to get a life? Who decided how you should do things and what was the proper way to do them? I don't know. I guess I really have nothing to write about this week. so I guess I'm breaking my own rule of having to publish something once a week or I won't be on point with the rest of my new-to-this-interactive-thing peers. I've been on the computer tapping out prose and press releases since the early 80s. Hated it then and kinda like it now. But I still like a pen and some paper to think about my ideas first, then it all comes rushing out through my weary and worn fingertips like a faucet.

Oh well, I'll write in my ole handy trusty notebook today, and maybe become inspired to jott something meaningful down. Old habits die hard.

Old School Fiesta

My daughter has a way with hamburger meat--meat loaf, gourmet and smothered burgers and tacos. Just delicious. We had them yesterday, as an end-of-week celebration and part of Saturday us-time.

This was an odd week. I had some ups and downs and dealt with what I thought to be some slights, remarkably well. When just two weeks ago, I was dealing with the launch of two significant projects, this week was some--I don't know that I'd call it fall out-- but some weirdness around those projects. And in Hip Soul Chic fashion, I handled them well. I think.

This is what went down. We rushed and rushed, and pushed and didn't sleep to deliver one project for the start of gridiron season only to have the site not even up and running. No fault of ours, they insisted on us posting the modules to their server. Then in some typical-- folks will ask for more than they should, as they pay you far below what any normal human being even a desperate for a project one would accept--way, pulled that "I'm the client and I'm doing you a favor" bullshit and started being more than nit picky and asking for changes instead of tweaks and claiming we weren't doing the work when it was her tech guy who was the cog in the wheel. Aarrghhh. Then the client (and I use the title through tightly clinched teeth) had the nerve to go behind my back and ask my folks to do the work she knew I would not approve. Frickin' ingrate. Was 250+ additional hours on a project not enough for you? Was the fact that we delivered something that not only surpasses what you could have imagined or even asked us to design, not enough? Was this not delivered on time, beyond expectation and going to guarantee another decade worth of relationship with your high profile partner (who views you as the the bench- warmer that they have to amuse because he's the owner's kid) ? Folks are a mess. No doubt, she'll ask for more and try to squeeze all she can out of us, when what was delivered is more, and I do mean more, than what anyone will expect.

So if that wasn't enough, I couldn't get a read on my other team on the other project and almost felt like ideas I had shared were being --dare I say: stolen? and emails and requests not being answered, and my excitement and dream having to be reworked yet again. But alas, things got back on track and I'm once gain excited by the prospect of what is going to be something way cool and meaningful (in a capricious sorta of way, not a Doritos empowering kinda way).
I got inspired and I'm convinced that folks don't get it and build sites without the users in mind. Are they not users? All the hype and buildup kills me, when you get to the site and there is nothing, you can't find the much talked about exclusives and video (let alone how to find it if it did exist) and the site fails to engage, or be relevant to anyone other than the pre-pubescent woman-child the developer was fantasizing would one day bed him after he built the over-hyped, underwhelming site he overcharged some poser marketing folks for. Not that I piss where I sleep, but you know to whom I am referring.

So in the midst of this madness that frankly had me depressed and ready to get a real job, I accompanied my daughter to Columbia for a meet and greet/ tour/ informational session thing. She plans to go there next year, as she inches closer to being a doctor. (I'm going to need that lobotomy sooner than later foolin' with these idiots I call clients). And it brought back some feelings and stirred up some stuff, I wasn't equipped to deal with this week in the midst of my tech crisis.

I love school. I loved being in school and think of those school days as the best times of my life. If only I were a practicing attorney vs. the entrepreneur of many hats I find myself being these days, perhaps I'd get some quicker responses to emails, calls and I'd be taken a bit more seriously? That's a rhetorical question I ask myself daily. So being on that campus and imagining my father walking around and philosophizing (he studied there), and my cousin accepting an esteemed award (she taught there), and now my daughter about to make a mark on these grounds made me a bit weepy, if not filled with pride of her seemingly endless abilities that go far beyond her ability to render me nearly comatose, if not euphoric, which her cooking seems to do.

Wow, seeing her all grown up and about to embark on a journey which has had its share of false starts and detours, is quite emotional. I know she's going to make it and do more than well. That's not the problem; it was the feelings of missed opportunities that I had that filled me with regret, at a time when I should only be thinking about her and what she must be feeling. But I guess that's just me the over-achiever who gave birth to an over-achiever who is achieving things that I could only dream of. I guess I made a way for her in some small way, so I should have no regrets.

As her incredible journey begins and we celebrate all that awaits, I guess my new journey begins too and opportunities still are available to me. I just have to make my own and have no regrets.

Party on...

My Fashion Week

Two weeks ago, two key things happened: Football season started and Fashion Week kicked off. I'm in heaven and a bit of hell. As the daughter, mother, sister, niece, granddaughter of fashionistas (and some sharp brothas)--fashion fuels me. Not just shopping and imprinting my own style, but the colors, fabrics, energy and creative energy involved. It's a way of life. It is life. And right now, life is good.

And then we have sports. My other passion (I have many, and that's...okay). Favre came to NY. Phelps reigns supreme (I was a swimmer and lifeguard). Brady got injured (sniff) and Michigan will always be numero uno to all (!) So, that part of my spirit is in a good place too.

But what to do when both worlds call, and I need to answer professionally and personally to both? So just when this could have been the best week EVER, I was too busy to truly grasp what it meant to me and for me. And in many ways for my being Black in America. I've had opportunity to do some cool things in my days; And for all my fussin' and cussin' and stressing over getting things just right and getting my due--I worked on two significant releases this week: the site redesign of the NFL/United Way Agency's partnership microsite, and the launch of a fashion and shopping online digest http://www.insidethetents.net/.

Next week, after all the pieces have been tested and all the modules function like a well coached team, one of the coolest sites on the web will hit the virtual field. When folks log on and see the moving timeline, players profiles that jump of the page, trading cards that flip and all the other bells and whistles, I'll be quietly on the sidelines saying: "Not bad for a little girl of color who wanted to be in the Olympics and be a sports agent, but the timing wasn't right". Uhn...

And then when Italian Vogue published an all Black model edition of their magazine this year, and the catwalk at Bryant Park is bright, but light on the usage of sistas and brothas, I pulled a coup that those in their Ivory-fashion-mag-Towers would never suspect: I go inside the tents to capture the moments and bring access before others do and will. And it won't stop there--London, Milan and Paris are next and there's Tokyo too. For all their money and seeming power, I relied on good ole fashion Black girl-get it done ingenuity (and years of business know how and relationships), and did my thing. From behind the scenes: I walked the walk. Uhn...

So my head is still pounding (no real sleep in weeks), and my fingers numb. My still heart torn between two loves (alas, there is TV, film and music too and those projects to deliver), I still have tweaks so that the work is perfect, but in the end, I realize I did good this week and made a mark on America in my own small, but significant way. What was all the fuss?

Carry on and pass the remote...

Fight the power

Where do I start? Is it me, or have people simply lost their mind? Have they been teaching empowerment classes in college, or are we victims of too much Dr. Phil and Oprah? I'm all for having a good sense of self, but must we think that the world owes us something 'cause were here? that we don't have to pay dues or be glad someone is taking the time to help us? WTF?

Helped someone out who wants to be a power-broker, dream-weaver, deal-maker. Doesn't have the first clue that she's being pimped. OK. So I'm leery, but put my faith in my friend who introduces me to her friend. Can I help her out? She has a great relationship with an outlet that you may want to get in bed with. Cool. All I need to do is coach her a little. OK. Maybe she'll be a quick study, and end of the day I have to seal the deal. Heffer never calls. Too busy having late dinners and runnin' around like she's arrived. Like she can cram last minute and ace the test. You ain't that bright. I haven't been impressed by anything you've said yet. Meanwhile she pressures me to get stuff to her so she can get her shine on. So finally we have a talk, I'm feeling like she hasn't even bothered to do any homework. Thinks because she has the hook up that she can just waltz in and seal the deal. Not happenin'. I'm already knowin'. Finally, I snap. Too old and too tired to be disrespected by some whipper snapper, and have my hard work disrespected and my soul misrepresented. Clearly she's offended. I semi apologize and wait on her follow up. No call. My friend hits me and asks if I was too hard on her. Maybe a little, but I am not going to apologize for being on top of my shit and expecting you to be too. Especially when you are going to profit from my work. Wow. I apologize. She calls me. I hit her back. She insinuates that I did owe her an apology and that she was doing me a favor. Only wants to work with people who are friends of friends and who like her!!! WTF??? I will only continue to be frustrated by her and frankly she's just not going to have anyone talk over her or raise their voice, question what she's doing. Wow. I chuckle. No worries I say. Then the phone goes dead. She calls me back. I refuse to answer. End of story. Then I was sad. Another fake busy person in the making. Another wannabe important person. Another time waster I had fallen prey to. And so young. HA! Then I thought long and hard. Maybe its me. I am not allowed to stand up for myself. I always have to be nice. Roll over and play dead. That's just wrong.


And what's with folks thinking because they have money they have a premium on brains? Buy a clue and get some sense! Folks for the most part are telling you what you want to hear, not what you need to. And me, stuck in the middle, getting it from all ends. Just trying to do what I was asked to do and some. Fell victim to some bitchassness. Where's Sir Diddy Puff when you need him? I don't even know where to end, let alone begin with this one! We feel threatened by you. You say what we wish we could but are too scared to be honest. You have too much energy and gumption, so we'll just try to kill that spirit a little for you. Throw you under the bus. Leave you out. Ignore you. Pretend you aren't in the room or conversation. In fact, we'll simply try our best to humiliate you at ever turn. WTF did I do to you? I'm not trying to be boss lady's best buddy, I just want to do what's best and move on. Not going to get in a pissin' match with a person who looks like she's two shakes in the wind (drunk for you young folks). I'll back off. Clearly you didn't think enough of my time and effort to call me and tell me that I wouldn't be making a trip I rescheduled my week for and made arrangements for a production crew to show up last minute only to have little ole two shakes in the wind tell me they could not accommodate the cameraman and I needed to plan these things out with her first before I made such plans because after all only she knows how to run things. Jeez Louise. Again. No worries. I got beat down and made to apologize for standing up for myself last time, so back off. Be humiliated. Let the woman think she got you. Damn, am I not watching enough Oprah and Dr. Phil? Do I need to go back to class and learn to speak up? Am I so stressed about getting paid that I'll put up with crap just to get paid for a crap load of great stuff you couldn't get this cheap? What have I become?

Maybe I did let them kill my spirit a little.